The Next Two to Four Months

It’s been a bit just getting here.  I’ve got a book released, a second book waiting in the wings for her time in the sun, and I published a pair of short stories on this venue.  It was a lot of work; I spent more than a year on it, and I threw out a great deal more content than I kept.  Anyways, as it stands, I’ve got virtually no fan-base.  I can’t do anything with that.  I do actually have a marketing scheme in mind to rectify that error, but it’s going to take between another two and four months for my master plan to achieve fruition. Don’t feel very clever today. Anyways, it’s going seem like I’m going dark for a number of months, with little but inconsequential updates and outright lies to fill the gaps, but in reality, I’ll be working like a dog for the master’s slave’s slave’s scraps. Have a picture of turkeys.

The Weary Old Heroes of a Forgotten War

And the band played Waltzing Mathilda.  And the old men still answer the call.  But year after the year, the numbers grow fewer.  Some day no-one will march there at all. An army of wind-warping lead, to the clatter of innumerable casings, ricocheted from pavement and brick facings through the broad window panes of shop-fronts and high-rise apartments, as the police pressed their assault. The venerable Ms. Other, concealed in the cover of the rear seat loaded another magazine and racked the slide, grinning maniacally. “Really makes you feel alive, eh Richard?” Richard was practically dislocating his every joint to flatten himself into the very bottom of the passenger’s seat, babbling incoherently for his mansioned mother, while Poena only laughed, and hoisted him again into the rear seat. “Get your shit together, little man! How many times in life do you think you’ll have the opportunity to be shot at?! You might as well enjoy it!” One day we’ll all be in the ground.  Make sure you dance while you’ve still got your legs, still got the wind in your lungs–nevermind what others may think. Edit: Click the link.  

The Fall

The following is the first of five short stories from my recently published book, The Sagas of the Iron Hearts: Fragments, which can be found here.  If you enjoyed it, you can peruse at your will the remaining four for the low low price of $4.99 paperback  and $0.99 kindle edition.  Every sale is a step towards paying my utilities and a step away from being evicted from my meager lodgings by my girlfriend, whose mother warned her about me. Anyways: The Fall 1. Lost amidst the infinite specks of starry sky there hurtled through the void an errant youth huddled within the still belly of a metal monolith.  The dusky ovaloid capsule—engraved with the ancient production markings of an age beyond memory, scored and seared with centuries of use—was a thing monstrous, several stories in length.  The wild-eyed youth of fluttering heart, the traveler comfortably enshrouded within the armored auspices of the soaring bulwark, could strangely think only of his own inconsequence—how small he was against the titanic backdrop of stars and galaxies that would dwarf him just as easily as the events at hand—and his own part in them.  Dread ruminations of catastrophic failure, that there is no undying glory, Read More …

The First Among Many

He leveled his weapon, which began to spit forth with the venomous lick of surging fire at four-hundred-and-fifty rounds per minute, forty-five caliber rounds. He felt the familiar kick of the weapon, its poorly mitigated recoil—it was not an elegant weapon—with bitter nostalgia, as round after round tore the occupied seats, nailed-down stools, and the hardwood table itself to warm, fluttering splinters. All was silent, save for the panicked and dazed screaming of the damned, for a few seconds as he ejected the spent magazine and loaded a fresh one. It sounded like songbirds. He then recommenced firing until there was naught but an audible click, until there was no more movement but the slick trickle, sputter, and surge of sanguine ooze from uncountable gaping holes in trembling flesh marked very shortly for death, as the final crypt-guardian garbed and invisible amidst a pall of shadow covered the eyes of all in endless night of no awaking. A short story, indeed a quite old one, one that’s nearly two years old.  She’s finally available.  A bit of fun, a bit of satire, punctuated with scenes of devil-may-care social violence.  And when I say “social” I mean in the manner of “socii,” Read More …

Happy Days Are Here at Last

My first book, a collection of five short stories crafted under the guise of military science fiction, is completed and up for sale as a soft-cover on Amazon.  It’s entitled “The Sagas of the Iron Hearts: Fragments.”  The Kindle version will be released some time later–precisely when, I don’t know.  I could wax poetic about the quality of the writing or the peculiarity of the setting, but I’ve a thousand and one things to do. Anyways, it can be found here: I’ve also conjured a facebook page, if you’re into that sort of thing, here: And I’ve got a deviantart page, if you can tolerate furries (not the Eumenes) dazzling the front page in all their shirtless wonder.  Not much there though.  And I would discourage the curious until there is. Anyways, I’ve gotta skate.  More updates later.

Beware the Ides of Febtober

…Because they conveniently occur on the date of this missive, and I’m not in a terribly good mood–not that I ever am. Well.  The first of two completed volumes should be seeing publication within a week.  The second some time later; no sense flooding the marketplace and whathaveyou.  I’ll provide the title and links and other pertinent information for people buying books when I have confirmed publication. In other news, I’ve begun production on a third book, but I just don’t see any point in providing much in the way of detail at this point.  It will be a fantasy novel, and the themes will be generally dark.  The narrative perspective will also be significantly more withdrawn than I am accustomed.  How I long for the day that I might have the time and genuine opportunity to write social satire!  Actually, I’ll provide a few tidbits.  Months and months ago, I was playing a Heart of Fury run through Icewind Dale, and I’d taken the effort of creating novel personas for the members of my four-man party.  At least I think it was a four-man party.  It might have been six.  Anyways, the token “I need to break traps and pick Read More …