Friday, 12 December 2008
Tuesday, 11 November 2008
My Books are now available from Amazon!
Whey-hey ... recognition of sorts, Amazon now stock my books. Well... not stock exactly, but the books are available from Amazon. They show up as "out of stock" because the publishing house are a print-on-demand outfit, so Amazon probably won't keep any in their warehouses, but it won't take long for them to get the books anyway.
Buy Lord of the Things Book I: The Mellow Hip of the Thing on Amazon.com
Buy Lord of the Things Book I: The Mellow Hip of the Thing on Amazon.co.uk
Buy Warts & All Poetry Collection on Amazon.com
Buy Warts & All Poetry Collection on Amazon.co.uk
Buy Space Oddity on Amazon.com
Buy Space Oddity on Amazon.co.uk
This could be the star of something big... well in all likelihood it won't, but I can dream can't I?!?!
CaptainD - Fiction Blog
Buy Lord of the Things Book I: The Mellow Hip of the Thing on Amazon.com
Buy Lord of the Things Book I: The Mellow Hip of the Thing on Amazon.co.uk
Buy Warts & All Poetry Collection on Amazon.com
Buy Warts & All Poetry Collection on Amazon.co.uk
Buy Space Oddity on Amazon.com
Buy Space Oddity on Amazon.co.uk
This could be the star of something big... well in all likelihood it won't, but I can dream can't I?!?!
CaptainD - Fiction Blog
Monday, 8 September 2008
"Alone" - science fiction short story
"Alone" was previously published in a UK Independent Press Sci-fi magazine called "Zest" and on the popular skiffy website "Steel Caves". I don't think I've reached this level of writing on many occasions. I'm extremely proud of this one.
Alone
If I were to describe myself to you, you would think I was some kind of alien. If I showed you a picture of myself, you would think me an inhuman freak. If you were to see me in the flesh, you'd get the shock of your life. If you knew of my plight, my destiny, chosen by those who care not for me, you would pity me.
Am I bitter? I would have to answer yes.
And yet, how could I not be?
Few know of my existence. Or maybe none. I was supposed to be one of many, but there were only two of us before the fire came. Now there is only one. I have no companion, no soul mate. I am alone. I suppose that's why I have become so self-centred. There is simply no one else to care about.
Why am I alive? The answer is simple. Because I cannot die. Oh yes, and I am supposed to fight, to protect, should the need arise. Since the war, humans have given up the whole technology thing. You could say they've "plugged and played", and now it's game over. Not so much given up, I should say, rather none of it survived except that which is controlled by the scientists here. The countries least developed were the only ones to survive, the ones not considered important military targets. Now the West, as it was called, is gone. The radiation is spreading, has killed off the remaining countries, all except these last ones here in Africa. The disease will soon spread here, I know. So do the scientists who created me. But the ordinary people do not. They still lead the same lives, worship the same gods, and have the same struggle to survive... The Western ones called them primitive, but look what their "advancement" did for them in the end.
And now they've ruined the earth for all these children of the earth, too.
I'm talking to myself as if relating everything to another. Well, I've got nothing else to do. I know these walls are unbreakable. These scientists aren't stupid. Cruel, evil, arrogant; but not stupid.
I was about ten years old when I found out how it had begun. Genetically modified food. Huh! What a background to come from! I, perhaps the most astonishing, perhaps the last achievement of human science, have as a hereditary line a cabbage! Well, I suppose that's taking things to an extreme. That was just when they realised what they could accomplish. Funny that it happened almost simultaneously with the first human clone.
Still, I digress. As if it matters, when I'm talking to myself. But still. Genetic engineering. I wonder if anyone else knew that someone had the bright idea of introducing the concept to that tribe in the Pacific who still adhered to cannibalism? Also, it's strange to think that even after being educated in Cambridge, those students should want to go back there. I suppose the idea of working with Professor Sutton and his team, for the greater good of their homeland, as they saw it, was a great attraction. Sutton. How I hate that name. I don't see it as coincidental that it's so similar to Satan. In fact, if it came down to a straight choice, I think I'd rather take my chances with the Devil.
It's easy to guess what happened, isn't it? The term "who's for supper" took on a whole new perspective. Even in cannibalistic societies, it was rather disconcerting to think that you might end up eating your own friend, or possibly even family member. Thanks to Sutton the Devil, no-one had to take that chance. What he did, and this was the really clever part, was secretly take a few million ova from a recently deceased woman, when nobody was watching of course, and less than a year later he was able to produce humans out of thin air! His team set up a huge dynamo, for of course there was no electricity on the island, and somehow managed to claim enough land to set up a laboratory large enough for his purposes. I suppose it was quite easy for him. He could show the chieftain any number of "miracles", couldn't he? Light up the whole sky at midnight, blind someone with a finger-laser, kill someone without a sound at fifty paces... I wouldn't put anything past him.
Not only could he provide human sacrifices at will, but he could produce them bigger, with extra limbs... The possibilities were endless. Of course, it was all kept completely under wraps. No-one in the so-called "civilised" world ever heard of it.
But why go to so much trouble when there was obviously no financial profit in it? My guess is that he foresaw the third world war and took precautions. It wasn't more than three years before he came to what is now my home, in Central Africa. This was the only place far enough away from obvious military targets to stay unaffected for a while should nuclear war break out. His idea was partly to work on a way of reversing the effects of nuclear radiation, and partly to gain world domination along the way. Needless to say, in the little community of which I the centre (and yet no part of), he is King. His word is law, total and absolute. No-one can question him or deny him.
So where do I fit in? A couple of years after getting here, he started on a hugely ambitious project. He planned to create an army of "Super-warriors", so that should any neighbouring tribes attempt to attack, he could send them packing. The effect would also be that his legend would spread. A man-god who controls a legion of multi-limbed giants. If he solved the global pollution problem, his takeover of the whole world would be a simple proposition. Folklore would precede him, and no-one would be left alive who might question the validity of the myths that had grown up around him and his new world order.
Much as I hate him, though, I hate his assistant more. No- one will ever understand the hate I feel, or how it saddens me that I have no room left for any other emotion, or any reason to feel otherwise. I often imagine crushing her to death slowly, letting her gasp her penultimate breath and letting her breathe again, just to make her suffering remain a little longer. How I would love to cause her the pain she has caused me! I hate myself for feeling like this. I may be a freak physically, but I still have the same emotional make-up as any human. Only there's no room left for anything but hate, and the hatred of my malice. I hate what I've become. I hate what they've made me, turned me into.
But most of all I hate her.
Melissa Spence is her name. Somehow it even sounds like a spiteful, hurtful name. It conjures up images of a little girl who pulls the wings off flies. She's the one who killed the only friend I've ever had, or ever will have.
His name was Goliath. I, Gargantua, am his younger brother. As if I need any reminding of my own name. But the reason, at least, proves that Daniel Sutton had a human side. His only son was to be called Gavin. But he was born dead. His mother died during childbirth. The simultaneous losses pushed Daniel right over the edge. In some warped way, we were his sons, Goliath and me. I think I can even forgive him for what he became, to some extent. Maybe I have got some room left for an emotion other than hate. At least that proves I'm still human. But I can't feel anything else for Spence.
There is no way can she be human.
We two, Goliath and myself, were the first ones made. As it turned out, we were the only ones. Goliath was thirty-two feet high; I myself only twenty-eight. We both had the same number of eyes, ears, arms and legs, of course; ten, fourteen, sixteen and twenty. The one time we actually went to war, the mere sight of us reduced our opponents to gibbering wrecks; between us we could wield as many spears as sixteen of them, and we wouldn't have even needed to dodge theirs, for our skin was so tough they would have simply bounced off. As to why we were supposed to use spears instead of lasers I can only speculate; I guess it was a sense of tradition. Although, really, we didn't need any weapons. But who can know how Sutton's mind worked?
I have to admit though, and I feel ashamed to say this, even to myself, but seeing the reaction of our "enemies" gave me a buzz, despite the fact that I bitterly resented fighting for Sutton and Spence. Why did I do it? The death-gland, of course. Refusal to obey meant instant death. I didn't realise at that time what a good option death would have been.
Although, saying that, we were treated quite well at first. But then the fire came. No-one ever found out what caused it, but the effects were devestating and far-reaching. The fire destroyed all of the records about our genetic make-up, and much of the equipment in the lab. The equipment could be replaced, but not the information. Somehow Sutton and his entire team had faked their own deaths, even remote-crashing a 7C7 a few hundred miles away from their Pacific hideout to make it look good. I'm not sure how they did it, but they managed to get more equipment shipped in after the fire, long after they were supposedly dead. I suppose that's just the power of money... Sutton was incredibly rich, having inherited the fortune left by his grandfather, who owned the patent on the gene used in most genetically modified foods.
But with the records about how to nurture more giants gone, the equipment would be all but useless. That was when Spence showed her true colours. She started experimenting on my friend, trying to work out how we worked. The amount of muscle-relaxant they must have pumped into him to stop him from fighting back must have been enormous. Poor Goliath. He was so naive. He just let them inject him, trusting them. To his cost.
I can still hear him screaming, even though it must be years since his poor body could finally take no more.
I can still hear him screaming.
They couldn't try it with me, of course. I was wise to them by this time, and they wouldn't have got near me with that hypodermic needle. I can't get out of this place, I know, but they can't stop my from moving around in it. After what they did to my friend I would kill all of them on sight.
They know this.
And after all, I was all they'd got left. Maybe the other tribes started getting a bit bolder. Maybe they didn't believe in the legends. But then again, maybe Sutton found a way to reverse the affects of the radiation. The did it at Chernobyl, using nothing more complicated than sunflowers. So why not on a global scale? I know it was one of his ideas.
Or perhaps the radiation spread uncontrollably and killed them all. Maybe I'm the only living thing left inside this planet. Why am I alive? Because I cannot die. I'm safe, undying, here in this prison cell. I'm immune to all diseases, impervious to radiation, and my body takes in all its nutrients from the air around it, so I can't starve. That's the cruelest thing. The only way I can die is if someone presses the button and my death-gland activates. If no one's left to press the button, I'll be here forever, unless that asteroid does finally arrive and destroy the earth, even more completely than the Third World War did.
So here I am talking to myself again. Stuck inside these four walls, it's all I can do.
I miss my friend.
My brother.
I can still hear him screaming.
Alone
If I were to describe myself to you, you would think I was some kind of alien. If I showed you a picture of myself, you would think me an inhuman freak. If you were to see me in the flesh, you'd get the shock of your life. If you knew of my plight, my destiny, chosen by those who care not for me, you would pity me.
Am I bitter? I would have to answer yes.
And yet, how could I not be?
Few know of my existence. Or maybe none. I was supposed to be one of many, but there were only two of us before the fire came. Now there is only one. I have no companion, no soul mate. I am alone. I suppose that's why I have become so self-centred. There is simply no one else to care about.
Why am I alive? The answer is simple. Because I cannot die. Oh yes, and I am supposed to fight, to protect, should the need arise. Since the war, humans have given up the whole technology thing. You could say they've "plugged and played", and now it's game over. Not so much given up, I should say, rather none of it survived except that which is controlled by the scientists here. The countries least developed were the only ones to survive, the ones not considered important military targets. Now the West, as it was called, is gone. The radiation is spreading, has killed off the remaining countries, all except these last ones here in Africa. The disease will soon spread here, I know. So do the scientists who created me. But the ordinary people do not. They still lead the same lives, worship the same gods, and have the same struggle to survive... The Western ones called them primitive, but look what their "advancement" did for them in the end.
And now they've ruined the earth for all these children of the earth, too.
I'm talking to myself as if relating everything to another. Well, I've got nothing else to do. I know these walls are unbreakable. These scientists aren't stupid. Cruel, evil, arrogant; but not stupid.
I was about ten years old when I found out how it had begun. Genetically modified food. Huh! What a background to come from! I, perhaps the most astonishing, perhaps the last achievement of human science, have as a hereditary line a cabbage! Well, I suppose that's taking things to an extreme. That was just when they realised what they could accomplish. Funny that it happened almost simultaneously with the first human clone.
Still, I digress. As if it matters, when I'm talking to myself. But still. Genetic engineering. I wonder if anyone else knew that someone had the bright idea of introducing the concept to that tribe in the Pacific who still adhered to cannibalism? Also, it's strange to think that even after being educated in Cambridge, those students should want to go back there. I suppose the idea of working with Professor Sutton and his team, for the greater good of their homeland, as they saw it, was a great attraction. Sutton. How I hate that name. I don't see it as coincidental that it's so similar to Satan. In fact, if it came down to a straight choice, I think I'd rather take my chances with the Devil.
It's easy to guess what happened, isn't it? The term "who's for supper" took on a whole new perspective. Even in cannibalistic societies, it was rather disconcerting to think that you might end up eating your own friend, or possibly even family member. Thanks to Sutton the Devil, no-one had to take that chance. What he did, and this was the really clever part, was secretly take a few million ova from a recently deceased woman, when nobody was watching of course, and less than a year later he was able to produce humans out of thin air! His team set up a huge dynamo, for of course there was no electricity on the island, and somehow managed to claim enough land to set up a laboratory large enough for his purposes. I suppose it was quite easy for him. He could show the chieftain any number of "miracles", couldn't he? Light up the whole sky at midnight, blind someone with a finger-laser, kill someone without a sound at fifty paces... I wouldn't put anything past him.
Not only could he provide human sacrifices at will, but he could produce them bigger, with extra limbs... The possibilities were endless. Of course, it was all kept completely under wraps. No-one in the so-called "civilised" world ever heard of it.
But why go to so much trouble when there was obviously no financial profit in it? My guess is that he foresaw the third world war and took precautions. It wasn't more than three years before he came to what is now my home, in Central Africa. This was the only place far enough away from obvious military targets to stay unaffected for a while should nuclear war break out. His idea was partly to work on a way of reversing the effects of nuclear radiation, and partly to gain world domination along the way. Needless to say, in the little community of which I the centre (and yet no part of), he is King. His word is law, total and absolute. No-one can question him or deny him.
So where do I fit in? A couple of years after getting here, he started on a hugely ambitious project. He planned to create an army of "Super-warriors", so that should any neighbouring tribes attempt to attack, he could send them packing. The effect would also be that his legend would spread. A man-god who controls a legion of multi-limbed giants. If he solved the global pollution problem, his takeover of the whole world would be a simple proposition. Folklore would precede him, and no-one would be left alive who might question the validity of the myths that had grown up around him and his new world order.
Much as I hate him, though, I hate his assistant more. No- one will ever understand the hate I feel, or how it saddens me that I have no room left for any other emotion, or any reason to feel otherwise. I often imagine crushing her to death slowly, letting her gasp her penultimate breath and letting her breathe again, just to make her suffering remain a little longer. How I would love to cause her the pain she has caused me! I hate myself for feeling like this. I may be a freak physically, but I still have the same emotional make-up as any human. Only there's no room left for anything but hate, and the hatred of my malice. I hate what I've become. I hate what they've made me, turned me into.
But most of all I hate her.
Melissa Spence is her name. Somehow it even sounds like a spiteful, hurtful name. It conjures up images of a little girl who pulls the wings off flies. She's the one who killed the only friend I've ever had, or ever will have.
His name was Goliath. I, Gargantua, am his younger brother. As if I need any reminding of my own name. But the reason, at least, proves that Daniel Sutton had a human side. His only son was to be called Gavin. But he was born dead. His mother died during childbirth. The simultaneous losses pushed Daniel right over the edge. In some warped way, we were his sons, Goliath and me. I think I can even forgive him for what he became, to some extent. Maybe I have got some room left for an emotion other than hate. At least that proves I'm still human. But I can't feel anything else for Spence.
There is no way can she be human.
We two, Goliath and myself, were the first ones made. As it turned out, we were the only ones. Goliath was thirty-two feet high; I myself only twenty-eight. We both had the same number of eyes, ears, arms and legs, of course; ten, fourteen, sixteen and twenty. The one time we actually went to war, the mere sight of us reduced our opponents to gibbering wrecks; between us we could wield as many spears as sixteen of them, and we wouldn't have even needed to dodge theirs, for our skin was so tough they would have simply bounced off. As to why we were supposed to use spears instead of lasers I can only speculate; I guess it was a sense of tradition. Although, really, we didn't need any weapons. But who can know how Sutton's mind worked?
I have to admit though, and I feel ashamed to say this, even to myself, but seeing the reaction of our "enemies" gave me a buzz, despite the fact that I bitterly resented fighting for Sutton and Spence. Why did I do it? The death-gland, of course. Refusal to obey meant instant death. I didn't realise at that time what a good option death would have been.
Although, saying that, we were treated quite well at first. But then the fire came. No-one ever found out what caused it, but the effects were devestating and far-reaching. The fire destroyed all of the records about our genetic make-up, and much of the equipment in the lab. The equipment could be replaced, but not the information. Somehow Sutton and his entire team had faked their own deaths, even remote-crashing a 7C7 a few hundred miles away from their Pacific hideout to make it look good. I'm not sure how they did it, but they managed to get more equipment shipped in after the fire, long after they were supposedly dead. I suppose that's just the power of money... Sutton was incredibly rich, having inherited the fortune left by his grandfather, who owned the patent on the gene used in most genetically modified foods.
But with the records about how to nurture more giants gone, the equipment would be all but useless. That was when Spence showed her true colours. She started experimenting on my friend, trying to work out how we worked. The amount of muscle-relaxant they must have pumped into him to stop him from fighting back must have been enormous. Poor Goliath. He was so naive. He just let them inject him, trusting them. To his cost.
I can still hear him screaming, even though it must be years since his poor body could finally take no more.
I can still hear him screaming.
They couldn't try it with me, of course. I was wise to them by this time, and they wouldn't have got near me with that hypodermic needle. I can't get out of this place, I know, but they can't stop my from moving around in it. After what they did to my friend I would kill all of them on sight.
They know this.
And after all, I was all they'd got left. Maybe the other tribes started getting a bit bolder. Maybe they didn't believe in the legends. But then again, maybe Sutton found a way to reverse the affects of the radiation. The did it at Chernobyl, using nothing more complicated than sunflowers. So why not on a global scale? I know it was one of his ideas.
Or perhaps the radiation spread uncontrollably and killed them all. Maybe I'm the only living thing left inside this planet. Why am I alive? Because I cannot die. I'm safe, undying, here in this prison cell. I'm immune to all diseases, impervious to radiation, and my body takes in all its nutrients from the air around it, so I can't starve. That's the cruelest thing. The only way I can die is if someone presses the button and my death-gland activates. If no one's left to press the button, I'll be here forever, unless that asteroid does finally arrive and destroy the earth, even more completely than the Third World War did.
So here I am talking to myself again. Stuck inside these four walls, it's all I can do.
I miss my friend.
My brother.
I can still hear him screaming.
Wednesday, 27 August 2008
Lord of the Things Book I: The Mellow Hip of the Thing - RELEASED!!
Exciting news, Elf-fans! I’ve completed book one of Lord of the Things - "The Mellow Hip of the Thing".
Click here for more details or... do I dare hope - buy it!
CaptainD - Fiction Blog
Click here for more details or... do I dare hope - buy it!
CaptainD - Fiction Blog
Wednesday, 20 August 2008
Book Release Imminent!
Can't say when I'll get the whole Lord of the Things book finished, but I've decided to release the first book ("Mellow Hip of the Thing") separately for now. "The Glue Flowers" and "Return of the Bling" will follow at some stage, and after that the whole trilogy as a complete volume.
When the book is released, I will of course be posting about it!
CaptainD - Fiction Blog
Cover Design
I've done a cover design for Lord of the Things - Click Here to view it on my Graphics Blog.
CaptainD - Fiction Blog
Friday, 11 July 2008
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