The Event Horizon

Gene Wars

2011-08-05T15:46:00.005-04:00

Its been awhile, I know. I'm rusty but here we go again. For Fridayflash and fictionfriday, based off of fictionfriday prompt. Enjoy!

####

Master Sergeant Compton unplugged three cables from the back of his dark metal helmet. Each hissed like angry snakes being pulled from their nest. He twisted off his helmet and leaned on a cracked wall. This isn’t going to end well, he thought as he stared at the skull painted over his face plate. His augmented eyes had adjusted quickly to the light and after all the treatments; his body was a physically augmented machine as powerful as five men.

A shot was heard from outside. A screamed quickly followed.

Not well at all.

The Master Sergeant walked into the ruins of the next room. Each heavy metal step pulverized broken glass or shuffled debris that cluttered the room. Burn marks smoldered large holes in the wall facing north. Along the southern wall, four soldiers, also wearing heavy power armor, turned watching him through cold lens.

“Report.”

Private first class Johnson stepped forward and saluted. “Sir, Caspari moved into the street as ordered and the sniper took out his legs as predicted.”

“Were we able to discover which building the sniper was in?”

“Just about. One more---”

BAM. Caspari screamed.

Private Ellis lay on the floor looking out into the intersection. Without turning he said, “I found the sniper sir; third window on the fourth floor. He’s using a cameo field generator. No heat sensors or motion sensors will work but telescopic x-ray shows movement.” Private Ellis banged the side of his helmet twice and shook his head. “I think the sniper is--- is badly deformed or something. The readings are weird.”

Master Sergeant replaced his helmet, connected the cables. Air gushed out of side vents along his chin. His voice became harsh and mechanical. He said, “Caspari’s sacrifice has given us the upper hand.” He raised his gauntlet fist, “For freedom! For the Empire!”

They all raised their fist, “Hoorah!”

#

The unit moved through the rumble of buildings long destroyed in the Great War. Dried bodies with torn clothing mingled with twisted steel and melted plastics. Nothing was untouched over the years.

Using their armor and biological augmentation, they made it to the sniper’s building undetected. Their concentration was tested with each shot fired into Caspari’s now unmoving body.

They climbed the stairs to the fourth floor and formed a semi-circle in front of the only closed door. The Cameo field disabled their HUD displays.

#

Master Sergeant switched to x-ray mode and scanned the room. A tri-pod antenna sat in the center of the room emitting shimmering waves into the x-ray band. The sniper, crutched down under a window sill. Ellis was right. The sniper horribly deformed. It measured about 1.2 meters with an elongated nose, something snaked back and forth on the floor behind it.

Two privates placed directional explosives on the door frame and surround wall. Master Sergeant raised his assault rifle and rested it on his right shoulder, the unit raised theirs. With two fingers he signaled attack.

Fragments of door and wall blew into the room, flooding the area in a hazy of smoke. The sniper’s smoky silhouette wiped around. It raised a hand with something blinking red and pressed down.

Another explosion ripped up the floor under the Marines dropping them to the next floor of broken beams and twisted steel.

Master Sergeant felt two wooden stakes and a broken metal pipe through his torso. Hot battery acid from his backpack pooled in his armor burning his back. The Master Sergeant’s armor power faded.

He heard something jumped down from the floor above.

BAM. BAM, blood splattered his lens. BAM. BAM.

“Now, what do we have here?” hissed the sniper.

The cables in the back of his helmet were torn loose and danged limp from his backpack. The helmet twisted and lifted off. Standing on his chest was a humanoid ratling wearing a dark green ammo vest and a black bandana with a small red star.

“While your government altered humans, ours evolved us. “ The ratling stood erect and toyed with the Master Sergeant’s face with his bare foot. “Fresh meat,” he said licking his lips. Casually he raised his sniper gun.

BAM.

I've been published through Eschatology

2011-04-20T12:59:00.003-04:00

I am pleased to announce another publication under my belt.

Eschatology has published my flash piece “The Created” today. This one pleases me greatly because of how under the gun I’ve been. Family, work, schooling, graduation, Assist Editor of Shroud Magazine has dominated most of my time but here and there I’ve crafted a piece or two.

Check out the link and comment away but about all else… Enjoy.

-Tim

The New Year Begins

2011-01-10T10:25:00.005-05:00

Hi Folks.

I finished the backlog to Shroud's Reviews. My team of reviewers are excellent. I just have to work on more publisher notifications, but I am doing well.

I created something of a form letter to notify Publishers of the review and I make sure I give full credits to those who write them. Its fun so far.

Shroud reviews can be found here.

I also like adding pictures to the blog. I wasn't doing it to my flashes because I didn't want to take away from them but I think this one says it all.

-Tim

WHAT HAVE I BEEN UP TO?

2011-01-04T09:33:00.004-05:00

The holidays are over and they were a lot of fun with family, friends and great food. Now it’s time to make my plans for 2011.

I am Shroud Magazine's newest Review Editor.

I’m waiting on Aurora Wolf’s anthology with my story “Skarthonian Consequences.”

I’m finishing a Cthulhu short story called “Created”

I will graduate from UNH, with honors, in May.

I will start my book.

I will make three figures in writing again this year. 2012 I will up it to four.
It’s going to be a great year!

Review: Hiram Grange and the Chosen One

2010-11-10T11:25:00.003-05:00

Review: Hiram Grange and the Chosen One
by Kevin Lucia (2010): ISBN: 9780982727508 (Shroud Publishing)

Kevin Lucia’s “Hiram Grange and the Chosen One” strides through the underbelly of Belfast, infested with Lovecraftian horrors and tempered with folklore and old magic. Even Queen Mad is not beyond Lucia’s reach.

Lucia’s story builds tension as Hiram’s investigation discovers rituals of summoning, the undead and dark visions of the future based off of his choice to save an innocent or not.

I found Lucia’s Hiram version to be one of the best developed in the Hiram series, from dialog to description. Hiram has a lot of psychological baggage from wearing his father’s cloths to using the gun his mother committed suicide with. He’s an alcoholic with a severe drug addiction but with all these faults and more, Lucia makes you root for him no matter what.

Lucia’s writing flows well and the action is well done. The story is interesting enough to keep you looking forward to the next chapter. Lucia delivers a great novella, well worth the read.

For a free sample chapter of Hiram Grange and the Chosen One, click here.

The Next World

2010-09-01T15:56:00.004-04:00

I felt like creating something really new, so I let my imagination flow. I added the 3WW prompts and created.

Enjoy.

The Next World

Homo-sapiens. Humanity’s time had ended under centuries of domination by the tyrannical rule of Asian supermen called, the Inhumans. Genetically altered humans fashioned to be stronger, faster and smarter than the humans, but utterly devoid of human morality. But evil eventually ends and the Inhumans destroyed themselves, leaving behind a bleeding world. Centuries pass and we rose to take their place, the Neo-Sapiens. May the Machine save us all.

From the Gnostic Chronicles of Mashou Yoroi

Scribed by the Bishop of Tech, Alexander d’Grothic, in the year of the Monkey.

---Small rocks tumbled off the cliff face as Yoroi’s fingers searched for an edge to grab. They bounced harmlessly off his armor’s left and right sode (shoulder armor) and reaching kote (sleeve armor). He moved well in his Oyoroi armor (Samurai Armor) but climbing the mountains of Pamirs was something even the Inhumans would have been pressed to do, or so he thought.

Yoroi’s crimson armor was fashioned from scavenged materials and tech of the time of the Inhumans. Personally modified, the kabuto (samurai helmet) was his master piece. The kabuto’s inlaid tech allowed him to feel the presence of other unshielded minds while masking his own presence.

Close, he felt a presence waiting.

He reached a landing and hoisted himself over the edge. The surface was a dull grey metal tinged with rust. He concentrated on the middle of a rock face until an overlapping image wavered and dissolved to reveal an entrance to an Inhuman installation; a set of metal double doors, finely etched against the rock face. He looked over the area for any other kind of defenses but found none.

The kabuto’s H.U.D. indicated something was behind the double doors but unmoving. An immortal guardian but… what are you guarding, he wondered.

He found a small panel beside the door. From a small side pouch, he pulled out some tools and popped the cover. He snipped a red wire and then a blue wire. He tied them together and forced a negative charge into to the system. The doors creaked and whined before opening. The stench of decay crawled out of the darkness as two large red orbs came to life.

Yoroi dropped his tools and stepped back. He drew out a thick three meter broadsword from a dimensional compression disc on his waist without breaking a sweat. A low hum from the sword indicated an anti-gravity field was active making the huge sword weightless. He reached out with his Neo-Sapien mind and tried to speak to the creature but felt nothing.

From out of the darkness, a four-legged metal beast lumbered into the light. The cyborg was forged from the same metal as the installation, grey and dull, but twisted in and out of long dead flesh, an umber-guard.

He readied a fight stance.

Here we go.

Returning to the Future

2010-08-18T15:23:00.004-04:00

This one isn't as deep as last week's "I'm Leaving" but it was fun to write. Prompted by 3WW and offered to them and Friday Flash.

Enjoy.

Returning to the Future

Waves of blue-orange energy splashed against a speeding energy sphere. The sphere surrounded a grey streaked older man, generated by a mechanical column. The forces of the space-time continuum pushed hard against the field erected by Viktor’s temporal column but Viktor paid them no attention. He faced the column and held tight to the sidebars and watched numbers scroll over a small screen.

He counted down to himself and when he reached ‘one’, he grabbed a dial and twirled its numbers down to half.

Strings of blue-orange energy phased through the protective sphere. They flowed over the column and struck Viktor. He screamed as his body was raked with spasms and when his vision began to tunnel, he closed his eyes and simply grimaced with each strike.

A beeping brought Viktor back from his teetering consciousness. White knuckled, Viktor dialed up the protective sphere. The blue-orange forces abated, leaving Viktor gasping.

He reached over to his right and grasped a lever. He pulled it down and the sphere’s movement through the continuum slowed. Reality began to bleed around the sphere. Humanoids rushed by, buildings were built and collapsed. Gradually, a metal floor formed below the sphere. A cathedral room formed from the floor. Closed helmed humanoids wearing green and purple futuristic armor stood unmoving along the walls.

The continuum dissipated around Viktor. He breathed a little easier knowing the trip was over. He felt the strength of youth coursing through his body. The pains of rejuvenation coupled with time travel gratefully subsided but caused his to stumble.

A large humanoid approached Viktor. He wore the green and purple armor but his was trimmed in gold. He bowed and held forward silk robes.

“Welcome home, Lord.” He grumbled.

“How long have I been gone?”

“Only a few days, Lord.”

“Felt like years.” He laughed to himself as he dressed. He caught a glimpse of himself in the polished armor. His hair was dark and long. He pulled his hair into a top knot and left to find his wife, Maggie.

I'm Leaving

2010-08-11T12:55:00.003-04:00

This is my contribution to 3WW and FridayFlash.

Enjoy.

I'm Leaving

The lights in the house dimmed. Maggie looked out the kitchen window. Beyond the tall stalks of corn and vines of tomatoes of her garden, the windows of their two car garage flickered blue and orange. Viktor was at it again.

She loved Viktor from the first time they met in the bookstore. He was in the ‘Engineering’ section and she was heading to ‘Romance’. He had a military look to him then; tall, dark eyes, tight black hair with a goatee with a chiseled physique but over the years, he gained weight, his hair receded and whitened. He joked about how he used to look and how she never changed.

She marched out the side door. This was it. The final straw. After nineteen years of marriage as Mrs. Viktor Ramat, Maggie was going to leave him. Once and for all. She was tired of being ignored and treated like a possession instead of a real person. I have feelings, she thought.

She banged on the garage side door. “Viktor, open up!” She heard electrical crackling inside. “Viktor!”

The lightshow inside stopped and the humming lowered. The door clicked and cracked opened.

“What?”

“Let me in, Viktor.”

“Not now. Come back in a little while. An hour or so."

“We need to talk.”

“N-O-T now.”

Maggie leaned on the doorframe, she became tired all of the sudden. Emotional and physically.

“I’m leaving you.”

The door opened wider. Viktor wore a lab coat, thick black gloves and dark goggles.

“This is… unexpected.”

Maggie stepped inside and wondered if Viktor was going to try to talk her out of it. Viktor just closed the door.

Multi-colored wires sprawled overhead covering the ceiling and then coming together in the center to connect to a cylinder of tubes, monitors, switches and wires. The cylinder itself hummed lowly. Several computer terminals lined the walls and on the floor, cables connected them to the cylinder.

Maggie’s vision tunneled and the room seemed to sway. Viktor grabbed her and gently sat her down on a metal chair.

“What, what is all this, Viktor?”

“I’m leaving for my own time,” he said coldly. “I just need a little more power to remedy a variable.”

This wasn’t fair! She was supposed to leave him! What did he mean by own time? She needed leverage.

“I’m pregnant.”

“No you’re not.” Viktor checked one of the monitors on the cylinder. “Power needs to build faster,” he said to himself. “It’s not drawing fast enough.”

“I am too. That’s what I wanted to tell you. So you can’t leave me.”

“You’re not.”

Maggie tried to stand but felt the room tilt under her feet, she fell back into the chair.

“Am… too.” She wanted to sleep.

Viktor grabbed the arms of the chair. He looked her over. “I still need you.” He leaned into her and kissed her lips.

“Maggie.”

“Yyess..”

“De-activate 7737.”

Maggie slummed forward. Viktor pushed her back up. He reached behind her left ear and pressed down four times. Maggie’s forehead opened revealing a glowing green square. Viktor pressed on the square. It clicked and then popped out.

Viktor held it up between his thumb and fore-finger.

“This will do just fine.”

He slid the square into a slot on the cylinder. The humming grew louder. He grabbed onto a bar on the side of the cylinder with one hand and grabbed the main switch with the other.

He looked at her one last time and pulled the switch.

Home

2010-08-04T15:46:00.007-04:00

Recently, I sold a fantasy short story to Aurora Wolf called, "Skarthonian Consequences." It is about the life and times of a knight called, Andromalius De'Grothic. They purchased it for their on-line site as well as adding it to their Anthology coming out this November. So, using 3WW and Flash Friday, I crafted this flash fiction to shamelessly plug it.

Enjoy.

Home

Sir Andromalius stood outside an old hut in the gathering mist of the morning. It started to rain. He stared at the draped animal skins covering the entrance knowing she was inside. The scent of herbs and dried meats teased his childhood memories. With a deep breath, he moved the skins aside and stepped in.

“Mother, I’m home.”

An old woman in tattered robes, hunched over a wooden table. She continued to cut vegetables and tossed them into a small caldron. A witch’s pentagram was etched on the caldron’s side as she mumbled softly.

“Mother. It’s me."

She kept cutting.

“Your son.”

She stopped and looked up with feeble eyes.

“My son is dead.”

Andromalius placed a gauntleted hand over her tiny hands.

“I’m not dead.“

She pulled her hands away and nodded towards his two swords.

“The knight’s sword with always serve you well. The other…”

“My death? How?”

She grabbed the caldron and hung it over a cooking fire.

Andromalius grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her around. “Answer me mother! Use your second sight. Look beyond the viel.”

She shrugged off his hands and sat down in an old wicker chair, a small wooden mug sloshed on a tiny table next to her. She reached into the folds of her robes and pinched a little powder into the mug, swirled it and then took a drink. She let the warmth of the potion move through her and her eyes rolled back.

“Mal’Rapture blesses you with power… and curses you to slay the ones you love. You will always be alone”, she predicted.

Andromalius drew the crystal blade. The firelight danced along its edges.

She looked at Andromalius, then the blade and gave a feeble smile.

“I love you, son.”

The sword felt heavy in his hand. He tilted the blade forward and liquid flowed though it’s mercurial channel. He looked up from the blade and then to her. He felt nothing. He sheaved the blade and left the hut, letting the skins flutter in the rain.

The rain stifled his mother’s tears. “Goodbye.”

Prelude Fin

2010-07-14T16:38:00.003-04:00

This is the final piece to my Prelude series. I used 3ww to fashion it with the three word of this week : Vulgar, Praise and Gentle.

Enjoy.

Prelude Fin

Julie’s Halo spouted small antennas from the silver discs covering her temples. Her consciousness slipped through blackness and into a white-blue light. Disembodied, she floated upright behind her corporal body in the hovercraft’s cockpit. In the lower left corner of her vision, stats on the hovercraft and the three bots within the craft scrolled as tiny tendrils of light reach out from her and touched various systems; navigation, propulsion, Doppler radar and many others. Mentally she reached out to the vast Martian Pylon to access its systems but failed. ‘Access Denied’ flashed in the lower right area of her vision.

Using the hovercraft’s speakers, she said “Victor, can you hear me?
”
“Loud and clear”, she heard back.

“I can’t access the Pylon from here. I’m going to leave the shuttle and try to enter.”

“Excellent idea. Just remember to be gentle, that’s Iglesia Corp. property after all.”

Julie willed herself through the hull and stopped with a small gasp outside. Sprawling before her, the Pylon could not be seen in its entirety; its apex hidden in thick clouds. Great panels of dark metal covered the exterior. Every other panel had a grilled vent. The lower ones drew in the Martian atmosphere. The upper ones gushed out converted earth-like air. Red rust accented its edges.

Within her vision, calculations of distance and material lists scrolled next to objects she focused on.

Access shuttle communications, she thought. A holographic screen appeared in front of her simulating the communications interface on the hovercraft. She reached out her fingers and tapped the holographic interface. With her halo eyes she watched a channel connection appear like a beam of green light. The light ended on a panel just under the clouds heavily covered in red.

Julie looked down at the hovercraft. Tiny communication hubs showed her where the three bots were located. She focused on the one in the back of the hovercraft and accessed its audio and visual abilities. A small screen opened up before her. Victor was wrenching a metal cylinder. His white shirt was messed with dark smears.

“How are the injectors?” spoke Julie through the bot.

Victor continued to work but smiled broadly. “All ready reaching into their heads. Good. Good.”

Julie felt a little uncomfortable with his praise.

Victor’s wrench slipped. He swore loudly dropping the wrench and clutching his hand.

“No vulgarities please Mr. Vaudeville.” Julie giggled as Victor smirked.

“So have you figured out the problem yet,” he asked.

“According to the visual scans and rusted communications section of the Pylon, I’d say it is just wear and tear interfering with the true numbers.”

“That was fast.”

“You knew?”

“Of course I knew. I wanted to see how long it took you to discover it. There is a maintenance crew all ready on their way.” Victor flexed his fingers and smiled. “We can leave when you’re ready.”

She felt comfortable controlling the bot before Victor. She could give it commands, control its voice and see what it could see. She knew--- no felt--- the presence of the other two. The rush of power was intoxicating. The hovercraft was hers to control and with a little effort, she knew she could command the Pylon…

‘Emergence Shutdown Warning’ scrolled over Julie’s vision.

“What’s happening?” asked Julie through the bot.

“Ah. That’s the newest improvement to the Halo technology. At twenty-five minutes of continual usage, you get a warning. At thirty minutes, the Halo automatically shuts down to prevent, what the news coined as Halo Burn.”

“Halo Burn?”

“Well, in essence, brain burn. It’s to prevent the nano wires from digging... too deep.”

Victor walked away, calling back over his shoulder. “Now let’s get you back to the Olympus Mon Port and your first assignment.”

“Which is?” called Julie from the cockpit.

Victor plopped into the pilot’s seat. “Why finding a safe passage through the Kuiper Belt, of course.” He turned and faced Julie with a broad smile, “Iglesia Corp. is looking to expand.”

Prelude pt 5

2010-07-01T14:47:00.006-04:00

I’ll have one more installment after this to complete my Prelude. I am itching to post other stories ideas but I need to finish this first ;). 3WW provided hassle, inject and wealth as the three words. I hope you enjoy it.

Prelude pt 5

The rickshaw-bot motored along the outer-rim route, descending to the lower levels of Venture. Beyond the transparent dome, the bleak Martian landscape extended in all directions. Small sandstorms and dust devils danced in the distance.

“Iglesia Corp is involved in a lot of projects. Some with smaller companies, some military” stated Victor with a smile.

Julie felt uncomfortable in the two-seater with Victor. She reached up and felt a warm metal disc on the side of her temple. The other side felt the same. She moved her palm over her smooth shaved head. It’ll grow back, she thought, at least they're not leaking.

Victor straightens his cuff link. “But the repackaging of the Halo Tech is my idea. All mine.” He turned to face her. “I need to know you’re up for this.”

Julie knew he was more concerned with his own hide then hers.

“I can do this.”

“Good. The Pylon project is critical to Iglesia Corp winning the atmospheric conversion contract.”
“Like I said, I can do this.”

#

The lower hangers were crowded with all kinds of construction equipment. Everything from monstrous eight-wheeled dumpsters to multi-armed plow bots to hovercraft, all heavily sand scorched and scratched except Iglesia’s hovercraft. The Iglesia hovercraft was white and pristine, trimmed on silver.

Victor, in his usual white business suit, pointed at the craft with a small remote and with the push of a button, the side door opened.

“Completely automated. My secretary forwarded the coordinates to the navigation computer. No hassle at all for us.”

“Is it new?”

“No. The hovercraft is a modified scout with all the latest bells and whistles.” Then he realized she meant how clean it looked. “The exterior has a Repulser Field completely around it, protecting it from the elements.”

“Repulser field?”

“It’s based on gravity manipulation similar to the hover technology.”

She snickered and stated, “Iglesia showing off its wealth?”

Victor ignored her.

The interior was just as nice as the outside. Executive leather seats, simulated wood tables and a plush carpet. Three shinny series two bots waited to attend their needs.

Julie watched the framework bots from the corner of her eye and they… seemed to be watching her.

#

Hours later, the hovercraft sped effortlessly across the Arcadian plains. A stream of dust marked their passing.

A little chime called Julie’s attention from the side window.

“Come up here,” called Victor from the cockpit.

Julie stood up.

“Is there anything you need, Dr. Raymond,” asked a bot closely behind her.

Julie jump a little.

The bot’s camera eyes refocused waiting for a response.

“No… no thank you.”

Julie moved quickly into the cockpit.

#

Victor sat in the pilot’s seat. The co-pilot’s seat was empty and obviously for her. Julie slid into her seat watching the door for the bot.

Beyond the windshields, a massive dark metal pylon trimmed in rust dominated the horizon.

Victor smiled and said with a sweeping hand, “The base of the Pylon is a quarter kilometer in diameter and twice as tall to the peak. Over a thousand S.T. 2 bots work in there around the clock.”

“What do you need me to do?”

“Conversion is down twenty three percent. I need you to diagnose the problem and fix it with only the available resources we have here.”

“Sounds easy. And what are you going to be doing?”

Victor took his jacket off and hung it off the back of his chair.

“The fuel injectors seem sluggish, so I’m going to look them over while you work.”

Julie leaned back and closed her eyes. At first she envisioned Victor doing blue collar work and chuckled lightly to herself. Not likely, she thought and then actiavted her Halo.

Prelude Part 4

2010-06-09T14:37:00.002-04:00

Peggy McFarland and I crafted story called ‘Claims’. The story took place in the near future on Mars. Recently, we decided to revisit the Red Planet and fashion a few flash fictions to flush out the setting and some key characters.

So using the 3WW web site weekly prompt (hidden, roam, noble) and Friday Flash, I offer part 4 of my Prelude to a book idea I have.

For now… Enjoy.

Prelude Part 4

The screensaver came on with the Iglesia Corp logo twirling and roaming around a black screen.

Victor stared at his dark reflection. One finger rested on his lower lip, his eyes unblinking.

He reached over and tapped the screen. The logo cleared revealing Julia lying in a hospital bed. A small inner screen in the lower left corner displayed vitals. Her head was wrapped with bandages. The leaking turned out to be brain fluid. “It happens from time to time. Nothing to worry about,” Dr. Lang informed him.

Victor had plenty to worry about. He was the sole person responsible for Iglesia Corp backing the first attempted deep space colony ships, now lost beyond the Kuiper belt. The press wanted someone to blame and Iglesia Corp pushed him forward. First, he tried the noble approach about taking full responsibility but the press wasn’t buying it. If it wasn’t for his improvisational idea about a substantial cash prize for exploring or creating a route though the belt, his career would have ended right there.

He stood up and looked out the office’s panoramic view of the fourth tier. The tinged red sky highlighted the lush green parks, the half-shell Theater and the lake in the center of the Tier. Various new age buildings surrounded the lake in perfect architectural harmony. The true name of the lake escaped him, everyone just called it T4.

A light chime sounded.

“Mr. Vaudeville? Your two o’clock is here.”

“Send her in.”

The double doors to his office swung outward and an older woman wearing an a light green EVA suit and matching poncho walked in.

Victor’s patented smile came to his lips. He extended his right hand.

“Captain Tate. It is a pleasure to see you.” Her grip was strong and confident.

“Hello Victor.” She sat down a high-backed chair. “How is she doing?”

He swung his computer screen around. “Julia, I mean Dr. Raymond will be fine according to Dr. Lang. A few days, max. Is the Pathfinder ready?”

“Derek says we’ll be good to go.” She lightly chuckled to herself. “Oliver is overly excited about flying around in the belt, crazy fool.” She straightened her poncho. “We have thirty-five series two bots to direct without, “she points to the screen, “that Boyar. We need him back.”

Victor leaned over and noticed the Boyar in the room for the first time. It held Julia’s hand looking her over.

“I didn’t realize it was still here.” He turned off the screen. “I’ll have him sent over immediately.”

Captain Tate stood up to leave. “I’m not happy about using your Halo tech with my ship. Look what happened to the Goth Fleet.”

Victor hated when people referred the three lost colony ships as The Goth Fleet. He wasn’t a religious man by any means but the hidden joke about them finding God was a bit tasteless, even for him.

“I’ve always agreed with the theories about the size of each ship being a bit beyond one Halo user to control.”

“And the Pathfinder is just right?”

He reached down and turned the screen back on. He watched the Boyar holding her hand.

“For her it is.”

Prelude part 3

2010-06-02T16:01:00.005-04:00

This week, I continued with my prelude to my sci fi horror based off of 3ww prompts. This week's words are: Nimble, Theory and Budge.

Enjoy.

Prelude Part 3

Julia kept her eyes closed.

“In through the mouth, out through the nose.”

She exhaled and opened her eyes. She was still in the operation room. Latex was all she could smell.

Dr. Lang leaned over her. He looked back and forth at the sides of her face. He ran his fingers over quarter-sized discs covering her temples. Julia winched. She felt something wiggle under her skin and then an acute spike of pain behind her eyes.

“Hhhmm. I’m told those should be the last of the nano-wires adjusting to you.”

“That’s correct Dr. Lang.” called Victor from behind her. “The company’s Halo experts have concluded the operation was a complete success. "

Dr. Lang placed two nimble fingers behind her left ear. She felt her skin shift. “The bio-battery as settled nicely into place.”

Julia felt along the outer ridge of her eyebrow. Something moved under the skin. She felt it. She was sure she felt it.

“About another four hours and all the nano-wires should be finished.” Dr. Lang said as he leaned away.

“Hypo, twenty CCs.”

A medical bot leaned in filling her vision with its complacent unmoving smile. The hypo pinched her neck and her eyes fluttered shut.

#

The door slid open. Victor Vaudeville wheeled Julia in followed by a series three bot; A boyar. Two medical bots stood at attention next to the only door. A large mirror dominated the room.

Victor stopped in the middle of the room. “Now Julie, think about connections. Think about the networks around us. Think about the Boyar and its hive-mind capabilities. Release yourself. “He stepped away softly. “Think about Halo.”

Julie closed her eyes and imagined the room around her. She envisioned the Boyar standing next her, the two medical bots behind her. She imagined the mirror and wondered who or what was behind it.

“Come on, concentrate,” whispered Victor.

She knew the theory of behind the Halo tech. All she has to do was concentrate hard enough and the tech is supposed to do the rest.

Her mind wouldn’t budge.

“Concentrate,” whispered Victor.

She focused on the mirror. Looking glass, she thought. Look. Under her skin, two stubby antennas wormed out of her silver coated temples. Warm blue light bathed the room.

#

Julia floated in the center of the room. She was conscious in her cyber-ethereal form. She looked into the mirror and saw her new body swathed in waist length hair, composed of circuitry patterns, shadows of light and crown with a cerulean halo. Her corporeal body was slumped and lifeless in the wheelchair.

In the lower corner of her vision, a list available networks and relative distances to objects appeared.

She concentrated on the Boyar. An instant connection was made.

She felt a pinch on the side of her head and snapped back into her corporeal body. A stream of warmth leaked from her left temple. She slumped forward. The Boyar caught her.

The antennas burrowed back into her head. Yellow liquid trickled out.

The medical bots came alive. “Medical Alert,” they both said in unison.

Victor reached for Julia, “SAVE HER! SAVE HER!”

Prelude part 2

2010-05-26T15:23:00.005-04:00

This piece is a continuation from last weeks Prelude fashioned from 3ww prompt words: abandon, gradual, precise and also presented to the writers/readers of flash friday.

Enjoy.

Prelude Part 2

Julia twirled Victor’s business card between her fingers.

“Primoris Adventum”

Victor put his water down and smiled.

“I’m sorry, what,” he asked, still smiling.

“Primoris Adventum”

“Isn’t that Latin?”

Julia waved for the service bot.

“Yes. Yes it is. The words of a dead language uttered on a dead world.”

“I’m not following.”

“Venture was originally called Primoris Adventum by the designers from Earth United. When the builders started working on the actual construction, the name gradually changed.” Julia held out her left palm. “Primoris Adventum.” She held out her right palm. “Venture.”

S-5 stopped at their table. “How can I help you?”

“Do you have any trout?”

“Yes, the Tier One Lake has been stocked with edible trout.”

“Two then.”

“Yes madam.” The service bot left for the kitchen.

Julia turned her attention back to Victor.

“Now. You can still find some streets and buildings with Latin names. Those are the originals but tastes change and then history changes and evidentially… everything is forgotten.”

Victor finished his water. “Does this have to do with your discharge from the military?”

Julia leaned forward. “Everything is connected.”

S-5 stood at the table with two steaming plates. It placed one down in front of each of them. Another bot filled Victor’s water and Julia’s tea.

“Will there be anything else?”

Julia smiled at Victor.

“No thanks.”

#

Julia waited in the sterile office of Dr. Liam Lang, neural surgeon. Light instrumental music played in the background. She unbuttoned her EVA suit around her neck and tried to relax. Is this a good idea, she wondered.

A hologram appeared before her. The hologram was of a very attractive female in a professional white suit.

“Dr. Julia Raymond. Your room is ready,” she said in a pleasant tone.

A doorway slid open.

“Second door on your left.”

#

Julia reclined in a form fitted chair. Several machines in the room blinked and hummed. A small display next to her beeped, mimicking her heart beat. A single series two bot stood in the corner holding a hypo-spray.

A small Asian man walked into the room dressed in pristine white with a clear face mask.

“And you are?”

“Dr. Julia Raymond.”

He held out a small device.

“Thumb-print please, Dr. Raymond.”

She pressed down.

“Excellent. You have opted for the Halo 4.1 interface. Your thumb print confirms your understanding. Could you look up forty-five degrees and say yes to the camera as well.”

She looked up and stated, “Yes. I understand.”

Dr. Lang signaled the medical bot.

The gleaming clean bot leaned over Julia and with one precise move, injected the hypo-shot into the right side of her neck.

“Count from ten, please.”

“Ten, nine.”

Dr. Lang rolled a table over with a small silver case.

“Eight, seven...”

He lifted the lid and two shinning silver discs lay on a dark form fitting cushion.

“Six, five..."

He lifted the first silver disc with surgical tweezers. He turned her head to the left. Tiny filament wires reached for her skin.

She trembled slightly.

“Ssshh, don’t abandon your courage now.”

“Three, two…”

Darkness.

Prelude to: Those Who Gorge on Pluto’s Feast

2010-05-19T14:42:00.005-04:00

I decided to re-focus my efforts on my science fiction, horror novella / novel idea. So I’ll be using 3ww and # flash Fridays to flesh it out. This week’s 3 words are: grasp, dread and pacify.

Enjoy.

Prelude to: Those Who Gorge on Pluto’s Feast

Victor Vaudeville hated, no dreaded, Mars. The gravity was too weak. The days were longer and the constant tang of iron in the air bothered his sinuses. As Iglesia Corp’s senior public relations person, it was his job to improve their image and the Halo tech 4.1 was their best bet and his last chance.

As he rode in a rickshaw-bot, he reviewed Dr. Julia Raymond’s resume and statistics on his PDA.

Born June 5, 2077 on Earth, Vail Arizona. No siblings or listing of parents. She graduated top of her class at Lunar Point Military School specializing in astronomy in ’99 and her doctorate in Cartography in ‘01. She was published Stellar Cartographer with a tendency to take chance.

A dishonorable discharge from the United Fleet.

Incident: Classified.

He flipped to her service picture. A mulatto woman in dress uniform with straight shoulders, no smile and tightly cropped hair stared back at him.

The rickshaw-bot turned a corner and the clear dome caught his eye. In the Martian sunlight, tinted dunes and jagged hills stretched out in all directions. Strong winds summoned dust devils that twirled to an alien tune.

The rickshaw-bot came to a stop in front of a two-story terracotta restraint called The Oasis. Sitting outside, sipping from a tea cup was Julia. She wore the traditional EVA suit and poncho. A first glance, she seemed to have kept up on her physical well being, hopefully her mind was still as sharp.

Julia watched the rickshaw-bot from the corner of her eye. A man with blonde hair parted to one side, clean shaven, wore a dark pinstriped business suit complete with a cotton blue power tie approached her.

“Dr. Raymond?”

“Welcome Mr. Vaudeville. Please…. “She gestured to the empty chair opposite her.

“Thank you. And thank you for meeting with me.” He said as he sat down.

A series two bot walked to the table. The series two were humanoid bots. They had thin skeletal structure, chassis and frozen smiling face with dark camera eyes. The walking dead, she thought.

“Welcome to The Oasis. I am S-5 and I will be serving you today.” Its camera eyes survived table. “Sir, would you like a drink?”

Victor smiled at Julia. “Cool water, ice with a twist of lemon.”

“Yes sir. Would you like a refill Madame?”

Julia pushed her empty tea cup forward.

“I’m all set for now.”

The bot left and Victor placed his napkin on his leg.

“Order whatever you want. This is on me."

“You mean Iglesia”

“Of course.” Victor smiled his perfectly white teeth. “I’ve reviewed your resume and military record with the U.F. and I think you’d make a great candidate for our Halo project."

“I thought you need a Stellar Cartographer.”

“We do. As you know, Iglesia Corp is putting up a half billion credits to ship who maps or clears a path through the Kuiper Belt.”

“and a Stellar Cartographer would be essential.”

“Of course. We are also sponsoring a ship called the Pathfinder and we would like you on it using our latest Halo tech.”

“I thought Halo was off the market because of all the deaths related to your tech.” Julia thought for a moment. “Didn’t the Press coin the phrase Halo Burn?”

Victor adjusted in his seat. He didn’t realize she knew this much out here.

“That was years ago. Now we screen potentials both physically and mentally thoroughly. Besides this would give our ship an advantage no other ship could have. A human mind interfacing directly with scanning, maneuvers and navigations. Not to mention direct access to the Hive-bot interface. ”

Victor held out his PDA. “Holo-project file H-1.” A simmering image of a see-through skull with a brain, complete with stem, hovered about his PDA. Two silver quarter sized objects repeatedly placed themselves onto the temples.

“The operation is an outpatient procedure. We have the facilities here on Venture and you can be off-world by the end of the week.” He smiled thinking he pacified any of her fears.

Julia knew he’d grasp for anything to convince her to take the job. Maybe this was his last chance like hers for redemption.

“O.k. I’ll do it.”

Victor slid his business card across the table. “This is my Martian I.P. address if you need me. On the back is the address for the procedure. You won’t regret this, Julia.”

“I already do.” She said to herself.

Adepta Sororitas

2010-05-13T09:05:00.005-04:00

This is my contribution to 3WW and Flash Friday. The 3 words this week are: ignore, fear and weightless. The Adepta Sororitas are from the Warhammer 40k world of miniature war gaming.

Enjoy.

Adepta Sororitas

The immaterium released its hold on the frigate, The Emperor’s Crucible. The transition from the warp to the real-space was never an easy one. The ship rocked hard before stabilizing, severing multi-colored wisps of the warp from its hull.

The ship’s navigator, known only as Victoria, reclined within the pilot’s ivory pulpit. Sensing the return to real-space, she closed her inner warp eye and opened her blue ones to rows of servitors before her. Mentally, she invoked the halo of command to begin retracting its tendrils from her head, several drips used to pumped fluids and nutrients directly into her system began to follow.

She glanced at the lone techno-marine, who ignored everything, and studied inlaid runes on the altar of command. Various tubes and wires randomly entered and exited his exposed fleshy parts of his body. A crimson hooded cloak covered the rest.

“The shields are at eighty seven percent, navigator. I am only detecting small exterior stress cracks on the port side.” He stated. “Minor gravity issue on deck 14 causing weightlessness. Servitors in route.”

A tall figure emerged from behind the navigator’s pulpit, completely garbed in black, wearing an oversized leather coat. Cyber-wear speckled his shaved head. “Assigned repair crews accordingly.” commanded Inquisitor Reginald Dietrich. “Activate the holosphere. I want a system location diagram overlaying our course with time indexes.” Rapidly the techno-marine began tapping runes in intricate sequences. After only a few moments, the holosphere produced the desired effects.

Metal stilettos striking the floor announced Sister Superior Sariel. She carried her sororitas helm on her left hip as she rubbed her chaplet ecclesiasticus with her right hand.

“How did we do?” addressing anyone.

The Inquisitor studied the holosphere. “We should be landing on the fourth moon of Hyrus Prime. According to the long-range divination probes, there is an active power source that wasn’t there before the loss of Hyrus Prime. Its energy signature is unknown to the data servitors. Now that we’re closer, we’re pinpointed an area within a large crater. Topographical divinations are showing us some kind of alien structure.”

Sariel narrowed her eyes, “Whatever you decide, Inquisitor, we will follow. The Emperor’s light is greatly needed here.” She turned to leave. “My sisters and I will await your orders in the forward narthex chamber.”

Dietrich absently flexed his bolt-metal servo hand, reacting to an inner fear. He felt an alien presence on the surface. The presence felt both powerful and strangely multifaceted. Each time he reached out with his mind, spidery psychokinetic creatures stirred to protect it. More than a few portions of his psyche ached from earlier attempts.

“Take us in.”

Emperor protect us …

Hiram Grange: The Devil's Dancers

2010-04-29T14:44:00.008-04:00

Hiram Grange is a dark anti-hero character created by Shroud Publishing Company. Using 3ww I fashioned a tribute to the character. I hope you enjoy.

HIRAM GRANGE: THE DEVIL’S DANCERS

In a dark corner booth, two fingers reached for a saturated sugar cube on a slotted spoon held above a short glass of a liquid opalescence.

“And now, the Hidden Hand is proud to present pure temptation."

“Temptation,” sneered Hiram to himself. He started to suck on the dripping cube.

“Welcome Miss Eve--”

Rammstien’s ‘Du Hast’ droned into the room as the slit of red velvet curtains parted. A mulatto woman with long legs and a green thong strutted onto the stage in thigh high stilettos.

Hiram reached for the short glass and quaffed it down.

“--and the devil.”

A white, yellow stripped snake coiled around her right arm, curled around her neck and lifted her perfect left tit as she held its head before her.

The lodestone under Hiram’s shirt began to heat up as he watched her dance. She and the snake moved as one, hugging the dancer’s pole, bending unnaturally before the mesmerized crowd. She accepted money from men and women alike with her fingertips and teeth, allowing a select few to finger a Jefferson or two into her thong. Before departing, she tongued the snake sending the crowd into a frenzy.

Hiram retrieved a red pill from his inner coat pocket and popped it into his mouth. His legs tingled before becoming pleasantly numb.

Mrs. Bothwell was right about this place. The Naga were trying to return and he just watched the head priestess charm more followers.

The numbness reached his tongue and then colors flowed into swirls and streaks. Hiram’s head felt heavy, too heavy to hold up. He laid his head on the table as blackness slithered over him.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Hiram eyes cracked opened. He struggled up from the table, tossing a couple crumpled bills. The place was empty. The only lighting was staggered blinking from beer signs behind the bar.

“Hhhiram,” called the darkness.

Hiram pulled his Webley Mk. VI from its holster.

“Come to usssss.”

A naked woman, with long blonde curls hiding her face, leaned on the door jam leading backstage. She was one of the earlier dancers.

She turned her shoulders to him and with her eyes closed, swayed to an inner tune. Her hands caressed the flat of her stomach, slid up around the curves of her breasts and then the sides of her neck. She dug her fingers into her hair, opened her yellow eyes and smiled.

“Where is your head priestess?” Hiram pointed his Webley at her head.

She pulled off her wig revealing a scaly bald head and no ears. She hissed.

“Wrong answer!” Hiram shot her in the face.

Stepping over the twitching Naga worshipper, Hiram entered the backroom.

#

The backroom felt moist and smelled of rotting flesh. Mud and decaying bodies littered the floor. Three bald women slithered over the corpses of men and woman alike, tearing body parts and swallowing them whole. The head priestess squatted on a table, licking the finger of a severed hand before peeling away its fingernail with her teeth.

“Hhhiram Grange, welcome,” the head priestess said.

Hiram kicked the closest worshipper in the ribs. She flipped over and hissed. He aimed at her head and pulled the trigger. Brains splattered the other two.

The second one jumped to her feet, fleshly fragments dangled from her mouth. Hiram kneed her in the stomach, stuffed his muzzle in her mouth and pulled the trigger.

The third watch Hiram drop the headless second into the mud as he raised his Webley up to her head.

“Please, no,” said the third as her face softened. Hiram could see a resemblance to his beloved Jody.

“Become one of us Hiram, and she can be yours,” enticed the head priestess.

The Jody look-a-like kneeled before him and pleaded with her eyes, her beautiful hypnotic eyes.

She punched him his balls. Hiram dropped his Webley and fell to his knees.

The Jody look-a-like stood up and punched him in the face. With the first punch, Hiram felt his nose cartilage crunched. His fingers wrapped around his Webley. With the second punch, blood flowed from his mouth and off his chin. She lifted his chin and brought her face to his face.

“How about a kiss,” she teased as a long tongue slithered out of her mouth and tasted his blood.

Hiram pushed the barrel of his gun under her chin and pulled the hammer back, click. “I don’t think so.” Hiram pulled the trigger. Head fragments splattered the wall. The body slumped to the floor.

The high priestess observed Hiram. The albino snake coiled under her feet fixed its gaze on Hiram. Warmth slithered over his mind.

“I want you Hiram…,” the snake said. “She wants you, Hiram….”

Hiram felt the snake lick his inner thoughts and recoiled with a hiss.

“Kill him! Kill him!”

Hiram shook off the trance and raised his Webley. Two shots later all was quiet.

Hiram walked out of the back room to the bar, reached over the slab and grabbed the nearest bottle. Something clear sloshed. He smiled and took a deep drink. It stung his throat in a good way.

He pulled out his cell phone and hit speed dial as he walked to the exit. "It's done," he said, dropped the phone and squinted into the sunshine.

Misunderstood

2010-03-11T15:32:00.006-05:00

This week's 3ww words: Veil, Modify, Obedient were a challenge. I went in a odd direct. I hope you enjoy the piece.

Misunderstood

Along the rolling hills of Scotland, mid-August, the snow was knee high to the gray horse Jamie rode. Jamie McCimmon, a highlander, was dressed in thick leathers, white furs, cold metal plates and a silver skull cap. Strapped to his back was a large circular shield. A silver axe banged against the horse’s midsection in rhythm with the ride.

Not far behind him, was a stout man wearing a thick, oversized, dark-fur coat, a matching fur hat, collared shirt and plaid trousers held up by red suspenders. As a time traveler, John Smith never seemed to get the period dress quite right.

Jamie pulled his horse to a halt to allow John to catch up. He could see his breathe and felt the cold biting his lips.

“Aye… John. Not too much further.”

"I know, I know,” John retorted, struggling with his horse.

Jamie grabbed John’s reins.

“Just a moment.” John reached into his coat and pulled out a golden baton, etched in silver, covered in multicolored wires and dotted with tiny, out-of-sync blinking lights. He waved it over his head and then read a tiny display screen on its side.

“Hmm. Yes, I believe you're right.”

“So the Formoraig’s tower. We can end this blight on the lands.”

“Formoraig? More likely an escaped servant of the Eternals. A Void walker seeking death in our universe.”

Jamie grabbed his axe and held it high. “Then that’s what the monster will get!”

“Not with your axe. I’ve told you. Use your sling and the ball I made you.”

Jamie reached into his satchel and pulled out a palm-sized ball coated in calcium with swirls of black.

“Ah the brain-ball from its twisted attack hound.”

John gave Jamie a sour look. “I modified the nano-probes in its bionic synapses to break down technologies it recognizes.”

“A brain-ball.”

“Sure.”

#

They crested the last ridge. In the concave circular valley loomed a short stout tower of liquid copper. Jamie looked away feeling repulsed by the thing. John did the same.

“It feels… wrong.”

“The valley is veiled in radiation from the Void. Completely abhorrent to our universe.”

The horses whinnied, struggling to stay away from the ridge. John swung off his horse.

“They're useless now.”

Jamie swung off his horse wondering what kind of creatures dwelt between the dimensions as John had described. Creatures seeking an end to their existence at the cost of whole worlds, as far as he was concerned--they were Formaraigs.

They slid to the valley floor and struggled through the thick snow. The closer they came to the tower, the more their bodies twitched.

“I was afraid of this,” stated John. He reached into his other inner pocket and pulled out a small silver ball. To Jamie it looked like John was tracing runes on its surface and speaking in a magical language. Probably the high speech of the Time Lords, he thought.

The ball floated above them and emitted a low, gentle hum. The twitching stopped.

“Better?” smiled John.

“Aye. Now where is the door to this place?”

John studied the structure. “Ah. Easy enough.”

John placed his hand on the liquid copper and forced his hand into it.

“Come on, the door is open. Who could get this close after all?”

John disappeared into the tower, rippling its surface. Jamie pulled free his axe and plunged into the tower followed by the silver ball.

#

“Welcome Mr. Smith,” boomed a great voice. “Even those within the Void know of your exploits.”

John and Jamie stood on a metal floor within a single soaring chamber. The walls where covered in crystals, wires and great machines humming with unimaginable power. In the center, on a great mechanical throne slouched a malformed giant. He bristled with wires and needles through his naked form. One great unfocused eye dominated his head and a tiny eye focused on the intruders.

John looked up and said slowly, “You can’t stay here.”

“I want to die.”

Jamie stepped forward and threw his axe. “Then die, Monster!”

The axe faded into nothing before it made it half the distance.

John sighed.

“I can’t allow you to die here on Earth. Millions of people will die with you. Is that what you want?” John called out and then whispered to Jamie, “The Nano probes... the brain-ball.”

Through his crooked lips, the giant said, “You don’t know the pains the Eternals inflict. Beings bored with their own existence struggle to find new ways to amuse themselves, turning on their obedient servants, forcing us to be pawns in their games of life and death.”

Jamie pulled the lime ball from his satchel and loaded his sling.

“They created you.”

Jamie started to swing the ball behind him.

“I will not play their sick games anymore!” roared the Giant.

Jamie let the brain-ball fly. It decelerated until it almost hovered, contemplating forward motion or giving up the trajectory. Then, it flew, a lightening crack to the Giant's head. Black ant-like lines swarmed over the Giant, creating sparks and smoke.

Mr. Smith whistled and the silver ball dropped into his hand. He handed it to Jamie.

“Can you hit the purple crystal? It’s the main anchoring stabilizer.”

“Aye.”

Jamie swung the silver ball in three great arches and then launched the ball. The shattered crystal rained fragments to the floor. Powerful engines rumbled, their sound growing to a grind.

“The Tower's de-materializing! Jump through the wall!”

#

Mr. Smith and Jamie stood in the snow and watched the Tower fade from existence. Where the tower stood, a perfect bald humanoid hovered for a moment with a sad look.

“A game within a game Mr. Smith,” called the being before it too faded away.

“A game within a game,” whispered Mr. Smith. “Well played.”

Old World Were

2010-03-04T20:52:00.003-05:00

Here is this another piece of fiction for 3WW & Flash Friday using: frail, amaze and sacred.

Enjoy.

Old World Were

Firelight clawed at the darkness, deep within an ancient, old world cave. The tang of blazing wood and hazy smoke stalked old cranks, deep crevices and a stiffening body. Black pools of blood coagulated and stained her dead flesh, broken teeth and snarled hair.

Gun’Thar leaned back on his spread haunches. Sweat streamed from beneath his long matted hair and traced his lean naked form, mingling with her splattered blood on his face and hands. His blue eyes were rimmed red and punished with dark circles. His breath, as if in fevered love-making, was harsh and short. He was aroused.

He stared at his clan’s sacred bear skin, hanging from the rock wall, complete with skull and feral teeth. He could feel the old runes under the skin, pulsating with brimming power as he pulsed, waiting to be released.

He slowly rocked back and forth, murmuring to himself.

“Sssorry. Ssorry.”

He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. Amazed, he noticed her body as if it was for the first time. Her beautiful body… broken… so, so frail, he thought.

“Sorry. Ssssorry.”

Growing guilt forced his upper teeth into his lower lip as the heat of the fire waned and doubt began gnawed into his consciousness. Still the skin’s primal power was before him, teasing him as she teased him.

The bearskin fell a little, moved. Its hollowed eye sockets tilted, drawing in his gaze. He wanted it; he hungered for it and trembled.

He screamed.

He tore the skin down. The soft thick fur swathed his thick thighs and manhood, teasing release; release from the guilt, from humanity.

He flung the skin over his shoulders and yanked its skull over his own head. His vision narrowed as the smeared runes bit deeply and tore into his humanity until nothing was left.

The were-beast roared and bounded out of the cave and into the night, hungering for more.

Of God, Of Death, Of Man

2010-02-24T13:41:00.008-05:00

Here is another answer to Flash Friday and 3WW Wednesday’s calling using the words; Generate, Meager, Tease.

Enjoy.

Of God, Of Death, Of Man

Did I dream of a life?

I can remember the pain and burning in my chest when I coughed. My grieving wife, Elizabeth, sobbed as our priest spoke the words of extreme unction while anointing my forehead with scented oils.

“and the Lord will raise him up; and if he has committed sins, he will be forgiven” ,stated our priest in somber tones.

I saw him close his ominous bible in the light of our fireplace. He walked over to my wife and placed a hand on her shoulder, a meager gesture but a proper response to her grief.

“Take comfort in knowing he is in God’s hands now, my child.”

I tried to speak. I wanted to say ‘I love you Elizabeth’ but my lungs failed me and the light of the Lord over came me. Peace.

#

My awaken nightmare?

Something, someone, pulled me back. From out of the stern hands of God, the fumbling fingers of Man grabbed me and forced me into existence once more.

A storm raged outside the old castle walls. I could hear the crackling of electricity. The humming of machines grew louder and louder as strange images teased my unfocused sight.

I lay under a white sheet with wires twisting from, from… my body.

“Throw the last switch” someone commanded near me, his breath heaving in anticipation.

“Yes, Master” answered another.

Lightening shook the lab.

God protested.

The machines grew louder.

Pulsing pain streamed into the sides of my neck, generating spasms throughout my body. Straps held me tight.

I screamed for Elizabeth but my new throat only roared.

“It’s alive!” he screamed.

I roared again and this time, the straps broke.

Redemption.

Within a Box

2010-02-18T11:39:00.003-05:00

This is my 3WW / friday flash piece. The three words were: Occur, tidy and ragged.
Enjoy.

Within a Box

A breeze crawled through an alleyway, laced with decay and stirring old debris.

Jeremy squatted in a cardboard box with his arms wrapped around his legs. With unfocused eyes, he relived an oversized truck smashing into his old minivan. Fragments of glass and warm blood splashed him from behind, abruptly ending childish giggles. He screamed.

Droplets of rain began to pitter patter on his box, slowly gathering into a puddle before him. He held his ragged legs tighter not allowing the water to touch him. Nothing wet will ever touch him… ever, ever again.

The puddle grew larger and threatened to enter his sagging box. He pulled back as deep as possible but then noticed his reflection.

He was unshaven and dirty with matted hair jetting out of a stained wool cap a child would wear. When did this occur? he wondered with a sudden clarity. He tried to tidy himself up.

“Claire, Ben where are you?” he mumbled to no one.

The box ripped and cold water flooded his box, dousing him.

He screamed.

Damaged Returns

2010-02-11T14:48:00.006-05:00

Here is my contribution to Three Word Wednesday: Lucid, Salvage and Righteous and Flash Friday. Enjoy.

Damaged Returns

A small submarine emerged in a pool within an underwater cavern. Hundreds of feet below the ocean’s surface, Gene opened the hatch and breathed in the stale salty air. The submarine’s exterior lights highlighted long stalagmites and stalactites and oddly angular broken structures.

Gene climbed out of the submarine and splashed onto a small beach area. He examined the closest stalagmite.

“Boyar. Focus the sub’s lights over here,” Gene called out.

The sub’s light shifted and focused on Gene and the surrounding area.

“This is incredible. I think this is some kind of writing,” Gene said.The Boyar, an android composed of polymers and gleaming metal, climbed out of the hatch and joined Gene. His blue opticals scanned the area Gene was concentrating on.

“These symbols are similar to early Mesopotamian, Dr. Dumont,” stated the Boyar.

Gene wavered and held his head for a moment.

“Are you alright, Doctor?”

“Just a headache. Maybe it’s the change in pressure.”

“Pressure readings indicate normal.”

Gene ignored the Boyar and looked around the cavern. He could feel something here. Something. Something calling him as if in a dream.

“That looks like a pavilion and over there, don’t those look like buildings?”

Within an alcove, a green light shone. Gene noticed it pulsated and slowly grew.

“What about that alcove over there?”

He climbed over debris and made his way to the alcove. The Boyar obediently followed. Within the alcove was a set of well-worn steps leading down. The same strange writings were carved along the walls but in a more uniform manner. They carefully descended for several minutes. The air grew warm and moist.

At the bottom of the stairs, an archway opened into a small room of multi-colored coral. A few centimeters of water covered the floor. In the center was a coral pedestal crowned with a massive brain pulsing with life and green energy.

Gene’s eyes widened. He grabbed his head and screamed. The alien brain psychically reached out and tore into his mind and fed on his mental energies.

The Boyar was confused. It did not detect a threat nor could it see any threat.

#

It felt a mind beyond its chamber-station and with no known mental patterns, its mental protocols would not prevent it from feeding… and how it hungered. So, it called to out to the mind in a sing-song manner; it tasted fresh energies and its millennium-long hunger grew.

The mind finally entered into its chamber-station and lashed out like a feral animal and gorged.

#

Gene struggled to stay lucid, his consciousness slipping. He felt things crawl up his legs, across his chest and enter his mouth. He gagged on brain fluid dripping down the back of his throat as the ethereal tentacles burrowed into his mind.

The Boyar watched Gene gag on air and still registered nothing.

The alien mind’s green glow culminated into a single point and projected into a newly formed vortex. The residual energies of the vortex caused the alien mind’s tentacles to phase into real space. They reached from the alien mind and into Gene’s head. The Boyar finally registered the threat and grabbed the tentacles. They fought back tearing off plating, ripping wires and circuits.

#

The damaged Boyer struggled up the stairs carrying Gene’s body. He made it back into the cavern just in time to watch the submarine bristling with energies submerge into the pools. The only signal the Boyar received from the submarine was return, return over and over again.

The Boyar wondered if all this was some kind of poetic justice or just some righteous deed beyond its programming. The Boyar walked into the pool carrying Gene. If it returned, maybe something could be salvaged but first it too needed to return, click. Return, click. Return.

Wiccan Rivalry

2010-01-13T16:21:00.002-05:00

This flash fiction was fashion from the 3 words: Jolt, zeal, and ribbon provided by the web site 3WW. Enjoy.

Wiccan Rivalry

Even as a young adult, fevers sometimes played tricks on Sarah causing her to see or hear things that couldn’t, no shouldn’t exist.

“I am real, my lovely,” said the doppelganger licking the sweat off of Sarah’s forehead before settling on her bedside in the candlelight.

It wore its true form before her; dull gray skin, oval ashen eyes and greasy thin white hair clinging to its shoulders.

“Why?” Sarah coughed; her eyes unfocused.

“My mistress wants you to… suffer.”

It reached over her head and pulled free a ribbon holding up her hair. It held the strand before her as its hair shifted into a version of hers, before tying it up.

In her voice it said, “I can’t wait to meet the young man father has selected for us.” Its mouth unnaturally curled. “You just rest.”

“Who sent you?” she asked.

The doppelganger’s body slowly formed into hers. There was a scent of musk about her.

“Martha Cobblesmith sent me…that little witch.”

“Martha,” she whispered reaching under her pillow.

With a sudden zeal for life, Sarah roared and plunged her athame into the doppelganger’s chest. The creature froze in terror at the witch’s dagger before it sizzled and melted like hot wax.

#

In candlelight, Martha brushed her hair in front of her night stand, silently counting each stroke. She smiled at her own craft. The summonings were perfect. If the fever didn’t kill her, the doppelganger would certainly have its fun.

A stabbing jolt shot through her chest sending her to the floor.

Heaving, Martha struggled to stand. She tore open her night gown exposing a bubbling burn mark on her left breast.

“That bitch…”

Out of her nightstand, she pulled out a bag of salt and around her bed she made a circle and spoke words of power. A shimmering force settled onto the circle.

Something large slithered into her room.

Critiques

2010-01-07T09:36:00.007-05:00

For 3WW and flash fridays, I struggled. I’ve been told it happens. I just couldn’t wrap my mind around the three words: Epic, nibble and drain.

Critiques

Snoopy sat on the top of his dog house with a typewriter. He pulled a page out of the machine and read; it was a dark and stormy night. He liked it, but knew no one else would, so he crumpled the paper and tossed it behind him. He thought for a bit and then typed another page. He pulled it out and read; the epic battle would be told for ages to come. He tossed that one too.

After a few hours of typing, Woodstock flew over and landed on Snoopy’s shoulder. He watched Snoopy create a grand story before his eyes. There were dragons, vampires, knights of old and a pretty princess nibbling on an apple before falling into a deep, deep sleep. He squealed with delight.

“Whatcha got there?” asked Lucy.

She reached up and started reading. Saying “Aha, aha” and “Hhmm,” smiling here and there. Snoopy swelled with pride.

She finished and looked up. “What does a drain have to do with flying cars?”

Woodstock snickered.

Snoopy grabbed the manuscript from Lucy and barked.

Lucy through her nose in the air and walked off saying, “Some writers can handle critiques. Amateurs can’t.”

Snoopy sat back down and flipped through a couple of pages. He turned in Lucy’s direction and stuck his tongue out and went back to typing.

Soon, Linus came by and asked, “Can I see?”

Snoopy passed him the manuscript as he tossed his blanket over his shoulder. Again, Snoopy heard ahas and hmms. He swelled with pride again.

“I assume this is a first draft?” asked Linus.

Snoopy snagged the manuscript and barked.

“I see obedience school has done wonders for you. Maybe you should go over to Lucy’s Psychiatric Help for five cents.” Linus tosses him a nickel, hugged his blanket and walked off.

“Everyone is a critic,” chirped Woodstock.

You’re right, thought Snoopy. He tossed the manuscript in the pile behind him.

He sat down with a fresh sheet of paper, cracked his knuckles and typed; i-t_w-a-s_ a_ d-a-r-k_ a-n-d_ s-t-o-r-m-y_n-i-g-h-t_.

Aftermath

2009-12-30T15:04:00.011-05:00

This week's three words : Ambush, hideous and meddle.

-----------------------

Aftermath

The Constable leaned back in a highchair, breathed deeply and buried the rim of a brandy glass under his thick graying handlebar mustache. He sipped old cognac, letting the warmth flow from his mouth to his aching body.

“Terrible night, Constable,” said an elderly man in a twin chair.

“Mmmm, terrible, God save us.” He toasted.

The smell of burning wood carried through an open window overtaking the musty scent of the study’s books.

“Such evil tonight, but I fear for our good people.”

“The people acted accordingly.”

“As a mob?”

“How can you say that?” The Constable stood. “The Baron created that… that monster.”

The elderly man thought fondly of the young Baron. He was brash and hungry for knowledge but never did he think he was capable of such crimes against God and Man.

“Aye, Viktor may have meddled in things men were not meant too. But…”

“We acted as the hands of God.”

Cool air was beginning to crawl into the study. The elderly man rose using a gnarled cane. He made his way to the window to close it but paused, watching smoke rise from the castle in the moonlight. He shook his head and closed the window.

“What if it wasn’t a monster?”

The Constable’s brow lowered, his lower lip protruded and his eyes grew wide. “You didn’t see the Monster.” He swallowed the rest of his cognac. “It was stitched together, evil piece to evil piece… a hideous sight to behold.” He looked down into his empty glass. “I may never sleep soundly again.”

“I didn’t see the Monster, but I did see the madness of the people. Pitch forks, clubs, sickles, and screams for blood.”

The Constable walked over to the crystal canter and poured himself another.

“If it had blood. Its skin was pale green, like a sick death.”

The elderly man sat back down with a heavy sigh and held his head, “Our Baron is also dead?”

“Yes, no doubt ambushed by the very thing he created.”

“No doubt. There will be an inquiry for sure. If not by the Crown, then by the Church itself… an inquisition.”

The Constable quaffed his cognac and turned pale thinking of how he rallied the mob and led the charge against Von Frankstein’s Castle.

“God help us all!”

Excerpt from: Those Who Gorge on Pluto’s Feast

2009-12-16T12:47:00.007-05:00

I've been developing a science fiction/horror for a few months now called, "Those Who Gorge on Pluto's Feast". I'm looking at minimum, a novella length piece. I have some chapters written, character outlines, research into both Pluto and the Kupier Belt. I’ve been using twitter to flesh some parts and now 3WW as provided another medium with some very interesting words:

Bleak
Hiccup
Queer

Enjoy.

Excerpt from: "Those Who Gorge on Pluto’s Feast"

Julie and the crew followed Marcel through the twisting corridors of the ruined colony ship, Leviathan. Through her own Halo Interface, Marcel was discovered after years of surviving on the plutonian surface by himself, the sole survivor.

Marcel stopped at a sealed metal door. He closed his eyes and activated his Halo Interface. Small bronze antenna extended from his temples. A white-blue energy halo appeared above his head.

Is that what mine look like, she thought touching her temple and feeling a smooth metal disc.

He nodded a few times and then removed a glove and slowly moved his bare hand toward the surface of the door. He sighed with relief when he touched it.

“This is my favorite walking section but when you want to open a sealed door this close to the outer hull, check for the cold else you could open up to a newly exposed section.”

He pulled a level down and the door slid open slowly. Most of the corridor was dark and transparent. The bleak landscape sprawled in all directions with tinted green mist crawling along the pitted and scorched silvery surface.

“Most of the surface is frozen nitrogen, some carbon monoxide and traces of water” commented Marcel. “The green gases are clouds of methane.”

“Is that what you have the bots collecting outside”, asked Derrick.

“Yes. For heat. You get used to the smell after awhile. ”

The door at the end of the corridor opened into a small dining area. The only light was coming from Marcel’s halo interface, dosing the room in an eerie white-blue light. Julie could make out several labor bots along the walls, waiting in stilled silence for Marcel’s commands. The lighting in the room lit slowly. A long table set for ten people and a head chair was lavishly set. Four bots moved to the chairs in the back and slid them out for Julie and the crew.

Julie sat down and the bot behind her pushed her seat in. The others joined her. Marcel took the head of the table and smiled broadly.

“This is a joyful occasion. It has been years since anyone else has joined me. I usually eat with my special bots” he said, then grinned. “They’ll be eating with us too.”

Eating wondered Julie.

Six bots marched through the archway and took the seats closest to Marcel. Underneath their robes were the usual metal skeletal structures and chassis, but their faces were covered in an odd leathery material. Metal teeth replaced the talking speaker and large metal screw heads pointed through the jointing jawbone section.

Oliver put his finger on the face of the closest one. The leather was stiff and unyielding. Thier eyes were inlaid cameras surround by tiny tears.

A metal skeletal hand grabbed his wrist.

“That’s rude, Mr. Patel” stated Marcel in a low commanding voice.

The hand released its hold. Oliver rubbed the circulation back into his wrist.

Cold water was poured into everyone’s glasses. “This water has been frozen for millions, if not billions of years awaiting our lips.

He drank deeply.

China bowls were filled with a reddish soup. Borsch. White potatoes, carrots and small chunks of gray meat swirled behind Julie’s spooned wake, giving her a queer feeling.

Katherine made a small hiccup after a sip and quickly drank more to stifle another.

“Meat, where did the meat come from” asked Julie?

Oliver munched on a carrot. A red drip trailed down his chin as he fished around for the meat.

Marcel put his finger next to his nose and winked. He chewed a large portion and smiled. He went to swallow and choked. He opened his mouth as his eyes began to bulge. Half chewed Borsch spilled on to the table

“Eat…” he choked. The halo around his head intensified. The sitting bots began eating faster and faster. “EA…T” Marcel choked again. The halo burst leaving only the antennas extended and curled slightly backward. They burned bright red with a fiery energy. Marcel fell forward and hit the table with a bone crunching crack. Borsch sprayed the devouring bots.

3WW Grave, Lithe and Offend

2009-12-09T12:57:00.006-05:00

Perfect, After Death

Kira’s golden eyes watched the dissection under a translucent bubble on a metal table. Within the bubble, tiny lasers sliced a human brain into ultra thin sheets. Deft mechanical grips took each sheet, scanned it, and then deposited it into a biohazard container. Above, a holographic screen displayed various streaming characters.

Kira partially floated over to a crystal podium. Her long flowing blonde hair moved as if underwater in the low gravity. A light blue jumpsuit hugged her machine perfect body accenting her hips, breasts and tiny waist.

In the next room, a machine perfect male reclined in ergonomic chair. Another holographic interface above him displayed similar streaming characters.

Kira reached into a clear jelled interface. She watched intermediate version of the characters; some were deleted, some were added.

If I’m saving you from the grave, you’re going to be the way I want you to be, she thought. And you’ll love me forever.

She finished her alterations and moved over to the male in the other room. She opened an eyelid and examined an amber eye beneath. My favorite color, she thought and smiled as she looked over his chiseled physique. The physical changes were to her specifications like her body, voluptuous and lithe, was to his at her death.

A low chime signaled the process was complete. Slowly his amber eyes opened and focused on her perfect face. He reached up and pulled her into a long gentle kiss, arousing her and himself.

She pulled away with a smile, “The others are waiting.”

She handed him a similar jumpsuit to hers.

“Let’s not offend anyone on day one.”

3WW my first try at this

2009-12-02T10:02:00.003-05:00

My friend Peggy told me about 3WW and so...

Fondle
Kick
Sumptuous

Family Dynamics

A cool breeze crawled through the park, reminding Terra the summer was over. The surrounding trees swayed with leaves contrasting their fiery colors of orange and yellow against the clear blue mid-morning sky.

She watched little Tommy sprint with the energy of the energizer bunny, laughing with his older sister Kira as they chased each other around the swing-sets and slides.

Shawn would have loved to see this, she thought as she fondled her Starbuck’s coffee for warmth. Shawn could watch the kids play for hours, drawing conclusions about how they’re going to turn out as adults.

A wail broke her reverie. Tommy was on the ground cradling his knee, rocking back and forth. Kira was running towards her chanting, “It wasn’t my fault. It wasn’t my fault.”

Terra stayed calm and judged her son’s cry. It wasn’t serious. It was his attention cry.

“Ok, ok what happened?”

“He just fell” Kira blurted.

Terra got up and started walking toward Tommy; his crying was down to sniffle.

“You ok honey?”

Tommy’s lower lip started to tremble. “She kicked me...hard” and the tears stared rolling again.

She picked him up and bounced him on her hip.

“It’s ok honey. She didn’t mean it.”

Tommy crying slowed but he held a pouting face. Terra took his fingers and started gumming them. “I’m going to eat you” she teased.

He pouted harder but left his hand in her mouth.

“Grrrr” she teased again.

He started to smile. “My yummy... sumptuous son”.

Kira pulled at her mother’s jacket, jumping up and down, “me too, me too.”

Terra scooped her up on her other hip and all three laughed together at the silliness.

“Are you going to eat us” Kira asked with wide eyes and a big grin.
Terra looked up for a moment and then said, “Maybe...” and gummed Kira’s neck causing a squeal of joy.

Ya, Shawn would have loved this.

3WW Notice

2009-12-01T12:49:00.000-05:00

Tomorrow, I will attempt to join some of my fellow writers and create a few short stories under the rules provided by the website: 3 Word Wednesday. ‘God help us all.’

Under Construction

2009-11-14T14:44:00.001-05:00

Just started creating this area.