Wednesday, 19 April 2006

Dark Motorways and long dead Motocades

If a car drove down a motorway with out streetlights and without headlights. If the driver was cloaked in darkness not being able to see backwards forwards or sideways would he/she be making progress.

Would the road be leading anywhere or is it a strech of endless tarmac where the journey only ends when the car runs out of fuel.
Should the person turn around and go back to look for a turning he missed or is it impossible to do,Perhaps all they can remember was one straight road and only the illusion of alternative routes.
Could you even hear the engine it could be roaring like a pride of lions but would it be heard by a single living sole.

Just imagine this person gets out the car pulls up at the laybye and waits if his appointment was with bleak nothingness he would be early.
The driver sits down on the verge and looks...Examines tire tracks and barriers made filthy through fumes.
Listen and you too can hear the specters of the past the old traffic jams the bleating horns of angry vehicles. All gone now all away from here this driver has missed it all I think this driver whomever they may be couldn't take the struggle. They felt the rigid motorcade and furious jaw snapping people were too much to take.

However they are all somewhere finally in a place who knows where but you can be sure there is light there and warmth and company.
This driver swapped all this in preference for the cold dark night the lightless void too which he alone owned...Or did it own the driver.

The sun had set and died here the night pushing it down and ripping it away from the sky so the driver walked back to the car.
Sat down and thought,eyes closed the driver flicked a switched one that failed time after time praying and sweating chilling tears from the skin the switch was slowly turned again.

This time not only did the engine growl and thunder against the unfriendly twilight but the headlights came on ...The driver gasped ...Crying shocked something had happened.

Something force him to carry on...To drive forward and refuse to turn the head back...To eat the road up with the vehicles tires.
The driver visualized a destination ...One with light,warmth and people.....And if the lights can be turned on so can the destination.

Monday, 10 April 2006

Off the Cuff Blood...

Right down below is a straight off the cuff peice of writing that has no direction or real purpose other than to see where my thoughts go and to see how it turns out on text :)

Battling from the shore he fought off hordes of the armoued demons. The tide raging behind him the froth and foam the sea bit the shore with a toothless mouth but rabid bite.

The masked invaders feet sunk in the wet sands as he trudged to the mainlaand crushing the swarming demons like soo man tin cans.
Reacing soild his progress became labourd and slow striking his sword into the soil to gain balance and purchase into the vile land.
The demons slain he viewed his horizen the dark red skies hummed with malice and war the struggle had only just began and maybe he was too late.

Even with his might may not be enough to even the odds this clash of forces,this final pursuit of destiny may have already been lost yet still the warrior continued.
He must the people of this diseased soild had activated his exsistance tharwed him from his glacial rest.
Stood tall upon the hill side he noticed to the west the burning fortresses the smoke bellowed a smog of roasting flesh and crushed machinery.
East held little promise of hope the legions of skeletal buzzards massed upon any living and free thinking being and tore them to shreds,eating,ripping.

The warrior progressed north the great grey plains of dead grass lay ahead and so did the forces breed to stop him those three deadly creations that could only be made but not born due to thier diabolical darkness.
The warrior roared into the raw crimson heavens he cried for rain to aid him and it came hard and fast to quell the fires and aid the populas of this dying terrian.

This quest had only started and he must finish it NOW he must furfil the pact he made thousands of years ago, A pact sealed by spitirt and will....

Okay...that started off in my head as just a vision of something stroming a shore battling turned into something else along the way :)..I don't have clue if it will ever be used.

Thursday, 6 April 2006

A bloody pulp

Before I was born...well the early 1970's there was a writer called James Herbet he written a book called The Rats which is now infamous it's abilty to make the skin crawl and has probably made a lot of money for rent-o-kill.
James Herbet's book was a massive succsess world wide selling millons of copies and it still sell strong to this very day.

Now he started out writing a type of horror called Pulp horror the kind of stuff that many fans of the U.S comic E.C would recognise.
Pulp horror is basicly for entertainmentit plenty of ghastly deeds,a troff full of gore and some dirty sex.
It's view as the most low brow form of horror litriture around people often disregaurd it as badly written and horribly concived.
I freely admit that after The Rats had been set upon the public there were many hack writers scribbling out paper backs with the promise of a quick few quid.
The problem is that amongst the slew of hacks and wittles scribes there were writers with obvious talent and love for the genre.

My foavourite pulp horror writer of all time is Guy N.Smith a man who never pretneded he wasn't in it for the money but he was also a writer with tremendious indsutry and knowledge of what the pblic wanted to read.
His most famous books were and still are his Crab nasties the basic premise being that humans are being attacked by a legion of well orginised and blood thirsty giant crabs.

...with a plot like that how can you not have fun reading his stuff since then Guy N.Smith has championed the pulp genre by writing over 80 titles that contain a host of grisley monstrousities and diabolical jernoys.
It has been said that one of his more famous works The Sucking Pit is THE ultimate pulp horror paperback even Stephen King himself endorse the work.

I have almost all of Guy N.Smiths books(they take up a lot of shelf space I can tell you) but I haven't got around to reading this one yet(currently reading Doomflight) so maybe I should.
So what I would say to anyone who wants to read the trashy horror books in todays supposedly high-brow world is that do it it's fun and you will find some extremely well written peices.
Also just like any diet reading is no different as long as you balance pulp horror with other works like Lord of The Flies,The Wasp Factory,I Am Legend won't go far wrong.

Wednesday, 5 April 2006

Money spiders or Ants?

Have you ever been in the kitchen or bathroom and see that little black crawling speck pass your eyes?

The chances are it was from the corner of your eye and you didn't get to see it properly. So you recheck because you thought you saw a money spider and we all know the folklore behind a money spider.

You gently pick it up betwein finger and thumb and rotate it around your head three times. If you do this it is said fourtune comes your way in the finacial sense I try not to be trapped by superstition but I afford to pass up magik ;)
I find that when I find a money spider or someone else does it brings a smile and a giggle to thier faces and a sense that it was lucky to find such a darling little spider.

However sometimes when you do look again from the corner of your eye it turns out just to be a normal black ant and you snear or sigh in dissapointment.
I mean there are thousands,Millions,Billons of ants thier not special ...thier all the same not magical like the money spider.
They don't offer the possiblity of unearned riches ants arn't omens they don't even weave webs to eat the flies that land on your dinner.

The ant is ignored becuase it's just like all the other mindless drones of other worker ants mindlessly working it's life away for it's queen.
One of of one-hundred...of a thousand..a million...legion!

When you look at the world and you see the queens and kings infront of the flash of cameras courted by the many who ethier admire them or in hope that being in proxy with them some of the queens/kings magik may rub off on them.
When you think and look in the mirror you can't help but feel like the ant you passed by in the kitchen.

It's a cliche but with out the black ant The Queen would starve and perish and you may be a black ant but you hold much more power than you will ever know.

Tuesday, 4 April 2006

From Atoms To Anthologies

If there is something that really gets under my skin above all else then it's procrastination leavin it 'till tomorrow in other words.
I do this a lot when it comes to writing and I am not going to even try to foll people that I am an industrious writer because that would be a lie and why lie.
I have pads upon pads of ideas and notes story formulas that I to turn into something worth while.
I want to draw in all the gunge of ideas and thought process's on papaer and create something great,something worthy for a few people to read.

Looking through old ideas I see where I fall foul to the deamons of leathargy you see an idea that was once hot can so easily grow cold and decay.
A good writer should keep the idea bruning with enthusiam and drive the problem is I lack patenace and want things to happen automaticly.
This is not a good trait for a writer to have because the nitty gritty of doing your work is basicly about sitting doing and doing it.
I suppose if you want something more active you should be a would cutter...the problem there is I can't cut wood and I if I could I would probably stand there day dreaming about being a writer.



The other draw back is my technical English isn't too good ethier the morse estute may notice this as your read(if you read) this blog I hope my writing is at least bearable.
So when I write a first draft I have to edit the thing about four or five times. Even then when I pass it on to someine else it's will still have mistakes it's almost like buying a t-shirt with dirt on it already.
So as you can guess I do get passed over as being unitelligent or just not worth while.
I posted a short story on a Horror Forum a while back and I was in such a rush to get it done I only put it through the spell check ONCE.
For me that's a diabolical error and my work was hideously slated from one memebr inparticular.
I fired back at the critisim at first but then when I taken time to rethink my actions I found it wasn't the story that let me down but my lack of forsight.
Well I know better now and my skin has become a little thicker through the experence and I think it will teach me to better writing practice for the future.
A the present moment I am set to meet my younger brother in the libary up the road we are going to talk through some ideas for a comdey script.
It's just fun but I think it will do me good as getting caught in a cycle of inactivity for too long degrades you and your talent.

If I can just get the atoms of my ideas to merge into something I may one day create an's a theory and I want to at least have a crack at it .