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Friday, April 18, 2014

Saturday, March 22, 2014

What is Real

"Wake up Isaac."
    He jumped awake. He didn't recognize his surroundings, and his memory was blank.
    In a moment he recognized a hospital bed, in a sterile blue and white room. He had tubes on his arm and head, and a machine next to him beeped loudly. Several nurses stood around him.

Saturday, March 8, 2014

An Average Man

"I really think you've made a mistake!"
    "That's no way for a hero to talk, Oliver!" The man across from Oliver said, pumping a fist in the air. Above their heads, the helicopter's blades chopped. "Your country needs you! I need you!"
    "No, I really think you don't!" Oliver Bascombe, systems administrator for the CIA's Del Pune division, a city in the country of Pangke, said. "This isn't my expertise!"
    "Nonsense!" Bradley Tonman responded. "You're exactly the kind of man we need for this job!"

Wednesday, January 29, 2014

Break time!

With the Day-lighter's three-part story wrapped up, it's time for me to take a breather from the blog. I'm going to continue writing during the break, but these are stories that I will try to sell to magazines. Like last time, the break will go for a month, which means that stories should restart on March eighth.

The first story I'm going to try to write involves a character that has existed for some time. This might explain it:

    He was the Flame of the South, a man that had won women from one end of Andalusia to the other before his eighteenth birthday. Greater Spain welcomed him with open arms -- as did the fine women in every province. He took his special skill abroad, conquering, in no certain order, France, Germany, England, Italy -- ah, Italy -- and beyond. In every country the woman found him; he didn't need to look. His charm, his stature, his voice, all were pieces of the formula that equaled Don Fuego. He visited Asia, Africa, Australia, the Middle East, and the Americas. Everywhere he went, he found he was the bane of men, and the sweet poison of women.
    So he told the men of his power, and offered them a deal. The woman you want is another's, you say? Si, Senor, I understand. I will help. They will not be together for long. I will make her love me -- but no, I could never stay with her. She will be sad, weeping . . . and then you will be there to comfort her, with a flower of her favorite color. What's that? You don't know her favorite color?
    Don Fuego knows.

There are some other ideas, but this one is the one I've been working on for a few days. I really like the character and the idea of a "Lover for Hire." The story seems somewhat loose right now, but it's shaping up.

Saturday, December 28, 2013

Star Light

The inn was built to handle the rain, like all other buildings in the area -- in the world. Steep, sloped roofs, diverting gutters, and a raised floor over a huge grill that led underground, to let the rain gather together in a giant reservoir under the village. The heavy, everlasting clouds hung over the roof and poured rain all day, just like the last day, last month, and last year. It had been raining for longer than anyone could remember.