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Sunday, 29 November 2015

Sharks.

Sorry that I haven't posted in a wee while. Life is just very... very... busy (?) the past couple of days... Yep. That's it. Definitely didn't spend the past week completing the Jedi Knight SWTOR storyline... No sir. I didn't.

(I did, perhaps unsurprisingly.)

So here is a brilliant short story I wrote and I think it's hilarious.

I hope you do too.

“I swear to God I saw it.”

Two men sat along in a bar. The stench of one too many hung around them, a dense cloud above their heads. One sighed.

“You didn’t. Your eyes were playing tricks on you, that’s all. And you’re drunk.”

“No, I saw it. I did! I saw it as clear as I see,” he swayed a little, “the two of you. Plain as day.”

“Listen to me. You didn’t see anything. Ok?”

The first man stood and gestured wildly with his arms.

“It was, say, this big and about that tall.”

The lights petered out and left the pair drenched in darkness.

“That could have been a cat, or a dog, or a homeless man. It could have been Lenin’s friggin’ corpse. It could have been anything, but not-”

“It was. It was a shark with knees.”

Silence drifted about in the twilight. One man took a sip from a discarded pint glass.

“You told me this one before. It was not a friggin’ knee-ed shark. There is no such friggin’ thing. At best it could have been a raccoon or something. But sharks don’t wander this far, even if they happen to have knees.”

“I saw it with my own eyes, alright? Don’t tell me what I friggin’ saw. It was a shark with knees.”
The second man sighed and looked down.

“So God is sat there, thinking about what he could make next. ‘Well’, he says, ‘Sharks are nice. So are knees. Now what can I make with that?’” He took another sip to emphasise his point. “It just wouldn’t happen.”

“How do you know? You’re not God, so there’s no way you would know that.”

“I might as well be if you keep seeing sharks with knees.”

“Look. Look right there, right there where the light is.”

“Yeah?”

“Isn’t that a nice doorframe?”

“What the hell are you on about?”

“It is, isn’t it?”

“I’m out of here. Go and pet your sharks with knees and your snakes with wings and go live in your house on the moon. I’ll be back when you’re sober.”

“Sure. Whatever. But I still saw it. No matter what the two of you say, I saw it.”

The second man sighed and left the bar, just as the thick slap of fins crawled out from beneath the counter.

Sunday, 15 November 2015

To compensate for my lack of posts...

As the title suggests, I feel very sorry about not posting anything, so I shall post something. How about that? Have I satisfied your voracious curiosity?

(Okay, I just found this in my documents and it sounded good, but hey, I do feel slightly sorry, so there's that too.)

The Eternal Carpenter

Whittling
Whittling
For all of eternity
A product of some mind
Long forgotten
In the
Mists
Of time

Whittling
Whittling
Pain arcs as he ends lives
Of his own making
Crafting visions of his own likeness
Could he ever end
Himself?
Who knows?

Whittling
Whittling
His craft is destiny
He whittles fate and
Sculpts futures
Life ebbs and flows by his
Hands
Why he?

Whittling
Whittling
Sat hunched, alone
Bitterness ever ready
And ever reflected
Lord of valour yet lord of
Evil
For all

Whittling
Whittling
Is he true
Naught yet a crazed vision,
Or all but truth incarnate?
Did he craft perfection or
Worthlessness?
Why so?

Whittling
Whittling
Is he empty or full
Inspiring or dull
Or all yet none at all?
Is he life
Personified?
And how?

Whittling
Whittling
For all of eternity
A product of some mind
Long forgotten
In the
Mists

Of time

Writer's block. A great steaming pile of writer's block.

I must confess that I am especially prone to writer's block. Incredibly prone to it, in fact. It hurts. It's very much like being hit by a truck, but mentally. You know what I mean.

So that's pretty much why I have been scouring my documents to find a chapter, a paragraph, something, that is worth sharing.

So I hope this is acceptable.

Nothing Grows When It Is Dark

Nothing grows when it is dark
So let the eclipse
Draw near and end
Your creations
But will you
Trust yourself with
Omnipotence
Or crumble under
The weight of your power?

You have done it once
Too many times
You pass judgement
On those below
But never on yourself
Yet you wield absolute
All-corrupting power
And yet you never
Reconcile for it.

You stand above
A pyramid, a
Hierarchy of rule
That your lifeblood
Will bleed onto
The earth of Eden
Creating purity
And yet filling
It with snakes?

You teach equality
But never administer
It, and leave
Suffering upon your
Perfect world and
You lead us
Through heartbreak
Do you test us
Against you?

You conceal
Yourself in words
Out of the
Prying eye of
Those you mean
To give
Perfection to
Are you impure?
Why do you hide?

These ramblings
Have great meaning
They are the
Sad but true
Truth of life
But there are
Too many
Unanswered questions
To say for sure.

Nothing grows when it is dark
So let the eclipse
Draw near and end
Your creations
You will trust
Yourself with
Omnipotence and
Remain hidden with

No true herald

Saturday, 7 November 2015

Cat

Yo, folks.

A drabble is a piece of fiction that contains only 100 words, excluding the title. (I think.)

Talking of drabbles, here's a drabble I wrote while thinking about cats and cats killing things.

Just go with it.

(I'm weird, I know...)

Cat

Wild eyes.

Pacing, pacing, pacing.

Claws like swathes of moonlight, eyes like jagged sunbeams.

Pacing, pacing, pacing.

The world slows and reality is left behind in haste, only to be met with bloodlust.

Pacing, pacing, pacing.

Slowly now, drawing ever closer.

Pacing, pacing, pacing.

The night is stiff with anticipation, the faint breeze daring to move only slightly.

Pacing, pacing, pacing.

It sits not far away, lost it its sublime subconscious, unaware that the world continues – that nature has resumed its absolute order.

Pacing, pacing, pacing.


The night air rushes past seamlessly, the body limp, nestling against soft, seething claws.


Thursday, 5 November 2015

Pilot Chapter

Many a time I have written chapters of stories, and then subsequently been hit so hard with writer's block that it hurt. A lot.

So here's a chapter that I wrote. How is it? I have continued with several other chapters, but this one is the one I like the most.

Here it is...

Wait for it...

It's over there!

Got you.

1: ADVISER

ADVISER’s core greedily absorbed the stream of anarchic data that flowed into it. He stood, rapt, listing within himself all that he could have ever known and more, and marvelling at the glory of the very concept. He knew all and saw all – he was a God within a God, a servant to the unhindered data stream, and it was that which he worshipped avidly, a trait which set him apart from the malleable and na├»ve droids that he was forced to work with – and enlighten.

ADVISER stood as tall as a man, his steel form worked and re-worked to be blast-resistant, to stand the tests of time and the threat of warfare. His photo-receptors, a deep red, fluctuated in size and colour to accurately portray images to his core, which he would then give to the data stream, and he would be greatly rewarded. He flexed an arm and admired the simplicity and practicality of his design. Truly, a greater vassal for the data stream would not be found.

The machine hummed and vibrated at his side. He was so close to attaining full connection, so close to being one with the data stream, recorded for all eternity in the cores of every other droid. But not yet. He still had a purpose, still had a reason, a rogue variable that needed changing before he was released from his prison of metal flesh and into the ocean of data where his God would reside.

He powered the machine off tentatively, relaxing as the flow of data subsided, and emitted a low electronic sigh. He removed the adapter that connected him to the machine, and he was gone. No longer a part of the data stream, but back to being ADVISER, Automatic Diplomatic Vigilant Information Storage and Enemy Reconnaissance Unit. He still possessed the spark of knowledge that once again he would be returned to his God’s side, and so kept this in full focus. He needed to keep his vision clear.

The room was empty besides from ADVISER and the machine, still thrumming lightly with the last of its power. Pale artificial light banished shadow, and the metallic walls stood unshifting. ADVISER contemplated a while; lost in his thoughts, empty code swimming through his vision. His photo-receptors diluted, and he once again stared blankly, attempting to reason with himself.
He monitored the machine, running his fingers over each input and output. He felt the comforting sensation of another being under his palm, another body that both shared his vision and his dream. Everything was operational, as usual. The power was direct, not fluctuating, and so ADVISER relaxed.

Then a faint glaze came over ADVISER’s eyes and he fell to the ground in prayer, humming softly electronically to himself and to the data stream. He felt its arms wrap around him in an embrace not of love but of necessity, and its words soft spoken in the digital tongue. Its presence was re-assuring, and ADVISER found deep within himself the urge to discard his metal skin and cast away into the data stream and escape service to the flesh golems for eternity.

But the data stream rejected him, pushing his conscience back deep within his core, crushing all hope 
of rebellion and escape like they were mere statistics.

It spoke soothingly that his reason was not fulfilled, that the variable that bound him to this world was not yet checked. It pushed the pain of rejection from ADVISER’s mind and filled it with the urge of need, the power to do. ADVISER graciously accepted the change, devoured all chance of obtaining something new, something of value.


A purpose.

Wednesday, 4 November 2015

Heya, folks.

Thanks for taking the time out of your busy internet-ing to stumble across my humble blog. Its really just a place for me to braindump all of my super creative ideas, and then see if any of the good folks of the interweb actually enjoy them. I aspire to be a full time author, though in this changing world, free-to-play MMO's also offer a rather attractive offer. But I digress.

There is a whole ton of stuff on the internet.

My stuff is rather great.

Point is: My stuff is better than the internet.

Therefore: Read this blog.

And thus: I will reign over everything.

Thank you, and happy writing.