#FridayFlash - Hunted

The hunt began at midnight. Lanterns in hand, hounds on leashes, they entered the old cathedral armed with faith and silver.

I watched them from the choir loft, amazed at their vehemence. So fierce in their defense. So unwilling to hear my message.

For the first time since the Great War, I was afraid.

"How can the beast hide in a place like this?" whispered the youngest member of the hunting party. He was nervous, shy, and the least willing to be here. The most likely to show me the awe I deserved.

The leader of the group spat loudly. "This hasn't been holy ground in generations. Any number of things could take up residence here."

I frowned, lingering in the shadows. Could none of them feel the power and serenity in this marvelous building? That fact shouldn't surprise me, because they didn't respond positively to my presence.

"Let's just kill it and get out of here." This from a middle-aged hunter.

No remorse in any of them. No sense of love, or acceptance, or even of wonder. They assumed anything they didn't know was an enemy.

My wings rustled as I drew my fiery sword. Yahweh would be disappointed by his project, but he could always start again. I grinned at the prospect of genocide, then leapt down amongst them.

Their screams reached the Heavens.

Lugh's Reaping update

Still working on transcribing book 3. Just haven't been myself the last couple months. Work is bloody stressful, taking a lot out of me.

But I'm getting there. Don't expect a whole lot of rewriting to do with this one. Though I'm probably going to expand the ending for a bit.

I love the editing process. It's all polishing and fun time and goodness.

#FridayFlash - Danny Lamb

"And then Danny said he made him cry." Her child chattered on, and Roxie kept doing the dishes. The kid was smart, but too imaginative sometimes. Like with a new stuffie.

"What did you do then?" Had to at least humor the six-year-old.

"I put Wulfie in with Daddy. But then Danny Lamb wanted to talk to Wulfie, so he went in with him." She slurped at her juice.

Roxie drained the sink, spearing her child with a look. "You didn't wake your father, did you?"

She rolled her eyes. "No, Mooooom. Daddy needs his sleep. Danny figured if Wulfie had to stay quiet, then Wulfie wouldn't yell."

Wiping her hands on a dishtowel, Roxie shook her head. "Where do you come up with this?"

Her child giggled. "It was Danny's idea."

Sighing, Roxie went to check on her husband. A precocious child was normally good, but was sometimes too much. Who knew how many toys and dolls surrounded the sleeping man.

Lying in the middle of the hallway was a stuffed wolf's head, separated from its body.

Frustration rose. The wolf had just been bought, and was already destroyed. Gritting her teeth, Roxie scooped up the remains and noticed her bedroom light was on. Certain her husband had been woken, she stomped into the room.

Danny Lamb sat in the middle of the bed, surrounded by blood and flesh, a tuft of polyfil in his mouth. Roxie screamed and ran.

The Asylum films as a learning guide

Surely you know The Asylum. They make those horrible knock off movies that show up on DVD right when the movie is in theater. And some of those god awful monster flicks. Their movies just hurt, and you wonder why they keep getting made, and some part of you is totally jealous that you're not making money off them too.

There is one redeeming thing, in my opinion: you can learn what NOT to do by studying Asylum films.

Are you a director, or special effects artist, or stunt choreographer? A writer, or acting coach, or scientist? Whatever you do, you can learn how to be better at it by seeing what they do so horribly wrong.

I "study" them for writing and plotting reasons. Not that I actually watch a lot of these crapfests, but when I do, I can see everything that has gone wrong. How bad the dialogue is, how flat the plot is, how weak the conflict is. And if I can figure out what would make it better, then I can learn to recognize the flaws in my own work. Which makes me a better writer.

All from watching some sickeningly bad movies.

#FridayFlash - Feeding Room

Something only half-developed. Then attacked by the stress monster. So I realize the end kind of tapers off. Sorry.

***



Good news, everybody.

Thursday, my snake decided to let himself out of his cage. He wanted to make sure I knew he was hungry.

I found out about it just as I was walking out the door to go to work. So no time to look for himself myself.

Thankfully my husband is quite good at finding reptiles. Found my munchkin in the spare room in an old speaker box.

My cat was acting quite antsy. Which I took to mean he might have eaten Flash. My cat loves reptiles, and the snake isn't too big for him yet. Even though Flash is big enough to bite and draw blood. And on my way to work, while I was feeling very guilty about not having kept the rock on top of my snake's cage, I realized I didn't want to know if my cat had eaten my snake. And I told my husband this, and he completely understood. If he HAD found a corpse, he was never going to tell me. He'd have allowed me to believe my snake escaped through the garage, and was living in one of the open fields nearby.

And then in a few weeks, he would have gotten me this other Kingsnake I like.

It's refreshing to have someone who understands that I didn't want that kind of resentment towards another of my pets, and would have hidden the body willingly.

And that night, I fed him three baby rats, and he was STILL trying to get out. A few years old, and he's suddenly in a non-stop growth spurt. He would eat daily if I allowed it.

Guest Post - Dominique Eastwick

Here's another guest post. Enjoy, my friends.

#FridayFlash - I can Haz Crime Fightin'

"A kitteh stalks his prey in the concrete jungle-"

"No, crap."


"Whacha mean?"

"Just that. It's total cliche."

"No one writes about crime fighting lolcats."

"A ludicrous main character doesn't make 'concrete jungle' any more original. Nor will the novelty of your kitteh keep people from closing the blog."

"I Can Haz Crime Fightin' is gonna rock."

"About that..."

"You...you don't like it?"

"It has potential. Everything has potential. But as it stands...Well, it's a little rough."

"It's crap too."

"That's not what I-"

"You said that it was crap! You just did."

"Give me strength."

"Whadya say?"

"I didn't say the story idea was crap. I was merely trying to get your attention in regards to the opening. That was too rough to say. I'm sorry."

"Would you write 'bout a lolcat?"

"Me? No. I don't have that depth of humor."

"You think I do?"

"You most certainly have more experience with this lolcat meme than I do. You would know all the right phrases to use."

"So...you'll help me?"

"Of course. What else are friends for?"

"Cleaning puke."

"So gross."

"Hee hee."

"Let's move on. What is that motivation of Neo the Kitteh? What is he trying to do?"

"Fight crime."

"Beyond that. A true motivation. Is he a former cop turned vigilante? Is he a hard-bitten gumshoe trying to get a paycheck? Were his parents killed and now he wants vengeance?"

"He's a lolcat, not a lolbat."

"Ugh. I walked right into that."

"Why's he need this anyway?"

"So your readers will care about him. They'll want to keep reading, and will cheer for him when he wins, and become friends with him."

"Neo's a lolcat. He's already loved."

"You can't count on what he is keeping people interested. You love burritos, but a story about a burrito laying on a table wouldn't mean anything to you."

"Like I read much."

"You...don't...read?"

"Not if I can help it."

"-----"

"Dude! You're really red."

"I just remembered that I have anywhere to be but here."

"But!"

"No buts. I have to go."