The Quest #34

None up, none down. Didn’t manage any queries this week, though I meant to. I’ve been trying to make a wedding gift for friends who got married in February. The CNC is putting up a good fight and has drawn blood, but it will get me what I want in the end.

In other news I’m pivoting again. I’ve written a hundred pages of YA when I took a look around and saw a good list of fiction magazines. I think if I can write a good short story, it will get in with one of these mags. Seems like a good boost to my letter and my name. So I’ve started writing a short story and I should be done in a few days. It is an additional story for a work I’ve already published about my space bounty hunter. Stepping back into those boots feels good.

Will be back on track next time, unless the CNC is really kicking my ass.

Thank you for reading,

Michael

Flash Friday # 36

Nominative Determinism

I had only met the three children twice. I think about them often, these days. I should reach out, but who has the time. We all probably do, but talking to the people in our lives is draining, and watching T.V. is easy.

The first time, I was at Andrew’s retirement party. He was a good client of mine, but we mostly talked over the phone. We had maybe two face to face meetings before then. The house was large, the day sunny, and I milled around in a crowd of people I knew a little and liked none. None of them were my clients, and not from lack of trying.

I had been planning to leave. I had already shaken Andrew’s hand and made chitchat. But as I was getting ready to go, and was striding the lawn, looking for my car, he came up to me with three children. They were in their twenties back then, I guess.

“Heading out?” he asked me.

“Yeah. It’s a long way home. You know. Any, congratulations on retiring.”

He grabbed my arm. His three kids waiting politely outside the conversation. “What do you think of the house?”

“It’s lovely.”

He nodded. “It is, but it was never the goal. The goal,” he turned and beckoned his children closer, “worked out so much better than I ever hoped. They’re taking over for me, you know.”

“Oh.” That was news to me. I felt my prospects steadying.

He smiled knowingly. “I call them Jumpy, Stumpy, and Grumpy.” His children laughed at that.

“Why?” I asked.

“Because Jumpy is rock steady,” he pointed to his eldest daughter. “Stumpy is six and a half feet tall.” That was his son. “And Grumpy hasn’t cried since she was five. She’s my ray of sunshine.”

I shook hands with all of them, and we talked for some hours.

The second time I met them was at the funeral. That was a tough day. I had parked the car and walked up to the little church they had there. I met Stumpy at the door. He was in a wheelchair and had lost both his legs.

“Real nice of you to come out,” he said.

“I wouldn’t miss it. Your dad was really good to me. I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thanks. It’s all too much for us right now.”

“And how are you?” I asked.

“I’m in a bad spot,” he said. “I just lost my dad and my legs in one go.”

We were interrupted then by Grumpy. “There you are. What are you doing out here. We need you in the back so we can get started.” She didn’t look at me.

He looked up at his sister. “I was just greeting the guests.”

“Inside now.” She looked at me. “Take your seat. I want to be done with this.”

We listened to her. I took a seat in the middle pews. I saw the third daughter. She was standing by the lectern, waiting to start. Somewhere in the recesses of the building a door slammed. She shook, collapsing in sobs.

First Web Series is up!

The Prince of White and Black is up. Read it here. The first part is 12000 words long. I will spend a little time integrating it into the website so that it can be found easily.

This book is a medieval second world low fantasy. As I am sure all writers know, genres are tricky. It may have been the reason I got a lot of rejections on my query. Maybe I should do an investigation of genre next time.

I digress.

The Prince of White and Black is a story I am not done writing, But I have parts banked up. Each section is aimed to be ten thousand words or about thirty printed pages.

Once again, if you like what you have read, tell your reader friends about it. I’m not sure what the upload schedule will be, but I will aim for once a month.

The Prince of White and Black

Thanks for reading.

Flash Friday #35

Keyboard Warrior

Ash picked up his spear. He had never held one before. In fact, he was born just a moment ago as the recruitment queue finished. He had been gestating for thirty seconds.

In all, it was a good life. He had free time as he stood outside the barracks. The sun was shining. Ash couldn’t see where it was in the sky, only that it was bright, and that meant the sun was shining.

A worker smiled at him as she carried gold in a bucket. She was beautiful like the missing sun. Ash smiled back. He wasn’t sure she had seen, as the dropped the bucket of gold off at the headquarters.

That was a busy building. So much coming and going. She had an important job, feeding the machinery of state.

Ash wanted to stay. To smile at her as she returned to do whatever came next for her. But it was not to be. Orders came down from on high, and Ash found himself marching away against his will.

It was sad to march away from his home, but he wasn’t alone. Five more spearmen marched with him. One of them was a grizzled veteran. That one had seen war.

War. Somehow Ash knew the word, and the meaning. He also knew that war was his job, what he was made for. Ash looked at his spear. That spear was as much a part of his and his own hand. He couldn’t have dropped it if he wanted.

They marched through their civilization, but as they neared the border, there were fewer farms and workers. Watchtowers dotted the horizon and soldiers moved back and forth, seemingly at random. Their little squad came to a rest on the edge of a hill.

Ash looked to the others and smiled. He would fight. That’s all he knew. He would fight for that smiling worker. The other spearmen smiled with him. It was the same smile, the same face. Only the veteran didn’t share their enthusiasm. War had hardened the man, it seemed. But that didn’t make him right.

Intelligence came. The enemy had been spotted. Ash readied himself. Their foe had come far, but they would not make it past him. His nations walls were alive.

A red tank rolled to a stop at the bottom of the hill. Its armor was thick. The gun was leveled straight at them.

Before he knew it, Ash was in a headlong sprint towards the lumbering beast. They all were. It was all the could do. The tank fired its first round at them and it fell short. What were the odds? Ash wasn’t sure if there was a god, but he felt some force looking over him, willing him on.

The second round hurt. Terribly. Two of the spearmen were dead, and Ash felt he had lost about seventy points of damage. They hit the tank in a wave. Moments passed, and another spearman fell to the tan’s mighty rounds.

Ash fought with all his heart, but his attacks weren’t doing much to hurt fearsome metal beast. Not even the veteran, who fought on despite his scars, was doing much to it.

Another moment, and another spearman was dead, then another. It was just Ash and the veteran, and then it was just Ash.

He fought with a fury, stabbing every two seconds. The tank’s gun drooped and its treads were fitting poorly. He could do this. And then he saw it, the chink in the armor. He stabbed there and broke the beast. It exploded and died a piteous death.

Alone, Ash made the walk back home. He thought of the smiles his fellows had had, and the look on the veteran.

Suddenly, he found himself back at base, watching the workers buzz around him. He had been promoted. One of them smiled at him, but he couldn’t smile anymore.

The Quest #33

One up one down. Not up to the number of queries I want but not falling behind. I changed my query letter up a little but just a sentence or two here and there.

I’ve continued to write a thousand words a day. The only days this year I haven’t written that much have been weekends and days when I finished a chapter (having done most of the day’s writing).

The past few weeks I have been very distracted in my writing. I keep coming up with new stories and creating little story guides for them. I think I have about five. I feel bad about getting pulled all these ways as I think I should be more focused on one story. I’m currently 60 pages into the YA book. I’ll keep plugging away, I guess. That would be the best way to settle down. Maybe I’m just feeling creative because I’m doing something new.

Clarity will come.

Thanks for reading,

Michael

Flash Friday #34

Eggs

Starving, the two men looked at the large egg sat out in the open on the rocks. It had a pale-yellow color and was the size of their heads. It sat there, bold as brass. There were no signs of damage on the egg. No crack or yoke leaking out.

It was just an egg out in the open.

“Maybe a condor, or another big bird,” the first man said.

“There’s no nest,” the second countered. His stomach gurgled. Since escaping prison the previous day, the men had not had anything to eat.

They were starving, but the large egg in the open puzzled them. They were wary, as though a large glowing sign told them that an inn had free food, a warm bed, and a prostitute too.

“It doesn’t need a nest,” said the first. “It could have dropped. It could have been laid out here by the mom who decided to just keep going. I don’t know.”

The second laid a hand on his fellow. They were hungry, terribly so, but something here was not right. “It could be lizard,” he offered. “Something big and mean like a crocodile. Momma is around here somewhere and will rip us apart.”

The first man snorted. “A crocodile? Here in the mountains? You’re imagining things.”

“Ok, fine. A snake then. A big one.”

“A big snake? That’s less likely than the crocodile. They need heat or something.”

The second man scoffed. “Oh, so now you’re an expert on all reptiles. It could be a snake. Snakes can live in mountains you know.”

The first man crossed his arms. “Listen, a big snake needs big prey. And there is nothing up here that can feed it.”

“Mountain goats…and us,” the man said.

The egg wobbled. A fragment fell off. Then men stopped arguing. Something was stirring in the egg. It knocked another segment free. There was something different from eating an egg to eating a newly hatched thing.

 But they were starving, so the men crept forward, eager. They could hear the creature knocking against its egg, struggling to come forward. It squealed and the paused. Only for a moment. Hunger pushed them on.

Something slid out of the egg and curled up on the stones. It was blue. The men stood over it. Scales. Wings?

“A dragon?” said the first man.

“Yeah,” said the second.

A shadow fell over them.

Reading 2!

Alright. I’ve posted four more chapters of Howl. I’ve got to get the full manuscript together and posted on my patreon before I post more chapters. I’ll get on it this week.

I am also planning two series on fantasy fiction to post on this site. First is called The River that Dances. This is a series about a young god trying to sort out his relationship to the world, with humans and gods threatening his position. I’ve already written the first part, childhood, which could be a regular posting. Right not the structure is that of a fairytale. I’ve always liked fairytales and myths. But the story also mixes in a fair amount of violence as is proper for myths and legends. He is, after all, a god learning morality.

The second series is called The Prince of White and Black. This is a swords and sorcery fantasy, though it is low magic. This is a series of medieval fantasy. I have plans for what could be three books worth of material. Could be a long running web series. Naturally, I have to edit the whole thing, but I plan to have that up and going for next time too.

So if you end up liking what you read on my site, please spread the word to readers you know. Word of mouth is the only good advertisement.

Thank you for reading,

Michael

Flash Friday #33

Abduction 2

To be in the vanguard of the grand imperial armada was to have a heart of a quasar. Only the toughest of the imperial could serve in the advanced ships. It meant being prepared to abduct lifeforms and break them.

Never once had Rrglin questioned his duty. His people were trapped in the stars, forced to move forward. They consumed planets. This next one would serve as an important refueling. Hydrogen and oxygen. This planet had much.

Take individuals of the dominant species, break them through torture. Weaken the planet by infiltrating this species. Prepare them for the fall.

Rrglin had the newest ruler bound to the chair in the torture chamber. His ship hovered around the fourth planet in the system, a ruddy planet with not enough water around the poles. It was a sad and empty place, but the ruling species would not be able to detect him out there.

He sighed, and entered the room. The species was sat in the chair, wavering. Without saying a word Rrglin circled the chamber, letting the thing stew in its discomfort. Thin, with yellow hair, the creature was one of billions which ruled the pitiful third world.

Completing his circle, Rrglin looked to the thing, shivering in the thin atmosphere. “I have made this room fit your atmosphere. And your temperature,” he said. “It is the last kindness you will receive.”

He walked over to a drawer and pulled out his instruments. Sharp, dangerous things. Many lower life forms offered him everything he wanted to know just on seeing them. Of course, he had to use them regardless. Understanding the internal workings of a creature was necessary for the second stage of the invasion.

“I am impressed with you,” he said, pulling a serated blade from the tray and showing it to his victim. “You have conquered your world and raised a mighty civilization. Your children are on every continent. You suffer no rival. You have even made pets for your comfort. Again, impressive. The life of luxury that I have watched you live as made it all to easy for your capture. Do you regret it?”

His prisoner was silent. Afraid, most likely.

“I’m not surprised. Who is your leader?”

Nothing.

“How do you communicate?”

The things wavered but was silent.

Rrglin shook his head. “I see. Perhaps you are wise enough to know that nothing you say will save you. I will cut you regardless. Your screams will not frighten me. Nor will they save you.”

Tied to the chair, the sprig of wheat quivered.

The Quest #32

Three up, none down. Now we’re talking, getting back into the swing of querying. It is a long, slow process. No sense in stopping.

A long time ago I wrote down a bunch of ideas for books that I had plots for. It was this grand plan. I have only written one of those books, the rest coming to me spontaneously as a new idea came to me and captured my imagination.

My last two completed things have been the first chapter to two different stories. One s the YA book I mentioned earlier and the other is a fantasy adventure with convicts. Additionally I had another idea this week that intrigues me. I’ve started writing an outline for it. I’ve started a sequel to my ‘cozy’ fantasy, but stopped five chapters in as I get dragged away by other stories. Finally there is a novella I started about American businessmen. I didn’t have a good idea of the tone and dropped that one. I should get back into it.

I think it’s fair to say I’m a little distracted. Time to focus up. I will go with the YA and then the sequel because it might make querying the first book easier if I have a second. Maybe I should add that in the query.

Thank you for reading,

Michael.

Flash Friday #32 (oops)

Abduction

I was abducted by aliens.

It’s been about three months since. They’ve fed me, gave me my own room, and have left me alone. Really. They haven’t done anything to me, except kidnap me and drag me across the world. I even have free reign of the ship. They just look at me funny when I walk around.

Each of them has two heads, a red one and a purple one, which are stuck on long necks that can look around corners. It’s unsettling.

I had been at home in Arkansas, brushing my teeth and getting ready for bed when a brilliant flash of light struck me. Boom, I was here.

I spent those first few days terrified, huddled in a corner, fending them off. But when they didn’t hurt me, offering me food, I figured that they must have some other reason for taking me. I hadn’t found out what it was.

I was just, sort of, a ghost. Or a pet. The food they gave me was earth food, but it looked like it was just grabbed from a grocery store. Unfortunately, it seems they missed the spice shelves. I’ve eaten hunks of cooked unseasoned meat. It’s rough. I’m surviving, but the things I’ve done to what I hope are the toilets…well, it’s better if I don’t say.

There are windows, and looking out I just see the void of space. I don’t see anything I recognize, but I never knew much about the stars. I mean, if Jupiter were right out the window I could say where I was, but not this. I don’t know any constellations except for the Big Dipper, and I didn’t see that out my window.

Well, if I was going to be stuck here, might as well find out what my fate was to be. I mustered my courage, sinched up my belt, and went on my way to the halls where the aliens were. They seemed to like certain parts of the ship.

I went in front of one of them (or was it two of theme, with the two heads and all), planted my feet and told them in no uncertain terms how things were going to be.

“Um…excuse me…Mr. Alien. My name is Doug and if it is not too much of a hassle, I was hoping you might tell me what is going on and if maybe you might be able to return me to my home,” I declared.

“We needed you,” the thing said in perfect English.

“How do you know English?” I asked, momentarily flummoxed.

“We watch TV.”

“Oh. Right. Well…can you send me home?”

“No,” both heads said, shaking. “We need you.”

“For what?”

The alien looked at me gravely. “For access to the faster hyper lane route. We need five sentient beings to go and you technically count, even though you can’t get beyond your moon and have never seen the color Veroigiblook.”

“You stole me to use a carpool lane?”

The alien smiled and patted me on the back. “You get it. This way is faster. We get to the concert on time.”

“Oh.” I frowned. “Can you take me back after?”

“Why would you want to,” the alien said. “Because of relativity, everyone you knew will be dead. Might as well keep going.” 

“What!” I was devastated. Everything I had ever known gone just like that. “What concert is so important that you would kidnap me from my home to get to!”

The alien pulled out a shirt. I recognized the figure. “David Bowie,” we said together.

“Alright,” I said. “Worth it.”