December 16th, 2006
“You’re very lucky, you know,” Serrintha said as she finished applying her Cure Light Wounds spell to Nawen’s arms. When transformed as a giant bird and colliding with the ship’s masts, Nawen had broken her wings - when in human form, these were her arms.
“Luck’s my middle name,” Tarrant said, as he finished tying the rope around Nawen’s unconscious body lying on the floor. He still couldn’t believe how lucky he’d actually been… Nawen had tried chasing him across the deck, but then she tripped over some rope and knocked herself out on the remains of a broken mast. Tarrant was almost ready to believe one of the Gods was looking out for him.
December 10th, 2006
“I hate them!” Tarrant exclaimed, his eyes glowing red with the force of his anger. He was leaning against his bunk, trying to counter the rolling of the ship they were sailing on.
“Why do you do that?” Serrintha asked him from her bunk. She had given up on countering the rolling motions some time ago, deciding that laying down was a much better idea.
“What?” Tarrant asked.
“Make your eyes glow like that. I know it’s a really simple spell… but don’t you even realise you’re doing it any more?”
November 6th, 2005
I found this on the weekend and thought it was excellent advice for a budding young (or not so young) writer such as myself. I thought I'd share it with you:
- Use the time of a total stranger in such a way that he or she will not feel the time was wasted.
- Give the reader at least one character he or she can root for.
- Every character should want something, even if it is only a glass of water.
- Every sentence must do one of two things — reveal character or advance the action.
November 6th, 2005
Lisa stood there with her back to Alex, looking out the window at Mike, watching him through the glass walls of the various offices, He seemed diligent with his information gathering, that much was certain. Security logs showed he hadn't left his office since yesterday's interview. She wondered if he slept at all. Her musings were interrupted by Alex.
"Why the hell are you recommending this guy?" he asked, sounding frustrated. "He's got no military training at all."
"That's right," she said, turning around, her hair, with its long red ponytail, swinging as she did so. "But not all of the team are required to be grunts. Dean is an accomplished cyber-specialist…"
November 6th, 2005
Mike rubbed at his tired eyes, standing up from the desk and stretching. Some of his vertebrae cracked as he stretched, and he walked over to the window, looking out at Washington DC. All those people out there, he was thinking. How many of them knew about these aliens? How many were aliens themselves? There were so many stories of UFOs and beams of light, time slowed down or stopped, broken memories and other unexplained experiences. Most of the people involved in such things were met with derision or disbelief by families, friends, workmates and the media. But all of it was true.
November 6th, 2005
Chapter 1
The face of a US soldier was on the monitor, in various shades of green showing it was via an infrared camera. Glistening trails of sweat could be seen running down his cheeks, and he was breathing hard. He spoke quietly but intensely into the camera.
November 4th, 2005
I've had some ideas running through my head for a couple weeks now, about a series of stories I intend writing. Here's an introductory summary. I intend writing a series of short stories, with each story as if it's a separate mission of some kind, or something like that.
Please give me your feedback about how interesting you think it might be, or anything else you think might be interesting. Feedback on whatever I write in the near future would also be very welcome. Thanks!
Mike Hatcher, ex-Special Forces, current 'ghost', working for the US government as a Federal agent engaged in his specialty - covert and black ops. With Ultra Top Secret clearance and access to any resources he needs, there is nowhere he can't go, and nothing he can't get done.
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