Marcus V. Calvert's Blog, page 50
December 2, 2014
THE MIDDLEMAN
Below is an excerpt from my second book, The Book Of Schemes. This collection of 36 short stories is a mixed bag of schemes. This one involves a businessman, his wife, a dissatisfied customer, and a “unique” brand of diet pill:
“Why? Why does she have to die?”
“Because I’m in an eye-for-an-eye kinda’ mood, Mr. Hufnick,” Ryan scowled. “See, once upon a time, I was a handsome guy. I was a musician with a good singing voice and a bright future. My agent tells me to lose my love handles and he can make me a star. So, I hit the gym like a maniac. But I loved my wife’s cooking so much that it just wouldn’t come off. Then I heard about these diet pills and about how there was a free-trial sample pack.”
“So? You had an allergic reaction? Is that what happened to your face?”
The intruder gave Reggie a long, ominous glare. For a moment, Reggie thought Ryan was going to go back on his promise and kill him right then and there.
“No sir. You’re about to see what happened to my face – and why my family’s dead.”
For more details, follow this link: www.talesunlimited.net.
“Why? Why does she have to die?”
“Because I’m in an eye-for-an-eye kinda’ mood, Mr. Hufnick,” Ryan scowled. “See, once upon a time, I was a handsome guy. I was a musician with a good singing voice and a bright future. My agent tells me to lose my love handles and he can make me a star. So, I hit the gym like a maniac. But I loved my wife’s cooking so much that it just wouldn’t come off. Then I heard about these diet pills and about how there was a free-trial sample pack.”
“So? You had an allergic reaction? Is that what happened to your face?”
The intruder gave Reggie a long, ominous glare. For a moment, Reggie thought Ryan was going to go back on his promise and kill him right then and there.
“No sir. You’re about to see what happened to my face – and why my family’s dead.”
For more details, follow this link: www.talesunlimited.net.
Published on December 02, 2014 00:32
November 28, 2014
THE ALL-NIGHTER
Below is an excerpt from my third book, Protected. This collection of 36 short stories involves scenarios of mistaken vulnerability. This story’s concept is one of my faves: what if there was a college for super villains?
He had heard all kinds of rumors about Vossenreich Technical College.
To the outside world, it was an exclusive private university with a surprisingly “unique” degree program. Students could pick from such courses as advanced terrorism tactics, forgery, nuclear weapons design, contraband trafficking, urban abductions, counter-forensic studies, and even xenosociology.
Maybe a tenth of the student body actually came here in the innocent pursuit of a liberal arts degree. The faculty telepaths saw to it that none of those students – or any outsiders – ever figured out the true purpose of Vossenreich: to produce competent, well-trained criminals. The other ninety percent of the student body had sinister dreams and aspirations: from world domination to making big bucks as career “henchpersons.”
For more details, follow this link: www.talesunlimited.net.
He had heard all kinds of rumors about Vossenreich Technical College.
To the outside world, it was an exclusive private university with a surprisingly “unique” degree program. Students could pick from such courses as advanced terrorism tactics, forgery, nuclear weapons design, contraband trafficking, urban abductions, counter-forensic studies, and even xenosociology.
Maybe a tenth of the student body actually came here in the innocent pursuit of a liberal arts degree. The faculty telepaths saw to it that none of those students – or any outsiders – ever figured out the true purpose of Vossenreich: to produce competent, well-trained criminals. The other ninety percent of the student body had sinister dreams and aspirations: from world domination to making big bucks as career “henchpersons.”
For more details, follow this link: www.talesunlimited.net.
Published on November 28, 2014 00:24
November 26, 2014
THE BIRTHDAY FEAST
Below is an excerpt from my second book, The Book Of Schemes. This collection of 36 short stories is a mixed bag of schemes. Some are clever or silly. Other schemes are a bit more diabolical - like the one in this story. It involves a junkie, whose sole occupation is finding victims for a well-dressed psychic predator . . .
Gordon looked to be in his late forties, with broad shoulders and a solid build that made him more than a little intimidating. While he wasn’t a pretty boy; his old money looks were regal enough that he could probably get laid based on charm and style alone. Oh, and he was much stronger than any human should be. Hell, when Gordon was done “eating” Barney, he chucked the poor bastard across a twenty-foot room and cracked a wall in the process.
”For you,” Gordon grinned as he handed me a super-thick wad of cash.
“T-Thank you!” I stammered as I flipped through the mixed bundle of fifties and c-notes. There must’ve been about fifty grand in my hands – about three times his normal payout! Gordon walked up to his row of victims and chose the youngest boy. I was too busy counting to watch as Gordon fed. I’d seen it before and stopped trying to figure how he did it.
For more details, follow this link: www.talesunlimited.net.
Gordon looked to be in his late forties, with broad shoulders and a solid build that made him more than a little intimidating. While he wasn’t a pretty boy; his old money looks were regal enough that he could probably get laid based on charm and style alone. Oh, and he was much stronger than any human should be. Hell, when Gordon was done “eating” Barney, he chucked the poor bastard across a twenty-foot room and cracked a wall in the process.
”For you,” Gordon grinned as he handed me a super-thick wad of cash.
“T-Thank you!” I stammered as I flipped through the mixed bundle of fifties and c-notes. There must’ve been about fifty grand in my hands – about three times his normal payout! Gordon walked up to his row of victims and chose the youngest boy. I was too busy counting to watch as Gordon fed. I’d seen it before and stopped trying to figure how he did it.
For more details, follow this link: www.talesunlimited.net.
Published on November 26, 2014 01:24
November 24, 2014
THE DIVA
Below is an excerpt from my third book, Protected. This collection of 36 short stories involves scenarios of mistaken vulnerability. In the case of this story, four kidnappers realized that some hostages are better left alone:
“Wha- What’s going on?” Damea asked.
“Ms. Gency,” Eddie quietly said, “I’m afraid you’ve been kidnapped.”
Our hostage’s response was to laugh. Even quarter-stoned, her voice was beautiful.
“Oh c’mon, guys!” Damea giggled. “April Fool’s was last week!”
With his right hand, Eddie pulled out a small pocketknife and flicked out its serrated blade. Then he yanked off her hood. Mesmerizing green eyes blinked under the harsh dining room lighting. Amusement turned to fear as she noticed Eddie’s razor-sharp blade hovering inches from her left eye. He held the blade there with the stillness of a surgeon and gave Damea his patented “don’t-make-me-carve-you-up” glare. She cringed.
“Sorry to borrow you, Ms. Gency,” he said, full of menace. “But you have something we want.”
“W-What?” Damea gasped as she looked up at each of us. “What do you want?!”
“The password to your offshore account,” Eddie continued. “The one with 40 million Euros in it.”
The notion made her laugh again. Eddie was half-entranced by her beauty and part angry that she wasn’t coughing up an account number.
“So this is a real kidnapping?” Damea asked.
“Yes,” Eddie said with growing impatience.
“I’m not on some hidden-camera show or something?”
“Does this blade feel fake to you?” Eddie asked as he gently pressed the tip of the knife against her throat.
The ropes on her wrists and ankles snapped like string as the diva made her move. Her hands wrapped around Eddie’s thick right wrist and twisted it with ease. He screamed as bones broke and the knife fell out of his ruined hand. Then Damea Gency casually pushed Eddie off her so hard that his feet left the floor! Eddie was still screaming like a child during his short, painful trip to the ceiling. Then his back hit hard enough to leave a crack as he fell, hit the carpet face-first, and stopped moving.
For more details, follow this link: www.talesunlimited.net.
“Wha- What’s going on?” Damea asked.
“Ms. Gency,” Eddie quietly said, “I’m afraid you’ve been kidnapped.”
Our hostage’s response was to laugh. Even quarter-stoned, her voice was beautiful.
“Oh c’mon, guys!” Damea giggled. “April Fool’s was last week!”
With his right hand, Eddie pulled out a small pocketknife and flicked out its serrated blade. Then he yanked off her hood. Mesmerizing green eyes blinked under the harsh dining room lighting. Amusement turned to fear as she noticed Eddie’s razor-sharp blade hovering inches from her left eye. He held the blade there with the stillness of a surgeon and gave Damea his patented “don’t-make-me-carve-you-up” glare. She cringed.
“Sorry to borrow you, Ms. Gency,” he said, full of menace. “But you have something we want.”
“W-What?” Damea gasped as she looked up at each of us. “What do you want?!”
“The password to your offshore account,” Eddie continued. “The one with 40 million Euros in it.”
The notion made her laugh again. Eddie was half-entranced by her beauty and part angry that she wasn’t coughing up an account number.
“So this is a real kidnapping?” Damea asked.
“Yes,” Eddie said with growing impatience.
“I’m not on some hidden-camera show or something?”
“Does this blade feel fake to you?” Eddie asked as he gently pressed the tip of the knife against her throat.
The ropes on her wrists and ankles snapped like string as the diva made her move. Her hands wrapped around Eddie’s thick right wrist and twisted it with ease. He screamed as bones broke and the knife fell out of his ruined hand. Then Damea Gency casually pushed Eddie off her so hard that his feet left the floor! Eddie was still screaming like a child during his short, painful trip to the ceiling. Then his back hit hard enough to leave a crack as he fell, hit the carpet face-first, and stopped moving.
For more details, follow this link: www.talesunlimited.net.
Published on November 24, 2014 15:45
November 22, 2014
LIGHTS! CAMERAS! DOOMSDAY!
Below is an excerpt from my first book, Unheroic. A collection of 36 short stories, each one involves scenarios where unlikely heroes try to save the day. After the Battle of Coney Island, a lone survivor is interviewed by a pair of federal agents. They wanted to know how he and his pals managed to thwart an Apocalypse:
“What did he see?” Denn asked. “What was supposed to have happened?”
Meade’s face looked grave.
“A huge-assed gateway would be opened on the beach. Demons would pour out and kill everyone in the city. Anyone they killed would rise as one of them. And as long as the gateway was open, mystical energy would flow out from their little hell, allowing the demons to both survive and to use their magic at full power. Then, they would spread out and ‘breed’ via slaughter. Humanity would become extinct about thirteen weeks later.”
“So you arranged for a ‘movie shoot’ on Coney Island?” Graham surmised.
“It was our last stand: complete with a mined beach, .50 caliber machineguns, mortar tubes, thousands of spare weapons, and every last one of us mercs. It was a modern-day Alamo or Thermopalye.” Meade grinned slightly. “I even think Sol managed to get the necessary permits from the City.”
For more details, follow this link: www.talesunlimited.net.
“What did he see?” Denn asked. “What was supposed to have happened?”
Meade’s face looked grave.
“A huge-assed gateway would be opened on the beach. Demons would pour out and kill everyone in the city. Anyone they killed would rise as one of them. And as long as the gateway was open, mystical energy would flow out from their little hell, allowing the demons to both survive and to use their magic at full power. Then, they would spread out and ‘breed’ via slaughter. Humanity would become extinct about thirteen weeks later.”
“So you arranged for a ‘movie shoot’ on Coney Island?” Graham surmised.
“It was our last stand: complete with a mined beach, .50 caliber machineguns, mortar tubes, thousands of spare weapons, and every last one of us mercs. It was a modern-day Alamo or Thermopalye.” Meade grinned slightly. “I even think Sol managed to get the necessary permits from the City.”
For more details, follow this link: www.talesunlimited.net.
Published on November 22, 2014 22:09
BEERGUT MALLOY
Below is an excerpt from my first book, "Unheroic." Think of it as a collection of 36 twisted short stories - each involving unlikely heroes saving the day. Sometimes, it’s the villain saving the day. Or maybe the damsel in distress. The hero in this story’s an aging boxer out to save his (idiot) son from a gambling debt:
Joey and I made it to the arena and signed in. We found Beergut in his locker room with a mostly-empty, half-gallon bottle of Jack Daniels in his hand – less than three hours before the fuckin’ fight! Oddly enough, he wasn’t so fat any more. In fact, his abs were rock-hard, his arms solid, and his chest looked pretty good. While he had some love handles and a poorly-aged face, Beergut looked like he had some mileage left in him. Too bad he was stone-drunk and passed-out. It took a few minutes of me slapping him around before he came to.
Then he peed on me, finished the bottle, and passed out again.
For more details, follow this link: www.talesunlimited.net
Joey and I made it to the arena and signed in. We found Beergut in his locker room with a mostly-empty, half-gallon bottle of Jack Daniels in his hand – less than three hours before the fuckin’ fight! Oddly enough, he wasn’t so fat any more. In fact, his abs were rock-hard, his arms solid, and his chest looked pretty good. While he had some love handles and a poorly-aged face, Beergut looked like he had some mileage left in him. Too bad he was stone-drunk and passed-out. It took a few minutes of me slapping him around before he came to.
Then he peed on me, finished the bottle, and passed out again.
For more details, follow this link: www.talesunlimited.net
Published on November 22, 2014 04:04
November 21, 2014
I, VILLAIN - CHAPTER NINE
Below is an excerpt from my fourth book, "I, Villain." This novel (my first) is a dark, violent, and humorous tale about a city so corrupt that only a super villain can save it from obliteration.
I looked up at the two-story, U-shaped motel that had about one hundred rooms. The parking lot was packed, which didn’t surprise me. The Slutty Minx was a popular hangout for sexual deviants, druggies, and adulterers. It was the type of place where you needed to wear gloves before washing your hands and the roaches spoke three languages. The allure was two-fold: you could pay in cash and everyone minded their own business.
All in all, it was an adequate meeting spot.
Grace and I first met here in ‘02, a few months before her coma. An old college pal of hers (Anita something) came to Uptown on business and disappeared. The police didn’t have any leads because her abductors routinely paid them not to find any. Grace knew that Anita would end up dead – or worse – without some back-end help. When she grudgingly came to me, I didn’t mind asking around … but not for free.
For more details, follow this link: www.talesunlimited.net.
I looked up at the two-story, U-shaped motel that had about one hundred rooms. The parking lot was packed, which didn’t surprise me. The Slutty Minx was a popular hangout for sexual deviants, druggies, and adulterers. It was the type of place where you needed to wear gloves before washing your hands and the roaches spoke three languages. The allure was two-fold: you could pay in cash and everyone minded their own business.
All in all, it was an adequate meeting spot.
Grace and I first met here in ‘02, a few months before her coma. An old college pal of hers (Anita something) came to Uptown on business and disappeared. The police didn’t have any leads because her abductors routinely paid them not to find any. Grace knew that Anita would end up dead – or worse – without some back-end help. When she grudgingly came to me, I didn’t mind asking around … but not for free.
For more details, follow this link: www.talesunlimited.net.
Published on November 21, 2014 10:12
November 20, 2014
Knight Of The Motorcycle
Below is an excerpt from my third book, "Protected." A collection of 36 short stories, each tale involves scenarios of mistaken vulnerability. In this post-Apocalyptic story, an outlaw biker has to defend his right to be a crook:
So there I was, in a two-story brick bar called the Bareback Lounge, sipping on a brew and thinking of Vegas. Then the brewery’s external alarms went off and my luck cut me with its other edge. Huge and loud, the damned things could be heard from miles away and cut through the pre-War music blaring out of a nearby jukebox. Everyone froze and eyed each other nervously.
It was the attack siren.
Some spoke of fighting. Others babbled about fleeing. Two minutes after the alarm went off, I was the only soul left in the bar. Couldn’t blame ‘em. I once heard a rumor that the sirens only blared in the face of a major attack, which hadn’t happened in almost nine years. Most people couldn’t sit idly by in the face of such a thing. I wonder who’d be stupid enough to hit a town with over a thousand armed bikers running around. We may be rabble but we’re mean, dangerous, gunslinging rabble.
For more details, follow this link: www.talesunlimited.net
So there I was, in a two-story brick bar called the Bareback Lounge, sipping on a brew and thinking of Vegas. Then the brewery’s external alarms went off and my luck cut me with its other edge. Huge and loud, the damned things could be heard from miles away and cut through the pre-War music blaring out of a nearby jukebox. Everyone froze and eyed each other nervously.
It was the attack siren.
Some spoke of fighting. Others babbled about fleeing. Two minutes after the alarm went off, I was the only soul left in the bar. Couldn’t blame ‘em. I once heard a rumor that the sirens only blared in the face of a major attack, which hadn’t happened in almost nine years. Most people couldn’t sit idly by in the face of such a thing. I wonder who’d be stupid enough to hit a town with over a thousand armed bikers running around. We may be rabble but we’re mean, dangerous, gunslinging rabble.
For more details, follow this link: www.talesunlimited.net
Published on November 20, 2014 18:47
November 19, 2014
Lies Become Truth
Below is an excerpt from my second book, "The Book Of Schemes." Think of it as a collection of 36 short stories - each involving a scheme. Some are brilliant. Others are the exact opposite. And others (like the story below) are just different:
Vivian’s expression darkened as she remembered her early days as a ghost.
"They just had me cremated, left my urn on the front porch, and blew town. The cheap fuckers didn’t even have a wake!”
Vivian stared off with a vicious smile.
“But I came back, Tom – with powers. And my parents were the first to die.”
Tom looked down at his right hand and remembered the pain he felt when he shook hands with Vivian.
“I’ve been settling old scores ever since,” Vivian said with a shrug. “And the best thing of all? My stutter went away.”
For more details, follow this link: www.talesunlimited.net
Vivian’s expression darkened as she remembered her early days as a ghost.
"They just had me cremated, left my urn on the front porch, and blew town. The cheap fuckers didn’t even have a wake!”
Vivian stared off with a vicious smile.
“But I came back, Tom – with powers. And my parents were the first to die.”
Tom looked down at his right hand and remembered the pain he felt when he shook hands with Vivian.
“I’ve been settling old scores ever since,” Vivian said with a shrug. “And the best thing of all? My stutter went away.”
For more details, follow this link: www.talesunlimited.net
Published on November 19, 2014 02:10
October 4, 2014
Sick Idea - 10/04/14 - Your Kid's A Spy
Imagine you're a run-of-the-mill parent with a kid you love very much. Whether you actually have a kid or not doesn't matter. Here's the what-if: "What if your kid was secretly recruited to be a spy?" Well-trained, dangerous, and committed to the cause, he/she becomes a black ops legend. Also, you never had a clue. Whether your kid is 6 or 60, you suddenly (maybe violently) find out. Write it out. See where takes you.
Hope this sick idea was of use.
M
www.talesunlimited.net
Hope this sick idea was of use.
M
www.talesunlimited.net
Published on October 04, 2014 03:37