Works in Progress
I always have far too many works in progress, but here is what I am currently focusing on:
Dreadship Omnipotence (Novel)
Synopsis: Humanity stands on the brink of the Third Godwar, a conflict that will end human history and set the race on a new evolutionary path. As the godlings that rule over humanity prepare for war, a powerful weapon capable of killing a god falls into the hands of an ambitious space pirate, who soon finds herself standing at the crossroads of humanity’s future.
Current Progress: ~1656 words
>Grounded_Philosopher: I always thought of a human as being anyone who can trace their family lineage back to Earth.
>KillerPsik13: What about people who were artificially made?
>HotHunkofMeat1337: They were still made by a scientist from Earth, though, so that’s sort of their family lineage.
>KillerPsik13: But what if an alien made an artificial human?
>HotHunkofMeat1337: Their biology would be human, so they’d be human.
>KillerPsik13: But you didn’t specify that initially.
>HotHunkofMeat1337: Sure I did. Biology is just another way to trace family lineage back to Earth.
>Grounded_Philosopher: Yeah. I guess a better way to put it is tracing some part of their origins ultimately back to Earth.
>KillerPsik13: Hey, who’s User1?
>KillerPsik13: He just joined the chat room. Did you invite him?
>Grounded_Philosopher: Not me either; kind of impressive he got that netID though.
>KillerPsik13: Hey, how’d you get in here, @User1?
>User1: Your conversation intrigued me. I decided to observe and record your musings.
>KillerPsik13: Fucking creep. Bet he’s a hacker or survbot. Get out. This is a private room. /v kick User1
>HotHunkofMeat1337: Nah, a survbot would have been more subtle. Low-key hacker I bet.
>Grounded_Philosopher: Hey, maybe we can be friends! @User1, do you have any thoughts on what it means to be human?
>User1: It is an interesting question, and one I cannot answer definitively, for mankind has become a patchwork of constellations scattered across the stars.
Distant Songs Through Void and Light (Novel)
Synopsis: Mankind has long since been absent from the Earth, having wiped themselves out through catastrophic climate change. As the now-flooded Earth begins to stabilize once more, a new dominant species arises: a future race of dolphins. As they begin to develop their own unique societies, they turn towards the stars, and hear, coming from the void of space above, a song. The young dolphin Ato becomes enthralled by the song and eventually finds himself as the first dolphin astronaut, heading to space to hear the songs more clearly. His best friend, Tlaka, meanwhile turns her attention towards the history of Earth, and discovers many secrets about the planet’s development since the fall of man…
Current Progress: A whole 655 words, and a lot of planning!
Excerpt: Coming soon!
Darke (Short Story Collection)
Synopsis: Fineas Darke is a powerful gun-mage on the planet Adenia. As he traverses the mountainous continent of Dolgur by airship alongside a mercenary company, he meets friends, makes enemies and discovers more about the realities of his steampunk world than he could ever have hoped to.
Current Progress: Completed “The Man Who Shot Second,” working on “Judge and Jury.”
The man wore a thick coat of the deepest purple, its edges lined in yellow, and a matching misshapen, enormous broad-brimmed hat with a yellow rope tied about its crown. Beneath the hat was a young face, nearly brown, with a prominent nose and large ears. A small golden hoop hung beneath his right ear, reflecting the new electric light in the tavern. Wavy brown hair descended to the middle of his neck, pushed behind his ears and held in place by his hat. Beneath the coat was a segmented copper cuirass that shone like it was new, and across it was a leather sash with a golden medallion, ringed with silver, at its center. At the center of this medallion was a flame carved from four jewels; one diamond, one sapphire, one emerald, and one ruby. His high leather boots lightly tapped the wooden floor to a tune only he could hear, as he hummed silently to himself, eyes closed.
“Hey, you, I’m tryin’ to hold a conversation!” A tankard was slammed into the table at which the man sat as a burly, well-mustachioed man crashed down into the chair opposite him. The humming man stopped his humming, and opened one eye, its iris a deep purple matching his coat and hat.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear your question,” the man said. “Could you repeat it for me, please?”
“I said, you seem like a newcomer to these parts,” the burly man slurred. “What business do you have in the great city o’Daedalon?”
“Oh, the usual,” the man said. “Looking for work.”
“Huh,” the burly man said. “With all that flash you’re wearin’, doesn’t look to me like y’need a job.”
“Everyone needs some sort of work,” the man replied. “Whether for their life, their living, or their soul.”
“What kind o’crap are you tryin to pull on me?” The burly man stood up, and the rest of the tavern grew silent as all eyes drifted to the table of two.
“No crap at all,” the man said. “I was just answering your unspoken question.”
“What in Arcadia’s name are you talkin’ bout?” The larger man crossed his arms and glowered down at the cloaked man seated opposite him.
“You seem to be slightly lost, my friend,” the younger man said, looking up with an infuriatingly sincere smile on his face. “Else why else would you come to me, to pick a fight with a stranger? It seems to be you need some sort of guidance. I’m afraid I won’t be much help there; I’m probably sorely in need of guidance myself.”
“You little punk,” the man breathed, uncrossing his arms. He raised one above his head, and then slammed it down on the table. “You shut your damn little mouth!”
The smaller man gave a small nod, pressed his lips tight, and cleaned back in his chair. He tipped his hat to the larger man, and then moved his hand to a small mug of white liquid. He lifted it to his face, then frowned. “Can I open it to drink my milk?”
The Woodsman (Novella/Novelette)
Synopsis: George and Jackie’s family have just moved into the woods, and their fellow townspeople have warned them about the grumpy old man who lives the next plot over. They find him nice enough, but the woods are another story…
Current Progress: ~7500 words.
“He seems nice enough,” Jackie said. “A bit odd, though.”
George nodded from his chair in the living room, opposite Jackie’s. The children and Peter had all gone to bed. “Did you see his face?”
Jackie hesitated. “I… never thought to look.”
George narrowed his eyes and steepled his fingers. “Never thought to look… or couldn’t look?”
“I…” Jackie looked thoughtful. “I could look… I just couldn’t remember. It was like as soon as I looked away from his face, it blurred in my mind.”
George nodded. “Exactly how I felt.”
They sat in silence for a little while.
“Well, he was still a very nice man,” Jackie said.
“Quiet,” George replied. “Polite enough though, I guess. Odd manner of clothing, though.”
“And that axe… it made me a little uncomfortable,” Jackie confessed. “But he seems genuinely interested in helping us.”
Jackie’s husband sighed. “I don’t know… he came in and inspected the house. Hardly looked at us. It’s almost like… he didn’t really want to sell this place.”
Jackie laughed. “Honey, don’t be silly! You heard what he said! He wants it to be better maintained. Maybe he’ll buy it back from us when we move out.”
George sighed. “If we ever move out. My new job doesn’t offer many opportunities for advancement.”
Jackie smiled warmly at her husband, stood up, and sauntered over to him, swaying her hips gently. She sat down on his lap and kissed his forehead. “Then I guess we’ll just have to save up.” He slid her arms around her, and she did the same to him. Their lips locked together and their eyes closed. I guess she’s forgiven me, was George’s last thought before he lost himself in the embrace, finally feeling at home.
Something creaked. Jackie jumped off George’s lap, and George sat straight up, They both looked around nervously for a moment. Jackie laughed nervously. Her ears were listening to everything now; the faint pitter-patter of what remained of the rain outdoors, the tinny rumblings of the primitive water heater, the muffled creaking of the swaying trees outside, and and the snoring of old Peter.
Then the creak came again.
(c) Z. M. Wilmot