C.M. Selbrede's Blog, page 21

September 30, 2017

September 17, 2017

ACC 2017: 10 Months Later…

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In November of 2016, I announced ACC 2017, a mission statement for ACC Pub Ink’s coming year. Ten months later, the days ticking down to the reveals for ACC 2018, I can say that the year has been full of both successes, failures, and everything in between. I’d like to take this moment to run through the official projects and update everybody on their current status.


-Craig


The Valley Chronicles: Revised Editions

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The Valley Chronicles, my first novel, was released in January 2016.  While it was a major accomplishment for me, I knew both then and now that the novel was far from perfect. This was why I wanted to make revisions a priority. (That, and the website address listed within the current edition was co-opted by a Teak Shower Mat company).


The new editions of The Valley Chronicles (Revised, Library, and Deluxe) are all still coming with a projected Spring 2018 release date. We’ve gotten bogged down in editing but we have some exciting plans, including brand new cover art for the hardcover editions. (Don’t worry- the paperbacks will keep their current artwork).


The Valley Chronicles: Quest

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As I’m sure everybody has noticed, The Valley Chronicles: Quest successfully released a few months ago! It was a ton of fun to write and edit and is, without a doubt, the best thing I’ve done yet. Sales have unfortunately been slow, especially in comparison to the first book (which is crazy since Book II is way better) but I’m optimistic. With this book, I made it clear that I’m serious about my writing, and that The Valley Chronicles trilogy will be something to remember.


If you haven’t picked up a copy yet, I recommend Lulu.com though Amazon and B&N also have copies.


The Creativity Company

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To be blunt- The Creativity Co. is dead. Firstly, the amazing Luke and Gaby moved away, and even if they hadn’t the project just wasn’t working out. I quietly removed TCC from ACC Pub Ink’s website a few months ago, and I’ve cancelled any future videos.


But this isn’t the end, not really. I’m determined to expand my nonexistent reach into YouTube, a medium I think is amazing, I’m just taking a different approach. 3×3 is filling the void left by this project while it stews in development, and I have to say, I’m pretty fond of this book. In this regard, things worked out for the best.


Squirrel Academy

[image error]I’m going to be honest- this was the project I was convinced would flop. However, through some weird fluke of fate, Squirrel Academy has proved reasonably successful and incredibly cathartic to work on. My initial strips were colorless and gross, and my current strips are poorly colored and gross, but I can see myself growing as a comics creator and I’m really enjoying the chance to tell these stories.


This month, Squirrel Academy is beginning its first serial strip, and I don’t expect anything to slow down from there. To catch up on the journey, check out the official website here.


The Outsiders Club

[image error]The Outsiders Club is the project I revealed the least about. It’s a soft spinoff of The Valley Chronicles, a brand new series about a group of kids in a New York small town discovering alarming truths about their parents’ legacies.  With Quest delayed, Outsiders’ Club had its release date pushed back.


I’m still working hard on it, but ACC 2018 prep has kept it from its place at the top of my to do list. But it’s still coming- and man, am I excited.


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Published on September 17, 2017 13:33

September 9, 2017

Squirrel Academy: The Castle of Carnage Island I

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Published on September 09, 2017 17:06

Short Story: The Mountain & The Flame

Written September 2015. This is an ancient folktale told in the Valley.


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Once, many years before humans walked the Earth, there was a forest, of massive size and sublime quality, which spread from the edges of the Tyrian beaches to the beginning of the Hayekian plains. This expanse of greenery and woodland was renowned and beloved by all as a safe haven for all sorts of creatures, whether they be feathered, furry, or scaley. And in the center of this forest was a mountain that stretched high, so very high- beyond the sight of even the keenest eyed eagle. None of the animals ever had the desire to attempt to climb this steep and inhospitable terrain- and why would they? Their home was the safest, warmest, location in the entire world.


And yet it came to be that there was a lion, proud and noble, with golden mane and amber eyes. All animals bowed before his regal roar, all creatures cowered before his righteous rage. This “King”, as he was dubbed by the awestruck animal folk, eventually chose to go by the name Keane, which had a certain quality to it which the lion felt personified his position in the world. Keane was good, and strong, and kind, and ruled the lands with a fair paw- after a few short skirmishes, he had rid the forest of its few distasteful inhabitants- the cackling hyenas who took their jokes too far, and the snarky wasps who buzzed more than necessary soon found themselves cleared out of the forest, joined by a hundred or so more displaced creatures. Soon, however, all such conflicts had been resolved. And so, the forest settled into an unprecedented era of peace.


However, this era of worldly peace would have unexpected effects on none other than Keane himself. You see, Keane’s parents had been fiercer than all the other lions—  angrier, more brutal, though they had loved their son in their own way. They had dedicated their lives to ensuring he was the strongest, fastest, and bravest of all the lions. They pushed him, tested him, and didn’t allow him a single respite in between their harsh lessons. And it had paid off- Keane had proved to be the best there was at being a leader, and at being a King. But what was Keane without enemies to fight, or people to please? The answer was, quite simply, lost.


Keane had been gifted the nicest, coziest abode in all the lands, in the center of the forest, but in it he slept alone, for in the midst of all his wars waged and speeches made, Keane had never had the opportunity to woo a lover, or even make a friend. Allies and enemies were all the lion had time for in his single-minded journey through life- and with all his goals accomplished, now he had nothing. Every time he tried to look into a pretty girl’s eyes, all he could see was his father- shouting at him to focus, shouting at him to not be distracted. And he shied away, terrified that his lack of experience would lead to humiliation. He never tried and he never failed or succeeded, and he grew lonelier and lonelier until all he had left were his parents spectres, shouting at him to focus, shouting at him to be the best. But Keane was lost, and didn’t know what to do, and he cried night after night into fitful bouts of wretched sleep.


One stormy night, when the venomous words of his deceased parents became too much, the lion king stumbled out of his den, howling fiercely at the moon obscured by clouds, and at the gods, to free him, to give him a chance at something other than emptiness. After all he had done for the forest, the gods obliged, and dispatched a swift lightning bolt to finish the tragic king.


The forest burned that night; to the ground it fell.


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Published on September 09, 2017 15:04

September 7, 2017

Short Story: While You Were Out

Written September 2015.


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“Number twelve. You have to do something….please I don’t know how much longer I can hold out against the warp.” Beep! Message deleted.


“Number one. Hello, I’m very sorry to disturb you but I’m afraid that my life is in danger. My name is Dr. Hunter Syhmjion, and this may be hard to believe but I am a scientist from CalTech. Recently, we created something, incredible—”  Beep! Message deleted.


“Number three. –and now, we’re caught in the warp. We need a way to get home, some sort of beacon, and you’re our only hope” Beep! Message deleted.


Number ten. We’re waiting, sir or madame…” Beep! Message deleted.


“Number two. — a time machine. After a few years of successfully testing it on various rats and mice, we determined it was a feasible object for human test subjects. My colleagues, Jeremiah and Tarrah, were eager to take on this endeavor alongside me. But our machine malfunctioned—” Beep! Message deleted.


“Number six. Please, you have to listen. I have children, and I was supposed to be home for Zoe’s fifth birthday, and Tarrah’s wedding is in only two days… it’s really quite simple— ” Beep! Message deleted.


“Number eleven. Its been several days and we still need your help. It is imperative you follow the instructions given.” Beep! Message deleted.


“Number four. We had a phone connected to the era we came from, but it is glitching so that it seems to be calling an unfamiliar number. This, coupled with our weak service, means your messages should be arriving in broken pieces.” Beep! Message deleted.


“Number eight. The coordinates are 66 22 3 2 3 4 5 99. You need to send them to the number 343 212 3443. Does that make sense?” Beep! Message deleted.


“Number nine. We’ve connected to your phone, but you need to send those coordinates ASAP. Come on, we’re counting on you.” Beep! Message deleted.


“Number seven. In order to save us, we need to be able to establish a connection with your time via the telephone waves we are sending to you.” Beep! Message deleted.


“Number five. But this is the important part—there is one thing you must not do if we are to be able to establish our connection. You must not delete any of these messages.”


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Published on September 07, 2017 15:00

September 5, 2017

Short Story: A Night in Gulch Falls

Written August 2015. Elements Co-Created by Mari Harutunian, Erika Karlin, and Alexa Marquis.


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Benton Warwick had always been wary of the Forest of the Fey. Even as a small child, when his friends had danced at the edges of that strange and dangerous abyss, careless smiles upon their countenance,  he had shied away, his spine alight with tingly fear. That had kept him alive, ultimately- he was one of the half of his class from school which had survived to the ripe age of sixteen. Almost every kid, at some point, deluded themselves into thinking they could survive the woods beyond their safe, walled town, and many of their remains found their way back, often reorganized in creative ways. Benton had never been in the habit of deluding himself. He knew that he would never survive his trip. But, for Thylia, he had to try.


It had been a cold winters day when she had wandered off into forest, her normal pragmatism worn away by a hot fever. Benton had been in the shower, cooling off after a day split between the schoolhouse and the mill, and had thought nothing of the shouts he heard from the streets. After all, the people of Gulch Falls tended to get particularly irritable during the colder months. To his horror, he would soon discover it had been his own sister who had been the source of the shouting, breaking past the shocked locals to wander into the forest.


A miserable Benton would then go through all the stages of grief in the following months, his days marked by horror and foreboding. He had been certain that any day the scouts would call him out to point out her severed head, arranged with several daisies at the edge of the Forest. But many years later, there had been no proof of her death, and a haunted Benton decided his only course of action was to investigate the very slim possibility of her life.


So now he stood, soggy and grim, at the only gate of Gulch Falls, solemn scouts in front of him, sobbing parents behind him, and a heavy pack of necessary goods on his backpack.


“Are you sure about this, Benny?” His mother asked him between broken sobs. Benton choked down a sob of his own. He didn’t feel good about this, and he wasn’t sure if it was a good idea, but for some reason he just knew this was what he had to do, right or not.


“He’s made up his mind, Keryn.” His father said, his voice hoarse. “The question is, are you certain about leaving in such bad weather?”


Benton locked eyes with his father, and they exchanged sorrow. “The rain is going to be the least of my problems.”


His father nodded stiffly, and took a step backwards as Benton turned to the scouts. “This is where we must leave you.” They told him. “Good luck out there.”


Benton nodded, though he felt like bursting into raucous laughter. There wouldn’t be a chance of luck, once he crossed into those damned trees. But nevertheless, he gave the scout a respectful nod, and turned to give his parents a few final hugs. Tearing himself away from this painfully numb scene, Benton returned to gaze at the forest once more. Cracking his neck, Benton took a deep breath, and broke into a sprint, leaping under the shade of the trees and not looking back.


The forest was just as Benton had expected- healthy looking in every technical way, but with an inherent feeling of wrongness weighing down the air. There were no animals or living things of any sort, and the towering oaks hid all but a tiny bit of light from Benton’s view. And then there was the feeling- the feeling of being watched.


Benton wasn’t sure how long he ran for- it wasn’t like he was running to a particular place. But eventually, when it felt right to halt and conserve his energy, he found himself a relatively safe overhang of stone, which he nestled under with the only blanket he had been able to fit into his pack. Though he was 90% sure this would be the part where he died, Benton nevertheless allowed himself to doze off into a light slumber.


When Benton woke to realize a gnarled hand was dragging him through the woods, his first reaction was disinterest. He had expected this, after all. But as his foggy mind began to clear, a process sped by him hitting his head on a log lightly, fear kicked in. Scrambling wildly, Benton’s hand grabbed around the branch of a low tree, which he held onto and struggled for footing. As he found it, and tried feebly to stand, the strange being turned, confused. On a whim, Benton abandoned attempting to get to his feet, instead leaning into his kidnapper so he knocked the light monster over. His head cleared by pain, Benton rolled away from the other body and got to his feet shakily. His blood ran cold when he caught sight of the monster- a boy who looked to be about seven, except for the snapping jaws full of razor sharp teeth which presided in his mouth- and in the holes where his eyes should’ve been. Fear spiked, and Benton took off into the woods.


After only a few minutes, Benton was totally exhausted, and so crumpled to the ground in abject defeat in a cloudy clearing. As he was panting, a buff figure stood over him. Benton was now positive he was going to die.


“Do not worry your ugly little face, young friend.” A strange voice said. “The eye-flosser is gone and I have no desire to harm such an already distasteful person.”


Benton’s vision cleared a bit, and he became aware that he was staring at a bear. A talking bear. “I would be offended but you are a bear.”


“Don’t be silly.” The bear plopped to the ground as Benton pulled himself upwards. “I am no ordinary bear.”


“Well, I assumed.” Benton frowned. “You’re a talking bear.”


“No.” The bear shook its head earnestly. “I am an imaginary talking ghost bear, and my name is Tel.”


Benton regarded the imaginary talking ghost bear blankly. “What?”


The imaginary talking ghost bear sighed. “Well, Tel is short for Telemachus, famed Greek hero, and also Telephone, like the famed Lady Gaga song–”


“Not that.” Benton interrupted. “What in God’s name is an imaginary talking ghost bear?”


“Oh.” Tel looked miffed. “Let me break it down for your feeble bear. There was once a little girl who wandered into the forest, and her imaginary friend was a bear named Tel. Now, since this is the forest where anything is possible, the bear became a living, breathing, talking being- but then the girl’s dreams died, as did she, and so he became technically dead.”


“You’re dead?” Benton repeated.


“Absolutely.” Confirmed Tel. “A tunnel of light formed in the sky and everything. But I was distracted by a shiny object in the clearing beyond and by the time I returned it was gone and I was a ghost.”


“Okay.” Benton nodded slowly, trying to process. “So… aren’t you going to try to kill me.”


“Nah.” The bear yawned. “I find hideous things endearing and follow them around until they inevitably die.”


“That’s it.” Benton got to his feet, grinding his teeth. “I’m out.”


“Wait!” The bear called after him. “Let’s get to know each other first! We can make little structures out of the food in your pack and tell stories about them.”


Benton stopped momentarily, confused, as Tel laughed.


“Sorry.” The imaginary talking bear ghost told him. “You wouldn’t get that reference.”


Shrugging, Benton turned away and began jogging lightly away. To his surprise, he noticed the bear was following him.


“Wait up!” He called after him. “I want to stay relevant to the plot!”


Despite Benton’s best attempts to lose Tel, he couldn’t- even after diving into a waterfall to escape flesh-eating flies, and setting part of the forest on fire to lose some scuttling skulls. Tel stayed with him as he erected his next camp, and the one after that, and before Benton knew it, he was used to Tel’s perplexing banter and useless tendencies.


But it all came to an end one foggy day when Benton was getting some water from a stream while Tel babbled on about how much longer this could go on before it was too long to read. Benton was so distracted, trying and failing to splash Tel, that he didn’t notice when the cold, bony hands started to snake out of the water. It wasn’t until one grabbed his ankle and started pulling that he screamed. Benton tried to pry it off but another attached itself, then another, then another, to both his feet. Adrenaline pumped through Benton as he felt them tug him towards the water.


“Tel!” He called out. “Help!”


“Oh dear.” Tel remarked from where he was lying on the beach. “This is terribly unfortunate.”


Benton frowned. “That’s it?” He lost his footing, but grabbed a stick from the sand, and drove it deep into the ground as he pulled himself as far up as he could, straining against the hands.


Tel shrugged. “I was created to make ironic comments, not to display emotional depth.”


Benton stared at him, horrified, as he lost his footing again, this time tumbling into the surf. He struggled towards the surface- so near, yet so out of reach. Water filled his lungs, and he started to feel his panic be replaced by a calm. With an air of finality, Benton drifted in the murky water and drowned.


 


“Well, that was terribly dramatic.” Tel was saying when Benton became aware that he was lying on the sand next to the bear. Shocked, Benton scrambled to his feet.


“Tel! I just had a horrible dream where I drowned and died!”


“Oh, that wasn’t a dream.” Tel remarked uninterestedly. “You’re dead.”


“What?” Benton ran up to the water, and sure enough- there was his body, bobbing up to the surface. Benton felt sick. “How is that even possible?”


“Easy.” Tel told him. “You drowned, and I was okay with it at first, because honestly I only really got to know you through a timeskip. But then I got bored, and I thought- hey, why not try this imaginary friend? So I imagined you next to me, listening to me talk, and after a while the forest listened and here you are.”


Benton raised an eyebrow. “You expect me to believe I am now the living imaginary friend of an imaginary talking bear ghost?”


“Doesn’t matter now.” Tel shrugged. “You can see it all now yourself.”


Suddenly he became aware of the boy sitting at the computer screen, typing away, words detailing a story- this story. “We’re in a story?” Benton frowned.


“Yup.” Tel confirmed. “There are different worlds- Earths, forests, more. But they are all separated by a sort of metaphorical sea- which is occasionally penetrated by the only thing powerful enough to do so- the human brain.”


“Okay….” Benton was lost. “But does that mean–?”


“I wouldn’t focus on the writing.” Tel interrupted him. “I’d be more concerned with the story. You want to find your sister, right?”


“Yeah.” Benton said, though it felt like forever since he had thought of her.


“So skip to the part where you find her.” Tel stated in a matter of fact voice.


“Wow.” Our hero blinked,disoriented. “So this all really worked out in my favor, didn’t it? Except that I’m dead.”


“There is that.” The imaginary talking bear ghost agreed. “Well, do you see her?”


Benton turned to the fourth wall, staring out into the void. The story played out before his eyes. A nation, great and powerful, known as Freyvein. A war, ending with the nation split into fragments which floated in the void- a world where emotions were wrong, a world of a tyrannical ruler, a world which seemed disturbingly normal- all connected by a strange structure, created in the war- the Splinter. A circle of spikes and corpses, which alone was capable of bridging the gap between the splintered Freyvein. It formed in this forest, and its energy seeped out, giving this forest reality-alternating power. Anything was possible here. And then a little girl- Thylia, Benton’s own sister- found the forest, and wandered inside. For a day, she had all her greatest dreams- her imaginary friend was brought to life, and they played together, traveling through the timeless wood together.


But then night fell, and the girl could not find her way home. Slowly her nightmares became known to the wood, becoming reality until the wood was twisted and dark and evil. Until it was the Forest of the Fey.


Benton became aware of the fact that he and Tel were now standing in a new clearing, which he instinctively knew to be the center of the forest. Lying before them, in a makeshift bed of thorns, was an old woman- who was unmistakably Benton’s sister. Thylia.


She did not seem to notice them as they watched her. A lump formed in Benton’s throat. “What’s wrong with her?”


“She’s been alive for a few thousand years.” For the first time, Tel sounded sad.  “The forest needs her alive- they’re so closely tied together now.”


“What can we do?” Benton was horrified. He bent down over his sister, and gave her a small kiss. She did not stir.


“Why, you have to kill her.” Tel told him.


“What?” Benton turned back to Tel, unable to absorb this. “But–”


“Please. It’s what she would want.” There was pleading in the bear’s voice.


Benton was silent for a few seconds. “What happens if I do kill her? What then? You said the forest is tied to her.”


Tel shrugged. “I don’t know. The story ends. So does the forest and maybe Gulch Falls. I don’t know, maybe once the forest stops existing she’ll be restored to the town since there was nowhere for her to wander. Or maybe all of it will stop existing.”


“What happens to us?”


“We could always go into the Splinter. Try on a few of the other stories. It’s up to you, really.” The bear sounded more tired than Benton thought possible.


For a moment, Benton stood there, staring at his sister, and at his friend, and at the strange forest around him which once could’ve been beautiful. And then he bent down, and placed his hands around his sister’s throat and then


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Published on September 05, 2017 14:55

September 4, 2017

Poem: break/be/free

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tear up the instruction manual they left for you &


break free


push away the boxes they built for you &


be free


 


do your best and get a B


sing loud and proud and in the wrong key


make them earn your laughs and your smiles


stand fast through the tribulations and all the trials


 


you can be more than what they know so


break free


you can fall and fail but still


be free


 


because life is not a race, a journey, or a destination


it’s not a trial, a love story, or a conversation


 


life is a paintbrush, you, and a canvas


life is a world, you, and a longing


life is 7 billion people screaming for meaning


but the only meaning is the meaning you make


 


 


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Published on September 04, 2017 10:56

September 3, 2017

Announcing Squirrel Academy: The Castle of Carnage Island!

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This September, Squirrel Academy returns with an all-new adventure- the Castle of Carnage Island!  This serial adventure will update every weekend starting September 23rd, 2017. What is the Castle of Carnage Island? And what does it mean for our favorite squirrels? Find out then!


If you want to catch up in the meantime, check out the earlier strips here or here!


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Published on September 03, 2017 15:18

Short Story: Whiskers & An Inquisitive Heart

Written November 2012. A Sequel to Whiskers & a Keen Mind .


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    A cat quietly rested in a towering oak, delighting in the dawn’s gentle warmth. Completely at ease, Kieron almost didn’t notice his elderly companion’s absence.  Almost, but not quite. Edur had agreed to meet Kieron this quiet spring morning, and Kieron was beginning to worry for his friend. Edur was very particular about timing, considering punctuality a cardinal virtue for any self-respecting cat. His absence was both strange and worrying for Kieron.


    Just as Kieron was considering heading out to look for his misplaced comrade, he noticed another cat ascending the tree’s thick trunk. Relieved, Kieron turned to greet his  friend only to stop short. This was not Edur. Rather, it was an elderly she-cat gazing at him curiously from another branch. “Good morning, my name is Inza,” she greeted him softly.


    Kieron immediately felt gears begin spinning in his head when he heard her name. There was something vaguely familiar about this polite newcomer. “I’m Kieron, nice to meet you.” he offered.


    “I’m here to meet an old friend of mine.” Inza explained apologetically. “I hope I’m not interrupting your morning.”


    “It’s absolutely fine.” Kieron assured her as the last details clicked into place in his mind. “If my assumption is correct, I’m awaiting the arrival of the same feline. He is Edur of Glendale if I’m not mistaken. And you’re his erstwhile companion Inza.”


    A quiet purr escaped from Inza. “I can see you do know him. You do remind me of my old friend. So, how has Edur been?”


    “Altogether quite healthy, but I expect he’d never admit it. Sometimes I think he enjoys being irritable. Lately he’s been especially crotchety as allergy season has begun.” Kieron responded. “However, being late isn’t like him. He was supposed to meet me here today. He finds the view less objectionable than most. I expect he’s on his way.” A sudden thought crossed Kieron’s mind, and curiosity clawed at him. “What brings you to see your old friend anyway? You haven’t seen each other since…” he trailed of questioningly.


    A look of discomfort crossed Inza’s face. “We parted ways a few seasons ago. It was…for the best.” The old cat abruptly changed the topic. “Where might he be?”


    Kieron decided to leave the topic for the moment. “A very good question. Although Edur has no permanent area of residence, he has recently become very fond of an old hazel bush by the Jennings’ Farm…it might be wise to check up on him there.”


    Inza nodded. “That is a wise course of action. I will accompany you. Edur and my reunion has been long delayed.”


    The two cats made their way down the tree, and shortly came upon the aforementioned hazel bush. At first glance it was very clearly vacant. Had Kieron not seen Edur here so recently, he would never have guessed that anyone had ever inhabited the thick shrubbery.


    “This is unfortunate.” said Inza. “Edur is evidently not here. This is reminiscent of the mysteries we used to solve together, such as the time we assisted the dog Gillard with the Case of the Twin Gaeas…”


    Kieron narrowed his eyes. “Yes, very nostalgic,” he said in a strange voice. “Edur thought very highly of you. Always going on about how you never forgot a name.” He paused. “Do you see those trampled branches over there?”


    Inza looked to where he pointed with his tail and nodded. “I see. He must’ve been here recently. Are there any tracks after that?”


    Kieron carefully sidestepped the trampled area and peered out of the bush, his head brushing an open flower. An abrupt thought flitted through his head.. “Inza,” Kieron said carefully. “It seems that Edur has already left to meet us.”


    “Then we’d best be going back to the oak,” Inza replied.


    “I don’t think that will be necessary.” Kieron said calmly. “He might already be returning. If we attempt to meet up with him, we may run in proverbial circles. It would probably be best to remain here.”


    “That is logical.” Inza admitted reluctantly and settled down to wait.


    “While we are awaiting our mutual friend, why not relate an old adventure of yours?” Kieron said coolly.


    An unidentifiable emotion flitted across Inza’s face. “I may have one of interest. It may not be a mind-bending mystery like Edur’s tales, but it should suffice.” Kieron wrapped his tail around his legs expectantly as Inza began her story. “Once, when Edur and I were younger, and relatively new to the world of intricate mysteries and scandalous plots, we were passing through a forest home to a small population of cats. However, during our stay a fierce storm swept through and we found ourselves taking up temporary residence with the populace. Soon we discovered that we had been caught in an age-old clan feud. Our hosts, the Grimmclaws, had been locked in a never-ending war with the Darquetails for centuries, battling over land, prey, and glory. Raven, leader of the Grimmclaws, agreed to allow us to organize a gathering. Edur and I hoped our neutral standing would give them cause to listen to us.


    “Edur had used his famous wit to ensure that the two clans were in a position where none could hurt one group without hurting their own. The audience was ordered so each Grimmclaw sat next to a Darquetail. As Raven and Caleb began to discuss a cease-fire, a Darquetail rose and killed Heron, Raven’s lover and second-in-command, forfeiting his own life and setting into motion a bloody free-for-all. Edur had underestimated the hate of the two Clans. Having failed, he and I fled the forest.”


    “I think I know how this story ends.” Kieron interrupted her, purring despite himself as all of the puzzle’s pieces slipped into place. “Raven seeks vengeance, so she tracks down Edur and Inza. Finding herself at Glendale, she faces the dilemma of how to get close enough to her enemies to enact revenge.”


    “Inza” silently slid her claws out.


    “Finding that Edur is no longer accompanied by Inza,” Kieron continued, “Raven approaches a cat who has never met her, passing herself as Inza and hoping to be led to Edur. However, the cat wasn’t a stupid as she thought. He knew the real Inza would have remembered Fredric’s name, as she never forgets a name and he knew that the real Inza would have known not to look for Edur in a flowering bush during spring, as Edur suffers from terrible allergies.”


    With a yowl of rage, Raven abruptly tackled Kieron, pinning the smaller cat to the ground. “You may have discerned my identity, but you’re missing a very important part of the story.” Raven leaned down, and Kieron could smell her foul breath as she snarled, “I killed Inza, and now I’ll kill you.”


    “I’m sure you would,” said Kieron calmly, “But there were quite a lot of cats interested in the newcomer. Quite a lot of cats who saw me signal for them to stay outside when I poked my head outside. Quite a lot of cats who I’m sure will not be particularly pleased with you if I’m dead.”


    “A bluff, nothing more,” Raven screeched, and readied her claw for the kill blow.


    “Actually, it really isn’t.” Edur growled as he came up behind the maddened she-cat, flanked by at least a dozen other cats.


“You!” snarled Raven, tossing aside Kieron and turning to face Edur. “You deserve to die. You killed my people.”


“I did nothing. You were destroyed by your own hate,” said Edur impassively.


“You know! You know you’re guilty! If you’re so innocent, why did you not tell this pitiful kit the tale?”


“Because I was embarrassed.” Edur spat, angrier than Kieron had ever seen him. “But not for the reason you think. I follow the mistakes of humans. I watch as they destroy themselves. I love to tell myself that we’re better than them, that we cats are more than blind hate and fear, but how can we claim that when such meaningless fear perverts our hearts?”


“It’s justice! They wronged me, and so have you.”


“And you’ve wronged me! You killed the cat I loved!” Edur strode up so he was muzzle-to-muzzle with Raven. “Do I kill you now? Do I hurt you more just so I can be chased by a vengeful relative of yours?”Nobody moved. Every cat was paralyzed, intoxicated by this dramatic scene. “No, Raven,” Edur said softly. “That’s not justice.” Edur turned and began to walk away.


Raven roared angrily and flew at him, but was blocked by Prince and Terry, two muscular cats who had answered Kieron’s silent summons. “Leave, Raven.” Edur said, not turning around. “You’re outnumbered.”


Furious, Raven retreated. “Watch your back Edur. You and that little whelp are enemies of the Grimmclaws. You will die.”


As Raven vanished into the distance, the cats began talking frantically, congratulating themselves over their victory. But Edur, normally one for self-congratulation, did not stay for anything of the sort, simply walking away. Kieron fell into step beside him.


“I just wanted to let you know…I’m sorry about Inza.” Kieron said softly.


“I hope you’ve learned something today.” His companion replied wearily.


Kieron nodded, choosing to say nothing. The two friends walked home together in silence, as a single crystal tear slipped down Edur’s cheek.


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Published on September 03, 2017 14:31

September 1, 2017

Short Story: Whiskers & A Keen Mind

Written November 2012.


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Stealthily, a cat ascended the crumbling stone wall, and it seemed to him that there had never been a night as chaotic and disturbed as this one. From their perch facing the newer part of town,  Kieron and his older companion, Edur, watched the unfolding events with moderate interest. Across the lane lay a brand new federal reserve, one the humans had built only about three months ago. The previous night, the security system had mysteriously shut off, and when the guards on duty reached the scene they found nothing but a broken window which no human could possibly fit through and two or three bullets littering the ground-and yet not an ingot of gold. All the details had been supplied to them by a police dog named Rocky, an amiable fellow who at that very moment stood with the puzzled humans surveying the scene.


“They’re never going to find it you know,” Edur said abruptly. “The humans. They’re too stupid to notice anything worth noticing.”


“Really?”  Kieron questioned, only half listening as he brainstormed possible solutions to this puzzling crime.


“Absolutely.” Edur said in a simple fashion. “In fact, that mystery is not as hard to crack is it may seem.”


“Right…” The young cat said, who quite frankly hadn’t the foggiest clue.


“I should know,” the grizzled old cat continued, not truly listening. “When I was a youngster, I solved such mind-bending mysteries for fun.”


“You did?” Kieron said politely.


“Why, yes! Every furry creature from here to Glendale have heard of my fearful exploits…”


The smaller cat nodded carefully, trying to devise a kind way to inform Edur that, though having migrated from Glendale to this small town, Kieron had never before heard of  Edur’s hobby.


However, Edur was thankfully too caught up in nostalgia to notice his companion’s embarrassed demeanor. “I remember a case of particular interest, one that has held a special place in this time-worn mind of mine for many years. It clearly shows how wit and skill can work hand in hand to solve and resolve the worst of  life’s puzzles:


“It was a bright, sunny day in Svenwood, a town north of here. I was a young cat then, bright, but rather naïve as I look back on it. It began as I was lithely racing a long-gone she-cat named Inza up a towering, thick oak. The oak happened to be above a neighbor’s house, who owned a dog of a generally acceptable manner named Fredric. As we frolicked in the morning breeze, he called to us from his rusty old doghouse. ‘Edward! Inza!’ he called in a stressed tone I’d never heard him used before.


“Inza and I alighted onto the ground with I experiencing minor annoyance, as my name is very obviously not Edward and it’s not a canine’s place to interrupt a busy feline. However, a cutting look from Inza killed the scalding retort before it had even left my mouth and I reluctantly said ‘Fredric, whatever is the matter?’


“Said he, ‘My apologies, good sir, for the interruption of your morning stroll, but my master has been unexpectedly entered into an unfortunate business from which I fear only a cat of your caliber may hope to free him.


“ ‘You see, master is P. H. Toron, a prominent figure in the gem-cutting industry. He recently came into possession of two large emeralds, which, according to Medieval lore, cause death to any human who dares to remove it from its resting place. Its “resting place” was an old church which sold the emerald to Toron for the funds to repair their chapel. However, during a visit by his twin cousins Wilfred and Wesley, cousin Wilfred promptly  suffered a heart attack. He is recovering in the Oak Street Hospital at this moment and is expected to recover. However, a most dreadful fear has arisen inside me that this will not be the last of the predicaments brought on by the Twin Gaeas.’


“ ‘And they believe that these jewels are the cause of Wilfred’s illness?’ said I, now firmly interested in this puzzling mystery.


“ ‘They, but not I.’ he confirmed morosely. ‘It is not a dogs place to question his master, but I believe it was his dear sister Diane, who has lived with him since three years ago. She is a jewel collector, you see, and offered to buy the emeralds from him immediately after the attack. I suspect the only reason she lives with my master is to fuel her drive for gems. She is the only other to live in the house, and both Wilfred and Wesley are proud bachelors.’


“ ‘Can you recount the exact circumstances surrounding the sudden failure of Master Wilfred’s health?’ Inza asked thoughtfully.”


“ ‘I shall aid you best I can,’ Fredric said solemnly. ‘It was about Eight-O-Clock at night. Master Toron, Wilfred, and Wesley were discussing politics in the drawing room as Mistress Diane served the gentlemen tea she had prepared herself. Each gentleman picked a cup, her taking the remaining cup. A postman arrived with the semiweekly mail, and Master Toron excused himself to use the loo. Mistress Diane also removed herself, claiming to have a headache.. As Toron returned, a loud thud was heard from the drawing room. Reentering abruptly, they found a startled Wesley standing by the fire, near Wilfred, who had crumpled to the ground.”


“I thought for a second. ‘Are there any more details that seemed out of the ordinary?’


“ ‘An opened envelope was on the table, yet they found no writing inside.’


“ I thought over the story in my head. ‘Fredric, were the teacups of the same origin?’


“ ‘Whatever do you mean by that?’ the canine said in a surprised tone.


“ ‘I mean, were they identical?’


“Fredric thought hard for a second. ‘Yes, good Edur.’


“ ‘Then it cannot be Diane, as she would not have known if she would be left with the poisoned cup.’


“ ‘I concur,’ agreed Inza. ‘No female seeking wealth by such corrupt means would risk her own hide like that.’


“I frowned thoughtfully. ‘It may be possible that Wesley sought his brother’s death, sending Wilfred a letter coated with a poisonous substance. Upon the poison’s entering into Wilfred’s system, Wesley then promptly disposed of the letter by hurling it into the hearth.’


“ ‘It does seem likely,’ Fredric admitted. ‘But the siblings were of the closest sort. Why, a few nights ago I even saw dear old Wesley describing his brother as “utterly trustworthy in every way” in a letter a few days ago.’


“ ‘Really…’ I processed what the loyal dog had just revealed, and suddenly a crazy inference appeared in my head. ‘Fredric, in which room is Wesley staying?’


“Fredric pointed his tail towards an open window on the second floor. ‘Over there, in the guest room.’


“ ‘Thank you,’ said I. ‘I shall be only a moment.’ Ignoring my friends mystified gazes I climbed up the gutter and into the suspect’s room. It was large and spacious, and I knew there would be much to search. However resting on his dresser was all I needed to see. Approaching the wooden picture frame, I gazed at the photograph sealed inside- a picture of a young lady. My suspicions were confirmed. Before I could exit the way I came, however, footsteps sounded in the hall, growing nearer, and nearer. Shocked, I stood tense and rigid and the very world stood still for one second….two…


“Then a hand slid an envelope under the door and I relaxed. It was a telegraph for Wesley, containing two words- OF COURSE. I smiled despite myself, having already determined the cryptic message’s meaning. Exiting the room, I lithely climbed down the side of the house and rejoined Inza and Fredric, who waited quietly where I had left them.


“ ‘Did you discover evidence convicting Sir Wesley?’ Fredric hastily inquired.


“ ‘He is guilty beyond the slightest doubt but not in the way you might think.’ I replied. ‘I need not explain it to you, for Wesley plans to reveal the true occurrences of that night.’ However, the canine persisted and so I explained my findings.


“ ‘As you recall, Wesley and Wilfred had just received mail. Wesley opened a letter, which unbeknownst to you was from his secret fiancee. It gifted him with the long-awaited permission to enter Wilfred into his trust.However, this came as such a shock to Wilfred, (for as you recounted to me the two were proud bachelors) that the poor chap entered cardiac arrest! Wesley threw the letter into the fire to prevent any more knowledge of his matrimony to escape prematurely. (Hence the open yet empty envelope.) However, he once again sent away for permission to reveal his secret love to others. It has been answered, for wesley has received a telegram from his fiancee this very afternoon. He shall soon disclose all to your master.’


Fredric was overjoyed at the details supplied to him. ‘I cannot tell you, good sir, how much it means to me to know my master is safe. Is there any way I may reward you? Any payment I may defray?’


“Said I, ‘What could you offer a feline as keen and talented as I?’ Inza stared at me reproachfully but I continued, undaunted and unbowed. ‘You have offered me the amusement of an irregular puzzle on an otherwise ordinary day and that is all I desire of you, Fredric.’


“At that very moment there was the creaking sound of an opening door as Fredric’s master and Wesley arrived home from the local hospital. (It is my assumption they were visiting Cousin Wilfred.) My findings were finally and irrevocably confirmed as Wesley recounted the night’s happenings (Identically to mine, mind you) to Diane. I had pieced together an impossible puzzle using only my wit and logic.” Edur completed his enigmatic tale and turned to look at his younger companion. Kieron was feeling mildly conflicted between admiration and the vague impression that he had heard of Edur’s deed before, but instead resolved to state in a simple manner that Edur had solved the mystery in a most remarkable manner and that he himself hoped to one day match Edur’s matchless intellect.


This seemed to satisfy Edur greatly, who hopped down from the crumbling old wall and said “You may achieve that hope yet, Kieron. Follow me.”


Kieron, though puzzled at his companion’s change of manner, complied and proceeded right behind Edur.  The two raced right underneath the legs of the stumped policemen, and squeezed into the  reserve. Detectives had long since ceased their pitiful attempts at comprehending the fate of the bullion, and the vault was therefore exclusive to the two felines. Edur turned and gazed at his companion crisply. “Now,” said he. “What do you see?”


Kieron squinted and took a long look around the room. “I see…a shattered window…bullets on the floor…and small pieces of golden material on the ground.”


Edur nodded to his pupil. “Very observative. I do not glimpse anything else in this room worthy of our notice.”


Kieron padded up to the strange golden pieces. They were very small, and barely noticeable by a cats eye, let alone a human. “It looks like Iron Pyrite, otherwise known as Fool’s Gold.” said he. “Why would somebody substitute bullion for tiny fragments of Pyrite?”


“Ah, but Kieron, you are thinking too small. The criminals were obviously of the intelligent sort. This crime was planned with the most wicked of cunning.Why would a lot of crooks so smart wait until the gold reached here, when just a few months ago it was in transit to this location?”


All the pieces clicked into place as Kieron gazed intently upon the Pyrite. realization dawned upon his face. “Then that means…”


“The gold was never here,” Edur confirmed, looking very pleased with himself and his pupil. “The perpetrators most likely replaced the gold to avert suspicion while it was being transported. It was replaced with hollow Fool’s Gold weighted with a device that served two purposes: Firstly, to modify the decoy’s weight so t exactly matched the original. Secondly…”


“…equipping it with a bomb primed to explode upon the emitting of a loud noise such as a gunshot.” Kieron finished. “Of course. Such intelligent criminals would obviously have access to such frivolities. They merely fired their guns through the small window, and the bullets activated the bombs.”


“Fool’s Gold breaks much more easily than gold.” Purred Edur in an accomplished manner. “You see, Kieron? All it requires is a little imagination!”


“No, Edur.” replied Kieron as he and his companion scaled the slick walls and exited through the window. The two cats began the short walk back to their current dwelling, however Kieron stopped for a second to look back at the chaotic scene. “However Edur, I don’t think the humans will ever know.” At last two lone creatures walked towards the setting sun, their minds silently sparking with the energy of a thousand candles.


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Published on September 01, 2017 14:24