Lisa Knight's Blog, page 30

GUEST PUBLICATION SPOTLIGHT: Blackfriars Bestiary – 2.0 – Jack Crowley “Twisted” by Jason S. Kenney

She inhaled cigarettes like oxygen, and when I ran out of wine she’d be gone. I’d never seen her in the daylight, only running into her at night, either in some dive or alley, or attached to some half-gay boy wearing more make-up than she ever did. It never took any effort to pull her away to some pay-by-the hour joint and do things to one another that would take multiple confessions to cleanse myself of.

In all our nights together I never caught her name and never gave her mine. I once made a remark that she was nothing more than a midnight snack and from that night on she was ‘Snack’ and she never complained.

Now she was like so many others, bled out in a shit apartment on the wrong side of town, so far dead that I couldn’t get a feel for any essence of her in the room.

Madness had gone prowling the streets looking for murder and found Snack.

Madness had painted the walls with her, words that made no sense in every corner of the room.

Maybe the words made sense to him, maybe they were free-verse of a mind on the other side of sane, maybe he was simply bored with his toy that lay in the middle of the room, staring at the ceiling with empty eyes and a half open mouth stuck not in a scream or a gasp, but almost as if her last word was, “oh,” like her death had suddenly dawned on her.

Do you want to read more? Follow this link for a FREE copy of Blackfriars Bestiary via Smashwords

SPOTLIGHT: VOICES FROM A COMA – ISSUE TWO – BURNED TOAST BY MICHAEL MCGLADE

YOU CAN DOWNLOAD IT FOR FREE HERE: VOICES #2

The Zombie Blackmailers of Panocadia Three by Dave Fragments

The Train Set by Matthew Wilson

The Chalice by Paul Melhuish

Sylvia’s Pictures by DJ Tyrer

Burned Toast by Michael McGlade

Mum’s the Word by Bryn Fortey

Siphon by Kerry Lipp

Edited by Shaun AJ Hamilton

Artwork by Iestyn Rhobet

Thunderheads choked the city of Falls Church. The roiling black sky contained the anticipation of gunpowder. A tree of lightning branched the expanse and the clap reverberated through the News 4 van as it exited Route 7 and entered the city limits. Working out of this news van for a year had brought them close: like a family. Richard sat in back, fixed his store-bought hair into a perfect middle parting and read over his notes. Bob and Jimmy were up front trading dead arms.

“How come I’m always the one sent on these stories?” Richard said.

“Something about you attracts them,” Bob answered. “Housewives love you, Dick. You’re kinda like a wet dog caught in the rain.”

Bob and Jimmy chortled. Richard sniffed his armpits, spritzed cologne and took an antacid.

“The stress is killing me,” Richard said. “Something always goes wrong on these jobs.” He dusted off the shoulders of his suit jacket, straightened his tie and checked his pearly teeth in the back of a spoon for traces of poppy seeds.

The van parked. Jimmy, a chubby man in his forties, grabbed the sound recording equipment, and Bob straightened his bushy ginger mustache and took hold of the video camera. “It’s show time.”

YOU CAN READ MORE HERE: VOICES #2

MORE ABOUT MICHAEL MCGLADE

Michael Mingler holds a master’s degree in English and Creative Writing from Queen’s University, Ireland. He has been published in Green Door, Spinetingler, Plan B, and Amok horror anthology by April Moon Books.

FAN FICTION: EXILES #3 “…AND THE SCORPION’S MAW (BECAUSE I COULD NOT STOP FOR DEATH) PT.2

Joseph gently manipulated the active forces within the Earth’s magnetosphere as he reached his destination. Before him stood a relatively small building. It was rectangular, and ten meters long and no more than four meters wide. The single-storey building’s ceiling was about three meters above the ground.

By focusing on the planet’s magnetic lines, Joseph could sense a powerful electrical current emanating from inside the building and flowing, below ground, to a destination that he could not determine.

As he regarded the plain-looking building, the powerful heroine named Aleta flew up and landed beside him. She stood silently for several minutes, hoping not to disturb Joseph’s concentration, but eventually did speak.

“Should we go in?” she asked.

Joseph looked up suddenly, his focus lost. “I don’t see why not. I suspect that this building is nothing more than a power plant.” He stepped forward and used his power of magnetism to tear the metal door right off of it’s hinges. It was flung above his head and landed somewhere distant in the desert behind him.

“Could we keep the property damage to a minimum?” Aleta asked with a smile.

Joseph walked past her and into the building without replying. The interior was well lit and empty save for a large metal cylinder, with a green dome at it’s top, in the center of the room. It emitted an audible hum, and Joseph wondered at its function.

Aleta entered from behind him and studied the machine from closer quarters. She could not discern its purpose either.

“Looks like we came all this way for nothing,” Aleta said.

“No,” Joseph approached the machine and summoned all of the power at his command to make it shut down without a peep.

Several hundred kilometers to the north, a cliff face collapsed.

Daywalker and Ph-Eros

“See what happens when you try and play the hero?” Daywalker spat at Ph-Eros as he and two of his companions were led into a cave buried deep into the cliffside. “You can’t be a hero without making sacrifices. This is ours. We’re going to rot in this stinking – “

“Shut up!” one of his captors yelled, striking him in the back of the head with the butt of a long rifle. Daywalker’s head snapped forward, and a sickening snap could be heard as his neck joints bent too far. Daywalker immediately righted himself and gave his neck a stretch.

“My God,” Ph-Eros whispered. “At least I’ve guessed what your power is – you’ve got the power of no sense. How did that not send you to the ground sobbing like a baby?”

“Does it matter? We’ll be dead soon enough.”

“Maybe not. Doc Savage back there might be able to do something.”

Daywalker turned his head to face his other companion, and was once again rebuked with a rifle butt to the head. This time he was ready, and he managed to keep his head in roughly the position he had intended. He saw, behind him, a naked man with short black hair, a short black beard, and many wrinkles. His name was Stephen Strange, and his slight, elderly form hid enough power to secure the trio’s escape with relative ease.

They traveled deeper and deeper into the cave, and were finally led into a small cave that was set up as an office. Inside, a man with a grotesquely disfigured face – with scars making his eyes appear nearly closed and pockmarks across his face – sat at a desk and eyed them as their guards departed.

Also behind the desk stood the short leader of the Flying Skull Game team, Gethimnow. He had a broad grin on his face, and he reminded Daywalker of a little black goblin.

In the darkness of the far corner of the room, Daywalker heightened night-vision allowed him to notice a small glint of silver and a minute change in the level of darkness. Someone was standing there, hidden.

“I am Kal Jerico,” the disfigured man said, rising. “Please try to understand that we are not your enemies, only your manipulators. We want to use you to draw out Dragon’s Claws. Please do not take your kidnapping personally.”

“Oh, of course not,” Ph-Eros said sarcastically. “We’ll just sit down, bound and gagged like good little hostages and wait until you deign to let us go. Okay?”

A slight tremor rocked the cave complex.

“What was that?” Kal Jerico asked his lieutenant.

“Just a minor tremor, sir,” Gethimnow replied. “We get them all the time. The seismic monitors pick them up. They’re normally not strong enough for us to feel them, though.”

Kal Jerico nodded. “Very well. Now, strangers,” he said, facing Ph-Eros, Daywalker, and Doc Savage, “which team do you play for?”

“Team?” Ph-Eros asked. “We’re not gay, if that’s what you’re asking! At least, I’m not!”

“Shut up, Ph-Eros,” Daywalker snapped. “What do you mean, Mr. Jerico?”

“Your Game team. What is it?”

“We don’t even know what the Game is. We’re not from around here.” Daywalker said.

“Ah,” Jerico said wistfully. “Then I shall tell you. The Game was created years ago by the World Development Council, as a way to curb the civil unrest that plagues our world. The Game involves two teams fighting one another in the hope that either the other team will be knocked unconscious or that one team will reach a checkpoint behind enemy lines.

“Unfortunately, only a few years ago the Game was banned. However we, like many Game teams, have refused to go quietly into the night. We continue to play, on our own ground, and hope that one day we will be able to face the greatest team ever – Dragon’s Claws – despite their current contract with the W.D.C. to take out all Game teams.”

“Sir!” someone shouted as he ran into the room. “Sir! The cliff face has collapsed! We are trapped!”

Kal Jerico looked from the Exiles to the new arrival and then at his lieutenant. “Gethimnow, guard them,” he ordered. “Vorin, lead me to the cave-in.” He raced out of the room behind his office as Daywalker as Ph-Eros looked at one another slyly.

Gethimnow ran. He bolted for the door and, just before Daywalker could get hold of him, slammed his hand down on a concealed panel in the cave wall. Four solid bars sealed the small cave shut, and left Daywalker, Ph-Eros, and Doc Savage trapped.

“Wonderful,” Daywalker sighed.

Aleta and Joseph

“What was that for?!?” Aleta asked angrily. “That machine could have been used for anything.”

“It was transmitting a signal, hidden within the electrical currents,” Joseph said. “I could barely pick up on it, and couldn’t even begin to decode it. Anything that is encoded must be bad.”

“How did you come to that conclusion?”

“Instinct. I haven’t questioned either of your mysterious epiphanies, have I?” Joseph snapped. “Please, let us join Scamp. Perhaps she and Firefly have discovered the signal’s destination.”

“Fine,” Aleta said. She took to the air and blew past Joseph, and within seconds was out of sight.

Firefly and Scamp

They approached the settlement on foot, in order to avoid upsetting any locals that saw them enter. Despite the fact that Firefly could see no people from the air, the settlement was crawling with humans, all under cover to protect themselves from the harsh desert sun.

No-one paid any particular attention to the outlandish costumes that they wore. Scamp was dressed in a tight red and blue lycra suit while Firefly’s garb was made of ‘unstable molecules’ and perfectly conformed to any position his body might be in. It was the same colour as long dried blood, and he had planned to change it before being plucked away from his homeworld.

They approached a woman who was manning a food stall with a very young baby boy beside her. There were no other customers, so they immediately received her full attention.

“I have a gun. Try it, and you’ll both die,” she said calmly.

“Try what?” Firefly asked. “We just want to ask you some questions.”

“Sure,” the woman said, “and I’m the President of the World Development Council. You Gamers are all alike; stealing my fruit, trying to kill my husband…”

“Excuse me? I don’t think we’re on the same wavelength here, Miss…?”

“Deller, and I’m giving you three seconds to leave before – “

The woman was interrupted by the sudden arrival of Aleta. Aleta had long since lost Joseph and was angry enough that she simply took over Scamp and Firefly’s inquiries.

“Miss, we are looking for a man named Spratt. He is a gang member. Where do we look?” she asked.

The woman considered pulling her gun out, but decided against it. Instead, she pointed off to a building less than ten minutes away. “That’s the Dragon’s Claws’ base,” she explained. “They’ll know where to find any Game player.”

“Thank you,” she said while turning to face Scamp and Firefly, “Follow me.”

They did.

Doc Savage

“So, how do we get out?” Ph-Eros asked. “I’m pretty useless against steel bars.”

Daywalker stepped up to the bars and grabbed them tightly. Pulling with all his strength, he elicited a loud groan from two of the bars but only managed to bend them slightly.

“Whew! Strong, too – you’re everythin’ a gal could want!” Ph-Eros said.

“Shut up,” Daywalker snapped. “We have to get out of here. Why don’t you just turn the doctor here back into Doc Savage?”

“That won’t be necessary,” the doctor said. He flicked his wrist, in the bars were retracted back into the ceiling. Ph-Eros and Daywalker looked dumbfounded.

“If you could do that all along, why didn’t you do it earlier?” Daywalker demanded.

“I did not want to,” the doctor replied stoically. “Please do not raise your voice. That will make me angry, and you won’t like me when I’m angry.”

“I DON’T LIKE YOU NOW!” Daywalker shouted. “This whole thing blows. I want to go somewhere else. Now!” He turned to leave the cavern, but found a silver clad figure blocking his path. The figure was entirely covered in silver and black armour, with a long silver cape flowing behind him. Curved blades emanated from various points on his armour, including the wrists, ankles, elbows, forehead, and back – and an apparently autonomous tail was pressed against his back.

“I am the Scorpion,” it said, “and I can give you what you want, Richie Blade – but you have a duty to perform now. I am here to help you with that. When you are truly ready to leave, you may call on me for help.”

“I’m ready to leave now!” Daywalker snapped.

“Very well,” the Scorpion said. “I will give you what you truly want, but bear in mind that I may call on you for help in the future.” He began to unbuckle his breastplate.

“Hang on…!” Ph-Eros said.

The Scorpion finished removing his breastplate, exposing a black area that appeared to go on forever. In the center was a tiny silver dot.

“Reach for that point, Richie Blade, to be set on the path to your heart’s desire.”

Daywalker did as he was told, and he, Ph-Eros and the doctor were drawn into the Scorpion’s maw.

Dragon’s Claws’ Base

Aleta thumped loudly on the door of the three storey building that served as the base of Dragon’s Claws. It took several knocks before she received a response but, while she was knocking, Daywalker, Ph-Eros, and the doctor appeared beside her.

“Isn’t anyone going to ask where we came from?” Ph-Eros asked.

“I’ve been doing this long enough to know that if you had anything worth telling us you would tell us without a prompt,” Aleta replied, and kept knocking. Suddenly, a black man in a red cap answered the door.

“We’re the Exiles,” Aleta said, “and we want to speak to your leader.”

The man stepped back from the door for a moment, and Aleta heard some quiet voices whispering behind the door. After a few moments, the door was opened, and Aleta, Daywalker, Scamp, Ph-Eros, Firefly, and the doctor were ushered into the building.

They were led down several corridors until they found themselves in a large, open area. Debris was strewn around in a fairly random way, and before any of the Exiles could ask for an explanation that man that had served as their guide hidden himself somewhere among the debris.

A second later, a loud authoritarian voice could be heard over the loud speaker. “Okay, ‘Exiles’,” it said. “You wanted to play – but you should have chosen another team to fight. We’re Dragon’s Claws – and we play for keeps!”

NEXT ISSUE: The Final Showdown! Death’s Head finally shows his face!

Written by Adrian J. Watts of SoftPixels.net

STEVE GILMORE’S MUSIC REVIEWS: NARYKCIN – WHAT

You can listen to this artist on Soundclick

Another new Soundclick name to me this month, Narykcin hail from the same town as my in-laws, Lancaster PA, but that – as usual – won’t cut much ice. Don’t let the Instrumentals: Hip Hop genre fool you though because underneath the terse title lies something that may very well interest you. To be honest, I was watching this move up the review list without much enthusiasm because of that genre label – after all it IS a genre filled to the brim with disappointments – and not because I am antagonistic about the genre because I’m not. In fact I’m a bit of a hip hop hound because the one thing it does is experiment with rhythms and meter – as well as being well cutting edge when it wants to be – and that right there is all the main food groups I need.

As if to prove my point, Narykcin states on What’s song comments ‘I doubt if you’ve ever heard anything like it’ and I doubt it too. No matter what you may be expecting to hear, What will bash that thought right into next week as it’s essential weirdness registers on your brain. Hip hop maybe, but not as we know it Jim. Not unless you are talking about 17th Century hip hop anyway. Essentially a piano piece, What bounds through your ears like a sleek cheetah, it’s tinkly tones dripping into your senses like healing balm and – I have to admit – makes a very pleasant listen for it’s quite short (2:11) length. Personally, if this could have gone on another minute or so it would have made me happy but what I got did more than enough for me to be thankful I heard it.

It is a sure bet that you won’t have heard a blending of styles like this, but it isn’t without its pitfalls. There is a high level of noise on the track (from where I am not sure) and the piano tone itself tends to be a bit shrill, strident, and the whole track suffers somewhat from flatness both in the mix and in the sounds of the individual instruments. That does detract quite badly from what is otherwise a highly commendable track with its own sense of itself. The ending is also so abrupt that it leaves a noticeable note behind as a poor sad orphan. My sense is that this track was made (even recorded) on a most basic system with little or no production work and that if a remix were possible, this track would definitely raise some big time eyebrows. My recommendation is purely on the music alone, because the production quality is this tracks biggest failing.

Recommended (for the musical idea)

Written by Steve Gilmore

GUEST PUBLICATION SPOTLIGHT: Blackfriars Bestiary – 2.0 – 2001 by Matthew Cavazos

He was very cross with himself, little more than an hour had passed in the nicotine smoke addled pub he had settled himself into and there was no sign of the man whom called him to this very place.

It was unusual for Chance to, well, take such an offhand chance and bring himself into an open and very exposed environment such as this, but the reverie of youth and his own penchant for establishments that promoted his two most favourite of vices seemed to draw him out with little reluctance.

But one thing was for certain, whomever was at the other end of the telephone call had an absolutely terrible taste in atmosphere, he reflected, as the twangs of guitar riffs coupled with the heavily accented lyrics of a country song reverberated off the western décor of the bar.

Chance sat in the midst of it all whilst savouring every remaining drag of his cigarette. Each nicotine cloud he exhaled was followed closely by a half-muttered curse, all directed towards his own person, for forgetting to pick up a fresh pack.

As another depressing number was dispensed by the glitzy CD-jukebox an odd pair ambled into the trench coat bearer’s line of sight.

Curious, he changed his focus from the graffiti etched into the countertop’s surface to the figures that slowly approached him. Not one to be unprepared, Chance fleetingly glanced up and found himself staring right at the beginnings of one of a myriad of jokes that usually involved the likes of priests, rabbis, and naked men or some kind of barnyard animal; but now it was just a slightly new variation involving a rather short cowboy, a large man clad in a zipper covered gimp suit, and a former MI-6 Operative.

Do you want to read more? Follow this link for a FREE copy of Blackfriars Bestiary via Smashwords

SPOTLIGHT: VOICES FROM A COMA – ISSUE TWO – SYLVIA’S PICTURES BY DJ TYRER

YOU CAN DOWNLOAD IT FOR FREE HERE: VOICES #2

The Zombie Blackmailers of Panocadia Three by Dave Fragments

The Train Set by Matthew Wilson

The Chalice by Paul Melhuish

Sylvia’s Pictures by DJ Tyrer

Burned Toast by Michael McGlade

Mum’s the Word by Bryn Fortey

Siphon by Kerry Lipp

Edited by Shaun AJ Hamilton

Artwork by Iestyn Rhobet

Sylvia sits alone in her room, drawing. She is up there with her pencils and her pastels as much as we will let her and more besides. Sylvia is obsessed with drawing, and it is always the same image. Over and over again. I don’t know if she’s disturbed, but it disturbs me.

Sylvia isn’t my daughter. I’m not sure if that excuses my unease towards her or if it makes me a bad person for not trying harder. Sometimes, I feel like the wicked stepmother. Sylvia’s mother was Peter’s first wife, Cassie. She disappeared about a year after Sylvia was born. I met Peter when Sylvia was eight, and we married a year later. That was two years ago – after Cassie had been declared dead. She probably was. Peter admitted she was eccentric, and I’d always guessed that was a euphemism for insane. In my darker moments, I sometimes wondered if Sylvia is mad like her mother.

YOU CAN READ MORE HERE: VOICES #2

MORE ABOUT DJ TYRER:

DJ Tyrer is the person behind Atlantean Publishing and has been widely published in anthologies and magazines in the UK, USA and elsewhere, most recently in State of Horror: Illinois (Charon Coin Press), Steampunk Cthulhu (Chaosium), Tales of the Dark Arts (Hazardous Press) and Cosmic Horror (Dark Hall Press), as well as in Sorcery & Sanctity: A Homage to Arthur Machen (Hieroglyphics Press), All Hallow’s Evil and Undead of Winter (both Mystery & Horror LLC) and Fossil Lake (Sabledrake Enterprises), and in addition, has a novella available on the Kindle, The Yellow House (Dynatox Ministries).

DJ Tyrer’s website is at http://djtyrer.blogspot.co.uk/

The Atlantean Publishing website is at http://atlanteanpublishing.blogspot.co.uk/

POETRY: TALK TO ME WITH THE VIOLENCE IN YOUR EYES BY PAUL TRISTRAM

So I stuttered like a teenager

Cumming his load for the first time.

I watched the bottom of her leg,

As off she walked

And the police cars arrived.

I fought the street with a

Half house brick in my hand

Fighting like a hero.

The law, my birth,

My environment,

With everything I had.

As she walked away

With her back turned.

Written by Paul Tristram

MUSIC: HOWARD BILLINGTON – CAN YOU HEAR THIS?

STEVE GILMORE’S MUSIC REVIEWS: OMNISINE INCENSE BOY

You can listen to this artist on Soundclick

Omnisine. Mmmmmm! Not, as you might imagine, a newcomer to Soundclick, more like a new name for an old face. You might know him better as CJ Freq X, but this is his new moniker so you’d better get used to it. Personally I think it fits him quite well because he is one of the very few electronica artists around who is omni everything. A lot of his work is informed, after all, by his origins. Omnisine is Chitrang Jagdish (CJ Freq X geddit??), from Mumbai who made a big impression on me with Psycho Rampage (October 2005) but made an even bigger impression with subsequent tracks and has since become a valued artist to this reviewer, and I suspect a great many of his peers too.

So, let’s see what’s under this shiny new getup of his…

Now being the kind of musician I am, how could something described as ‘an arabic house track with psychedelic overtones’ not have lasting appeal for me. All my main food groups all tied up in a neat little package, hell yeah! Incense Boy is a bit of a work in progress but you wouldn’t believe that for a minute when you strap this animal to your ears, because you’ll be too busy gawping at the whizzing past scenery, the deft little touches and a beat guzzling drum track ensures maximum friction to the aural pleasure zones (oh yeah baby do it do it!!) Ahem. I apologize for the descent into the gutter; I had a temporary sticky situation developing, and we can’t have any of that. Oh no.

You can, however, get tons and tons of Incense Boy with no ill effects whatsoever and a shed load of benefits into the bargain. You’d have a ridiculous smile plastered all over your face, and the neck nods of the spastically challenged, but BOY would it feel good. What about that eh? Managed to breach two infractions of the politically correct school in the same number of paragraphs. You don’t see that every day. Although you’ll need to like your electronica, I think even a casual listener would get off on the lively up yourself feel of this excellent slice of electronica. Oh, it’s produced to a dazzling gloss too, and that surely should get an extra special mention.

Top Rate Electronica.

Written by Steve Gilmore

GUEST PUBLICATION SPOTLIGHT: Blackfriars Bestiary – 2.0 – Talisman “A Room with a View” by Robbie Lizhini

The stinging smell of chlorine and disinfectant seemed to penetrate everything from her clothing, to her bed sheets, to the steaming bowl of ‘Cream of Fuck-all’ Soup. It didn’t help matters that the room she was imprisoned in was completely devoid of colour.

The walls, the floor, even the latched door knobs were bathed in an unstained white. It was as though a painter had just whitewashed the whole of the perfectly square room, and to top it off decided to install the brightest light bulb imaginable into the overhead ceiling lamp. It was almost surreal, or else she was imagining the whole thing. That could explain the straight jacket that was tightly fastened across her narrow chest and small shoulders.

She was Shelia Torrance, and for a week now she had been in this singular room. Stuck in an imprisonment that gave no sounds but her own breathing, no smells but the disinfectant, and no taste but the salt of her lip when her tongue licked across her chapped mouth. She would have had no tonality at all if it wasn’t for her dark ebony skin to remind her, that she was she.

Do you want to read more? Follow this link for a FREE copy of Blackfriars Bestiary via Smashwords