Even when I’m not writing my imagination continues to work on overdrive. I have a new short story idea on the works – planning to get it done for this month’s Patreon entry.
Additionally I’m hoping to get a December flash fiction piece written for Medium.
I still continue to kick out poetry, it seems to flow easier these days. Although I try to keep it on the down low.
Thank you all for reading, for liking, and for letting me share my thoughts and talents with you.
Random thought #2187
Disclaimer: I am religious and believe in God. I realize not everyone who reads this does. However, I believe we all have a higher power or something we hold to that resonates in our lives like this experience with me.
I was recently asked by someone to take a break from writing. There was some anger from me, some push back. I was frustrated. Writing was cathartic for me, a form of therapy. Plus, I love telling stories and writing poetry. It resonates with me and also provides a temporary escape. As you can imagine, I accepted the request begrudgingly.
I couldn’t understand why He (God) would ask me to give up something so special to me.
Fast forward to last evening. I was at a meeting, and someone said something that was an answer. They said that sometimes we need to “take a break from (or remove) distractions and focus on Him.”
I pondered on that phrase for the rest of the night and into today.
Sometimes we’re asked to do things we don’t want to do. Sometimes, we hear a little voice or feel a prompting we don’t understand. Sometimes we only need to look, listen, ponder and just do. Perhaps the reason will be revealed to us later and we’ll be the better for it.
That’s my random thought for today.
Much Love.
Ok, Here goes.
I’m not good at this self promotion thing, never really have been. However, I’m going to try anyway. If you enjoy reading my musings, poetry, and stories here, please consider subscribing to my Patreon.
I’m new to Patreon and I’m doing my best to build a subscriber list. It only costs $1/Month to subscribe to my short stories. They are completed stories that I only post there. I’ve posted excerpts of them here on my blog.
So, if you’re interested in reading full length stories, my Patreon is the place. I post at least one per month.
Thank you for your constant support. It means a lot.
Alan
It’s that time again, the time to bury myself in a new writing project. I’ve written two novels to this point, neither of which are near ready to publish yet, and I’m ready to do another. Last year, I wrote a couple of short stories in November and feel quite accomplished with them – The Lady of Fulton Meadows and Deryk The Hunter.
I don’t know why I decided to write this, maybe to let out some thoughts on it. I’ve struggled to write much of anything of late. I’ve posted a poem or two and a short piece of flash fiction. I hope to get my groove again soon. Writing has been my catharsis, my therapy, my release. Often the things I write have meaning, but sometimes no meaning at all. The act of writing out my thoughts is what helps abate the storms within.
Here’s to a successful NaNoWriMo! If you’re participating, best of luck to you. Look me up on nanowrimo.org! Happy writing!
In a dimly lit rundown room of a motel, out in the middle of nowhere, a man sat and contemplated his next move. Cigarette smoke, mingled with the aroma of musk, hung in the air. A golden brown acoustic guitar was leaning on a stand in the corner by the bed. Papers laid scattered across a round table in the opposite corner, beneath a bourbon colored light fixture.
Stacks of money sat on the nightstand next to a grimy overflowing ashtray and a bottle of half-empty whisky. A demon skull overlaid on a red X, decorated the label of the bottle. Mangy maroon drapes were drawn to allow the near full moon to shed her light into the room.
Silver streaked black hair slicked back over his oblong head, with a few strands dangled over the right side of his wide forehead. Scars decorated his greasy, hollow cheekbones, while a deep cleft split down his chin. Stubble spread like a rash across his face and down his neck. His electric blue eyes told a forlorn tale of a tragic life gone wrong, while shaded bags under his eyes whispered tales of sleepless nights.
He sat on the bed propped up on both hands, with his elbows locked. His gangly right leg crossed over his left knee and his head cocked back on his shoulders. He was looking at the ceiling or some unseen presence.
A little black leather-bound book laid on the bed next to him. Its pages wore coffee stains, cigarette burns, and were yellow and faded from use.
He perched forward, grabbed and scanned the book for a brief moment before tossing it to the pillow. The clock read 4 a.m. He let out an exasperated sigh, sauntered over to the table, grabbed a handful of papers and tossed them in the air.
It had been far too long. Time grew stale over the weeks since he last had visitors. He went to the other corner, grabbed his guitar and began strumming a few chords. The somber tune fell dead on muted walls. He went outside, propped a chair against the wall and played to the predawn sky.
A warm southern breeze whistled through the vacant courtyard. He heard voices echo through the desert canyons to the southeast. The ghostly chatter sparked his mood. Perhaps today he’ll entertain some passersby.
He cracked a cold smile across his stony face as he picked a haunting tune on his guitar. Today may yet be prosperous… Do you want to read the rest? The full version is available on my Patreon.
Click to subscribe and read my monthly short stories and novel excerpts before anyone else. It costs as little as $1 per month.
© Alan “Jedi” Zaugg 2018
Many thoughts sift through my mind
I write them for another time
Perhaps I’ll use them up just now
Or put them into verse somehow
I struggle to express myself
The words just end up on a shelf
A clutter deep and beautiful
Striving to be exceptional
//<Two Serulian lean on each other and laugh.
They’ve just enjoyed a night out and are heading home.
They are inebriated and disoriented, tripping and stumbling down the street.
One looks up. “Hello? Who’s there?”
Horror fills their faces…
They fall to the ground dead, a perfect hole in their chest cavities.
A robotic hand retracts from view, but not before the camera feed captures it.
…Moments later, the same robotic claw-like hand is seen stealing carbon and graphene from a research lab. An alarm sounds, the feed goes dead.>//
Adventure lies beneath the surface of a barren inhospitable planet. A large city, protected by a dome, burrows hundreds of levels deep toward the planet core. Sentient beings from all over the galaxy come to partake in the ambiance and beauty of the city beneath the dome.
Little do they know the possibilities, both good and bad, that await them…
The year is 2219. Adrina Netchal is a five year veteran detective on the city’s massive police force. She and her partner Connor Bryt are tasked with investigating a double homicide and theft in the Sanctum District. As they begin to uncover details, additional murders begin to appear and they find themselves caught in a mysterious web of lies and deceit, a massive cover-up never before known. What’s more, the evidence isn’t adding up. There are no fingerprints, no weapons, and very few eye witnesses willing to come forward. However, all the murders and thefts point back to one peculiar place.
BZ-629, or BAZ, is the lead service bot for the city’s main corridor of servers. He dreams, if robots can dream, of a higher purpose and freer life. He desires nothing more than to escape the server life. His programming is monotonous and requires the same mundane work every day. His update hub longs for something more – upgrades, new programming and freedom, especially freedom. Boredom is his very mundane existence.
He’s been watching Adrina for some time. She sparks a tickle behind his photo-receptors and in his core processor unlike anything he’s ever felt. She’s… how do the humans say it? Beautiful. She’s beautiful. But alas, he’s a bot and not organic like she is. His exoskeleton parts comprise of rivets and bolts, with his naked exoskeleton parts revealing clusters of wires and gadgets. Unless that changes, he knows he’ll never get to experience the human intimacy and feelings he longs for.
RCP-TKL0000, or Receptikal, is a program whose primary function is file deletion and archival management. However, curiosity invades his programming and he comes alive in more ways than one. Armed with intel and an organic body he seeks to fulfill more than his primary function. He’s seen how organic beings waste their precious time and seeks retribution for their lack of vision and apathy towards existence. His desires to jump his programming and live undetected among the humans takes him down dark paths with destructive consequences.
Thank you for reading! Stay tuned for much more!
© Alan “Jedi” Zaugg 2018
