Another anthology has opened up, and I've got an idea for what to send them. I don't know why, but this link didn't populate the first time. Here it is, below. https://broadswordsandblasters.wordpress.com/2022/03/01/open-call-broadswords-and-blasters-presents-futures-that-never-were/
One of my favorite Indie writers, reviewing another of them. I'm going to have to read this one myself soon. N. R. LaPoint on the topic of Declan Finn.
magine the laboratories of Jurassic Park and State of Fear, the dangers of The Lost World and Eaters of the Dead, all of the intrigues and firepower of the Jason Bourne trilogy, rolled into one. And now add a cameo appearance by the Mother of God, come to say that the fate of all mankind is at stake.
Dusklight is a great follow-up to Chalk, LaPoint's schoolgirl-vs-abominations intro to the world and disruptive life of Raven Mistcreek, the fastest tomboy to draw a sidearm on the wall.
When I reviewed Chalk on Amazon, I was short and to the point, without any spoilers. Or details, for that matter: This book will not cure insomnia. It will in no way help you sleep. If you are in need of full, restful nights' sleep, do not pick the book up after supper. If you… Continue reading Review Overdue: Chalk, by N. R. LaPoint
Who we are and who we will become depends on who we think we were. ~ Rod Dreher
Power always thinks it has a great soul and vast views beyond the comprehension of the weak and that it is doing God’s service when it is violating all His laws. ~ John Adams Some of these quotes will be from major celebrities. Some were from noteworthy essays and works of literature. Some of them… Continue reading Quotes After Midnight, Vol. 1
Where do you belong?God, Man, and the Hierarchy
A "Guest Post," or rather a reposting with permission, of Tom Simon's essay that started it all. The original essay is here, but the link may not cooperate with some browsers' notions of "Secure Sites". Stuff and Nonsense, say I!
Jonas had never been so far up in all his life. The sidewalks he was used to had no railings because it was only twenty centimetres to the street, not hectametres. He walked more carefully, one hand against the reassuring wall. The air was clearer up here, and the early morning light was almost blue after thousands of yellow and grey-green mornings below. He looked again at the address as a tungsten-yellow Phœnix Valkyrie roared past, freely sharing bullets with the DPD at close range. Jonas pulled his coat around himself, thanked the OneTrueGod for a day out of the factory, and prayed for Clara's safety.
Kriever didn’t like public trans, and insisted on driving his old Sting Ray everywhere. He glanced over to the passenger seat, where she sat with his coat still over her shoulders.
“Which way, doll?” he asked. The rain had eased up, for now...
“I didn't like the way you treated Sam just now,” she said when he reached her table.
“Sam was begging for it.” She was wearing something much too short, but Kriever was too busy to be impressed. “Put on a coat and take me uptown, doll,” he said.
The asthmatic death rattle of the air-scrubber was a comfortable sound, a beacon home in the crushing waves of the street. It had guided him home every night now for eight years to the same drafty building and the same putrid stairs, and the same motherless little girl at the top who made it all worthwhile. Clara was eleven and all that came with it. Her father would give his life to save hers.
“What's the word, Feng,” he asked the alien as it hovered back and forth, stirring this pot...mixing that...
“I just told the blue boy I ain't seen nothing,” he mumbled. “You eating tonight?”
“Every normal man must be tempted, at times, to spit upon his hands, hoist the black flag, and begin slitting throats.” H. L. Mencken, Prejudices (First Series)