30
Dec
This has been a rather busy year for me, both with regards to writing and with life in general. However, I’m here to focus just on the writing, and so here’s a rundown of the top 10 posts for the year.
Wheels of Desperation – A continuation of a short story set in the Splintered Lands, as two inventors flee from their oppressors, this post was the clear winner of the year, despite being a late arrival.
Breaking an Empire #8 – The first of multiple entries from my ongoing serial Breaking an Empire. The story details the Empire of the Sun as it fights to maintain control of a fracturing populace, as seen through the eyes of seven soldiers on the front lines.
Prelude to Desperation – An excerpt from the third novel in The Four Part Land, this details an outnumbered army’s preparations for a fight against a larger, stronger foe.
Breaking an Empire #9 – The next entry in Breaking an Empire was almost as popular as #8.
Generations – The story of a interstellar colonization ship. But it speaks most strongly about those who stayed behind.
The Married Orc – When Orcs and Elves marry, their society collapses.
Forever Free – A statue has stood in this park for many years, broken, hunted by children as an imaginary monster. Yet something lurks within.
Breaking an Empire #7 – Another installment from the most popular story I’ve ever written on this blog.
Breaking an Empire #11 – And yet another. 4 of the top 10 are installments from Breaking an Empire. A 5th holds the #11 spot.
The Taking of Baeran – The longest story here, it is another excerpt from Laeccan Waters. Here, the heroes and their allies launch a surprise naval invasion against their foe, kicking off the war that rips the continent apart.
So there you have it, the top 10 posts of the year. 1 from the Splintered Lands, 3 flash pieces, and the remaining 6 stories of The Four Part Land. Take a minute to look back, because tomorrow or the first, I’ll be looking forward with another post.
18
Dec
He looked and spied with a reptilian eye
A frightening glance that passed me by
I shivered and hid lest he spot me again
For at that age I was tender, and all but ten
I curled and I waited and looked all about
Hiding within my stony redoubt
A small curly head, popping to see
What the world held in store, for one just like me
One small little creature, shaking and cold
Lost in a world, where life favours the bold
I was again, all on my own
I had wandered far afield
And strayed from my home
My feet, this path did it yield
And yet led me astray
For what was my foe today
But a great shiny dragon, eyes glittering and tall
Soulless deep dishes, into which I could fall
It was in his eye, a great glowing glass plate
That I beheld death, and cried at my fate
Down from on high, he swooped at my den
I was nothing to him, just a fat hen
I prayed and wished to be taken away
A land of hope and joy, a land far beyond
For then I awoke, asleep at the lake
My toes dipping in, a morsel to taste
For a large fish of grey, hungry and vast
Laid waste to the claim that I was all lost
Lifting a bucket, I returned to my task
A barrel of water, a single great cask
It was to be filled, water pure and clear
But I had lain, asleep on my ear
Duties all gone, in a dream of good cheer
12
Dec
There was a silent house on a windswept isle
Hidden and tucked in a stone defile
Twisted and shaken with the coming of the winds
It rattled and shook, lost among the fens
It was a lonely spot, all hidden in the moss
and a stone’s throw away, a simple toss
there lay a little marker, painted and proud
and on top lay a simple little shroud
It fluttered and gusted and swayed in the breeze
a tiny little emblem, facing out into the seas
of a delicate and fragile life held here
one that is gone now, passed on within the year
10
Dec
And upon a hill stood a moonlit guardian, bathed in eternal night. It was marble, of a certain hue, weathered and old. Where an arm had once reached into the sky there was nought but a broken stump, and the arm was nowhere to be found.
The statue had lived here for oh these many years, and upon its brow was stamped words in a language long forgotten. Their edges had been eaten away by moss, but recent times had seen a cleaning of the statue, and in the twilight it glowed with a pale radiance.
Its face was passing strange, for writ large was an expression most unusual, and those who came to see it could not say if it was fear, or ecstasy, or some other that formed a juncture between the two. Indeed, those who lived nearby spoke of it in hushed tones, for they thought that the appearance did change with the passing of the years.
Now children played at the foot of the guardian, for the hill upon which is stood had become a park. Little boys imagined it a terrible monster, and came to hunt it with the full flowering of their imagination while their parents clustered about and talked of this and that.
Scholars came too, for they found the inscription on the statue most challenging. None had yet had the wit to discern what it meant, or even what language it came from, but still they tried, for curiosity ever ruled their minds.
One morning children came to hunt the guardian, and found that it was gone. They rushed to their parents who called the police, and then pondered how such a statue could disappear over night. With the police came the scholars, for a bronze plaque had been found.
Engraven in the surface was a single sentence, in clearest English. “In Purgatory were you punished, but now I take you into my arms, to be forever free.”
9
Dec
The phone rang, once. Then it stopped.
The phone rang, once. Then it stopped. Again.
A knock sounded at the door, twice. Then that stopped.
A knock sounded at the door, thrice. Then a pause.
A solitary thump. A body striking a door, perhaps?
Somewhere, a window shattered. Then another.
Plasterboard crumbled, leaving only bare beams. Dust choked the room.
Furniture spun about the room, breaking apart. Then in another room.
A beam broke with a snap. The ceiling fell in.
A knock sounded at the door, twice. The door collapsed.
The phone rang, once.
5
Dec
This story is a continuation of Into The Swamp
“Bugger! Bugger! Bugger!” Ellgis cursed long and loud as the bucket of stones was hoisted into the air. Even with his inventive pulley system, the strain still showed in his back and face. Fryca watched anxiously, slowly paying out a guide rope that kept the basket hidden from the path.
The hourglass sitting on a rock nearby had almost run dry by the time they finally got the basket into position. Pinning it there with with the release catch, they turned and fled. If the ropes broke or it didn’t catch all of the Knights of the Broken Wheel, so be it.
At their home outside the village, Ellgis stuffed books and notes into a bag. Experiments he could rebuild if he had the notes, but without his notes? He was worthless. Fryca threw food together, and some warm clothes. As they exited their house, a massive thump sounded through the swamp, followed by shouts and curses.
Maybe the trap caught the Knights, maybe not, but the two experimenters ran either way, pushing a small skiff deep into the swamp, following a twisting path they had marked out when they first came to the village. It was different now, the swamp changing as a living thing, but they had left signs amongst the old trees, and enough remained that they were able to find their way to a small mound, rising out of murky water.
On top was a simple hut, one room, nothing more, but it had enough supplies within that they could stay here for a time. The waters about the camp had proven fruitful fishing, and they had stayed here in the past. This was not the first village they had been forced to flee from, nor would it be the last. The Knights of the Broken Wheel were persistent in hunting down those accused of heresy, of bringing back the old ways that had shattered the world and brought down a plague upon the living.
No matter that it had been magic that had done that, and not knowledge, but the Knights discriminated not at all between magic and what they saw as analogous to magic, and so Ellgis and Fryca fled from village to village, staying only long enough to be spotted by some Wheelie sympathizer and forced to flee.
That had happened once again, and if any of the Knights had survived, well, the village would be put to the torch. Or more likely hacked apart with axes, for nothing burned well in the swamp.
The two experimenters waited for a week in their hidey-hole in the swamp, and only after the hourglass had turned over for the eighth day did they venture back towards the village and their trap.
3
Dec
I was there when the elves left their trees, and dug mines in the earth. I was there when the dwarves built ships, and sailed away upon the breath of the air. I was there when orcs and goblins laid down their weapons, and built bright kingdoms of crystal and glass.
It was an odd feeling, to see the world I had known and loved turned upside down. No longer was there the steady conflict of good against evil, of raving hordes against a small core of the good and the brave. Instead the world became grey, and dull, for evil became the petty theft of faceless bureaucracy, and good became thin, and lost beneath a see of more immediate concerns.
Without the definition that had once given this world beauty, without the sharp contrast that had given it shape, life began to sag, for the purpose that had given meaning to this world had gone away.
It was a strange life, and cultures began to fade, lost amidst a general melding of the species into one poorly made whole. In time, politics became the fad of the day, with goblin running against elf again troll against human, each proposing a myriad of complex offerings too convoluted for any to understand.
A general malaise spread across the land, and the peoples of this fair earth felt dull and poor, for their lives had no meaning but a daily trudge, and the earth faded to match their temper, vibrant colours lost amidst a sea of brown and black.
Then all the races of the world met in a great parliament, and they argued long and loud, for some had come to see their current state as an improvement upon those bygone days, while others longed for the heroic age of yore. Hands were raised, in a vote, and when they had been counted, the people had spoken.
And so I saw an orc kiss his elvish wife goodbye, telling her that he loved her. The next time they met, she would fire at him with bow and arrow, and he would charge her kind with axe and shield, and they would both be happy.
30
Nov
I have finished National Novel Writing Month as a winner, at 50700 words done for the month after the validation tool made me write another 700 to complete. That means I have done 86,000 words in two months, which is where Laeccan Waters sits today. I’m going to take a break from it for a little, to finish the first term of school, but I’m hoping it will be done by the end of January. Estimates for final length are around 125-145k, before edits.
In other good news, my first piece of flash fiction ever submitted for publication was accepted, and is now online at MiCrow. Go over there, take a look at all the pieces, and scroll down until you find mine.
Because I feel it’s finally time to do so, I’m going to begin editing stories and sending them off for submission (I don’t do either, up until now). Don’t fear that it will reduce the amount of content posted here, as I can still churn out plenty of material, although more of it will be flash.
And now I am off to enjoy today with a large cider and a cool apartment.
27
Nov
So, this is the first time I’ve ever posted poetry on this site. Be interested to see what the response is.”
Stitched across the heavens ran
A marker and a sign
It was writ large, in holy hand
And it spoke a great design
A mountain here, a fire there
All part of one great plan
The plains go north, the seas go south
Everything placed about
One little thing, fit not so well
And tucked away, in a dell
It was not noticed for years and years
Until one day, flush with tears
A little girl, perhaps of twelve
Looked in that dell, sought to delve
Past the brush and bracken deep
And found a toy, a thing to keep
She brought it home and showed it round
And by and by, it was found
To be a strange and unusual thing
For upon each dawn, it would bring
A single strand of darkened hair
Right up to her, sitting there
Soon that pile grew and grew
Until the house it spread all through
Years went by and still it climbed
Striving high, the house all bound
Within a giant ball of twine
A tumbleweed, across a land divine.
24
Nov
And I’m still here and still writing away happily. It’s been over a year since the blog was started, and in that time I’ve managed 100 posts (this is actually the 101st). The time in between has been quite a journey for me as a writer, doing multiple edits on Tarranau and Chloddio, learning the business of publishing, and writing the 3rd book (Laeccan Waters) in TFPL series for NaNo.
As for that book, it’s currently only at 41k after 35k in the first two weeks. I’ve had a serious case of burnout, and lost interest in plowing ahead with the story. I’ll finish NaNo, but once that’s done, I’m taking a break from working on the novel for a little while. I am enjoying the story, but the pace of writing has me needing a little rest. Prior to this, I’ve never tried to write a novel in a limited timeframe, and doing 85k words in two months is a little draining for me.
And now a look back at some of the highlights of the last 100 posts. I highly recommend the Breaking an Empire and Hia Breoedd storylines.
Læccan Waters – Excerpts from my current NaNo novel. With luck, another will appear tonight.
Legends of the Burning Sands – From far in the past comes the epic of one man’s rebellion, now lost to the mists of time.
Breaking an Empire – The collapse of Hymerodraeth Heula, the Empire of the Sun, told by the soldiers who try and save it.
Hia Breoedd – A tale of Annwyd Arwedda, ruler of a tundra empire, and how he rose to power.
Jenny – The serialized story of a cloned organ replacement, forced into combat because humanity ran into deadly aliens. Incomplete.
Flash Fiction – My short fiction, with many hidden gems.
Thank you to all of the writers and others who have been supportive, chatty, or interesting. It’s made writing a lot more fun.