Archives For writing

  

I have dreams. Some good and pleasant; filled with fluffy clouds scudding in an azure sky, warm breezes, brilliant sunshine, picnic baskets, and sticky fingers. 
Some… not so good. In those dreams, the fingers are sticky, too; not with cotton candy, or caramel apples, but with blood. There is death, divorce, decay, mayhem, mischief, and maybe a glimmer of hope. Hope that I might wake up.
But what if I don’t? These are my Mean Dreams. They have teeth, biting with the carrion beaks of buzzards, fetid, foul, and smelling of the grave.  The air is redolent with their heavy scent.

They will linger long in your memory, too, these Mean Dreams.
Mean Dreams, an anthology of stories, coming by the end of 2015. 

 
Folks, my ebook, Casita 106 at the Red Pines, is on sale for $.99 for just one more day. Following are the opening paragraphs:

“On the highway just outside of Sedona, home of Arizona’s red rock country, is a retirement community, Shady Acres. Bisected by a road, the other half of the community was split off, and instead of retirees the property was used to attract vacationers as a timeshare. They called it the “Red Pines.” It was a way for the owner to keep a good revenue stream coming in year round. Too bad it was this side which sat upon an old indian burial ground–bulldozed in the name of progress, and profits. 

With stuccoed walls, and large windows, every unit accommodates four comfortably. Well, mostly. A single wide all gussied up is still a single wide no matter how fancy it is outside.

It’s the allure of the environment that draws people there. It’s close enough to town, but far enough away from the tourists clogging the area. It’s like camping in style: all the units have plumbing, hot and cold water, microwave, refrigerator, stove… All the comforts of home in the beautiful pines.

Or so Jack and Veronica Hartman thought on their way up from the Valley of the Sun. As timeshare owners, they had a membership in RCI (the preeminent exchange company in the business), which gave them access to thousands of properties outside their club. Having already used their points on a trip to Park City during ski season, they went looking for an extra vacation to get out of Phoenix’s mind melting heat.

Having waited so late in the year to book this trip, they had to take what was available: the Red Pines Lodge.

They hoped for a vacation to remember.”

Get your copy on Amazon:

Casita 106 at the Red Pines

The Beggar’s Billions

randomlychad  —  December 20, 2013 — 7 Comments

“The Beggar’s billions,” he said. “We’ve got work to do.” It was then that his appearance changed before me: where a moment before stood Lucifer, Prince of Darkness, now stood a figure familiar to billions:

A rotund, jolly, jowly red-cheeked, bearded man bedecked in a festal red suit. Where there had been cloven hooves there were now black boots.

“Come along, Rancidspoor, we’ve the Beggar’s billions to deceive,” he said, donning his Santa cap. “Ready to be an elf?”

“Tis the season,” I replied, reflecting upon the chance encounter with Beelzebub in the lower echelons which led to this sugar plum of an assignment.

“Ho, ho, ho,” Santa said. “Let’s go.”

—————-

This piece is part of a sudden writing challenge issued by Joseph Craven and Ricky Anderson. The requirements were to:

Call the story “Beggar’s Billions”
Have a Santa cap
Include a chance encounter

I had fun doing this, and look forward to future challenges.

This is a great scene from the movie, Chariots of Fire, where the character Eric Liddle is talking about why he runs. He says that although he feels called, and will return, to the mission field, he is compelled to run.

“Why?” his sister asks.

“Because God made me fast, and when I run, I feel His pleasure.”

I love that!

Now God didn’t make me fast, but He did make me with a love of the written word. It’s what keeps me coming back, again and again, to the blank page. And when I write, no matter what it’s about, I feel His pleasure. It’s as if He’s standing over my shoulder, saying, “Yes, son! This! This is why I gave you an imagination.”

He perhaps didn’t make me to build empires, run marathons, or for acclaim. Or even to succeed.

No, He made me to create, out of the raw materials of life, out of sense (and nonsense), out of starry, wide-eyed wonder, stories for His pleasure.

How about you?

What did God make you for?

Science Can

randomlychad  —  September 4, 2013 — 7 Comments

Science can

Tell us how much a heart weighs

(Down to the gram)

Chart the process of decay

(This, the measure of a man?)

But it can’t tell us where the soul goes:

For life is more than chemicals