The apocalypse began on a Tuesday.
In the heat and humidity of September in Mumbai, a small, white organism grew inside the walls of The Sahil Hotel on Behram Road. The walls were made to resist mold and most fungal growth, yet this persisted. It concentrated most heavily inside Room Two-Twenty-One which had gone unused and uncleaned for a week before being given to Joseph Patel, a business man out of New York in the United States. When he’d gotten the room, he complained that it smelled musty.
That morning, three cleaning women went in while he was out at a meeting and aired it out. They did not notice the spores that floated in the sunlight, mistaking them for dust. Laboring for nearly an hour, they managed to mask the smell that had offended Joseph Patel. When he returned that afternoon, the whole room smelled of lavender and pine and he slept soundly all night.
On the third morning of his stay, Joseph woke in the middle of the night with a headache and he felt like his sinuses was packed with cotton. He took an aspirin and went back to bed. He woke again before dawn and felt a cold coming on. Cursing his luck, he listed every person he met with this week and decided to lay the blame on Andil Vuschel, the salesman from Eramal. Andil had been sneezing through his entire presentation and didn’t cover his mouth once.
Joseph packed his bags and made an early start for the airport. Continue reading
Three months ago a man got on a plane in India thinking he had a cold. What he carried inside of him was a disease that was highly infectious and resistant to most known forms of medication. Within weeks, the disease has spread across the globe and there is no cure.
The world calls it The Pale Horse.
For twenty year-old Meda Ahachik, her vacation should have been spent worrying about upcoming finals. Instead, the pandemic reaches the city of Baltimore, and Meda finds herself relying on the teachings of a family she’d left far behind.
Over the last few years I’ve started using Twitter as a way to promote and keep in touch with readers and writers all over the world. I’ve met some pretty swanky people (you all know who you are my friends), more than I ever thought I would. Most of those are writers of almost every genre I can think of. It’s an amazing tool and I’m overjoyed to have found it and all of you.
One of those awesome people tagged me recently to answer questions. Technically I’m supposed to tag 10 more writers to answer questions of my own. We’ll see if I can grab all ten. For those of you who have been reading my blog and wondering “Where the heck has he been?” I’ll answer that first.
So let’s get started. Continue reading
A long time ago, I posted a novella called “36 Hours,” a story about 4 friends caught in the horrors of war. It takes place in an alternate version of the Civil War and the final 36 hours of the conflict.
Read it here!
I decided to make a post about this because I’m sick today and having trouble writing and even staying awake. But! I’ve been all inspired by the latest Star Wars movie and I’ve been puttering around with an idea… how I would make a Prequel Trilogy. Not how I’d change it but how I’d completely re-imagine it. New characters, new situations, new planets, the works. Some characters would reappear but be changed. Some would be cut entirely. New ones added in.
Well anyway, puttered about with an idea and wrote an opening crawl. It’s not finished by any means, but I thought I’d share it so far. I might even post a few chapters if I ever get around to writing it. This is literally a random post. Enjoy! Continue reading
The docks are perfectly illuminated. Despite this part of Nyx being on its night cycle, the landing pads are always working. Through the clear viewports of the station, the lights outside in the vacuum are fully on and the workers walking back and forth, loading and unloading cargo from dozens of small craft. Risha’s ship is named The Cat’s Paw after an old story her father used to tell her. She doesn’t remember much about it now, only the sound of his voice as he read it to her. She remembers it was scary.
This Cat’s Paw isn’t so scary to look at, but her skill as a pilot would dispel that notion quickly. Risha prefers not to fight if she can, but it’s not always an option. If she has to shoot, she wants to end it quickly.
“Evenin’,” Dorm says, giving her a wave as she ducks through the loading ramp doors, the circular hatch cycling closed behind her. One of the lead deck hands on Nyx, Dorm is tall and long-boned, like many who grew up in the poor districts that often lacked gravity generators. He has almost always taken care of her needs while the Cat’s Paw was in port and she trusts him more than most. She pays him to be sure of it. Continue reading