Exposed Monthly: Raw Creation!
December 2011
Smashwords Edition
License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Copyright 2012 by Ryan M. Williams
All Rights Reserved
Dark Matters
by Ryan M. Williams
Brock Marsden. A genetically-modified private detective who solves the toughest cases on a world populated by a mix of humans and aliens.
Like this one.
A young woman, Chrissy Winston, murdered in a bizarre fashion that leaves police chasing false leads. A case that needs all of Brock's unique abilities and maybe new ones if he hopes to catch the killer.
The Gingerbread House
by Ryan M. Williams
A killer holds an entire planet hostage!
Brock Marsden — private detective, mutant by-choice with extraordinary abilities.
Using alien technology, members of the Moreau Society willingly alter their DNA — incorporating the best traits of other species for pleasure or profit. Only now a member goes rogue, perverting the technology to murder-by-mutation at a distance.
Brock races to save his world before the killer triggers his weapon!
Available wherever e-books are sold, and in trade paperback.
December 2011 Contents
Story
Novel Excerpt
Land Lubbers: Cabin Boys by Ryan M. Williams
Features
What Happened: December 2011 by Ryan M. Williams
Review: Once We Were Kings by Ian Alexander
Indie Author Spotlight Interview: Ian Alexander
Celebrating the Old Year: 2011 by Ryan M. Williams
Last month in Exposed Monthly...
About Exposed Monthly: Raw Creation!
Each month Exposed brings you an exclusive first look at the uncensored, uncut material created in the prior month by writer/artist Ryan M. Williams.
What sort of things can you expect from Exposed Monthly?
Full-length novels, serialized across issues as they are written!
Entire short stories!
Indie spotlight reviews and interviews featuring other independent writers and artists!
Comics, articles and other material - whatever has been created in the prior month!
A prolific writer, Ryan M. Williams writes science fiction, but also writes other genres under different pen names, and Exposed has them all! Fantasy from Michael Burges, dark/paranormal fantasy from Tennessee Hicks, horror from R.M. Haag, mystery from Ryan M. Welch, and romance from Kate N. Ryan.
Exposed also showcases original artwork from Ryan M. Williams, in full-color print and electronic issues. Or, pick up an e-book edition for your favorite e-reader.
For all the latest issues, visit www.exposedmonthly.com
Exposed Monthly: Raw Creation! is published twelve times a year by Glittering Throng Press.
Waking Dead Things
by Tennessee Hicks
Ravyn Washington. Ordinary high school teen worried about getting her driver's license, dates and passing classes.
Oh, and dead things.
Sometimes dead things wake up. It happened to her Nana, branded witch and necromancer by the Inquisition. Now Inquisitor Lockwood shows up in town, checking if Ravyn inherited the curse. And dead things wake up. If Lockwood finds out, Ravyn could burn.
Dreaming Dead Things
by Tennessee Hicks
Dead things in high school? Bad. At college? Deadly!
Ravyn Washington's secret? She wakes dead things. If the Inquisition finds out she could burn. She thought she left that all behind her after high school. Not quite. Haunted in her dreams, Ravyn's curse spreads to her friends when their dream research project turns into a nightmare.
Not safe awake. Not safe asleep!
Available wherever e-books are sold, and in trade paperback.
What Happened: December 2011
One story took over my attention in December 2011, Land Lubbers: Cabin Boys, the first book in a new series. I'd actually started it back in November and had written the first four chapters but that was just getting my feet wet, as it were. When December came around I was submerged in the book and there wasn't any escape hatch.
That's not entirely the whole story. For one thing I'd come into the month working on Exposed Monthly: Raw Creation! and that divided my attention. I'd planned on getting the issue out by the 15th of the month but as it turned out I couldn't quite make that date. Much like this issue, life comes up and even though the bulk of the work has already been done sometimes it's hard to find the time to do the rest and cover those last few yards.
For one thing in starting to create the magazine I had switched my workflows to using Adobe InDesign and that was all new. I spent many hours on Lynda.com trying to learn as quickly as possible how to lay out stories in the program, and then how to take that print layout and carry it over into ePub for the ebook versions of the magazine. So that was taking time away from everything else.
Add to that a full-time day job (not complaining, it's a great job but it does take time), a family and exercise — time starts getting a bit thin.
That's a common question that comes up among writers. How to find the time to write? People say they don't have the time but that's not true of course. Everyone has the time to do what they want, if they decide what they truly want. Do they want to watch television or write a novel. Because writing a novel doesn't actually take all that much time.
Really.
But that's a story for another time, and probably only interesting for other writers. My problem has never been about getting words down. I can get distracted as much as the next writer, but when it comes down to it I tend to get something written each day. Coming into December I was riding on the back of a writing streak.
People love streaks. All kinds of streaks.
Gamblers have their streaks, both winning and losing.
Those fighting the grip of the bottle count their days sober as if that's the unusual state of existence, and for them I guess it is.
In that sense it seems like writers should count how many days they've gone without writing. Shouldn't they?
As in, "Man, Tennessee, I can't stand it. I haven't had any words down at all this week."
You know, like the same way a guy might complain about how long it has been since he got laid.
Instead you'd think some of these writers are the tired spouse when it comes to their writing.
"Sorry, honey, I've got a headache and the kids have been a pain, plus I've got that meeting in the morning and if I want to get to the gym I have to get up early."
Sometimes that's me. I can't claim it's not ever me. But I hate that. I don't want to be that person.
Everything else has a pull on my time but I need to write each day. Even if it's a quickie, fifteen minutes snatched out of the day on a break when I can get away without talking to anyone.
So in December I found myself in thrall to this book. It took my focus but it wasn't everything. I did take time for other experiences. I'll just share one more.
On Saturday, December 10th, I got out of bed at 5:00 A.M. and went outside with my dogs.
The grass and leaves crunched underfoot. I could see my way easily in the moonlight, but when I looked up there was a rusty bite taken out of the topside of the Moon. With dogs rushing around me I went around our sagging old blue chicken coop and climbed up the hill. A perfect panorama spread out before me. Dark Douglas fir trees rose up on either side of a sky filled with stars and centered right there was the bright Moon with the shadow of the Earth across its face.
I took forty minutes out there watching the eclipse. There's always time for what you truly want. When you figure that out, you're good.
Downland
by R.M. Haag
A new house. A chance to start a family. Samantha Ramsey stays home remodeling her dream home unaware of the ancient evil stirring deep below.
Her elderly neighbor Maggie O'Leary tells her stories about the house. Some houses are bad luck, and this house sits above Downland — a subterranean world of horrors Samantha can't possibly imagine.,.
A family legacy that pulls Samantha and her husband into its clutches.
Can they escape the grasp of Downland?
Available wherever e-books are sold, and in trade paperback.
Hauntlet
December thirteenth was colder than a witches tit, a fact that Thomas knew very well as he coasted his mountain bike to a stop outside the worn down Victorian house his best friend, his only friend, Percy had leased as the headquarters for App-aration.
Percy's idea of a pun. He designed independent apps and games for the iPad, iPhone and whatever else Apple decided to come out with.
It was almost five already, which meant that it was pretty much dark already and in the gloom the house suited the name. The light on his helmet cast a circle across the front of the house as he studied it. Peeling paint, cobwebs, and missing shingles were just details. No lights, that was another point, the only light, beside his helmet light, came from the nearly full moon already up casting pale shadows across the yard from the skeletal fruit trees rising above the patchy grass. The house suited the name of Percy's business very well, it was just the sort of place to send children running by in fear.
Not that children would come out here. The house sat pretty much by itself at the end of a dead end street just outside Rainier. It had taken Thomas the better part of an hour to ride out the Chehalis-Western trail, then find the street and get to the house. All because Percy had promised to show him something really cool. After which Percy had also promised a movie marathon with eats and drink. And tomorrow was his mid-week day off so he didn't have to bike it back until later. After it warmed up.
Still, the place looked dark and empty. He didn't see any lights on in the house, which wouldn't have been unusual for Percy but there should have at least been the glow of his computers. Percy always had at least three monitors on his primary machine, not to mention his other machines, game consoles and HD TV.
But there was none of that. No lights, not so much as a candle flickering in a window.
The longer Thomas stayed outside with his bike the emptier the house felt. He had a strong urge to get back on the bike and ride home. If this was a haunted house in a horror film this was the point when the audience would be screaming at him not to go into the house. What sort of person did that?
An idiot? Maybe, he'd been called worse. And if it didn't matter he would have left but the house was very isolated and Percy had a lot of expensive stuff. What if someone had broken in and Percy was hurt? Was he supposed to ride off and just leave his only friend on the floor bleeding or worse?
That was bad enough, and probably ridiculous to think, but there was also the fact that it was freezing. He could see his breath in the moonlight. Even with his shoe covers his feet were frozen. His fingers almost felt numb beneath his outer shell and the gloves he wore underneath. Leaving now would mean at least another hour of riding in the dark and cold all the way home.
It was insane to even think about that when he hadn't even tried the door. He could go that far, at least.
He rolled the bike up the cracked and weedy walk. The grass coming up through the broken concrete was covered in glittering frost and crunched beneath his feet. The house needed lots of work. Percy had been excited about the deal he got on the place, but seeing it Thomas could understand why he got such a deal. The roof of the porch sagged and one of the posts was at an angle. The board at the bottom of the steps was cracked in half and needed to be replaced.
Thomas carefully stepped over the broken board, lifting his mountain bike up with him onto the porch. No way he was leaving his bike out on the porch, given the state of the place.
The front door might have been lavender at one time but now it looked more gray than anything. There was a nice frosted oval window in the door, but it was crusted with grime, spider webs and desiccated bug corpses. There was a brass knocker, a simple bar weighted with a ball at the end but Thomas just knocked with his hand.
"Percy? Are you in there?" He didn't hear any response to his cry. He stripped off his outer glove shell and cycling glove to knock with bare knuckles on the
wood. The door felt solid. He wasn't sure how much was carrying inside, so he grabbed the knocker and smashed it down once, twice and three times. "Percy?"
The door handle, an actual long handle instead of a knob turned. Thomas jumped back, startled because he hadn't heard anyone coming to the door or seen a light.
Hinges screeched as the door swung open. A pale face, thin with haunted dark eyes and wet hair plastered to his scalp, swam up out of the darkness and squinted against the light from his helmet. It was Percy. He looked terrible, but it was Percy.
Percy raised a hand to shield his eyes from the light. "Thomas, man, what are you doing here?"
"You invited me. Remember? I'm off tomorrow? We were going to watch movies, plus you said you had something to show me."
Percy scratched at his wet hair. His clothes were wet too, it looked like he had been sweating with large wet circles under his arms on the white t-shirt. He had on faded blue jeans, no shoes or socks, despite the cold.
"Can I come in?" Thomas asked. "I'm cold."
"This isn't a good time, man. Sorry I forgot about, you know, but really, it isn't so great."
"What's wrong? Are you sick or something? Maybe I should come in while you tell me about it." Thomas leaned forward with his hand on the door frame. "It's a long ride home in the cold and dark."
"I've been so hot," Percy said. "I like the cold and dark."
"I don't. Let me in, Percy. Then you can tell me what's going on." Thomas moved forward and Percy stepped back out of his way.
Percy tucked his hands beneath his arms and backed off. Thomas came in, wheeling his bike in with him, then shut the door to keep in the heat. Except there wasn't any heat! It didn't feel any warmer inside than outside, just darker without the moon.
There really wasn't any light in the place, except for the light from his helmet. Percy was standing at the edge of the light and just beyond him Thomas could see the dark shape of Percy's old leather couch that he'd bought with his first app release.
"Some lights, maybe? Heat?"
"No," Percy said, drawing it out. "I don't think that'd be good. I think you should go, man. I'm really sorry for bringing you out here, but it'd be better."
Thomas was really worried. This wasn't like Percy at all. Something had to be seriously wrong. He turned around and found the light switches himself and flipped them on.
"Hey!" Percy cowered back from the light, shielding his eyes. "That's bright!"
Except it wasn't. A light had come on in the fixture above the door but it was a weak yellow light that just cast a pale circle of light on and around Thomas and his bike. He leaned the bike against the wall beneath the light switches.
The other lights on were the two lamps on either side of the couch. They both looked like they had twenty-watt bulbs at best. But over in the front alcove Christmas lights had come on around Percy's Christmas tree. It was a thick Douglas fir, not much taller than Thomas, sparsely decorated with ornaments but a string of lights blinked on and off in red, green, blue and yellow. It should have cheered the place up but the tree leaned a bit to the side and the needles looked dry. When Thomas' light hit the stand he could see that it was bone dry.
"Man, you forgot to water your tree. We should do that before the lights start a fire or something."
"Just turn the lights off," Percy groaned. "I don't feel good."
"Yeah, I get that, but it's not good to sit here in the dark."
Thomas went around the corner and found a thermostat on the wall. The needle was pushed all the way over to OFF. He pushed it back up until the needle hit the seventy degree mark. Something thunked downstairs and rattled. Then he heard the faint hum of air blowing through the vents.
"There." Thomas took off his helmet and switched off the light.
Percy crawled onto the couch and lay in a fetal position with his hands up over his head.
Thomas hung his helmet on the bike then crossed over to the couch. There was a knitted afghan in faded green and yellow crumpled on one end. He picked it up and pulled it up over Percy.
"Yeah, just stay there. I'll go get you something to eat. You'll feel better. Trust me."
Percy didn't answer but he also didn't complain any more.
Thomas didn't know which way to go but he made his way back to an entry leading out and that led to a hall, and across the hall, through a passage beneath the staircase, he could see the kitchen. And there was a smell coming from it that made him hesitate. He didn't want to go in there and turn on the lights. But what choice did he have? Percy was in a bad way, he probably needed food.
The kitchen was as bad as Thomas feared. It was like sedimentary layers. The bottom layer, still visible from the side, were dishes and utensils in the sink and on the big oak kitchen table. Then on top of that was a layer of paper plates and plastic utensils. The final layer was pizza boxes and fast food wrappers from the espresso and pizza place in town.
Flies crawled in bloated agony across the piles, gorged on the stomach-churning mess. The stink made Thomas' eyes water and his stomach clench. The very last thing he wanted to do was go into that kitchen, but it just confirmed what he had feared. Percy was in trouble and this was as good of a place as any to start.
Thomas took a minute to go back to the living room with its pathetic Christmas tree and check on Percy. It looked like Percy had fallen asleep. That was good, it'd give him time to clean up and find out if there was anything edible left in the house. If not he could call the place and have them deliver something. With one last look at Percy's pale, sweaty face -- even sleeping his face was drawn in like he was in pain or having bad dreams -- and Thomas went back to the kitchen.
Clean that kitchen would haunt his nightmares. He'd wake up some nights clenching his gut with the memory of that night.
By the time he finished the kitchen was stripped down and cleaned. The dish washer was running the last load of dishes, and the rest were put away. The cupboards proved turned out empty of anything except mouse droppings, dusty spider webs and lots of old cartons and boxes.
Thomas returned to the living room and sat down in the recliner that faced the alcove and Percy's pathetic Christmas tree. He took out his cell and called the pizza place. Some guy answered, sounded bored and asked what he wanted.
"Large pizza, Canadian bacon and pineapple, extra cheese on a thin crispy crust. Not soggy, okay?"
"Yeah, no problem. What's the address?"
Thomas told him and there wasn't anything else on the other end except he could still hear the guy breathing.
"Hello?"
He heard the guy whispering to someone, then the guy came back on the phone. "That's the big spooky place, right? You don't sound like the guy that lives there."
"Yeah, that's the place. I'm a friend of his."
"Right." More whispering and the guy came back on the line. "I'm sorry, sir, but we've told him we're not delivering out there anymore."
Thomas laughed. "Come on, seriously?"
"Sorry, but you'll have to tell him that having someone else call isn't going to change anything. We're not allowed to deliver out there."
Thomas felt his neck redden. Despite the mess in the kitchen he was still somehow hungry and Percy was clearly sick. They couldn't do this! "Look, my friend is sick. I don't know what's been going on but there's no food in the house. I just spent an hour cleaning up his kitchen!"
"Sorry man, we can't."
The line went dead. Thomas rose up out of the chair clutching the phone. He had his hand back, ready to throw it and he stopped himself. He took a breath in and blew it out. Then he looked over at Percy. The guy needed something to eat. And if they weren't going to deliver then he had to go get something.
Thomas slipped the phone into his jacket pocket and zipped it closed. He looked at Percy sleeping. "Dude, sorry. I'll go get something to eat. Just rest until I get back."
Percy didn't give any indication that he had heard.
Thomas went over to his bike, put on his helmet and gloves, and pushed the bike outside. He reached up and turned on his light again. The beam shot out and illuminated bright white snowflakes floating down from the sky. His breath fogged in the beam. He took a breath, so cold that it felt like it was freezing his lungs. Best get it done.
#
The only thing worse than going into the haunted house in the first place was returning again. Thomas stood outside Percy's house with fresh snow crunching under his numb feet. His fingers felt stiff and unwilling to move. He hadn't expected it to get quite this cold or he would have bundled up more. But then he had also expected to stay inside the house tonight.
The lights were off again. The house looked as empty and as dark as it had the first time Thomas arrived. Percy must have gotten up and turned off the lights. Or the power had failed, but they still had power back in town.
He really didn't want to go back inside. If it wasn't so cold he would have considered going back home, except he couldn't leave Percy in the state he was in. And riding back now, in this cold, threatened frostbite. He had to go inside.
And it was Percy. Sick, true, and catching something would suck, but it Percy. It wasn't like Percy was a deranged killer or something.
Standing outside in the cold wasn't helping. Thomas pushed his bike back up the porch, lifted it up and stepped over the broken step. He didn't even bother knocking this time. He reached out and tried the knob. He expected it to be locked but it turned easily and the door opened.
His helmet light splashed across a pale figure sitting on the stairs. It startled Thomas but he was too cold to react much. A second later he recognized Percy, sitting with his knees up and head down. It looked like he was cradling something on his lap.
Slowly Percy raised his head. His expression was pale, drawn and his skin still glistened with sweat. His hair clung to his scalp like a wet towel. His lips spread in a jerky, uneven motion into a parody of a smile that bared his teeth.
He slowly lifted the thing in his lap. The shiny, techy screen caught the light from Thomas' helmet.
"I'd forgotten." Percy's voice sounded faint, distant and in a way mechanical. It could have been someone pressing play on a tape recorder. "I wanted to show you something."
Thomas realized he still had the door open. He pulled in his bike, bags from the store banging into the door frame. He leaned it against the wall and closed the door. The heat was still on, he could feel the difference in the air.
"Yeah man, that's one of the reasons you invited me over."
Percy lifted the thing he held higher and tipped it toward Thomas. It was an iPad. Percy always had the latest gadgets.
"Your app? You finished it?"
Percy nodded but it was more like a convulsion than a normal nod. His breath hissed between his teeth. It took Thomas a second to realize that Percy was laughing through his clenched teeth.
"That's cool." Thomas took the bags off the handle bars. "Look, I ran to the gas station store and got a bunch of chicken noodle soup. They didn't have many options. I also got some frozen breakfast stuff. Why don't I fix us some soup, and then you can show me?"
"No. No." Percy moaned, shaking his head. His hands holding the iPad trembled. "No! No!"
It scared Thomas. He really thought maybe he should call someone, but he couldn't do it while Percy was freaking out. So he put the bags down and pulled off his gloves. After he stuffed them in his pocket, he stepped forward and extended his hand to Percy.
"Okay, man. It's alright. I can take a look now."
Percy stilled but a shudder ran through him. He gave Thomas another one of those broken grins with his head cocked oddly to the side. "Take a look." More hissing laughter through his clenched teeth. "Yes, that's it. Take a look. If you dare!"
Thomas took the iPad. He was half-afraid of dropping it with his frozen fingers but humoring Percy now might make him more willing to eat something. "What do I do?"
"Push the home button, at the bottom."
He pushed the button and the screen turned see-through. Or not exactly see-through, it was a camera app. He'd seen the camera app before on the iPad and this looked very much the same with buttons to switch to the front or back camera, between still and video. There was another setting on the slider. It showed a cartoony ghost icon.
Thomas' finger hovered over the icon. "What happens if I hit the ghost icon?"
More hissing laughter and Percy rocked back and forth. "Take a look!"
Still Thomas hesitated. The way Percy was acting, it was like he'd gone crazy or something. But it couldn't be because of the app. That was just a program running on the iPad. Where could the harm be in that?
So why was his mouth dry? He was shivering because he was half-frozen from being out in the cold, but that didn't explain the chill of fear icing its way along his nerves.
It was ridiculous. He touched the icon.
The edges of the screen fogged. It showed Percy sitting on the stairs, illuminated by the light from Thomas' helmet. The fog effect made the image look cool, faded sort of like an instant aging effect. Thomas felt relieved and a bit let down. This was it? This was what Percy had come up with after all this work? Had it led to a nervous breakdown for this? That was a depressing thought.
"Okay, man, I guess that's neat enough --"
The fog on the right side of the screen pulsed. Thomas automatically turned the iPad in that direction and the fog effect pulsed more, draining in an eerie fluid way from the other sides of the screen to the right where it thickened.
What the hell?
The more he turned the iPad the more the fog concentrated. Then it started flooding back around the other sides of the screen. When he turned back it flooded back to the right. Thomas laughed.
"Okay, that's cool. Weird, but cool."
Percy moaned in response.
A little more experimenting showed that the fog was acting in a hot-warm-cold fashion, increasing as he moved in the direction the app wanted him to go.
Thomas followed the fog indicators. The effect grew more intense as he walked into the darkened living room. He couldn't figure out how the app was leading him. Was it random? Any time he turned the iPad toward the walls the effect diminished and faded, only to strengthen when it turned toward the room. Was the app actually aware of the space?
If that was the case, what Percy had accomplished was even more impressive. Particularly the elegant, fluid way the fog moved and coalesced like a living thing.
As he entered the living room Thomas paused and flicked on the lights. The light above the entry way, the lamps on the couch and the lights on the Christmas tree came on. Immediately the fog effect vanished and the screen went blank, white and featureless. Red letters swam up out of the white background, which rippled like milk.
TOO MUCH LIGHT.
Thomas flipped the light switches off again. The picture came back along with the fog, which had gathered near the upper right corner of the screen. Thomas followed its cue and turned in a circle, holding the iPad up to study the room.
Sudden the fog swam down into the picture as the Christmas tree came into view. It looked like it actually left the screen and flew out into the room, an amazing 3D sort of effect. The fog swirled beneath the tree and took on a shape.
Thin white arms, pale and swollen with putrescent cracks, were wrapped around bony knees. A child with dark hair plastered to pale, rotten skin. Part of the skull showed through a patch where the skin and hair were peeled down the side of the child's face. The bones were cracked and stained with long-dried blood. The fog had become a child but he was there, beneath the tree. Thomas' heart hammered in his chest. He'd never seen anything like it.
The child's head was down. The image looked incredibly real. He couldn't look away from the shattered patch of skull. Thomas realized he was shivering harder than ever. His eyes burned and he rubbed at them. It was only a special effect. It had to be. Percy had taken the picture of the child, all done up like that, and the app just revealed it inserted into wherever you were. Chilling, effective, but that's all it was. Horrifying, really.
Then the child shuddered.
Thomas froze, his eyes fixed on the screen. He must have imagined it. Then the child's hands twitched. They released their grip and the knees lowered. Thomas pressed a fist to his mouth.
The child's head was coming up and soon he would be able to see the child's face. He so, so, so didn't want to see that! Thomas looked away from the iPad, looked beneath the tree and there wasn't anything there -- but on the screen the child kept looking up.
Pale eyes with no iris, streaked with broken blood vessels looked straight at him through the iPad.
Thomas staggered back. He looked away from the iPad and then back at the screen.
The boy was standing, looking at him.
"No," Thomas moaned.
Percy laughed between his feet and started to sob.
The child took a step forward. His mouth opened and there was nothing but blackness inside. From the iPad speaker came a sound like a wind blowing through a pipe. A moaning, crying noise that grabbed Thomas' heart. His chest hurt.
Thomas' stomach tightened and he felt like he was going to be sick. He threw the iPad away from him. It hit the back of the couch and flipped over onto the seat.
The windy, moaning noise continued coming out of the iPad speaker.
Thomas stumbled back into the foyer. His light splashed across the stairs and found Percy looking not too different from the boy. His eyes were streaked with red blood vessels already.
"Took a look!" Percy giggled. "Now you're hooked!"
Thomas swallowed and managed to clear his throat. "What did you do?"
"Exposed the truth! Ripped back the veil! Answered the question we always wondered about!" Percy rocked back and forth. "You can't take it back. Can't."
The noise kept coming from the iPad and it sounded louder. "What do you mean?"
Percy looked right at him with red-rimmed eyes. "You took a look." Percy licked cracked lips. "It looked back!"
Percy clenched his teeth and his breath hissed in and out as his whole body shook in a convulsion that threw him back on the stairs.
Thomas ran to his bike. He yanked it around and pulled the door open. Seconds later he was outside, standing on the pedals as he rode away as fast as he could. Cold, cold wind bit into his fingers, his toes and face but he hardly noticed. There was a deeper chill that seemed to have sunk right down into his core.
Careening into the frozen night Thomas feared he could never ride fast enough. And he couldn't help but wonder, had Percy uploaded the app to the App store?
It didn't take long before his extremities grew numb and his legs felt like wood. He was miles down the trail when he saw the benches beside a trail marker. It looked like a good place to stop. Get some sleep.
#
The next morning a runner found Thomas, frozen, on the bench. Death by exposure, but exposure to what? And he was only the first.
New Year Fears
We've all have something we fear. Usually lots of things. And often the New Year brings up many of those fears. I don't know what your fears are, but here are a few of mine along with my plans to deal with those fears.
Fear #1: I'm a terrible writer.
That's a big one. It can paralyze writers or get them stuck in endless rewrite loops. I deal with it by focus on what I can do to learn. Create. Share. Repeat. I've posted about that before, but it boils down the essence of what I'm doing. I write and then share it, put it out into the world. Is every manuscript a success? Of course not. Failure, as Dean Wesley Smith pointed out in his recent post, happens no matter how experienced you are.
The real key? Don't quit. Write something, send it out, write something else and send that out into the world. Keep doing that, trying to learn all the time. Sometimes you'll hit, sometimes not.
So in 2012 that's why I'm releasing Exposed Monthly each month, and why my stories and novels come out as stand-alone releases.
Fear #2: I'm a terrible artist.
This is closely tied to the previous fear. I've always enjoyed drawing and painting but haven't ever really worked to learn and improve. This was a big fear of mine, that I'm simply not "good enough" to share my work.
And that's why I'm also using Exposed Monthly to showcase my latest artwork.
Plus I'm planning on doing my own artwork for covers. At least they'll be unique! Still, it's a big fear to tackle.
Fear #3: Me, athletic?
Last year I realized that I'd put on quite a bit of weight. Worse, I didn't feel good. I was the heaviest I'd ever been and decided to make a change. I switched to a primal diet, basically getting rid of grains and processed foods and sugar, and the weight evaporated. I felt better, exercised more, but still didn't really consider myself athletic. I love reading about ultra-endurance events, but my fears have been holding me back from pursuing those goals.
No more. It's the same thing again. To deal with these fears I need to focus on what I can control.
I have no control over a mechanical failure on my bike, for example. I do have control over whether or not I ride my bike.
I took another step toward my athletic goals recently when I joined a gym down the street from work. Scary! It was scary walking into the first yoga class last week. But I had control over that, and did it.
So now I'm thinking more seriously about the Tour Divide mountain bike race from Banff, Canada to the Antelope Wells, New Mexico. Will I be in shape to undertake that in 2013? I don't know. Failure is possible, but I can work on the things in my control and see if it comes together.
Fear #4: The Biggest Fear
My biggest fear for the New Year? That I get to the end of the year and realize that I didn't accomplish anything. I have a bunch of other fears/goals for 2012, but it all ends up boiling down to this same thing.
Be fearless!
If a fear is stopping you from doing something, then face it. Because I guarantee, if you face your fears and try to reach for your goals you'll have a much better year than sitting around wishing things would change.
So that's my plan for 2012, one which includes Exposed Monthly, be fearless and ask the question, "Why not?"
Review: Once We Were Kings by Ian Alexander
Once every so often you read something which takes an original and fresh approach — which is the case with Ian Alexander's new fantasy novel, Once We Were Kings.
On the surface this story sounds familiar: two young people discover that they are destined for greater things after powerful forces descend into their lives. Any geek who has dreamed of having super powers, or of going to another world and becoming king or queen, will recognize that fantasy. It's Narnia, Alice in Wonderland, or Shannara.
In this novel Ian Alexander takes that familiar notion and creates a powerful new story that I found intriguing that also challenged some of my own biases.
Two kingdoms, five centuries, one destiny.
The story concerns two characters: the boy Render, escaped slave, and Ahndien, whose village and parents are destroyed. They live in two different countries at war yet both have ties to the Sojourners, a nearly extinct group of people with magical abilities.
I found Mr. Alexander's writing and story compelling. It pulled me along into the story, and like any good book, stuck with me when I put down my Nook. I wanted to keep reading and thankfully as an e-book that meant I could pull out my phone and read in odd moments and go back to my Nook and continue where I'd left off.
At first I didn't know what to make of the more fantastical elements of the book. Magic in this world is tied up in shapeshifting spirits and elemental powers. And as I read I realized that there was a deeper aspect to the system in Mr. Alexander's book — faith. That surprised me. So often in fantasy fiction magic is treated more as a scientific sort of property, one that can be measured and controlled.
In Once We Were Kings Mr. Alexander has created a magical system that turns on faith in a supreme being, but one that gives people the opportunity to decide for themselves and to make mistakes. I'm sure there have been other authors doing something similar, but nothing in my experience was presented in quite this fashion.
This is an engaging, thought-provoking, thrilling fantasy novel. It stands well on its own, but Mr. Alexander's world is intriguing enough that I'd like to return to it again and discover more about the Sojourners.
An exciting work from a new voice in fantasy, well worth checking out!
Indie Author Spotlight Interview: Ian Alexander
E: You've said in other interviews that you wrote Once We Were Kings for your son, after he asked you to write him a book. Did that put additional pressure on the writing process?
IA: Not particularly. In fact, as Joshua Graham I had gotten so busy with the debut of Beyond Justice and the sale of Darkroom to Simon & Schuster, that I had to put Once We Were Kings on hold. When things finally settled down, I thought, if my life should suddenly end, how sad would it be that I never fulfilled my promise to write this book for my son? So I purposed to finish it in 2011. I wouldn't call it pressure, but commitment, rather.
E: I know your faith plays a central role in your life. How did that factor into this novel?
IA: While there are a few readers out there who absolutely cannot stand seeing anything in fiction that resounds with the Christian faith, I wrote it as a legacy for my children and really only care if it enriches their lives. My faith in God and the Bible has influenced me greatly and it finds its way into everything I do in life. And at the same time, no one who knows me would ever call me "religious." There are themes of forgiveness, redemption, divine calling, humility, pride, and destiny in this book which are illustrated in many of the staples of western culture found in the Bible. But more than its literary value, I believe these themes have shaped my life and that of many through history.
E: Working in libraries I've seen parents of different faiths steer their children away from fantasy novels. What would you say to parents who are concerned about exposing thing children to fantastic fiction?
IA: Yes, I know. Some conservative people steer clear away from certain fantasy books that possibly lean towards things of dark and demonic magic. I understand that. But any healthy practice can be taken to an extreme as we have all seen from time to time. I don't think it's necessary for people of faith to steer completely away from the fantasy genre. After all, they'd be missing out on the works of well-respected Christian authors such as C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien, wouldn't they? That said, I would always advise parents to preview any book or media (in any genre) before exposing their children to it. It's our responsibility to guide our children.
E: What's next for this world? Will we see additional novels?
IA: As the subtitle indicates, Once We Were Kings is the first book in the Sojourner Saga. The second book is in the works now with a working title of The Kamalek Pantheon (Book II of the Sojourner Saga) and I plan to write at least a trilogy. But with any series, things can always expand in either direction of the history of its world(s).
E: You're also a bestselling author of legal thrillers, writing as Joshua Graham. What are some challenges you've faced juggling multiple pen names and genres?
IA: Simply put: Time. If I had 48 hours a day, I might be able to produce twice as much, but alas, we are all given 24. Sometimes, however, when I'm deep into the fantasy world of Ian Alexander's books, it is a bit challenging to suddenly switch gears to Joshua Graham's modern-day thrillers and suspense. It looks like this will have to happen more and more as time goes on, however.
E: We're starting a new year, what does 2012 look like for you?
IA: There will be Sojouner novels, tie-in novelletes and prequels (look for FROM THE ASHES coming soon for Amazon Kindle), and a lot of Joshua Graham work to be released in the Fall. Darkroom by Joshua Graham is already available for Pre-order, so I hope everyone will pre-order copies and help it hit the bestseller lists on its opening week of May 1st, 2012!
E: What's the deal with Snickers?
IA: That's Joshua's one and only vice. I can't comment further on that on grounds that it could incriminate me. :)
E: Is there anything else you'd like to share with Exposed readers?
IA: Please continue to support Exposed Monthly by sharing links of features and interviews like this with all your friends. Readers have an incredible amount of power in the publishing industry simply by the fact that they reader, and spread the word. It is readers who make bestsellers out of books, not publicists. Please use that power to support your favorite authors (one of which, I hope I have become) by reading their books, leaving positive reviews where applicable, and using the power of facebook, twitter, and general word of mouth to tell the world about the books you love. You can then proudly proclaim something like, "I made Once We Were Kings (or Darkroom, or Beyond Justice) as bestseller!"
Thanks for the privilege of this interview. I hope everyone will friend me on facebook and twitter (info at the end of my bio below):
When Ian Alexander's debut epic fantasy novel ONCE WE WERE KINGS first launched in ebook format in May 2011, it instantly hit three bestseller lists on Amazon.com and Barnes & Noble.Mr. Alexander first wrote in the fantasy genre because of a commission by a very important and influential person: His 6-year old son.
ONCE WE WERE KINGS (#1 Bestseller Amazon.com in multiple categories)is the legacy left to Mr. Alexander's children and the first in a series of epic fantasy novels which appeals to readers ages 8 through 98.
The Top Shelf said of ONCE WE WERE KINGS:
"…invokes awe in the reader that I've only felt with J.R.R. Tolkien, David Eddings and before them both, C.S. Lewis."
In 2011 Once We Were Kings won the following honors:
Award-Winning Finalist in the SciFi/Fantasy category of The USA "Best Books 2011" Awards
Award-Winning Finalist in the Young Adult Fiction category of The USA "Best Books 2011" Awards
Award Winner in the 2011 FoEard National Literature Awards in the Teen/Young Adult category
In 2012:
#1 Amazon.com Bestseller in multiple categories.
Ian Alexander grew up in Brooklyn, NY where he lived for the better part of 30 years. He holds a Bachelor and Master's Degree from Juilliard and went on to earn his doctorate from Johns Hopkins University. During his time in Maryland, he taught as a professor at Shepherd College (WV), Western Maryland College, and Columbia Union College (MD).Today he lives with his beautiful wife and children in Southern California.
Graham's next Suspense Thriller DARKROOM is available now for pre-order on Amazon and Barnes & Noble, and will be published by Simon & Schuster/Howard Books in May 2012
ONCE WE WERE KINGS is available in hardcover through Amazon.com as well as Barnes and Noble.It's available at the Kindle store and BN.com for nook, and can be purchased for other ebook readers atSmashwords.It also available for the iPad, SONY E-Reader and Nook.
ONCE WE WERE KINGS $3.99
For Kindle: http://amzn.to/se4JY7
For Kindle UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B005Z5FFRS
For nook: http://bit.ly/jeio82
For iBooks: http://bit.ly/k7F5ML
For every reader: Smashwords: http://bit.ly/lUlOM8
Visit the official Ian Alexander website at www.ianalex.com
Twitter: @IanAlex77
On Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/IanAlex70 and http://on.fb.me/IanAlex
Goblin Alley: the Bloodied Fang
by Michael Burges
Plunge into Goblin Alley, a world wide web of magic, wealth and danger linking every city around the planet to the goblin city Goblinus.
Trouble starts for high school runner Dalton Hicks when monsters chase him down a New York alley and out into the goblin city where the Goblin King puts a price on his head.
Aided by Mingmei, a fox shape shifter, Dalton seeks his only chance at escape – steal a magical artifact back from the fairies for the Goblin King. Caught between powerful forces, Dalton finds himself in the race of his life across two worlds!
Available in e-book and trade paperback.
Land Lubbers: Cabin Boys
What Has Gone Before
This month picks up where we left off last month in the latest installment of this new novel. Spoiler alert, the first few chapters are available in the November 2011 issue of Exposed Monthly.
When we first met Douglas and Brennan Dunne they had only just reached their uncle's house after weeks of terrible toil and struggle.
Originally they set out for the New World with their parents on board the sailing ship Caroline. Unsanitary and crowded conditions aboard the ship led to wide-spread disease and death. Typhus claimed both of their parent's lives and the bodies went over the side to feed the sharks. Douglas and Brennan arrived in the New World alone, with only one thing to help them start over. Douglas carried a letter from their uncle, Professor Quigley Dunne. If they could reach him they had hopes for a bright future.
When Land Lubbers: Cabin Boys begins the brothers have only just reached their uncles' house, which they believe is the end of the journey. After weeks of walking, begging and scrounging they have finally made it.
Only the reception isn't as welcoming at first as they had hoped. Their uncle shows little interest at first in taking on two orphans. Eventually Douglas convinces him to change his mind.
Things start looking up, but Douglas can't shake the odd things he saw on the beach beneath the house. A metal ship half-submerged, and a strange mechanical creature that walked up out of the waves...
Chapter 5
New Routines
The next few days showed how different their lives had become. From homeless orphans scrounging in rubbish bins they had become the wards of a wealthy and powerful man. Even though Douglas had been happy with Liam's casts-offs, Uncle Dunne had insisted that both he and Brennan get new clothes tailored to them specifically.
The man that showed up was short, stooped and old. He wore thick spectacles and a black suit that made him look more like the undertaker than a tailor.
Madame Dubois showed him into the library where all three of them were studying under Mr. Bryne's tutelage. Douglas and Brennan were sitting on opposite sides of the table with Iona at one short end and Mr. Bryne at the other. Douglas was working on his sums, showing Mr. Bryne what he had learned while Brennan struggled with a reader.
Brennan's clear high voice, so much stronger than it had been lately, cut off as Madame Dubois and the tailor entered.
"Monsieur Fawlette," she said. "He's come to get the boy's measurements for their new clothes."
Mr. Bryne ran his hands down his long mustache. "Yes, well, I suppose a break is in order. Brennan, why don't you go with Mr. Fawlette first? Then when you return Douglas may go."
Brennan closed the book loudly. "Yes, sir."
His chair skidded against the floorboards as he stood up. Douglas paused in his sums but Brennan just walked obediently over to where Madame Dubois and Monsieur Fawlette waited. Brennan wasn't doing anything wrong, but that's what worried Douglas. It wasn't like his brother to act so polite and obedient. It was always 'yes, sir' and 'thank you' and 'please' with him now. Brennan had never been like that before.
It made Douglas worried. He wanted Brennan to behave and do as he was told so that the professor wouldn't have any reason to kick them out. It just felt weird that Brennan wasn't doing anything wrong. Or almost nothing. Douglas knew that Brennan was still hoarding food. A bit of bread in his pillowcase, or some crackers in a drawer.
"It'll attract mice," Douglas had warned when he caught Brennan hiding away a piece of cheese. "And there's plenty of food. You don't have to hide it."
"Maybe," Brennan had said, popping the piece of cheese into his mouth. "It just makes me feel better. You know, in case he changes his mind and kicks us out."
No need to ask who 'he' was, Brennan had been almost tongue-tied around their uncle, answering questions in hardly more than a whisper. With everyone else he was still himself but very polite.
Douglas watched Brennan follow Monsieur Fawlette over to stand near the windows beside the fireplace across the room.
"Eyes on your work, Douglas," Mr. Bryne said. "You'll get a break when Brennan is done."
"Yes, sir." Douglas refocused on the paper in front of him.
Math problems filled the sheet of paper, all lettered in Mr. Bryne's very clear, very straight letters. Beneath them Douglas had taken care to write his work as neatly as he could manage.
He had thought that, since he knew his sums, there wasn't much more math that he needed to learn. Mr. Bryne had other ideas. For one thing he wanted Douglas to add much larger numbers. And subtract them. Multiplication and division problems were also on the sheet in increasing difficulty. That made Douglas squirm. He'd never really seen the point of that sort of thing, but here he felt a bit like Brennan.
Would they be kicked out if he couldn't master more complicated math problems?
He focused on writing lightly, neatly with his new pencil. He finished carrying forward the numbers on the problem and wrote down the final answer. One more done!
One, with many problems left. Mr. Bryne had said he only had to do the problems if he understood them, but he want Mr. Bryne to be pleased and give their uncle a good report. He bit his lip and focused on the next.
He was in the middle of one of the first multiplication problems, eight five times, when Brennan came back to the table.
"Okay, Douglas," Mr. Bryne said. "You may take a break and go with Monsieur Fawlette. I'll check over your work while you get your measurements taken."
But he wasn't finished! Douglas slowly stood up feeling sick that Mr. Bryne was going to look at his figures. What if he got too many wrong? "Yes, sir."
His feet felt leaden as he walked around the table. Iona looked up and flashed him a quick smile, before looking back down at her poetry book. It made him feel a little better at least.
Monsieur Fawlette was so stooped over that he didn't stand any taller than Douglas. Up close he had a faint medicinal, bleached odor about him. He pointed where the sunlight came through the windows and turned a square of the floor golden.
"Stand there, boy." Monsieur Fawlette spoke in a rough, whispery voice, as if he couldn't speak any louder.
Douglas stood where he was told and tried not to flinch as Monsieur Fawlette efficiently measured the inside of his leg using nothing more than a cord tied every few centimeters with colored thread.
Not tied, Douglas realized, watching the cord disappear into Monsieur Fawlette's pocket as quick as a snake in a basket. The colored threads were actually stitched into the cord. It only took a second for each measurement, the cord slipping easily with the faintest whisper across Monsieur Fawlette's paper-thin skin.
"Have you always been a tailor, monsieur?" Douglas asked.
Monsieur Fawlette didn't pause. "Extend your arms out to your sides. Hold them." He stretched the cord out along Douglas' arms. "Yes, young sir. My father was a tailor in the Parisian court. I learned at his knee."
"That must have been something, Paris," Douglas said.
Monsieur Fawlette chuckled. "It is something, for sure. I have not returned in many years." His bony finger stabbed upward under Douglas' chin. "Keep your head up, stand straight unless you want your clothes tailored with a hunch like mine."
"Yes, sir."
Douglas stood as straight as he could while the tailor worked. Without turning his head he could see the back of Iona's head. Her blond curls cascaded down the back of her neck, past the back of her chair, in soft golden waves. The strands caught the light and glowed as if from their own light.
Hard to believe that only a few days had brought such change.
#
Mornings were spent under Mr. Bryne's instruction from eight each morning until lunch time, and they were given assignments to complete on their own for each afternoon. Other than that they had few demands on their time until dinner at six each evening. Dinner was also one of the few times during the day when Douglas and Brennan saw the professor. As they settled into their new lives he expected them to join him for dinner, as did Mr. Bryne and Iona, and they were asked an accounting of their studies.
Their uncle was otherwise absent much of the time, occupied away from the house with his work.
One sunny afternoon a few days after Monsieur Fawlette had delivered their new clothes, all of which fit perfectly, Douglas and Brennan were out on the porch eating lunch with Iona. The three of them sat around one of the small round wicker tables with their sandwiches and lemonade that William had made for them before Madame Dubois shooed them out of the house so that the staff could clean the floors.
Douglas sat on one of side of the table, his brother on the other, and Iona in the middle. The air on this day hung hot and heavy but a brisk wind blew across the grass from the ocean. Far out past the bluff, dark clouds massed like a giant gray wall on the horizon and the air smelled of rain.
"My father says that the professor expects a large storm tonight. He said that they will be busy securing the Niamh against the storm," Iona said.
Brennan looked up from eating his sandwich, the last quarter in his hand. "What's that?"
Iona grinned. "Didn't Douglas tell you about the Niamh?"
Douglas shook his head. "It hadn't come up."
Truthfully, he had tried not to think about the ship. Both because thinking about the ship scared him, imagining that the professor might take him aboard, and he still remembered the thing that had walked out of the ocean that first day when they'd arrived at the house. The men working on the ship had acted scared of it."