What do you do when trust is questioned?
There’s a couple of schools of thought, but personally, I’m of the school of thought that once it’s gone, it’s nigh on impossible to get back.
Presently there areĀ 3 people on this planet that I trust without question.

Which brings me to another issue… Masks.
We all wear masks one way or another, we’re different people for different situations. With friends, one mask. At work, another. With the folks on the checkout, another again.
Screw that.
You want the truth, Here it is.

I’m Me. I’m imperfect.
Had a string of failed relationships and it takes 2 for things to fall apart.
I’ve been both good and bad, in trouble and the rescue party. And I’d do it again.
I’m a half broke writer, and I frequently bite off more than I can chew, but go nuts trying to get things done.
I’ve let things get to me, and I’ve dealt like a freakin champ.
I’ve been broken and fixed. I’m stubborn and yes I flog dead horses, staying with things long after things have gone south.
I hate acknowledging that I’ve made a mistake but I make ’em and own ’em.
When my mind’s made up it’s made up.
When I give up I walk.
There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for friends.
Even the fairweather ones.
I drink far too much coffee and 2 bottles of wine a week.
Oh how I’m craving a smoke.
I get in impossibly awkward situations with ease.
I feel, I hurt, I burn and yet I’m happy, inside, through all the stress I’m happy.
I don’t have much, and I’m ok with that.
But by hell I’m ambitious, I’ll shoot for the stars and fall, dust myself off and try again.
I say what I mean, although sometimes I pretty it up.
I hate being the bad guy, but I’ll do it if I have to.
I’m a geek, a nerd, a poet, a writer, a romantic and a freakin warrior.
I hide insecurity with humour.
I’m predictably unpredictable, transparently confusing.
Know me and you’ll know everything.
I know what I want and have no clue how to get there… That won’t stop me.
I’m coming for my dreams.
Buckle up!

The mask I wear is no mask at all, this is Me.
Raw, Exposed, Me.
This is my truth.


Somewhere, there’s a tech sitting in a little used room at the phone place, wondering why windows 10 updates are being downloaded over a company issue bell Canada ‘invisible’ 33.6 modem.
This act of technological necromancy is to keep me sane.
Awhile back I decided to disconnect my cell, to save a bit of cash, figuring that the abundance of wifi hotspots and a solid home high speed link would compensate.
Snow storms and power lines figured into my calculations in about the same way that horny seagulls figure into rollercoaster sensor design.
Yes there’s a story there, and a phone call that I’ll never forget.

It’s forced me to look at just how connected I am. It feels like a piece of me is broken or missing. My work is online, literally, trapped in my onedrive. My friends are online, dispersed about the planet at random, clustered together in places 9 days walk from me, and while I’m fairly certain that I’d be invited in for coffee, the typed out good morning’s are probably better than having a dishevelled me staring at them after an epic stroll.
And of course my heart is online, kept safely about a thousand miles from where it should be, and the frustration of that particular disconnect is driving me to distraction.
And acts of unholy resurrection…
In the basement, there’s a vintage Pentium, Running a newly installed windows 98, hooked up to my wifi router… It’s wondering why all this information is streaming through it, miserable to see that it’s 256mb of ram content is being devoured by the network cable at a pace it’s never even thought possible.
Fix the Internet and let this poor machine rest in pieces once more.

2015 review…


It’s been a rollercoaster year.
From the battle that was the new year, the ups and downs of elevator installation, to finding what I’m actually supposed to be doing…
And where I’m actually supposed to be.
We’ll get there…

Battles fought and hard won at the beginning of the year shaped most of the rest of the year’s events.
An out of control spiral, good and bad.
Highlights include working with the CE guys, Jeremy, Jay, Lumpy, Dave, Shawn, Rod, Chris, James, Jamie, Art, the warehouse guys, the electrical guys, the office girls… Thanks folks, I had a blast, I wish you all well for the future.
“The Mouth”, “the Import”, and “the Man in comfortable shoes”, No hard feelings boys, karma will get you, good luck.
I also miss that battered van, y’all ever selling it, let me know… Or one of those cubes. šŸ˜‰

Then summer hit, things started calming down, but fate it seems had other ideas. July saw this year’s first Christmas, funding issues, ping ping employment and that all consuming, impending sense of doom that the end of the summer brings.

And then there was the Tribe, quite how I stumbled in there, I’ll never quite know.
What I do know is that in The EGW group I found family, friends and a belief in my writing that had sadly been lacking. Peers actually read my stuff, and the genuine positivity of the group lead to the formation of a support group that has saved both sanity and life, not just my own. This ramshackle family of misfits, comedians, genius and emotion… Quite literally changed everything.
Among other things finding a phenomenal writing partner who’s work has shot my own into new territory.
Friends from all walks of life and religious beliefs, personal circumstances that would make a stone weep, and some of the most creative and inspiring people I have ever had the pleasure to call friends!

Behind the scenes, fate was conspiring… Oh boy was it ever conspiring.
Just when you think you’re on balance, fate shows up at your doorstep and bashes you on the head with her giant wooden mallet. Subtle things, barely noticed words, slight actions and the gentle proddings of masterfully devious friends become a huge neon sign that says “right here idiot!”.
It’s said that everyone has a ‘perfect match’, and I had all but given up on finding ‘her’.
She found me, or rather, was pointed in my direction.
How one person can check off so many boxes on the list of wants/needs baffles me in a way I’m not sure I’ll ever completely understand.
But it’s happened.
Talking leaves me randomly flummoxed, thought trains derailing frequently, and the non stop series of thoughts of the future.
Yes, the future.
How that future will fall into place… I have no idea. It’s going to be an interesting and epic adventure.
I found my Alpha, and I’m not letting go. Falling faster with each day that passes.
Yes, it’s the big ‘L’!

So where does that leave 2015?
At the end, the good outweighs the bad, it’s a coiled spring of a year that is making sure next year is going to be a hell of a ride. In a good way.

Now I just have to find a stable home Internet connection…
So if you are reading this, and in whatever way you’ve had a hand in this year’s events, I thank you, and wish you well for the future.
Best of the season to you!

Elemental Series

Elements Of Character Development

images (11)

The Alchemists of old knew a thing or two about creating things, turning lead into gold, unlocking the secrets of the universe, and so forth.
They did so with the firm belief in four basic elements.
Earth, Air, Fire and Water.
With these they believed they could create anything.

Let’s apply that to creating a rounded out character:

EARTHThis is where the roots of your Character are.
What is their History?
Their upbringing?
Their resume of skills?
What do they look like?
Who were their parents?
What was their childhood Dog’s name?
The Roots of your Character are grown from the facts of their existence.
How well do you know that aspect of them?

“From a small seed a mighty trunk may grow” – Aeschylus

Earth is theĀ grounding of your character, Their security, solidity and growth.

FIREFire is what forges your Character.
What are their trials?
What Have they been through?
What have been their challenges?
Odd quirks?
What do they hate and why?
What are their fears?
What have they suffered before?
How did it affect them?

What has tempered your Character?

“The toughest Steel is forged by the hottest Fire.” -Unknown

Fire is what leads your Character to and through the story.

AIRAir uplifts your Character.
What are their hopes, dreams and aspirations?
What do they want?
Why do they want it?

What sliver of hope do they cling to when times are tough?

What motivates them?

“Listen closely to the Wind… It is the sound of leaves in the trees, dancing & beautiful poetry across the skies.” – Unknown

Air is a powerful element to bring to bear, it motivates and inspires, gives cause to your character. A gentle breeze or enough to blow your mind… The choice is yours.


Water is your Characters adaptability and endurance. I can’t put it waterbetter than a great philosopher, Bruce Lee:

“Empty your mind, be formless, shapeless – like water. Now you put water into a cup, it becomes the cup, you put water into a bottle, it becomes the bottle, you put it in a teapot, it becomes the teapot. Now water can flow or it can crash. Be water, my friend.ā€

The Water Element is what brings flow and ebb into your Character. A gentle trickle or a complete tsunami… Water has the ability to help you chart your characters course…

But we’re not turning Lead into Gold are we?

So far we’ve got ourselves a fairly acceptable Character, We know they’re balanced, we know they can survive in a plot and if we left it there we could get away with it…
But should we?
We’re making Magic, not gold.SPIRItWATErFIReEARThAIR
What is the thing we’re missing for a truly memorable character, not just in the readersĀ mind, but in ours as authors.
If we turn to the rules of magic, there’s a fifth element. One that upsets the natural order, causes you to have to rewrite entire chapters and enables you to surprise yourself with what they actually do:


Spirit is what happens when you take all the above and blend them, letting the character “live” as they see fit. It’s where the voodoo of creation happens, Up till this point you can write the biography of elsewhere. Breathing the life of Spirit into your Character lets you go on an adventure with them, That excitement will transfer into your work, Letting your Characters live in the minds of your reader, and in your own as an author.
When you release your Characters, and let them live…

…Anything is possible.

Make your Magic Happen.


Fury (Vincent’s Log)

May 3 2079,

New research assistant today, Cute but kinda ‘proper’. Spent the whole day explaining what we do, what we’re looking for.
Offered to get lunch, ended up chatting. She’s from the cancelled ‘Mindweaver’ program. Never knew they were into that kind of hocus pocus on level 7. I think I listened alright, Her smile’s contagious, even had George smiling back and George don’t smile at anyone. Grumpy old fart.

May 7 2079

All good in the world, showed up with a hangover from last night’s party. Got scowled at. On with work. Not sure what we’re looking for but all the regular suspects are out. Time to think outside the box.

May 9 2079

We hit the library today. She’s a phenomenal researcher. cross referencing everything in he entire database for a pattern. Now we’ve excluded the usual stuff we’re looking for more esoteric things. I’m pretty sure she thinks I’m nuts. She declined drinks after work.

May 14 2079

Call me paranoid but there seems to be a correlation between Us and the decline. And I’m not talking about global warming, Even the damn holy books talk about it. She suggested a deeper search of myth and legend. Why the hell not, what have we got to lose? Oh yeah, the planet and everyone on it. Don’t know if it’s futile or not, but we have to try.

May 17 2079

Hangover from hell. I went to the library for some quiet and found her there. Pensive, quiet. Left her be till lunch when I offered to pay, she tried to say no until I promised it would be somewhere that served coffee, not beer. She opened up a little, about herself. No-one talks to me that way. It was… Nice… but not at the same time. I got the feeling she glossed over a lot. Got absolutely nothing done but accomplished a smile

May 18 2079

Breakthrough… Maybe. It’s weird, there seems to be some correlation between certain points on the planet and things dying out. Hell, the bible even references it. She seems to agree given the facts. She talked… personal stuff. She’s tougher than she looks. Got a smile again until I asked her if she’d like to join in. Said “I was a little too wild”. Oh well.

May 24 2079,

She talked again today, offhand during the research. I wish, … no I don’t. Oh but I do.
Shut up, it’ll never happen. It can’t happen, I’m not right. She’s not right… Deserves better than a one nighter.
Maybe… No who am I fooling. It’d never work.
The energy signature is feint, but there. I have to do more digging.

May 29 2079,

The more I see the more it gets confusing. She said to discount it, that it’s an anomaly, I’m not so sure. it seems to run like a spiderweb, stronger in certain parts of the lab. EM interference She said.
Maybe she’s right. Thought about the other thing and then thought better of it. I’m nowhere near Good enough. The Club will have to do.

June 3 2079,


The fucking hippies were right. Now she thinks I’ve lost the plot, I have to make the detector portable. She says she’ll indulge my ‘fantasy’ because at this point we’re grasping at straws. I happened on some old maps, Real old. I’ve got to convince her that this is the right thing to be doing.

June 28 2079

They’re right. It’s something. She won’t believe me. The portable detector works. Lunch was good.

Oct 7 2079

She’s finally on board with the notion that things are connected. We’re headed to the Vatican archives, no-one alive there to stop us anymore anyway. DoD says it is the last excursion they can do for us without a result.

Nov 5 2079

earth grid-world sphere

Those fuckers had it the whole time. It’s been sitting here since the dark ages. Every secret every piece of forbidden knowledge…. and where the nexuses are. She’s more than on board now. It’s been nice out here in the field.
There might have been a look… no.

Dec 5 2079.

We’ve plotted the nexus closest to us, Sat imaging shows it’s dead, but it’s not equipped for scanning the energy we need to find and the DoD says there’s no money for a new one, launch costs too high.

Aug 3 2081

It’s been a while I know, we’ve plotted the major and minor points, Globally there’s only 5 that have ANY signs of life at all.
DoD says it’s too risky to mount an expedition. She thinks we have to check it out, keeps pushing them. Quietly tenacious.

Nov 1 2081

Our new machine can find and control this stuff, we had an abandoned school exactly where we needed it. Tests prove it can be done. No funding though. They say it’s needed elsewhere. She’s helping me salvage any equipment that’ll help.

Mar 4 2082

I don’t know if you’ll ever find this, ever read these words.
I have to go, I’ve stashed enough gear to get me there and back.
I’m not risking you as well.
It’s in Nebraska.
and I think our gear can fix it.
and if you’re ever reading this…
I’m sorry I was an ass.



My head is spinning,
My thought pattern is so completely scrambled… And it’s amazing!

Standing on the edge of something huge…
Ridiculously perfect.
A new project that blows everything else I’ve done on my own out of the water.
And I’m not saying a word yet.
I can’t say a word yet.
It’s being planned and written and somehow, against any common sense, it works.
I don’t want to curse it.

In other news :
Somehow I got picked as Spotlighter for my writing group. How an unpublished writer does this is beyond me.
I’m advising people, answering questions that I don’t feel qualified to answer.
Old ghosts are hard to kill, but for whatever reason… And it escapes me completely… I’m doing good.
I’m told I’m doing good.
By authors… Actual published ones… And more writers that are far better than I am… People I freaking look up to… That I’m doing well.
There’s something in the air that is bringing about another change.

But for now…
And hopefully for a while…
I’m enjoying the spinning.


Slowly I’m piecing together the body of work I have scattered over the Internet.
It’s fun to look back and see where my head was at in those days.
So here’s an 11 year old piece that of course… Was never finished.

24 Jan 2004

Location: Ringo Moon – The Clockwork Bitch
Infinity’s Edge: Prologue : Rask
Priest’s Pity 11:08:56 (Ship time)

The Bayamon was his pride & joy, it’d taken him just over a year to get it, legally… well almost. Bloody Teladi, making everyone switch to jezuras or whatever, he couldn’t care less; The Bayamon kept Boron time and that was the way he liked it. The spaceweed runs didn’t seem as long that way.
He’d show them, the Argon he had locked up at the base was nearly finished the next step, the one that would make him rich, he could buy
his own base and get someone else to bring his spaceweed.
It was getting risky now, the bounty on his head had increased to 10,000 creds, he wasn’t even sure the wife wouldn’t turn him in for it, he kicked the S.E.T.A. into high gear, no sense being out here longer than he had to.
His head hurt where the Paranid had implanted the chip, but this only made him smile, he’d found it by accident, it had been in a box under his bunk, in with all his grandfather’s things. It had been clearly Paranid in design but like nothing he had ever seen before.
That was when he had kidnapped the Argon Nutter, genius yes, but he didn’t need the weed to …well, it was irrelevant, over the past few months he had made a machine that churned out 50 per day. Yep the Argon was crazy but it worked, and the rest…
His thought train was interrupted by the Scanners going Haywire, he was under attack, probably some hotshot after the bounty,
“Oh so you want a fight, I’ll Give you a fight!” he roared into the comm,
The fighter looked Argon, certinally wasn’t police issue, the insignia was strange, a swamp crab with a broken infinity symbol above and it was all he could focus on as the second volley of shots killed his shields, he couldn’t turn fast enough to bring his guns on the other ship.
His engine shot to hell, the shields gone too, he bailed out, to hell with the space weed,
“Please don’t hurt me! Here take everything I own!” he whimpered as the comms ceased working.
All he could do was sit there helplessly in space while the fighter loomed over him. He thought he saw a moments hesitation on the face of the pilot, hard to tell with Argons, then the craft advanced on him, so he was to be scooped up and sold, that was ok, he could easily get out of the markets. He sighed, at least he’d see his 6 kids again, the little one really looked like him, he was sure it was his…
An odd sensation again interrupted him from his thoughts, his tentacles seemed to be extending of thier own accord it was then that his frazzled mind noticed the pain as he realised what was happening…

He was being compressed, all the mollecules in his body would be compressed to the size of a nostrop seed. As the pain increased he knew he was doomed, but instead of crying out in pain he simply smiled. The pain became too much for his consciousness to hold, Rask Ackabar was spared his final agonising moments as he passed on to the next plane of existence.

Priest’s Pity 20:42:16 (Ship time)

The life sign’s vanished from Junka’s scope, there safe and sound in the cargo bay, he’d drop him off at the next station. Quite why he’d had this sudden attack of conscience he wasn’t sure, maybe it was time to quit bounty hunting he thought as he grabbed his hand laser to go greet his ‘guest’. Sure the guy’d be pissed, but he was still alive, he should be grateful. Junka shrugged, strange, the computer wouldnt let him into the cargo bay, he pushed the button again, still it wouldn’t let him in.
Da Junka paled, the console read:
He could hear his mates now; “you did WHAT??”; but none of it would help this poor sod now, mollecularly squished by the guy trying to rescue him after blowing him out of his ship.
Sometimes the universe had a perverse sense of humour.
Junka trudged back to the cockpit vowing to get life support installed in all his ships, and set a course for Argon Prime.

In a quiet storage unit on pirate base IDOYD-98 two thousand stasis tubes opened, the occupants all stepped out, shivering from the cold.
“IT WORKS!” they all cried as one, then looked confused as to where the noise had come from, as they realised what had happened they all smiled …

Chapter One

Ringo Moon, Asteroid XI304, The Clockwork Bitch.

CJ had bought the place cheap, and it was huge, that was the beauty of a hollowed out asteroid, you could sit practically on top of the police and they wouldn’t notice.
Well that had been his idea to start with, back in his wilder days. Now the place was where the elite hung out; the veterans, the gifted, the rich and those that were just plain lucky, yep they all ended up here.
There were two reasons for this:

Number one being the station’s bar; ‘The Clockwork Bitch’; named after his first ship, a Buster that seemed to be held together by hope and had been the reason for his being broke many times. The ship it’self had been ripped apart in the Xenon war and had been towed back, where in a fitting tribute it had been made into the entrance to the bar. It was here that you could find some of the more ‘Interesting’ jobs in this part of space, it kept the bar busy nearly 24 hours a day.

Number two being that two ‘Engineers’ had taken up residence and having bought some hangar space as a lab, and started producing some of the wildest modifications anyone had ever seen. Ultra high cargo compression, Engine mods that meant you didn’t need S.E.T.A. , and all manner of weirdness eminated from Stone’N’Slocket’s Chop Shop.

Life was good these days, at least it would be if it wasn’t for the recent Khaak Incursion. It as a thorn in the side of business all over the sector. So far it’d only made business better, everyone was coming to get ‘souped up’, ready to rain all hell down on the next one that appeared. And Stone had been missing for a few weeks now, not that it was unusual, just that he had also been out of contact, now that was unusual.

He had last been seen in the bar with a Boron, some pirate trying to sell him a chip for the price of Argon One,
“The Key it is” he’d said waving his tentacles wildly, nearly spilling his ‘fuel, after that they had left, no-one had seen him since.

Maybe he’d to fire up the Barracuda and go looking for the missing tech.


UNCC Command Meeting, Temporary Headquarters: The Clockwork Bitch

Admiral Acidic had pointed out the flaws in the Nova from it’s blueprints onward, now what had they done, the fools had dishonorably discharged him from the Argon Navy! For what? Pointing out that an unarmed freighter could outperform it? Surely they could see that?
No there had only been one course of action to be taken from that point onward, he would confiscate every last Nova in existence, then they would see that he was right.
The Universal Nova Capturing Confederation had been born that day.
6,492 Nova’s they had aquired since that day. Surely they could see the sheer futility of building the damned things by now. No… they had just slapped a Bounty on his head.
He surveyed the five faces round the table before roaring at them,

“Now who would like to tell me who left Two THOUSAND Novas where they could be stolen!” his face going purple.
The faces just stared blankly back at him, all damned good officers,

“Admiral they were taken from the equipment dock and shipyard in Ianamus Zura, they were being repaired after capture Sir. All happened at once Sir, nothing I could do. Before i could do anything there were two thousand sets of guns targeting the ‘Venture’. I only just made it.” Captain Quattro added, obviously fearing for his life.

“What do we have on the thieves?” Acidic hissed, his face returning to it’s usual beetroot red complexion.

“That’s the odd thing sir, it just doesn’t make sense. They were each piloted by a Boron, the scans showed clearly two thousand borons, but the id scans threw me…” the Captain hesitated,

“Spit it out Quattro! You are trying my patience”

“Well the id scans said the same person was piloting each craft, the really weird thing is he’s supposed to be dead. The bounty has already been collected, 10,000 credits paid to a Mr Da Junka for the death of Rask
“Bring him here, Mr Junka has some questions to answer!”


Cloudbase Southwest, Goner temple

Two Jazuras had passed since that fateful day, Junka had stopped in to the temple whenever he was in the system. Not that he was particularly religious, he just came to talk to one of the brothers about the ‘Incident’. Each time he would be told it was part of the greater plan, that the universe knew what it was doing.

Junka was skeptical, the universe wanted Rask to have been compressed? Still it made him feel better to talk to someone sympathetic.
His friends had been less so. He had told them in the bar the day after, and they had laughed till they almost passed out. Over the following Mazura’s they had nicknamed him ‘Squish’, made up ‘The Compression Song’, and generally poked fun at his sudden outbreak of morality.
‘The Compression Song’ had been heard being sung in various bars, and some fool had jazzed it up, released it commercially,and it was recieving requests by the thousand over the various radio comms stations.

He had become something of a celebrity, everyone knew the name Da Junka through that bloody song. People would say:
“Did you really compress that guy?” to which he would merely nod and head off to the nearest bar, and that would be a mistake because someone would recognise him and it’d start all over again.

If he could do it over again he’d just have passed by and not thought about the bounty.
Every day the credits rolled in from the 5% of the song he had been given by the courts when he’d tried to get it banned, they thought the cred’s would pacify him. Blood Money he thought, and he hated spending it.
The universe was a cruel place, so it didn’t come as any surprise when there was an official looking person standing outside his ship.
“Mr. Junka, you’ll need to accompany me, I have orders for your detention.”
Junka merely nodded and followed…

Chapter 2 : Stone

Pirate Base IDOYD-98, Priest’s Pity, Time Unknown.

The room was white, the lights hadn’t been turned off since he was imprisoned so time had no meaning here.

When he was tired he slept, when he was hungry the food dispenser shovelled out nourishment.

The equipment here was top of the range, which meant it was probably stolen.

Dee Stone would have been in heaven if he were not a prisoner.
Now he felt like the creator of hell.

The principle had been simple enough, Take a hydro-stasis unit, Bolt on a Nanotech Creation Engine and insert sample DNA, and grow something. The law said you could use one as an advanced med-unit; Stone had used it to create a major problem…

He’d met Rask Ackabar.

The Boron had in his tentacles one of the rarest objects in the Universe… an unused LooMankStrat Super Slave Chip. Obviously he had no use for it, Boron Physiology meant it was damn near impossible to put it anywhere in his body, but the possibility remained….

Rask had offered him the chance to study the chip, find it’s potential uses, that alone was worth risking his life for…

He should have seen it coming, Rask was after all a known Pirate.

Research had progressed steadily on the chip, Stone had no reason to leave the lab, he hadn’t wanted to leave the lab, so he hadn’t noticed the door being locked when Rask left.

It had taken about 6 mazuras before he had noticed that he was a prisoner, it had been the day of the first successful prototype. He’d only wanted to run out to the bar and drink himself under the table.
The unthinkable was within his grasp…

He’d needed a drink that day.
Rask had returned a few tazura’s later, to find an enraged prisoner instead of his ‘pet’ scientist.

A bloody Pirate… he should’ve known better…

Rask had watched over him like a Teladi looking after his credits since that day.
Work had continued…

This was where it had turned highly Illegal, Two Thousand stasis units had been moved to the adjoining storage bay, where Stone had carried out the modifications.

It had been nice to be in another room.

Now the tricky bit was reached; to create a ‘blank’ genetic clone capable of being any of the local species and implant one of the chips in each ‘Blank’.

Rask had promised him his freedom if he completed the task…

Stone had complied, Rask had gone to have the chip implanted by a Paranid expert who he didn’t need to stand over with a gun.
Stone was almost finished the final version of the program that would recieve the information to the ‘Blanks’.

The principal was simple enough, besides all the extra power of the original Paranid design, the chip would store a master copy of the DNA and record the synaptic patterns constantly.
Upon the subjects ‘death’ the chip would sense this, burst transmit all the information across the communication’s network where it would be filtered to an awaiting Blank, the Blank would then grow into the newly deceased, with all their memory intact.

Stone had spotted a glaring hole in his coding…

Before he could fix it the stasis units had all recieved the appropriate information…

Before he’d finished the final coding sequence Rask had died…

Of course Stone didn’t know this until he was faced with Two Thousand newly ressurected Rasks.

He’d needed a drink that day too…

He’d been unceremoniously dumped into one of the recently emptied stasis units, it’d filled up with oxegenated fluid and he’d been put in stasis. It was a strange feeling, most people were unconscious when they were put in, not Stone, wide awake and helpless in a transparent tube.
There was no way to tell how long he’d been in it, the frustrating thing was he couldn’t close his eyes.

Left alone with his thoughts Stone stood, immobile, in a see through tube, in a medium sized white room, in a Pirate Base, less than a hundred meters from the nearest bar…


Apologies to anyone who’s seeing this posted a 3rd time, what can I say?

I’m actually proud of it, and the companion/prequel piece that was also inspired by the conversation by a good friend and Very talented writer.

RhetoricAskew herself Mandy Melanson.

It made me smile how close both stories were to each other, greatly tortured and dark minds thinking alike and all that.

Here’s mine:

Conversation Inspired Flash.


Beeping reverberated in the room, echoing off the stark white walls. The hiss of the machines that were circulating Vincent’s breath and blood created a wave like pattern, sounding like surf crashing on the beach. The Hospital room couldn’t be further from sand and sunshine.
The doctor eyed Rose, still sceptical.
“You’re sure you want to try this? I’ve seen this kind of mumbo jumbo before, I’ll admit it has some power, but the risk to yourself? Is it worth it”
Honeyed hazel eyes blinked slowly,
“There’s no choice, we need him up and walking.”
“Have it your way, I’ll do what I can should the worst happen. Don’t day I didn’t warn you.”
“You’ve done your due diligence Doctor, Now let me work. ”
Turning sharply from the Doctor, she glided to the top of the stretcher, Placed her hands on his head and entered his mind.


The room was cramped, looking more like the inside of a crate. Weapons and armour stuffed on shelves and strewn around the floor.
Rose knew it was a warning, the lobby of a mind always gave clues as to what was inside. This was not a good sign, trusting her judgement she looked for something in her size and prepared to go in further.
“Leave” pleaded a loud disembodied voice, “I can’t hold them off, I have to keep them here!”
“Vincent!” she shouted.
“He can’t hear you…” glowered a voice from the corner “… You should listen to him.”
It had resembled a heap of weeds and rags, yet it moved, and apparently spoke.
“I’m Eric before you ask, if you care. I’m supposed to stop people going in, but I’ve been stopping them coming out.”
“Them, them who?”
“The ones that escaped the pit”
“What Pit? You’re not making any sense.”
If you go In you’ll see, but I’d advise you didn’t”
She viewed the pitiful heap and snorted. “How are you supposed to stop anyone going in, You look Half dead.”
It unfolded from a knee high midden to a full nine feet above her head, Clawed fingers dripping what could only be venom.
It was horrifying and pitiful.
“There’s hardly any energy left to sustain me, He’s using it all to fight … them.”
Rose pondered a second, this thing, this abomination of thought was the Gatekeeper; The welcome wagon.
What the hell had she gotten herself into.
Eric motioned and opened the heavy wooden door.
“C’mon if you’re coming, I might as well come with you… He doesn’t have long.”
They descended the dank stone stairs for what seemed like hours. At the bottom it opened into a huge cavern. They were standing on a clifftop, overlooking a vast plain.
Each shape was different, each horrific in it’s own way.
There were tens of thousands of them, all circling a distant center where a tiny figure was engaged in mortal combat with the whole damn horde.
“Vincent! What the hell have you done?” she gasped
Eric loomed over her, “It wasn’t his fault, he kept them all in the pit, one of us turned and released them”
Rose shot her gaze up at him “Which one Eric? Its Important.”
The beast sighed ” You look like you already know the answer… It was Hope.”
Her eyes became narrow “And these things?” she queried sharply.
“They’re every dark impulse and thought he’s ever had.”
She gasped, and looked at the distant figure raging a war with his own mind. So many, Maybe she didn’t know him at all. What drove a man to fight when hope had betrayed him.

“Take me to the pit.”


The nurse flew into the room as the alarm sounded,
“Doctor, we’ve got Ventricular fibrillation…”
The Doctor pulled his glasses down and stared at her over the top of the golden frames.
“I’m not an idiot! Get the crash cart and fifty mils of adrenaline, two syringes… we might lose them both.”

Yeah, I also do poetry…

To want, crave,
That which cannot be had,
Is the sweetest torment,
To know, see, feel,
Another anguish,
Another thorn,
To have thoughts,
Not my own,
Alien yet familiar,
To find the lone flower in the dark garden,
And stand as the sun rises,
Watching the bloom,
As the rays kiss the petals,
Unable to turn,
Look away,
Held by that which is finally free.
I see.
I know.
I feel…


I find myself at a loose end.
Well, not entirely, I’ve a project on the go that’s around 200 layers thick and it’s driving me nuts because I want it to be perfect… *sigh*
The epic short I was working on all week is finally done and posted, a non stop action piece expanding on some of the minor characters in one of my unfinished novels. It was fun to see my main characters take a back seat and go through the aftermath of one battle…
I’m thinking of shortening the main piece and maybe doing a series of shorter books, toning the language and aiming it at the YA market.
Hell, I’m thinking of doing it with P.O.D, and that needs a new name.
I guess the question is which way to jump.
Do I want to press on with the idea of having an actual ‘thud’ on the coffee table when my book hits it, or a series of ‘slaps’ as thinner volumes hit it.
I know Stephen King did it with ‘The Green Mile’, but that’s Stephen King and let’s face it, the dude could have an acid trip and finger paint in soy sauce and it’d hit the bestseller list.
A series of those 200 page paperbacks might be nice, and the energy to get through one of them is attractive. Write like a maniac and… Done.
I think it might be a better fit with my writing and mental style. Pedal to the metal, keep going, and don’t stop until it’s done.
Someone said to me once ” The top of a mountain always looks further away from halfway up than it did from the bottom” and to take that a step further, even Everest has a few base camps, you don’t do the whole thing at once.
If I go that route, and with a little editing and chopping, P.O.D would be ready in a week. Then published… Self published… Slush piles?
But is that the route I should take?
It’s attractive because of the whole sense of accomplishment, it’d be a done thing.
And being mercenary, yes an actual trickle of income.
I was recently told that I’m confusing and I had to chuckle. I am and I’m not.
I know what I want and somehow go about everything in the most confusing and difficult way possible…
But in this instance, with the possibility of actually getting print/e-ink out there in the wilderness…
Do I turn a 6 novel series into an 18 book epic short series?
If I did book 1 is finished and book 2 is almost complete…
Decisions, decisions.