Category Archives: Writing

Contest Entry

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Well, I read about the first paragraphs contest over at Nathan Bransford – Literary Agent and so I entered with the first paragraph of my someday/maybe mystery novel. I shouldn’t have, and now I feel dumb. First of all, I don’t have a mystery novel completed. I just have the rough draft of a first page, so submitting the first paragraph of four seems pretty dumb. I mean, I haven’t even decided what the mystery in the mystery novel is going to be. Oh well.

The Steel Dragon – Chapter 4 Excerpt

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Iolanthe Dechantagne walked slowly down the wide, sweeping staircase that led into the vast foyer of her home. She had expected to make a rather grand entrance, but was disappointed to find no visitor awaiting her at the bottom of the stairs. The room was peopled only by several members of the household staff: the doorman, one of the maids, and a young man on a ladder cleaning the wall behind one of the gas lamps. Iolanthe turned slowly to look at Yuah, who stood just behind and to her right. The dressing maid, in a gray and white dress that made her look rather more like a governess than a maid, shrank back slightly. She knew how disappointed Iolanthe was, especially when she had purchased the new evening gown for just this occasion. It was white, and the skirt featured seven layers, one upon the other, each trimmed with red and black, the hem creating a circle more than five feet wide as it swept the floor. The bodice featured matching red and black trim. It was of course so thin at the waist that no one could have worn it without a patented Prudence Plus fairy bust form corset and it featured, as was the style, a prominent bustle in back. It was strapless, leaving an unobstructed view of Iolanthe’s long, thin neck, her smooth shoulders and the top several inches of her chest. Instead of a hat, she wore an arrangement of red and white carnations atop her carefully curled hairdo, which matched the rest of her outfit perfectly.
“She was here, Miss.” said Yuah.
It had been two days since her brother had learned from a police inspector that a powerful sorceress was available for hire. She had arranged a meeting, carefully setting the precise date to give herself plenty of time to prepare. When one met a powerful magic user, especially when one intended to hire a powerful magic user, one had to make a good impression. If Iolanthe were going to hire this woman, if this woman really possessed the gifts that she and her brothers would need in their great enterprise, she intended to show the woman, right from the beginning, who was boss.
Yuah scrambled down the steps of sweeping staircase and whispered to the doorman. The doorman whispered back. Then Yuah ran back up the stairs to Iolanthe’s side.
“Master Augie just took her to the library.”
“Bloody hell, Augie, you idiot,” said Iolanthe.
She stomped her way down the remaining steps of the staircase and through the foyer, stopping just outside the door to the library. Hyperventilating for a moment, she stepped through the door with a stately and unhastened grace. Yuah followed her, several steps behind. The library was a relatively small room, about thirty by thirty feet, but with a ceiling two stories high. All four walls were completely covered in bookcases to the ceiling. Two railed ladders allowed access to the books at the very top. The room made quite an impression—when full of books. Unfortunately, the books had been packed and loaded onto the H.M.S. Minotaur. The resulting room, empty except for the three overstuffed chairs, two small tables, two oil lamps, and a single volume—Baumgarten’s “Brech Stories”—was noticeably unimpressive. Along the far wall, Augie leaned against one of the ladders with practiced nonchalance. In the center of the room stood the woman—the sorceress.
She looked like a demon or a deviant prostitute, or some combination of the two. Her shoulder length blond hair was styled as though it had been cut with garden shears and it stuck out in all directions. She had dropped charcoal dust into her large grey eyes, creating thick black borders around them like the ancient Argrathian queens, and she had framed them with green malachite eye shadow. Her lips were so dark that it was more the red of blood than that of the rose. Though her skin was alabaster white, as was Iolanthe’s own, she wore no rouge on her cheeks to give her that aura of health and vitality. She wore no hat, and to Iolanthe’s eyes, no clothing.
The woman’s ensemble was bizarre and lewd in the extreme. It was clearly meant to frighten and baffle at the same time. It was a collection of women’s undergarments transformed into outer clothing. Her arms were covered in fishnet gloves, though they couldn’t really be called gloves, because they didn’t cover her fingers. They simply attached to rings around her thumbs and her pinkies and then ran up almost to her shoulders, where they were held on tight with silken bows. She wore a corset made of black leather with a series of five belt-like straps with buckles running up the front, which Iolanthe suddenly realized would allow the woman to don and doff the device without the aid of anyone else. The low-cut brassier portion of the corset left much of the woman’s chest bared and exposed two tattoos, each a five pointed star, two and a half inches across, outlined in black but filled in with red ink. She wore a kind of leather skirt over the corset, but it reached down only about fourteen inches from her waist, leaving the tops of her stockings and the twelve suspenders connecting them to the corset, completely exposed. The stockings were fishnet mesh, matching the gloves. They were mostly unseen however, as the woman’s leather boots reached all the way past her knees to mid-thigh. These boots each had seven of the same belt like straps with buckles that her corset had, as though they were made to match, which they probably were. The boots had thick square four inch heels. This last detail was the least striking, as high heels were the fashion. Iolanthe’s own shoes had similar heels, and owing to the fact that she could look the woman directly in the eye, the two women must have been of about the same height, with or without heels.

“Zurfina, I presume,” said Iolanthe.

Art copyright 2008 by Clipart.com

What to write? What to write?

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I’m pounding through chapter two of Knights of Amathar right now, but I’m already thinking about what should be next on my book list. I have several ideas, and while one might be more appealing to me right now, I’ll probably change my mind by the time I finish my current project. Here are my current ideas:

A novel that takes place between the second and third books of The Steel Dragon, turning the trilogy into a… series with four books in it.

A novel that does the same thing, only takes place after The Two Dragons (making the new book the fourth book in the series. I would have to remove the epilog at the end of the two dragons that tells what happens to all the characters for the rest of their lives.

A novel that takes place in the world of The Steel Dragon, but with all new characters– a family that is split up and travels around the world.

A novel about a shipwrecked sailor (Yes, I just read Robinson Crusoe) taking place in the world of The Steel Dragon.

Enough Steel Dragon for you?

A science fiction novel about a merchant starship captain– romance/adventure.

A sci-fi conspiracy comedy– can’t say anything more than that at the moment.

A story about archaologists in the far future opening a time capsule from the twentieth century.

A fantasy story about people from different eras of earth brought to a magical realm.

A swords & sorcery novel about a warrior and a bard and a queen.

A sci-fi horror story about a starship crew who finds unspeakable horror on a dead world.

A story about children who can cross dimensions.

Well, there you go. When I get to the end of my current work, I’ll let you know which if any of these I decide to work on next.

His Robot Girlfriend – Chapter 3 Part 2

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“That’s my girl.”

“Yes Daddy, I’m here.”
He opened his eyes and looked up into the concerned face of his daughter Harriet. He was on his back in a hospital room. An I.V. was attached to the back of his right hand. He reached up with his left hand and felt the bandages that covered the left side of his stomach.
“When did you get back?” Mike asked.
“I got home late yesterday,” said Harriet. “Right about the time you decided to take on a couple of desperados. The police said they haven’t caught them yet, by the way, though the officer left his card in case you remembered something when you woke up.”
“Call him,” said Mike. “I recognize both of those guys. Carlos Fernandez and Nathan Spencer. They were in my class seven or eight years ago. I think Nathan’s mother still lives down the block from me.”
“Nathan Spencer!” said Harriet, whipping out her phone, and stepping toward the door. “I dated his brother! Officer Darling please…”
As Harriet stepped out the door, the doctor stepped in to check on Mike. He informed him that he had been operated on the night before– a relatively small amount of damage, all things considering. The knife had only nicked his descending colon. Had Mike not been overweight and possessed of a fairly large amount of belly fat, the knife could easily have caused much more damage, perhaps even death.
“Well, at least there is one consolation to being fat,” said Mike.
“On the other hand, I’ve seen knife blades turned by a well-toned abdomen,” said the doctor.
“And of course there are other benefits to being in good shape.”
“Fine, fine,” said Mike.
The doctor left and Harriet returned.
“They’re going to get those little bastards.”
“They weren’t so little,” said Mike. “How did you know I was here, anyway?”
“Your girlfriend called me.”
“Girlfriend?”
“Yes, your girlfriend,” said Harriet. “You do remember her? Patience? Or do you have amnesia.”

“Oh, I remember her. I just didn’t realize you knew about her yet.”

“I heard about her yesterday. From my little brother,” assured Harriet. “I was happy to meet her though. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a Daffodil before, let alone talked with one. She’s not like other robots I’ve seen.”
“Does it bother you that I got her?”
“You’re a big boy,” said Harriet. “I trust you to make your own decisions.”
“Good. Your disapproval would have bothered me more than anyone else’s.”
“Come on, Dad. I know I wasn’t your favorite.”
“Don’t tell Lucas this,” said Mike. “But I’ve always felt like I had more of a connection with you than with him.”
Harriet looked at him strangely for a moment.
“Where is Patience?” asked Mike.
“I sent her home a couple of hours ago to shower and change. I hope she gets some rest too. She looked really tired.”
“She doesn’t get tired. She’s a robot.”
“Maybe,” conceded Harriet. “But she was by your side almost the whole time you were out.”
Harriet stayed with her father for another hour. Then Mike sent her on her way. He hadn’t actually wanted her there at all. He had always been of the opinion that children, even adult children, should not have to see their father in that kind of weakened, compromised condition. The two other times he was admitted to the hospital, he hadn’t allowed any of the kids to visit him.
Mike was served lunch of soup and some kind of light purple jell-o. By the time he had eaten he was feeling pretty fit. He flipped on the vueTee and tried to find something good to watch, but nothing interested him. Then he saw that a texTee was sitting on the bedside table. It was a newer model that the one he had at home. He turned it on and flipped through the selection of magazines. Time. Electronic Entertainment. National Geographic. Penthouse. And three comic books: Superman, Wonder Woman, and Batman. It was as if someone had transferred his own subscriptions to the new device. Then when he selected one of the magazines and watched the electronic ink fill the screen, he realized that this was just what had happened. Although Harriet could have compiled that selection, she would have died before buying a Penthouse. Patience had done this for him.
Mike had read all of the comics and was flipping through Time when Patience bounded into the room. She was wearing a black camisole top cut just above her perfect belly button and a pair of very low rise jeans, which together created a truly expansive piece of exposed stomach real estate. The pair of five inch sandal pumps, called “Rowenas” that she had purchased at the mall made her slender figure look seven feet tall.
When she saw that Mike was awake, she leaped to his side, clasped his face in her hands and kissed him deeply. She climbed into the hospital bed with him, and continued kissing him. When she seemed about to give him a hickey on his neck, Mike pushed her head away.
“Hold on,” he said. “I’ll be out of here in a few hours, and then we can do that at home.”
“The doctor said that you need to spend another night, Mike.”
Mike’s face immediately turned sour.
“I really hate hospitals. Always have.”
“Don’t worry,” Patience said. “I’ll stay here with you.”
“I didn’t say I was worried. I just don’t like hospitals.”
Patience nestled down in the bed next to him and put her head on his chest.
“I was so worried, Mike,” she said. “I thought for a moment that you were going to die. You were so heroic. I love you so much.”
“Oh, come on,” Mike said. “You were the one who kicked the crap out of the bad guys.”
“Self defense is part of my programming. You didn’t have that advantage and you still went after them.”
“Whatever. Tell me everything that happened after I passed out.”
“When you fell, I used my first aid programming to staunch the flow of blood. Then I used my infiNet connection to call the fire department. Paramedics and an ambulance arrived nine minutes later. The police arrived two minutes after that. While you were being loaded into the ambulance, I made sure that all of our purchases were stowed safely in the trunk, and then drove the car to the hospital. Once here, I needed to notify your daughter, because the clerks at the hospital would not accept my signature to begin medical treatment. They said they needed a relative to sign admission papers.”
“And you stayed here until Harriet sent you home.”
“Yes.”
“I’m glad you’re back.”
“I’m glad I’m back too.”
They lay together on the hospital bed for some time not speaking. It was not an awkward silence, but rather a pleasant one. Mike finally broke it.
“I’ve only known you for six days, but I already feel like I never want to be without you. I never want you to leave.”
“You will never be without me, Mike,” she said. “I will never leave you.”
Patience lay in the bed with Mike for the rest of the afternoon. He had never been so comfortable sharing such a small bed in his life. They both ignored the disapproving looks they received from the nurse each time she came in to check on him.
“I don’t think they’re going to let you stay the night with me,” Mike said. “Can you go home and sleep?”
“I don’t need to sleep, but I have plenty that I can do. Then I can come and take you home tomorrow.”
“Good,” said Mike. “Why don’t you go ahead and go now. They are going to start serving dinner in a few minutes anyway.”
“As you wish, Mike.” She climbed out of bed and bent over, kissing him on the cheek, before walking briskly out of the room.
Time without Patience went very slowly. Mike ate the soup, toast, and pudding that made up his dinner. He watched Animal Olympics on vueTee, the only thing even remotely interesting. He even took a little nap, though it was hard with the nurses talking right outside his door. Loudly. Without any concern for someone trying to sleep.
The next morning, Mike got up and dressed in one of the new outfits that Patience had picked out for him at the mall– a twill jacket and matching pleated pants with a mustard colored tie. Then he had to wait an interminable amount of time to be discharged. If Patience hadn’t arrived when she did, he would have eventually thrown a fit. But with her there, nothing seemed to be that bad. At last an orderly arrived with a wheelchair and rolled him out the front door. Once outside, Mike got up and walked to the car. But he let Patience drive him home. As they drove, Mike watched Patience, marveling at her motoring skill. Then he noticed something else.
“You have earrings! I mean, you have pierced ears and earrings.”
“That’s right, Mike. I was able to get them done last night at Circuit City.”
He looked carefully at the right ear, the only one visible. Her lobe was pierced twice and there was a small stud at the top of her ear through the cartilage—plastic, he corrected himself.
“I didn’t know you wanted three holes.”
“I have four in the other ear,” said Patience. “I noticed signs of sexual arousal when I approached the subject.”
“In who?”
“You.”
“You did? Well, yes.” Mike cleared his throat and took a scholarly tone. “Ours, like most civilizations, uses pierced ears to signal sexual availability.”
“But I saw little babies with their ears pierced.”
“Yeah, I know. That’s revolting.”
When they reached the house, Patience came around and opened the door for him. Together they went inside. Mike was struck at how perfectly clean the place was. It had been vacuumed, dusted, and he noticed that even the bookcases had been organized according to the Library of Congress system.
“This house looks great,” he said.
“Thank you.” Patience beamed. She led him to the couch and kissed him. They made love right there in the living room, Mike noticing only afterwards that the window glass was set to transparent. He relaxed afterwards and was just beginning to doze off when Patience returned to summon him to dinner in the dining room. She had set the table for one, with a lit candle as the centerpiece. Then she sat down across from him as he ate. She had prepared red pepper halibut and for dessert– cannoli. The dinner was delicious.
“Can I ask you about some of the things I found in Harriet’s old room?” asked Patience.
“Sure.”
“I found approximately four thousand three hundred comic books, and several hundred old paper books.”
“Yes. Those are mostly from my teen years. I was going to try and sell them on eBay, along with the old books I have boxed away in there. They don’t make them any more, you know. So they should be worth something. But it’s a lot of work.”
“Very good,” she said. “I also found six boxes of pictures and associated memorabilia.”
“That’s all the family souvenirs. Tiffany started making scrapbooks a few years before she died, scanning that stuff in to go along with the pictures on the vueTee. But she only managed to complete a couple. I thought about making some myself, but it just takes so much time. I’m not really into it anyway. Maybe I will just give it all to Harriet.
“Would you mind if I sorted through all of these things, Mike?”
“Of course not. You are my girlfriend after all. Just take good care of the scrapbook stuff.”
“I will take good care of all of it,” said Patience. “Except the old books and comic books, which I will sell for you.”
Mike spent the remainder of the evening, with his feet up, in his recliner watching Star Trek: Engineering Corps. He had purchased it a week before, but hadn’t had a chance to play it. When he was done, he brushed and flossed his teeth. Then Patience changed his bandage for him and tucked him into bed. Then she turned out the lights, and lay down next to him until he had fallen asleep. That was precisely11:02

Princess of Amathar – Chapter 4 Excerpt

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The Amatharians were, as Malagor had said, much like me, or for that matter much like any humans. They were human, and but for a few racial characteristics, they could have seemed at home anywhere on earth. Those racial characteristics however, were a bit unearthly. They were tall, ranging in the six foot to seven foot range. Their hair was universally straight and black. The men wore it cut straight across the forehead and straight at the back of the neck. The women wore theirs in a variety of lengths, though in each case it was straight and evenly cut, whether at the shoulders or across the middle of the back. Facial hair was not in evidence, and I was later to learn is completely unknown among them. Their skin was blue in color, with a wide variation of shades. Some were as dark as the inside of a Teflon frying pan, while others were almost a baby blue. The clothing they wore was an interesting contradiction of utilitarianism and style. They wore a black body suit from their necks to their ankles, which was tighter, and of thinner material than the spandex biking pants that had been popular shortly before I left my home planet. Through the material, every muscle was visible as it strained to heft the swords which almost every Amatharian used in his defense. Over their body suit the knights of Amathar wore a tabard– nothing more than a long strip of cloth eighteen inches wide, with a hole so that it fit over the head. It reached down to below the knees in front and in back, but was completely open on the sides. On both the front and back panels was emblazoned a great symbol, that was the coat of arms for that knight, and which was different from one to the other.
I waded into the closest skirmish where four Amatharians, two men and two women, were holding off a score of the Zoasians. One humanoid had drawn his sword and was cutting up the nearest foe. The others used their light rifles. The snake-men were using rifle and pistol versions of their ugly death ray. They didn’t carry swords, apparently being too slow to use them effectively. With a great leap of my earthly power, I closed the gap between myself and the nearest Zoasian. I swung my sword but it was deflected by the beings body-armor, a feature I heretofore hadn’t noticed. It covered his body from neck to tail, and appeared to be made of some type of synthetic plasticized leather material. It was studded with horns and crests of bright metal, but was otherwise as black as the snake-man himself.
The Zoasian was evidently not hurt by my blow, the armor having absorbed the shock, but he was surprised. He opened his mouth wide and hissed at me with a great forked tongue. Then he brought forth his powerful hand with the ray-weapon in its grasp. I was too quick for him though, and with a mighty sweep of my sword arm, I removed his hand between the wrist and the elbow. He didn’t cry out, but reeled backwards in pain. I should have finished him off quickly, but I didn’t. Something instead caught my eye.
Just over the shoulder of my opponent, I spied one of the Amatharians fighting against great odds. It was one of the females. She was breathtakingly beautiful. Her straight black hair was slightly longer than the other women that I had observed. Her skin was flawless and of a deep metallic blue color, like the steel beams of a building under construction. She was about six foot two and powerfully built, though not by any means unfeminine. Her black body-suit covered her from the top of her neck to the top of her shining black boots. Her white tabard was surrounded by gold braid and was emblazoned with the most beautiful crest– two crossed swords over a flaming sun– and the back of it trailed behind her in the wind like the cape of some fantastic comic book heroine. She had abandoned her light weapon and was using her sword, carving up several Zoasians at once like a butcher with a row of fresh steaks. With each stroke the sword blade seemed to glow with the pride and the glory of battle. I had decided to rush to the aid of this beautiful vision, when out of the corner of my eye I saw a looming form. It was the Zoasian with whom I had been previously engaged. Before I could turn toward him he slammed his remaining fist into the side of my head. I was tossed twenty feet by the force of the blow. I fell to the ground and everything went black.
I opened my eyes to look into the face of my friend Malagor. He opened his mouth and snarled at me.
“You are not smart,” he growled. “I teach you all that I know, and still you know nothing.”
I pulled myself to my feet and looked around. Nearby was the Zoasian who had hit me, easily recognizable by his missing hand. Malagor had shot him with his light rifle before the reptile had the chance to finish me off. That I had been out for a while was evidenced by the fact that there no longer remained any living warriors of either race within a good hundred yards or so. Bodies, both human and reptilian though, were strewn everywhere. In the distance I could see the Zoasian armies being hauled by cable up onto the deck of their disabled battle-cruiser. Suddenly remembering the woman that I had seen just before being knocked senseless, I began examining all of the Amatharian bodies nearby. I could find none that matched the vision that I had previously beheld. I turned to ask Malagor if he had seen what had become of her, but something beyond him caught my eye. Malagor turned to see what I was looking at, and we both became witnesses to a fantastic scene.
Standing in the blood of friend and enemy alike, was a single Amatharian knight. He was exceptionally tall and muscular– the perfect specimen of the timeless warrior. He held high above his head that weapon that so epitomizes the Amatharian– his sword. It was almost as highly crafted and ornate as the ancient swords that I had found, but it had something that mine did not. The blade of the weapon glowed. It more than glowed. It was actually lit up like a fluorescent light bulb. This was all the more fascinating for the fact that the metal of the blade seemed to be the same type as the unknown, but mundane metal, of which I found my own new blades to be composed.
He held his sword as if waiting for an enemy, and indeed he was. Bearing down upon him from the sky, at a speed equaling any terrestrial fighter jet, was one of the Zoasian fighter aircraft. It swooped down lower and lower, until it became apparent that the pilot was planning to fly right into the man on the ground, and splatter him on the front of the plane like a bug on the front of a Buick. It covered a mile in less than a second as it headed toward its intended target, yet the warrior on the ground did not turn or run away. It was the most heroically stupid and futile thing that I had ever witnessed, and it my heart filled with admiration for brave man. Then when the jet was no more than fifty feet from him, the knight dropped to one knee, still holding the sword high above him. The fighter continued on into the sword, but the sword was not ripped away from the man’s hand, and it was not destroyed by the force of impact. Instead the sword sliced through the aircraft, through metal, plastic, fuel tanks, and pilot. The craft blew apart and a huge fireball replaced it on the battlefield. Both Malagor and I dropped to the ground to avoid flying debris. Moments later I was back on my feet, looking for the remains of the brave Amatharian.

To my surprise I saw him rise to his feet, burned but not gravely injured. He looked at the remains of his dead foe, and raising his face to the eternal Ecosian sun, he cried out in victory and challenge.

Cruising Along in Chapter 2 Land

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I’m well into chapter two of Knights of Amathar. My original outline was for a story about 90,000 words long divided into thirty chapters. I decided this was too short and I wanted to stretch it out to just over 100,000 words. This gives me an opportunity to provide a little more information about Amatharian culture. I can have my protagonist Alexander Ashton visit some of the sites that I have not yet explored.

The Steel Dragon – Chapter 3 Excerpt

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Zeah Korlann watched as Miss Dechantagne spoke to the policeman. If he had come home covered in blood, and then called the policeman to tell him that he had just shot two men in an alley, he would be sitting in the deepest, darkest cell in Ravendeep by now. Miss Dechantagne on the other hand, took a careful sip of her tea, keeping her pinky straight, from a teacup that matched her dressing gown, as she told the blue-clad officer of her “adventure”. She then told him about how she had driven herself home and taken a long hot bath, after ordering her steam carriage cleaned and her clothing disposed of. Maybe the key was not being nervous. Policemen were used to dealing with guilty, twitchy, little people. Miss Dechantagne never felt guilty about anything, she never twitched, and she was most definitely not one of the little people. Then again, the policeman probably wasn’t listening to a word she said. She sat there with her luxurious auburn hair hanging loosely about her shoulders, her skin the very picture of porcelain perfection, her lips painted luscious red, and those unusual aquamarine eyes. And she was wearing what? Certainly not a bustle or a corset, just yard after yard of violet and silver silk dressing gown, from her neck to the floor. Maybe the key was that, as far as the policemen knew, there were no underclothes at all under that dressing gown.
“Normally in these situations,” said the policeman. “We would bring the journeyman wizard from Mernham Yard to cast a truth spell, but I really don’t see the need. Everything seems to be straight-forward enough.”
“Thank you officer,” said Miss Dechantagne. “You have been most considerate.”
“My pleasure, Miss.”
“Would you please leave your name and address with my man before you leave? I would like to send you a thank-you gift for your kindness in this trying time.”
“That won’t be necessary, Miss,” said the policeman, clicking his heels and bowing before he left, but he gave his name and address to Zeah anyway, revealing the true key to living an existence free from police trouble. The officer would receive a gift basket filled with fresh fruit, expensive jams and jellies, canned kippers, loaves of rosemary and garlic bread, some very nice cheese, a sausage, and four or five hundred one mark banknotes.
When the head butler had closed the front door behind the policeman, he turned on a heel and walked back into the parlor. Miss Dechantagne already seemed to have forgotten that she had been dealing with police business. She continued to sip her tea, but now she did so while reading the latest issue of Brysin’s Weekly Ladies’ Journal. Yuah entered carrying a small plate with three carefully arranged peppermint candies upon it. She gave Zeah a quick wink. It was just like the girl to get cheeky on her birthday.
“Are your ready to go about your duties for the day, Zeah?” asked Miss Dechantagne.
“Yes, Miss.”
“A little birdie has reminded me that it is your daughter’s birthday,” said Miss Dechantagne, biting into one of the peppermints candies. “I do hope you have plans to celebrate it.”
“The staff will be presenting her with a cake at dinner.” said Zeah.
“Excellent.” said Miss Dechantagne, then turning to Yuah. “Take the rest of the evening off. I shan’t need you.”
“Very good, Miss.” said Yuah.
“Birthdays are important,” said Miss Dechantagne. “They come only once every three hundred seventy five days.”
“Yes, Miss.” said Yuah, and exited the room.
“Do you have a gift for her?” The lady asked the head butler.
“I’m picking up a scarf for her today.”
“Excellent. Pick up something appropriate from my brothers and me. Charge it to my account.”
“Yes, Miss.”
“I’m sorry to ask you to make an additional stop today, Zeah. I had planned on stopping by the docks this afternoon to consult with Captain Gurrman on how much space still remains in the cargo hold and what other equipment that we might need. Unfortunately, my ‘adventure’ pushed those plans completely out of my mind. I need you, after you have completed your other duties, to stop at the docks and complete this mission in my stead. I trust this will not make you late for your daughter’s birthday party.”
“I’m sure it will be fine, Miss.” He said. He well knew that taking a side trip to the docks, in addition to everything else he had to do, would make him miss any birthday celebrations entirely. What he couldn’t figure out was whether Miss Dechantagne didn’t understand the constraints of time on his schedule, or did understand and simply didn’t care.Zeah left the house on foot. Anyone else might have called the abode a mansion, or a manse, or possibly even a palace, but Miss Dechantagne called it a house, and so it was a house. He walked with the brisk pace of a much younger man. He could have taken the steam carriage if he had wanted. Miss Dechantagne would have allowed it without a second thought. He had her complete confidence, as his family had held the complete confidence of her family for five generations. But he had never learned to drive, and he was too old to learn now. It didn’t matter. With the breadth of the horse-drawn trolley system in the great city, under normal conditions, he didn’t have to have to walk very far. Going to the docks in the evening would complicate things of course. He had carefully planned out his journey in his mind, to minimize his travel time and allow him the efficiency that always gave him comfort. He would follow that plan to the exact step. The first stop had to be the bank, and so he traveled due west.

Finding Free eBooks

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There just couldn’t be a more timely and valuable blog site than Finding Free eBooks. I’m embarrassed to say that I didn’t find out about this wonderful resource until its moderator Christine posted a comment here at City of Amathar, but now that I have, you can bet I’ll be checking it on a daily basis. Here you can find not just the big distributors of free ebooks like Manybooks and Feedbooks, but individual authors and small presses wanting to see their books as widely read as possible. Make it one of your regular sites.

His Robot Girlfriend – Chapter 3 Part 1

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Thursday and Friday were exam days at school. That meant that for the students both days were half days of strenuous testing, with free afternoons to recover. For the teachers, the mornings were a scramble to get fourth quarter grades completed, and the afternoons were a scramble to grade tests, all the while attempting to get the classroom stowed for the coming summer months. In the evenings, after a work out at the health club, Mike would enjoy delicious dinners and relaxing evenings of watching movies on vueTee. On Saturday morning, Mike woke with the realization that not only did he not have to return to work that day, but that the school year was essentially over. Only Monday remained to finish make-up exams, clean up the classroom, and sign out for the year.

Climbing into his recliner, Mike went through Friday’s mail as he watched cooking shows on vueTee. There were a couple of bills and a handful of ad flyers. At the bottom of the stack was a white envelope that felt abnormally thick. He opened it up to find a matching set of Visa cards—one in his name and one with the name Patience D. Smith.

“Patience!”

She came in through the kitchen from the garage. She was covered in dust and dirt, but was otherwise completely naked. As she smiled at him from the doorway, he felt himself aroused.

“How come you’re nude?”

“I didn’t want to get my clothes dirty while I worked.”

“Okay. How come we have new credit cards?”

“I thought we might need them, at least in the short term. It is going to be a few weeks before I can earn some extra money, and I don’t want to spend all your savings.”
“You’re creating more questions than you’re answering,” he said. “How are you planning to make money?”

“I’m selling a great many things on eBay. Then I will take that money and invest it.”

“I know I have a lot of junk around here. Just make sure you don’t sell anything I want to keep. I know you should have more clothes.”

“The money is not for my clothes,” said Patience. “It is for yours.”

“Clothes for me?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm. Yes, I suppose that is a good idea. I don’t want to look like such an old fart if I have such a beautiful, hot young woman on my arm. Why don’t we go ahead and do some shopping at the mall today?”

Patience beamed.

“So what is this name?” He held up the Visa card. “You’re not my wife. You’re just my… well, I guess you’re my girlfriend.”

Patience leaped across the room and jumped into Mike’s lap. She planted her full lips on his and kissed him, then pulled back and smiled.

“I’m your girlfriend?”

“Sure.”

She kissed him again. This was all the motivation that he needed. He pushed her up out of his lap, stood up, and then took her by the hand. He led her upstairs to the bedroom, where they spent the next half-hour, though Patience would not get on the bed until she had washed the dirt and dust off of her synthetic skin. Afterwards, Mike got up and went to the bathroom. Just as he was washing his hands, he heard his phone ring on the nightstand, and Patience answering it.

“Hello.”

Her eyes flashed at Mike as he reentered the room and she said. “Yes, Mike is here. May I ask who is calling? This is his girlfriend.”

She stopped and listened for a moment. Then she said. “Just a moment,” and handed the receiver to him.

“It’s Lucas,” she said.

Mike grabbed the phone. “How is my son the general?”

“Don’t start all that,” said the voice at the other end. “Tell me all about this lady.”

“Well…”

“Tell me. I think it’s great you’ve got a girlfriend, Dad. She sounds young.”

“Umm. She’s a Daffodil.”

“A what? A robot? Huh.”

“What do you mean ‘huh’?”

“I don’t know. She didn’t sound like a robot.”

“She doesn’t look like one either,” said Mike. “I keep forgetting that she is one.”

“Well, I guess it’s all good,” said Lucas. “Everybody’s getting one. I’m just glad you have someone to take care of you. Can I tell Harriet?”

“No! I don’t know what she’s going to say about it. I’ll tell her when she gets back from her trip.”

“Alright Dad. Take care of yourself. I love you.”

Mike hung up the phone. “He’s calling Harriet right now.”

“Which bedroom belonged to Lucas?” asked Patience, in the car on the way to the mall.

“The one on the northwest corner. Since we’ve been exercising, I’m thinking that we could make it into an exercise room. The room on the northeast corner, on the other side of the stairway was Harriet’s. I don’t know what I’m going to do with it. I wanted to turn the south bedroom into a study. I keep thinking I might sit down and write a book about all the goofy things the kids at school do. So far though, it’s just become a trap for all the crap in the house—kind of like the garage.

It was an hour drive to the mall, because the closest good one was in the nearby city of Pico Mundo. Patience spent the entire drive holding onto Mike’s arm with both hands, and pressing her face onto his shoulder. At the mall, the two entered by the food court. Mike bought a smoothie, and they began to circumnavigate the mall, stopping at each clothing store to see what was available for either of them. Mike let Patience make all the style decisions.

“I would like to get my ears pierced,” said Patience, as they stopped in front of a jewelry store.

“Are you sure that you want to?” wondered Mike. “Your holes won’t grow closed if you change your mind, will they?”

“No. But would you like it if I had my ears pierced?”

“Yes, I think I would.”

When they went into the store however, they were turned out.

“Humans only,” said the woman behind the counter. This made Patience pout, which in turn, made Mike smile.

They had quite a load of shopping bags, by the time they made their final stop at the lingerie store. Mike sat down and waited while Patience gathered her selections and then stepped back into the changing booth. She stepped out again and again to show off tiny lacy bras, thongs, and some very hot little lacy things called tangas, as well as garter belt ensembles. With her perfect body, her chiseled features, and bright eyes, Mike thought she put to shame the giant photos of the models wearing the same things plastered across the wall of the shop. By the time that she was done, a sizable audience of men, some ignoring the women that they had come in with, were gathered around to watch.

Mike decided that it was time to head home. Gathering all of the items that Patience had tried on, he sat them next to the register and, when the clerk had finished ringing everything, he paid for them. Both smiling, they made their way out of the mall and into the parking lot. The sun was going down. They had spent the entire day shopping, and had spent almost four thousand dollars.

“I don’t think I’ve ever spent that much on clothes in a year, let alone a single day,” said Mike.

They reached the car and opened the trunk to put away all of their packages. Then Mike heard a voice behind him.

“Give us the packages and your wallet.”

Mike dropped the shopping bags and spun around. Two men, both in their early twenties stood there. One was white, the other Hispanic. They both had shaved heads and they both carried butterfly knives.

“Maybe we’ll have some fun with your little girl, too,” said the closest one.

Mike snapped into action. He dived at the punk who had spoken last. Mike hit him square in the chest, and they both went down onto the pavement. As they did so, Mike felt the knife blade penetrate his stomach. The punk hit his head hard on the pavement, but he still managed to push Mike off of him. He was already on his feet while Mike was still rolling around on the parking lot.

Just as Mike was finally regaining his feet, he saw Patience planting some kind of karate kick to his assailant’s neck. The other thug was leaning against a nearby car. It was obvious from the way he was holding himself, that she had already dealt him some heavy blows. She was about to hit the second one agiain when she saw the blood streaming down Mike’s shirt. With a small squeal she rushed toward him. When she did, the two would-be robbers took off between the cars as fast as they could.

“That’s right!” yelled Mike. “Run, you pussies!”

“Mike!” gasped Patience. “You’re bleeding!”

“It’s nothing,” said Mike, his eyes starting to roll up into his head. “But I think I’m going to pass out.”

Mike felt Patience guiding him to the ground, so that he wouldn’t bash his head on the pavement.

“Thanks,” he said, as darkness spread across his world. “That’s my girl.”

Knights of Amathar

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Having finished “His Robot Girlfriend”, I am happily at work on “Knights of Amathar”. Since “Princess of Amathar” is the only one of my books that many people have read– I’m going to generously say hundreds of people have read– I have actually had quite a few requests for a sequel, and it was always my intention to write one. So I’ve had the outline sitting around for quite a while. My goal is to have a new novel written every year by February 3rd. I think this is totally doable, as “His Robot Girlfriend” took only about nine months (and two of those I wasn’t even writing) and the Steel Dragon Trilogy was written in fourteen months. I’ll keep you up to date on how it’s going and I’ll have some excerpts posted here as soon as I write them.