Flash Friday – The Cultist’s Tale

My name was Staff Sgt. Robert Carter and this is my tale. I began my career in the guard on Delorosa Coil. It was less than stellar, like everyone else in the AC, good soldiers don’t end up in the Arkham Confederates.

Once Innsmouth Base was established, I was part of a group sent to explore the Southern Continent of Vhoorl in the unit Valkyrie. Reaching the continent, as we passed over the coast, a violent storm erupted. Only time had ever seen lightning close to this magnitude it was being hurled from a Primaris Psyker squad in combat. Our report back to base

“On the wing. After storm, have spied mountain range ahead higher than any hitherto seen. May equal Olympus Mons, allowing for height of plateau. Probable Latitude 76° 15’, Longitude 113° 10’ E. Reaches far as can see to right and left. Suspicious of two smoking cones. All peaks black and bare of snow. EMP from storm & gale blowing off them impedes navigation. Possible engine damage. Scouting LZ to make repairs”

We had to land for repairs. We received instruction from Innsmouth base to recon the area while repairs took place. After landing, the Imperial geologist, myself and 5 of the guardsmen not needed for repair work loaded up and, at the geologist’s suggestion, headed toward the smoking cones as they did not seem too distant.

Topping a nearby ridge in the direction of the smoking peaks we saw a city that I just don’t have the words to describe. For some idea of mind numbing scale and oddness I give you this description from the geologists report.

“…a cyclopean city of no architecture created by man or his imagination. The nearly impossible construction formed of night-black masonry. The angles are uses consist monstrous perversions of geometrical laws even the most insane architect could conceive. There were truncated cones, some terraced or fluted, surmounted by tall cylindrical shafts here and there bulbously enlarged and often capped with tiers of thin scalloped disks. A strange honeycomb-like construction suggested piles of multitudinous hexagonal slabs, circular plates, and five-pointed stars with each one overlapping the one beneath. There were composite cones and pyramids either alone or atop cylinders and cubes. These were flatter truncated cones and pyramids, and occasional needle-like spires in curious clusters of five. All of these structures knitted together by tubular bridges connecting each structure in vast webbing, often at dizzying heights. The sheer scale of gigantism was terrifying. At this time those dark, mountain peaks soaring ahead, peaks whose shadows cast a pall of probable disaster devouring the greater part of our expedition. We found in it all a taint of latent malignity and infinitely evil portent.”

There were geometrical forms for which Euclid would scarcely find a name – cones of all degrees of irregularity and truncation, terraces of every sort of provocative disproportion, shafts with odd bulbous enlargements, broken columns in curious groups, and five-pointed or five-ridged arrangements of mad grotesqueness. As we drew nearer we could see and detect some of the tubular stone bridges that connected the crazily sprinkled structures at various heights. Of orderly streets there seemed to be none, the only broad open swath being a mile to the left, where the ancient river had doubtless flowed through the town into the mountains.”

All this oddness left the geologist amazed, the miasma of the place, at once dead yet, strangely alive, left the rest of us feeling like we were being watched. Last time had this feeling was when ‘nids invaded the Pandora Sector. The Vox caster squawked inspection and repairs done, we were glad to high tail it back.

But the dreams started after we returned to Innsmouth Base. You just don’t talk about dreams like these, too easy to get burned as a heretic.

Those of us in the squad started to notice, the little tics, like we had all been knee deep in bugs for a week. We were all dreaming of that city.

Then, the really scary thing happened. One by one each of us were called to the Ministorum Priests Akeley’s office.

He spoke of my dreams in a strangely poetic fashion; making me see with terrible vividness the damp Cyclopean city of slimy green stone – whose geometry, he oddly said, was all wrong – and hear with frightened expectancy the ceaseless, half-mental calling from underground: “Cthulhu fhtagn”, “Cthulhu fhtagn.”

A peace washed over me for the first time since we returned. Priest Akeley explained these dreams were not heretical. For they whisper back to a time when the Great Old Ones ruled the universe before the emperor, before chaos, before the oldest of the races. How in a treacherous war with the C’tan the last of the Great Old Ones, Cthulhu, was flung into another Dimension, R’lyeh. I and others like me, those who heard the call through our dreams, could help to free him. Through Shub-Niggurath, guardian of the portal, The Black Goat with a 1000 young, we would free Cthulhu.

Over the weeks, until the Inquisitor arrived, we sought out others who were dreaming and introduced them to High Priest Akeley.

On the dark of the twin moons, the High Priest brought me to a charge. I could become a Champion for Shub-Niggaruth if my faith were strong.

To the Altar I walked proudly, like a Champion should and upon the great rock I lay.

“The sun has entereth the Sign of the Ram and the time of night is upon us. Akeley turned to the North wind and spoke aloud:

Iah ! SHUB-NIGGURATH ! Great Black Goat of the.Woods, I Call Thee forth

 ZARIATNATMIX, JANNA, ETITNAMUS,

HAYRAS, FABELLERON, FUBENTRONTY,

BRAZO, TABRASOL, NISA,

VARF-SHUB-NIGGURATH ! GABOTS MEMBROT !

And then the Black one came forth and the thousand Horned Ones who howl shall rise up from the Earth. And thou shalt hold before them the talisman of Yhe upon which they shall bow to thy power and answer thy demands.

 And before all did indeed appear Shub-Niggurath. The Black Goat with a 1000 Young, standing there, legs astride the altar looking down at me.

“This one is a worthy supplicant. I accept him and he shall go forth to spread the truth.”

As he spoke, the mighty form of the Shub-Niggurath leaned forward and swallowed me.

Into the warm darkness I slid, the tight slickness of my new Master enveloping me. Yet, there was no panic, all was calm. Indeed, could feel changes in my being, stronger, bolder, until finally there was a great spasm. I hurled with fantastic speed then the stone floor of the chapel was beneath me.

Shub-Niggurath spoke.

“This one has been reborn, he will lead my fight. More of you must come forward, in many there is power. He is the first of many. There is another you must awaken and your time grows short. Take this image of the last Old One and go now, do as it is foretold.”

 Through many battles I have led Shub-Nigguraths followers fighting to free the Great old One.

Now, this last time, I go to HIS Altar. For to open even the tiniest portal to the realm of R’lyeh; sacrifices must be made.

To grant my brothers in arms the power needed; I peacefully listen to final words I will hear on this mortal plane.

Ia!! Ia!! Cthulu Phatagn! Ia!! Ia!! Cthulu Phatagn! Ia!! Ia!! Cthulu Phatagn!

Ph’nglui mglw’nafh Cthulhu R’lyeh Wgah’nagl fhtan.

‘In His House at R’lyeh Dead Cthulhu waits dreaming, yet He shall rise and His kingdom shall cover the Universe.”

New People Following “When My Worlds Collide!”

 

It is exciting to put part of yourself and passions out for public view and receive positive responses.

Still new enough, ( and small enough) I can say thank you directly.

I appreciate DirtySciFiBuddha and wildsoundreviewfollowing the page, looking forward to reading and following them as well.

Thank you for the great comments to Tetiana Aleksina. Hoping you continue to enjoy my musings.

It has been a busy week. the schedule at my corporate job has changed with the result I will have more time for writing but I have not adjusted to the 10 hour days yet. It will come. Write it and they will come. Not quite paraphrasing but you get the idea.

Heading to bed soon. plans for tomorrow, begin writing the weird jazz story and think I am going to try something out here. Everyone has heard of hump day, throwback Thursday, etc. Here, we are going to start having Flash Friday. Every Friday I will post a piece of flash fiction, a story from 500 to a 1000 words.

Thanks again for the follows and the comments. They are appreciated.

 

Inspiration for Winter Tales

Where do inspirations come from?

Began thinking about this question with a story I recently finished. Winter Tales, my second story squarely in historical fiction. The first was Ned Land vs. The Kraken Cult. Much more fiction but so much about the history of whaling and some of the locations it crosses into historical.

The answer really depends on who is answering your question. Everyone I have spoken too, artists, authors and musicians, all have different sources. For many no two creations were inspired by the same source. A few can tap the same well time and time again. This is a broad topic, one I certain to visit again in more detail.

No secret I am a history buff, and as a result I follow various sites and magazines. Fictional stories about Vikings are popular right now. Especially stories about the raiding which we have come to associate with the word, Viking.

Once, people pictured a painting of the first documented raid on Lindisfarne or maybe Hagar the Horrible when you mentioned Viking. Today, people are more likely to know the show popularized on The History Channel. None of the three are really telling the whole story. indeed, as I researched this story there are so many elements of life not mentioned in the Eddas or supported by archeology.

I wanted to write something other than the usual pillaging and plundering. The Norse peoples were great explorers and traders. Oh yes, life was more pragmatic for them and a merchant crew could defend themselves or conduct a raid. Some days it depended on which course was more profitable. A Viking merchant would give a Ferengi a run for his money.

Which brings me to my inspiration for the story. I hope when it is published that you will read it and the other fine stories in the anthology. As of this writing, I do not have a date or even estimate yet, but I promise I will let you know as soon as I do.

Here is the article which inspired it:(if the link does not work, please copy and paste it)

https://archaeologynewsnetwork.blogspot.com/2015/02/islamic-coins-found-in-viking-grave.html#vskdklmXLpqBy4II.97

 

Well, here goes…(update)

Fingers crossed. I just resubmitted a pitch for a short story and threw in a pitch for a pocket digest. Now to finish preparing for guests and start writing.

3/8/2017

Heard back from my publisher today. Tempered good news. The second pitch for the short story is accepted and it was much better than the original. I was instructed the proposal at least still light on the Pulp feel being sought so I need to step that up. Pretty sure I can pulp it out a bit.

And exciting, to me, is my publisher agreed, once I write it, to look at a 25,000-30,000 pocket novel and perhaps consider it. No commitments here except the promise to look at it. It will be my first shot at a stand alone. Accepted or not, this will be a great learning experience for me in my writing. I have hot 15,000 to 17,000 words just getting out a 10,000ish word story. I’ll be shooting for two to three times my usual length. And I know from experience already, my publisher will tell me straight up what works and what does not. So here goes!

An Old Interview

Writer of the Week: Ernest Russell

Sep 16, 2016

Happy Friday, noir fans!  Today we’re welcoming back another author from the Monster Mayhem Anthology.  Ernest Russell is partnering with artist Andrew Spalding on Three Billy Goats Gruff.  Enjoy learning more about him and his craft in the interview below!
Tell our readers a little about your artistic background.

Writing has been an enjoyable pastime for as long as I can remember. Some of the earliest stories I can recall were mysteries a la The Hardy Boys. Just the taste of those early creative writing projects and experimenting on my own with Poetry, Nonfiction, fan fiction, science fiction, pulp and fantasy and I was hooked. Addicted even, because writing is not something you do for the money. It is because there are worlds and people within just bursting to get out. They say you are what you eat; a writer is what they read. Reading anything, articles, essays, short stories, and novels are what feed a writers imagination. Does not matter what subject or genre, just read. I am coming into being published late in life. It is something I always wanted to do but was afraid. Rejection is not so bad, life does go on and because of rejections I have learned a lot about the differences between writing for my own pleasure and for the pleasure of others. Follow your dreams; you never know what might happen.

What inspired you to join the OUAM Anthology project?

I had a lot of fun with my first project with this group of talented artists and writers. Fun was definitely first. Pulps and Noir genres have always been a fun read for me. I am thinking Red Riding Hood, Three Little Pigs, so many possibilities and was offered Billy Goats Gruff. Wow, a very straightforward tale with very few variants. It was so simple and opened ended that it became a challenge. Fun and a Challenge, could not have been more hooked if I were a bass hitting a fly. After meeting my collaborator artist, Andrew Spalding, the excitement became palpable. Been great bouncing ideas with Andrew and am stoked to see what he comes up with for the story. You will be too.

What makes you excited about transforming your fairytale into a noir mystery?

Can I just say see above? (No, you must have an answer.) It is the challenge and the world building. Short stories are a snapshot of a character(s) life; bringing someone into my world and making them want to see more of it. Noir as a genre is often thought of as hardboiled detective novels. And they often are, but Noir is also more than that, it is the regular Joe who has hit hard times, maybe had a bad break, made a bad decision. Now they have to deal with consequences. Might be moral twisting and cynical, chances are you may not like the main characters. For me, taking a tale as well known as Billy Goats Gruff and twist it to fit this genre? Yes, this excites me.

What about the project do you think will be most challenging?

Keeping it the required length! I always, always overrun my first drafts. The challenge after that is trimming the story while maintaining essential elements. The first major hurdle for any story has already been overcome. Have an angle, characterizations, and rough outline. It has been a lot of fun passing ideas back and forth with my artist/collaborator/partner Andrew Spalding. I have a good start, in spite of packing for a move, and looking forward to 1st draft later this month.

Tell us some of your favorite artists or authors.

Hmmm, how much room do we have for this? Seriously, favorites of mine run the gamut. For some reason my third grade teacher thought it was time we were introduced to Edgar Allen Poe. We read 2 stories by him, ‘The Cask of Amontillado’ and ‘The Tell Tale Heart’. Majority of the class was put off and a bit scared by these stories. I giggled. This REALLY bothered the teacher and so I was sent to the office. Still love Poe. Lovecraft, and Barker, are among my favorites. The fun and fantasy Jim Butcher infuses his worlds. Many modern current authors I enjoy are Alexander Brown, Kimberly Richardson, Jen Mulvihill, Jim Beard, Frank Adams. All good authors and have some really good reads.

Artists, well, once again there are many. One really stands out; her art has been inspiration in my life as has she. I have had the pleasure of following the career of Marrus for close to 30 years now. Search her under Marrus Art and look for her book.

Where can we find your work online? Website, Instagram, published work?

Admittedly, I do not have the online presence I should. You can see my work online in Violet Windows – the Journal of the Eccentric. Check out some of the other cool talent while you are there.

In print, you can find me in Monster Mayhem Anthology available through Lulu Press.

Keep an eye for me in upcoming anthologies with Pro Se Productions.

Moonshadows

Moonshadows come.

Dancing with me.

At their beckon

We shall go to

A place beyond.

Realize a

Dream, live a song.

 

As the moonlight

Plays gently thru your hair,

Blushing cheeks begin to glow.

Fire from your eyes

Displays warmth of your soul.

By the aura of heavens pearl,

White light shines clean,

Exposing my soul with all it means.

 

Come my love,

Let the shadows dance.

Perchance to weave,

Perhaps to love..

Celebrate life,

Savor its dance.

 

Dance among moonshadows.

Feel their joy.

Share the fleetingness of time

In their timeless dance.

Our time together

Reflections of their joy.

Joys issuing from love

Only moonshadows know.

 

The moonshadows come –

Will you dance,

As the shadows dance,

With me?

 

Excerpt from “Birds of a Feather”

Zeke scanned the area as he took a pull from the canteen. “Well, Maude, that ol’ mine town should be jest ahead. Hopin’ we find a few nuggets, least ‘nuff dust to buy us some supplies, else I’ll be fightin’ ya fer some o’ that wattle. Course, I know ya don’t mind the lighter pack, do ya, girl?” Maude nuzzled against his hand as he scratched behind the pack mule’s ear and led her away from the silver wattle, having used the pause for an opportunistic nibble.

As the afternoon wore on, Zeke could see Widdershins on the rise of the gorge. Below him was a river, little more than a stream in this dry season, and several ponds with a flock of birds going in and out of the rushes around the largest of them.

“Looks in pretty good shape, way better’n some places we been, eh, Maude? Might even be some fish in them ponds. Must be sumpin’ to draw all them birds.” As they approached the town, Zeke heard sounds like distant conversation. “Might have company, Maude, sure sound like folk chattin’ up a storm.”

The travel-worn pair arrived in town a bit before sunset. For an abandoned town it did look well preserved. Zeke peered into a few houses on the edge of town. When he stepped into some of the clapboard houses, Zeke realized they were still stocked. Yet, the thick dust blanket was undisturbed – mute testimony to the town’s desertion. Hitching Maude near some of that silver wattle she liked so much and getting her some water, Zeke set about unloading their gear into one of the houses. Making a meal out of the last of his bacon and potatoes with some coffee, Zeke surveyed his surroundings by the light of the moon. Hanging gibbous, it would be full in the next day or two. By its wan, yellow light, he could see the bony structure of the town’s long tom. It leaned crookedly against its sluice, likely the victim of a flash flood during one of the monsoons.

Zeke was surprised to see swans apparently still swimming down in one of the ponds. He would have expected them to be nested in by now. The thought of nesting in sounded like a good idea; it would be nice to sleep in a bed. After beating the old mattress to chase out any spiders or centipedes might have had the same idea, Zeke settled in for a deep sleep.

Greetings and Welcome to My Worlds

Hello Reader!

Welcome to the first post where my worlds collide. If you looked at the Some Background page, you already have some ideas. So, that was me but what can you expect to find on the page?

You know that is a really good question.

Pretty upfront that I am an author and an avid reader, hopefully you are one or both as well. This page is intended to be a place to express my creative processes, product and just thoughts on different topics as they relate to reading and writing.

So far I have written and marketed stories in Horror, Noir, Pulp, Fantasy, Steam Punk and Historical Fiction. A couple of projects I have going right is a weird tale with a jazz musician and a western. For fun I have written some science fiction but not marketed any yet.

Why have I not tried writing Science Fiction? Well, first reason is easy. I have not really had any call for it. My writing so far has been of the contract variety. Someone has a call for a particular story type with parameters specified in the call. I send them a pitch and they accept or reject it. Have not seen any Science Fiction calls yet that made want to respond.

The other reason is more subtle. Science fiction, perhaps more than any genre, is more than just technology/magic/society. All genres can express the possibility what if, but Science Fiction more than any other, builds on the now. There are so many themes about every issue you can imagine from the environment to paranoia about our reliance on technology. Other genres can do this as well, but Science Fiction can provide a visceral response. The way it is built we can recognize ourselves, our society, and potential progression much easier.

All Fiction poses questions. Science is asking questions, Science fiction is science made into a narrative. Thus, we have thought experiments like the politics of 1984, or the social science fiction of Fahrenheit 451.

History and politics are not immune either; “What if?” is often a great start to speculation. This is why studying the history of WWII is the base for Man in the High Castle, Wizards, or the background for the Table-top game D.U.S.T. All three use the same historical events yet, speculate in different directions.

The cliché goes there is nothing new under the sun. I suppose not, but there as many variations on a theme as there are readers and authors. I am here offering my own variations.

As I read through this first post, I can hear people but yelling at their screens, or in their heads, that I did not touch on some favorite point. No, I am sure I did not, but that was not my intent. I’m just sharing some of my thoughts as a means of introduction.

In the future you should expect more thoughts on different topics, excerpts from some of my stories, reviews of books I have read, movies watched or games played.
Thanks for reading,

Ernest