A Conversation Between Deceased Antagonists

FCT> Fleet Commander Thikair, of the Shongairi Empire, commander of the colonization ( i.e. invasion ) fleet sent to KU-197-20 (Earth), as authorized by the Hegemony Council in the year 74,065 of the Hegemony.

RAR> Rear Admiral James Robinson, Naval Network and Space Operations Command. Possibly the highest ranking officer in the United States … more → ]]> So I’m re-reading David Weber’s Out of the Dark, and a particular scene sparked this…thing. I can’t honestly call it a story. Perhaps vignette is the best description. It is a snippet of conversation between the highest ranked individuals on both sides.

A Conversation Between Deceased Antagonists

FCT> Fleet Commander Thikair, of the Shongairi Empire, commander of the colonization ( i.e. invasion ) fleet sent to KU-197-20 (Earth), as authorized by the Hegemony Council in the year 74,065 of the Hegemony.

RAR> Rear Admiral James Robinson, Naval Network and Space Operations Command. Possibly the highest ranking officer in the United States Military after the initial Shongairi KEW bombardment.

(fade in, FCT & RAR sitting in their respective chairs, drinks and snacks within reach)

FCT> “One of the many things that we didn’t understand about your cultures was this resistance to using whatever weapons were necessary to achieve your ends. For example, we knew you had chemical, bio-active, and nuclear weapons, but not one of your nations were willing to use them to become supreme.”

RAR> *nods* “We call them weapons of mass destruction, or WMDs and to answer your question, we don’t use them because we have used them.”

FCT> “I don’t understand.”

RAR> “Early in what we call the twentieth century there was a great war on our eastern continent. Both sides deployed chemical weapons. They were crude compared to later efforts, but the cost in lives destroyed and maimed was terrible. In a later conflict, nuclear weapons were used twice. The hope was that seeing the terrible destruction, the other side would surrender to prevent more casualties. Chemical weapons are easy. Bio weapons are almost as easy. Nukes are somewhat harder, but still a dozen nations have the capability. Once one nation starts using any of them, others will retaliate and it will spread until the Earth is uninhabitable. We know this as Mutually Assured Destruction. We have developed treaties to prevent this from happening, for if the WMD conflict spreads, no one will survive.”

FCT> “That doesn’t make sense.”

RAR> “That’s because as a race, your people are hunters. If the concepts follow those on my planet, hunters are either solitary or packs. I believe your culture is based around the pack. When a challenger to the pack leader appears, they fight until one submits, and then the fight is over. Unless one or both are mortally wounded in the combat, both will survive. We see this in the packs of our more primitive species.”

FCT> “Of course, that only makes sense.”

RAR> “As I said, you are hunters, but we are killers. It is not unknown in our internal conflicts for the stronger to continue battering away at the weaker until he dies. Once we developed more complex social structures, outright killing became frowned on. But we still engage in the practice. It has just become converted into organizational, rather than personal conflict.”

FCT> *whispered* “We should have destroyed you as soon as we arrived.”

RAR> “From your point of view, that would have been best. Of course, our point of view differs on that.”

FCT> “Is there no hope for my people, then? Can we not negotiate a treaty that lets us both survive?”

RAR> “I don’t know. There are many of us who would stop short of full destruction. Once the killer instinct arises it takes much effort to suppress it.  But you have to understand that the person leading the retaliation fleet is among the most blood-thirsty individuals in our history. You and I can only sit and watch how events will play out. We can only hope and pray that cooler heads will prevail.

FCT> “Why would you say that? We are enemies.”

RAR> “The destruction of an entire race, no a species, even though an enemy, will leave the universe a poorer place. And in addition, it will leave a stain on our racial soul that may fade, but will never vanish.”

FCT> “I don’t understand you.”

RAR> “Let’s hope that someone on the retaliation fleet thinks like me.”

(fade out>

Now it gets put on the back burner to simmer for a while. After the flavors have mixed and melded and the scents have wafted around a … more → ]]> I just finished the first draft of a 30K-word novella. It’s taken about eight months to finish this draft, even though this was a story near and dear to my heart. I kept getting stuck, mostly on how to get from where I was to the next section that had already written. I had put it aside and worked on other things, going back when the itch got too much for me.

Now it gets put on the back burner to simmer for a while. After the flavors have mixed and melded and the scents have wafted around a bit more, it will be time for the taste test and final seasoning.

Then it gets dished out to the public. This is a fan fiction piece, so there won’t be any shopping around for paid publication.

Rah! Rah! Sis boom bah!
Twist your brain and make it squeak!
Rah! Rah! Sis boom bah!
Pound those keys and make them speak!
Rah! Rah! Sis boom bah!
Mash those words until they beg!
Rah! Rah! Sis boom bah!
December 1 go tap a Keg!

Now with that sound track running through your head, imagine a 57 year old man in a mini-skirt; tight, sleeveless sweater; jumping … more → ]]> I won’t be participating this year, however in the spirit of encouragement and congratulations (hey, you should be congratulated just for trying!), I present the NaNoCheer….

Rah! Rah! Sis boom bah!
Twist your brain and make it squeak!
Rah! Rah! Sis boom bah!
Pound those keys and make them speak!
Rah! Rah! Sis boom bah!
Mash those words until they beg!
Rah! Rah! Sis boom bah!
December 1 go tap a Keg!

Now with that sound track running through your head, imagine a 57 year old man in a mini-skirt; tight, sleeveless sweater; jumping around and shaking pom-poms.

For those of you gullible enough to have actually done that, here’s a coupon for a free gallon of Brain Bleach.

+------------------------------+
|                              |
|          FREE!!!!            |
|   Joe's Brand Brain Bleach   |
|     one (1) gallon size      |
|                              |
+------------------------------+

hey

I finally decided to take the plunge and self-publish, probably as ebook only. The decision was triggered when a tweeter I follow mentioned his editor had some open slots. We talked, and he agreed to take on the manuscript.

Three days ago I received the file back. The editor thought … more → ]]> Well, my first novel is back from the editor. This was a successful NaNoWriMo ’06 effort and ‘finished’ by June of ’07. It was tweaked off and on for the next oh, four or five years and shelved when no agents were interested. Either the idea was *ahem* crap or the proposal was.

I finally decided to take the plunge and self-publish, probably as ebook only. The decision was triggered when a tweeter I follow mentioned his editor had some open slots. We talked, and he agreed to take on the manuscript.

Three days ago I received the file back. The editor thought the book was good and is awaiting the final product. First independent opinion that my writing isn’t total crap.

I’m about to crack open the file and see what needs to be done. I’ll admit to being a little nervous. Well, okay, a lot nervous, but it has to be done.

More to come…

Yuji

Perhaps stories are like waking dreams. Dreams you can direct and control.

So you dream to make sense of the day’s events, and you write to make sense of the dreams. Occasionally the events of the dream, but more likely the feel of the dream.

A vicious cycle. Well, maybe not vicious, but a cycle anyway.

Excluding this post, I have created 44 new pieces, comprised of 18 short stories and 27 other blog posts; a combination of reviews and various ramblings. However, 8 of the 45 were partial works. Chuck Wendig (you are reading, his blog, right?) issues a flash fiction challenge every Friday. The latest one was a five-parter.

Chuck’s five-part … more → ]]> John Anealio issued a challenge in January of 2013: do 23 creative ‘things’ in 2013. John was very flexible about what ‘counts’ to meet the challenge (read his post for details). This is the announcement of my totals.

Excluding this post, I have created 44 new pieces, comprised of 18 short stories and 27 other blog posts; a combination of reviews and various ramblings. However, 8 of the 45 were partial works. Chuck Wendig (you are reading, his blog, right?) issues a flash fiction challenge every Friday. The latest one was a five-parter.

Chuck’s five-part challenge involved everyone writing 200 words of a 1,000-word story. Then you write another 200 words of someone else’s story, etc. It was fun, and I contributed to 8 different stories over the five weeks. Since each entry is one fifth of a story, I am combining all 8 into 1 for purposes of the 23-challenge.

In addition, I’ve added another thirty-thousand words to several longer works.

And I have submitted fiction to 25 markets

18 short stories, 25 submissions, 26 blog posts, 30k words added to longer works.

Achievement unlocked.

Thanks, John. Without the spur of your challenge I doubt I would have done as much last year.

By the way, whether, John formally re-issues the challenge or not, I am going to treat it as a repeating challenge. 23-in-’14, here I come!

“Yes, this penthouse view is quite breathtaking,” I turned to the luscious blonde before me, “but not nearly as lovely as—”

A thunder clap, and then I was standing in a small, glowing circle, surrounded by a gaggle of chanting fools in robes.

“Oh great Sorasel im Palat, lord of fire and … more → ]]> Chuck Wendig’s Latest Flash Fiction Challenge. Part five of Meagan Wilson’s story of demon summoning. I think someone titled it “Stewart”, possibly in one of the other threads. I’m kept that here just for the sake of convenience. Total word count: 979

“Yes, this penthouse view is quite breathtaking,” I turned to the luscious blonde before me, “but not nearly as lovely as—”

A thunder clap, and then I was standing in a small, glowing circle, surrounded by a gaggle of chanting fools in robes.

“Oh great Sorasel im Palat, lord of fire and darkness, fell devourer of the innocent, conqueror of—” Arcane symbols covered the speaker’s robes, nearly obscuring the heavy crimson fabric.

“Yes, yes, get on with it.” I gestured with my gin martini.

He paused, then finished in a post-pubescent squeak, “We invoke thy true name and bid thee do our will.”

“Oh you do, do you? Well I want you to send me back. I was having a smashing time, and that girl may not have two brain cells to rub together, but she looked quite likely to do some rubbing together. If you know what I mean.”

The robe-wearers shuffled, and whispered amongst themselves. The leader piped up again.

“O great Sorasel im—“

“Stop that, stop that,” I interrupted. “Only my dad calls me that. I prefer my middle name. If you must speak, call me Stewart.”

More shuffling and whispering from my summoners.

“Oh great and mighty…Stewart….” the leader—whose pasty face was mostly spots—began again. “We bind thee to our will.”

I took a sip of my martini—extra dirty, extra olives—and raised an eyebrow at the little prat. Summoners used to know what they were doing. I looked at the floor where their demon trap was sloppily drawn with what smelled unmistakably like fresh, store-bought spray paint. I sighed. What happened to the blood of a virgin? Or even the vital fluids of an unwilling Christian priest?

I noticed their silence; I could practically smell their fear—a mixture of piss and that foul deodorant that promised them flocks of women. I took another gulp of the martini—it was perfect. Almost as flawless as my blonde client who was no doubt currently working her minimal intelligence into a sweat in an effort to find me.
“Well? Get on with it.”

“We bound you, oh great Sora—er—Stewart.”

“I heard that part. So,” I made sure to smile with all of my teeth. “You’ve bound me. Congratulations. Now, what do you plan to do?”

“Jaime, this was your idea.” One of the other robed figures poked the leader.

“Yes…Jaime? You masterminded this escapade?” I drained the martini, and stared directly at Jaime.

“Oh great Stewart, we sumoned you because…um…” Jamie looked sheepish. “We want to get laid, like, a lot.” The chuckleheads voiced their agreement with grunts and high fives.

“You seriously summoned me because you want sex? Personal hygiene and asking a girl on a date didn’t work, so you decided ‘Meh. Let’s just summon a demon’?” A couple of them laughed, but were quickly silent.

“Well, you’ve taken the trouble to bring me here, and I’m bound to your will, but just because I’m feeling generous, I’m going to give you a short primer on demon invocation.” They looked at each other warily.

“There are five elements of a proper invocation. Three you have managed admirably. You have consecrated the space. I personally would have used something a little more visceral, but there’s no accounting for taste. I’m here, so obviously you have successfully invoked me, and of course, you have bound me to your will.” I looked down my nose at Jaime.

“The fourth element, however, is constraint. You must constrain the actions of the demon. That, my young friends, you have not done.”

I took a step outside the glowing ring, and the five of them shuffled back like frightened animals. Jaime and the leader exchanged a glance, and their faces grew serious.

“Take him down!” cried the leader. Within a single second they were all shouting like crazed warriors and rushing me. They flung their smelly bodies onto me, clinging to my back, arms grappling my neck, the weight of five preteen boys dragging me down. I leaned forward slightly to keep my balance, then brought two fingers to my lips and kissed them.

A low, sharp rumbled filled the windowless room, like the heavy bass of a speaker, and the boys, still hooting like maniacs, flew in five directions and thunked nearly in unison onto their backs. I took a sip of my martini. Not a drop had been spilled.

I paced toward Jaime, who scrambled upright, his eyes wide with terror.

“You really want to know what it’s like to get laid by a demon?” I hovered over him, grinning, the fingers of my left hand glowing bright orange and smoking.

“Muh… Muh…” he stuttered. I turned my ear toward him, cupping it. “MOM!”

“You’re calling for your mommy little boy?” I sneered.

I heard footsteps pounding closer, so I turned to the door and put on my most fearsome demeanor. This should be fun.

The door slammed opened and a woman charged through. She took in the tableau in one quick glance. I opened my mouth to welcome her to my clutches, but before I could say anything, she made a throwing motion and shouted a single word that made me cringe.

The summoning ring flared a bright red behind me and a force grabbed me and yanked me back inside.

I stared at the woman who now had her arms around Jamie stroking his hair. She looked vaguely familiar.

“Jamie, I told you, you weren’t ready yet.”

“Sorry, Mom,” the boy said. He scuffed his foot on the floor.

The woman sighed and ruffled his hair. “Maybe it’s for the best,” she said. She looked at me. “Yes, I think it’s time.”

She drew the boy closer so they faced me across the barrier.

“Stewart, I would like you to meet your son, James.”