tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-272558242024-03-05T18:18:47.203+08:00Lucas Thorn's Official Blogmodern male writer of fantasy epulp fictionlucashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08468525400674603085noreply@blogger.comBlogger61125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27255824.post-24652370773550321812019-10-17T08:35:00.005+08:002019-10-17T08:40:46.320+08:00When is the final book in the Dragonclaw Trilogy coming?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQmHrjGnuzwxCZ93YoRmrUACmRO4yHicbhi4I7zH8FCBxjGAXcRcPD7E87JcjKkoYJFrsRJI6a34pnxdQP3qD2Q6MFQgRO2lsGvCaS1gKSeahYzmCJWNg74eNs43BgzLEhIOw2wQ/s1600/alan+rickman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="460" height="208" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQmHrjGnuzwxCZ93YoRmrUACmRO4yHicbhi4I7zH8FCBxjGAXcRcPD7E87JcjKkoYJFrsRJI6a34pnxdQP3qD2Q6MFQgRO2lsGvCaS1gKSeahYzmCJWNg74eNs43BgzLEhIOw2wQ/s320/alan+rickman.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Good question, fam.<br />
<br />
Let me tell you about my year.<br />
<br />
This year, I'd really hoped to write 6 books. I figured it was doable. However, life happened. In February, management at my workplace changed, and my job role was radically altered from being something quite specific and involving a lot of lateral thinking and effort, to something which was (literally) watching an email box to forward emails to another department.<br />
<br />
You see, I'd worked hard at this place for a year and a half, to build a certain skillset which gave me a great level of freedom to analyse huge amounts of data, and I'd just begun a project which would have doubled that amount of data. I would have been in a playground of data. I kind of enjoyed the investigative process of finding broken things in data. I was also doing a job which is titled "Reporting Analyst" at most businesses, but was obviously not given that as a title or as a payment package.<br />
<br />
So, you can see why when management changed, they didn't know what to do with me and just left me to kind of rot.<br />
<br />
I grew very depressed and found it hard to feel motivated on writing. I
also found myself getting more and more stressed at work and before
work. I couldn't sleep. I worried all the time. I felt like I was
drowning all the time, and found myself getting more and more angry as
time went by.<br />
<br />
In July, they offered me a redundancy package, and I accepted it with, admittedly, some relief. It felt like the gun which had been aimed at me in February had finally pulled its trigger. I was conflicted, though, because I loved working there. I had some good friends and I've now lost most of them. Only two of them reached out afterward to ask if I was okay. And I've felt so messed up that I even forgot my wife's birthday. For me, that's messed up.<br />
<br />
So, that added to the whole feeling of being abandoned and having to start again from the very bottom. Again.<br />
<br />
Needless to say, my past few months have again been a black hole of depression and anxiety as I watch my reduncancy package slowly shrink as I spent it. And now I'm on the job hunt again. Unsure where to begin and what to do. I want to do something challenging. I want to do something which lets me think. I want that so much. But these roles often come with stipulations requiring degrees and years of experience in a role with the same job title.<br />
<br />
I don't have much hope I'll get what I want and am tightening my belt preparing for another unfortunate term in the trenches of Customer Service somewhere. And that's really broken me. I feel the past 10 years in the telecommunications industry has led me to a brick wall and a sign telling me to go back.<br />
<br />
On top of that, sales for my books has been extremely low this year. Even <i>The Shivs</i> didn't get the attention I'd hoped it would. I put a lot of heart into that book, and it didn't pay off. I was so proud of it, but I think it's coming clear that my goal to write these more regularly is probably one which will never pay off and I'm best off slowing down and concentrating on building a life.<br />
<br />
Anyway. This is why I haven't given you any good news this year and I'm doubtful I will have a book this January. I hope perhaps mid-year next year for the Dragonclaw book and I apologise deeply to any of you who come here searching for a joyful story of announcements and the next book. I don't mean to pull a George RR Martin on you, but I have to eat. And writing just doesn't pay the bills at all.<br />
<br />
I won't be abandoning Nysta and the Brides' journey, and will complete both series. But I may need more time than I expected and will be shelving a few other series I had hoped to work on at the same time.<br />
<br />
To those of you who understand how this feels, I hope you found a job you liked.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />lucashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08468525400674603085noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27255824.post-41747847669796464512018-12-29T13:05:00.002+08:002018-12-29T13:07:29.086+08:00stuff writers understand: when you don't know what the fuck you're doing<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I'm now in the final days of a two-week holiday break where I was left alone by my wife who travelled to South Korea to visit family.<br />
<br />
I've had no distractions.<br />
<br />
I am at zen with the world and can sleep in and stay up as late as I want.<br />
<br />
My main is levelled in WoW and I usually only game with my wife, so there's no real instinct to game for hours there. Skyrim is uninstalled and too much hassle to reinstall.<br />
<br />
I have pizza. I have coke.<br />
<br />
And, better than that, I have FIVE book ideas in my head where I have the plot already mapped out:<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>The Shadow Realm #11: Nysta - The Destroyer of Dragonclaw (this will be fucking AMAZEBALLS! No spoilers!)</li>
<li>Rise of the Fel Queen #3: Banshee Bride of the Living Dead (necromancy, spiritualism, and vampires in Queen Victoria's court!)</li>
<li>SheWolf: The Demonic Claws of Hell (may end up being Rise of the Fel Queen #4)</li>
<li>Jegga: Swamp Witch (title to be confirmed, but this is going to be FUN as fuck)</li>
<li>Orsic: Flight from Darkness (Nazi UFOs!)</li>
</ul>
<br />
Amazing shit, and I know you're all excited.<br />
<br />
So, why the fuck can't I write anything worth keeping?<br />
<br />
I have started the Nysta book, which is a priority for me, no less than 10 times. Every time I think I have the right launching pad, the characters let me down by being criminally boring. Nysta is the kind of character who just refuses to play nice with people and it's a bit of a challenge settling her into this book where she starts (potentially) with three other characters.<br />
<br />
She's being a pain in my ass.<br />
<br />
So, I tried giving Jegga a spin, as this is a book I've had soiling my skull for a while. Jegga's more a witchcraft/soft voodoo character with a singular goal: to take over the world and enslave everyone. She's got big dreams, but she's now pushing past 40 and feeling like her dreams are slipping further away than getting any closer.<br />
<br />
She's desperate.<br />
<br />
And so am I, because I just can't get this book to PUNCH me in the face from the starting blocks.<br />
<br />
Thus, I'm doing what any self-respecting writer would do when they have too many goddamn fucking ideas and not enough fucking focus to really push one off the block.<br />
<br />
I'm googling more hobbies.<br />
<br />
<iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/Ci4J1X5SPfc" width="560"></iframe><br />
<br />
That's right. I'm looking at Trampa electric mountainboards. I have a bustin maestro longboard, but I like the idea of cruising around on one of these. It's making me feel all erotic about the seaside trails. I can see myself making videos on taking my laptop out weird places for a bit of an afternoon tappy-tappy somewhere remote.<br />
<br />
And NAS systems for my house to load all my DVDs onto so I can dump the physical copies. I'm looking at my book collection and wondering who the fuck would buy it or if I should walk out back and just burn the fuck out of them.<br />
<br />
I've also been sleeping.<br />
<br />
Lots of sleeping.<br />
<br />
I get up.<br />
<br />
Get frustrated.<br />
<br />
Go back to bed.<br />
<br />
It's really really depressing to know I go back to work in a couple of days and my single goal of writing at least half a book has been shattered.<br />
<br />
And this is why I would have thought I could have written Jegga's story, but I literally have no idea what the fuck I am doing...<br />
<br />
Now.<br />
<br />
That's enough of an article. I know you were expecting solutions or advice on how to focus. But I'm not a fucking miracle worker and I'm not trying to scam you out of anything (though feel free to send me cashes by PayPal because I can't afford the mountainboard).<br />
<br />
Let's try writing again, right?<br />
<br />
No.<br />
<br />
I'm off to twitter instead.<br />
<br />
Fuck.lucashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08468525400674603085noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27255824.post-12260470029041410872018-12-11T15:47:00.001+08:002018-12-11T15:53:59.327+08:00the shadow realm - nysta: destroyer of dragonclaw cover reveal<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5jLb07mT7jM/XA9pYOvB0yI/AAAAAAAABZ0/7RtBJ7ZSig87OaxFoUVueruqjSFLwMC-gCLcBGAs/s1600/o7hctC-P.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1150" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5jLb07mT7jM/XA9pYOvB0yI/AAAAAAAABZ0/7RtBJ7ZSig87OaxFoUVueruqjSFLwMC-gCLcBGAs/s400/o7hctC-P.jpg" width="287" /></a></div>
Every time I ask Amir Zand for a cover to my next book, I say to myself; "Well, no way he can beat the last one. That was the apex of his career."<br />
<br />
Then he'll spit a piece of fucking awesomeness on my doormat which would make da Vinci sweat, and i don't care how fucking blasphemous that sounds.<br />
<br />
Don't believe me?<br />
<br />
Check this out to your left. Is this not the most magnificent fantasy book cover you ever saw in your entire life? Look at it.<br />
<br />
All I said on this one was: ummm, city's on fire. Can you do something with that?<br />
<br />
Boom.<br />
<br />
Look at this.<br />
<br />
Just look at it.<br />
<br />
Man, I keep looking at it in the way some guys look at pornhub.<br />
<br />
As a writer, I draw my inspiration from many places. From the lives of those around me, the media, historical stories, myths and legends, music, and random articles on the internet about Darwinian unfortunates.<br />
<br />
But by far one of the biggest inspirations for me has been these covers. Sometimes I see them and I just can't help but scrap some of my work and work the cover into the book a little better. Because it's a part of my world now, and it deserves to be.<br />
<br />
Man.<br />
<br />
Thankyou, Amir, for the incredible enthusiasm you've shown this little world of mine even as your own career rockets to the stars.<br />
<br />
Amazeballs.<br />
<br />
Excuse me. I need a moment alone...lucashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08468525400674603085noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27255824.post-34130379143057063372018-12-09T16:29:00.001+08:002018-12-09T16:37:25.779+08:00prologue to the mad bride of the ripper<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiowVvGNZYmYVEo4v7b9P-BPQBWk1i4H9wiusCK21m67mEqSSU8f1fezrz6Xi8L8O73nVPyknZaR1YA9Zeo7jJdKGoQDmiRNtQH1xqe6TKFvj6F5VNRcjDGZtT6JDYA_OUTFe8t2Q/s1600/mad_bride_of_the_ripper.GIF" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="612" data-original-width="490" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiowVvGNZYmYVEo4v7b9P-BPQBWk1i4H9wiusCK21m67mEqSSU8f1fezrz6Xi8L8O73nVPyknZaR1YA9Zeo7jJdKGoQDmiRNtQH1xqe6TKFvj6F5VNRcjDGZtT6JDYA_OUTFe8t2Q/s320/mad_bride_of_the_ripper.GIF" width="256" /></a>I have deeply enjoyed writing the sequel to <i><a href="https://amzn.to/2EncnCK" target="_blank">The Satanic Brides of Dracula</a></i>. For me, it's been largely a nostalgic journey as I remember the nights spent watching midnight horror marathons of old 50s-70s horror films.<br />
<br />
In the late 90s, I used to run a few blogs where I reviewed horror films. Mostly Indie Horror Films. What ended up more or less depressing me was the influence Wes Craven had on the genre, which left it stuck in a murk of slasher/parody. I missed horror which were monster films where the monster had a streak of recognisable humanity.<br />
<br />
Slashers turned monsters into silent soulless voids with no real personality. Their personality was entirely a uniform. A mask or a gimmick such as a quick one-liner. There was nothing exciting about them.<br />
<br />
<i>Rise of the Fel Queen</i> as a series revels in the villains as people, possibly to the point of being cruel. This book, dealing with Jack the Ripper as it does, continues the cruelty. Perhaps adds to it from the previous book.<br />
<br />
I was torn between making Jack the Ripper too human, which would diminish (in my opinion) the historically accurate abomination of his acts. I didn't want to do that. Nor did I want to glorify them. It was a difficult line to tread, and one I tried to think carefully about. Including the Angel-maker as a character only dialled that difficult path up to 11.<br />
<br />
I hope you take this series in the spirit it is written. A tasteless homage to an exploitative genre which threw all sense of morality out the window in an unapologetic effort to entertain the sadistic corner of our psyche which loved to see others suffer.<br />
<br />
And, as has become my tradition, here's the prologue to <i><a href="https://amzn.to/2UnOGiy" target="_blank">Rise of the Fel Queen #2: Mad Bride of the Ripper</a></i>!<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
***</div>
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</div>
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<span style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">The little
girl’s fists knuckled tears from her eyes.</span></div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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She refused to
lift her head. Just looked down at the muddy leather scraps which were her shoes.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Sniffed.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Arthur winced at
the sound. Disgusted by the dirty creature. A homeless waif, one of five living
in a nearby shack. If you could call it a shack. It was hardly a shed. Dirty
floor. Dirty walls. Grubby little fireplace. Reeking of rotten food and
excrement. Eldest child only twelve.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Or so he’d
claimed.<o:p></o:p></div>
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This one no
older than nine.<o:p></o:p></div>
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In his mind, he
thought they should be rounded up by the police.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Little body
shivered. Shock had turned her skin so pale it was almost translucent.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Which made the swollen
red marks on her throat redder than they should have been. Bruised veins
webbing her neck.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Kneeling, Van
Helsing lay one hand on the girl’s shoulder. With gentleness in his voice, but
not reflected in his unblinking gaze. His eyes remained twin orbs of stern ice.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
“You’re safe now,
Tammy,” he said. “I promise. But you have to tell me. Tell me who did this? Who
did this to your neck?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“It were the
Bloofer Lady,” Tammy cried. “She were here. She were. Really, mister, she was. No
one believes me, but she were here. In her white dress and everything. Just
like they say. Please, mister, please let me go.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Bloofer Lady,”
Arthur grunted. “That’s a hoax. Everyone knows that. Even the newspapers think
it’s a frightful joke. This is rubbish, Abraham. We’re wasting time on filthy
peasant superstition.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Hush, Arthur,”
Van Helsing said. No emotion. Clipped German accent accepting no argument.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Arthur looked
away. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Lord</i>, Arthur thought. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I’m a fucking Lord. Would it hurt the old
bastard to use the fucking title?<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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“I believe you,
Tammy,” the old man said. “Tell me where she went, won’t you? The Bloofer Lady.
Where did she go after she hurt you?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Please,
mister,” the girl whined. Sniffed again. Thick and nasal. Had the child ever
washed? Arthur didn’t think so, and he took another shuffled step further away
from her. Wiped his hands on his coat as she continued to sniffle. “Don’t make
me tell. If she knows I said anything, she’ll come after me, won’t she?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“How can she
find you? She doesn’t know where you live, does she? You didn’t tell her? About
your little friends?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“I didn’t tell
her anything. I didn’t want her to come for Lizzie.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“And you don’t
want her to come back for you either, do you?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg7V6u99rkkKA-BmSIlpLkqxTxbwRYY2CtMGzzsh8ITzO3tzZB6UIlrUF3fA5EjIB42zjuSTrCwccuMOuX8JkhjQwVEfwI9bWnOw_99dBNL8Bv4mx-FjxorDRsN3MNLen19OzDpw/s1600/SatanicBrides_small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1013" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg7V6u99rkkKA-BmSIlpLkqxTxbwRYY2CtMGzzsh8ITzO3tzZB6UIlrUF3fA5EjIB42zjuSTrCwccuMOuX8JkhjQwVEfwI9bWnOw_99dBNL8Bv4mx-FjxorDRsN3MNLen19OzDpw/s320/SatanicBrides_small.jpg" width="202" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://amzn.to/2L4KP5U" target="_blank">Book 1 Out Now</a>!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
“No!”<o:p></o:p></div>
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He took both
shoulders. Hard grip which made her only wail louder. “Then tell me! Tell me
where she’s hiding.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“You’re hurting
me.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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The old man
forced himself to loosen his grip. “I’m sorry, Tammy. Really, I am. I didn’t
mean to hurt you. But I can’t catch her if I don’t know absolutely everything.
All I want to do is help you. So, I need you to be brave. Very brave. Can you
do that?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Tammy slowly
pulled her fists from her eyes.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Red eyes soaked
with fear.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Sniffed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Arthur
shuddered. Grotesque, he thought. Someone should put her out of her misery.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
He felt the gun in
his pocket.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Heavy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Promise of a
merciful death.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
More than these
street urchins deserved. Before the vampire had grabbed her, she was no doubt
picking pockets or something equally unsavoury. A part of him wondered if they
should let the vampire roam a little longer. Perhaps it would clean the city of
unwanted trash.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
A bit like
wolves picking off the weakest deer.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
“She had ghastly
eyes,” the girl said. “The Devil’s eyes, they were.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
“I know.” Van
Helsing’s voice was calm. He smiled at the girl. “I promise you, I won’t let
her hurt you again. Do you believe me when I tell you that?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
“Yes.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
“Then be a good
girl and show me which way she went. You don’t have to come with us. Just point
the way, and then you can run home. You want to go home, don’t you?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
The little girl
looked back down the street at the row of degenerate houses.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Ramshackle and
covered in filth.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Coal smog crawled
through the streets, adding to the gloom as early morning fog began falling
away from the streets. “I don’t know.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
“Of course you
do. Your friends are waiting. Lizzie is waiting, too. You’ll be safe there.
Safe while we make sure the Bloofer Lady never comes for you again.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Shoulders
buckling, the little girl wiped her nose across the back of her sleeve.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Arthur
suppressed a gag.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Watched as the
girl gave a defeated nod. Raised a little arm and pointed. “She went there.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
“Down this
street?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
“Yes.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
“Did you see
which building she went into?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
“She didn’t,”
the child said. Lowered her voice to a frightened whisper. “She went to the
graveyard. That’s where she took me, mister. She said we could play a secret game.
That it would be fun. She said I shouldn’t be afraid. But I was. I didn’t want
to, but she held my hand very tight and wouldn’t let go. And then she made me
lay down on one of the stones. It was so cold. She told me she wanted to kiss
me. A gentle kiss, she said. But it wasn’t soft at all. She bit me. The Bloofer
Lady bit me on the neck and it hurt.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
The girl burst
into tears again, sobs chugging like a train as Van Helsing patted her head.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
“There there,
Tammy. You run along now. Go straight home and don’t talk to anyone, you hear?”
He dug into his pocket and pulled out a small roll of notes. “Take this. And
don’t be frightened. We’ll deal with the Bloofer Lady for you. After tonight, you’ll
never see her again.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
“Really?” The
girl took the money, eyes wide. Sobs choked off by sight of more than she’d
ever seen in her life. “I can have it?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
“Yes. Now, run
along home. Off you go.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
“Bloofer Lady,”
Arthur snorted as the girl scurried away without a word of thanks. “Do you
really believe that, Abraham?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
“Yes, actually,”
the old man said. Wiped his hands on a little handkerchief before dropping the tainted
cloth to the ground. “I do.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
“She hardly
seemed very reliable. She’d have said anything for money. Anything at all.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Couldn’t hide
the bitterness from his tone.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Had begun to
wonder if Van Helsing was the same kind. The old man seemed to be taking an
awful lot of Holmwood money to fund his crusade. But not much of it had yielded
results.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
“Would she? What
about the marks on her neck?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
“Probably some infection.
Enough of it around here. God, Abraham. I feel dirty just being near the little
monster.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
“She’s not the
monster, Arthur. The real one is this way.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
“You honestly want
to go to the cemetery?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
“Naturally.
That’s where this Bloofer Lady is.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
“If this Bloofer
Lady is a vampire, shouldn’t we wait for the sun to come up?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
“It’s close
enough to morning. She will have taken refuge by now. Come.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Arthur followed
the old man, hand inside his pocket. Fingers around the revolver’s grip.
Something about the heavy weight made him feel less afraid, even though he knew
bullets wouldn’t stop the undead.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
For that, he had
a mallet. Two long stakes. Crucifix.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Small bottle of
holy water.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
And a bible.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Didn’t much
believe the bible, but he’d seen vampires cower from it so was happy to use it
as a shield if he had to.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
The cemetery’s
gravestones were a mix of old and new. Some looked close to toppling over,
faces obliterated by muck and lichen. Others were fresh.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Clean. Names etched crisp into stone.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Names with no
real value, he thought.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Who were they
anyway? Did anyone even remember anything about the dead lying buried here? The
majority were simply names and dates on a stone. What had they done to deserve
being immortalised?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
He followed Van
Helsing. Watched as the older man knelt to rub his fingers through moist grass.
Or sniff at the air. What he was smelling, Arthur couldn’t guess.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
With the
factories nearby, all Arthur could smell was the stink of industry and the echo
of Tammy’s unwashed body. He put his sleeve up to cover his nostrils.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
“This way,” Van
Helsing said. Headed swiftly toward a crumbling crypt. “It’s in there.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Mist crawled on
its belly around surrounding graves, sucking at the rotting gasses of decaying
corpses.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Arthur
shuddered. “How can you tell?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
“Can’t you smell
it, Arthur? Brimstone. The vampire’s unholy bargain with the Devil leaves a
trail anyone should be able to detect.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
“Brimstone. Are
you serious?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
“Never more so.
Look! Did you see that?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
“See what?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
“Something moved
in the shadows.” The old man pulled out his crucifix. “Be ready, Arthur. And
don’t hesitate. No matter what you see, do not hesitate.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
“Why would I?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Van Helsing said
nothing. Crept toward the little opening. Peered into the darkness.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Licked his lips.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
“I’ll go first.
You can watch my back.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
And ducked
inside.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Arthur followed,
drawing mallet and stake. Took a shallow snatch of breath and was overwhelmed
by its thickness.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Whispered; “God,
Abraham. The dust. Are you sure this is the place?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
“Yes,” the old
man said. Pulled out a torch and lit it. Let the flame peel away the shadows of
the crypt. A heavy coffin lay in the middle of the small room.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Beside the
coffin, the bodies of two children.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Each with
throats torn out. Flaps of skin raked back to expose ripped arterial cords.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Arthur covered
his mouth and nose with his cuff. “Oh, God.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
“There. Inside
the coffin. The vampire is here. And torpor already clasps her awareness. We’re
just in time, Arthur.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
“Right.” Arthur
tried not to gag as he stepped past Van Helsing. Eager to get the job done and
get out. Held stake out in front of himself and saw the white dress. Stained
with blood. Fresh blood still wet. Gleaming in the torchlight.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Eyes half-closed
and wincing, he pressed the stake to the vampire’s breast.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
And, though he
always tried to avoid doing so, looked at her face.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
He froze.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
“Arthur?” Van
Helsing whispered. “What is it?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
His strangled
cry echoed within the crypt. “Lucy. It’s Lucy!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Her eyes flicked
open.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Lips drew back
in a savage grin to show fangs. Mouth opened in enraged silent roar.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Van Helsing
rushed up. “Arthur! Strike!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
“No. I can’t.
Look, Abraham. Look at her. It’s Lucy, damn you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
From her open
mouth, the shriek finally emerged. High and piercing like the scream of a bird.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Her arm flashed,
clawed fingers streaking toward Arthur’s neck.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Van Helsing
shouted.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Mallet hammered
home.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Blood.<o:p></o:p></div>
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And then there
was silence. Broken only when Arthur began to sob.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3NRU3bY41is/XAzSUvznEpI/AAAAAAAABZo/T-lj0q8gSw4OIar77zZbq5IXNMhVZry3QCLcBGAs/s1600/mad%2Bbride.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="932" data-original-width="746" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3NRU3bY41is/XAzSUvznEpI/AAAAAAAABZo/T-lj0q8gSw4OIar77zZbq5IXNMhVZry3QCLcBGAs/s320/mad%2Bbride.JPG" width="256" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://amzn.to/2UnOGiy" target="_blank">Pre-Order Mad Bride of the Ripper</a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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lucashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08468525400674603085noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27255824.post-8871593705211410822018-10-20T22:33:00.000+08:002018-10-20T22:33:07.113+08:00mad bride of the ripper - cover reveal<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXzcDgOR7odoUw_vuAApCfv5232PScx7PkYwomkBkGe_2PXVhfz1nj0QqveiaPRDKNSavl5yt1hrhC07WtoeuMy7p752toxHmZ5F0M6sVnuL-i71o2EMErs5HjfFLOPFo_gWW9ZA/s1600/mad+bride.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="932" data-original-width="746" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXzcDgOR7odoUw_vuAApCfv5232PScx7PkYwomkBkGe_2PXVhfz1nj0QqveiaPRDKNSavl5yt1hrhC07WtoeuMy7p752toxHmZ5F0M6sVnuL-i71o2EMErs5HjfFLOPFo_gWW9ZA/s320/mad+bride.JPG" width="256" /></a></div>
When I wrote The Satanic Brides of Dracula, I had originally envisioned it as a once-off. A kind of hat-tip to what I thought Universal Monsters should have done for the genre. That is, look back to the classic movies and more or less pump them full of adrenaline.<div>
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I'd hoped for a bit of Peter Cushing as viewed through a Tarantino lens. Hammer Horror on crack.</div>
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Instead, we got Tom Cruise.</div>
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I shudder.</div>
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I started writing my book with Dracula as the main character. But, as I've mentioned before, he kind of bored me and his brides became the focus.</div>
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By the end, I had unwittingly created for myself the challenge of writing a new series alongside my Shadow Realm fantasy world.</div>
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This is... hard.</div>
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But I have always loved the old black and white horror movies. And one thing more than almost any other has always stuck in my mind. Dwight Frye.</div>
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The man's portrayal of Renfield is second to none. He was the perfect creepy little victim. His manic laugh and reptilian vocal rhythm has never left my mind. So, when I sat down to write the sequel, I knew I had to include him as a main character.</div>
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The second character I always felt to be ignored was Lucy. Poor dejected Lucy. Dracula's second choice. His snack on the side while he drooled over Mina. I had to include her, too. Her story is the most pitiful in almost every portrayal. So pitiful she is often excluded from movie adaptations or, even worse, rolled into Mina.</div>
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Lucy Westenra deserves better.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMIGgQy2EpbfISsFgnKT0hdF2h07p0_Gj1ySgdOhjJbO038PRS2pqsJ9gP8GaAl_U7cxWqmqWv419C7YdsKjjt-3hdpmHO_UjF5qLXiRNmxiQSu7g7ZwvROBgQMSRFcfBUQQW7FA/s1600/dwight-frye-renfield.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="550" height="174" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMIGgQy2EpbfISsFgnKT0hdF2h07p0_Gj1ySgdOhjJbO038PRS2pqsJ9gP8GaAl_U7cxWqmqWv419C7YdsKjjt-3hdpmHO_UjF5qLXiRNmxiQSu7g7ZwvROBgQMSRFcfBUQQW7FA/s320/dwight-frye-renfield.jpg" width="320" /></a>And I decided to give it to her. This, then, is my story for Lucy and Renfield. Two of the Dracula mythos' most pitiful creatures. I gave them something more beautiful. Something more dark. Something delicious.</div>
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For me, focusing on these two for the sequel was the perfect way to continue the story of Dracula's brides.</div>
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And what more perfect way to continue than with one of Lente Scura's amazing pieces of art? If you haven't checked out her work before, you should definitely go to her <a href="https://www.artstation.com/lentescura" target="_blank">Artstation page</a>. Her work is surreal. Gentle. Yet, oozes a sense of morbid horror like no other artist I've found. I can think of no one else I'd rather have had to do this cover. As soon as I saw this image, I knew it was perfect.</div>
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Utterly perfect.</div>
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Light, madness, and surrendering to darkness. These are the central themes to my next book.</div>
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And one look at that image and you know Lente delivered this in spades.</div>
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If you haven't read the first in the series, <a href="https://amzn.to/2PRM2yM" target="_blank">please give it a try</a>. Even if vampire stories are not your bag and you're here mostly for my fantasy, I think you'll enjoy it. There's no sparkling. No love triangles. No pining after lovers from the safety of the shadows. No teenagers going to school with old men in teenage vampire skins.</div>
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There's no Buffy here.</div>
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There is only blood. Death. And madness.</div>
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As it should be.</div>
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<h2 style="text-align: center;">
Mad Bride of the Ripper<br />Coming January 2018</h2>
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<br /></div>
lucashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08468525400674603085noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27255824.post-7245576424730980822018-07-15T12:31:00.000+08:002018-07-15T12:36:52.746+08:00the storms of widgeroo - a chaomage story<br />
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-SuVh_2-nDMk/W0rNjwP4liI/AAAAAAAABWc/uO0QDTzjtYchsam6Tfx5PYXhdzvsbexmwCLcBGAs/s1600/desert.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="548" data-original-width="770" height="227" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-SuVh_2-nDMk/W0rNjwP4liI/AAAAAAAABWc/uO0QDTzjtYchsam6Tfx5PYXhdzvsbexmwCLcBGAs/s320/desert.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<i>This was a short piece done as a companion to my novel, The Zombies of Widgeroo. That book was a loving mix of Lovecraft and a classic road novel written via my Discordian beliefs. Continuing the tone, this story is set hundreds of years after the events of that book.</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<i>******</i></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
I believe you’ve already read the
files of Abernathy Jones, explorer of the Widgeroo Plains. You would then
be fully aware of the belief that, at some time in our history, an army of zombies
once knelt there for more than a hundred years. You no doubt have read the
legends which speak of a man who summoned in that place the very gods and slew
them as they appeared.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
I wonder, then, were you as
curious as I as to what happened to the bodies of these gods who were
supposedly slaughtered on the Widgeroo Plains?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
And what of the fabled zombies
themselves who knelt there?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
I read the reports of many
archaeologists and my thirst for knowledge on this subject has been far from
slaked.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
I resolved to go to Widgeroo and
see for myself. To feel the accursed land beneath my feet and perhaps, if I
were lucky, to find some clue as to the true history of that mysterious place.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
I set out in November, just as
the weather was warming in the Southern Lands, and I found it no easy journey.
Craw-wings refuse to fly near Widgeroo. Magic in that place is unreliable due
to its close proximity to several large Telluric Curtains. Roads do not exist
this far inland so the use of a steam engine was impossible and the many desert
tracks seem to loop upon themselves many times as though they were formed by
the mischievous wanderings of gypsy elves with an alien and malicious humour.
Many times I found myself walking across ground I had covered before, seeing laid
out before me print after print of my own boots.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
I trekked for many weeks, often
by light of the gibbous moon. To travel by daylight seemed insanity with the
intolerable heat and the screaming of flies and other insects which stalked the
desert in search of bodies to plunder of moisture. During the day I would sleep
in whatever shade I might find, comfortably tucked inside my swag until
nightfall. The cold nights were perfect for energetic activity, and I found the
going to be more comfortable than if I’d maintained a daylight schedule.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
Widgeroo often felt an endless
distance away, almost as though it were a mirage, but I knew I was getting
closer despite the attempts by those who had made these paths to turn me away
or frustrate me until I gave up altogether. I found myself steeled by a resolve
which quickly turned to fanaticism. I would tell myself I was getting closer,
that I was nearly there.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Just one more dune.<o:p></o:p></div>
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One more dune.<o:p></o:p></div>
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But for my training in survival,
I would have run out of water. I managed to remember the small cantrips needed
to point me to fresh water and found the desert a surprising source of
underground streams not too deep beneath the surface. The rumours of a vast
inland sea close to Widgeroo seemed all the more true as I journeyed ever
closer to the Plains themselves.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
Three days before I reached the
edge of the Widgeroo Plains, I was woken in the middle of the day by the sound
of soft panting outside my swag, as though a dingo had paused to inspect the
zipped opening.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I heard it claw lightly at the
edges of the swag, and I shuddered at the thought of its canine fangs.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"Go away!" I cried,
hopeful my voice might startle the beast into flight.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
It paused, perhaps uncertain of
what it had heard. I never thought such a beast might be more curious by my demand
than afraid. Certainly it may never have seen such a thing as a swag, let alone
a person, in the bleak emptiness of the desert. Perhaps it had the place to
itself for so long it never knew of other creatures larger than a desert mouse
or lost reptile.<o:p></o:p></div>
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In any case, I heard it shuffle
away, claws scratching lightly along the sand as it went on its way.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
Satisfied it would not bother me,
I fell asleep once more.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
The next day, however, I was
woken once more by the sound of the dingo’s soft panting, and I cried once more;
"Go away, I tell you!"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
Perhaps this time I had less urgency
in my tone. I had during the night satisfied myself that I was a man and this
was a mere beast to be awed by my presence. I was confident that it would not
dare to bother me.<o:p></o:p></div>
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This time, however, it gave a lot
growl.<o:p></o:p></div>
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My heart fluttered like a bird in
my chest and I am not ashamed to admit to a moderate fear spreading along the
warm fluid pulsing through my limbs.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The dingo scratched once more at
the opening of my swag and then trotted off, seemingly pleased it had asserted
itself by growling at the intruder.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
That night I checked for tracks
of the animal, but found nothing in the sand outside my swag or even on the
track leading toward Widgeroo. I believed then that the wind had merely shifted
the sands and covered its prints. I gave it no more thought.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The day before I reached the edge
of Widgeroo, it returned again.<o:p></o:p></div>
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This time it announced itself by
scratching rabidly at the opening of my swag before leaping on top. Snuffling
and snarling. Jaws snapping. I kicked in terror at the large form, its sharp
nails digging into the cloth of the swag, but not far enough to reach my skin.<o:p></o:p></div>
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"Go away!" I screamed.
"For Eris' sake, go away!"<o:p></o:p></div>
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Terror left my mind bereft of
coherent thought. I couldn’t have uttered the most simplest of cantrips even if
I’d thought to try.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The dingo growled, and the sound
of its low growl haunts me to this day. It wasn't a growl of warning, or of
challenge, but of hunger. It hungered to slash and tear at my flesh, and I could
see in my mind's eye the horrible fangs which hung inside its raw mouth.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
I pulled the musket from my belt
and aimed it through my swag at where I thought the savage beast might now be
crouched and fired a round of plasma. The enchanted shot blasted through the
swag and I heard a sharp yelp of pain before the beast took off at a terrific
pace. I struggled to free myself from the swag with my gun held before me, my
finger white on the trigger.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"Damn you!" I cried,
pointing the musket this way and that in search of the fleeing beast which was
by then nowhere to be found. "Where are you?"<o:p></o:p></div>
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Where it had hidden in this
barren land, I do not know, but it was nowhere in sight.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
Frustrated and afraid, I rolled
up my swag and headed off. That night, I crossed onto the cursed plains of
Widgeroo.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
The plains themselves were
different to the desert I had been wandering through. It was as though grass
had been painted with precise uniformity onto the desert, forming an unnatural
oasis where no oasis should be. The long strands of green rose up to my hips in
places, and I often had to lift my legs quite high to make my way through to
the centre of the plain. I knew this was the direction I needed to go, because
I could see a large black shape in the middle of the grass.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
However, the black shape turned
out to be little more than a stone. Large, of course,but otherwise no more
unnatural than the fact I was standing in an oasis in the middle of a demonic
land.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I sat on the stone and tried to
think about my next move. Somehow, in my arrogance, I had believed all the
answers might just present themselves to me. That, on my arrival, a great tower
might erupt from the land and reveal all its secret histories to me.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I was disappointed, and ready to
weep at the very thought I had crossed this bleached land for nought.<o:p></o:p></div>
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And then I heard it - the soft
drumming sound of waves. Heavy, and tumbling and unmistakable. Yet, the Jones
papers were adamant no inland sea existed. They reported little more than a
small patch of greenery surrounded on all sides by blinding desert. How could
this be?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
I rushed toward the source of the
noise, absent of all senses in my desperation to discover something fresh -
something new - in this mysterious place which had been picked over like the
bones of carrion by vultures in their scores.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
Sprinting over a small hill, I
was witness to a sight I hesitate to call magical, but can only describe as
something from a dream. A wide open expanse of water, the waves of which were
tumbling gently onto the sand which reached through the grass like fingers into
a glove.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
I fell to my knees and my eyes
were wide with disbelief. I had found the inland sea as told in all the legends
of this place. It is said when Macintosh returned from another dimension, it
was to this place. From here, he went to the plains of Widgeroo where he slew
the Second Coming of the Capitalist Overlord and brought down the gods whom he
murdered before stealing their power and ending the universe.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
I breathed more wildly, as I
realised it was here he had walked. I was standing where the gods themselves
had exhaled their very last breaths!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
Looking around, I searched for
some sign, some token of their passage.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
A part of me laughed bitterly,
fully aware there had been hundreds who had visited this place. Many had
searched, with more powerful magics and even a few who used ancient tools and
mystical machinery to sweep this place of all its secrets. They had found
little more than sand and dust. What hope, mocked the voice in my head, had
such a feeble mage as I to find that which greater men had sought?<o:p></o:p></div>
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I slumped at the thought, lost to
the sound of the gentle waves gliding up the beach.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
The waves! Of course!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
None of them had found this sea!
That meant it must be almost seasonal. Perhaps it was a rare event. Perhaps it
was not the place, but the time which mattered!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
A frenzy of energy took my heart
and a flash of light blinded me for a moment. It was then I noticed for the
first time the storm clouds lashing the horizon. Lightning danced, slowly at
first, then with more vigor. Thunder growled across the sky, making me shudder
as I was reminded of the dingo which had savaged my swag.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
I realised I should get out of
the storm before it hit, and looking up the beach, I noticed some stones I
hadn't noticed before. I resolved to pitch my swag among them to avoid much of
the wind which had already begun to nip at my clothes. I was amazed at how
quickly the storm seemed to approach, and even the waves had begun to show caps
of white. I staggered toward the rocks, the energy which had filled me slowly
sapping away as I realised I might not be able to explore as much as I had
hoped in the next few hours.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I set up my swag, and quickly
wriggled inside as the rain suddenly poured with the power of an opened tap.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
Thunder continued to roll across
the sky and the strange storm made the very ground shake and the sea outside
thrash. It was as if the earth itself had upheaved and sought to rid itself of
this cursed area altogether. I shivered in my swag, uncertain if because of the
cold or thought of the land around me being so cursed the earth itself had
suddenly come alive to destroy it.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Then, so faintly that at first I
thought I must be imagining it, I heard it.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The soft panting of the dingo.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
I gripped my musket and pointed
it at the opening of the swag. My hands trembled so hard I could not keep it
squarely aimed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
The dingo pawed at the swag, and
I closed my eyes, sweat dripping down my brow and crawling down my cheek like
glassy ants.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
Finally, I could take no more,
and as the beast pawed harder at the opening, I fired another shot and screamed
for it to go away. It raced away, and I once more tore myself free of the swag
and into the raging storm.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
I felt the storm's fury, but the
fear of this animal had ignited something inside me, fuelling a desperate rage.
The hate I felt for it was now absolute. How dare this <i>beast</i> attack me!
How could it hope to win against me? I had a gun! It had but paws and teeth.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
It was an <i>animal</i>! I was a
man! It had no right!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
I stalked into the grass behind
the beach, musket held before me, my hand now rock steady as the single purpose
to kill this creature formed a cold ball of icy determination in my gut. I felt
strong, powerful, and unstoppable.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"Show yourself!" I
roared. "Come on! Get out here, and I'll blow your fucking head off, you <i>dog</i>!"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
A black shape darted through the
grass, and I fired at it. Enchanted plasma rounds glowing brightly as they sizzled
through rain and, though they missed their target, they exploded with a
satisfying thump into the ground.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
I felt even more powerful, more
alive, and more human than I had ever felt. There was an instant where I almost
loved the beast for showing me this predatory side of my soul.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
The yelp of the creature was
clear through the wind and ceaseless rain, and I saw the black shape flit
behind the rock in the centre of the Widgeroo plains.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
I stalked it then, slowly and
with care so as not to startle it. Keep it still, I thought. Keep it there,
safe in its belief I cannot see where it is. Slowly I will approach, reach out
and shoot the little bastard in the head.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
I felt my mouth form a snarl and
knew my eyes must be wild, but I was drunk on the thought of the fear I must be
returning to this creature.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"I'm coming for you," I
whispered.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
I was sure I saw it then,
crouched low in the grass, back toward me. Hunched over its paws. I couldn't quite
be sure in the heavy rain, so I waited for a strike of lightning to illuminate
the plains.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"Come on," I whispered
so softly it could not hear.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
I saw it trembling, swaying on
its feet.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
Its shape was weird, but I
couldn't fasten onto any thought other than that I had only one chance to shoot
it and be rid of the fear it had caused me for so many days. Vengeance was all
I could muster at this time. Curiosity had fled me.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
And then the lightning flashed
and that instant became an eternity as the creature turned and I saw not a
dingo but - impossibly - something more terrifying.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
The thing had been human, once,
but was now one of the undead. Its glowing green eyes blazed and I could see so
clearly it clung tight to its right shoulder where the large hole caused by the
enchanted plasma had torn clean through its body the day before.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
I stepped back, gripping the musket
tight in my fist, a cry of horror wrenched from my lips as it saw me and
snarled with deepest loathing.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
I fired.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
And fired again.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
I fired so many times and each
shot exploded another hole through its awful flesh. Each shot tore it apart
more completely until finally it lay on the ground, panting. I fired again.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
And again, this time aiming for
its head.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
It looked up at me, right at the
end, green eyes burning like dying embers. I shot them both, terrified it might
suddenly reach out and clasp my leg in its deathly grip.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
But it died, finally. And my musket,
spent of plasma, smoked in my hand.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
I lowered it and dropped it to
the ground, before kneeling, spent, beside the body of my tormentor.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
Lightning flashed a crippled
burst and a deafening crash of thunder clapped hard above my head like the cry
of a doomed god. I looked upward, suddenly fearful, and then looked down at the
shattered corpse.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
It was, thankfully, still dead.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
Rising to my feet, I turned to
make my way back toward my camp when I saw it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
A light.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
Small, and insignificant at
first.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
But then there were two.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
And then four.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
And then so many I could not
count as thousands of eyes opened to glare malevolently at me. The next flash
of lightning revealed my greatest nightmare come to life.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
They covered the plains - the
zombies of Widgeroo.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
They had not left it. They had
not been absorbed into the ground or been turned to dust. This was why none had
found any proof of their existence before. They were still here and, like the sea,
they were merely caught in some kind of seasonal rift which is opened only when
it rains, or is split apart by thunder and lightning. I am still uncertain how
it is caused, but I know in my heart that the storm is the key. The storm sets
them free. To walk the land.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
To feed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
They glared at me, glowing eyes
drilling into my soul. I screamed in terror, and ran through the grasses, their
low growls following me as I fled. I could not look back, because I knew I
would see their arms reaching for me, their fingers snatching at me, mouths
snapping at air - starving for my flesh. I could hear the clicking of their
teeth and the cracking of their joints as they came after me.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
I ran and I ran.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
I did not turn back.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
You thought I was mad when I came
here. Perhaps I was. I no longer care.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
You smile at me as I tell you
this, and when I tell you they are still chasing me, you laugh up your sleeve
at me. I know you do, but I am indifferent to your mockery because I know they
are there. They are still following me, their mouths opening and closing with
terrible hunger. The click-clack of the teeth is endless.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
They are even now right outside
our door.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
You just can't see them.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
You see, they are waiting.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
Waiting for the storms which set
them free.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<br /></div>
<br />lucashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08468525400674603085noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27255824.post-23341819796514951322018-07-15T11:47:00.004+08:002018-07-15T11:47:55.610+08:00bride of the soup - a soup story<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj-OOvkfaYJjquYL2CcKKIKYPuYMB6Gto9VzZlzhG60evv3WOpmfnwQTfOXEppSdM2i9QLtARnGZcb-4au8AIOvvglpB0_knRQykHfGDkeJ-g51zcnW_5kSnErFhb3O086atYT1w/s1600/evil_soup_by_bluerhubarb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="268" data-original-width="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj-OOvkfaYJjquYL2CcKKIKYPuYMB6Gto9VzZlzhG60evv3WOpmfnwQTfOXEppSdM2i9QLtARnGZcb-4au8AIOvvglpB0_knRQykHfGDkeJ-g51zcnW_5kSnErFhb3O086atYT1w/s1600/evil_soup_by_bluerhubarb.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
Here's another Soup story because I feel you might like some more today.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
*******</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
i listened to <i>the cramps</i>
and wondered how <i>the soup</i> was getting along.<i><o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
outside, the rain still hadn't
eased and the lights from passing cars was splintered by the fluid sheets.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
***</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<i>the soup</i> shifted inside
the can, wondering how long it would take before the guy opened the lid and poured
it into a pot where it would be warmed just nicely.<i><o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<i>the soup</i> liked to be
warmed up. it felt alive in the moment the steam rose from its skin.<i><o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
and when the cold spoon slipped
into its juice, <i>the soup</i> always had to restrain a giggle. the
satisfaction of being consumed was the satisfaction of a jigsaw being pulled
apart and slowly put back together again. <i>soon</i>, thought <i>the soup</i>,
<i>i will be whole again</i>.<i><o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
that's when, to its joy, it felt
the can opener bite deep into the tin.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
***</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
the man called peter rummaged in
the back of his cupboard for a pot to put <i>the soup</i> in and yawned over
the back of his hand.<i><o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
it had been a long night.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
his mates had dropped him off
after visiting that stupid little corner shop. it was like a dungeon in there -
only one light in the ceiling was working, and this awful bugzapper clicking
over the fridge.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
and that guy behind the counter
with the smirk. what was with him? he had strange eyes, and even when jonesy
was shouting at him - calling him a cunt - all he did was smile.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
peter shook his head and poured <i>the
soup</i> into the pot.<i><o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
fuck it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
at least he'd got a free meal.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
***</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<i>the soup</i> slid down into
peter's stomach, and as soon as its awareness was pieced together again, it
wobbled gently around the stomach and wondered why it felt so amazingly numb
all of a sudden.<i><o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
it began to feel a sense of peace
nibbling at the edges of its consciousness and there was a strange stench in
the stomach which reminded him of something.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
something earthy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
sweet.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
yet acrid.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
it tried to concentrate on the
smell.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
what was it?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
where had it smelled that before?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<i>the soup</i> tried to clear
its mind. it just couldn't seem to focus.<i><o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
there was so much of the strange
fluid mingling within its flesh that it felt like <i>the soup</i> was drifting
on an ocean.<i><o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<i>oh yeah</i>, thought the soup
in quiet panic. <i>that's alcohol</i>.<i><o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
***</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
alcohol had a strange effect on <i>the
soup</i>.<i><o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
it chilled it out.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
calmed it down.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
made it feel sleepy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
it wanted to gnaw at the stomach,
punch a hole out, but just seemed to lack the energy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
instead it lolled against the
sides of peter's stomach and decided it still had plenty of time to eat before
it was too late to escape.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
***</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
peter snored.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<i>the soup</i> lay back, knowing
it would normally be irritated by the snores, but finding them strangely
hypnotic.<i><o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<i>that's the alcohol talking</i>,
thought <i>the soup</i>.<i><o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
another thought occurred to it as
it rolled about the stomach. <i>shit, i hope i don't get a hangover</i>.<i><o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
***</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
peter dressed slowly.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
his head was killing him, but he
managed to somehow dress himself without falling over.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
jonesy was around, shouting at
him sometimes. getting him moving.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"something's not
right," peter groaned. "my stomach..."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"awww, don't chuck up today,
pete!" jonesy chuckled. "c'mon, mate! pull it together! here - have
some aspirin."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
peter gulped the fizzing aspirin
and gasped as a sharp pain jolted his stomach. "ugh," he said.
"think that made it worse."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
***</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<i>the soup</i> shuddered as the
aspirin fizzled out around it.<i><o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
it didn't like aspirin.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
it tried to look around, but even
thinking felt so heavy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<i>just a little more sleep</i>...<i><o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
***</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
jonesy tugged at peter's jacket.
"c'mon, mate!" he hissed for the zillionth time.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"not right," peter
moaned, for the zillionth time. "something not right. i'm tellin'
you."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"it's gonna be okay. just a
little longer, okay? jesus."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"what's goin' on?" rory
asked, stepping up to the car. "he looks sick."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
jonesy grinned. "couldn't
take it."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"not true!" peter
whined. "it's the fucking soup, i tell you. made me fucking sick."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"aww yeah," jonesy
smirked. "they always blame the soup. admit it - you're getting soft
already."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
rory slapped the car's door.
"you'll be right, pete. not much longer to go, yeah?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
peter clutched his stomach and
nodded.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"c'mon, pete," jonesy
opened the door. "let's go inside. get you some water. you'll feel better
movin' about."</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
***</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<i>the soup</i> shifted.<i><o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
it couldn't take it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
not anymore.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
it felt too warm in here. too
stuffy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
it had to get out. it had to
breathe some cool air and get back into a nice cold tin for a while. just
relax. the very thought of home made <i>the soup</i> feel almost energised.<i><o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
it poked peter's stomach lining.
it wasn't looking good.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
his liver didn't smell too good
right now, either.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<i>the soup </i>reached out and
pushed.<i><o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
then, with a clenching of its
skin in determination to be free, <i>the soup </i>bit and bit deep.<i><o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
***</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
peter shrieked.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
***</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
blood washed across <i>the soup</i>
and was sucked into its skin like a bit of bread soaking up gravy. it didn't
seem to get soaked, though. it just kept soaking it up, pulling everything that
was peter's insides deeper into itself.<i><o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
it fumbled about randomly,
searching for the perfect spot.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
looking for something.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
a hole.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
a way out.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
and then, it found it. a slit in
the muscle, a sweet spot.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
it shivered up and under peter's
skin, soaking him up, breathing him in.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
dissolving blood, bone, and meat.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
and then, with a joyous howl, it
wriggled a little and ate his skin.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
***</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
peter's suit lay in a rumpled
heap.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<i>the soup</i> wobbled like a
small wet jelly on top of them.<i><o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
it looked around at the
open-mouthed crowd which was seated in the small building.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
it looked forward at the
open-mouthed man with the strange robes who looked like his eyes were about to
pop.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
it looked up at the lady dressed
entirely in white who was looking down at him in horror.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
her eyes were kind of pretty,
thought <i>the soup</i>.<i><o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i>umm</i>,<i> </i>said the soup.
<i>i do?<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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and everyone started screaming.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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***</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
i sat at the counter, watching <i>bride
of frankenstein</i>.<i><o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"a whole church?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<i>the soup</i> giggled.<i><o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"well, then," i said,
raising my coke in salute.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<i>the soup</i> giggled even
harder, rattling the gold ring which rested on top of its tin.<i><o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
i smiled, picked up the lacy
garter it had brought with it, and shook my head. "congratulations, <i>mister
the soup</i>."<i><o:p></o:p></i></div>
<br />lucashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08468525400674603085noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27255824.post-13690128612774911002018-07-15T11:15:00.001+08:002018-07-15T11:43:11.581+08:00the big soup - a soup story<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj-OOvkfaYJjquYL2CcKKIKYPuYMB6Gto9VzZlzhG60evv3WOpmfnwQTfOXEppSdM2i9QLtARnGZcb-4au8AIOvvglpB0_knRQykHfGDkeJ-g51zcnW_5kSnErFhb3O086atYT1w/s1600/evil_soup_by_bluerhubarb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="268" data-original-width="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj-OOvkfaYJjquYL2CcKKIKYPuYMB6Gto9VzZlzhG60evv3WOpmfnwQTfOXEppSdM2i9QLtARnGZcb-4au8AIOvvglpB0_knRQykHfGDkeJ-g51zcnW_5kSnErFhb3O086atYT1w/s1600/evil_soup_by_bluerhubarb.jpg" /></a></div>
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One day, I'll turn these into a book.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
This is the continuing story of a little convenience store guy who has a ravenous alien soup. I've shared a few of these stories, so I hope you like this one. As always, I dedicate this to everyone who ever worked in retail...</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<br /></div>
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********</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
if any night
deserved to be described as a dark and stormy night, then this was it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
the streets
outside were soaked with neon-splintered rain and the windows of my shop beat
with the constant thrumming of wind and water. the odd tinkle of hail now and
then, and the dry sound of thunder yawned across the city.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
i sat at the
counter, face in my hands, watching the little portable dvd player as it showed
me the wondrous delights of an old christopher lee dracula movie. an apt
choice, considering the weather.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
even more apt
when the bell tinkled over the door and a customer stepped in, stamping his
heavy boots on the unwelcome mat before stepping steadily up to the counter
with a determination seldom seen in my regulars.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
rain dripped
from his long coat onto the floor. i didn't much care. the floor needed a
clean.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
i didn't look
up. "mmm?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"you the
owner?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"depends."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"on?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"got a
complaint?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"not
yet."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"it's my
place, then. anything you want, or you just here to annoy me?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"interesting
definition of customer service you got there."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
i shrugged.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
and, as
christopher lee bit into the pale neck of a rather buxom young thing, i felt a
heavy weight drop onto the counter in front of me.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
i don't often
get to see a cop's badge in here.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
i sighed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
it was going
to be one of <i>those</i> nights.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
***</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
the cop was a
detective.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
named hawker.
jack hawker. i'd seen enough movies to know a cop with a name like that didn't
work in traffic, so this wasn't a query as to the safety of my car parked out
front in a hailstorm.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
no, this cop,
he worked homicide, he said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
and he was in
my shop following a lead.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"seems
your customers have a bad habit of disappearing. wouldn't happen to know
anything about that?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
i rubbed my
face in my hands as though just waking from a long day's sleep. i looked at the
tin of soup sitting beside my elbow in front of the dvd player. "should
i?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"doesn't
seem to bother you. people dying, i mean."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"you live
round here?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"nope."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"work
this area?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"nope."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"then you
should do a bit more looking around. then you'd see why it wouldn't bother me
much if some of them turned up dead."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"never
said they were dead."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"you're
homicide, not missing persons."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
his mouth
twitched - in annoyance or acknowledgement i couldn't tell. he shuffled away
from the counter to poke about the shop. i didn't care enough to stop him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"mind if
i look around?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"go
ahead. but you break it, you bought it."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
he nodded
absently and peered into the fridge at the pies.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"you make
these yourself?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"sure, i
grind up the bodies of all the customers i kill and stuff them in pastries. no
one's figured me out, yet. some guy brought one back with a tooth in it, once.
i used him to make the sausage rolls with. i wouldn't eat them if i were you.
they're a bit out of date."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
he started at
that - the first sign of surprise. then realised i was mocking him and gave a
grunt. "i don't think that's funny."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"i buy
them from a company, detective. you want their name? you can check out their
factory. personally, i think they really do grind up homeless people for them.
don't think they wash 'em first, either."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
the cop turned
and looked at me through the dim flickering light of the bugcatcher over the
fridge. "i'm not liking you at all," he said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
i shrugged.
"you wouldn't like the pies, then."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
he was an
imposing looking guy, even for a detective. if you got charles bronson in a
room with harvey keitel and made them breed with an old angry gorilla, then
that gorilla would eventually spit out a perfect clone of jack hawker.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
kick in his
right cheek and add a scar down one side of his throat, and you'd have him
perfectly.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
his grey eyes
glittered in the shop's dull light and i really didn't like the way he managed
to stay perfectly still when asking his questions.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
he disturbed
my feng shui greatly.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
***</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"where
were you last friday?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
i pointed at
the door. "opening times are on the front, detective. maybe you missed them."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"you work
alone?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"you see
this place as a booming trade? i can't afford a sidekick. where's yours? don't cops
come in twos?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
for answer he
stared back at me intently, chewing at the insides of his cheek.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
i kept eye
contact, my gaze lazy and undisturbed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
i was a lake.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
i was a calm
lake.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
i was a calm
lake with a nice log cabin on the shore.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
i was a calm
lake with a nice log cabin on the shore and a handful of bikini clad campers
bathing in my cool calm serene waters.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
i felt my lips
curl upward and the cop scowled.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
***</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
hawker looked
past me at the doorway covered in a beaded curtain. "what's through
there?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"office."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"mind if
i look in there?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"do i
look like i care?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
he stepped
through the curtains, and tried the lightswitch which didn't work. he looked
back at me, and i shook my head. "hasn't worked in years."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
he peered hard
through the darkness of the room and i heard him give a short cry of surprise
after a few steps. he jerked back through the curtain and rubbed his head hard
with one fist.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"what the
fuck," he said. "is with the fucking cans?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
***</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
hung from the
ceiling on lengths of string were dozens of soup cans at about head height. the
safe squatted in a corner near the stairway leading up, and the small desk had
only a little desklamp and a laptop.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
i used it for
doing the accounts.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
i hated doing
the accounts, so therefore hated the laptop.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
***</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"hmm?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"the
cans! what's with the fucking cans?" he scrubbed at his forehead.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
patiently, i
reached under the counter and passed him my torch. "hurts, huh?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"you
could've given that to me before."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"you
didn't ask. i've been robbed a lot. this way i'm sure whoever robs me walks out
with a headache."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
he muttered
something dark under his breath and turned the light toward the staircase.
"up there?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"my
house."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"you live
here?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"the
rent's cheap."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"mind if
i-"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"whatever."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
***</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
he looked
around.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
i didn't
bother going with him. i'd seen my rooms millions of times. once more wouldn't
reveal anything new to me. i continued watching christopher lee attempt to
munch his way through the female cast.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
the little can
beside me gleamed in the blue glow of the movie, and i considered offering it
to the cop. he looked like a man in need of feeding.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
as his booted
feet descended the stairs, though, i dismissed the idea. I didn't need more
police attention.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
the can seemed
a little disappointed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
***</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"you
should tidy up more often," the cop said, stepping through the curtain.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"i had a
maid."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"got a
name?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"maria
something."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
he took out a
pencil and a notebook. flipping it open to the first page, which was blank, he
growled, "contact details?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
i shrugged.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"why'd
she stop coming in?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"she
didn't want to wear the little french maid outfit, so i didn't see the point of
having her around?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
***</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
he was a
little pissed at that and threatened me a bit more. nothing fresh. just the
usual stream of gibberish you’d hear on an average cop show.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
still. i
promised to play nice.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"it's
like being in the principal's office in high school," i added cheerfully
as he leaned over to pause my movie.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"quit
bein' a dick," he snarled.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"sorry to
impose," i said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
he didn't get
it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
i was a bit
disappointed by that.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
***</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"you know
steven tombs?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
i picked at
the counter. "don't think so. he dead?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"he's
missing," the cop said, emphasising the word <i>missing</i>.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"with a
name like that? you sure?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
the cop worked
that cheek a little more. "you deliberately tryin' to test my
patience?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"i don't
know what i'm doing, detective. you're the one with the questions and the
agenda."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"what
about bernadette tiller?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"she work
down at the docks?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"she's a
flight attendant."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"we don't
get many of those here."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"you
should remember her, then. cab guy says he drove her here then she took his cab
to the airport. says she was in a hurry and pissed off at you."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"you're
accusing me of making a flight attendant late for her plane?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"her
plane went down not long after take-off. no survivors far as we can tell."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"sounds
ambiguous."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"no
bodies have been found."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"it's a
deep ocean."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"jerry
hickson."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"i'm a
city guy, detective."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"bought a
roll here. his credit card shows it."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"cheapskate,
then. would've cost me more in bank fees than the roll was worth."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"didn't
take you for the generous type."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"neither
do i, but i'm sure i have my moments."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"i know
something's goin' on."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
i looked to
the little tv monitor. "it was. you paused it, though."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
the cop
clenched his jaw. "you're involved in this. i know it."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"in
what?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"i have a
list."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"everyone
who comes here has a list."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
the cop's
breath hissed from between his teeth and his eyes glittered. "stop pushing
me, boy. just . . . stop pushing me."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"you have
a list."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"sixteen
people. all came here as a last stop. then they'd disappear off the face of the
earth. what do you make of that?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"ever
work in retail, detective?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
he shook his
head, slowly and suspiciously.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"we all
dream of what you're suggesting - that i could make my annoying customers
disappear."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"so you
didn't like them?" he seemed to think he'd interrogated me into revealing
something important.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
i couldn't
help but smirk at him. "detective - i don't like any of my customers. if i
didn't need their money, i'd be a very happy man with a very big fucking closed
sign on the door."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
***</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
he left the
shop, pulling the door shut behind him with a glassy bang and a promise that
he'd do a terminator and be back.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
the bell
nearly fell off in the crash of door.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
i pressed play
on the dvd player.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
the little can
seemed to settle more comfortably on the counter.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
the can gave a
low chitter.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"i
know," i said. "but i'm sure he would've given you indigestion."<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />lucashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08468525400674603085noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27255824.post-32820390955795318222018-06-24T21:09:00.001+08:002018-06-24T21:10:43.153+08:00a map to keep motivated as a writer<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://lucasthorn.com/" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="1237" data-original-width="1600" height="247" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DsFtWTU2TWk/Wy-JzXLYahI/AAAAAAAABV8/jO_V54szCM8DZtBRV5nEjMcJqqwRlGKdwCLcBGAs/s320/Deadlands.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
The hardest part of writing, for me, is motivating myself to keep going. Some days, trying to be an Indie writer seems like the stupidest decision I ever made. Maybe I would have been happier as a reviewer, instead.<br />
<br />
Because this is tough. It's tough to get the sales. The attention. the reviews. The <i>break</i>.<br />
<br />
Now, there's a lot of articles out there which will preach secrets to getting that attention. All of those ways are flimsy and ethereal. They're directionless positive reinforcements telling you to build your social presence or some such. But what if you're an introvert? That's hard.<br />
<br />
There's articles preaching marketing techniques and sure-to-win campaign ideas.<br />
<br />
All of them mean nothing if you don't have an audience.<br />
<br />
And there's articles on how to get that, too.<br />
<br />
None practical.<br />
<br />
There's services which advertise that, for a price, they'll promote you to their secret list of readers.<br />
<br />
Oh? Well, when I was a reader, I never belonged to any secret lists. So, I doubt any of my readers are on it. And can you believe the numbers they tell you are waiting for your book? How many of those numbers are interested in the genre I write?<br />
<br />
Everywhere you turn, there's a scammer or thinly-disguised advertising in the form of advice. You can literally drown yourself in google-fed ads which lead to spammy little tools which promise all kinds of solutions but are no better than an excel spreadsheet or some commonsense.<br />
<br />
Neither of which will really solve your problem.<br />
<br />
Because the <i>break</i> is only achieved through luck. It's lightning in a bottle.<br />
<br />
This month, despite having so much going for me and so many plans for what I want to achieve, I feel at my lowest point. I feel like I'm going backwards, not forwards. I feel like this world I created, which I adore to my bones, is destined to simply be my hobby. A thing I can tinker with rather than devote myself to.<br />
<br />
This week, I received a map from Jason Deem. He did one before for me. And the new one was what I wanted. Shadows and chains. Echoes of the first few books. It should thrill and excite, but it made me feel a little down. Like, here's all this money I spend and I don't feel like I'm using it properly.<br />
<br />
At this point, a traditional writer might appeal to their agent or their publisher for guidance.<br />
<br />
I don't have those.<br />
<br />
I am alone. All I have is spammers and scammers and googleads.<br />
<br />
So, how to move ahead?<br />
<br />
I need a map. A real one. One which careful plots and illustrates. One which provides paths which fork and divide, allowing different journeys to the same destinations. A guide through rough patches and hard mountains. Across wide open plains and rugged river valleys.<br />
<br />
A map.<br />
<br />
Yeah.<br />
<br />
That's what I need.<br />
<br />
I'm going to take some time off writing for the next few months, I think. Put these things on hold. Try to build that map. And, maybe, if I get it right, I'll know not just where I'm going but how to get there.<br />
<br />
Because that's all motivation is, really. It's a way of dealing with the hardest challenges and steepest hills despite the savage storms which surround the fragile little island of you.lucashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08468525400674603085noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27255824.post-66358190832600905192018-05-25T20:43:00.000+08:002018-05-25T20:43:00.550+08:00nysta and the shadow realm - six fucking years!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-x4m33kWwkLU/WwgA3KCSgfI/AAAAAAAABVQ/xwOSiipE654VTuIWaBztmai1asEz9dPuwCLcBGAs/s1600/new%2Bkind%2Bof%2Belf.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="737" data-original-width="1318" height="178" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-x4m33kWwkLU/WwgA3KCSgfI/AAAAAAAABVQ/xwOSiipE654VTuIWaBztmai1asEz9dPuwCLcBGAs/s320/new%2Bkind%2Bof%2Belf.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
Yesterday, a face presented itself which actually surprised me.<br />
<br />
May 30th marks the 6th anniversary of the official release date for the very first book in the Shadow Realm series, <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Revenge-Elf-Nysta-ebook/dp/B0087DNHV6" target="_blank">Nysta: Revenge of the Elf</a>.<br />
<br />
6 fucking years! How the fuck have I lasted this long?<br />
<br />
When I first started, I dreamt of writing the series for a long time. I knew I wanted it to be a long series. But 6 years? I thought people would have gotten bored of her long ago. Thought I'd have, like, a single lone reader orbiting a far-off sun. Instead, Nysta is growing.<br />
<br />
I still have so much to look forward to, with an illustrated version of the books coming soon, and another Nysta story this year. But this is a chance to look back and tell you I'm very grateful for the support I've had along the way. In particular, I'd like to thank those of you who say hello to me on Facebook or Twitter. I can't tell you how inspiring it is for me to know that someone has enjoyed my nasty little creations. It keeps me going during those times when I ask myself if it's financially worth it given how much time writing takes out of my life.<br />
<br />
And then there's the people I've worked with. Amir Zand, Lente Scura, Alexandru Muneanu, Jason Deem and now Christopher Spence. These artists have worked to really push the visual elements of my world for me. Without them, I feel my characters wouldn't feel as alive. The whole product of my books wouldn't as full.<br />
<br />
6 years.<br />
<br />
I remember my father once snidely pointing out that I have never finished anything I've started, and here I sit with 12 books under my belt and two more written and waiting to release. My 13th is out now (the <a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07CNG3YGR" target="_blank">10th in the Shadow Realm series</a>) and it just feels like I could keep bringing the violence.<br />
<br />
And puns.<br />
<br />
Oh, God. 6 years of terrifyingly bad puns...<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />lucashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08468525400674603085noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27255824.post-25186744011288797092018-05-19T17:03:00.003+08:002018-05-19T17:03:56.708+08:00the shadow realm - a reflection on writing<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-29Nj-Y9w09w/Wv_iweLOYUI/AAAAAAAABVA/tsWvuzkKyVASqWqTE06DWRDHh0_Zo2u_gCLcBGAs/s1600/fresh.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="740" data-original-width="607" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-29Nj-Y9w09w/Wv_iweLOYUI/AAAAAAAABVA/tsWvuzkKyVASqWqTE06DWRDHh0_Zo2u_gCLcBGAs/s320/fresh.JPG" width="262" /></a></div>
<a href="https://amzn.to/2rWN8yD" target="_blank"><i>The Shivs: A Mouthful of Filth</i></a> will be my 10th book in the Shadow Realm series. This is actually an amazing thing if you know me as a person.<br />
<br />
You see, one thing I wasn't really good at was finishing things. I've started so many new hobbies and projects over the years that my house is mostly a junkyard of incompletes.<br />
<br />
But this series was different. It consumed me. And, with each new book, it consumed me some more. The character of Nysta has evolved from a simple little thug to an epic little thug and in evolving has stolen my life.<br />
<br />
Conan Doyle hated writing Sherlock. Other authors often kill their main character because they get sick of having to write them. Me? I love Nysta. She's everything to me as a writer and this world I am building was built solely for her to play in. I write every new book with glee. And, instead of getting harder, they get easier.<br />
<br />
Having said that, the thing I've noticed is how I feel more confident to write with multiple characters. It was an area I used to feel was a weakness of mine. Perhaps it still is. But I forced myself, first with <i>When Goblins Rage</i>, to put Nysta among more and more characters. To test her personality.<br />
<br />
With <i>Scion of Dragonclaw</i>, I was proud of how she interacted with other characters, but also of how they worked among themselves. I felt the book was more alive than any other I had written. The characters all had lives of their own, and I like to think my readers found them interesting for more than just their deaths.<br />
<br />
With <i>The Shivs</i>, I knew I wanted to do something similar. I wanted to test myself with juggling a gang of characters. Having them work among themselves with their own personalities and plans. Their own dreams and doubts. Using the lessons I learnt with <i>Scion of Dragonclaw</i>, I tried so hard to tell a story which would give all characters their moment. It's my version of The Avengers.<br />
<br />
Or Guardians of the Galaxy?<br />
<br />
Either way, in The Shadow Realm, this is a Marvel epic. At least, that's what I was aiming for.<br />
<br />
Klista was really popular from <i>Scion of Dragonclaw</i>, and I decided to bring her back in for this book albeit as a younger version of herself. Now, you might expect to see her go from frail little urchin to overpowered hero, but that's not how I work. Instead, you'll get what I hope to be a look at how groups remain cohesive in times of struggle against more powerful forces than their own. And the depths to which they'll go to achieve the impossible vengeance they thirst for.<br />
<br />
To do this, I had to really pin each character's personality and work on giving them their own spin on loyalty. It tested my writing ability a lot. But, ultimately, every character shines in their own way so were an absolute joy to juggle.<br />
<br />
My writing style is one where I pull pronouns from sentences and break sentences into fragments. I like to pretend there's a poetry in violent action and this has defined everything I do. But this removal of pronouns can make it difficult to juggle a large number of characters. Especially during dialogue scenes. I had to really work to keep my style and not fall victim to endless description during dialogue.<br />
<br />
Did I succeed?<br />
<br />
Did I create a cracker of a novel for you to enjoy?<br />
<br />
I fucking hope so.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://amzn.to/2IW75Ap" target="_blank">Pre-order it now</a> and let me know if you like it. Shout out on <a href="https://twitter.com/lucasthorn" target="_blank">Twitter</a> or <a href="https://www.facebook.com/swordpunk/" target="_blank">Facebook</a>. And, as always, if you think it's too cheap for a book (man, cheaper than coffees here in Melbourne), then there's my <a href="http://paypal.me/lucasthorn" target="_blank">TipJar</a> and I'll be endlessly grateful.<br />
<br />
And don't forget to share my work with your friends. Us Indie Authors really struggle to be seen as more than just a bunch of self-loving hacks. We want you to discover our stories and enjoy them.<br />
<br />
Don't let us die alone in the dark.lucashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08468525400674603085noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27255824.post-1591952273827303332018-05-11T23:56:00.001+08:002018-05-11T23:56:09.404+08:00the shivs: a mouthful of filth - a little background<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://lucasthorn.com/" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="694" data-original-width="925" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OupwIPxYMD0/WvW3F2JBGiI/AAAAAAAABUU/BB-VV2GjauMkjJhvB9Ho8sG2P4f-IvNgACLcBGAs/s320/fresh%2Btales%2B2.JPG" title="witness me!" width="320" /></a></div>
When I finished writing <a href="https://amzn.to/2KaMVze" target="_blank">Scion of Dragonclaw</a>, I was a little disappointed with how much I hadn't been able to include. I had envisioned the Dragonclaw mini-trilogy as something of a tale about the gangs of the Fnordic Lands. A way of telling the near-tribal culture which exists there.<br />
<br />
Unfortunately, Nysta chose her own path (as she always does) and struggled to fit in. Which meant I never really got to focus on the Shivs in this book as much as I wanted to.<br />
<br />
I started writing the next Nysta book, but couldn't really get out of my mind how much fun the gangs could have been if only Nysta had been more sociable. So, I started a short story and it turned into a book.<br />
<br />
I began with writing a story about a young boy called Filth. He had just lost his gang and was looking to start one of his own. I had him meet up with Mocker and Creed and the young boy began to grow his little army. I made it about fifteen chapters in before I threw up and threw it out. It was boring me.<br />
<br />
So, I made him older. A handful of years before he met Nysta. Enough that his gang is still fairly young, but has already made its mark, albeit a small one. He's on the cusp of becoming something truly great, when something gets in the way and he needs to recoup and recover. And, because this is the Shadow Realm, get revenge...<br />
<br />
Writing this book, I knew I wanted to add more characters than I normally juggle. This is something I consider to be my weakness. I'm not very good at multiple character arcs. I prefer to focus on one point of view. But I knew I had to capture the gang dynamic as best as I could.<br />
<br />
So, I persisted.<br />
<br />
At first, I was thinking of a trio. I thought of using Filth, Mocker (a musclebound tank), and Ellz (fighter with no off-switch). But then realised people loved Klista, so she'd need to come back. And then I thought she should have a few friends. So, we got Shithead and Fuckface. Or Shitface and Fuckhead, depending on her mood.<br />
<br />
There's a scene in the Hobbit books where the dwarves are showing up for breakfast in pairs. I always found that kind of amusing and it's a great way to begin an introduction of many characters. So, I stole the concept. But in stealing it, I had to add a few more characters. In this way, you got Headpunch (the ex-guard of the Wall) and Dalz (hero-worshipping sidekick). Druze and Maze (joined at the hip fighters) and Sour (off-tank) and Die (ageing rogue). This felt perfect and pretty much formed the guts of my book.<br />
<br />
Of course, it meant balancing characters in a way I've never done before. I wanted to give everyone something brilliant. Which meant taking inspiration from westerns and samurai films which do this brilliantly. I had, of course, the gang movie The Warriors in mind, but not as much as you'd expect. Much of my concept for gangs in this series is simply the idea of bands of men and women sharing similar interests gathering together to survive.<br />
<br />
They're like musicians.<br />
<br />
They came to play.<br />
<br />
I hope you enjoy this little offering. It was a book I greatly loved to write, and I'm proud of what I achieved with character balance. I loved these characters a lot. Also, this book marks a huge turning point in the Shadow Realm series. Because of my genuine love of this murderous band, I ended up giving them a serious part to play in the future and that part is well-telegraphed here.<br />
<br />
You'll get more of it in The Shadow Realm #11 when Nysta returns.<br />
<br />
Don't forget to say hi on Twitter or Facebook, and let me know what you think! Reviews on Goodreads and Amazon are clearly welcome, and if you've got a site of your own, hit me up.<br />
<br />
As always, if you feel my books are cheap (they are!) for what you're getting and would like to offer more encouragement, drop a few bucks in my <a href="https://www.paypal.me/lucasthorn" target="_blank">TipJar</a> and I'll love you forever. Or at least keep writing...<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Read <a href="https://lucasthorn.blogspot.com.au/2018/05/prologue-shivs-mouthful-of-filth.html" target="_blank">the Prologue for Free</a></div>
<h2 style="text-align: center;">
Pre-Order The Shadow Realm #10<br /><a href="https://amzn.to/2jNgyf4" target="_blank">The Shivs: A Mouthful of Filth</a></h2>
<br />
<br />
<br />lucashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08468525400674603085noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27255824.post-88694785432395039952018-05-05T10:36:00.000+08:002018-05-05T10:41:11.875+08:00prologue - the shivs: a mouthful of filth<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BUm5t2MkR4I/Wu0X56uSe9I/AAAAAAAABUA/lyVCdvELSbA058jfLrJPFNj6H8W8NJdqgCLcBGAs/s1600/dark%2Blord.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="682" data-original-width="593" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BUm5t2MkR4I/Wu0X56uSe9I/AAAAAAAABUA/lyVCdvELSbA058jfLrJPFNj6H8W8NJdqgCLcBGAs/s320/dark%2Blord.JPG" width="278" /></a></div>
I have a tradition now of posting the Prologue to my books while it's on pre-order. This gives you a chance to get a taste of what you're going to get.<br />
<br />
The prologue to the Shivs is a little different from the previous books, as it keeps the characters within the story as focus. The reason is that many of my prologues and epilogues occur at points in time outside of where Nysta is located. This entire book is a few years before she arrives in Dragonclaw, so I figure it's simply an extended version of a Prologue to a Nysta book.<br />
<br />
I hope you'll enjoy it.<br />
<br />
***<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
The Shiv squeezed between crumbling stone. Not ashamed to sob in terror as he heard wet boots scrape against the tunnel’s earth behind him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
“Hey!” Shout which made his heart give a crippled beat. “He’s here! Over here!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
On hands and knees, he wriggled, kicking legs and straining. Let a roar of effort cut the pain of the tight gap scraping against his torso.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Pushed through, pulling down a few chunks of rock and thick clay which bounced across his shoulders and thighs.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Twisted around to look up at the opening he’d squeezed through.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Closed his eyes.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Heard the rushed approach.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Licked lips.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
“Hey, you fuckin’ piece of shit.” Cool voice called from beyond the gap. Bright magelight pierced the gloom. “Don’t make us come in there and get you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
“Aww, fuck,” he growled.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Kicked. Heels hit ancient stone.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Ankles shuddered.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Rubble choked loose.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
And tumbled all around. He skirted back with a yelp as heavy stone splashed into the thick layer of slime where his body had been. Would have crushed him if he hadn’t moved.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Had to keep rushing back as more and more of the tunnel collapsed until his back was pressed to a wall and the trembling subsided.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
The shouts of the other men were muffled now.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
There was no way they’d try to dig him out.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Which was both good and bad.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Good they couldn’t get him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Bad because now he was stuck inside a cramped tomb.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
All this, he thought, over a woman.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
If Creed hadn’t been so fucking hard-headed, there’d still be peace between the Eight Street Slashers and Orkbloods. But when Creed killed an Orkblood over some bullshit about a woman, the cities were suddenly flowing with gang blood.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Dozens of gangs were converging, each hungry to chomp out a piece of turf or snatch revenge over some half-forgotten insult. Gangs which scrambled and bickered and ultimately came together to roll over those the Slashers and anyone else standing with them.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Which left the Shivs caught in the middle.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
His Shivs.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
His family.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
“Fuckin’ Creed,” the Shiv muttered. Turning his body took effort, but he managed to press his cheek to the stone. Could feel a cold breeze trickling through cracks. Could smell something bitter on the dank air.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Could mean a way out.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Could mean death.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Either way, he had no choice.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
The past few hours had been a rush of violence and confusion.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Mocker and Ellz had been with him. They’d made it to the sewers with a horde of Orkbloods on their ass. Had to split up, though.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Make it to the Docks, Mocker said. “Meet at Bug’s place.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
He’d thought he knew the tunnels, so he rushed away. Left Mocker and Ellz to their own. Refused to wait.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
But it’d been a while since he’d been down here, and quickly found himself lost in a knot of winding tunnels and shafts which sometimes led to nowhere.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Lost in Dragonclaw’s sewers. A terrifying thought.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
He pushed against the wall, not caring if the whole thing fell on top of him. Knew there wasn’t much else he could do.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
The wall creaked as it absorbed his intention but eventually gave. Sent rock spewing into a shaft sliding down into the depths of Dragonclaw’s putrid guts. Lined with rot and thick slippery mud.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Smell of sulfur and rotten flesh.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
He didn’t want to think about whose.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Looked back. Maybe he could dig his way back out instead. Hope the Orkbloods had moved away.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
How long would that take?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Days? And if they heard him and left a few to wait for him to come out? Brain him as soon as he stuck his fool head out?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
“Shit.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
No choice.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Had to pull himself through the fresh hole, losing some skin along his hip.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Felt the sting of a shallow cut and ignored it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Looked down the shaft. Could see it sliding away in the distance. A shivering green light hummed up from the dark and he didn’t like the look of it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
He’d dropped his cane sword. Left it somewhere back in the sewer.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Checked his belt. Pinky’s knife was still there. Still sheathed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
He felt better about that.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Pinky had never let him down and he knew her knife would be as reliable.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Still, the feeling of unease wouldn’t leave and the hairs crept along the back of his shoulders and neck.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
“Ain’t no good gonna come of this,” he murmured.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
And started slipping down the shaft. There was no other word for it. He couldn’t stand. Couldn’t walk. Heels digging to wipe speed off as he dragged body through sludge too wet to get a decent grip.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Blind terror flapped up his spine like bats, leaving eyes wide and sucking meagre light.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Although he was lost, he knew no one had explored this far into the sewers.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
The Shivs had only used them to get to the canal.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
There were no maps. No reliable passages. Too many had collapsed, or were poised to collapse. Everyone knew it was death to explore them.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Only someone with a dozen Orkbloods on their tail would even consider it. Even then, only an idiot would try.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
He hit the bottom harder than expected as the shaft suddenly curved horizontal. Tumbled inelegant, head bouncing off stone underneath. Splashed into a puddle of slime and came up streaked in dark ooze. Spitting it out.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Disgust and horror worked fear into glittering balls of ice which roved his guts.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Wiped his face with a soaked sleeve and found he could stand without his head bouncing off the roof of the tunnel.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Staggered forward, limping a little.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Remembered rumours of giant lizards which roamed the sewer’s innards. If not those, then rats the size of dogs. Spiders as big as a horse. Shuddered.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
If such monsters existed, he thought, this is where they lived.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Right here.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
In the dankest heart of Dragonclaw’s rotten corpse.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
“Dark Lord protect me,” he mouthed. And came round a corner to see the source of the eldritch light. Said; “Oh.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Because there was nothing else he could say.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
The tunnel ejected like a broken pipe a few feet above a wide black pool. Water so motionless it looked like the surface of a dark mirror. In the centre, a stone column speared upward, and he could see it bore the weight of an unnatural circular platform.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Pitted and old, he didn’t think the pillar would be hard to climb. Maybe if he could get up on the platform, there’d be a way out. Had to be.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
But first, he’d have to cross the pool. How deep was it?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Was it water, or something else?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
“Sitting here on my ass won’t get shit done,” he said at last, pushing courage he didn’t feel. Nudging it so it might warm his belly.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Even a little.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
He poked along the edge of the tunnel and began climbing off the lip. Feet dangling above the mysterious surface.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Said; “Fuck it.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Took a deep breath.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
And dropped.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Had feared the worst.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
It was cold. Frigid. So cold it ate into his bones.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
But it was only hip-deep. The splash, however, wet him to his armpits.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Ground beneath was a layer of splintered rock. Sharp and jagged. Like teeth. It shifted under his boots as he walked, wet crunch combining with the near-panicked splash of each step.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
“Ah, fuck!” His voice boomed around him as it echoed off the walls.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Made him cringe.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Ears strained to hear the sound of discovery. Still didn’t know where he was, but feared someone had to be around somewhere.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Or something.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
His brain threw scenarios at him of tentacled beasts writhing up from beneath the surface to tear him to pieces. Or fang-jawed monstrosities lunging from the dark and snapping him in two.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
The Shiv waded forward, slowly at first, then faster as his heart hammered in his chest and his senses told him to get out of the water as fast as he could. Water splashing around him, the sound crashing into his ears along with his terrified sobs.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
His fingers found the surface of the pillar and he hauled himself out of the freezing pool. Water riddling down his long coat like rain.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Looked down, watching foam swirl and settle.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Still expecting a mouth to erupt from the dark.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Or a heavy-lidded eye to open.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Shuddering, he looked up and began to climb.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Water dripping off his heels. Making the journey difficult. More than once he felt himself begin to slip and let out a whined choke which begged the Dark Lord not to let him fall.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Tried not to look down, but knew he was high enough that any slip now would send his brains splattering across the rocky surface beneath the pool. Or break his legs and leave him to die a slow death in the watery cold.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
His forearms were aching by the time he reached the top of the pillar. Fingers numb from clutching. Shoulders burning.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Could see several holes in the platform wide enough for him to climb through, but only one he could reach.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
If he jumped.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
The Shiv looked down.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
The pool shimmered as green light from above glanced off the walls and was absorbed by the water.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Jump, he told himself.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Tensed for it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Belly squirming like a bucket of worms was writhing inside.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
He’d have to grab the opening with sure hands.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Tired hands.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Miss, and he was dead. No doubt about that.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Could he really make it? It wasn’t too late to climb down and-<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
He jumped.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Fingers wide and desperate. Eyes bulging.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Mouth opening into a terrified scream.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Felt stone against fingertips.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
And snatched.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Grabbed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Slipped and slapped his hands again. Nails clipping. Sharp pain, but desperation did little more than set the pain aside for later.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Found grip and clung with every ounce of strength he could, gibbering with insane hope as he pulled. Dragged himself up the narrow gap and lay there, chest heaving in disbelief and a need to thank the Dark Lord for any help he might have received.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
A couple of loose tears, leftovers from terror, blurred his vision as he slowly moved onto his side to look around.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
The platform looked to be an altar carved into a single immense block of stone balanced on the pillar below. Or maybe part of it? The floor of the platform was carved with thick geometric designs and strange runes hidden beneath layers of dust and grit.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Ancient blood caked the patches of bare ground and the hair on his back erupted into frightened reeds as an awful thought ticked into his mind.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
The stones. He hadn’t been walking on a layer of sharp stone.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
It was bone.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
He knew it. The water below was a pool of death. The holes in the platform simply a means to dump bodies into the waters below. To what god were they sacrificed? Shivering, he struggled to get to his feet.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Slipped and landed with a sodden crash. Eyes squeezed shut as he tried to work the horror from his mind. Horror of walking on so many dead. If he’d known, he’d have expected their skeletal hands to rise and drag him under.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Skulls.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Ribs.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Fingerbones.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
“Motherfucker,” he moaned. And sat up on his haunches.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Dizzy, his eyes roamed the edge of the platform where megalithic stone blocks formed a circle around the edge. A few monoliths had fallen onto their face, like slayed giants. Within each monstrous block, a hollow had been carved and a brazier rested.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Lit.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
But the fires were unnatural. Green. Boiling with demonic energy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Smell of brimstone and lightning. The bitter stink he’d been inhaling since breaking into the shaft.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
The frightened Shiv wheeled around until his eyes found the largest stone. Carved on its face was a figure. Shockingly real. A beautiful woman. Perfect and sublime, standing with regal pride. Mouth open to show devastating fangs.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
She looked down at him in ancient silence.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Awed by the primordial echoes, the Shiv then noticed a small chest beneath her feet.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Inside the chest, a single gem the size of his fist.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
A gem which pulsed with evil green light.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
It’d be worth a lot on the street, he thought.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Shit, he figured he could buy the city with it. Not just a piece of it, too. The whole fucking thing. They’d wrap it up in a bow for him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
No one would miss it, would they? It had to have been here for centuries. Maybe as long as the altar itself which was a remnant from the Night Age. Had to be.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
He inched forward.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Licking lips as his gaze drifted to the woman’s defiant face.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Those fangs.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Paused in the act of reaching for the gem, he suddenly changed his mind.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
It wasn’t worth it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
He was many things, but he wasn’t stupid. The gem had to be cursed. Of course it would be. No way it’d sit here all alone without being cursed to fuck.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
No way.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
The Shiv snatched his hand back as though he’d touched something hot.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Did the statue’s face leer at him for his cowardice?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Did it challenge him to reach again?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
If it did, he didn’t respond. He might be an idiot for running blindly through the sewers, but he wasn’t a complete fool.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Deliberately turned his back and walked to the narrow bridge leading off the platform. A bridge which promised freedom. And he knew he’d never return here. He’d never tell anyone he’d even been here.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Some things, he thought, deserved to stay buried. And a treasure from before the Night Age was one of them.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
He felt less afraid as he approached the bridge. As he passed two more sacrificial stone slabs beside holes drilled into the platform. Forced himself to sneer at them instead. Old rituals meant nothing in the new age. If there’d been any power in this place, he told himself it was long dead with its makers.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
The Shiv was almost strutting with the confidence of a rooster when he reached the bridge. Until he saw it led to a solid stone wall on the other side. A wall lined with faintly-glowing runes. Enchanted.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Shit.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
No way off.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Panic nearly made him shout curses to the dark.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
But he kept calm. Kept steady. Told himself everything was going to work out. There had to be another way. Had to. All he had to do was stay calm and search it out.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
He smiled, feeling courage trickle into his heart.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Only to nearly piss himself when a voice slithered from the shadows; “Oh, look. A visitor. I do like visitors, you know. But what kind are you, I wonder? An explorer, perhaps? A delver into dark places one should never delve. I do like explorers. They always wear such very silly hats. No? That’s not you? Well, maybe you’re a thief? Come to take what isn’t yours. Very naughty of you, isn’t it? Or perhaps a lost wanderer in search of friendship? A sad soul yearning for a human touch. You’ve come to the wrong place for that. Haven’t you? Tell me, defiler. Before I strip the life from your bones, what is your name?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
His heart crashed to a halt, sending a sharp twist through guts and chest. Hairs almost crackled with electricity as he spun.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Searching for the source.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Mouth dry, he answered without thought; “Filth. My name is Filth.<span style="text-indent: 56.7333px;">”</span><br />
“Of course it is,” the amused voice purred back at him. “What else would it be?”<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-c1gmxdjgU0k/Wr-yTOWTqZI/AAAAAAAABSc/0kv2K2EUEyEzj8PQv7sn8DQ26wTwZSI2ACPcBGAYYCw/s1600/Mouthful.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1142" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-c1gmxdjgU0k/Wr-yTOWTqZI/AAAAAAAABSc/0kv2K2EUEyEzj8PQv7sn8DQ26wTwZSI2ACPcBGAYYCw/s320/Mouthful.jpg" width="228" /></a></div>
You can Pre-Order The Shivs: A Mouthful of Filth <a href="https://amzn.to/2JUEgRE" target="_blank">on AMAZON</a>!<br />
<br />
And, as always, if you enjoyed my books and think they're worth donating a few bucks to the cause of writing, please check out my <a href="https://www.paypal.me/lucasthorn" target="_blank">PayPal TipJar</a>. Indie Authors don't get any benefits from publishers, so we have a lot of expenses you might not realise the cost of (covers, marketing art, promotional ads etc.).<br />
<br />
My books don't make much money, so I kind of live off tips where I can get them. They motivate me more than I can say.</div>
lucashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08468525400674603085noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27255824.post-32030381185428140222018-05-01T15:41:00.004+08:002018-05-05T10:48:10.432+08:00the shivs: a mouthful of filth now available for pre-order<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-c1gmxdjgU0k/Wr-yTOWTqZI/AAAAAAAABSc/0kv2K2EUEyEzj8PQv7sn8DQ26wTwZSI2ACPcBGAYYCw/s1600/Mouthful.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1142" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-c1gmxdjgU0k/Wr-yTOWTqZI/AAAAAAAABSc/0kv2K2EUEyEzj8PQv7sn8DQ26wTwZSI2ACPcBGAYYCw/s320/Mouthful.jpg" width="228" /></a></div>
It's the tenth book in the Shadow Realm series and, as such, I wanted it to be a real blast. I also wanted something which will help hook into the next arc of Nysta's story as the Fnordic Lands slowly begins to unclench and let its secrets bleed to the surface.<br />
<br />
One of those secrets is buried in Dragonclaw, and Filth has stumbled on it. There's a lot of things he could do. He could turn around and forget it. He could sell it. Or, he could use it to get seething bloody vengeance on those who've wronged the Shivs.<br />
<br />
Hmmm.<br />
<br />
I wonder what he'll choose...<br />
<br />
The cover for this book was beautifully designed again by <a href="https://www.artstation.com/amirzand" target="_blank">Amir</a> who has made a simply stunning image. I originally requested only that the cover included the stone platform on which a megalithic stone circle had been erected. He gave me something which almost looks like a glowing crown and this suits the story in so many ways.<br />
<br />
I wrote this book in the last part of Feb and early March. I had hoped to deliver it in April, but scheduling commitments made it impossible to have the cover ready. I then got busy on the sequel to my <a href="http://lucasthorn.blogspot.com.au/2018/01/prologue-to-satanic-brides-of-dracula.html" target="_blank">Fel Queen series</a> and have now completed that story before coming back to finish editing the Shivs in time for a release in May.<br />
<br />
On starting my first round of edits, I was surprised to find very little in the way of anything I wanted to change. I'm actually happy with it as it is. It's got everything I wanted. A spicy humour, plenty of action and violence, a gang of rugged individuals with their own differing personalities and ideals, and a HUGE step toward unveiling some of the mysteries at the centre of my series.<br />
<br />
In terms of what helped inspire this, I'd have to say Andy Remic's <i>Iron Wolves</i> was a definite inspiration. I've always been a fan of Angry Robot, and felt <i>Iron Wolves</i> deserved a lot more attention than it got.<br />
<br />
I was also obviously influenced by several Japanese movie heroes, including my favourite Zatoichi films. While there's no blind swordsmans, the overall concept of the slender cane sword is something I greatly enjoy. Especially as in Europe, it was a gentleman's weapon. A slender blade inside a cane. This is something I feel Filth would greatly use as he's not particularly fond of rich people, I think. He'd use it with a degree of mockery.<br />
<br />
I wrote this book without puns. There. I said it. The reason I chose this route was there's more humour in the characters themselves so I didn't think the puns were necessary. I felt they'd only get in the way. It's a decision I'm unsure of, but also feel that Nysta's sense of humour is better served as her own and kept distinct.<br />
<br />
For those of you hoping for a Nysta book, please know this does fit the order of the series and is important over all. It saved me having to cram it into her books. I prefer keeping her stories about her, without splitting it up over dozens of people. Also, I'm expecting to have a Nysta book ready for you around October... Isn't that fun?<br />
<br />
In the meantime, enjoy a filthy story of filthy characters engaged in filthy business and Pre-Order now for May 25th!<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Read the <a href="http://lucasthorn.blogspot.com.au/2018/05/prologue-shivs-mouthful-of-filth.html" target="_blank">Prologue</a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Then Pre-Order your copy now <a href="https://amzn.to/2rde1hx" target="_blank">only on Amazon</a>...</div>
lucashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08468525400674603085noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27255824.post-90772645247482847772018-04-22T09:10:00.003+08:002018-04-22T09:13:00.522+08:00illustrating the future of nysta and the shadow realm<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vss1fvvFax8/WtvgXQCFLGI/AAAAAAAABTo/_dIKK4H2Q44n9qdAj2EkcvhyVLBphl2DwCLcBGAs/s1600/find.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="688" data-original-width="1229" height="179" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vss1fvvFax8/WtvgXQCFLGI/AAAAAAAABTo/_dIKK4H2Q44n9qdAj2EkcvhyVLBphl2DwCLcBGAs/s320/find.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
NEWS TIME! Hey everyone! There's incoming news on the next book in the Shadow Realm series and I'm hoping to give you a firm date anytime soon. It should technically still be May.<br />
<br />
I'm also in the process of working out a nice schedule and format for the series in PAPERBACK. These have been promised for a while, but I really didn't want to do them until I was sure they were worth buying. I mean, let's all admit that us Indies are not always worth paying for in paperback as it's an expensive format and there's always plenty of traditional authors we want to spend our cashes on.<br />
<br />
So, to make it worth your time, I've got two nasty ideas.<br />
<br />
First, I'm going to put in some extra material at the end. You'll be getting short stories, possibly some cut scenes (yes, these are a thing!), maybe a look at early drafts. Possibly an essay (I haz that skillz). That kind of thing. A bit of a background to the world and characters involved. Just a lot of things which aren't in the ebooks for reasons it's usually not worth putting them in as not many people go beyond the point of "the end".<br />
<br />
Secondly (and more excitingly), I'm looking to add illustrations! I wanted something like the old pulp magazines. Something sketchy, yet perhaps a little comicbook (like the Weis-Hickman Dragons series if you were lucky enough to remember the little drawings added in them). I have made contact with an illustrator and I'm really hoping that works out (everything positive so far - just discussing the terms before announcing names). I'll also include the maps!<br />
<br />
Essentially, I'm working to create a nice pretty package for you. It's part of a big shake-up of my series as I try to genuinely overhaul my brand over the next year.<br />
<br />
I hope for those of you who still like the paperback thing, that this interests and excites you. I know I'm bouncing in my chair like a *insert NSFW metaphor into statement*.<br />
<br />
If you'd like to help make this a reality, please don't forget I have a <a href="https://www.paypal.me/lucasthorn" target="_blank">PayPal donation TipJar</a> and everything you give will now be going towards that! Let me know you donated, and I'll even name a Nysta victim for you!lucashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08468525400674603085noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27255824.post-89730219096017438782018-04-01T00:28:00.002+08:002018-04-01T00:28:52.689+08:00cover reveal - the shivs: a mouthful of filth (a shadow realm adventure)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj17gUxf7JO5e8xY6ebYHWrLJ5tMZorU_4rg3pqBQi3mza3NnL1aZMG_qHUw7ODBsC7b4lov2Hz83gMo7lr5j7C6DNetbf0y0AokMGFFSXI3YKydNAjpfh7bTMtPlIiOv-FmeZt9g/s1600/Mouthful.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1142" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj17gUxf7JO5e8xY6ebYHWrLJ5tMZorU_4rg3pqBQi3mza3NnL1aZMG_qHUw7ODBsC7b4lov2Hz83gMo7lr5j7C6DNetbf0y0AokMGFFSXI3YKydNAjpfh7bTMtPlIiOv-FmeZt9g/s320/Mouthful.jpg" width="228" /></a></div>
Every time <a href="https://www.artstation.com/amirzand" target="_blank">Amir</a> gives me a new cover, I'm always a little nervous. His work is so amazing I automatically set extremely high expectations in my head. But then, I look at the previous covers and say to myself: there's no way he can outdo that.<br />
<br />
No way he can do better.<br />
<br />
And then he gives me a cover.<br />
<br />
And I sit there.<br />
<br />
Dumbfounded.<br />
<br />
Shocked.<br />
<br />
Just in awe, because it's always so incredibly good that I feel it genuinely belongs on Pornhub.<br />
<br />
Normally, when I ask for a cover from him, I set the most ridiculously useless instructions. "Make me something cool. Put a wall in it. Something. You know. Knife in her hand."<br />
<br />
That's it.<br />
<br />
I'm the world's most hopeless customer. It sounds like I don't know what I want (this might be true), but on the other hand I'm just looking for his interpretation of something vague. But with this cover, I was specific. Disc platform, stone circle. Filth with his cane sword. Inside a sewer, please. Kthx.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFCyi1WnV73Yc7aO2F78GA6TMDHeMxPOFUhkxxqBdTzj6Lw45NHd0TSfc9ZHXe4rLgZCYg3-3qFk9iE5tH0kWFw5Gk7HMpc4zNboQHofJIRXEzAS113iWOzY58N5mk2L0n7YKU6w/s1600/sketch_filth.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="522" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFCyi1WnV73Yc7aO2F78GA6TMDHeMxPOFUhkxxqBdTzj6Lw45NHd0TSfc9ZHXe4rLgZCYg3-3qFk9iE5tH0kWFw5Gk7HMpc4zNboQHofJIRXEzAS113iWOzY58N5mk2L0n7YKU6w/s320/sketch_filth.JPG" width="222" /></a><br />
I was so specific that I had to draw a sketchy image. For the record, here's my art:<br />
<br />
I went to Art School. True story.<br />
<br />
From that pitiful doodle, he came up with another masterpiece.<br />
<br />
What I love most is the way the platform, glowing from an eldritch light source, looks like a crown. That's not something I asked for, but it really is appropriate. The occult designs on the surface. The feel of dramatic pause and a general atmosphere of <i>shit is about to go down</i>.<br />
<br />
Amazeballs.<br />
<br />
That's what this is.<br />
<br />
Amir has been busy this year. He's been pumping out covers like a cover-pumping machine. Each showing his boundless enthusiasm and dedication to quality. It's overwhelming how totally involved he is with the process. And how interactive he gets with it. There's genuine dialogue and it's a positive kind.<br />
<br />
If you're looking for something as Amazeballs as this, you should grab him while you can. If you can.<br />
<br />
In the meantime, check out his latest article for 3DTotal <a href="https://www.3dtotal.com/tutorial/2490-developing-quick-sci-fi-compositions-in-photoshop-by-amir-zand" target="_blank">here</a>.<br />
<br />
As for Filth and his Shivs, their story will be coming very soon.<br />
<br />
I'll have a date for you this week and some links for Pre-Orders up on my <a href="http://lucasthorn.com/" target="_blank">site</a>. I'm looking for a May release, though I know May is traditionally a bit of a slow month.<br />
<br />
Still. I hope you're waiting for it anyway and that you're ready to snap up your copy. I also hope to have some further information in the coming months regarding *whispers seductively* paperback editions. More to come on that! Exciting!<br />
<br />
As always, if you loved my books, please consider dropping a <a href="https://www.paypal.me/lucasthorn" target="_blank">tip in the jar</a> as you leave the site. To this struggling (genuinely) writer, it means a lot.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />lucashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08468525400674603085noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27255824.post-12820044687088090102018-02-22T19:31:00.001+08:002018-02-22T19:31:08.327+08:00the curious case of jason deem - a long journey for a fantasy map<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NHv8cI07vUk/Wo6ls81zj0I/AAAAAAAABRU/9ORbKOKXeHcIWy0I5tnJVrxeEp-mwII-gCLcBGAs/s1600/Dragonclaw_med.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="506" data-original-width="655" height="247" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NHv8cI07vUk/Wo6ls81zj0I/AAAAAAAABRU/9ORbKOKXeHcIWy0I5tnJVrxeEp-mwII-gCLcBGAs/s320/Dragonclaw_med.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Fantasy maps bore my tits off.<br />
<br />
There.<br />
<br />
I said it.<br />
<br />
I have never spent a single minute looking at one, and never saw the value of even having one until I started writing this series and realised my main character was going to travel a lot. I figured it'd be best to know where she was.<br />
<br />
Having said that, I couldn't see the point of doing actual maps.<br />
<br />
But people seem to like them, and I'd get asked for them all the time. Almost as much as I get asked for paperbacks. While paperbacks are a little out of my league at the moment (Amazon quality on their PoD isn't so great for Amir's covers), maps seemed ... doable.<br />
<br />
However, I just couldn't find anyone I wanted to do the maps.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCdIa2UIy1uwZt3Yb46upFpGHcpJ3kBs4tbUFWOlnYkew45akTPul-atz-gz3YmBSQZI-zlLjHUYNQwqxYn7EFSEi3DEJB41pkLTtJNKezUWYpOpsm16JaFMTnuUKFm6GYVcMYtg/s1600/jason_deem.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="749" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCdIa2UIy1uwZt3Yb46upFpGHcpJ3kBs4tbUFWOlnYkew45akTPul-atz-gz3YmBSQZI-zlLjHUYNQwqxYn7EFSEi3DEJB41pkLTtJNKezUWYpOpsm16JaFMTnuUKFm6GYVcMYtg/s320/jason_deem.jpg" width="249" /></a>My first choice might have been <a href="https://twitter.com/DevenRue" target="_blank">Deven "Mistress of Maps" Rue</a>, who is the closest thing to a Fantasy map-making fucking god of fucking amazeballs proportions. I can't get enough of her art. But her maps are a little too neat for my world. I just couldn't see it working with my grimdark violent creation. I needed something which more or less screamed BLOOD in big fucking letters of, well, BLOOD.<br />
<br />
That's when I found this oddball map (right). It screams psychopathic in brilliant scratchy darkness, and I knew that's the kind of thing I wanted.<br />
<br />
I wanted to channel its nastiness.<br />
<br />
Unfortunately, no matter how I searched, I couldn't find the artist! I went all through DeviantArt and ArtStation, and just couldn't find it. Google? Nope. Nothing.<br />
<br />
I started looking for the artist of this map some time mid to late 2017. And I just kept posting a tweet or a message in Facebook or wherever. Just saying: Hey, anyone know this artist?<br />
<br />
And got crickets.<br />
<br />
In December, <a href="https://www.cartographersguild.com/" target="_blank">The Cartographer's Guild</a> gave me a few pointers, and put me onto one or two artists, but no one really seemed to have this kind of playfulness. Then, bored one evening, I posted another tweet and received the following joy:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNXghDgucObwR2hm4-LrduUCJVDr2H981EE8MoV7TGSOwuDtk75Zc6Bzg0YZh6JB3s_8IGxMPbZZDDhHXljScc362ctLQHrJEu9EbqSkUqjki14CH1O5xBIXua-N8EMlOOtP1TpA/s1600/rob+j+hayes.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="115" data-original-width="600" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNXghDgucObwR2hm4-LrduUCJVDr2H981EE8MoV7TGSOwuDtk75Zc6Bzg0YZh6JB3s_8IGxMPbZZDDhHXljScc362ctLQHrJEu9EbqSkUqjki14CH1O5xBIXua-N8EMlOOtP1TpA/s1600/rob+j+hayes.PNG" /></a></div>
<br />
This was swiftly given the reply:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJW123dZC06evBBLfLGPG1NLrlOTrLCRrvcHfYI7Y71IHYE5zp2g0TgqqNiUYRh5cZc9c3jqzXEOYHdpJYs-7nePmOq385I_g2m9OoQ51LSoHMBjPP4G__T4bXpZlFBtg1_LlSmg/s1600/michael+r+fletcher.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="297" data-original-width="595" height="158" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJW123dZC06evBBLfLGPG1NLrlOTrLCRrvcHfYI7Y71IHYE5zp2g0TgqqNiUYRh5cZc9c3jqzXEOYHdpJYs-7nePmOq385I_g2m9OoQ51LSoHMBjPP4G__T4bXpZlFBtg1_LlSmg/s320/michael+r+fletcher.PNG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
This is an example of why I love the internet. Despite the attempts of several large corporate entities to control and regulate our existence on it, we can still work together to really make creative happen.<br />
<br />
I was able to find <a href="https://www.artstation.com/jdillustration" target="_blank">Jason Deem</a> via ArtStation, and then attacked him like a rabid lunatic with absolutely no idea of what a map should look like or what should go on it. Make some squiggles, I said. All good.<br />
<br />
And there it is. Not squiggles. Art.<br />
<br />
A piece of absolute pleasure which screams NYSTA for me in bloody violent psychopathic joy.<br />
<br />
Thank you to everyone who helped me out on this. Those who tried to head me in the right way last year, even if you didn't know who the artist was. And those who finally cracked my puzzle.<br />
<br />
I love you all.<br />
<br />lucashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08468525400674603085noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27255824.post-15744583040715200242018-01-19T20:11:00.001+08:002018-01-19T20:13:50.576+08:00cover art and the superclown<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aj7BbRyTW5w/WmHg4k2ArLI/AAAAAAAABQw/LPuuJJkJp2Qufqs1z5UBkp9mIji1-NsbACLcBGAs/s1600/backgr_scion1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="986" data-original-width="1200" height="262" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aj7BbRyTW5w/WmHg4k2ArLI/AAAAAAAABQw/LPuuJJkJp2Qufqs1z5UBkp9mIji1-NsbACLcBGAs/s320/backgr_scion1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
The other day, Amir was kind enough to share this amazing Werble of Scion of Dragonclaw.<br />
<br />
When I was looking at it, it got me thinking about the fun of cover art sourcing.<br />
<br />
Those of you following me know that I had originally found a cover artist for my most recent book, <i>The Satanic Brides of Dracula</i>, but then I accidentally wrote the whole thing in three weeks at the beginning of December.<br />
<br />
I had originally expected an April release date, but figured I really liked it as it was, so why not release it? The only thing was, the artist I'd been talking to was only available in Feb. This meant I needed something quick.<br />
<br />
Lucky for me, I found Lente Scura. But it was getting very tight there, and I nearly put it off for the original April release. Which was a bit depressing.<br />
<br />
It's not that I didn't have opportunity. I think there's dozens of artists I could have used. But I wanted something <i>perfect</i>. And, with short notice, that's usually unobtainable.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxNbbR1P2rTDHvPnEYoS-9xxMV3oTh45-yYWlJwqtI1Dm10WcIz4Di5ARjSRYgPQe0IFEGYTlifiu8' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
I'm also in the process of getting maps. I'm just sorting the financials first, and then I'll share who I've got, because it'll blow your mind. Maps, to me, are characters and I wanted it to be just right. For that reason, I haven't had any done other than the joke of a map I made for giggles.<br />
<br />
What I'm getting at is that the cover and associated art is so important, you should always get the best person you can and pay whatever they want you to pay. When I look at Amir's covers, I never think of the money I paid. I never do. I think of the amazing art and how beautifully it captures my world.<br />
<br />
Seeing Lente's cover excites me, too. I look at them both and just want to write more.<br />
<br />
I write this because I've been asked a few times about artists and listened to the reluctance from writers to pay for a decent artist. They think their friend has an art degree and can sort of photoshop something up and they regurgitate a photo done by their 12-yr old son with his iphone.<br />
<br />
It's fucking atrocious and always makes me think of bad poetry compilations which have photos of a fucking island or something when all the poetry is actually about starving children or whatever the fuck.<br />
<br />
Respect your writing. Respect the artist you work with.<br />
<br />
That's, I think, the best I can give you and also the end of my rant.<br />
<br />
TL:DR - how fucking AMAZEBALLS is this little movie?lucashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08468525400674603085noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27255824.post-8181274653621862792018-01-04T13:55:00.003+08:002018-01-04T13:55:36.670+08:00prologue to the satanic brides of dracula<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NcZjd5EkFtM/WknLv3P-cDI/AAAAAAAABPk/NA4GcvsMSowAaUAvScQvZhXDP57FVo6mACPcBGAYYCw/s1600/SatanicBrides_small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1013" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NcZjd5EkFtM/WknLv3P-cDI/AAAAAAAABPk/NA4GcvsMSowAaUAvScQvZhXDP57FVo6mACPcBGAYYCw/s320/SatanicBrides_small.jpg" width="202" /></a></div>
With the release of my first in the Rise of the Fel Queen series coming soon, I thought I'd continue my tradition of offering the prologue before the book's release.<br />
<br />
This is a different book for me, but one which still continues to have the same thrilling violence as my other works. Also, probably some scenes to disturb. My heroines are satanic vampires, after all...<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Vasilja.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
The name sends shivers down
spines of men who lived to tell tales of her whispers. Whispers threading
glittering holes between midnight and dawn.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Holes which bleed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
He knows her name. Knows it even
as his mind searches for a way to deny it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Her voice is mercury and honey. Equal
parts a child’s innocence, a maiden’s charm, and a butcher’s icy cold. Each
uttered word steals pieces of his soul.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
She glides into the room on
silent feet. Angel without wings. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
White dress gleaming.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Pale skin shining. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Eyes alive in ways her heart was
not.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Then the others came.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Pouring from shadows on
seductive exhale. Blazing with hunger. Ruby red lips curled into lustful grins.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Senka, young and exotic. He
caught his breath before there was time to draw it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Hailwic, proud and withdrawn. Holding
back. Smile only lightly planted on her pale face, but it was there. Cruel
where Vasilja was comforting.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Senka approached first. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Impatient. Hungry.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
A lunging wolf. Passion and
frenzy sucking snarls from throat.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Glint of white teeth. Sharp.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Clawed fingers. Grab hold and never
let go.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Clutch. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Scratch.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Pins him down and beats with
fists.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Pants into his ear; “Fight me.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Her mouth is a scarlet heart.
Eyes blue. So pale they echo skies she can no longer recall. If she cares for
the loss, it never shows as she ravages her prey.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Chuckle of delight like growl of
lion.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
He doesn’t fight back, so she hisses.
Thrashes and snaps.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Howls for resistance. Howls for it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
He is bruised. Bleeding from
dozens of raking cuts.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Bewildered by her savagery.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
He tries to recover. Wants to crawl
out from underneath her. A worm beneath hooked claws.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
But it’s too late.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
She tires of his weakness. Looks
to Vasilja.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Who slides into the gap. Places
cold hand on warm cheek and whispers.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Promises everything will be
fine. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Kisses are given.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Ethereal flowers whose pale
white thorns barely prick skin. And where Senka’s kiss raged with desperate
need, Vasilja brings the gentle touch of a lover. A soothing taste of comfort.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Unwinding fingers.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Glide down swallow of throat.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Rests on neck. Crook of
shoulder.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
She presses her nose and
inhales.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Sucking tang of sweat and
swollen stink of fear.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Smiles.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
“Don’t be afraid,” she whispers.
“There’s nothing to be afraid of.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
His fear leaks away, and he
wonders why it was there to begin with.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Hailwic waits.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
She stands aside. Blonde hair
loose around cheeks.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Watching.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
There is light in the back of
her eyes. A warmth which never escapes. Body tight with muscle. Dress worn like
a suit of armour. She stands with a warrior’s pose. A soldier’s rigid spine.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Absent a sword or axe, she looks
unsatisfied.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
As Vasilja’s fang enters skin
with the softest of bites, it is Hailwic who makes the first sound.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Quiet growl.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Panther roused from rest. Lifts
her head. Stalks the edges.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Searching for the perfect place
to pounce.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
And when she finds it, she is
swift.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Lips pull back to show fangs of
purest white. A blur etched in moonlight.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Snap of jaws.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
His life flees in terror as Hailwic
gorges.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Vasilja flinches, raising her
arm to avoid spray of blood across her eyes.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
“You’re wasting it all, Hailwic,”
Senka complains, still straddling waist. “You always waste it. You promised
you’d be more careful this time. You promised!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Aware Hailwic is lost to the
frenzy, she darts in to lock mouth around wrist. Hunched and back curved over
the body, Senka sucks deep. Eager to take her share. Drawing crimson flood
quickly into her mouth. Almost choking on it. Glaring as Hailwic works deeper
into his throat.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Vasilja sighs.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Reaches for the other arm. Holds
it up, but stops short of biting.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Looks at the blue face, its
horror lost to the apathy of death.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Shakes her head. “I’m terribly sorry,”
she says, wetting fangs with blood. “I didn’t actually mean to lie.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Hailwic reels to her feet. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Wipes mouth on her dress. Closed
eyes as vitality cruises through undead veins. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Vasilja rises next.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Giggles soft before moving away.
She pulls a ribbon from a pouch at her waist and begins to tie her hair.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Annoyed at how quickly their
prey has been dispatched, Senka can’t resist a few final savage attacks. She
tears flesh. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Exposes gore. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Runs fingers through organs and
wipes slender fingers across the walls.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
The frenzy is gone, but
fascination with the wreckage of life never left.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
They’ve done this so many times
it is a ritual. An order of destruction as calculatable as the tides.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
White dresses soaked red, they
stand in circle around the corpse.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Hold hands.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
And let the warmth settle inside
as hot blood dissolves icy hunger for a time. Moonlight spears the room.
Startled dust motes begin to settle.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
And silence creeps between
frozen breath.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
They do not speak.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
They don’t have to.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
A sound disturbs them. Someone
is coming.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Shuffled feet.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
They run together, giggles
stifled and sharing quick glances laced with cruel humour. Three malignant
fairies teased by moonlight, they leap out the window. Soar into the sky,
rising toward the stars with stained white dresses trailing past bare feet.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Then halt, shrouded in wind’s
crisp embrace.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Look down at the house.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Holding breath. Senka presses fang
to her lip. Looks to Vasilja, who smiles wider in return.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
A candle is lit within.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Muffled voice calls a name. His
name.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Calls again.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
The vampires cling to each
other.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Tremble with the thrill of
anticipation.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Utter excitement flaring within
dead hearts as, below, the body is found.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
A scream splits the dark. A
scream of horror and loss echoed by shrieking laughter as the Brides swirl into
the wind’s invisible rivers.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
On most nights, this is when
they’d feel it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
The tug.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Pulling on ethereal cords which bind
them. A bond formed in the darkest pits of Hell. And laughter would cease.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
They’d look to one another. Eyes
wide. Did they still feel a sliver of fear when they felt it?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Or was it simply the shock of
its pull?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Even Vasilja wouldn’t admit to
fear.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
“He calls,” she’d say. “Why does
he always call when we’re having fun?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
“We should make him wait,” Senka
says. Bares her fangs. There is humour there. Nasty and vicious. “Why do we
always do what he wants?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
But Hailwic makes the decision.
“No. We go now.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
And they go.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Though Senka pretends
reluctance, she keeps pace with her sisters. She shares a scowl with Vasilja,
but there’s no emotion to it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
It’s simply the ritual.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
It is always like this.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
It is always the same.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
But this night was different.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Because the tug did not come.
And, as they waited in the winds for the Call, even Senka began to gnaw her
fingernails.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
She looked this way and that.
Slitted eyes searching the dark horizon. Glancing more often to the castle high
in the mountains.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
“Something is different,” Vasilja
said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
“Something is changed,” Hailwic agreed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
“Maybe he’s teasing us,” Senka said.
Reared like a snake, twirling angrily. Brow pulled into frown. “We should find
him. Bite him. I want to bite him.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
The moon shifted between clouds.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Thunder. Vast and terrible,
hurled itself in the distance.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Flash of lightning.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Vasilja repeated herself;
“Something is different.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
“Come,” Hailwic said. And even Senka
didn’t argue as the blonde vampire turned toward home. “We go.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Her words, at least, gave the
comfort of ritual.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Hailwic moved fast. A comet
through clouds. White dress reflecting bright. Strong round shoulders tense and
writhing. Fists bunched at her sides. War in her eyes.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Just behind, Vasilja and Senka
gripped hands. Mirror expressions.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Worry?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Concern?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Something was different.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
Something had changed.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">And the Brides felt true fear for the first time
since daylight died.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;"><a href="http://amzn.to/2CAfyWx" target="_blank">Pre-Order now!</a></span></div>
lucashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08468525400674603085noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27255824.post-74308183312786891412018-01-01T14:08:00.001+08:002018-01-01T14:08:02.532+08:00a look at the satanic brides of dracula - coming soon<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i>The Satanic Brides of Dracula</i> is a book I've had stewing in my brain for quite some time. Stewing there so long it practically burst and was written in under 3 weeks.<br />
<br />
When I first started thinking about it, I started with the premise of writing about the classic monsters of horror. Dracula, Frankenstein, the Hunchback of Notre Dame, the Phantom of the Opera, and the Mummy. All the usual suspects.<br />
<br />
I wanted to write one book per monster.<br />
<br />
Starting, of course, with Dracula.<br />
<br />
The thing was, Dracula didn't really motivate me. I thought and thought about it, but the character was pretty much done. He's been a silent slasher, a verbal aristocrat, a melodramatic parody, and a cacophony of actors have played him in a hundred different ways.<br />
<br />
What new thing could I bring to the table?<br />
<br />
The Brides.<br />
<br />
They're sometimes represented, but usually only for a few short scenes because no one wants to take away from the romance of Dracula and his precious Mina by remembering he already has three wives, so why does he need a fourth?<br />
<br />
And that got me thinking.<br />
<br />
Why <i>does </i>he need a fourth?<br />
<br />
Then I thought more about the Brides. Why were they there? What did he want from them?<br />
<br />
The Christian element of the legend is usually fairly atheistic, with Van Helsing representing pure science. His use of a crucifix or holy water has as much emotional context to him as a doctor might have now for a syringe. Yet, Dracula's roots were supposedly demonic.<br />
<br />
I have a love of the occult, and collect a lot of old occult philosophy, so I really wanted to incorporate that because the Victorian age would have had a lot of Van Helsings. People who dabbled in both science and spiritualism without seeing the clash of both worlds as a paradoxical set of interests. I envision, then, there's a ripe setting in the Victorian age for a meeting of magic and science in a way which has rarely been explored.<br />
<br />
So, what's this book about in a plot sense?<br />
<br />
The three vampire brides discover Dracula has fled the castle. He's left Jonathan Harker behind and is in an obvious hurry. The Brides realise he's off to visit Harker's fiancee, and know his ultimate purpose. But this doesn't bother them, because their Pact with the devil is to bring Hell back to Earth, and they could always use another pair of hands.<br />
<br />
Still, they feel obliged to give chase if for no other reason than to visit places of civilisation so they can hunt for music, sights, and as much blood as they can consume. And they like to consume.<br />
<br />
Unfortunately, Van Helsing is aware of them and has sent agents to hunt them down.<br />
<br />
And this gives rise to some awkward questions as the Brides are faced with the idea of a vampire hunter chasing them across Europe. What is Dracula really after? Why hasn't Dracula been concentrating on fulfilling the Satanic bargain? And, more importantly, what would happen to the Brides if Dracula proves to be unequal to the task?<br />
<br />
With Senka, the youngest vampire, beginning to have dreams of Hell's corrupted power source, the Felstone, things suddenly get complicated and the Brides decide to meet with Dracula's master himself. Satan.<br />
<br />
And that's not usually an easy task...<br />
<br />
The future for this Dark Fantasy series is bright. It's one of action, horror, violence, and Victorian charm all wrapped up in a nice non-romantic bow. My vampires don't romance their food. They suck it free of all its blood and discard its unwanted shell.<br />
<br />
So, buckle up. Join me on an adventure which won't be going the way you might think...<br />
<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Pre-Order the Satanic Brides of Dracula</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://amzn.to/2CygQPg" target="_blank">only at Amazon</a></div>
lucashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08468525400674603085noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27255824.post-83887464436661680012017-12-25T10:24:00.000+08:002018-04-05T21:18:08.544+08:00the satanic brides of dracula<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><a href="https://www.artstation.com/lentescura" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="948" data-original-width="600" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-eiXH3f3K8eQ/WkBdORvH8qI/AAAAAAAABPI/g6qwPEvApuwrIeYm-LTwRA54h5i0zC0_gCLcBGAs/s320/ricordi_nero_by_l_e_n_t_e_s_c_u_r_a-d9wslnv.jpg" width="202" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.artstation.com/lentescura" target="_blank"><i>Ricordi Nero</i> by Lente Scura on ArtStation</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
You might know I love vampires, but you might not know how much.<br />
<br />
I was a huge fan of them during my formative years, but slowly lost interest after the movie adaptation of <i>Interview With the Vampire</i> saw my favourite villain really succumb to romance in a way they hadn't before. Sure, the romance had always been there, but the vampire was a creepy thing.<br />
<br />
Now, it was all Buffy and sad emo guys. Let's just say <i>Twilight </i>really broke my soul.<br />
<br />
What I fell in love with, particularly with the movies, was the Victorian look of Hammer Horror and the like. Melodramatic horror with a taste for vicious creep and a whiff of exploitation.<br />
<br />
I miss that. I miss when the vampire squeezed into your house and then squeezed every last drop of blood from your writhing body.<br />
<br />
I was prompted to write this after the failure of Universal's misguided attempts to reboot their classic horror monsters. For me, Hollywood really shouldn't do reboots unless they understand the source material and it's clear from Tom Cruise's travesty that they don't. I thought to myself: I could do better, I'm sure of it.<br />
<br />
Instead of leaving it at that, ideas churned in my head to a point I couldn't ignore them.<br />
<br />
This book has spat out of my brain faster than anything I've ever written. It took less than three weeks to spill the first draft and editing is cruising along in a way Tom would be jealous of.<br />
<br />
I had intended to write one book per classic monster, but naturally I couldn't do things how I intended and fell in love with the idea of writing about one of the most criminally underused monsters in horror - Dracula's brides. They're often ignored. Mostly flashes of white for about 30 seconds in your average Dracula flick while the story moves onto his supposed "true" love. What a crock. He has three wives. Why did he want a fourth?<br />
<br />
I then wrote this book and accidentally discovered a series full of vampires, demons, and a plan to unleash Hell on Earth during the late 19th Century!<br />
<br />
Classic.<br />
<br />
When I started, I thought I could have this as an April or May release and began sourcing a cover. Unfortunately, with it finishing, I had to cancel the artist I'd managed to get as they weren't available immediately. I looked around, getting more and more despondent. Thinking I'd need to suck it up and release the book after April.<br />
<br />
But then I stumbled on an image which made me swallow real hard. Harder than if you paid me a hundred bucks to swallow hard.<br />
<br />
I found <a href="https://www.artstation.com/lentescura" target="_blank">Lente Scura's art</a> and it just blew me away with how completely appropriate it is for the cover. There's a nice sense of classic art combined with something psychologically dark. It reminds me of some of the pulp horror covers of the Golden age of 1970. I love that. When I saw this one, I was absolutely overwhelmed with a need to use it, but didn't anticipate getting it. I find a lot of people don't respond on DeviantArt anymore and I hadn't any experience with ArtStation.<br />
<br />
I'm sure you can agree, just by looking at this image that it's sublime. Perfect for a vampire novel!<br />
<br />
In the end, I've been incredibly lucky at a time of year which is mostly ridiculous to be trying to source artwork and, on Christmas Day, I have signed a contract for the piece to be used as a cover for my next book, which will be released in January!<br />
<br />
So, you will have two books from me! A violent Nysta story and a love letter to Hammer Horror.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Out Now:</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Rise of the Fel Queen #1: The Satanic Brides of Dracula</b><br />
<b><a href="http://amzn.to/2C1vBd7" target="_blank">Read it NOW on Amazon Now</a></b></div>
lucashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08468525400674603085noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27255824.post-86155247424730807852017-12-23T12:48:00.002+08:002017-12-23T12:48:49.766+08:00the scion of dragonclaw - prologue<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pS4rniCSqeo/Wj3fUpRWdlI/AAAAAAAABOw/C586laBz-N8vv7WRFywiunWtTNIUggL_gCLcBGAs/s1600/web_nysta1.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="670" data-original-width="1200" height="178" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pS4rniCSqeo/Wj3fUpRWdlI/AAAAAAAABOw/C586laBz-N8vv7WRFywiunWtTNIUggL_gCLcBGAs/s320/web_nysta1.png" width="320" /></a></div>
Merry Christmas, my beloved readers!<br />
<br />
I hope you have a very safe and wonderful holiday. If you work in retail or customer service, I hope you have time to recover yourself afterward and I do remember the Hell you are going through right now. Look for the light, my friends. And I hope 2018 brings you a chance at a better job, or at least an apocalypse which rains down righteous death on all your customers and management while you get to stand in the crater and laugh.<br />
<br />
And laugh.<br />
<br />
And laugh...<br />
<br />
As a reward for your love of my books, I present to you a gift. The gift of Christmas.<br />
<br />
Here, the Prologue to Nysta #8: Scion of Dragonclaw.<br />
<br />
May it give you a braingasm.<br />
<br />
---<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">The door crashed open, almost wrenched
clean off its hinges. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">As one, patrons of <i>The Rat’s Last Laugh</i> turned to peer with incredulous gaze at the
weasel-faced man slouching in the doorway. His dark brown eyes slid this way
and that and narrow lips moved as he spoke without sound.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Counting.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Nod and shrug when satisfied he’d got an
accurate count of heads.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Moved into the light.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Long red woollen hood draped down his
back. Tattered grey coat. Stained with mud. Gaping hole in the back caked in
old dry blood. Scar of a fatal wound to someone else’s back. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Flecks of trash clung to the arms like
he’d been crawling through the belongings of an Alley Rat. Pale shirt which
might once have been white. Was now just a mix of browns and greys. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Pants, patched heavily, wet with fresher blood.
Still whispering a few warm ghosts of steam. Not his own. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">He rolled his shoulders as he stepped
inside, running one hand across the back of his grime-stained neck. Rolled the
dull-coloured beads threaded on a leather thong around his throat between his
fingers before pulling his hand away. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">An odd decoration for an odd kind of man.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">He paused, two steps inside the taproom. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Then, moving only one lean leg, kicked the
door shut behind him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">The sound of it crashing shut made more
than one patron tense in their seat.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Spread lips into a smile which showed a
large gap between front teeth. A gap through which he pushed a low whistle
before striding deliberately toward the bar.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">As he approached, the bartender glanced
sideways.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">To a heavyset ork lounging on a stool. The
ork’s red eyes burned as he studied the drifter. A long pause which made the
bartender sweat. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Then the ork nodded his big green head. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Real slow.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">And the bartender coughed a small cough. “Fair
enough. What’ll it be, stranger?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">The gap-toothed man kept smiling. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Didn’t say a word.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Just pointed to a bottle of rum and tossed
a single coin. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Slid onto a stool. Crossed arms on the
bar. Eyes drilling into the bartender’s own with an intense humour which was
nothing short of devilish.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Unsure how to react, the bartender fell
back on what he knew. Scuttled toward the bottle. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Uncorked it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Set a small wooden cup in front of the drifter.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Poured.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">With trembling hands and glances which
snapped to the ork and back more than once.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">All while the drifter whistled.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Tuneless and low.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Into the silence of the taproom.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Every eye in the place aimed at his back
as he reached with both hands. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">One took the cup. Slid it across the bar
closer to himself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">The other took the bottle, which he prised
loose of the nervous bartender’s fingers.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Raised it in salute.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Then drank from the slender neck. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Slow gulps.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">One.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Two.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Three.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">And the room waited for the gap-toothed drifter
to breathe.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Four.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Five.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">On the sixth, he lowered the bottle. Wiped
mouth with the back of a gloved fist.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Let out a raucous burp.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Thrust the empty bottle back into the
bartender’s trembling hands.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Sighed in contentment.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Swivelled on the stool. Nodded at
attention received.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Sucked bottom teeth.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Then let out another long ghostly whistle
as he tugged tattered gloves from his hands. Balled and buried them within
pockets.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">As he did, the front of his coat fell open
to reveal two heavy knives. One on either hip. Sheaths laced around thighs.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Still whistling, he allowed one hand to
drop to the hilt on his right. Thumbed the butt before flicking scored wood
with his nail. Sound of the click seemed to echo through the room. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">A challenge.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">A threat.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Promise of violence.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Head aiming from one side of the room to
the other. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Eyes scanning each face. Taking in all
features. Noting scars. Wry grin tugging the corner of his mouth.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">A grin he turned against the ork like a
sword to thick green throat.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Who sat up straight, jaw crooked in
thought. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">“Feller,” the ork said. “I don’t think you
know where you are. And if you do, you ain’t right in the head for acting up
like that. So, do you? Do you know where in the fuck you are?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">The whistle cut off into silence.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Grin widened.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Then he whistled again. Not moving.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Letting his eyes drift across the ork’s
battered armor. Taking in the dozens of bone fetishes dangling from his body on
threads of catgut twine. The slave chains hung from thick leather belt.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Following the drifter’s gaze, the ork
returned his smile with a mean one of his own. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Calloused green fingers brushed the
fetishes down his chest. “You want to know how I got these, right? Well, I’ll
tell you. I got them off punks like you. Punks with attitude, who came in here
all ready to rumble. Thinking they’ll make a name for themselves. Instead, I
beat the snot out of them. Cut off their fingers. Then we ship what’s left of
‘em out on a slave ship. I always believed a feller deserves to profit from a
fight.” The ork wet his bottom lip with his tongue. “What d’you say about that,
punk? You gonna stop whistling? Or your fingers gonna fucking dangle on my
string? Decide quick, because you’re beginning to get on my nerves.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">The drifter stopped whistling.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Reached and lifted his cup.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Sipped.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">“Yeah,” the ork said. Grunted. “Figured
you for a yellow cunt. Bet those stickers of yours are just for show. Where’d
you get ‘em, anyways? Off your pa? They look too big for your little hands.
Maybe I’ll take one for myself?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">The drifter finished his drink. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Set it down calmly on the bar and nodded
to the bartender. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">A discrete nod of thanks for the drink.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Aimed his gaze back to the ork.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Drew lips back into foolish grin.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">And let out another long low whistle. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Kind of whistle which made some men feel a
chill down their spines.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">The ork half-rose from his seat. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Eyes red slits. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">“Now you’re really pissing me off, punk.
You come in here, and I show patience with you. Give you a real chance to walk
out alive. But you keep hacking at my patience. Hacking at my good fucking
will. That ain’t friendly. So, I figure you ain’t here for good reason. Ain’t
here for a drink. You’re here to kick up some shit. Well, punk. You’re in the
wrong fucking part of Dragonclaw. This here turf belongs to us. We’re the Bonebreakers,
right? And you’re about to get broke.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">The gap-toothed man leaned back, elbows on
the bar. Unmoved as a few Bonebreakers tittered a few cheers from the back.
Clink of slave chains as some gave them a shake.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Foolish grin slapped wide across the
drifter’s face. Tongue pushing through the gap as he allowed the tone of his
whistle to rise and fall without semblance of any real tune.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HvAxeLX_xEM/Wj3fdEJjqsI/AAAAAAAABO0/pmeCYKjauJMnqoXndPaANHCzPVfcEkw9ACLcBGAs/s1600/web_nysta3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1122" data-original-width="1200" height="299" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HvAxeLX_xEM/Wj3fdEJjqsI/AAAAAAAABO0/pmeCYKjauJMnqoXndPaANHCzPVfcEkw9ACLcBGAs/s320/web_nysta3.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Tidal mockery for wave upon wave of the
ork’s fury to beat upon.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Eyes shining as he stared at the ork
without blinking.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Still said nothing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Not even when the ork pushed himself from
his stool and loped across the room. Bare green arms bulging as he flexed and
squeezed fists so tight the knuckles popped.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Ground his teeth. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Snarled at the gap-toothed man with every step.
Jaw rolling around his tongue.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">A predator homing in on smaller prey.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">And the whistling didn’t stop.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Huge shadow fell across the drifter.
Covered his weasel face in darkness.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">“I’m gonna fuck you up bad, little man.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">The ork reached. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Not fast. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">He didn’t expect resistance. Fingers
trembling rage, they sought to grab the whistler by his throat.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">But the drifter moved as the whistling
stopped.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Off the stool like grease. Slid under the
ork’s heavy arm. A blur of catlike energy. Had drawn both knives in the same
movement. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Coat flapped in his wake.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Twin flashes of light like ribbons of
steel.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Blur of coat.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Darted around the ork’s second swing and
slid smoothly across the floor to end up just out of reach. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Crouched. Head down. Eyes half-closed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Hands low.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Knives in fists.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">A fighter’s stance. Still and unmoving. Bold
and bursting with unspent power.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Solid.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Unbroken.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Wet knives drooled carnage to the floor.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">The ork glanced to the knives.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Then down at his guts.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">“Aww, shit.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Took a tumble toward the waiting drifter.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Still reaching for the drifter, the ork’s
fingers met a laconic swipe of blade.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Four heavy digits dropped to the ground,
and the big ork dropped with them. Wormed onto his back. Tried to hold his
belly on the inside. A futile dream he’d never grasp.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">He knew it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Slick red fluid hissed from twin cuts racing
across his abdomen.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">The gap-toothed drifter looked around the
room, grinning at stunned expressions. Like he expected applause.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">No one had ever had to help defend the ork
before.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">They didn’t know what to do.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Mesmerised, they watched the gap-toothed
man drag a chair. Scrape of wood across floor like the echo of a scream. Set it
beside the dying ork. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Slumped into it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Squirmed to get comfortable. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Then lifted booted feet to place them on
the ork’s shuddering chest.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 42.55pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">“And now, my friends,” he said at last.
Voice cheerful and bright. “It is time we get to know each other very well, I
am thinking. You know, my sister used to say it is good for strangers to meet. I
know she would be very proud of me now for making such friends as you. Yes, I
feel this is true. Come. Drink. Drink and share everything you know about these
good streets of yours. Who is in charge of all the gangs? Are the Shivs still
toughest? Which guards will take bribes. Which will not, and where are their
families living? Where is a good bakery? A good bakery is a sign of great
civilisation. I tell you this, and it is true. Especially when that bakery is one
which sells spiced rolls and has a beautiful girl to serve them with sweet sugar-dusted
fingers. Also, where to get a good coat. One without a hole in it or blood on
its back. And a pair of new boots. And why is there no drink in my hands when
you have been told to drink? But, most of all, and this is very important to
Eli, he wants to know who has seen an elf. An elf with a scar right here on her
mangy twisted face…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-AU; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br clear="all" style="mso-special-character: line-break; page-break-before: always;" />
</span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;"> <a href="http://amzn.to/2BoHBEA" target="_blank">Pre-Order Nysta #8: Scion of Dragonclaw</a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Only on Amazon Kindle</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 20px;">Please consider helping an Indie Author by spreading the word on all your favourite sites. Amazon. Goodreads. Reddit. Facebook. Twitter. Pornhub. All the sites!</span></span></div>
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lucashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08468525400674603085noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27255824.post-75993564123952506672017-11-29T19:42:00.004+08:002017-11-29T19:42:52.520+08:00nysta #8: scion of dragonclaw up for pre-order!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-X8u1CjaJxRo/Wh6ZQeBYo7I/AAAAAAAABOU/tIaLSeLxnzYCHxhkACWS_6Hz-l7eNXcpACLcBGAs/s1600/scion%2Bof%2Bdragonclaw.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1150" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-X8u1CjaJxRo/Wh6ZQeBYo7I/AAAAAAAABOU/tIaLSeLxnzYCHxhkACWS_6Hz-l7eNXcpACLcBGAs/s320/scion%2Bof%2Bdragonclaw.jpg" width="229" /></a></div>
Those of you following my <a href="https://twitter.com/lucasthorn" target="_blank">Twitter</a> or <a href="https://www.facebook.com/swordpunk/" target="_blank">Facebook</a> would be well aware that I've thrown <i><a href="http://amzn.to/2AmhqyR" target="_blank">Nysta #8: Scion of Dragonclaw</a> </i>up for pre-order!<br />
<br />
I have given a release date of January 3rd 2018, and I hope you'll all be looking forward to it.<br />
<br />
You can <a href="http://amzn.to/2AmhqyR" target="_blank">Pre-Order here</a>.<br />
<br />
So, what's it all about?<br />
<br />
When I was writing this book, I wanted to do something a bit different. I knew I wanted to up the bodycount. And I wanted to do it in a way that didn't make it repetitive and boring. So, I began playing with Point of View, which is something I normally shy away from. But, with <i>Scion of Dragonclaw</i>, I think I found a nice way of doing it.<br />
<br />
I was also getting over a terrifyingly horrible job full of toxic management monkeys, and I really felt a need to <i>say</i> something about that. To say something about the very condition of having a job in an environment where your job is being off-shored while management smile at you in the face and stab you in the back. Where they'll push you on with a cowardly pretence at caring rather than have the balls to just tell you to fuck off.<br />
<br />
Many of you have felt that. Whether you're being pushed along because you don't quite fit in, or they just want someone cheaper. You know what it feels like. I felt really strongly about this because the job I had was rather specialised and the implementation of replacement was being done with particular ineptitude which essentially insulted both my intelligence and the work I had been doing for them. I put a lot of effort into that job. I was forced to delay <i>Nysta #7</i> because of it - a choice which ultimately cost me a lot of money.<br />
<br />
So, this book rages at that in a way which isn't preachy. It is instead as much a character assassination as it is a story about assassinations. It is a joke. A pun of epic proportions. And, I hope you can see someone you know in these pages and feel delight when they fall to the slashing blade of Nysta.<br />
<br />
Elsewhere, I'd like to point out the amazing cover, once more done by Amir Zand, whose work continues to explode my mind. This one is just glorious. Pay particular attention to her holding a severed head. Very drippy and red.<br />
<br />
This leaves me to the final part of this post where I ask if you've read the books to consider sharing your opinions (good or bad) on Amazon, Goodreads, Facebook, Reddit, SFFWorld.com, or your favourite blog or review page. Wherever you hang out with like-minded fantasy peeps. I'm still a struggling writer living on lint which I pull from my pocket and sell to passing mice.<br />
<br />
I don't own my own home (can't afford a deposit or a mortgage), and I depend entirely upon my wits and my wife. If it weren't for her, I'd have 2-minute noodles every night instead of 3 out of 7. So, every sale really helps me toward my goal of one day buying her some new boots.<br />
<br />
Also, I have a <a href="http://paypal.me/lucasthorn" target="_blank">PayPal account</a> if you loved my books enough to think 3.99 is a cheap price for the kind of entertainment found in your average Netflix hallway scene (God, the Punisher was AWESOME!). I thank you in advance and can't tell you how much it actually means to me.<br />
<br />
Lastly, thank you to everyone who has supported me or bought one of my books. Thank you for taking the chance on an Indie Writer Hack. I hope 2018 is the best for you and you enjoy my books!<br />
<br />
<br />lucashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08468525400674603085noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27255824.post-88779466522321138412017-07-28T18:48:00.001+08:002017-07-28T18:48:23.080+08:00the evolution of the nysta series<div class="_5pbx userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id="js_a">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7XwXNDuQm9w/WXsWKd3exxI/AAAAAAAABMA/MzT3y_EW6ugPgz5thSHuD7wThOpTMfuTACLcBGAs/s1600/rockjaw_05_sm.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="934" data-original-width="1000" height="298" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7XwXNDuQm9w/WXsWKd3exxI/AAAAAAAABMA/MzT3y_EW6ugPgz5thSHuD7wThOpTMfuTACLcBGAs/s320/rockjaw_05_sm.png" width="320" /></a>Attention,
my glorious horde of undying faithfuls. Over the last few months, I've
been looking at avenues to boost myself in the overall public domain.<br />
<br />
I've thrown myself at the mercy of Mark Lawrence's Indie Project,
SPFBO. And that went well, though it's fairly obvious I don't quite fit
in with normal fantasy. I'm a little too punk for that. And that's okay.<br />
<br />
In the future, I'd like to try a Patreon service. But I really want to
make it worth it. I want to give something that really makes it
rewarding because, ultimately, I don't feel having a sneaky peek or
something at my work is exactly rewarding enough. I feel there's a lot
more I could be offering to be worth your support.<br />
<br />
Some of the
ideas I'm working on involve the usual things such as extra contact and
answering direct questions about the books (although, technically I'm
happy to do that here anyway, so I didn't think that was an added
bonus), and some participation in future books. I mean, there's
sometimes forks down which I can travel. At the end of the Dragonclaw
trilogy, for example, I can either tell the next story in the Nysta
series or there's a distinct possibility I can give you a Chukshene book
(he's actually due for one around then), or the next in the Hemlock
(which will fit in okay then, though I might normally leave it until a
little later).<br />
<br />
Also, I'd love to write a literal ton of short
pieces. Similar in format to how I do the Prologues and Epilogues, these
will give added depth to the series and provide you with some
background on characters you might not have had before. One terrific
example is a story involving what happened to Nysta's goats. I mean,
what did they do? This haunts me at night...<br />
<br />
Having said all
that, there's a lot of room for more exciting and tangible benefits I
was hoping to offer. I feel that the biggest issue a writer faces is our
books can often only be read once. Many times, you wouldn't read them
again. They're also not something you can put as a background on your
PC, or easily show off to your friends.<br />
<br />
But you CAN show off
merchandise. I was hoping, then, that what WOULD interest you is offers
of merchandise. That is, mugs and shirts (sent to supporters). I also
know a place which can print me up some bulk bookmarks (I know,
pointless with ebooks) which are made on canvas and are extremely high
quality. <a href="http://amirzand.tumblr.com/" target="_blank">Amir Zand's</a> art would look amazing on those.<br />
<br />
I have also begun commissioning for character studies! This is the most
exciting part of this post for you. I want more art for my website,
this page here, and merchandising possibilities. Amir is working on some
characters right now and I have also sourced another artist to drop
through some which have a very 70s Pulp fantasy comicbook appeal. The
artist I've attached like a leech to is named <a href="https://www.artstation.com/artist/andyweasel" target="_blank">Alexandru Munteanu</a> (Andy
Weasel) and his work is amazing. Some of you may have seen the image I
posted on my Facebook and Twitter feeds a week or two ago and wondered why I did that.<br />
<br />
I will use
the art mostly to illustrate stories and provide bonus eye candy to my
work. I hope this kind of thing will add to the value of a possible
Patreon service. Much of what I have will always remain public, but I
feel I could give this story a lot faster if I can find a way to work on
it more than I do my day job. I hope this doesn't seem very mercenary
of me.<br />
<br />
To show you how hard I'm working to provide value, I'd
like to share the following first Character Image. This one is by Andy
and is of Rockjaw. It is made as an illustration to Rockjaw's
soon-to-come short story which will give an accurate and hopefully
poignant background to why he is what he is. Though he explained it in a
few quick rushed sentences to Lux, there's always room for a snapshot
of his life, I think.<br />
<br />
I'll put up a few stories on my site over
the next month or so and if you get time, I'd love to get your feedback
on whether you find them interesting or valuable.<br />
<br />
This image
comes in two flavours, but for now I'll give you the amazing coloured
version. There's another version I have which has been made specifically
with the idea of shirts in mind.<br />
<br />
It's the first in a series of images from some extremely talented artists with very different styles.<br />
<br />
I hope you drop your jaws like a rock at the sheer intolerable AWESOMESAUCE.<br />
<br />
I did.</div>
lucashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08468525400674603085noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27255824.post-19473058712648211952017-07-12T19:17:00.001+08:002018-07-15T11:44:22.747+08:00revenge of the soup<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQobodkJp_tYKwqzDZKDoMTv_oVAe0QF1y7iGe1qvzOKQy3zloIFgayl9vCTp0o8y-4DzSANWxy9khYw_XHcIRSmVuLi5EkCZi_drLtmDeWdz5p4_sSexsW4iHuY5HD-HOENZSFQ/s1600/evil_soup_by_bluerhubarb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="268" data-original-width="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQobodkJp_tYKwqzDZKDoMTv_oVAe0QF1y7iGe1qvzOKQy3zloIFgayl9vCTp0o8y-4DzSANWxy9khYw_XHcIRSmVuLi5EkCZi_drLtmDeWdz5p4_sSexsW4iHuY5HD-HOENZSFQ/s1600/evil_soup_by_bluerhubarb.jpg" /></a></div>
i was on my side as the kid stuck
his boots in.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
i tasted blood and gritted my
teeth and tried to curl up inside my arms as though they might somehow spread
out like an iron coat and protect me from the kicking.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"where is it?" he
screamed. "give me the fucking money!"</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"in . . . the . . .
box," i croaked. "it's in the box!"</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
the kid tossed the box down,
splashing out its contents. money. a few paperclips. a rubber band. couple of
bank bags. and a tin of soup.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"please," i moaned.
"please don't take <i>the soup</i>..."</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
the little shit hit the concrete
running. he was tearing down the street.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
he was like greased lightning.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
in one fist, a bundle of notes
and the jangle of coins in his jacket. the hood, though pulled over his head,
revealed a grin set firm against his face.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
in the other hand, gripped like a
big fuck you against the world, was <i>the soup</i>.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
i've been jacked a few times.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
it's nothing new.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
i rolled over inside my shop and
spat some blood. dug around inside my mouth a bit to make sure no teeth were
about to come out.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
rolled up on my elbow as another
customer came in.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"jesus!" he cried.
"you okay? i'll call the cops!"</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"wait," i grunted.
"it's okay. no need to call the cops."</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"did he get anything?"</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
i grinned through bloody teeth.
"nah. he just took a tin of <i>the soup</i>."</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
he called himself gonzo.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
he called himself that because
he'd seen a movie and figured that made him hardcore enough. he broke into a
few warehouses first, then moved onto houses before getting the guts to jack a
little chinese shop. since then, he took it on himself to do as many
convenience stores as he could.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
the money in his fist felt warm
and well-earned.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
he couldn't figure out why i was
defending <i>the soup</i> and not the cash, so he figured <i>the soup </i>must
be worth something, only he wasn't yet sure who he should sell it to.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
as far as he knew, no one bought
secondhand soup.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
he kept running a few blocks, a
little surprised to not hear a cop in this neighbourhood. running from the cops
was half the fun.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
he thought he might have kicked
me a little too hard. far from giving him a spark of fear that he might have
killed someone, he took comfort in the fact i might not be able to tell the
cops who kicked me to death.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
as he slowed, his breath coming
in ragged gasps, he looked down at the blood on his pants leg and realised he'd
have to throw out another pair of pants.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
disappointed, he waved down a bus
and headed home.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
unconsciously, he juggled <i>the
soup</i>.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
the kid made it home peacefully.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
his roomies were out.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
that was good, because he wanted
to count his takings.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
he sat on his bed, dropping <i>the
soup</i> onto his pillow and dumping all the coins and cash out on the
mattress.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
slowly, because he wasn't much
good at math, he counted the money he'd stolen from me.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
it wasn't much. barely a hundred
bucks, but then the little fucker didn't know i had a little vault hidden under
the counter. he hadn't looked behind the stack of tampons.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
i kept them there because most
kids who held me up had a mortal dread of tampons.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
no way they were going to touch
them.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
they always ripped shit out of my
counter but never touched the tampons.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
go figure.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
pleased with his haul - he wasn't
much of a worker was gonzo - he lay back on his bed and had a small daydream
about using the cash to convince that chick who worked at the diner down the
road to go to the movies with him.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
then to dinner - maybe fish n
chips.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
then home for some biggedy bam on
the bed.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
he had a hard on still when he
rolled over and found himself looking into the face of <i>the soup</i>.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
gonzo drifted into the kitchen,
juggling <i>the soup</i>.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
he had to hunt around a bit for a
can opener.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
found it, though.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
the opener sliced easily through
the tin lid and gnawed cheerfully around the edge, opening it up nice and easy.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
gonzo was quite proud of his tin
opening skills. when he was little, his mother used to get him to open all the
tins. he'd do them with one go, never letting the opener pause or slip. just
zam and it was done.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
open sesame.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
he took off the lid and tossed it
into the sink.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
looked inside the tin and hello.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<i>that</i>, thought gonzo, <i>looks
yum</i>.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
funny enough, that's what <i>the
soup</i> was thinking, too.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
the lights in the kitchen
flickered.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
a few bugs rippled against the
flyscreen trying to get out as though they could sense <i>the soup</i> and
wanted nothing to do with it.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
the ancient pot on the stove
cradled <i>the soup</i> and brought its temperature up.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
gonzo smsed the chick from the
diner.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
he told her he had the most
amazing soup he'd ever smelt. he was cooking it right now. she just <i>had</i>
to come over and give it a taste.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
he truly wasn't thinking of
anything else by this stage. the thought of fucking was completely absent, even
when she texted back that he could go fuck himself because she wasn't stupid
enough to fall for that shit.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
he just shrugged and began
pouring <i>the soup</i> into a bowl where it steamed and gave the filthy
kitchen an aroma so fine the kitchen itself would have fainted had it been
alive.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
it even killed the aroma of the
bin which had been in the kitchen for some five days.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
gonzo stared at <i>the soup</i>.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
for a second, he thought it
moved.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
but that, he reasoned, would be
stupid.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
he grabbed a spoon and headed to
the television room.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
gonzo lapped up the soup like a
starving dog, shovelling it down with gusto.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
he didn't really know what was on
tv. he wasn't really paying attention.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
he kept his mind and his mouth
focussed entirely on <i>the soup</i>.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
that's probably also why he
didn't hear me kick his back door in.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
i settled in on the couch next to
gonzo.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
he didn't notice straight away.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
he was busy sitting back with a
peaceful smile on his face. he'd just tasted of nirvana, after all, and i'm not
talking kurt cobain.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
although, now i think about it,
he had a lot more in common with the very dead kurt cobain.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
or he would.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
in a few minutes.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
he turned his head, slowly, the
smile still on his face.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"hi," i said.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"hi," he said, like an
addict halfway through a good trip.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"i just wanted to be
here," i told him.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"okay."</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"i don't usually. it's not a
pretty sight. but, you know," i wiped my lips where i could still feel the
blood dripping from where his boot took me full in the mouth. "i felt i
owed you one."</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"cool," he said.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
i turned the channel to something
a little more interesting and waited.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<i>the soup</i> looked around.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
it wasn't terribly happy about
being inside gonzo.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
but it was looking forward to
getting out, that's for sure.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
as any prisoner could tell you,
getting out was always more fun than getting in.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<i>the soup</i> sniffed at a
corner of gonzo's gut.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
something didn't smell very good
that way, so it sniffed at another side.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
not quite what <i>the soup</i>
was looking for.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
it sniffed a little to the right.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<i>aaaah</i>, thought <i>the soup</i>.
<i>there you are</i>...</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
and without further ado, it began
to eat.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
gonzo shuddered on the couch and
his eyes bulged while his jaw clenched firmly shut. blood flowed freely down
from his ears and nose.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
he jerked.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
he retched.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
he tried to say something like
"what the fuck is eating me?"</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
his fingers clawed the couch.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
he made some moaning noises, none
of which would keep me from sleeping as inside him <i>the soup</i> crunched his
bones and minced his meat, dissolving it all down and slurping him up with a
truly bizarre assortment of moist sounds.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
i picked at the popcorn i'd
brought with me, and then set an empty tin on the floor at the foot of the
couch.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<i>the soup</i> rippled under the
kid's skin, filling him up inside, soaking up the bones like bread soaks up,
well, soup.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
it was like a big pressure wave
was building up under gonzo's skin. he gurgled as he seemed almost ready to burst
and then with a loud and wet pop he just collapsed into himself leaving only
the small blob of <i>the soup</i> and a few spots of blood sitting on the couch
next to me.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
i looked down at the soup and
smiled.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<i>what's on tv?</i> asked <i>the
soup</i>.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
i shrugged. "nothing worth
talking about. but i got us out a dvd for later."</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
i showed <i>the soup</i> the
cover.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<i>the blob?</i> <i>the soup</i>
chuckled as it rolled off the couch and slid up the tin to curl up inside. <i>looks
like someone i know</i>.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
at the shop, i leaned on the
counter, watching <i>the blob</i> on a small mini dvd-player.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
beside me, a tin of <i>the soup</i>
sat quietly watching the blob eat a cinema full of people.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
it didn't giggle, but i knew it
wanted to.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
the door jingled as a customer
came in. i popped another piece of popcorn into my mouth and reached for a can
of coke.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"hey, asshole," the
customer hissed. "gimme the fucking money! now!"</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
i looked up.</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
"please," i said.
"please don't take <i>the soup</i>..."</div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 36.85pt;">
<br />
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lucashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08468525400674603085noreply@blogger.com0