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Starship troopers pilot part 8

Yeah so I had a work thing on thursday and when I got home I felt like shit and didn’t want to do anything, hence no content haha.

Which is fine because the only person I let down is myself as always.

I decided just to call them ‘parts’ instead of scenes because the scenes are so short some of them I just decided to lump them together.

This scene specifically is displaying the incongruities between the book and the movie. Because in the movie he’s dating Carmen and they break up and there’s this love square going on. But in the book they’re more like acquaintances and they go on one date later on. They’re not in love, the book isn’t about love, Diz isn’t even a character in the book, he’s just a guy who dies in the first chapter haha.

So there’s no love triangle, there’s no square, there isn’t even a love line or a love circle haha.

And although I’m sort of super autistic about romances, I don’t know how to write a good romance and although I think including romance in your story is sort of played out, I really do think it’s necessary and I appreciate a good romance in a story. As long as it’s not tacky or too over the top. 

Like for instance the romance in the expanse is handled really well. There are two romances one between a cop and a girl he knows is dead. And another between the two main characters which I really like. Because in shows like this you either get these shitty ‘will they won’t they’ romances where they constantly dangle a romance and never deliver or deliver at the end. Or they have the romance and it has rocky patches here and there and what not and it seems like it’s going for the later but so far I like it. It’s nice, not too in your face or over the top and I think one of the reasons I might be having feelings for my ex is that Naomi really reminds me of her. I know it’s really stupid.

A good example of a shitty over the top romance is probably between Geralt and Yenniffer in the witcher books. Because their romance is like built up to be this epic, world altering romance but in every other part of the book they’re just two people that are kind of asshole and hate eachother haha. Yennifer is probably one of the least likeable characters of all the books and Geralt is sort of a nothing character, he’s just an audience insert. So the romance is really wooden but you’re meant to believe it’s shakespeare because of how it’s built up, but it’s just cringe. As you can tell I’m team Triss haha.

Yeah so I included the romance but sort of left a little more to the imagination. I elevated the non-romance in the book and brought the romance down a notch from the movie. So it’s like a sliding scale of narrative romance the lowest being no romance going up to ‘will they won’t they’ to the highest ‘oh they did and it fucked up’ haha.

I didn’t watch a film this week or have anything worth reviewing, just been in a miasma of work and videogames and hating life. I barely managed to get a chapter done this week. Which is shameful considering I could average a chapter a day at one point. I dunno, my mind is just on trying to find a new job and be with the people most important to me right now. I’m sort of shelving writing but I can’t actually stop so I’m just keeping my pen moving.

But I can’t complain really, well I can and I will but you know.

Well that’s enough for today. I will have a chapter of Cur done by thursday for all those masses of no people that read this.

See you…

INT. Rico parents house. Day.

 

 

RiCO’S DAD

 

 

You’re going to

harvard

, not throwing your life away like this.

 

 

RicO

 

 

It’s my life, my decision, not yours! I’m going!

 

 

RiCO’S DAD

 

 

You’re going on vacation and that’s the last of it. You’ll resign, it’ll look bad but it’s better than wasting your life.

 

 

RiCO

 

 

I wont quit! I wanna be a citizen!

 

 

RiCO’S DAD

 

 

If you walk out of that door you’re cut off, do you understand me?

 

 

Rico walks off, his mother takes him by the arm,

 

 

 

 

 

Rico’S MOM

 

 

Johnny does citizenship really mean that much to you?

 

 

RiCO’S MOM (

CONT’D

)

 

 

No one in mine or your fathers family has ever had citizenship and look at us, the nice house we live, the life we live.

 

 

RiCO

 

 

(Hesitantly) Yeah, I guess.

 

 

Rico’S MOM

 

 

I hope you’re not ruining your life over some silly little girl who wants you to look handsome putting on a uniform.

 

 

RICO

 

 

It’s not – it’s not like that. I can’t explain it. I just – I just need to get out on my own.

 

 

Rico walks off to the station with his bags packed.

 

 

RicO’S MOM

 

 

Johnny!

 

 

 

 

 

ExT. A pARK. DAY

 

 

Johnny and Carmen are enjoying a day at the park when a weird blue light fills the atmosphere. The ground shakes and rocks start to float in the air as everything around them is decimated.

 

 

 

 

 

INT. ROGER YOUNG SPACE SHIP.

 

 

Rico is in a darkened room in the ship looking down at the earth through a huge window as it’s destroyed by a giant blue plasma meteorite. He watches the earth turning black and dying.

 

 

 

 

 

INT. Karl’s house. Night.

 

 

Rico wakes up in a cold sweat from his dream staying the night at Karls house to escape his parents.

 

 

He goes to get a drink of water and stares up into space at all the stars.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

EXT. Outside the transit hub on terra. Day.

 

 

Karl, Johnny and Carmen are meeting up to say their final

goodbyes

before they set off on their tour of service.

 

 

CARMEN

 

 

You ready?

 

 

RICO

 

 

I’m wearing everything I own?

 

 

KaRL

 

 

I told you your dad wouldn’t go for it.

 

 

RICO

 

 

Thanks for letting me stay at your place last night.

 

 

KARL

 

 

What are friends for?

 

 

CARMEN

 

 

Johnny, I’m sorry.

 

 

RiCO

 

 

It’s fine, the federation will give me everything I need for the next two years right?

 

 

KARL

 

 

Right

 

 

RICO

 

 

So Karl did you get

starside

R&D?

 

 

KARL

 

 

I don’t know yet, they said I need to undergo more tests in an off site facility, whatever that means. But a little birdie tells me

Carmencita

is heading off to the fleet academy.

 

 

CARMEN

 

 

A little birdie

eh

?

 

 

RiCO

 

 

Carmen, that’s great.

 

 

CaRMEN

 

 

What about you Johnnie?

 

 

KaRL

 

 

Yeah tough guy what did you even put down as preference?

 

 

RiCO

 

 

Hey that’s personal

ok

and I don’t know either, they need to run more tests too, I guess.

 

 

KaRL

 

 

Well,

ok

. I guess this is it.

 

 

CaRMEN

 

 

Hey, let’s make a pact

ok

? Let’s promise

nomatter

what happens that we’ll always be friends.

 

 

RiCO

 

 

Friends?

 

 

CARMEN

 

 

Friends

 

 

KarL

 

 

Well we’ll probably be in

seperate

galaxies light years away from

eachother

but sure why not?

 

 

CaRMEN

 

 

That’s the spirit.

 

 

KARL

 

 

Anyway my transport is leaving soon so I gotta go.

 

 

KARL (

CONT’D

)

 

 

Bye for now.

 

 

RiCO

 

 

See ya soon buddy.

 

 

CARMEN

 

 

Good luck Karl

 

 

CARMEN (

CONT’D

)

 

 

My transport is leaving soon too

 

 

RicO

 

 

I’ll see you off, help you with your luggage.

 

 

Rico helps her with her bags as she goes to the terminal.

 

 

CaRMEN

 

 

Are you sure, you might be late to your shuttle?

 

 

RiCO

 

 

Yeah of course.

 

 

She leads him off towards her shuttle platform.

 

 

RICO (

CONT’D

)

 

 

I couldn’t let you go without a proper goodbye.

 

 

CARMEN

 

 

A ‘proper goodbye’.

 

 

He puts her bags down.

 

 

RICO

 

 

Well you know.

 

 

He takes her and kisses her.

 

 

RICO (

CONT’D

)

 

 

I love you.

 

 

She boards the shuttle still looking at him.

 

 

RiCO (

CONT’D

)

 

 

You can say it too.

 

 

CaRMEN

 

 

Goodbye Johnny

 

 

The shuttle pulls away and jets off into space leaving Rico staring at his own reflection as there’s nothing but darkness there now.

 

 

Diana in the dark Chapter 13 ‘Daddy’s little darlings’ (Remurdered)

Ok, well I started it I guess.

Yeah started Cur 2 and it went about as well as it can be expected barely at half my usual output but it’s there. I can’t say it’s as good as Cur 1 for an opening by that I mean it’s boring-er and by that I mean Cur isn’t hacking people to pieces within the first few paragraphs. 

I wanted to go for a more slow build, actually I have no idea why I’m talking about this now I should wait until I finish proofreading it, gonna shelve this now and talk about something else, save that for another blog.

So I saw that new M. Night Shamalamadingdong movie glass and it fucking sucked. Why is anyone surprised by this?

Actually nevermind, I’ll save that for a review. Translation; I started talking about it not wanting to do a full review – which then turned into a full review I cut out for another blog haha.

So other than writing Cur which I can’t talk about and watching Glass which I also can’t talk about I’ve been playing Vampyr by dontnod, prolific developer of the award winning millennial walking simulator Life is strange. And honestly I… actually never mind, I’ll save that for it’s own blog haha.

Yeah so.. bye! X’D

When the darkness faded, I opened my eyes. He was there.

“Come on, I wanna show you something.” A little boy with a bowl cut hairstyle was leading me down a tight white hallway.

There was a door; he wanted me to go through.

What was on the other side?

The door was huge; I could barely reach the handle. It was turning red, the door, it was melting.

What’s in there?

“A surprise. I did it for you.”

Shapes appeared in the red goo the door was turning into. A face was pushing through the malleable material.

It’s my face, it’s a mirror.

A sudden jolt and my face hit something hard and flat. I was thrust back into the land of the living rather unceremoniously.

My head hurt, I was still seeing spots, but that was all. There was something over my eyes. I could almost feel the veins in my neck; my brain hurt like someone had slam dunked it through a stained glass window.

There was something wet and warm on my face, getting colder. Shit, blood, it had to be blood. “I’m bleeding” I cried out to the dark, to no one in particular.

“Relax,” a woman’s voice said. “It’s just drool—you can wipe it off when we get there.”

“Get where?” I asked.

“Prom, of course,” Wendy said.

I tried to move but my hands were strapped to something at my side. But I could feel the car plaining over wet roads, felt it turning, stopping. We were moving.

“Don’t move, don’t be dumb.” Her voice was tight, stern with a bitter frosty bite. “Don’t bother screaming, we’ll just crank the radio up, the windows are tinted no one can see us in here.” There was a cool commanding calm in her voice.

“Wendy, what’s going on?”

She laughed. “What’s going on? We’re going to prom, didn’t I just say that?”

The car slowly ground to a halt and I heard the driver get out.

“Just gotta make a little stop along the way,” She added.

“Wendy I—”

“I should’ve known it was you. My mom warned me about you; you’ve always been jealous of me. How did you know?” The jewelry on her arm jangled as she talked, no doubt gesturing to someone blindfolded. “I bet you felt really fucking clever, sending me those little notes… How clever do you feel now, huh?”

The passenger side door to my left opened and something big and heavy was slung at my side.

“Don’t make a fucking noise, puto, don’t make me shoot you!” a man’s voice said.

The door shut again and the large sack of potatoes started to writhe and make groaning grunting noises in the seat next to me.

“What the fuck Denny? I told you not to hurt him, he’s fucking bleeding!”

“I had to hit him with the gun, big white boy wouldn’t come on his own, thought he was a tough guy.”

“Now I’m gonna have to clean him up, you better not have got blood on his tux,” she screeched.

“What the hell’s going on? Is this a prank? It’s not very funny,” the potato sack said in between pained groans.

“Paul! Is that you?” I said.

“Diana? Are you—?” he said groggily.

“Just stay cool,” I said.

“What the hell, Di?” my boyfriend groaned.

“What’s going on is, I’m not going to let you white trash pieces of shit ruin my senior prom.” Wendy’s voice got fast and high pitch. “Already close to ruined; having it in that fucking laser arcade. I wanted it at the beach club, but noooo that wasn’t cool enough for little miss ‘ooh look at me I’m so quirky and interesting!” She made a clucking noise in her throat, as if trying to get more spit in her mouth. “Me being the great friend I am, let it slide, but no you gotta stab me in the back and try to ruin it with your little knife in the dark Marco polo horror movie bullshit!” She tutted “I wasn’t taking any chances after getting that second corny note so I had Denny camp out in my closet just in case and look who happened by.”

“Wendy?” Paul asked. “What’s she talking about? What’s going?”

“Would you just shut up, you fucking meat head daddy’s boy retard!” She sucked her gums “It was probably you who sent me that weird video at school trying to freak me out” She scoffed “and what a coincidence yours was the only locker without a head—I can’t believe I didn’t see it until now” She took a deep breath and filled herself with sweetness and light and said. “We’re gonna be there soon, and we’re all gonna dance and have a great time; and then me and Brody are going to be crowned prom king and queen and then—”

“Then what?” I asked.

She laughed and I could feel her shifting closer to me, the leather creaking under her toned brown buns.

Wendy took the sleep mask off my face and put a small gun to my head, my small James Bond-type weapon, to be precise. She looked over at Paul and squeezed her thin spider leg eyebrows as tight as they would go. “Oh, for fucks sake!” She tutted as she pulled a tissue from her purse She spat in it rubbing furiously at the small nick at the side of Paul’s head where Denny had hit him. She stepped back after she was done, to get a good look at him. “There, you look great” She sat back in her seat in the front of the limo, with the small purse pistol trained on us. Wendy was in a gold taffeta dress, looking like a real princess.

Paul was in the tux my ‘aunt’ had picked out for him, tied to one of the arm rests with a plastic zip tie, the same as I was. He was slowly fading in and out of consciousness, like he’d taken a hit of Nyquil and whiskey.

The interior of the limo was huge. The ceiling was much higher than I’d expect, and coming in at a cool five-three I could probably comfortably stand up inside. It was almost as wide as a standard bus, with black leather couches on all sides, and a large bar-like table with cushioned corners all the way around, stretching across the length of the interior. To top it off, there were blue strobe lights around the ceiling, making it look almost like a mini-traveling strip club. It was missing the stripper pole though. No fog machine either.

I was wearing one of Wendy’s hand-me down-dresses she’d worn to the homecoming dance last year. It was a mess of pink lace that looked like an explosion in a cotton candy factory. Insult to injury received. Pretty in pink my ass.

“You two make such a cute couple.” She smirked. She tapped the glass between the passenger compartment and the driver’s cab. “Denny, you’re driving like an old lady, are we there yet?”

Yeah well you can’t read this version because I said so, maybe I’ll give it away at the end of the year but only for people on my mailing list so there haha. But you can read the raw free version right here but don’t because it sucks.

Loverman Chapter 9 “Night of the lotus eaters”


Hey there,
Whenever I start one of these I always have no idea what to talk about then I end up waffling for like an hour.
So tomorrow I start Cur 2 I guess, I’m not that psyched for it for some reason which is bad because I really enjoyed writing the plan for it but now it’s time to pay the piper and I’m just dreading it being shit. I dunno, I think I just need to get back on the horse and I’ll feel better, I always feel better when I’m writing. I really just need some feedback, I need someone to believe in me and there aren’t enough of those people around.
What have I been doing in the mean time, surprising yesterday was a pretty busy day, the poem was sort of prepacked honestly but I got this proofread and I managed to clean up a lot of the pitch for Cur and send it to a couple of places that might accept it. But who knows.
In other news my gamepass subscription is almost up but what should pop up within a week or two of it running out but Vampyr, a game I’ve sort of been eyeing for a while but people kept telling me was shitty and full of political nonsense. Which I believed because dontnod is famous for having these really social justicey liberal games like life is strange and life is strange 2 which is hilarious to watch lets plays of because it’s almost as cringe and on the nose as a David Cage game. They’re not subtle.
But honestly this just seems like a good game and I don’t feel like a narrative is being forced down my throat, it just feels like a solid rpg with good mechanics and I’m really enjoying it.
I think I’ll definitely do a review of it and possibly another playthrough, it kinda feels like bloodborne meets the witcher 3, but we’ll see how it pans out.
That’s about it for today I guess, no big rant planned. I think I’ll spend the rest of my day looking for reviews of Cur, maybe find some more publishers
Of course I had no idea what was on the piece of paper only that it seemed to spur Ericcson into a fit of furious action. He drove in almost a trance like state, gripping the wheel so hard I could hear the plastic and leather creaking. I was perturbed to try and wake him from it. I caught a glimpse of the paper and it appeared to be some kind of flyer advertising an event of some sort. I hadn’t the faintest idea what possessed him to kill those men at the gas station. And even less of an idea why a piece of paper they were carrying would cause him to act like this. It made no sense at all, well it made as much sense as it would in a dream. I didn’t want to think about that, I didn’t want to put into any conceptual process to discern whom was the dreamer and whom was the dream.
My reeling thoughts were rudely interrupted by the screeching of the well worn brakes of my mother’s long suffering Crysler. The bag I was in lurched forward and fell into the passenger side foot well.
From there I couldn’t see anything, just hear him getting out of the driver’s side and slamming the door shut behind him. Then more muffled fumblings until he opened the passenger side door and retrieved the bag I was in.
From my low angle it was too dark to make out the shape of the building he was taking me towards. There were no streetlights at all, just the sickly moon hanging half cast in the sky. There were no stars to speak of and the building seemingly had no lights or discernable activity going on outside.
But as Ericcson got closer it started to look familiar and I saw the patches of the burnt sickly pink stucco and I knew he’d taken us back. Back to the accursed place where I had died and he had fallen into this madness.
The pink bird mental institute.
Or what was left of it at least.
The building was a burnt out carcass of it’s former self, funny, I couldn’t recall a fire but it’s charred remains defied my recollection. It all happened so fast.
But why, why had he come back to this wicked place?
Then we both heard it, music, a low bass beat looped over and over.
Investigating the noise lead us around the side of the building. There was a door which seemed blackened from fire.
We approached it cautiously and as we did, the music increased in volume.
Ericcson pushed the door and it swung inward and we were assaulted by the loud bassy music blaring at us from below. Through the door was a darkened concrete stairwell leading down we assumed to the basement or some sublevel I hadn’t been privy to during the tour.
We descended the stairs following the loud ungodly music.
The basement level was fairly unremarkable service level. It housed mainly industrial size washers and driers, which seemed old and in disrepair. But they were not the source of the noise, that was deeper.
We followed a trail of shadeless hanging bulbs swaying in the complete darkness of the basement. They moved with what seemed like sentience, like the lights of an angler fish luring its prey into the crushing depths.
The darkness conjuring up such shapes in my head that would make what I had seen up to now seem like a harmless daydream. The shadows pulsed with the throbbing music, the lights swaying faster as we passed under them. At the end of this semi-dark hallway was a single green door.
There was no doubt that it was the source of the heart pounding music.
Ericcson opened the door but a crack, the music spilling out and assaulting my eardrums. With no hands to cover my ears I had no choice but to allow the din to dull and kill any sense I had until the noise became a ceaseless drone.
Although the music and the damage done to their ear drums didn’t seem to bother the shivering throngs of sallow cow eyed people dancing to it.
By my count there were at least a hundred strangely dressed people, young and old dancing in what seemed to be a large generator room. The lights strobing back and forth in time with the hypnotic drumming of the music.
Ericcson evidently saw something as he began to push his way through the crowd in the direction of the back wall. There was something, a fluttering of wings, black feathers floating to the ground. Coal black eyes looking at me from the far end of the room and then they were gone again.
I looked back at Ericcson and he was being lead through the room like a child by a woman, I could only see the back of her head. Her hair plaited down her back, she was wearing a black backless gown, her skin was pale and freckled. Looking her up and down I could see in her other hand she held a crow mask.
Ericcson was saying something to her but I couldn’t make it out over the music.
She turned and I could immediately see it was Jane, impossible, how could she have survived? But it was her, her glasses gone and her green eyes and red lips. She said something to Ericcson but I couldn’t read her lips. She smiled and turned away to lead him into the centre of the room.
He followed dutifully and I couldn’t fathom why until the crowd parted and I saw a little boy in his pyjamas standing alone in the crowd. He wasn’t crying, his face was placid and expressionless like he was sleep walking. He looked exactly like he did in my hallucination, like he’d been plucked right from it.
Ericcson dropped the duffel bag I was in and picked up his child, that’s when I noticed the strange symbol on the floor. It looked almost like a malformed five pointed star in a circle. It was like nothing I’d ever seen before except maybe through the gaps in my fingers. Or in feverish nightmares at the time I spent at that auspicious university in arkham.
I looked back at Jane, she was smiling and she held up her hand and showed him the ring. For a moment it was a parody postcard of a perfect family. She held his hand and then walked out of the circle leaving his hand to fall by his side. I watched her go, her smile turning it into a grotesque mask, a grin that seemed waxen, then she slipped the crow mask on.
If you want to read the rest of this weird shit, head on over to inkitt. Night of the lotus eaters

Creep

I don’t belong here

What the hell am I doing

I should be with you.

 

I want you to notice

I want you to think of me

When I’m not around

 

I’m here and nowhere

Whatever makes you happy.

Whatever you want.

Starship troopers pilot scene 5

Hey,

Not really feeling my usual high energy self today so I’ll keep it brief. Haven’t been doing much this week except working my day job which was ok. Didn’t really get around to doing any Cur, so I’ll start friday and hopefully not have any excuses to avoid it.

Vampyr came on gamepass this week so I’ve been playing that. I bought a month of gamepass because it was on sale and I mostly feel ripped off because most of the games are pretty bleh. Only three really stuck out, but three games for two quid is ok I guess, but Vampyr is pretty good. I’ve been waiting for it come down in price, it was 85% off last week and I thought about getting it but it was still over a tenner so I thought I’d just wait and boy am I glad I did haha. So far it’s pretty good, not amazing but not generic either, it feels like it’s own thing instead of a clone of something else.

I tried to watch a Cronenberg movie I hadn’t seen before called ‘Naked Lunch’ and I got about halfway through before I decided I had better things to do than watch that utter nonsense.

It had no story really, and it was just gross, which is normal for Cronenberg movies but the grossness had no context or plot, it was just there. Which made it totally boring, the whole movie was just really boring and about nothing. It reminded me a lot of Brazil but not fun or interesting. It was surreal but not in a  fun or interesting way either.

It was like if David Lynch had no sense of humor whatsoever and was just a pretentious douchnozzle. Which some probably think he is but it couldn’t be further from the truth and it’s why I love his movies and music, he’s like anti-pretentious. He’s the guy who isn’t afraid of being called an idiot, his movies couldn’t be less pretentious. They’re just fun and weird and any deeper meaning is left ambiguous.

But the reviews for naked lunch perfectly illustrate the nature of this sort of emperor’s new clothes mentality in media. All the reviews are either 10/10 praising it for being super artistic and having all this deep meaningful context about heroin addiction and the other half are people without their heads jammed up their asses giving it 1/10 because it was boring and nothing really happens. The movie has no inciting incident, there’s no structure or goal, and I see people calling it funny in the reviews, it’s not funny, not at all. Unless you think bugs with talking buttholes is funny, which I don’t.

It was just weird for the sake of being weird it had no relevance to the plot of which there wasn’t any. Brazil is funny and cartoony and weird and it works, it builds its world really nicely, this movie doesn’t even try to do that. It was written by a heroine addict writing about a self insert character failed writer drug addict and it’s only famous because he was friends with a bunch of other famous drug addicts.

It’s just one of those movies that’s obscene and is just trash but the right people have convinced themselves that it’s art and not a movie that should end up on the sci-fi channel. I dare someone to watch this movie and then compare it to silent night deadly night 2. At least that movie had a story and was kind of funny. Naked lunch isn’t even funny bad, and all the reviews are telling me to watch it over and over when I couldn’t get through it once.

It’s just two hours of total pretentious nonsense. It has some cool effects but they’re sort of contextless, they’re just there. It doesn’t really help that I guess it’s inspired heavily by Kafka and I also haven’t made it through a Kafka book. I just find them too dry and boring. Like 1984 is a really amazing and serious and vital book but it’s also really interesting and genuinely entertaining. It’s not just a boring book you need to read for whatever mind expanding experience. I enjoyed it thoroughly, it’s actually a good read.

This is like if Hunter S Thompson was just really boring and instead of going on a crazy drug binge road trip he just stayed in his hotel room and had weird sexual conversations with his bug type writer’s butthole. I honestly can’t for the life of me pull anything worthwhile out of this movie and any one that can is for lack of a better word a total moron high on the smell of their own farts.

I guess this can’t really be called a review since I didn’t watch it all the way through but I didn’t really hate it, it just did nothing for me and sort of repulsed me. It wasn’t funny or fun or entertaining like it could have been, like brazil or fear and loathing. It was just bleh and I decided it had wasted enough of my time, it hadn’t done anything or gone anywhere with the story for the first hour and I didn’t expect it to go anywhere in the second.

So anyway, starship troopers haha. That reminds me I couldn’t really get through the animated tv show either, I was watching it while I worked out for the last week or two an it’s not that it’s bad, it actually has a lot of good ideas, it’ just sort of substance less in terms of actual story. It’s basically a kids show it’s a lot like eating a big fast food burger, it’s like you’re eating real food but it’s just empty calories, you don’t really feel full because there’s not much to it.

But I was just watching it mainly for ideas and in that regard it’s been really good, it expands on the mythos really nicely borrowing from the book and the movie. But it’s just a kids show, an excuse for cheesy jokes and mindless action. It’s as shallow as a puddle.

Anyhoo, gotta get back to proofreading the final chapter of Loverman for thursday.

See you…

EXT. an open dance floor on a terrace garden. Night

 

 

 

 

 

Rico is walking back after getting some punch for Carmen and he finds her deep in discussion with another guy.

 

 

Dizzy sees this and intercepts him taking one of the drinks.

 

 

DiZZY

 

 

Thanks

loverboy

.

 

 

RiCO

 

 

Hey, that was…

nevermind

.

 

 

Karl walks over to join them.

 

 

KARL

 

 

To

Diz

; May I have this dance.

 

 

DiZZY

 

 

Wait in line, me and Rico are up next.

 

 

KARL

 

 

Is that right?

 

 

Carmen comes over smiling. Rico gives her his drink.

 

 

CarMEN

 

 

Thanks.

 

 

CARMEN (

CONT’D

)

 

 

I was just talking to Steve, his sister made fleet, can you believe that?

 

 

CarMEN (

CONT’D

)

 

 

Can you imagine what is must be like to fly one of those

starships

?

 

 

RicO

 

 

You should try out for it.

 

 

CARMEN

 

 

Well that’s what I’ve been meaning to tell you.

 

 

CARMEN (

CONT’D

)

 

 

I’m

gonna

sign up the day after my birthday.

 

 

KARL

 

 

That’s great, me and Rico were thinking of doing it ourselves. We’ll go with you.

 

 

CARMEN

 

 

You both wanna go fleet too? That’s amazing.

 

 

KaRL

 

 

Me, be a space truck driver, no thanks, I’m going

starship

R & D. Electronics.

 

 

CaRMEN

 

 

Space truck driver? I hope they drop you off on Pluto and let you freeze.

 

 

CaRMEN (

CONT’D

)

 

 

And Johnny what were planning on doing?

 

 

RICO

 

 

I think I’ll buck for space pilot too.

 

 

CARMEN

 

 

That’s great! Maybe we’ll bump into

eachother

in training.

 

 

KaRL

 

 

A collision course.

 

 

RicO

 

 

(Seeing Mr.

Duboi

) Hey there’s Mr.

Duboi

, I just wanted to go talk to him.

 

 

Dizzy watches him go and decides to go dance with Karl instead.

 

 

Rico greets Mr. Dubois.

 

 

RICO (

CONT’D

)

 

 

Hey Mr.

Duboi

, I just wanted to tell you that your class was the best I had all year.

 

 

  1. DUBOIS

 

 

That’s great to hear son, I just hope you learned something.

 

 

RicO

 

 

I did, I think I did, I just wanted to ask you.

 

 

  1. DUBOIS

 

 

What is it Rico?

 

 

RiCO

 

 

I was thinking of joining up for federal service.

 

 

Mr. DUBOIS

 

 

That’s great Rico.

 

 

RiCO

 

 

My parents are against, but it’s my choice.

 

 

RiCO (

CONT’D

)

 

 

I just don’t know what I should do.

 

 

Mr. DUBOIS

 

 

Part of growing up is learning to make your own decisions. That’s what it means to be a man.

 

 

Mr. DUBOIS (

CONT’D

)

 

 

I can’t tell you what’s best for you.

 

 

Mr. DUBOIS (

CONT’D

)

 

 

Only you can do that.

 

 

Rico nods and Mr. Dubois shakes his hand.

 

 

Mr. DUBOIS (

CONT’D

)

 

 

Maybe one day we’ll meet under better circumstances.

 

 

Rico goes back to dance with Carmen.

 

Loverman Chapter 8 ‘red right hand’

Bet you didn’t think you’d see this, yeah neither did I.
This is basically me trying to procrastinate so I can finish this shadow book I’m reading that of course is really boring before I start the next Cur. I really hate leaving books unfinished but this book is dragging it’s fucking feet so hard man. I want to just finish it and get back into the Conan stories that are fucking amazing. So I can soak up that lovely Conan badassery and keep it in my head, pass that spirit on to Cur 2.
Because I really feel inspired when I read something like that and it’s just like rocket fuel to my creativity and energy.
So hopefully I’ll finish the boring ass Shadow book and I can get back to Aquilonia like a boss. 
It might be surprising to hear that their are stories so stupid and shitty that I write that even I abandon them. Like sometimes I get halfway through something I think will be fun and interesting to write and then I’m just not feeling it and I drop it for something better.
This coming from a guy that writes weird samurai clown nonsense and that’s the stuff that makes it, even what doesn’t make it, wrap your brain around that. But I figured since I put some of it on inkitt I might as well finish it and I saw how close I was to finishing it, like a chapter and a half, there last chapter is next. So I thought ‘fuck it’ kill some time, get some content and maybe have some fun. I guess I just didn’t really get into the character of Ericcson and I didn’t really care about his struggle and if I can’t care about him how the hell is a reader going to care about him?
So I kinda rushed the ending a little but it’s a an ok ending, it did everything I wanted to do with it. I just wanted to make a fun little lovecraftian super hero revenge story with lots of gore. Maybe some people might enjoy it, who am I kidding no one is going to read this haha.
One can dream.
Ok well that’s pretty much it, gonna make a start on Cur 2 tomorrow unless some unforseen circumstance comes along and a bus hits me or something. Won’t be able get much done over the weekend because I have lots of day job stuff to do but I should have something to show of it the week after hopefully.
See you…
It was getting dark, Ericcson was fully awake as far as I could tell. He slowly planed my mother’s Crysler to a stop near a tight grouping of dying oak. The trees loomed over head bare and exposed as the sky burnt out and blackened like a struck match.
The car creaked under him as he got out and slammed the door in the fashion he had become accustomed. He came around the side and picked up the bag I was currently calling home and placed me on the hood of the car for whatever reason. Maybe he thought I needed to stretch my legs, or get a lungful of fresh air, having neither faculty it seemed like a waste of time.
He went around the back of the car out of sight and I heard the trunk opening and closing.
I couldn’t see much for the trees and the looming darkness, he’d angled the car towards an old broken fence. Through the trees I could see a dilapidated red farmhouse and a barn that looked like it needed a new lick of paint.
The ground was a mix of grey and browns, dry and desolate, the leaves blowing in the wind were grey and floated like ash.
I looked closer at the fence, it was more like a small coral for sheep but with no gate. A few of the planks had given way and the fence had slumped slightly to one side, the wood looking sodden and old. On second viewing the coral seemed too small for animals and then I noticed the pieces of wood propped up at even intervals sticking out of the ground. Some of them stooped with age and decay.
Ericcson without a word came around the front of the Crysler after slamming the trunk. Obviously not content with just mistreating the drivers side door of my mother’s car. In his hand was a shovel and all at once it made sense what I was looking at.
Some folks in the more rural parts of new England preferred to have their own private plots. Or if they were just too poor they could opt to intern their dearly departed on any land they owned and create their own tombstones.
So, not a sheep or pig pen but a small family cemetery.
He started digging as the sun went down and then after it was down by the head lights of my mother’s Crysler, never stopping and never seeming to tire. After a while it almost seemed like he wasn’t breathing at all. As I recall it must have been cold but as I had stopped breathing all together I hadn’t thought that his breath should have been visible also.
I decided to give it no further though. I tried to focus on the sound of shovel carving the cold earth like a butcher chopping thick slices of meat. He sunk the blade of the shovel deep into the ground with what seemed like an icy resentment for it being there.
She wasn’t buried very deep, I know nothing of the actual burial but I know most all of her family were lying beside her already, waiting. I believe I read something about it in the paper, in any regard they weren’t currently living in that farm house. She was most likely interned by the state, otherwise she’d have been filed away on a cold shelf in the morgue.
I heard the shovel hit something hard and the sounds of his effort cease. The still night and the sounds of him scratching and scraping away dirt with the cold shovel blade, then his hands. His black nails scratching at the coffin lid. I imagined for a moment that it was her making those noises from the other side of the lid. For what could surprise me now, after the impossible things I’d seen, the impossible thing I was.
It was hard to make out with the stark light of the headlights but I saw him stand. Then I saw him stab down hard and the crack of the wood as it splintered under his boot. He lowered himself down into the hole where I couldn’t see, gently like the honeymoon in the marital bed.
There was then a low sound like a dog whimpering, mad whispered talking. I suddenly felt dizzy, like I couldn’t tell which way was up and there seemed to be pictures projected on the sky. Then it was around me, a room, a padded room. Lying on a bed, my head attached to a body I didn’t recognise. Silence and then a song whispered in the night and a knock at the door, the door to a cell.
L is for love, baby
O is for only you that I do
V is for loving virtually everything that you are
E is for loving almost everything that you do
R is for rape me
M is for murder me
A is for answering all of my prayers
N is for knowing your loverman’s going to be the answer to all your prayers.
It was a woman’s voice singing but there was no music, sung almost like a nursery rhyme, whispered through the door of the padded room. But at the same time it seemed to be all around me. Me? The me experiencing something close to a memory of Ericcson himself in that damned nut house.
L is for love, baby
O is for oh, yes I do
V is for virtue, so I ain’t gonna hurt you
E is for even if you want me to
R is for render unto me, baby
M is for that which is mine
A is for any old how, darling and
N is for any old time
Like Now!
Suddenly she was there, I had no idea how, but she was on top of me. I couldn’t stop her, couldn’t want to. She was strong and forceful and hateful and my limbs felt numb and heavy and willing. A face I knew somehow but changed, a mask of some obscure emotion covered her face and she tried to be someone else and no one. Her features mashing together in some hideous parody of feminine beauty.
Her lips burning and biting into mine, a hollow sinking feeling, cold heat.
And that ring, she was wearing the ring.
The ring.
“It’s gone”
Ericcson’s voice came from the hole.
“Her wedding ring is missing”.
After that Ericcson was aimless, seemingly inconsolable. Driving through the night with no destination. No goal in mind but a rising foul hatred for everything outside of my mother’s Crysler. Of course he didn’t tell me this, he’d barely said a word to me after we left the asylum. His anger, hopelessness, radiated off of him, I could feel it like heat from a lamp, smell it like second hand smoke.
‘Anger’ was a poor choice of words, there was a seething boiling disdain fomenting inside of him for nothing in particular. It felt like he wanted to tear the sky down like it was some pathetic backdrop in a school play. Pull the stars down from the sky and shatter the moon and let thick cool blackness blanket everything forever.
His restlessness was getting to me so I suggested he get something to eat or drink, anything to calm his nerves and take his mind off whatever it was on. He didn’t answer me but he soon pulled up at a little roadside diner connected on one side with a gas station outside of town.
I’m not sure why I insisted that he try calm himself or why I thought food and drink would suffice to do that. Maybe I hoped some kind of routine would spark something in him. Or if I saw him eat a cheeseburger he’d seem more human and I could feel sorry for him instead of revulsion. It occurred to me that I hadn’t seen him eat or drink anything since we’d met, nor had he really slept. I was starting to wonder if he needed to or if he was even still alive. Was this really Zane Ericcson or something else wearing his face?
Regardless, some part of the man remained, the part that was driving him on, that was fueling his hatred. Why else would he visit his wife’s grave, why would he feel this sucking melancholy pulling him under a writhing tide of black bile hatred? If not love, then what?
An hour of staring at a cold bacon double cheese burger and soaking under halogen lights past by. Ericcson decided to skip the slice of keylime pie and top up of coffee and fill up my mother’s Crysler instead.
The gas station was dimly lit and in disrepair with a dingy mini mart squatting behind the pumps. A dagger eyed Asian man glared at us from behind the counter. The diner across from it, I had assumed was an all night affair but after we left it closed and they turned all the lights off.
The silence didn’t last long, punctured by a loud tire squeal and the vein rattling bass beats of urban music.
I saw them pull up in what looked like a Lincoln town car, square, with box like edges, black with a dent in the rearside fender. All this I could see as through protest I had been elevated from my position in the duffelbag on the seat. To my new lofty position of hanging from the head rest by the handle so I could at least see out of the window. A strange thing lacking a stomach but still suffering from phantom car sickness, it helps to see the horizon as most sufferers know.
They parked the car at a haphazard angle and one of the youths got out in a cloud of smoke. The music louder than ever, an oddly shaped hand rolled cigarette hanging from his mouth. He started pumping the gas as one of his friends got out to go into the mini mart. His movements loose and heavy like he was bouncing, his arms swinging by his side.
The one smoking the cigarette noticed Ericcson and shouted over the music. “Hey what’chu lookin’ at man?”
Ericcson said nothing and made no attempt not to stare at the youth.
A moment of awkwardness past then there was a loud series of pops from the mini mart and the one that had entered jogged out, a pistol hanging from his side.
“Ayyo! I said what’chu lookin at man?”
“Who dis?” The youth with the gun said, gesticulating with the pistol as he spoke not looking at Ericcson but pointing the pistol in his general direction. “This nigga wanna die too?”
“Ayyo, we gonna be late to that party man!” Another voice from inside the car shouted over the music.
“I don’t give a shit, this mufucka can I.d us man”
“Then waste his dumb ass, what you think we can wait around here all night?” A moment past as the one with the gun just stood and sweated as he readjusted the gun in his hand. “Bitch ass” The smoker said as he sucked his gums and pulled out his own gun. I can’t say much for guns, my family had never been big on them so the make and model eludes me. It was silver and rather large and I knew the dangerous end was pointed at Ericcson.
“I said; what you lookin a-“
The youth with the cigarette stopped talking as he noticed the change. He focused on Ericcson who remained constant like a waxwork, but the night was silent. No birds chirped or dogs barked, no cars passed, no wind. The pumps, the cars, the gas station, the road, the diner, the sky, were all gone. All moved away like props on a stage.
The youth gaped and his cigarette fell and hit the ground with no sound as he stared at the endless nothingness. The blank black canvass that surrounded them and then there were sounds. Only the sounds of Ericcson’s shoes as he walked closer to the youth. The tap tap tapping that echoed over the dense writhing darkness sending shocks through his veins. Each footstep like a dentist drill skipping over his teeth. The silence itself becoming thick with a terrifying low hum.
His body deflated, all the muscles in his face sagged and his arms shook at his sides as if they weren’t connected to anything. His posture was that of someone floating shoulder deep in a black pool. He felt light and weak but constantly in a comatose rhythmic somnambulist motion.
Ericcson stopped too close to him and took both his hands smiling like the devil himself. He helped the youth clasp the gun tightly in both hands. Then he forced him to put the gun in his mouth.
Ericcons smiled as he bit down on the barrel of the gun and said “Pull it niggerman!”
The youth flared with a rage that was as sudden as it was flaccid, his trembling fingers pulled the trigger and blew out the back of Ericcson’s head. A thick black brain matter exploded out of the back of his head like the ink of a squid and he fell backwards slowly as if he was sinking and then he stopped.
Ericcson rose to his feet from mid fall with a queer slithering motion and he laughed soundlessly.
There was a loud thunderous bang and suddenly reality bobbed into jarring focus like falling in a dream. Everything was the same but now the gun was in the mouth of the youth.
He pulled the trigger and his eyes rolled back into his head as he covered the car in brain matter.
His friend who had come out of the mini mart froze and then started up again like clockwork firing wildly at Ericcson who hadn’t moved from the pumps. Ericcson grinned and raised his hand, out of his sleeve. A vicious stygian tendril shot out and in a blink of an eye had hold of the youth with guns arm and was wrenching him about like a dog with a chew toy.
The tendril, with an inhuman level of strength whipped the youth through the windscreen of the car. His head imploding against the toughened glass and landing in the drivers seat.
The youth in the back of the car got out the otherside and started firing over the roof. In an instant one of those foul tendrils clutched at his throat, wrapping it’s veiny muscular limbs around his neck. The tentacle yanked him across the roof of the car.
Another tentacle slashed at his wrist, severing the hand completely before the one around his neck twisted his head off slowly. His cries trailing off in a distended vile screech like a dying animal.
His body fell from the roof of the car with a terrible wet thud.
Ericcson’s feet scraped the concrete as he walked over to the dead man’s car and casually turned the radio off. He searched the dead man’s jacket pocket, the deadman closest to the pumps. he pulled what seemed to be a piece of paper out of it and walked back over to my mother’s crysler, staring at it intently.
If for some insane reason you want to read the rest of this chapter or this weird ass story, head on over to inkitt. Red right hand

Diana after dark Chapter 12 ‘Wandering limbs’ (remurdered)

Yoyoyo

Gonna be a tight one today because I’m being chased by the black dog and I have other things I need to do.

I really don’t have anything to say today I just feel so shitty and I have no one to talk to. I just feel like this is the end, I’ve been holding on for a long time and I just don’t think I can hold on anymore. All I’m doing is trying to forget and medicate with video games and writing (mostly video games) and I don’t think I can keep doing this. There’s just something wrong with me and I’ll never be who I want to be, I’ll just fade away.

That’s all.

“You can’t do that to me, I was worried sick,” my ‘aunt’ said as she squeezed the cheap plastic steering wheel of her overgrown roller-skate car. Shouting but in a hushed voice like we were in a crowded place. “You can’t stay out late like that without telling me, I must’ve called you a hundred times.”

I counted twenty two missed calls, actually.

I would much rather not have had this one-way conversation. I also would much rather not have had to wait the four or five hours it took for Wendy to go to sleep before I could slip out and get on a bus home. Lastly, I would much rather have avoided the various California-natives who frequented the late night buses. Talk about dick pics. Surely not as distressing as seeing someone in person, urinating on the floor of a moving bus, while singing Waltzing Mathilda in a sequin dress.

“I’m sorry.” I didn’t mean it. The word ‘sorry’ was sort of meaningless. If someone was truly sorry, they’d never do what they were sorry for ever again—or in the first place, for that matter. That wasn’t possible. It was a ritual that was obviously necessary for polite society to function. Despite the fact it seemed completely ineffectual—on women especially. The word was never enough; to be sorry and say sorry were two different things.

“I was sure—I was so worried.”

No effect, Dharma was still just as miserable as she’d been a moment ago, no magic word was going to change that, no vague promises I couldn’t keep. “Did you—?”

A moment of stunned silence passed.

Maybe I should’ve said I was sorry again, maybe I should’ve repeated it over and over again until she stopped talking. We were on our way to pick up my dress and shoes for the prom, which seemed fast-approaching.

I’d soon have to get my hair done, and put on lots of makeup. Pretend to be having the time of my life dancing to eighties music and drinking punch. I’d much rather be out in the dim darkness, making other people drink cool aid, a bit of an outdated reference.

“I could’ve said I was your mother,” she blurted.

“You could’ve lied to me, but instead you lied to me.” I feigned indignation. In actuality, my capacity for disdain, lies and half-truths was very little. A soul was required to feel pangs of sorrow and betrayal. Most of what made up my ‘normal’ existence was a lie, and it seemed petty by comparison. “What difference does it make?” Teenage aloofness was my staple.

“I just thought I could help you.” Her face contorted into something like a grim mask that might summon tears, but none came.

“Help me?” I asked, almost to myself. I didn’t even know I needed help.

“Guide you, give you a normal life, I thought you forgot. I tried so hard to forget, everything.” Dharma cut herself off, stuttering, making a wry almost wrenching noise, like she wanted to cry but nobody taught her how.

“Forget? Forget what?” I made my eyes wide, but I wasn’t sure what I was staring at anymore. If she told me she had had three heads, I would’ve believed her.

“He promised he’d guide us; he promised, but he, never got around to it.” My ‘aunt’ shrugged with a little ‘that’s life’ sad smile, trailing off at the end like it didn’t really matter.

“And then what?” I looked forward as we stopped to let a couple of meth heads cross the street. For a moment I thought I recognized one of them from the bus last night, but I couldn’t tell because this time, he was wearing pants.

“He was gone.” She’d said it like she was talking about the phantom of the opera or something.

“Tell me…about him. Dad,” I said as I studied the palm trees swiping past the window.

“He was—special. He was going to help us get ‘squared away,’ that’s what he said.” Her eyes got a little misty, and her face slackened, like she was reading me a bedtime story. “His father did the same for him.”

“Get squared away?” I watched the scenery fly by, the small sad houses of Santa Ana, baking. A couple of Hispanic women rolled past with double strollers with gold wheels.

“We weren’t born like this. When he was gone, and there was no one. No one to keep us on the straight path.” Dharma’s face became a confusion of worry-lines, like she was trying to unravel a ball of headphone wires with can openers for hands.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

“We’re here.” She parked outside the dress shop in Santa Ana, where I’d been measured and ambushed all in the same day.

“Is that why you sicked Captain Claw on me?” I called after her as she’d hopped out. “To get me squared away?”

If you want to pick up the rest of this bad girl you’ll have to wait until its released or if you’re on my mailing to get an e-copy at some point in the near future.

Starship troopers tv show pilot scene 4

Hey there,

Yeah still milking the starship troopers thing in loo of real writing haha. I dunno I think I’m dreading doing prose again for some reason, keep trying to put it off but now I really can’t get away from it. Having to commit my heart and soul to something again, it’s like a relationship almost, I feel like I lose a little piece of my soul every time I write something just for some unmarried cat lady in an office in new york or london who smells like box wine and elevator farts to shit on it haha.

Especially since all the bullshit around chritmas, I just feel so fucked recently, by everything but I keep on not killing myself like the selfless prick I am haha. Hey those videogames don’t play themselves.

For some reason I was thinking about how bad american horror story apocalypse was last night in the shower and I realised the part that pissed me off the most was how ambitious yet incompetent it was. It’s the first season where I noticed how little money actually went into it. Because it’s set initially in a ‘bunker’, now the reason I say that is that it’s basically just a house with no natural light where the windows are covered up and they tell you its underground and ‘naturally shielded’. It also handily functions as a school for teen warlocks so that’s convenient, don’t need to make two sets, you literally just use the same set over and over.

And the reason the school is underground is because ‘muh persecution’ apparently there was a time where weird effeminate warlocks were seen as ok then here comes ‘trumps america’ stirring up all this gay warlock hate and they need to make a new school that’s underground. And I literally mean they’re all gay because apparently in this universe testosterone suppresses magic so only women and really effeminate men can be warlocks. Which gives way to one of the best Cheyenne Jackson characters that was criminally under used. He basically played a camp Constantine haha. He’s just shoved out of the way for the boring witch characters that weren’t interesting in season 3.

So they have a post apocalyptic show set in a bunker and they don’t have the cash to get a real bunker set, so it’s all just set in this dark house. It’s incredibly lame and you never get to see any of the other bunkers or the sanctuary they hinted at, it’s just one big flashback cheesy clip show.

Ok all my rage out for that show, it’s apparently been renewed but the original writer has gone on to work for netflix so it’ll either get a new life under a new writer or be peacefully sunsetted.

Anyway, about this actual scene, in the movie starship troopers Rico’s father is just kind of this two dimensional character, rich dad man, rich dad man angry because son not want to go to harvard and continue the family business. He’s a little like that in the start of the book but he’s much more than that. He does get mad when Rico disobeys him and goes off to join the MI because he really has no good reason to. There’s no family tradition, he never really has a good reason, he says it’s not to impress a girl but it kind of is, more so in the movie but also because his friend is doing it and he has no real direction and just wants to strike out on his own and find himself.

His father has an understandable position, he doesn’t want his son to get killed fighting some war he thinks is pointless but he’s happy to send other people’s kids off and he doesn’t have a good perspective on what’s really at stake. That’s it’s not just about the individual, I think that’s one of the major themes of the book. That being a citizen is more than just voting, it’s about understanding that you’re part of something greater and the responsibility is on your shoulders to carry the society. And not everyone can be entrusted with that right, because some people are happy just to be part of it, just to be carried and they choose not to see the things and the people holding them up and in some regards they even resent them. Which I think is perfectly highlighted in the book by intellectuals who scoff at the system but don’t have the fortitude of character or the selflessness to take part in it.

And rico’s father lives in the book and he has a change of heart and it’s a really interesting part of the book that I would love to see in a tv show. It’s not something they could really go into in the movies because they’re so surface level. They don’t want to tell a real story with real characters like in the book, they just want a big set piece explosion movie to make money off the fans of the original. Like all these animated movies, they use the names of the characters only as a draw for all the explosions and bugs being killed, they don’t actually have the balls to do anything with them. They’re just there to appease the fans when there’s no way there can be any development of these characters.

In a way these characters are just sort of frozen forever, waiting for someone to actually thaw them and give them an arc, bring them to life.

Anyhoo, waffled enough for one day. Gonna try and get some more eyes on Cur for now I think, try and get a publisher possibly, I dunno, getting an indie publisher didn’t really work out for me last time. I’m thinking of writing all three books and releasing it as a full trilogy.

See you…

InT. rico’s bedroom. Night.

 

 

RICO is getting ready for the senior dance, he’s wearing a tux and his parents are helping him get ready.

 

 

Rico’s mom

 

 

You look wonderful sweetheart.

 

 

RiCO

 

 

Thanks mom.

 

 

RiCO’S MOM

 

 

Go see your father before you go, I’m sure he’ll want to see you too.

 

 

RICO

 

 

Sure thing mom.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

InT. Rico’s house living. night.

 

 

Rico’s dad is in his chair reading the news paper smoking a pipe in front of the fire. He puts his paper down and smiles at Rico as he comes in.

 

 

Rico’s Dad

 

 

Looking sharp boy.

 

 

RiCO

 

 

Thanks dad.

 

 

Rico looks hesitant but he has something he want to say.

 

 

RiCO’S DAD

 

 

Something on your mind son?

 

 

RICO

 

 

Dad, I wanna join up for federal service.

 

 

Rico’s dad puts his pipe down.

 

 

RiCO’S

DAD

 

 

Boy, have you lost your mind?

 

 

RiCO

 

 

Sir?

 

 

RiCO’S DAD

 

 

Are you looking to get yourself killed?

 

 

RICO

 

 

No, sir.

 

 

RicO’S DAD

 

 

Have you told your mother about this?

 

 

RiCO

 

 

No, sir.

 

 

RICO’S DAD

 

 

(sighing) I suppose there’s a time in every boy’s life when he wants to do something phenomenally stupid.

 

 

 

 

 

RICO’S DAD (

CONT’D

)

 

 

I remember when you learned to walk just yay high and you were a little

sonofabitch

, breaking everything not nailed down.

 

 

RICO’S DAD (

CONT’D

)

 

 

I remember the time you and your friend Karl stole one of my cigars and I didn’t say anything because some mistakes it’s good to learn on your own. How sick it made you was a lesson on it’s own.

 

 

RicO’S DAD (

CONT’D

)

 

 

This, isn’t one of those mistakes, this could ruin your life if it doesn’t take it first.

 

 

RicO

 

 

I wouldn’t ruin my life, just a term of service that’s all, not a career.

 

 

RicO’S DAD

 

 

This family has stayed out of politics for over a hundred years, why would you want to stray from that? We made our own way, followed no man but our fathers before us.

 

 

RICO’S DAD (

CONT’D

)

 

 

Why would you want to change that proud tradition?

 

 

RiCO’S DAD (

CONT’D

)

 

 

Tell me it’s not for a girl?

 

 

RICO

 

 

No, sir.

 

 

RicO’S DAD

 

 

It’s that teacher of yours, the veteran?

 

 

RICO’S DAD (

CONT’D

)

 

 

What was his name.

 

 

RICO

 

 

Mr. Dubois.

 

 

RiCO’S DAD

 

 

That’s it, did he put you up to this, there ought to be a law against turning a classroom into a recruitment centre.

 

 

RICO

 

 

No, sir. Mr. Dubois, he isn’t like that, if anything he tries to talk us out of service.

 

 

RiCO’S DAD

 

 

Son, your life can be so much more than this, you can go to

harvard

and study business, do some travelling and when you come back the business will be waiting for you to take over.

 

 

RICO’S DAD (

CONT’D

)

 

 

It would be different if there was a war on but there isn’t you’ll just be wasting two years of your life for nothing.

 

 

RICO’S DAD (

CONT’D

)

 

 

Is Karl doing it?

 

 

RiCO

 

 

Yeah but dad, it’s not…

 

 

RiCO’S DAD

 

 

(sighing) he’s a fine boy, but misguided.

 

 

RicO’S DAD (

CONT’D

)

 

 

I wanted to keep this as a surprise for after when you graduate.

 

 

RicO’S DAD (

CONT’D

)

 

 

How does a vacation to mars sound instead of all this federal service nonsense?

 

 

RICO

 

 

Wow, dad, I had no idea.

 

 

RiCO’S DAD

 

 

Have fun at the dance son, and think about what I said.

 

 

RICO

 

 

I will, thanks dad.

Diana in the dark Chapter 11 ‘Dark lines’ (remurdered)

Here I go again recycling material. Well hey there, that wont be too long because I just finished furiously beating out the plan for Cur 2 and it turned out pretty nice and easy.

Although my plan to turn it into a five part series was sort of torpedoed because I basically decided that the structured would be better if I mashed two of my book ideas together. Otherwise I’d have had to come up with a bunch of filler to water down each concept and I didn’t want to make this middling story full of filler unconnected to the lore and plot.

Also laziness, pulling unconnected story out of your ass is hard and all I’m really doing with this is taking the actual mythology and give it connective tissue so it seems like a story and not just a bunch of stuff happening. So it’s not just X god did this, you understand their motivations, you know why they did it and how they feel about it.

So I’m just reciting mythology, I’m giving it life and taking a hell of a lot of liberties to do it. So I could insert huge swaths of unrelated story from different sources for instance some of what I added was from Arthurian legend and I added a tiny bit of Lovecraft because that’s just fun and forgive me for thinking a race of evil fish people should be a little lovecraftian haha.

But I didn’t want to take away from the plot and just have this little padded book, I want to write something I would read, I want adventure, I want a journey. I don’t want my characters to go to one place and be there the whole time, I want them to feel like I’ve gone with them. So to give it more scope I scraped two books and made one cohesive story.

It’s set to be a trilogy and I might just write them concurrently with clown shit in between haha. I basically don’t want to drip feed people this story or try and stretch it out like this is just a middle book, I want it to stand on it’s own and surpass the first which this definitely will. This book will make the first look a tiny in comparison by it’s scope. And then by the third book it will make the leap to epic fantasy, this second book is like the bridge from tight sword and sorcery pulp fantasy to epic sprawling huge battles fantasy.

Yeah so probably gonna start that next week but I feel like I should finish Loverman first just for the sake of my sanity. I’m imagining one person out there just ripping their hair out longing for a conclusion lurking just around the corner. Of course this person doesn’t exist or is more or less me. I’m just sort of feeling fantasy right now, sword and sorcery, also want to finish this boring red scare Shadow book so I can get back into Conan, which I’ve been really looking forward to.

Anyway that’s about all, just gonna be looking into more places I can send Cur to, maybe try and get more feedback on it because I think it sags a little towards the end. I dunno, I’ll wait for some objective opinions.

See you…

Locking doors was obviously for poor people who weren’t literally encircled by a small army of trigger happy ex-cops. Because Wendy was out prepping for the prom, it was certain she wouldn’t be here. I knew she had a brother but he was rarely home in the day, myths of an expensive heroin habit abounded. He’d probably stumble home much later, if at all.

The house should be empty but for an annoying little yappy dog she was banned from taking into school in her purse. Hopefully since the prom wasn’t at school, she’d probably have the annoying little rat with her, and I wouldn’t be tempted to pulp its head into an eight hundred dollar Persian rug.

I loved animals, but not that particular one.

I took a quick precautionary glance across the street, but thankfully aside from a team of illegals gardening two houses over, they were quiet. I guessed everyone was out living the good life, lounging around a golf course or a yacht or something. Aside from one guy eating noodles in his underwear and crying in a house he soon wouldn’t be able to afford.

I slipped into the house and closed the door firmly behind me. As I stood in the cool, sweet-smelling foyer, I felt okay. I was just a pretty rich girl coming home from yogalates, walking into her own home—no big deal. Nobody could call the cops over that. It wasn’t like I’d used a grappling hook and scaled the wall garden.

The interior was fresh and clean, cream interior walls with off-white, eggshell tiles on the floor. A staircase, carpeted in a darker cream snaked off from the oddly angled front door up to the bedrooms on the right. A big curtain-less window at the turn of the stairs let in lots of light.

I stopped in the hall and listened to the steady creak of silence. This confirmed the house was empty, so I let go of my breath and padded the tiles and dust off this new set of leathery predator wings.

The entryway opened up into a huge but very minimalist carpeted living room, it seemed to take up a whole corner of the house. It was very eighties deco, devoid of color, with a high ceiling that spanned both floors cut off by a balcony onto the second floor. There was a door off to the left, leading into a relatively small galley kitchen which was nevertheless very nice.

I wasn’t there for the tour, so it wasn’t like it mattered. I doubled back to the front door and started a slow ascent up the stairs. Looked outside the huge window at the turn, hoping not to see some nosey old woman staring at me and memorizing my face for a sketch artist to reproduce.

I figured if I was going to find any evidence at all of Wendy’s guilt, it wouldn’t be lying between the pages of a copy of Teen Vogue on the coffee table.

“Hey remember when I poisoned my dad and framed my mom for the money? Lol smiley face smile face xoxox.”

It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility, but seemed unlikely. But who knew. She wasn’t like me, not the same kind of monster; a normal killer for a normal reason, a sane reason to do something insane, money was the root of all this.

So there was a chance Wendy wasn’t like me at all; there was a chance she had emotions. One of those possibly being guilt, and if that was true, she’d leave some trace of it behind.

My best bet was finding her computer and working a little slack hack magic on it, basically shake it and see what fell out.

I turned the corner, checking the window, but it was just the bare windowless face of the neighboring house staring back at me. I continued on up the second flight, noting an open bathroom off the stairs—seemed an odd place to put a bathroom.

The second floor split off in two directions, leading to the bedrooms. As far as I could remember, Wendy’s bedroom was off to the left, and her parent’s en suite was off to the right. Considering her parents weren’t in the picture anymore, it made little sense to not occupy the empty en suite.

It’s what I’d do, would have to be crazy to let all that closet space go to waste because of what? Sentimentality? Ghosts maybe?

I padded the carpeted floor delicately, hoping my light frame wouldn’t leave any telling footprints. Thankfully I’d remembered to not wear heels, and had opted for a set of flat treadless pumps.

I took the right, peering over the second floor balcony down at the living room and the large windows. It seemed like an average sleepy day in the neighborhood, not a curious dog walker in sight. Just sun shining and birds chirping.

Oh how I longed for the huge savage moon, and that black canvas of night to paint red.  ‘Soon,’ it hissed, and I knew it was right.

Soon I’d have my starry night and my bloody moon.

There was no rush; I’d started as early as I could. They’d be at the preparations until late into the afternoon. Factoring in Frappuccino and pastelito breaks, maybe some California tuna rolls. Skipping breakfast had been a mistake.

New rule; never break and enter on an empty stomach.

The hallway got a little narrower, I passed an airing cupboard and I could smell signs of a lived-in nature. More specifically, Wendy’s perfume; it seemed my estimation of her and our shared desire for closet space was on-point.

I entered, and was sort of surprised that the room was so small. Then I turned my head. I’d stepped into her closet.

I opened the door to her actual room and was instantly taken aback.

It was so… so…

Neat.

If you want to read more of this lovely book I’m probably going to be giving it away to people on my mailing list by the end of the year so join that and hold on to your butts. If you can’t wait that long just head on over to my inkitt page and read the raw version. It’s not all prim and proper but you’ll get the thrust.

 

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