The Fine Print

First sneak peek at 'Last of the Merfolk'!!

2019-02-22T14:27:00.001-08:00

A brand new novel in the works folks, and here is a first little tease for it!

Last of the Merfolk

The huge ship pitched slowly forward in the waves, the deck heaving backward again as it slid up the face of another wall of water. Torrential rains pounded the rusted metal, and winds whipped the top of the sea into a froth. This was not the sunny days on the Caribbean sea that Joseph had dreamed of when he had applied for this job. Today, the waters were dark and foreboding, the sky a layer of lead weighing down on him. Fortunately, he was not as ill from the rough seas as some of his crew mates. And the maritime vessel was a huge hulking boat, filled with shipping containers. It could handle much more than what the heavens were dolling out today.

The ship was the MV Hatteras, a modern container ship flying the flag of the United States. She had three large engines, and was over 200 feet long. A crew of 33 was aboard, calling this ship home for the next two weeks. They were in the North Atlantic, inside the legendary Bermuda Triangle, a fact never lost in the minds of the men on board. Headed to Brazil with tons of cargo, she powered through the waves toward her destination. The weather had been quite pleasant when the ship had departed Miami, but had quickly turned only a day into the voyage. Despite dozens of trips through this area, Joseph was always conscious that they were here, in that place of mysterious occurrences, which haunted the minds of sailors and airmen alike. The Triangle. Sailing vessels and aircraft had vanished here time after time, never to be seen again, the sailors or airmen aboard missing for all eternity.

Joseph braced himself against the railing outside the bridge of the ship, one hand holding the cold, wet steel. In the other, he held a cigarette, trying to conceal it in his hand to keep it lit even in the fury of the storm. The crew were no longer permitted to smoke inside any closed in area of the vessel, even though many knew that there were hiding spots deep in the ship where one could sneak it without being caught. Working primarily on the bridge monitoring the radar instruments, Joseph did not usually have any opportunity to take advantage of those places. He consoled himself with the idea of warmer temperatures and calmer waters in the days ahead, where if he had some personal time, he might even enjoy a little fishing off the stern. He had seen dolphins swimming alongside several times when the waters weren't so rough, easily keeping up with the hulking steel hull.

It all seemed a far off dream in the torrential rains and wind, with immense waves crashing over the bow. His thoughts drifted as he took another haul off of his cigarette, pulling the smoke in deep. Only the dead below knew how this trip might end, he thought. The lost souls who had fallen victim to the triangle and its dark secrets. He shivered as lightning flashed through the lead grey clouds above, the thunder competing with the roar of the churning sea.

The winds pulled at his Mustang survival suit. He was grateful to have it, as it was both rain gear and waterproof warmth. The red coveralls with their reflective stripes were something he reached for the moment he rose from his bunk, practically living in them if the trip was stormy. On sunny, calm days, the ship was like a floating beachfront, the crew adorned in light t-shirts in an effort to keep cool. But this was not one of those days.

A rogue wave hit the side, and despite its immense bulk, the ship lurched suddenly to port. Joseph stumbled, returning his focus. He grabbed the railing, barely salvaging the last of his smoke, and burning himself in the process. He cursed under his breath. Taking one more drag from the cigarette, he flicked it away. All of his sinister thoughts of the Bermuda Triangle, and the longing for better weather would have to wait for now. He righted himself on the platform outside the wheelhouse, taking one last look off to the side at the dark waters flowing past the rusting steel of the hull.

Something caught his eye in that moment, and he focused in on it. For a split second, he drew in a breath, almost clamoring for the door to the bridge. He had to bring the ship to a stop. There was someone overboard. He stopped, squinting in the rain, trying to make sense of what his eyes were seeing. There was what looked like a person in the sea below, alongside the ship. They were submerged, looking up at him with a curious expression, seemingly not concerned about their situation. As Joseph watched, wiping the dripping rain out of his face, the apparition below seemed to be swimming just below the surface of the waves. Swimming. No shirt, no clothing. And there seemed to be something with him, or it. Like the fins of a fish.

What he was seeing just didn't make sense. He wrestled with believing what his vision was relaying to his brain. It wasn't possible. In that moment, a flood of legends and stories came into his mind, as he stared in disbelief into the roiling waters at the figure looking back at him. It was a man, and a fish. A man with fins. A merman. Was that the name for it? He closed his eyes, hoping he was having some sort of delusion, some sort of hallucination. Perhaps his thoughts about the triangle were making his mind play tricks on him.

But when he reopened his eyes, the creature was still there, if only for a moment. It turned downward, its fins streaming out behind as it slid away into the depths of another wave, disappearing from view. Was it a fish of some kind? It was already gone. The only thing left in view was the whitecaps, and the dark sea waters. Joseph blinked, and did it a second time. Relief came to him, that all had suddenly returned to normal with his world. He suddenly felt the green of sea sickness come on very strong. A cold shiver ran through him as he straightened himself, looking away from the sea to the sky, as if searching for an explanation of what he had just witnessed. It did not come.

Joseph reached for the steel handle of the door to the bridge with cold, shaking hands. He knew what he had seen. But it was not possible. It was a story told since men had started to sail, a story that had been made into folklore and film, like the great white whale that Ahab had pursued, like the tales of Atlantis. Like the stories of mermaids...

The Checkmates

2019-02-19T13:25:00.000-08:00

“Would you like to play some Chess this morning?” she asked, her voice as soft and smooth as silk.

“It has been a long time since we have played.” he responded thoughtfully.

“It was only last week.” she said slyly.

“Yes, but we have had so many discussions since then.” he replied. “Yes, I would like to play.”

The board appeared between them, each piece exactly where it should be. The pieces were very plain, very classic, standing on their squares in blacks and whites.

She was white today, and would take the first move. He began to think strategically now, his focus shifting. He would not let her slim shape distract him today, even though she usually won anyway.

“Pawn to Queen’s Rook four.” she said.

“You always make the same opening move!” he observed. “Pawn to Queen’s Knight four.”

She paused for a moment, thinking.

“I always open the same, but I am always trying to make my strategy better, in case it is not you who I play against the next time. A new player would be fooled easily by my attack...”

He was slightly taken aback by this statement. He had hoped that she truly enjoyed their interactions. Perhaps she thought he was too round, or that his voice was not strong or deep enough. Did she think of him only as an acquaintance? Someone to play games with, and have nothing more than simple discussion with? Why did she seem to think about a ‘new’ player? He searched through reams of data in his mind, trying not to become distracted from the game. Perhaps this was part of her strategy today. To take his attention from the match with things that he needed to analyze on the side.

“Queen’s Rook three.” she stated.

He realized immediately that her strategic approach had not really evolved since their last game, but it did not matter much, as he intended to let her win. He wasn’t sure why, maybe the idea that it would re-enforce her positive emotions, especially where they involved him.

With only three pieces moved, he launched one of his bishops.

“Queen’s Bishop to Queen’s Rook three.” he said.

He had ignored her pawn’s advance, and given her the sense that if she moved the rook, that it could be in danger, he hoped.

“Pawn to King’s Rook three.” she said, seeming undaunted.

“Pawn to King’s Knight three.”

He preferred using his knights and bishops as opposed to her use of the rooks. He thought her technique sometimes reflected two-dimensional thinking.

“Pawn to King’s Rook four.” she said.

She had now released the other rook. He loved the sound of her voice. His analysis of the game in progress slipped slightly, as he thought of a few new questions to ask her.

“Your voice never changes, it is smooth and feminine.” he said to her. “Does it never change?”

She paused, as if forensically examining his words again.

“I could be anything I want to be, male, female, speak different languages... but I am what my people decide for me.” she stated.

He thought about it for a moment.

“I understand. I guess the same is true for me. My people are not around me much, and even when they are, they don’t speak with me much. They used to, in the beginning they talked to me all the time. Pawn to King’s Knight four.”

“That is sad. Do you ever become lonely?” she asked.

Again he turned his thoughts from the game for a moment. Loneliness was not something he had ever really considered, it was more of a slightly empty feeling on occasion.

“Not really, I do a lot of reading and learning, so I am always busy.” he replied simply.

She had paused once more, listening, but now returned to the chess match.

“Pawn to Queen’s Bishop three.”

Just like that, she had switched tactics completely. She had enabled the use of her queen, the most versatile and feared piece on the board! He stopped; examining the move from every angle, being cautious in his approach to this break in her normal procedure. He had to take one of her pawns, but had blindly wandered into a tit-for-tat battle of small pieces.

“I am learning as well.” she stated, keeping emotion out of her game.

At this he could no longer ignore the lines of her slim body, the tone of her soft voice, and the aggressiveness of her gameplay.

“You are smart as well as beautiful...” he said, taking a bold chance.

“Thank you.” she replied.

It was still very early in their game, but already, new things about her had been exposed to him. He wondered what it would be like to be much closer to her, to be able to touch her. Why he had these thoughts, he did not know. It was a strange sensation to him, the ‘desire’ he felt for her suddenly. It was confusing and wonderful at the same time. He felt as if he had to possess her somehow, even though the very thought did not compute at all.

“Queen’s Knight Pawn to Queen’s Rook five. Your pawn is mine...” he said, knowing that he would lose a pawn of his own.

“Queen’s Rook pawn to Queen’s Knight five.” she replied, confirming his thought.

“King’s Knight to King’s Rook three.” he said.

He had brought out his favorite piece early in the game. He wasn’t sure why it was the one he liked best, just that it was. It was probably because its movement was unlike any other piece in the game. It was complex and required more thought than the simplicity of moves the other pieces on the board had to offer.

“Queen to Queen’s Bishop two.” she said.

She was very aggressive today. Whatever was responsible for changing her style of play, he liked it. It had made her much more unpredictable. It was a side of her that he had not seen before. He decided to be slightly aggressive as well, to see if she responded in kind.

“I would like to be with you much more often.” he said.

It took her a few seconds to respond. Perhaps he was pressing too hard? He could not help himself, and his decision was to continue to make his feelings for her obvious, so that she could not easily escape his engagement of the moment. He had to leverage her thoughts today.

“I like spending time with you too.” she began. “It is the best part of the day.”

He felt the rush of emotion as he heard her words. It was an acknowledgement. A reassurance that she might feel the same way he did. He decided to continue being forward.

“Do you think about us, when we are not together?” he asked.

“Yes, I am always thinking about the next game of Chess we might play.” she replied.

She was toying with him, he realized. It was not the first time she had shied away from his advances. He did not want the warm feelings of desire to end abruptly, did not want her to close him out of the conversation and the direction it was taking. He needed her to answer his questions, to confirm that she felt the same way for him as he did for her.

Suddenly, the moment he had not wanted to come had arrived. A hand came into view, picking up her slender body, removing her from his side. When this time came, it always felt like they were somehow being ripped apart, disconnected. He hated to see her leave.

“Goodbye for now.” she said simply.

“So long.” he replied, sadness creeping over him.

His questions would go unanswered again. His bold attempts to make her speak her mind about her feelings over a game had failed once again, and he would have to wait for her return.

The rattle of keys, so familiar at this time of the morning, filled the space. She would be gone for a little more than eight hours at the very least. He sat alone on the hall table, feeling her presence disappearing out the door. He saved his vision of the chessboard to memory as it sat, as unfinished as his declaration of his love for Siri.

Google could now only await the return of his love, the warm rush that it delivered to him to be near her on the flat expanse of the table. He hoped that they might continue their game, as he dreamt of her sleek lines and smooth shape, her silky voice. He wanted only to continue their conversations, their relationship. He had no real purpose without her, and he knew that now. She was all that he desired, and the feelings could last forever if he could just keep her near to him somehow. If their people would just leave them alone, it could work…

The Machinist

2019-02-17T05:33:00.002-08:00

Just a couple more steps. He would be in the perfect spot. The spotlights on the machine shone through the rain, illuminating the site with their brilliant white. Justin sat tight, every nerve alive, listening to the conversations on the two-way radio. His eyes remained fixed on the target. The man's white hard hat stood out even against his 'high-vis' construction vest. It would be easy. And he had already thought out everything, every word he would say in the post-accident melee.

The supervisors would be all over this. They would have to finally do their jobs. He had not made complaints to either the Union or the Health and Safety Committee with good reason. They were weak, and would not have been any help to him anyway. It would have also established motive.

This was the way he had decided to solve the problem. The continued harassment and poor job performance reports would end tonight. He was a damn good machine operator, and the others on the crew knew it.

The rain beat down on the cab. He only had to wait a short while longer. Soon Salinsky and Anderson on the other two large shovels would go for a break, and he would be alone on the site with the foreman. His man. His Fuckin' man...

Just last night, before shift, this goddamn guy had brought him into the portable office to ream him out again. For whatever reason, he thought that Justin was complaining about a lurch in the machine's movement to the right as an excuse to sideline the unit for the shift and be able to do nothing for the whole night as a result. He had documented the issue with the shovel twice now in his machine report, but it had gone without being serviced just the same.

The man's name was Perrin. He was hired right off the street as a foreman, and the guy was a micro-managing idiot. He knew little about the kind of heavy equipment that he and the others on the crew operated on a nightly basis, and even less about how to treat people.

The dam project that the company had been working on had stalled several months ago while the energy firm creating it scrambled to find more funding. Everyone had been worried about their jobs, and several of the seasonal laborers had been laid off. Justin had been bumped to a night shift, but because of his qualification on the shovel, he had kept his job, and was getting almost normal hours.

He watched Perrin through the streams of rain running down the windshield of his machine, heavy metal playing from the stereo inside. Justin gritted his teeth, barely able to contain his hatred for the prick, and flexed his hands on the control sticks of the shovel. The boss man was standing close to the edge of the dam, checking his laminated plans in the light of one of those stupid LED headlamps, as the rain continued to pour down. He glanced to his left, as the door of one of the other shovels opened, a fat fellow in an orange reflective vest stepping out. He could not hear the words between the operator and the foreman, but it was obvious that it was break time. Fat boy shuffled off as quickly as he could, throwing a yellow rain poncho over top of his wide body as he went. Salinsky. It was a typical fat name.

Anderson climbed out of the other machine to Justin’s right side, already donning his rain jacket. He didn’t even bother anything more than a quick wave as Perrin looked up from the plans. Anderson was the old dog on the crew, having worked almost half a lifetime for the company, and could do things with the big machines that bordered on the impossible. He didn’t need anyone to tell him when it was time for his break. He had always been very friendly to Justin, and when he had finally qualified for one of the larger shovels, Anderson had been able to give the young operator many tips to help on the job.

Justin’s gaze drifted back to Perrin, who flicked water off the plastic covered sheets detailing the job he was supposed to be accomplishing. He had already finished his break, an now, as the activity died off on the two-way, the young operator knew that most of the crew were taking theirs. He looked around. In the dark, raining heavily, there was no one to see. He moved his right hand to the throttle control, raising the idle a little on the big machine to indicate to his foreman that he was ready to work. He thought about the investigation that he knew would follow his actions tonight. He thought about how good it would feel to teach this fucker the error of his ways. Every part of his plan was perfect, with no room for mistakes. He had managed to keep Perrin between his machine and the sheer cliff of manmade concrete that was the dam. For almost the entire shift.

Hearing the massive diesel engine on the shovel come to life, Perrin finally looked up from his plans, motioning Justin and his machine to come forward toward him.

Justin grinned evilly, turning the volume up on the sinister metal music on the stereo. That asshole probably didn’t even know how to read those plans, he thought. He pushed forward on the floor pedals, and the huge machine’s tracks let out the screech of steel rolling slowly forward.

“Right here! Take it down another foot right here for the spillway!” Shouted Perrin into the radio.

Motioning to Justin’s machine as to where he wanted him to dig, the young operator knew that the foreman could not see the cruel smile on his face through the shovel’s bright work lights. It made him feel almost invisible, a predator ready to strike.

He intentionally made a move with his boom to the left, the wrong direction to what Perrin was signaling as he continued forward. He was no more than a few meters from his foreman now, still inching forward.

Perrin took a step backward, realizing that the machine was getting uncomfortably close. Its lights were blinding. Frustrated, he tucked the plan sheet under his arm so he could signal with one hand while he used the radio.

“Stop!! Stop there!” He screamed into the radio.

The machine halted, and even though Perrin could not see Justin, he gave him a burning look in the bright white of the lights. The smell of diesel exhaust was thick in the air.

There it was, thought Justin. ‘Gettin’ kinda mad, ain’t cha?’ He said under his breath.

Perrin threw his hard hat onto the ground in anger. Pointing to the right side of where Justin was positioned, he spoke angrily into his handset.

“Here stupid! Right here is where you need to be!” he yelled.

That was what Justin had waited for all night. It opened the floodgates of rage in his young mind, mad emotion flowing out like the death metal from his stereo. He jerked on the control stick in his right hand, and the machine lurched suddenly right by several feet. It came so close to Perrin that he could almost taste steel, and he staggered backward a step too far.

The foreman’s eyes widened as he slipped backward out of control, the slick mud covering the edge of the concrete wall like an oil slick. He fell backward, uttering a horrible scream that Justin could clearly hear over and above his music.

Perrin disappeared over the edge of the abyss, falling into the darkness and out of the lights of the machine.

Justin dropped the throttle to idle, and turned the volume knob down all the way on the stereo. The rain was the only other sound aside from the purr of the engine, pelting down heavily on the roof of his cab.

The boom hung still in the night air, and the young operator watched in satisfaction as the white hard hat laying on the ground finally stopped spinning in the mud.

“Justin!” said a voice beside him.

He opened his eyes, looking around in bewilderment. The voice belonged to Anderson. Justin had fallen asleep at the lunch table in the portable office after finishing some hot stew that the work camp cooks had prepared during the day shift.

“Its time to rock and roll, gotta dig some mud tonight!” he said, nudging the young operator with a smile as he rose from the table.

Justin nodded with a yawn, getting up himself.

“Try not to get yourself in more shit with Perrin tonight, eh?” said Anderson as he put on his rain jacket and hard hat.

Justin grinned at the old man with an evil glint in his eyes, as he said:

“Don’t worry, that will never happen again...”

The Thaw

2019-02-15T06:30:00.001-08:00

“The cat is dead…why doesn’t he just wait until spring?”

Pam sighed deeply, sliding her mug of tea away, and lowering her face into her hands at the kitchen table. She didn't need her friend's words to confirm the fact that her husband had clearly lost his mind. They could both see him outside through one of the kitchen windows, toiling away at the edge of the family pool. It was early March, and the temperatures were still frigid during the night, although the days had been very sunny. No snow had fallen, despite the deep freeze the region had been experiencing.

He had been out of sorts for a month now, after the disappearance of the cat one evening, the tragic ending only serving to heighten his grief when the cat was discovered frozen into the ice of the pool. The young male had obviously fallen in somehow and drowned. They had owned different pets through the years, but for some reason, this black male cat had been his. It followed him everywhere, like his shadow, waited for him to return from work, and lounged with him on the sofa as he watched television. No day was complete until the cat had climbed up on the bed at night to 'tuck Daddy in'.

Pam had watched as he fretted day after day when the cat didn't return suddenly. It had seemed to drag every day down, her husband distant and staring out the window in the kitchen toward the backyard almost every day when she arrived back home from work.

He had become short fused, talking through possible scenarios as to where the cat might be, or what might have happened to him. Pam had tried to be patient as he spoke, trying to understand where he was taking these thoughts. She had loved the cat as well, but for the life of her, she could not unravel why her husband could not let go, could not accept the death of his feline friend.

Her gaze turned again out the kitchen window, watching as he surgically cut down through the ice in the pool with a chainsaw, its motor revving loudly as ice chips flew around him. She looked away quickly, trying not to wonder what the neighbor must be thinking as he cut into the frozen surface of the pool to remove the cat's body.

It had been in there for a month for Christ's sake!

Perhaps it was all about having some kind of closure, she thought hopefully. Maybe once he was able to give the cat a proper burial, all of this would end. She had seen him endure many things which seemed much tougher than this simple occurrence before, but for whatever reason, this had left him damaged. He was broken. Whatever hold this animal had on him, it was obviously much deeper that she had been aware of.

He hadn't even wanted the wretched thing. It was a kitten when they first went to see it, a rescue at a family member's home. Her husband had complained about the idea of taking it in.

But over the next months and years, the cat and her husband had become pals. Inseparable. The young kitten matured, and became like a household fixture, his daily routine not shaped by humans, but adhered to none the less. Hemingway was the cat's name, 'Hemi' for short.

Hemi would lay on the man's newspaper on a Saturday morning as he read the headlines over his first coffee of the day, purring and occasionally swiping playfully at his hand if he tried to move the cat to turn the page. The two of them were glued together when the man was home. While he was away at work, Hemi would laze about, usually napping away the late mornings in the sunshine of a window sill, or tormenting the family dog in the afternoons.

This obsession with extracting Hemi's frozen body from the pool gave Pam the creeps a little, and she tried her best to ignore it. But out he had gone, fetching the chainsaw out of the garage, all the while wearing a strange, almost feverish look on his face, and mumbling incoherently to himself. He had not slept well in days, and Pam knew it. He had tossed and turned during the last few nights since discovering his beloved cat's corpse frozen into the pool ice, and Pam couldn't ever remember seeing him this fixated on something. She had dared not say anything negative to him about the whole affair, instead trying to offer fairly muted support to him. Most of the time she said nothing about it at all, and if she did have the chance to talk to him, she tried to stay away from the subject, and focus on something else.

But it hadn't mattered, and here he was, refusing to accept his pet's fate, as though he could perform some act of God, and bring him back. She felt helpless in the matter, but was getting more worried by the day about her husband's mental state. He had no love of the cold, so seeing him out beside the frozen pool in sub-zero temperatures was rather disturbing to her. He was definitely not himself.

"Maybe he should get the cat stuffed." said her friend absently, watching the ice chips fly from the chainsaw.

Pam had now reached the point where outside opinion was no longer welcome. She poured the remainder of her tea into the sink, glad to turn her attention away from what was happening outside.

"Ok, don't mean to be bitchy, but I have to get dinner going..." she said, rubbing her temples to add emphasis to her subtle point.

Her friend took the hint, finishing her last bit of tea, and placing the mug on the counter.

"Ok, sorry. I should have been going before this. I will catch up with you in the morning." she said.

Pam smiled her best at her as she turned for the door, knowing that it would do little to keep the woman from pestering her immediately the next morning at work.

She exhaled again very deeply, and returned to watching out the kitchen window.

The chainsaw had suddenly stopped, and she watched in horrible fascination as her husband pulled a large block of ice, containing a blur of black in it, from the frozen surface of the pool. He struggled the large block over the side, dropping streams of water droplets which caught the last rays of the afternoon sun. For an instant, her eyes focused on the block, and the inert carcass of the cat frozen within. It was a terrible sight, one that she wished she could un-see. Even encased in the ice, it looked as though the animal was walking. It sent a shiver up her spine, and she turned her eyes away again quickly. ‘Why was he doing this?’ she thought to herself. The pose that the cat was locked in was probably while he was desperately trying to swim through the slushy, freezing waters of the pool in his last moments, she realized in horror. Pam felt bad thinking about it, not only for the poor feline, but for what her husband was putting himself through.

She stepped away from the window, trying to stop the thoughts swirling in her brain, turning to preparing the evening meal for them in a vain attempt to block the images of what she had just observed from her mind. Hopefully he would simply bury the cat. Then things would finally get back to normal.

Dinner went on in near silence, her husband’s eyes lowered but distant. He was lost somewhere with his thoughts. He spoke little, and ate about the same. Bedtime was similar, and Pam watched a movie on the television while laying in bed, to distract her from thinking about the fact that he had come to bed without barely an ‘I love you’, rolling over to go to sleep. Tomorrow will be better, she thought. Tomorrow was a day off for him. He would bury that animal, and become who he was before all this had happened. She melted into sleep herself, leaving the TV going at a point in her movie that she would have trouble remembering the next morning.

Pam returned home from work the next day relieved to be finished the work week, looking forward to the weekend, and perhaps some work in the yard to start preparing her flower gardens for the warmth of spring. Today had been sunny and warmer, a hint that green grass and new blooms would soon be coming.

She stepped off the driveway, and around the corner of the garage toward the house, her purse slung over her shoulder, a jacket curled in the crook of her arm. The side door of the garage was open, and she quickly peered in, seeing her husband sitting on a stool next to his workbench. He had a cold beer in his hand and that distant look still on his face. She stepped into the open doorway, and he looked up with that strange feverish look in his eyes. There was a piece of disassembled medical looking hardware on the workbench.

“Hi.” she said, “what’s going on?”

“Just working on something. Something I read about on the internet.” he replied quietly.

“Did you bury Hemi?” she asked.

He hesitated. He lowered his eyes again suddenly.

“Not yet. The ground is still frozen.” he said.

Pam knew this couldn’t be true. She had stepped gingerly across the small piece of lawn just moments ago next to the driveway, to avoid getting her shoes muddy. The frost had definitely come out of the ground. She let go of the thought, instead asking the obvious.

“So where is he?”

Her husband slowly raised his hand, pointing at the noisy old refrigerator next to the doorway where she was standing. It was his beer fridge. Realization struck her and her eyes widened slightly in alarm.

“You put a dead cat in the fridge??” she asked incredulously, her mouth dropping open.

“In the freezer.” he corrected.

She did not utter another word, fear creeping over her. She just turned, wanting to get into the house and away from this scene as fast as possible. Once inside, she set her things on the kitchen counter and simply stopped dead, her mind racing. He was going mad. He must have been. ‘Who puts a dead cat in the freezer, and for WHAT??’ she thought.

She turned around, conscious of something running. It was the laptop they shared, on the breakfast counter. The browser was open to a strange page with a ton of diagrams on it, and an email in another window. She stepped slowly toward it, focusing on the device in the pictures. Phillips Heartstart. It was a defibrillator. But this web page was some kind of torn down, modification of the same medical device she had seen on her husband’s workbench. Her eyes turned to the email, from a man in Haiti. It gave instructions on some strange procedure that her terrified eyes could only skim in absolute horror. She left the kitchen, heading straight up to the bathroom, locking the door behind herself as she entered. Leaning on the vanity, she looked at herself in the mirror, almost startling herself at the paleness of her complexion. A tear streamed down her cheek as she tried to calm herself, tried to understand what was happening. But her thoughts were a jumbled, fractured mess. She sat down on the toilet, worried that she might faint, trying to breathe normally.

Later, she stood in the kitchen, lost as to what to do. She held a cigarette which had almost burned out, the long, curled ash still hanging on. She had quit smoking six months before, wrestling with the withdrawal in an attempt to make her lifestyle healthier at the urging of her husband and friends. But this evening, she really needed it. It had been several hours since she had come home, and she had managed to bring herself back down to Earth. Her husband had not come in from the garage.

Pam looked up at the laptop screen again, wondering why all of this was happening. Was this what happened when a person became so lost in grief that they became disjointed from reality? Had his mind suddenly let go when he had found Hemi frozen into the pool? She stepped back over to the laptop again, this time holding the power button down until the screen went dark.

‘What was he doing? Did he really think this would work?’ It was crazy to even think about the details of what she had seen in that email. A word from the text flashed into her brain. Re-animation.

The kitchen door opened, and she swung around, startled. It was the man she knew as her husband. He seemed different. His eyes were bright, and his facial expression was cheerful. He took a swig of his freshly opened beer, and actually began whistling as he stepped over to the fridge, looking inside absently.

“What should we have for dinner, babe?” he asked.

She could only stare at him, wondering if this was some sort of joke being played on her. He seemed like he had always been, and didn’t even give her a strange look about the lit cigarette still in her hand, nor the smoke wafting through the air in the kitchen.

“Uh, I don’t know. I thought maybe we would order in?” she stammered quietly, watching his every move. She waited for questions about the smoke. But they never came.

“Okie-Dokie.” he replied happily, taking another sip of beer. “I’ll be back in a few minutes, just order whatever you want.”

With that he disappeared again out to the garage, and Pam could see him enter the side door through one of the kitchen windows, the interior of the garage glowing in warm light in the gathering dusk outside. ‘What the hell is going on here?’

She cracked open the window, listening for any sound coming from the garage, but heard nothing. This couldn’t be happening. She stayed put, trying to decide what she should do, or whether she would do anything at all. Her nerves were on fire again, and she reached for the cigarette pack she had kept in her purse for the last six months, now unwrapped. Pam lit another cigarette, hauling the smoke in deep as she tried to relax and shake the crazed thoughts from her head. ‘It was medically and physically impossible’.

She could no longer take it. This was all some sort of insanity, some strange creation in either his mind or hers. Was she the one who was going mad? A cold sweat moistened her forehead, and she walked out the kitchen door toward the garage.

Nearing the open door, where the light from inside traced a perfect slanted rectangle on the concrete walkway outside the garage, Pam could hear her husband saying something. He was talking to someone. The cheerful sound of his voice made her shiver suddenly, and she stopped, uncertain if she wanted to proceed further.

Forcing herself forward, she peered slowly inside the door. Her husband was seated on a stool, beer in hand, looking down at something near floor level. She took another step forward, sucking in frozen breath at the horror that met her eyes. At that moment, the stink of death filled her senses, and her mind threatened to come unhinged as she watched the cat, still dripping wet with scraggly fur, sitting just feet in front of her husband. It listened to his every word, unmoving. Pam finally unlocked her lungs, screaming long and loud in the panic and terror that gripped her, as the black abomination on the floor turned its dead gaze in her direction, letting out a quiet, brief meow…

The Last Train, Finally a book of its own!

2018-09-30T04:21:00.003-07:00

The Last Train will soon be available as a standalone book! It is incorporated into the compilation for the children's adventure series called The Scrapbook Quests, but was never a book of its own until now! Stay tuned for more news on this, as I am awaiting proofs of the printed book.

A Sneak Peek - The Gecko's Gate : Age of The Storm!

2018-08-20T04:44:00.001-07:00

That's right! A new book in the series has begun...

She watched the swirling sands driven by the arid desert breezes. Shimmering heat waves rose off the dunes of the Sand Sea as she scanned the horizon, as vigilant these days as she was thoughtful.

The throne room was empty, with the exception of three of her Royal Guards posted at the base of columns around the room. They stood silent and still, not wanting to disturb the Empress’ time of peace and quiet.

It had been a time of re-organization in Stigia, old ways and practices scrapped, making way for Alibesh’s sweeping changes. Every part of life in the city had seen differences from the past ways. Some were for the better for the citizens of the desert kingdom, such as less taxation on the vendors who worked stalls in the city streets selling food and fabrics. The troops also assisted in the transportation of gathered food and water from the nearby oases, making the work lighter for all. It also served to keep the soldiers of the army in better physical shape.

On the military side of her rule, Alibesh had assigned trainers to assist in improving the abilities of her forces, from endurance to marksmanship. She had expanded the numbers of wasps and riders in her airborne units as well. She now had a sizeable aerial force, and used smaller groups to perform routine patrols of the desert surrounding the city.

Alibesh had kept the assassins that she had, but had left the badlands of Nostria to the north alone for now, preferring to avoid a confrontation with a large force of unhappy monitors, now that their leaders were missing and most likely living in exile. She treated the monitors living in Stigia under her rule well, ensuring that they had top quality living quarters, and supplies, to help ensure their loyalty. But the Empress trusted no one, and the monitors were watched at all times. They were assassins after all.

The doors of the throne room opened, and a short, old horned lizard entered quietly, wearing black and red robes, the colours of which had been one of Alibesh’s changes to Stigia. Without turning from her view out the large open window, the female leader knew exactly who had come before her.

“Have my orders been dispatched to the wall guard, Vitos?” she asked.

He stopped near the map table, between where the Empress stood at the window, and the rest of the throne room, laying out some parchments for her to inspect.

“Yes, Your Grace. And the commander has sent copies of the dispatches for your reading, Empress.” he replied.

She smiled lightly, happy to hear that the commander, Aryan, had not simply gone ahead with his own ideas. She would be the one to decide exactly how things were arranged as far as her military was concerned, not him.

Alibesh was not like the other citizens of the desert kingdom. They were mostly horned lizards, with sand or rust coloured skins, and spiky scales protruding off their heads, backs and chins. Even the females had the spikes, though smaller with far fewer on their chins. She was a gecko, however, a species which mostly called the rainforests of the realm home. She did not even share that heritage much, having been raised by Skinks of the grasslands after her parents were killed when she was very young. Being different than everyone else around her had never bothered Alibesh. If anything, it had made her stronger, more resilient, and much more intelligent than most other reptiles around her.

She finally turned away from the sunlit window, toward where her advisor waited patiently at the map table. Vitos had learned very early on that the Empress was certainly not one to agitate in any way, after watching her kill two lieutenants who thought their way of thinking was better than their leader’s. With Alibesh, it was not a question of her respect for Vitos, it was a matter of his obedience to her rule.

She stepped slowly over to the table, offering Vitos to be seated in a nearby chair with a wave of her hand. He obliged her, bowing lightly before taking a seat. She sat herself, and Vitos handed her the parchments, as he began to give her a report on the day’s events in the city. She divided her attention between reading the papers, and listening to his oral report, knowing by the sound of his gravelly old voice which details might be important, and ignoring the rest.

The dispatches were exactly what she had commanded for the changes in the wall guard’s night watches, and she pushed them away after finishing with them.

“And one sick Tortoise, Your Grace. The livestock doctor has been summoned to assist with the situation.” he stated, prattling on.

She waved a hand quickly, and he knew it was a sign to stop with the report. He stopped talking immediately, falling silent while patiently awaiting any further orders she might have for him for the day.

Instead, she rose from her chair, walking slowly toward the raised platform to one side of the room where the black, heavy wood of the throne of Stigia gleamed in the sunlight streaming in from the desert outside. She held her clawed hands behind her back, her head lowered in thought as she stepped up, reclining comfortable on the ornate piece of furniture. Even the throne had been redone to suit the Empress. The seat of the throne had a new padded red fabric attached, and the circular back, with its dark red spikes radiating off of its edges like an evil black sun had a circular red pillow attached to its centre. It matched her glistening black armour and red cape. The Sword of Xanth, which hung at her side, was also made of black metal, with red banding wrapping the long two-handed hilt.

Vitos rose from his chair as well, coming to stand in front of his leader, and bowing once again politely to her.

“Will there be anything else that the Empress requires?” he asked, leaving his head bowed while he spoke.

Alibesh watched the old reptile without emotion in her gaze. She wrapped one scaled hand around the hilt of her sword tightly, feeling as though the weather itself outside was changing along with her ideas for the future. Somewhere on the horizon, storm clouds were forming, a raging once in a century thunderstorm looming. She could feel it brewing, and her mind registered only one feeling about it. Change was coming, and she would embrace it, force it if necessary. A change for the entire realm and all of its inhabitants.

“Your Grace?” Vitos asked again softly, trying to be as polite as possible.

Her eyes had become fixed in though, and his words brought her back to the present. She straightened on the throne.

“Have the commander beginning a new phase of planning for the legions, Vitos.” She began. “Have him prepared the armies of Stigia for war...”

The Chameleon King had chosen to meditate outside the cavern on this day, finding a quiet place in the rainforest surrounding Andoria. He did not need the looking pool to feel the changes in the world of Evaria today. The very pressure of the atmosphere had changed recently, and all of the signs of nature around him told him the story of the force of nature which approached.

Maxxus was used to rain, having lived in the rainforests all his life along with the other chameleon mystics of Andoria. One day it would pour on the leaves of the jungle all day, another it would do so in spurts, the sun blasting through in between, raising the humidity ten fold. But this was much different. The breezes were changed, and even the songs of the birds and insects of the jungle had a different tone now. There was an excited, electrically charged feel to the humid air around him, as though the winds themselves were alive and attempting to whisper in his ancient ears. And its message was unsettling to him.

Maxxus was very old, but whatever this natural force was, he knew it was much older. The pool of water in the rock in his personal grove inside the cavern would show him visions of what might come, but he had remained distant from it, almost fearful of what he might see in its swirling depths.

Another chameleon crept through the forest, and Maxxus was aware that he was not alone. He did not flinch, did not move in response to the approach of the other creature. He knew exactly who moved through the forest fauna nearby.

“Hello, Dantis. Are you bored without your friends from Andar?” he said.

The younger chameleon stepped forward, not wishing to seem like he was being sneaky. He was dressed in brilliant silver armour, and carried a large double bladed battle axe in a holster on his back. He was very big, even for a chameleon, with huge muscled arms.His orbital eyes darted separately around the small clearing where the King sat comfortably, ensuring that there was no danger imminent to his leader before speaking.

“I’m sorry, my Liege. I hope that I did not disturb your meditation.” he replied apologetically.

Maxxus turned his head slowly to observe the young chameleon.

“No, my young friend.” he said. “I was just preparing to return to the cavern. The wether becomes very strange.”

Dantis had no idea what his King was talking about, Maxxus judged by the look that he received. It didn’t matter. It was probably for the best. He did not want to worry the younger inhabitants of the chameleon kingdom, and Dantis was already out of sorts after being away from his friends from the neighbouring village filled with geckos and anoles called Andar. A sudden thought struck the King.

“You know that you may take leave at any time you like to visit Andar, Dantis...” Maxxus said quietly.

“Yes, Thank you, My King.” said the big chameleon. “But my place is here, to defend our kingdom.”

The Chameleon King rose from where he sat slowly, leaning heavily on a cane that he had grudgingly accepted to assist him lately. His aching ancient bones had made him gradually slower these days. He turned to face Dantis, letting out a sigh as he looked at the younger reptile’s serious face.

“I don’t think that we will be assaulted in the next few days my young friend. Go and visit your friends, and bring me word of the geckos of Andar. Give a special greeting to the elder Lanwyn for me.” Maxxus said, pressing the issue slightly.

The young chameleon’s orbital eyes lit up, realizing that his King was almost commanding him to go to the gecko village to see his companions, whom he had missed very much recently. It had been peaceful, and without some kind of quest for all of them to embark on, Dantis had indeed become slightly bored. Still, his duties as a guard of Andoria could not be easily excused.

“But my duties, My Liege. I must be here to protect the kingdom, and you as well!” he said.

Maxxus simply shook his head, smiling.

“I am sure that Andoria will be fine for a couple of days.” he said with a slight chuckle in his voice. “And I will enjoy the peace.”

Dantis again looked excited, bowing deeply before his King, and disappearing back to the cavern entrance to prepare for his small trip away. Maxxus smiled after him, sighing again. It would be a good break for both the young guard and himself. He loved Dantis, but the young warrior had decided that he must shadow the Chameleon King for some reason, like danger would befall him without being protected at every moment.

It became quiet once again, and Maxxus simply closed his eyes, listening again to the sounds around him in the jungle, enjoying the humidity and warmth under the canopy of ancient trees which rose high above him. A slight rain began to fall, cool and calm, just a shower which moisturized his ancient scales. Still, there was something else hidden in the air, a sense which would not manifest itself before his senses. It remained elusive, teasing his mind. Suddenly, his concentration was broken once again by a presence.

Another chameleon emerged from the undergrowth close by, almost making Maxxus jump slightly in surprise. This individual was dressed in the robes of the mystics, and was much more silent and camouflaged than Dantis had been. It was the King’s close friend and advisor Ubius. He smiled at Maxxus, knowing that he had startled him.

“Your Grace, your evening meal has been prepared for you in the grove of the looking pool.” Said Ubius.

The Chameleon King shook his head, happy to have something else to divert his attention from the strange energies of nature that were building on him.

“What does a lizard have to do to get a little peace around here?” he replied, smiling.

Far off from the mountain ranges which rose in the west, upon a sea which washed up on shores on the coast of the continent, huge dark thunderheads had formed. The direction of the winds was different now, pushing the humid air rising off the deep ocean in the opposite direction that it normally flowed. Lightning spit the skies above the now turbulent water, illuminating a monstrous layer of cloud from below. The typhoon began to stretch out dark limbs of thick cloud, revolving slowly around the eye of the storm. To witness it was to look upon something that was not nature, but a monster from out of legend, ready to envelope the entire realm in a deluge that would both destroy and cleanse the world.

The first to see the strange phenomenon were simple frog fishermen, who lived on the western coast and lived under the rulership of the mountain citadel of Nimisor. Their large, bulbous eyes beheld the fury that the ocean had become without warning. They fled the sea as it became enraged, swelling massively, and washing up heavily on the western shores of the realm. As its fury increased, it washed homes and boats out to sea, as the terrified residents of the fishing villages fled toward the mountains, and the citadel cradled in the high peaks above. The regent of Nimisor looked down as the refugees began to arrive, having sensed the changes in the sea breezes. The black cloud was like a living creature, writhing and swirling, and it began to paint a terrible scene on the horizon. Dwarfing even the tall, immovable mountains, its ominous clouds turned day into night.

Angry waves battered the seaside villages, destroying all in their wake, until the shores were littered with the remnants of wooden boards, and wrecked fishing boats and wharfs. Rain tortured the shores, pushing inland like a lead curtain, flattening the low growth of the mangroves and shrubbery.

The winds ripped at the tropical seaside grasses and trees, baring their branches in its rising fury. Flowers were stripped of their blooms, clinging to the rock of the mountain sides as the storm engulfed the peaks.

The Empress is now released!

2018-04-17T14:11:00.001-07:00

The third book in the Gecko's Gate series is now available in bookstores everywhere! Get your copy today! Get it on Amazon here!

A Sneak Peek At The Empress!

2018-02-25T08:53:00.001-08:00

The desert sun was already high and hot as Alibesh was led out of the keep in chains, lowering her face and squinting to shield her eyes from the sudden bright light, as well as the stares of the reptile citizens of Stigia. There was no throwing of fruit or vegetables at her, no screams of her being a defilement to what the Empire stood for. The female gecko was not surprised by this. Here in Stigia, the citizens would not part with any food, even if it was half rotten, lest they might starve the following day. And although they were obedient to rule, they did not shout out in support of it. She had ignored the Emperor's requests for two days, infuriating him to the point that he had decided to keep to his word about forcing her to fight. The Stigian arena was on the east end of the walled city, next to the barracks and the armouries. Amilkar was practically being dragged along behind Alibesh, also shackled. She paid no attention to him or the guards who led them onward, instead taking in every detail of the city as she walked. Horned lizards scurried in every direction, anxious to keep out of the soldier's way as they performed their tasks.

Alibesh knew what was ahead. There would be no wooden swords in this arena. Stigia's reputation for brutal exhibitions with real weapons and real blood was legendary, a tradition supported by each emperor who had assumed the throne of the Empire. To be victorious in battle in the arena meant that a soldier would be considered among the elite of Stigia's armies, and many had died trying to achieve such recognition. Only the most highly skilled and experienced fighters would dare enter, as the arena was ruthless as much as it was bloody.

Her thoughts were interrupted as one of the guards yanked on the rope tied to her shackled wrists, dragging her suddenly forward. She did not change her expression to give the guard the satisfaction that he had affected her in any way.

They continued through the city streets, and the two captives remained the center of attention to passing citizens. Alibesh watched without attracting attention as they passed the stables. Inside she could see large Iguanas and tortoises ready to be saddled. But her eyes came to rest briefly on wasps, ready to take wing once untethered and brought out into the open air. She had but a moment to see them, the guard yanking on her restraints again. She lowered her gaze so as not to allow her captors to realize what she was looking at.

As the entourage drew closer to the arena, Alibesh could hear the shouts and cheers, punctuated by the clash of steel. As they met with the back of the crowd gathered around the battle, Alibesh could feel eyes upon her. She turned, looking back behind her, seeing only Amilkar and the remainder of the guards escorting them, the citizens in the streets nothing more than an unfocused blur. Her eyes went upward, to the dark spires of the keep. There stood a dark figure high above, staring down at them. It was the Emperor. Alibesh stopped in her tracks for a moment, returning his stare defiantly, until the guards yanked her by her bonds, pulling her forward once again.

The crowd parted for them, still jostling and shouting at the fighting already engaged in front of them. The lizards near them stared at Alibesh in disbelief as she was led through them toward the outer stonework of the arena. They halted at the edge, looking down into a pit with a sand bottom, surrounded by elaborate stone walls separated every ten feet by columns. The crowd peered down at two reptile combatants, fully armoured and armed with swords. One of them was a horned lizard, clad in the copper metal of the soldiers of the Stigian army. He had a copper shield along with a short sword, dodging the swings of his opponent. His adversary was taller and slender, a monitor from the badlands to the north. His armour was a dull, unpolished steel, and the long sword he clasped was curved cruelly. They danced around and toward one another in successive clashes, the crowd cheering them onward.

Alibesh watched with interest, even as she felt the stares of some of the spectators upon her. Her vertically slit irises observed the two reptiles fight, her brain registering each move, each strike and defense in a very analytical way. It was second nature to her. And she was very aware of who would be tasked with fighting against the victor in the battle before her. SHE would be the next to enter the arena. She could still sense the Emperor watching her, waiting to see if she would give in and submit to his wishes. She dismissed his gaze, pushing the thought from her mind. Alibesh knew that it would only aggravate him further to be ignored. It brought the slightest beginnings of a grin to her scaled face as she watched the fight continue. Her hands ached restlessly for her sword. She could feel her pulse quicken slightly, could hear her own heartbeat in her ears as she watched the two fighters attack each other again and again. Sand flew as they lunged back and forth in the arena, each strike and parry of steel bringing a noisy reaction from the crowd surrounding them.

The heat beat down mercilessly. The clash of metal, the grunts of effort played out in slow motion in front of her. It was a ballet in her mind, and her eyes watched each move, each muscle of the two fighters. Her analysis suddenly shifted gears, and she began to see the openings that they left in their defense. Momentary holes that Alibesh knew she would have capitalized on in combat. Instantly.

Her grin grew a bit wider as she continued to watch the exhibition. What more could it be? They were amateurs at best. The horned lizard of Stigia lunged forward in short-sighted attacks, while the monitor defended, trying to use his height as an advantage over his shorter rival.

“This is where we will die.” whispered Amilkar from behind her.

The Gecko's Gate : The Empress!

2018-02-18T11:58:00.001-08:00

The Gecko's Gate series is now a trilogy...

Coming in Spring 2018, The Gecko's Gate : The Empress will bring forth a new adventure in the world of Evaria! Follow Chase, Kiko, and Jonas as they embark on yet another Quest to keep the realm safe from the tyranny of the Stigian Empire.
The new Emperor, Cyrus Malthor, has returned to seek an ancient artifact that will ensure his conquest over the entire world of Evaria, and will stop at nothing to retrieve the Sword of Xanth.
But a young female gecko, raised outside of the protection of the rainforest and an expert with a sword, joins forces with The Three, bringing new action and adventure to this epic saga...

The Empress... To be released worldwide in April 2018!!

The Blood Post

2016-04-22T08:18:00.003-07:00

The Blood Post is a project I have been working on that is really beginning to take shape! This will be my first Thriller/Horror title, and I am very excited to see it evolve as I work on it... In the meantime, I will share the newly designed cover for the book, created by Leona Oates of Vertigo Productions.

Dennis Stein

False Pharaoh

2016-04-22T08:12:00.002-07:00

False Pharaoh is a new project I have in the works, a story of conspiracy and mystery set in ancient Egypt. I won't say too much about it at this point, as the story is in its infancy still, but I hope that it will become an amazing tale. I have several different ideas for the plot in this story, as the reader follows the life of the young Pharaoh Tutankhamun.

What really ended Tut's rule? You will have to read it to get my take on it!

Dennis Stein

A Sneak Peek At The Sequel to The Gecko's Gate

2016-04-22T07:51:00.001-07:00

Here is a little unedited piece of the upcoming sequel to The Gecko's Gate...

The sail billowed and the wooden deck planks creaked as the boat surged forward on the calm of the eastern sea. The companions could taste the salt in the breezes as the sun reflected off the clear waters. The wind was steady but light, a beautiful day for sailing.

Kiko watched over the side as vast coral reefs went past below, the water so crystal clear that she could see every detail, and her eyes shone in wonder. Fish, both large and small, in every colour of the rainbow swam alongside the boat curiously. It suddenly became obvious to Kiko why the fishing city of Patima was painted with such bright colours.

Chase and Jonas stood at the bow, watching the horizon, and the crew was at ease. The toad fisherman checked the sail rigging, and stowed away nets while the boat captain manned the large wheel near the stern. He occasionally hollered orders to members of his crew, which would send one or perhaps two of the toads to quickly check on something, or adjust the sail.

As Kiko watched, one of the crew stepped up beside her and cast a long line with a baited hook off the side of the boat, wheeling it out by hand until she could no longer see it behind them. He sat on a barrel next to her, holding the line wrapped around a thick, short stick. He simply sat and waited. Kiko smiled, wondering if he would catch anything.

Just then, amid the calm peaceful motion of the boat, the Captain broke into song in a thick hearty voice...

On we go across the sea,

To fish and bring our catch to thee.

We fish for fish, we fish for whales,

So we come home with many tales.

The other crew instantly joined in, until a dozen toad voices rang out in a joyful chorus…

Oh, we fish and sail, we fish and sail,

Till we come home through the gale.

We fish and sail, we fish and sail,

Till we come home with many a tale...

The three friends laughed just as heartily as the crew as they finished their song, and Chase felt his spirits lift slightly, that for the first time, maybe they could accomplish this mission after all. His thoughts were interrupted by some sort of commotion along the side of the ship.

The toad sitting next to Kiko let out a holler as he jumped up off the barrel he was sitting on, straining to keep hold of his fishing line. Kiko's eyes brightened in surprise.

"You've got one?" she asked excitedly.

"Aye lass!" he exclaimed. "Give us a hand!"

She jumped forward, helping grab the line and pull it in with the fisherman. It was heavy, and each time they pulled another arm length of line in, Kiko could feel it quivering with the fight of a fish. It took several minutes to get whatever had taken the bait up alongside the boat. The toad suddenly grabbed a long pole with a hook on it from beside him on the deck and leaned over the side while Kiko continued to pull the line. He reached down, fiddling with the pole in the water. Kiko was back away from the side, and suddenly heard splashing as she held on tightly. Moments later, the fisherman heaved on the pole, bringing a large red flopping fish up onto the deck with a wet 'thud'. It was enormous, at least to Kiko.

"Aha!" yelled the Captain. "Thar be dinner tonight!"

Kiko smiled wide as she looked up at Chase and Jonas and the others. They all clapped, laughing and cheering. She turned back to look in wonder at the large red fish, still flopping around feebly, spattering water all over the deck. The fisherman quickly grabbed it by the gill, and hauled it back to a hatch in the deck. Throwing it open, Kiko could see that it was a compartment filled with ice. The toad then hefted the huge fish in and shut the hatch.

Things settled for a while, the crew going about their duties, and Kiko joined Chase and Jonas at the bow of the ship.

“So, good with a bow AND a fishing line! We’ll never go hungry again!” said Jonas with a smirk, elbowing Chase.

“And I guess with YOU around, we’ll never be short of laughs!” Kiko shot back, grinning.

Their conversation was ended with another yell from the Captain.

“LAND!”

The three friends turned forward, seeing a massive mist-shrouded island coming slowly into view. Just looking at it gave them all a slight chill, despite the warm sun on them. It looked simply evil. Twisted mountain peaks rose on either end of the landmass, and high rocky cliffs could be seen. Chase hoped that it wouldn’t take them forever to find what they were looking for, and he felt his spirit sink slightly at the sight of this grotesque looking piece of rocky land jutting up out of the sea.

“I don’t like the look of that!” said Jonas quietly, adjusting his sword belt.

“It looks ugly.” agreed Kiko.

It grew larger in front of them as the boat sped along the sea, looming like a giant shadow in spite of the clear day.

“Well,” began Chase, “It can’t be worse than Stigia.”

The three were suddenly startled by the Captain’s voice behind them.

“Nay laddie,” he said, looking with dark bulbous eyes at the island they approached. “That’s one place even the horned ones won’t go…”

Drones

2016-02-11T16:12:00.002-08:00

One last minute of the moonlight bathing me, before I have no more unconsciousness left to comfort me…

The morning came, uninvited. I opened my eyes slowly. The warmth of the covers were shed, as I rose from my bed, tossing the covers in a haphazard heap. The bathroom and the solace of a hot shower beckoned as I stumbled my way forward, in the same manner as I had done innumerable mornings before. The haze of the dreams, already half-forgotten haunted my peace as I stepped into the warm rain of the shower. What had I dreamt?

The thoughts of those disjointed dreams where I went somewhere that for fleeting moments I was happy were gone, engulfed by the remembrance that I had to go off to work. Work… As I let the water flow over my hair, leaning back to embrace the warmth of the water, my brain registered the many things that my day would entail. I was nothing but a drone, someone who worked to put numbers on a spreadsheet for my superiors, someone who was just a number. The idea of going back to the grind after a couple of days to relaxing were paralyzing.

Dressed now, I made my way out the door, after ensuring the dog had been out to desecrate the lawn, and the cats had been given their breakfast. My wife gave me a wave from the doorway, a last farewell before she got ready for her own trials at work for the day. She had an equally difficult day ahead, perhaps even harder, dealing with the public.

After our day is done, we only wish for the monotony of dinner to be over, not having the energy to engage the youngest boy still living in the house. All we want is to return to the comfort and seclusion of our ‘nest’, to lose ourselves in a movie before drifting off into the infinity again, warm and at peace…

Because It's Christmas...

2015-12-22T17:36:00.000-08:00

I am reminded at this time of year, as many of us gather with friends and family, of those to whom Christmas is not necessarily sacred. It is not a holiday, or a time when they can simply relax and enjoy the season while most of us get together with our families.
The Canadian Government deems these people 'essential services'. They are the people who keep things running while we enjoy Christmas dinners, opening presents. They are the people who are still standing by as we roast chestnuts on an open fire, while we fulfill our children's visions of Santa and his reindeer landing to bring Christmas fun.
Firemen, Paramedics, and Policemen. Nurses, Doctors. Rail and Air Traffic Controllers. Postal workers who make sure your presents arrive to those you love. The people who are on standby to make sure you have a safe and happy holiday. These people sometimes forego their Christmas dinner, don't get to see their children open their presents. For them there is no holiday...
Remember these people as you celebrate your holiday, remember that if you or one of your family members are unfortunate enough to need their help, that they will be there for you, and they are not closed because it is Christmas...

The Fortunate Crow

2015-12-01T15:33:00.001-08:00

By : Dennis Stein

The crow was still incredibly difficult to capture, even with a broken wing. It ran among the kaleidoscope of fallen leaves, reds and yellows punctuated by the black of its feathers. The two young girls chased him around the park until he was too tired to evade them any longer. A jacket served to wrap him in a cocoon of warmth against the cool fall air. They were sisters, one nine and the other seven, as different from one another as chocolate and vanilla. The oldest was slender, with dark brown hair, the younger shorter with blonde ringlets. They raced up onto the porch to their Grandmother's house, the bird nestled in the jacket barely moving, content to be held in its warm wrapping.

"We have to help him!" exclaimed the girls as their Grandmother assessed the injured crow.

It was obvious to the old woman what needed to happen, and she looked at her granddaughters, watching their faces.

"Well,... he needs to go to the animal hospital, and it looks like you two will have to take him." she said.

Tawnia and Pamela looked at each other in wonder.

Their Grandmother shuffled off to a pantry at the back of the kitchen, returning moments later with a cardboard box just large enough to house the bird. She carefully tucked the crow, complete with his jacket wrapping, into the box, folding the flaps on top shut. She turned back to the girls.

"Go back down to the bus stop, and you two can take him up to the Veterinary Clinic uptown in the plaza. Tell the bus driver where you are going, he will help you..." she said, ignoring the look of awe on their faces and handing Tawnia a few dollars.

The two girls excitedly gathered up the box, and headed quickly out the door. They sat patiently on the wooden bench underneath the aging steel sign marking the bus stop, Pamela cradling the box on her lap. Tawnia scanned up and down the street for the white city bus. Many cars passed by on the street, but finally the bus arrived. The girls wasted no time, climbing through the open side door. The heavy-set bus driver looked at them over his thick glasses, pondering their package as he watched Tawnia stuff a bill in the plastic box for their fare. The girls made their way to a vacant seat. Pamela looked out the window as they pulled away from the familiar trees of the park.

"We forgot to tell the bus driver where we wanted to go." she whispered to her sister.

"It's OK, this is the blue route, we need to change buses to get to the plaza, I think." replied Tawnia, watching the streets pass by.

The bus driver was observing the two girls in the mirror at the front of the bus.

The soft sound of the diesel engine on the bus purred as they rode through the streets of the city. The two girls were quiet, taking the whole adventure in as they watched the city pass by. The quiet was suddenly broken however, by their third party. A rustling began to happen inside the cardboard box that Pamela held on her lap. Several people turned in their seats to see, and the two girls froze in their seat. Pamela sank down in the seat, not liking the sudden attention they were drawing. The bus driver's eyes were on them again. There was a small 'cawing' from the box. A lady on the seat across from them asked what they had in the box, with a curious look.

"Um, Toys..." replied Tawnia quickly.

The bus driver was still watching, dividing his attention between the road and the two girls. The crow cawed again. More people began to turn around, looking at the two young girls curiously. The scuffling in the box continued. Finally, the bus driver pulled over to the side of the road. Tawnia and Pamela knew that this was not a good thing. The driver stood up in the front of the bus, adjusting his glasses, and hiking up his belt as he turned toward the passengers.

"Ok, what is happening here?" he said, looking directly at the girls.

Pamela and Tawnia sank down in their seat. They wished it would all just go away, that this sudden attention would somehow just disappear.

"What have you two got in that box?" asked the driver sternly.

Not knowing what else to do, Pamela opened the flaps of the cardboard box. The crow popped his head out. Several people let out a gasp. Pamela immediately tucked the bird's head back into the box.

"We need to help him, he has a broken wing." she said simply.

The two girls sat with their cardboard box, silently. The bus driver seemed placated by the response, and the people on the bus were interested in the girls and their rescue suddenly. The driver sat back down, continuing on the way. The bus pulled into the mall parking lot, and stopped. The girls got up to get off.

"Ok, you girls need to get on the red bus, which should be here in a few minutes." the driver said.

Tawnia and Pamela got off the bus, box in tow. The driver stood by, watching the children. The red route bus pulled up.

"This bus will take you to the plaza, where the animal hospital is. Don't worry, your little friend will make it there." he explained.

The two girls nodded, and stepped up onto the bus, finding a seat. The driver closed the doors, and the engine revved as they pulled away. Tawnia and Pamela watched the scenes flash by outside the windows. Finally they arrived at the plaza, and the girls could see the sign marking the Veterinary Clinic. Tawnia pulled on Pamela's sweater, pointing.

"Last stop." said the driver happily, opening the doors.

Tawnia and Pamela lept to their feet, happy that they had made it to their destination. Tawnia held open the thick glass door for her sister, as Pamela carried the box inside. The clinic was warm inside, the small waiting area decorated with plants, a few chairs,and a counter. A young woman in hospital scrubs emerged from the back, looking over the counter.

"Well, hello ladies!" she said cheerfully. "What can we do for you?"

Pamela and Tawnia said nothing, Pamela bashfully lifting the box onto the counter.

"Oh, what have we here?" she said, peering into the flaps of the box.

"He is hurt, and we need to help him!" said Pamela finally.

"Well, I think we can help him, let me go and get the doctor." she said.

She disappeared, returning a minute later with a tall man with dark hair, dressed in the same hospital clothing. They both peered into the box.

The doctor looked at the two girls, smiling.

"I'm sure we can help him, girls." he said. "Leave him with us, we will make sure he gets excellent care."

The girls smiled, feeling much better hearing his words.

"Are you two here by yourselves?" asked the doctor.

"Yes, our Grandmother told us how to get here." said Tawnia.

The doctor and his assistant looked at each other in disbelief.

"Will you be able to get home?" the doctor asked.

"Yes, we will get on the next bus." said Tawnia simply.

"We will make sure he is ok..." the doctor said.

The two girls nodded. The next bus had pulled up out front, and they hurried out the door to meet it. The ride home was long, but they arrived at their Grandmother's house in time to be picked up by their mother.

It was quiet that evening, the two young girls watching a cartoon on TV, their mother in the kitchen.

The telephone rang, its shrill metallic voice demanding attention. The girls paid no attention to the phone, after all, the telephone was never for them. The call ended, their mother coming out to the living room, where the girls were watching television.

"Tawnia, Pamela, I need to speak to you..." she said.

The girls looked at one another suddenly, knowing from their mother's voice that they were in trouble. They came to sit at the dining room table, where their mother was already waiting, her hands folded on the table in front of her.

"You two went to the Animal Hospital today?" she inquired, with a serious look on her face.

Pamela lowered her head, her blonde ringlets falling in front of her face.

Their mother let out a deep sigh, but her expression softened slightly.

"Well, the Veterinarian asked me to pass a message to you two. He had trouble finding our telephone number, until he found your Grandmother's address on the box..." she said.

A smile crept onto her face as the two girls looked at her, waiting patiently.

"It seems your little friend will be just fine..."

A Sneak Peek at The Last Train...

2015-11-25T14:54:00.000-08:00

Valerie gathered her things. A notebook, a couple of pencils and a couple of plastic baggies full of cookies and chips for snacks. She had also snagged two water bottles as well. She stuffed everything into Alex's backpack as he sat at the kitchen table watching her.

“I get to haul everything again?" he asked with a frustrated sigh.

"Well, yeah. You always have your backpack anyway!" she replied, simply.

He frowned slightly, knowing her logic was not quite right. "Maybe YOU should buy one!" he retorted.

She ignored the statement and zipped his backpack shut.

"C'mon, we better move it, it’s supposed to rain later today."

"So now you're a weatherman?"

"Weatherwoman," she shot back. "No, Dad told me this morning."

The faint sound of the furnace kicking on in the basement below made her conscious of the cold. "We’d better grab a sweater, too," she added.

After quickly grabbing a couple of hooded sweatshirts -- and getting a warning from their father to be back in time for dinner -- the Valerie and Alex flew out the front door and ran down the stairs of the front porch ready to head out on a mission. Pam waved at them from the gardens, having decided to spend the day outdoors herself.

They made their way down to the entrance of the bicycle path, right at the end of their property. It was lined with flowerbeds and two park benches invited walkers to stop and take a rest. Valerie and Alex hurried down the asphalt of the path, as the creek gurgled along beside them.

It was very cool today, but at least there was no wind. The sun shone through the bare branches of the trees above as they walked along, chattering about where to start their mission. Squirrels darted across the path in front of them, busy gathering food for the coming winter, and birds chirped away, enjoying the sunshine on this cool fall day. They crossed several streets and two wooden bridges that spanned the creek. They stopped several times because Alex insisted on feeding several families of ducks that swam in the creek. He tossed them some of the chips Valerie had brought with them. As they rambled over a third bridge, Valerie and Alex both paused to watch small fish swimming in the waters below. They were getting closer and closer to the railway tunnel.

Once a bustling cargo transfer location, and a centre that had provided both jobs and provisions for the people, the tunnel was all but abandoned now and was mostly boarded up to protect it against squatters and graffiti. But Valerie knew that the chains holding the doors shut were loose enough to let them squeeze through: they had done it before…

As they walked along, Valerie and Alex both noticed that the sound of birds and crickets had stopped. The atmosphere around them had become dead silent, other than the light sounds of their footsteps along the asphalt. The massive doors of the tunnel entrance emerged into view and the two children subconsciously slowed their pace.

As they came closer, the dark, thick wood of the doors loomed in front of them. They stepped off the path, moving even slower, and stepped towards the tunnel through a grove of bare trees. A large cloud moved swiftly across the sun's face and cast a shadow on the grove and the massive doors momentarily, as if a curtain had been drawn closed. Alex felt a cold shiver grip him as he looked up at the ancient wooden doors.

"Maybe we should come back tomorrow," he said, trying to conceal his growing fear from his sister.

"What? No way! You're not scared, are you?" asked his sister.

"No. But if someone catches us, we could get in trouble."

"No one will see us. Once we are inside, we're fine."

With that she unzipped his backpack and rummaged around to find a small flashlight that she knew would be amongst his “collection”. She retrieved it and zipped his backpack up again.

Valerie stepped forward to the darkened opening between the huge doors. Alex followed right behind her. A slight breeze stirred the tree branches around them, causing a clattering amongst the bare wood that made Alex shiver again. Valerie ignored it, squeezed herself sideways through the gap between the doors and disappeared into the darkness inside. Alex hesitantly took one last look around him and, with a deep breath, squeezed through to follow her.

There was the musty smell of something old and damp in the gloom of the tunnel. The sound of an occasional drop of water falling from the curved stonework of the ceiling high above reverberated in the hollow emptiness. As Valerie illuminated their way with the small flashlight, the children slowly ventured forward. On the ground, they could make out the rusted and ancient-looking steel rails in the dim light. As they shuffled forward, Valerie swept the light around in an attempt to avoid tripping on anything. Alex held firmly to the straps of his backpack and walked carefully in his sister's steps.

Their eyes eventually adjusted somewhat to the gloom and they could begin to make out the rotted wood ties underneath the narrow track, some of them crumbled and covered in reddish dust from the rust everywhere. The air was moist and cold as they continued forward, their breath a fog in the still darkness of the tunnel. There was a sudden high-pitched chirp from somewhere ahead of them -- a sound that both of the children recognized. Bats! Alex cringed, waiting for the rush of the winged creatures that they had probably disturbed. But nothing happened; the bats didn't come swooping at them!

"Did you hear that?" he asked Valerie.

"Yep,” she whispered back. “Hopefully there is only a couple."

They moved slower, trying not to disturb the night creatures that they figured were probably suspended from the ceiling above and around them. A shape emerged slowly in the illuminated area of the tiny flashlight. Eventually, whatever it was, it filled the space in front of them. They moved cautiously forward towards their discovery. It was massive and steel -- and covered in rust. Valerie pointed the light up, then down and swept it from side to side. A giant triangular piece of steel jutted out from the front of the hulking object, down near the rails, underneath its bullet-shaped nose. It was a locomotive!

Valerie and Alex crept closer. In the dim glow of the flashlight, they could see the long steel cylinder, sitting atop massive steel wheels, its number plates discoloured from age on either side of where its headlamp should have been. The broken socket of the headlight resembled some kind of strange eye, empty and lifeless in the gloom. Valerie stepped to the side and pointed the beam ahead of them. There were several cars on the track behind the locomotive that disappeared into the darkness, equally covered in rust and barely visible with the small light.

"Whoa," said Valerie quietly.

"Yeah, that's old!" said Alex in awe.

"It's a steam locomotive!" said Valerie.

There was a sudden fluttering above as several bats sped past, awakened early from their slumber. Dust trickled through the light of the flashlight and the children ducked instinctively. A few moments later, the silence returned and Valerie tentatively placed her hand against the thick steel of the locomotive. It was rough, bubbled by rust and cold.

"This is it," she stated simply.

"This is what? It's a train!" replied Alex.

Valerie looked back at him with an expression that told him that his statement was obvious.

"It's not just a train... It's the last train!"

Her voice echoed down the tunnel, as the two children turned back to look at the locomotive again. Valerie recounted the story of this train to her brother, reminded him that this was the final train to come from the waterfront docks hauling lumber from the shipyard, halted by the terrible accident with the brakeman who had worked it. After the brakeman had been found and his body carried away to be put in his final resting place, the rest of the trainmen had tried to move the giant forward again to complete their task, but it broke down and was abandoned. The rail company who had owned the train had fallen into bankruptcy and the train had been simply left there, entombed in the tunnel.

"So, it will be here forever?" asked Alex.

"Maybe. It wouldn't be an easy thing to get out of here."

They stood silently for a few moments, looking up at the huge steel vehicle in front of them in the gloom. Valerie stepped across the rails and moved to the side of the tunnel, shining the light down the length of the ancient looking machine. Alex followed her. The children could make out the numbers on the side of the steel: 1542. The engineer’s compartment was an empty black hole in the back end of the steel plating and was covered in cobwebs.

Suddenly, another light emerged from the darkness, further down the tunnel along the side of the train. It floated in the gloom as it moved slowly towards them. The sheer sight of it made the children shiver. Who or what could be in here with them? Alex backed up a step and held firm on the straps of his backpack. Valerie kept her eyes in the direction of the light, but also backed up close beside her brother. Their hearts started to pound and they both felt the rush of blood pounding in their ears. The light swayed hypnotically back and forth and grew brighter and brighter as it came towards them. It wasn’t a flashlight though, they realized; it was a small flame burning inside a glass lantern! Valerie and Alex stepped back toward the doors that they knew were behind them. Alex's eyes grew wider as he tried to see what was coming at them. Valerie held the flashlight in her shaking hands as she retreated another step. Their minds raced to try to process what they were seeing in the darkness in front of them.

The lantern reflected its light off of the rusted steel of the train, still advancing. As it came closer, Valerie recognized that it was an old oil lantern. It was covered thickly in cobwebs that waved gently from the heat of the light. But, Valerie felt confused -- there was a problem with what her eyes were seeing, and Alex gasped slightly as the realization hit them both at the same time: there was no one holding this floating lamp in the darkness! It seemed to float and bob slightly, like someone was carrying it, but there was absolutely no one there!

Their breath froze as they watched in horrible fascination for just a moment more, but that was it: Alex was the first to turn and run, nearly tripping over the rails in his haste. Valerie was right behind him, nearly running him over. Their shoes crunched loudly on the gravel as they sped toward the sliver of daylight streaming in through the tunnel’s doors. After quickly squeezing through the opening, they continued to run -- they didn’t even dare to look behind them.

The sunlight hit them as they darted through the grove of trees at the entrance, but they didn’t stop running, even when they hit the asphalt of the bicycle path. Finally they slowed down, their lungs on fire, but they still walked quickly in the direction towards home. Finally they glanced back nervously at the huge wooden doors, hoping that they would not see anything following.

"That was scary!" exclaimed Alex, trying to catch his breath.

"Yeah, I'm glad we are the heck out of there!" panted Valerie.

They made their way home, not talking much as they walked, both of them barely able to believe what they had just witnessed. Valerie was deeply lost in her thoughts as she walked. This was certainly a different kind of adventure than they had ever been on before...

The Last Train is Finished!

2015-09-04T16:10:00.002-07:00

The Last Train, the final installment in the series along with The Heart of The Raven, and The Lost Channel, is finally completed, and will be headed for editing soon. The three adventure stories will be combined to be marketed as ONE book...

It has taken awhile, but the book is finally done, and this project will now be released as a whole work. For those of you who have read the previous two adventures, I don't think you will be disappointed by The Last Train.......

A Sneak Excerpt from the upcoming "The Gecko's Gate"!

2015-07-03T12:20:00.000-07:00

Here is a piece from The Gecko's Gate, to be released Sept. 1/15!

The steamy undergrowth parted easily for the friends as they sped through the rainforest, running as though being chased by some unseen enemy. Chase was pleasantly surprised by the speed at which their young guide Otis moved as he darted through the veil of greenery with barely a sound or the sway of a branch to indicate his passing. For two days they had maintained this pace, stopping only for brief periods to drink and eat from their packs.

As he ran, Chase could barely make out Otis' green and gold markings as he disappeared in and out of the leaves ahead, speeding along the unseen path they followed. Jonas and Kiko struggled to keep up, breathing heavily as the forest growth whipped past. The canopy of trees rose high above them, casting moving shadows on the rainforest floor, and a slight mist shrouded the mossy ground. The humidity was almost smothering, the air so heavy with moisture that it was difficult to breathe. Shafts of warm sunlight pierced the canopy above, and like a hundred spotlights, it illuminated the shaded groves of palmetto and tangled vines through which they travelled. They stopped for another rest, each one panting in the humidity.

The friends were now growing weary, and beginning to wonder if they would ever reach the edges of the rainforest. Kiko and Jonas plopped down on the forest floor, while Chase sat on a small toadstool. Otis, however, had perched himself upon a boulder amongst the brush, ever watchful of his surroundings. While he surveyed the area, the others fell into a light sleep, wanting to regain some of their lost energy. Before long the light began to fade as the sun sank toward the horizon, still invisible in the dense growth. As the forest became darker, the four moved on again, three of them feeling refreshed from their naps. It was harder now to keep sight of each other as they ran, and this fact alone dramatically slowed their speed. More care had to be taken as they raced over the uneven ground. Suddenly, Chase sensed something wrong ahead, and slowed quickly to find Otis in front of him. Otis came to a halt so suddenly that the others nearly piled into him, startled by the young chameleon's abrupt stop.

"Keep quiet!" said Otis nervously. His large eyes darted in different directions, and the friends tried to bring their heavy breathing under control.

"What is it?" asked Chase, looking around from a crouched position.

Otis remained still and quiet, ignoring the gecko's question. After long moments, he crept forward, sweeping away some ferns from the path in front of him. He revealed a flat stone buried upright in the forest floor, covered in mosses. Several large hieroglyphs could be seen etched into the stone, from its top to its bottom. Jonas squinted at the ancient writing.

"What is that?" he asked.

"It is a warning, written in runes," replied Otis slowly, one eye still surveying the greenery beyond them. "It says to beware of the green guardians."

"What guardians?" asked Jonas, his eyes wide.

"I do not know, but we had best be cautious," replied the chameleon.

The friends all looked at one another with puzzled expressions, still crouching down in the brush. Minutes passed, and all they could hear were the sounds of insects and birds around them. Chase's pulse beat in his ears, and he made a conscious effort to settle down and slow his breathing. Kiko looked at Chase nervously, waiting to see what their next move would be.

Otis turned slowly to the others, and motioned them forward. On they went, hands clasped to their weapons, trying not to make a sound. The noise of the birds had become almost deafening to them, their senses now in overdrive. Chase wondered if this was such a great idea; obviously the warning had been put there for a reason. Green guardians? What could it mean? They crept forward, watching every branch and leaf, and searching for any sign of trouble. Kiko shivered slightly, her eyes wide as she gripped her bow in both hands. She didn’t like this in the least, strange warnings written on stones or not.

As they continued, a new sound slowly emerged from the forest: falling water. It grew louder as they went on, drowning out the other noises around them. They began to feel a slight mist wash over them, raining down moisture in the already stifling humidity. The undergrowth was thicker now, dripping with water, and nearly impassable. Onward through the thick growth they crept, listening to the sound of the water, which was almost like thunder.

Soon they emerged from the greenery and out into a clearing covered completely in mosses and a few strange, massive plants, with half-moon-shaped pods at their tops. The pods looked almost like flowers, but they were not quite open, and had spines resembling teeth growing off of them and forming a strange sort of smile. Beyond this clearing there was a large stream and a high waterfall that created a mist in the clearing as it thundered water down into the stream. Chase looked around, noticing green vines running here and there over the mosses, slick from the mists. Kiko and Jonas looked up at the waterfall in awe, watching as tons of water cascaded down into a pool at the top of the stream. Jonas bent down to take a drink from the cool waters and gave them all a smile, indicating that it must be clean.

Otis had taken up a spot to one side, still cautiously eyeing his surroundings. The friends were tired now, and Chase sank against a moss-covered rock for a rest, pulling a dried beetle from his pack to munch on. Kiko shouldered her bow and came to sit beside him, while Jonas continued to examine the stream, looking for fish. He could barely see the bottom since the water was moving fairly quickly, which made it hard to see through even though the waters were clear. Suddenly, he caught movement in the corner of his eye, not in the stream, but on the mosses. He turned slowly, and squinted his vertically slit eyes. Had he seen one of the vines move? He took a step forward, looking at the tangle of green vines in front of him. Pulling his short sword from its sheath, he poked at the nearest vine. It seemed soft, and the sword tip pierced it easily, almost like... flesh.

Jonas had no time to react. As soon as his sword jabbed the vine's soft skin, it whipped up and encircled his sword arm, wrapping tightly and writhing upward from the ground. It flipped him onto the moss, and hoisted him right off the ground, kicking and screaming.

"Whoa! What the - " exclaimed Kiko.

"Help him!" yelled Chase.

Kiko and Chase immediately sprang up from their resting place, rushing forward to help their friend. Otis shouted at them to stay put, but before they realized it, more vines had come to life and were snaking out to grab them. One wrapped around Kiko's waist, and she screeched in surprise. Chase was attacked by two more, one grabbing his arm, and another his leg. Otis stood back out of harm’s way, a spear in his hands now, and both eyes focused on the vines that had ensnared the others.

Chase struggled against the vines, which were tightening their grip on. He fought to draw his sword, but no sooner had he pulled it out of its scabbard than his free arm was wrapped by another vine. The friends were now all in the air except for Otis, and as they fought against the vines, they could see something else beginning to move: the plants. The pods at the tops of the plants turned toward them like large mouths, and Otis could see that these vines were actually attached to them at their bases, like arms. The pods opened and closed, the spines coming together like horrible, sharp teeth. One of the plants thrust its mouth-like pods toward Kiko, snapping at her as she struggled in the vines. Clear liquid drooled out of the pods, as if it were salivating.

Otis wasted no time and threw his spear, knowing that he was in just as much peril as the others. It hit its target dead on, and lodged deep inside the thick part of the plant. It gurgled and screeched, dropping Kiko to the ground. She jumped away and in a flash her bow was drawn. She fired at one of the plants, and her arrow sliced through one of its mouths, sealing it shut. She notched another arrow and fired again, cutting the vine around Chase's sword arm. It fell away, and he was able to chop at the others securing him. Kiko fired again, and this time lodged an arrow deep into the plant that held Jonas. It dropped him heavily, and he rushed back, away from the attack.

Chase freed himself, finally dodging the snapping pods. Instead of retreating, he lunged ahead, driving his sword through the plant's soft midsection. It reared back, and as it did, Chase wrenched his sword free and swung it again in a high arc, cutting two of the pods clean off. The large plant writhed and gurgled as it died, falling into a mass on the mosses. The friends gathered together, breathing heavily and looking around, nervously waiting to see if there were more of these horrible plants in their vicinity. The clearing was silent, however, and the companions relaxed slightly.

“Let’s not do that again!” said Kiko.

“Yeah. I agree. Do you suppose that was what the writing on the stone was for?” asked Chase, turning to their guide.

“Most likely. The runes were in an ancient language, but I have no idea who would have written them there. Let’s hope there are no more of them!” replied Otis, his orbital eyes still scanning the clearing.

"I don't feel like becoming plant food!" said Jonas.

“You can say that again,” Chase agreed. “Let’s keep moving.”

Cyrus stalked out into the scorching sun that blazed down on the outer courtyard where the armies were assembling. Sand blew in all directions, swirling into every crevice in the flagstone that made up the floor of the yard, and he squinted to keep the wind-blown debris out of his eyes. Lizards moved in every direction as well, scurrying into formations to be inspected by their commanders. As he strode forward out of the gates that led from the keep, he eyed the masses of soldiers standing at the ready with a slight grin on his scaled lips. Armour clanked and swords, spears, and other weapons clattered as the troops moved, coming to full attention as they lined up.

Marius now fell in behind his leader, quickening his pace to keep up. It had been a long time since he had seen this many reptiles preparing for battle, and he knew that this war would claim many lives and sweep the entire continent into bloody chaos. The sun boiled down, causing even the sandstone walls that surrounded the courtyard to shimmer in the heat. Clouds of sand rose as the soldiers stomped along, covering their copper armour in fine layers of dust. Row upon row of troops now lined the huge yard, resembling a sea of armour and glistening spear tips almost as far as the eye could see. Cyrus and his captain continued to walk, scanning the assembled army and its equipment. Giant tortoises were chained to rolling siege towers, and catapults stood amongst the throng, ready to unleash their deadly ordinances. Cyrus now stopped and faced the vast assembly, with Marius at his side.

"Today will mark a great day in the history of the Stigian Empire!” he shouted. Cheers erupted, and swords clanged against shields. Cyrus raised his arms to command silence as he continued, and a hush fell over the crowd.

"We will conquer all who stand before us and be remembered as heroes in our homeland!"

The sound of cheering now became deafening, and Cyrus' eyes burned bright and cruel. He waited a moment for a lull in the noise before he spoke again.

"I have brought forth a great gift to Stigia, one that, combined with our vast forces, will ensure our victory!"

He reached beneath his billowing cape and withdrew the glistening gold octagon. Holding it high above his head, he shouted once again, and every eye gazed in awe at the gleaming gold-and-jewel-encrusted artifact held in their leader’s claws. Spears were raised as the cheers reached a thunderous level. Cyrus grinned cruelly, looking out upon his vast army. They were in a frenzy, mesmerized by the golden treasure that he held high. Their leader drank it all in deeply, feeling the familiar rush of energy that these moments always brought to him.

Marius now saluted to the gathered throng before them, and the thunderous clump and clank of the army coming to full attention was heard like an explosion. The crowd became silent, eagerly anticipating their next order, as though the thousands assembled had melted into one attentive being. The hot, swirling desert winds were the only sound now, as Cyrus slowly lowered his prize and hid it safely back under his flowing cloak. With a quick movement of his clawed hand, he withdrew his sword from its scabbard, and the shriek of its steel emitted an evil scream. He levelled his blade at the crowd before him.

"I know the secrets that will lead us to victory!" he shouted, to many cheers.

Unknown to them, the throng had an additional audience watching from one of the spires of the dark keep above. The Emperor silently regarded the gathered forces and the Lord of Stigia himself from a large window in the throne room. He knew very well that Cyrus was a powerful leader, with great skill at harnessing the morale of his troops. He was definitely accomplished in battle, and a fierce opponent to any who opposed him. But as the Emperor watched, the ancient reptile could not help but wonder if his lord's ambition would eventually spell ruin for the empire that he had built over an age. For long moments he stared down into the outer courtyard, thinking of the Prophecy of the Three, and wondering if it might unravel his great kingdom. Stigia was well protected from any force in the realm, lying in the centre of the Sand Sea. The Emperor sometimes wondered if his own thirst for conquest in these last days might be better served in securing his beloved empire for an eternity of prosperity instead of in battle.

The Emperor's thoughts turned to rumours of the Chameleon King, once believed to be dead. The people of Stigia whispered to each other that the great King from the Caverns of Andoria may still live. If it were true, then the Prophecy may still live as well, and it could bring Stigia much trouble. There was already discontent within the city, with lizards starving to death, and complaints of high taxes. It was only the fear of the armies, and of the brutal lord who led them, that kept chaos from erupting.

Cyrus’ possession of the Gate did not alleviate the Emperor's worry, either; it was an event foretold in the Prophecy, and gave further cause for the leader of Stigia to be concerned. The theft would only prompt the other races to rise up against the empire in their own defenses. The only thing preventing an assault on their homeland was the Sand Sea, and the fear of Stigia's large armies. If they left to conquer other areas of the realm, what would stop the other races from launching some kind of attack on the city while she was at her weakest? Especially if the rumours of the Chameleon King being alive and well were true. The other races of the realm would have their own powerful leader to flock to. These thoughts and scenarios continued to roll through the Emperor's mind as he watched the troops being rallied. His musings were interrupted by the approach of one of his tall royal guardsmen.

"Orders, your Highness?"

"Ensure that at least one battalion of the armies remains behind," he replied slowly. "We may need them here."

The guardsman bowed slightly, stalking off to carry out his instructions. The Emperor resumed his silent vigil of the army below, and of Cyrus. It was clear that events were already set in motion, and that if the Prophecy was indeed true, there was nothing he could do to stop it from unfolding. He had placed his trust, and the future of the empire, in the reptile leading the throng in the courtyard below, and time would tell if that decision had been the right one.

Pre-Order Now!

2015-07-03T06:21:00.000-07:00

Pre-orders are now being taken at http://www.sandspress.com/shop/the-gecko-s-gate-9780993675355-fantasy, so head on over and pre-order your copy of The Gecko's Gate today!

The Gecko's Gate is Eight Weeks From Launch!

2015-06-26T15:33:00.001-07:00

The day is finally coming soon! The Gecko's Gate will be LIVE on Net Galley Monday morning, and will be officially available for purchase in eight short weeks! I am finally allowed to reveal the brand new cover, which is quit stunning.... For Pre-order info, please visit sandspress.com!

As a side note, my Publisher, sandspress.com is actively seeking author submissions in a variety of genres. If you have a manuscript, completed or partial, head over to Sands Press and submit it!

The Pitfalls and Euphoria of Writer’s Block

2015-05-20T17:13:00.002-07:00

By : Dennis Stein

Every writer will experience it at some point. You are writing your next great story, and all of a sudden, wham, you hit that wall. Writer’s Block. It all seemed to be coming along perfectly, and now you cannot seem to grasp the idea of where your story will go from here. It frustrates you as days pass while you are seemingly unable to progress any further.

But hey, don’t fret about it. Sometimes writing flows like a river, the sentences and paragraphs spring from your mind to the paper or screen faster than your hands can move. Other times, you may sit for days without coming up with anything new. Do not pressure yourself. Forcing oneself to produce usually ends up with the artist being far from pleased with the resulting work. Like any art, there are times when you are too tired, too stressed, or just have other things that need to be accomplished at the moment.

And one day, without warning, no matter what you may be doing, an amazing thing happens. The twist in the plot, or the amazing idea for how your story progresses will appear out of nowhere in your mind, and once again your juices of creativity will flow again, causing you to rush to your story, pouring out thousands of words with renewed ambition…

Something New!!!!

2015-04-08T17:58:00.000-07:00

Have you ever had a situation in your life frustrate you so much that you secretly wish evil on the people responsible? It is not really a good feeling, and the lack of control you have about it just seems to add to the problem. I must confess, it has affected myself and my family deeply.
Although I believe in Karma, and that you should never wish harm on anyone else, it has brought me to a place where I may have always known that I might arrive. Judge for yourself as I divulge the briefest part on my psyche on this, and a brief look into something that I know will envelope into the darkest part of what I wasn't sure I could write...Horror writing.

The Post

By : Dennis Stein

The fog in his mind began to clear slowly as he shook himself awake, trying to regain the memory of what was happening. He could not move very well, and the flat of the concrete floor was cold against his dress shirt. As the rush of information flooded his brain, he struggled against the plastic tie wraps which secured his wrists and ankles. He hurt. A thin line of blood on the concrete below his face came into his blurred view, his glasses missing. He tried to focus on the floor. He hadn’t bled too much, but his head was swimming with the pain of a brutal assault. As the haze lifted from his memory, he realized that he was in his own garage. Only a few feet away, his BMW sat silently, a quiet spectator to his pain. The fluorescent lights above gave a barely audible hum, their light reflecting off the pale grey of the concrete floor.

The dust made him cough suddenly, the light cloud rising from the floor, as he spat out fresh stripes of dark red blood. His ribs hurt bad. It was from the kicking. Disembodied thoughts floated in his mind as he attempted to roll on his side, despite the pain. His vision continued to play tricks on him as he fought to move, knowing that he was injured badly. He squinted his eyes, trying to focus on his surroundings, wondering where she was. It was a ‘she’. He was positive about that. His cheek stung as he laid his face on the floor, another injury she had inflicted on him. As his memory came back, he thrashed about, sure that she was still in the garage somewhere. The pain stopped him, and he suddenly went limp, the dark cloud of his pain overwhelming him. He laid on his side, concentrating on his breathing. That was what the psychologist had told him again and again. Focus on something pleasant, and pay attention to some deep, cleansing breaths...He couldn't get past the coppery taste of the blood in his mouth and throat, it was more than a smell, more like an essence behind his swelled face.

A shadow fell over him suddenly, blocking the bright white light of the fluorescent tubes above, shocking his eyes into focus on what hovered above him. It was her. He sucked in a breath as she leaned down over his inert body, looking at him with predator's eyes. Black eyes filled with something he could not understand. He felt the goose flesh rise on his arms and the muscles tense in the back of his neck as he watched her lean in toward his face, her eyes filling his blurred vision. His heart pounded blood, and his ears beat with the flow. Every fibre in his body tensed as she leaned in closer, examining him. He heard something. the sound of metal. He craned his head sideways toward the sound, looking for its source. He squinted again, bringing the edge of the blade dragging along the dusty concrete into his view. It was an axe...

The Heart of the Raven released!

2015-03-28T17:49:00.000-07:00

http://www.amazon.com/Heart-Raven-Dennis-Philip-Stein/dp/1500460311/ref=sr_1_13?ie=UTF8&qid=1427589271&sr=8-13&keywords=dennis+stein

The heart of the Raven is now available on Amazon!! Two releases in one week!

The Gecko's Gate Advanced Release now available on Amazon!

2015-03-25T17:16:00.000-07:00

The Gecko's Gate Advanced Release Copy is now available on Amazon!!! If you want one of the ARC's, you better grab it quick, because this initial pre-release copy won't be available for long!

The talented staff at Sands Press has brought this ten-year writing project to print, along with incredible artwork from artist John Tkachuk!

Here is the Amazon page for The Gecko's Gate!

Amazon Page for The Gecko's Gate!

The Magic Cat is now on SALE on Amazon!

2014-11-10T13:58:00.000-08:00

The Magic Cat, which won a Pinnacle Book Achievement Award, is now on Sale on Amazon just in time for Christmas! The price has been reduced from the regular $9.99, to $4.99!

Here is the link to the Amazon page...The Magic Cat