Hello my fellow humans!
For the past.....er.... Well.... For a long time now, I've been toiling away on my short story collection "8 STORIES HIGH" It's been an interesting journey, one that is not quite over just yet. I've promised updates and solid Intel over the last few months, and all I can say is that things are moving along slowly but surely. I thought it would be nice to share a snippet of one of the tales contained in the book, "THE TELL OF WALTER JONES" My attempt to tell a classical murder mystery with a healthy helping of comedy and intrigue thrown in for good measure. Have a read below and sound off in the comment section, I would love to hear your thoughts! Until next time! THE TELL OF WALTER JONES (Preview Draft) New York at night is a wonder to behold; it's a kaleidoscope of color and a bustling metropolis of activity. Tourists amble along Times Square, rubbing shoulders with locals who just want nothing more than to avoid the hubbub and escape to their local watering hole. It seems as if every building on each corner is competing in a race to see who can touch the clouds first. Walk down Fifth Avenue and tell me if you can see the stars clearly, I'll give you a gold star for effort if your eyes are better than mine. In a place this big, there's A LOT of ways to slip through the cracks, ways to disappear, to be one with the sea of bodies going back and forth, blinded by routine. Even in New York, there are ways to commit sins among the unknowing. . . . The cab ride was uneventful; I sat silently listening to the rain assault metal while the cabbie drove dutifully onward. There was a faint dank smell that invaded my nostrils, and it seemed to be coming from the front passenger side. I craned my neck to get a view of the seat (I always ride in the back, I can avoid inane conversation that way) in an attempt to identify the source of the smell, but I couldn't see anything that would give off the distinct odor that was making itself at home in my nasal passages, so I gave up. It wasn't a big deal anyway; we'd just about arrived at the destination. The cabbie slowed and pulled up to the curb and I peered out the window. The Clayton Hotel shone brightly through the rain, a beacon of absolute class and luxury. It was a thin looking, concrete building that stretched high up into the night sky and with this weather, it gave off the impression that the Hotel didn't end, it just continued up and up until it reached orbit. "Thanks." I muttered and tossed a few notes to the Cabbie, he started to reply but I was already out and wading through the thick downpour. I made my way up the slippery steps to the front doors, where a tired looking doorman was leaning against them, he was smoking a cigarette. As he saw me approaching, his heavy-lidded eyes widened slightly to get a better look at me. I knew I was a sorry mess. My coat was soaked through, my fedora was dripping and rumpled at the front, it had been a while since I’d shaved and even longer since I’d slept more than three hours at a time. "Evening, sir." The doorman spoke up over the cacophony, "I take it your here to see the body?" "What makes you say that?" I grunted a reply. "All you detective types look the same," He grinned, displaying a set of crooked teeth, "Rumpled coat, old looking hats, grumpy disposition." He had a cockney accent, which reminded me of my ex-wife. "Your observational skills are apparently second to none Mr...." I trailed off, waiting for the man to introduce himself. "Garrett," He announced, dropping the cigarette and grinding it out with his heel, "John Garrett." "Detective William Martin." I touched the tip of my rumpled fedora and nodded slightly, "So I take it you discovered the body?" "Not me sir," Garrett shook his head, "The bellboy in the foyer was the unfortunate one to do so," He leaned in towards me and lowered his voice, "He seems pretty shook up, so I'd suggest going easy on the lad." "Anything else you know?" I probed. "Not much, except that there's one bloke inside that seems a bit out of place." Garret answered quietly. "How so?" I questioned further, interested to hear what Garrett had to say. "Well, first off, he's definitely one of you guys, but if he's from around here, I'd eat my hat." "Like you?" I countered, acknowledging his accent. "I've lived in New York for over ten years now sir." Garrett beamed proudly. "Just can't seem to shake the accent huh?" I quipped at the man. "Something like that," Garrett smirked, "Anyways, this guy is definitely from London, but all the other coppers seemed to defer to him. He was ordering the other coats around and stuff. Didn't really seem to want to be here though. I'm not too sure if he's still in the building but I'd keep my eye on him if I were you." "Thanks for the advice Garrett." I smiled thinly while reaching into my coat pocket to fish around for some loose change. "No need for a tip squire." Garrett smirked, "That was on the house." I nodded and touched my fedora again before moving to the doors. Who was this London detective and why was he ordering around the others? I certainly hadn't heard anything about this. I made a mental note to ask Sergeant Willis about this development. That was if I didn't run into this mysterious London detective first.
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Long time no speak/see/write!
It's been quite a hectic few months, lots of ups, lots of downs, and LOTS of in betweens. First off, 8 STORIES HIGH is progressing slowly but surely, I should be able to post an update very soon. (I am aware I have promised this before, so.... No promises this time!) Also, I have successfully installed myself into Melbourne and am thoroughly enjoying uncovering all there is to offer here. The art, the culture, the creativity is just sublime and has inspired me in my stories and music like never before. In the meantime, I have once again stumbled into what could be considered poetry so I thought I would share it here. It's a heavy subject, but I would love to hear what you all think of it and am open to some vigorous discourse on the topic. Until next time, enjoy: I Need To Close One third eye opens, sending a signal. Telling me what I already know. Why is the same warning repeated, Yet I continue to stumble and sink so low. I am not an open door. I am not to be read. Yet I make choices. Yet I am broken into. A personal, internal home invasion. My own doing. My own devices. I I need I need to I need to close. Hands wrench me open. I say I will struggle. I never do. Beauty destroys my defenses. No blame. No fault. Just radiance. Wash over my pain, heal my scars and create new incisions. Slide deep into me. Make me hurt. Make me happy. Hold my heart down and twist into me, under my skin. Match the beat that no one seems to keep up with. Race my pulse and then lead me into your own secrets. I will revel and scream and laugh and tear and cherish. If it's given to me, I will fall apart. If it's taken from me, I will crack at the seams. I will be open again. I I need I need to I need to close. Welcome back Elliott, long time no see, where have you been? What have you been up to?
Well, first off, I have been in the process of upending my life and moving from one state to another. It's been equal parts exciting, challenging and terrifying, and I am absolutely loving it. What that means of course is that since real life has been getting in the way, I haven't had much time to write, which has been sending me slightly loopy! Once I completely move I will be taking steps to remedy that, and I'll finally be able to release my book of short stories, 8 STORIES HIGH for you fine humans to read and pick apart with feverish glee….or read…..Your choice. In the meantime, I have once again stumbled my way through some poetry, so I though I would share this little piece with you, It is entitled 'I Don't Know Everything' which couldn't be a more apt statement. Enjoy! I Don't Know Everything When you were pain, I was alive. A burning ball of time and passion. Unstoppable. Unflappable. When you were happy, I was pain. A shipwreck. A storm. A whirlwind of emotion. Unbreakable. When we spoke, we sang. When we sang, we spoke. A turning of a wheel within a wheel. When we laughed, we cried. When we cried, we laughed. God. Divine. Complacent. Safe. There were times, and then there were TIMES. A single melody could spell out the answers, a casual glance could ignite a path and burn away the doubt, only to harden and set before an audience who waited with bated breath, to see what was around the corner. Silence came quickly, and it was welcomed by tired lungs, gasping for breath, for some semblance of sanity. When the walls closed in and the pressure would rise, the ripe feeling of touch would be enough to subside the box, the beast, the roar, the din, the silence. It was safe. It was too safe. It wasn't safe enough. Indecision breeds when no one is looking. Like an unwanted visitor or a thief in the night, it cannot be captured, it cannot be detected until it is there, present, filling that silence. It leads to unwanted words, unwanted emotions, unwanted endings. It also leads to unexpected desires, unexpected pursuits, unexpected beginnings. That same indecision can splinter and break apart and scatter itself over all things. Like a tall, looming tree with many branches, it not only affects the core, the bark, the stump, but the shadow the branches cast catches the audience, affecting those closest around. But, just like a trial by fire, the move after the storm is the most important. Dwell. Silence. Hurt. But, just like a rite of passage, the next step forward is imperative. Awake. Open. Breathe. But, just like a turning of a single wheel, the motion is the answer. Choice. Smile. Receive. But, just like the brightest dawn, the actions inform the audience. Three. Two. One. So when we smile, WE smile. No obligation, no indecision, just a shared moment, just an acceptable, content silence that also comforts the audience. A ripple effect that caresses the lips of the surrounding. A quiet supernova, an understanding, a beacon, a gesture to be imitated. An assurance, an overwhelming statement without words. An opening, an unconquerable force that needs no army. Because when that immortal moment is reached, everything becomes infinite for that fleeting occurrence, that one semblance of perfection. Where you know nothing and everything at the same time. And before it ends, There is a realisation it never will. Long time no see my friends!
Things have been quiet here as of late due to the fact that I have been toiling away at something pretty cool, something I will be revealing in my next post. As a detour, I decided to write (Or clumsily attempt to write) some Poetry. In all honesty, Poetry has never been something I've been particularly good at, but my partner challenged me to a session of automatic writing and the resulting collection of words, completely unedited, are below for your reading pleasure. Words Are Tendrils They drift from the lips of a passer-by, strangers and intimate, cherished beings. There are meanings and codes, locks to break, decisions to decipher, all the answers to be found, in an utterance, a muttering, a moment of frivolity. Words are tendrils They seep from one end to another, caressing or distressing, invading or satiating, building or destroying. With so many combinations, they can set nations on fire, turn a wicked heart from darkness, create a future or damn them to sadness. They are infinite and infinitely finite So much and yet so simple cherished and forgotten. No end until the end. Oh hi there, long time no see!
I've been getting into Flash Fiction lately, there's something about this style of writing that is equal parts freeing and constrained, ruleless but focused. I decided to share a few experiments below for your perusal, they are quick peices i tried to finish in the shortest amount of time possible, hopefully they put a smile on your face. Also, feel free to try your hand at Flash Fiction in the comment section, I would love to see different examples and ideas. But for now have a read! Sullen Sally And The Recurring Action Sally quickly threw her long brown hair into a tight ponytail, she bounded out of the house as soon as the clock on the wall chimed three times. She ran down the driveway to the front gate, eager to see if the mail had been delivered. Sally had been waiting a very long time for a certain letter and her patience was finally starting to get the better of her. "Please, please, please." Sally muttered under her breath as she came closer and closer to the mailbox, her heart skipped a beat as she saw letters hanging lazily from the mouth of the mailbox. With mounting excitement, Sally yanked the bundle of letters out and began to go through them, her smile turning to a grimace and finally a frown before realising, yet again, her item hadn't arrived. "Oh, for fucks sake." Sally blurted out and tucked the letters under her arm. Sullen Sally then set off up the driveway back to her Mother, who now stood at the front door. Sally quickened her pace, she still had her homework to do, and her mother wouldn't tolerate her slacking off. Sally didn't want to repeat third grade. Stones. Chuck walked across the bridge aimlessly, he was going nowhere fast and naught was on his mind. On impulse, he snatched a small stone from the ground and tossed it over the bridge. The stone let out an ungodly scream as it careened down into the watery depths. As it sunk below the surface, the stone gurgled and choked on the current, trying with all its might to break the surface and survive, but alas, it was pulled to the bottom and it died unceremoniously. Chuck, standing there, eyes wide and heart hammering away, ran a shaky hand through his hair. "Ok then." He said slowly. Foresight AKA Second Thoughts AKA Stupidity Barry shivered as his fingers grasped the rock outcropping, he was starting to regret his decision of climbing a mountain this steep without the appropriate gear. Barry's muscles were screaming in protest as he stole a glance down, heart lurching as he felt the immensity of the drop, he was at least a hundred feet or more up from the ground. Barry groaned at the futility of his situation, "I wonder if I'm gonna make it up." He grumbled angrily to himself. He didn't. The Way Through Jack had seen this before; he knew where they were all going to end up. The stars glittered in the dark reaches of space like enticing diamonds, each burning with the possibility of something brighter beyond his grasp or better yet, his comprehension. As Jack sat in the cold, sterile, uncomfortable chair looking out into that vastness, he was reminded of why he was here, and why he did what he did. Jack knew leaving everybody he knew back on earth hurt, he knew that he would never see them again; they had held a mock wake in his honour the night before his scheduled take off. He also knew that he needed to do this. Jack sighed and stood up, his bones creaking and popping, he had done this before. He moved to closer to the viewing window and placed a warm palm against the cool glass, by doing this Jack felt as if he were attached to the darkness, like a child to an umbilical cord. With this connection, Jack could reach earth in his mind. Katie was down there, along with the rest of humanity, repeating over and over. Never aging, never changing, Earth was caught in an endless Moebius strip, always cycling back to its point of origin. Within this ship, Jack hoped to drift farther and farther away to escape the boundaries of this loop, and figure out what was causing this, and put an end to it. Jack sighed, the repetitions were slowly starting to fade, but not entirely, he pulled his palm away from the glass, leaving an imprint, hopefully it would trigger his memory on the next go round. He breathed in and closed his eyes. The stars glittered in the dark reaches of space like enticing diamonds, each burning with the possibility of something brighter beyond his grasp or better yet, his comprehension. As Jack sat in the cold, sterile, uncomfortable chair looking out into that vastness, he was reminded of why he was here, and why he did what he did. Sullen Sally and the Birthday Party Sally sat in the backseat of the car as her mother drove onwards, paying obedient attention to the rules of the road. They were heading to the birthday party of a girl in Sally's class. She absolutely despised her. "Why do we have to go to the dumb party?" Sally whined from the backseat and crossed her arms defiantly, as if that would get her Mother to turn around. "Because sweetie, that's just how it is." Her Mother answered Sally, not actually answering the question. "Oh, for Fucks sake." Sullen Sally moaned and bowed her head angrily. "Language!" Her Mother scolded crossly, "Who taught you that word Sally?" "You did!" Sullen Sally yelled back. The rest of the car ride went on in complete silence, the Mother's face a deep shade of red. Welcome one, welcome all. In between my bouts of feverish writing, playing music and teaching, I like to play video games. I personally really dig point and click adventures primarily but I'm pretty open to anything that has a story. It doesn't have to be Shakespeare, but snappy writing, good characters and a solid framework and world always helps. I figured in my rare downtime when I would play games, it would be good to write up my experiences and personal reviews on this page (I apparently don't like free time, and am addicted to writing, you know what they say, the more you do it....) as a way to collect my thoughts and share my opinion on what is now one of the most widespread and lucrative forms of entertainment. So, not one to do things by halves, over the next few months I'll be writing up not one but FOUR reviews on the MASS EFFECT quadrilogy, a hybrid RPG Sci-Fi Action/Adventure series of games that I'm quite sure a few of you people might have heard of. I'll be examining the circumstances and memories of my original play through and comparing it to my recent re-play throughs leading up to my maiden voyage through MASS EFFECT: ANDROMEDA. All of the games were played on my trusty PC complete with a 2k monitor, i7 motherboard and a Nvidia GTX 1080 to ensure everything was set to MAXIMUM ;) So without further ado, let's cast our minds back nearly ten years and enter the world of MASS EFFECT. MASS EFFECT Back in 2008 I had actually "Retired" from Gaming. It's true, I swear. I had finished a little game called Metal Gear Solid 4: Guns Of The Patriots and I wholeheartedly believed nothing could top the experience so why try? It was amusing since people who know me always associate me as a gamer, so when I announced to friends and family I was done, the statement was met with a mix of scepticism and flat out disbelief. Suffice it to say, I was determined to prove everyone wrong, and for a whole twelve months, I didn't play a single game. I had basically dropped that aspect from my life (Funnily enough that was the least productive year in my life thus far, go figure) I had seemingly left the gaming world behind. In that twelve month period I would get recommendations to play a new game and I would casually shrug off any suggestions. Sure they sounded interesting, but I was done. Sooooo done. One of the recurring recommendations was a game by the name of MASS EFFECT. Created by Canadian development team BIOWARE, It had been released originally on the XBOX but had now found a home on PC and by all accounts, it had a great story filled with interesting characters and great villains in a wonderful Sci-Fi universe that seemed to take the best parts of Star wars, Blade Runner and Star Trek and blend them into an epic RPG Action/Adventure. Admittedly, it sounded great; I'm not the biggest Sci-Fi fanatic, but I enjoyed Star Wars as a kid, and I LOVE Blade Runner, so even though I kept declining, the name MASS EFFECT got stuck in the back of my mind and every now and again, it would pop up and I would shake my head and smile whilst thinking "Not today." Then one day by chance I found myself in a local game store, not an EB or JB HI FI, an honest to goodness game store by the name of Jack Of All Trades (At least that's what my memory brings up, so hopefully my mind is still in working order) wandering around looking at nothing in particular. I happened to spy a copy of MASS EFFECT on sale for the surprisingly cheap price of $10 brand new (Maybe that's why the store doesn't exist anymore) and I stood there holding the box and thought to myself, you know? Why not give it a go? If it's not great, $10 isn't a big loss. So after bringing it home and letting it sit on the shelf for at least a month longer, I finally got around to starting the game up and for the following two weeks I thought of nothing but this game. It was a wonderful experience; I was stunned by the scope of the story and fell in love with the wide range of characters that populated this dense and well realised world. In the end, MASS EFFECT did two important things for me, one, it gave me a kickass game to play, and second it got me back into the world of gaming. This love has led me to experience so many great moments in my life, from professional to personal, that I will always be eternally grateful for. So yeah, that was my first impression of MASS EFFECT. Pretty earth shattering, now that I think about it. So now, after all these years, how does this game stack up? Is it a nostalgia filled romp or does it still thrill me like it did all those years ago? First off let's delve into the story, just in case there are some gamers out there who've never heard of this series. MASS EFFECT tells the epic tale of Commander Shepard, a character who you can choose to be either male or female, along with one of three distinct histories for said Commander. For my play through, I chose a male commander, who was a soldier with a bloody past and went by the awesome name of Sheppy Shepard. You can also design the face of Shepard, and while it was fun screwing around with, I always went with the default face. Set in the Milky Way in the far future, where interstellar travel has now become possible through the use of mass transit devices called Mass Relays, a technology believed to have been built by an extinct alien race known as the Protheans. A conglomerate body of governments known as the Citadel Council controls a large percentage of the galaxy and is responsible for maintaining law and order among races of the galactic community. Races that belong to the Citadel Council include Humans, Asari, Salarians, and Turians. Other alien races seen in the game include the reptilian Krogan, the environmental suited Quarians, and a hostile race of networked AI's called Geth. Humanity is represented by the Systems Alliance, an organized body that joined the Citadel Council in 2157. Commander Shepard, no matter what background or gender you assign, is a graduate of the Systems Alliance Special Forces program and a candidate to become the first human member of the Spectre force, agents who are above the law and answer directly to the Council. Shepard's squad members include Human Systems Alliance marine Kaidain Alenko, Human Systems Alliance soldier Ashley Williams, Turian Citadel Security officer Garrus Vakarian, Krogan mercenary Urdnot Wrex, Quarian mechanic Tali'Zorah and Asari archaeologist Liara T'soni. Other supporting characters include SSV Normandy captain David Anderson and SSV Normandy pilot Jeff "Joker" Moreau. During an initial test run on a routine spectre mission, Sheppy's handler is assassinated by a rogue Turian spectre named Saren Arterius and Sheppy himself comes into contact with an ancient alien device that literally beams images of the apocalypse into his mind's eye. Heavy stuff. These events send the commander and his team of misfits on a race against time in an effort to not only hunt down the evil Saren, but discover what his ultimate plan is and how it relates to Sheppy's visions. Along the way the crew will learn to get along, solve numerous mysteries and take on side missions while exploring the many different planets throughout the Milky Way. All in all, it's a wonderful setup for an exciting adventure which even in its most intimate slower paced character moments, you always feel forward momentum, you just know there will be a revelation or confrontation around the corner, and the tantalising thrill of chasing a war criminal across planets is addictive. Booting the game up I was greeted by the lovely dark synth, almost John Carpenter but not soundscapes that complimented the title screen. Its effect (no pun intended) instantly puts you into an adventuring frame of mind, it also brought a big grin to my face. Now before we get any further, I want to touch upon the style of game MASS EFFECT is. Although there's a bit of third person shooting and fighting, it's a game that puts story first, so for the majority of playtime, it's talking to characters and exploring and gathering resources. Yes it gets action heavy in the final sections of the game when the story comes to its climax, but you could easily go for an hour or two before having to shoot a weapon. The thing is, you won't notice, or like me, won't care. There are so many interesting things to check out or ask about that they could have made the game combat free and I still would love it. There are also times where you get to canvas planets with a ground vehicle called the MAKO. Apparently, there was a large deal of online grumbling about the wonky controls in these sections, but I didn't find them too annoying, I actually felt they offered a nice little alternative to the running talking and shooting sections, and It gave the game an even more wider scope as it really felt as if this galaxy was huge and filled with things to explore. The main draw though, is in its carefully structured choose your own adventure styled storyline. You see, throughout the narrative, Sheppy is presented with single shot choices that change the trajectory of storyline. Some are subtle, like deciding whether to help solve a random argument on the citadel to huge agonising decisions such as choosing which crew member to save or leave behind on a life or death mission. It's well implemented and sophisticated and lends itself to a multitude of play throughs. Couple that with changing Shepard's gender and history, there are so many different small and large outcomes that it almost gives you a sense that the possibilities are endless. They're not of course, but Bioware did a damn good job on making it feel that way. The graphics are another talking point; at the time of release they were revolutionary. Featuring stunning lifelike facial animations for the human characters and fantastical alien designs, along with the varied range of exotic environments and the stunning design of the main hub, The Citadel, MASS EFFECT was a true sight to behold. Playing through these landscapes nowadays, one can admit that some animations are a little stiff and age hasn't been kind to certain playable areas. This in no way is a mark against the game as a whole at all. It's the same as watching a classic movie from years ago with vintage SFX. They are of their time yes, but they used the technology available to the absolute best of their ability and focused on making each piece shine and fit together to form a cohesive whole. This, to me personally, makes the product feel more timeless in a way. Truth be told, graphics and game play to me are actually not that important to me in my final assessments (Sacrilege I know) as I touched upon earlier, my main interest is in the storyline. And boy, does MASS EFFECT deliver it in spades. I'm going to be heading into spoiler territory so If you haven't played any of these, go do so and come back later, this section will be waiting for you. I loved the flow of MASS EFFECT'S narrative, once Sheppy becomes a spectre and gets the green light to go after Saren, we not only uncover parts of his plan slowly, but we get to know the crew of the Normandy. Each one is brought to life with great voice acting, with standouts being the amazing KEITH DAVID as David Anderson, LANCE HENRIKSON as Hackett and SETH GREEN as Joker. For such a large cast I'm sure everyone has their favourite go to characters and mine are hands down Garrus and Tali. Garrus is a no nonsense, anything it takes to win type soldier who over the course of the game learns from Sheppy that it's more honourable to do things the right way, rather than the easy, more violent way....Unless you play Shepard as an asshole, I don't know how that affects the narrative because I can't help but make my Sheppy a hero with a strong moral compass. Tali is a wonderfully written and performed character, she's a Quarian who is on her pilgrimage, essentially a journey in where a Quarian leaves their home and must find a gift worthy for a captain who's crew they would like to join. Even though hidden behind a mask, Tali manages to evoke equal parts strength and fearlessness, with a slight sense of vulnerability, it's a joy to listen to her speak of the history of her race, and voice actress Ash Sroka has a lot to do with making her such a likeable character. Things get incredibly intense when Sheppy and his crew finally catch up to Saren, we realise that he's not the biggest threat, but just a cog in a much more terrible design, as Saren is looking to contact an ancient race of machine like monstrosities called Reapers. These free thinking ship sized beasts look like something ripped from the mind of HP Lovecraft and are an advanced form of AI that have one goal. The eradication of all species. The one Reaper that Sheppy talks to late in the game is named Sovereign and is equal parts awesome and terrifying. It's there you realise that Saren has actually been indoctrinated by these machines and even though he believes he is acting of his own accord, it couldn't be further from the truth. It's also there we have to decide the fate of one of Sheppy's crewmembers, do you save Ashley or Kaidan? It actually wasn't a big decision for me as I felt Sheppy had a shot with Ashley so I made sure to choose her right away (Such a charmer I am!) I've actually never went through and saved Kaidan in any playthough so I can't really say how that would change the narrative, If anyone who has played through that way, please feel free to comment below this review as I'd be interested to hear your different story outcomes. From there it's a literal race to the finish as Saren's goal is to bring Sovereign to the Citadel where they can communicate with the rest of the Reapers in dark space. What follows is a breathtaking action packed finale where you fight your way to the top of the citadel and engage in a final battle with Saren before destroying Sovereign, preventing him from bringing his army through the portal. Like I said, thrilling stuff. Once the credits ran I realised that I enjoyed MASS EFFECT more this time around than when I originally played through it, there were more character beats I discovered, I recognised more moments that foreshadowed events in the sequels and I generally had a better understanding of the world that was built for this game. I seemed to have a smile on my face throughout my entire week of playing and, like the last time, I kept thinking about what adventures Sheppy and the Normandy crew would be getting up to in between sequels. So, yes, I am happy to report that, to me MASS EFFECT still is great, if not greater. It is most definitely worth your time and still to this day is a milestone in gaming. $10 spent incredibly well. I'll be delving into my experiences on MASS EFFECT 2 soon; hopefully you will come along for the ride for that too! Until next time! Well hello there, It's been awhile hasn't it? While there has been a great deal of...Inactivity on this page, it doesn't mean this intrepid writer has been lazy. Quite the contrary, being busy is the reason I've been away from my site, writing for magazines. online zines, working on not one but two full length novels and actually trying to earn some money have limited my time here. But I would like to change that, hence this post. I thought I'd share a little piece of writing I did not so long ago titled "The Unconditional Henry and Claire." It is intended to be a snapshot of a loving, realistic couple. I have plans with this, and it will go places you won't expect. But for now, I'd like for you, the reader to speculate where this little charming tale will go. Feel free to post comments and ideas below if you feel so obliged. But enough of me, let's get to reading, I present to you all, "The Unconditional Henry and Claire." The Unconditional Henry and Claire By Elliott Thomas The old man sat down next to the old woman. He winced as his knees popped and crackled with arthritis; the woman raised an eyebrow and smirked. "I think you're getting old." She cracked. "Yeah, yeah," The man replied, "Take a look in the mirror first before you start picking on me." He adjusted his shirt collar and let out a deep sigh. "I'm beautiful." The woman said in mock exasperation and patted down her thin gray hair, "Don't you try and say otherwise Henry." "Oh I wouldn't dare Claire." Henry said, his sarcasm betrayed by a ghost of a smile, "I was just....Advising you that it's unbecoming of a lady of your standards to stoop so low as to point out other people's ages." Henry's Eyebrows rose as he looked over at Claire. She laughed quietly, "How astute, I'll take that into consideration." Claire slid over to Henry and he instinctively raised his arm to cradle her thin shoulders, they had done this a million times before and he hoped it would be a million times more, it never got old. "Do you want some wine?" Claire asked, Henry looked down at her, focused on her green eyes that stripped him bare as always. "It's currently Nine Thirty Eight....." Henry answered looking up at the clock on the wall, "A.M. By the way." He added as he looked back at Claire, who was now wearing an impish grin, "Oh let me guess what your gonna say honey." Claire bowed her head, "Ok, I'm waiting." Henry lifted his arm from her shoulders and clasped his hands together, "Let's see....It's always five pm somewhere?" Claire looked up and glared at him, "You know me oh so well." "We have spent a lot of time together honey. ALOT of time together." Henry intoned. "Oh, so you regret all our time together?" Claire spoke sweetly as she titled her head to the side. "Every damn day." Henry grinned, he leaned back in the seat and crossed his arms, "I mean, I'm actually not that fussed, I've had plenty of women on the side, it's not that bad." "Oh Henry, you are such a fool, what have I told you all this time?" Claire grunted, her smile reaching her eyes, "You can have any woman you like, as long as you let me watch or participate!" "Must have slipped my mind." Henry quipped, arms still crossed. "See, you ARE getting old." Claire laughed. "Maybe." Henry conceded playfully, a lopsided grin on his face, which turned into a full faced smile as Claire reached out to take his hand in hers. "Oh I love that so much." She murmured. "What?" "Those creases at the corners of your eyes, it just makes me so-" She stopped talking for a second to lay a few kisses on Henry's cheek, "Happy." She finished. Henry had heard it all before, and like the act of putting his arms around Claire, he never ever grew tired of it. "Ok ok," Henry slightly reddened, trying not to have his smile reach his eyes, "Let's go get that wine." He stood up slowly to avoid agitating his knees again. "I knew it." Claire said quietly as she rose gracefully, "You're a god damned alcoholic." "Bah, It's five PM somewhere." Henry shot back. They walked silently together to the kitchen, without realizing it, Claire had held her hand out and Henry took hers in his and their walk slowed slightly to enjoy and bask in their shared perfect moment. Henry grinned, he wasn't happy he was drinking wine in the morning, he was happy he was drinking it with Claire. At that moment he felt so thankful they were never a couple who didn't share their feelings with each other. "Honey?" Claire said quietly as she rested her head on his shoulder and their slow walk decreased in speed even further. "Yes my darling?" Henry answered. "I love this." Claire let go of his hand and wrapped it around his waist, once again, Henry had anticipated it and as soon as she had let go, he raised his arm and again wrapped it around her shoulders. "So do I." He smiled down at her, "I don't which one of us loves it more." "There's no answer to that one." Claire chuckled, "Don't bother mulling over it, I've tried." Henry gripped her tighter as they finally entered the kitchen, "Sounds good to me." Claire gently disentangled herself from Henry and went to the fridge and bent slightly to open it up and inspect its contents. "Well hello there woman." Henry whistled. "Shut it." Claire replied not turning around, but she wiggled her hips slightly. "It's wine time." Henry laughed and went to the cupboard to grab some glasses. Henry looked back at Claire who had just picked up the bottle of red, "Should we have some cheese and crack-" "Yes." "Well ok then." Henry nodded and turned back around to grab some Crackers. He turned around and Claire was placing cheese on a plate and the wine was open already. "I'm surprised you didn't just drink it all without me already." "The thought crossed my mind my dear." Claire spoke gravely, "But even I have to concede that drinking alone is just not as fun as drinking with another person." "Very wise honey, very wise." Said Henry as he brought the glasses and crackers over to the table. The two of them eased themselves slowly into chairs and Claire got to pouring the wine. She filled each glass to the brim. "Party time." Henry giggled. "It's wine time." Claire raised her shoulders and looked over to Henry like a confused child. "I don't understand the problem?" "No problem Queenie." Henry laughed. Claire moved a glass slowly over to Henry, careful not to spill any, it touched the tips of Henry's fingers and her mission was over. "There now." Claire smiled warmly, "Ready for your wine darling?" "Always." Henry smiled back, leant over and kissed Claire on the mouth, Claire searched for Henry's hand and found it, they held onto each other tightly as they both drank deeply. Their thoughts were mirrored. They had done this so many times over the years they had been together, through the highest of highs and the lowest of lows, they had never wavered, they had never faltered. They would continue to be entwined as they had before, it would never stop until one of them left this world, and the other would continue to wake up every morning at Nine A.M. to drink red wine and eat crackers until they too would also leave this world, in search of the other. Because nothing would keep these two apart for very long; worlds and dimensions and universes wouldn't stand a chance against these two. "I love you Henry." Said Claire. "I love you Claire." Said Henry. Claire raised her glass and smiled, "Now shut up and drink." Henry obeyed Claire's order and drank, reveling in the light the emanated between them. Welcome to the New Year fellow humans! The last month and a half has been quite a trying one personaly and professionally, things have gotten in the way of telling stories and I apologise for that, I may write a blog up on what's been happening, I may not, We'll just have to wait and see what happens in that regard. But there's no time to be maudlin, I'm happy to present my first story of 2017! This little spooky tale is called "Shifting The Lens." Please take the time to have a little read, I'm looking forward to some juicy discourse with you all...... Shifting The Lens By Elliott Thomas Darius inhaled deeply from the pipe and settled back into the folds of the well-worn lounge. The Opium was already beginning to work its euphoric magic. He felt the familiar, funny burning sensation trail through his body and his mind began to drift, his muscles relaxed; expanded, and Darius entered what he liked to call the Deca Dance. His lazy eyes drifted over his lodgings. The small dingy brothel the young man inhabited didn't have any use for him at the moment, nor did the whore that was at his groin struggling to undo his pants. His interest was not in the carnal, but in the cerebral. "Leave me alone woman." Darius slurred, his voice a mix of accents; attributed to his bastard upbringing, "Get on the bed." He continued as he reached over to dig a hand into his coat pocket that hung haphazardly over the arm of the lounge. His hand closed down upon some coins and he tossed them lazily towards the bed. The whore ceased her fumbling, got up, and went off to collect the payment. Satisfied the whore would not bother him anymore, Darius resumed the relaxing task of the Deca Dance, he spun slowly on an axis in his mind and he felt expansion; rising and slow falling. He smiled at the beauty of this perfection. The whore had returned from her scavenger hunt; she was saying something, but all Darius heard was a droning din. He was far away from her now, nothing else mattered. She turned and left, Darius hoped it was for good, but it didn't really matter; the Deca Dance had begun and he would enjoy every minute of it. The night would drift on like this for the young Darius, until the first slivers of morning would cause him to take his leave and return to his mundane life. __ "Now Mr. Hettinger, keep holding that pose and we're almost there." Darius spoke from under the black cloth shawl that was attached to the large camera. He fiddled with the Rack-and-pinion mechanism to achieve the visual clarity he needed to get the best side of Robert Hettinger. Mr. Hettinger was a very distinguished gentleman and a darling of the social scene around these parts, Darius guessed he was in his late forties, maybe fifties, with that full mane of white hair and bushy white beard. Mr. Hettinger had obviously kept himself in shape too; even though the man was wearing a thick black coat over his suit, his frame shone through the lens in front of Darius quite obviously. And the upside down image gave Mr. Hettinger the illusion he was a bat hanging upside down in the back room of Johansson's Antiques and Daguerreotypes. "Almost there." Darius muttered as he double checked the lens, the finest in craftsmanship from Lerebours and Secretan. It had cost an arm and a leg, and barred him from the Deca Dance for what seemed an age, but to Darius it was a necessary purchase to set him on a path to immense wealth. Photography was booming now, and he was always a man at the forefront of progress and opportunity. And that's why Darius now was a creator of the finest daguerreotypes; it would serve him well until the next sure thing came along. Satisfied with the image, Darius slid the camera closed and stepped out from under the black cloth. "And we are done Mr. Hettinger." Darius exclaimed; Hettinger was visibly relieved as he let out a sigh and craned his neck from side to side. "I didn't realise it would take so long." Hettinger sniffed as he approached Darius; who was fiddling with the camera. " Daguerreotype is a very delicate process Mr. Hettinger," Darius explained to the older man, "If you think that took long, I won't bore you with the details on how the picture is actually processed." "When should I return to collect?" Hettinger asked as his bushy white eyebrows furrowed downwards towards his watery blue eyes. Darius bit at his bottom lip, hopefully giving off the impression he was thinking long and hard about the question. "Maybe a week would suffice?" Darius offered Hettinger, the old man snorted and shook his head. "Now, now, I won't wait that long" Said Hettinger, "I'm sure there's a way we could speed things up." He reached into his vast coat and produced a large pouch, to which he deftly placed it into Darius's waistcoat pocket. It bulged out awkwardly as Darius felt the obvious weight of the coins pulling down at his side; causing the waistcoat to hang lopsidedly. "If you come back in a day or two, I'm sure it will be done." Darius smiled thinly. "Good man," Hettinger smiled and extended a large gloved hand, Darius took it and felt his body rattle from Hettinger's vigorous handshake; the coins jangled in Darius's waistcoat. Mercifully, Hettinger let him go, the older man turned on his heel and as he left the back room he tapped a finger to his forehead. "Pleasure doing business with you Mr. Johansson, I'll return in one day!" "See you then Mr. Hettinger." Darius called back, and when he heard to door shut, his smile disappeared and set into a grimace, he needed to close the shop; there was a lot of work to be done and Mr. Hettinger was not a man to be kept waiting. __ Creating a daguerreotype is laborious. To develop the plate, a mercury bath with sliding legs is required, the mercury is housed in an iron vessel and the temperature of the Mercury is controlled with the help of a thermometer. The exposed plate is placed into the box, then warmed slowly with a spirit lamp set at fifty-five degrees Celsius or thereabouts. The mercury vapour then reacts with the plate and the photographer can watch the image develop through a small window in the box. Darius watched through this window as the outlines slowly developed; he scratched absent-mindedly at the stubble on his jaw and then pushed back a stray lock of black hair behind his small ears. He yawned and wondered what time it was. He guessed it would have been just past midnight. His mind returned to the task at hand, the image looked just about ready. Carefully, he used a pair of tweezers to remove the image plate, Darius then moved over to the counter in the darkroom and placed the plate in a tray of Sodium Thiosulphate, this was done to wash and fix the image so it could be seen clearly. Yawning again, Darius bent slightly to get a look at the picture. His eyes went wide and he let out a gasp, the wind knocked out of him as he stumbled back and keeled over, crashing to the floor. In the picture, standing next to Mr. Hettinger, was a woman. Darius sucked in air as he slowly got back up onto unsteady feet, his entire body shaking. He wanted to run out of the store and into the street; into the first populated bar. But he knew he couldn't leave the picture like it was.... As much as he wanted to. Darius shook from head to toe as he stepped back towards the picture, with grim determination, he forced his eyes upon the image and with a deep dread and horror Darius stifled a scream. The woman stared back at him still. Breathing heavily, Darius forced himself to take in the woman's features. She wore a long dark coat which reached her ankles; the collar of her coat turned up, resting just below her pale, delicate jaw line. Even though terror gripped his heart, Darius could see the woman was beautiful. She had full lips, a petite nose and stunning catlike eyes; they seemed to stare through Darius, but also offer him a sense of childlike playfulness, as if she knew something he didn't and wasn't going to reveal. She looked to be in her mid to late twenties, Darius guessed from the darkness of her hair in the image it had to be pitch black, which would further accent the paleness of her skin; it made her look almost like a porcelain doll. Darius could not even begin to imagine how she had appeared in the image, but he suddenly felt like he wasn't alone in his darkroom, he imagined this woman standing behind him; her cold breath against the nape of his neck. Darius was surprised that it didn't bother him as much as he would have thought. Darius grit his teeth, he needed to finish the process if he wanted to prevent the image from being destroyed, so ignoring the picture, he set about doing so. __ As the night wore on, Darius gilded the plate with a heated solution of gold chlorate and sodium thiosulphate to make the image more resistant and bring out a more vibrant, richer tone. Without looking at the picture, Darius fixed the plate in a protective frame and sealed it tightly. Now it was finally complete. He stole a glance at the image, the woman was still standing there, still looking slightly mischievous. Darius shuddered as he felt an attraction to the woman in the picture, there was something familiar about her, though he was sure he'd never met anyone like her in his life. He'd remember a woman like that for certain. Darius murmured under his breath and ran both hands through his long unkempt hair, he exhaled loudly as he delicately picked the picture up and held it close to his chest, cradling it like a child without even realising it. He stared off into space, muttering quietly to himself until he came to a decision, he needed to medicate. He slipped the picture into his inside waistcoat pocket, there was no way Darius would risk leaving such a valuable item in the store while he was absent. No, this image was going everywhere with him. Darius moved quickly, spurred on with a dark energy; he picked up an overcoat, threw it over his shoulders and exited the store, taking off down the cobblestone street in the direction of the nearest brothel. __ "Turn over you filthy slut." Darius commanded, his voice dripping with Sexual energy. The whore under him on the bed moaned and twisted herself around, Darius grabbed her hips and yanked her roughly up towards his groin; she cried out louder as he drove his hard prick into her, sliding in roughly. Darius grunted with anger as he began to pump back and forth into her, her large breasts slapping at his knuckles as he gripped her rib cage tighter with each thrust. Sweat poured down his back as he throbbed inside of her, pain and pleasure meeting and intertwining once again. As Darius continued to thrust, the sound of wet flesh slapping together filled his ears, drowning out the grunting and moaning. He looked over to the couch where his clothes lay in a heap, he spied that the picture had freed itself from his waistcoat and was laying face up towards him. Although Darius expected his reaction to be one of fear, he was surprised to feel his prick had gotten harder. He looked down and his mind conjured up an image of the beautiful woman in the image, he ran his hand down the curve of her pale back, feeling the spine under her wet skin, feeling her quiver with pleasure. Darius quickly grabbed a fistful of her black hair and yanked her up towards his torso, she yelled out in ecstasy as Darius's other hand found her breast, cupping it, he felt the softness of her, the hard nipple at the end playing across his fingers. Darius let loose a scream as he spent himself inside the woman; he convulsed as his seed continued to shoot out inside of her, giving the woman as much pleasure in the orgasm too. They fell into a heap, breathing heavily; steam rising from their two entwined bodies. Darius could feel his veins trying to burst from under his skin, heart banging against his chest like a hammer. He rolled off of the woman and turned her around to tell her he loved her, only to be dismayed he was looking at a common whore. "Get out." Darius ordered before she could say anything. "Leave me be." The whore wanted to protest, but one look at his eyes told her it was time to go. She packed up her things and exited quickly. Darius lay there on his back, feeling alone, he wanted the woman in the photo more than anything in the world, though he didn't understand what had changed his feeling from fear to adoration. Darius didn't care, he decided he was keeping the image, Mr. Hettinger could fuck off for all he cared. Darius slowly rose from the bed, feeling a chill come over him, he moved unsteadily towards the image on the couch, eyes transfixed on the woman. He picked it up, careful not to smudge the glass and smiled at her. She smiled back. Darius screamed and threw the picture onto the couch where it landed face down and the terrified young man shrank back, cowering in fear, but the worst was yet to come. He whimpered quietly as he heard the obscene sound of fingernails scratching against plate-glass, Darius screamed again and covered his ears, he needed to block that awful sound from existence. He forced himself to look at the overturned image and his blood curdled as ice filled his veins. The image had begun to move. And slowly, gloved fingers slid out from under each side of the plate. Further and further, these fingers pushed outward, revealing tightly gloved knuckles, then delicate wrists. Darius continued to whimper in terror and disbelief as two arms emerged from under the plate and with a swiftness Darius could not have anticipated, a head emerged, knocking the plate off the lounge. The pale woman was here, in the same very room as Darius. He cowered in the corner of the room as she slowly rose out of the image and took her first slow steps towards him. Darius rammed a fist into his mouth to stop from screaming uncontrollably. He squeezed his eyes shut and sunk down naked further into the corner, hoping to disappear into the wooden floorboards. There was complete maddening silence for a few agonising moments, before it was broken in the most beautifully obscene way. "Look at me, Darius." The woman commanded, it was a full, sensual voice that was charged with sexual energy; Darius couldn't help but obey. He opened his eyes and looked up the woman standing above his naked, shivering body. She was even more beautiful in the flesh. Her jet black hair spiralled over thin shoulders; pale skin bright against the night, her feline eyes a bright emerald-green. She wore that same gothic coat from the image over dark suit pants and knee-high boots, Darius could see the outline of her breasts as she breathed in and out delicately. He took her all in and felt himself stiffen. "Stand." She commanded and Darius did so, she looked down at his prick and smiled, it had gotten obscenely hard. The pale woman licked her lips and placed a gloved hand upon his throbbing manhood, Darius sighed as she began to massage him into oblivion, her touch was delicate, yet there was a power behind each stroke. Darius's eyes rolled into the back of his skull as his pulse quickened, he felt as if he were entering the Deca Dance, it was mind numbing bliss. It didn't take long until Darius had spent himself again, this time into a puddle on the floor. "Now put your clothes on and listen to me." The woman ordered as Darius dropped to the floor; a heaving mess. With all his might, he rose unsteadily and moved over to the couch. Darius dressed haphazardly, not knowing if he were asleep or awake. He looked down at the image on the floor, Mr. Hettinger stared back; standing alone now. Darius turned to face the pale woman, masking his fear with defiance. "Who are you? How is this possible?" The pale woman smiled devilishly, "You may call me Audri." She answered him simply, "And I am here because you captured me." Darius frowned, "I don't understand, I don-" Audri raised a hand to the stammering Darius, he silenced his questioning immediately. "I've been drifting in this fucking Hell hole for years and thanks to you, you finally captured me." She bent down and scooped up the metal plate which held the image of a lone Mr. Hettinger. "Your daguerreotype captured my spirit and I was able to find my way back." Darius shook his head, he didn't want to understand her words, he wanted to return to his Deca Dance, but that wouldn't help the situation now. "Now listen to me." Audri brought Darius back from the edge, "I've been attached for so long to that evil man..... and it's time to pay him back for his crimes." "What? Who are you talking about?" Darius questioned, brow furrowed down, mind fuzzy. "Why, Robert of course. Robert Hettinger." Audri answered as she spread her arms wide. "When he was my age, he took my life." Darius sucked in a breath, Hettinger, a murderer? It seemed absurd, but he would believe anything at this point. Audri moved in closer to Darius and touched him lightly on the arm, "We need to take care of Mr. Hettinger." She whispered into his ear with that soothing silky voice. "He cannot be allowed to live with his crime." Darius closed his eyes as he felt a single tear escape from under the lid. Audri drew him into an embrace, Darius could feel her tight body against his own and he rose again. "Do this for me Darius, right this wrong." Darius brought his arms up and wrapped them around the pale, beautiful woman called Audri; he would do anything right the wrongs done to her. __ They travelled silently back to the store, the sun was rising and they needed to hide Audri in the darkroom until Hettinger showed up; when he did Darius would have to find the strength to wipe his miserable existence from the earth. He left the store closed for the day until Hettinger finally showed himself late that evening, the old man announced himself by banging loudly at the front entrance, Darius answered him, unlocking the door and ushering him in. "My God Johansson." Hettinger exclaimed as he looked down at the dishevelled, unkempt Darius. "You look quite the mess!" "As I said Mr. Hettinger," Darius began, trying to keep calm, "daguerreotype is a very delicate process." Hettinger smiled, his blue watery eyes twinkling, "So I take it that you have finished it?" His excitement burst through every syllable. "You bet Mr. Hettinger, step right this way." Darius retreated back slowly and directed him towards the dark room. Hettinger smiled and pushed past Darius, eager to see the finished product. The old man strode forward, Darius bringing up the rear. With a flick of his wrist, Hettinger pushed the curtain of the darkroom aside and made his way inside. Standing straight backed and statuesque in the middle of the room, a playful smile on her pale lips, Audri waited as Hettinger stopped dead in his tracks, surprise washing over his worn features. Hettinger stared at Audri, his brow furrowed in confusion, "What the Hell is this Mr. Johansson?" He turned around to face Darius. "Where is my Picture?" "Right here, Robert." Audri cooed, causing Hettinger to turn his attention back to her, recognition dawning upon his face, "You got more than you bargained for." "Audri?" Hettinger spluttered, "What? How?" "Surprised are we?" Audri chuckled, her voice sounding like dead leaves, "I'd imagine you would be, dear Robert." "But you're dead, I saw you die!" Hettinger's voice rose, violence dripping from every utterance. Audri laughed mirthlessly. "Oh yes, you would believe that, seeing it was you that did the fucking deed!" Hettinger stayed silent, it was all Darius needed as confession, it gave him the strength to act. He drew a sharp gold-plated knife from his waistcoat, an old antique he'd acquired years ago and had left in his store for protection. He didn't hesitate as he drove the knife into Hettinger's back, right between his shoulder blades. Hettinger grunted as the wind was driven out of him, but Darius underestimated the speed of the old man, who turned quickly and backhanded him across the face, sending Darius stumbling backwards. He crashed onto the table which held all of his daguerreotype equipment, sending bits and pieces tumbling to the floor, creating an ungodly noise. Hettinger roared and yanked the knife from his back and he bounded towards Audri with a murderous rage etched on his face. "I'll make sure you stay dead this time!" He yelled as she stood there, awaiting his violent embrace with a smile. He was blindsided by Darius, who threw his entire weight into the charging Hettinger; they tumbled over the other work table and slammed into the floor with a sickening thud. Darius's breath came in shallow gasps as he rolled off of Hettinger. He felt himself growing faint, black dots in the corner of his eyes. Darius tried to rise, but felt a sharp pain in his stomach, he glanced down and with dismay saw that the knife had been driven deep into his gut, a large red stain flowering from the wound. Darius's head lolled back and hit the floor with a small thud, he coughed and tried to get up again, but his body wouldn't obey him. Before he could do anything else, Hettinger pounced on him, hands clasped around his throat. "I'm going to kill you both then." He said with menacing calm, the fall had sliced the top of his scalp which hung loosely and flapped disgustingly each time he opened his mouth to talk. "You bastard little child, I'm going to choke the fucking life out of you." Darius was losing consciousness, he had to something before he drifted away completely. His fingers closed around the hilt of the blade buried deep within his stomach; with a grim determination, he yanked the knife out from inside his body with a shout and brought it up toward Hettinger. Before the old man could register what was about to happen, the knife tore through the bridge of his nose and sliced through his left eyeball, splitting it in two. A glob of blue and yellow and red puss shot out and landed on Darius's face, causing him to cry out. Obscenely, Hettinger was still trying to choke Darius to death, so the young man pulled the blade back out, causing Hettinger to convulse, and stabbed again, this time the knife finding Hettinger's right eyelid and burying itself to the hilt. In an instant, Hettinger dropped, the life and fight completely gone from him, leaving nothing but a gored corpse behind in his departure. Darius spluttered and pushed the body off of him and felt his limbs relax, his hand went to his gut, he could feel his life seeping out of his body, tears began to leak from his eyes; he didn't want to go like this. Darius looked up and standing before him was Aduri; she was radiant. She knelt and raised him slowly up into a sitting position, cradling him as one would a small child. He felt safe and secure, he finally felt like he had a home, a parent; someone to care for him, someone to hold his hand and walk with him into the everlasting Deca Dance. __ The town locals were saddened to hear of the disappearance of Robert Hettinger. But truthfully, people were more upset that a certain Darius Johansson had decided to retire from daguerreotype and head for greener pastures. Although no one seemed to mind when news spread that a beautiful young woman had taken over the business. People flocked to this beautiful, dark-haired woman, her skill in daguerreotype completely unmatched; seemingly surpassing even the skill of the young Darius. And if people ever missed him, the young woman kept a steel plate-image hanging above the entrance of the store. The image was of Darius Johansson sitting in his darkroom with a wide smile on his face, it hung there so he would always be remembered by each customer who wanted to be immortalised, by the ever shifting lens. Happy Halloween Ghouls!
I have a little spooky short story for your perusal on this wonderfully creepy night, so without further ado, curl up next to the fireplace or electric heater and read away! The Last Winter By Elliott Thomas Clyde Terrence's hands were frozen. No blood wished to continue flowing through the veins that snaked under the skin of his spindly fingers, thick knuckles and wide open palms. Yes, they shook, indicating that life still went on within those hands of his, but the cold rendered them incapable of anything other than an uncontrollable shake. "C'mon." Clyde mumbled under his quivering breath. "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon." There was an uncomfortable tension spreading across the back of his neck. It seemed as if his body was reminding him that there were a million other things he could be doing other than standing outside on a street corner in the middle of the coldest winter the country had seen in the last decade. But if Clyde was doing something else, he wouldn't have the chance to score this big. He shifted uncomfortably on his feet and leant up against a street light, it was flickering on and off in the cold dark. Clyde continued to shake as he brought his hands together, he began to rub them against each other in an attempt to warm them and stop the jitters; he'd need these hands working soon enough. Clyde kept his eyes focused on the large house situated across the damp, sleet covered road. It was a typical two storey brick house, one large window on the top floor made it look like a large Cyclops. The lights were still on inside and a black Sedan was parked in its driveway. Everyone was still home. Clyde breathed in and out slowly, his breath clouding out as if he were smoking a cigar. Winters embrace bit into his skin, through the jacket, jumper and heavy t shirt he was wearing, its icy fingers massaged his head through the beanie. Fabric be damned. It had been about ten years since Clyde started robbing houses, he'd been fired from his job and was left wandering the streets angrily, raging at the world for his screw ups. Clyde remembered he'd pounded pavement until he realised he'd run so far out of the neighbourhood that he wound up in an area he didn't know. Clyde had looked up at all the posh houses and despised the people inside, knowing they were rich and well off, while he faced day after day of poverty and struggle. So Clyde reacted, before he could register what he was doing, he walked up to the first house he saw and kicked the door in. Surprised at his own strength, the door had splintered and caved to his attack. No alarms went off, no one was inside. And so he went from room to room, taking as many valuables as he could carry. That was the first score. Over the years, there had been countless more, and he had gotten better, more seasoned with each job. He hadn't had to work another day in his life, he didn't have any family to take care of and so Clyde went where he pleased, never staying in one area too long, never arousing suspicion, never getting caught. Clyde snapped out of his daydreaming as he heard a car starting, he looked up and saw the lights had gone off and the Sedan was now backing out of the driveway. It was just about time. Clyde watched the car take off and disappear around the corner before he slowly started to cross the street towards the looming house. He heard thunder rumbling, deep and ominous, he looked up and couldn't see the night sky through the clouds, with each step droplets of rain began to fall, and by the time he reached the driveway, it quickly developed into a downpour. "Shit." Clyde muttered angrily as he trudged up the driveway, silently thanking the owners that their front yard was entirely concrete. By the time he reached the front door, Clyde was soaking wet from head to toe and shivering all over, he hated the cold, and he hated being wet. He sighed and tried to think of happy things, like how much loot he was going to get from this house. Clyde was about to produce his lock picks when the door swung open, startling him. He took a step back instinctively, heart hammering against his chest. Sucking in a breath, he stood his ground and peered inside, it was pitch black, he couldn't see a thing. "Well, hello there young man." A sultry voice called from the blackness, over the pouring rain. "You look quite a mess." Clyde frowned, and gasped quietly as a figure began to slink out of that darkness, as if they were materializing in front of him. Clearly of female form and quite seductive. Then lightning flashed and lit up the figure, it was a beautiful woman, wearing a tight red dress, enticing and voluptuous. Clyde swallowed heavily and tried to speak, in an attempt to explain what he was doing out the front of a house he'd planned to rob, but the woman raised a hand. Clyde saw a smile flick across her full red lips, her emerald eyes gleaming. "Please, don't say anything; you must come inside to get warm again." Clyde was about to protest but then decided, why the hell not? He was frozen to the bone, he needed to warm up, and being alone in a house with a beautiful woman didn't sound too bad at all. "Thanks." Clyde answered in a gravelly voice and stepped inside, "Appreciate it." "It's my pleasure." The woman beckoned him inside and closed the door. Clyde stood in the hallway and took in his surroundings, the darkness would have been overpowering if it weren't for the crackling fireplace illuminating the room at the far end of where he was standing. He felt the woman touch his shoulder lightly and he shivered, her fingers chilled him to the bone. "I apologize." She answered in a playful tone, "I think I may need to warm up too." Clyde nodded slightly. "Sure." The Woman moved past his shivering, wet body and stalked down the hallway towards the flickering fireplace, shadows danced with her, caressing her full figure, causing a wave of desire to wash over Clyde, it had been a very long time since he'd been with a woman. "This way, young man." She urged, Clyde smirked at the thought of being called a young man again. At forty eight years of age, he wasn't exactly sure if he qualified for that anymore. Either way, he followed the woman, onward to the next room. Clyde could feel the warmth emanating from the fireplace as he stepped into the vast room whilst following the alluring woman. Although his rational mind was screaming out that something was wrong here, he paid it no heed. Not when he could see the outline of the woman's body as the firelight caressed her figure. Outside, the rain was as relentless as the lightning and thunder, the wind had picked up and it felt as if the entire house were shaking. Clyde took in what he could see of the room, it felt cavernous and was almost bare save for a plush looking couch off to one side and the ornate fireplace itself. A large window with curtains drawn let the full moon shone through, but it didn't seem to be doing much in brightening the place up. Clyde frowned at the emptiness surrounding him; there would be nothing to steal here. He disregarded the gnawing at the pit of his stomach and figured other rooms would hold valuables. "Come closer." The woman beckoned, bringing him back to his current situation, any ideas of theft fell away as he took a few tentative steps towards the woman who now stood near the fireplace with a serene smile on her face. As Clyde neared the woman he could hear the wind howling from outside, an unholy cacophony that sent a shiver up his spine. The woman rested an elbow upon the top edge of the crackling fireplace, her swelling breasts pushing up to a point where Clyde thought they would burst out. He wouldn't mind in the slightest. Finally he reached her, the woman continued to stare at Clyde with curious emerald eyes, they were intoxicating. "Please, warm your hands." She spoke soothingly, "You need to keep warm." Damn right, Clyde thought, and cautiously brought his hands close to the fire, his shaking had subsided and his muscles and joints began to relax. "That's good." She purred. Clyde detected a slight bit of excitement in her voice, "Very good." Clyde stared at the fire, mesmerised by the crackling flames, feeling his energy renew, at this moment, it was just about the greatest feeling ever. "We've been waiting a long time for you Clyde." Dread gripped Clyde and his head snapped up to the woman and his screams were drowned out by the heavy rain and thunder. Clyde looked into empty eye sockets. He saw charred flesh and white bone. Her face had rotted away and all that was left was a grinning skull. Before the terrified Clyde could react, the monster grabbed him by the wrists, her grip was like being caught in a vice and to his utter horror, she drove them into the flames. Clyde let out an ungodly howl as his hands burned. The flames seared away his flesh and ate away at his veins; he experienced an agony no one should have to endure. He shook and tried to escape, but the monster held him tight and he continued to burn. Then without warning, she yanked him out of the flames and threw him with an unnatural force away from the fireplace. Clyde soared through the air and came down hard on his shoulder and felt something snap. Clyde registered the snap but didn't feel anything; he was in too much shock and shaking uncontrollably. He twisted onto his back and moaned as he looked at his hands, they were black and charred, white bone jutted out at the end of his fingertips and he cried out at the awful sight of his ruined hands. Then he heard the monster begin to chuckle. Clyde whimpered as it came upon him, its ugly grin and hanging clumps of skin burning into his retinas, it held a butchers knife in its hands. "Wh- wh- wh- what...." Clyde stuttered, trying to find the words. "As I said, Clyde Terrance." The skull's jaw moved creaked. Each word was pronounced slow and deliberate and sounded like a mixture of different voices and burning leaves crackling. "We've been waiting for you, for a very long time. You've been very naughty." Clyde's shaking intensified as the creature began to caress the butcher's knife. "You have lied, you have cheated, and you have.....stolen." The creature straddled Clyde; he was now beginning to slip further into a state of shock, powerless to do anything else. "What does a thief value most?" The creature chuckled and ran a finger across the edge of the butcher's knife. "Ah yes, lovely hands. Lovely, lovely hands." Clyde let out a low moan as he began to slip away, knowing full well he wasn't about to come back. The skull was all he could see. "We are going to enjoy this one." It said. So I've been tinkering with this idea for a little while now, I've actually planned this short story to be a possible prologue for a full length novel, I just wanted to share this with you fine people to see if it resonates and intrigues.
I'm looking forward to your reviews and hopefully one day soon The Slicers will be back in an even more gruesome way ;) The slicers By Elliott Thomas Keith sighed heavily as he killed the ignition of the Ford, its low purring ceased and he was left in silence. The tired man closed his eyes and raised a hand to pinch his nose for a moment before dropping it heavily to his lap. It had been quite a day at the office and all Keith wanted was some rest. He exhaled and opened his eyes, taking in the darkened garage, Keith noticed all the cars were parked in their usual spots, everybody was home. Keith was already plotting how to avoid human contact when the back door opened and his father Stanley wandered out. He was getting on now, Keith realized, noticing that what little hair the old man had left was completely white now; it gave Stanley a comical, clown like appearance and put Keith at ease instantly. Not caring about his plot anymore, Keith opened the door of his Ford and stepped out. He smiled as Stanley jumped slightly at the sight of the younger, more tired man. "Jesus, son," Stanley breathed roughly, "Don't fuckin scare me like that." "How did you not see me here?" Keith replied, "My car is right here." "I don't know and I don't care." Stanley brushed Keith's question aside, "Just don't do it!" Keith chuckled at Stanley's exasperation, "OK, dad." He acquiesced. Stanley nodded and crouched down to fish out a pair of shoes from his shoe-box; Stanley had a special shoe-box that no one was allowed to touch, lest they face the wrath of the old man. Although Stanley always insisted that he only kept shoes in there, Keith wondered, not for the first time, if he actually kept money or drugs in there. "Your mother wants to see you by the way." Stanley grunted, "Don't keep her waiting." "Yes, sir." Keith obeyed as he slipped off his sneakers and opened the back door. "See you inside, have fun with.... Whatever the hell you're doing." He finished with a smile. "Yeah, yeah, piss off." Stanley smiled back; Keith went inside, leaving the old man to his devices. Keith ambled through the house to where his mother sat ensconced watching TV. Yvonne's eyes were glued to the program she was currently addicted to, even as she grabbed a handful of popcorn from the bowl on her lap, she did not waver in attention to the happenings on screen. "Hey, mom." Keith sighed tiredly as he came up near her, "Dad says you want to see me?" "Hey honey," Yvonne answered, attention still fixed on the screen. "Did you bring the sardines home?" "Crap." Keith groaned, "I completely forgot." Yvonne turned to face Keith, finally averting her eyes from the TV. "It's been a long day mom." Keith mumbled. "I promise I'll grab em tomorrow." Yvonne sensed her son's fatigue and her features softened, "It's ok sweetie, I only need them for Friday." Keith smiled weakly and rubbed his jaw, "Thanks mom, appreciate it." "Look whose home." A voice called from the hallway, Keith looked over and saw his brother Sam strutting into the room, a pompous look across his face. "Yeah, after a long day at work." Keith murmured. It wasn't as if Keith hated Sam, on the contrary, he loved his younger brother; it was just that Sam always tended to get difficult most hours of the day. "Well Mr. Workerman." Drawled Sam, "You should get in the shower and straight to bed, you probably need your beauty sleep." "Shut up Sam." Keith sighed, "Not in the mood." "Boys." Yvonne warned, "No fighting tonight, OK?" Sam looked like he was about to burst into a tirade, but he stopped himself and glanced over to his mother. "Yeah, yeah." He looked over at Keith and shrugged his shoulders. The argument wasn't over; it was just delayed for a short time. Keith pushed past his brother and made his way to his room, after gently closing the door, he flopped down onto his bed, utterly spent. Keith turned over onto his stomach and buried his face into the pillow, he really should shower, but the call of sleep was intoxicating, maybe if he slept now, he'd be able to wake up early for a shower before work. His thoughts were interrupted by screaming. It was his mother. Keith twisted onto his back and bolted upright. "Mom?!" Keith yelled as he leapt to his feet, tiredness obliterated by adrenaline. There was a large thumping sound against the wall of Keith's room and more screaming before it was cut short, followed by an awful gurgling sound that froze Keith's blood. He grabbed the door handle and flung it open to see Sam in the hallway, breathing heavily, face smeared with blood. "Sam!" Keith cried out, "What the-" "Move!" Sam cut him off and roughly shoved Keith back into his room, "Get out now! Out the window!" Before Keith could gather his senses, Sam had slammed the door shut, Keith ran up to open it again and then cried out as he heard Sam begin to scream. There was a wet tearing sound that caused Keith to moan in terror, he frantically tried to open the door but something was blocking it. He felt something wet at his feet, he looked down and choked out a scream, blood was seeping through under the door. Whatever had happened, Keith felt his mother and Sam were no more. Keith stumbled backwards and turned to the window, he knew he had to escape. He bounded over and opened it up, thanking God he hadn't fixed his fly screen yet, and tumbled out into the darkness. Keith grunted as he fell awkwardly headlong and slammed into the grassy surface, elbows first. As he turned over onto his back, the window above him exploded as Sam's lifeless body was launched through. Blood and glass rained down upon the shaking Keith, he screamed again and crawled backwards in an attempt to get away from whoever had tossed his brother like a rag doll. "Sam!" Was all Keith could choke out before getting to his feet and running away, he couldn't face the fact Sam was hanging lifelessly there, but he was and Keith had to escape. Keith breathlessly took off around the back of the house; he needed to make his way to the garage to find his father. Keith bounded around the corner and came around the front of the house; he saw the garage was open, the light shining out to illuminate the driveway. "Dad!" Keith yelled over and over, praying he was alive. Keith's eyes darted from left to right, searching for a sign, and then he saw him, his father standing down the driveway. Keith yelled out and took off towards him, a well of happiness springing from his heart. As Keith neared his father, that happiness died, something was wrong; his father was walking strangely, like he was fighting with his own limbs. "Dad, what's wrong? What's happened?" But Keith would not get that answer. As the figure turned around he looked upon the horror of his father's face, it was being worn by the figure that was standing there so awkwardly. Keith's stomach dropped as he laid his eyes upon the abomination, this thing had taken his father's face and was now using it as a sickening skin mask, loose flaps of torn flesh hung all around and were haphazardly plastered to the skull of this being. Keith retched and cried out his father's name. He locked eyes with the wearer and saw they were a burning coal black, Keith's knees wobbled as he stepped backwards in fear of the creature. Before he could do anything else, he felt an intense sharp pain lance through the small of his back and then puncture through his stomach. With a terrible surprise, Keith looked down dumbly and saw a blade sticking out of the front of his shirt, covered in his own blood. He gurgled and spat dark, coppery tasting fluid before tumbling to the floor. Keith's vision began to blur as he saw the shoes of the person standing in front of him; they were joined by another pair, dark bloodstained boots, and then a third, high heels. Keith couldn't believe that his family was gone from this earth, but a part of him didn't mind as he realized with an awful finality he would be joining them quite soon. As Keith began to gurgle his final breath, the wearer of the cowboy boots approached his prone body and kicked him over onto his back. Keith looked up to the night sky and could see the blurry outline of the person standing over him, they wore a wide brimmed hat, a long coat and they held what looked like a sickle. Keith knew that they were going to take his face. He just hoped he'd be gone before the pain started. He got his wish as the figure crouched down and began to slice through flesh. The collection would grow. |
About Elliott
Elliott Thomas is a native Sydney dweller who loves to write. No genre is off limits. That's all you need to know, carry on. Archive
March 2018
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