Three Hoodies Save the World

Constant moaning and whinging about everything

Kongomato free today

 Don’t forget Kongomato is free today and for another four days after.

    Here’s a little taste just to whet your appetite.

This new horrific vision then screamed: a deafening, screeching cry of defiance and fury that caused his ear drums to pop. Then with a fluttering that finished the job by immediately rupturing both, and unnoticed in the concussion that blew him backwards like a leaf in the wind, it was gone. He dimly felt about a second later, the sound of all the windows in the giant room shattering.

    That was when the second thing happened. By now Julian’s conscious brain had almost shut down, refusing to accept any more of the horror. A big black shape seemed to be hovering above him. In the last second of his life he realised what it was; and that it wasn’t hovering. It was descending at an enormous speed. The entire front facet of the marble block with the strange writing had begun to fall.

    It hit Julian, approximately half a ton of it, squarely on his chest, immediately crushing his ribcage. The pressure expelled his heart, lungs and a few other unidentifiable organs and sundry flesh from his eyes, his ears and every other orifice of his body. Then the entire marble block shattered, thousands of tiny, lethally sharp shards exploding in every direction before spattering the floor for twenty feet around Julian’s lacerated and now lifeless body. And in the split second before the light just as quickly went out there, engraved on his crushed chest were the entire collection of words that he had paid so much to eradicate. Julian had finally achieved the tattoo he had so long sought.

Kongomato

Selective Winter

 I think winter began last night. 

    But only on my cat. He came home last night, or rather, this morning at exactly three thirty six AM. I know that because I was watching a film on TV and just about asleep, when this shivering morsel appeared at the patio door yowling like something demented. 

    As I opened the door(it was that or shoot it) I noticed something odd. On its back was snow. Well it’s almost winter you might say, and snow isn’t exactly uncommon. Except that it wasn’t and hadn’t snowed – anywhere.

    Odd; extremely odd.

    As I’ve finally finished the forth and final book in my Kongomato trilogy, I thought I might give some sales a helping hand by offering the first in the series (cunningly named: Kongomato) for free. I can’t give away the paperback version unfortunately, but the Kindle version is, or will be free from: Tuesday, October 20, 2020, 12:00 AM PDT  until the 24th.

You can find it here:  Kongomato

Jorick is Hanging out Somewhere New!

Amaranthine by Joleene Naylor

Image may contain: 1 person, text that says 'AMARANTHINE JOLEENE NAYLOR The past casts long shadows, even inthe dark... AMARANTHINE THE COMPLETE SAGA By Joleene Naylor'

It’s not just Jorick hanging out somewhere new, but the whole crew. You might remember I signed the distribution agreement last year to serialize the series? Well, thanks to covid its release was late, but at last it’s starting to show up.

Right now, you can find the whole Amaranthine series on the AnyStory App as Amaranthine. Sadly, it’s an app only site, so I can’t link directly to the book, but if you’re any AnyStory user, please think about dropping a rating or review/comment.

Not into AnyStory? No worries, Webnovel has got your back! You can find the whole series under the Amaranthine title, as well as Brothers of Darkness, Vampire Morsels, and Tales from the Executioners. Again, if you’re a Webnovel user, please check them out and consider leaving a review or a vote, or whatever. (I’m not entirely sure what the whole…

View original post 41 more words

Nothing about writing this time.

 I’m a fan of technology.

    I’ve been building my own computers since about 1983. I actually didn’t finish the first one. I disassembled two BBC’s and put them back together again as one even more powerful version. Naturally, it blew up and nearly torched the house. Since then I’ve got better at it. No more fires and about fifteen new machines, later, the octa core machine I’m using now was built by my fair if slightly wrinkled, hand.

    I have a cell phone that can do things people of just twenty years ago would have believed to be impossible, but now I just accept without any thought.

    Yet with all that vast array of incredible technology available to us, I still think one thing I own is the best thing ever invented.

    Yes, it’s a can opener. I was issued this in the Royal Marines well over forty years ago. It never complains. The batteries never die, and it keeps opening cans. It must have opened about twenty thousand by now and just keeps on doing it.

    It’s name is Ralph, and he’s my bestest friend.

Done it – finally.

Finally my book is published.

    I spent a squillion hours on it yesterday. All the punctuation errors are fixed. As were the dead ends and plot holes. What plot holes?  

    As always I could spend the next five years editing it and what would finally emerge would be nothing like my original plan. Eventually you just have to let them go. I even published it, then changed the blurb and published again. But now, for better or worse, Scions of Kongomato is finished. It’ll be a couple of days until it hits the (virtual) streets, and then I’ll perform my usual cursory attempts at publicising it before getting bored and beginning my next book.  

    Of course I’d like to be rich, but to buy a Porsche 911 at my age would be a little tragic. I’m the first one to laugh at all the old men driving young men’s sports cars. Fortunately for me, I’ve been driving the most expensive sports cars in the world on a daily basis for over thirty years so the urge isn’t there any more. They weren’t mine, I hasten to add, but other people’s, foolish or good enough to let me drive theirs.

    I’m a little bored with death and gore, so the next one will be (my version) of comedy. Although at first glance a public school teacher planning to slaughter every child in the school doesn’t sound too amusing, I’ll try to give him some pitfalls on the way.

    Now if I could just get my tablet WP software to give me smart quotes, It would make my life ever so much easier.

This is why you should use an editor.

Or be more careful.

    I was almost at the end of the tenth edit of Kongomato 4 last night when  something began to nag me.

    There was a enormous, yawning, chasm of plot hole. For the last nine edits I’ve typed over this hole, correcting the spelling and ensuring that absolutely no punctuation errors only made this beginner’s error even easier to see. I might not be a worldwide bestseller of books, but I have written over twenty novels.

    After pounding my head into the printer a few times (it’s broken, anyway – the printer, not my head) I began again at the point where the amateurish mistake should have been addressed. I’m now at the part where it should be completely sealed. 

    And there was me thinking I could start messing about with Kindle Create in preparation for uploading it. Another edit it is, then, just to make sure all traces of it are gone.

    What a dumbkopf.

My cat nearly ate me.

My cat nearly ate me.

 Last night, after almost fifteen hours of editing, I fell asleep on the sofa. This was in part due to the consumption of several glasses of wine. I wonder if they had me in mind when producing 15 percent proof muck.

    About four hours later I awoke because I was cold. But, strangely, not my face. That was swathed in warm air combined with a faint tinge of something dead.

    As my eyes cranked open it was to see what could only have been a giant tiger preparing to bite my head off. It was in fact, Harley, my Bengal tom. He wakes up every once in a while, just before going out to slaughter something.

    He’s a great deal larger now than in the photo, and even the local dog foxes know better than to tangle with him. I’ve heard the results in the past. Fearing that he would come home torn to shreds, or not come back at all, I needn’t have worried. Last week he slid smugly in with some suspiciously brown fur caught in his teeth.

    What this is leading up to, is that I’d just finished the eighth and hopefully penultimate edit of my new book. You might recall that it’s about giant, fanged  lizards extracting the heads of anyone foolish enough to encounter them. Seeing Harley’s face less than an inch from my own, politely asking to go out, coupled to the wine I’d just drunk, was enough to send me leaping onto the floor, convinced my last breath had come.

    I’m taking a day off tomorrow, both from editing, and that wine. I’ll stick to tea for a couple of days.

I think I’ve worked it out.

Just finished the sixth edit of Kongomato 4 and there are stillerrors.

     I reckon that every night some nasty little gremlin is getting into my MS and buggering it up because I’m sure I’ve fixed the same typos more than once. Anyway, that’s my theory and I’m sticking to it. 

    I thought I’d include a little excerpt for your delectation. In the three previous novels of this series, the first chapter is always a botched robbery attempt so there seemed no point in changing it now.

Spoiler alert. Actually it’s not, just a word of warning for those amongst you that don’t like graphic bloodletting. I couldn’t really avoid it since this is a book featuring giant lizards bent upon eating every person on the planet. Except President Trump, of course. Even they wouldn’t dare.

I’ve also deleted the profanity which will of course, be liberally splattered through the novel. still work in progress, but it’s getting there.

‘I don’t feel the engines,’ Mallory said in a low voice, instantly carried away by the wind which was stronger up here and rising all the time.

    ‘Screw the engines. We don’t have enough manpower to start or run them, anyway. We’ll find anything valuable, then tow the old piece of s*** into the nearest port. Follow me.’ Apparently happy to do so, the younger man held back as Jackson made for the wheelhouse, just to check, jumping lithely up the rotting wooden steps to show the other he was as good as him any day and in any weather.

    Inside the wheelhouse there was no power, which was a pity. There would be more value in a vessel with a functioning generator and engines. Maybe they were just shut down. There being nothing else to see there and still no sign of life, he led the way back down to the deck where the hatch to the cargo compartment yawned open. ‘You got your flashlight?’ Mallory nodded in the deepening gloom. His earlier ebullience had gone and his face now pale. Was it nerves or sea sickness, Jackson wondered. Probably the latter, he decided. This man was no seaman; probably just some a*****e who couldn’t get another job. With another screech, this time from the rusty bulkhead, he heaved it even further up and led the way into the darkness.

    Up on deck he’d almost become accustomed to the rank stench, but down here it was indescribable. Never had Jackson smelt anything as bad, and he’d been at sea for two decades where the most revolting stenches were a more or less common occurrence, from dead fish and seaweed left behind by receding tides.

    ‘Are you sure this ain’t dead bodies? Stinks like nothin’ I’ve ever known.’ He wrinkled his nose in disgust. It truly was the worst smell he’d ever experienced; like rotting flesh mixed with stale air; all of which he’d known before, but never at the same time or at this intensity. Curiously, Mallory seemed unconcerned with the rank aroma and was wrestling with his heavy waterproof jacket.

    ‘I’m sorry to tell you, Mister Jackson, that the smell is the least of your worries.’ He turned, not at the words but from the change in the man’s voice. Gone was the lazy, almost indolent murmur. In its place was a stronger, more imperative tone of authority. And also gone was the vacant smile.

    ‘What the **** are you talking about?’ But he knew. Somehow he knew. His past had finally caught up with him.

    ‘I won’t bother with my ID for now. I think this will do.’ A moment later, revealed in the gloom was a gun. It was a far larger gun than his own and its very wide muzzle now pointed directly at his chest.

    ‘Customs?’ he asked without emotion. The man did not smile, but his disdain was obvious.

    ‘ATF.’

    ‘Alcohol, tobacco and friggin’ firearms?’

    Jackson was outraged. He was a thief, yes, he was also a liar, but one thing he wasn’t was a goddamn terrorist.

    ‘Are you out of your gourd?’ He would have said more, a lot more, but was given no chance as something peculiar happened.

    Jackson had seen quite a few deaths in his years, but none as quick, silent or terrifying as this. In one moment Mallory’s eyes stared fully at him, quite sorrowfully in fact, and the next he felt rather than heard something. It was like the displaced air of a newspaper as someone struck out wildly at a fly, except in this case a winged pest did not fall to the ground. Rather, with a sickening tearing sound, Mallory’s head left his shoulders. The immediate fountain of arterial blood from his neck shot almost five feet, some of it hitting Jackson in the face. There was no time to yell, or in his instant and overwhelming terror, to scream, for the other man’s head fell to the deck with a nauseating thud. A moment later, his gorge threatening to burst from his throat, he turned at a new sound, that of a high-pitched screech, almost inaudible because of its high frequency. In his panic to flee his hand hit something hard enough to snap three of his fingers but he felt no pain for with a low whine followed by a grating sound deep in the bowels of the ship, a sharp draft of frigid air from above billowed down as all the remaining cargo hatches began to creak open.

    He was given no time to marvel at this, either, for a moment later a bright blue light shone directly into his eyes. It was a curious shade and quite attractive despite their grim surroundings, but he was given no time to consider this further, for less than a second after that a pain more hideous than he ever could have described filled his entire being. Worse, something began to trickle down his face. His scream, if could it have been called that, was muted beneath the rasping, snarling roars surrounding him. His fall onto quivering knees was halted as something sharp accepted his weight effortlessly and severed both legs below the knees. By now Jackson barely existed as a functioning human but more a gibbering agony-filled wreck of insanity.

    It was in this position that he barely heard all cargo bay doors thudding into their fastening pins. He felt the howling wind of several more giant things writhing past him shrieking in joy, or some other alien emotion, and then one more thing. The last sensation he would ever experience as a living being. The teeth now fastening around his head had to be at least six inches long, but he didn’t know this as his skull was immediately pulverised, wrenched free from his body and dropped to the deck. Before his lifeless body could even fall, another jerk of that giant head deposited his torso into a writhing gullet where it disappeared in a single muscular spasm.

    With a squawk of either rage or satisfaction the thing which had destroyed him leapt upwards, and with one more howl into the night sky joined its fifteen companions flapping away and using the rising wind to hurl them aloft towards their new home.

Five down and ????? to go

I’ve just finished the fifth edit of Kongomato 4

    As always, it’s amazing that I keep picking up errors I should have picked on edits 1 to 4.

It’s beginning to shape nicely. And that’s in no small part to an free on-line punctuation checker I discovered. It doesn’t see spelling errors, or errant capitals and full stops but it does remind my of my proclivity for adjectives and nags me unceasingly, just like my English language teacher used to, about following conjunctions with commas. Although, just as with him, I still don’t believe it’s been engraved in stone that it must be done every single time.

     I’m back on furlough again in a couple of weeks. I’ll use the time to finish and publish it. I still don’t know if I’ll ever write another. I decided that twenty was enough for me, but as I’d already begun and abandoned it the year before, I had to finish. There again, I still have five unfinished novels, two of which are on floppy disc. Does that mean I’ll still be doing this til the day I die? I could think of worse things to do.

    I’ve been staring longingly at this, wot I drew with some software a couple of years ago. We weren’t allowed to go on holiday this year so this is the closest thing I’ll get to the sea in the near future, no doubt.

Finished the cover for my new novel, definitely.

I think.

    I don’t do layers. There are two reasons for this. Real painters don’t have layers, so they have to get it right first time.

    There’s another reason. I don’t understand them. I’ve tried zillions of times to get layers right. Occasionally it works and what I paint looks (reasonably) good. Then when I try to do it again, exactly the same way, it won’t work the next time.

   My wife, (She who must be obeyed) has always said I’m a dumbkopf, although her language has always been a little more obscene than mine, because I’m a good boy.

    Anyhow, enough messing about. This is mark v1 and is absolutely the final cover for my new novel – probably.

    Maybe I am a ****** because I just cannot insert images into my blog with the new improved version. Maybe I should get a new, improved version of me.

Post Navigation

SpaceQ

Space news and analysis.

A Brightonian Writer

A site for writers and other animals

The Terrible Turtle Conspiracy

Can webcomics get any weirder?

The Insatiable Traveler

Travel inspiration, stories, photos and advice

The Confluence

A weblog for Democrats in Exile

shehanne moore

Smexy Historical Romance

DM Yates Journalings

Journalings - of interest to me and maybe you

Suddenly they all died. The end.

Write or write not - there is no aspiring.

lindseyjparsons

Author, Dragon Lover, Hopeless Dreamer

Amaranthine by Joleene Naylor

The world of the Amaranthine vampire series by Joleene Naylor

aprilmorone

Just another WordPress.com site

melindamcguirewrites

Melinda McGuire - writing with a Southern slant