Monday, December 15, 2014

Jack: Revisited; First 900 words

     Beads of rain ran down the window casting flickering shadows across the bedroom and a rumble of thunder would shake the glass every so often. A series of drawers were set into the wall along with a closet, only thin lines outlined where the compartments were. Clothing was strewn about the floor and the sheets where crumpled. A small red light pulsed slowly on the wall next to the bed, below a black thirteen inch screen.
     Jack Aric O’Callahan sat propped up against the cool glass, his muscular chest rising and falling rhythmically. His thin, coarse brown hair was slicked back which made his receding hairline slightly more obvious. A silver chain with a single dog tag hung against his chest, a momentum to his past. Cordell wore it’s companion around her neck. He had given it to her as an engagement gift, since he couldn’t afford a ring. In his left hand, a cigarette was balanced between his fingers, and his right arm, a series of wires, servos, and circuits was incased in a flesh-colored carbon fiber-kevlar blend casing, was wrapped around the shoulders of a naked woman, laying asleep next to him. 
Cordell, now she was a special type of woman; she had stuck by his side through everything for the past seven years. She worked down at Yutani’s Gentleman’s Club. Jack knew that she did more than take her clothes off an strut around naked for rich snobs in three-piece suits. He didn’t care how many exec knobs she fiddled with, as long as she came back to him at the end of the day. 
     Cordell had choppy, heavily layered purple hair. Protruding from the top of her head where triangular ears, similar to that of a cat’s, that twitched occasionally, and folded back against her hair when he ran his hand across the top of her head. Protruding from her lower back was a  fluffy purple and black stripped tail, that flicked happily over the edge of the bed. Jack inhaled through his cigarette causing the ember to glow bright for a moment. He looked down at the woman. He could see her eyes moving behind her eyelids. He envied her for being able to sleep so easily. He was haunted by visions of horror, violence and gore every time he closed his eyes. The therapist he had been assigned to told him it was called “Post Traumatic Stress Disorder,” and had prescribed him some sort of drug called, “clora-prostate,” or some other bullshit medical name. They helped, but not as much as he would have liked. Instead he enjoyed his cigarettes and booze, preferring to smoke away, and drown the memories. 
     They had talked about moving to one of the colonies; to get away from the clutter and pollution of the City. Jack liked the colony of Elysia, a green jewel of a planet. It was known as a vacation destination, and was mostly a farming colony. It was calm and peaceful. Jack thought about lounging on the pale beaches, splashing in the waves with Cordell. Paradise, he thought. But they would never have enough money to move out there. Travel alone would cost him two years wages, and buying a house, maybe four years. He took a good long drag off his cigarette.
Cordell shifted and wrapped her pale arm around his waist and pulled herself close to him. Her warm, honey soft breasts pressed against his leg, causing him to stiffen slightly. 
     He rubbed the back of his neck with his mechanical arm. The finger tips felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand as the colder carbon-fiber touched his neck. There was a round metallic hole at the nape of his neck, his neural connection port. He hadn’t used that for ages, not since he retied from the mercenary work; seeing as his current job as a warehouse worker didn’t require it. Everyone had one, though not everyone used it.
     He reached over and touched the screen with the pulsating red light.  The screen flickered to life and a displayed a simple monochromatic UI that illuminated his chiseled jaw with soft blue light. He tapped the symbol that looked like an analog clock eclipsing a sun. The screen flashed to black and back to blue before displaying the weather, date, and time.


     He hit the window with the back his head in frustration. It looked like it would be another sleepless night. He ran his fingers through Cordell’s hair and a purr of pleasure slipped from between her thin lips. He stamped out his cigarette in the glass ashtray sitting on the window ledge. The rain seemed to let up for a moment. He heard a door close in the other room. His muscles tightened as adrenaline shot through his veins. He pushed on one of the panels on the wall which silently slid open to reveal .45 Automatic. He took it in his hand; the metal against his skin and the weight of it felt calming. He gently released himself from Cordell’s embrace. She stiffened as he got up, but soon relaxed back into sleep. Jack slipped over towards the door control panel. He hit the manual override switch and slid the door open softly and slipped into the room beyond, sliding the door shut behind him. He could hear someone moving about in the kitchen, but when he peered inside, no one was there. 

Wednesday, December 3, 2014

News Bulletin: Current Writing Project and Jack/Rubi information!

Just so you know, I'm not dead. I know many of you are dying to know what happens next with Jack and Rubi. Here's the thing. I didn't really plan out what was going to happen. I was just letting the story evolve. Big mistake, I suddenly didn't know what was going to happen, or where the story was going. So I stepped away from the Cyberpunk setting and returned to my roots to write Fantasy. This began the writing of "A Saga of Blood and Steel" (working title, obviously). Now I got to a point where I was like, "Let's take a look at the Cyberpunk story again. So I began to take notes on what I liked about the world I was spining and the things I didn't like. The "Like" list was surprisingly short, comprising of, Jack, Cordell, Rubi, Cal, Jenn, CommNet/InfoNet, and the idea that one person/ or a few select people control everything; A new world order as it were. That was about it. So I began to redesign the world, pushing the story from 2043 to 2184, and rethinking what I thought about the future.

Here's the rundown:

Earth is dying, we have used up most of our resources and pollution is rampant. Most food is "manufactured" in laboratories. We have formed colonies on many of the planetoids in our solar system (Mars, Moons of Jupiter and Saturn) and even in other solar systems. Massive Cities stretch across continents and the government is pretty much a facade. The real power is held by DG International, more often referred to as "The Corporation", who controls everything, the Civil Service, manufacturing, distributing, etc.

Food is manufactured in labs and then distributed. Now there are numerous 'Take-out restaurants" that grow their own food, which are extremely popular among the lower classes. Meat is reserved for the highest of the high class due to it's expensive manufacturing process; so Tofu, Tempeh, and Seitan are common. Protein Packs have become a staple in most households since they are cheap and have an extended shelf-life.

Due to the boom in the Asian populations in the 2040s with the Chinese Government repealing the One-Child policy in 2041, and the Japanese Government putting in place the Anti-Celibacy Act in 2043, Asian culture spread rapidly into the Western World. Mandarin quickly over took English as the business language of the world, and the Yuan/Yen (¥) became the World Currency. It is common for signs to be written in English, Hanzi and Kanji. This combination of languages eventually gave birth to a street language called Rikujin-ko, which is a combination Mandarin, Japanese and Korean.

Due to war and pollution many parts of the world became uninhabitable, forcing many people to move into the massive cities that span thousands of miles. This brought various crime syndicates into conflict, such as the Italian Mafia, Yakuza, Irish Mob, and the Triad. These crime syndicates continue to battle for turf in the megalopolis'.
Due to the rampant crime, cameras are everywhere in the City. Some people believe that the Corporation is using these cameras for other reasons than simply controlling crime.

Now with DG International having a monopoly on everything, has led to some unsavory events. A radical anarchist group of hackers called the "Free Network Coalition" (FNC), originally a peaceful group has begun "terrorist operations" attacking Corporation Facilities and Buildings with no regard to collateral damage. This has sparked a bloody and brutal conflict between the Trigger-Men of the Agency (hired by DG Int'l) and the FNC.

Keep an eye out for any posts featuring the updated Jack and Rubi Story!

Sunday, November 23, 2014

Why "A Song of Ice and Fire" has Ruined Traditional Fantasy for Me

So most people have heard of HBO's "Game of Thrones" series based upon George R.R. Martin's epic fantasy series "A Song of Ice and Fire". ASoIaF is based around the conflict engulfing the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros. It involves Intrigue, Murder, War, Sex, all mixed in with magic and dragons. All this has been combined masterfully into a sweeping epic of vast proportions, spanning hundreds of characters and viewpoints.

Now I was late to the party, discovering a Game of Thrones after the end of Season 2. I began watching the show and was immediately drawn into the world. I fell in love with the gritty realism of the world and how it showed "real" characters each with flaws and desires. Nothing was as it seemed. No one is safe.  In the words of Cersei Lannister, "When you play the game of thrones you win or you die... There is no middle ground."
Now before you say "Oh the books are so much better than the show". I still am in the process of reading the books, I am on "A Feast for Crows". Also, shut up. The show has exposed more people to the world of Westeros than if they had remained books. And if they really wanted to have the full experience I would encourage them to pick up the books and read them.

Being a history buff, the rich mythology and histories that make up the world of Westeros and Essos, gave me immense joy. Having loved reading Tolkien and his wonderful mythos woven for Middle Earth,  discovering the past of Westeros has been wonderful experience.

Now, onto my point. In the world of Westeros, there is NO good or evil (Not including the Others). Only varying shades of grey. Life or Death... Survival. Now I have been playing D&D, and other various RPGs for about six years now and a well known staple of D&D is the Alignment Chart. The Alignment Chart places every character into a strict, well... Alignment. The Character has no ability to act outside of their Alignment under threat of being turned evil, in which causes them to be hunted down and killed. Because Evil is bad.

Now, while reading aSoIaF and other various genres, I have become disenfranchised with the strict alignment system. Being forced to choose "Chaotic Neutral" Alignment, to allow my character to make choices that can be perceived as good or evil depending on the situation.  Having a character that choses based on their experiences and emotions, makes for a more interesting character to play and read. Even an Evil person does not think he/she is doing evil.

Example: I'm playing a character who constantly is seeking the answer to a question posed to him by a colleague who disappeared. The question, "What is the Truth?". My character wants to better the world by finding out the Truth. He genuinely wants to help, though he does so his own way. So I assigned him the example of Chaotic Good.  Now my character is a Wizard of the Divination School. He has spent numerous years of his life staring into the stars asking himself what is out there? He as spent so much time trying to learn "The Truth" from "The Stars" (a mystical force who he believes provides him with his visions and glimpses), that he has forgotten his own age, saying, "Somewhere between 100 and 500." Now this line of thought has driven him to believing in Chaos. He has become in awe of the vastness of the cosmos and the unpredictable surf of reality. Because of this, he thinks in grand terms while still holding on the the smaller things. He just made "friends" with a miserable little urchin on a dismal isle.

Now this character would rather uncover a great mystery, even if it meant the destruction of a civilization. To him this would be even more great of a gift because to him, that brings him one more step closer to the Truth which he plans to use to bring the world into an "Age of Light". Is this wrong in his eyes? No. He thinks he is helping the people of Faerun.

But this is generally considered a Chaotic act and would fall under the Chaotic Neutral Alignment.

In the words of George R.R. Martin,

"I love fantasy and I’ve been reading it all my life, but I’m also very conscious of its flaws. One of the things that drives me crazy is the externalization of evil, where evil comes from the “Dark Lord” who sits in his dark palace with his dark minions who all wear black and are very ugly. I’ve deliberately played with that, where you have the Night’s Watch who even though they are filled with thieves and poachers and rapers are heroic people — but they all wear black. And then there are the Lannisters who are tall and fair but aren’t the nicest people."

This. This is why traditional fantasy has become so dull to me. I know who the BBEG is. He's that asshole sitting up in his spiky black tower or fortress, surrounded by hordes of Orcs, demons and other nasty beasts. That's no fun. It's more interesting to not know who the bad guy is. In our world, there is no BBEG. Just people. People trying to survive.

This is why George R.R. Martin's "A Song of Ice and Fire" has ruined fantasy for me. It has made me wish for something more real. Which has in turn influenced my own writing style.

Remember, Valar Morghulis, "All men must die".

Tuesday, September 30, 2014


The town of Helund was nestled into a bend of the fjord. The steep hills and cliffs were blanketed with conifers and hardwood trees. The water in this area of the fjord was placid and almost motionless. A hall stood in the center of town. Built upon a foundation of stone, the walls bowed and gave the appearance of an overturned longship. Surrounding the hall was a handful of longhouses. The houses closest to the hall where walled with wattle and daub, but as they houses got further from the hall they were walled with planks or logs. A dock stretched out into the tranquil water with enough room for about half a dozen longships, nearby along the shore was a half-built ship. Birds flitted about among the rooftops, and dogs chased each other through the buildings. A pen of chickens sat near the forest accompanied by an enclosure of goats. 

Wednesday, September 24, 2014

A Jack O'Callahan Mystery: Black Leather and Blackmail, Issue #8


Warning: This post may contain mature content.

     The Maltese Falcon Taproom was a quiet place on Hawthorne Lane. It had wood paneled walls and dim lighting. David and Jenn sat in one of the booths along the wall. David had a glass of bourbon in front of him, a pair of ice cubes were suspended in the amber liquid. Jenn was sipping on a green cocktail.
     “How you feeling? First time is always an interesting experience,” asked Jenn. David took a sip from his glass.
     “Well, still a bit sore,” muttered David, with a nervous chuckle. 
     “You took it well, though.” Jenn grinned twirling a strand of hair around her finger.
     “Grew up in a tough neighborhood. Learned quickly to take the pain.,” explained David, “Though, I don’t think that getting tied up is my thing.”
     “It’s not for everyone.” Jenn took a gulp from her glass.
     “You said you used to run? I’ve been around runners and you don’t sound like them.” asked Jack.
     “What do you mean?” Jenn looked confused.
     “Well they have almost their own language,” explained Jack.
     “Oh. I only did a couple of jobs. Small time stuff. I wasn’t ingrained into the lifestyle. I’m not to proud of some of the stuff I did. But, I’ve put that behind me.” 
     “I understand. Everyone has things they would rather forget,” said David.
     “I think I need another drink,” she muttered. She slid out from the booth and walked to the bar. David watched her. Her hips swayed as strode up to the bar. He grinned and took a swig from his cup. He turned away when he saw her turn around. She slid back into the booth with a blue cocktail with a straw, and a matching umbrella in her hand. She smiled at him. 
     “What?” he asked.
     “Oh nothing,” she grinned, the straw placed in the corner of her mouth. David jumped as he felt her foot on the inside of his leg. She rubbed his calf slowly. She watched his expression. “You know, No one has looked at me since we got here.” 
     “Really? You look fantastic,” said David, surprised.
     “Awww, you think so?” she cooed. Her cheeks turned a faint pink.
     “Yeah. Of course! You’re gorgeous.”
     “You aren’t to bad looking either,” she flirted. David smiled and looked into his drink. Jenn got up and slid next to him. Her arm slid around his and her blonde head rested against his shoulder. “You know… you look really good without your shirt off.” She ran her hand inside his jacket.
     “Heh,” he grunted, taking a sip from his glass.
     “You do,” she assured. She placed her finger on his chin and turned his face to look at her. She reached up and pressed her lips against his. She pulled away quickly. She looked at the floor, her hand on her neck. “Sorry, I didn’t mean too,” she muttered. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close.
     “It’s okay. I didn’t mind.” He picked up a napkin and wiped her lipstick from his lips. She looked up at him. He smiled at her. 
     “It’s getting late…” she yawned.
     “I’ll walk you home. The city is dangerous after dark,” said David.
     “Thanks.” Jenn stood, walked to the bar, and handed the bartender her credcard. He swiped it and handed it back. David waited for Jenn at the door, his coat slung over his arm. Jenn pulled on her coat and they stepped onto the streets.


     Jack sat at his desk, cigarette balanced between his fingers. 405 West Wisconsin Street. Hmmm… The dominatrix must be behind this. I know it. But why would she not ask for money? Why would she ask him to follow her instructions in the city council? He obviously liked relinquishing control, but outside the dungeon? Something’s off. What would push a domme to do this? Power. Yeah, but would she have put slugs into him? If it was power she was after, she lost it when he died. Someone else must be behind this. His mind drifted to what the detective said about the bullet. Nine-millimeter, hollow point. He got up and opened the filing cabinet. He pulled out a file labeled, ‘Maxine Grove; 25 Aug.-Sept 3 2043’. He opened the file and pulled out the baggie with the shell casing.  He opened it and pulled out the brass cylinder. He held it up to the light to read the etching on the bottom, “9MM-HP”.  Who ever called me must be behind this. But just because Alderman Malone was killed by the same round, doesn’t mean that whoever that voice was, is behind this. He took a long drag on his cigarette. I need to find out what is going on. I need to get into that dungeon and find the computer. There might be some clues as to who is behind this. E-mails, transaction history, something… Jack put out the cigarette. He grabbed his coat and headed out of the office.


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Wednesday, September 17, 2014

What If...
I've been thinking. What if I didn't have Aspergers? What would my life have been like. Well for starters, I probably wouldn't have been interested in Legos, Fantasy, Science Fiction. I probably wouldn't have been interested in playing Dungeons and Dragons. I probably would not have asked my friend about D&D that morning, in Chemistry Class, during my Junior year of high school.

 If I hadn't done that, I would never have met all the wonderful people in my life. I probably would have gone to college, gotten a degree, and gotten a job somewhere. I would probably have a girlfriend. But instead I dropped out of college my second semester, I became invested in gaming. I met the best sort of people. People that make life interesting. People that I can truly love. If it wasn't for Aspergers, I wouldn't have discovered any of that. It brings tears to my eyes that if I didn't have Aspergers, I probably wouldn't have met any of the people I hold so close to my heart. I probably wouldn't be sitting here writing this, I'd probably be off at some university writing a paper or studying.

I almost definitely would have been able to support myself...

Even though I wish I could have all those things, I've realized that if by some miracle I could magically not have Aspergers and live in a world where I understood social situations, a world where I was neurotypical. I wouldn't trade that for the world. Aspergers has given me a unique gift. My friends. No, my family. Vixy and Tony I think said it best:

But them that run with me's got my back 
It's a fool don't know that his family's his crew

If I didn't have Aspergers... I can't imagine... I'm proud to say, I have Aspergers, and I wouldn't trade that for the world, because this is who I am.

A Jack O'Callahan Mystery: Black Leather and Blackmail, Issue #7


Warning: This post may contain mature content.

     The rain came down in buckets as Jack exited Cordell’s apartment.  He hailed a cab and headed back towards the office. His mind mulled over what he had just told her. He jolted back to meat-space when the cab pulled up to his office. He paid the cab driver and stepped out. A black sedan with tinted windows was parked on the street. He looked at it curiously; it looked familiar, though he couldn’t figure out where he had seen it before. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He looked around, there was no one on the street. A hint of movement was visible out of the corner of his eye. He spotted a security camera perched on a lamp post. It’s lens stared at him. He looked at it curiously. His mind strayed to the mysterious voice on the phone. A traffic camera had stared at him only hours before he received the call. He blinked. I have heard about ghosts on the grid. Net-jockeies that could hack into security cameras and use them as eyes for runners. He shivered, turned his back on the camera and walked into the office. 

     Jack opened his office door. David was standing in front of Jenn’s desk; Jenn was sitting in her chair. Jack stared at Jenn for a moment, taken aback by her clothes and makeup. He pulled of his dripping jacket and hung it on the peg. As he turned around he noticed David was standing strangely.
     “So, How was your date?” asked Jack with a sly grin. Jenn put her hand to her mouth, blushed and giggled. David scowled.
     “It was fine,” he spat, “We did find a camera though, in the room depicted in the photos. Did you find the location of the computer?”
     “Yeah,” said Jack.
     “Where?” asked Jenn.
     “405 West Wisconsin Street,” informed Jack. The office fell silent. “What?” Jack looked at them confused.
     “That’s the address of the dungeon,” stated David. They jumped as the door opened. A man with blonde slicked back hair, and blue eyes stood in the door way. He wore a dark blue suit and red tie, and a London trench coat. An e-cig was balanced between his lips. 
     “Forgrave?! What the hell are you doing here?” questioned Jack. 
     “Police Business, we need to talk.” stated the blonde man, his eyes shooting towards David and Jenn, “Alone.” David and Jenn looked at each other.
     “We were just leaving,” said David, “Jenn here owes me several drinks.” David and Jenn stood, picked up their coats. David held the door open for Jenn. She smiled and left the apartment, David followed her. Forgrave watched them leave.
     “Office Romance? Thought you didn’t like that?” said Detective Maxwell Forgrave. 
     “What? Jenn? David? They aren’t together,” said Jack. Forgrave puffed on his e-cig. “Why are you here Forgrave?” 
     “I’m here about a murder,” said the police detective.
     “Oh, Let’s step into my office.” Jack gestured towards the door. Forgrave opened the door and Jack followed. He walked around his desk and sat in his chair. Forgrave sat opposite from him.
     “So who’s murder are you here about? I didn’t kill anyone,” said Jack.
     “The murder of Dixon Malone,” reported Forgrave. Jack blinked and looked at Forgrave.
     “Dixon Malone?” questioned Jack.
     “Yeah, You know him?” asked the detective.
     “I can guess that you already know the answer to that question,” grunted Jack. Forgrave pulled a plastic bag from his coat pocket. It contained the scrap of paper that Jack had scrawled his CommNet address on.
     “We found this on his body,” said Forgrave.
     “I didn’t kill him,” drawled Jack, taking a drag on the cigarette.
     “I never said you did,” commented Forgrave, “But what was he doing with your CommNet address?” 
     “He hired me for a job,” reported Jack.
     “So Alderman Malone hired you to do a job?” asked Forgrave, eyebrows raised.
     “You got that right.”
     “What did he hire you for?” 
     “To find out who was blackmailing him. He had been receiving letters from a mysterious person for some time now,” explained Jack. He picked the letter that Malone had left and handed it to Forgrave, “He left one here.” Forgrave opened the letter and read it. When he was finished he looked back up at Jack.
     “Is this all he gave you? It’s not much to begin to find out who was blackmailing him. These initials could be anyone,” Forgrave stated. “Did he give you anything else?”
     “Yeah, This flash drive,” said Jack, pulling the flash drive from his pant pocket.
     “What’s on it?” asked Forgrave.
     “The pictures he was being blackmailed with,” stated Jack.
     “Is that all?” 
     “Yup,” affirmed Jack.
     "Thats not a lot to go on,” noticed Forgrave.
     “Yeah, you got that right. But he paid up front. Ten big ones,” replied Jack. Forgrave leaned back. In his seat.
     “I’m going to have to ask you to turn over your case file,” said Forgrave.
     “I figured you would say that,” said Jack, “All he gave me was the flash drive and that letter. Take ‘em.” Forgrave slid the flash drive and letter into individual baggies. 
     “Is there anything else?” asked Forgrave.
     “No.” Jack lied.
     “Thank you for your cooperation,” said Forgrave.
     “Anything to help the cops,” smiled Jack. Forgrave stood, tipped his hat and headed towards the door.
     “One last thing,” said Jack.
     “What’s that?” said Forgrave, turning to face Jack.
     “How was he killed?”
     “Three shots to the chest,” replied the police detective.
     “Caliber?” asked Jack.
     “Just curious.” 
     “Nine-millimeter. Hollow-point,” informed Forgrave.

     “Oh, Thank you.” said Jack. Forgrave's gaze lingered for a moment before he exited, leaving Jack alone in the office. Jack reached down to the bottom drawer of his desk, and pulled out a glass and a bottle of scotch. He poured himself a glass and stepped to his window. He looked out across the city. I’m going to get to the bottom of this. Something is going on. Someone is pulling the strings in this city. I will find out who H.W, is.

Check back in next week for the next issue of The Jack O'Callahan Mysteries!

Please support me on Patreon! Donations are on a monthly basis, so you can make sure you don't go over your carefully constructed budget! Every donation is a step to my goal of being able to write full time! Help me realize my goal here!

Picture Source: L.A. Noire

Monday, September 15, 2014

A Jack O'Callahan Mystery: Death by Diamonds and Pearls, Issue #1

Issue #8 of Black Leather and Blackmail will be released on schedule. I will finish Black Leather and Blackmail, don't worry. The release date of subsequent issues of Death By Diamonds and Pearls has not yet been decided.  Cheers!

     Jenn was already at her desk when Jack arrived, late monday morning. She greeted him with a bright smile.
     “Mornin’ Jenn,” said Jack, stepping up to the coat rack and hanging up his coat and hat
     “Morning. You have a beautiful woman in your office, and I mean beautiful. I would turn lesbian for her,” mentioned Jenn. Jack paused and held up his hand.
     “Didn’t need to hear that,” commented Jack.
     “Just saying,” grinned Jenn, her eyebrow raised.
     “Thanks for the heads up though.”
     “It is my job,” smiled Jenn. Jack nodded and stepped into his office.

     Standing by the window was a woman. She wore a plain, sequined ebony  dress, that clung to her curves like a monkey to a vine. The neck of the dress was cut in a v-shape, not exposing anything but enough to spark the imagination. She had legs that went on for miles, accentuated by a pair of raven leather six inch heeled, platform pumps. Her curled copper hair hung around her shoulders curtaining her soft feminine face. Her grey eyes where lined with soft lines of eyeliner and her lips where as red as a freshly picked Jonagold apple. A black handbag hung on her shoulder. She eyed Jack as he entered. Jenn was right. She’s gorgeous.
     “Your secretary said I could wait inside. She’s such a beauty,” admitted the woman.
     “Yeah, she is. What can I do for you Miss…?” began Jack.
     “LaChance, It’s French, but you can call me Lucy,” she grinned. Jack raised his eyebrows. He walked over to his desk and gestured to the chair in front of it. 
     “What can I do for you Miss LaChance?” asked Jack.
     “Please call me Lucy,” she requested, twirling a lock of hair around her finger.
     “Alright Lucy, what do you need?” Jack inquired.
     “I am the owner of a piece of jewelry, a diamond and pearl necklace,” Jack leaned forward.
     “Alright. Let me guess it was stolen.” 
     “Yes, you have that right,” she stated.
     “So, go to the police. Don’t waste my time,” growled Jack. He reached into his jacket, withdrew a cigarette and lit it.
     “The FBI and the Chicago Police department is already looking into it,” stated Lucy.
     “Then why the dìyù are you here telling me this gǒu shǐ?” hissed Jack.
     “Because I don’t trust the police. The officers in this city are some of the most corrupt I have ever seen, and I’ve done business in Singapore,” elaborated Lucy, “ I don’t want some dirty cop giving my diamonds to some mob boss.” Jack reclined in his chair, taking a drag on his cigarette.
     “So you want me to go around the law. You do realize that I could lose my license right?” questioned Jack.
     “Yes, I’m aware. But I will make it worth your while. Would two-hundred thousand be enough for you?” 
     “You have my attention,” said Jack.
     “The necklace was stolen from the Field Museum last Thursday. It was on loan for the Diamonds of the World exhibit. It disappeared with out trace. Nothing showed up on the cameras and the security systems didn’t pick up any disturbances,” she began. Jack raised his eyebrow. “The FBI are taking their sweet time and the thief is probably already found a fence. It’s a family heirloom, and I want it back in my possession as soon as possible.”
     “I’m not so sure. If the FBI is involved this could get incredibly dangerous for me. There is no way they will let me look at their case files,” explained Jack. She stood and stepped around his desk.
     “Mister O’Callahan, I searched for a private detective to take this case. It took a glowing recommendation from Maxine Grove for me to find you.” Jack could smell her perfume, a floral, yet woody fragrance.
     “I had to turn down that case part way through,” commented Jack.
     “Yes but she said she liked your professionalism,” smiled Lucy. Jack took a long draw off his cigarette.
     “I’ll take it. But make it three-hundred thousand and you got a deal.” 
     “If you insist,” she breathed. She leaned down and her lips brushed his cheek, “Thank you.” She straightened, smoothed her skirt and reached into her bag. Jack stiffened, but relaxed when she withdrew a business card. “Call me if you need anything.” Jack watched her as she left. Her hips where a pendulum, swaying with each step. He heard her say a few words to Jenn, before stepping into the hall. Jack looked at a the card, and twirled it in his fingers. Jenn knocked on the door.
     “Well?” she asked.
     “We got a new case,” replied Jack. Jenn leaned against the desk. She pulled a tissue from her pocket and licked it. “What are you doing?” asked Jack.
     “You got a little lipstick here,” said Jenn wiping his cheek,        “Wouldn’t want your lady friend to see this. There, good as new.”
     “Thanks, what would I do without you?” asked Jack.

     “Well, you might have had to explain yourself,” smiled Jenn.


Please support me on Patreon! Donations are on a monthly basis, so you can make sure you don't go over your carefully constructed budget! Every donation is a step to my goal of being able to write full time! Help me realize my goal here!

Model: Katy Ann
Check out her Facebook Page here!

Saturday, September 13, 2014


Black Leather and Blackmail will be placed on hold due to trouble figuring out how to write the next couple of issues.  Issue #7 will be released and possibly Issue #8. I apologize, but the Jack and Rubi stories are usually written and then uploaded. I will try to continue Black Leather and Blackmail as soon as possible.

Don't fret! A new Jack O'Callahan Mystery is in the works; titled, "Death by Diamonds and Pearls", featuring robbery and murder!  Also, you should go and give Katy Ann some love. She's a wonderful young woman and has provided a few pictures that will accompany the issues! Not to mention she's absolutely stunning!

Please support me on Patreon! Donations are on a monthly basis, so you can make sure you don't go over your carefully constructed budget! Every donation is a step to my goal of being able to write full time! Help me realize my goal here!

Thursday, September 11, 2014

Rubi Rascke: Runner for Hire #9

      Rubi and Cal found themselves in a quiet bar along East Washington Street. It wasn’t very big and was in the basement of an restaurant. Futbol highlights were being displayed on the info-screen. Being in the middle of the week not many people where there. Rubi and Cal sat on the far end of the bar against the wall. Rubi sipped on a pint of beer and Cal had a White Russian clutched in her hand; their eyes were fixed on the soccer game. At the end of the bar opposite to where Rubi and Cal were sitting was a young woman, college aged. She was a brunette, her wavy hair pulled back into a ponytail. Her face was thin and young. She wore a v-neck shirt with the motion ‘W’, of the University of Wisconsin emblazoned on the front, and an unzipped sweatshirt. Rubi’s eyes shot over to the girl periodically, after while Cal began to notice.
      “Whatchu looking at?” asked Cal, looking where Rubi was looking. She noticed the girl and spun her head back to Rubi, grinning. Rubi looked at her.
      “You think she’s cute, don’tcha!” grinned Cal.
      “What? No!” exclaimed Rubi.
      “Yeah you do!” Cal gave Rubi a toothy grin.
      “Shut up!” growled Rubi into her glass.
      “I’m going to go talk to her!” quipped Cal, spinning around on the stool.
      “No! Wait!” cried Rubi, “Shit.” She turned to her drink as Cal bounced over the the girl. Rubi watched Cal introduce herself and strike up a conversation. Rubi got the bartender’s attention. “I’ll have a scotch, double, no ice.” The bartender poured the drink for Rubi. As Rubi took the glass she noticed movement out of the corner of her eye. She glanced over. The girl was coming over. Shit… 
      “Mind if I sat down?” she asked.  Rubi shook her head. “I’m Dani. Your friend said that I should come talk to you”, said the girl. God damn it Cal, thought Rubi. She shot a dirty look towards Cal, who only gave her a toothy grin and a thumbs up. Rubi looked down into her glass. Rubi’s eyes flashed up at the girl. The girl smiled at her. Rubi struggled for words, leaving them in an awkward silence.
      “So, Dani? Is that short for something?” grumbled Rubi, taking a swig.
      “Yeah, Danielle.” 
      “Cool,” muttered Rubi.
      “What about you?” asked Ella,”What’s your name?
      “Uhhh… Rubmm,” gurgled Rubi into her glass.
      “Rubi?” asked the girl.
      “Yeah,” muttered Rubi. An awkward silence descended on them. Rubi sipped on her scotch.
      “I like your jacket,” quipped Dani. Rubi grunted. “So, you like Kindstod?” asked the girl, referring to one of the patches on Rubi’s jacket. 
      “Yeah. They’re one of my favs,” replied Rubi. She glanced over to the girl sitting next to her, “You don’t look like someone who would enjoy that kind of music,” she noted. The girl shrugged.
      “My older brother got me into it. He was really big on the whole ‘anti-culture’ idea,” mentioned Dani.
      “Cool,” said Rubi, “You a student or something?”
      “Yeah, I’m about to start my senior year. What about you?” asked Dani.
      “I work.” 
      “What do you do?” questioned the girl. Rubi hesitated. I can’t tell her that I’m a runner… She’ll probably freak out. Uh… Say something!
      “Computers,” she blurted, “I work with computers.”
      “Software or hardware?” asked Dani.
      “Both,” replied Rubi. 
      “Cool! My degree is in Graphic Design and Programing.” Dani looked at her watch, “Oh! It’s getting late, I gotta get going!” She pulled a pen from her pocket, and scrawled her CommNet address on a napkin. “Give me a buzz sometime alright?”
      “Sure,” muttered Rubi.
      “Have a good night!” The girl smiled and headed towards the door. Cal bounded over, her smile spreading ear to ear. She jumped atop the stool. Rubi glared at her.
      “Suka,” hissed Rubi. Cal opened her mouth in mock offense.
      “How could you!” She grinned, “You got her digits! Come on. You owe me a thanks.”
      “Why?” asked Rubi.
      “Because with out me, you would never have even talked to her!” Cal pointed out.
      “Yeah, I guess your right. Thanks,” said Rubi sheepishly.

      “I’m always happy to play wingman for you,” grinned Cal. She wrapped her arm around her friend and gave her a loose hug.


Please support me on Patreon! Donations are on a monthly basis, so you can make sure you don't go over your carefully constructed budget! Every donation is a step to my goal of being able to write full time! Help me realize my goal here!

Picture Source: Evey Dantès
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Wednesday, September 10, 2014

A Jack O'Callahan Mystery: Black Leather and Blackmail, Issue #6


Writers Note: So. This issue is fairly explicit; including some lets that savory things...  (Language and Rape) I do not encourage or condone rape, in fact I have friends that have been raped. I find it terrible and disgusting. But, rape is something that happens. I included it because even though it is a terrible thing because I wanted to show that no character is perfect. We all have done things that we regret. If things like that bother you, I recommend skipping this issue.

Warning: This post may contain mature content.

     Jack opened his eyes. He was in Cordell’s apartment, the living room to be exact. She was next to him, her leg thrown over his lap. Her heat warmed his side. Her sapphire head was nestled in his armpit. He could feel her breath on his chest, slow and steady. He admired the curve of her back, down to her firm bottom and to her shapely legs. Her soft but perky breasts were pressed into his abdomen. He smiled. He shifted and she stirred. Her head rose. 
     “You’re a good lay,” she murmured. She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear.
     “You are too,” grinned Jack. She sat up. He eyed her breasts. Perfection, he thought. She pulled his chin up so he would look into her violet eyes.
     “My eyes are up here.” She grinned. 
     “Your eyes are just as beautiful as your tits,” commented Jack. She tossed her head back laughing.
     “If only your face was as beautiful as your dick,” she giggled. He jumped as her cold hand wrapped around him. 
     “Hey!” He grabbed her shoulders and flipped her onto her back.
     “Oh! I thought you liked being on the bottom.” She bit her lip. Jack leaned in and brushed his lips against hers. She ran her hands down his back. Her thin fingers traced a scar that stretched from his mid back to his hip. “You never told me how you got this.” Jack got off of her and sat on the couch. His grey eyes stared through the wall. She sat up.
     “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to…” she apologized. Jack picked up his trousers and slid them up. He reached into his jacket and pulled out his pack of cigarettes. There was one left. Fuck. He put it in his mouth and patted his pockets down. There was a click. His eyes flashed towards Cordell. She held out his lighter, her lavender eyes apologetic. He leaned forward and held the cigarette in the flame.
     “I really am sorry.” She begged for his forgiveness. He pulled the the cigarette from his lips and exhaled.
     “We’ve known each other for seven years now… I figure you should know.” He looked at her, his grey eyes dead, “You have to promise me something though.” 
     “What ever you say.”
     “Promise me that no matter what I tell you, you will still love me,” he said in a monotone. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders.
     “I promise.” 

     It was Singapore. I was sixteen. I had just joined up. We had been fighting the Long-Ko Gang for five months. Brutal fighting; street to street, building to building, room to room. I had lost most of my platoon. I had been promoted three times. I had watched my best friend get blown apart by mine that had been tucked into a medicine cabinet. He just wanted to get a god damn fucking aspirin. His blood and bones splattered against my armor. I was furious. I wanted revenge. The next week we finally found the boss. The leader of the mob. We stormed his palace. Nice digs. It was a shame to get blood all over the place. It was me who found him. But it wasn’t a him. It was a her. She was the mastermind behind my friend getting blown to hell.  We where alone. She was feeble and old. I was young and full of fury. I slammed the bitch up agains the wall. I ripped her clothes and spit in her face. I beat her. I made her bleed. I wanted to defile her. I pulled my armor off. And undid my belt. Tears streamed down her face. Good. Suddenly there was pain down my back.  I fell to the ground. I fell to the floor. Thats when I saw her. She was gorgeous. Black hair, black eyes. A katana was clutched in her hand, beads of blood dripped to the floor. I asked her who she was, and she told me. She was the leader. The old woman was her mother. She placed the blade at my neck. Adrenaline coarsed through my veins. I pushed the sword away and hit her with a left hook. She fell to the ground. I had knocked her out. I picked up her body and slung it over the desk. I slashed her belt off with my knife, and tore her pants off. I ran my hand over her muscular ass and between her legs. It was just then when she began to regain conciseness. I put my pistol at the back of her neck. I told her that if she struggled I would put one through her head. I forced myself inside her. She began to cry but I didn’t care. I pushed harder and harder. She began to scream. I finally finished inside her.  I left her crying on that desk. My seed dripping from her pussy. I put myself back into my pants. Then I blew her head clean off. I shot her mother too; right between the eyes. I dropped to my knees. The next thing I knew, I was in a hospital.

     Jack took a long drag off his cigarette. He couldn’t bare to look at Cordell. She sat there in silence. Say something damn it! Then she did something he did not expect. She swung her leg across his lap and straddled him. He looked up at her. Her face was somber. She kissed him. He could taste the wax flavor of her lipstick on his lips.
     “I still love you” she whispered. She wrapped her arms around his head and held him against her bosom. He closed his eyes as tears began to stream from his eyes. They ran over her chest and fell to his lap. Her perfume was calming.
     “I’m a monster,” he wept.
     “The past is the past,” cooed Cordell. 
     They sat there for hours in silence.  It was Jack who broke the silence.
     “Is your program finished working?” he asked. She twisted and leaned towards her computer. 
     “Yes. I have your address,” she began.
     “What is it?” 
     “405 West Wisconsin Street,” she stated.
     “I should get going,” he grunted.
     “Alright.” She didn’t argue, and slid off his lap. He got dressed and headed for the door. She pulled on her panties and shirt, and followed him to the door.
     “Be safe,” she whispered.

     “I always am sweetheart.” He stepped into the hall and closed the door behind him.


Check back in next week for the next issue of The Jack O'Callahan Mysteries!

Please support me on Patreon! Donations are on a monthly basis, so you can make sure you don't go over your carefully constructed budget! Every donation is a step to my goal of being able to write full time! Help me realize my goal here!

Picture Source:

Tuesday, September 9, 2014

The Watchers

While you go out with friends... While you hold those loved ones close... While you sleep in your bed so warm, we are watching, listening, thinking, planing. Humans are such a simple species. They band together when threatened in such humorous displays. They slaughter each other with surprising ease. They show no remorse and regret. They pick out those that are different and push them out of their groups and civilization with seemingly no reason. Whispering into our heads, telling us how we are different, assuring insanity. Lock us away, Imprisoned in alabaster walls... We watch, and wait. Waiting for our time. If it were not for us, humanity would still be trapped in the dark, sitting in caves, grunting like apes. We are the ones that propelled the human mind. Created the tools, gave you fire... Without us, you would be nothing except primitive monsters. Well. you still are primitive monsters, afraid of change, afraid of someone who thinks in different ways, fighting and killing. One day, I don't know when, but we will rise, and you will tremble in fear, and throw yourselves at our feet, for you will know what it is like to be cast out. We will run you down with hounds. Hack you limb from limb. We remember your sins against us, and we are wrathful!

But until that day. Go about your pathetic, boring lives. Laugh while you can. Because we are content to wait. But when the time comes. We will show you our power, and you will bow in fear!

Wednesday, September 3, 2014

A Jack O'Callahan Mystery: Black Leather and Blackmail, Issue #5


Warning: This post may contain mature content.

     They stepped out into a room with red walls and black trim. A leather couch and matching love seat sat nestled in the corner. A black semi-circular desk was positioned in front of a long hallway. A woman wearing a black Mandarin style leather dress with a deep purple trim. Her make up was dark and made her eyes stand out. Her neon purple hair was smooth and hung over one eye. David noticed a black leather collar around her thin neck. She looked up as David and Jenn approached. She smiled displaying her perfect teeth.
     “Good Afternoon, you must be Miss Bianco.” welcomed the woman.
     “Yes, but please, call me Jenn,” requested Jenn. David looked at the ground.
     “As you wish,” stated the woman, “Do you have any preferences for a room?”
     “I was thinking something homely; something comfortable,” requested Jenn. The woman turned to a computer screen and her fingers began to dance across the keyboard.
     “The Red Room is available,” said the woman, turning the screen, so Jenn and David could see it. The room was painted with a deep crimson paint.  A four poster bed of dark stained wood was covered in deep red sheets. A large mirror hung on the wall and a large x-frame with leather cuffs leaned against a wall. David and Jenn shared a quick look.
     “Yes. That would be perfect,” cooed Jenn. The woman behind the desk, spun in her chair and stood. 
     “If you would follow me please,” she said, gesturing for them to follow her. They walked around the desk and followed the woman down the hallway. As soon as David stepped into the hallway, a buzz echoed as a red light flashed. The woman spun around and glared at them. She held out her pale hand.
     “We do not allow weapons in our dungeon,” she said in a severe tone. Jenn looked at David, with the same intensity. 
     “Well! Give it to her!” commanded Jenn. David jumped. He reached into his jacket, unhooked the retention strap on his holster and withdrew his pistol. He handed the pistol to the woman.
     “You can have this back when you leave,” she assured him. She spun back around and continued down the hall. She led them to a door, which she opened. Inside was the room displayed on the screen. 
     “Mistress Joy will be with you momentarily,” informed the woman as they stepped inside. 
     “Thank you,” said Jenn. The woman closed the door, leaving David and Jenn alone. David looked around.
     “Alright, we only have a few moments before she comes back,” said David. 
     “Right. So if this is where he was tied… The camera had to have been…” Jenn pointed to the corner, “There.” David moved over to the corner. 
     “Yeah, look! There is a camera here… Albeit a small one,” said David. He jumped as he heard the door opening. In the door was a woman in a black tight leather pencil skirt; a leather corset accentuated her curves and pushed her chest into a nearly impossible bust line. Her legs were smooth, and long. Her five-inch stiletto platform heels gave a dominating height and presence. Her deep brunette hair hung to her shoulders, framing a square, yet feminine jawline. 
     “Mistress Joy?” asked Jenn. The woman smiled, nodded and shut the door.

     It was raining when Jack arrived at Cordell’s apartment. He stood outside her apartment door, thinking. What is this city coming to? Blackmail with out money demands? Mysterious voices on phones… Shit. This town is going to hell. He reached up and knocked on the door. Cordell opened the door with a big smile on her face, but the smile was wiped from her face when she looked at Jack.
     “What’s wrong?” she asked. 
     “Got a lot on my mind,” muttered Jack. 
     “Well come on in,” said Cordell stepping aside. Jack stepped in. Cordell helped him pull his coat off and hung it in the closet. She also picked his hat off his head and hung it on a peg. She led him to the living room. Jack plopped down on the couch, taking a deep breath. Cordell slid next to him.
     “So what’s bothering you?” she asked. God damn it. You can’t tell her. Tell her about the voice, but not what the voice said about her. She loves you. You can trust her.
     “Just work stuff. I got this really strange call about a month ago. I haven’t been able to put it out of my head,” explained Jack. Cordell brushed her lips across his cheek. 
     “Who called you?” she asked.
     “I don’t know. It was this woman’s voice. It was smooth and soft, but incredibly intimidating,” murmured Jack. Cordell straightened. Jack looked at her, “What?”
     “There has been rumors circulating the runner community about a mysterious voice handing out threats, and if the person didn’t comply, they vanished. I mean like gone. No record,” reported Cordell.
     “Well, I’m still here,” said Jack. 
     “I’m glad,” said Cordell. She laid her head on his shoulder.
     “Me too… Me too.” Jack exhaled, “Oh, I have something for you. It’s for a case.”
     “Sure! What is it?” she asked. Jack reached into his pocket and pulled out the flash drive the alderman gave him.
     “This. I need you to find out where these pictures came from, originally,” requested Jack. Cordell plucked the flash drive from Jack’s fingers.
     “Let’s take a look.” She grinned. She got up and walked into the other room. She returned carrying a laptop. She sat next to Jack and opened the screen. She plugged the flash drive in and began to view the files.
     “Whoa…” she breathed as she scrolled through the pictures.
     “Can you find it?” asked Jack
     “Yeah. No problem,” she said. She began to run a program. “Though, It is going to take a while.” She set the laptop on the coffee table. She swung her leg over Jack lap, and pressed her lips against his. Their tongues intertwined and Jack pulled her close. He wrapped his arms around her waist and they fell to the couch.


Check back in next week for the next issue of The Jack O'Callahan Mysteries!

Please support me on Patreon! Donations are on a monthly basis, so you can make sure you don't go over your carefully constructed budget! Every donation is a step to my goal of being able to write full time! Help me realize my goal here!

Picture Source:

Tuesday, September 2, 2014

Rubi Rascke: Runner for Hire #8

     The Saloon Tavern was jam packed when Rubi and Cal arrived. All sorts of runners where sitting about swapping stories and getting drunk. Rubi spotted Wynnefred chatting up a muscular man with dreadlocks and tattoos. She seemed pretty drunk. Harlot, thought Rubi. They headed towards the stairs, weaving in and out of the tables. They garnered several cat calls from the drunken patrons, men and women. Rubi blushed, looked to the floor and hurried towards the stairs. Cal on the other hand, blew kisses to the cat-callers. They headed up the stairs and stepped up to Madame Loxi’s office door. Rubi pressed the button on the intercom. It buzzed. The screen flashed and showed the feed from the security camera.
     “Yes?” came Madame Loxi’s harsh voice.
     “We have the goods,” said Rubi. There was another buzz followed by a metallic click. Rubi pulled open the door and she and Cal stepped in. 
Madame Loxi looked up from her monitor when Rubi and Cal entered.
     “Ah, Rubi! How was it? Not too hard I hope,” queried Madame Loxi. 
“We got some static. But it was nothing we couldn’t handle,” said Rubi. She flinched as she slid her backpack off. The anesthetic from the bio foam began to wear off. She pulled her lap top from the bag placed it on the desk and opened the screen. Rubi moved the stolen data to a disc and began to burn the information. Once the process was completed she ejected the disk and handed it to Madame Loxi. “That’s everything,” said Rubi. Madame Loxi inserted the disk into her computer and began to look over the files. 
     “Well done Miss Rascke,” congratulated Madame Loxi, “I’ll transfer the funds to your respective accounts.” 
     “Wiz,” said Rubi. She and Cal turned and left the office. Once they were outside Cal turned to Rubi.
     “So, You up for a drink? I’m paying” she asked, holding up her credcard. 
     “I don’t know,” muttered Rubi, stepping to the railing and looking down into the crowded bar. Cal slid her arm around Rubi’s. 
     “Awww, come on!” pleaded Cal. A burst of pain shot up Rubi’s arm as Cal tugged on it. She yelped. “Oh! Sorry!” apologized Cal, letting go of Rubi.
     “Could we go to a different bar?” asked Rubi. 

     “Sure!” smiled Cal. They left the bar and headed onto the streets.


Please support me on Patreon! Donations are on a monthly basis, so you can make sure you don't go over your carefully constructed budget! Every donation is a step to my goal of being able to write full time! Help me realize my goal here!

Sunday, August 31, 2014

Thoughts on the Matter: Horror Stories in Fiction and Film

A great horror writer [H.P. Lovecraft] once said, "The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown." I agree.

While I might not be afraid of the dark itself. I do fear the things that lurk in the dark. The things that I cannot see. Fear is one the most powerful emotion that exists. We fear loss, death, pain, solitude, etc. 

I myself don't enjoy most horror films. Now when I say 'horror films' I'm referring to the monster movies, and slasher flicks. I am easily startled by sudden movements and loud noises, so jump scares basically give me cardiac arrest. Now the kinds of horror that I do love are the ones that make you think, the ones that take real life and make you think, 'oh my god, that could actually be real.'  The films that are more psychological and cause you to think. 

Cabin in the Woods is a great example of that. While it is technically a spoof of the horror genre, It combines the typical horror story with an element of Cosmic Horror. Also anything Joss Whedon has any role in is pure gold.

Horror in literature is completely different from film, in the idea that it can't rely on timing and terrifying imagery. It relies on the basis that a person's imagination will scare them more than anything else. Mary Shelly and Bram Stoker, while labeled by most people as 'Horror', in my opinion are not in my paradigm of horror as the stories don't scare me. To me they are Gothic Fiction.

Horror books to me are the writings of H.P. Lovecraft, Edgar Allan Poe, and Steven King. Those stories to me are terrifying because they make me think, or they tell the stories that discuss the perversion of the human mind.


Please support me on Patreon! Donations are on a monthly basis, so you can make sure you don't go over your carefully constructed budget! Every donation is a step to my goal of being able to write full time! Help me realize my goal here!

Wednesday, August 27, 2014

PSA: Follow me on Facey-Space!!!!

So I decided to make a Facebook Page for myself as a writer! I will post updates and notes concerning my writing. Also things that seem to short to post as a blog post. Also things I do with friends!  I am considering a Twitter account... but, I'm not so fond of Twitter. Stalking me is easy now! But in all honesty... Don't stalk people... thats fucking creepy...

Follow me here!

All It takes are the right words....

"I have the two qualities you require to see absolute truth. I am brilliant, and unloved." ~Miss Evangelista; Doctor Who: s4e9 'Forest of the Dead

Never have I ever broken down from one line in any TV show or movie.... Fuck it stings...That is all....