Monday, January 25, 2016

Been a while, no?

I've been away.

But I've been busy.

But not the usual busy.

First up: Book Stuff.

I'm participating in a fantasy cross-promotion period that's starting soon. I just signed up, so we'll see where further details get you! Err...Me.

I'm hoping to participate in an event called Writers for Writers. It's a facebook event on Feb 25th. I'll have to do a follow-up to see if it's too late for me to participate on the author-side of things, but even if it is, I still plan to participate.

If you've been following me, you'll hopefully have noticed that I do, in fact, enjoy self-publishing and attempting to do things 'on my own' (it's in quotes because I've actually had a number of wonderful people helping me during every step of the way). Anyway. I've sent a request to be one of the 500 chosen participates for Michael Hyatt & Daniel Harkavy's book launch!

Anyway, the link here is that Michael Hyatt has a series of blog posts, books, and a few webinars on how to live your life outside of the office (and not die while doing so). Anyway, I'm excited for the release of his new book, #LivingForward which you can pre-order on Amazon here.

Second: Story Stuff

Also been working on my third book. The main protagonist wasn't quite who I thought it'd be, but if he manages to stay and tell me his whole story, it'll turn out extremely interesting.

I'm working on ideas for a number of short stories, while keeping an eye on short story competitions. I'm planning on entering every one I can find...While this may not be financially possible, I'm at least going to enter all the ones I actually can afford (both money AND time are a consideration, in this case).

Third: Other Stuff

My compost is still growing.
My garden is covered with a small tarp, waiting for spring.

On that sidenote, I found a decently-sized horsehair worm in the water that's been gathering on top of the tarp. Without going into too much detail about it (I know some of you were directed here because of my book, not because of my fascination with agriculture), it's good news in that if there's one, there's likely to be more, and they're a good step towards biological garden pest control.

Alright, I'll stop on that, now. Thanks for indulging me for a moment. :)

Last but not least, I've been working on some ideas for specific, long, "actual" blog posts. One of which has to do with world-building. I'm still marinating on the tone it'll take and how I'm actually going to write it, this blog being in it's baby stages (along with it's blogger).

Anyway. There you have it. Books, Ceramics, Gardening, and of course, School (which I didn't get into on here because let's face it, school is a momentum unto itself... A rolling stone, an inevitability, occupare mortuis). That's what I've been up to!

Happy Reading,

Wednesday, January 13, 2016

Jan 13th

A shadow is cast over the moon-blanketed rooftops of a village wrapped in sleep. Then a small shadow is cast by the jerkily swooping form of a liquid midnight bat. And this particular bat is, itself, the shadow of impurity, of stark depravity, of the vampire.

The vampire, a nocturnal predator who perverts the very night with his un-holy presence, steals forth to gorge himself upon the very blood of the living so that his own unnatural existence will not cease. But as the vampire sweeps a livid, questing gaze over the silent doors and windows, he realizes that he has tasted the blood of this village once too often.

"The Cross," he mutters. "The filthy Cross. Every shabby door, every worm infested window shutter, marked with the sign of the Cross. All of them...but one."

The vampire has found his opportunity. With pallid fingers trembling in anticipation, he flies up and opens the defenseless shutters. He enters stealthily, in smooth gliding movements. The craving for blood seethes within him. Now, he cares little whether the vessel for his feast is an ale-fatted merchant or a maiden, ripe with desirable beauty. For a moment, he hovers over her sleeping form, savoring the promise of a quenched thirst. Then he reaches for the gossamer nightgown, which covers a faintly, pulsing throat and draws it back. It uncovers...a Cross! He recoils, uttering a sound which draws a find line between agony and fury.

Once again, the shadow of a bat skims the village's rooftops. But the vampire knows it shall be the last time. He has very nearly exhausted the village's supply of blood and what little remains is now shielded from him by the burning emblem of sanctity. And yet, the vampire's thirst is insatiable and must be appeased. Perhaps a deer in the forest beyond the farmland below. But wait, why the foul blood of an animal, when the lone figure of a man stands so foolishly below? A man who doesn't hear the soft supernatural transformation of that bat into a ravening vampire. He does not hear, either, a soft, rush of air as the vampire strikes. The vampire is satisfied.

A short story by the author that has possibly inspired me the most; my dad.

Rod Bayron
(Jan 13, 1962 - Nov 22, 2013)