Monday, 21 August 2017

In The Shadow Of The Storm

I  happened to rediscover this wonderfully odd story idea today. Typically I ended up working on it instead of my other novel, because ooh I love shiny, interesting things! Figured I would share a little bit of what I have so far on here. 

The Stranger

Something happened…
But none of them remember it. As I stand here and look in, a stranger on their isolated shores. I can almost see that blot at the back of their minds from my home at the broken lighthouse. Black, impenetrable, but invisible. Even though no one can really see it, it is most certainly there — that non-reminder. It teases their memories with faint anxieties, taunting them that they should know… something … but they don’t... they can’t. The reality is just beyond their reach and their desperate thoughts grasp on nothing. They are the forgotten, just like they have also forgotten.
It is in this blot of forgetting which Vivian lives. I remember that first day when little Vivian realized something was very wrong with her world. It was the day she met me-- long ago when we were children. Although she may have had inklings before then, I cannot tell. All I can tell is that she’s not like the others. From her point of view I was someone she had never met before and that alone was strange, unheard of, as everyone knew everyone on this forgotten island. The auspicious day of our meeting had not been accompanied by any portent of doom, or anything so obvious. Yet I experience such a dread now when I think back on it. They have no idea their forgetfulness is undoing it all. The horror within swells and roars now, back then it was just a haunting whisper, a what if…
What if everything just stopped someday and nothing happened, ever, ever again.
Mortal souls would scream at such oblivion-affirming thoughts, or even the notion that such emptiness can exist.
But back then they were just feelings, and the truth is feelings lie to us just as readily as people lie. They lie for good reason sometimes… to save our minds, or us… even though it hurts when the light finally comes, lashing the darkness with an unforgiving rage. 
  It hurts me to lie to her face everyday, I should leave but it hurts even more when I am away... and the world outside continues to die.   
So I continue to lie in love, hoping somehow to mend memory itself.
                          (Journal entry - Anonymous)

Tuesday, 6 June 2017

What's Been Happening? Yup, Lots of STUFF!

It has been a while and I have been neglecting my blog terribly! So, so sorry for the lack of updates. As we all know life can get busy and crazy and unexpectedly weird...more on that later.

Here are a few important updates, firstly a release of another anthology. This one is from the Christchurch Writer's Guild and it's called SPECTRA! AND IT'S SO PRETTY!

It's a collection of stories poetry and art by us local Canterburians and is available in paperback and ebook, so check it out.

Second update: After finishing the first draft of Once Were Angels I have put the manuscript down for a while to get some distance. Since then I have been playing casually with two connected science fiction novel ideas. The first one is called Bring Back The Clowns, and the second is PTFO. If you are a gamer then the second title will probably stand out.

Finally my third update- related indirectly to above actually.
 The Prisoners Of War Clan.
Over the last few months my life took an unexpected turn when I met a group of online gamers.  We banded together and became the Prisoners of War battalion, captured entirely by the game Battlefield 1. As a group, we aim to foster a professional, safe and fun gaming community for all our members while supporting our elite forces as they enter the professional E-sports Arena. I'm proud to be involved and am extra proud to now call this once random bunch of New Zealanders and Australians friends. They are a phenomenal group of individuals.  PTFO is a novel that I will be dedicating to them and their awesomeness...

So this is us...




We will be live streaming future battle events, some of which my gaming  alter-ego Iced Donut NZ will be involved with, so subscribe and watch out for updates.

That's all for now.

Sunday, 20 March 2016

Once Were Angels Part two


I promised a little more from my current WIP Once Were Angels.  This novel is becoming a little bit special. Yeah, I'm actually enjoying working through the revisions on the first half ( ha! there's two words not usually found together 'enjoying, and revisions'). I'm using Camp NaNoWriMo (starting April ) to  finish it up, then after a few more tidying sweeps-- Alpha readers! Anyway here's is a little more from OWA's draft files.

Excerpt


“This place is rather grand isn’t it? Prettyish. All a nice, big show.” She murmured, looking out the window toward the crystal-bright sun and the city basking in its light. Omega's ivory spires towered, aglow with radiant majesty almost as if they were seeking to outshine the sun itself.

“But what is it really like?” The question was a sideways avenue, to what she really wanted to know-- why would Odez ever want to leave this? But she left that question unspoken. The silence stretched a time until his almost muted answer cut the space between them. “It’s quite grand and its inhabitants quite blind to anything but its grandness."


The System of Worlds, as prescribed by the Archon-See,
rulers of Omega
“So they don’t care about us humans then?”


“They care to the extent that the System works and that Omega is safe.”


“The System?”


“It’s complicated.”


“I’m smart.”


“I’m sure you are.”


“You know I am.” She mused slowly, a half smile tripping across her lips.

“I should let them explain things to you then.”


“I don’t trust them.”

“You don’t trust me either.” Odez countered softly, his eyes suddenly a little bit darker, a little bit dangerous.


“No.” She whispered, “You got me there, Dez. But you seem the lesser of two evils right now.”


“You should sleep first.”

And right on cue her body responded to his words, like it was some sort of hypnotic suggestion. The resonance of his voice perhaps. Her eyelids felt sluggish and the pressure of her hands upon the window got heavier as she leaned into it. “Maybe you are right?”

As she turned away from the spectacle of Omega City she noticed the slump of Odez's shoulders, the darkening around his eyes. It was almost as if she was feeling his exhaustion rather than hers. She wasn’t the empathetic type, never had been, but then this connection (or whatever it was) was deeper than her own will, beyond her control. As they walked back into the bedroom, their shoulders brushed together and that accidental closeness seemed like the most natural thing in the world.


Those strings, she thought. I wonder if there’s any way to snip them before this gets complicated.