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Saturday, November 19, 2016

Silent Screams

Here's a little poem I wrote off the top of my head one day. Not that it weighed me down, being on my noggin, just had to make room for something else.
Hope you enjoy!

Silent Screams
Life behind these padded walls, as surreal as a dream
    A dream where even silence screams, but only silent screams
        Silent screams of ancient Queens beheaded on a stage

The stage, surrounded by noisy throng
    Some hawking wares secured with tongs
        Some yammering of someone else’s wrongs
One standing above, above any reproach
    Heralding merits and valiant deeds like a coach
        A coach who stores the team behind padded walls

Yes, life behind these padded walls. wishing t’were a dream
    For here, unlike in dreams, the silence screams, but not silent screams
        Not silent screams from ancient Queens beheaded on a stage.

by John T. M. Herres
(c) 2014

Friday, May 6, 2016

Writing, Website, Blog Happenings

Hello, Once Again!

I just got a notification that my Sister shared a post from this blog on Facebook. The said post is dated last year, and if you want the truth, I did not remember putting it here.

I know I posted it on my blog, BarbarianWriter, but I guess the Blogger page I've set up (which you are now reading), just doesn't rate high enough to get my attention.

Eventually, I will get around to trying to get all the various parts linked together. I'm hoping for, at the very least, 50,000 words, but even that would be considered more a novella than a full-length novel, which go 85,000+ these days.

Well, folks, that's all for right now. I will really do my best to get back on that writing thing. Honest.

Thanks for stopping by!

Monday, June 29, 2015

Tuesday, March 3, 2015

Fight Scene Excerpt from "The Barbarian"

Here is a first draft look at the fight scene I came up with for the final confrontation between the Barbarian and the Red Griffin. Though not finished with the actual story, I feel this will make an exciting climax, along with the scene I've envisioned concerning the King of The Twelve Kingdoms and his armies keeping the Red Griffin's forces occupied.

The Barbarian pushed hard against the heavy door. He paused to let his vision adjust, then glanced around the cavernous chamber, searching the darkness for hidden guards.

The Red Griffin stood on the dais watching the man the prophecy told would end his reign.

“Welcome, Barbarian.” He nearly spit out the word. “I suppose you intend to kill me?”

“That is an interesting prospect. One I would be willing to explore.”

“I have another prospect,” the Red Griffin tossed off his outer robes, revealing the black armor so many feared.

Behind him, the cauldron flared bright as daylight, casting the darkness away from the platform. The orange material inside it roiled and flowed like thick, iridescent water.

The surface of the strange substance rose above the edge in a large bubble, expanding ever bigger until it burst in the center, sending droplets of the molten sludge into the air. Various sized blobs perked at odd intervals, though nothing overflowed the sides, and none of the drops hit the floor.

With a deep throated, deranged laugh, the Red Griffin taunted his opponent. “Only now, Barbarian, you will take your final challenge!”

He spun to face the huge pot and flung his arms into the air, fingers splayed, head lowered. Though he spoke in the arcane language, the Barbarian understood the incantation. His words echoed off every wall, reverberating a fraction of a syllable apart, making four voices speak the same incantation:

“To the depths of the hell within Hell; Heed my voice, and listen well:
An army of one to do my will. To find mine enemies and then to kill.
Be your offense Anger, Pride, Envy or Greed;
To my commands alone you shall pay heed.
As I beckon, so shall you obey,
Victory rewarded with Life for a day.“

As he spoke, the magma reacted violently. Changing from orange to yellow to red, and cresting crimson. From within the depths, a dark shadow took form and shot out into the pitch black above them, the aura of the projectile glowing bright. It arched over the Wizard and splattered on the flagstones before the Warrior.

The Barbarian stood with his blade drawn and held out beside him. He backed two steps as the stuff seemed to absorb the stone beneath it.

The form hardened, erecting from the floor itself. The Barbarian warred with the powerful urge to flee as the giant shape rose to its full height nearly three times as tall as the man it faced. He drew a deep breath, calming his nerves with his eyes closed.

The Red Griffin took the breath as surrender. “I’ll not let you off that easily, Barbarian,” he hissed toward his enemy. “Once summoned, the demon must fulfill its purpose or be banished from its fiery lair.”

He leveled his long finger towards the target as he demanded, “Demon, destroy the one called Barbarian,” forever branding the man to whom it indicated.

The Barbarian opened his eyes, glinting as hard as the steel blade he brought to bear. Grasping the handle with a firm, two-handed stance, he readied himself as the giant lunged at him.

He sprung to his left, but the demon had long arms and swatted him hard into the wall. The impact knocked his sword out of his hand before he slammed into the wall and crumpled to the flagstones. As he tried to erect himself, the giant wrapped its hand around his body, pinning his arms to his sides.

The man felt the thing tighten its grip. He flexed his whole body, concentrating on breaking free. The pressure of his defense eased the crushing feeling in his chest, as he continued forcing the huge hand open. The giant slapped its other hand to try to retain its captive, baring its small, pointed teeth with the effort.


He felt his space lessening again and felt a heat in his gut as a guttural yell escaped his lips. The hands holding him shot away, orange blood gushing from its shredded skin. The demon howled in pain, causing the very floor to shake as if in an earthquake.


On hands and knees, the Barbarian heaved air into and out of his lungs. He saw his weapon near and scrambled the few feet to get it. As he stood and faced the monstrosity, armed again, the thing looked at its damaged palms and back to the man. A tangible hatred radiated from its red eyes.

It stepped toward the Barbarian beginning a roar, so he rushed with sword ready. He leapt high, slashing down to cleave into its skull. When the thing flung its arm to deflect the blow, a loud twang accompanied the snap of the blade.

The Barbarian, still in flight, held the hilt as he impacted with the beasts chest. He drew back his arm, letting the remnant of his sword spin around and catching it reversed. He drove the partial blade deep into the things clavicle, shoving hard as the giant fell to a knee, its yell announcing the effectiveness as the man twisted and yanked the metal in the wound, slicing the muscles underneath.

He wrenched his weapon out and drove it into the eye of the giant as it sank to the ground, writhing and thrashing. The thing began melting as the Barbarian pulled his damaged weapon free and backed away.

Before the mess had disappeared, a white-hot blast hit the Barbarian full in the back, throwing him again into the wall. He didn’t have the time to raise to his elbows when he felt his body yanked upward and hurled across the cavern, sliding along the flagstones and leaving some of the flesh of his back to mark his path.

“What’s wrong, Barbarian? Forget about me?” The Red Griffin had walked down the stairs, approaching his nemesis with hands raised. “I know not how you defeated my demon, boy, but I shall not go down so easily. I promise you that!”

The Barbarian suspected the splitting of magical attention may weaken the hold on him enough to try to escape. He saw the fire liquid from the vat bubble more violently, drops of it suspending above until a large blob had been formed.

The Red Griffin had turned to look at it, one arm towards each target. He lifted his left hand toward the dripping mass of magma and looked back at the Barbarian. “Here, have a taste of this.” He redirected his energies, using both hands to control the fireball and heaved it towards the man on the floor.

The Barbarian felt the pressure ease as the Red Griffin threw the ball of flame at him. He rolled toward the door, avoiding a direct hit, but the concussion of the blast sent him sliding and tumbling along the flagstones yet again.

The Red Griffin loosed another maniacal laugh as the Barbarian skid to a stop, clutching ribs that might have been snapped from being tossed around like a child’s doll. Clicks of the madman’s stroll made a dull echo through the loud tones in the wounded warrior’s ears. A solid kick knocked the remaining air from his pained chest.

Clutching a fist full of blond hair, he leaned close the bloody face of his enemy. The wizard glared into the eyes of the wounded Barbarian and whispered, “Your people will die. Your land will wither and your King will fall. Even your gods will wail at the utter ruin I shall bring upon you.”

The Barbarian, breathing heavily, stretched his arm behind him, searching for his broken sword, and in a raspy breath retorted, “I have no people; I have no land.” He closed his own fist around the hilt he felt. “I have no king.” His muscles coiled in preparation of the final blow. “I… have… no… gods!” He swung with all his might, but the Red Griffin had sensed his move and backed away too quick for the attack to be effective.

The only blood for the blade to taste came from a trickle brought forth as the edge glanced across his enemy’s upper arm, rending the armored leather meant to protect him. The Red Griffin looked at the wound, surprised that one could get the better of him, as the Barbarian forced himself to his feet.

Monday, May 26, 2014

Annual Celebrations


So, an hour before I officially begin my 49th year, I have decided to post this miscellaneous blog entry. Maybe I should say “Random entry”. Or, “Rambling”. (Dang, I wish I could keep those straight. XD)

What is it about celebrating an annual event? Could it be our need to know how much real time has gone by? How long one has enjoyed, or maybe endured, as one view differs from others, a particular union?

Now, don’t get me wrong: I get excited when the calendar shows one of the myriad of events, even some with which I disagree the base reason for (mainly the professed religious happenings). I look forward to telling someone else of my personal celebrations (like “Today’s my Birthday!”), and join in the acknowledgement of their admitted dates of note, even if internally I would rather offer condolences or sympathy (marriage, children).

Again, don’t take that wrong- I love kids. Even had a hand in making one. ONE. However, I feel the world is extremely overcrowded. The current incidents on display on the news channels (As in TV. I know some still get their information this way. I know it) or posted on multitudes of different websites shows the general public is, for lack of a better cliché, well on the way to hell in a hand basket. And the basket gets to come back to get more.

However, most everyone looks forward to their own personal celebrations every year. From New Years ("What was your Resolution?" To slap down the idea that most people could follow through with one all year long. Had they wanted it so, it would already be so. Maybe.) through to the next New Years' Eve. All the dates which spark excitement or regret are marked, watched for, and anticipated. On the particular day, they may be heard saying, "It's just another day." If that's true, why is it marked, watched, and anticipated?

I wonder if anyone has delved into what began these rituals? (If the pondering is too much, head on over to Google and type in the celebration concerning you and see what you get.) Probably. Not I, though. No, not I. I just like to hypothesize. Even make up my own little stories to explain them. I am a fiction writer, after all. No one said I had to be exactly correct. I think the corresponding phrase is, “Poetic License”, even though it ain’t poetry.

I’ll sign off now. Hopefully, I have given someone else the thought. I just hope it doesn’t drive them mad thinking about it, or they might get mad.

Until Later, from the deepest part of my mind- That part which has been emptiest longest. It’s where most of the inane, inconsequential nonsense usually ends up.

…and, as I say on my other blog, “Write On!”

Tuesday, August 13, 2013

Wondering How…

 

Well, well, hole in the ground. Deep subject for such a shallow mind.

It has been a really long time since I have graced this blog with an update. I guess you could say I’m keeping with a sort of tradition here, but I have posted to my other blog, on average, at least once a month since initiating it around the same time as the last one here. {Having just reviewed, I find that most have been more than that. Except last month.}

That said, let’s ahead with the reason I am here today:

Last night, I tried to put some words down to continue on my Barbarian book. A group is in route to the Ruler of the Kingdoms to be offered the quest of rescuing his daughter from the bad guy.

I opened the program, pulled the proper document, fingers poised at the keyboard… nothing. I re-read what I already had, went back a chapter, tried again. Nope. So, I closed that, opened my Sci-Fi story (No relation to the Sc-Fi poem posted earlier here)… still a blank.

I closed the program, slightly flustered, and pulled out my sketch pad. No idea what I intended to try to draw (if one could consider what ends up on the page a drawing), but just wanted something creative to happen. I did get a couple of things down, and even looked somewhat discernable.

Then, I got out my “character sheet” of something still in the extreme idea section of works; a prequel, if you will, of “The Barbarian”. I am still in need of naming many of the wizards, as well as their respective assistants and the kings of each Kingdom. ((In “Barbarian”, the Twelve Kingdoms are under one ruler, but in this prequel, they are all independent.)) I realized I need a name generator. There are many options, of course, but I did not have my web browser open last night.

To make a long story short (too late!), I figured I have a little thing called writers block. I’ve heard horror stories about some who have had it for years, some who’ve never experienced such a thing. Perhaps it is a malady only reserved for those who lack the self-confidence in their works. I know I have often said that if there were someone next to me egging me on to get more written for them to read… But that’s neither here nor there. What to do about the present situation?

There are as many solutions offered as there are people to offer them. I know I have posted at least once somewhere that one helper is to do some “free writing”. In fact, I have posted some right here on this blog. (Look for “Recent Ramblings”)

In other words, if you, too, are having difficulties getting your writing done, or even getting motivated to do whatever it is that thrills you, you are not alone. Not only have real people, even famous people, as well as ones who have made a fortune helping others lift the fog of indecision and (perhaps) feelings of coming up short on the acceptance chart, been through some sort of the same thing, but there are loads of others who feel that way right now.

So, just try to put something down if you write, scribble a doodle if you draw, drive a bunch of nail into a random piece of wood if you build. Whatever you can think of to just do something. Who knows? Maybe the distraction could be your greatest concept…

 

Wishing you the best, and hoping you wish the same for me!