…delirium Mk. III

Posts Tagged “fiction”

Jesus vs. Cthulhu

I’m sad that October is almost over. I love this time of year. Fall is here and with Halloween in a few days, we all have an excuse to indulge in some spookiness. As such, I decided to draw the themes for our first XLM weekly Bible studies from horror stories.

The Real Story

Maybe it happened in a comic book. Maybe a TV series. Maybe even within a movie. You find a character you like, someone you identify with. You get to know how they work. Then, suddenly, they say a particular line or make a particular choice, and it just feels wrong. They would never do that, you think. You can tell the writer forced the moment in for convenience, or because they were pressured into it. It just doesn’t work.

Mur Keeps It Real

A couple months ago, I replied to a tweet from Mur Lafferty (@mightymur). I went on with my day. A few seconds later, my phone buzzed. I looked. She had replied.

Transformation Hurts

In Highlander, when one immortal kills another, there’s an event called the Quickening. There’s lightning and explosions. Energy roars into the victor, who lifts off the ground, racked with pain. But they end up stronger.

Tactics

The sound of explosions reached them just as the separatist stirred.

The First Noel, 2010

The Hanukkah travel rush was over, and Bethlehem was quiet again. Hence, the corner where Ben Simon worked the graveyard shift hadn’t seen a car pass in ten minutes. He looked up from his English textbook and peered across the street, to the small booth where his friend Isaiah worked. They had both gotten late-night jobs at gas stations at about the same time, and frequently used faux company loyalty as an excuse to pick on each other. Diagonally across the intersection from Ben was a third gas station manned by Mordecai Steinberg. While Ben and Isaiah had the occasional squeegee fight in the middle of the empty road, Mo usually stuck to his booth dutifully, reading the Torah.

I Like My Vampires Dark and Brooding

Pastor Michael will tell you that vampires are supposed to be hideous, irredeemable beasts. The Dracula from the novel? A wild-eyed monster trying to pass for a man. Nosferatu? A walking nightmare. None of this sparkly stuff.

The Question

“So, why don’t you think you’re human?”

Dinner

They had arrived in the middle of the Dubai night, but they saw three times as many people in the streets as they had on New Barcelona. Sophia remarked that it was way better lit than her old neighborhood. Indeed, Dubai Colony’s capitol may have been the most opulent place 231 had been on a mission.

Distance

231 stepped onto the telepad just behind Sophia, trying not to think about his orders. The more he tried to put them out of his mind, the more he found himself focusing on them.

excerpt from recovered journal

I’m really grateful Marx didn’t get a chance to contact us within the hour, like he wanted to. I might have said something.

Concern

It was frustrating. In every mission so far, he’d had problems he could overcome with tactics, weapons and equipment. Enemies he could attack physically and destroy.

excerpt from recovered journal

Back in training, they said we could have Goliath friends, but not human friends. That made sense. We couldn’t talk to humans the same way, couldn’t really have a conversation. The rumor was they used to be able to, back in the double-digits. And we all still remembered the birthday party they made us stop. They got too friendly, I guess.

People

“That was incredible,” 231 said, following her back into the yard. He looked back at the windows of the second-floor hallway where they had stood, surrounded by the images of her past. A breeze pressed against them as they stepped outside, coming from the direction of the telepad.

Agenda

Passage to Dubai Colony on short notice was not cheap. If the Goliath and the girl kept planet-hopping, Marx would have to start paying out of his own funds to keep Accounting from asking questions.

Memories

“Milord, I have cleared the building. There are no further threats.” 231’s eyes scanned the empty hall, always keeping Sophia’s back in the corner of his eye.

excerpt from recovered journal

She didn’t cry or anything. Didn’t scream. Kind of scared me. I think I thought she must have seen someone get shot before. I mean, it’s New Barcelona. Still, though… she was so calm.

Protection

231 broke into a run, his long strides catching up to her in the space of a second. But in that same second, the two figures ran into the hall.

Permission

As 231 and Sophia wandered the empty halls of the orphanage, the clone soldier’s anger began to grow. Someone had attacked the girl’s mind. Someone had barricaded something inside, something Tower wanted. If he was disturbed by the thought of Sophia braving separatist territory, he fumed at the thought of a psion battering her thoughts.

Faces

231 was slowly adjusting to the new dynamic. Sophia had continued to ask him questions throughout their walk to the objective, and had eventually asked him to stop calling her “Milady.” When he called her “Miss Sophia,” she told him to drop the “Miss.” Then, she quickly recanted when she sensed his wave of nervousness.

excerpt from recovered journal

It really started the first time we went to New Barcelona. She kept saying things and asking questions that made me think about things I’d never thought before. I guess, questions I never thought of asking.

Gratitude

“Two-three-one, report,” demanded Coordinator Marx’s voice in 231’s ear.

Transport

231 found himself suddenly uncomfortable. He stood at parade rest beside the young girl, trying to make sense of the situation. You don’t need to know why you’re here, he reminded himself. You just need to protect her.

Outbound

Coordinator Marx was still smiling when 231 arrived at the transport bay 15 minutes later. It was just enough time for him to make a quick trip to the armory for a tactical holster for his sidearm. He had grabbed several clips for the handgun, as well as two knives — one strapped to his chest, the other to his left calf. Much lighter armament than he was used to.

excerpt from recovered journal

When I first met her, I really didn’t know what to think. At all. They told me to protect her, and that was it. And they were going to send her into hostile territory.

Reunion

The field sputtered light, a cloud of particles flashing in waves and sparkles. Edward was surprised, and a little disturbed, at how bright and colorful it was. He looked over at Sandra, the company liaison, with her carefully neutral expression. “How, uh, long does it usually…” And his breath stopped when Joan’s face appeared in the glittering fog.

Quiet

Golgotha was quiet, and had been for a day. The guards and the onlookers had long since departed. The two dead thieves still hung from their crosses, mouths open as though still in a weary plea for mercy.

The Messenger: Destination

The thought distantly occurred to Phelps that he had not technically completed the baptism ceremony. He hadn’t had the time to speak his line — so do I - before the command hit him. North, said the voice, and north he went. When the crowds thickened, his run slowed to a very fast walk, dodging between pedestrians and cutting through alleys.

The Messenger: Introductions

St. Luke's Temple was not what Phelps had in mind. It took him two hours to make the 20-minute walk through New Sidon; two hours of feeble excuses rehearsed over and over, none of which could overcome the weight of the apparition outside the transport window. He had paced back and forth over the same three blocks, bumping constantly into traders and pilots, and eliciting curses in a dozen languages. With his training, he could have understood them all, had he been less distracted.

The Messenger

"This is impossible," Phelps mumbled inaudibly, pressing himself against the wall opposite the window.

MEMORANDUM

To: Dr. Angelo “Skip” Roth
Time: 3:56 am
Urgent? X

Heartbreaker: Speculation

Wait, how is Singer supposed to contact this shadowy figure if she can’t e-mail him back? Maybe she’s just that crafty….

Heartbreaker: Enticement

Technically, due to the order in which I’ve posted the exerpts, today’s story chunk is a flashback. I think this one is a little rougher than the others, but hey, it’s a first draft. If you were wondering about the message Telfeyan sent so elaborately, read on.

Another excerpt

Here’s another piece of Heartbreaker, from a little further into the story. Anyone recognize our second main character?

Gasp! Novel excerpt!

In November, I participated in National Novel Writing Month, further damaging my claims to sanity. The idea behind NaNo is to start on November 1 with a blank page, and finish the month with 50,000 words of a novel. I made a weak start, gained some momentum mid-month, and, well…

Allegiance

Iskerreth stood before the assembly, manacled. The humans looked on, waiting. Listening. All was imminently silent. The Korrosk soldier straightened his back, his muscles shifting under his scales, his head quills flat against his scalp. He pressed his elbows together in a show of humility, and spoke.

Chass

Murray grunted, straining against the bars of the cage, willing his arm to stretch further. Finally, his fingers closed on his prize. He plucked the knight from the board and dropped it carefully into place, one move away from Hjdarrrr’s bishop.

Vows

They met with four hours left. He had hung up his cell phone and stared at it for a second, suddenly out of people to call. When he finally looked up, he saw her across the street, holding the same pose — wondering, he knew, if she had forgotten anyone, but slowly realizing that there was no one left.

Nepenthe

“He’s up. Turn it on,” someone says. The doctor.

and Omega.

His words will be full of ancient wisdom and boundless mercy. But first, he must learn to speak.

The Juggler

“Do you know the difference between a jester and a clown?”

For Me Every Day Is Christmas

For me, every day is Christmas. Though the official feast day has passed, Jesus continues to invade.

Young Swordsman Squinted Out At Desert

The young swordsman squinted out at the desert. “What do you think it is, Sir Isaac?” He drained the last of the canteen, then spit the lukewarm water over the edge of the parapet with a grimace.

For Players Of My Besm Game Little

(for the players of my BESM game: a little update. forgot the name of the city where the battle took place, and have thus officially renamed it.)

Please Forgive Lack Of Storytime

Please forgive the lack of storytime. I realized, rather suddenly, that I didn’t know nearly enough about the story I’m telling. The problem with my writing method is the distinct lack of prewriting. I’ll start into a story without first charting out a plotline, or a setting, or detailed characters. As a result, I have a lot of fragments of stories, and only a few complete ones.

Natalia Clung To Him For Moment

Natalia clung to him for a moment, grinning into his chest. With only a moment’s hesitation, Walter slipped his arms about her shoulders and gave her a little squeeze. She giggled and took a step back, looking up at him with her intense dark brown eyes. As the night wore on, she would be cold in her miniskirt and high-heeled sandals, if she were still outdoors.

Once Again Kleinmann Found Himself

Once again, Kleinmann found himself walking the streets, airing out his mind. He had left his uniform back in his apartment, along with his notes. Still, the case stalked behind him, casting its shadow over him. He tried to feel the warm night air on his short-furred arms, to listen to the melange of sounds from the clubs and cafes around him, to do anything but think about the investigation.

There Will Be More Theology Coming

There will be more theology coming. I’m actually in the middle of researching one of the big questions that’s plagued people for a while. Now that I’m really looking into the question at hand, I’m realizing how challenging it is. It’s wonderful. Questions are essential to grow in faith. This next one will provoke plenty of good conversation, I’m sure.

For Long While Kleinmann Just Stood

For a long while, Kleinmann just stood and examined the statue. The Cult of Masael had decided on this as the central material icon of their religion, and it showed. The titanic figure was no less than 25 stories tall, and surrounded by strategically placed spotlights which kept the statue permanently illuminated. Masael was designed to be androgynous, with a narrow, supple physique, but thoroughly muscled. One great golden hand raised above its shoulders, a clenched fist of victory. The other hand was pressed against the heart, the head with its effeminate face bowed, chin to chest. A wave of platinum cords swept over its shoulders, stirring when strong enough winds blew.

Grim Man Story I Recently Wrote For My

“The Grim Man,” a story I recently wrote for my Creative Writing class, has been posted in the Storytime! section of Glenn Song’s Paradiseworld. In the archives, you can also find “War’s End,” a collaboration between myself and my most dear friend Amanda, as well as some of her own work. Feel free to leave feedback in the guestbook here, in addition to Glenn’s site.