Shards and Phractures

A writer's group made the mistake of asking me to write a profile piece... -=ad=- By day, Allan is a meek and mild-mannered database programmer. But...by night...he undergoes a bizarre metamorphosis, and without warning, creates worlds so the other people who live in his mind have somewhere to play. Science fiction, fantasy, and horror all come creeping out of the dark and twisted corners of his brain, with the occasional political essay or offbeat humorous work thrown in, just to keep people guessing at his true identity. Although Allan's work has not been published for pay, he has won several writing contests, including several Friday Challenges (thefridaychallenge.blogspot.com), and the elusive annual Momwriter Halloween contest--not once but three times. When he's not doing unspeakably horrible things to databases or playing in his fantasy worlds, Allan can be found hiding behind his camera, or chasing the kids around with fuzzy dice and air guitars. And never, under an...

In honor of Nano this year, I'm posting a series of snippets from my past attempts at Nano.  This one is the opening pages from 2007.   -=ad=-   He stepped onto the mountain top just as the first gleams of sunlight appeared on the horizon.  He had hiked in the dark for nearly five hours to reach this point, to prove to himself that this was the spot he wanted; and for that, he had to see how it looked as the sun rose.  He had barely made it. Exhausted, he dropped his duffel, collapsed onto a rock, and let his eyes take in the surroundings as the dawn light illuminated them.  There were rocks and boulders galore, with a few patches of snow decorating them, the last survivors of a long, cold winter.  Further, beyond the cliff face, he could see for miles, and there wasn't a single sign of civilization. A bright flash of color caught his eye.  Not ten feet from where he sat, an early bird of a spring flower had forced it's way through a patch of snow....

In honor of Nano 2009, here's another snippet, another dream scene from Tangler.   -=ad=-   ...he was sitting in class, and the clock was frozen...fifteen minutes until the end of class, and the clock hand just didn't seem to be moving. The teacher was droning on in his usual fashion, and Joey was trying desperately to take notes; the teacher was moving much too quickly for him to get everything, but he was at least trying to keep up. "Node line intersections are points of great power," he wrote. "Interstitial connection lines, conversely, are hazardous to traverse." He let his pen travel across the page on its own, and let his eyes travel to the window. The drone of the teacher's voice faded as he looked out at the sun-swept playground. It would be so much nicer to be there than here, he thought. With a sigh, he turned back to his page. He looked, but he couldn't find the sentence he had just written. What was on his paper now was "Man, this...

In honor of Nano this year, I'd like to offer up a few tidbits...a random sampling of the random dribblings that trickle out of that word-generating subsection of the grey matter in the back of my head. This piece is from the beginning of my very first shot at a Nano challenge. -=ad=- There was blood on his knuckles, but not on his face. The school bully was on the ground in front of him, eye already swollen shut, blood running from his nose and lip and tears streaming from his eyes. Beyond the bully, Joey's little brother Mick was getting to his feet, brushing the dirt from his clothes and face. He looked up adoringly to his brother. And beyond him-- ...beyond him was the green-eyed girl, and the look she gave when their eyes met was electric. The bully got to hands and knees, and looked up at Joey with raw, undisguised hatred. His face was long and narrow, with thin lips below ice-grey eyes and greasy curly black hair. He got to one foot, and Joey put his hand...

This is an entry into this week's Friday Challenge, which can be found here . I've written about Nicky Weird before . The challenge for this week? Write the Climactic Battle scene. Xarathon's rage grew as he stalked the halls of the abandoned high school, eight lesser vampires surrounding him. It's the Harvest Moon, he thought savagely, one of the most magically potent nights of the year. I should be sacrificing virgins, not hunting children. Indeed, it was forty years to the day since the Harvest Moon where he had cursed the entire Earth, covering up the appearance of vampires and magic once and for all. He should be ripping the still-beating heart from the chest of the leader of these savages, that Nicky woman, not wasting his time looking in closets and stalking empty corridors. Up ahead, movement, a fleeting blur as a teenager dashed across the lobby and into the gymnasium. With snarls of impatience, his troops dashed ahead, pursuing the youngster through...

Very often, I seem to be catching flack from people who disagree with my opinions on vaccinating my kids.    The school seems to think I'm exposing my kids to dangerous germs.  Other parents believe that by not vaccinating my kids I'm somehow endangering theirs--an argument that makes absolutely no sense, because if the vaccine works, and their kids are vaccinated, then vaccinating my kids would be completely irrelevant to the health of theirs.   Granted, there are quite a few disagreements over certain vaccines and their effects on people:   1.  Thimerasol (mercury):  Depending on who you ask, this is either a deadly toxin or "such a small dose as to be absolutely harmless."  Many parents blame this additive for autism.  I'm not taking sides in this debate, but I have a problem with injecting any amount of mercury into a child's body for any reason whatsoever.   2.  Side effects (Swine Flu, 1976):  How do you ensure that the v...

Note: This is an entry into this week's Friday Challenge . The assignment: "What I Did on my Summer Vacation only make up something cool." ---------- Thirty years ago, an evil sorcerer cast a spell on the Earth. Under it's influence, humans can no longer recognize magic; vampire slayings become "teen runaways," magical storms and disasters are "freak unseasonal storms." Even history isn't immune; show a human a picture of the signing of the Declaration of Independence, with the wizard robes and auto-writing quills moving, and they'll see a bunch of stuffy white men in the style of the 1700s standing around, powdered wigs and all. Magic just doesn't register on human senses, and even if it does, it's instantly rationalized away. But there was a glitch in the spell, a mis-spoken word in a long forgotten language...a loophole, if you will, in a spell that was supposed to be eternal law. The spell only works on adults. And so, the...