Vivika Widow's Blog, page 75

Conflict: Murder in the Theater

[image error]

The play drew on towards it exciting conclusion. Alessa had been so engrossed in the ensemble below she left her seat and leaned over the balcony to get a closer look at the players. Her father had called something to her but the volume of the noise had drowned out his words.

On stage the players bellowed their scene. Their cries rang out over the pleading strings of the violins. Her heart was thumping with excitement. She clutched her hands tightly. Her palms were moist. The lights darkened further. The music broke to give way to tender notes of the piano. Alessa could have wept at the solemn song.

She felt a body slumping heavily against her. The blue ribbon that held her ringlets together was torn from her auburn locks. She looked back. She was face to face with her father. He was staring at her wide eyed, mouth open, dead. She didn’t scream. Her voice caught in her dry throat. Another body fell against her. This time it was her mother. All blood had drained from her face leaving a blue tint. She too was dead. In the doorway to the balcony was the silhouette of a man in a long coat. Alessa, stupefied, stared back at him like a young deer who had felt the deadly bullet of the hunter’s rifle. He raised his finger to his mouth and hushed her.

Enjoy this? Leave your comments below. Subscribe to this page for all the latest updates, images and news from the Conflict graphic novel series.

[image error]

The clumsy woes of Vivika Widow

My friends and family tell me I’m a clumsy girl.

“Who me?” I reply. “Surely not.”

After today I don’t think I can deny it.

I have a bucket where all my spare change goes. I decided that today would be the day I would take it and deposit it in the bank. I take my coins to the machine, drop them all in and enjoy the rattling sound as they tumble down into places unknown.

“That machine is only for notes!” called the bank teller.

WOOPS!

A group of disgruntled patrons behind me groan as the machine is put out of service whilst my coins are pulled out.

You might think that is enough to be considered clumsy but unfortunately for me it didn’t end there.

Most weekday afternoons I spend an hour at the local swimming pool. After walking away red faced from the bank I felt I had to cool off.

All geared up with goggles, swim cap – the whole works – I’m ready. Leap, splash, swim. I’m tearing through the water like an Olympian. (That’s at least what I like to think). I’m concentrating hard on speed, agility… WHAM! I crash head first into an elderly gentleman practising the back stroke. OUCH.

Apologies shared. No harm done but I decide to leave the pool before I pose more threat to myself or others.

Clumsy yes. A little dangerous? Most likely.

I’ll grab a quick lunch. There can be no harm in that right? Wrong!

I have recently become addicted to cheese and pickle sandwiches. My eyes become bulbous when I notice there is only one left. Like Gollum with his precious jewellery I snatch it up.

I find a table in a corner where I can contemplate the day, reply to emails and do all the usual things adulting involves. I take one bite into my sandwich. An eruption of pickle scoots across the table almost hitting the nice lady across from me and the cover of the miraculously clean book she is reading.

“I’ll get you some napkins,” the polite barista offers.

I think a full bib would be more appropriate with this mess. I can’t stop now. I purchased the sandwich. It would almost be a crime not to eat it. A lunch time later and I am covered in so many pickle stains I look like I’m wearing leopard print.

So with a lump on my head, stained clothes and a ban from my local bank for wrecking the machine I think it’s best to head homewards. That would be a great idea, If only I could find my bus pass…

Enjoy this? Subscribe to this page for more of Vivika’s musings.

The first in the thriller graphic novel series, Conflict, is COMING SOON. Subscribe to this page for more info.

[image error]

Author’s Log: The Conflict Series; Part 1

When it was decided I would work on a graphic novel I thought to myself it would be easier than a novel. I was so wrong! There are a lot more details to consider before a pen even hits the paper.

One thing I realised though it that it can be so gratifying. When writing a novel the characters and settings come alive in your imagination. You write them out as best as you can in the hopes that it will light something in your reader too. With a graphic novel the characters leap from the page and the settings laid out like photographs. Working on the Conflict series has helped me become involved in the writing of a story in ways I have never experienced before.

It is a lot of hard work too. My days are eaten up at the moment with the Ragdolls Foundation so as the sun falls and the shadows settle in for the night I am preparing to painstakingly note each chapter, character, location and event as I make my way through original manuscripts written for Conflict back in 2014.

It has been great getting to know the graphic novel community. Whilst I have always loved graphic novels and have friends who are also fans it hasn’t been until lately that I have really engaged in conversation with the wider collective. Thanks to social media I have been able to share my love of V for Vendetta and the Walking Dead series.

The concepts that have been released so far have been well received. I thank everyone who has commented, shared and liked what they saw from Conflict.

It’s still early days at the moment but I look forward to bringing you more from the Conflict series soon.

Enjoy this?

Be sure to leave your comments below. For more updates, images and news from the Conflict series subscribe to this page.

[image error]

Groups of the Conflict: Rogue Battalion

KEEPERS OF PEACE

Origins: Native American

Leader: Chief Sonyo Kolla

After many years of tribal warfare throughout the world the Ojibwi were formed to govern all Tribes and Clans. Their main priority is to be keepers of peace and for this the Ojibwi are highly respected throughout the world, so much so they were granted seats in the Senate House as a symbol of their authority.

Of native American decent the Ojibwi have formed friendships with many tribes worldwide.

The Ojibwi are expert negotiators but are also comprised of highly skilled warriors. They have proven to be deadly in combat when all else fails making them both feared and REVERED in equal measure.

Enjoy this? Leave your comments below

Check out our social media feeds for the latest updates, images and news from the thrilling graphic novel coming your way.

[image error]

[image error]

Hangram: A Myths and Tales graphic novel (extract)

There was no one sent to help him so he had to find the stables himself in the dark. His feet sank heavily into the mud. Mercy was still limping although the bold steed that she was, she never complained. As Edgar felt the warmth of the hay that he fed to Mercy he was in two minds whether to return to the house or settle down beside the animal and be off before anyone awakened in the morning. He even got as far as throwing his hat onto the ground before a shiver fired up his spine to remind him just how cold it would get. 

When he returned to the house he found that the rear entrance was open. Had it been left open for him or had it been open all night? He didn’t know. The staff saw him approach yet he still politely knocked on the wooden frame of the open door. A man with a large protruding stomach tucked behind a well pressed white shirt zipped past him almost knocking Edgar back outside. He was among the household staff. Edgar had never had staff of his own but it looked like the staff were mixing with the guests far more than was socially acceptable. 

“Miss Abigail has had a plate prepared for you, sir,” the rushing man called to him over his shoulder. When the only response Edgar could give was a vacant stare he placed the plate he carried down on a table and pushed Edgar from the kitchens with a firm hand on his back. Edgar spotted Abigail. She wasn’t sat in her place at the table but stood behind it. An empty seat was beside her with a fresh plate of stew awaiting the new comer. Hunger pangs gargled in Edgar’s stomach. He sat himself beside the Mayor’s daughter. 

“Daddy!” Abigail rudely called across the conversation being passed back and forth. “This is the man who came to the door. Edwin…”

“It’s Edgar.” Edgar murmured beside her.

Abigail looked down as he found his seat. “I’m sorry,” she said. “This is Edward.”

The Mayor was a tall, slim man who still held a great deal of vitality despite his progressing age. His hair was snow white and he had a full white beard. “It is nice to have you with us Edmond. Enjoy the food. Perhaps you can tell us all about yourself. Where are you from? What brings you here? We don’t tend to get many passersby in these parts.”

It was too late to correct it now so Edgar went along with the name change. “I’m from Elgany,” he said. “I was travelling through on my way to the trading ports in Navaria.” 

A man sat directly opposite him sneered down his  thin pointed nose. “But you have nothing to sell!” he said noticing Edgar was empty handed. 

All eyes now became fixed on the stranger among them. Edgar shuffled in his seat. “I was going to purchase supplies. I have my own trading post back in Elgany,” he said.

The man was relentless. He leaned forward on the table and affixed his beady black eyes on Edgar. His pointed elbows pushed his plate away from his looming  body. “You decided to travelby horse? It would have been much quicker and much easier to sail down the coastline.”

Edgar’s gaze quickly surveyed the others and his surroundings before returning to the man  asking him the questions. “It would have been but my horse – she’s out in the stables – was one of the things I was selling. She doesn’t like the water.”

“So what happened to you Ed?” asked the woman next to the man with the beady eyes. She was much more forthcoming. She had a rounded face and her hair hung close to her scalp in tight curls. Edgar assumed she was the wife of Mr. Beady Eyes, judging by their closeness and body language. 

“Unfortunately on the road I was attacked by highway men. I had to divert and that’s when my horse was hurt.”

The man with the beady eyes raised his top lip slightly in a sneer. “There are no highway men about here,” he stated. 

The woman patted her hand against his arm as though scolding a small child. “Now Bryan, stop giving the boy a hard time. He has been through enough.”

“I’m only trying to find out where he came from Martha,” Bryan ‘Beady Eyes’ complained. “I would only give a hard time if he had something to hide.”

Edgar affixed his most pleasant smile. “No harm done,” he said through gritted teeth. 

Martha and Bryan returned to their own conversation leaving Edgar alone. The rest did likewise. Edgar stabbed a fork into the meat and had a small piece. He had lost most of his appetite and just wanted to sleep. He turned to Abigail to find she had rested her head in her hands on the table but her eyes were firmly closed and a soft wheezing was escaping from her nostrils.

Edgar managed to clear most of the food on his plate, just through politeness. When he wanted to excuse himself he approached the Mayor. It had been the first time since his arrival he had managed to have an audience with him alone. The Mayor had spent most of the evening dancing with the local women and singing bar songs with the men, including little ditties with the staff. 

“I just wanted to thank you for your hospitality. I’m very tired from the journey now, if I could trouble you for somewhere to sleep for the night?” Edgar enquired politely. 

The Mayor looked up at him, large white teeth made a wide grin. “The room on the first floor, second on the left should be vacant. Do you need someone to show you the way?”

Edgar shook his head the negative. He was just approaching the doorway that lead upstairs when Bryan called after him. “I am surprised the Hangram didn’t get you…”

Edgar turned back. His patience wearing to the thinnest it had been all evening, including when the robbers were behind him. “Excuse me?”

“The Hangram  hunts down criminals.”

Martha smacked her husband’s arm again. “You are scaring the boy!” she exclaimed. “You don’t know he’s a criminal.”

In the midst of the conversation Edgar hadn’t noticed the music stop. Everyone was staring at him again. He had never before felt more like a stranger. Even Abigail had stirred from her slumber and was watching him with blurry eyes. 

“What … The hell …. Is the Hangram?”

Enjoy this? Be sure to leave your comments below.

Subscribe to this page for news, images and updates from the Myths and Tales graphic novel coming your way soon.

Character Profile: Linciu ‘Blue Raven’ Habaru

 

AGE: 38

NATION: Fosgon – full warrior. 

WARRIOR NAME – ‘Blue Raven’

Son to Fosgon Chief Tomatcu. During a depression on the Fosgon nation, Linciu was approached by the US military. When he joined the marine core he was subject to racist attacks. On one occasion he was outnumbered by a group of fellow soldiers. They were Hell bent on running what they referred to as a ‘shopper’ out of the core. The CCTV footage of the incident demonstrated why Linciu was regarded as one of the finest warriors of his nation.

After hospitalising the group and walking away unharmed the footage was sent straight to Washington with a presidential stamp. Linciu was court marshaled until a highly respected General by the name of Raphael Diorra requested that the warrior become part of Rogue Battalion. Under the watch of General Diorra, Linciu climbed the ranks to eventually become Commander.

He carries a blue feather meaning ‘whisperer’. This means he has a connection with various species of animals and birds but most notably the raven. His enemies fear the site of the raven believing that Linciu is stalking them. The most superstitious of  his enemies believe the raven carries the soul of the deadly warrior making him invincible.

Enjoy this? Be sure to leave your comments below. Subscribe to this page for all the latest images, updates and news from the most highly anticipated graphic novel series coming 2017.

Conflict: Traffic in the Night

The Southern Hemisphere war had left thousands of people homeless, without food and medicine. Sally Mainlock was no exception. When the elite Rogue Battalion force rescued the central town of Gainsby back from the rebel Makri group she had been split from the rest of her family. As Rogue Battalion kept the town secure, the refugees caught among the fighting tried their best to pick up their former lives. Sally held hope that she and her family would be reunited but they remained trapped elsewhere. She stopped herself thinking about. It made her too restless. She bedded down with the other refugees in the camp that had been created within the town hall. Rogue Battalion ushered in what supplies they could. Things like tea and biscuits had become scarce during the fighting but were now flowing as freely as they ever had.

Sally laid her cup beside her sleeping bag and munched her biscuit greedily. She had always been a slim girl but now she felt like a bag of bones. Her golden hair had lost all of its shine and it was thinning. Her hooked nose looked disproportional on her gaunt, drawn face.

“Go away!” cried out on the other girls to a young man who had sat himself beside her.

Sally had seen the same young man try to engage other girls in conversation. They all had had the same response.

‘They’re being harsh on him,’ Sally surmised. ‘He’s probably just lonely like the rest of us.’

He stood again when the girl gave him nothing but derision. He raised his hands and walked away. He caught Sally’s gaze. He had a muscular physique that hadn’t faded with undernourishment. His skin was a warm brown. His handsome face was sun beaten. He sat down next to her.

“Do you mind?” he asked, even though it was too late.

“Don’t worry about the others,” said she. “We’re all sick with worry,” Sally explained.

He pulled his knees up to his chest and began to scan the room. A man in a Rogue Battalion uniform stationed at the main door looked over in their direction. Seeing no distress, he went back to his watch.

“Where you a model before?” he asked.

Sally blushed. “Nothing like that.”

He raised his shoulders and examined her more closely. “You could be a model.”

Sally giggled. “I don’t think so.”

He sighed.”This is no place for us,” he stated.

“We’re safe here,” Sally commented, referring to the presence of Rogue Battalion.

“It’s a shame. I have a modelling agency in the States but I can’t get there unless I’m bringing models with me. No more camps, no more rations…”

“Why can’t you go on your own?”

“Diplomatic rules have come into play because of the war. New border checks mean I have to have models with me to prove the legitimacy of the agency.”

Sally felt sorry for him, having such a glamorous life waiting for him but being trapped in a war zone because of a technicality. “Hopefully you will find someone soon,” she said.

He examined her again. “You could have such a great career as a model. I know plenty of brands that would snap you up.” He seemed so sure.

Sally’s heart began to beat a little faster. “You really think so?” He nodded in agreement. “I would love to go to the States but my family are still missing,” she explained.

“I was reading just the other day about families being reunited in the States. They have taken as many refugees as they could. That’s probably where your family are. Didn’t you see the news?” He spoke in such a matter of fact tone it suggested that he wasn’t telling her anything she didn’t already know.

Sally squealed. “My family are in the States?”

He was taken aback by her sudden enthusiasm. “I can’t say for certain but if they’re not here that’s where they will be.”

“If I am one of your models will you take me there? Will you take me to my family?” she grabbed his shoulder excitedly.

“I don’t know,” he hesitated.

“I promise I will do my best for you! Anything you want, just help me find my family.”

The Rogue Battalion watchman looked over again. Sally was hushed. “You’ll have to calm down,” he warned. “You can’t let any of the Rogue Battalion find out.”

“Why not?”

He lowered his voice. “They mean well but if they know that your family are abroad they will have to go through the proper channels which can take a long time.”

Sally was baffled. “All right.”

“Meet me at the makeshift gates at eleven. Come alone and make sure no Rogue Battalion see.”

Sally was delirious with excitement at the prospect of her new life and seeing her family again. The hours seemed to slip by at a snails pace. Finally it reached a few minutes to eleven.

The Rogue Battalion guard had been changed.

“I’ve left some things in my house. They aren’t valuable or anything but they are important to me. I would really like to have them.”

The guard looked out into the thick darkness. “Now?” he asked.

Sally sobbed. “I have nothing of my family! No photos, no memories and they’re missing.”

Most of the buildings nearby had been destroyed in bomb blasts. It wasn’t safe but the refugees weren’t prisoners either. The guard made up his mind.

“Outside you’ll find three of my colleagues. Ask for Noah. I think you should at least wait until morning and he’ll probably agree with me. He’s off duty but you are free to ask for his help.”

Sally thanked him and slipped out into the night. Like she had been told, three members of Rogue Battalion had grouped together beside a camouflaged van. They were laughing. One, shorter than the other two, was stubbing out a cigarette. The largest, and by the style of his dress the most senior, was reminding his subordinates how detrimental to a persons health smoking can be.

Sally took her chance whilst they were distracted. She ran as quickly as she could to the makeshift fence that had been erected at the edge of town. It was now a few minutes past eleven. She hoped the modelling agent had waited for her. She despaired when she found no one was there to take her to her new life.

“This way,” she heard a cry. A hole had been cut in the fence. The modelling agent had waited. His face was muddied now and he he had a deep scar down the left side that hadn’t been noticeable before. “Hurry!” he urged.

Sally cut her face on the sharp edges of the space she crawled through. She hoped the modelling agent wouldn’t notice.

A grey van pulled up. Three men piled out.

“Wait? Where are we going exactly?”

Sally had been so consumed with glee before she hadn’t thought to ask. It only occurred to her then that she didn’t even know the modelling agents names.

One of the large men from the van gripped her chin. He moved her face side to side. The large double doors at the back of the van were pulled open. The floor was a metal grate. On the wall hung a black and white striped flag with a red rattle snake in the corner. That same symbol had been a token of fear for months before the outbreak of the war and for the duration. When she saw the Makri symbol she tried to scream. Her mouth was covered with a rough, spade like hand. She felt a needle plunge into her neck. Her unconscious body was bundled into the back of the van.

Makri were expert smugglers. Only they would boldly drive to the edge of Rogue Battalion territory and abduct young girls. Sally wasn’t going to an exciting life. She was being taken into the heart of a Makri stronghold in the deep underworld. She would never see her family again. Once in Makri hands she would never be found.

The Conflict graphic novel series will be with you soon. Check back here at vivikawidow.com for more updates. Follow us for more image, info and stories straight to your inbox.

Enjoy this? Leave your comments below.

Groups of the Conflict: Makri

WE SEEK, WE FIND, WE TAKE

Origins: New Zealand

An underworld group that emerged from the ashes of the ‘Southern Hemisphere War’. Originating in New Zealand, the Makri flooded into Australia when Prime Minister Grimsby opened the gates to the Maori people who were subjected to brutal slaughters in their homeland. Undetected the Makri joined the refugees, spreading from Australia into Asia, Europe and eventually South America.

They are master smugglers and will not be stopped by any border. A specialist unit titled the Counter Marki Intelligence Agency (CMIA) was set up by government officials in United States, United Kingdom, Germany, France, Japan and Australia as a means to stop the spread.

It is said that the Makri are like a super virus that cannot be contained. Whilst steps can be made to reduce the number of their cells operating globally it will never be fully eradicated.

Enjoy this? Looking forward to reading the Conflict graphic novel series?

Leave your comments below! Feel free to share this story.

[image error]

Character Profile: Admiral Bullbrand

Name: Admiral Charles Bullbrand

Age: 43

Status: Horsemen Group Member (Death)

Intelligent, vicious and physically strong. Admiral Bullbrand is feared across all oceans and seas. It is said he could command any ship to victory and if the right vessel were in his hands he would be unstoppable.

He has a fearsome reputation which isn’t without precedent. He has been known to leave only ashes behind when he is put to a task. Only his colleagues in the ‘Horsemen Group’ get an image of Charles as the man behind the horror. As the ‘Death’ quarter of the group it could be argued that he has the most blood on his hands.

He is loyal to his benefactor, Lord Isle, and his fellow Horsemen. Those out with this group would have a difficult time gaining the admiral’s respect. He enjoys toying with his prey but those who cross him will inevitably end the same way.

[image error]

Conflict; Death on the Coast

Pepya threw himself down in the shade of the forest. He had only reached the edge but he couldn’t take himself any further. He had a clear view of the coast line across the warm beach of East Africa.

He didn’t want to steal. He was an honest man and it was against his nature but his wife was sick and his children barely had one meal a day. ‘The General’ had come to his town and offered a lot of money to anyone willing to join his group and obtain resources by any means necessary. Pepya did it for his wife’s sake and for the sake of his children.

A merchant ship stopped at the Went Harbour. Men in dusty brown uniforms were loading and off loading. Pepya wandered closer. No one seemed to pay him any attention. He blended in. He lifted one of the boxes in the pretence that he was helping. The moment he touched it shouting erupted. He stepped back and raised his hands in the air. He didn’t understand what they were saying to him. He knocked one of the boxes over and emblazoned on the side was an image of four rearing horses. In the centre of those was the Admiral’s Seal.

Men in red uniform bore down on Pepya. They were more organised than the helpers. They were pointing heavy duty guns at him that only members of an elite force would have. Pepya tried to say apologise. One of the helpers tried arguing on his behalf but a soldier in red threw their elbow into his face, sending him crashing to the ground. The other’s fell silent. They dared not challenge.

Pepya ran. He had always been a fast runner. He had even been approached as a youngster in the hopes he could represent his home nation as a professional athlete.

A sharp pain fired in the back of his leg as a bullet clipped him. Since he hadn’t gotten away with anything they didn’t gun him down. The shot to his leg served as a painful warning. They chose not to pursue him.

The shadows of night were spreading across the horizon by the time Pepya returned home. His wife was in a terrible state of shock. She had kept herself on her feet as much as possible but she really should have been resting. ‘The General’ had sent for him. Pepya’s family didn’t like ‘The General’. They didn’t trust him. Pepya had tried to explain that their desperation was leaving them with very little choice.

‘The General’ had set up one of the few stable buildings left in town. It was were the bank had been. Those who used to work with the bank had either joined ‘The General’ or had been shot dead on the streets out front. ‘The General’ laid claim to the money. The people of the town had were forced to turn to him for loans.

Pepya was walking with a limp. Two boys in their early teens guarded the door of the bank. When they spotted him approaching the eldest called inside, “He’s here!”

Pepya climbed through the gaping hole, left over damage from rogue military manoeuvres in the town.

‘The General’ seated at a large oak desk that rightfully belonged to the bank manager. He wore the full military regalia complete with medals that had never been earned.

“You have had quite an adventure today, haven’t you?” ‘The General’s’ voice boomed. “I heard you tried to lift a box from a merchant ship.”

Pepya nodded in acknowledgement of the statement.

“Do you know who that ship belonged to?”

“They were a lot more guarded than I had first thought. They shot at me,” Pepya explained, avoiding the question.

‘The General’ stood. He threw his chair back and slammed his fists on the table. “That ship belonged to Admiral Bullbrand. Do you have any idea what you have done?”

Instant shots of adrenaline fired down all four of Pepya’s limbs. He began to shake. He didn’t know Admiral Bullbrand but his reputation was wide spread. “I … I didn’t know until it was too late,” he stammered. “I never took anything.”

‘The General’ grunted. He turned to the television behind him and pushed the play button on a video message that was already loaded.

“I received this message ten minutes ago,” he explained.

On the screen appeared the image of the Admiral. He wore a vibrant red blazer which gave a wildness to the piercing blue of his eyes. His sharp chin was held up as he glared at those the message was intended for.

“This morning I received word that an individual from one of the local towns attempted steal from one of my supply ships. I’m sure resourceful gentlemen such as yourselves agree that this can not be tolerated. The cheeky little fellow escaped with nothing more than a scraped knee but rest assured this is not the last you have heard of this.” Bullbrand leaned closer to the camera. He gave a sharp intake of breath and his narrow lips tightened. “If I were to let this go then word might spread. Before we know it we have anarchy on our hands and the beautiful beaches of your coast would run red with blood.” Admiral Bullbrand sat back again and took a momentary pause. He ran his forefinger and his thumb across his chin. “To show that theft from one of my ships will not be tolerated I will be with you within forty eight hours. I will see to the punishment of those responsible personally.”

The video message cut. Pepya was finding it a struggle to breathe. He felt two grown men grip his arm.

“You heard what the Admiral said.” ‘The General’ spoke calmly. “If we let you go and you flee we will all be destroyed. You have brought Him here. You have brought death to our shores.”

Subscribe to this page and prepare for Conflict. The latest updates, images and news from the most hotly anticipated graphic novel series available exclusively at vivikawidow.com

[image error]