Last year I sent one of my short stories to Claude Lalumiere in Montreal for his Anthology. It was rejected. I hope he'll be sorry one day, because I think it is a great story. (A rejected writer's lament!) Maybe I'll include in one of my own Anthologies. Well- anyway, here is an excerpt from 'Blood of the Virgin':
A lichen-covered stonewall loomed before us. On top of the wall, two armed sentries crouched, their bows ready. One of my guards called out to them. Moments later rusty hinges creaked in protest as a little used iron gate swung open to let us in, protested again when the gate closed behind us. The courtyard lay in semi-darkness. Silhouetted against the disk of the larger moon the walls and roofs of the castle threw irregular shadows onto the cobbled stones.
We entered the castle through a wide, tall door made out of ironwood. Most castles were ancient, but well-built fortresses against intruders from the ground and the sky. Musty air, laced with the aroma of broiling meat and wood smoke, wafted into my nostrils. Yill are not just bloodsuckers; they do eat meat, as well as vegetable matter. Drinking blood to the Yill is part of their sexual need. They don't do it to survive.
Another fact humans seem to be ignorant of.
The Prince came walking down a wide staircase. He and his followers had landed on the roof, entered the castle through doors in the tall towers. Oil lamps hanging from the ceiling and set into the rough stonewalls bathed his imposing frame with their flickering, weak light. “Don't you know that humans are not welcomed here?” His voice sounded hollow in the large hall.
“And yet you had a human mate once,” I said.
“That was a long time ago.” He stared at me. I couldn't see his eyes, but I knew they were black. “How do you know this?”
I chuckled. “It is not uncommon for a Yill-prince to keep a human female as a mate or slave.”
“She was never a slave!” He spoke sharply.
“Perhaps not.” I looked around for the two females who had been with me, but they were gone. Probably sleeping by now on a perch in one of the common rooms. My armed escort had also disappeared.
The soft whisper of a pair of wings made me look up. A slim figure landed silently in front of me.
A young female, dressed in a thin, gray gown. A virgin.
Folding her wings, she came closer, looked into my eyes. “Who are you?” she asked.
“A prisoner. And who are you?” I countered.
She laughed. “For a prisoner you act much too arrogant.” She trailed a finger along my throat. “I am Princess Arlia.” With a sudden movement she put one hand behind my neck, pulled my face closer to hers. She smelled of Laven-dew; young virgin females of her species loved to bath in it. Her incisors were short, not fully developed. “I will taste your blood tonight,” she whispered into my ear, pressing her tongue into my throat. Her nearness caused a gentle throbbing in my loins. It took all my willpower not to touch her.
“Get away from him!” the Prince thundered. “You are not ready.”
She released me, stepped back. “I am old enough,” she said in a defiant tone.
He looked at me. “I am warning you. Do not let her come near you. She is still untouched, untaught. She will kill you.”
“Is she your daughter?” I asked, wondering if he could see the pulsing of my temples.
“One of many. But she's the most uncontrollable one.”
“You have sons?”
“I had a son, once. But he was Skorrat, not of pure blood.” His wings fluttered in an impatient gesture. Turning, he walked over to a massive wooden bench, sat down. Resting his elbows on a table in front of him, he waved his hand. “Leave me, all of you!” His finger shot out, pointed at me. “Not you. Come and sit with me.”
While the others skulked away I joined him at his table.
“Have some wine,” he said, pouring from a pitcher into one of two bronze cups. When I hesitated he smiled. “Don't worry. It is not blood, and it isn't poison, either.”
The wine soothed my parched throat, but left a strange aftertaste. “About your son; his mother was human. Am I correct?”
“You are. Like I said, it was a long time ago.”
“Did you love her?”
Draining his cup, he slammed it down, angrily. “What is it to you?” He rose and turned away from me. “She was probably the only woman I ever loved, even though she was not of my species.” He spoke softly. I could hardly make out the words. “She promised me a son.”
“She did give you a son,” I said, just as softly.
He whirled. His eyes glowed with sudden fire. “A Skorrat--and a cripple. His wings were deformed, he lacked fangs. I could not bear to look at him, and I didn't mourn when he was captured by slave traders.”
“He was your son!”
“He was an embarrassment. I was glad to be rid of him.”
“What about his mother? What happened to her?”
“She died of a broken heart. Or maybe I sucked her dry in a fit of rage. What does it matter? She was only a human. But now I grow tired of your company.” He let out a sharp whistle. From the dark ceiling a shadowy figure dropped down, landed on soft soles. “Take this human to a place where he can sleep.”
I followed the old female up a narrow staircase, into a dark room. She lit an oil lamp with the torch she carried. “You can sleep over there.” She pointed to a pile of crumpled blankets in one corner. “This used to be his favorite hiding place. Nobody comes up here. You should be safe.”
I looked into her lined face. “You have kind eyes,” I told her.
She smiled, reached out to touch my cheek. “Not all Yill hate humans.”
I watched her climb back down the creaking steps, wings dragging behind her. Then I walked over to one of the walls, drew open the dusty curtain that covered the small window to let in the moonlight, and some fresh air. All three moons were visible now, forming a large triangle in the star speckled sky.
A throbbing inside my belly reminded me of the hunger I needed to still. I took off my pants and shirt, blew out the oil lamp. Naked, I stretched out on top of the blankets, inhaled their musty, damp smell. I lay there and waited.
I still don't know if anyone actually reads my Blog. Of all those people cruising the Internet, someone must stumble across mine, for heaven's sake. If you do, please, leave a comment. Tell me what you think about this excerpt. Somebody? Is there anyone?
Monday, February 20, 2006
Sunday, February 12, 2006
A poem for Vanlentine's Day
I’m not really into poetry
because it does nothing for me
I find it to be a pain in the neck
to make words rhyme, but what the heck
Sometimes I am overcome
by the urge to write a little love po-em
Birthdays are a very good reason
to write a poem to the one I love
Easter and the Christmas season
I also use to flaunt my stuff
So please forgive me
‘cause it is time
to write a poem
for my Valentine
To my wife:
Valentine’s Day is for lovers
though not only for the young
and if you think you are too old
let me tell you that you’re wrong
Love knows neither bounds nor age
it doesn’t really care
if you’re a teenage girl or boy
with straight or curly hair
or if you’re bald and maybe old
a blond or a redhead like you
I love you just the way you are
I hope you love me too
So be my Valentine tonight
my Love and Sweetheart, too
there’s only one I want and love
and that, my dear wife, is YOU
because it does nothing for me
I find it to be a pain in the neck
to make words rhyme, but what the heck
Sometimes I am overcome
by the urge to write a little love po-em
Birthdays are a very good reason
to write a poem to the one I love
Easter and the Christmas season
I also use to flaunt my stuff
So please forgive me
‘cause it is time
to write a poem
for my Valentine
To my wife:
Valentine’s Day is for lovers
though not only for the young
and if you think you are too old
let me tell you that you’re wrong
Love knows neither bounds nor age
it doesn’t really care
if you’re a teenage girl or boy
with straight or curly hair
or if you’re bald and maybe old
a blond or a redhead like you
I love you just the way you are
I hope you love me too
So be my Valentine tonight
my Love and Sweetheart, too
there’s only one I want and love
and that, my dear wife, is YOU
Friday, February 10, 2006
An excerpt
Here is an excerpt of the novel I'm working on right now. So far I've written 65,000words, but still more to go. Here is chapter one of 'The Stardogs':
I looked at the red sun in the sky, and then at the two barely visible small moons hanging low above the horizon. They brought a lump to my throat, and I swallowed hard. It felt good to be home again.
The first twenty years of my life I had spent traveling across the surface of Redsky or Shantra, as the natives called this planet. Number five of the twelve circling a Red Giant, 320 light years away from Homeworld.
Leaving the spaceport behind me, I walked toward Old Town, wondering if anyone would be happy to see me.
Ten years was a long time to be away. Time enough for people to forget, for wounds to heal.
Without conscious thought my hand went up to my face, touched the long, thin line running along the left side of my jaw. Some wounds never heal. Outside maybe, but not inside.
A sudden gust of wind swept along the dirt road, swirling up the yellow dust. I walked slowly; there was no need to hurry.
Above, a Yac-bird circled, looking for prey. I heard its sharp, piercing cry, and it brought back long forgotten memories. Squinting against the fiery red sun, I tried to make out the ridge of the Golgat-mountains in the hazy distance, where I had hunted the fierce Gaar. So long ago, and yet--it seemed like only yesterday.
I had walked for nearly an hour when I heard the drumming of hoofs coming from the forest to my left, and I was not surprised to see the small band bursting into the open. They reached me quickly. Their riding animals reared high as they formed a circle around me.
Back at the spaceport I had been warned. Things have changed a lot here, Griffin. There have been clashes between the settlers and the natives, and once you leave the gates you are on your own.
The guard at the gate had shrugged his shoulders when I showed him my badge. “It’s your funeral, Major. I wouldn’t go out there by myself. And certainly not on foot. Besides, it‘s a ten hour walk.”
But they could not hold me. They had no jurisdiction over me.
There were only six of them. Short, stocky males, with long, narrow, arrogant faces. Their horns were painted red; this meant they had all made their first kill.
“Terra-man,” mocked the first one, contemptuously pointing his Ginsa-staff into the sky.
The others laughed with a gurgling, frightening sound.
“Brave Terra-man,” said one.
“Or very stupid Terra-man,” said another.
I felt the hot, fetid breath of one of the animals in my neck, as its rider tried to crowd me; but I didn’t move--not yet.
“We shall eat well tonight,” laughed the first one. “He’s big. Much meat.”
“Maybe tough meat.”
They spoke the harsh dialect of the mountain tribes, but I had no trouble understanding them. Once I had spent a year among one of the tribes, when I was still a boy, and I had learned much of their ways.
They prodded me with the blunt end of their Ginsa-staffs, their yellow eyes watching my reaction, waiting for the moment when I would try to defend myself.
“Are the Sons of the Mountains so weak that they need six Stallions to spill the blood of one Terra-man?” I said mildly, keeping my hands low.
There was surprise in their leathery faces.
“The Hornless-one speaks the tongue.” He pronounced it in a way that meant less-than-a man but more-than-a-woman. A certain respect flickered in their eyes and all but one pulled their steeds back.
“Who are you, Terra-man?” he asked, drawing the three fingers of his left hand across his hairy chest. I had to suppress a smile; this fellow was superstitious. He had probably never met a Terran who spoke his language so fluently, since only a few gifted linguists could master the guttural sounds of some of the dialects.
“Beware of the Night-demon who walks fearlessly in the guise of a Sky-man,” one of them murmured, touching the tips of his horns.
“I am exactly what you see,” I said. “A man from Terra.” I made the sign that meant equal to you.
“Where did you learn to speak our tongue?” he demanded, leveling the barbed end of his staff into my direction.
Realizing it was time for some truth, I touched my lips and my forehead, careful not to make any threatening moves. “Twenty summers ago I lived with the Stag-clan of the Golgat-mountains. I was brother to Threehorn.”
One of the others exhaled sharply. “Threehorn!” he exclaimed. “I know of him. He was killed ten, no eleven summers ago. I was very young still, not a man yet. They say he was killed by a Terra-man. Nobody really knows.”
I winced as memory flooded up, like bile.
He looked at me, his yellow eyes glaring. “Even though you made the truth sign, I say you lie, Hornless-one. No Terra-man would be brother to Threehorn.” Looking defiantly at the others, he said: “I say we kill him--now!” With that he brought down his Ginsa-staff, aiming for my unprotected head.
Anticipating his attack, I had moved toward him, at the same I was reaching for his staff. I knew now these men didn’t belong to any clan; they were renegades, outcasts. Each of them wore a clan-ring in his right ear, but they were of different designs.
Earth science and those two years on the double-gravity planet in the Antares-system served me well. They had made me faster and stronger than an ordinary man. These poor devils had no chance against me.
Without effort I pulled my attacker off his mount, breaking his neck as I did so. Before the others realized what had happened I was in the saddle of the suddenly abandoned riding-animal and swinging the heavy Ginsa-staff. I drove it through the chest of one of them, at the same time cracking the skull of another with my left fist.
Seeing three of their companions dead in a matter of moments, the others hesitated.
One of them cried out: “He is the Night-demon himself, the Dark Hornless-one. We are lost.”
He turned and sped away, the bristles on his back stiff with fright.
The other two looked after him and spat. “Coward!”
I had given them time to think, not wishing to kill all of them, but they left me no choice. Parrying the first one’s thrust, I kicked him in the head with the blunt end of my staff. He fell backward, right into the point of his companion’s barbed weapon; but he was already dead, his face split open by the force of my thrust.
The last one looked at me, his yellow eyes mad with anger and fright. He dropped his Ginsa-staff and reached into his pouch for his blade. “Now I kill you, Sky-demon,” he screamed hoarsely and whipped his hand back for the throw.
I burned his head off with my blaster. His headless body tumbled off his steed and fell to the ground, without spilling a drop of blood, the wound cauterized by the searing heat. Sheathing the gun, I sighed. What I had done was not exactly legal, since the use of atomic weapons was quite restricted. Forbidden on Redsky.
But then--why take chances. There were no witnesses, anyway. Besides, I didn’t have to answer to anybody.
Up in the sky the first vultures were already gathering, eager to get on with the grisly feast. I gave the dead bodies one more glance, then I turned my mount toward Old Town. Without looking back I kicked my heels into the animal’s soft flanks.
“Welcome home,” I said to myself. “Nothing has changed.”
Chapter One
I looked at the red sun in the sky, and then at the two barely visible small moons hanging low above the horizon. They brought a lump to my throat, and I swallowed hard. It felt good to be home again.
The first twenty years of my life I had spent traveling across the surface of Redsky or Shantra, as the natives called this planet. Number five of the twelve circling a Red Giant, 320 light years away from Homeworld.
Leaving the spaceport behind me, I walked toward Old Town, wondering if anyone would be happy to see me.
Ten years was a long time to be away. Time enough for people to forget, for wounds to heal.
Without conscious thought my hand went up to my face, touched the long, thin line running along the left side of my jaw. Some wounds never heal. Outside maybe, but not inside.
A sudden gust of wind swept along the dirt road, swirling up the yellow dust. I walked slowly; there was no need to hurry.
Above, a Yac-bird circled, looking for prey. I heard its sharp, piercing cry, and it brought back long forgotten memories. Squinting against the fiery red sun, I tried to make out the ridge of the Golgat-mountains in the hazy distance, where I had hunted the fierce Gaar. So long ago, and yet--it seemed like only yesterday.
I had walked for nearly an hour when I heard the drumming of hoofs coming from the forest to my left, and I was not surprised to see the small band bursting into the open. They reached me quickly. Their riding animals reared high as they formed a circle around me.
Back at the spaceport I had been warned. Things have changed a lot here, Griffin. There have been clashes between the settlers and the natives, and once you leave the gates you are on your own.
The guard at the gate had shrugged his shoulders when I showed him my badge. “It’s your funeral, Major. I wouldn’t go out there by myself. And certainly not on foot. Besides, it‘s a ten hour walk.”
But they could not hold me. They had no jurisdiction over me.
There were only six of them. Short, stocky males, with long, narrow, arrogant faces. Their horns were painted red; this meant they had all made their first kill.
“Terra-man,” mocked the first one, contemptuously pointing his Ginsa-staff into the sky.
The others laughed with a gurgling, frightening sound.
“Brave Terra-man,” said one.
“Or very stupid Terra-man,” said another.
I felt the hot, fetid breath of one of the animals in my neck, as its rider tried to crowd me; but I didn’t move--not yet.
“We shall eat well tonight,” laughed the first one. “He’s big. Much meat.”
“Maybe tough meat.”
They spoke the harsh dialect of the mountain tribes, but I had no trouble understanding them. Once I had spent a year among one of the tribes, when I was still a boy, and I had learned much of their ways.
They prodded me with the blunt end of their Ginsa-staffs, their yellow eyes watching my reaction, waiting for the moment when I would try to defend myself.
“Are the Sons of the Mountains so weak that they need six Stallions to spill the blood of one Terra-man?” I said mildly, keeping my hands low.
There was surprise in their leathery faces.
“The Hornless-one speaks the tongue.” He pronounced it in a way that meant less-than-a man but more-than-a-woman. A certain respect flickered in their eyes and all but one pulled their steeds back.
“Who are you, Terra-man?” he asked, drawing the three fingers of his left hand across his hairy chest. I had to suppress a smile; this fellow was superstitious. He had probably never met a Terran who spoke his language so fluently, since only a few gifted linguists could master the guttural sounds of some of the dialects.
“Beware of the Night-demon who walks fearlessly in the guise of a Sky-man,” one of them murmured, touching the tips of his horns.
“I am exactly what you see,” I said. “A man from Terra.” I made the sign that meant equal to you.
“Where did you learn to speak our tongue?” he demanded, leveling the barbed end of his staff into my direction.
Realizing it was time for some truth, I touched my lips and my forehead, careful not to make any threatening moves. “Twenty summers ago I lived with the Stag-clan of the Golgat-mountains. I was brother to Threehorn.”
One of the others exhaled sharply. “Threehorn!” he exclaimed. “I know of him. He was killed ten, no eleven summers ago. I was very young still, not a man yet. They say he was killed by a Terra-man. Nobody really knows.”
I winced as memory flooded up, like bile.
He looked at me, his yellow eyes glaring. “Even though you made the truth sign, I say you lie, Hornless-one. No Terra-man would be brother to Threehorn.” Looking defiantly at the others, he said: “I say we kill him--now!” With that he brought down his Ginsa-staff, aiming for my unprotected head.
Anticipating his attack, I had moved toward him, at the same I was reaching for his staff. I knew now these men didn’t belong to any clan; they were renegades, outcasts. Each of them wore a clan-ring in his right ear, but they were of different designs.
Earth science and those two years on the double-gravity planet in the Antares-system served me well. They had made me faster and stronger than an ordinary man. These poor devils had no chance against me.
Without effort I pulled my attacker off his mount, breaking his neck as I did so. Before the others realized what had happened I was in the saddle of the suddenly abandoned riding-animal and swinging the heavy Ginsa-staff. I drove it through the chest of one of them, at the same time cracking the skull of another with my left fist.
Seeing three of their companions dead in a matter of moments, the others hesitated.
One of them cried out: “He is the Night-demon himself, the Dark Hornless-one. We are lost.”
He turned and sped away, the bristles on his back stiff with fright.
The other two looked after him and spat. “Coward!”
I had given them time to think, not wishing to kill all of them, but they left me no choice. Parrying the first one’s thrust, I kicked him in the head with the blunt end of my staff. He fell backward, right into the point of his companion’s barbed weapon; but he was already dead, his face split open by the force of my thrust.
The last one looked at me, his yellow eyes mad with anger and fright. He dropped his Ginsa-staff and reached into his pouch for his blade. “Now I kill you, Sky-demon,” he screamed hoarsely and whipped his hand back for the throw.
I burned his head off with my blaster. His headless body tumbled off his steed and fell to the ground, without spilling a drop of blood, the wound cauterized by the searing heat. Sheathing the gun, I sighed. What I had done was not exactly legal, since the use of atomic weapons was quite restricted. Forbidden on Redsky.
But then--why take chances. There were no witnesses, anyway. Besides, I didn’t have to answer to anybody.
Up in the sky the first vultures were already gathering, eager to get on with the grisly feast. I gave the dead bodies one more glance, then I turned my mount toward Old Town. Without looking back I kicked my heels into the animal’s soft flanks.
“Welcome home,” I said to myself. “Nothing has changed.”
Sunday, February 05, 2006
Looking back and ahead - again
I've posted this before and suddenly it was gone. Like I said, I'm still trying to figure out the way this blogs works. I found it when I did a search.
I sent another story to Midnight Showcase 'Gin and Tonic'. It will be published in 'Summer Heat II' in August 2006.
I also sent in my 126,000 word novel 'Seeds of Chaos' to Midnight Showcase and received confirmation that it will be accepted. It will be published as two volumes, because of its wordlength.
I don't know when, though. I am happy that it will be printed. 'Seeds of Chaos' is an erotic Science Fiction novel and I had a lot of fun writing it. Jewel Adams from Midnight Showcase was quite excited about it.
Right now I am working on another Science Fiction novel: The Stardogs. So far I've written 55,000 words, but it is far from finished. Possibly another 30,000 words, at least.
I still don't quite know how to work this Blog. I wanted to put in some pictures, but I haven't figured out how. I guess I'll have to spend some time at it. Unfortunately, time is something that is in short supply. There is always something else to do.
Maybe in the future I will publish some of my short stories here and, of course, excerpts from my books.
By the way, is anyone actually reading this? Or am I just writing to satisfy my own ego. Is anyone out there??? Please, leave a comment or just a little note!! If you want to get in touch with me, my email address is: hegro@shaw.ca
Looking back and ahead.
Well--here we are in the year 2006. It is already February 4th today. I just realized I haven't updated my Blog for quite some time. Looking back over the last year, I am quite happy the way my writing career is developing. I had three stories published and signed contracts for three books. The stories received great reviews, so I know I'm on the right track. We'll see how my books will be received.
I sent another story to Midnight Showcase 'Gin and Tonic'. It will be published in 'Summer Heat II' in August 2006.
I also sent in my 126,000 word novel 'Seeds of Chaos' to Midnight Showcase and received confirmation that it will be accepted. It will be published as two volumes, because of its wordlength.
I don't know when, though. I am happy that it will be printed. 'Seeds of Chaos' is an erotic Science Fiction novel and I had a lot of fun writing it. Jewel Adams from Midnight Showcase was quite excited about it.
Right now I am working on another Science Fiction novel: The Stardogs. So far I've written 55,000 words, but it is far from finished. Possibly another 30,000 words, at least.
I still don't quite know how to work this Blog. I wanted to put in some pictures, but I haven't figured out how. I guess I'll have to spend some time at it. Unfortunately, time is something that is in short supply. There is always something else to do.
Maybe in the future I will publish some of my short stories here and, of course, excerpts from my books.
By the way, is anyone actually reading this? Or am I just writing to satisfy my own ego. Is anyone out there??? Please, leave a comment or just a little note!! If you want to get in touch with me, my email address is: hegro@shaw.ca
0 Comments:
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)