Audio shorts

So, my friend Russ is getting into voice work.

This is great on a number of levels. He never has time to read as much as he’d like, and prefers audio books. He’s not alone.

I loved audiobooks when I used to commute. A great audiobook is, in some cases, better than the read version. There’s nuances and inflections that you might not have even imagined with your eyeholes. To have someone read these things aloud not only exposes certain angles of the prose, it also provides a flavor you might not always get when reading silently. Take for example, Stephen Briggs narrating any Terry Pratchett novel. Or take the audiobook of THE DIAMOND AGE.

Reading aloud is also one of the go-to suggestions when editing your own work. Your brain picks up things your eyes miss when you hear the words aloud.

The last and best part was that Russ chose one of my own short stories to read, my most recent one, in fact. This story.

You can check out his fledgling voice narration here.

worststory: A dot matrix printer as big as the moon

THE UMBRAL WAKE is coming along and should be up for preorder soon if you’re interested. In other news I am writing things. Which is maybe not really news, but some days getting words out there is like pulling teeth for me. It’s easy after a few million words to start feeling like you are just spinning your wheels writing the same crap day in day out.  So sometimes I spend time on reddit. That’s where I found /r/worststory.

 

Worststory is a subreddit where people provide the most terrible idea for a story and challenge people to write it. So a writing prompt grabbed me and I went with it. A dot matrix printer as big as the moon appears in orbit, driving everyone mad with its noise.

 

I figured what’s the point of writing it if I don’t share it.

Direct link here if you’d like to upvote and feed me karma:

http://www.reddit.com/r/worststory/comments/2h8mcr/a_giant_really_really_huge_like_as_big_as_the/ckqnjsq

 

Otherwise, enjoy.

—

Ginny was concerned. Not because of the fact that it was there, but because nobody seemed to be asking the right questions: How did it get there? Why can we hear it when it’s in space? Where did it get the paper?

The neighbors were to first to be effected as far as she knew. The Barkers had been usually pretty quiet, for the most part, an elderly couple who read their newspaper and sometimes drank lemonade out on the porch. Gerald drove an old MG which he babied for as long as Ginny could remember. Margaret liked to crochet.

When the tapping began, most people ignored it, listening to the news with mild curiosity, and taking to heart the news that despite the noise, the orbital object was really nothing to be worried about. Pictures had begun to arrive on the news feeds and aggregators–a large, blocky shape with a round nodule at one end. It was feeding on something wide and flat. Scientists estimated it was somewhere around the size of North Dakota. And there was the noise.

Thump! Thump!

And of course, the biggest realization of all. That we were not alone.

The tapping was thick, ponderous, like a jackhammer in slow motion. It wasn’t a consistent sound either, hammering an almost random pattern, making the birds panic and crash into windows, causing deer to run into traffic and whales to beach themselves, causing insects to sometimes be unusually active at night.

Thump! Thump! Thump! Thumpity-Thump!

Ginny began to lose sleep.

As did the Barkers.

It’s funny, Ginny thought, how when something completely unusual happens, people seem to react in two ways: adapt and accept it as the New Normal, or blame something, anything, anyone.

In the case of the Barkers, she guessed Margaret was maybe a little of both. Maybe it was just one more thing to break the camel’s back.

Thump! Thump!

“DON’T TELL ME YOU DON’T SNORE!” The screams soared over the picket fence and into Ginny’s living room window. “YOU SNORE LOUDER THAN THE ORBITAL! YOU SNORE LOUDER THAN A BEAR!”

“And how would you know what a bear snores like?” Gerald said, his voice almost a whisper between Orbital thumps on the night air.

“YOU KNOW EXACTLY WHAT I MEAN!”

Thump! Thumpity-Thump!

“Margaret–”

“DON’T MARGARET ME! FORTY THREE YEARS! FORTY THREE!”

“Margaret… Margaret! Put that down! Don’t be daft!”

There was a moment where Ginny thought maybe she had listened to him, putting down whatever it was, a moment where maybe the Barkers would go back to the New Normal the way they all had. But it was the gunshot that got Ginny to put her coat on.

Thump!

The night air was humid, the Thump! Thump! Thumpitty-Thump! of the orbital just loud enough to be heard, too deep to ignore. It rose in the evening sky, a second, boxy moon, its form swallowing a full quarter of the night sky. Ginny almost stopped there on the driveway just to stare at it, until she heard the sobbing.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” More sobs followed, obscuring the words as Ginny pushed the door open.

Gerald lay there on the floor, bathed in the glow of the TV, his eyes open, mildly surprised as he stared up at and beyond the ceiling.

“I’m sorry!” Margaret called, one hand on her mouth, the other hand hanging limply at her side. The gun hung from her finger, swaying just to the point of slipping. It fell, hitting the floor with a clatter, and Margaret looked at the door, at Ginny.

Thump!

“Margaret…” Ginny took a step inside, her throat closing on itself in fear as Margaret looked form her, to Gerald, to the TV.

CNN was on, the banner scrolling below, the anchor speaking about the Orbital, what it could mean.

“I don’t know why I did it,” Margaret said. “I just…”

Her voice trailed off then, her eyes fixated on the screen. Ginny turned too.

The thumping had ceased. A cameraphone pointed at the sky showed the giant sheet had emerged from the other side, slowly rotating into view. Ginny didn’t wait for the TV. She didn’t want to see it on TV. She wanted to see it for real.

Outside the sheet glowed like snow against the purple sky, the stars a backdrop to the image slowing working its way into view.

“What… what does it mean?” Margaret asked, her voice almost rising to a hysterical pitch. “What is it?”

Ginny knew. She’d known what it was for years. She took Margaret’s hand and whispered in her ear.

“Dickbutt.”

http://i.imgur.com/tzgxM5R.jpg 

 

 

 

 

So I curated a story bundle at StoryBundle

 

I got approached a few months back to not only participate in a horror bundle but to curate it as well. Seeing as I’ve never done bundle curation before, I found the task somewhat daunting at first. Where do you even start? We received dozens of submissions, some of them amazing, many of them difficult to choose from. We managed to narrow it down to these nine books, some of them by authors you’ve no doubt heard of.

http://storybundle.com/horror

A couple of great things about storybundle is that the books are all DRM free, meaning you’re free to move them from device to device, or share them with friends–though it would be awesome if they bought in as well. The bundle also gives you the option to donate a portion to charity, which makes everyone feel good about capitalism.

 

So swing by if you want to take advantage of it and get yourself some really great books.

Version

Flash fiction is a story told usually in 1000 words or less.

—

Version

© 2013 Martin Kee

1.1

And here we are. Jennings is still taking the condensers out of the back compartment, but once he gets those situated, I think we’ll be ready to check in with colony prime and have our first official meeting away from home.

Gotta go grab a shower before the meeting. I feel gross.

1.2

Meeting went well, but Jennings laid it on a little thick. I’m sure the supervisor wasn’t thrilled when he mentioned we’re a week off schedule. She made it clear we need to hustle now if we’re going to be ready for that supply drop. Those drones punch through the fabric of space pretty fast, and we’re easy to miss. Hopefully, we’ll have the beacon ready. Cracker rations only go so far. There isn’t enough mustard in the world…

1.3

As far as colonies go, Ragnarok is small, about three hundred folks, which is a good manageable number. I heard Beta-Nine was packed into their chambers like sardines when they colonized. We’ve come a long way.

Jennings is overseeing the comm deployment, which is good news. That beacon is key.

There are thirty-six human colonies, all founded within the last fifty years. I remember hearing that biological evolution moves in jumps, and I’m inclined to believe technology works the same. They’d only just found a way to punch through to another solar system, and a year later people were building ships. I think it’s fair to say nobody could fucking stand Earth anymore, and who could blame them?

We’d known about this place almost ten years before we could visit. Man, does it feel good to get away from all Earth’s problems.

Hold on, Jennings is here.

1.4

Slight hiccup in the comm array, but you know the saying: tell God your plans for a laugh. Jennings says it fell in the night, but I looked at the tower and there’s clearly some incompetence afoot. Thing was bent like a vine when I went out to it. Solar flares or not, it takes a lot more to bend plasteel than “a fall”. I’ll see if I can get to the bottom of it.

In the mean time, they’re throwing a meet-and-greet tonight with the rest of the rations. I’ve advised against it, but Jennings says, “With the beacon up and running, we’ll have more food than we can eat in our lifetimes this time tomorrow.”

Maybe I can sneak away during the dance and double-check that comm array…

1.5

I could only take a few minutes of that music. Ran off to check on the comm array on the hill. I’d asked if they’d scanned the strats before erecting it this time. Jennings confirmed that it’s solid.

“How do you know?” I asked.

“We looked,” he said. “Nothing but dirt and rock. It’s solid.”

So I figured everything was fine. Well, it’s not.

There’s a cable missing, the cable that connects the beacon to the comm array. Am I making sense now? Yes? The beacon was hooked up, but it was just talking to itself. I’m going to have to figure out how to break the news to everyone. Probably need to go tell them now before they eat all the rations. Then I need to wash up and talk to Jennings…

1.6

People are disappointed, but they understand. We’ll start from scratch with what we have now, maybe send out parties to find edible plants. The fauna here is scarce, and they assured us there’s nothing much bigger than a housecat out in those woods, but we’ll send weapons with them just the same.

In the meantime I’m going to discuss our situation with the supervisor tonight and hopefully they’ll send another supply drone.

Fucking Jennings…

1.7

Jennings was found dead today at the comm tower. We’re not sure what it is, but his hands are bleeding and covered in some kind of infection, small slivers of black can be seen under the nails, like he’s been clawing at something, but we aren’t sure what. Doctors should have an answer by the end of the day.

The scouting party returned and with good news. They brought some berries and fruit. We’ll have those tested asap.

I’m also getting a headache from all this stress. I could use a shower.

1.8

The fibers found under Jennings’s fingernails seems to be a kind of fungus. It’s not from Earth. Definitely from here, but they can’t figure out where. Maybe I need to head back to the comm array again.

The good news is that the fruit checks out. People are eating and happy, so that’s good.

Still, I hate the air here. Sticks to you.

1.9

The array is broken again. This time twisted and laying in pieces. There’s no way we’ll get it repaired now. I explained to Phillips, who took over after Jennings.

He just gave me this look. Not sure what that meant.

I washed up and… here’s the thing…

My shower head is filthy, black mold coming off the nozzle in long strands. Also, I found marks after I shaved my head this morning, like someone was clawing at the back of my head. The hairs look an awful lot like those tendrils under Jennings’s nails. Dark. Wiry. I think I’ll take them in to the doc in the morning… on second thought, better not.

2.0

I found the body today, crammed into the cooling duct above my bunk.

I’ve suspected most of the night, and I imagine the crew has too, otherwise they wouldn’t have locked me in my room. But they’re in for a treat once it takes them too. There’s no way to tell when it’s happening. None. Hell, I didn’t even know until I found my own face, staring back at me from this cooling duct.

It’s fine though. We’ll all be better adapted to life here in the end.

For now I’ll just wait.

Space ain’t for everyone…

A writing prompt on Reddit caught my eye, so I wrote a thing. Here’s the link to the post and below is the prompt and story. I figure this is at least a productive way to procrastinate on my revision. Mind you ,I am still making progress. I think I can see the light at the end of the tunnel… or maybe it’s just a near death experience.

The first human crew is on their way to Mars. Instead of being excited about Mars, the Commander is being driven to madness by minor annoyances from his crew.

 

VIDEO LOG ENABLED… VOICE2TXT v2.5.2…

RECOVERED ENTRY: CAPTAIN JAMES MILLROY – USCS ELON MUSK

BEGIN PLAYBACK…

2023.4.5 – Captain’s Personal Log

We’ve just become the first corporate vessel to leave Earth orbit, and the first manned mission to Mars. It’s an honor to be here to help prove that there’s nothing government can do that the private sector can’t do better.

I’m happy to report that our systems diagnostic came back with a clean bill of health. Jennings tells me that the seedlings are all doing well in BioTech, and Roberts in Engineering says that there are no noticeable changes in pressure or abnormal spikes. Looks like we’re on our way… What’s that? Yes, this is my personal journal, Edmonds… sure… sure that’s very clever…

Edmonds, our junior technician wanted me to point out that today’s date is 2345, which I suppose it is if you don’t count the 2 and 0 before it, but he’s a spunky kid and we’re happy to have him on board.

2023.4.6 – Captain’s Personal Log

As I look out to my left, I can almost see the moonrise over the Earth. The stars are more visible than I imagined and… just a second… What is it Jennings?… The seedlings? What’s wrong?… oh… okay, sure…. no, that’s cute.

Jennings just stated that the biometrics for the seedlings are showing an unusually high level of chemicals associated with relaxation, which is encouraging. We’re relying on these hybrid plants to boost oxygen levels once we arrive, not to mention as a viable food source… Oh, and Edmonds wanted to point out that the date is no longer sequential. Thanks Edmonds. Very observant.

2023.4.10 – Captain’s Personal Log

Edmonds has apparently named the seedlings in his spare time. I checked in at BioTech and there are neat little signs with names like “Penelope” and “Margaret”. I asked Jennings about it and she just rolled her eyes. Not sure where Edmonds is getting all this spare time, considering the amount of work we have to do. I asked him and he said he’s done it all. Roberts also told me that Edmonds has reorganized the tool cabinet about five times so far. So, good on him… I guess.

2023.4.15 – Captain’s Personal Log

We had an incident. I guess while the rest of the crew was sleeping, Jennings went and renamed all the plants to male names: Jim, Phil, Edward… Edmonds became hurt, and apparently felt that the carrots were female and should be named accordingly. Jennings explained that plants don’t identify that way, and now neither will talk to one another. Personally, I don’t mind the quiet.

2023.4.20 – Captain’s Personal Log

Roberts came to me today. It seems Edmonds has not only been reorganizing the tool cabinet, but has also been organizing other storage bins. I just spent fifteen minutes trying to find a damn pen. I might have to have a talk with the kid about personal property. I can’t believe I am having this conversation in space.

Just got back from talking to Edmonds. Did you know that there are ten different settings on a standard socket wrench? I sure do now. Apparently everyone on board does as well. I told him that I’d prefer if he left my things alone. He said “Speaking of alone, did you know that seedlings feel pain?” I spoke to Jennings about this and she agrees that the BioTech should be locked down from now on.

2023.4.21 – Captain’s Personal Log

Well that didn’t work. Edmonds has started sleeping in front of the BioTech door. Now when Jennings tries to enter he sits up in his sleeping bag and demands a password. We’ve all tried and no one can figure out the password. We’re good on regular food, and we can watch the plants from the cameras. I told Jennings it’s probably best that nobody goes in.

Jennings has just told me she needs to do her report. I explained that we’re far enough from earth I doubt anyone will write her up. She huffed, but I think she’ll be fine. She wanted me to know that the plants shouldn’t have names. I agreed.

2023.4.22 – Captain’s Personal Log

So now it’s Roberts. He’s a quiet guy, keeps to himself. I just found out that he’s actually been the one rearranging the cabinets. I apologized to Edmonds and… I’m almost too angry to really discuss it, but this is a personal log for a reason…

They were both in on it. Thought it would be funny to confuse me… I have no idea why they thought it would be funny since it seems they are the only ones in on the joke. They giggle now when they think I’m not around. I have no idea how they could have assigned me these two.

Oh, apparently Jennings threatened Edmonds and got the password, broke into BioTech and has locked herself inside. I asked her on the com and she said something about not coming out until her reports are done. So that’s great.

2023.4.24 – Captain’s Personal Log

I offered to deliver food to Jennings if she would open the door, but was presented with a few problems. 1. I can’t find the food, because apparently tweedle dee and tweedle dumb thought it would be funny to move the food for a day. I’d be surprised if they didn’t name them too. and 2. Apparently Jennings has been nibbling at the BioTech. I’m not sure how many carrots and potatoes she can eat, but she says the impact will be minimal and she’ll include results on her report.

I told her to fuck her report and to stop eating the ONE THING SHE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE LOOKING OUT FOR. She started crying. I would have said something comforting but instead she killed the com. Not like I could have gone in to comfort her anyway. Idiot.

I’m surrounded by idiots. This is what happens when you privatize space exploration. Fucking cost cutters, hiring this crew like they were contract-hunting for dry-wall installers. Roberts isn’t talking to anyone but Edmonds now, and I can hear them whispering through the capsule. I’m pretty sure I heard my name a few times, but when I said something they looked all innocent. Well two can play at that game.

2023.4.27 – Captain’s Personal Log

We’ve officially passed our halfway point, and I’m feeling better about this mission now. I’m taking the day off, locked myself in my quarters. Let’s see how those assholes like that. Instead I am going to just kick it with my iPod7 and listen to some classics. Man, Dave Matthews was a genius before he started that cult…

I could hear them banging on my door even over ANTS MARCHING. I looked up and they are all glaring at me, like I’mthe one who’s been acting crazy. I gave them the bird and turned up the volume. That harmonica player is just amazing…

2023.4.28 – Captain’s Personal Log

I must have dozed off.

There’s no one outside my quarters that I can see, and when I look it seems that the ship is dark. Instruments show a loss of pressure, so I can only imagine that we had a collision. The klaxons weren’t audible through my earphones… so that’s my bad. Now it’s just a glowing red as the emergency lights flash. I can see the bridge from here and I’m not sure if it’s just the emergency lights or if there is blood on the panel. Every time I look it seems different.

I tried contacting Jennings, Roberts, even Edmonds… nothing so far, but I haven’t given up. Pretty soon the automated systems will kick in and we’ll cease accelerating. I’m pretty sure we’ll be too late though. One things for certain, this ship can pretty much land itself. I might just wait in here until…

I just heard something. Sounds like a heavy tool being dragged across the wall… Could be in freefall, but I can’t see for sure…

No, it’s definitely someone, but they’re staying out of view. If I had to guess, it’s Edmonds with that socket wrench. Did you know it has ten settings? Apparently more than one use… I still can’t reach the rest of the crew, but I’m going to have to go out there anyway and talk to him. All I have is an emergency crowbar, but it will have to do….

END TRANSMISSION

 

 

The new readable is with my wife.

 

So I finally got this novella into a readable state, which means that now it sits with my wife until she has the time (between homework, school, and Tiny Death Star) to take a look at it. My wife is my first reader, my Alpha reader. She suffers the first draft and tells me point blank if it is ready to move on. I skipped her once. Once. And the results were a beta copy that wasted both mine and my beta-readers’ time. So I’ve learned my lesson. It will sit with her until she has the time to check it out and at least tell me if the first chapter or two hooks her.

What’s it about? Well, what I can tell you is that it definitely falls into the Space-Opera/Science Fantasy realm. I have never been a hard sci-fi writer. I am just not that smart. The story for me is about the characters and how they deal with extraordinary circumstances. In this case, it is about a teen stowaway who ends up stranded on a barely sustainable planet. The rest is almost pure science fantasy and a lot of fun (for me anyway). The book is about 45k words, which is about 1/3 the size of most books I’ve written, but that was part of the experiment as well. I wanted to make a series, and in order to do that, I needed to keep a lot more  cards close to my chest, focusing on the immediate conflicts rather than branching out into all POVs and possibilities.

The result is a short, but quickly paced adventure with a really weird group of characters. Will it fly? We’ll have to wait and see.

Until then, I have the LATENT DARK sequel THE UMBRAL WAKE, to hammer out before it hits an editor. Sequels are a pain, especially if you wrap things up too tight on the first book. Just saying. You will almost always have people who are either bored because you spent too much time catching everyone up, or you will have people who are clueless who any of the characters are because you didn’t spend enough time on backstory. Long story short; you cannot win with sequels. This is what I have learned.

So, on to the other projects until this little wordbeast is ready to leave the nest.

What time is it?

No really, what time is it?

I’ve just woken up from a five-season Adventure Time binge. It’s embarrassing to to add up all those hours in my head, spent essentially watching a post apocalyptic cartoon about a boy and his dog. I’m a late-comer to the program, which as it turns out is probably the best thing that could have happened. The show has one of the most refined narratives of any show out there. It is finely distilled storytelling, handed out in eleven-minute chunks.

Don’t judge me.

For those uninitiated to the series: The show takes place around 1000 years after the world has been destroyed by a war…( and by destroyed, I mean there is literally a bite missing from the earth.) Over the course of a thousand years, new species have arisen, candy can talk, and magic has returned to the world. Finn is essentially, the last human being, residing in a tree house with a mutant dog, living every thirteen year old boy’s dream–pillaging dungeons, saving princesses, and generally living on his own terms.

The show is 11 minutes long, which in most cases–and especially for an Oldie Hawn like myself–smacks of the short-attention-span-MTV generation, appealing only to those kids with learning disabilities and ADD from too much texting and Youtube. I suppose that’s why I avoided the show, thinking I just wouldn’t get it. It’s a show for 14 year old boys after all, not someone at an age where they should be looking into retirement plans.

We watched the first couple of shows out of curiosity and actually backed away from it, blinking our eyes, wondering what the hell we had just seen. The show moves fast, the story told at a seemingly random pace, with a style that is one part 1920s animation and one part Ren and Stimpy. We didn’t resume watching for maybe a month or two after that.

Our lives were in a state of upheaval during this time. We were both unhappy living in the Silicon Valley, and had decided to move, to get away, so that I could write full time and my wife could finish her degree. So it wasn’t until we were settled again in Idaho that we resumed our viewing… and we watched a lot.

We plunged in, finishing the first season with relative ease, drawn into the narrative by the quick wit and subtly subversive (and suggestive) adult humor. There is just enough winking and nodding between the lines, that after a while, one has a hard time believing it was conceived as a kid’s show at all. It’s pretty dark, folks.

It gets darker. By season two, the stories become downright Lovecraftian, bordering on unbridled adult horror. In fact, much of the show is horror themed, it’s just that in a cartoon you can get away with a lot–they aren’t real people after all, just drawings. If this were done in live action, I’m pretty certain it would be nightmare inducing. The long-term story arcs begin to emerge like those Magic Eye posters after you’ve stared too long, and suddenly the real message pops out at you. It becomes apparent that the childlike, cartoon skin, is really just the surface illusion for ideas and themes that would probably be too dark for many adults.

And yet, I was surprised when I mentioned my discovery of this show on Facebook. The backlash of “Um, you’re an adult?” or “It’s a kids show” returned on my comments feed.  I wasn’t embarrassed at all about this discovery. But I did feel sad.

I’ve learned to ignore people who try and tell me what I can and can’t like in the world, but it’s still sad to see that people will still try and tell you anyway. But beyond that, these were writers, people who watch Walking Dead and True Blood, people who won’t bat an eyelash at The Hobbit, yet just because a show has the outward appearance of a children’s show, they dismiss any chance that there could be something gleaned from it. I wasn’t talking about My Little Pony here.

Let me break down the major themes:

• Finn, the last human boy on earth is abandoned and raised by shapeshifting mutant dogs.
• He grows up with Jake, his brother/friend, living in a treehouse (also a mutation) where the last video game console runs amok.
• Candy has evolved through fallout mutation to become a sentient, talking species. There is sometimes cannibalism.
• Mutant unicorns speak Korean and consider human flesh a delicacy.
• Mutant dogs and unicorns can mate and produce nightmares
• Demons occasionally walk the earth like Cthulhu and devour souls leaving nothing but wandering husks.

• Finn’s sometimes-girlfriend is a fire elemental.
• The major villains in the show have a backstory richer and sadder than Severus Snape.

Now, let’s slowly tear off the skin of the cartoon and get to the raw storytelling. There’s a few factors that play in my mind when I watch  Adventure Time. For one, Finn is the only human, and it’s likely that after a thousand years, language has changed considerably, with English falling along the wayside like Latin or Esperanto. Therefore we don’t really know what language is really being spoken in Ooo. The story is told from Finn’s perspective, where all these things I listed above are normal. He lives in a land of mutant dogs and talking candy, which without the cartoon imagery, probably look a lot more like this.

Princess Bubblegum by Aldo Katayanagi

 

We should also mention that Finn is colorblind.

This is Finn’s world and we see the story through his eyes. Demons and dragons walk the earth, dogs can change their mass and shape at will, teen vampires write songs out of boredom, wizards and sentient bubblegum debate religion against science, and mutants wait underground, preparing to overtake the world again.

Do not be fooled by the cartoon skin. Adventure Time is every bit as adult as The Road Warrior.

WIP for 2014 and some updates

I’m cross-posting this here from Goodreads, since my blog activity is all over the map lately.

 

 

So I’ve got a couple of projects I’m hoping will come to fruition this year, the first being the second LATENT DARK book, titled THE UMBRAL WAKE. It’s set about two years after the events in A Latent Dark, and after this latest revision and beta round, I’m feeling pretty good about it.

Second is a completely new book that right now is only in it’s rough draft phase, but the topic is exciting and I plan to start revisions soon. It involves video games, AI and graphene. I managed to finish the rough draft just under the clock for 2013. This is a big deal, since 2013 seemed determined to prevent me from completing anything.

Thirdly, I am finally back on the horse with a space-opera novella I had written the rough draft to over a year ago. It also has yet to be named, but I plan on this being a series, as there seems to still be plenty to explore in the universe. First revision should be done pretty soon, assuming I can get over the hump I always run up against when I reach endings

Oh, also I wrote the dialog and tutorial text for the Robocop Mobile game coming out this year (under a different name). So whether you like the movie or not, you should check out the mobile game, because it will mean you love me.

That’s about it for me right now. What’s everyone else working on?

Echoes of Scheherazade

“I’m not saying it’s bloom,” says Doc. “I’m just saying it’s probably bloom.”

Larry glowers at him from beneath eyebrows the color of rust. “Are you saying it is or it isn’t?”

The hobo steps back and lifts the half empty bourbon bottle to his mouth, drinks, and scratches his chin, payment for his diagnosis. They both look down at the blemish on Larry’s arm, a fuzzy birthmark.

Doc hands the bottle back to Larry.“When I worked at the lab…”

“Which lab?”

“The one in Fresno. We were studying goat prions.”

“What?” Larry snatches the bottle and takes a swig, annoyed at the half-assed answer.

“Prions. They’re little rogue proteins. They eat away at your brain, make you forget things, act different.”

“Like rabies?”

“Thats a virus…” Doc takes a breath. “What I was saying is that at the lab we called these fairy rings?”

“What?”

“Fairy rings. Like a bunch of fairies might dance around them. It’s folklore, Larry.”

Larry makes a face and takes another swig. “I’ll tell you who’s a fairy and it ain’t me.”

“No, you’re the troll.”

“What?”

“Under the bridge,” Doc smiles and points to the tracks high overhead, lost in the night sky. He runs a dirty hand through his wild salt and pepper hair. It wisps slightly in the breeze coming off the gorge as they sit beneath the railroad bridge. A tin can sitting on the rock beside him falls over and they both watch it tumble down the slope into the San Joaquin river. Then the ground rumbles and Larry looks back at his arm. Now there are two rings.

“Fairy ring, eh?”

“Yep. you see them a lot in the wild. Formed by mushrooms.”

“I thought you said prions.”

“These were mushrooms, a fungus.” He points at Larry’s fairy ring. “That probably is too.”

“Someone plant them like that?” asks Larry. “The mushrooms I mean.”

“Nope. Just happens naturally.”

Larry screws up his face and takes a drink. “How do they know to be in a circle?”

Fifty feet up, a train makes its way over the bridge. The ground moves. Doc’s mouth begins to move, but Larry can’t really hear over the train. He looks down at his arm again. They’re still there, a dozen wispy towers in a circle, growing out of his skin just below the crook in his elbow. At the center stands another cottony spire, half an inch high. It doesn’t hurt, but Larry can’t help but wonder if it will.

“So is this a prion or a virus, or a fungus or what?” he asks. But Doc is still talking and the train is making it impossible to hear his own thoughts. What he does hear, sounds like music. The train above is blasting Rimsky-Korsakov, Scheherazade. All Larry can do it smile.

Doc is staring at him. “You alright, Larry?”

“Fine. Why?”

“You’ve been staring at that fairy ring on your arm for the last two hours.”

He sees now that Doc is wearing a paper face mask. When did that go on, he wonders. “I have?”

Doc nods slowly.

Scheherazade sounds fainter now that the train is gone. But Larry still thinks he can remember the tune. He hums and then laughs.

“Damn. I couldn’t even play drums in school.” He beams at Doc with a gap-toothed grin. “They kicked me out of marching band. But I fuckin’ loved me some Scheherazade.”

But Doc isn’t laughing with him. Doc just stares, his dark eyes going between the fairy ring and his face. Finally Doc reached into his tackle box and brings out a clear plastic bottle.

“What’s that?” asks Larry.

“Rubbing Alcohol,” says Doc. He pours some on a damp rag. “Give me your arm.”

He’s on his feet before he knows it. “Why?”

“Because,” Doc says. “I’m going to see if I can get rid of it.”

The arm moves fast, snatching up a rusty metal shiv and brandishing it at the old man. Larry stares at his arm like some alien appendage. A full minute passes before he can relax and the shiv comes down. It clatters on the dirty concrete.  “I’d… I guess I’d rather you didn’t.”

Doc gives a slow cautious nod, damp rag in hand. The music is louder again, and Larry can’t tell if Doc is smiling or frowning behind that surgeon mask. He likes to think the old man is smiling, smiling along with him. Maybe he hears Scheherazade too.

“Why does it know how to grow in a circle like that?”

“Maybe that’s just what it’s meant to do,” says Doc. He stands and takes his tackle box. “Lots of things in nature do things without knowing why. How does a spider know how to make a web? How does a bee know how to plot its GPS coordinates to the hive? How does a lyrebird know how to mimic any sound it hears? How do we know how to write or sing or play the harpsichord?” He begins to walk past Larry, but stops to look down at the arm. “Maybe that’s all talent is, ,just some flipped genetic switch. What you should be asking, is if you are remembering a song, or if the bloom is remembering it for you. Or if you are even remembering this conversation.”

“But I… you said it wasn’t bloom.”

But Doc is gone and it’s now daylight. Larry looks at the sky and blinks. How did it get so fucking bright? He raises his hand to block the sun and frowns at the wool muff over his arm. Densely packed fibers hint only a faint suggestion of the hand and forearm underneath.

Larry flexes his fingers, and the fibres shift like a feather duster under water. And from somewhere deep inside, Larry hears the song again. He smiles up at the warmth in the sky, and hums along.

—-

This is a flash fiction challenge from Chuck Wendig’s Terribleminds.com.

BLOOM is up!

 

So I thought I would just pop on here and let the three of you who follow this blog know that…

 

 

Bloom has been published.