S.E. Zell's Blog, page 3

Neil Gaiman is Truly a Gem…But You Already Knew That

[image error]What an unexpectedly joyful man! Hearing him speak is exactly like reading one of his novels–witty, profound, and just a little self-deprecating. 

And YES–can confirm that Good Omens (his collab. with Terry Pratchett) is officially being made into what sounded like a miniseries by the BBC for Amazon Prime.

\happy dance\

Flash Fiction #10

Journal

7 July 2017, evening, aboard an unknown vessel

I have a confession to make. I’ve never had any formal training in this stuff. Where does one go to learn how to kill demons, you ask? Well, turns out there are entire cadres of Hunters with their own schools of thought on how best to dispose of the unholy monsters oozing from every crack in the border between this world and the next. 

I didn’t know this when I first started, of course. All it took was witnessing an attack on my family and being helpless to stop it. I did my own research and trained on my own. Before I knew it, it had become my life’s work. The information’s out there if you know where to find it. It helped that I ran into many gracious souls along the way who were willing to impart their wisdom, if not help me directly.

It’s frowned upon to work outside the Law, you see. I am an aberration they would rather see crushed by that stupid tentacled greater demon than running around doing things on my own. So I avoid them at all costs. I stay out of their way, they stay out of mine, and everyone’s happy–relatively speaking. I’m not sure their kind can be happy. I think it’s against their religion or something.

That being said, it was only natural that when I woke up on the deck of a formidable frigate in the middle of the North Sea after being nearly crushed to death, the voice that greeted me sounded mighty displeased.

His accent was so thick, I could barely understand him. “Vhat did you zink you vere doing, going after zat zing like zat? You should be dead right now! If I hadn’t been in ze area….”

German? Austrian? Polish?

He kept going, talking to me though I still pretended to sleep. It was several more minutes before he calmed down. “Vhen you vake up, ve will have some serious discussion to make.”

Yes. Ve vould have some serious discussion to make. If he was a sanctioned Hunter, there was every chance he would turn me in to the Council and my chances of finding the thing that had killed my family would dwindle down to nothing. New plan–escape–but how to do that in the middle of the ocean when I had no idea where my own vessel was would be a dilemma to puzzle through right after I passed out again.

Flash Fiction #9

There’s a certain serenity in knowing you’re going to die. When I was little I thought it would happen as an old woman in my sleep. Needless to say, I was neither old nor asleep. That didn’t stop my life from flashing before my eyes as the putrid tentacle tightened around me even further.

Turns out, when older, more experienced Hunters tell you not to take this one on, they know what they’re talking about. I, being the younger and stupider version of them, decided not to listen. So there I was–being crushed to death because I hadn’t remembered to bring the special flame thrower. It was a mistake anyone could make. I’m only mostly human! Give me a break!

Everything started to get really warm, as the creature squeezed the life out of me. It felt like we had entered a sauna when in fact we were in the middle of the North Sea. Last time I ever go fishing. I started to think it was my body’s way of giving in to death–like a warm blanket had just wrapped around my soul to take it away. Very poetic, loser.

I was all set to drift off into Never Never Land when the heat became unbearable and the monster holding me started screaming. Violet flames licked up and down the bumps and scales of its gigantic body. Somebody remembered their flame thrower.

The tentacle released me and I plummeted into the frigid sea only to be plucked out by something I couldn’t see to the tune of the creature’s dying lament. I was thrown onto the deck of the ship and covered with what smelled like seal skin. An angry, bearded face hovered above me and I knew no more. Serves you right, you maniac. Next time you’ll remember that only celestial flame can kill a greater demon.

Flash Fiction #8

She stood at the bow of the ship to clear her head, ignoring everything going on behind her. Since she’d been freed, the memories had been coming fast and without mercy. A part of her–the part that had been wiped clean–was appalled at the things she’d done over the course of her relatively short life. The other part was just glad to know who and what she was. 

This time had been a particularly poignant memory from the day her brother had killed their father. It left her normally steady hands shaking and white-knuckling the banister in front of her for some kind anchorage.

A familiar voice came from too close behind her. “Miss, are you alright? Is it seasickness?”

Before she could stop herself, she had the man half over the railing with his arm twisted at a dangerous angle and a knife at his throat. She glared into his eyes–shockingly similar to the ones she’d just remembered her brother draining the life from. His hair was longer and lighter from the Sun’s rays, but it was him. She was sure.

“You. Are. Supposed. To. Be. Dead.” Her teeth were clenched so hard, she was half afraid they might shatter from the pressure. Any color that had remained in his face now disappeared. He shook his head and attempted to speak, but the knife was pressed too close to his neck. She eased up a little.

“You knew my twin. He brought his death upon himself by trying to rule the world. I’m not him. What did he do to you?”

A strong hand on her upper arm brought her reeling mind back to the deck of the ship. The Duke was glaring meaningfully down at her. Disguised or no, it was not a good idea to engage with this man. She took the hint and released her newly-found uncle. The Duke spoke quickly and assuredly.

“My apologies, Declan, my secretary has had a bit of a traumatic past. She doesn’t mean anything by it.”

“Her knife sure meant something, but I understand, Your Grace. My brother ruined a lot of lives before my nephew–gods rest his soul–was able to defeat him.” He looked directly at her before continuing. “For whatever he did, I’m sorry. “

She shook uncontrollably as he sauntered back to his station, glancing back a couple times with a wary, yet pitying look in his eye.

The Duke shouted something and the rest of the crew got back to work.  She whirled to face him and give him a good piece of her mind for not warning her about her long lost uncle, but the look on his face said she was the one about to get a verbal beatdown. The hand still on her upper arm dragged her below deck and into His Grace’s quarters where she was dumped into one of the wooden chairs. 

When he locked the door and turned toward her with an angry flush across his angular cheeks, she knew she was in for it.

Excerpt from Jesimae Book II, In Ruins

Flash Fiction #7

A glimpse into the childhoods of Jesimae’s main characters:

Ashdan frowned at her older brothers as they scrambled up the wall of the Governor’s Palace. Using the combined strength of their twin connection, Aedrian had forced the dead vines clinging to the wall back to life. They grew full and thick–big enough to climb on.

Mother and Father had specifically forbade them from ever attempting a heist on the Palace–at least, until they were older. Ashdan didn’t follow most of their rules, but she happened to agree with this one. The guards that stood on the walls of this Palace did not have much patience with children. Angerona was a hard city and bred even harder citizens. If they were caught, it didn’t matter that her brothers were only eleven and she, nine–they would all be hung without any semblance of a trial. It didn’t help that they were the Rogue’s children. The Governor would gladly execute them to make a point to their Father.

All that aside, she followed them like the loyal little sister she was, grumbling the whole way. When they reached the top, Aedrik hopped down onto the walkway and shot them a feral grin. His hand shot out in a quick high five to Aedrian, acknowledging his twin’s awesome display of magic. This was the most exciting moment of their young lives.

They skirted several guards and a watch sergeant before finding a winding staircase onto the Palace grounds. They had to stifle giggles as they descended amidst the sounds of the clueless adults above. Normal children wouldn’t have made it up the wall, but these three weren’t anywhere close to normal.

The high of being somewhere they had never gone and likely never would again started to catch up with Ashdan. She grew careless and found herself tripping down the steps with abandon, her magical disguise slipping. They were about to exit the stairwell when two massive hands came from nowhere and grabbed them all by the scruff of the neck.

Flash Fiction #6

I kicked the creature’s corpse off me. Now that it was dead, the horrific sight of its malformed body gave me shivers of disgust. Ugh. Six antennae-like eyes stared blankly into oblivion and sharp claws were forever frozen in a manic attempt to thrust me away. Glancing down at the rather large tear in my favorite jeans and the accompanying flesh beneath, I had to admit its efforts hadn’t been in vain. But a lesser demon that couldn’t even hold human form on Earth was not exactly going to end up on the winning side of this battle.

Looking around, the evidence of our skirmish gave the barren landscape the look of a freshly meteor-showered field. Somehow, we had uprooted the gnarled trees that had managed to survive decades of everything else. The thing’s body lay in a massive crater that I wasn’t sure I’d had nothing to do with.

As I watched, the ground opened up and swallowed the hideous–whatever it was supposed to be. The ground continue to simmer and smoke even after the body was completely gone.

Time to split. I’d overstayed my welcome. I wasn’t relishing running into the various government entities who would soon swarm the “mysterious” crater. I rushed over to my Camaro, cursing the new scratches and shattered window–if that thing ever crawled back out of the depths of Hell, I would be first in line for a repeat performance if only to beat the crap out of it one more time. 

I hopped in through the open window and drove off just in time to catch the barest hint of encroaching siren.

Here’s hoping my trailing cloud of dust was settled by the time they found my handiwork. I’m going to need to change my tires to hide my trail–again.

Trying to write right now like…

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Flash Fiction #5-the Real Morning Workout

[Yes, it’s been a long time. It’s been a crazy month. Here goes….]

Warm soothing fingers of exhaustion pulled me deeper into the mattress. Whispers on the breaths of angels–or maybe they were demons–told me not to move and fall back asleep. I was inclined to agree. Who really needed to get up this early? So what if I skipped the workout today? So what if I didn’t eat breakfast? It was all worth it for a few more precious minutes of dreamlike solitude.

Bzzzzzz. Bzzzzzz.

I sat bolt upright, looking for the evil creature that had dared to disturb my rest. I would smash that bug. I would make it wish it had never hatched. I would–

Oh.

My phone buzzed two more times, signifying the text message. When I read it, my eyes narrowed with indecision. She had gotten up and already knocked out the workout. The other one responded saying she had prepped all her meals for the week already. My immobile stomach rumbled as I thought about the trip to the grocery store that I still needed to take.

Smack.

I’d dropped my phone on my face–one of the hazards of having abysmal eyesight. The tendrils of sleep and relaxation that had been infused in my limbs fled, though reluctantly–nothing like feelings of incompetence and facial bruising to get one out of the bed in the morning.

Swinging my feet to the carpet, I wrestled my contacts into tired eyes.

“I can see clearly now…”

A little shimmy on my way to the bathroom effectively drove away the still whispering voices urging me to flop back down on the mattress. Dancing and swaying my way into the living room–I’m suuuper graceful in the mornings–I propped open my computer and unrolled the yoga mat. One workout down, one to go…

Flash Fiction #4

There’s a certain serenity to having your life go up in flames. For months now, I had been trying to hold everything together, but some pieces of my life kept slipping away the harder I grabbed on to the others. That’s why, this morning, I decided to give up. You heard me. The time came when I had to choose, so I did.

Now, as I sit here wiping demon blood off my cheek I have to wonder if I made the right decision. I mean, sure there are other people who could fight them off, but now that I know about them, isn’t it a little selfish of me not to help? Of course, my now-ex fiancé won’t see it that way, but at least I won’t be around to witness that mess.

I kick over the stool that still holds the headless of body of the demon I just killed. He was wearing the body of a salesman–go figure–but when I saw the mark in his eyes, he gave up all pretense and went all burning eyes, fangs, and claws on me. I need to get out of here. The local authorities are going to have a hell–heh–of a time with this one. Some demons revert back to their human forms when they die, others don’t. I still haven’t figured out why that is, but this one definitely didn’t transform back into a mildly greasy sales rep.

I climb out the window and run about a block to my beat up, lime-green camaro sitting peacefully in the late afternoon sunshine. Throwing my sunglasses on, I rev up the engine, enjoying her sweet purr. Through the dust I kick up in my rearview mirror, I can see the police just pulling up outside the house. I take a sharp right, hoping they didn’t spot my car; I really should have picked a less unique shade.

Flash Fiction #3

From the window of my master’s apartment, I could see the whole world. That wasn’t an exaggeration. We were suspended from a constantly groaning cable in a skyscraper that hit the limits of “sky” and started flirting with “space.” 

I didn’t know who the people I worked for were in this new world order, but they were important enough to have nabbed the top floor of the “Spacescraper.” When I looked down, all I could see was water and clouds. The Great Wave was currently submerging this side of the Earth and the few cities left had sealed themselves under domes whose peaks just barely rose above the water. The sparkle from the sun on those peaks was nearly blinding, but I couldn’t stop staring. 

To me, those places looked like freedom, trapped as they were under the heaving angry glory of the ocean. In three days time, I would find out whether that was true or not because in three days time I was going to escape this disgusting, constantly swinging, metal prison. I was going to find a way to get to Earth’s surface–something no one in this godforsaken place had tried to do for eighty years since the day the Earth split open.