When the old lady stopped breathing, so did Blake. Holding his breath, he waited. The corners of his mouth twitched, quivering like a racehorse waiting in the gate as his mouth tried to break a smile. She was finally dead. Dead and surrounded by a small army of crying children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren.

His hands shot to his face just in time to conceal the wide grin that parted his cheeks. Everything had worked out perfect. Since her fall, two weeks ago, he’d prayed every day that she would hold on long enough. When the phone would ring, his heart would stop. Mom would talk low and quiet and the thought of grandma dying too soon made tears trickle down his cheek. But she hadn’t. His eighth birthday was yesterday and since then, he’d been ready to explode with excitement. Masking it with sadness had been like trying to hide a bucket of exploding firecrackers.

A hand touched his shoulder and he looked up to see his mother and his blood ran cold. He breathed heavy and sweat beads appeared on his forehead as he stared back at her in wide-eyed fear. Could she see the happiness? Would she be angry?

She picked him up and buried his head in her shoulder.

“Poor Blake,” she told somebody. “He has been dreading this day.” Read the rest of this entry »

I’ve added an new first chapter to my book that offers perspective, drama, and (hopefully) more initial excitement to my novel. It requires some minor editing to the rest of the story and I have taken down the link at Lulu.com until I finish. After this, I’m done editing. I’ll submit and call it good…and move on to my next book.

“Mandala’s Catalyst” is the first book in my Gardone Trilogy. For sixteen years Prince Jasper has honored his parents and supported the laws, but he’s afraid of his thoughts; have his parents and leaders been lying to him? When tragedy compels him to speak out, he is banished from the kingdom. He learns that the forbidden practice of swords and sorcery have been revived by a small group of outlaws who believe Gardone is on the brink of destruction. Jasper, now hunted and despised by the people he loves, must uncover the truth and fight against the dark forces that shroud his nation in ignorance.

Chapter 1: Prologue

Is that her? ZieZee’s thoughts passed to her partner as she pointed down the rocky slope through branches of naked trees that reached into the sky like giant spider legs.

Dorg looked at the large mound of snow in the ravine below, nodded, and answered with his mind. Yes, she’s under there, protecting the egg.

Cloudy vapor froze in frigid air as it left their bodies, marking time in steady puffs. Only two creatures could survive this icy tundra: their kind and the massive beast nesting in the gorge below. They watched and waited, camouflaged by thick white fur on the snow covered ridge. To the keen eye they looked awkward; standing knee deep in the snow made them look unnaturally short, even for snow apes.

Read the rest of this entry »

Tim Hardaway’s recent comments regarding homosexuals got me thinking. I’ve often wondered how some people can feel so much hatred and anger for others. I’ve seen movies where former Vietnam Vets speak with extreme hostility toward Vietnamese. If they every cross with a Vietnamese person it can even result in violence. I have struggled to understand this dynamic. How can somebody hold on to so much anger?

Recently, I had an opportunity to gain some insight. I play an online game called “World of Warcraft,” commonly referred to as “WOW.” If you aren’t one of the eight million people who play this game, hold your judgment until you finish reading…I’ll give you some background.

The effects of this alternate reality of this world aren’t limited to the imagination. Marriages have been formed and dissolved, lawsuits have been filed, and in-game items have been traded and purchased using real world currency. In fact, I have spoken with a 21 year old man who works in an office in China with 40 others. They play WOW eighteen hours a day. They grind away in the game earning gold, the currency of WOW. The gold is sent to their supervisor’s in-game character and then marketed in the real world for $20 per 100. In this WOW Sweatshop, he earns $200 per month and is thankful to have a job to support his family. But that’s another article. Read the rest of this entry »

Passion Kills Boredom
My desires aren’t sold cheap
So I’m often Bored

Like burning acid
Boredom eats my heart and soul
Stealing my spirit

Empty of Spirit
I meander through the void
the prey of cheap thrills

My soul now enslaved
Instant Gratifications
Are my ties that bind

Passion is traded
Like a hooker on main street
For thrills and disease

Focused on the stars
I can escape from the void
And reclaim my soul

Rudolf’s heart raced and his mouth twitched. He took a deep breath and tried to ignore the others. He hated the teasing. Even though it happened every year, dealing with it never got easier.

“Where’s your red nose Rudolf?” somebody yelled as the boys burst into more laughter.

He tried to walk with a normal easy stroll but he felt tense and awkward. It was hard to normalize this situation while he battled both embarrassment and fear. Embarrassed everyone was staring at him and fear that another snowball would smack the back of his head…or worse, that a sudden shove to his back would throw him again face first to the ground.

“We want to see you fly Rudolf!”

“So would I,” he thought amid their jeers.

His head suddenly lurched forward and he felt the cold sting of another snowball. He didn’t pause to brush off the snow, determined instead to distance himself between himself and the school.

He both loved and hated his name. Christmastime was the worst. Most of the rest of the year passed with only minor incidents but after Thanksgiving the teasing continually got worse. By the last day of school before Christmas break he expected this. Even the snowballs. Read the rest of this entry »

School was out for the day and I was watching corny teenage drama on TV when it started. While lying on the floor, hands behind my head, feet crossed, and laughing at a thirteen year old boy covered in popcorn; the TV first spoke to me for the first time.In a deep raspy voice it said, “Tonight your brother will die.”

At first, I didn’t do anything. I thought it was a mistake or somebody talking behind me or in the other room. But twenty minutes later it happened again.

“The knife in the kitchen will be crimson by morning,” said the same dark voice.

This time I sat up and turned around. My brother, laughing, was watching the TV from the couch behind me.
“Don’t Hal!” I snarled. “That’s not funny.”

“I’m not laughing at you stupid,” he answered through his giggles.

I looked at Cindy. “Did you do it?”

“Shut up loser,” she said, “I can’t hear.”

I frowned and turned back around. It took several minutes to brush it off but soon I was once again laughing with both of them at the completely unrealistic antics of the teenagers. Another twenty minutes and the tall nerdy boy with glasses tripped over the cute girl. He fell and the kids around him laughed, Hal and Cindy behind me laughed, and I laughed too. Then he looked directly at the camera and instead of the squeaky voice I was used to, I heard the dark sinister voice from earlier. Read the rest of this entry »

I finally (after many years of searching) found a copy of one of my favorite short stories; “St. Emmanuel the Good Martyr” by Miguel de Unamuno. To celebrate, I decided to write a short story themed with what my High School AP English teacher once said was ‘My Genre’ (existentialism, I am a skilled pessimist). So here you are; a super short existentialistic science fiction ditty.

* * *

Although the tape around his chest restricted a full breath of air, Charlie inhaled deeper than he had for years. It felt good; he felt good…finally.

But last night hadn’t been good. Although it wasn’t one of his worst nights, it was miserable for him and frustrating for his wife, Judy. His struggle was a two edge sword. Not only did he suffer from his own affliction but he exposed her to the aura of despair created by his agony. That guilt doubled the suffering.

Year after year, she stood by his side. She comforted during his low points. She encouraged during his despair. And, amazingly, she stayed with him. Much to his surprise, and sometimes to his disappointment, she tolerated his constant complaining. Maybe if she yelled at him for being such an idiot he wouldn’t have felt guilty. Maybe if she stormed out the door cussing and cursing the day she agreed to spend her life with an extreme pessimist he would actually feel better. But she never did. He continually complained about work and politics and she continually to console. Read the rest of this entry »

Introduction

Photography is an attempt to capture an image to make a point or remember/share a moment of time. This explains why a picture is worth a thousand words. A picture is more than a printed image. It can stir feeling and emotion. When you experience a moment of intense emotion and want to take a picture, what exactly are you trying to capture? Do you simply want to remember the sun went down on a particular day or do you want to remember a serene feeling of awe and beauty inspired by fiery red and orange sky? Is it the image or the feeling/emotion you are trying to capture? Even a simple snapshot of the kids for grandma is taken to share a personal connection. We want to remember or share feelings of love, hate, despise, sorrow, humor, awe, concern. If you mindlessly pull out a camera and press the button, you will grab the moment and you will most likely remember your emotion. But, if you want to maximize how well you can pass this on to others, you need to give some thought to the process. Call it Zen photography. This is accomplished by doing more than just pushing a button. It requires you to think about what you are feeling, identify what you want to capture, push the limits of your creativity, and understand the basic mechanics of photography.

The same picture taken in different ways can convey many different emotions. In fact, pictures might be worth a thousand words, a million words, or perhaps only a few hundred…depending on how it is taken. If you have a complex emotion or feeling to convey, make your picture say it. If you have a statement to make, make the camera create the image that makes your point. Chances are slim you’ll accomplish this with a thoughtless point and click. At the same time, you also do not need to spend hours planning every photograph. A quick moment to identify what you feel, consider methods on how to capture it, and then plan and execute a successful picture can have a huge impact on your final print. One well planned picture will say more than a barrage of snapshots.

To help you capture your ideal photograph, I’ll introduce you to the technical aspects of photography, discuss creativity, and finally, offer some ideas on connecting with your environment and subjects. Hopefully this will help you take better pictures, have more fun, and maybe even spark an interest to dig deeper into photography. Read the rest of this entry »

I was innocently searching for a lost credit card when I stumbled upon the letter in her dresser which awakened my slumbering suspicions. The letter was my pass to pursue deeper. Not incriminating evidence on its own, but strong enough that I felt justified to dig.

In retrospect, the software which activated the web camera sitting on the computer monitor whenever movement was detected may have been over the edge. But she was used to the webcam. It had sat innocently on top of the monitor in the bedroom for months. I didn’t even have to hide it. It was a cool idea but turned out to be useless. Even the audio capture which allowed me to hear her end of all telephone calls paled in comparison to the real pay dirt; access to her email account. This is where I learned everything…and the beginning of my downfall.

She’d recently changed her password; something I hadn’t checked for months. I set up the account for her (she’s not computer savvy) but now I was locked out. Getting her password required key logging software on her laptop…a program that sat quietly in the background and recorded every keystroke. Several days passed before I had a chance to copy the text file and remove the program. It was tough to be patient but I knew I had to play it cool. She couldn’t suspect anything.

All her friends knew I was being dumped, but she hadn’t told me. Her secret lover also knew. But, because my key logging software had divulged her password, now I also knew what was around the corner. It gave me a chance time to get some of the tears and anger out beforehand. Read the rest of this entry »

The sleek black train did not thunder down the tracks. It sped silently and secretly as it rushed to an unknown place. It had traveled long and far…and I stood in its path, clueless. Cold metal slammed against my back, flipping me onto my chest and plastering me against the front of the large engine. Through the windshield, I saw the conductor concentrating on the road ahead; trying to see around my body and through the bloody streaks on the glass. I slid up, smearing blood, until I flew into the air. Below, the train continued to rage ahead to an unknown destination.

I don’t know how much time passed. I woke to my body in a mangled contorted heap on hard ground. I didn’t move or open my eyes. I simply acknowledged the strange sensation of my arms and legs twisted into a mess. Cold mud cooled the right side of my face and I wondered if I was dead. I couldn’t imagine surviving such a horrible ordeal. Slowly, I opened my eyes. The light was dim and with my face pressed to the ground, all I saw were blades of grass and mud. I moved my fingers but it hurt. I closed my eyes again, deciding it was better to stay still. Perhaps it was also better not to see the damage to my body. I went back to sleep.

Time passed, although I don’t know how much, and I woke again and opened my eyes. The same blades of grass greeted me. This time I didn’t try to move my fingers. I didn’t move my eyes either. Instead, I stared blankly as I took long and deep breaths. The air was like a drug. With each breath my head felt lighter. My body floated as I continued to inhale deeply…and soon, I fell asleep. Read the rest of this entry »