Chronology of the Apocolypse release

Teaser note related to my  two stories included in this collection.

Chronology Amazon Link

 

Alex My son,

Today, on your eighteenth birthday, it’s time you knew the truth about your father.  Jason, the man you know as your dad, my husband, isn’t your father. His brother, the man you know as Uncle Jason, is your real father.

I’ve loved Auggie from the moment we met, but time, and the laws of our society, forced Jason and I to stay married.

 

 

 

Love you,

Mom.

 

Anything Goes Anthology. This contributors perspective.

Anything Goes book
Late last fall, a submission call came up on the Facebook page for the, Fictions Writers Group. It was for an anthology asking authors to participate in something new, a collaborative project for short stories that all the writers would work on their tales with the help of the others in the group.
 This is the official mission statement of Anything Goes:
The goal of this workshop is to give the participants an opportunity to share honest, friendly feedback that can lead to a well-critiqued and edited anthology to be proud of. Remember – Your work may never be seen by the devoted readers, agents or publishers who are looking for good writers, if their attention is lost before they get to your story. It’s in everyone’s best interest to help each other have fun and create stories the readers can’t put down.
 Now that the book has been published, I believe it was a success.
 Renee’ LaViness was our point person, den mother, hand holder, and soother of frayed egos. She did a phenomenal job keeping the 21 writers from around the world on track and informed of what the next steps were.
 We were encouraged to share our stories as they progressed from raw notes, through first drafts, collaboratively edited and critiqued, to finished book. Each of us not only responsible for completing the story we were going to have included, but for assisting with the, seemingly never-ending, job of editing and fine tuning the work of the others. I learned so much in the eight months we worked on this anthology, it would have taken me years on my own to gain the knowledge all successful authors must master. Proper tense use, punctuation basics, story flow and so many other things that I really thought I knew. It was an honor to be included in the group, I hope everyone else was able to learn from me at least one small thing in repayment for the wealth of knowledge I got from them.
Thank you FWG for encouraging new independent writers. Without the support of the entire family of talented people in the group, I wouldn’t have been able to grow as quickly as I have.
 I’ll be posting my thought process on how my inclusion, Natural State, grew from the seed of an idea, to the fruition of a finished story.
Wayne Hills (Miguel A. Rueda) July, 01, 2014.
Links to the anthology:

Writer’s Weekly competition. An Unexpected Message

I wrote this for a 24 hour contest. They gave a couple of story ‘seeds’ and this is the story I submitted. Didn’t win anything other than the chance to give the $5 they could then give to someone else. Oh well. I liked the story, hope you do too.

An Unexpected Message

By: Wayne Hills

 

A message, they’ve got some nerve sending her to deliver it. Trying to bring me back, to suck me into the world I’d left seven years ago. I have the perfect cover in this little town. They love me here in my new life; I forgive their transgressions to God’s law, even as I pay the penance for my own.

Every Sunday morning, they come and listen to my sermons, who better to lecture on sin than one of God’s greatest sinners. The people are happy with my parables, the Monseigneur’s ecstatic with the extra donations, and I’m at peace with my life, a bloody perfect plan. Until today, when she boldly walked up in the town market of all places. No thought to be discrete, to maybe just send a note.

Out of the blue, she comes up and touches my sleeve as I’m greeting the townsfolk. As usual I was feigning disinterest in the women shyly stealing glances and sharing knowing nods amongst themselves as I passed by; I thought it was just another lonely housewife looking for some ‘private’ counseling. I looked down, and at first didn’t recognize her, but her unique features pulled the smile from my face.

“What are you doing here? They paid you off; you were never to speak to me again”

The anger in my tone was covered by the crowd’s chatter as they bargained with the hawkers selling goods in their crowded stalls.

Her long lashes cast a thin shadow onto her heavily scarred cheek, reminding me of the pain I caused her, and why I had to leave Her Majesty’s service.

“I know, but they sent me. We have to talk.”

She leaned close and whispered, “You see, I’m bringing a message, and you won’t listen to anyone else. More importantly, they’re pretty sure you won’t kill me. I wasn’t so positive on that part, that’s why I came to you in the open.”

I lifted my head and searched the crowd. We were seen together, so in that point she was correct. Even if the messenger had been some random lackey, I would’ve had a hard time making them disappear without questions.

“Yes my child, I’ll hear your confession, but it must be in the church to be official.”

As I led her by the hand from the town center, I hoped my voice was loud enough for the few curious faces nearby to hear and be satisfied.

 

We sit in separate booths, only the thin gold screen of the confessional separates us. I grill her, trying to get to the truth.

“What do they want? Why send you? And don’t give me bullocks about me not listening to anyone else.”

“They need you to come back; you’re the only cleric the M17 service has.”

“Had,” I corrected her. “I don’t work for them anymore, not after…” I trailed off. She knows why I left the SIS version of the American X-files division. After all, it was her fault.

“That’s why they sent me. It was my deception which caused your mistake. I’m sorry, and not just because I’ll pay the price of this hideous disfigurement for the rest of my life. I need your forgiveness, not for me, I deserve what I got. I need you to forgive yourself. It wasn’t your fault.”

“What does it matter? I’m happy here; the church and Crown are satisfied with my banishment to this tiny hamlet. What could be so important?”

“The demon is back, the one that you summoned when you performed that unnecessary exorcism. He’s got one of the princes. Your replacement tried to perform the ceremony, and now he’s dead.”

I fall silent. She’s right, it has to be me. I called that devil from the depths of hell; I’m the only one that can send it back.

She was just a lonely teenager trying to get attention from parents that ignored her. Because she happened to be the daughter of the Prime Minister, they called in the M17 to take care of the matter in secret.

Among my other duties in service with the SIS, a vicar is good cover for a spy or a hit-man, I worked a dozen exorcisms. I didn’t know she had access to her father’s private files on the work I’d done in the field of demon expulsion. She studied well and passed, or failed, all the tests for any other explanation for her condition. I had no way of knowing performing the ritual on an unpossessed person would actually produce an evil spirit.

When I tried to banish it back to hell, the demon made the votive candles explode into a napalm fire permanently maiming her. It was an unforeseeable accident.

I should have known about her, I had my doubts, but that’s part of the deal of being a good Catholic, isn’t it? But then, so is faith.

“I’ll come back to eliminate the demon with you. But then I’m done, done with you and the Queen’s, bloody, SIS forever.”

I thought it would be simple, easy to walk away from them the first time. I have to believe this will be the last time I’m needed.

I must have faith.

—End—

 

An Unexpected Message

This is a piece of Flash Fiction written in 24 hours for a competition. I’ll post the results in mid-March when they announce the results:

_________________________________________________________________

 

An Unexpected Message

By: Wayne Hills

 

A message, they’ve got some nerve sending her to deliver it. Trying to bring me back, to suck me into the world I’d left seven years ago. I have the perfect cover in this little town. They love me here in my new life; I forgive their transgressions to God’s law, even as I pay the penance for my own.

Every Sunday morning, they come and listen to my sermons, who better to lecture on sin than one of God’s greatest sinners. The people are happy with my parables, the Monseigneur’s ecstatic with the extra donations, and I’m at peace with my life, a bloody perfect plan. Until today, when she boldly walked up in the town market of all places. No thought to be discrete, to maybe just send a note.

Out of the blue, she comes up and touches my sleeve as I’m greeting the townsfolk. As usual I was feigning disinterest in the women shyly stealing glances and sharing knowing nods amongst themselves as I passed by; I thought it was just another lonely housewife looking for some ‘private’ counseling. I looked down, and at first didn’t recognize her, but her unique features pulled the smile from my face.

“What are you doing here? They paid you off; you were never to speak to me again”

The anger in my tone was covered by the crowd’s chatter as they bargained with the hawkers selling goods in their crowded stalls.

Her long lashes cast a thin shadow onto her heavily scarred cheek, reminding me of the pain I caused her, and why I had to leave Her Majesty’s service.

“I know, but they sent me. We have to talk.”

She leaned close and whispered, “You see, I’m bringing a message, and you won’t listen to anyone else. More importantly, they’re pretty sure you won’t kill me. I wasn’t so positive on that part, that’s why I came to you in the open.”

I lifted my head and searched the crowd. We were seen together, so in that point she was correct. Even if the messenger had been some random lackey, I would’ve had a hard time making them disappear without questions.

“Yes my child, I’ll hear your confession, but it must be in the church to be official.”

As I led her by the hand from the town center, I hoped my voice was loud enough for the few curious faces nearby to hear and be satisfied.

 

We sit in separate booths, only the thin gold screen of the confessional separates us. I grill her, trying to get to the truth.

“What do they want? Why send you? And don’t give me bullocks about me not listening to anyone else.”

“They need you to come back; you’re the only cleric the M17 service has.”

“Had,” I corrected her. “I don’t work for them anymore, not after…” I trailed off. She knows why I left the SIS version of the American X-files division. After all, it was her fault.

“That’s why they sent me. It was my deception which caused your mistake. I’m sorry, and not just because I’ll pay the price of this hideous disfigurement for the rest of my life. I need your forgiveness, not for me, I deserve what I got. I need you to forgive yourself. It wasn’t your fault.”

“What does it matter? I’m happy here; the church and Crown are satisfied with my banishment to this tiny hamlet. What could be so important?”

“The demon is back, the one that you summoned when you performed that unnecessary exorcism. He’s got one of the princes. Your replacement tried to perform the ceremony, and now he’s dead.”

I fall silent. She’s right, it has to be me. I called that devil from the depths of hell; I’m the only one that can send it back.

She was just a lonely teenager trying to get attention from parents that ignored her. Because she happened to be the daughter of the Prime Minister, they called in the M17 to take care of the matter in secret.

Among my other duties in service with the SIS, a vicar is good cover for a spy or a hit-man, I worked a dozen exorcisms. I didn’t know she had access to her father’s private files on the work I’d done in the field of demon expulsion. She studied well and passed, or failed, all the tests for any other explanation for her condition. I had no way of knowing performing the ritual on an unpossessed person would actually produce an evil spirit.

When I tried to banish it back to hell, the demon made the votive candles explode into a napalm fire permanently maiming her. It was an unforeseeable accident.

I should have known about her, I had my doubts, but that’s part of the deal of being a good Catholic, isn’t it? But then, so is faith.

“I’ll come back to eliminate the demon with you. But then I’m done, done with you and the Queen’s, bloody, SIS forever.”

I thought it would be simple, easy to walk away from them the first time. I have to believe this will be the last time I’m needed.

I must have faith.

—End—

 

Wayne Hills. (Miguel A. Rueda)

Waynehillsauthor@gmail.com

Word Count: 873

A Ghost’s Story: Chapter 8.2

A Ghost’s Story: 8.2

 I have a plan, not a great plan I’ll admit, not even a whole plan I’ll confess, but I have to get Rita away from my home, and give Doc some time to literally pull himself back together.

I begin by talking to Rita without any intent other than denying her the opportunity to interrupt, I side-step away from my bubble in the opposite direction from where we had come.

“I’m willing to help you but I don’t know exactly what it is you expect from me. I’m obviously out of my league here, and you have this all figured out. I’m just concerned with what would happen to my wife, Suzie. She doesn’t know anything about what’s going on out here.”

“I told you alread…” Rita tries to cut me off; I keep talking.

“Yes, I know how you feel about marriage and death, but she will always be my wife. After all we were put here together, just like Roger and Lucy were. That must mean something in the grand scheme of things.”

The mention of Roger strikes a nerve, she raises her blade. Quickly, I change the subject.

“It’s crazy here isn’t it? I never was a religious man, didn’t believe in life after death. Still don’t really, I mean this isn’t really life is it?”

I continue to talk, trying not to babble or repeat myself. I go on about her and her love, and how similar they are to Suzie and me. I talk about what it’s like for us in the bubble, being careful to leave out the details about how we got there. I don’t ask any questions, or say anything that will require a reply from her. Amazingly, it works and she follows me away from my home, and the slowly dispersing Roger and Lucy. Rita turns when I turn, walks where I walk. Somewhere along the way, her silver blade reverts back to normal and her demeanor lightens. Maybe all that time waiting for her unnamed lover made her lonely for some regular conversation.

Before she even notices what’s happening, we’re back by her bubble. I steal a glance behind, and as I hoped, Doc’s disjointed mass has followed us.

His pieces have come together to form a semblance of his normal shape. Although there are a few pieces that seem to have not found their way back in place, he has the overall look of a broken vase that had been glued back together, badly. Gaps between his extremities make it obvious where Rita’s sword had sliced him. His right eye, chin, and left bicep are missing; although the rest of that arm seems to be floating in generally the proper position. It also appears that several pieces of his legs are swapped onto the wrong side. They don’t seem to bend in the right directions, he appears bowlegged.

When Rita finally notices where we had walked, her reaction isn’t what I expected.

“Auggie,” she says with surprising calmness. “Are we back at my home?”

“Yes Rita.” I see no point in lying about it. “I brought you home. You were at peace in there don’t you remember?  That’s all any of us want isn’t it.”

I try to stay calm, soothing. I need to maneuver her into a position near her bubble in order to get her inside. I have to convince her that she wants to go back.

Yet another glaring hole in my plan that has yet to have a plug present itself.

“Rita, do you remember how you were when I first met you?”

“Yes, I was waiting for a client. That person turned out to be you.”

“That’s right. I came into your home,” more like a lair actually. “And you greeted me as if I should have known why I was here. But what I meant was, how were you feeling? You seemed calm to me, happy almost, isn’t that right? You were serene.”

She thought about this for a moment before answering.

“Yes. Yes, I liked it in there.”

“And now that we’re all out here, you’re life, sorry, existence is in chaos. Don’t you want to be at peace?”

She appeared to be thinking about it, but it’s taking too long.

I glance sideways, trying to get a better look at Doc. I’m shocked to see him running towards us. At first I thinks he’s going to try to push Rita into her bubble, but at the last second he turns towards me!

“Doc! What the hell?”

I move just in time for him to miss me, he bounces off Rita’s home and falls to the side.

“You missed him Doctor!” Rita screams at him as he’s lying on the ground. I knew you were useless. Her silver arm is back, although this time it has the shape and size of a samurai sword. She easily decapitates the remnants of Doc’s head and kicks it away from his flailing body.

“His purpose has already been fulfilled, he delivered you to me. I kept him around in case he could be of some use, I guess I was wrong.”

Turning back to me, her arm revert to normal.

“That was a very nice speech, Mr. O’Neil. You’re right in that I was peaceful. But only because I am very patient; have been my whole existence. The anticipation of the fun we’d have together would rip me apart otherwise.”

“You knew I was leading you here, and you still came, why”

“I don’t know, just toying with you. I also wanted to see what that quack doctor would do. I’ve had him on my hook for thirty years. Wanted to see if he’s still loyal.”

She starting laughing at the fallen doctor. He managed to find his head and had placed it back in its proper location. He was trying to stand, but his mismatched legs weren’t cooperating. He slid around on the ground, each attempt at rising thwarted by his inability to get solid footing. His outstretched hand is floating in mid-air, reaching towards Rita for help. Disgusted, I walked over to him.

“Stop, where are you going?” Rita screamed.

“I’m going to help him. Whether his intention was devious or not, I can’t let him suffer like this.”

“He was going to end you. If he pushed you in, you’d be trapped.”

If she just wants to finish me, she could chop me up like Roger and Lucy.

An idea came to me. Everything I’d learned in this realm, told me she was wrong. Doc had been right about me being unique. I could enter and leave other bubbles, and still come back out. I had to call her bluff.

“Why does that matter Rita? Why do you want me locked in your home?”

She hesitated. It wasn’t a long pause, just enough for me to detect a line of bullshit was imminently approaching.

“Because that’s the plan, always has been. You get locked in there and I can go back.”

“Really, go back to the living? I don’t see how that’s possible. You’re dead, I’m dead, Doc’s all hacked up, but still dead. I think you’re lying Rita. I don’t think you want me in there, I think Doc went rogue, and you were just as surprised as I am that he tried to push me.”

I jumped in to her bubble. As I dissolve through the surface, Rita’s screaming confirms I made the right choice.

Back in the tidy basement, I’m not sure what will happen next. I decide I need a drink as I wait so I pour a shot of Rita’s firewater and sip the burning liquid.

I’m surprised when I hear Doc knocking and calling to me as he had when I sat in my own home with Suzie.

“Calling the spirit of August O’Neil. This is Doctor Jordan Bukowski, are you there spirit?”

What the hell is he doing? He’s knows I’m in here.

I stomp my foot once, same way that we started all our conversation back when I was in my own home.

“August O’Neil, come outside and see me.”

I have no doubt that this is a trap. I wonder if Doc’s whole face is back, or if his tongue is just flapping around in the ether. The only way I’ll be able to tell for sure is to go out there, and that’s not going to happen. But maybe I can take a peek?

I move closer to the wall, as I hold my hands and face close to the surface, they start to dissolve. As they begin to move towards the outside, I carefully shift my weight, I must maintain my balance inside Rita’s room.

I’ve always just stepped right through bubbles without pausing, this time though, I’m going to try to slide just my face through. If I’m right, I’ll be able to see what was going on out there.

As my eyes begin to melt through the swirling wall, I’m surprised that although my vision is blurry, I can still see fairly well. I hear the doctor’s voice calling to me as my view of the outside world clears.

The Doc is still lying on the ground, where he’d fallen when his attempt at knocking me into the orb had failed. He still didn’t have a jaw. The voice I heard calling to me was coming from Rita. She’s able to imitate the doc’s irritating séance voice perfectly.

Nice try bitch.

She continues to try to draw me out using Doc’s voice. Even though I can see her, she doesn’t notice that I’m here. The missing part of my plan finally presents itself.

As she moves around the bubble calling for me to come out, I wait for her to get close to where I’ve stopped moving through the thin wall between us.

When she passes by me on her way around, I reach out and grab her long overcoat by the lapels, and yank her back into the bubble with me.

She tries to struggle, but my surprise attack prevents her from stopping the momentum and she falls in on top of me. We tumble onto the cool linoleum. I slide across the floor ending up by the bar under the stairs; she stops with her back against the bed. We stare at each other as I wait in fear of her sword’s reappearance.

“Where are my manners? Would you like a drink handsome?”

Holy crap, it worked. She’s forgotten everything.

I quickly jump to my feet and rush over to help her up, hoping the gentlemanly gesture keeps her in the moment.

“No Miss, I have another engagement, thank you so much for the offer.”

I walk towards the stairs as I say goodbye.

“We’ve had a wonderful time; it’s been a very memorable evening. I wish you all the best.”

She tries to protest, to stop me, but I hurry up the stairs and back into the outside world.

 

I Was: Final part of Chapter 4

http://mypriorlife.wordpress.com/2013/06/17/i-was-ch-4-muscle-for-love-or-meat-2/
Was a long chapter for me to write. I introduced a new character I had not planned on. I just trusted the minions that run the movies in my head and she appeared to be a character that introduces a plot twist that I had not known about.
Interesting how that happens.
Please comment as you see fit.