The Mercy part 4/4

 "Doubts," she said and I nodded. She smiled back reassuringly. "We all have them. Even me. Remember what I said about limitations. We aren't just limited to how much we can help someone, but also how often. Every day I find myself wondering if I hadn't used The Gift to save one person perhaps I could've used it to help another."

"Then how do you decide?" I asked, my hand still hovering over Mr. Gilroy.

"Save those you can," she said, "and ease the rest. You can't save everyone but there are still ways to help those you couldn't save."

I looked back down at Mr. Gilroy, laying in agony and still I doubted. "What if this isn't what he wants?"

Mom put a reassuring hand on my head and messed up my hair just like Dad used to when I asked a silly question. "Well that's why we have mouths," she said and motioned with her head to the dying man.

"Um, Mr. Gilroy," I said. When he didn't respond, I repeated, "Mr. Gilroy," though this time a little louder.

"Ugh," he grunted, obvious that the painkillers given to him earlier by the nurse was wearing off.

"My mom said that I could help you, but I'm not sure if it is what you want," I said. Cowardice turned my eyes, fearful of making eye contact with a man on his deathbed. My body burned with shame. Then I spotted a lone vase sitting on a stool, flowers standing in the water. I picked one by the stem and held it so Mr. Gilroy could see. Then I focused and The Mercy took hold. The flower died. I looked back at Mr. Gilroy, the man staring back at me with wide eyes.

"Is. It. Pain. Ful?" he asked, needing to pause between every syllable.

My mother shook her head. "I don't believe so. I watched my brother perform The Mercy for several patients. From the outside, it appears that you will merely slip off to sleep," she said. She gestured to the machines and monitors. "I've never seen a spike in any of the readings either to convince me the body is in any sort of distress."

The man nodded weakly. Then, as if using the last of his strength, his hand reached out to the end of its chain and clamped onto mine. His eyes met mine and I understood.

"Don't worry, honey," mom said as she wrapped her arms around me. "I'm right here with you."

In her embrace I felt my body calm. Under Mr. Gilroy's reassuring gaze, I felt my confidence rise. I gripped the man's hand tight and willed The Mercy into action.

Mr Gilroy's eyes widened for the briefest moment and then slowly began to shut. The seconds between his laborious breaths grew longer, his chest rising less frequently. His grip on my hand slowly loosened. Next to me, the beeps monitoring his heartbeats never spiked as mom predicted. Instead it stayed constant, and slowly the silence between beeps grew longer until eventually letting out a single long, dull tone. Through it all, I did my best to keep my eyes on his, or at least on his face. This was his death wish, after all, and it seemed shameful to not be with him in the end.

Mom gave me a squeeze and I knew it was over, The Mercy having run its full course. Reverently I placed Mr. Gilroy's hand down upon the bed. I turned to her and she pulled me tight against her body. I don't know when I'd started crying but when I realized I wasn't sure the tears would ever stop.

"It won't get any easier, it never will and never should," mom said holding me tight. "But I'll be right here with you until you grow into your power and no longer need my help."

I pulled away, wiping the tears from my eyes. I looked into the mom's eyes and knew she'd be right there with me. I turned back to the man in the bed, Mr. Gilroy finally resting in peace. Though he probably believed me to have helped him, it was I that would never forget his name or his sacrifice to a young boy just trying to find his way in the world.

 

Using a really, really old Reddit Writing Prompt, something like "Your family's gift is to heal with a touch. You've been practicing on plants hoping for your power to manifest one day. Except, one day, the plants die." (Yeah, it was a really long one) Anyways, the actual prompt is several months old, I think, I'm not sure and I'm not going back to look. As it happens, when I'm running out of pages in a notebook, I tend to go back to see if there are any unfinished stories worth finishing. I remember when I first saw this prompt I immediately knew that The Mercy would be a branch from The Gift and of course you used it to kill people as the prompt suggested. But the prompt itself got a bunch of responses so I never got around to responding. A lot of them, if I remember correctly, were the "use your power to punish the wicked" type stories that I didn't care for (like they seemed really revenge driven). It was only upon rewriting that I decided to set the scene in a prison, as a way to address the "kill the bad people" types. And I know, I say this all the time, even though it's a conversation, there's a lot of dialogue throughout. Maybe I'm just not the talkative type but I feel like there should be more going on even when the scene is just people talking to each other.

The Mercy part 3/4

 For the first time I could remember, I pushed myself out of her embrace not out of embarrassment but out of anger. "You're asking me to kill a man, some stranger I don't even know," I said glaring at her as if she were a monster. And perhaps she was a monster. What kind of parent asks their 15 year old child to kill someone. "And for what reason? To punish him? You want to turn me into a monster that goes around killing the bad people!"

She shook her head and smiled. "You kids still think the world is split between good and evil like those comic books you love to read. The Mercy isn't meant to punish the wicked. Mr. Gilroy is serving his punishment for the crime he committed. Then he developed his illness. The corrections board didn't follow my treatment instructions and it progressed too far for him to ever recover." She turned to face the man. "He's in constant pain. There's nothing more we can do for him."

My hands trembled, angry. Angry that such a burden was placed on me for a curse I never asked for. Angry that I'd never be normal like the rest of my family. Angry that I knew she was holding something from me. Just so angry. And in that anger I lashed out. "Why can't you use The Gift to heal him? Why can't you call someone else to do it? What did I do wrong? Is it because you won't get paid if you save a criminal? That he just doesn't have the right insurance plan?"

My head recoiled as an explosion struck my face. I don't think mom realized she slapped me until she saw me clutching my cheek. In her eyes burned a rage I'd never seen in her before. "Don't you ever speak to me that way," she said, her hand raised and shaking. She lowered her hand and closed her eyes, taking deep breaths. The silence stretched and the world stood frozen until she opened her eyes. The rage in them still lingered like a threatening storm but her voice was calm. "'Save those you can. Ease the rest.' That is the Healer's Creed. We are Healers but all of us have our limitations. Your father knew his limitations -" she stopped, forcing back a tear.

Mom walked over to me and bent to a knee. She'd never talked about how Dad died, just that he was a brave man when he passed. She looked up at me and for the first time told me the truth. It poured from her like a waterfall. "Your father knew his limitations. The Gift tells us when we've hit our limit and can do no more for our patients. One night he tried to push himself passed it to save a woman under his care. He knew the injuries she sustained were life-threatening and he'd never attempted anything like it before. But he couldn't step back and watch her die. So he placed his hands upon her with The Gift. After a few hours, he died. His heart just gave out and he collapsed on the floor. The woman managed to hold on for another day and then she died too."

The burden finally eased, she stood and looked back to Mr. Gilroy lying in the hospital bed. Handcuffs manacled him to the bed, useless though they were. "'Save those you can. Ease the rest.' It is our creed for a reason. We can't fight against our limitations, bravely though your father did try. We can only save those our individual Gifts will allow."

I moved to stand next to my mom, taking her hand. "Is that what I'm supposed to be? The second part of the creed? 'Ease the rest'," I said, still watching Mr. Gilroy.

She gripped my hand tighter. "Your uncle is the same, possessed with The Mercy. Though the rest of the family shuns him, I understand the burden placed on my brother. The same that's now placed upon you."

With a gentle tug, mom pulled me forward and we walked to Mr. Gilroy's bedside. The man still lay flat, a bead of sweat running down his head. He turned to face us, his breath unsteady with every movement.

I looked away from the man and back to my mom. "So how does it work?" I asked.

She looked down at me. "Same as with The Gift. You just put your hand upon your patient and focus. The Mercy does the rest easing him into death."

I let go of her hand and reached out to take Mr. Gilroy's shackled hand. Then I stopped, hesitated, my hand hovering above his. I looked back and found my mom already staring back at me.

The Mercy part 2/4

 Instead of placing me immediately in handcuffs or turning me over to the nearest prison guard, we walked straight through the facility. We headed down a long hallway with flickering florescent lighting. Ahead of us stood two double doors with the words "Medical Ward" printed across them. Was she going to have me executed? As we approached the door, she gave me a look I'd seen all my life, the one that said to be quiet because what was happening next was important.

"Hi, Dr. Mallory," said one of the nurses with a smile as we walked through the doors. "I thought you weren't working today."

"I'm not. I brought my son Dennis to see Mr. Gilroy," she said with a hand on my back as she tried to maneuver the two of us passed the nurse.

Curiosity on her face, the nurse stayed in our path. "I administered Mr. Gilroy's pain medication earlier today. His vitals haven't changed since the last time you saw him." Then she looked from my mother to me. "Oh, is your son a Healer like you? Do you think his Gift is strong enough to help Mr. Gilroy?"

Mom shook her head and lowered her voice. "No not like me. He's like my brother, Frank."

The nurse's smile vanished, replaced at first with revulsion then a general frown. "Dr. Mallory, I'm not sure if it would be okay for you to see Mr. Gilroy, especially with your son with you. I don't think the wardens or the commission is going to be happy with that."

My mother stepped in closer, her voice vehement but low enough so that only the three of us could hear. "I don't give a damn what makes those bastards happy. If they'd gotten Mr. Gilroy the treatment like I'd recommended months ago, he wouldn't be in this situation. So get out of the way." Mom then stepped passed the stunned nurse and we entered into the room beyond.

Men in orange jumpsuits lay shackled to hospital beds lining the left and right walls of the room. Beeps and clicks mixed with hacking coughs and desperate moans. We walked down the center aisle to the back of the room. Mom stopped us at the last bed on the left and drew the curtains around the bed closed, cutting us off from the rest of the room.

"Hello Mr. Gilroy, how are you feeling today?" my mother asked in the tone she uses when she already knows the answer you're about to give her.

Mr. Gilroy lay in the bed, his chest rising and falling at irregular intervals. Every so often his body convulsed for a minute before settling back down. His eyes switched constantly from just barely open to darting around the room. "You know how it is, doc. Just another day waiting to die," said Mr. Gilroy between labored breaths.

"I'm really sorry to hear that, Mr. Gilroy. Truly I am," mom said as she returned the man's chart back to the table. She walked over to the man and put a hand on his shoulder. "Mr. Gilroy, I'm not going to sugarcoat this. We both understand that you are going to die here. Probably soon, and probably in a lot of pain." Mr. Gilroy just nodded. He knew he wasn't going anywhere. Even without any medical training I could see it. Mom continued, pulling me closer to the chained, bed-ridden man. "This is my son, Dennis. He's not a Healer like me. He doesn't possess The Gift. But I believe he can help you." Repulsed by her suggestion, I tried to pull away but her hand held me still. "If you agree to the procedure, he could ease your pain."

The prisoner looked from my mother to me, then back to her. "Ease my pain?" he said, putting a specific emphasis on the first word.

"Ease," mom repeated in the same tone.

I finally managed to break my mother's grip and stepped away from the bed. "No way. Do you know what you're asking me to do?" I said as I almost tangled myself in the curtains.

Mom walked over to me, putting herself between me and the dying inmate. "I do know what I'm asking of you, and don't worry, I'll be here with you the entire time," she said as she wrapped her arms around me.

The Mercy part 1/4

 I placed my hand on one of the dying plants on my windowsill, hoping for it to grow but expecting it to stay the same. I trimmed the roots and deprived them of water for several days and already a leaf or two started to yellow. Neither of my predictions came true. Instead, all the leaves wilted, the flowers browned, its stalk shriveled, and then the plant died. Horrified, I withdrew my hand and stared at my palm. My family's Gift to heal wasn't supposed to work this way. I saw my brother use The Gift to close up a gunshot wound. My sister reattached a man's arm with full functionality. My mother cured a man of cancer once.

Maybe it's just a fluke, I thought, just a weird unexplainable fluke. I put my palm onto another plant, and again it died. As did the next one, and the next one after that, until every single plant on my windowsill was dead. Terrified, I grabbed all the pots and ran downstairs hoping to dispose of them before anyone noticed. I'd just tell them that all the plants died. My family knew that I hadn't been watering them. Or maybe I just left them in the sun too long. And, most importantly, I'd never, ever use The Gift again.

As I turned the corner I ran right into my mother, spilling potting soil all over her and the floor. The brown clashed sharply with her orange scrubs and the white carpeting. "Oh, honey, you really shouldn't run in the house like that," she said, wiping a hand across her dirtied shirt. "What is this stuff that you were carrying?" She looked at the dirt on her hand, then to the pots scattered on the floor. "Were these the plants in your room?"

Quickly I shook my head. "Umm, no," I stammered, searching quickly for something, anything I could say. "No, just dirt I was taking downstairs." I tried to force a smile, to hold back the tears knowing the disappointment, and shame, and fear that would consume my mom if she figured me out.

Mom knelt down and reached into the dirt. I knew she was mad and I would spend hours scrubbing the floor clean after I got home from school. Her hand emerged with something brown and stringy between her fingers. She held it in front of her confused face, then lay it aside. She shifted through the rest of the soil and pulled out the remaining dead plants one by one. When she finished, seven of them lay in a row. Their brown decay contrasted with the bright white carpet. Her chest heaved and a bead of sweat started to run down the side of her face. "The Mercy," she said barely loud enough to qualify as a whisper.

"Mom, I can explain," I started before she cut me off.

"No. Go to the couch and wait for me there. You'll come with me today," she said before walking up the rest of the stairs to her bedroom.

"But what about school?" I said.

"I'll write you a note," she shouted from the top of the stairs, "now wait on the couch."

In a matter of moments, mom changed from one set of scrubs to another, these ones dark blue with the word "STAFF" printed in block letters on the back.

We got into her car and she started driving in the opposite direction of the school. She didn't say a word the entire time, and I thought it best not to speak either. Perhaps she was taking me to see someone who could cure me. Another doctor that could fix me. When I saw the jail looming up ahead, I figured it out. She would have me incarcerated so I could never hurt anyone with my powers. Or maybe she would have me kill an inmate like some sort of child assassin.

You go to Hell but it isn't that bad

The man stood naked on broken glass, chains that disappeared into the darkness above tugged at his arms. A red-skinned demon shoved another spike into the man's side, driving it deep into his flesh. The man screamed for mercy as the demon picked up another barbed spike. If the man had still been of mortal flesh and bone he would surely have perished by now. Instead, as a soul damned to Hell, the man merely felt the pain and torment of his properly assigned punishment.

I stood next to the demon, watching as yet another spike sunk into the man's body. "The more you scream and protest, the longer this will last," I said. I moved over to stand next to the man and put a comforting hand on his back. Laying my head on his shoulders, my golden hair draped onto his chest. Sometimes the damned required a little human contact and comfort to help them along to salvation.

"Deep down, you know why you are here. You know this is necessary. You know this is what you deserve. You merely have to accept it and salvation can be yours." I rubbed a gentle hand upon his chest. Then I took a couple of spikes from the demon and staked one right where the man's heart would be. "Accept your punishment to be forgiven, and to forgive yourself," I said as I pulled away from his body.

The man howled, cursing everyone and everything: his parents, his teachers, his enemies, his friends, his situation, the demons, Satan, God, even me. Finally his breath ran out and he hung his head, panting. After a minute, slowly he raised his head and looked to me. "I'm sorry, Susan, you know I didn't mean that. It's just the pain talking. It's just so, so hard." He tried to smile but only managed a slight grimace.

"Susan, may I request the pleasure of your company for a moment?" came another voice from behind me, a deep, low voice that held the air of aristocracy.

I put a hand on the naked man's and smiled. "Everyone works through their sins at their own pace." I leaned in to whisper into his ear. "In fact, it took me almost 1000 years to work through mine." Then I nodded to the demon who picked up another spike to resume the soul's cleansing.

I fixed my hair, tying it loosely and then headed in the direction the voice came. Though my soul was cleansed, as long as I resided in Hell I wasn't entirely free of its torments. Flames licked at my bare skin while broken glass and thorns dug into my feet. Smoke impeded my vision and clogged my lungs. All of it though was just a minor inconvenience compared to the tortures I'd previously endured.

Eventually the smoke cleared and standing in front of me was an immaculately dressed man in a red suit. Black, slicked back hair and a salesman's smile, he could've been one of any number of men I'd known while still alive. It was the short horns and the whip-thin tail that gave away his true identity as Satan, ruler of Hell. That, and the fact that he was the only person wearing clothes.

"Ahh, Susan, thank you for coming to see me," he said, spreading his arms wide. I stepped into the embrace politely. He was, after all, the ruler of Hell. "Come Susan, walk with me for a while." He kept a hand wrapped around my waist and turned us toward a path.

"Of course, my Lord," I said already familiar with the same old conversation to be had. As we took our first steps along the path, a peace washed over me as being in Satan's presence dispelled the constant dull pain all souls endured in Hell. It was probably easier to converse with souls if they were comfortable and not screaming. "I already know what you're going to ask, as you have asked every few months for the last three centuries," I said before He could make his proposal.

"As I've asked for five centuries now," Satan corrected. "But still I do need to make the offer less I find myself in violation of the covenant between He and I. So, once again I ask. Susan, your soul has been cleansed and you are free to ascend to Paradise. Heaven welcomes you if you so choose." As He spoke, a bright light appeared in the sky overhead. A warmth enveloped me, not like the heat of the flames of Hell but the loving embrace of a parent holding a child tight whether just returning after a day of school or several years away - the eternal love that never falters. I wrapped my arms around my body and sunk to the ground as tears filled my eyes. Even after all these centuries, nothing compared to it. I knew that after it left me I wouldn't be able to recall the feeling even in my memories.

I savored the feeling for a minute more before stepping out of the light. "Sorry, I refuse to go," I said. Slowly the light dimmed, and the warmth faded.

Satan walked back next to me and took my hand, leading me back to the path. "In this matter I must have some guidance: why do you and others of your race continue to refuse Heaven's invitation?" Satan inquired as we continued along the path again.

It was true that once a soul was redeemed and truly repentant they would be invited into Heaven. It was also true that more and more humans were choosing to stay behind. "Though we face the daily torments of Hell's climate, we're safe from the tortures of the demons as they cannot touch a good soul. And once you get used to that aspect, Hell really isn't so bad," I said, looking out over the world around us. Red-skinned demons, both male and female of all shapes and sizes tortured humans as far as the eye could see. Mixed in among them though were other humans like myself, cleansed souls that refused Heaven's invitation and chose instead to remain in Hell to help our sisters and brothers to redeem themselves too. "Besides, helping our fellow man is its own reward and should be reason enough for any of us to stay," I added.

Satan released my hand and turned to me. "Good, I'm glad to hear that. And here I was thinking that it might have something to with a rebellion."

I felt my body tense for a moment and took several deep breaths to calm it. "Rebellion, my Lord," I asked.

"You forget that I am still an angel. Lucifer, the first of the Fallen. Though I reside Below, I still do have contacts in the halls of my Father. I've heard rumors that some of your people have taken an interest in the holy arms my siblings carry, to the point that they've been seen donning them. Golden armor. Swords. Spears. Shields. Some even going missing." Black feathered wings spread from behind his back. The two points on his forehead grew to full length horns, curling back above his head. A fractured halo appeared above his head. Fire danced in his eyes and I began to feel the flames once again lick at my skin. "I've even heard a rumor that some of those missing weapons may have ended up in My domain. But you wouldn't know anything about that, would you Susan?"

"Shit," I said before letting out a high-pitched whistle. Being naked at all times didn't allow us many places to conceal weapons on our person. That was one of the main reasons we stayed so close to the demons and assisted in the tortures - access to weapons. At my signal, dozens more let out a whistle, followed by hundreds more, then thousands more and so on until all of my agents were activated. They picked up black spikes or barbed whips or any other improvised weapon lying about and turned them on the demons, or freed the tortured souls and added them to our ranks.

Satan looked about at my rebellion. "What have you done?"

I took the opportunity to reach behind my back and pull a black spike hidden within the weaves of my hair. "Just following your example, my Lord. After all, better to rule in Hell," I said as I thrust the spike at his chest.

The spike struck true and I buried it into Satan's chest. Then He laughed. "What did you hope to accomplish with your effort? Did you really believe a weapon forged in Hell could harm me? I'm no mere demon. I am the Lord of this realm!" He exclaimed proudly as he spread his arms wide as to show the spike did him no harm.

I sank down to my knees and lowered my head. "Merely a distraction, my Lord," I said, grabbing a handful of Hell soil and tossing it at Satan's face. Instinctively, He raised his arms to shields his eyes from the mixture of dirt, ground glass, and shit.

Then the golden light of dawn rising erupted from behind the fallen angel. We both looked, squinting to see past the light radiating from the exposed angel blade. Another man with manacles clamped around his wrists but chains severed stood in the light. He held the sword two-handed and raised above his head. "Get thee behind me, Satan!" the man shouted, bringing the sword down in a vertical chop.

Sensing the immediate danger of the angel blade and the unsheathing of multiple angelic weapons in the hands of damned souls, Satan retreated from our fight. With Satan gone, the naked man looked to me. "Sorry, I missed. What do we do now?" he asked as he sheathed the sword and the glow disappeared with it.

I lifted myself off the ground. All around us and probably throughout the rest of Hell, damned souls armed with stolen demonic devices and smuggled angelic arms fought against the legions of Hell. Though we outnumbered them, the demons were better equipped and suited for fighting in these conditions. Not to mention Satan had escaped our assassination attempt, leaving the ruler of Hell somewhere on the battlefield for the enemy.

I shook my head. "We were found out sooner than I'd planned and forced to act before all of our pieces were in place. I think we'll need to retreat for now. Let as many as you can know that we're falling back to the wild lands on the outskirts of Hell. The places Satan does not fully control, where the monsters still roam. From there we shall stage our rebellion." I looked up to the sky, to that point in the darkness where I last saw the light of Heaven shine through. "We can only hope that our sisters and brothers in Heaven have not been found out yet, too."

 

 Prompted from Reddit Writing Prompts: (summarized) You go to Hell but realize it isn't so bad and people are staying. My original idea ended at the first half of the story, making it a sort of wholesome (at least compared to what I usually write). I mean, could you imagine, people staying behind in Hell just to help stragers they'd never known in life toward redemption? This was kinda inspired by the Incarnations of Immortality series I'm reading, I think. I'm not to that particular book yet, but I think this is kind of relatable to the situation the character finds himself. Then as I was writing, my brain went off on a tangent and I ended up with the next half of "maybe they're actually plotting a rebellion to take over hell, that seems like a jackass human thing to do." Then I remembered about the other story I wrote a while back about humans attempting to take over Heaven, so I put in that connection at the end of the story (if you didn't read it, congrats! it wasn't that good. If for some dumb reason you are interested, I think it was called Jailbreak or something). I think if I was a better writer, I would've stuck with just that first idea as there's probably a lot more I could've done with that. Umm... I'm just trying to think if there's anything else I want to say about this one. I know, compared to the last two or three stories, I don't think this one is on par with those ones, but (like a junkie trying to get clean for the 14th time) I am once again trying to get one story posted a week so I guess I'll just have to be satisfied with this one.

Large-Scale Story Problems

 While I keep writing and practicing with the short stories I've been working on (I'm really trying to get up to one story a week), off-and-on for the past couple months I've also been working on something ... large-scale is the best way I can describe it. Large scale like Emberwilde Comes (my pokemon fan-fic) or my failed The Sovereignty superhero storyline which maybe one day I'll go back to work on, in that I plan to keep it going for a while. Unlike Emberwilde Comes this one I'm working on/ have ideas for isn't a fan fiction story and instead based off an original idea, or at least a Writing Prompt idea that got way, way out of hand. It's also a story that I'll probably need help and input from the people so bored that they waste their time reading this thing (Hooray! audience participation, or Boo! fuck your group project). So, because I'm stuck I figure I'll write a post about the issues I'm having, and like most times when I ask for advice, I'll probably just end up ignoring everything you say and do whatever I want anyways (how do I still have a job?). 

Setting: Setting is a big problem I'm having in putting this thing together. Most of my stories are set in the present day or some generic, bland fantasy world and are usually so character-driven that I don't need to spend a lot of time on the setting because I assume my readership can figure it out, close enough. I'm planning for the new story to be set in a traditional swords and sorcery fantasy world except the issue I'm having is how to put the world together. Where should the castle go? Where should the other castles go? How big should the forests be? Will there be a sea element and will the ocean need to be nearby? After working on this on-and-off for months now, I thought I would have a better handle on this, so much so in fact that I even went out to buy a graph paper composition book.

 

Right now I've got just a smidgen more than jackshit. Obviously the big plan as I go further along is to make this thing look more and more like the traditional fantasy maps you'd find in other fantasy books: filled with castles and mountains and towers and villages, all of it with lore attached to them. But then I forget I've got zero artistic ability so the map will still look like shit, but hopefully at least to scale, you know, because of the grid.

Names: I suck at names, there's no denying that. If you've read any of my other stuff, you know it's pretty much insert generic white guy name here and I'll move on because for the stuff I'm writing I don't care what the characters' names are. But for the longer stories, names have meaning (or at least they should) so I can't just give the characters stupid names and move on (why do you think the main character of Emberwilde Comes just goes by The Bearer? I couldn't think of anything else to call him). But also, for something like this, the name of the characters and places are important since I really only get one chance at it. I can't write it, then the next week decide to change it if I think of something better because that's just going to throw off my two readers.

Organization: Keeping everything together and sorted is also something new that I'm tackling. For most one-shot stories, everything just goes in one notebook for several pages (unless I think of something else in-between then I use arrows to let myself know to skip to the next page, or dog-ear the pages I need to go back to). And for Emberwilde Comes, I just use a dedicated notebook with the continuous story going from one side and I've been writing some notes about events I want to use in the back. Since it's fan-fic, I can also very, very easily look up information on characters, places, pokemon, etc if needed/ if I want to. As I said earlier, I bought a book filled with graph paper for maps and I guess I'll write the story in there too, but I also grabbed a second, smaller notebook to jot out different characters along with some traits, descriptions, etc which, as I mentioned earlier, isn't going so well. I've heard of other ways other authors keep track of things in their stories but it's embarrassing to compare myself to them. Plus, where would I even get the money to pay someone to manage a wiki page for me, and where would I even find space to put a giant wooden door.

Seeking Help/ Procrastination: Obviously since something like this is new to me, from all the larger issues I mentioned to the more specific things like world-building and character development and writing endurance, I tried to go outside my own head and the regular media I consume to find information/ inspiration.

I dug these two books out from under my bed at the same time I looked for other older books to re-read (there's so many books under there.) Then I spent an entire night looking through the book of weapons, even those that wouldn't apply to the setting. I didn't even crack open the other book which would probably help my writing more since I did use it as a textbook in class. Also, last week I heard Gecko Books in Kaimuki was having a going out of business sale. I used to visit more often when I attended UH but haven't been by for a while. It felt nostalgic going back and wandering those cramped aisles and trying to look for things without understanding the shelving system. Plus, you know, sale prices. So as I'm struggling to create a new fantasy world and characters to fill it, working on building everything from the ground up, I decided to buy something I thought might help with all of that.

I mean, maybe this will help me develop characters and make dungeons/ maps and write out quests. I know that I can't listen to a three-hour game of Critical Role as I just don't have that much uninterrupted time at work. And who knows, maybe it will be useful if, you know, I ever get around to reading the booklets and playing the game.

Finally, through all of this, I forgot the number one most important thing to do - actually write the story. I got so distracted with planning and putting this whole thing together that I haven't started writing the story yet. My bet, which is a pretty good one playing the odds on my terrible writing style, is if I start writing, all these other details I'm worrying about will resolve themselves and just fall into place.

Emberwilde Comes: Viridian Forest

 I tossed a pokeball at another Caterpie only to watch the ball shake once before the green worm broke out and scurried away.

"Dammit," I said to myself as I wiped the sweat from my brow. I left Pallet Town for Viridian City at dawn hoping to take down the gym leader that morning and make my way through the Viridian Forest by the afternoon. Instead Emberwilde and I found the gym closed and the gym leader gone. Deciding it best to move on to the next town, we headed into the Viridian Forest. Based on the map given to me by Professor Oak's neighbor, it appeared we were only halfway through. A middle-aged woman about the same age as my parents, she caught me just before I left Pallet Town and handed me a map and some supplies. She said her son was on his way to become a Pokemon Master, whatever that was. Back in the Tartarus Isles Pokemon were the masters and we lived under their rule.

"Nice try, moron," said a voice hidden in the trees. I turned back to see another boy with a straw hat and net walk into the clearing. "You can't just throw a pokeball at a pokemon and hope to catch it. You need to weaken it first."

I nodded and turned to walk away. "I know but Lord Emberwilde refuses to assist me in this task. I'll just have to keep trying to catch pokemon this way."

The bug catcher sprinted in front of me, cutting off my escape. "Sounds like your pokemon is a little full of itself. My super bug pokemon will show him the smallest fighter can have the strongest sting," he said as he pulled a pokeball from his belt.

I shook my head and turned again to leave in another direction. "No thanks. Emberwilde doesn't waste his time with weaklings, and I wouldn't want you or your pokemon to get hurt."

"Is that what happened to your arm? Your pokemon decided to bite the hand that feeds? If you battle me, I'll be sure to put him in his place." The bug catcher tossed the pokeball in front of me. "Weedle, I choose you."

The Weedle appeared in the grass in front of me waving the single spike on its head menacingly. Before I could remark that back home even newly hatched weedle are twice that size, Emberwilde emerged from the pokeball on my belt. The Charizard put himself between me and the other boy, completely ignoring the stinging worm. Then he let out a roar that shook the leaves off of the trees around us.

The bug catcher fell over in shock. "Oh jeez, a Charizard. Are you kidding me!" He pointed his pokeball and reabsorbed his weedle as Emberwilde stalked toward him. "Hey man, I didn't mean nothing by it. You can do whatever you want." Then he turned and ran, a few coins falling out of his pockets as he fled.

I stooped over to pick up the coins, perhaps enough to buy me a room and a meal in the next city. "Unfortunately we can't go back to Viridian City right now, in case the authorities are still looking for whoever burned down part of the Viridian City gym," I said to Emberwilde.

Emberwilde let out a snort, black smoke drifting from his nose. "A champion should always be available for when a challenger knocks," he said.

I just shrugged my shoulders knowing it was pointless to argue with our clan champion. "Well most people remarked on how immaculately dressed Mr. Giovanni always is. I hope he can afford to rebuild the damage."

The two of us continued walking along the path toward Pewter City. We spotted a couple more bug catchers hiding in the trees, boys and girls with bug nets, but they took off running once they noticed Emberwilde. As welcome as it was not to be confronted by children every few feet, it was also a little unnerving for the Fire Lord to be walking with me.

"Lord Emberwilde, if I may ask, you typically don't leave the pokeball except to fight other pokemon. Would you not be more comfortable riding in the pokeball while I traverse the rest of the forest for the two of us?" I turned to Emberwilde but did my best not to meet his gaze. Nervously I reached with my right hand to rub at my bandaged left arm.

"That boy challenged you, taunted you. A challenge and insult against one goes against the rest of the clan as well." I looked up as Emberwilde spoke, his fangs mesmerizing. Then I caught his eyes looking down at my bandages, and he stiffened slightly before turning away and starting back along the path. "And you've been marked as one of the clan. I shall not allow those weaklings to challenge us."

Marked, I thought, stunned at his words. I looked down at the dirty white wrapping covering the burns suffered when I tried to save both of our honor at the Choosing Ceremony. Markings bestowed by the Clan chief or a lesser lord was usually a sign of great honor, only given to those deemed worthy or who have completed a great task or trial. Is that what Emberwilde thought this was? I saw it as a mark of shame against the two of us, disgusted every time I gazed upon my seared flesh when I changed the bandages.

I was broken out of my brooding by a caterpie dropping off a branch, bouncing off my head, and landing on the ground in front of me. I took another empty pokeball from my belt and tossed it at the pokemon. I watched it shake once, twice. Then it jumped up and opened again to release the pokemon. The caterpie crawled quickly away. Frustrated, I kicked at the dirt. Several paces ahead of me, Emberwilde let out a snort of amusement.

My anger surged up and got the better of me. "Well how about some damn help! You talk about the honor of our clan to not suffer these challenges yet you also refuse to battle anyone you deem not worthy of your time. Well if we're going to make it through the Kanto region we'll need to work together with other pokemon."

I glared into Emberwilde's eyes for a second or two before remembering my place. Immediately I dropped to my knees and bowed my head. "I'm sorry Lord, forgive my words spoken in haste. I merely meant to convey that if you would assist me in capturing a few of these Kanto pokemon, they can assist you as underlings to battle in those challenges you deem beneath you. And I personally will see to it that they are trained up to our clan standards."

I waited for a second or two if perhaps today would be the day my Lord took my head into his jaws. His talonned feet filled my view as I waited, terrified. Inch by inch, I raised my head and took in the full beast. His knees, his belly, his his tattooed chest, his fangs, then finally his eyes. They stared at me with a fury I'd only seen once before, at the Choosing are Ceremony. Then, abruptly, he turned, knocking me aside with his wings. The flame of his tail grew slightly. Emberwilde let loose a jet of fire igniting a half acre of the forest directly in front of us. Then he turned to me, let out a huff and disappeared back into his pokeball on my belt.

I stared in awe at the inferno blazing in front of me, feeling the heat on my face. I stood back in the trees, watching the fires until eventually they burned themselves out. As soon as it was safe to enter, I picked my way though the ashes, doing my best to avoid any hotspots or flare-ups.

In the ashes, I knocked over a charred log to expose a nest of caterpie. Almost all of them had fainted from the fire attack. One of them looked up at me and shot me in the chest with a string shot attack. I picked up the caterpie and placed it on my shoulder.

"Do you see the power, the raw destructive force that Emberwilde of the Celestial Inferno clan has brought upon your home?" I said as I spun myself so the Caterpie could look at the scorched earth. "Do you want this kind of power too?" I grabbed an empty pokeball from my belt and held it up to the green worm's face. I watched as its eyes looked from the devastation of the forest then back to the pokeball. It lurched forward, tapping the ball with its head. The ball activated, capturing the caterpie inside it.

With one pokemon captured, I scoured the forest remains in search of other pokemon that survived Emberwilde's attack and willing to fight. I found a few more and hoped they would be enough for now to get me though to Emberwilde's first gym battle in Pewter City.

 

Ugh, research is boring. So, obviously I fell behind again in writing this ongoing fan fic. Also, if you made it to the end, and why wouldn't you unless for some reason you skipped to the last part where I write about the behind-the-scenes stuff, you realize that I just couldn't decide what other pokemon The Bearer (I really need a name for the main character) should catch in the forest and for multiple reasons. Since I'm not doing any planning, what I write should basically be considered canon as I go along since it would be weird for me to start a chapter months later with "Hey remember when I said ___ several chapters ago? Well, I changed that so now believe this new thing." Though that is something that may happen anyways now that the next chapter should be the battle against Brock. Also, I couldn't remember what other pokemon are found in the Viridian Forest. Obviously there's Pidgey but I was always a bigger fan of Spearow. And I don't want him to catch pokemon just to have them. There should be something significant about them. And yes, I do have some sort of plot line thought up involving Caterpie. There's also the problem that The Bearer isn't a normal trainer. Is he still limited to the 6 pokemon rule? Do his pokemon go to Professor Oak or should he still hold onto every single one of them (and thus be a bit stingier about catching pokemon), or during this whole story only be allowed to hold onto 5 other pokemon and release them as he goes along? These are other stupid questions I'm trying to answer for something that isn't even marketable. Unless someone from Nintendo is reading this, then give me a call, I'll work for cheap though I also work really, really slow. And finally, if reading this felt a bit choppy, it's because I had a whole chapter written and then found out that the Viridian Forest actually comes AFTER Viridian City, so I had to go back and redo it. Ugh research is so hard.

Books of 2020: Quarter 3, part 3

And the final part of my reading list from the last three months. Continuing the nostalgia of re-reading old books, I dug out the Incarnations of Immortality series by Piers Anthony out from under my bed (it was buried way, way back there). As you can see from the yellow pages, the books are probably some of the oldest I still own and it's been a while since I've read them. Each book in the series focuses on one mortal as they navigate their new role as an Incarnation of a concept that has guided mankind: Death, Time, Fate, War, Nature, Evil, and Good (this is also the order of the 7 books in the series).

 

 On a Pale Horse by Piers Anthony

"Time seemed to slow, and Zane could do nothing to about the suicide he had set up. Yet the shock of seeing the visage of Death himself had abruptly banished any desire Zane had to kill himself.
     His finger muscles would not obey him, but his larger arm muscles did. Zane wrenched the pistol around. The muzzle came to bear on Death's head as the trigger tripped. The gun seemed to explode, kicking back against his hand.
     The bullet smashed into the center of Death's face.
     A hole opened. Blood flowed. Death fell heavily to the floor.
     Zane stood aghast. He had killed Death."

In an age of science and magic, Zane is down on his luck having squandered away his money as well as love. With his future bleak, he decides to take his own life. As he begins to pull the trigger of the gun he is startled by the arrival of the specter of Death, and shoots the other instead. Having murdered Death, Zane must now assume the role as the Incarnation of Death and reap the souls of humanity until he too is murdered by his successor. As he conducts his duties, the other Incarnations reveal they manipulated his future to install him as the new Incarnation of Death as a means to foil a plot by Satan. Zane must now use his office and all the powers of Death to oppose Satan, or lose the woman he loves and allow the future of humanity to fall into Satan's grasps.

This being book one of the series, the story follows Zane as he assumes the role of Death/Thanatos. The beginning of the novel starts as more of a serialization of events as we follow Zane in his retrieval of different souls and the dilemma he faces when confronted with each task. I think it's about halfway into the book when the larger plot is revealed and Zane must actively confront Satan and foil his scheme using the powers of the office of Death.

The series is set (I'll try to make this the only time I talk about the setting so I don't repeat it for every book in the series) is in the modern age except that mankind has seen advances in both science and magic such that both are often seen competing with each other for the same roles, such as billboards advertising travel by car vs magic carpet. I guess the idea was very new and imaginative back in the 80s (or at least it seemed that way when I talked with my dad about it) but with all the media I've consumed from tv, video games, anime, manga, comics, etc, it's definitely something I've seen before. I think the genre would probably fall under Urban Fantasy in today's times, or maybe just Fiction.

Even though I know no one is reading this looking for a new book to read, I do want to share one turn-off and that's the sexism. Granted, the series was published in the 1980s so of course it was a different time and I guess socially acceptable to say things like that, but I do want to say that it is prevalent in this book and a bit more so in later books. Some of the examples in this book is the woman as a bad driver but the stereotype is taken further when compared to women driving magic flying carpets. Also the main female character stating that she's guided by her emotions and less logical as all women are.

Bearing an Hourglass by Piers Anthony

"'If I attempted to simplify this particular life - which I could indeed accomplish - it would only lead to a greater mischief for other lives. God and Satan are at war - have been since time began - and the fallout from their strife is with us always. It is not for me to dictate on whom that fallout shall fall; it is only for me to mesh it properly. I am the servant, not the master - and so are you. We must do what we must do, implementing the rules that exist.'"

Norton is wandering through the woods when a ghost approaches him with a proposition: assist him in siring an heir. When he meets the ghost's bride, Norton is instantly smitten. Following a tragedy caused by the meddling ghost, Norton resumes his vagabond lifestyle until approached by the ghost once again. To make up for his error, the ghost offers Norton another opportunity to possibly regain his love: by taking up the office of Chronos, the Incarnation of Time. Upon assuming the office, he finds that though he is able to manipulate time, he is still bound by its constraints and not able to regain the life he once had. He is also bound to live an even lonelier existence as he lives his life backwards until time of his birth when he will pass the office to his successor. Satan naturally picks upon Norton's inexperience and loneliness, and tempts him with a new kind of adventure to other worlds throughout the galaxy as evil exists everywhere. Caught up in the distractions, Norton misses Satan's ploy and must use all of his magic to undo changes made in time.

Set in the same universe as On a Pale Horse, I guess this would actually be my first experience with a shared universe (you know, like Marvel is doing now with their movies and tv shows). Bearing an Hourglass is set in the future from the first book as Zane has held the role of Thanatos for a while, and Luna has already become a US Senator primed to balk Satan's goal.

I'd like to mention that compared to the first book, this one is much more ... technical I think is a good word to describe it. Holding the office of Time, Norton will need to know about vectors and force and gravity and other science-y stuff (I'm dumb). There are sections that deal with the rotation of the Earth as well as position within the universe at any given moment, and I'm the kind of reader who still laughs when I read the scene involving a guy going to the bathroom backwards (people aren't happy when Chronos sets time in reverse and things begin to go in when they were once going out). These technical aspects are important as they explain how Norton is able to work himself out of trouble but they were kind of boring to read through.

Finally, in regards to these two and the rest of the books in the series, if you were looking for who to blame for those last sections following my stories I write, well it's probably these books. Most novels just come with a page or two of acknowledgements, people the author would like to thank for helping the story get written, edited, and published. The end of these books though come with a long chapter about how Anthony wrote the books and how each particular theme affected his life at the time of writing. I didn't read them this time, but I did the first time I read it. To be fair, most of the writing process is boring. No one cares about it, and no one should. I can't stream my writing process or else you'd end up watching me stare at a blank page for a while, write a few lines, get bothered by something else that needs to be done instead, watch some videos on Youtube, repeat. Still though, it does feel nice to talk about it, to discuss the struggles so you know you're not the only one going through it.

Books of 2020: Quarter 3, part 2

 As I mentioned, the reading list for these past three months got a little long so here's part 2, and the last 6 books of Simon R. Green's Nightside series.

 Hell to Pay by Simon R. Green

"'Find my grand-daughter,' said the Griffin, his voice cold and relentless. 'And in return I will pay you the sum of ten million pounds. Find out what happened, and why, and who is responsible. And either return her to me safely, or bring me her body, and the name of the man responsible.'"

"The Salvation Army Sisterhood was on the prowl again, and if you didn't cough up fast enough and generously enough, out would come the specially blessed silver knuckle-dusters. The SAS are hardcore Christian terrorists. Save them all, and let God sort them out. No compromise in defence of Mother Church. They burn down Satanist churches, perform exorcisms on politicians, and they once crucified a street mime. Upside down. And then they set fire to him. A lot of people applauded."

In the Nightside, many people and things that aren't people claim to be immortal. Jeremiah Griffin and his family though, are the real deal. The rumors are that Griffin made a deal with The Devil, immortality for his soul. Being immortal doesn't make you free from threats, which is why The Griffin hires John Taylor and his gift to find his granddaughter and those that kidnapped her. Unfortunately, there's something powerful interfering with Taylor's gift, forcing him to seek out the answers on his own, and three generations of immortals have a lot of secrets to dig through.

With Lilith banished and The Authorities (the Nightside's business overseers) dead, the second half of the Nightside series focuses on the power struggle for control the Nightside. Taylor will deal with various powers and entities rising up to gain control of the Nightside. The Griffin is one of those interests (supposedly already owning almost half of the land the Nightside sits upon), as well as all the enemies he's made.

The Unnatural Inquirer by Simon R. Green

"Max laughed suddenly, a flat breathy sound. 'Protect me, Suzie, Taylor. If you want your bounty money.'
     I looked at Suzie. 'Do we really need the money that badly?'
     'Always,' said Suzie. 'It isn't the principle of the thing, it's the money. No-one takes a bounty away from me.'
     'Maybe we could split him down the middle,' I said.
     'Tempting, but messy. And I don't share.'"

"'You killed thirteen men to make a point?' Bettie was staring at me as though she'd never seen me before, and perhaps she hadn't. Not this me.
     'They would have killed you,' I said.
     'Yes. They would have. But you're supposed to be better than that.'
     'I am,' I said. 'Sometimes.'"

John Taylor is hired by The Unnatural Inquirer, the Nightside's tabloid, to find a missing man who claims to have intercepted a broadcast from the afterlife. Could it be Heaven? or Hell? No one knows but everyone suspects it could be the truth about what happens on the otherside. Taylor will also need to contend with others that want the recording, either for riches, or fame, or power.

To be honest, not one of my favorite or more memorable books in the series. As I'm re-reading these books, I tend to remember mostly what the books are about and even who the mysterious badguys end up being, but I really couldn't remember much about this particular book. Of the interesting things, it delved deeper into the relationship between Taylor and Suzie Shooter, mostly through Taylor's partner in this case, a half-human, half-succubus reporter that can be, and wants to be, everything Taylor desires.

Just Another Judgement Day by Simon R. Green

"Sometimes you can't save everyone. Sometimes all you can do ... is kill a whole bunch of people.
     Business as usual, in the Nightside."

"'... God's will in the world, God's warrior, the wrath of God in the world of men, sent forth to punish the guilty and stamp out evil wherever he finds it. Called the Walking Man because he will walk in straight lines to get where he has to go, and do what he has to do, and no-one will be able to stop him or turn him aside.'"

The Walking Man has come to the Nightside to lay judgement on everyone in it, which, given the nature of the Nightside, will turn out badly for everyone there. A man given divine power by God, the Walking Man walks in a straight line to wherever he wants to go to smite those he considers evil. The new Authorities have hired John Taylor to find a way to stop him from killing and destroying everyone and everything in the Nightside.

This was actually the first book I bought of the Nightside series when I thought the series could be read as stand-alone novels (not completely my fault since there aren't any numbers on the books). One of my favorite books in the series as it's a contradiction to the norm since the man given the power of God is the antagonist (which is probably why I like the superhero Spawn so much). The Walking Man is shown as a force for good, exposing one of the more heinous businesses at work in the Nightside, as well as murdering everyone in the building. He's built up further by defying Walker's commands (powered by the same Voice that can raise the dead if Walker needs a question answered) and when he tears down the Street of the Gods.

The Good, the Bad, and the Uncanny by Simon R. Green

"At least the trains are always on time in the Nightside. Supposedly because if a train does arrive late, the System Controller takes it out the back and shoots it, to put all the other trains in a properly motivated frame of mind."

Walker, the man who spent his years maintaining the status quo in the Nightside, able to call down troops from the military or the Church in a moment, wielding a voice that cannot be denied and rumored to be powered by the same voice that once said "Let there be light," is dying. Before he goes, he asks John Taylor (sometimes a friend, sometimes an enemy) to take over his role at running the Nightside for the new Authorities. At the same time, Taylor is feeling comfortable with his current situation, a feeling he's not used to as he's been chased by enemies his entire life. And that's when the plots start occurring, all of them involving the theft of identity in some way.

This book felt like Green was trying to use up a bunch of smaller plots that were too short to become their own storylines and couldn't be fit into the other books. The story starts with a couple chapters involving Taylor and Ms. Fate (the Nightside's very own superhero) Ubering an elf through the Nightside. More chapters are devoted to Larry Oblivion's back story and where he acquired his magic wand. Then finally is the search for the missing Tommy Oblivion who disappeared during the Lilith War except his body was never found.

A Hard Day's Knight by Simon R. Green

"I swung the sword with speed and skill that weren't mine, killing elves. Excalibur was in its element, come home again, to do what it was made to do."

"Courage is all very well, but sometimes all it can get you is a glorious death. I know overwhelming odds when I see them. I've faced them before. And I know from experience that you don't beat them by meeting them head-on. You win by thinking outside the box, and by blatant cheating."

John Taylor arrives home to find Excalibur wrapped neatly in brown paper sitting on his kitchen table. He'd been warned Excalibur was coming to the Nightside, just not that he would be the one to receive it. To get answers on what Excalibur really is, he'll need to travel back to London to speak with the last remnants of the Round Table, the London Knights. He'll also need to prevent the Merlin Satanspawn of Sinister Albion (a reality where Merlin is the Antichrist and corrupts Arthur's Camelot) from invading the Nightside.

With Merlin having played such a big role in the earlier books it really was only a matter of time before we got to Excalibur and King Arthur. Traveling to London for a chapter and seeing Taylor take on the thugs in the real world was a lot of fun with all the nasty tricks he's learned from living in the Nightside. I know it was only a quick tour, but seeing how powerful Merlin Satanspawn would have been if he still had his heart and accepted his role as the Antichrist as he did in Sinister Albion was terrifying to see.

The Bride Wore Black Leather by Simon R. Green

"'Never mind that,' I said. 'Answer me this. What are all these naked people doing here?'
     I indicated the dozen or so entirely naked men and women cordoning off the great hole in the ground and discouraging anyone else from getting too close, apparently simply by looking at them....
     '...The point is, no-one is going to intrude on the crime scene while the Troops are around.'
     'What do they do?' I said, honestly curious. 'Threaten to bukkake people to death if they get too close.'"

"'...But then one day, right at the height of the Summer of Love, Harry Webb went to the park and took what Timothy Leary would call an heroic dose of LSD. His mind expanded and exploded, and in that transcendental state ... he made mental contact with Entities from Beyond.'
     '... and when he finally came down again, he wasn't Harry Webb any more. He wasn't human any more. He was transformed, he was transmogrified, he was the Sun King. The living god of LSD, the true Acid Sorcerer, the Miracle Man. Psychedelic rock and roll played around him wherever he went, manifesting out of nowhere - a glorious music that we could never remember or reproduce afterwards."

John Taylor officially takes over as the new Nightside Authorities' problem-solver with his first case - stop the Sun King from bringing the sunshine into the eternal night of the Nightside and destroying it. Not only is the Sun King able to perform the wonders he claims but he's also turned all of the Nightside against Taylor, including the city's best bounty hunter and Taylor's bride-to-be, Shotgun Suzie. Taylor will need to outrun and outwit all of his old friends in order to stop the Sun King from destroying his home, and especially ruining his wedding day.

The last of the Nightside books (at least I'm pretty sure Green isn't writing anymore of them). I've heard that John Taylor and the Nightside may make cameos in some of his other books but I've never read them. The biggest appeal of this book is seeing Taylor go up against former allies like Razor Eddie, Punk God of the Straight Razor; The Oblivion Brothers: Larry Oblivion, the Dead Detective, and Tommy Oblivion, the existential detective; and Dead Boy. In regards to pay off though, especially as this is the last book in the Nightside series, I did feel a little let down by the ending. It kind of felt like Indiana Jones and the Crystal Skull, the stories before all involved one thing (religion) but then in the last one something completely different is introduced (aliens). All of the previous books dealt with religion and monsters and the supernatural but the last book deals with The Outsiders (kind of like aliens except they're beings that live outside our reality).

Books of 2020: Quarter 3, part 1

I know it's out of the ordinary as I usually have just one quarterly reading list every three months, but I've had some extra time on my hands, and a bunch of these books are comparatively shorter next to the Dresden Files series I had been reading. Unfortunately, this means that instead of one post for the months of July, August, and September, I'm going to end up splitting it into three parts. Unfortunate because it's two more posts that I'll have to annoy you with.

Continuing with the supernatural detective theme and the nostalgia of re-reading old books, I decided to re-read The Nightside novels by Simon R. Green. These novels star detective John Taylor as he solves supernatural mysteries in The Nightside, a hidden world within London filled with every fantasy and horror you can imagine. Taylor uses his Private Eye to find hidden things and solve mysteries no one else can solve.

Something From the Nightside by Simon R. Green

"'But, I don't do insurance work, I don't do divorces, and I don't solve crimes. Hell, I wouldn't know a clue if I fell over it. I just find things. Whether they want to be found or not.'"

"'You can buy or sell anything in the Nightside, and no-one asks questions. No-one cares. There's a nightclub, where you can pay to see a fallen angel forever burning inside a pentacle drawn in baby's blood. Or a decapitated goat's head, that can tell the future in enigmatic verses of perfect iambic pentameter.'"

John Taylor is a financially struggling private investigator in London with a unique paranormal gift - he can find anyone or anything whether they want to be found or not. Except that his power only works in The Nightside, a mysterious city hidden within London where gods and monsters walk among mortals and all your deepest, darkest fantasies are available for a price. Hunted by his enemies since he was a child, Taylor left The Nightside 5 years ago with a bullet in his back and vowed never to return. When a prospective client walks through his doors and asks him to find her daughter who has run off into The Nightside, Taylor has no choice but to return home to find the missing child. Together, he and his client wander The Nightside, searching for clues and revisiting old faces.

The first book of The Nightside novels moves a little slow to allow Taylor to roam all over The Nightside, a home he hasn't visited in 5 years, and introduce the reader to the wonders of the world. Honestly, one of the main appeals of these novels is the setting and other side characters, which I always have more questions about before we continue along with the actual plot. In The Nightside, EVERYTHING is blended together: Science, magic, and religion; past, present, and future; humans, monsters, and aliens; alternate dimensions, alternate histories, and alternate realities. All of it merged into one city. One of those characters in this book is Razor Eddie, Punk God of the Straight Razor. That's an intriguing name, right? That right there should make you want to read the book just to find out more.

Agents of Light and Darkness by Simon R. Green

"'Mr. Taylor, it's imperative you locate the Unholy Grail for us, before agents of the Lord or the Enemy become directly involved. Make no mistake, if agents of the Principalities go to war here, they could level the Nightside.'"

"I smiled nastily at him, and to his credit he didn't flinch. 'Your guns aren't loaded,' I said.
The three gunmen looked at each other, confused. I held up my closed hands, opened them, and let a stream of bullets fall out to clatter loudly on the tabletop. They pulled the triggers on their guns, and looked very upset when nothing happened.
'I think you should leave now,' I said. 'Before I decide to do something similar with your internal organs.'"

John Taylor is asked by an agent of The Vatican to track down a powerful relic that has found its way to The Nightside: The Unholy Grail, the cup Judas Iscariot drank from at The Last Supper. Unfortunately, not only are the other typical nasty folks of The Nightside after the grail, but so are Angels of Heaven and Hell. An angel war could destroy The Nightside and kill everyone living in it unless Taylor retrieves the grail and delivers it to one of their sides instead.

In case you were wondering how insane The Nightside series is, consider this: Agents of Light and Darkness is only book 2 of the series and there is already an angel war! Taylor is unable to use his gift to immediately find the grail as the angels watching over The Nightside are able to pull his consciousness from his body when he uses his gift. Teaming up with infamous bounty hunter Shotgun Suzie Shooter, Taylor goes in search of the Unholy Grail across The Nightside, as well as a weapon to deal with the invading angels that have taken to murder and destruction. That weapon is The Speaking Gun, a firearm made of flesh and bones and teeth. A living weapon filled with hate and rage, it can erase its target from existence by speaking its true name backwards. And all it wants to do is destroy everything, a psychic force it pushes onto whomever is holding it.

Nightingale's Lament by Simon R. Green

"'It seems that my Rossignol sings only sad songs these days. And that she sings these sad songs so powerfully that members of her audience have been known to go home and commit suicide.'"

"The last time some idiot tried to smuggle a bomb into Victoria House, the defences turned him into something. No-one was quite sure what, because you couldn't look at him for more than a moment or two without projectile vomiting everything you'd ever eaten, including in previous lives."

John Taylor is hired by the father of a famous singer just to check-up on his daughter as no one in their family has been able to speak with her in years. Rumors float about The Nightside that her voice can literally drive people to commit suicide. Discovering something is not quite right when he tracks her down and is finally able to speak with her, Taylor decides to investigate the pair that hold her contract and the mysteries that surround them.

Nightingale's Lament feels like the third book in a series that Green perhaps wasn't sure if publishing companies would keep buying. Or, perhaps after The Angel War that threatened the entire Nightside in the previous book, this case offered a cooling-off period to the series where the stakes aren't so high. It has the feel of another book Green wrote while he waited to hear a commitment from the publishing house for the rest of his series. That said, it is still a great book worthy of being part of The Nightside series. Taylor travels to the business sector of the Nightside which doesn't get a lot of attention most of the time, and goes deeper into some of the other side characters which is always my favorite part of these stories (I will never stop repeating that). To handle the fighting in this case, Taylor brings on Dead Boy, a teenager who was murdered in The Nightside but returned by possessing his own corpse to avenge his death. As an undead, he's got supernatural strength and doesn't feel pain, constantly patching his body with staples and stitches and duct tape.

Hex and the City by Simon R. Green

"You can buy or sell anything here, especially it it's something you're not supposed to want in a supposedly civilised world. The price is often your soul, or someone else's, but then you know that going in."

"Madman can be extremely dangerous to be around. He doesn't believe what he sees is real, so for him it isn't. Around him the world follows his whims and wishes, his fears and his doubts, reality reordering itself to follow his drifting thoughts. Which can be helpful, or confusing, or scary, because he doesn't necessarily believe in you, either."

John Taylor is put on a case to discover the true origins of the Nightside, who created it and for what purpose. In seeking out answers from some of the oldest beings of the Nightside, he'll also get closer to the other, personal quest that has been haunting him: Who is his mother?

Starting what I consider The Lilith War trilogy section of the Nightside series, Taylor spends this book doing old-fashioned P.I. work - tracking down the oldest beings in the Nightside to learn what they know. Unfortunately, it appears there are others who oppose his case and they're out to stop Taylor from doing his job. This makes for some great action scenes that make full use of Taylor's gift and under-handed tricks, and the three accomplices he brings along to help solve the case: Madman, a man so insane that reality itself warps around him; Sinner, a man who fell so deeply in love with a succubus that Hell tossed him out; and Pretty Poison, the demonic succubus learning about love.

Paths not Taken by Simon R. Green

"Tommy liked to talk. It was said by many, and believed by most, that Tommy Oblivion could talk his own firing squad into shooting each other to get away from his relentlessly reasonable voice. He thrived in areas of moral obscurity, uncertain reality, and cases so complicated you couldn't pin anything down even if you used tent pegs."

"I still felt like hell, but the brief respite had put some strength back into my legs. My head still pounded, but my thoughts were clear again. And my hands were very near my coat pockets. I grinned nastily at Herne. He really should have killed me while he had the chance."

John Taylor answered the one mystery that has haunted him his entire life: who is his mother? She is actually the biblical Lilith, Adam's first wife that refused his authority and descended into Hell to breed monsters, and the creator of the Nightside. After her warning that she is returning to cleanse and remake the Nightside, Taylor decides to take a trip through time to find how she was previously banished, hoping to use it as a weapon against her.

The story starts with a sort of throw-away plot involving a man whose own past and divergent-future selves are attempting to kill him for the choices he made. It is, however, a great way to introduce Tommy Oblivion, the existential detective, armed with, what I consider, a gift almost as strong as Taylor's. Oblivion's gift allows him to "reason" with people into seeing his point-of-view, and even with reality itself, to reshape it the way he wants. The second book of The Lilith War let's Taylor and friends explore the history and see the creation of the Nightside. They'll encounter Forces and Powers still alive in their own present-day as well as solve mysteries as to why things are the way they are in their time. Book two is definitely a calm before the storm, especially compared to the chaos brought on by Lilith's return.

Sharper Than a Serpent's Tooth by Simon R. Green

"Her presence filled the air, like the roar of massed cannon announcing the start of war, or a choir singing obscenities in a cathedral, like the first scream of being born or the last scream of the dying. No-one could look away. And many a lesser god or goddess knelt and bowed, recognising the real thing when they saw it, come at last to the Street of the Gods."

"I snapped my fingers, and all the fillings disappeared from their teeth. Along with all crowns, caps, bridges, and veneers....
  'Any more words of dissent,' I said, 'and I will show you another variation, that involves your lungs and a whole bunch of buckets.'"

With Lilith now returned to reclaim the Nightside and reshape it back to what it was meant to be, John Taylor must face off against his mother to protect his home and everyone in it. To make his choices even harder, he already knows that he can't go to war with her as that would merely bring about the apocalyptic events that he had already forseen.

The final book in The Lilith War trilogy sets Taylor against his mother, Lilith, Adams's first wife and biblical myth returned to our existence. It's a satisfying conclusion to not just the trilogy, but, if Green had ended the series, I would've been happy with this being the end as well. My only gripe with this book is a brief section that Taylor utilizes various mirror and pools to view the destruction Lilith causes throughout the Nightside. I know, it's important for the reader to understand just how powerful Lilith is compared to all the other Powers in the Nightside, but (to me) it didn't really have any consequence as all the events Taylor saw already happened and there is nothing he can do to rewrite them.

The Demon Slayer's Bodyguard, part 3/3

In a blink of an eye the demon's supernatural speed put him behind Thomas, raking at his back with black claws. Thomas though was a trained demon slayer, and all those years had prepared him for exactly this moment. The slayer was just as fast, his sword meeting claws and deflecting them away. The move opened up the demon's side and Thomas didn't miss it, slicing deep into the demon's flank. The demon howled in rage and launched itself into a flurry of attacks, each one powered by its supernatural strength and speed. Thomas was no ordinary mortal and matched the demon blow for blow.

I took the moment to catch my breath, and reload my shotgun with solid slugs. Instead of the standard pellets these shells contained one giant mass of metal, each one inscribed with a series of holy runes and soaked in holy water. I knew I didn't have a chance taking on a true creature of the Pit in a fair fight. Instead I kept my back braced against the wall and waited for my opening. The instant the monster showed me his back and Thomas locked its claws with his sword, I fired both barrels. The demon roared as the blessed slugs tore into his back. He turned to face me and Thomas was there to take advantage of the distraction, shoving his sword into the creature again.

The fight between the demon and demon slayer continued, both sides slashing and stabbing at each other. I stayed back unsure of how much I could still move after being thrown into a wall twice in less than an hour and then dropped though a floor. I continued to fire slugs whenever the demon showed an opening, hoping to distract it for that one moment Thomas needed to finish the duel. Finally, I hit it in the leg, buckling it at the knee. The demon roared, its burning red eyes glaring at me. Thomas brought his blade down, severing the demon's head from its body. Red flames slowly consumed the creature, melting it down to a black ichor.

Empty of shells, I tossed the shotgun aside as I leaned back against the wall to catch my breath. Thomas stood over the area where the demon dissolved and said a prayer. He swung his sword a few times, an attempt to flick off as much of the demon's remains before wiping it down with a cloth.

"I owe you an apology," Thomas said, extending a hand, "looks like I needed a bodyguard after all."

I shrugged and pushed myself off the wall. "That's what I'm here for," I said. I started toward the demon slayer when a sharp pain bit into my side. I clutched at the source and twisted away, landing on my back in the rubble. Above me stood the man in the suit, eyes furious and mouth foaming. I looked down to see the hunting knife plunged into my side.

"You bastards have no idea what you've done. No idea what you've taken from me!" he screamed. Realizing his hand was now empty, he reached down into the rubble to retrieve a solid chunk of concrete. He wrapped his fingers around it and I could practically feel its weight in his hands. As he glared at me, the intent to smash in my skull written on his face, I finally realized I was face-to-face with the cult's leader, Charles Heverfore. I pulled myself slowly along the ground, intent on getting far from Heverfore as possible before he could get close enough to beat me to death.

Thomas rushed forward, his enhanced speed and strength stopping Heverfore in his tracks. I heard a faint whisper of Latin and Thomas put his palm to Heverfore's forehead. Thomas loosened his grip and Heverfore surged forward, punching the demon slayer in the face.

"I don't understand," said Thomas, his lip bleeding, "There's no demon within you to exorcise. You are no longer a puppet to their whims."

Heverfore spat in Thomas's face, using the opportunity to startle the demon slayer and take his sword from him. Unlike when Thomas wielded it, the blessed sword didn't glow though it was still deadly. "Of course not, you idiot. I just needed the demons for their power. I'm the one in control, they dance to my tune," Heverfore said. He swung the sword and Thomas dodged out of the way. He wielded the sword like a club, swinging and jabbing at the slayer who always moved to avoid the blow at the last moment.

As Heverfore continued his assault, I dragged myself closer and closer to their battle, waiting for the right moment to strike. The Hunter Guild, after all, was focused on hunting demons and protecting humans from the Infernals that sought to corrupt them. Thomas couldn't harm Heverfore, he probably still couldn't even comprehend why the man was trying to kill him, because as evil as Heverfore might be he was still human.

I, however, was not bound to the same ideological constraints. In fact, The Hunter Guild partnered with the paramilitary firm I contracted with because of the amount of jobs we did in active combat zone. We'd seen the evils man could visit upon his fellow man up close and personal.

Thomas missed a step, his feet caught in some of the strewn rubble and fell backwards. Heverfore sensed his opportunity and moved forward to deliver the killing thrust. With Heverfore salivating at the chance to cut down the demon slayer, I too took my opening. I got to my feet and wrenched the knife from my side, trying not to focus on the pain nor the blood now flowing from the wound. After all, there's no pay if Thomas didn't make it back to the guild alive. I flipped it in my hand, catching the blade in my fingers. Then I flung the knife end over end until it buried itself halfway to its hilt in the cult leader's back.

He jerked upright, startled by the pain, and let out a scream for a second or two. All the time I needed to drive myself forward. I landed on his back, pushing the knife in deeper and pinning Heverfore to the floor. I picked up a chunk of stone and bashed him in the back of the head, one, two, three times until the man stopped moving.

I rolled off the dead man, clutching my side. Thomas handed me a cloth to put over the wound and apply pressure. It was only later I realized it was the same one he used to wipe down his sword. The Hunter Guild assures me that it's not poisonous, but do they really care about a hired gun like me? Thomas lifted me to my feet and hauled me up the basement stairs and out the door. I drifted in and out of consciousness until we reached the car outside.

"Thanks for saving me back there," Thomas said once we were back on the road, Heverfore Manor behind us.

"That's the job," I said, still in pain, "Though you folks really should realize, eventually, that some people just can't be saved. It would make fighting humans a lot easier for all of you."

Thomas shook his head. "I can't afford to think that way. The guild exists to protect humanity, to save those corrupted by evil."

I sighed. "Yeah, I know," I said, settling into the chair on our way back to the guild headquarters and thinking about how I'm going to spend my money.

 

 Using the Reddit Writing Prompt of (to shorten it down) a professional bodyguard protecting a demon slayer, I finally got around to writing this story I've had in my head for a while since there was another prompt a long time ago I missed out on about a demon slayer needing a bodyguard. And yes, if you're wondering, I did choose a title reminiscent of "The Hitman's Bodyguard" in the hopes that people would read it because the names sounded similar. And it must've worked if you're reading this because then you had to have made it through the previous two parts, and a total of 3700 or so words (thus splitting into three parts). If you just skipped everything and jumped to this part (why would you) the link will take you to a shortened version I submitted to Reddit because I hate splitting stories on Reddit. But back to the story. I guess the main thing I wanted to focus on is skill set and why would a demon slayer need someone to protect them that wasn't also a trained demon slayer. I know it probably was longer than needed (maybe I could've taken out that part involving the hellhounds) but I really wanted to get the point across that Thomas could take care of himself, and perhaps the main character was just in the way. The inspiration I had for Thomas's character was Michael from The Dresden Files books. As one of the three bearers of the holy swords, not only do they fight the Denarians but they're required to save the mortals they possess, even if that mortal is truly evil like Nicodemus. And, if you're wondering about the main character's shotgun, well I re-read the entire Tales from the Nightside series over these past three months and I tried to recreate the shotgun used by Shotgun Suzie Shooter, the best bounty hunter in the Nightside. Finally, if you've been wondering about the lack of stories, I've actually been working on a longer piece (like the Emberwilde Comes Pokemon fanfic) but I've been running into a few problems putting it all together.