Wednesday, May 27, 2015

The Faster and the Furiouser

"I don't know which one I am, or if this is the first time I've written this note", the note said. "All I know is that I think someone is following me."

"Yes." Ned said to the note. "I am."

He crumpled it in his hand. "And we've done this before."

=================

I was working hard on the book yesterday... Pounding that thing like a cage wrestler in a death match. Here is a facebook update I posted: 

i'm so excited about my book ideas that i am running around the house shouting and jumping up and down and clapping as it keeps expanding! who has time to write any of this down? i do and i must! i madly dash to the desk and scribble on the back of an insurance quote: chicken scratches serving as harbingers of plot twists, devices, and contagonists. it's a good day in writing when the heavens open and the whole thing just dumps into your mind! [have you] ever had days like this?

At any rate, It was furious work and there were hours of it. The story wasn't being written yet, for most of the plot and such was dumping into my head like a teenager bagging groceries. At one point during the outlining the power went out. Bad news. I hadn't saved in a while.

But that was alright. Power came back on and I rewound the experience and wrote it all out just like I had before, maybe with some improvements.

I've found that when I brainstorm, I do so best on paper, so I had my notes out in front of me doing my plot outline. The good news is, this is a great story. The bad news is, this is supposed to be a short story.

Maybe it will be a novelette or a novella by the time I am done with it, but at any rate, you will be able to read it soon.

Tuesday, May 19, 2015

5/19/15 waking dream writing conclusion.

Earlier this morning I began a story that I had from a waking dream. Here is the full story. Just finished and edited. Enjoy.

====================

Saph and the kitten


Long ago, Saph had become known as "The Emperor without words", and that was just how his subjects treated him. The subjects would come, always the mice first, due to their impertinence, and bow and grovel at his feet presenting their gifts one by one - in tears of sorrow. It was then that Saph would wake up screaming, as he always did. It was a farce, for his only reality was the Jade Dungeon and the Minotaur who kept him there.

The Minotaur's name was Jake, and it was funny that he lived in the Jade Dungeon. He had always wanted to go out and see the mountains, but no one had ever given him any heed, as he only spoke Kraken, and he never saw the Kraken anymore.

Saph had the same dream about the kitten every night. He was quite convinced that it really was a dream about kittens, but the mice were always there, ruining everything with their terrific demands. More piers into the sea, more bridges over the ant swamps, more this and more that. And they always left their disgusting gift in tiny pink vials. It was the tears of the ever-queen, long dead and forgotten.

How they had gotten those tears was beyond him and he probably shouldn't have asked, but in a dream, you never know how things will turn out, and invariably he would ask and they would always tell him: "She died in our loving embrace, and she let us eat her when she passed." Saph knew it was all lies, but they told him the same story over and over, and he became prone to believe it after a while.

And so, night after night, he would dream the ridiculous dream, and morning after morning the Minotaur would be there banging on his cage telling him to shut up, in his very loudest Kraken. Breakfast would come, usually in the form of Turtle Cake, but there would never be anything to drink. Once, there was no breakfast, and once there were waffles. The waffles only happened once, and so every time he ate a bird, he imagined delicious waffles with nice warm syrup, even if the waffles they had served him had not been warm or delicious, and probably shouldn't have even been called waffles to begin with.

The Minotaur would then begin reading poetry to him. It was long and drawn out, but it pleased the Minotaur very much and since there was nothing better to do, he let the Minotaur drone on and on in his unique and strange language of the sea, reading poetry to Saph from a large orange book.

He had tried to teach the Minotaur to speak like him, but often, for his reward, there would only be a sharp prick with a trident, so Saph decided that the best thing to do was to nod and act as if the Minotaur's poetry was very important and rhymed very well.

The cage hung from a large chain high into the sky. He would have called it a ceiling, but since he couldn't see the top of it, there was no use, so he might as well call it the sky. The cage was round, and approximately one half a meter in diameter. It was very tall, however, and Saph could stand whenever he wanted, and did so often. When sitting, he would dangle his four legs out from the sides of the cage and hum quietly to himself.

One day, as he was humming along, the Minotaur came round, making his daily checks. He stopped and listened to Saph. Saph, of course, lost in song, had his eyes closed. Saph had never hummed with the Minotaur near before, for he feared that the monster would not like the tune, so he was very stealthy about it. But this day, as I have said, his eyes were closed and there was nothing to do about it but do as you do when you don't know anyone else is watching. Hum hum hum.

What startled Saph more than anything was the fact that the Minotaur started humming along with him. And why not? The Minotaur was a huge fan of music and even had some an old Donna Summer record that he would play at night, up in his spire, when all the prisoners were either asleep or dead. He only had two records, the other one being a Donnie and Marie Osmond record, but he couldn't stand that one, and had since smashed it to pieces.

Saph, completely taken aback that the Minotaur had been listening, stopped, so the Minotaur poked him a little with his trident, and Saph began humming once more.

Moments turned into days, which promptly turned into weeks, and wouldn't you know it, before long, the Minotaur had learned all of the songs that Saph could teach him. This really got the Minotaur angry, who had quickly decided that all he really wanted to do (besides see the mountains) was to become a musician, which made him feel good inside and filled him with a sense of purpose, even more than poetry ever did. "Jake" would be in lights at the theater, and everyone would come out to see him hum his famous tunes. He even stopped writing new poetry. Maybe he would write more poetry, one day... Once he had created songs from his old existing poetry from his big orange book. He had big plans.

Saph, if he had known about the Minotaur's aspirations, would have perhaps hesitantly told him that he was a terrible student of music and could not carry a tune in a bucket... But thankfully Saph did not speak Kraken, and so little was done.

That's really all there is to tell. For all we know, Jake and Saph still hum away to this very day. There really wasn't any kittens in this story, sorry. Saph never really got over the fact that the dream always happened in the same way, and Jake kept waking him up earlier and earlier just to be hummed to, so Saph never got to the part in the dream where the kittens appear. He knew that they would eventually, it just never happened.

Which makes me sad. I really wanted to hear about kittens... And maybe I even wanted to hear how eventually Saph taught the Minotaur lyrics and through that, taught him Grelch (which is what Saph spoke), and by that, convinced the Minotaur that he had a terrible job and should release all the prisoners at once. The Minotaur would have agreed and they all would have danced away into the sunset... But sadly, that is not at all what happened and I am incredibly sorry that there is not a better ending to this story.

Day Faith

Upcoming in my newest short story compilation are also a couple that are under 500 words.

It's actually quite challenging making a tiny story interesting. Here is one that will be in the book.

Day Faith

At the end of the day as I was walking home, I found a man lying on the ground who had been beaten. His shirt was torn, and his face was bloody and crying. He was pleading at me with big watery eyes, but I was running a little late for my favorite show. I came to my house, and it appeared that the neighbors cat had been sick earlier, and had left a lovely present for me on my doorstep. As I walked in and threw my keys on the counter, the phone rang. It was Denise. She had been in Detroit for the last couple of days on business, and had decided to give me a ring because she felt obligated. Her call was meaningless. I half-listened to her as she rampaged against the politics of major car corporations, and hung up the phone when I couldn't take it anymore. She immediately called back, but I just sat there watching the phone as it rang, trying to imagine her frustration on the other end of the line. Eventually she must have gotten tired with the whole ordeal, because the phone quit ringing.

I decided it was time to eat. Going to the freezer, I realized that I had bought nothing in the past month that even closely resembled sustenance. I ate anyway. Frozen biscuits usually taste better cooked... I didn't mind. I plopped into my chair, just in time to catch the credits of my show. Damn Denise. Damn her to Hell.

Oh well... I stood up and kicked the TV in. Another day. Deciding whether to sleep in my suit or pajamas took up the better part of the next hour, until I determined that my suit just didn't feel good anymore, so I stripped it off in the living room and pushed it into the corner. Ahhh, better.

I studied myself in the bathroom mirror. The same tired shoulders, the same haggard face, the same graying hair. Depressed once again, I staggering to the bedroom, I coughed up blood and flem into my hand, and wiped it on the wall before I collapsed onto the bed with the grace of a corpse. I lay there, and laid there. All my life seemed to be wrapped up in today.

I had gone to the doctor again today and he told me that my condition had not improved. As a matter of fact, it had grown worse. Much worse. If I sleep, I die. I haven't slept in fifteen years. I lay in bed and do not sleep. There are approximately twenty two thousand, three hundred and thirty seven dots on my ceiling. I finished counting them last night. I'm done counting my dots. I'm done counting on my luck.

Goodnight. I'm going to sleep.

Why am I writing Short Stories?


Why am I writing Short Stories?

I don't know... But I write them all the time. Most of them are Fairy tales.


A Fairy tale is a type of short story that has a shared folklore. Fairy tales have not a moral ending, like a fable, nor a legend, which requires belief in the tale. Historical Fairy tales rarely have a happy ending.


Here are two really good quotes on fairy tales.


“If you want your children to be intelligent, read them fairy tales. If you want them to be more intelligent, read them more fairy tales.”–Albert Einstein


“Fairy tales do not tell children the dragons exist. Children already know that dragons exist. Fairy tales tell children the dragons can be killed.” - G.K. Chesterton

Commander Yoq (short part)

Commander Yoq (short part)

Below is an excerpt from the new short story compilation. It was featured in my newest novel: By The Gates of the Garden of Eden. Enjoy.



Chief Security Commander of Squadron One, Inio Alephandri Yoq climbed down to the ground from Recon 5. The Securityship held up to twenty passengers or ten Security robots. Today it was her and the top nine of her Damram.

Her mission: Find out what the hell happened at the Club Elix.

So basically: Capture suspects. Kill renegades. Bring in witnesses. Control the media. Clean up.
In all suspicion, she figured that this would be nothing more than a clean-up. The media had ceased yapping about gangs, it actually scared them to pieces. No one wants to hear about a bunch of crazy kids with guns blowing each other away. Not sponsors anyway. Oh hell, she didn't want to hear about it either. But here she was, and their was work to be done. But it pissed her off all the same.

Those stupid gang members. That's all I need now. First Lo-Ami takes out the Neo-Sushi on live TV, now I have to deal with this! Commander Yoq was New Boston's top officer. She took down the entire Kidd gang by herself. Any cop had a record like that could get whatever they wanted. But all she wanted was to kick some ass... And that was fine with her authorities. However, the cops these days weren't as tough as her. The numbers of actual humans in the COPCORP was dropping with each YER.

She had some problems with that, but it meant that the competition for choosing assignments was slim to none. And that she had no problem with. "Alright boys. Search out the Elix club. I want my two with me. Sgt. Goraw, I want you and the rest of the Damram to search out the ally ways. I'm going to take a look inside."

Sgt. Goraw nodded and with a mechanical voice said. "Move out," Human cops weren't that efficient these days... With all the gangs running around they didn't have enough stamina to catch up with them. But Mobots on the other hand... They were the key to keeping this city in peace; they didn't need to eat or sleep, just repairs and some jizz-juice and they were good to go. Actually she had no idea what it took to run one of those beasts. They ran, and that was enough for her. Let the 'Docs worry about 'em. I'm just here to clean up. She looked at her nails and sighed. She hated getting her nails broken... especially when picking up stupid gangs trash. It would be no problem. She was better. None of the other could compete.

The two Damram units were like her shadows. They were programmed that way. Ernie and Bert. She had named them off of some obscure 2-Vid she had seen many, many years ago. Where she turned... they turned. Whatever (or whoever) she fired at, they would also fire. They were exact mimes of her. That is, until she released them on some preset program stored into their memory. Recon Program 4 Modification D effective now... And so forth... Her green eye blinked and surveyed the dead outside with high band impacting. Her brown eye blinked as her iris focused on the Elix club. The UV picked up no one alive inside. They're all gone. Greeeeaat. Just corpses now. She should probably go check it out. Alright. Here she goes. Hopping upon Bert, they flew into the scene.

Damram Sgt. Goraw did not have much luck either. He scanned the perimeter and nothing showed in his visuals. "Move out. Nothing confirmed." The six Damram Units with him began to move when Damram Venture spoke.

"Sir! Visual confirmed in sector 67-1! Scan concludes two DNA sigs. One seems to be Feline! Possibly a mutation or something else undetermined. The other has a carbon base, but it seems metalloid, possibly robotic."

Sgt. Goraw flexed his LM-2 Tiger Style Prototype. He might try it out sooner than parameters had anticipated. "Belay first order. Proceed to 67-1. Assault Formation 1-A." The Damram all pulled their Pulse Rifles from out of their arms. "I will stay here and resume Com with The Commander. Now go!" Six deadly figures took off silently into the night sky, eyes gleaming a dark purple, Projacks glowing a silent red.
Sgt. Goraw's Com program clicked on and spoke. "Commander Yoq. We have picked up two DNA sigs." She responded. "Good work Sgt. Goraw. I want them alive and well. Use the Slepurr packs on them. I want to see them sleeping like babies."

"Affirmative and out." Sgt. Goraw opened up her Com to Venture and the other Damram. "Venture, start Capture Program 102, Commander Yoq's orders. I am coming to you as we speak. Do not engage until I arrive." Venture responded. "Affirmative Sgt." Sgt. Goraw's torso seemed to bulge, and something like a third arm came out of his torso. But the thing was mobile, and seemed to move up his head until it covered both head and left shoulder. The Tiger Style Prototype warmed green and blinked.

"101011100110110001001011010," it beeped. Sgt. Goraw beeped back to it: "Affirmative." His Projack pulsed and he was away.

She jumped off the Damram and looked around. The faces of the Go gang looked so innocent. Like ordinary girls. Like orphans. Her demeanor changed. Like whores. Like street trash with their pretty outfits. Thinking boys will want them because of their bodies. Thinking they were the queens of the night just because of their technology. Commander Yoq laughed her head off. She used to be a member of this pathetic gang. Perhaps that's why she gave them such an easy time. She could have busted them sooooo many times, but just let them slide. Empathy? Yes, she guessed that's what it was. The Go Girls gave her a chance to break out of the ghetto.

Oh well, that was a lifetime ago. She sent Ernie and Bert to look in the club. She kicked around outside. Too many deaths. Too much pride in their little heads. They thought they were all that. They thought they could rule the world. But that's the problem... Each gang thought the exact same thing. Stupid sluts. I've seen their tags around town. Even on the Elixnode. 'Angels of New Boston.' 'The Princesses.' Yeah right. She kicked the glass away and sighed heavily. It was going to be a long day.

Burgerman

Burgerman

Burgerman lived in Chicago. He was half blind and half deaf from a grenade explosion in Vietnam. He had never enjoyed reading, and had never found anything on the radio worth listening to... but he enjoyed talking to people, and he enjoyed making people smile, and he enjoyed making hamburgers.

He ran his own vending cart in the downtown Chicago area. He sold the best damn hamburgers anyone had ever had the opportunity to bite into. He put up signs saying so too. He was the busiest vendor on the block and he always made money.

Burgerman had paid his sons college tuition with the money he made from hamburger sales. Like I said, He always made money.

His son was home for the holidays, and was helping his dad out with the business, when they began talking about the economy. "Dad, the economy is in the worst shape it's been in years. And things are only looking worse for the future."

Well, He believed his son. His son had been to college. His son knew things that He didn't know. And maybe it was his imagination, but people had looked grumpier recently.

Burgerman took down his signs. He couldn't afford them anyway; and he started using cheaper hamburger. People started to go elsewhere for their hamburgers. Soon there was almost no business at all.

"Son, you are right." Burgerman said, "The economy is in bad shape. Nobody wants to buy hamburgers anymore."


Copyright 2003 by pauly hart


==================

The above is an excerpt from my book, coming out soon. I will be posting here where you can buy the book. Please stay tuned.

5/19/15 waking dream writing

This morning I woke and wrote down my dream. It was deeper and more profound, but I am short on time and this should suffice to prompt me to remember everything later.

===============

Long ago, Saph had become known as "The Emperor without words", and that was just how his subjects treated him. The subjects would come, always the mice first, due to their impertinence, and bow and grovel at his feet presenting their gifts one by one - in tears of sorrow. It was then that Saph would wake up screaming, as he always did. It was a farce, for his only reality was the Jade Dungeon and the Minotaur who kept him there.

===============

Have a great day and remember that this entire collection will be coming out soon! In the mean time, did you know that I've written two poetry books as well as a full length supernatural thriller novel? You can buy them all here at http://www.amazon.com/Pauly-Hart/e/B00N7RUETK

Enjoy life!

-Pauly Hart

Tuesday, May 5, 2015

Writing tips from C.S. Lewis



1. Always try to use the language so as to make quite clear what you mean and make sure your sentence couldn't mean anything else.


2. Always prefer the plain direct word to the long, vague one. Don’t implement promises, but keep them.


3. Never use abstract nouns when concrete ones will do. If you mean “More people died” don’t say “Mortality rose.”


4. In writing. Don’t use adjectives which merely tell us how you want us to feel about the thing you are describing. I mean, instead of telling us a thing was “terrible,” describe it so that we’ll be terrified. Don’t say it was “delightful”; make us say “delightful” when we've read the description. You see, all those words (horrifying, wonderful, hideous, exquisite) are only like saying to your readers “Please will you do my job for me.”


5. Don’t use words too big for the subject. Don’t say “infinitely” when you mean “very”; otherwise you’ll have no word left when you want to talk about something really infinite.

Friday, May 1, 2015

Book for sale soon!

A Book of Tiny Stories is a collection of tiny stories, short stories, and one novelette that I have been working on for quite a number of years. Some ideas are abandoned full length novels and some are ideas that I've had floating around for years.

Here are a couple of tidbits from my book. I hope you enjoy them.

I will be updating this blog with more information as time goes on.




Day Faith

     At the end of the day as I was walking home, I found a man lying on the ground who had been beaten. His shirt was torn, and his face was bloody and crying. He was pleading at me with big watery eyes, but I was running a little late for my favorite show.  I came to my house, and it appeared that the neighbors cat had been sick earlier, and had left a lovely present for me on my doorstep. As I walked in and threw my keys on the counter, the phone rang. It was Denise. She had been in Detroit for the last couple of days on business, and had decided to give me a ring because she felt obligated. Her call was meaningless. I half-listened to her as she rampaged against the politics of major car corporations, and hung up the phone when I couldn't take it anymore. She immediately called back, but I just sat there watching the phone as it rang, trying to imagine her frustration on the other end of the line. Eventually she must have gotten tired with the whole ordeal, because the phone quit ringing.

     I decided it was time to eat. Going to the freezer, I realized that I had bought nothing in the past month that even closely resembled sustenance. I ate anyway. Frozen biscuits usually taste better cooked... I didn't mind. I plopped into my chair, just in time to catch the credits of my show. Damn Denise. Damn her to Hell.

     Oh well... I stood up and kicked the TV in. Another day. Deciding whether to sleep in my suit or pajamas took up the better part of the next hour, until I determined that my suit just didn't feel good anymore, so I stripped it off in the living room and pushed it into the corner. Ahhh, better.

     I studied myself in the bathroom mirror. The same tired shoulders, the same haggard face, the same graying hair. Depressed once again, I staggering to the bedroom, I coughed up blood and flem into my hand, and wiped it on the wall before I collapsed onto the bed with the grace of a corpse. I lay there, and laid there. All my life seemed to be wrapped up in today.

     I had gone to the doctor again today and he told me that my condition had not improved. As a matter of fact, it had grown worse. Much worse. If I sleep, I die. I haven't slept in fifteen years. I lay in bed and do not sleep. There are approximately twenty two thousand, three hundred and thirty seven dots on my ceiling. I finished counting them last night. I'm done counting my dots. I'm done counting on my luck.

Goodnight. I'm going to sleep.




Commander Yoq 
 
Chief Security Commander of Squadron One, Inio Alephandri Yoq climbed down to the ground from Recon 5. The Securityship held up to twenty passengers or ten Security robots. Today it was her and the top nine of her Damram.

Her mission: Find out what the hell happened at the Club Elix.

So basically: Capture suspects. Kill renegades. Bring in witnesses. Control the media. Clean up.
In all suspicion, she figured that this would be nothing more than a clean-up. The media had ceased yapping about gangs, it actually scared them to pieces. No one wants to hear about a bunch of crazy kids with guns blowing each other away. Not sponsors anyway. Oh hell, she didn't want to hear about it either. But here she was, and their was work to be done. But it pissed her off all the same.

Those stupid gang members. That's all I need now. First Lo-Ami takes out the Neo-Sushi on live TV, now I have to deal with this! Commander Yoq was New Boston's top officer. She took down the entire Kidd gang by herself. Any cop had a record like that could get whatever they wanted. But all she wanted was to kick some ass... And that was fine with her authorities. However, the cops these days weren't as tough as her. The numbers of actual humans in the COPCORP was dropping with each YER.

She had some problems with that, but it meant that the competition for choosing assignments was slim to none. And that she had no problem with. "Alright boys. Search out the Elix club. I want my two with me. Sgt. Goraw, I want you and the rest of the Damram to search out the ally ways. I'm going to take a look inside."

Sgt. Goraw nodded and with a mechanical voice said. "Move out," Human cops weren't that efficient these days... With all the gangs running around they didn't have enough stamina to catch up with them. But Mobots on the other hand... They were the key to keeping this city in peace; they didn't need to eat or sleep, just repairs and some jizz-juice and they were good to go. Actually she had no idea what it took to run one of those beasts. They ran, and that was enough for her. Let the 'Docs worry about 'em. I'm just here to clean up. She looked at her nails and sighed. She hated getting her nails broken... especially when picking up stupid gangs trash. It would be no problem. She was better. None of the other could compete.

The two Damram units were like her shadows. They were programmed that way. Ernie and Bert. She had named them off of some obscure 2-Vid she had seen many, many years ago. Where she turned... they turned. Whatever (or whoever) she fired at, they would also fire. They were exact mimes of her. That is, until she released them on some preset program stored into their memory. Recon Program 4 Modification D effective now... And so forth... Her green eye blinked and surveyed the dead outside with high band impacting. Her brown eye blinked as her iris focused on the Elix club. The UV picked up no one alive inside. They're all gone. Greeeeaat. Just corpses now. She should probably go check it out. Alright. Here she goes. Hopping upon Bert, they flew into the scene.

  Damram Sgt. Goraw did not have much luck either. He scanned the perimeter and nothing showed in his visuals. "Move out. Nothing confirmed." The six Damram Units with him began to move when Damram Venture spoke.

"Sir! Visual confirmed in sector 67-1! Scan concludes two DNA sigs. One seems to be Feline! Possibly a mutation or something else undetermined. The other has a carbon base, but it seems metalloid, possibly robotic."

Sgt. Goraw flexed his LM-2 Tiger Style Prototype. He might try it out sooner than parameters had anticipated. "Belay first order. Proceed to 67-1. Assault Formation 1-A." The Damram all pulled their Pulse Rifles from out of their arms.  "I will stay here and resume Com with The Commander. Now go!" Six deadly figures took off silently into the night sky, eyes gleaming a dark purple, Projacks glowing a silent red.

Sgt. Goraws Com program clicked on and spoke. "Commander Yoq. We have picked up two DNA sigs." She responded. "Good work Sgt. Goraw. I want them alive and well. Use the Slepurr packs on them. I want to see them sleeping like babies."

"Affirmative and out." Sgt. Goraw opened up her Com to Venture and the other Damram. "Venture, start Capture Program 102, Commander Yoq's orders. I am coming to you as we speak. Do not engage until I arrive." Venture responded. "Affirmative Sgt." Sgt. Goraw's torso seemed to bulge, and something like a third arm came out of his torso. But the thing was mobile, and seemed to move up his head until it covered both head and left shoulder. The Tiger Style Prototype warmed green and blinked. 

"101011100110110001001011010," it beeped. Sgt. Goraw beeped back to it: "Affirmative." His Projack pulsed and he was away.

  She jumped off the Damram and looked around. The faces of the Go gang looked so innocent. Like ordinary girls. Like orphans. Her demeanor changed. Like whores. Like street trash with their pretty outfits. Thinking boys will want them because of their bodies. Thinking they were the queens of the night just because of their technology. Commander Yoq laughed her head off. She used to be a member of this pathetic gang. Perhaps that's why she gave them such an easy time. She could have busted them sooooo many times, but just let them slide. Empathy? Yes, she guessed that's what it was. The Go Girls gave her a chance to break out of the ghetto.

Oh well, that was a lifetime ago. She sent Ernie and Bert to look in the club. She kicked around outside. Too many deaths. Too much pride in their little heads. They thought they were all that. They thought they could rule the world. But that's the problem... Each gang thought the exact same thing. Stupid sluts. I've seen their tags around town. Even on the Elixnode. 'Angels of New Boston.' 'The Princesses.' Yeah right. She kicked the glass away and sighed heavily. It was going to be a long day.