The Melee

By the time headed back home, the sun was hanging low in the sky and the streets were beginning to come alive.
Too alive, Ripley realised, rounding a corner and then stopping abruptly. A few metres ahead of him, in the centre of the street was a melee. Several creatures with elongated limbs, angular heads and a mottled mix of fur, skin and scales were on the attack. Without the pitch of night to hide their forms, Ripley could clearly see the deformities; the spines and horns and tufts of fur that covered the sinewy muscles of the creatures. Some moved with speed and grace, others in lumbering strides that impacted heavily on the road. Guttural sounds ripped from the group as they lunged and snarled at their opponents.
A gunshot ripped the air and one of the creatures reeled, blood pouring from the side of its face. Once it had gathered itself, it lashed out with a viciously spiked claw sending the shooter sprawling. It leapt, only to find its jaws clamped around the thick of a heavy crowbar as one of the woman’s compatriots dove in with such great strength he was actually able to hold the beast off.
His crowbar snapped, and the creature fell upon the man with claws and teeth. The woman he had saved leapt towards the creature and thrust out a hand. Even from this distance, Ripley could see the sudden melting and hissing that came from where her hand touched its bare flesh. The creature reeled once more, a good chunk of its skin turned a brackish red, steaming.
The two other creatures were under a barrage of gunfire, but they weathered it well. He watched as one of the humanoid men darted out of the way of oncoming teeth and clung like a spider to the wall nearby, sticking even without holding it.
One of the less occupied creatures spun suddenly, its eyes glowing a deep, angry red as it scanned the street. It caught sight of Ripley and, with a growl like nails in a whirling drain, dug its claws into the ground and bounded towards him. Pink saliva bubbled from between its innumerable teeth and a long, snake-like tongue lashed out at him.
Ripley stumbled back, hands reaching down to his pockets in search of any sort of weapon but the creature had sprung.
It reeled suddenly in mid-air as something exploded in front of it, sending liquid and fire splattering across the ground. From the liquid, a sickly green gas rose and the creature began to prowl backwards, snarling and gargling as small bits of fire licked at the tufts of fur across its scaled face.
He did not need to wait for a second chance. Ripley turned and bolted down the nearest alley. Behind him, the sound of sirens was accompanied by the screeching of tires.
His apartment was safe and warm in comparison. He did not leave, and no one came to collect him. A small part of him wondered if he should call someone but he pushed it aside.
He made an informed decision never to go outside again.

From Caligation

For more information see Brhi Stokes Website or buy the book from Amazon.

Today we have the opportunity to cross-examine Ripley, hero of Caligation

Question 1: How would you describe your own character? And do you think we would like you if we met?

Describe myself? That’s a hard one, I guess I hadn’t really given it much thought. I suppose I’m fairly… relaxed? I guess that probably translates better to ‘boring’, though. Average guy, average day-to-day, average consumption of beer. The only interesting thing would be that I surf, but everyone here does. Does “wants something more out of life but is too lazy to be something other than complacent” work? As for liking me – I guess so. I think I’m relatively inoffensive, most of the time…. some of the time. I think.

Question 2: If you could have just one thing to help in your quest for survival what would it be, and why?

Some goddamn answers. Actually, then I wouldn’t be on this ‘quest’, which would be ideal. …and back to complacency in boring life I would go. At least this crazy hell-hole is interesting. In all seriousness, though, I would like to have the abilities of some of the other… things here. I think being a monstrous beast would help me out a lot. Or being able to shoot lightning from my fingers or something.

Question 3: In an emergency what is your crutch? Alcohol? Drugs? Blind panic?
Probably blind panic. Having a relatively normal life means I’m not really equipped for crazy stuff. I always thought I was pretty good in a pinch… until I actually got into said pinch and realised that I’m terrible.

Also see Goodreads and Instafreebie.

She lay at the bottom of the boat, wrapped in a piece of malodorous sacking, neither moving nor making a sound.
“Do she live?” one of the swarthy oarsmen asked of nobody in particular.
The oldest crewman spat into the black water of the harbour. “Course she lives, but she knows what us will do to her if’n she causes a ruckus.”
The youngest lad looked almost pleadingly at their unexpected cargo.
“We isn’t going to hurt her is we?”
“No. We ain’t. But them as we sells her to may not be so considerate.”
“So why we selling her to them?”
“Because we got wives and childer and bellies to fill through winter…”
“And because her folk are bad luck. Now throw some water over that sack. Gotta keep it nice and moist.”

The little boat rounded the mole that marked the end of the harbour and none of the oarsmen had breath to speak more as they fought the swell.
“Back oars,” the steersman yelled and the boat was drawn into the mouth of a cove almost surrounded by dark basalt cliffs.

They waited and it wasn’t long before a boat put out from the tiny black beach. It had a light high on the stern and the fishermen all averted their gaze.

They felt, rather than saw the boat come alongside.
“Do you have trade goods?” the voice was reedy and thin and somehow otherworldly.
“We do sir. Merwoman.”
“Show me.”
The steersman lifted the sacking to expose a slender female figure still entrapped in a coarse rope net
“You set out to catch a daughter of the sea?”
“No sir. We was after codfish.”
There came a breathy woodwindy laugh.
“Very well. The usual fee. Place her in the boat.”
The steersman signalled to the young lad, who lifted the frail figure in his warm arms and carefully placed her on the cushioned bottom of the black boat.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Something heavy landed at the steersman’s feet, and the fishermen bent to their oars as if their lives depended on it.

There was rejoicing in the village that evening, as the gold was shared out and all the families knew they would eat that winter.

The music played and the beer steins were filled and everyone was happy. Or almost everyone….

As autumn turned to winter the fishing boats were pulled up on the shingle and the men began the annual tasks of caulking hulls and mending nets. Nobody really paid much attention to the youngest of the fishermen; he was just a clumsy lad and who was to care if he grew thin and pale and abstracted.

He spent a lot of his free time sitting on a smooth grey rock that jutted out into the sea. The old wives declared him lovesick and cast their eyes on the local girls to see who might be the object of his affection. But none came forward.

The night of the dead came and went, and in the morning the young man’s bed hadn’t been slept in. The old beldame he lodged with was curious enough to go looking for him. When she hadn’t found him by mid morning she began to be worried, so she went to the headman who somewhat grudgingly set up a search.

He was nowhere to be found, and it wasn’t until the tide receded that a group of children digging for shellfish saw the bundle of tangled nets at low water line.

They went to investigate, and the youngest girl spotted a bloated drowned face which seemed to be looking at them from the ropey entanglement.

She swears to this day that as she reached the body one blue eye winked….

© jane jago 2017

A little taste of Sky Stone by Scarlett Van Dijk

I listened intently, mouth hanging open in astonishment. Nothing seemed real—this must be a dream. I decided to stick with that conclusion and took another sip of my tea. Aaron merely sat sipping his, nodding occasionally during Aiyanna’s story, as though this was common knowledge.
“A Sky Guardian,” Aaron finally whispered thoughtfully. “I didn’t think another would come to Tolla after Lae was killed.”
Despite the calming effect of the tea, I nearly choked. “Killed? Why was he killed?”
“King Marius’s soldiers got him. That power-hungry mongrel managed to get his precious Sky Stone and right under our noses, too.” Aaron sighed sadly. “Lae was a Sky Guardian just like you. Brought to us by the White Maiden to bring balance, and given special abilities for that purpose.”
Seeing my confused look, he explained, “Marius is the king of our enemy, Tryzon, across the River Drell, which separates the two nations of our country, Branzia. He has been trying for years to find a way to harness the power of the Sky Stones without being a Sky Guardian himself.”
“I’m still confused, but I don’t think I want to know right now,” I said calmly and sipped my tea. Sky Guardians? Sky Stones? Evil kings that are after them? I don’t care right now but I’ll play along. This is a very interesting dream.
“You’ll have to find out about all this eventually. You’ll quite likely have an important task given to you soon. But until then, watch your back. I don’t think any of King Marius’s spies would have found out about you just yet,” Aiyanna said a little too calmly.
“I’m going for a walk,” I said and stood confidently, turned and walked towards the door.
“I don’t think she believes this is real,” I heard Aaron whisper to Aiyanna as I left.
“She’ll work it out soon enough,” Aiyanna replied.

Find the books on Amazon or learn more about Scarlett Van Dijk.

We get to have a brief chat with Skyla, heroine of the Sky Stone series by Scarlett Van Dijk

Question 1: How do you handle the responsibility of being handed a great deal of power?

I’ll admit that at first I didn’t handle it well. After all, what can one girl do when told she’s supposed to kill the enemy king of a land she knew nothing about? But now I’ve kind of gotten used to my duty as a Sky Guardian, even if I’m not particularly happy about it. I just can’t look away from those that are suffering and I tend to blame myself. Even though I know that, I can’t help it. Aaron says I’m too self-sacrificing and that I always take on the burden myself without asking for help. But if there’s a way I can keep those I care about from getting hurt, then I’d rather put just myself in danger.

My ability to manipulate fire makes most people either awe struck or terrified of me. It depends which side of the River Drell they live on mostly. They call me the Phoenix because of it. My power scares me. It has helped me numerous times, but I also hate it. Some of my friends can manipulate the other elements, they can help to build things. Fire can only destroy. I feel like that’s all I’m good at. Yet, I’m determined to use my power to protect everything I care about!

Question 2: Is there anything or anyone you miss from the twenty-first century?

I miss nothing from my old home. I never belonged there. I felt stagnant, like I wasn’t able to move forward. I didn’t have any friends and my foster mother was focused on trying to ‘fix’ me after the accident that killed my real mother. The only thing I really had was archery practice, but I guess it wasn’t a skill much use in a modern world. I have purpose now and have no reason to go back.

Question 3: What makes you laugh?

My friends make me laugh I guess. But mostly Ellis. He’s a teen trainee mage in the Royal castle. He’s a prankster and likes to invent new things, especially magic devices. He’s super smart but hates history class. I don’t know why because I love history! He’s very eccentric and always manages to make me smile. One of my favourite memories of him is when he borrowed my magic spawn pet, Ilyarahh, because he knew his history tutor was scared of the creatures. The old scholar ran away, I had been surprised he could run so fast! Ellis was so proud of himself I couldn’t help but laugh.

If you want to know more visit Skyla on Amazon, Facebook or Goodreads

You can’t stop the music

‘You can’t stop the music

Nobody can stop the music…’

‘Stop that infernal caterwauling.’ I stopped dancing around the mulberry bush and looked up. I had sneaked out of Fairyland last night to see the human band The Village People. Oh, the costumes, the music, the glamour! I hadn’t been able to get the songs out of my head. They had been the only band I had been to where saying I was from Fairyland made me friends instead of earning me a beating.

The dark visage of Wizard Nofun glared over my fence. It was tough living next door to a wizard – I could never get those horrid smells out of the curtains, not to mention the infernal creatures that missed the summoning address. You’ve just got no idea how it interrupts a dinner party having one of the 6^th level demons poke his head through the table.

‘I was only singing,’ I pouted and put my hands on my hips. That would show him. This morning I had started growing a moustache, so I whiffled the stubble at him for good measure.

His face turned a dark purple green and he pointed a long unmanicured finger at me.

I felt my throat constrict and then expand, my head boinging up and down like a Jack in the box. Knobs grew on my chest, and I could feel the tops of my ears sprouting skywards.

‘Sing then and be damned,’ he snarled, and stomped off.

My fingers explored my chest, and I pressed one of the knobs. My ears twirled wildly above my head and my throat vibrated.

‘Down in devil gate drive…’ a woman’s voice tore out of me. Not good.

I twisted my new anatomy.

‘Unforgettable in every way…’ Nice, but dull. I twisted again. Funny, it didn’t hurt- felt quite good really.

‘YMCA… come and join us at the YMCA…’

What bliss! I danced back into the house, my arms jerking into letter shapes and my hips thrusting. Now, some incidental magic for costumes and I was on my way.

Music.

Costumes.

Glamour.

My own nightclub in Fairyland.

…With me on the stage!!!

I thrust my hips in the general direction of Wizard Nofuns castle. Ha.

I pressed a chest button.

You can’t stop the music…

Nobody can stop the music…’

by Cindy Tomamichel

Connect with Cindy Tomamichel on her website or on Facebook, Twitter, Goodreads or Google+.

The white purity
Of my poetical soul
Illuminatus

Moonbeam Farquhar Metheringham IV

Inspire-O by Claire Buss

My heart started beating faster. I’d got one. It was there. Tip of my tongue. Like that first delicious sliver of ice cream slowly melting in your mouth. But I didn’t want to know just yet. I was savouring it. It might be my last.

Since the technology had been launched, there had been so much research into what ‘it’ actually was. That was how the early millionaires were made. They were the lucky ones now. They didn’t have to bang their heads in frustration trying to find the next one. And where did they come from anyway? No-one knew, no-one had any answers or if they did, they weren’t sharing and were making their own fortunes instead. You couldn’t blame them.

Imagine, people used to think it was like golden dust that fell upon us, landing on only one in a million. Thankfully that wasn’t the general rule but for the unlucky ones, it might as well be. It had been scientifically proven that some people were genetically predisposed to get more than others. And what about the poor schleps who never had one in their whole life?

Well, we all knew what they did now. They served. And if they refused they were… recycled. Their genetic material destroyed so as not to dilute the process in the future.

It might not be a perfect world order but it had certainly created order. Criminals were stopped before they even fully knew what they were going to do. War was a thing of myth. There was no need for armies or generals or even Presidents anymore. The true kings of the world were the idealists.

And all it had taken was a simple thought processing chip. The big giants like Google & Apple had missed the boat, they were dinosaurs now but at the time they’d scrambled for a piece of the pie. They were too late. The Inspir-O had been born and thanks to a forward thinker high-up in world governance, everyone had one. Whether they wanted one or not. Easier to distribute that sort of thing then you might think. Nanobots. Now that was one in a million.

Forget political connections, forget prestige, forget platinum blonde & fake tan celebrity-itis – what now defined the winners and losers was a single thought process. Often one you only ever had subconsciously. It made and broke entire families in the blink of an eye. They used to say you could never have a bad one but that was debunked early on.

People had tried lobotomies, mind wipes, telepathic shielding, isolated living – the whole nine yards. In the early days, those with the funds had even tried running into space. It hadn’t made a difference. The Inspir-O was a machine in more ways than one. It caught them all, the good, the bad and the ugly. It didn’t matter who you were. It just boiled down to whether the logarithm agreed or not.

My phone pinged. Game over. Inspire-O had picked it up. Now I would know. Was my idea worth.

Claire Buss

Read the story behind the story.

To enjoy more writing by Claire Buss check out The Gaia Effect and Tales from Suburbia

So we tracked down Claire Buss and set about perplexing her with some deviously difficult dilemmas!

Q1: Cake or scones?

Now you’re actually asking an English person to choose between cake & scones when it’s a well know fact that scones form part of afternoon tea or high tea if you’re super posh. Afternoon tea not only comes with ridiculously small and pointless sandwiches it also comes with delicious cakes of which scones are one option. Together with jam and cream. In fact, the definition of scone is as follows:

If you had asked me whether it was scone or scone, I might have been able to answer.

Q2: Which is your favourite British iconic symbol?

I love that we have a royal family. I can’t quite explain what it is about them that fills me with such national pride. It might have been that I was born within days of Charles & Diana’s wedding so maybe I absorbed all that patriotism whilst still in the womb. My own little boy was born within days of Prince George and together we have waved our nation’s flag and cheered loudly when the Queen came to visit our little borough.

Q3: Would you rather be a dragon or a unicorn?

Dragon because … look, I don’t want to go into it but everyone knows that unicorns can’t be trusted. It’s all those rainbows coming out of their ass. And who in their right mind would want a horn in the middle of their forehead? Dragons, now dragons get to horde gold and be bad tempered and eat anyone they don’t like. What’s not to love?