And with this, The Libel of Blood is now longer than The Light of Civilization! Over the past few days I made lots of progress. Yesterday I sat down and did a Tarot reading on why my writing had been so slow, and it was very enlightening. I put into place the advice the cards gave me, and have since written 22 pages. I have almost reached the point at which the book began, with the teaser at the beginning of the first chapter. Chapter 38 – what I just finished – was a rather confusing and hectic chapter to write, but I was proud with the result. Not only does it feature a death, Jak’s piloting skills, an awesome sword, a hijacked shuttle, and a philosophical discussion on the implications of advanced computers, but it also contains the one and only (re)appearance of Psy in the whole book – for all of twoish pages.

I also have planned out the rest of the book, which should go up to 42 Chapters and an Epilogue (which will be rather long, I think). Which means that all I have left to write are Chapters 39, 40, 41, 42, and the Epilogue! Then the editing process (and work on short stories) begins. Oh joy.

For now, though, I’m going to try to power through the rest of it. And for your enjoyment or torture, here’s Psy’s return:

*-*-*

I had seen that look before…

“No,” I said softly, looking at Derekk. He began to stand up straighter, and a small smile crossed his face. “Not now… I defeated you! You’re gone!”

“Inside your own head you will never again find us. But what makes others off-limits, Jakken Servidos?”

My head was ready to explode. “I can’t handle you all at once!” I shouted. Everyone quieted instantly. I pointed to Derekk. “Get him!”

“What?” Thyrak asked. “Are you okay – shit! Get him!” Thyrak immediately lunged at Derekk, tackling him to the ground.

“What the hell?” Triple-G said as Jarken joined the other Shortel.

“Psy… what’s he doing back? Why now?” Jarken said.

“We’re going to crash!” Danielle shouted and she curled into a fetal position.

Time began to slow. I was trapped on a damaged shuttle about to crash into a heavily armed and armoured ship piloted by the most evil being alive, while my lover had apparently been possessed by a psychotic evil psychic giant flying slug, and everyone in the tiny room we were in was panicking over one or the other. How could things get any worse?

A small smile crept over my face, and my fingers twitched. If I piloted the ship.

I ran up and threw Danielle out of the chair.

[…Omitted Content…]

The ship running relatively straight, I closed mye eyes and calmed myself. Like Kalkkis said – free your thoughts.

My mind cleared, and immediately I could feel the mental presences of those around me – Mikhail, Triple-G, Danielle, Jarken, Thyrak, Derekk… and Psy. His image appeared in my mind’s eye; the gigantic, floating, translucent blue slug who had haunted me ever since I had left Earth.

“Psy! Leave him and never come back!”

Jak – you assault us on my own territory. We are wounded.

“You have five seconds to leave his body.”

And why should I?

I hesitated, then swallowed. “Because then I will join you… after I am dead.”

I felt a wave of shock and surprise emanating from the slug-thing. You would do that for this pathetic worm-thing?

“Yes,” I said calmly. “He is not yours.”

There was a pause, during which I sensed much thought. If that is truly your choice, Jak – then you are not who I thought you were. You and this one shall never see me or my influences again while you live – but once you have both left this Space, he shall be ours.

I decided, after having run a Call of Cthulhu scenario recently (more on this and the one to be run tomorrow later), to delve once again into the realm of dark poetry. This one took me longer than my previous effort, as it actually has something resembling a structure:

What Walks Under Moonlight

The darkness of hills at the heart of midnight
Illuminated by the fading Elder’s lantern-light
And by the waning glow of the sun’s shaded twin

The Elder in vain sought a safe path to his land
The fading beacon of light held firmly in hand
As the black veil of night wrapped about the barren hills

Sounds filled the darkness of the hills and their kind
Half-formed nightmares filled the Elder’s feeble mind
Stalking him, following his ever-dying light

At the edge of vision and the border of sanity
Under the influence of catalytic moonlight
The monsters of the mind can take shape and form
And rise from the ether realm of ichor and worm

The nightmares of sleep can come out in the night
And when one is alone bring their faces to light
Under the will of the sun’s shaded twin

And under the blighted light of the moon
The wavering dreams often emerge far too soon
Come to take you to the dark realm of the mad

The pebble-strewn path weaves between dark mounds of earth
The moon’s tricks of light giving strange monsters birth
Who walk the path of shadow on the edge of true light

A rustle in the long grass casts shadows on the path
Illuminated merely by lamp and moonlight
And a shadow for a moment crosses his mind
As his eyes seek out an image he is hard-pressed to find

From behind the black wall of the gloomiest hill
A horror comes forth from a degenerate will
And stands in the way of the Elder’s last path

Foul ichor drips from its long silver tongue
As it whispers him promises and beckons him to come
But the Elder kneels down and refuses to go

The primordial ooze that flows onto the ground
From the eyes and the mouth on the head of the hound
Glows under the ethereal light of the moon

Mad eyes glow red on its amphibian face
And twin tails of snakes lash the air in a rage
And the hound’s many legs step forward as one
As foul wriggling things chant that his will be done

The hound speaks then with one final demand
And the Elder shakes his head with a quivering hand
And there comes then a slithering, shuddering sound
And the Elder is nowhere ever after to be found

And under the light of the sun’s shaded twin
The hills at the heart of midnight grow dim
And as the glorious sun rises high in the sky
It finds only a lantern, damp hat and a sigh.

*-*-*

Rhymes are hard to do without making them seem forced. But, there you go; free poetry! What could be better? The imagery for the hound may or may have been inspired by “The Hounds of Tindalos”…

TLOB progress is still slow, but hopefully I’ll have a lot of time this week to get started again!

I apologize, for I was again distracted from my novel by horror – reminiscent of my distraction by “Parallax” while I was working on editing The Loneliness of Stars. I wrote two things with relations to Dark Aeons; one of which was my first real poem! I can’t say it’s very good, but really speaks to me. It’s inspired by a unique vision of Hell that I have as represented by the ultimate loneliness – unable to interact or even know if the existence of others, while at the same time unable to do anything, imprisoned endlessly in a floating sphere that you cannot see out of. Similar in theme to “The Man in Amber” in some respects, but also different in its emphasis on loneliness. The entire poem is as follows:

The Loneliness of the Spheres

They sing their songs of sorrow
But I cannot hear
They sing their songs of pain
But I cannot hear
I add my voice to the song
But no one can hear

I am alone
Eternal solitude is my being
I am afraid
Eternal fear is my being
I am unoccupied
Eternal sloth is my being

Around me there is darkness
Darkness is my life
Around me I feel nothing
Deadened is my life
Around me there is nothing
In my life there is nothing

Eternity is my name
Loneliness is my being

The song of emptiness goes undiscovered
The song of loss is never heard
The song of pain is never wept

The spheres float endlessly through the empty infinite
Never touching, never seeing
Each protecting a life-soul-essence
From the hungering dark outside

But do the spheres seek ever to consider
The thought-processes of their wards?
For though the spheres have hereby banished their solitude
Have their wards banished theirs?

And if the wards then have banished their isolation
Why is it then that they sing?
Why do their songs of pain and loss
Echo in the vastness between
Never heard by their own
And listened to by those only who cannot hear?

In addition to that, I have also begun work on another horror short story: “Afflatus Divine,” which tells of a supernatural entity that feeds off of the creativity of humans. It will be a three-part story; I just have finished the first part (though undoubtedly I will change the latter half of it significantly during the editing process), and hope to write the next two over the course of the next week or so. Currently it stands at about sixteen and a half pages – so I’m estimating a final total length of fiftyish pages for this story. One of the longer ones.

Now that I have finished the first part, however, I am diving back into The Libel of Blood for a bit. I am going to see if I can finish the rough draft by mid-March!

I just finished another short story – about six and a half pages – and I must personally say that I find this one the most disturbing of all those I have written so far. It truly embodies Lovecraft’s cosmic indifference, I think, and brings up some truly disturbing thoughts – and also has a neat little poem at the beginning of it! I don’t normally write poetry, so it isn’t particularly brilliant, but here it is:

This is an affliction of the Body – It will destroy your Flesh.
It will weaken your Mind and tear open your Head.
This is an affliction of the Mind – It will destroy your thoughts.
It will weaken your Spirit and tear open your Self.
This is an affliction of the Spirit – It will destroy your Will.
It will weaken your Life and tear open your Existence.
That which is an affliction of the Body, Mind, and Spirit
Is that of the Soul – And it will destroy your Being.

That poem is, in essence, also the story. Here’s an excerpt:

*-*-*

An affliction of the body is better than an affliction of the mind. An affliction of the mind is better than an affliction of the spirit. That affliction that is of the body, mind, and spirit is an affliction of the soul, and an affliction of the soul will destroy you.

It came to me first as an affliction of the body. It was not separate from its symptoms, yet lived inside me as surely as any other physical being. Its feeding was a constant tug at my reserves of energy; they slipped away slowly but surely as the weeks passed. It remained unidentifiable and unknown to even the best of physicians; as far as they could see, it did not exist. It was merely an abstract parasite with no form in the physical, that could yet still surely make me sweat and shiver in the bitterest of cold and the most fiery of heat. It never could give respite, and relentlessly drained the vitality from my body, and each day, each hour, each minute, I could exert myself less and less.

It had come from nowhere, yet must have existed somewhere. It descended out of the blue, transforming what had been a healthy young girl, her body developing strongly and filling with the vibrant energy and joy of youth with a life left to live, into a coughing and exhausted woman who felt aged a century in less than a minute. Her friends came to her aid, but it had control of her flesh, and she was powerless to stop it.

No drugs could harm it, no treatment cure it. Never lacking in funds, my guardians were confident that it would be defeated given proper payment, but money means nothing without brilliance, and the mass hallucination of coinage is meaningless to a parasite. The best and brightest of the medical industry stood no chance against it, and friends and family watched as I descended into a terrible sickness.

The worst was the clarity of mind that accompanied these stages; the hazy god of insanity eluded me, and every excruciating inflammation, every painful swelling, every terrible itch, was felt with the clarity of a cold gush of water. I could not retreat from my plight, for it had trapped me, and I was powerless to resist. It was not even a week before I could no longer walk, and the powerful, striding young woman of Monday was eternally bedridden by Sunday.

My stomach churned like a herd of buffalo across the plains, but nothing could feed it. The parasite cared not for material sustenance; that was not what it wanted. Whatever I was forced to consume emerged within moments – my ailing body had given up and surrendered. It had lost the fight long ago, and it was well aware of it. The parasite would triumph.

Not even the machines that they thrust into my flesh was enough to even drive it back. The best of physicians were at a loss when even the intravenous sustenance was rejected by my body; yet I did not starve nor did I thirst. It kept me alive, somehow, that I would not cease to feed it. It is in the interests of the parasite to leave its host alive.

*-*-*

In case you couldn’t tell, the story is called “The Parasite.” It’s my favorite so far, I think, surpassing “Winds of Madness” and “Parallax.”

Tomorrow I get back to working in The Libel of Blood – things are really beginning to pick up again!

Not much else to say here, really – I finally approved the proof copy of TLOC – here’s hoping I caught all of the typos and mistakes! Likely not, but oh well! Now that it’s out, you can buy it currently on the CreateSpace eStore – go do it now! I apologize for the increased price over book one, but the total final page length including appendices and preview came out to 348 pages – about 100 more than the first book. Plus, this one is better, and even more work went into it!

So, the book is available on CreateSpace now… and here’s a tentative schedule of subsequent releases:

-CreateSpace: Now

-Lulu eBook (PDF): About Monday, February 7

-Amazon: About Monday, February 14

-Barnes and Noble NookBook: About Monday, February 21

I’m also looking into possibly moving onto the Kindle as well – we shall conquer! Again my thanks to Michael Ireland (Chief Editor) and Sarah Kindler (Illustrator) for getting this one off the ground!

My tarot-learning is progressing well, I think – I hope to at some point this week make a post dedicated to my thoughts on it completely. Additionally, inspired by my new hobby, I decided to include a tarot-reading scene in TLOB – which, by the way, is now at 210 pages.  I was originally going to give Derekk a three-card reading and Jak a full Celtic cross one, but after Derekk’s three-card reading used up as much space as it did, I decided to give them both three-card spreads. The first half of the scene (it spans a chapter division) is below:

*-*-*

When the cards were shuffled and cut to the man’s liking, he had Derekk turn over the top three in a very certain way. Then he shot a look at me. “Right then, young man – you weren’t concentrating, were you.”

I sat straighter. “Of course I was! Don’t be silly,” I shot back. Derekk still seemed oblivious to my discomfort. The man was hypnotizing; I glanced nervously behind me, and thought I may have seen a shadow move.

“And I’m a sparrow.” His long, thin finger fell upon the card closest to me. “This card’s energies are at odds with the previous two – a shame, as that card represented the most likely future.”

Derekk sighed. “Does that mean we have to do it all over?”

The man looked thoughtful for a minute, then nodded. “Yes.”

I began to roll my eyes again, but Derekk’s look stopped me. He really wanted to do it. I resisted the urge to tell him that the cards were just pictures and any seeming divination that came from them were just a result of you projecting your mind onto them, and instead found myself apologizing for my lack of concentration.

We began again, and this time I concentrated – for Derekk. When the cards were laid out again and the man leaned back with satisfaction, Derekk smiled gratefully at me. I smiled back, then checked behind us again. Is someone standing at the corner?

“Ah, now look at your past, see here?” The man pointed at the card farthest from me. I shifted my attention to it. “The Devil. Ignorance, imprisonment – the will of chains. The hold of the Devil is receding from your life – perhaps letting you move forward?” The man stared intently at Derekk. “How are your parents?”

Derekk’s mouth twisted in a sad smile. “They never let me go – they want me to stay out of the ‘dangerous’ parts of the city, and try to micro-manage my life – except for some afternoons, when my therapist says I have to get some time away from them. But even then, they try to watch me – it took me forever to get my watchers off my back so I could come here.”

I could have hit him; telling a seedy fortune-teller in a back alley that one’s rich and noble parents had no way of knowing where he was not the best of ideas. The man grinned slightly. “It’s always the same story.” Liar. “But their influence is receding, as I said – you shall soon be free of those chains.”

Derekk brightened up. “Really?”

The man nodded sagely. “Really. Now, onto the present.” He turned our attention to the next card, then, showing a man and a women, each holding a cup, beneath a caduceus and winged lion’s head . “The reversed two of cups – companionship. The lesser version of the Lovers.” He stroked a wispy goatee that I would have sworn had not been there a second ago. “Normally, this card signifies companionship, truce, bonding – but its energy is not free to flow. It has become blocked by something.” He smiled. “The energy of romance is there, but to free it, something must be done.” Winking, the man turned over another card and placed it above the two, closer to him. “I’ll give you a fourth card free of charge.”

“Thank you!” Derekk sad before he could stop himself. I half-smiled, and again glanced behind me. Nothing that time.

“No problem,” the man said patiently. “The Fool – in this case, urging you to be spontaneous, and start a new journey – likely with this person that charges your romantic energy.” He smiled sidelong at me, and I glared again. “To unblock the energy of the two of cups, then, you must have faith that things will all turn out alright and embrace spontaneity. Perhaps initiate the first kiss soon.” I would like that, I thought to myself, carefully avoiding Derekk’s gaze, though I felt his eyes glance over at me.

“Perhaps the imminent release of the chains of your parents will free you to take that first step into a new world with your new love, and allow the energies of romance and companionship to begin.” I could feel Derekk smiling, and it made me glad.

“Now, let’s look at the last card – the future. The outcome.” The man smiled warmly, and I was again surprised at how genuine it felt. “The ten of cups. Emotion and powerful forces govern your life, young man – only Major Arcana and Cups, the suit of emotions, found their way here. But this card signifies joy and family – a good future for you and your new lover, I think. Good tidings, I hope.”

Derekk was grinning now, and I was forced to smile a little as well. That did sound good. “It looks like your new lover will be your permanent partner once you have freed yourself from the chains your parents placed upon you,” the man said.

Derekk thought a moment. “But… the ten of cups signifies family?” The man nodded. “But I’m gay – how am I supposed to have a family?” I had often wondered the same thing about myself.

The tarot man winked. “There’ll always be a way.” He scooped up the cards and shuffled them back into his deck. “Watch out for those large forces, though – they can be rather unpredictable. And there are large forces in your life.”

The man turned his attention to me and took me in. I began to stand – I had no intention of having my fortune read. “You, young man, have the feelings of power about you,” said the card reader. He had stopped shuffling, and leaned forward intently. “I would be honored to read your fortune – and I’ll do it for no charge. A full Celtic Cross.”

I shook my head. “No, I think I’m goo-”

“Then just three cards, like your friend here.” He placed an odd emphasis on the word “friend,” causing both Derekk and myself to blush. We are just friends right now, I reminded myself.

“Come on, Jak – it’s fun!” Derekk said, eyes shining.

I shook my head and began to turn away. “No, I’m good – come on, Derekk, let’s-”

Something pinned my hand to the table. I turned around to see the tarot man’s bone-cane lying across the back of my hand. He smiled at me, and I caught what may have been a hint of malice in that one. “No, Jak – I insist.”