Chapel Orahamm's Blog, page 29

Subject 15: Ch 3

Blinking, the white room came into focus. His head throbbed, and the abnormally bright florescent lights were not making the black rings in his eyes better. He raised his hands to his head, pressing against his temples. “Where am I?” Fane asked the room. It was rather a useless question, the padded cell vacant except for him.

Dropping his hand, an itchy, puckered texture different from his smooth shirt met his fingers. He looked down at himself. He was in a short blue-spotted hospital gown that barely reached his mid-thighs. “Shit. She must have given me one hell of a bender for them to have me in here. No, that’s not quite it. They’d have told me if I had something. Did something go wrong? Are my plates all right?” He tried to pull his gown tighter around him.

The clock’s ticking in the darkened room did not help ease the tension of the men gathered around the green-lit table. A topographical map spread across a high-resolution screen, small pawns, tanks, and ships sporadically dispersed. A knock at the door echoed in the chamber. An assistant let in Zephyr.

He eased over to the table and sat with the rest of the men, taking a pawn from his jacket pocket, he set it in the middle of the table. The screen flashed, picking up the pawn, and dropped a digital pawn onto the map. Zephyr returned his physical pawn to his coat pocket.

“As you can see,” the doctore pointed to a set of papers laying partially fanned out on the map, “from the labs we drew this afternoon, Subject 15 has finally found the triggering mechanism.”

“Doc, were you able to determine what the catalyst was?” Zephyr reached for one of the sheets.

“Well, it wasn’t anything he ingested from the night before.” The doctor pulled the page out of Zephyr’s hand, stacked all the sheets together and handed over the pile. Zephyr took it and pulled out a very long list of lab tests and graphs. He scanned them over and tossed them on the table.

“What was he doing when he first started exhibiting these symptoms, Abbadelli?” A muscular, bald man asked.

Zephyr shrugged, chewing on his lip as he thought back. “We were assembling for the bi-annual physical test. We had just started roll call, General.”

“What was different about today’s roll call?” another man asked, this one short, thin of face, and sallow against the green of the map table.

Zephyr leaned back in his chair, observing the men who all leaned forward in anticipation. This project had been a financial drain on the military, and it was due time that it started panning out. Zephyr knew it, his own pot having been drained as it was. “We had a party for the men last night. I had him get completely plastered on a doped joint to drop his walls. Subject 15 hooked up with a red room woman Doc had me point out to him. Her room had been set up with observation equipment. Nothing of interest occurred that affected the triggering mechanism immediately. I have my doubts about his claim of having been a virgin, though. He may not have been really into it, but kid’s got talent that you only learn – ehem, sorry.” He caught a censored look the general threw at him and moved on. “As that file says, though, nothing he took or did from the party influenced his mood outside of a mild hangover. When I met with him before coming onto the field, though, he appeared to be acting perfectly fine. It was only after roll started that he began acting differently,” Zephyr replied.

“That tells us what we already know. What was different about today?” the man slammed his fist on the table, the map flickering.

“Colonel, I don’t know what to tell you. You know as much as I do at this point. I’m not the doctor. I’m his handler,” Zephyr snipped.

“Abbadelli,” the General reprimanded testily.

“What was his emotional state?” the Colonel pressed.

Zephyr pinned him with a glare. “In a word, depressed, I’d say.”

The men around the table all mumbled dismissive comments. The doc spoke up, providing his opinion that summarised everyone else’s, “that’s not the right emotional state for the hormone catalyst to start.”

“And tigers don’t dance,” Zephyr snapped.

“Zephyr Abbadelli, I’d ask you to show some level of respect,” the General growled.

“Sorry, sir,” Zephyr replied. Directing his apology to the doctor, “Sorry, Doc John. I’m aware that isn’t the emotional state that is supposed to get things moving.” He paused for a moment to fiddle with a tiny plastic ship on the map while he tried to think of something worthwhile. “I don’t know. Maybe his roommate invited him for tea or some lager after the test, and he felt like he was finally being included in the comradery, and that made him happy. Who knows? You know, we had a guy from New Punjab come in to scout today during the test. I’d say that has to be the only new thing that I would know about,” Zephyr mused. Not like there had been more than two seconds of interaction between the two, and it sure as hell wasn’t a pleasant one.

The General snapped his finger at the attendant standing at the door. The attendant shifted over to the table, the green light illuminating his face grotesquely. The General whispered to the attendant, and the man dashed out of the door like demons had come to personally drag him to hell.

Zephyr watched the general closely. “Sir?”

The General waved him off as the group waited in silence.

The Colonel, uncomfortable in the quiet, turned to Doctor John. “I’m sorry, sir. If it’s a bother, how exactly is Subject 15 supposed to bring about the TDC exactly by his emotional state? As you are aware, I took over the post from the late Colonel Jinkins this past winter, so I haven’t had to deal in this matter often, if at all.”

The doctor shifted in his seat and glanced over to the General. The man shrugged. “He should know some of the background on Subject 15. It’ll keep us all from looking like idiots later.” He poured himself a glass of water from the sweating pitcher on the buffet behind them.

The Doctor reached over to Zephyr for his file. Zephyr pulled the document back together before handing it to him. Doctor John snatched it from him and vigorously riffled through it for a sheet. He handed the paper over to the Colonel, replying, “The most challenging thing about all this was finding a guinea pig with enough psychic talent to take the stress load. Subject 15’s brain structure has been modified to amplify a series of signals into a secondary plane of existence, a parallel universe if you must.

“These signals can, in theory, pull over objects, even sentient beings. You will have to speak with Doctor Glauson on the exact details of this transference. I was only there for the neural surgery.”

The Colonel paled, glancing over a CT scan of a brain with several small points embedded throughout the folds of the lobes. “You’re joking. Is that really possible? Psychics? You’ve been hitting your own joints a little too hard.” He handed the image back to the doctor. The doc shoved the page back in haphazardly.

Zephyr chewed his tongue, appalled by Doctor John’s dismissive nature to the man in question. “I’ve honestly been wondering if it is a failed experiment, doc,” he goaded. The Doctor snapped a fiery eye at him.

The General held up a pair of placating hands. “I think we have all had some doubts, Zephyr.”

The doc turned to the General, all bustle, but he deflated as he leaned back in his chair, knowing that deep down, he had also doubted the effectiveness of the experiment.

The Colonel, still trying to come to grips with the situation, continued with his questions. “So, this Subject 15’s brain has been rewired to be able to bring someone from another dimension over here. How’s that supposed to help us with this war?”

“Not any person, Colonel. We have found a transdimensional creature, or TDC for short, at the moment, that could crush cities, decimate countrysides, and end this war without a need for nuclear firepower. Then, when the enemy’s willpower has been completely levelled, we’ll send the creature back. This’ll work better in the end than bombing, gassing, and nuking. Think about it. We won’t have any radiation poisoning,” the General supplied.

“General,” the Doctor whispered a caution to the man next to him. “We still are uncertain of how to get rid of said monster when we are finished using it. Subject 15 will only be able to bring it over.”

“Shut it, John. Our men can put it down easily enough. Our scientists say they have determined it’s weak spot,” the General boasted heartily.

Then how is it supposed to go up against whole cities? Zephyr asked himself.

A rap at the door had all the men turning in their seats. The attendant scurried in to whisper to the General. “Well, man, let him in,” the General exclaimed. The attendant saluted and went back to the door to motion in the New Punjabi scout.

The scout strode in, purposeful but a note of hesitation lingered at the crease of his eyes.

“Prince Ishan Orlov, sirs,” the attendant announced to the rest of the room. A larger man watched from outside the hall, unhappy about having been left out. Ishan bowed deeply, “May I be of some assistance to you?” His voice gently seeped through the room.

“Prince Orlov, nice to finally meet you. We were meaning to have a nice chat with you at the banquet tomorrow night. Were you able to attend this morning’s fitness test?” the General asked warmly. Zephyr glared at the General’s pandering tone.

“Yes, sir. A rather splendid sight to behold. I must commend you on the fine assortment of troops you have at hand.” Orlov raised himself back to a proud standing posture.

“I am pleased to hear that they were to your expectations, Prince Orlov,” the General smiled. He motioned Orlov to a seat at the table next to Zephyr.

Orlov hesitated, flicking Zephyr a studied glance. The man had never come back to the physical assessment test to finish administering it. “Thank you.” Orlov eased into the cushioned seat. Zephyr passed him a glass of water, if only for the sake of courtesy. The scout took it and placed it on the table in front of him.

The General cleared his throat uncomfortably. “I don’t wish to seem impertinent-“

“Sir, you needn’t be so formal with me. Today, I am a lowly scout looking for a few good men willing to train my own troops.” Orlov’s teeth gleamed mercilessly in the table’s glow.

“I’m sorry.” The General apologised. Orlov waited patiently. “Have you, by chance, encountered one of our sergeants, Fane Anson?”

“Fane Anson?” Prince Orlov frowned. “No. I can’t say that I have, sir.” Folding his hands in his lap, he watched the assembly of men.

“You met him this morning,” Zephyr informed him quietly, “I took him to the infirmary.”

“Ah, the stoned kid. I haven’t met him before this morning,” Orlov dismissed.

“What gave you the impression that he was stoned? If I might ask Prince Orlov?” Doctor John broke in.

“His eyes were dilated, his face was flushed, and his breathing was fast. He was hot to the touch but did not look like he had a cold,” replied Orlov. What were they on about? Had the kid done something while he was in the infirmary? Surely he hadn’t died; that would put a damper on the rest of his day.

“Fair enough,” the doctor shrugged.

“Is there something wrong with this Fane Anson?” Orlov pressed.

“We did test him, and he did not have anything in his system to indicate a drug usage past 12 hours before showing up for work this morning. Those in him were not liable to cause the symptoms that you noted and had been administered by qualified personnel for a prior established medical condition.” The doctor mentioned, pulling another page out of his file to look over.

Zephyr flicked a contemptuous glance at the doc. Qualified his butt, he had been informally trained to inject the guy whenever the doc got the desire to use Fane as a guinea pig. For the most part, Fane had only ever been told that Zephyr was giving him a sedative for anxiety that was liable to crop up when dealing with tight spaces. The doped joint had come from the doc’s delusional pharmacy for screwed-up mad scientists. He was nauseated at the thought of what all he had subjected the guy to at this point.

“Would you be willing to meet with him once more?” the general asked Orlov.

The Prince sat back for a second, a little put off at the request. If the man wasn’t dying, then was there a reason to be granting him the privilege of speaking with a man of a far superior position than himself? “Sir?” Orlov asked.

“It is a matter of some urgency, Prince Orlov, between allies, that we find out what is wrong with Fane Anson,” the general explained.

“I understand that every troop member is of importance to the cause, but is he of that much importance that I must demean myself to dealing with subordinates?” Orlov protested.

The General regarded him for a second before waving over an attendant to see Orlov out. “More than you think, my boy,” the general added as Orlov found himself being dismissed from the room.

“What are you thinking bringing in a scout to the map room, sir!” Zephyr came up to his feet when the door behind Prince Orlov clicked shut.

“We had nothing on the board today that mattered.” The General waved off Zephyr’s protest.

“Then explain why he was in here.” Zephyr dropped into his seat, teeth on edge.

“A minor suspicion. One from Prince Orlov’s files.” The General snapped a finger. The assistant went to the filing cabinets at the end of the room and extracted a manilla envelope. He set it in front of Zephyr.

Wrinkling his brows, Zephyr untwisted the cord holding the packet together and slid out the papers to read it. “You’re gonna bait Fane?”

“We’ll see. Doc, have an imaging study done on him.” The General took the file from Zephyr and passed it over to Doc John.

“Do you have someone who can pull pictures?” Doc John nodded after a cursory glance.

“I’ll have a notice sent over to my boys in Department D to have some made available to you. Call them in about an hour or two.”

Chapel Orahamm (C) 2022-2023. All Rights Reserved.

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Newsletter – January ’22

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The Red Line Linear

Welcome to Simmins, Detective Spencer

A collaborative winter-themed horror-mystery anthology:

Detective Spencer moves to his wife’s small mining hometown as the holiday season is rolling around. Anticipating a slow work life, he’s not prepared for an advent calendar’s worth of dead bodies, missing persons reports, and unusual creature sightings.

Nick Clauster might have something to say about a new detective prowling around the town he’s spent so many years cultivating.

Filled with chaotic carols, chupacabra puppies, mothmen, sentient Christmas trees and more, this anthology promises to reignite the old tradition of telling ghost stories in the dead of winter.

Amazon Link The Red Line Linear Problem

This anthology is not standard by any stretch of the imagination. Neither were the authors I corralled up and offered to print a book as the carrot reward for getting them to write a bunch of spooky holiday stories.

When I first set out with this book, my idea was journals, like all those diary novels I’d read as a kid. However, we wanted to continue the idea of the first anthology Heads and Tales: The Other Side of the Story, in that there would be two sides to this story. This led to the idea that I would write one side and they would write the other and together a fully entwined anthology would form.

In some ways, Welcome to Simmins, Detective Spencer was constructed not to be an anthology but a fully realized novel with multiple authors. The set up is linear, day by day, with mutli-day stories interspersed with single day stories and the Detective’s journal entries. Usually an anthology may have a theme, maybe a little bit of continuity. Welcome to Simmins, Detective Spencer is truly an entwined novel. Circumstances in one story meld with another story and characters move between them.

This is where red line linear as an idea comes into play. The book was designed first and foremost as a series of individual stories by the authors. As I edited the pieces, I created the journal entries to correspond with events. Once everything was edited, I stitched together the series of stories and journals to correspond to times of day and days of the month. This method can however be a bit of a challenge to follow in a similar vein as the switching timeline in The Witcher.

The idea came to me, and this is why it probably works better as a paperback, rather than an ebook, that this would border on a choose your own adventure series, and a crime tracking novel. Similar to the gif above, there’s a red string running through the series, where it feels natural to keep your thumb on one story and flip through to the other story to grasp what is taking place on the small level, and yet there is motivation to read the anthology straight through for the full picture.

Hints and clues are spread throughout the book. The intake tag in the Detective’s journal, the image notations, the different font between the Detective’s journals vs. the town’s stories. Even the journal entries have grammatical errors specifically inserted to look like someone who is actually writing with free-flow thought – seeing as most people who hand write are not completely perfect with their spelling and grammar.

I had a lot of fun with the authors in constructing this, and honestly glad they let me play around with creating what I’m more inclined to call a piece of experimental interactive art rather than a standard anthology. This playing with format and flow and style is something that a small time editor can really get away with. I can’t imagine a traditional press going with something like this unless they knew people would ‘get it.’

I do hope you find it interesting. My one regret with the paperback is that I couldn’t include a pack of red stick tabs so people could mark all the things they find…there are still a few limits with self and indie publishing.

Heads and Tales: The Other Side of the Story

History is told by the victors.

Stories are told by the heroes.

Until now.

In every tale from myth, legend, or faerie there are the voiceless: those characters who live in the silent, untold spaces, or whose inner worlds are never visited. This collection retells 14 classic stories you may think you already know, from perspectives you never thought to consider.

The unexamined life is not worth living, or so the saying goes. No longer will we let those voices go unheard.

This is Heads and Tales: because like the flip of a coin, the stories can change. Take a shot, and see where it takes you.

Amazon Link

2021 has been a fascinating, busy year for me. Sitting in the house, watching the new Australian Shepherd pups – Ms. Moneypenny and Mr. James Bond snore on the dining room floor, Christmas tree in the background, I’m reminded that a number of successes have happened to get to this point.

It all started with Chris Van Dyke of Skullgate Media reaching out on Twitter to see if anyone would want to partner up with him to write an anthology. Then Renee Gendron and Nicki Mitchell joined suit with theirs. These were all back in 2020. It was great fun writing stories at that time with everyone. The authors were asked to help edit, a way to keep the burden off the publisher. I kept backing away from it, because I had some high standards and didn’t want people to get mad at me for putting in 200-300 edit comments on a 5K story. That could come off as rather insulting.

In 2021, in between anthologies with other people, I decided to host one myself and acquired a great group of authors. This was my one big chance where I could show people what it was that I did when it came to editing and figured I couldn’t insult anyone with the massive amounts of editing I do, seeing as I was hosting.

During this time, I had Chris Durston in the group – he wrote Each Little Universe, a great book I’d suggest to most people. Anyways. He does proof reading and was contemplating getting into freelance editing. I didn’t have the money at that time to have him edit the books I had brought out, but it was a fascinating working experience with him to realize that he made a great proof reader and I enjoyed line and substantive editing.

The rest of the authors from the anthology I hosted – Heads and Tales: The Other Side of the Story – took the editing commentary very well, to my surprise. Some asked if I did it professionally. Having seen from Chris that I could also freelance edit, I went in 2021 to see a lawyer and get my LLC put together for Chapel Orahamm, an Editing Service.

This anthology was a fantastic learning experience that taught me what it was to edit a full 100K manuscript, work with individual authors and their visions, and compose typesetting for a novel. I loved it. I really did. I found the deadline stressful only because I self-impose deadlines and like to see the product be perfect by the deadline. I learned that I desperately want my authors happy and for the book to be as perfect as feasibly possible.

I also learned that wayward commas were the bane of my existence. So, when I decided to run another anthology in the fall of 2021 – Welcome to Simmins, Detective Spencer -, I invested in a software program called Grammarly specifically to spot those pesky commas and double periods that sometimes show up. Combining it with my passion for line-by-line editing and substantively rearranging paragraphs or asking the authors to expand and delete large sections of text is so fulfilling. I feel like I can really provide a comprehensive service at this point.

The knowledge that I can do right by my authors, seeing as I allow impostor syndrome to the get the better of me often, is a really great feeling to finally have.

To my authors who let me put together an anthology not once, but twice with them, and trust me with their work, thank you so much for encouraging me to officially become a professional line and substantive editor. It is turning out to be a wonderful journey.

Video Game Review Tuesday: Slime Rancher (PC)

Manga Cafe Monday: Omniscient Reader’s Viewpoint

This one is good. This one is up there in the good department. I’m actually rather enjoying a lot of manwha that I’ve gotten hold of in the fantasy department.

It took a little bit to grasp the idea of the story, maybe the first three chapters or so. The art style is very similar to Solo Leveling which made the feeling of being lost quite forgiveable. Once I was caught up on who the puppet masters and ring leaders were in the story, I was hooked.

And it just kept getting better.

Lovely when you can find those types of stories where it starts out just a touch unsteady, but it’s almost like turning over a motor. A once or twice where you’re just a touch nervous of how it’s going to go and then it hits 90mph and doesn’t let you down.

The balance of the main character and the side characters is fleshed out cleanly with each having a unique set of skills that keeps them from being overshadowed by the MC. I do have to appreciate the fact that the MC doesn’t have the one token female side character, but has two with a balance of a male side character and a kid. They aren’t just the little “they have powers” but then the MC is perpetually saving them. The MC isn’t underpowered either where he’s constantly being rescued by the side characters.

Balanced relationship. I love when writers get this one correct.

It is an on going series currently and now on my weekly reading schedule after I binge read the first 52 chapters all over the course of two days. I really do hope this one and Solo Leveling both get an animation adaptation.

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Sunday Afternoon Movie Review: Dune

Book Review: Dead Heads | Ross Young

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Manga Cafe Monday: Tower of God

I started out with this in the anime form, as I tend to do. Then I back tracked and went and found the manwha to read. This one…takes a bit of warming up to. The art style is different from regular. It almost grates at times because of it’s style.

I got through to where its at now, and I could have dropped it after about forty chapters. It doesn’t have a quick progression, and the idea that the characters are constantly doing ‘tests’ and ‘games’ to progress through this tower – it sounds interesting at the beginning of the manga, but it’s something that would make sense in a faster pace. With it being so long lived, it is almost oppressive, or abusive. Like you’re just watching these characters go through situation after situation and it’s just…

So yeah, the art for the manwha is a bit of something to get used to. The story pacing is slow. some of the reasoning in the script is convoluted.

I’d deeply suggest the anime over the manwha, honestly enough. Jump into the manwha at the point the anime leaves off.

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Book Review: Tea with the Black Dragon | R.A. MacAvoy

I was introduced to R.A. MacAvoy’s writing in high school when I read The Third Eagle. I was not aware of who the author was, or that she had written other books prior to it. The high school library had The Third Eagle, but none of her other works, so I didn’t think to look.

Recently I picked the book back up to add to my shelf and The Twisting of the Rope. Both of which I picked up with the intention of doing book reviews on them. Come to find out, as I was scheduling posts, that The Twisting of the Rope is the follow up book for Tea with the Black Dragon.

I did a skim read of The Third Eagle, seeing as it has been well over a decade since my last read with it, and had a disheartening realization that, though meant well, the author’s particular expressions in regards to people’s races does, in this modern era, come off sounding blatantly racist.

I had to wonder if that propensity was within her debut novel or if it was particular to that story. Sadly, I must say, the terminology used within Tea with the Black Dragon does still reflect some very old concepts for terms.

I obtaining my degree in Liberal Arts: focus in Asian Art History and Asian History in 2011. While taking classes on Middle East, Islamic, Indian, Chinese, Korean, and Japanese Art and History I learned from more than a number of professors that “orient” and “oriental” are not politically correct terms. There are people who are determined to call the terminology a slur. There are others that shrug indifferently and say it’s none of their concern.

For me, because I was taught the history behind it as a reference first to the Near East, which slowly shifted to Middle East, and then Far East, I found the term incredibly misleading. There were movements of Chinoiserie and Orientalism in references to a Westerner appropriating artistic elements from the Eastern areas as a method to flaunt their wealth and show they were widely traveled and more advanced in their thinking than their fellow man.

I speak of this before getting into Tea with the Black Dragon because this book reads like someone who is trying to talk more about Asia, but it’s coming off as a sci-fi/fantasy version of Chinoiserie. It doesn’t feel authentic. For the floral verbosity of the author, it’s…uncomfortable.

The story line is short, and yet comes off as a winding mianderment. Maybe it presents as a tedious work because of my opinion on the use of the term Oriental to refer to an individual of Chinese decent. Maybe it’s the part that as the main character talks, she loses authenticity and instead becomes a performer for the author by which to prove an extensive knowledge of stories, philosophy, and education.

I cannot call it a pleasant read. I have to wonder, if I did not have a concept about some of these represented issues due to my own education, if I would have found the story enjoyable. As the world progresses, sometimes what was progressive for its time, becomes an addition to the many problems instead. I hope, with regard to my own writing, to work diligently in representation so as to avoid becoming a problematic author thirty years from first publishing.

I do not wish to use the phrase “it is a product of it’s time.” That tends to be used too often to trivialize a person’s issues with a particular product. I would rather say, the author meant well, but the world turned enough times to leave these stories to stagnate. I don’t think it has a place in the sci-fi or fantasy dialogue going forward. It is more a marker for the history of the genre’s advancement. Sometimes those markers are problematic, looking back.

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