"This challenge asks you to tell your fictional/non-fictional story about love -- lost or found -- in the first special Valentine's blogfest for the month of February."
I'm not much of a Happily Ever After writer, but decided to challenge myself for this bloghop and get somewhat better than satisfactory ending. Almost. My excerpt is less than 500 words, which is a real challenge for me as I'm not usually very concise. At the end, I posted the Taylor Swift video that inspired my writing. I hope you enjoy both, and then visit other participants to this prompt.
REMEMBER ME
The last time I saw Melika she was standing on this same cliff. It was twilight, a light breeze lifting her golden hair, the city spread out below, lights twinkling as brilliant as the first stars. The setting sun painting her cheeks pink. Her hand in the air, not quite waving good-bye.
She knew it couldn’t last, I made no promises.
The mission was to make contact, scout a secure route into the city, and establish a temporary base. Melika was the contact. Beautiful, intelligent, dedicated to the ideal of freedom. Together we roamed the streets, pretending to be lovers touring the city. She had a delicate, easy laugh, soft hands that felt like silk sliding through my fingers.
I fell in love with the city as she told its history, related ancient stories of heroic deeds, revealed secret passages below majestic structures. It was magical. She was magical. By the time Jenkins gave the command to advance I was hopeless lost in her charms.
“Remember me,” Melika said on our last stolen night together.
Her place was out of the city, cut off by hills on one side, the ocean on the other. Lost in momentary passion, I nearly missed the rendezvous with my unit.
“Is that her,” the pilot asked through the head set.
The chopper banked as it drew closer, giving me a side view of the bluff and burnt out house. Melika stood silhouetted in the light of bursting bombs, short hair standing straight from the wind of the rotors. She’d lost her smile, torn jeans and blood stained shirt replaced the summer dress I remembered.
“That’s her.” I scanned the area for hostiles, then motioned for the pilot to set it down.
I was half out of the copter as it skimmed land, anxious to know if she still remembered me, when the bullets razed the tail.
“There, there,” I yelled into the mike as the chopper lifted and spun.
Cooper was already laying down cover fire as the pilot regained control and launched a missile at a jeep that suddenly raced from under the rubble that used to be a garage.
My ears were ringing from the explosion and gunfire, distorting the commands to abort the pick up. Through the smoke, Melika stood tall, her hand in the air.
“Negative, Captain. We can’t leave her.”
“There may be more hostiles Sir,” Cooper argued. “And she could be in on the trap. We can’t risk it.”
I won’t leave her again I promised myself. I’d kept her last request, remembering every detail of our time together. “Take us down, now.”
I climbed out on the runner and leaned down, stretching my arm towards Melika’s still raised hand.
“Make it quick,” Cooper told the pilot.
I blocked out the commands to abort, the gun fire, the sudden silence as the bombs stopped. I focused on Melika’s unwavering hand.
Today, please help me give a warm welcome to the awesome author/blogger David Powers King.
Thank you for having me, Donna! They say it’s about the journey, not the destination. This is all too true with my journey as an author. There’s no destination in sight, and you know, I wouldn’t have it any other way. It all started with a crazy science fiction story I cooked up in high school and I’ve been at this writing business ever since. I’ve been lucky to befriend many wonderful authors and have gathered an audience on my website. But it wasn’t always easy, and it did take years to get to where I am today. If you have the dream and determination, you’ll go far. I also have many who have helped me along the way. I thank them for their time and their wisdom.
My first published book was Woven, a YA fantasy about a ghost, a princess, and the search for a magic needle. Now that the world of publishing is changing, I’ve decided to go hybrid by self-publishing The Undead Road, the first book in a new zombie series. Juggling between traditional and self-publishing my work will be an interesting adventure indeed. And being unemployed at the moment, more so. You’re invited to check out the worlds I’ve created in these two stories.
Whether you’re a writer or not, never stop believing in what you can achieve. Dream large, stand tall, and open your mind, for you are the conduit for a story that is yet to be told.
* * *
What a fabulous journey you've had David. Thank you for sharing it with us. I hope all goes well with this newest novel, and your self-publishing journey.
Title: The Undead Road: My Zombie Summer: Part One
Publisher: Dashboard Books / CreateSpace
Ebook Release: January 2st, 2016
Paperback: January 26th, 2016
Cover by Steven Novak
Edited by Reece Hanzon Blurb:
Nothing brings the family together like a zombie apocalypse …
Fifteen-year-old Jeremy Barnes would rather watch a zombie movie than shoot a real one, but he has no choice if his family wants to survive the end of the world. Their plan? Drive across the infected United States to a cabin in the Colorado Rockies without a scratch, but their trip takes a complicated detour in the middle of Nebraska when they find Kaylynn, a girl who can handle a baseball bat better than Jeremy can hold a .45 Berretta. And when they stumble into a sanctuary, Jeremy soon learns that Kaylynn is stronger than she looks—a deadly secret lies inside her.
After the radio picks up a distress call from Kansas City about a possible cure, Jeremy’s parents go with a team to investigate. They never return. The only way to find their parents is for Jeremy and his sister Jewel to rely on a dangerous girl who might just turn on them at any moment.
"For me, zombie stories are never about the killing. They're about the survivors and how people deal with the apocalypse. To this undead end, David Powers King has come up with the most original spin on zombies I've ever read." - Michael Offutt, author of Slipstream and Oculus Contest Details:
Visit davidpowersking.com and leave and comment and/or tweet about The Undead Road (at least once) for a chance to win a free ebook. One out of every 10 comments and tweets is a winner! Use the Twitter Button below to ensure the author will see your tweet. Thank you!
About the Author:
David Powers King was born in beautiful downtown Burbank, California where his love for film inspired him to be a writer. He is the co-author of the YA fantasy novel WOVEN, published by Scholastic. An avid fan of science fiction and fantasy, David also has a soft spot for zombies and the paranormal. He currently lives deep in the mountain West with his wife and three children.
Hey Lovers - musically inclined and otherwise . . .
Gee, did you notice the first month of the year is half over already? How did that happen so quickly?
You know, Battle of the Bands has been going on a long, long, long, long, long . . well, maybe not THAT long time. Started by then ex-pat FAR AWAY EYES, then supported by everyone's favorite fascist Stephen T McCarthy, and joined by many, many music enthusiasts over its blogging history. Through good times and sad times, wacky and weird, classic and rock and hip hop and raggae blues; this group has risen to the challenge twice a month.
I've posted for the BotB more often than not, until lately. So nice to see some new faces hanging out, and new tastes in music; plus those old timers (not necessarily OLD timers Lee) and their steady bop. I've enjoyed this variety show, and made some good friends along the way; but its time for me to join the ranks of those that have abandoned moved along in their journey.
My excuses run from sooooo so busy, to the "I really should be writing," but eventually is probably more like I've run out of ideas. A combination of all expected justifications, but boils down to this being my last post - for the Battles. For a while anyways.
Not the last time I'll visit all the BotB participants, as time allows. As mentioned, I've made some awesome friends with this competition series, and I prefer reading/listening to posts rather than crafting them lately.
Life being what it is, I'm intending to focus what free time I have (between procrastination tactics and writing related commitments) on actual WRITING. Its been a couple years since I had anything published, and I just bet if I sat down and wrote out some of those stories, then let my CPs nit pik out the flaws and submitted to ezines, I might feel that writing gratification again. Maybe. I'll start with the Lost and Found blogfest on Feb 1 - meaning I better get something written soon or that deadline will pass me by too.
My song pick today isn't a battle. I'd probably forget (as always) to return to post the votes and winners. And wowzers, do you know how many sappy or f**k you leaving/goodbye/farewell songs are out there? I'm not dying, going away forever, or pissed at my BotB relationship! Have we had a blast or what? So I'm sparing y'all that with just a simple song that imparts the sentiment "yo, don't forget to come back for regular posts; I'll see you for your's too!"
How cool, huh? Not only is this the first Wednesday of the month, its the first Wednesday of year 2016. I have high hopes for this year in both my writing and everyday life.
I feel its important to start the year with positive thoughts. Later in the year, as things get out of whack and hard to deal with, it will be good to reflect there was a point when things were exciting, new. When there was all that potential . .
Like a lotto ticket sitting in the glove of the car - as long as I don't check the numbers, its the big winner.
As long as I don't submit . . er, no, that's going the other way.
Anyway; not doing a reflective post, lots went sour, plenty went well, or even better than expected. No publications to brag about, but got some writing done, settled some issues causing major stress, wrote (revised) some projects, and remembered how to be a real person again. See, I can be glass half full, a little.
No resolutions either, just a simple goal to make the best effort I can in everything, and to write 100 words a day (or at least most days) through 2016.
Congrats to all the writers who submitted to the IWSG Anthology; and bigger congrats to those that were accepted in the first publication. WHOOP! WHOOP!!
I'm out of town, and wasn't planning on posting for either the BATTLE OF THE BANDS (hosted by Saint Mac and FAE) or Write Edit Publish: Holiday Celebrations (hosted by Denise Covey and Yolanda Rene) because it will be a couple days before I'm home and able to browse this many link participants.
Scroll down for WEP if this BotB doesn't dazzle you.
For BotB'ers: short and sweet. Vote on your favorites, or just enjoy - or not. Please feel free to vote on all your impressions: visual, auditory, group favorite. Or stick your tongue out at me in the comments and register a "no vote." Ya'll know I'm not one for traditional or commercial Christmas spirit.
Want to give me MORE Holiday spirit? Read and comment on my original Write, Edit, Publish: Holiday Celebrations writing. Yep, you read that right, I wrote a near one thousand word excerpt as my last writing and blogging post for the year.
For this challenge, our final for 2015, you will be asked to share your ideas for a holiday that is out of this world, literally. Take us to a new planet, universe, or simply change the one you're on.
Since December is the month of celebration, the Winter Solstice, Christmas, Chanukah, Boxing Day, Kwanzaa, New Year's Eve and many more. We want you to take us out of this world. Take a trip to a new planet but use your experiences, memories, or just your imagination to write a holiday celebration that is unique to you and this new or drastically changed location.
Write a story, a paragraph, a poem, show us some artwork, a screenplay or take a photograph. The night sky is always 'out of this world' – okay, sorry for the pun, but have fun!
Remember, anything is possible! You can make it happen!
This month, the out of this world, speculative fiction/sci fi excerpts will be judged by author/blogger and IWSG founder Alex J. Cavanaugh. Click here for further details of this challenge and to read others and/or add your own submission to the linky. Submissions close Dec 19, Australian time.
EARTH DAY
998 words
All feedback acceptable.
Dag and Fil clipped the mossy skirt to the six meter long metal float, then stood back to admire their achievement. For months the two boys had spent every free moment collecting the glowing, multicolored lichen and embroidering it into the satiny blanket that now surrounded that float’s structure.
“Now what?” Dag asked his brother.
“Now we wait for Sol to place his ice sculpture atop and we join the parade,” Fil answered.
“He’s late.”
“Yep,” Fil agreed, scratching at a down-covered spot on his neck that had begun to molt.
“Don’t pick at it,” Dag warned. “Someone will notice and report you.”
Dag had begun molting again a few weeks earlier, starting between his shoulders and quickly spreading down his back and hips. Just thinking about the changes made him shake involuntarily, causing the rough undershirt to rub against his feathering skin and satisfy the urge to scratch. Two years older than his brother, he’d been through the process once already, and knew a few tricks about remaining undetected; and coping.
Fil looked around the warehouse, taking note of the noise and bustle of the other parade participants for the first time since arriving hours earlier. No mentors were allowed in the staging area as the students put the final touches to their Earth Day projects and jostled for position in the line up. Many of their classmates had already joined the procession – those that decorated with traditional Earth flowers and vegetables grown in special green houses all year, musicians and dancers in colorful costumes depicting the unusual diversity of that old world; bakers and cooks that intended to sell their wares at the banquets and street markets that the holiday encouraged.
None of the other industrial projects looked ready for presentation. Fil was sure they could be next up, if Sol would just get here and uncover his masterpiece.
“We’re all evolving, no one is Pure anymore. I’m not ashamed.”
Dag moved closer, lowering his voice to a level that no Pure Earthling and few Articans could hear. “It is not shame that keeps us hidden.”
“No shame.” The words drifted on the air from many directions, sifting through the artificial warmth.
Dag and Fil glanced around, but everyone seemed busy with their projects. Welding sparks, shouts of enthusiasm, curses and challenges, hammer bangs and ignition booms; nothing out of the ordinary for this artistic apprentice group.
“Trouble makers.”
That whisper was easily tracked, and both boys smiled as Sol strode through a side door. As usual he was wearing only a short sleeved shirt, khaki pants, no shoes, his long blue-black hair looking more like a mammal pelt worn by their ancient Earthling ancestors. Jem followed in his wake, small and mysterious in a deep blue robe that covered her from head to – bare feet.
“Aw come on; this is not the day to make statements.” Dag succumbed to a nervous itch, then he and Fil followed Sol to a locked freezer.
Sol punched in a code, lifted the huge metal lever, and turned to grin at his friends. “We’re going to win today. Grand prize is an audience with the Empress –"
“Only her daughter-”
“ – who is rumored to be evolving just as we are. I say that today is the perfect day for a statement.” Sol opened the heavy door wide and motioned for Dag, Fil and Jem to precede him.
“There will be a hundred prize winners Sol. And who wants to sit through all those ceremonies and speeches instead of drinking, eating, and getting it on with the girls.”
Dag adjusted his body temperature as he stepped into the freezer. At three degrees Celsius outside, it was one of the warmest days on Artica, and the scientists had speculated direct sunlight might even reach them later in the day. Dag put as much faith in the possibility of sunlight as he did in a supply shipment from Earth. It’d been over three hundred years since the appearance of either anomaly. Unlike the self claimed Pure Earthers, Dag did not welcome the feel of heat, although he hid his displeasure in clothing that looked layered and warm when in public.
“Its beautiful,” Fil stated, scratching at his neck again.
The sculpture glistened in the frigid air, a perfect replica of the colony ship Pleiadies that brought their first ancestors to the frozen planet named after the coldest region of Earth. The settlement had thrived for a hundred years after it was established, but as supplies and support had diminished, and eventually stopped, the citizens had to adapt to the frozen tundra. Many of the younger generation questioned why the annual Earth Day holiday was still celebrated. Few lived who remembered landing day.
“Its too small to be noticed,” Dag disagreed.
At just under four meters, the replica would be the smallest entry into the parade. The prospect of a dance or three, and possibly more, with his girlfriend later was looking up. He could almost taste the Artican Brew on his rubbery lips.
Sol and Jem laughed, the sound vibrating on the freezing air like the humming notes of a flute.
“Show them Jem,” Sol said, tugging the shoulders of Jem’s robe.
She raised her arms and let him pull it over her head. Fil showed his respect by turning his head, but Dag stared at her nude, multi-colored body. He’d seen her talents before, and the spectacle always fascinated him.
Jem winked at Dag, and suddenly the room was filled with a shifting rainbow of colors that crystalized around and above the Pleiades sculpture.
“Under the lichen blanket Jem will be able to absorb and reflect the natural colors. We’ll outshine even Dar’s electrically generated lights,” Sol bragged.
Dag glanced at his brother, who returned his eager grin. “We’ll be arrested.”
“Making us the biggest winners of the parade, with a private audience with the young Empress for sentencing.”
“Brilliant,” Dag and Fil said together as they lifted the sculpture.
Here in the US it is the holiday season, starting in November with Thanksgiving, which officially opens the SHOPPING SEASON for Christmas. Although I enjoy the lights, decorations and sentiment of peace, love and togetherness, I'm not fond of the shopping mandate, the advertising that implies (and many times outright states) that the LOVE a person receives is dependent upon the price of the gift giving.
Color me a scrooge; I don't need all that advertising - as in constant e-mail spam - to remind me I'm broke. I'll give gifts when I feel like it, which is birthdays and whenever I see something that I think someone I care about would like to have.
Bah Humbug!
I caved into the shopping spirit this year, and have already got a good portion of my list completed. I've even been thinking of buying a four foot tree for the Cat to enjoy. Its early, we'll see about that one. My favorite thing about Christmas is the stockings. I love collecting items to stuff them with on Christmas Eve. Candy, lottery tickets, iTunes/Google Play gift cards, miniature cars and action figures. And of course a book or two for those who love a good read to cozy up to.
E-readers and tablets are making that book stuffing a bit more difficult; the generic Amazon or B&N gift card just isn't the same as picking out a specific book title. Unless the person I'm giving a book to is as difficult to buy a book for as I am. My grand daughter (11) is an avid reader, and she loves the feel of a paper book, but already she is proving difficult to buy a book to her tastes. Today she is into faeries and dragons, tomorrow she might prefer Greek Gods, and then there's the Monster High or zombie books she'll sprinkle into the mix. Like me, she needs to be staring at the book titles and covers before making a final decision about what to read.
Today is the first Wednesday of the month, and for my INSECURE WRITERS SUPPORT GROUP contribution I'd like to admonish all my author friends to remember their target audience. THE STRANGER READERS, not the fellow authors or critique partners that consistently view the working manuscript before its final publication. Yes, do listen to your crit partners and those you trust to give you honest feedback.
As a frequent critique partner and beta reader, I am often reminded that writers have a tendency to want to please their writing groups as much as their target readers. I am guilty of this fallacy myself. Too often when starting a project, I think of what my critique partners would like to read in the story I'm producing, and I forget that my friends/co-authors are not the purchasing audience I want to entice with the publication. Admittedly, writers are also readers; but I have noticed (for me anyway) that being a part of a story's creation can remove the wonder of discovery that makes that stranger reader so important..
Congratulations to all the NaNoWriMo participants that completed their commitment; and for those that started and did not finish, kudos for the attempt. Keep at it, some people write slower than others, but the revision process is in all our future stories.
