Sunday, 14 August 2016

The Inevitable

AUTHOR'S NOTE: As promised, the poem, though late. It's taking me a while to finish the stories, because they're quite long and I've been steadily working on a full-length novel. I'm also drawing a one-panel comic, and continuing work on the full length one. I have seven stories planned out for when I release the next two.

A sudden scream,
Reveals sudden drop,
With sudden end,
By sudden stop.

One cannot flee,
One cannot fly,
One cannot escape,
Because one cannot try.

An inevitable event,
In inevitable time,
Which is inevitable to be expressed,
In inevitable rhyme.

For such is the case,
For such is fate,
For such is the world,
In such love or hate.

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1nkh0HMt3s6vvp2B-_Q2kTLZigW-N4VhG9mfOBB-E4s4/edit

Wednesday, 10 August 2016

Happy Noodle vs. Sad Noodle Commentary

Errm... I'm a little embarrassed to say this, actually. My intention was to publish last week's descriptor, and then publish a poem I had previously written while I completed a couple of short stories for you. That is, that was my intention, up until I lost the poem. I have five notebooks, and I appear to be missing a couple following my vacation. While I look for those, and work on finishing the stories, I would like to leave you with a philosophical commentary I wrote some time ago regarding the children's song "Happy Noodle vs. Sad Noodle." Again, my apologies for misplacing the poem. Tell me if the link doesn't work.

DISCLAIMER: All material in the song "Happy Noodle vs. Sad Noodle" belongs to Logan Whitehurst, and his record label (which I believe is called Pandacide). I do not own anything.

https://docs.google.com/document/d/15qcIDzeczdaPfj0t81_-pO7yrCGA1JcMEbiz9YeE3lg/edit

Monday, 1 August 2016

Apologies, news, and one small post

I should apologize for my silence as of late. I was off camping in Europe for most of July, and so had no opportunities to update my blog. I did write, though, and so hope to make it up to you with three brief pieces in the first week or so of August. I have two full length short stories in the works, and another two I'm going to start soon. Peace, Pain, and Prosperity will probably be discontinued and the idea recycled, unless I receive requests to the contrary. The comic is progressing slowly, as I'm being forced to do some very complex things to make up for my bad art. I may start a simpler, shorter one in the meantime. The following post is just a small description I wrote while on a plane, concerning a post-apocalyptic world of nothingness.

The Vastness of Space

A blank, white field covers the plain, stretching as far out of view as is conceivable in both sight and the ability of one to walk. This plain is largely flat, and changes shape gradually; hills rise like the crest of waves from the depths and dead trees stud the view only occasionally, almost complacently, as of fins. The entire plain bears resemblance to a surreal sea, the material of the ground an almost contradictory concept in its insubstantial presence. There is no life to be seen. None, save for the Behemoth Who Bestrides the Wastes. His figure seems, to all intents and purposes, a slow and ponderous one, though this perception is a faulty one. His wide, flagella-like legs swing in long arcs, propelling his body forward. There are three of them, and though they swing slowly their length carries them vast, immeasurable distances in a single step. The torso they connect to is a phantasmagorical monstrosity, a mess of tubes and organs with a thin layer of skin holding onto each individual one; there are no bones nor defining features, the shape of the Beast a despondent mystery. One of these tubes near what could be called a stomach moves lethargically forwards and out of the Beast, revealing itself to be a head and neck. It is vaguely formless, an indeterminate blob with no identifiable features save for the hooked beak which serves as its mouth, teeth and mandibles clearly evident. A (unset) number of eyes become visible as the creature, belphegorically, raises its great, unblinking head up to the field of stars, crescent moon and vastness of space above it. The purple goose bumps on its pink flesh prickle as it roars, an undulating howl that is an unheard yet unignorable susurrus upon the winds.

P.S. This story's success will be monitored as an indicator of whether or not "descriptors" such as this are liked, and also as to whether or not this place would make a good setting for the recycled Peace, Pain, and Prosperity. If you would like to see either of these, please tell me in the comments or on my email.

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1nkh0HMt3s6vvp2B-_Q2kTLZigW-N4VhG9mfOBB-E4s4/edit