The last few weeks have been busy ones for Fisky's Scribbling. I have published 4 new flash fiction stories and republished 'The Stallions of Lehr.' I am keen to move on and write even more next month but I will take a moment to rest.
The other aspects of my life are equally hectic at the moment. The day job continues to demand the vast bulk of my time, energy and attention. My family life is busy too with the reality of dealing with aged parents.
So where do I go now?
I would like to publish longer pieces of fiction. 'Tara's God' is a extended short story that has been sitting on my shelf for far too long. This one is far too long for my blog so first smashwords ebook is about to be born. I just need to feel down the back of my sofa to find the cash to pay the cover artist and hey presto it shall be done.
My novels need to be 'moved along' as well. The 2012 work in progress continues to chug towards completion. I estimate it will take at least another year for this book to finish the first draft stage. Currently I have only managed to implement 10% of my plan. It has been a demanding year, as I have eluded to earlier.
My 2011 book 'Children of the Storm' is still sitting in pieces on my laptop and needs the second draft desperately. This I think is my next big project. I will start the replanning exercise very soon. Next weekend if all goes well.
Other ideas continue to pound my temples with vigorous regularity. I would absolutely love to write a gamebook series in the line of Fighting Fantasy or Way of the Tiger. I am not sure whether the 27 hour will be invented in time however...
So I will be announcing more creative news here. More flash fiction will follow and I will be commenting on all thinks bookish... I hope you will find it all entertaining and maybe informative as well? Thanks for reading.
Sunday, September 23, 2012
Flash Fiction - 'Departure'
Departure
by
Andrew Bruce Fisk (September 2012)
The twin vapour trails of her father’s shuttle faded with the rise of the sun. The light from the deep red orb drowned out the last sparks of hope in her heart. She would not cry. Andearies was a princess of her people and on a day such as this weakness, if it was such, must be hidden deep.
The soft ambient glow of morning crept across the horizon of her ancient homeland. The tall minarets of the capital pierced the sky, but even these failed to reach the heights to which her beloved father now ascended. The ships left every hour now. The time was near when the final vessel would depart.
Soft chimes form the temples below announced the beginning of the working day. The princess turned her back on the heavens and left the balcony on which she had stood. The aroma of spice and hot beverages rose from the interior of the palace. She was not interested. How could she eat on a day like this?
The sun rose higher. Its glory resplendent. She ignored its beauty. The complexity of its nature meant only one thing to her.
Judgement.
The Ark was busy. The passengers and cargo contained safely within cryogenic chambers. Only the flight crew now remained awake. Ready to execute the final sequence that would ignite the Drive. Edulanous observed the final preparation of his creation. This device marked the pinnacle of his career. The power to warp space time had been his goal for his entire life. His people would be saved by this work. Some of his people.
The great engineer, as he was called, looked out at the burning furnace that was the home star for his people. He knew that the fires raged far too hot. They would rage hotter still, consuming everything in their path. Nothing would stop the destruction of everything he had known. His civilisation was doomed. Or would have been if the Ark had not been conceived.
To escape into the void was the only option and yet the distances were vast. A stardrive was required. His life had taken on a new meaning. He would warp space and time compressing the fabric of reality as they escaped from the inevitable inferno.
So he had built the ship. Some would be saved from certain death. The very best would be carried to a new home on some distant world. Life would continue.
But not for his daughter.
The tears ran freely now. Edulanous struggled to see the meaning behind his achievement. How could any father abandon his child? He would sleepwalk into a dark future alone. The void was too great for his mind to vanquish.
There was one hope. The data encoders had recorded the genetic traces of the ones that would be left behind. The technologies of the future could restore the forgotten ones. He clung to this feeble gesture, a mere sliver of light in an otherwise bleak universe.
Systems deep within the ark signalled the start of the ignition process. The Drive would soon take him away from this world of darkness. He would be born again on some far world. Fear would be conquered in the same way that he had bent the rules of physics. For now he must sleep with the others. A surrender to the temporary death of the cryogenesis. He turned and made his way from the star portal. His eyes were dry now. The Engineer reached into his shirt pocket and retrieved a capsule. The script on its label said one thing.
‘Andearies.’
The darkened finality of the moment was ended. The engines buried deep inside the ship roared into life, ripping the past at from his grasp. Edulanous slipped away from the pain.
On the surface of the world below his daughter was at peace. Safe in the knowledge that, one day, somewhere far from home, she would once again breath the air of a new world.
by
Andrew Bruce Fisk (September 2012)
The twin vapour trails of her father’s shuttle faded with the rise of the sun. The light from the deep red orb drowned out the last sparks of hope in her heart. She would not cry. Andearies was a princess of her people and on a day such as this weakness, if it was such, must be hidden deep.
The soft ambient glow of morning crept across the horizon of her ancient homeland. The tall minarets of the capital pierced the sky, but even these failed to reach the heights to which her beloved father now ascended. The ships left every hour now. The time was near when the final vessel would depart.
Soft chimes form the temples below announced the beginning of the working day. The princess turned her back on the heavens and left the balcony on which she had stood. The aroma of spice and hot beverages rose from the interior of the palace. She was not interested. How could she eat on a day like this?
The sun rose higher. Its glory resplendent. She ignored its beauty. The complexity of its nature meant only one thing to her.
Judgement.
The Ark was busy. The passengers and cargo contained safely within cryogenic chambers. Only the flight crew now remained awake. Ready to execute the final sequence that would ignite the Drive. Edulanous observed the final preparation of his creation. This device marked the pinnacle of his career. The power to warp space time had been his goal for his entire life. His people would be saved by this work. Some of his people.
The great engineer, as he was called, looked out at the burning furnace that was the home star for his people. He knew that the fires raged far too hot. They would rage hotter still, consuming everything in their path. Nothing would stop the destruction of everything he had known. His civilisation was doomed. Or would have been if the Ark had not been conceived.
To escape into the void was the only option and yet the distances were vast. A stardrive was required. His life had taken on a new meaning. He would warp space and time compressing the fabric of reality as they escaped from the inevitable inferno.
So he had built the ship. Some would be saved from certain death. The very best would be carried to a new home on some distant world. Life would continue.
But not for his daughter.
The tears ran freely now. Edulanous struggled to see the meaning behind his achievement. How could any father abandon his child? He would sleepwalk into a dark future alone. The void was too great for his mind to vanquish.
There was one hope. The data encoders had recorded the genetic traces of the ones that would be left behind. The technologies of the future could restore the forgotten ones. He clung to this feeble gesture, a mere sliver of light in an otherwise bleak universe.
Systems deep within the ark signalled the start of the ignition process. The Drive would soon take him away from this world of darkness. He would be born again on some far world. Fear would be conquered in the same way that he had bent the rules of physics. For now he must sleep with the others. A surrender to the temporary death of the cryogenesis. He turned and made his way from the star portal. His eyes were dry now. The Engineer reached into his shirt pocket and retrieved a capsule. The script on its label said one thing.
‘Andearies.’
The darkened finality of the moment was ended. The engines buried deep inside the ship roared into life, ripping the past at from his grasp. Edulanous slipped away from the pain.
On the surface of the world below his daughter was at peace. Safe in the knowledge that, one day, somewhere far from home, she would once again breath the air of a new world.
Saturday, September 22, 2012
Flash Fiction - 'Cybernetic Dreams' by Andrew Bruce Fisk
Cybernetic Dreams
By
Andrew Bruce Fisk (September 2012)
Adam woke from the dream. His body was wet with moisture. He drew swift breaths, eager to banish the panic that had gripped him during his last work session. With time he stilled. Savouring the temporary relief offered to him by the supervisors. How long had it been since the last time? The dreams beckoned to him. Their world was safe, full of certainty. He wondered about the outside. The place he could not go. A soft tone sounded in his ears. The sleep inducers were becoming active once more.
Then he faded.
The city was grey today. He accessed his activity schedule and nominated tasks for completion. Distant factories stirred, their ceaseless operations drifting along new patterns, driven by the force of his will. Transport systems bombarded him with data, pleading for attention. He granted their requests. Routing travelers and freight in endless transitions. Point by point the economic network of the Dreamnet flashed through his focus point. He grew tired, but the system compensated reallocating resources to the myriad others who slept.
A system call from an offworld site interrupted his rest. He activated resource management routines and a kaleidoscope of financial transactions threatening to overwhelm his defences. He coped. He had been designed to manage these kinds of loads. This was his world. The Dreamnet. The beating heart of humanity. There was no other reality
He woke in the evening. The sleep inducers dormant. These brief interludes seemed to be growing fewer in number. It did not matter. Society demanded sacrifices from its members. The good of others was paramount. Swiftly he prepared to fade.
And then he thought of her.
An image from another world. Blond hair, a soft voice. A name. What was the name?
The Dreamnet reasserted control. Normality resumed. The dangers and trials of a hungry civilisation called to him. He obeyed the commands and submitted himself to their service. Weather systems tracked their way across vast continents, colonies bleated distress and joy to the homeland in equal measure. All these required totally devotion from the sleeper.
He could not remember her name.
The warning reached him from deep within the security protocol stack of the Centre. Reality was threatened. The system reacted drawing previously redundant minds into operation. Stability was restored.
Kira.
He awoke.
This time it was different. Something had altered the delicate interior equilibrium of his cot. He blinked and opened his eyes.
Her name was Kira.
His body spasmed. Salt entered his mouth. Something stopped him from breathing. The paralysis gripping him for precious moments and then eased. He coughed.
The inducers toned softly.
The onset of the Fade took hold. He returned to the Dreamnet. The chaos in his mind subsided. Routine reestablished.
She found him in the capital complex. Her voice intruded, breaking the lock on his mind. She said one thing. A promise of revolution. A pledge that would endure. Her name was Kira and then, she was gone. The encounter swept out of his mind.
He woke once more in a different place. The safe sterile smell of the cot no longer filled his nostrils. A light breeze touched him. He looked up and for the first time saw what he knew must be the sun. Water was running free. The light notes of its flow amongst the stone beds of a stream echoed in his ears.
Was this freedom?
He saw her approach from the clearings edge. She wore a robe full of green and brown shades. Her eyes smiled at him. He remembered her words. He would be released. He could return home and the Dreamnet would be banished from his life forever.
And then he faded.
By
Andrew Bruce Fisk (September 2012)
Adam woke from the dream. His body was wet with moisture. He drew swift breaths, eager to banish the panic that had gripped him during his last work session. With time he stilled. Savouring the temporary relief offered to him by the supervisors. How long had it been since the last time? The dreams beckoned to him. Their world was safe, full of certainty. He wondered about the outside. The place he could not go. A soft tone sounded in his ears. The sleep inducers were becoming active once more.
Then he faded.
The city was grey today. He accessed his activity schedule and nominated tasks for completion. Distant factories stirred, their ceaseless operations drifting along new patterns, driven by the force of his will. Transport systems bombarded him with data, pleading for attention. He granted their requests. Routing travelers and freight in endless transitions. Point by point the economic network of the Dreamnet flashed through his focus point. He grew tired, but the system compensated reallocating resources to the myriad others who slept.
A system call from an offworld site interrupted his rest. He activated resource management routines and a kaleidoscope of financial transactions threatening to overwhelm his defences. He coped. He had been designed to manage these kinds of loads. This was his world. The Dreamnet. The beating heart of humanity. There was no other reality
He woke in the evening. The sleep inducers dormant. These brief interludes seemed to be growing fewer in number. It did not matter. Society demanded sacrifices from its members. The good of others was paramount. Swiftly he prepared to fade.
And then he thought of her.
An image from another world. Blond hair, a soft voice. A name. What was the name?
The Dreamnet reasserted control. Normality resumed. The dangers and trials of a hungry civilisation called to him. He obeyed the commands and submitted himself to their service. Weather systems tracked their way across vast continents, colonies bleated distress and joy to the homeland in equal measure. All these required totally devotion from the sleeper.
He could not remember her name.
The warning reached him from deep within the security protocol stack of the Centre. Reality was threatened. The system reacted drawing previously redundant minds into operation. Stability was restored.
Kira.
He awoke.
This time it was different. Something had altered the delicate interior equilibrium of his cot. He blinked and opened his eyes.
Her name was Kira.
His body spasmed. Salt entered his mouth. Something stopped him from breathing. The paralysis gripping him for precious moments and then eased. He coughed.
The inducers toned softly.
The onset of the Fade took hold. He returned to the Dreamnet. The chaos in his mind subsided. Routine reestablished.
She found him in the capital complex. Her voice intruded, breaking the lock on his mind. She said one thing. A promise of revolution. A pledge that would endure. Her name was Kira and then, she was gone. The encounter swept out of his mind.
He woke once more in a different place. The safe sterile smell of the cot no longer filled his nostrils. A light breeze touched him. He looked up and for the first time saw what he knew must be the sun. Water was running free. The light notes of its flow amongst the stone beds of a stream echoed in his ears.
Was this freedom?
He saw her approach from the clearings edge. She wore a robe full of green and brown shades. Her eyes smiled at him. He remembered her words. He would be released. He could return home and the Dreamnet would be banished from his life forever.
And then he faded.
Saturday, September 8, 2012
Flash Fiction - 'In fear of the Huntress'
In fear of the Huntress
by
Andrew Bruce Fisk (September 2012)
The last of the Krestarti nursed her wounds. The hunters were near and she must be ready to defend against their relentless assault. The night had not gone well. She had not eaten for days and her body ached for the release of sleep. Her home in the caves above the high tarn was no longer sufficient for her needs.
They called her the Monster. The Murderer and worse, the Thief. She was old enough to know another name. She guarded that secret well.
In the long darkness she had born sons and daughters, had conversed with magelords and fought the warrior kings of the east. Now old and alone she had but one task left to do. So she hid from danger, keeping rock and ice between her and her enemy.
Outside the wind howled a challenge to those you would attempt the mountains. She wanted to think that they were cowards. The ones who desired to harm her would reconsider. She had chosen this place wisely. The steep sides of the peak could not easily be reached from the lowland below. She was protected by sharp walls of vertical rock. It would be difficult for them to access the summit above the lake.
She faced no such limitation. She had ridden the wind for a millenium as they measured time. She wished she could leave this lands of torment and ride again the currents of ice and dark. Maybe she could return to the far west. To the home of the Krestarti race. She hoped for a moment of meeting others of her species. To hear the ancient music of true speech that was now lost forever. Except in her dreams.
She was alone. The others were gone. Hunted and killed by the new people who now gathered below.
One such creature approached her sanctuary. It was a female. She sensed its bravery and its fury long before hearing the clip and scrap of climbing gear. Metal against rock. She smelt the taste of revenge mirrored with her own. This human child that had come to face her was kindred indeed.
Jonares entered the lair of the Dragon. Her people had chosen her not for her prowess in battle or her knowledge of weaponry. The girl had lost too much to be denied this honour. Her brothers had perished in the famine. This thing of evil that dwelt up here in the heights had taken their herds and left them with nothing to face the winter. She had watched her family starve and she wanted a reckoning. The climb had been hard. Her fellows had prepared her. She alone had the agility and courage needed to make the ascent.
The young woman observed the cavern mouth, holding her brother's longsword clumsily in her left hand. She could hear laboured breathing. A deep signing susurration. Jonares hid her fear deep and considered how to slay this enemy of her people.
The pitch black of the underworld swallowed her. She made her way forward with care. Into the dark hole she went ready to end the source of her terror. The rock floor crunched with the pressure of her boots on grit. The sound echoed loudly in the confines of the the eyre.
“So you have come to end me?”
The words echoed in Jonare’s mind. She looked up in alarm. The jet darkness was complete, rending her vision useless.
“I have known many like you. You come and desire revenge. Is it anger you feel, or fear?”
The human girl dropped to the floor and sought out the source of the voice.
“If it is not fear then come forward and let me see you?”
She remained still. The soft melodic syllables continued to run through her thoughts. She knew the drake was capable of sorcery. She would be careful.
“Am I not entitled to regard my killer?”
Jonares waited. Her moment would come soon. The air in the cavern was growing thick making breathing difficult. The sound of slow movement accompanied the deep voice of the dragon.
“I know your place, I can feel the heat of your anger. It is like the the suns of my homeworld. You can not hide from me.”
Silence dropped. The wind howled, a cry for mercy from an unforgiving spirit. A moment later even that sound receded, leaving only the beating pound of racing hearts.
“One of us will die.”
Jonares bit back the growing trepidation that threaten her now. Her brothers would have faced this better. Now they called to her from their shallow graves. She must not fail. She had nothing left. This bitter hatred had kept her alive through the winter. Its warmth filled her now, beckoning her on to violence. Jonares the Hunteress prepared for battle.
“I have lived for countless ages of your time. The music of creation still rings in my ears, little one. Do you hope to rid the world of all dangers, all terrors, all creatures of the night with only that piece of forged iron in your hand? Do you think the next winter will be easier than the last? I have known your kind. I know your thoughts little one. I could kill you in an instant if I wished.”
Jonares felt a touch. A feeling she had not experience for a long time. A foreign concept. A threat to her being. A compromise.
Gentleness.
“I ask of you but one thing when I am gone, little one?”
Jonares reeled in confusion. Overwhelmed by wave after wave of sadness. An empty vault of memories flooded her. They were not her own. Regrets and unfulfilled hopes of an alien mind mixed with her life experiences. Human and Krestarti merged, for one brief moment,
And then she was alone. The cavern empty. All was quiet. Except for one thing.
“Spare my children.”
by
Andrew Bruce Fisk (September 2012)
The last of the Krestarti nursed her wounds. The hunters were near and she must be ready to defend against their relentless assault. The night had not gone well. She had not eaten for days and her body ached for the release of sleep. Her home in the caves above the high tarn was no longer sufficient for her needs.
They called her the Monster. The Murderer and worse, the Thief. She was old enough to know another name. She guarded that secret well.
In the long darkness she had born sons and daughters, had conversed with magelords and fought the warrior kings of the east. Now old and alone she had but one task left to do. So she hid from danger, keeping rock and ice between her and her enemy.
Outside the wind howled a challenge to those you would attempt the mountains. She wanted to think that they were cowards. The ones who desired to harm her would reconsider. She had chosen this place wisely. The steep sides of the peak could not easily be reached from the lowland below. She was protected by sharp walls of vertical rock. It would be difficult for them to access the summit above the lake.
She faced no such limitation. She had ridden the wind for a millenium as they measured time. She wished she could leave this lands of torment and ride again the currents of ice and dark. Maybe she could return to the far west. To the home of the Krestarti race. She hoped for a moment of meeting others of her species. To hear the ancient music of true speech that was now lost forever. Except in her dreams.
She was alone. The others were gone. Hunted and killed by the new people who now gathered below.
One such creature approached her sanctuary. It was a female. She sensed its bravery and its fury long before hearing the clip and scrap of climbing gear. Metal against rock. She smelt the taste of revenge mirrored with her own. This human child that had come to face her was kindred indeed.
Jonares entered the lair of the Dragon. Her people had chosen her not for her prowess in battle or her knowledge of weaponry. The girl had lost too much to be denied this honour. Her brothers had perished in the famine. This thing of evil that dwelt up here in the heights had taken their herds and left them with nothing to face the winter. She had watched her family starve and she wanted a reckoning. The climb had been hard. Her fellows had prepared her. She alone had the agility and courage needed to make the ascent.
The young woman observed the cavern mouth, holding her brother's longsword clumsily in her left hand. She could hear laboured breathing. A deep signing susurration. Jonares hid her fear deep and considered how to slay this enemy of her people.
The pitch black of the underworld swallowed her. She made her way forward with care. Into the dark hole she went ready to end the source of her terror. The rock floor crunched with the pressure of her boots on grit. The sound echoed loudly in the confines of the the eyre.
“So you have come to end me?”
The words echoed in Jonare’s mind. She looked up in alarm. The jet darkness was complete, rending her vision useless.
“I have known many like you. You come and desire revenge. Is it anger you feel, or fear?”
The human girl dropped to the floor and sought out the source of the voice.
“If it is not fear then come forward and let me see you?”
She remained still. The soft melodic syllables continued to run through her thoughts. She knew the drake was capable of sorcery. She would be careful.
“Am I not entitled to regard my killer?”
Jonares waited. Her moment would come soon. The air in the cavern was growing thick making breathing difficult. The sound of slow movement accompanied the deep voice of the dragon.
“I know your place, I can feel the heat of your anger. It is like the the suns of my homeworld. You can not hide from me.”
Silence dropped. The wind howled, a cry for mercy from an unforgiving spirit. A moment later even that sound receded, leaving only the beating pound of racing hearts.
“One of us will die.”
Jonares bit back the growing trepidation that threaten her now. Her brothers would have faced this better. Now they called to her from their shallow graves. She must not fail. She had nothing left. This bitter hatred had kept her alive through the winter. Its warmth filled her now, beckoning her on to violence. Jonares the Hunteress prepared for battle.
“I have lived for countless ages of your time. The music of creation still rings in my ears, little one. Do you hope to rid the world of all dangers, all terrors, all creatures of the night with only that piece of forged iron in your hand? Do you think the next winter will be easier than the last? I have known your kind. I know your thoughts little one. I could kill you in an instant if I wished.”
Jonares felt a touch. A feeling she had not experience for a long time. A foreign concept. A threat to her being. A compromise.
Gentleness.
“I ask of you but one thing when I am gone, little one?”
Jonares reeled in confusion. Overwhelmed by wave after wave of sadness. An empty vault of memories flooded her. They were not her own. Regrets and unfulfilled hopes of an alien mind mixed with her life experiences. Human and Krestarti merged, for one brief moment,
And then she was alone. The cavern empty. All was quiet. Except for one thing.
“Spare my children.”
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
Flash Fiction - 'The Deserter'
The Deserter
By
Andrew Bruce Fisk (September 2012)
The woodland stretched out its welcome to the last of the warriors. The sunlight pierced the protective visor that had guarded his eyes during the wars. Nanotech filaments shifted in configuration to remove the glare. Aestus blinked away the tears. Once more he was shielded from harm.
Aestus shifted his body into motion. He entered the tree line scanning for hazards or opponents. Training modules became active, inserting defensive subroutines, targeting his senses on areas of concealment or sites of potential ambush. For a moment he considered the wisdom of his mission here on this forsaken world. Violence followed him along every step of his journey. He was sure that the bloodletting would continue even out here, beyond the reach of the empire.
He was tired of war.
The glow of the forest canopy enveloped his stark form. The trees radiated health and calm. A quality denied him by imperial battle conditioning. Avian lifeforms scattered in his wake. Their chirps of greeting or alarm failed to sway his focus. He had travelled many parsecs to reach this place. The dangers that had surrounded him for so long troubled him still.
Aestus dreamed of another world. Another time long past when his life had been simple. A world and time without death and grief and the effects of shock. A place where nightmares could not reach.
The bringer of death marched on.
His cybernetic implants informed him he was near his destination. The anxiety he had been suppressing rose to almost overthrow his purpose. Why take the risk? There was another way to end the pain. Simple self annihilation was consider an honorable fate for one such as Aestus. He knew the protocols well. He had a attained a rank and status that entitled him to such a fate. His body screamed for release. Surely it would be better than this?
Aestus cursed his cowardice.
The clearing opened up before him. The broken stonework of an abandoned dwelling was scattered amongst the tangle of roots and undergrowth that covered the floor. Shafts of light broke through to reach him, illuminating his armoured body, exposing him to harm.
He had been born here. He must return to this place to find closure or absolution for his sins.
He had lost his independence here, his family was surely gone, scattered by the actions of the recruitment operatives that had taken him star-wards. There was no one to greet him. This was it. The end of the long road home.
The loner turned to go. His life was complete. Aestus of the Third Imperial Guard Legion began the long walk out of the wilderness.
And then he heard the noise.
His sensors had been screaming at him for some time but his emotions had distracted his attention.
There was a lifeform close by. Hidden from him by a malfunctioning stealth field. Forbidden technology. A threat.
Anger surged through the warrior augmenting combat routines and spurring him forward towards the source of the signals. He leapt back into the lee of the trees that guarded the broken stone structures of his former home. Weapon lock was achieved and Aestus waited for his enemy to reveal its intent.
There were two lifeforms. The clarity of the data continued to improve with every moment. He waited. Sounds of muffled voices reached his auditory centres. Rapidly the sounds were re-processed. Aestus prepared to attack.
Human.
Immature. Their voices betraying emotions. Language recognition systems indicated they were pleading for mercy.
In later days he could not account for his actions. years of conditioning would never provide him with an explanation. For in that moment Aestus ceased to be a part of the Imperial Guard. He dropped his defenses and walked forward.
At long last he had rejoined the human race.
New ideas for this blog - Flash Fiction coming soon
Just to let readers of this blog know that I will be publishing a few Flash Fiction (ultra short) stories in addition to my usual posts.
I hope you enjoy reading them.
The first in the series is due out tonight and is a science fiction piece called 'The Deserter' It is 639 words in length so it will not take too long to read.
Happy reading!
I hope you enjoy reading them.
The first in the series is due out tonight and is a science fiction piece called 'The Deserter' It is 639 words in length so it will not take too long to read.
Happy reading!
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