From the category archives:

Fiction

This revision fleshes out some detail about Bitter the talking squirrel. Otherwise, I still don’t know where I’m going with this story. Grin.

“We need a wizard,” Kaither stammered.

He was nearly out of breath from trying to push the stone door open. His body was beginning to ache from his right shoulder to his feet.

“A wizard!” Bitter growled. “You’ve got to be kidding! Besides being a pain in the ass, they cost money, too!”

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Here’s another story start or, possibly, an idea for a story featuring my recurring character (name) Arec Cutter. This is another case where I do not know the circumstances or the depth of premise surrounding this brief scene. I probably need to either run with the idea or take more copious notes. Nevertheless, I can say a few things: Cutter is a private eye with an unexplored violent and vindictive nature as this scenario and the unfortunate victim Benny discovers.

Cutter drew his Beretta and fired two quick shots. The first bullet hit Benny in the chest and he dropped to his knees with a groan. The second shot penetrated his forehead.

“Bastard.” Benny uttered his last words and fell on his face.

Cutter circled around and shot him two more times in the ass only because Benny was always a pain.

That’s it.

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I don’t know when I started this story, possibly 5 years ago. As many of my story starts, this began with a simple phrase, unexplored or unexpanded idea, or a character or characters. This one, I believe, began with the open phrase from the protagonist. But it could have come from the pairing of two adventurers: a human and a rather larger talking squirrel. I’m not sure where the story is going, but I like what I’ve written so far.

“We need a wizard,” Kaither stammered. He was nearly out of breath from trying to push the stone door open. His body was beginning to ache from his right shoulder to his thighs.

“A wizard!” Bitter growled. “You’ve got to be kidding! They’re a pain in the ass. And besides, they cost money, too.” [read more]

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Caninas: A Fantasy Of Talking Dogs and Men

8 December 2009 Fantasy

Sir John was an old, but nimble cur. But don’t let him know that I called his grace by such a vulgar term. He would be greatly offended and quickly point out that he was the purest of his breed.

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