post-apocalyptic

Safe place

In the end

There will be no safe place

No America to run to

No caves to hide inside

No forests to conceal us

No safe place

Except the secret places inside

Our hearts and inside our minds

Although that to

Is under attack.

your savior

I was not built for the apocalypse

For days like this

For sinking ships

Angry fists

For lying lips

The Judas kiss

The end of innocence

A broken government

For the swarms of locusts

Your savior sent.

The Devil At The Wheel (a poem)

Tell us something true

But the devil laughs and tells me no one will believe it but you

Now I no longer belong

What was right is suddenly all wrong

What was love is now hate

Bring their heads out upon a plate

The thoughts we have are the thoughts we’ve been told.

Take our vaccine you’ll never grow old

Promises, promises, of utopia and equality

Only for the price of your soul and your liberty

What did you need those for anyway?

Survive to see another day

Give us your guns, give us your knives

Remember snitching saves lives

You’ve got everything to fear

So we put the devil at the wheel

Shut up and just let him drive….

The Last Days Of Man

I dig the knife into the tree. Slipping the blade beneath the bark ripping it up so I can see the fragile green underbelly. Over and over again peeling away the skin. What I’m doing is perhaps cruel. That knowledge is there, but there is no feeling behind it. I should feel something shouldn’t I? Regret at destroying it. Exposing it to the harsh elements of this world. Ripping away the one thing that was protecting it.

Why am I doing this? Why do I keep at it?I don’t know, but I don’t seem to want to stop. It’s something to distract me. To keep the thoughts away. These dark thoughts. I don’t even know if they are mine. They feel foreign. Like someone is whispering in my ear. Constantly telling me what to do, what to think, what to feel. And yet…they feel a little less foreign than they did yesterday. Like it was becoming a part of me.

I hadn’t been the same since they “cured” me.

I’m going to betray you.” I had said. And I thought I should care. I don’t want this do I? But I probably won’t be able to stop myself. Eventually that whisper was going to become a scream. It would take me over. I should fight it. I should care.

She had looked at me, frozen in place. Pain tugging at her lips. Her eyes were the color of ice. “No, no you won’t.” But her voice broke. She wasn’t sure she believed it.

It was then I picked up the knife. A small little involuntary gasp left her lips and she took a quick step back. I think I shook my head and laughed as if she were being ridiculous. She was not….Ah, that’s why I’m doing this. I remember now. If I didn’t take the knife to the tree it would have sunk in somewhere else. Perhaps her pretty pink flesh.. And I think I would have regretted that, wouldn’t I?

What was happening to me? The whispering dissolved into a slow chuckle.

Authors note: I’m not entirely sure where I’m going with this one exactly. Right now these characters and stories are scattered thoughts created from my angst at current events. Perhaps one day they will come together. Feedback is always appreciated.

Writing that first chapter

Sometimes I think I enjoy writing the first chapter the most. It’s the moment where the story I’ve had swimming around in my head starts to have its first sparks of life. Where my character opens their eyes for the first time and takes their first breath.

I just wrote the first chapter to my new project and I kind of dig it. I’m a little sorry (not really) I had to give my main character so much pain right off the bat, but that is where the story is taking me. I also discovered a few new things I hadn’t planned on which took me pleasantly off guard.

I’m enjoying myself.

Naming your character

Today I’m going to spend a little time thinking about names. Something a smidgen alien sounding but nothing so strange you spend the entire novel stumbling over the name every time it appears. That is so irritating.

It’s interesting how names can often immediately invoke a vision of your character. From their personality to the job they may have to their physical features. Of course names mean different things to different people. And sometimes your vision is the opposite of what your reader envisions as we all have different life experiences.

Have you ever read a book where you hate the main character’s name so much it makes it almost difficult for the MC to be likable? It’s only happened to me once or twice, but it did take me longer than usual to bond with the characters. Of course the writer can never know what name is going to resonate with all their readers, or what name is going to trigger some awful memory, that would be impossible. At the end of the day you have to go with the name that you feel works for your character.

A while back I did change the name of one of my characters because of a very long rant from a reader. I was not set on that particular name anyway but just hadn’t gotten around to changing it. When I did pick a new name it was more fitting to the character. On the other hand there are certain names I am dead set on and will not change. No matter how long the rant.

So, anyone out there want to share their favorite names of their characters? I’m not looking to steal, just love to see what others have come up with and why they chose the name they did.

Phase 2 Zine

In spite of the fact Supernatural airs on Wednesdays on netflicks, Wednesdays are not my favorite day. It’s my Monday and I usually have a long day with not much time to write. Today is no different. Also for the life of me I have never been able to spell Wednesday…any correct spelling here is due to autocorrect.

Yup Wednesdays suck.

But since I have a brief moment of coffee and writing time before I head off to work I wanted to share with you a little zine I guest edit for. It’s only 99cents on amazon and is full of sci-fi and dystopian short stories. I just received my copy today so I haven’t had a chance to read…so I’ll share a little more later. There’s a writing challenge at the very end which is kind of up my alley. That being said every time someone presents me with a writing challenge I totally choke. I really need to get over that.

http://www.amazon.com/Phase-2-Magazine-Issue-1-ebook/dp/B00T1VJMOY/

The future held nothing but suffering

The angel called Death turns his horse, the reigns wrenching the beast’s head to the side. The horse screams and his hoofs are like thunder as he charges to meet her. She is sure he meant to run her down, to crush her beneath him. The stallion veers just slightly to the right, missing her, so close that she can feel the coarse hair of the horse’s flanks scrape against her skin.

That pale horse turns again and circles her. Death leans down, sliding sideways on his mount, and she can see his lips move. She cannot hear what he is saying, she only knows that he is perfect. That he is beautiful. She raises her arms, begging him to take her. To snatch her up and carry her away. His smile is vile as his head moves side to side. No. And she knew she was destined to survive. She was destined to live. And the future held nothing but suffering.

More editing

I’m back to editing this morning. I meant to put “A Destruction of Angels” down for a time but I can’t seem to do it. I can hear Medusa’s snakes hissing at me. Do you ever get to the point where you feel satisified with your work? That it feels good enough?

I can’t figure out if this is lack of confidence, or over-confidence because I feel like I can make it better.

I also want to start on the sequel (while writing some Greek mythology shorts) I’m kind of excited because I know its going to eventually lead into this post-apocalyptic world. I haven’t tried anything like that yet and I’m stoked about it. And nervous.

The feed back from my betas so far is that my world building skills need work. No, no one has come out and actually said it, but by the questions they ask I can tell. So this after Aarmagedon world I’ll be creating will be a challenge for me.