Archive for April, 2008

This is the Birth of Death

Monday, April 28th, 2008

This is the Birth of Death

The train hissed to a halt and the masses exit like cattle led to their deaths. A slow death unfit for cattle, these men and women moved through their terminals and their turn styles, counting for the census bureau and giving job meaning to a useless endeavor. The stairs were dirty, a homeless man sat to one side and routinely kicked by the passers by. He didn’t seem to mind.

The sun light stung. Even from behind the clouds, the light hurt his eyes, it always seemed to hurt more, and he knew it was just after the noon hour. As punctual as he often would be teased, Jake Clifton moved past the herd and stopped at the crosswalk just as the red sign ordered him.

A bird cried overhead, he looked up. Black like a raven, Jake mused if Poe would have written about it. It cawed again.


GONE SOUTH: A Dime Novel

Wednesday, April 23rd, 2008


    “You know, I’m getting real tired of having you pop up all sudden like. Ain’t natural,” Crockett said, a trifle bitterly. “Santy Anny had a few like you, wouldn’t have been no damn war.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” El Aguila said, tapping Crockett’s throat with the edge of his blade. “And I will also take that golden ornament that Senor Fink is carrying.” (more…)

GONE SOUTH: A Dime Novel

Wednesday, April 16th, 2008


    “JesusjesusjesusjeSUS!” Fink bellowed, arms pumping, head down. Crockett found it hard not to agree with the sentiment as the over-sized reptilian engine of death stomped after them, releasing scream after honking scream into the muggy air.
“What the hell is that thing?” he shouted, glancing at Fink.
“Besides that!”
“Hungry!” (more…)

GONE SOUTH: A Dime Novel

Wednesday, April 9th, 2008


    “Get up, Fink. We’re in trouble.”
Fink cracked one eye and looked up blearily at the indistinct form crouched over him. He swiped at it with one hand.
“Mike. You don’t get up right now, I’m going to shoot you in the head.” (more…)

GONE SOUTH: A Dime Novel

Wednesday, April 2nd, 2008


     “Thank you very much, Mike!” Crockett barked as the Fool Jim slewed sideways, smoke boiling from her guts, the air screaming past. Fink, holding tight to the railing, released a string of unintelligible curses in reply. Crockett spat one of his own back and looked around, looking for anything at all that could save him from a messy end. There was nothing. (more…)