I Want You To Know Daniel

Gosh, it’s always so sad when this happens to people.

Rich from Handihelp's avatarHandihelp Blog

Daniel lived next door to me. He was 16 years old and a junior at the local high school. He was a teenager filled with ideas, dreams, aspirations and adolescent insecurities. Daniel was also shy, sensitive and caring. He loved the out – of- doors and nature. To his neighbors, he was a very special young man.

David, the neighbor on the other side of our house, had cancer which was slowly spreading. In 1999 I was on vacation in the Caribbean when I was struck by a wave which left me a quadriplegic. Daniel was only a year old when that happened. As I struggled over the years to regain my quality of life, Daniel and I became closer and closer. He began to play an important role in David’s and my lives. As Daniel grew stronger, he began doing more and more for us. The doctors were unable…

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Update

So Desolation is done. That is to say, it is completely written. I still have to go through it a couple more times and make sure everything flows properly and the like, then it is off to critique land and then solicitation (YAY).

Today I tried to continue working on Whispers of a Distant Star, but I am not sure what is wrong with it. I think my mind wasn’t with it, but I am not sure. See Desolation nearly wrote itself, and I think it is because the main character was a guy, and whatever romance was in the book was M/M which I can relate to. Whispers is a straight relationship, so maybe that is causing me some tension there. This weekend I will do some soul searching to decide how to continue. It could also be that I just don’t have enough material for the novel. I have only plotted out 19 chapters, and I am already at chapter 8 with 10k words. Maybe I just need more storyline.

The issue I have with making the novel another M/M one is I think it will cut down the audience considerably, and I want this something that EVERYONE will give a chance, and I am just unsure how many people would read a Sci-Fi with M/M romance mixed in. Hmmmm, decisions. I guess I just need to make up my own mind and write what is in my heart.

Nix

Come to my shore weary traveler and I will give you rest.

Drawn to the banks by my evil song, test the waters, let me lure you to the depths of my domicile. I will show you the wonders of these murky depths, enthralling your senses deranging your innocence. My voice is like heaven, my resolve like hell. Forever you will stay with me, your flesh sloughing from your bones in the stagnant below.

You thought me a dream, but your heart veiled your eyes to the truth. I am but a nightmare from which you can never wake. I will hold you down, drink in your fear like a sweet wine. Your bones will break, your lungs will burn, and I will take my first sweet taste of your essence.

No more dreaming. You had convinced yourself I was something I wasn’t and now the price shall be paid in flesh.

Covet my form and I shall compromise yours, crave my flesh and I shall consume you!

Why?

Why do I have to be strong? Can’t I be weak? Can’t I be human for one fucking moment? Why can’t I cry without feeling like I am letting myself down? Don’t I get to feel what I am feeling without having to constantly worry what every fucking person is going to think about it?

Why do I have to show you a face I am not even sure I have? Hiding behind a mask for the sake of peace, sewing my mouth shut so that I am more likable. Choking on my inner truths so I am more appealing.

Why do I have to try so hard to be something I am not? Why do I have to put myself on the back burner so everyone else is happy. When do I matter? Is there such a thing as unconditional anymore?

Do we ever grow up? Do we ever grow past this? Is there ever a point in our lives when we are above the hurt and the grief of loss?

Who’s Your Fledgling Horror Author?

So this has been a really hectic day. One of those days that get you frazzled beyond repair, EARLY! But that is beside the point. At present I find myself needing to get back to my center, relaxed and in the mood for the awesome creativity that is going to happen today.

Because(!) today is the day I finish writing the first draft of Desolation.

I am not sure about my fellow writers, but I find the time between the first draft and the second draft, things change considerably. Sometimes to the point that the story no longer resembles what was written in the first draft. Is this a problem everyone faces, or is it that I am writing the story before it is completely realized?

Whatever the reason, later is better than never I guess. Desolation has gone from a typical zombie novel to something much deeper. For this I am very grateful. But I am skeptical that I am writing horror well enough. This is the first time I have written horror, and I don’t think my mind works the same way some of the masters’ do. Of course I don’t know any of the masters, but I can only assume they have black altars set up in their writing space, not a sunny, cheerful atmosphere like mine is. Long story short, I don’t feel like I can write horror, but I am giving it a try.

I will do what I always do, I am setting up a critique group for Desolation and we will go over it once the second draft is done. We will get it in ship shape (what does that even mean?) and then it will be off to publishers and agents. I am not spending a lot of time on them though, because I want to get this book out of my hands and into my reader’s hands as fast as possible, and constant rejections won’t get that done.

So here we go. Plunging into my last 3 hours of my day job, and then into my dream job to finish one hell of a tale for all of you!

(Note: If you are a friend or fan of mine on facebook and are interested in critiquing Desolation, let me know by message. Wanna know more about Desolation? Visit here.)

New Faces to an Old Menace

It is good to know that some photo’s still survive of what a vampire used to mean. Even when they started appearing beautifully, like in Anne Rice’s novels, you still knew what lurked underneath. This:

Now lets see how they romanticize zombies . . . never mind, after a cursory google search, zombie romance pictures are just as disturbing as you would expect them to be . . . for now.

Wherein Horror Lies

For weeks now I have been wondering why nothing I read or watch on TV scares me. Don’t get this confused with me saying nothing scares me because things do. I get scared by things that actually happen to me and random bumps in the night. The idea of zombies scares me, and even watching Walking Dead scares me, but little else scares me.

I have been wondering for a while now why I don’t get more frightened, or why I would consider some horror movies and books more paranormal than horror. With this question I really started a quest into what constitutes horror and what doesn’t. I have gotten a few ideas as to what is horror and what it isn’t, so then I started looking at how I view each element that comprises horror.

I think it has to do with detachment. When I was younger I could totally delve into a book to the point that I felt the things author’s were describing happening to their characters. I could feel every swell of magic, every tide of emotion. As I get older I find less and less that a book can really strike those chords any longer. I am unsure if it is the writing or if it is my mind, but I don’t really get into books like I used to, despite my love of books.

Then last night I was re-watching True Blood and as Lorena and Bill made out on a blood soaked bed, blood pumping from the gaping hole in a womans neck beside them, it came to me. I have been desensitized to horror from the games I have played and the movies I have watched. Over time it went from “Dear lord, someone help that woman!” to “Yeah, more vampire sex and more blood. . . .” to the point that I don’t consider those images horrifying any longer.

So what scares me? Not gore, that is for sure. I think what scares me the most, and what I consider horror is the psychological. Frailty scared the wits out of me because it showed mental illness, or righteousness, you didn’t know. You couldn’t tell if the main character was really screwed up, or if he was doing the work of a higher power, riding the world of darkness.

The Devil’s Advocate scared me as well, because we saw what would happen to the main character if he chose one thing, but then at the end he chose the other. Then we realized, no matter what he chose, he was still going to go through everything we had seen before. It was inescapable.

Following the inescapable, zombies terrify me because of this very thing. No matter where you go, they are there. You can’t get away from them, because as soon as you think you do, they will come chewing through the door of your cabin in the middle of the woods because they smell you or whatever.

People like being scared, but I don’t think there are many people now that can scare us because we have gotten to a point where we are harder to scare. Why is that? Is it because of science explaining away so many myths and legends we have long thought had supernatural origins? Is it because everything we are forced to see on the news and other media venues have shown us that we are living with real life monsters? I am not sure, but I would love to hear your thoughts and ideas on the topic.

The Norns

If I were a Norn, what would I be like? Would I gather at the crib of a new babe and rejoice at what his future held? Or mourn what was in store for him? Would I craft their fates from my wyrd, or would I be a casual observer, watching clinically to ensure his fate didn’t get tangled in the tapestry of life?

Would I be Udur and monitor his past? Watching over the happy and sad times to make sure all things stayed as they were? Is Udur the cause of forgetfullness? Would I have to sort through old memories and harvest out the unimportant ones in order to make room for more? Is the past that she watches over in a contained space, like a box? Or is it like a never ending ream of paper? If I were Udur would I be tempted to change things? Would I want to go through the chapters of their life and edit all of the abuse, all of the sadness, all of the letdowns and all of the pain until nothing remaind of humanity but happy, soft thoughts and deeds? Would I take my golden scissors and trim away the grit and the dirt until nothing remained except golden opportunities and perfect endings? Is that how Gods are born? Would I take an abused teen, one on the verge of suicide and alter all of his memories with “happy” threads, removing all the “mean” or “sorrowful” threads until he decided his life was pretty great, and taking it was not an option? Could I do that? Could I change the past then? Or are there stricter rules that wouldn’t allow such things to occur?

Do the Norns have supervisors to make sure nothing goes wrong in their factory of life weaving?

Or would I be Verdandi and have no recollection of anything but what was happening in the present? Would I have no presence of mind but what happened in the split second in which it existed? Would I have time to contemplate a persons fate like my companions? Or would all of my existence be monitoring and saying things like “Percy sneezed”; “Rebecca took a shit”; “Martin died” . . .

Would death register to me? Or would it be like a piece of paper on a busy secretaries desk and get shuffled off into the past as quickly as it came into my vision? Would anything affect me?

Martin died. . . .

People mourned. . . .

Would I cry with them? When something really horrible happen would I gasp and cry out in pain with the lives I was chronicling? Would I look to my Future sister and say “Oh, but why didn’t you WARN me?” And then, when we were sitting around after work having coffee or tea, and Udur said “remember when Cleopatra used Alexander? And then when he couldn’t do what she wanted she moved on?” would I remember? Or would I look at her confused?

Would it be an easy task to be Skuld and see the future? Would I even want to see the end of time? Would that be a heavy burden or would all of the other horrible sights I had seen made me too cold to care? Would seeing the fall of mankind make me meloncholy? Or would I say, finally the cancer of the earth is getting what he deserves? Would being a Norn make me impervious to human emotion? Would I be able to stand at the side of Sleeping Beauty and be impartial to her poisoning? Would I be able to shrug and say: “yep, come 16 she is going to have one hell of a time,” Then write it down and be done with the whole affair? Pass it on to Verdandi (“Oh but why didn’t you WARN me?”) who would then send it to Udur who would then come back to me and say “I don’t like this ending. Instead I am going to take my happy thread and make a princes kiss of true love break the evil spell”?

Is there a kiss that can break any evil?

How would it be to be a Norn, to be a being that was just as much a tool of fate as everyone else, yet because you deal with fate, you are thought to be the masters of it? How would it feel to have people supplicate me, asking for my good fortune, and knowning there wasn’t a damn thing I could do to help them escape what was coming for them.

Cancer.

HIV.

Rape.

Politicians.

The sweet release of death.

Would all of these thoughts, all of these emotions toward the banes of life make me feel more for the human race than humans themselves? Could I love something that was so utterly evil most of the time, and twisted everything good that came into their lives? Would I become so jaded with the miserable wretches that when it came time to cut the thread of their life, would I do so joyously.

“There you miserable fuck.”

I don’t think it would be anything like that. Fate isn’t something that can be changed. Maybe if I was a Norn, the greatest thing I would ever have is insight. Knowledge that everything comes to us, and everything must also pass. That every moment we tread into the future is a fresh new beginning that has never ever been touched by any other hand but the glorious makers’.

Then again maybe I would also know that right now there were a million other versions of Travis, all writing this same blog, but all coming to a different end. Maybe the greatest secret of all is that every choice in my life has been made differently, and every choice is like a fork in the road of life, and while I take one turn, the other Travis takes another turn and therefore there is another universe created because one Travis made a choice.

Maybe that is what fate is like. There is NO knowing with being a Norn, because every possible end is being fullfilled by every possible person. So while in one universe my life may have ended, the Norns rejoice because that was only one Travis out of countless others.

The Valkyrie

I feel the ripple of muscle
the salty-sweet taste of lips upon mine
I take my lover there in battle; kill my lover & raise him up to the arms of my all seeing father

to him I offer mead, to him I offer my body
he will go on forever, until the end of time
then he will rise up, conquer our foes and purge that damned wolf of the moon he glutinously consumes.

fingers slipping between my breasts, between my legs
would he take me? conquering me as he had the battlefield?
or would there be hesitation, chasteness
would he bed me as a bride, or as a spoil of victory?

Riding high in clouds above battle, would I know immediately who was worthy, or would I ponder which was the right one to take with me as a lover to dine with the gods? Even when I laid lips to the deathly chosen, would I have second thoughts? Would I be able to see into their past so I could make a judgement based on their worth? Or would I choose them soley based on their actions in battle?

Would Odin be in my ear, whispering sweet words of death, sending chills down my back like a lovers caress? Would I long for the warriors, ache for them with a lust they couldn’t sate in a hundred years? Riding my spectral beast through the sky would I feel every ripple of muscle and every lunge like a thrust from a lover? Would I long to ride those noble warriors like my steed?

Would I bring them into my dance of death as a lover, or subjugate them, conscribe them to a fate they don’t want? Would I force them to protect the heavenly host during Ragnarok, or would they come with me willingly, accepting my chaste kiss, and the ensuing death?

Would they die instantly? Would my kiss of death come moments before a sword fell them, or would I have already kissed them the night before, marking them as dead before the battle was waged?

Would they know they were bound to die, or would they be surprised? Would I come to them in a dream, and the victim would know without a shadow of doubt their time was up? Knowing this would they great battle with extra vigor? Would they yearn for the sweet release of death, and the lustful release promised them after death.

When dead, would I offer up my body as readily as I offered them mead? Would they take me savagely, conquering me as they conquered their foe, or would there be honor? Would there be respect and softness they rarely got to show?

Would taking them turn back the shadow of doom? Would I possibly have the honor of taking one, dining and bedding the one who would have the might to push back Hel and her ghoulish horde?