Category: Updates Page 1 of 2

Toran Station Part V

On February 3, 2023

In Fiction, Fiction Fragment Friday, Toran Station, Updates

Fiction Fragment Friday

Before we get to this week’s story I have some updates to get through. This will be a long one so if you are only interested in the story feel free to scroll down past the red divider line.

Bite Sized Tales has officially launched with weekly Flash Fiction Audio stories. You can grab the podcast episodes from that link or you can find it on any major pod catcher including Apple, Google, Amazon, Audible, and Spotify. If you do not see it on your chosen platform please let me know. I would also appreciate any reviews or recommendations.

Next Toran Station now has it’s own category on the right side of the page. You can access all the parts of the story through it. That will keep the list of links to previous stories from becoming too long. I have come to realize that it is not longer flash fiction though it does still work as a Fiction Fragment. Toran Station is now officially a serial fiction.

Fiction Fragment Friday stories are one source of feeder stories for Bite Size Tales. With this in mind I don’t know if I want to continue using Toran Station as Fiction Fragment Fridays or start releasing them on a different day as a Serial Story Saturday(or Sunday). Fiction Fragment Fridays for me should be a way to explore writing ideas and push myself. Taking on a second story each week that is not something I’m submitting elsewhere for publication though might be too much at this point.

I have a lot of decisions to make about my fiction going forward and where I want to put my energy. I have RPG projects that are underway as well that also need energy and Fear the Con 2023 planning is underway. I need to ensure I find a balance to avoid the potential of burnout. 2020 was about proving to myself that I could complete NaNoWriMo. 2021 was about creating the consistent habit of writing weekly and ability to just sit down and write no matter what my mood. 2022 was about building a audience and continuing to develop new ways to get my fiction out there. Now it is 2023 and it is time to build on the framework this journey has created.

My entire focus was drawn to her face making everything else blur into the background. She had shiny long black hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. Her complexion was pale like she had never been planet side to get actual sun. It was a more common complexion these days, but as someone who lived on Earth I was not as familiar with it. It was her eyes that most caught my attention. They had a look of sheer terror in them. It was burned into my memory permanently as an expression I would carry with me for the rest of my life.

Her lips parted and she whispered every so softly, “Please no.” Smoke came out of her mouth, nose, and eyes. I tried to turn away, but my head wouldn’t move. I was locked in place watching her just inches away from me. The skin on her face started to melt away showing first the muscle and then the bone underneath. The smell of burnt flesh assaulted my nose making me gag. Her body fell onto mine pushing me to the ground. I looked up into her exposed skull where nothing remained but her eyes. They were untouched and filled with terror. Despite no longer having a tongue she hissed one final time as her hands wrapped around my throat robbing me of my breath. “You did this to me.”

I awoke still in my hospital bed. My throat burned in a way that told me I had been screaming again. The gagging sensation returned with a feeling like I had been kicked in the stomach. Only by sheer instinct did I lean over the edge of the bed before I vomited everything I had eaten for breakfast. Gasping for breath I finally lay back with my water filed eyes being assaulted by the light. Every time I tried to sleep the same dream would haunt me.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Nurse Kirby stood at the door inputting something into the data tablet he always carried around with him. His tone as always was lighthearted, but I could have done without it. After a moment an automated wet vac rolled into the room and started to clean up my vomit. They were certainly getting their money worth out of that thing from my stay.

As my breath finally slowed, I realized that he was waiting for an answer. I wanted to lash out and tell him that no I didn’t want to fucking talk about it. The assassin had tried to kill me, and I shouldn’t feel guilty about killing her instead. That my stupid mind just kept reliving the look in her eyes as she died and every time, I tried to sleep she was waiting for me. I had no idea if she had people out there grieving for her. A husband, kids, or even just friends? Instead of all that I just answered, “No.”

“You don’t have to talk to me about it but trust me you need to talk to someone. I’ve seen it before. The adrenaline wears off and the trauma starts to set in. You’re going to have to work through it the only question is if you do it now or after it has settled so deep into you that you don’t even recognize yourself anymore.”

“Well, who asked you?”

“No one. Just sharing some advice based on experience. Besides it’s my job to take care of you until you get released. I like to think that means more than just checking your vitals and bringing you ice water because your throat is raw from screaming.” For the first time I noticed that he was indeed holding a glass of ice water with a bendy straw in it. I thought about his words and hated to admit that he might be right.

“Have you ever watched someone die?”

“Working in medical on this station? More times than I care to think about.”

I wasn’t sure what he meant by that comment, but I pressed on. “Were you ever responsible for any of those deaths?”

He sighed as he handed me my water. “No, I can’t say that I was. That doesn’t stop me from blaming myself for some of them though. Guilt and self-doubt aren’t exactly rational.” I handed him the glass back and he sat it on my side table. “Let me ask you a question. If you hadn’t managed to get control of the gun what would have happened to you?”

“She would have killed me.”

“There is no hesitation there. You know that and don’t doubt it for a second?”

“Yes. Not the slightest doubt.”

“Well then it seems to me that she made the decisions that led to her death. You reacted and did what you needed to survive.”

I knew that he was right. I logically had been telling myself the same thing for the last two days. Something about hearing someone else say it though did make it feel a bit more real. My mind was not ready to let go just yet though. “Then why do I keep thinking I should have done something else?”

“Because you James Wetherford are a good man despite being an auditor.” I laughed at his joke, and it hurt more than I had expected. For someone who was being released that evening I still had quite a bit of pain. “I read your file and unless I missed something I think it’s safe to say this is the first time anything like this has ever happened to you.”

“You might be surprised how many death threats you get as an auditor, but no. Until now no one has actually tried to kill me.” I thought about his words for a moment. “How do you know I’m a good man?”

“Two reasons. First Janice told me you were. The first thing that woman does after she meets someone, she thinks could be a source is start the background checks. When I say I read your file I don’t mean this one.” He tapped on his data tablet. “I mean her file on you. Trust me it is much larger and has way more detailed information. In fact, I fixed a few typos in your medical file based on it. “

“You know Janice?” I shouldn’t have been surprised but I was.

“Everyone on the station knows Janice, but she is a special pain in the butt for me. I married her brother. Trust me if you think her file on you is long you should see the background checks, she does on the guys her brother dates.”

I winced in pain. “Please stop making me laugh.” I took a moment to catch my breath before responding. “You said there were two reasons. What is the second one?”

“You just went through an extremely traumatic event. Instead of obsessing about how you were almost killed you keep beating yourself up over the death of the woman who was trying to kill you. If that isn’t the sign of a good man, I don’t know what is.”

He left me alone in the room with my thoughts after that. I had to admit just talking about it had actually made me feel a bit better. I knew that I still had things to work through and made a mental note to see if there was a reputable counselor onboard. That was just a few lines down on my mental checklist after finding out what Janice Harrington has in her files about me. By the time I had reached twelve entries on that checklist I decided to reach for my data tablet and make it an actual list. There was time to deal with emotional trauma later. For now, I had work to do.

Battlefield

By Wayne Cole

On November 19, 2021

In Fiction, Fiction Fragment Friday, Flash Fiction, NaNoWriMo, Updates

Fiction Fragment Friday

This weeks story came from a few random ideas that popped into my head. The first was to write a story in second person perspective. Then I looked at a pair of swords I have in my kitchen and thought about how I would describe a sword fight in second person. The final inspiration came from a sense of repeating the same destructive patterns without learning from them. How you know the right things to eat, do, and work towards but still manage to fall into the same ruts. Thus was born this story. I’m not happy with the title, but I am very pleased with the story itself.

My NaNoWriMo update for this week is that I haven’t updated. I have not written on my project in over a week. My chances of succeeding this year are not looking good, but I have not yet given up hope. If I can get back on the wagon and use some time off coming up I can make up what I have missed. I had a passion for this project and I just need to get back to that. Like my main character in this weeks story though knowing and doing are not the same thing.

Your eyes slowly struggle to open as you become aware of the world around you. They feel heavy and the light seeping through them is blinding. It feels like the first time you have ever used them before as they adjust to the new light levels. You can hear a faint music in the background that sounds like it is coming from everywhere at once. There are no odors at all, but this does not seem odd. You are not sure who you are, but you feel anger.

Once your eyes have adjusted you look over yourself. You are wearing a heavy scale mail armor with some sort of horned helmet on it. As you look closer a piece of knowledge enters your mind. This is dragon scale armor. It is tougher than iron, more flexible than leather, and completely immune to fire. You do not know where this knowledge comes from, but something tells you that it is correct.

In your right hand is a large sword that is so heavy you know you will need both hands to swing it with any level of control. It has a glowing red gem in the hilt that catches your eye for a moment. This is your sword, and you will use it to strike down your enemy. As you grip the sword with both hands and raise it to a fighting stance the blade ignites. You imagine how terrifying you must look in your dragon scale armor holding a flaming sword and it brings a smile to you face.

You finally take in your surroundings. You are on the edges of a battlefield. You look out at the dead bodies of waves of your men littering the ground. There are only five opponents, but they have killed hundreds. As your soldiers fall these intruders rob the fallen of all valuables and to your horror the bodies disappear from the field. Your people mean nothing more to them than a source of items. The seething anger grows.

Finally, you can take no more. You hold your sword high and rush onto the field. You don’t know who these invaders are, but this atrocity cannot be allowed to continue. Your flaming sword comes down on a large shield and sends rings of flame out across the field. The shield barer seems to absorb the fire and protects his companions from it. He is driven back though, and you hear him gasp, “Boss.”

You bring down blow after blow on the shield. Something is forcing you to focus on this man even though you know it is not the wisest course of action. Your soldiers are being killed and there are far more targets that do not have the protection of a shield. One of them is even wearing cloth robes that would burn if your sword even got close to them. Why is it then that I am only attacking the one more suited to defending himself you wonder?

It is time, you are ready. With a step back you stab your sword straight down into the ground in front of you. The ground rumbles and a visible shockwave of dirt ripples outward like waves from a rock hitting a pond. The shielded intruder is knocked from his feet as are two of his companions. This is your chance. Pulling the sword free you leap through the air and bring it down on your enemy. He lets out a scream of pain as the fire washes over him. Your soldiers manage to get a few hits in on the other downed opponents. Now is when this battle will turn around.

The robed figure from the back of the intruders group steps forward raising a long white staff. Light fills the battlefield radiating in circles from the tip. Each enemy glows for a moment. You watch as wounds heal instantly, and armor knits itself closed. They even seem to look cleaner than they did moments ago. It is some sort of powerful healing magic. As you survey the field not attacking you realize that you are now all alone against the five.

For the first time you wonder if this battle will be your last and it is in that moment that you are struck by a shield. You fly through the air and land prone on your back. The invaders do not hesitate. They strike with swords, arrows, and bolts of magical energy while you struggle to rise to your feet. You lash out but there are too many of them and they are too strong. This is the end you think as you fall to the field. Above you in the sky you see the words “Quest Completed”.

All around you the battlefield resets. The invaders have faded away into nothing and your soldiers have reappeared. You are floating in a state of limbo watching what happens until everything goes dark. It is not your time yet. New adventurers have arrived. You cannot take the field until 200 of your men have been slain. Then you will appear back at the edge of the battlefield. This time will be different you tell yourself. This time I will remember, and I will fight smarter. You wonder how many times you have had this thought.

Your eyes slowly struggle to open as you become aware of the world around you…

Gnome Place Like Home

By Wayne Cole

On November 12, 2021

In Blog, Fiction, Fiction Fragment Friday, Flash Fiction, NaNoWriMo, Updates

Fiction Fragment Friday

A quick update on NaNoWriMo. I think I have something really special with this years novel. Unfortunately I have had some setbacks on writing it this week. I am behind. I will need to do quite a bit of writing this weekend to catch up, but I know I can do it. I also have some time off around Thanksgiving that I can use to catch up as well. I have not given up.

For this week I have something new. I had a sentence or two pop into my head and it amused me enough to write the whole story. I hope you enjoy this light and fun Fiction Fragment Friday.

I hear the pitter patter of little feat coming down the hall. If only it were children, but mine are long grown and moved out. The little feat I hear are the gnomes most likely tracking mud all through my house. I’ve seen those tiny little feet prints so many mornings, but yesterday morning was the last straw. I opened my bedroom door and stepped in a pile of dog poop. I don’t even own a dog and if I did, I’m certain it couldn’t spell out the words “watch your step” in its own feces. The sound from the hall had to be the gnomes and I was well past the point of being fed up.

I got up out of bed and stomped to my bedroom door. Opening the door, I paused to examine the hall. First, I looked down to make sure there was nothing in front of my door. I would not fall for the same trick again. Then I looked both ways down the hall. There were in fact muddy footprints on my floor, but I didn’t see what made them. I took a step out into the hall only to trip over one of my golf clubs sticking out in front of my feet. The floor quickly approached my face and I barely had time to put my hands out to absorb the impact. The club had not been there when I looked down.

I heard that annoying cackle throughout the hall. The little buggers were laughing at me. It sounds like it was coming from all around me including the bedroom I had just come out of. I turned back and saw that my wife’s underwear drawer had been opened and its contents thrown all over the room. A bra was dangling from the ceiling fan slowly turning in a circle. I looked to my bed and found a large water stain on it positioned to make it look like I had wet the bed. My water class sat empty on the nightstand. I reached down and picked up the golf club. This had gone on long enough.

“Get out here and face me you stupid porcelain menaces,” I whispered. I didn’t want to make too much noise and wake my sleeping wife.

I looked up at the bed again and got my first glimpse of a gnome actually moving. It was standing on my bed next to my wife. It held a finger to its lips like it was shushing me. Then it pulled its hand back as far as it could and with one swing of its tiny little arm smacked my wife as hard as it could right on her bum. She let out a loud yelp and slightly jumped causing her to roll off the bed and onto the floor. She looked livid as she sat up and stared at me with eyes that could stop a charging army. “Jeremy Brenner what the hell do you think you are doing? Do you think that was funny? I could have broken a hip.”

“But honey it wasn’t me. It was the gnomes.” I knew I had made a mistake as soon as the words came out of my mouth.

“Oh, not this nonsense again. For the last time the neighbor’s gnomes are not alive and they are not out to get you. You have just gotten forgetful in your old age and can’t remember where you put things.” She stood up and looked at the bed. “Is that what this is about? Did you have an accident and were too embarrassed to say anything? It’s just something that happens to men your age, but we’ll discuss it with your doctor at your next appointment. Why don’t you go downstairs for a bit while I change the sheets and get the bed ready again?”

“Yes dear.” She didn’t understand. She never believed me about the gnomes and who could blame her. It did sound pretty ridiculous. I sat my golf club down and left the bedroom. When I stepped into the hall, I felt something squishy and almost slipped. I managed to grab the door handle and not fall as I thought not again. Looking down I saw the words “Bed Wetter” written in dog poop. I heard the laughing again down the hall and the sound of the front door opening and shutting as the gnomes left the house. I swear one of these days I’m going to get those gnomes, but for tonight once again they have won.

NaNoWriMo: Day One

By Wayne Cole

On November 5, 2021

In Fiction Fragment Friday, NaNoWriMo, Updates

Fiction Fragment Friday

The following Fiction Fragment Friday was written on Day One of NaNoWriMo this year. It is the first chapter of the novel project I am working towards this month. It is fairly long for one of these so I’m going to keep this kind of short. It is also a NaNoWriMo project so there is no editing and might have more than the usual amount of typos.

James Carter has what most would consider an unusual hobby. In his free time James likes to go dumpster diving for old computer equipment with a particular focus on anything containing a hard drive. When he finds such devices, he brings them home and tries to recover data from them. He never does anything malicious with the data but has a fascination with seeing what he can discover. Social Security numbers and tax papers are almost guaranteed to be on there, but for him the true treasure is glimpses into other people’s lives. Types out letters, or pictures from a digital camera are far more exciting than financial information that he will never use.

It was a Saturday afternoon and James was hard at work with his latest find. The living room in his apartment was big enough that he had used a sectional to split the room into two. On one half was his hand me down entertainment center with game consoles and media shelf full of mostly science fiction movies. The other half of the room had one wall lined with cheap computer desks and folding tables. One desk had his gaming computer with the nicest chair, monitor, and keyboard that he owned. The other systems were thrown together from spare parts or in various states of disassembly.

He was sitting on a cheap metal chair at one of the folding tables. His hands were working away at the keyboard of his spare laptop. Coming out of the side was a USB cable going to a special adapter that let him plug in hard drives. This drive he pulled from a laptop with a broken screen he had gotten from a dumpster in an alley downtown. Too many people seemed to think that if a screen was broken then no one could get the data. With his setup he could be pulling files off of the drive within minutes without ever turning the machines on.

James was working through his usual process. First, he went into the user folder to see what accounts existed on the laptop. On this laptop he found that there was a single user named Samantha. This told him the laptop was mostly likely someone’s personal laptop and not a work provided machine. Those tended to have multiple accounts and didn’t use first names. This was a relief because the last time he had found a work laptop he was so disturbed by finding a database from their HR system that he had to reach out to the company anonymously to inform them that they needed to encrypt their hard drives and dispose of them properly.

The next step was the part James always enjoyed the most. He opened up Samantha’s documents folder and started browsing through the files. There were not a lot of files in the folder, but one jumped out at him. “Unbelievable.” He shook his head in disgust as he dragged a files named passwords.xls to a folder on his laptop to go through later.

“Just once it would be nice to not find anything,” he said while picking his cat up off of the table. Her name was Connie and he had named her after his favorite function in excel, Concatenate. She was a gray and orange tabby that he had found as a kitten on one of his dumpster hunting trips. He never thought of himself as a cat person until he had met her, but she had become one of the most important parts of his life. The heat his computers put off always drew her attention and she had been perched on the edge of the table pawing at the hard drive. A few more seconds and it would have been knocked to the ground.

James sat Connie on the floor and watched as she jumped right back up on the table. “Oh, so it’s going to be like that huh?” Reaching out he grabbed one of the laser pointers he kept on the desk and shined the light across the room. “Connie. Look Connie it’s the red dot. It’s mocking you. Get it girl.” She shot off the desk pouncing on the light. For a minute he just moved the light around letting her run back and forth. Finally, he ran the light down the hall and into his bedroom with Connie right behind it. He knew that would keep her occupied for a few minutes at least so he turned back to the laptop.

After grabbing every file that sounded interesting in the documents folder James moved on to the pictures folder. He smiled seeing many named folders. After spending fifteen minutes looking through pictures of vacations and family, he came to a folder named Monsters. Inside there were four folders with the names: crime scenes, hunters, news, and videos. He moved the mouse right to the videos folder and clicked to open it. There were fifteen video files in the folder.

James played the video named riverbeast first. The video was shaky like it had been taken with a cellphone while someone was running. It flipped around and focused on the face of a young woman with long blond hair. She took a moment to catch her breath before speaking. “This is Samantha North coming to you from the Mississippi Riverfront in downtown St. Louis. This time I have irrefutable proof that these creatures are real.” The camera spun back to the riverfront.

After a few moments the image on the screen focused. On the left side there was a wall covered in graffiti that serves as a levee when the river’s water level’s are high. On the right was the Mississippi river coming right up to a series of short pillars with chains running along the side of South Leonor K Sullivan Boulevard. Running down the street was a creature that looked similar to a giant fish with six legs and a spiked tail. The angle of the camera was from behind, but teeth could still be made out in the thing’s mouth. It leapt into the air and unhinged it’s jaw like a snake to swallow a woman standing in the middle of the road.

The woman stood out almost as much as the creature. She wore a plain brown utility jumpsuit that made her combination pink and purple hair stand out. In her hands she held a very large harpoon gun braced against her shoulder. The camera zoomed in causing it to become extra shaky and unfocused. Through the blur the woman moved quickly. She braced her legs and with a single smooth motion she lowered the gun and fired the harpoon into the creature’s mouth. A smaller harpoon shot out of the back of the gun and in-bedded itself into the ground. At the last possible second, she dove out of the way letting the creature smash into the ground where she had just stood. Green blood poured out of it’s mouth.

The creature tried to turn towards the woman, but the chains attached to the harpoon started reeling it in. The video finally came into focus again, but the camera was too far away to make out the details on the woman’s face. Samantha’s voice came over the speakers, “You see that? She caught this one alive.” The camera swung up showing a van backing up to the creature and opening its back doors. Four men in plain brown jumpsuits hopped out and started shocking the creature with long cattle prods.

“Stop you idiots,” yelled the woman in the jumpsuit, but they did not listen. The creature swung its barbed tail and smashed it into one of the men’s chests. A large dark wet spot covered the front of the jumpsuit and the man started coughing blood. The creature’s tongue shot forward and speared through another man’s chest. In just mere seconds two of the four men had dropped to the street dying.

The creature was stuck to the ground by the harpoon but was thrashing around and pulling against the chains. With one final yank it pulled back ripping itself free of the harpoon. Green blood sprayed all over the ground. The creature backed up slowly and swayed unsteady on its feet. It turned towards the river and took three steps before collapsing to the ground. One of the men pointed towards the camera and the video abruptly ended.

James sat staring at the screen. “What the hell was that?” He opened up an Internet browser and searched for Samantha North. “Let’s see if we can figure out who you are Samantha.” His instincts told him that the name wasn’t just a character role from the video because it matched the account on the laptop. The search results returned a number of recent news articles with her picture. All of them asked for anyone with information on the brutal murder of Samantha North to contact authorities.

James pushed back from his desk suddenly. “Shit.” He stood up shaking his head. “No, no no, this can’t be happening.” He looked down at the hard drive. “Shit I tampered with evidence.” He started pacing. “Not good, not good.” He sat back down at the desk. “Ok, think. No one knows you have it.” He put his hand back on the mouse and started to search for the most recent files on the hard drive. “If I find anything I can just report it anonymously. If not, then no one needs to know.” The newest file was from the morning before she was killed. He hit play on the video.

“If you are watching this then I’m probably dead.” Samantha shook her here. “God that sounds so ridiculous even coming from me. I’m being followed, but the police won’t take me seriously. I guess I know too much. I’m going to put this video in an e-mail and schedule it to go out with links to all the videos I’ve taken. I’ll keep pushing the date back as long as I’m alive, but I guess if you’re watching this then…” There was a loud sound and the door behind her shattered into pieces and a tall man dressed in a black suit entered the room. He raised his right hand and it extended across the room forming a long blade that impacted just below the camera. The video ended there.

James looked over at the laptop he had pulled the hard drive from. The screen was shattered with a small hole straight through it. He had figured that there had been an accident with something sharp falling on the screen. Now he realized that last video had been recording when it happened. He wasn’t sure how the video had been saved, but he couldn’t deny that he had evidence of her murder sitting on his desk.

There was a sharp knock on the front door of the apartment. James was so startled he jumped scaring Connie who had just come back into the room and was rubbing up against his legs. “James Carter open up. This is the police. We have some questions for you.”

“Be right there officer.” James’s voice held more confidence than he actually felt. He tried to keep from shaking as he walked to his apartment’s front door. He always knew there was a chance his hobby could get him into trouble, but he had never imagined police at his door. He reached down and turned the handle. As the door opened, he found himself face to face with the tall man in the black suit from the video.

The man smiled down at him and then looked over at the laptop on his table. “Well, well Mr. Carter. You have been quite busy haven’t you.” James tried to step back, but the man put a strong hand on his shoulder holding him in place. “Oh no, don’t try to run.” He leaned down putting his face right in front of James’. His smile spread across his face and extended all the way up to his ears. Sharp pointed teeth filled the mouth, and his eyes glowed yellow. “If you run you might hurt my feelings.” The man stepped inside the door and closed it behind him.

NaNoWriMo 2021

By Wayne Cole

On November 1, 2021

In Blog, NaNoWriMo, Updates

It’s that time again. November 1st is the first day of National Novel Writing Month. After multiple attempts 2020 was the first year I was successful. During November of 2020 I wrote over 50,000 words completing the first draft of Ricochet a superhero origin novel. At the time I never imaged I would not have done an editing pass on it by now. I had intended to edit in January and self publish, but that did not happen.

As this blog has been testament I have not stopped my writing and have become more consistent. I am proud of this consistency, but I also know my writing will not grow to new audiences if I do not put in the same level of effort to editing and submitting it. That will need to be a goal for another month though because it is November and that means it is time to write.

Being November 1st I am announcing my NaNoWriMo project for the year. The novel I’m writing is inspired by two stories that I did for Fiction Fragment Fridays.

This Novel is going to introduce the characters and the world further developing the setting. A world where those fighting the monsters have to use technology because there is no magic.

For now the working project name is Monster Hunters. I know that will not be the final name, but I have not named the organization yet.

Grandma’s Stories

By Wayne Cole

On September 10, 2021

In Blog, Fiction Fragment Friday, Flash Fiction, Updates

Fiction Fragment Friday

This week’s fiction fragment Friday is special. As of this story I have been doing these for one year. That is a big milestone for me and I’m proud to have reached it. I figured I would share some stats from that time.

51 Total Stories with only one week being missed.
Over 40,000 words across all stories.
Three settings with multiple stories

I have gone through success and loss during this time. This process started when my father’s health issues gave me a reality check and motivated me to start doing something with the time I have. The first year has been about building a catalog of material on this site and pushing myself to make writing a regular part of my week. It has accomplished that.

My goals for this next year will be a bit more lofty.

Start submitting stories again to try and get further publishing.
Edit and self-published my Ricochet novel.
Write another novel during NaNoWriMo.
Continue Fiction Fragment Friday without missing a week.

“Jenni dear, what a pleasant surprise. Come in.” The old woman had a genuine smile on her face that extended all the way to her eyes.

“Hi, grandma.” Jenni held up a tiny paper bag. “I just got back from China, and I have your favorite tea.”

The old woman reached up and took the bag glancing in it. “Oh this is so wonderful.” She pointed a finger to the couch. “Go ahead and sit down while I make this. I want to hear all about your trip.” Jenni moved to the couch and stretched out while her grandmother shuffled off to the kitchen. She looked around the room at all the pictures on the wall of her grandmother’s own travels. The constant need to see and experience anything was definitely a trait that she had inherited from her.

“Grandma how many times did you go to China?”

The older woman came back into the room with two steaming mugs of tea. She handed one to Jenni and then sat down in her worn comfy chair. “Oh dear, it is hard to keep track. Let’s see I went to Hong Kong twice, I’ve seen the Great Wall, the Summer Palace, and the Three Gorges. So at least five times.” She took a sip of the tea and let out a contented sigh.

Jenni took a sip of her own mug. “That is so amazing. I bet you have so many stories from your travels.”

“Oh I do dear. I’ve met so many interesting people and seen so many sites in my time. It’s never quite enough though. You always find yourself wishing you had just a little more time.”

“Yeah, I can see that. When I left it felt like I had just gotten there.”

“You remind me so much of myself at your age Jenni. I really wonder sometimes how your father turned out the way he did.”

“Don’t tell me you two are still fighting.”

“Of course, not dear. We’d have to be talking to fight.”

“Grandma!” She stretched the word out and there was a whining inflection to her tone. “You need to call him.”

“No, I don’t. He has never forgiven me for remarrying after his father died and I can’t forgive him for the way he treated your mother. She is a good woman, and she deserved more respect. I raised him better than that.”

“I’m not going to give up on you two, but I’ll let it go for now. No need to ruin the whole visit with family drama when I have a vacation to talk about.”

“I wholeheartedly agree.” She sat the mug down on top of a saucer on the coffee table. “Now tell me everything.”

The conversation went on into the night and it was midnight before Jenni finally headed home. She was so tired when she got home that she just collapsed in bed without checking any of her messages. Since getting back into the country her phone had synced and there were 23 new voice mails and more texts than she cared to count. She had not adjusted back to her home time zone well and it showed the next morning when she found herself rushing to avoid being late for work. Once she was in the office, she had two weeks’ worth of piled up work waiting for her. Every time she looked at her phone the number of messages made her feel overwhelmed, so she put it off a little longer.

“Grandma with all your travel how did you adjust to time differences?” Jenni had gone from work straight over to her grandmother’s house for dinner.

“Oh you get used to it, or at-least you get used to not getting used to it.” She chuckled a bit. “Something I learned from the Europeans is take naps when you are tired. That can really help you get through the day.”

“That’s kind of hard to do in an office.”

“I suppose it would be. As a writer that was never a problem of mine. I spent more time worrying about what male pen name I was going to use to get my books published. It was a different time back then you know. My agent couldn’t get my manuscript on a publisher’s desk if they didn’t think I was a man.”

Jenni shook her head in disgust. “I don’t know how you put up with it.”

“Because it was more important to me that people read my work than know who I was. It’s all about priorities dear and what is truly important to you. Sure, it bothered me that none of my books had my own name for years, but they were being enjoyed and I was being paid.”

“Tell me about Grandpa. Dad always talks about him, but he died when I was too young to remember.”

“Gerald was a wonderful man. He was far from perfect though and had plenty of faults. Your father puts him up on a pedestal and remembers him only through the tinted lenses of love. That’s where he gets his pigheadedness from. When Gerald decided he was right about something no amount of arguing or evidence would ever change his mind. Your father is the exact same way. Why when he was a boy…” The night went one with Jenni’s grandmother telling her story after story about her father and grandfather. When she finally left to head home, she felt like she understood her family much better than when she had arrived. As much as she had been pressuring her grandmother to make up with her father, she herself had not spoken to him in over a month. He had not supported her decision to take a job at the law-firm that he represented her mother in the divorce. He felt like she had betrayed him, and not having his support hurt her in ways she didn’t want to admit.

Jenni went to her grandmother’s house each night that week. They shared tea and stories. Jenni would tell her grandmother about work and the few trips she had taken. When she finished grandma would share stories of the family. It made Jenni feel closer to her family than she had felt since her parent’s divorce and she cherished the feeling. She was starting to understand herself more through the stories as well. She saw herself in her grandmother, father, and even learned a few things about her own mother. Finally on the fourth night she got up the courage to listen to her messages. She started with her friends, but finally hit play on the first message from her father.

“Hi Jenni, it’s dad. Give me a call when you get this, I’m afraid I have some bad news for you.” She started to get worried as she hit the next message. “Hey Jenni, it’s dad again. I don’t know if you are screening your calls or what, but I really need to talk to you. It’s about your grandmother.” She hit the last message from a week ago. “Jenni, I didn’t want to do this on a message, but you aren’t giving me any choice. Your grandmother had a heart attack. She passed away in her sleep. I’ll text you the funeral arrangements.” Jenni switched over to her text messages and found not just details, but a link to her grandmother’s obituary on the funeral home website. The funeral was the day before she came home from China.

Confused she left work early to head to her grandmother’s house. Jenni had her own key and let herself into the house. It was quieter than she could ever remember. As she wandered from room to room she found boxes everywhere with her grandmother’s personal items. Some were labeled to donate, but others had the names of family members. One box had her name on it. Jenni nervously sat down and opened the box. Inside were collections of photographs from her grandmothers’ travels, a travel journal, and various trinkets she had always liked as a kid. She felt the tear run down her cheek.

“I hope I picked the right things for you.” Jenni was startled by the sound of her dad’s voice from the door. She rushed to him and hugged him tightly. The tears turned to sobs as he patted her back. “There, there baby. I’m so sorry. I know you two were close.”

In her head she heard the words her grandma had spoken again with new light. “You always find yourself wishing you had just a little more time.”

Jenni looked up at her father’s face and could see the pain in it. He didn’t want to admit how much he was hurting. “You feel guilty for not patching things up, don’t you?”

He fought to keep control of his expressions. “You always think you have more time. That you can fix things later. Remember this baby-girl, you don’t always have a later.”

Jenni pulled away and went into the kitchen. The plain paper bag of tea was still on the counter and when she opened it, she found that only enough was gone for the portions she had drunk. She got to work and soon walked back into the living room with two mugs of steaming tea. She handed him a mug and sat down on the chair. He sat on the couch in her grandmother’s spot. “Ok dad, I think we have some things we need to talk about.”

One Bad Morning

By Wayne Cole

On September 3, 2021

In Blog, Fiction, Fiction Fragment Friday, Flash Fiction, Updates

Fiction Fragment Friday

This week’s story can be read entirely on it’s own, but it is a sequel to the previous Fiction Fragment Friday Monster Hunters which is noteworthy because it was the very first Fiction Fragment Friday. Next week it will have been a year since I started doing these. I did not set out to write a sequel to that story when I sat down to write this one, but after I got a few paragraphs in I decided that was the direction I wanted to go in.

I plan to proved a year in review post next week with some stats, updates, and plans. I will want to do something special for the story as well, but I have not decided what yet. For this week enjoy One Bad Morning.

I woke up gasping for air in a state of complete panic. Pressure pushed against my eyes and ears from inside my head. With great effort I dragged myself out of bead and stumbled to the bathroom. Opening the medicine cabinet, I fumbled with the boxes and dropped the one I needed into the sink. With a frustrated sigh I picked it up and grabbed a pill swallowing it without any drink. Sinuses, allergies, and recurring nightmares are not a good combination for a restful night’s sleep. Unfortunately, I had quite a bit of experience dealing with this combination. The sinuses and allergies I had struggled with my whole life, but the nightmares were a recent development.

Normally I remember my dreams, but these nightmares fade quickly. I had a sense that it was the same dream recurring every night, but the only thing I could recall after the panic subsided each morning was a number. The first night the number was seven and each night after it lowered by one like a countdown. That morning as I looked in the mirror at a tired miserable looking reflection, I didn’t get a number. Instead as my thoughts cleared, I got a strong sense of the word today. While the panic had faded with the adrenaline the general anxiety was only growing.

Throughout the morning a headache grew that pain killers couldn’t seem to touch. It started as the pressure behind my eyes migrating to a low throbbing sensation in the front of my head. As the hours passed the throbbing became a stabbing pain coming in waves of increasing intensity. My coffee mug fell to the floor and shattered into tiny pieces as a particularly intense wave hit me. I found myself doubled over on the floor as the pain ebbed and decided it was time to go to an Urgent Care. With the waves coming faster I didn’t feel that it would be safe to drive myself, so I started downloading a ride sharing app to my phone while cleaning up the mess. That was when the strongest wave yet hit me and I lost all sense of time as I hit my kitchen floor.

My doorbell echoed through the house. I briefly wondered why no one was answering the door before remembering that I lived alone. The pain was too intense to get to my feet, so I just lay there curled up in the fetal position. A loud crack came from the living room as my front door was kicked open. I hoped that whoever it was would pay for the repairs because I didn’t have enough money saved for a new door. A woman with green hair wearing some sort of brown work jumpsuit strolled into my house. Behind her came a tall dark-haired man. They each held what looked to me like a 1950s inspired ray gun in one hand. The woman also held a tablet of some sort in her left hand.

“Alright James the strongest readings are in the kitchen and the bedroom. I’ll take the bedroom you take the kitchen.”

The man nodded and headed towards me. “So help me Lilly if I end up covered in green goo again I’m picking the missions from now on.”

“Quit your whining, it’s not my fault you waited too long to shower last time.”

The man whose name was apparently James finally saw me on the kitchen floor and rushed to my side. My vision was blurring from the pain, but I could hear him muttering, “Please let me be in time for once.” I felt a needle press into my arm. “Stay with me. Focus on my voice.” I tried to do what he said but the pain was so intense. It felt like my head was going to explode. “Lilly get in here his head is about to burst.”

I heard the female voice from my bedroom. “It’s a nightmare parasite. Came in through his dreams.”

“Hold on just a little longer.” I could feel him squeezing my hand. “I need that frequency, Lilly.”

“I’m working on it. Ok, got it. 7.48325 wavelength so frequency of 41.2”

I could just barely make out the man standing and pointing his ray gun at me. The pain was too intense for my fear to take the form of words, but a part of me was just grateful that it was about to stop. A wave of heat washed over my head and I let out an involuntary scream. Something wet was leaking from my ears and I wondered if my brain had been liquefied. “Die you bastard,” was the last thing I heard before everything went dark and I once again slipped into unconsciousness.

Sunlight burned my eyes as I struggled to open them. My throat felt raw like it would the day after a really good concert when I was younger. While my head was sore it was a minor pain. As always, my sinuses and allergies meant that waking up was going to be a miserable process. Still, I forced myself up and into the bathroom to go through my daily routine. By the time I made my way to the kitchen I was convinced it had all been a dream. That was when I stepped in a slippery green goo on my tile floor. I found myself painfully planted on my floor with my head turned towards my front door. It was broken and just sat in place at a slight angle to block the entryway. “I really hope my homeowner’s insurance covers that,” I said to myself. As I lay rubbed my now sore back, I couldn’t help but notice that where the green good touched my bare foot it was starting to itch.

The Music of Life

By Wayne Cole

On March 26, 2021

In Blog, Fiction, Fiction Fragment Friday, Flash Fiction, Updates

Fiction Fragment Friday

Music used to be such a big part of my life. In my teens and into my early twenties I was always listing to music and looking for meaning. I poured over lyrics and tried to apply them to the things going on in my own head. I had songs that were tied to people or events. Seeing a band live was more than just entertainment. I can point to so many life defining events that happened because of concerts during those few years.

These days I don’t listen to music. I found that while driving I needed something that I couldn’t tune out. Something that would occupy my subconscious mind more and keep it from wondering into dangerous territory for someone with anxiety disorder. That is how I got into podcasts and audiobooks. Even so when I hear a song it can bring me back to moments in my life like nothing else can.

For today’s Fiction Fragment Friday I decided to write something inspired by music. I was going to pick a song that spoke to me when I was younger and use the first line to start the story. Quickly I found that there were so many songs and listening to each brought back memories. The writing exercise then became writing something with the first line of each paragraph being a different song from a different band.

I limited myself to songs that actually meant something to me and had some sort of impact on my life. There were some that really deserved to be on here, but either the first line just didn’t fit or it wouldn’t flow with the developing story. The songs chosen though all have meaning and while it pains me that I couldn’t get one specific song in there I did base the whole exercise on the other song that was one of the more impactful of that time.

The Songs in order:

I’d give up forever to touch you. That is not a minor sacrifice. My life has spanned thousands of years simultaneously being among mortals and also apart from them. Empires have risen and fallen in what to me seems like the blink of an eye. My thoughts are in centuries not years or mere moments. In all that time no human has ever been more than a subject to document or a catalyst to aim in the direction history needs it to go. Why then are you so different? I know even though I walk invisible to the eye that you can feel me somehow. You occasionally look straight at me from a distance, or stop when I whisper your name.

You are so close no matter how far. I can feel you like a an extra sense always knowing exactly where you are and when you are in danger. A normal person has life threatening events a handful of times during their existence. You have almost been killed twelve times in the last six months and always I was there. Acting in secret without you even knowing you were in danger. It doesn’t matter what I am doing when I feel you need me I come. Nothing else matters. Why would a simple human hold so much sway when I have watched billions born and die without ever caring. I feel that something else is out there working against me.

How long? How long will I slide? I have a duty to be impartial, but moments with you mean centuries to me. The time line depends on me to ensure certain events happen. This the most crucial decade of all history and I know your survival is not one of those events I am here to ensure. You were meant to die on the plane you never boarded because of a flat tire. Letting the air out of your tire was the first time I violated my mission, but it would be far from the last. Missing keys, thugs knocked unconscious in an alley, and a contagious patient tripping before they could cough on you are all examples of ways I have overstepped for you. How long can this go on without my mission being a complete failure? I want to tell you all this, but once you know you can never go back.

I’ve been sitting here trying to find myself. Searching for who I was before the first time I saw you and examining who I am becoming. Which is the real me? Am I a man dedicated to his mission, but slowly losing his way? Am I really a caring man who has buried his emotions deep down so they don’t interfere with his mission? I could never have allowed the horrors of the past to have occurred if I wasn’t impartial. Knowing and not interfering is part of the job. It is not like I have never been tempted to step in and stop the worst atrocities man has to offer, but those have always been minor urges that I could suppress. Everything is different now. Knowing what is coming and what you will have to go through I don’t know if I can just sit by and watch it. Which man am I?

I don’t know where I’m going, but I sure know where I’ve been. I’ve seen the worst of humanity and let it happen for the future. I never questioned it. Maybe my future isn’t the one that should survive though. If I do this and stop the coming disaster, then the future I come from will no longer exist. Without my future as time readjusts it will catch up with me. My changes will survive but from that moment on I won’t. It is hard to explain the way time works and sometimes it just doesn’t make logical sense. That is because it is alive in it’s own way and doesn’t like to be changed. I can’t put this off any longer and still be able to make a difference. I might be on my own, but I know what it means to be alone against the world. I said I would give up forever to touch you and I meant it. When this is done, I will be back. I will talk to you before time catches up with me. I don’t expect anything from you. I just want you to know who I am.

March Update 2021

By Wayne Cole

On March 1, 2021

In Blog, Updates

It has been too long since I’ve done an update on various projects and creative endeavors. For now I’m keeping this focused on creative work and not things in my personal life.

Fear the Boot Game Notes

With this weeks release the weekly podcast that I record, edit, and release for patreon backers of Fear the Boot has reached one year old. I am proud to say that it has released on time every week without missing an episode no matter what was going on at the time. This is something I’m very proud of and plan to keep this track record going.

Fiction Fragment Fridays

I am enjoying writing these flash fictions and trying to stretch myself creatively. Some of these hold real potential to be developed into something much larger. Perhaps I should consolidate and edit them for release or submit final drafts of them. Now that I have plenty of content on this site I will be submitting Flash Fictions online to various markets. This was one of my goals with creating the site to begin with. I wanted one place I could point people back to when I have things published.

Ricochet

My NaNoWriMo novel editing process has not started and I need to fix that. I have focused on other projects and not given this the attention it deserves. That is going to change this month. I am going to be setting editing goals for myself and will provide updates here on the site on my progress.

Skies of Glass

On Valentines Day we released the third beta of the Skies of Glass Roleplaying game rules. Since then we have been getting good feedback and have defined the areas we want to work on. I will continue working with the other two creators on that project hoping to get to a releasable product soon. I would like to spend some time editing the Skies of Glass: Metropolis novel that I wrote as a serial fiction. I have the framework of a short story in that setting as well. I think it would be good to have additional Skies of Glass products available to release in support of the roleplaying game system.

Other Creative Endeavors

I am organizing an online D&D game and have been putting quite a bit of thought and writing into the setting. You may see some of this content adapted into future Fiction Fragment Fridays. Even though I have a face for podcasting I still have been debating on doing something on Youtube. Lego, Transformers, or comic books are all high on my list. I have debated on blog based reviews as well. I have a couple domains that I don’t currently use because the pandemic killed the concepts for them at the moment. I am trying to keep these urges to take on new projects clamped down for now because I want to see more completed before I start anything new.

The Spiral

By Wayne Cole

On January 15, 2021

In Fiction, Fiction Fragment Friday, Updates

Fiction Fragment Friday

Last week I did not post a Fiction Fragment Friday. It was a very difficult week personally and I just did not have the energy or the time. It is something I have beaten myself up over a bit, but all we can do when we stumble is to acknowledge it and move on trying to be better. I have creative goals and the only way I will achieve them is if I don’t let setbacks destroy the progress I have made.

I’m not particularly happy with this story and I think it lacks any form of subtlety. It is far from one of my best for these, but it speaks very much to my headspace. It would be nice if the things that hold us back and try to beat us down were external physical things to be fought, but that just isn’t always the case. Sometimes our greatest critics live in our own heads.

I lay there on the couch struggling to get up, but my body had no energy. The blanket wrapped around me felt like I was surrounded by a warm cloud making the world feel somehow unreal. My eyelids fought my commands trying to shut and pull me back into sleep. I thought about all the things that I needed to get done and with each task that crossed my mind it felt like there was a heavier weight on my chest holding me down. The desire to just give in and stay there forever was almost overwhelming.

“Why bother getting up? It’s not like anything you do matters.” I heard the familiar voice, but this time it didn’t seem to just be in my head. It echoed throughout the room with whispers coming from every direction. A warm breath ran across my face and into my ear bringing with it an odor that smelled like something had died and was rotting away.

Shadows ran over me and gathered into a solid figure. It had a dark crimson skin with yellow glowing eyes. Two horns came from the top of it’s head and a pointed tail was flipping around behind it. I couldn’t help but compare the creature to demonic imps I had seen in video games and fantasy art. Opening my mouth to scream I found that I couldn’t make a sound and even worse the pressure on my chest was making it extremely hard to breath. All the while it continued to whisper all of my failures in my ear flicking it’s tongue against my ear.

My body wasn’t moving, but I could feel myself being pulled down like I was sinking into quicksand. I thought back over my life and found myself focusing on the things I had accomplished. I felt overwhelmed, but I also could feel my will gathering. I have always been stubborn and while I might beat myself up I wasn’t about to let someone else do it. “NO.” I gasped out. My right hand shot up and wrapped around the imps throat. My eyes opened wide and I met it’s surprised gaze.

“Noooo.” It hissed at me. “This is not possible. You were mine.”

My left hand joined my right wrapped around it’s throat. I squeezed as hard as I could pulling it off me and to the side. I rolled over on top if the imp and looked it in the eyes. “The things that live in my head are far scarier than you could ever hope to be.” As it stopped struggling the imp faded evaporated into a red cloud that flowed into me. I collapsed on the bed, but I felt stronger somehow.

I curled back into my blanket and slept more soundly than I had in weeks. When I woke up I felt truly rested. Sitting up I looked around for any sign that the demon had been real, but there was nothing. I couldn’t help but wonder if it had all just been a dream. Real or not I felt renewed and went about the rest of my day productively. I found myself staring in the mirror that night ready for bed. Looking at my face my eyes flashed to a yellow glow before turning back to their usual blue.