They say there are two types of people in this world - those who are awesome enough to selflessly bake cookies to share with their friends, and then there are the assholes who contribute nothing to society but eating those cookies and casting baleful judgement upon them.
This is a tale from the latter.
Every year, my wife goes to a Christmas Cookie swap party, and every year I wait eagerly for the tribute she returns with. This year the bounty was plentiful. But I am an angry god and my judgement is harsh. Thus, I thought it fitting to be a total cock-nozzle and post my thoughts for your amusement.
I didn't know what most of these were called, so rather than be industrious and look it up, I decided to give each it's own name based on appearance and/or taste.
Let the judgement begin!
Dingleberry Chip - You can tell when someone knows their chocolate chip cookies are good when they give absolutely no fucks to how they look. This cookie tells me "I am the baker of chocolaty goodness and you better well fucking know it. Here! Eat what I have shat out for you and enjoy it."
Surprise Turd - Normally, I'm neutral on rum balls, or things like them. But these motherfuckers throw you for a loop with a big chunk of caramel inside. It's like getting a lump of coal for Christmas, then dropping it to find a diamond in the center. So awesome.
Satan's Twat Waffle - In keeping with my fine tradition of being a piss-poor Italian, I can't stand Pizzelles. I don't know who first thought, "Gee, what the world needs are licorice flavored cookies", but I can tell you they had a soul as dark as the underside of the Devil's scrotum.
Cavity Bar - A cookie bar drowned in caramel. My teeth are rotting just thinking about this. If diabetic shock were given cookie form, this would be it. Damn good, but pretty sure more than one of these would have instantly kill most people.
Petrified Man - A basic gingerbread humanoid from the Paleozoic era. His kind were known for their sloping foreheads and hunter / gatherer lifestyle. Sadly, they were eventually wiped out by tastier cookies who had the evolutionary advantage of frosting.
The Fuck?! - A not-cookie, covered in caramel, chocolate, and what appears to be mercury shavings. My tongue wasn't upset upon eating this, don't get me wrong, but it was left very very confused.
Intestinal Tract Diorama - Nothing says Christmas Spirit quite like a sonogram of your innards in generic sugar cookie form.
Nuts To That! - A generic sugar wafer ruined by the addition of lots of crushed walnuts or whatever the fuck they are. Don't know, because I find nuts to be an abomination on the face of a cookie. Damn you to Hell, cookie nuts!!!! Still better than raisins, though.
Edit: I have been yelled at that these are actually mint chips, not nuts. Oops. Still looks like nuts to me, though.
Snow Poop - Covering a relatively tasteless ball of dough in powered sugar just leaves it a slightly more sweet tasteless ball of dough. Speaking of which...
Blob of Dough - No idea what this was or what it was supposed to taste like. Nearest I can tell, they ran out of time to actually bake these, just said "fuck it"and hoped nobody noticed.
Who Ate Half The Fucking Chocolate?! - Screw dipping your chocolate bar in my peanut butter. This is a linzer tart dipped in chocolate. A surprisingly kick-ass combination. And much Christmas cheer was had.
Bizarro World Who Ate Half The Fucking Chocolate?! - Pretty much the mirror universe version of the above, minus the linzer tart filling. Tasty, but lack of filling shall always equal a wee bit of heartbreak.
Festive Snot Ball - These kinda look like someone sneezed into a jar of sprinkles, but they were surprisingly good. Lemon cookies that simply do not give a shit what you think of their appearance. Peering into my wardrobe, they're kinda like me in cookie form.
Chocolate Distraction - I find that cookies with big lumps of chocolate in the middle of them are often there to hide the fact that the cookie itself is pretty meh. Oddly enough, I am seldom wrong in these matters.
I'm a Tree, Damnit! - Really I am! No, what you are is a pretty generic sugar cookie. Fortunately, generic sugar cookies are still more than fine in my book. Know that there shall always be a place in my stomach for Christmas Tree deformities.
Rudolph The Red Nosed Spear-Tip - Cute to look at, but pretty meh as far as eating goes. Problem with generic chocolate type cookies is that they really don't taste like much of anything.
Goddamn It! We Ran Out of Sprinkles! - I hope nobody notices. Sadly, yes I did. Although, I may keep a few of these around in case I need replacement googly eyes for my kids' stuffed animals.
Did I Forget To Clean the Cat Box Again? - It is said these cookies are deceivers. They murder men in the night. I know nothing. Don't be fooled by it's appearance. It is definitely no brownie.
Spooge Wafer - I imagine that this is what DVD covers look like when they're returned to the adult video store. It's like St. Nick decided to bake some cookies and then got overly jolly while doing so. I am forced to admit, though, his "icing" is pretty darn good. I can see why Mrs. Claus stays with him.
Dec 22, 2016
Dec 14, 2016
The Road to Armageddon - Gan
The Last Coven - The Tome of Bill 8 - is coming FEB 10 to all major ebook platforms. It's the end of this crazy road, so
to speak. To help celebrate this grand finale, I'll be posting short
stories detailing snippets from the lives of various characters from
series. We've heard from Bill, Sally, and Sheila. Now it's time to get
inside the head of some of the others, and let them take center stage
for a few moments.
-The below story takes place roughly halfway between Holier Than Thou and Sunset Strip.
GAN
"You are acting the part of the fool."
Silence descended in the room. Such disrespect would have never been uttered in the presence of my father. But then, considering the would-be usurper who sat upon his throne now - looking down upon me - I should have expected no better.
Predictable.
I knew this was coming. It was only a matter of time.
All assembled were waiting to see how I would respond to this challenge. It was time to play my part. "What would you have me do, uncle?"
Arghun's stance bespoke of arrogance, of one who was certain of his station. For centuries, he sat at my father's side, advising him. He'd even served as a tutor to me in matters of state. Although, I would have to have been blind to not see, even then, that he felt such tasks beneath him.
All of that I could easily forgive. What I could not, though, was his belief that he and he alone was heir to title of Khan.
And yet he dared call me a fool.
My father had always been an outlier amongst the First Coven. Under him, our lands were ruled in the traditional manner of our great heritage, eschewing their methods. Fear has always been part of the equation of leadership, but others of our kind rely on it exclusively, ignoring loyalty and honor. So drunk are they with power, they don't see how weak it ultimately leaves them.
I could see this same weakness in Arghun's eyes. He wished to lower us by conforming to their ideals. And why not? Such a thing would benefit him greatly. It was common practice among those who served the First that the strongest, the oldest, should lead. What they all failed to realize was that age simply turned one who was born a fool into little more than an older fool.
Arghun was older than I. He was stronger, more experienced, and could compel more to his side.
What he did not see, though, was that this did not make him better.
He leaned forward in my father's seat and tented his fingers, as if what he was about to say had not be rehearsed a hundred times. "I would have you call off this search for the Freewill, quit wasting resources that could be better spent elsewhere. I would have you admit that you still have a great deal to learn, child."
I glanced over my shoulder at the spoils of war I had returned with. The gleaming skulls appeared to be smiling, as if laughing at the foolishness playing out before them. Fitting in a way. "The Children of Erlik might disagree, had they still tongues with which to speak. I have not wasted so many resources as to be unable to defend our borders."
"You think a single victory over our ancient foes means you are ready for the burden of leadership? What would have become of us had your rash offensive failed?"
"I would be spared this tiresome folly."
Arghun's face contorted in rage at my reply. That alone should have told him and all present that he was unfit to rule. All around us, my followers - servants and soldiers alike - stood in silent attention; unmoving, unblinking, refusing to allow their emotions to show through. Low as some of them might be, they were more worthy than he.
"Your father would see you whipped for such insolence. Perhaps I should too."
There it was, the challenge I'd been expecting. What my dear uncle failed to realize, though, was that he was too late.
Had he openly expressed a desire to lead immediately following my father's death, perhaps he could have made a serious case for such. But this, waiting until I was away leading our troops in battle? It spoke of treachery. Even if he was able to persuade those who remained behind, a dubious proposition at best, he had to know that the soldiers I led to victory would not so easily flock to his side. They were men of action, warriors who knew of our grand history.
I had seen these same men bristle at my father's inaction these many long years, ruling his lands from the shadows. However, the part he played in history as heir to the great Temüjin spoke for itself. None would have ever raised a hand against him. But with his passing, the time for sitting idle so too ended. It was a lesson Arghun had failed to learn.
I stepped forward, holding his gaze. "You are welcome to try."
Though the dictates of the First lacked wisdom, there was one tradition which even I would not dare deny - the right of ritual combat. Though I knew my men would have cut Arghun down where he sat, had I given even the slightest sign, that would not do. I had earned the loyalty of many who once followed my father, but it was not enough. I would not allow there to be any doubt among them.
I only realized now, as loyal subjects and cattle alike spread out around us, forming a wide circle, that the room had already been cleared. They had been expecting this. That meant Arghun managed to convince himself he actually stood a chance.
Still, it would have been foolish of me to dismiss him entirely. He had long been trained in the art of war, as were all of my father's advisors. But, where he spent many a night by my father's side drinking wine and telling tales of past glory, I continually trained, honing myself. My father would have me do no less.
Perhaps he foresaw this day coming.
Arghun stepped forward and attempted to stare me down, no doubt hoping to win this battle before it had even begun. Feh! Hope was the bastion of fools. A true leader took what was theirs by divine right.
He smiled, thinking to intimidate me. "I could compel you to your knees."
"Perhaps," I replied. "Indeed, you could compel many of those present to their knees. But you cannot command them all. For those who remain standing, there shall be doubt. And where there is doubt, there will always be a hidden dagger waiting to slit your throat."
"Spoken like a true student of your father," he said with a curt nod of his head. "But a student is all you are.
In a way he was right. But there always came a day when the student became the new master. Arghun did not realize it yet, but that day had come.
My silence was answer enough for him, though. Predictably, he broke eye contact fist, closing the distance between us with all the speed his age afforded him, unaware that he had already lost this battle.
Nevertheless, I would not underestimate him. Interestingly enough, for all I learned under my father's tutelage, that was a lesson that could not be attributed to him, at least not in a manner I could fully appreciate. No, that honor fell to my beloved. I had seen foes demean him, treat him with all the respect an elder would treat a youngling - all to their eventual detriment.
True fools failed to realize that even the youngest of vipers still possessed venom.
Arghun's attack was sloppy, off balance. His form belied the fact that his knowledge had not been put to practical use in some time. I let him strike me regardless, wishing to know the mettle of my opponent. The blow itself was formidable, although, far less so than it could have been.
Pathetic.
I dutifully took a stagger step back, allowing him to think he had injured me - a small concession to him on my part. Arghun served my father faithfully for many years. Such service should not be so easily forgotten. I owed him an honorable death, one that would allow him to be remembered as a warrior.
He quickly stepped in, hoping to press the advantage, but my respect had its limits and he had reached them. With one quick move, I sidestepped and delivered a blow of my own.
His was sloppy, mine was not.
Arghun fell to his knees, the base of his spine severed with one quick swipe of my claws. Though his death would be more honorable were I to draw this out, there would be little benefit to me. Ending this quickly would dissuade other pretenders to the throne. All present would accept me as the new Khan and know my rule was absolute.
My opponent, however, was not quite finished yet. "SURRENDER!! BOW BEFORE YOUR RIGHTFUL MASTER!!"
I had thought it best to not underestimate Arghun. As it were, I had done quite the opposite. I attributed to him enough honor to accept his fate with dignity. Instead, he wasted that with one last pathetic gambit to compel me into submission.
For a moment, I felt my legs buckle beneath me, but I quickly steadied myself. The fool. His greater age afforded him the power, but my father had prepared me well. Decades of compulsion from him, building up my defenses, forcing me to develop the will to resist all but the most powerful of our kind. It all culminated in one final test – being left bound in the desert, sunrise only minutes away, compelled to lie there peacefully and accept my fate.
I survived, stronger for the ordeal.
Arghun would not, nor would any who dared challenge me.
The Road To Armageddon:
CHRISTY
GAN
ED
JAMES
COLIN
ALEX
-The below story takes place roughly halfway between Holier Than Thou and Sunset Strip.
![]() |
| It has been too long, Beloved. |
"You are acting the part of the fool."
Silence descended in the room. Such disrespect would have never been uttered in the presence of my father. But then, considering the would-be usurper who sat upon his throne now - looking down upon me - I should have expected no better.
Predictable.
I knew this was coming. It was only a matter of time.
All assembled were waiting to see how I would respond to this challenge. It was time to play my part. "What would you have me do, uncle?"
* * *
Arghun's stance bespoke of arrogance, of one who was certain of his station. For centuries, he sat at my father's side, advising him. He'd even served as a tutor to me in matters of state. Although, I would have to have been blind to not see, even then, that he felt such tasks beneath him.
All of that I could easily forgive. What I could not, though, was his belief that he and he alone was heir to title of Khan.
And yet he dared call me a fool.
My father had always been an outlier amongst the First Coven. Under him, our lands were ruled in the traditional manner of our great heritage, eschewing their methods. Fear has always been part of the equation of leadership, but others of our kind rely on it exclusively, ignoring loyalty and honor. So drunk are they with power, they don't see how weak it ultimately leaves them.
I could see this same weakness in Arghun's eyes. He wished to lower us by conforming to their ideals. And why not? Such a thing would benefit him greatly. It was common practice among those who served the First that the strongest, the oldest, should lead. What they all failed to realize was that age simply turned one who was born a fool into little more than an older fool.
Arghun was older than I. He was stronger, more experienced, and could compel more to his side.
What he did not see, though, was that this did not make him better.
* * *
He leaned forward in my father's seat and tented his fingers, as if what he was about to say had not be rehearsed a hundred times. "I would have you call off this search for the Freewill, quit wasting resources that could be better spent elsewhere. I would have you admit that you still have a great deal to learn, child."
I glanced over my shoulder at the spoils of war I had returned with. The gleaming skulls appeared to be smiling, as if laughing at the foolishness playing out before them. Fitting in a way. "The Children of Erlik might disagree, had they still tongues with which to speak. I have not wasted so many resources as to be unable to defend our borders."
"You think a single victory over our ancient foes means you are ready for the burden of leadership? What would have become of us had your rash offensive failed?"
"I would be spared this tiresome folly."
Arghun's face contorted in rage at my reply. That alone should have told him and all present that he was unfit to rule. All around us, my followers - servants and soldiers alike - stood in silent attention; unmoving, unblinking, refusing to allow their emotions to show through. Low as some of them might be, they were more worthy than he.
"Your father would see you whipped for such insolence. Perhaps I should too."
There it was, the challenge I'd been expecting. What my dear uncle failed to realize, though, was that he was too late.
Had he openly expressed a desire to lead immediately following my father's death, perhaps he could have made a serious case for such. But this, waiting until I was away leading our troops in battle? It spoke of treachery. Even if he was able to persuade those who remained behind, a dubious proposition at best, he had to know that the soldiers I led to victory would not so easily flock to his side. They were men of action, warriors who knew of our grand history.
I had seen these same men bristle at my father's inaction these many long years, ruling his lands from the shadows. However, the part he played in history as heir to the great Temüjin spoke for itself. None would have ever raised a hand against him. But with his passing, the time for sitting idle so too ended. It was a lesson Arghun had failed to learn.
I stepped forward, holding his gaze. "You are welcome to try."
* * *
Though the dictates of the First lacked wisdom, there was one tradition which even I would not dare deny - the right of ritual combat. Though I knew my men would have cut Arghun down where he sat, had I given even the slightest sign, that would not do. I had earned the loyalty of many who once followed my father, but it was not enough. I would not allow there to be any doubt among them.
I only realized now, as loyal subjects and cattle alike spread out around us, forming a wide circle, that the room had already been cleared. They had been expecting this. That meant Arghun managed to convince himself he actually stood a chance.
Still, it would have been foolish of me to dismiss him entirely. He had long been trained in the art of war, as were all of my father's advisors. But, where he spent many a night by my father's side drinking wine and telling tales of past glory, I continually trained, honing myself. My father would have me do no less.
Perhaps he foresaw this day coming.
Arghun stepped forward and attempted to stare me down, no doubt hoping to win this battle before it had even begun. Feh! Hope was the bastion of fools. A true leader took what was theirs by divine right.
He smiled, thinking to intimidate me. "I could compel you to your knees."
"Perhaps," I replied. "Indeed, you could compel many of those present to their knees. But you cannot command them all. For those who remain standing, there shall be doubt. And where there is doubt, there will always be a hidden dagger waiting to slit your throat."
"Spoken like a true student of your father," he said with a curt nod of his head. "But a student is all you are.
In a way he was right. But there always came a day when the student became the new master. Arghun did not realize it yet, but that day had come.
My silence was answer enough for him, though. Predictably, he broke eye contact fist, closing the distance between us with all the speed his age afforded him, unaware that he had already lost this battle.
Nevertheless, I would not underestimate him. Interestingly enough, for all I learned under my father's tutelage, that was a lesson that could not be attributed to him, at least not in a manner I could fully appreciate. No, that honor fell to my beloved. I had seen foes demean him, treat him with all the respect an elder would treat a youngling - all to their eventual detriment.
True fools failed to realize that even the youngest of vipers still possessed venom.
Arghun's attack was sloppy, off balance. His form belied the fact that his knowledge had not been put to practical use in some time. I let him strike me regardless, wishing to know the mettle of my opponent. The blow itself was formidable, although, far less so than it could have been.
Pathetic.
I dutifully took a stagger step back, allowing him to think he had injured me - a small concession to him on my part. Arghun served my father faithfully for many years. Such service should not be so easily forgotten. I owed him an honorable death, one that would allow him to be remembered as a warrior.
He quickly stepped in, hoping to press the advantage, but my respect had its limits and he had reached them. With one quick move, I sidestepped and delivered a blow of my own.
His was sloppy, mine was not.
Arghun fell to his knees, the base of his spine severed with one quick swipe of my claws. Though his death would be more honorable were I to draw this out, there would be little benefit to me. Ending this quickly would dissuade other pretenders to the throne. All present would accept me as the new Khan and know my rule was absolute.
My opponent, however, was not quite finished yet. "SURRENDER!! BOW BEFORE YOUR RIGHTFUL MASTER!!"
I had thought it best to not underestimate Arghun. As it were, I had done quite the opposite. I attributed to him enough honor to accept his fate with dignity. Instead, he wasted that with one last pathetic gambit to compel me into submission.
For a moment, I felt my legs buckle beneath me, but I quickly steadied myself. The fool. His greater age afforded him the power, but my father had prepared me well. Decades of compulsion from him, building up my defenses, forcing me to develop the will to resist all but the most powerful of our kind. It all culminated in one final test – being left bound in the desert, sunrise only minutes away, compelled to lie there peacefully and accept my fate.
I survived, stronger for the ordeal.
Arghun would not, nor would any who dared challenge me.
The Road To Armageddon:
CHRISTY
GAN
ED
JAMES
COLIN
ALEX
Dec 7, 2016
The Road to Armageddon - Christy
The Last Coven - The Tome of Bill 8 - is coming FEB 10 to all major ebook platforms. It's the end of this crazy road, so
to speak. To help celebrate this grand finale, I'll be posting short
stories detailing snippets from the lives of various characters from
series. We've heard from Bill, Sally, and Sheila. Now it's time to get
inside the head of some of the others, and let them take center stage
for a few moments.
-The below story takes place roughly halfway between the events of Bill The Vampire and Scary Dead Things
CHRISTY
I step outside and spot my quarry. He’s sitting on a concrete stoop in front of a fountain, enjoying a hotdog he must have purchased for lunch. He looks so normal, so mundane, but I know he’s not. He is a wolf in sheep’s clothing, a slave to darkness, a thrall.
I know that what I am doing is necessary for the survival of my people. If I fail in my mission then disaster could strike. Our lives, our entire history, could be erased, scorched from the face of this world in a torrent of white fire. The prophecy is quite clear on that point.
Nevertheless, I hesitate in approaching him. Though I know what must be done, a part of me resents the role I am forced to play. For over a decade I’ve studied the art under Mentor Decker. I have worked hard to perfect my craft, spent many a sleepless night invested in one form of advanced spell-crafting or another. I have been called a prodigy, a natural adept. Indeed, my master has often told me that I am his favored pupil, his trusted second in our coven.
Yet, here I am, being asked to play the part of the whore, to willingly give my body to this shell of a man who sits before me. None of my sisters have drawn such a demeaning task. Most of them sit and wait – scrying the portents, looking for signs. The master has assured me that he too is forced to suffer for this task, gathering intelligence so as to fend off our fate. Yet, I’ve seen him. He used his magic to secure a place of power within the beast’s workplace, supposedly a facade until he was ready to strike.
Despite his claims otherwise, I have caught him admiring the expensive suits he has procured for his new station, the shiny Rolexes he now wears. I asked him why not just create the illusion of such, a glamour to fool the lesser minds, but he waved me off. He told me illusions can be defeated, that the stakes were too high for such. We must make this as real as possible so as to remain undetected.
So, too, was his logic upon my suggestion to simply ensnare this human thrall. Mind magic has always been a specialty of mine. Such a thing would be child’s play.
“No!” Mentor Decker had roared. “Do you not understand what is happening here, child? The Freewill, the dreaded Night Spawn, has been reborn. Their power is reputed to be legendary. Who knows what foul compulsions he has placed upon the minds of the humans who serve him? If you are found out, it will be our undoing, for his rebirth heralds the coming of our destroyer!”
The fury in my master’s eyes convinced me to question him no further. But now, with my assigned task finally at hand, I find myself wondering whether there was something else in his eyes too. It is nearly heresy to think it. He is my mentor, my teacher, practically a second father to me. But I can’t help but wonder if he is being driven mad by the events that are transpiring.
I almost turn around and go back to the desk that has been my daytime home for the past three months. It is not nearly as prestigious a position as that which my mentor procured for himself. My job is that of a mere marketing coordinator in the firm within which my quarry bides his time. However, since day one, I have been continually surprised to find that I actually enjoy my work assignments. Not only that, but I’m good at my job too. It shouldn’t be surprising. As a Magi, I have been continually taught to think outside the realms of the box that humanity seems intent on sequestering itself in. Nevertheless, I would be lying to myself if I were to claim I wasn’t growing fond of this façade of normalcy I have undertaken.
That thought stops me in my tracks. If I fail, there won’t be any normalcy – not for me, my sisters, my mentor, or any of the other Magi who live in the shadows of this world. They will all burn in the white fires of so-called faith. None of them deserve that fate.
I turn back and steel myself for what is to come. Fear grips my stomach, not only for what I must do, but what it could mean for me. This human is the thrall of the Freewill. There is no telling what dark machinations have been put in place in his mind. I will defend myself if needed, but I have no delusions. Mentor Decker has warned me of the power against which I am positioning myself.
Collecting my will around me, focused on protecting my mind against the evil influence I am about to make contact with, I step forward and offer a tentative, “Hi.”
He looks up at me mid-bite, his eyes widening in surprise. Despite knowing what he is, I can’t help but think he has a comical look about him thanks in part to the smear of mustard on the side of his mouth. “Um...”
“You’re Tom, right? From Accounting.”
An almost panicked look appears on his face. Perhaps it was a mistake to announce that I knew his name. He’s no doubt been warned against such things. I brace myself for whatever comes next. My mentor has prepared me well. Despite lacking the power of their masters, thralls will not hesitate to fight or die to protect those pulling their strings.
He stands up, facing me. I begin to gather power inside my closed fist, but remember that it’s midday in the busiest city of the country. I need to be careful. I prepare to cast a glamour around us, one that will let me deal with this fiend should the need arise.
The thrall raises his right hand and holds it out toward me. “Nice to meet you. I ... think I’ve seen you around. Marketing, right?”
“Yes. Christy, Christy Fenton.” I play along, tentatively grasping his hand with my own. I’d been dreading his touch, wondering whether it would corrupt me. I’ve never had direct contact with either a vampire or those under their spell. Despite what I’ve been taught, I don’t know what to expect. But his hand is warm, surprisingly normal feeling – if a bit clammy. Unfortunately, in my nervous haste, I forget to dismiss the power gathering in my own. He jumps back at making contact with me. My cover is blown. Combat is only moments...
“Whoa. Holy static electricity, Batman!” He laughs. “It’s nice to meet you. Shocking, too.”
Something about his voice is disarming. My paranoia insists it’s some dark thrall power I’m not aware of, but somehow I don’t think so. His tone is so ... innocent.
An awkward silence ensues between us as I try to process this.
After a moment, he steps back, and asks, quite matter of factly, “So ... would you like a bite of my hotdog?” I open my mouth to reply, but can’t think of an answer to that. “I mean, not mine. I ... could ... get you your own,” he stammers. “That is, unless you really want to bite mine.”
My mouth stretches to a grin, then to a full blown smile. Within the next second, I’m laughing. I know I shouldn’t be, but I am.
“That was lame, wasn’t it?”
“It was,” I reply, but the smile on his face tells me he’s not insulted in the least. “And you have mustard on your face.”
That sends him into a near panic of using the sleeve of his sports coat as a napkin, leaving a yellow smear on it. “Oh, fuck me sideways with Man-At-Arms!” He turns and smiles sheepishly at me. “Sorry. So much for first impressions, eh?”
The funny thing is, he’s wrong. A part of me still insists I should keep my guard up, be prepared for anything, but nevertheless I just can’t seem to summon that earlier dread I was feeling.
The Road To Armageddon:
CHRISTY
GAN
ED
JAMES
COLIN
ALEX
-The below story takes place roughly halfway between the events of Bill The Vampire and Scary Dead Things
![]() |
| Tom finds her ... bewitching |
I step outside and spot my quarry. He’s sitting on a concrete stoop in front of a fountain, enjoying a hotdog he must have purchased for lunch. He looks so normal, so mundane, but I know he’s not. He is a wolf in sheep’s clothing, a slave to darkness, a thrall.
I know that what I am doing is necessary for the survival of my people. If I fail in my mission then disaster could strike. Our lives, our entire history, could be erased, scorched from the face of this world in a torrent of white fire. The prophecy is quite clear on that point.
Nevertheless, I hesitate in approaching him. Though I know what must be done, a part of me resents the role I am forced to play. For over a decade I’ve studied the art under Mentor Decker. I have worked hard to perfect my craft, spent many a sleepless night invested in one form of advanced spell-crafting or another. I have been called a prodigy, a natural adept. Indeed, my master has often told me that I am his favored pupil, his trusted second in our coven.
Yet, here I am, being asked to play the part of the whore, to willingly give my body to this shell of a man who sits before me. None of my sisters have drawn such a demeaning task. Most of them sit and wait – scrying the portents, looking for signs. The master has assured me that he too is forced to suffer for this task, gathering intelligence so as to fend off our fate. Yet, I’ve seen him. He used his magic to secure a place of power within the beast’s workplace, supposedly a facade until he was ready to strike.
Despite his claims otherwise, I have caught him admiring the expensive suits he has procured for his new station, the shiny Rolexes he now wears. I asked him why not just create the illusion of such, a glamour to fool the lesser minds, but he waved me off. He told me illusions can be defeated, that the stakes were too high for such. We must make this as real as possible so as to remain undetected.
So, too, was his logic upon my suggestion to simply ensnare this human thrall. Mind magic has always been a specialty of mine. Such a thing would be child’s play.
“No!” Mentor Decker had roared. “Do you not understand what is happening here, child? The Freewill, the dreaded Night Spawn, has been reborn. Their power is reputed to be legendary. Who knows what foul compulsions he has placed upon the minds of the humans who serve him? If you are found out, it will be our undoing, for his rebirth heralds the coming of our destroyer!”
The fury in my master’s eyes convinced me to question him no further. But now, with my assigned task finally at hand, I find myself wondering whether there was something else in his eyes too. It is nearly heresy to think it. He is my mentor, my teacher, practically a second father to me. But I can’t help but wonder if he is being driven mad by the events that are transpiring.
I almost turn around and go back to the desk that has been my daytime home for the past three months. It is not nearly as prestigious a position as that which my mentor procured for himself. My job is that of a mere marketing coordinator in the firm within which my quarry bides his time. However, since day one, I have been continually surprised to find that I actually enjoy my work assignments. Not only that, but I’m good at my job too. It shouldn’t be surprising. As a Magi, I have been continually taught to think outside the realms of the box that humanity seems intent on sequestering itself in. Nevertheless, I would be lying to myself if I were to claim I wasn’t growing fond of this façade of normalcy I have undertaken.
That thought stops me in my tracks. If I fail, there won’t be any normalcy – not for me, my sisters, my mentor, or any of the other Magi who live in the shadows of this world. They will all burn in the white fires of so-called faith. None of them deserve that fate.
I turn back and steel myself for what is to come. Fear grips my stomach, not only for what I must do, but what it could mean for me. This human is the thrall of the Freewill. There is no telling what dark machinations have been put in place in his mind. I will defend myself if needed, but I have no delusions. Mentor Decker has warned me of the power against which I am positioning myself.
Collecting my will around me, focused on protecting my mind against the evil influence I am about to make contact with, I step forward and offer a tentative, “Hi.”
He looks up at me mid-bite, his eyes widening in surprise. Despite knowing what he is, I can’t help but think he has a comical look about him thanks in part to the smear of mustard on the side of his mouth. “Um...”
“You’re Tom, right? From Accounting.”
An almost panicked look appears on his face. Perhaps it was a mistake to announce that I knew his name. He’s no doubt been warned against such things. I brace myself for whatever comes next. My mentor has prepared me well. Despite lacking the power of their masters, thralls will not hesitate to fight or die to protect those pulling their strings.
He stands up, facing me. I begin to gather power inside my closed fist, but remember that it’s midday in the busiest city of the country. I need to be careful. I prepare to cast a glamour around us, one that will let me deal with this fiend should the need arise.
The thrall raises his right hand and holds it out toward me. “Nice to meet you. I ... think I’ve seen you around. Marketing, right?”
“Yes. Christy, Christy Fenton.” I play along, tentatively grasping his hand with my own. I’d been dreading his touch, wondering whether it would corrupt me. I’ve never had direct contact with either a vampire or those under their spell. Despite what I’ve been taught, I don’t know what to expect. But his hand is warm, surprisingly normal feeling – if a bit clammy. Unfortunately, in my nervous haste, I forget to dismiss the power gathering in my own. He jumps back at making contact with me. My cover is blown. Combat is only moments...
“Whoa. Holy static electricity, Batman!” He laughs. “It’s nice to meet you. Shocking, too.”
Something about his voice is disarming. My paranoia insists it’s some dark thrall power I’m not aware of, but somehow I don’t think so. His tone is so ... innocent.
An awkward silence ensues between us as I try to process this.
After a moment, he steps back, and asks, quite matter of factly, “So ... would you like a bite of my hotdog?” I open my mouth to reply, but can’t think of an answer to that. “I mean, not mine. I ... could ... get you your own,” he stammers. “That is, unless you really want to bite mine.”
My mouth stretches to a grin, then to a full blown smile. Within the next second, I’m laughing. I know I shouldn’t be, but I am.
“That was lame, wasn’t it?”
“It was,” I reply, but the smile on his face tells me he’s not insulted in the least. “And you have mustard on your face.”
That sends him into a near panic of using the sleeve of his sports coat as a napkin, leaving a yellow smear on it. “Oh, fuck me sideways with Man-At-Arms!” He turns and smiles sheepishly at me. “Sorry. So much for first impressions, eh?”
The funny thing is, he’s wrong. A part of me still insists I should keep my guard up, be prepared for anything, but nevertheless I just can’t seem to summon that earlier dread I was feeling.
The Road To Armageddon:
CHRISTY
GAN
ED
JAMES
COLIN
ALEX
Nov 28, 2016
THE LAST COVEN - Teaser 1
![]() |
| Coming Soon! ... Hopefully! |
This is it! The grand finale to The Tome of Bill series.
Bill's world is in shambles following his monumental ass-kicking at the hands of Ib. Sadly, the rest of the planet isn't exactly in great shape either.
Something needs to be done to stop it all and it looks like that something is the last Freewill and his remaining friends.
The only question is how?
From the buildings of New York City, to the woods of Canada, to the bowels of the Earth, Bill must finally master his powers so as to put an end to the evil that threatens to consume us all. No easy task.
Even if he somehow manages to do all that, though, his destiny still awaits. The final battle of good vs. evil. If he loses, he dies. But if he wins, everyone and everything he's fought for will be fucked.
Some days it really sucks to be the chosen one.
Turns out a full stomach trumped a full mind and I ended up conking out for a while anyway. One benefit of vampire physiology was needing less than half the rest I'd needed when I still had a heartbeat. So even though it had probably only been a few hours, I awoke nice and refreshed ... and thankfully without a pair of crazy green eyes staring down at me. Most importantly, the anger I'd been feeling, the same that I'd let boil over at Sheila, seemed to have receded. Amazing what a little good news and a bit of sleep could do.
I glanced over at my clock in the dark room, but the display was out. Maybe I'd kicked the cord from the socket at some point. Thinking nothing of it, I hopped out of bed and hit the light switch. Darkness remained.
Odd, considering the Apollo what-the-fuck down in the basement. Oh well, maybe it was just the shitty wiring in this place. That I hadn't woken up in a crater told me that whatever was going on was probably somewhat less than cataclysmic. Besides, what did it matter? I could see in the dark.
The living room was quiet and likewise unlit. The power was out there too. Unfortunately, it was the same in the kitchen, meaning the refrigerator was off. That was fine. I had a backup plan. I quickly moved the blood into our freezer. Thanks to years of neglecting to ever defrost it, the walls were solid ice. Not great for the appliance's lifespan, but it made a damn handy emergency icebox during outages.
The blood situation taken care of for the moment, I decided to grab a quick shower. Afterwards, I could meander down and ask Christy when she planned to plug her supernatural generator back in. I didn't smell any liquefied human remains in the air, a scent that was now burned into my olfactory bulbs, so deemed it safe that the situation didn't require immediate Freewill intervention.
Fortunately, the water heater in the building was entirely gas, so my shower wasn't ball-shriveling cold. Sadly, I wasn't quite in the mood for any me time. The presence of Sheila and Sally in the building had made for some good stress relief in days past. Angry jerking off wasn't quite the same as angry sex – or so I had to assume – but it got the job done. But with Gan back in the picture and in close proximity, no fucking way. Door locked or not, the miniature human tornado didn't seem to grasp the concept of personal space. The very last thing I wanted in this entire world – even less than ending up a slave, destined to kiss Sasquatch ass for all eternity – was to have Gan kick in the door while I had my dick in my hand. No, sir, I did not want that.
As if the thought of Gan wasn't enough to cause little Dr. Death to go hide in the shadows, I was just finishing up washing my hair when another unwanted guest reared his ugly head, or skull in this case.
You dare judge me and then perform this foul heresy?!
I see Christy decided to wake up Harry Decker for some reason or other. Just great. Lacking vocal cords, being that he was quite dead, Decker's sole means of communication was entirely psychic – meaning that walls, doors, or fingers in one's ears didn't do shit for keeping him out.
He didn't have eyes either, but at the same time appeared aware of what was going on around him. Who knew how far that extended? Yep, any happy time was definitely out of the question. Knowing my luck, he'd start in with a play by play for the entire building to hear.
Do you think the great Kala sits on her hands waiting for us? The White marches ever forward, uniting those loyal to her cause.
I so hated getting only half a conversation, especially when that half was from a fucking nutbag.
Sadly, Decker was a necessary evil. His knowledge of magical fuckery was greater than Christy's and she needed his help in order to modify the ancient spell we'd discovered into something that could not only stop the Jahabich, but potentially Calibra as well. If he could do that for us, I could deal with his presence for a while longer.
Afterwards, I could always find a convenient landfill on Staten Island to toss him into. The thought of shoveling a couple feet of garbage over him brought a smile to my lips as I turned off the water and grabbed a towel.
Despite the power outage, I was in a pretty decent mood. I figured that after I was done talking to the witches, maybe I'd stop by the downstairs apartment and check on Sally. I was hoping our new plan had snapped her out of her funk. Maybe we could shoot the shit for a while. Hell, even if she wanted to vent and spend an hour verbally eviscerating me, that would be fine. Though she would never admit it, I had a feeling she needed someone to talk to.
Of course, there was also a chance she might not be alone. That gave me pause. I never thought I'd ever consider Sheila a potential third wheel. Hell, I still had no idea where my feelings were going lately. Things, however, were definitely more complicated than ever – and not just because we were preparing for an assault against the center of the Earth.
So much for my good mood.
I got dressed and walked out, my mind full of conflicting thoughts ... thoughts I really needed to stow away for a time after the events of Armageddon had played out. Thus, I didn't immediately think anything of the familiar figure that passed me in the gloomy apartment.
"Hey, Bill."
"Hey, man," I replied idly a split second before realization hit and I came to a screeching halt.
I spun just in time to see the bathroom door close behind an impossible sight – that of my roommate.
THE LAST COVEN
COMING FEB 10 to:
Amazon Kindle
Amazon UK
Nook
iBooks
Kobo
Google Play
Smashwords
Coming soon to: Kindle Unlimited, Audio, and Paperback
Also be sure to check out The Road To Armageddon for more Last Coven goodness.
Nov 26, 2016
Who Watches the Apple Watch?
I've mentioned this here before a few times, but this blog originally started off, at least in part, as a bit of a tech blog. So, every so often I like to put up a post that harkens back to its roots.
My family awesomely gifted me with an Apple Watch for my birthday this year. Now, I'll admit, when the Apple Watch came out last year, I was fairly lukewarm to it. Partially because, as a rule, I try to never buy any first generation devices from either Apple or Microsoft. Both seem to like to use the buyers of their new products as guinea pigs. 2nd generation, however, seems to be where it's at, though. Thus this year two things happened to make me start to rethink my initial reluctance: 1) Apple announced the series 2 watch and 2) my trusty old sports watch broke, leading to months of me looking down at my wrist to check for time that wasn't there.
Let's just get one thing out of the way upfront. At no point did I feel I needed an Apple Watch. No. This is purely a want device. For most people it will be a luxury gadget, something to splurge your hard-earned money on because, damnit, you deserve it! Even now, having owned it for a couple of weeks, I can say that for probably a good 99% of the people out there, there really isn't going to be a need for this. The only ones I can imagine who might think otherwise might be the fitness nuts among us.
After Apple's announcement of the series 2, I started dropping some major hints to the family, specifically my oldest son who I know listens when I bullshit about technology. I'm already heavily invested in Apple's systems, with both an iPhone and iPad, so a device that paired seamlessly with them was starting to make more and more sense to me (either that or I am a sucker for Apple's marketing).
I personally favored the Nike+ model, because it was one of the more reasonably priced versions and because I just liked how it looked. Over the years, in an attempt by my family to get to me look more professional, I've owned several leather band watches. However, I have never given two shits what others think of how I accessorize. If a company was ever going to not hire me based on my watch, then that told me it wasn't a place I wanted to work. Thus, rather than going through power watch after power watch, I always ended up falling back on durable sports watches - the kind that I could walk past a brick building with and enjoy the sound of the face scraping across the facade. Yeah, I'm weird like that.
As such, I didn't see a need for one of Apple's premium leather or metal bands (I like to keep the hair on my arms where it is, thanks). Mind you, reasonable in Apple's ecosphere is still over $300. And that's at the low end. Prices range to over $1200 for the highest end leather band, ceramic body, with build in blowjob port models (I might be exaggerating on one of those). So, no matter what, we're talking a pretty fucking expensive timepiece here.
So how is?
Well, first off, let's get something silly out of the way. This is easily the most comfortable watch band I have ever worn. No kidding. Most of the time I don't even realize its there. I don't know how the other types of bands feel, but they knocked it out of the park with the sports model. An expensive watch that feels like a torture device this isn't.
Battery life was a big concern to me, but so far I have yet to end a day with less than half a charge left. Would I want to take this on an extended camping trip with me? Probably not, unless I planned on leaving it in in my car to charge. But I'm comfortable thinking I could probably get through a weekend and still have a little juice left. The wireless charger is neat, but I'm probably going to want to get a spare at some point.
Usage-wise, it pairs with an iphone (or ipad) and you can control it either from the watch itself, or from the phone. Let it be known, without a phone to pair it to it's basically tits on a bull. So you're either all in with this, or don't bother.
As far as that usage goes, well, I have to say the thing I use it most for is ... wait for it ... being a watch. Yep, I know, crazy right? But I like having the time and date handy when I look down. As an added bonus, you can add additional info, like the current weather, to the face. Super handy for when I'm about to take the dog out and haven't yet grabbed my coat.
The other major usage I get out of it is entirely circumstantial, but pretty awesome nevertheless. Perhaps the neatest thing about the Apple Watch is the ability to put my phone down to charge, walk away from it, and not have to worry about coming back to a dozen text messages asking "Why are you ignoring me?!" The watch functions as phone / messaging surrogate during those times. Heck, I was carrying something heavy up the stairs a week or so back when someone called. Rather than put everything down and fish my phone out of my pocket, I booped the watch with my nose and was able to answer it ("Yes, mom, I'm still picking you up for Thanksgiving").
The fitness apps are fairly useful, offering reminders throughout the day of little things one can do to improve their health, as well as being super handy for working out ("You're heart rate currently is ... err ... dialing 911 now"). Mind you, being reminded to take a minute an breathe when I'm in the middle of a hard chapter can be an exercise in "Hey Siri, go fuck yourself!", but it is what it is.
Speaking of Siri, she/it works just fine with the watch. For instance, it proved to be a great help this past week for cooking, with a quick "Hey Siri, set the timer for 20 minutes".
In short, the Apple Watch is almost entirely a convenience device. A must have? Definitely not. A nice to have? Yeah, I'm beginning to see that it is. If you're invested in Apple's devices, and can afford to blow the cash, it's a handy little thingee to have.
Can you live without it? That's for you to decide, but I'm pretty certain the answer is yes. I definitely could, but I also can't say I'm not enjoying having it strapped to my wrist.
My family awesomely gifted me with an Apple Watch for my birthday this year. Now, I'll admit, when the Apple Watch came out last year, I was fairly lukewarm to it. Partially because, as a rule, I try to never buy any first generation devices from either Apple or Microsoft. Both seem to like to use the buyers of their new products as guinea pigs. 2nd generation, however, seems to be where it's at, though. Thus this year two things happened to make me start to rethink my initial reluctance: 1) Apple announced the series 2 watch and 2) my trusty old sports watch broke, leading to months of me looking down at my wrist to check for time that wasn't there.
Let's just get one thing out of the way upfront. At no point did I feel I needed an Apple Watch. No. This is purely a want device. For most people it will be a luxury gadget, something to splurge your hard-earned money on because, damnit, you deserve it! Even now, having owned it for a couple of weeks, I can say that for probably a good 99% of the people out there, there really isn't going to be a need for this. The only ones I can imagine who might think otherwise might be the fitness nuts among us.
After Apple's announcement of the series 2, I started dropping some major hints to the family, specifically my oldest son who I know listens when I bullshit about technology. I'm already heavily invested in Apple's systems, with both an iPhone and iPad, so a device that paired seamlessly with them was starting to make more and more sense to me (either that or I am a sucker for Apple's marketing).
| Pictured: Professionalism |
As such, I didn't see a need for one of Apple's premium leather or metal bands (I like to keep the hair on my arms where it is, thanks). Mind you, reasonable in Apple's ecosphere is still over $300. And that's at the low end. Prices range to over $1200 for the highest end leather band, ceramic body, with build in blowjob port models (I might be exaggerating on one of those). So, no matter what, we're talking a pretty fucking expensive timepiece here.
So how is?
Well, first off, let's get something silly out of the way. This is easily the most comfortable watch band I have ever worn. No kidding. Most of the time I don't even realize its there. I don't know how the other types of bands feel, but they knocked it out of the park with the sports model. An expensive watch that feels like a torture device this isn't.
Battery life was a big concern to me, but so far I have yet to end a day with less than half a charge left. Would I want to take this on an extended camping trip with me? Probably not, unless I planned on leaving it in in my car to charge. But I'm comfortable thinking I could probably get through a weekend and still have a little juice left. The wireless charger is neat, but I'm probably going to want to get a spare at some point.
Usage-wise, it pairs with an iphone (or ipad) and you can control it either from the watch itself, or from the phone. Let it be known, without a phone to pair it to it's basically tits on a bull. So you're either all in with this, or don't bother.
As far as that usage goes, well, I have to say the thing I use it most for is ... wait for it ... being a watch. Yep, I know, crazy right? But I like having the time and date handy when I look down. As an added bonus, you can add additional info, like the current weather, to the face. Super handy for when I'm about to take the dog out and haven't yet grabbed my coat.
| Thanks for reminding me what a lazy shit I am |
The fitness apps are fairly useful, offering reminders throughout the day of little things one can do to improve their health, as well as being super handy for working out ("You're heart rate currently is ... err ... dialing 911 now"). Mind you, being reminded to take a minute an breathe when I'm in the middle of a hard chapter can be an exercise in "Hey Siri, go fuck yourself!", but it is what it is.
Speaking of Siri, she/it works just fine with the watch. For instance, it proved to be a great help this past week for cooking, with a quick "Hey Siri, set the timer for 20 minutes".
In short, the Apple Watch is almost entirely a convenience device. A must have? Definitely not. A nice to have? Yeah, I'm beginning to see that it is. If you're invested in Apple's devices, and can afford to blow the cash, it's a handy little thingee to have.
Can you live without it? That's for you to decide, but I'm pretty certain the answer is yes. I definitely could, but I also can't say I'm not enjoying having it strapped to my wrist.
Nov 10, 2016
The Future is Ours - One Day at a Time
Let's get the obligatory crap out of the way. Unless you've been living under a rock, you're aware of at least a couple of things: 1) Donald Trump won the US presidential election and 2) the online world is going absolutely bugshit about it.
There's tons of analysis on how this happened. I won't link to any of it. It's easy enough to find. Go on, do a search through Google News, I'll wait. On the extreme end you'll find some claiming that any vote for Trump is a vote for racism, homophobia, misogyny, and making sure walking out of your house without first kissing a crucifix is a crime. Personally, the analysis I favor is that, Trump's 12th century sensibilities aside, he represented economic change to a silent but large swath of the country. That they were so desperate for a shake up of the system they felt had forgotten about them that they were willing to embrace anyone who offered the potential of change, no matter how objectionable his personal standards might be.
I prefer to believe this because I still have hope in my fellow humanity. I simply can't believe that a good half of this country are just waiting for an excuse to cut up their white sheets and start burning crosses. I don't want to live in a world where I even contemplate that being a reality.
Sadly, there is, without a doubt, at least a vocal minority who does believe this and they latched onto Trump like the last life boat off of the Titanic. In a way, they have become his unofficial poster children, eclipsing those who feel forgotten by Washington and painting the entirety of his following as mouth-breathing neanderthals.
Unfortunately, in the past day alone, I've read stories of how this small minority of fetid trash has become emboldened. There are tales of assault - physical, verbal, and sexual - being tried to the mantra that these things are now allowed because Trump was victorious. Their team won, now they get to pretend the laws don't apply to them while they tip over cars and set buildings on fire.
If you're reading this, I probably don't need to say it, but bullshit.
We're at a crossroads today, a chance for real change in DC, the potential for the ingrained (and inbred) establishment to be shaken to its core. But there's a dark side, a slippery slope, and it resides in the hands of those who would use this shakeup to further their agendas of hate. Make no mistake, they will try.
But therein also lies opportunity. I personally hope that silent majority gets the economic change they were hoping for, but we must draw a line when it comes to the desires of the lowest common denominator. We must stand up with our neighbors, our friends, our family, and those in need, to show that we will not let this country slip into a second coming of the Dark Ages. We will accept change, but we will not tolerate hate, abuse, or inequality - not from those who push this agenda, nor from anyone.
To enact that change, that better future, however, requires action. Sitting idly by and hoping things will improve does nothing but embolden the asshole demographic. That simply won't do. The truth of the matter is, it doesn't take a lot of effort if we all try to make a difference. A little here or there will germinate and grow.
Things you can do:
- Donate to a good cause.
- Volunteer at a place that could use the help.
- Talk to your kids. Educate them to understand that this world belongs to all of us, not just a select few.
And, perhaps above all else, DO NOT STAY SILENT. If you see someone being victimized for being different, whether it's the color of their skin, their religion, their sexual preference, whatever, do something. Stand up and say something, call the police, call security, whatever it takes.
It's a time of change, and that brings with it many challenges, but together we can all be the beacon of light that sends the cockroaches scurrying back to the shadows.
Addendum: Just to clarify a bit of the above, I don't advocate bad behavior no matter who you voted for. The above "things you can do", peaceful protests, petitions, etc, are all cool in my book. But everything I said above goes just as much for those whose candidates lost the election as much as those who won. If you've decided that the rules no longer apply to you, then you're as much a part of the problem as the other side you're supposedly protesting.
There's tons of analysis on how this happened. I won't link to any of it. It's easy enough to find. Go on, do a search through Google News, I'll wait. On the extreme end you'll find some claiming that any vote for Trump is a vote for racism, homophobia, misogyny, and making sure walking out of your house without first kissing a crucifix is a crime. Personally, the analysis I favor is that, Trump's 12th century sensibilities aside, he represented economic change to a silent but large swath of the country. That they were so desperate for a shake up of the system they felt had forgotten about them that they were willing to embrace anyone who offered the potential of change, no matter how objectionable his personal standards might be.
I prefer to believe this because I still have hope in my fellow humanity. I simply can't believe that a good half of this country are just waiting for an excuse to cut up their white sheets and start burning crosses. I don't want to live in a world where I even contemplate that being a reality.
Sadly, there is, without a doubt, at least a vocal minority who does believe this and they latched onto Trump like the last life boat off of the Titanic. In a way, they have become his unofficial poster children, eclipsing those who feel forgotten by Washington and painting the entirety of his following as mouth-breathing neanderthals.
Unfortunately, in the past day alone, I've read stories of how this small minority of fetid trash has become emboldened. There are tales of assault - physical, verbal, and sexual - being tried to the mantra that these things are now allowed because Trump was victorious. Their team won, now they get to pretend the laws don't apply to them while they tip over cars and set buildings on fire.
If you're reading this, I probably don't need to say it, but bullshit.
We're at a crossroads today, a chance for real change in DC, the potential for the ingrained (and inbred) establishment to be shaken to its core. But there's a dark side, a slippery slope, and it resides in the hands of those who would use this shakeup to further their agendas of hate. Make no mistake, they will try.
But therein also lies opportunity. I personally hope that silent majority gets the economic change they were hoping for, but we must draw a line when it comes to the desires of the lowest common denominator. We must stand up with our neighbors, our friends, our family, and those in need, to show that we will not let this country slip into a second coming of the Dark Ages. We will accept change, but we will not tolerate hate, abuse, or inequality - not from those who push this agenda, nor from anyone.
To enact that change, that better future, however, requires action. Sitting idly by and hoping things will improve does nothing but embolden the asshole demographic. That simply won't do. The truth of the matter is, it doesn't take a lot of effort if we all try to make a difference. A little here or there will germinate and grow.
Things you can do:
- Donate to a good cause.
- Volunteer at a place that could use the help.
- Talk to your kids. Educate them to understand that this world belongs to all of us, not just a select few.
And, perhaps above all else, DO NOT STAY SILENT. If you see someone being victimized for being different, whether it's the color of their skin, their religion, their sexual preference, whatever, do something. Stand up and say something, call the police, call security, whatever it takes.
It's a time of change, and that brings with it many challenges, but together we can all be the beacon of light that sends the cockroaches scurrying back to the shadows.
Addendum: Just to clarify a bit of the above, I don't advocate bad behavior no matter who you voted for. The above "things you can do", peaceful protests, petitions, etc, are all cool in my book. But everything I said above goes just as much for those whose candidates lost the election as much as those who won. If you've decided that the rules no longer apply to you, then you're as much a part of the problem as the other side you're supposedly protesting.
Sep 14, 2016
Identity - a #HoldOnToTheLight Blog Post
Author's note: The following story is from the viewpoint of Sally Sunset, as part of the Tome of Bill series. You can read more of Sally's story in Sunset Strip (A Tale From The Tome of Bill). It takes place prior to the events of Half A Prayer (The Tome of Bill 6) and contains spoilers for Sunset Strip.
It's part of the special #HoldOnToTheLight blog event (see the bottom of this post for details).
Some days I'm really not sure of who I am, what I should be doing, or how I should act. I don't let the others see it. It wouldn't be befitting a person of my so-called station. Weakness is not tolerated among our kind. Even a momentary crack in our veneer can leave us vulnerable to the predators who are constantly watching.
As for friends to confide in, those are few and far between. Even those few I trust ... I simply can't open up to. It isn't wise to confide in another vampire, not when the elders can force us to bare our very souls with but a few whispered words of compulsion.
A part of me isn't bothered by that - the person I became after years of servitude and abuse at the hands of Night Razor. No, she's too hard for that. She has a shell that is nearly impenetrable, a rough callous formed over her very soul from decades living in a world where life is cheap and remorse isn't tolerated.
The truth of the matter is, I hate who I've become, but at the same time I admire her strength. It's so unlike how I used to be, practically a different life. A foolish young girl named Lucinda Marie Carlsbad once used to lose herself in books and dream of a life in which she'd be respected, in which she'd stand as an equal to any man, and would rise to the top by virtue of hard work and her abilities.
Her father put an end to that, constantly berating her, reminding her of her place as a woman. She should dress pretty, learn to cook, do all the things that could land her a good husband. Only then would she have any worth, and only as an extension of whatever man decided to have her. There were never any fists or hands in those days. No, those came later ... after that little girl died and was reborn, but the shell she ... I ... would later wrap myself in had its beginnings in those days from the scars the constant browbeating left behind.
One could argue those words were the cause of what came next: running away, finding employment in a place that valued only my body, and then meeting the monster who would forever change my life. Little Lucinda died at his hands, but it wasn't an easy death. No. She lingered for years, holding on, refusing to give in, but dying a little bit at a time until she was no more.
Where my father's voice cut me on the inside, Night Razor's fists did their part on the outside and soon I began to think that perhaps my father was right - I had only found my true worth at the hands of the man who would have me. It just so happened that man was an immortal monster with hands so bloody they could never come clean.
That's when Sally was born. All of those years, all of those scars, they added up over time. Little did Night Razor know, though, but the woman he molded in his own image as as if from clay would take his lessons to heart and become his downfall.
I thought then and there that I had achieved parity with my life. My scars were still present - they always would be - but they were buried deep, almost forgotten. And now my tormentor was dead and I had everything I could ever ask for.
I was wrong.
The kindness of one man, someone who dared to be my friend despite everything I did and said to him, began to awaken little Lucinda again. It turns out she wasn't as dead as I had thought. That shell I had built around her hadn't been a tomb after all, merely a cocoon for her to sleep until it was time to awaken. Sally, however, is still the driving part of me and I'm not sure I want her to leave. She's strong, sure in herself, allowing herself to bend, but never breaking.
But, where Sally is cynical, Lucinda sees hope. For the first time in decades, she can envision a future that isn't littered with bodies, where the slightest disobedience is not met with cruel punishment, and where my fate is her own.
Perhaps one day soon it will be time for these two disparate ladies to meet in the recesses of my mind and have a good long chat. Perhaps they can discuss the future and whether they can coexist together: strength and hope, existing as one being.
It might be too much to ask for, but I'm willing to try.
About the campaign:
#HoldOnToTheLight is a blog campaign encompassing blog posts by fantasy and science fiction authors around the world in an effort to raise awareness around treatment for depression, suicide prevention, domestic violence intervention, PTSD initiatives, bullying prevention and other mental health-related issues. We believe fandom should be supportive, welcoming and inclusive, in the long tradition of fandom taking care of its own. We encourage readers and fans to seek the help they or their loved ones need without shame or embarrassment.
Please consider donating to or volunteering for organizations dedicated to treatment and prevention such as: American Foundation for Suicide Prevention, Home for the Warriors (PTSD), National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI), Canadian Mental Health Association, MIND (UK), SANE (UK), BeyondBlue (Australia), To Write Love On Her Arms and the National Suicide Prevention Hotline.
To find out more about #HoldOnToTheLight, find a list of participating authors and blog posts, or reach a media contact, go to The Hold On To The Light Facebook Group.
It's part of the special #HoldOnToTheLight blog event (see the bottom of this post for details).
Some days I'm really not sure of who I am, what I should be doing, or how I should act. I don't let the others see it. It wouldn't be befitting a person of my so-called station. Weakness is not tolerated among our kind. Even a momentary crack in our veneer can leave us vulnerable to the predators who are constantly watching.
As for friends to confide in, those are few and far between. Even those few I trust ... I simply can't open up to. It isn't wise to confide in another vampire, not when the elders can force us to bare our very souls with but a few whispered words of compulsion.
A part of me isn't bothered by that - the person I became after years of servitude and abuse at the hands of Night Razor. No, she's too hard for that. She has a shell that is nearly impenetrable, a rough callous formed over her very soul from decades living in a world where life is cheap and remorse isn't tolerated.
The truth of the matter is, I hate who I've become, but at the same time I admire her strength. It's so unlike how I used to be, practically a different life. A foolish young girl named Lucinda Marie Carlsbad once used to lose herself in books and dream of a life in which she'd be respected, in which she'd stand as an equal to any man, and would rise to the top by virtue of hard work and her abilities.
Her father put an end to that, constantly berating her, reminding her of her place as a woman. She should dress pretty, learn to cook, do all the things that could land her a good husband. Only then would she have any worth, and only as an extension of whatever man decided to have her. There were never any fists or hands in those days. No, those came later ... after that little girl died and was reborn, but the shell she ... I ... would later wrap myself in had its beginnings in those days from the scars the constant browbeating left behind.
One could argue those words were the cause of what came next: running away, finding employment in a place that valued only my body, and then meeting the monster who would forever change my life. Little Lucinda died at his hands, but it wasn't an easy death. No. She lingered for years, holding on, refusing to give in, but dying a little bit at a time until she was no more.
Where my father's voice cut me on the inside, Night Razor's fists did their part on the outside and soon I began to think that perhaps my father was right - I had only found my true worth at the hands of the man who would have me. It just so happened that man was an immortal monster with hands so bloody they could never come clean.
That's when Sally was born. All of those years, all of those scars, they added up over time. Little did Night Razor know, though, but the woman he molded in his own image as as if from clay would take his lessons to heart and become his downfall.
I thought then and there that I had achieved parity with my life. My scars were still present - they always would be - but they were buried deep, almost forgotten. And now my tormentor was dead and I had everything I could ever ask for.
I was wrong.
The kindness of one man, someone who dared to be my friend despite everything I did and said to him, began to awaken little Lucinda again. It turns out she wasn't as dead as I had thought. That shell I had built around her hadn't been a tomb after all, merely a cocoon for her to sleep until it was time to awaken. Sally, however, is still the driving part of me and I'm not sure I want her to leave. She's strong, sure in herself, allowing herself to bend, but never breaking.
But, where Sally is cynical, Lucinda sees hope. For the first time in decades, she can envision a future that isn't littered with bodies, where the slightest disobedience is not met with cruel punishment, and where my fate is her own.
Perhaps one day soon it will be time for these two disparate ladies to meet in the recesses of my mind and have a good long chat. Perhaps they can discuss the future and whether they can coexist together: strength and hope, existing as one being.
It might be too much to ask for, but I'm willing to try.
About the campaign:
#HoldOnToTheLight is a blog campaign encompassing blog posts by fantasy and science fiction authors around the world in an effort to raise awareness around treatment for depression, suicide prevention, domestic violence intervention, PTSD initiatives, bullying prevention and other mental health-related issues. We believe fandom should be supportive, welcoming and inclusive, in the long tradition of fandom taking care of its own. We encourage readers and fans to seek the help they or their loved ones need without shame or embarrassment.
Please consider donating to or volunteering for organizations dedicated to treatment and prevention such as: American Foundation for Suicide Prevention, Home for the Warriors (PTSD), National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI), Canadian Mental Health Association, MIND (UK), SANE (UK), BeyondBlue (Australia), To Write Love On Her Arms and the National Suicide Prevention Hotline.
To find out more about #HoldOnToTheLight, find a list of participating authors and blog posts, or reach a media contact, go to The Hold On To The Light Facebook Group.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)

























