Al Boudreau's Blog, page 4
July 30, 2011
"Erotica in the Cage" ~the prompt~
A smokin' hot welcome, Amelia, and Eden, to 
"Erotica in the Cage." As you know, this is a no-holds-barred competition, so give it your all and dazzle us with your ultra-stimulating writing skills. You will be allowed a maximum of 2,ooo words, and will have 24 hrs. to complete this challenge. The deadline is tomorrow, at 12 pm noon, EDT, Sunday, July 31st. Good luck to both of you, my worthy combatants. We're all piqued with curiousity to see your stories; I'm sure they'll sizzle.
~The Prompt~
Vince Manning awoke with high hopes for his Friday night. His high school sweetheart, Chelsea, who he'd been with now for nine years, had plans for the weekend to hang out with her old roommate from college. This left Vince free for the evening to hit happy hour with his co-workers at the local pub, including the smoking-hot Jessica. And they'd been talking about it for days.
Jess was the same height as Chelsea, and both had long straight, brunette hair, but that's where the similarities ended. He knew he could have Jessica, and was looking forward to the pub. Yet, as fate would have it, upon arriving for work, he discovered Jessica was out today.
Profoundly disappointed, Vince later bowed out of the early evening festivities and headed back to his apartment. Upon arrival, he entered his bedroom and was startled. His girlfriend was under the covers, face-down, with nothing showing but her shiny hair.
"Babe, what are you still doing here?" he asked.
"Well hello, sweet thing," his co-worker Jessica said as she rolled over and looked him up and down.
"Jessica…what the—"
*****
Eden…Amelia…there you go. Take this scenario, and do what you do best; give us a pair of short stories that will make us sweat. There can only be one winner, so tittilate us to the max with your erotic stylings.
Again, best of luck to both combatants. This much-anticipated pair of stories will post Sunday, June 26th, by 1 PM EDT, and will be shown without author attribution, to make the voting as unbiased as possible. Readers will be able to vote until 6 PM on Wednesday, August 3rd.
Let this ~Erotica Cage Match~ begin.
All the best, AB
July 10, 2011
"For those of you about to chat" #isaluteyou
Hey, everyone. I've had a number of people ask me specific questions about how to do this or that lately. More specifically, "what can they do to network more effectively and grow their platforms?" And I've done my best to share some of my thoughts with quite a number of you. But the bottom line is this…
You're not me, and I'm not you.
Each individual has to develop their own path. What works for Joe, may not work for Schmoe. Perhaps a mix of practices and habits from a handful of colleagues could work best for you. From my perspective, it would be great to hear what you all have to say about your own journeys. Maybe that little tip you share with someone will be the key to their success. Stranger things have been known to happen. Blogs are great, but it's time to try something different.
Are you with me so far?
Here's what I'm going to do. Every so often while on Twitter, perhaps twice a week, I'm going to throw out a question that I'd love you to respond to. I tried this earlier in the week, asking for your thoughts on naming ebooks by the same name as other author's works; I was pleased with the number, and quality, of responses.
So…I'm doing it again tonite, around 8pm EDT. I'll do my best to respond to everyone, if able. Think of this as an impromptu town hall meeting about indie stuff. I like the short-notice aspect about this, as it keeps things loose, and laid-back.
The way I see it, if you're meant to be there, chances are we're about to chat.
Cheers everyone, Al
PS: I hope you'll scroll down and check out my great friend, AJ Powers's interview before you bail outta here. We both thank you.
July 4, 2011
An interview with AJ Powers
Congratulations, once again, to AJ Powers, winner of "Thriller in the Cage." I asked AJ some questions about his experiences as a writer. Pour yourself a beverage, make yourself comfortable, and get ready to learn more about AJ and his work.
AJ…When and why did you decide to start writing?
I've always loved to tell a story. When I was a kid and played with my GI Joes or Micro Machines it wasn't just random and pointless battles. My toys always had "Missions" they were sent on. There was always deep plot lines with epic moments and twists throughout…Well as epic as a story can be for an eight year old.
Eventually my desire to tell a story grew and I branched out into comic books. Drawing and writing them at a very young age, I was fond of creating new stories for the X-Men or The Terminator. I did this a lot with my long time childhood friend, Cory. We'd sit up on his porch and just draw various comics. My stories usually were more focused on the story than the drawing.
I ended up (as many of you know) doing the whole art thing for a living. I got into video games because one game in particular I played in 1999 was not only incredibly fun and good looking, but had a fantastic story (This game was called Half-Life). I decided to become a professional game developer where I would have the opportunity to tell a story through my art. Through the years, however, I've found that many games lack a compelling story, and even fewer tell stories through their art. It's usually just enough to get the players from A to Z. This fueled me to put my stories on paper.
What life experiences have best prepared you for being a writer?
It's kind of difficult to pick any one or two things to say that prepared me for being a writer. If I had to pick something, I guess being in the game industry has really helped. Though most games lack compelling stories, some really did incredible jobs and were on par with a good book or film. Being in a creative industry has my gears turning 24/7. For a number of years I have been thinking of ideas for the next great game. When I do that, though, it's always a story first, game second. I have a number of stories I plan to develop as novels that originally started out as a video game idea. Including an Epic Dark Fantasy and a Sci-Fi Tech Thriller.
It comes at a price though. I can't turn it off. So every book I read, every film I watch, every game I play, even articles I read in the news, my mind will isolate something that is insignificant to that story, and start to run with it and turn it into something much more. It's nice to have a vivid imagination, but it makes enjoying a movie difficult 
Please tell us about your latest work and what genre it falls into.
Loose Ends is my debut novella that I released in April. It is a thriller about a hitman and his good friend who acts as a sort of sidekick. Told from the point-of-view of the hitman (Eric Caldwell); Caldwell is hired to take out a mark that seemingly will be one of the easiest hits of his career. However, through research and investigation of the target, Caldwell begins to blur the lines between personal and professional motives for assassinating the man, and clouding his judgment along the way.
What were your inspirations for writing it?
Well I am a big fan of the hitman video game series. It's a game that actually feels like they put a lot of thought into their storyline (though I think many people don't "get" it). But in general there's something compelling about a hitman for a good thriller story. Just seems like you're never really limited to the types of situations a hitman could get into, which leaves you with a lot of room for storytelling.
An interesting side note on how this story got started. I was picking up some groceries and I was walking out of the store and heard someone say some sort of phrase. Instantly I thought "Wow that would make a great book title." Then I started to think about what kind of book. As soon as I thought of that, I instantly had the end scene already in my head. I had everything planned out to write down as soon as I got back home. Once I got home, I had forgotten the phrase I was going to use as a title and to this day can't remember it. The working title was "Cross the T's" before I came up with Loose Ends.
Please describe your writing process for our readers.
Haha this is a tough one. I haven't really "found" my writing process yet. I keep trying different things as I work on new pieces. I have found a few consistent techniques I use though.
I have a "scribble" file. This is just a word document that has any and every idea I can think of for stories. I think this is between 10k and 20k words right now and they are just high level ideas and cool little story elements I think of for the idea. Loose Ends started this way, and so did the current novel I'm writing.
Loose Ends I just up and wrote. No outline, no significant planning, just went in and let the story tell itself. I enjoyed this method but it only worked for me because LE was a novella. It wasn't long enough to have to develop longer term story elements. So for my current novel I have developed a very loose outline. I don't want to limit myself through my outline, but it can be an incredible tool to help guide me through the story at a high level. To give you an indication how lax my outlines are, I had one chapter I outlined, and when I finally wrote it out it turned into 3 (Possibly 4) chapters.
After I finish a rough draft, I like to give at least 4-6 weeks of a cool down period where I don't open that document, period. That way when I read it, it's fresh to my mind and I can find the problems within the story much easier than if I had started to read it immediately after finishing.
To what degree are your fictional characters based in reality?
Honestly, very little. I take a lot of the information that I know (Weapons, computer tech, etc) and put that to use, but I don't really have any people in reality in mind. I do, however, like to have my characters feel like they are believable in a realistic situation; someone who is flawed, and makes mistakes. I feel this makes the reader relate a bit more with the hero (or even villain).
Can you tell us about your any upcoming projects?
I am about 1/3rd of the way finished writing my first full length novel. It's a sci-fi suspense/thriller about a father and son's journey to save their family from certain death. The story revolves around love, and the lengths that a man will go for it, good or bad.
Would you like to experiment with a different genre?
Sure, as I mentioned just previously I am going with a sci-fi story next, though it does dabble in the thriller genre again. However, I have several stories brewing in my head for the future, from a murder mystery all the way to a dark fantasy story. I am pretty open to any genre, so long as there's a good story there in my head.
Describe your ideal surroundings or conditions for writing.
It's pretty simplistic. I like a dark room, my laptop and deep/dark ambient music. Even if what I am writing is not dark, the dark ambient music can completely clear my mind and allow me to write without distraction. Darkness in the room minimizes visual distraction, and my laptop doesn't have Tweetdeck, and other messenger services running. It's all about keeping the distractions at bay.
Do you have any writing idiosyncrasies?
I suppose the fact that I design my own book covers too. And at times I'll even start designing a cover idea before I am fully finished with the story, and that cover idea can actually inspire scenes in the book instead of the other way around.
Briefly share your thoughts on traditional publishing vs. indie.
I wrote a big blog on this a while ago, actually. I am definitely expecting (and already seeing) great things coming from the indie world. Would I want to see my books on store shelves someday? Sure would. Do I expect to do it through traditional publishing? Not really, and that's okay. I think with the direction the indie book world is going that there will be huge advancements in the coming years for the indie world. Amazon is already making significant strides with indie books being printed on paper for very affordable prices with little to no cost up front for the author. Things that we couldn't even dream about doing five years ago are already happening today. I only expect the the pastures to get even greener for that world.
What advice can you share with first-time writers?
It's the most simplistic and straightforward suggestion that most people reading this would laugh at, but I feel this is a more common issue than we'd like to think.
READ.
I have come across so many people who say "Hey, I have a great idea, so I am going to write a book and become rich and famous." I usually ask "Oh who's your favorite author?" or "What's your favorite book?" With an all to common response "Well, I don't really read much, but I do watch movies!" That drives me absolutely nuts! An author who doesn't read other books is like a musician who doesn't listen to music, a cook who doesn't taste food, an athlete who never competes, etc. Reading, in my opinion, is the author's way to exercise, and if you don't read I think it's safe to say that you will not likely succeed as a writer. In a sense, it's insulting to other authors to try and write a book and expect it to sell well when you aren't willing to put in the time and effort to read a book.
Bio and Contact Information
AJ is a professional game developer by day. When not creating 3D worlds for players to explore, he is either writing, spending time with his wife LoraJo, watching/playing sports, and just enjoying life. AJ's first novella, Loose Ends, was released in April of this year, and hopes to have his first full length novel released this fall.
The genres AJ writes include thrillers, sci-fi, fantasy, and mystery.
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/pages/AJ-Powers/202851139733141
Twitter: @aj_powers
Web Site: http://www.twistedlexicon.com
Smashwords or other links: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/52888
June 29, 2011
"Thriller in the Cage" ~the results~
Hello everyone…the voting is done, and the third "In the Cage" series battle has been fought and won.
AJ Powers is the "Thriller in the Cage" winner with his story entitled "Hook, Line, and Sinker." Congratulations to both combatants…Janelle Jensen really held her own with "Cause and Effect."
AJ walks away from "The Cage" with bragging rights and an interview on my blog which will post this coming Sunday morning.
AJ, and Janelle…thank you so much for participating in this fantastic bout. You are wonderful writers, and I'm honored to have hosted you both.
June 26, 2011
"Thriller in the Cage" ~the battle begins~
Janelle, and AJ…I'd like to congratulate you for writing two fantastic shorts. May the best writer win.
This cage match has become an intense battle, ladies, and gentlemen. Please read the following pair of shorts then cast a vote for your favorite. The stories are shown without writer attribution to keep things as fair, and unbiased, as possible. The poll will be open until 6 PM on Wednesday, June 29th. At that time a winner will be announced, and will be interviewed on this blog on Sunday, July 3rd.
I've included the prompt below, with the stories to follow. The poll is located at the end of the second story. Thank you in advance for your vote.
The Prompt
Senator Douglas Roberts, wife Meg, and 3 year old daughter, Emlyn, were strolling down the hall of the Russell Senate Office Building, when they encountered a fellow senator. As they paused just outside Douglas's office, the young couple became immersed in conversation with the fellow politician.
Unbeknownst to the couple, young Emlyn opened the door and entered her father's office, heading directly for the enticing box with the flashing lights, and digital numbers, laying in the corner.
The Douglas's heard a high-pitched scream eminate from inside the office. The couple rushed in to find their daughter crawling across the carpet, her hand caught in the mechanism of what appeared to be an intricate explosive device.
The pair froze in horror, when suddenly a movement in their peripheral vision caught their attention. A middle-aged man, of foreign descent, made for the door.
Hook, Line, and Sinker
Senator Douglas Roberts stepped out of the comfort of his heated car and into the brisk October temperatures in Washington D.C. Just two days earlier it had snowed in the "Heart of Democracy"; a concept lost on the Texas senator.
Douglas, with his wife and daughter trailing a few feet behind, walked across the secured parking lot to a private entrance of the Russell Senate Office.
"Good morning Senator Roberts," a youthful security guard greeted the middle aged senator. "You're here a bit early. Even for you, sir," he said as he looked down at his wristwatch.
Douglas checked his phone; it was quarter 'til eight. "Yep," the senator replied. "I just need to tie up a few loose ends in the office, and then I'm taking the family up to Baltimore for the day." The senator was excited to spend a day off with his family. It would be the first in quite a while.
The security guard scanned Douglas's security badge then opened the door. "Well, safe travels, sir. Have a good day."
"Thank you," Douglas said as he motioned for his wife and daughter to pass through the door.
The family walked inside and made their way to the rotunda. Though a little out of the way from Douglas's office, Emlyn, the couple's three-year-old daughter, loved walking through the cavernous room, and giggled the entire time.
Douglas's leather Oxfords echoed throughout the large space; part of the reason why Emlyn enjoyed the room so much. Douglas didn't often come this way, out of convenience, but did enjoy observing the beauty of the architecture. The columns, the sculptures, the unbelievable craftsmanship of those who built the room; it was nothing short of inspiring.
A few offices down from the senator's, a familiar voice called from behind the family.
Douglas turned around, already certain of who had spoken. "John, how are you doing?" Douglas asked as he reached out to shake the man's hand.
"Doing well, Douglas. Doing well," the older gentleman replied.
"John, have you met my wife, Meg?" Douglas asked, going straight into introductions. "Meg, this is Senator John Pierce of Arizona."
Meg let go of Emlyn's hand to shake the elder senator's. "How do you do?" Meg politely replied.
While her parents chatted with the senator, Emlyn seized the opportunity to wander down the hall. She recognized her dinosaur drawing hanging on a window, indicating her father's office.
"Well, I must be going," Senator Pierce said after a few moments. "I am late for breakfast with my grandchildren," he said with a sense of pride. "Take care."
As Senator Pierce walked away, Douglas reached for Emlyn's hand, realizing she wasn't there. "Where'd Emlyn go?"
Douglas and Meg turned to see their daughter pushing his office door open.
"Again?" Douglas said as he rolled his eyes. "This is the third time this month my secretary forgot to lock the door," he said with frustration.
As the couple meandered toward the office, a sudden, high-pitched scream sent them in a full sprint the remainder of the way. With their hearts pounding and adrenaline pumping, the fearful parents shot through the door to see their daughter's hand clamped by a strange metal object sitting on the desk. Not too dissimilar from a bear trap, but without the teeth and much smaller. Emlyn cried in pain.
Confusion zoomed through the senator's mind as he ran across the room to his desk. What was this device and why was it in his office? His first priority, however, was to rescue his daughter's fragile hand from the jaws of this contraption.
As he got behind the desk he saw lights, wires, and a display that read 14:27, which was counting down. Just beneath that was a small block of compound wrapped in electrical tape. Having fought in the first gulf war, this wasn't Douglas's first encounter with an explosive device. His jaw dropped open and his eyes widened; his face painted with horror.
"What is it, Douglas?" Meg, near hysterics, asked her husband from across the room.
The lack of response from Douglas caused Meg to rush over to the desk with her hands over her mouth.
"No! Stop!" Douglas shouted as he motioned her to stop. "Don't move."
Meg stopped dead in her tracks; tears began to stream down her face.
A small box, about twice the size of the bomb and filled with Styrofoam peanuts sat to the right of the device. Seeing the box, the senator then realized that they had just interrupted an assassination attempt. That's when he noticed something move across the room.
A man jumped out from behind a large filing cabinet and darted to the door. Meg screamed in terror when she saw the intruder.
Douglas's instincts took control of his body, reacting faster than his mind could process everything. Carefully but also swiftly, he stepped away from his daughter and the device and moved towards the door. He stopped as he passed his wife, "Call the police, and don't let her move."
"What are you doing?" she practically demanded.
"Just do it!" Douglas said as he left the room.
Moving quickly, the senator made his way down the empty hallways in pursuit of the bomber. Though the assailant had a head start, he was a stockier man; Douglas guessed that he wasn't too fast on his feet.
Douglas rounded the corner of the hallway that led into the rotunda; the perpetrator was now in sight. The senator was closing the distance between the two. He had no idea what he was going to do when he actually captured the man, so he just focused on apprehending him first.
The ideal traction from the hallway carpet abruptly changed to smooth marble as the two entered the rotunda. Douglas was trailing about thirty feet when the man spun around, brandishing a pistol. As Douglas watched the man raise his arm, pistol in hand, his feet planted into the ground and stopped moving. The combination of slick soled shoes and marble floor made Douglas's feet slide out from beneath him, creating a sound that moments ago would have amused Emlyn. Just as the senator began to fall to the ground the gunman fired two rounds. The first missed the senator entirely; the second struck him in the shoulder.
Douglas smacked into the ground hard, but maintained his focused on the bomber. Dazed and wounded, he watched the man make his way across the rest of the rotunda when a guard busted through a door.
The gunman quickly shifted his focus to the guard, but, by that time, the guard had already fired three times. All three rounds hit center mass, just as the guard was trained to do.
"Noooooo!" Douglas shouted as he pushed himself up off the cold floor, paying little attention to the throbbing pains coming from his shoulder. He quickly ran over to the bloodied man.
The guard, confused and scared, tried to remain professional. "Senator Roberts, are you okay, sir?"
Douglas ignored the question as he towered over the gunman. The man was alive, but fading fast; blood had already started to pool around his body.
"How do I disarm the bomb?" Douglas demanded. The security guard's posture stiffened when the words left the senator's mouth.
The man laughed, almost menacingly. "No."
Douglas repeated his demand.
"You don't worry about bomb," the man said with broken English; his voice deep and thick with a Russian accent. He laughed again and closed his eyes.
Douglas placed his foot on the man's chest and firmly pressed down. The dying Russian groaned in pain. "Tell me now!" Douglas shouted, but the groans had stopped.
Douglas backed away from the corpse; he placed his hands on top of his head and stared at the lifeless body of the only man that could save his daughter.
In the distance, Douglas could hear the faint sound of approaching police cars. He ran back to his office where two guards were now present with his family. As Douglas came through the door Meg began to cry. Tears brought on by the sight of her bloodied husband standing alone.
Douglas looked down at the timer; it now read 2:54. "Meg, you need to get out of the building, now."
"No, Douglas, I am not leaving!" she fired back.
Douglas walked over to his wife and kissed her on the forehead, momentarily forgetting about the chaos that surrounded them. He stared deep into her eyes. "Megan, I love you. Go, please."
Before she could argue further, Douglas told the security guards to take her outside. The guards each grabbed on to an arm and escorted the crying woman over to the door where they stopped for a moment.
"Sir?" one of the guards said.
Douglas looked at his daughter, her arm stuck to an explosive. "I'm staying."
Meg's heavy sobs intensified, making breathing more difficult. After a moment, she passed out. Probably for the best, Douglas thought.
Douglas embraced his daughter and watched the display hit 1:00.
Emlyn, still oblivious to the grave situation, asked "Daddy, when I get the booboo fixed can we go out for ice cream?"
Senator Douglas Roberts could no longer fight the emotions and began to cry. He felt terrible for not being strong for his daughter when she needed him most and quickly regained his composure.
"What's wrong daddy? Why are you crying?" the little girl asked.
Douglas rubbed his eyes. "Nothing sweetheart, everything's fine," he lied.
He kissed the top of her head and saw the timer hit 15 seconds. He closed his eyes and began to pray; he couldn't look at the timer any longer. After the senator had guessed about 12 seconds had passed, his body tightened.
"It's all done, daddy," Emlyn said.
Douglas opened his eyes; the display read 00:00.
The senator was overcome with an unexplainable feeling, as if he somehow played a game of chicken with death, and death flinched first. It was just then he heard the sound of boots marching down the hallway.
Four SWAT officers came through the door and immediately cleared the room for the bomb squad to enter.
"What took you guys so long?" Douglas impatiently asked.
"Sir, three other bombs just like this were found at the Smithsonian, the subway, and the Department of Treasury. It's complete insanity out on the streets. Every cop, FBI, CIA, and Secret Service agent in DC is over here," the SWAT element leader responded.
"Are we being attacked?" the senator asked.
"It looks that way, sir."
A man from the bomb squad got into place to free Emlyn from the clasp. "Sir we need you to step out now, let the experts take it from here, she will be fine," the bomb technician said.
Douglas released his grip around his daughter and began to walk across the room. Before he reached the door the radios went off. "This is Bravo 4, negative detonation at the Smithsonian. It's a dud. Over."
Two more similar reports about the subway and Department of Treasury immediately followed. No bombs had been detonated.
No more than five seconds later the bomb technician announced "Uhm, this isn't an explosive."
The senator, along with the rest of the officers standing near the door, was speechless.
"It feels almost like," the man paused for a moment, trying to think of a suitable comparison. "modeling clay."
None of this made any sense.
"Lincoln One this is dispatch," the radio interrupted the confused silence.
The element leader pulled the radio to his mouth. "Dispatch, Lincoln One, go,"
"Silent alarms have been tripped at the State Department Federal Credit Union, apparent robbery in progress. Over," the radio reported.
The element leader looked up at another officer. "That's all the way over on 3rd; it'll take us at least 25 minutes to get over there with that mess outside."
It all became clear at that moment what had just happened. The police had taken the bait; hook, line, and sinker.
Cause & Effect
"Harris, I'm telling you, I won't do it. I will not allow the immigration enforcement act to be appealed. I know you think that I'll change my vote so that you'll cast your vote in approval of my committee oversight bill that's being sent to the floor next month, but I won't." Senator Douglas Roberts was tired of having this same conversation with fellow Senator Adam Harris. This was not a conversation that should have even happened with his wife, Meg, by his side, and his daughter Emlyn staring up at them both with wide eyes. He was just stopping by to drop off paperwork in his office in the Russell Building, when he saw Harris standing by the open door to his suite.
"Doug, there has to be a way for us to compromise. You want your bill passed; the bill you wrote and have been trying to get to the floor for months now. This is how to get it done!" Adam Harris had been a Senator for eleven years now. His seat was coming up for re-election soon, and his campaign was not going to be stalled by this man who was had only been seated for two years and was still wet behind the ears. He glanced past Roberts down the hall. "We need to talk about this in the morning. Put me on your schedule."
Roberts was about to protest the need for a conference regarding a subject he had no intention of budging on, when a shrill scream cut through the air. He looked through the open doorway to his secretary's office, where the sound had come from, and saw nothing.
"Where's Emlyn?" he wife demanded. He pushed Harris aside and strode through the open doorway. His daughter was only three, but she knew better than to play in daddy's office. If she'd gotten into something, there would be punishment. As he walked past the Mary's desk, his secretary who was usually still in the office at this time, and opened to privacy door to his office, he was scarcely aware of someone making their way along the wall, heading towards the hallway. He didn't see Emlyn at first and thought she might be playing under his desk, when another scream drew his attention to the hearth of the fireplace. No flames licked over the wood that lay cold and charred from yesterday's fire, so at first he was relieved that she had not been burned.
Until he saw what made her scream. The skin between her thumb and forefinger on her right hand was pinched in a hinge. A hinge that was attached to a small black box with a blinking green light and bright red numbers. Numbers that, as he watched with horror, were steadily marching backwards. 9:38 and counting down. Meg, who had been following close behind, saw what had caught his attention and screamed, even louder than her daughter who was now whimpering. Suddenly, Emlyn shook her hand, trying to get the bad thing that had bitten her off of her hand. Nothing happened, so she shook harder.
Rooted to the spot where he stood, Douglas held his breath as the contraption flew off of her hand and bounced off of the ground. It rocked slightly then stilled, the numbers still decreasing. Meg flew past him and grabbed Emlyn, swinging her up into her arms as she started to back away, back towards her husband. Loud voices filled the room as security guards, who had been alerted to the commotion, rushed the room. Strong hands gripped his upper arms and pulled him back out of the office suite and into the hallway. He noticed that his wife was being forced down the hallway as well, away from the office door. Emlyn was crying now, her hand by her mouth, bright with blood.
Pulling himself together, he noticed a dark man standing against the wall, being held there firmly by a guard who demanded, "How do you disable it?"
The man, whom he recognized as Caliph, from the cleaning service, looked around wildly, his eyes rolling around frantically.
"Wait!" he yelled at the guard. "It's not him!" He explained quickly who Caliph was as the guard looked on doubtfully. "I'll stake our lives on it," he declared. "It's not him."
"It's true," Caliph exclaimed. "I was emptying the trash and saw the box. I was coming to tell you!"
Douglas raked his hands through his hair and pulled back from the guard who was trying to shove him down the hall. The sounds of other guards rapidly speaking into their radios were echoing in his head, and he shook it, trying to clear his mind.
"We have to evacuate!" the guard yelled. "Move, now!" Meg and Emlyn were already running with an escort towards the north stairwell.
He turned as he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He saw Harris backing away. Backing away from the guards, away from the stairwell. He caught Roberts looking at him and stopped, but it was too late.
"You," Roberts said softly, shocked.
"What are you talking about? Have you lost your mind? We have to get out here!" Harris shouted.
Roberts moved fast, grabbing him by the lapels of his suit. "Why? Was the vote that damned important?" He forgot for a moment the critical timing they were in and stared into the other man's eyes. He saw the anger banked there, and underneath, the fear. But not fear of the bomb. Fear of being caught. He didn't know how he knew the difference, but his gut twisted around it and clenched tight.
"Bastard," Harris hissed. "I only wanted to destroy your work."
This was insane. How had he not recognized that there was something truly wrong with Harris? He knew he'd had a rough time the past couple of years: a divorce, losing his kids, but this? Douglas couldn't believe that Harris would go this far.
Harris shoved hard against Robert's chest and broke down the hallway at a dead run. Roberts could hear the guard's shouting, but all he could think of was how this man had nearly destroyed his family. He started running after him, his feet pounding against the floor as he sought to catch up to the man who had caused all of this. Forgotten was the threat that still lingered on the Aubusson rug in his office.
Harris ran to the southwest entrance stairwell, and Roberts thought he was headed to the rotunda that was prominently supported by eighteen Corinthian columns and marble floors and led to the Caucus room. But Harris leapt down the stairs in bounds and continued his downward escape. He was headed for the tunnels, Roberts realized. The tunnels that led to the Capitol building. They were installed in the early 1900's so that the Senators could make their multiple daily trips to the Capitol with ease, but now they were another outlet for Harris to get away. Aside from the tracks that the open-car trolleys ran on, the tunnels also led to several other buildings in the vicinity. Those tunnels were not used as they were earlier in the previous century, but they still existed and had never been closed off. If Harris made it into one of the offshoot tunnels, the chances of catching him were slim.
Harris reached the platform of the one of the southbound trolley and saw by the clock on the wall that he was in luck. The trolley that ran to the Capitol building ran every ten minutes. From the time on the clock, it appeared that he had five minutes to make it into the tunnel, and from there into a side entrance he knew lay a hundred yards down the track. More than enough time. Since the catenary, or messenger, wires running the trolleys were off of the ground suspended above him in the aluminum duct work between the electrical towers, he knew he didn't have to worry about the third rail on the ground that most subways had.
He was halfway down the loading platform when he stumbled, the toe of his Gucci loafer catching in the uneven seam of the flooring. Being below the main floors, the maintenance work done down here was not as productive as on the parts of the building often viewed by the public.
He was still scrambling to regain his balance, when Roberts caught him about the waist and they both went down. Roberts landed roughly on top of him and brought his knee up sharply in between the other man's legs. This man had almost killed Emlyn, there would be no niceties here. As Harris doubled over on the floor, Roberts reared back and flipped Harris over onto his back. He drew back his fist and smashed it into his jaw, following with a sharp jab to his soft midsection.
Harris exhaled loudly and then brought both fists up to hammer them into Roberts' temples. Stunned momentarily, Roberts was knocked to the side as Harris rolled and came to his feet. He stood slowly and the two men stared at each other, breathing heavily. Harris knew if he attempted to make it into the tunnel, Roberts would be on his heels.
Shouts came from the stairwell, and the two guards who had been following Roberts came down onto the platform. Harris looked on, frustrated, as the guards split and began to circle around him. This was it, he was done. His career was finished, he knew. But he had known that in the instant he had started running. But now, the chances of him making it out of here were getting slimmer as each moment passed. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
Then the ground rumbled beneath his feet and his eyes flew open. He could hear the explosion from above ripping through the walls. The guards looked at each other and shook their heads. Nothing to be done about it now. They would have to deal with the aftermath, and the casualties, soon enough. Their problem was here, directly in front of them.
The explosion had distracted Roberts and the guards long enough for him to take action. As their heads swung back to his direction, they saw him slide something out of his pants pocket. Roberts recognized the material the slim box was constructed of as being the same as the box in his office.
His eyes flew up and met Harris' gaze. He watched as Harris smiled and thumbed a button that was partially embedded in the box's cover. There was a bright flash of white, and then nothing.
* * *
Chaos erupted on the lawn in front of the Russell Building. Senators, secretaries, and office workers who had come running out of the building moments prior were rocked by the explosion that came from the third floor. Some fell as they ran and tried to pull themselves to their feet as the shock of the blast stunned them. They turned and stared back at the building they worked in nearly every day. Stared in silence at the building that was built over a hundred years ago to emulate the design of the Louvre in Paris.
Meg held Emlyn in her arms, surrounded by men in uniforms who kept asking her the same questions. Couldn't they see she was no more aware of what was going on than they were? Her husband was still in there. In the confusion, she had lost sight of him and now she did not know if he had gotten out or not.
Then, even as she took a slight step forward, a second blast rocked the air. Much fainter than the first, but there was no denying what it was. She looked at the guard's faces and did not need to be told. The shock on their faces said it all. She knew, and started to scream.
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June 25, 2011
"Thriller in the Cage" ~the prompt~
A warm welcome, Janelle, and AJ, to "Thriller in the Cage." As you know, this is a no-holds-barred competition, so give it your all and dazzle us with your amazing writing skills. You will be allowed a maximum of 2,ooo words, and will have 24 hrs. to complete this challenge. The deadline is 12 pm noon, EDT, on Sunday, June 26th. Good luck to both of you, my worthy combatants. I trust you'll make the decision of which entry to vote for a difficult one, indeed.
~The Prompt~
Senator Douglas Roberts, wife Meg, and 3 year old daughter, Emlyn, were strolling down the hall of the Russell Senate Office Building, when they encountered a fellow senator. As they paused just outside Douglas's office, the young couple became immersed in conversation with the fellow politician.
Unbeknownst to the couple, young Emlyn opened the door and entered her father's office, heading directly for the enticing box with the flashing lights, and digital numbers, laying in the corner.
The Douglas's heard a high-pitched scream eminate from inside the office. The couple rushed in to find their daughter crawling across the carpet, her hand caught in the mechanism of what appeared to be an intricate explosive device.
The pair froze in horror, when suddenly a movement in their peripheral vision caught their attention. A middle-aged man, of foreign descent, made for the door.
***
Janelle…AJ…have at it. Take this situation, and give our readers a pair of epic thriller shorts. There can only be one winner, so give us your very best work
Again, best of luck to both combatants. This much-anticipated pair of stories will post Sunday, June 26th, by 1 PM EDT. The stories will be shown without author attribution, to make the voting as unbiased as possible. Readers will be able to vote until 6 PM on Wednesday, June 29th.
Let this ~Thriller Cage Match~ begin.
All the best, AB
June 12, 2011
~Book Blurb Contest~ the winning entry
In May, I asked readers to offer submissions for a new book blurb for my mystery/thriller, "In Memory of Greed." I stated that the prize-winning blurb must explain enough about the book to entice potential readers without giving too much away. And you delivered…so much so, that I had a very difficult time choosing the winning entry.
After much deliberation, I chose the following entry by D. Hardy. I'm very pleased by the quality of all the submissions I received. If you are an author, I would highly recommend this method of obtaining a successful blurb to pair with your own written works. I feel that writing a successful blurb for your own books is one of the most difficult aspects of marketing one's work.
I'm always interested in what you have to say, dear readers. Therefore, I have provided below, a copy of the new blurb vs. my own, original piece. I kept the original end paragraph, as it was the one aspect of my previous blurb that I was satisfied with.
I'd love to know what you think. Please feel free to leave me your opinions about the whole shebang. And, as always, thanks for visiting my blog.
All the best, AB
My original blurb
Murhkin Mocado, a twenty-nine year old, California native had it all … good job, good looks, and a solid handle on life. Upon leaving work one afternoon, a seemingly freak occurence changes everything. His decision to take action, a stunning attempt to save lives, carries with it unexpected repercussions. By the time day turns to night, he is charged with murder, set up for a crime he didn't commit.
Meanwhile, Joelle Barstow, a star within the industrial espionage community for well over a decade, finds herself cast deep inside an operation involving big business and government. The operative's skills are pushed to the limit while attempting to navigate this dangerous world of greed and power.
As their paths cross, Barstow attempts to warn Mocado of just how dangerous his plight really is. Mocado, manipulated by those who framed him, touches off a chain of events leading to one of the worst man-made ecological disasters in history.
Will Barstow unearth truths required to bring those responsible to justice? Will Mocado escape their clutches?
This mystery/thriller takes the reader on a rapid-fire adventure, beginning in the United States, careening through the breathtaking splendor of Ireland, and culminating in Kenya, one of the most exotic countries within the boundary of Africa's "Dark Continent."
The winning entry
You are an average guy with an average life. What if your normal day suddenly careened out of control? Imagine leaving work early, for a doctors appointment, only to be delayed by a potential catastrophe that you alone can avert. You spring into action, but end up being stymied by local authorities. By nightfall, you find yourself shot, laying in a hospital bed; accused of murder.
Such is the shocking reality of twenty-nine year old Murhkin Mocado. Unbeknownst to the California native, his skills as an ex-Navy SEAL have made him a target.
A powerful, corrupt group of individuals have set their sights on him, to help carry out their nefarious plans. Born of a relentless hunger for greed and power, these men are willing to sacrifice the lives of many to bring their insidious dreams to fruition.
However, the purveyors of evil deeds are also being watched by one Joelle Barstow, an operative well versed in the tradecraft of industrial espionage. Barstow is given a straight-forward assignment: to gather information on the CEO of a specific corporation. However, the operative quickly finds herself in over her head, as she inadvertently uncovers a web of corruption involving big business and government.
Once Barstow crosses paths with Murhkin Mocado, her skills are pushed to the limit, as she tries desperately to navigate this dangerous, and deadly world. Mocado, expertly manipulated by his devious handlers, initiates a chain of events leading to one of the worst, man-made, ecological disasters the world has ever known. Will the pair escape with their lives, in order to bring those responsible to justice?
This mystery/thriller takes the reader on a rapid-fire adventure, beginning in the United States, careening through the breathtaking splendor of Ireland, and culminating in Kenya; one of the most exotic countries within the boundaries of Africa's "Dark Continent."
June 5, 2011
An Interview with J. Jacen De La Garza
Congratulations, once again, to Joe De La Garza, winner of "Fantasy in the Cage." I asked Joe some questions about his experiences as a writer. Grab your favorite adult beverage, make yourself comfortable, and take a look at what makes J. J. De La Garza tick.
So Joe…when and why did you decide to start writing?
Seventh grade language arts class. I attended Alta Loma Junior High in Southern California's Inland Empire. I was not very interested in school and spent a lot of time as a truant beachcomber. One day when I did make it to school an assignment was given, one that piqued my interest. I was encouraged to write about anything I wanted, and in any format, I knew exactly what I wanted to do and I got to work. I wrote a short story detailing my life in California, thinly veiling my friends and activities on the page.
My teacher, Theresa Landorf, read it and asked me to stay after class. I fully expected to hear all that was wrong with what I wrote, but instead of a lecture she pointed out that my characters and story arc were very well defined. That the apparent ease in which I could communicate ideas and create scenes on the page was a gift, one that not everyone had and even fewer actually used. She said it wouldn't surprise her to read me one day as a published author. I never forgot her words and to this day am still inspired by the teacher who saw through my slacker facade and struck a chord within me. From that day on I knew what I wanted to do. I knew that one day I would be a writer.
That's a very interesting start, my friend. What life experiences have best prepared you for being a writer?
My best story ideas come from my dreams, which are very detailed and extremely vivid. I learned long ago to keep a pen and paper on my nightstand. I don't know if this qualifies as a "life experience" but this little quirk compels me to write.
Plot, characters, beginning, middle and end, they just show up and when they do it is a flurry of activity as I grasp at the misty little thoughts and commit them to paper before they fade away from this world and return to theirs.
Very cool. Can you tell us about your latest work and what genre it falls into.
Funny you should mention that, I was working on my collection of short stories called 4Track Demo (http://bit.ly/mmdt6v )…Then came Radjer.
I want to develop this character and cross into the realm of a graphic novelist. There are some very talented artists out there with whom I would love to collaborate and contribute my writing style to this method of storytelling.
Great idea. What were your inspirations for writing it?
I love big stories of good versus evil, and it doesn't get much bigger than the enslavement of all mankind. I feel like the time is right for tales that stray from the gray areas and deal with the black and white of what it is to be human by delving into the idea of deus ex machina in a modern setting. I am really tired of the jaded and cynical point of view that is so prevalent now, I want to write about the unknown and mysterious world that shrinks exponentially with every technological breakthrough we make.
How about your writing process? I'd love you to describe it for our readers.
Freeform idea session, no tech, just pen and paper! Taking ideas, jotting them down, having a drink and watching them dance. I make sure not to subject the work to the rules or boundaries of the latter stages of writing, in this stage of creation anything goes.
Then the edit begins, I am not such a fan of this side but I am learning to love it. Coffee drives this stage and this is where the mechanics of the story really shine and the machinery of my ideas begin to warm up. Things may go in an entirely different direction once the characters actually meet up on the page which is part of why I am loving the edit more and more.
I really like your process…especially the coffee part. Joe, to what degree are your fictional characters based in reality?
The honest answer here is that the motivations humans have to either hurt or harm each other in real life translate directly over to the page, so to a point they are all based in reality. The characters, although only puppets on a string, are moved and made real by the actions and feelings that we all share. The gossamer tethers I hold as an author, raising the hand of the character to lend a hand or point a gun, are manipulated in such a way to make the characters appear alive. They are always an amalgam of the human experience, never a direct copy of one person.
Very interesting, my friend. So…any upcoming projects you can tell us about?
A really big one is on my horizon that I am very excited about, in the near future I hope to ask everyone reading this interview to test drive a beta version, but you will just have to keep up with me on Twitter and Facebook for the big reveal!
Fair enough. Have you ever considered experimenting with a different genre?
There are so many out there, and the more writers I meet through social media I learn of more and more everyday. I'm always open to how the story unfolds, I don't like to pigeonhole myself as a writer of only one specific genre.
Joe…describe your ideal surroundings or conditions for writing, if you would.
It depends on if I am brainstorming or editing. The one common thread is music, I cannot hope to create without it, it is my muse and the bedrock of all my work.
Here's a loaded question for you; writing idiosyncrasies…got any?
Dreams, they are what give me my writing power. It was a real stretch to write from a prompt as in this battle, but while concocting the story of Radjer, I feel that mentally, I went to that same ethereal well in my subconscious. I went to the genesis of all my work and drew him from its deep waters.
You seem like a forward-thinking guy. What are your thoughts on traditional publishing vs. indie.
Do you have a while? Look, ten years ago NONE of this was remotely possible. I can't believe my stellar good fortune to be a writer at this moment in time. Technology has made it possible for you to read of Radjer and the Council of the Kings, to read this interview his story won for me and rebroadcast to your friends what you thought. In the dark ages you basically had to sell your soul to have any hope of anyone reading you, and there was the expense involved in printing a run of books and warehousing them, distributing and marketing them was a task best described as Herculean. Now with digital media and outlets such as the Twitter and Facebook, the sky is the limit!
I couldn't agree more. Do you have any advice you can share with first-time writers who might be reading this interview?
READ, READ, READ! I love to read all I can and take the time to marvel at the machinery the author uses to transport you to an entirely different place. I would also suggest that if you choose to write, never discount your ideas, no matter how small or seemingly random they may seem at the time, that idea may be the one you need later on. Each and every idea you have is a gift and should be treated as such, don't assume you'll remember it later…WRITE IT DOWN IMMEDIATELY!
Excellent advice, sir. Joe…thank you very much for sharing a bit about yourself with us today. Keep up the great work, and we look forward to reading many more pieces from you in the future.
Thank you.
Biograpy: J. Jacen De La Garza is a writer seeking to put another worldly spin on the mundane and common, he has a compulsion to make the reader reassess what they know of the world, is it one free of monsters?
Cultivated from the heat and hills of South Texas, his style draws heavily from the experience of living in a land with ties to the murky and distant past.
In those same oak covered hills he lives with his wife, Veronica and three children. They are the reason he chases this crazy dream. Once you have read this writer's work it will be immediately recognizable when seen again, the words that flow from his pen are undeniable his.
The genres Joe writes in are Sci-Fi, Paranormal mystery, light horror and crime drama.
Facebook: http://on.fb.me/idN6ZP
Twitter: http://bit.ly/hlmxjm
Web Site: Coming Soon
Smashwords or other links: http://bit.ly/hHi4Yz
June 1, 2011
"Fantasy in the Cage" ~the results~
Hello, everyone…the voting is done, and the second "In the Cage" series battle has been fought, and won.
Joe Jacen De La Garza, is the "Fantasy in the Cage" winner, with his story, entitled "Radjer." Congratulations to both combatants…Lisa Stull put up a tremendous fight with her piece, "Playing with Science."
Joe walks away from "The Cage" with bragging rights, and an interview on my blog, which will post this coming Sunday morning.
Lisa, and Joe…thank you so much for participating in this epic bout. You are both fabulous fantasy writers, and winners, in my estimation. Thank you so much for participating.
May 29, 2011
"Fantasy in the Cage" ~the battle begins~
Ahh…the bell has been rung, ladies, and gentlemen. Please read the following pair of storys then cast a vote for your favorite. Lisa, and Joe…a stellar job from both of you. Congratulations, and may the best writer win.
Playing with Science
"Mr. President, sir? I think you need to see this." Tony Romero, Chief of Staff, extended a trembling hand toward the President, passing to him a classified, Top Secret document in a sealed envelope.
Wasting no time, the President ripped it open. With one quick glance, his face went from worried to horrified. He threw the document down to the ground and walked out of the oval office, stopping briefly to squeeze his aide's shoulder. "God help us all, Tony. God help us all."
***
A bright light flickered once. Twice. Then again, until it finally shone bright, illuminating the murky depths of the Pacific Ocean. Slowly, nine thin metal legs reached outward from the cylindrical hub, until they were fully extended and perpendicular to the sandy bottom.
Again, a flicker of light. This time, it was a red eye at the tip of each of the nine legs that began to glow. Stronger and brighter, then dimming. Repeating this cycle over and over, as if it were examining the surrounding environment.
After a few moments, a thin layer of metal covered each of the red eyes, turning them off. The legs began to extend farther out, bending near the mid-way point, reaching down towards the sand. As each of the legs drew nearer, the sand began to move, and small holes appeared. In one quick forceful thrust, the legs dug themselves deep within the ocean floor, as they continued to extend out from the hub, digging deeper and deeper.
The tender earth below began to rumble, and then shake more violently as the drilling continued. The water now churned about the hub, as the ground began to glow. Then, abruptly, the drilling stopped and the legs began to retract.
Within a short period of time a copper-colored liquid began to gurgle to the surface, seeping up from the holes, pouring out onto the ocean floor.
At this same moment in time, approximately 7,000 miles away in a hidden bunker in Xinjiang, China, a team of scientists fist pumped the air in celebration.
***
Sweat now rapidly fell across the President's face, as he hurriedly ran to the bathroom in his private quarters. Grasping each side of the commode he expelled everything in him. Everything except the guilt.
He stood at the sink for a moment, staring at the man in the mirror. A tap at the bathroom door hurled him back into the present.
"Who the hell is it?" He said, splashing cold water onto his already soaking face.
On the opposite side of the door, stood Tony. In his hand, the now crumpled document the President had quickly discarded. "I'm sorry to disturb you sir, but we really do need to discuss this. And, quite urgently if I might add."
Tony looked back down at the document. It was an article that had just gone live in the Washington Post and New York Times. An article with pictures of destruction in the west. A article, whose headline read:
At 9:05 a.m., under direct orders of the President of the United States, Operation Dig was commenced.
***
The large metal ship repositioned itself, so that it now floated only inches away from the copper liquid that flowed below. Near it's base, two large cavities opened, and a bright light began to shine from within. As the light grew brighter, the copper liquid began to flow upwards into the ship. As the ship began to devour the liquid faster and faster, the volatile earth began to once again shake and tremble.
In the now coastal West Napa, a group of neighbors stood amongst the rubble of their homes. Together they walked in silence, searching for any remnants of their former life that may be salvageable. The smallest of rumblings caused one of the women to lose her footing and fall. The others stood still, feeling the subtle vibrations move up their own bodies.
In the ocean that spread out before them they saw the waves retract and pause, as if life itself had indeed stood still. Then, out of the waves climbed a large metal ship. A ship with nine legs. Then another followed behind it. Each of the beasts' undercarriage shining brightly, as if filled with a molten liquid.
The neighbors, unable to move, stared in awe as the machines made their way up onto the broken lands, heading directly for them.
***
A frustrated scientist began to pound away at his keyboard. "It no working now!" Chao screamed at the monitor.
"What you mean no working? Wha happen?" Chao's commanding officer's face grew red as he watched the monitors.
"It like they work on their own?! The override no work either!" Tiny beads of sweat began to tumble down the distraught man's face as he attempted to regain control of the machines.
Suddenly, the monitors went black, as did the lights in the bunker.
***
The door to the bathroom opened just enough for the President to peek his head out. "Tony, I can't go in there and tell them. I just," he paused, pulling the door all the way open, "shit, will you come in here and we can talk."
Tony cocked his head to one side, "You want to have a meeting in your bathroom?"
"God dammit Tony, will just come in here?!"
Tony took a seat on the side of the tub, as the President stood opposite him, leaning against the sink.
"Sir, no one was aware of the order you gave this morning. What the hell is going on? The press is all over this." Tony pointed to the article he held in his hand.
"Tony, you're a good guy. Smart. Young. Make me a promise?"
"You cannot avoid the truth forever, John! Now, what the hell is going on?!" Tony stood so that he was now face to face with the President.
"I made a deal with the devil. Never do that. That was the promise I was going to ask of you," he turned to examine himself once again in the mirror, "It's not what they promised. I would have never agreed had I known the outcome."
Tony shook his head in disappointment. "You want to talk in circles and not be upfront with me? Fine. But, you are going to have to deal with this. They are calling a press conference in 20 minutes. You will be there." Tony flung the door open and stormed out of the bathroom.
***
Lined along the newly formed coast stood machine after machine. The neighbors had not moved a inch.
The first of the machines to reach land now crept toward the woman who had fallen. Her breathing became labored as one of machine's legs lifted off the ground and extended itself, coming within an inch of her eye. The tip began to glow red and the woman screamed out in terror.
The others watched in horror as her whole body begin to glow. The woman became so bright, they had to shield their eyes from the light.
When her tormented screams subsided and the machine moved away from her, they expected to see a limp, lifeless body. But what they saw was something that for the third time today, they could not explain.
The woman, now covered in a metallic armor, stood with her eyes glowing a bright red. She began to walk towards them, smiling. One by one the woman quickly converted her fellow neighbors from man to machine.
***
"Who turn light off?" Chao yelled as he bumped his way around the bunker in search of a light switch.
"They turn off on their own." One of the scientists said, as he too stumbled blindly in the dark in search of a flashlight.
All of a sudden the computer monitor came back on and staring back at the men were two bright red eyes.
***
Reluctantly, the President left the safety of his bathroom and made his way to the podium for his speech. He closed his eyes briefly before lifting his head to look into the cameras:
"I talk to you today not as your President, but as a weak man. A man who made a pact with the devil. The horrific events that have unfolded before our eyes today in the West are not the byproduct of Mother Nature, but of an experiment gone bad. An experiment that I agreed to. For the first time in our history, we were able to drill past the mantle on the ocean floor, drive past the thick gabbros and reveal the innermost layer of our world. This layer held great promise and apparently, tremendous power.
This experiment came with great consequence. So great, that if I had known the magnitude of destruction that would have occurred, I would have never agreed to it. The machines, now full of this molten liquid, threaten to destroy our existence.
I know you are watching and listening today with hope. But citizens of a once great nation, I cannot help you," The President reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a gun, "I'm afraid we have played with science and now science is playing with us. God bless you all."
In the distance, a dark cloud could be seen making its way toward the Nation's Capital. The President smiled at the darkness, as he raised the gun to his head.
Radger
The chaos was mute, the screams and fire and death were silent, unheard by him.
Insectile clockwork of unholy creation roused him from his slumber. On this planet and in our time he had slept nearly ten thousand years. Now the horrible clicking and incessant chattering innards of the nineteen monstrosities reverberated again from beneath the waters off the newly formed coast of what was Napa Valley. Freed by the quake, they resumed their work.
The world as we knew it burned and crumbled above him, civilization undeniably headed for a new dark age. The rise of warlords and times of fear and magic, a world quite similar to the home of the creator of these nineteen mechanical abominations. Pearlescent black and deep cobalt blue, scurrying on legs and with wings articulated by joints of bright gold and silver, fascinating in complexity and enormous in size, they started construction.
These nineteen demons, spilled from the giant cavern hidden inside the ruined Mt. Diablo had a horrible and singular purpose. They were programmed to build a portal in time, a gateway between worlds.
The miscreant bugs were sent by a malevolent force of evil known only as The Darkness. The beings responsible for sending the counterbalance were the polar opposite known as The Council of Kings. These entities are the force in the universe keeping the balance of good and evil. The Council, from across the oceans of time and space fielded their answer to the insect menace. This answer now stirred beneath the waves, Radjer, from an eons long sleep slowly regained consciousness. The sound of the nineteen beasts calling him back once more.
Radjer shifted his heft beneath the rock that entombed him for thousands of years, and instantly, seismographs around the world erupted in a fury of wildly swinging needles and rolling drums of data wrapped in scribbles of black ink indicating what had to have been an aftershock of the "Big One".
It wasn't an aftershock, it was Radjer, called back from his ancient slumber to put a stop to The Darkness one more time.
He shook off the blanket of ocean sediment and rock in which he was covered and planted his feet on the sandy seafloor. His eyes broke the ocean's surface. The sun glinted brightly along the copper and silver tinted metal covering him, a metal alloyed with alchemy as it was neither tarnished nor scratched after such a long life. In the distance the sheer black cliffs of a newly formed island, nearly ten miles square, played host to the unnatural construction of the insects.
The island cut into the sky, jutting forth from the sea in unnatural and terrifying angles. Four gigantic mechanized beetles worked upon its surface, grading, and shaping the ground as they worked their enormous horns and massive bodies along the sand. The other fifteen out gathering materials.
Radjer watched them working. Two more creatures, resembling bullet ants emerged from the sea and scaled the leading edge of the island carrying titanic slabs of rock from the seafloor, attempting once again to construct the dimensional gateway on Earth. He was created to stop them but not destroy them. He was there to put them back in the ground, it was his reason for being, and it wasn't the way of The Council to extinguish life, no matter how abominable.
The bugs would wake every few thousand years either by their own strange cycle or as in this case, geologic calamity.
Radjer woke only when the bugs began their construction anew. Always to stop them and imprison, never to destroy, never to end them.
During a previous battle the dimensional portal the bugs worked feverishly to construct reached an advanced level of completion. Five enormous obelisks towered over the land arranged in the shape of a five point star surrounded by arcing rings more than a mile high. If The Darkness constructed such a large portal on Earth it would inhabit our planet and its own planet simultaneously, spelling doom for the human species on an unfathomable level. Other planets have fallen in exactly such a way, most recently the species that inhabited a planet in the Rigel System in a neighboring part of our galaxy.
The world struggled collectively to comprehend the early reports of enormous insects pouring out of Mt. Diablo, the earthquake and ensuing chaos rendered the entire region empty, those souls that had survived the quake and tsunami snapped and uploaded pictures and video through social media of horrific and giant monsters in the distance, images and videos that could not possibly be what they appeared. Titanic stone shafts assembled by hellish beasts. They flashed across every television screen on the planet until the survivor's phones ran out of life and the pictures and flow of information stopped.
Satellites in orbit beamed back the impossible to the leaders of the world's governments, talk of nuclear weapons came up immediately. They had no clue the weapons of which they spoke couldn't harm the clockwork monsters even if their destructive power was multiplied by ten. The force driving those gears and spinning their cogs was conjured from the most ancient and darkest of places. Twisted sorcery forged in the depths and darkness of what could only be defined as Hell.
There was only one force in our reality that could stop the construction of the gateway.
Radjer.
Lightyears away when measured in our primitive conception of the universe, The Council watched Radjer ponder the giant pestilence erecting their unholy work. They looked into their own gateway conjured through knowledge of magic handed down from The Creators. Huddled around their gate, fashioned in the shape of a hexagon and in the center a brilliant orb of energy, our world's events visible within. They saw a planet reeling from the massive earthquake and an entire species aware of the existence of living nightmares busily crawling along the surface of their planet. Dread fell heavily upon all humanity, the citizens of Earth contemplating that they were no longer masters of their fate. If those hideous insects completed their construction, an eternity ruled by a malevolent god awaited all. Like the beings lost to The Darkness on the planet in the Rigel System, humans would enter eternal bondage.
Over the six-sided grouping of their shared power, The Council used the small portal in time and space to watch the insects construct their own giant gateway at the behest of their evil lord.
The Council delayed, contemplating their next move. The time passing in their realm flowed much slower than on Earth and work on the gate set about by The Darkness sped along at an alarming rate. Immense metallic wasps buzzed noisily above Radjer en route to the island, carrying entire forests in their alien claws. Fodder for the construction of the tilting arcs spanning the monolithic dimensional gateway. They seemed much more powerful and swift, and rightfully so. The Darkness was engorged with the souls lost in the Rigel system and transmitted unprecedented power from its hidden vantage to the machines it controlled.
The Council did not destroy life, no matter how malformed. Radjer's task had always been to subdue the insects, disable them, open a rift in the Earth with the tools he possessed, cast them in and seal it. He was never to destroy them.
Radjer was, after all, just a machine, a creation of The Council and any machine enchanted by the Council to do its bidding was always made self aware, to give the creation the choice to serve or not.
A stark contrast to the mindless drones working on the gate and the damned souls controlled by The Darkness.
Radjer was no exception, he agreed with The Council but as he sat waiting to act, he caught a different magic in the air around him, human magic. He heard voices, millions of them, small and terrified speaking of the end of all things and cursing their gods for not acting. They were the collective transmissions of information encircling the planet nonstop. All telling the same story, beseeching the heavens for help. This instant communication was something entirely new to Radjer, giving him insight into the mind of humanity.
The Darkness is without age, it came before The Council from the time of nothingness. Made up of many parts but most frightening of all, formed only one monstrous consciousness. It consumes those it enslaves so completely that they are no longer individuals, only Darkness. Locked forever within indescribable emptiness, something they were never created for. It reaches in and takes the most precious element in our universe, the energy of a living soul inherent in all children of light, seeking to enslave it, to bend its will to serve only The Darkness. Then it moves to the next world to continue the conquest of all sentient beings. Just as on the planet in the Rigel System, where The Darkness and its machines succeeded in completing a gateway, allowing it to move in and feast on them all without remorse.
Months passed on Earth as The Council deliberated and discussed, during this time Radjer not only listened intently to the reaction of the world through their broadcasts, but accessed and studied the collective history of the species through their indigenous magic known as "The Cloud", he saw such creativity and beauty and such savage brutality in them.
The gate neared completion.
Radjer grew impatient, he also sensed that the new stronger incarnations of the mechanized insects, now equalling fifteen busily constructing the portal, would not be easily subdued.
The normal plan of disabling and burying them would not work this time. This time they had to be destroyed. The Darkness within them physically and forcefully had to be removed.
The Council sensed his thought and in an instant voted to let Earth fall to The Darkness, the only option was to destroy the insects and the Council simply could not take life.
They couldn't but he could if he dared.
Radjer's thoughts returned to the humans and their panicked cries, they knew that whatever those demonic creatures were building wasn't good. He felt something else as well…a connection. What were these poor souls but children of the Light, creations no different from him? The Council and all those who served them were so far removed from the feeling of what it meant to be human, long since evolving past such primitive fears and emotions, that killing was no longer an option.
Deep within Radjer's enchanted soul born long ago from the elements of a distant star, something snapped. If he had one, it could be the sound of his heart breaking, followed by a rush of pure, hot, righteous anger. He was sent to protect Earth and felt responsible for the humans in spite of their many faults and failures. They were at the core made up of all that is good in the universe.
Radjer saw his entire body glowing, awash with bluish-white electricity coursing over him. He looked down through the water at his right arm, the cannon for melting a giant hole in the Earth to deposit these loathsome creatures was alive with energy. Inside, opposing turbines opened minuscule portals in space pulling energy from the exploded star he was created from. He pulled his giant arm from the sea and from it a large blade of pure alien energy curved upward in dancing white tongues of flame.
He couldn't let it happen.
YOU WILL NOT HAVE THIS WORLD OR THESE BEINGS!
His words bled over all communications globally, the humans heard him speak. They knew that their prayers had been answered. Their hope poured directly into him.
Radjer burst from the water, sword drawn. He took aim at the largest of the now nineteen insects driving the blade deep within its shell, the clockwork gears frozen forever.
He cut a giant white swath across the sky and prepared for battle.
