[What Came Before]

Story 143 Nov 9

He comes almost as soon as he takes his dick in his hand.

Twenty minutes left until the end of lunch.

He scrolls his way upward, wincing at the rating system. Why do men have to score beauty to appreciate it?

One handed, as quickly as he is able, he starts to give out 10/10s to raise the worst rated girls' averages...

/Story

[What Came Before]

Story 144 Nov 10

Titans, asuras, giants of frost and fire, dragons, nagas, the serpentine sons of Apep, the brood of Tiamat.

A motley horde that crashes against the bulwark of angels, devas, Aesir, unicorns, simurghs, the children of Chronos.

Running between the legs and over corpses, dodging lightning and arrows of light, Coyote slips through the Gauntlet and gazes into the Well of the Norns.

Asked to the read the future of Chaos, the waters of destiny turn to steam.

And this is why mortals have Free Will.

/Story

Story 145 Nov 11

Roll up in the club,
Game is slick
30 minutes later I'm home
with a world class filly on my dick

30 seconds later my nut is busted
Shorty looking at me like she's disgusted
"Coulda gone home with anyone but I picked Mr. One minute man"
I throw her out my crib yelling:
"Whatever, girl, I get a better lay when I fuck my right hand!"...

/Story

Story 146 Nov 12

The centipede uncoils
Walks itself into a hang man's noose
I almost crushed it with my foot
Rushing to the temple where you were born

We roasted your placenta with rosemary and myrrh
Devoured it with the relish of parents wanting to be done with ceremony
Suppressing our impatience in hopes it might go unnoticed by the gods
But our eagerness and impiety burned bright enough to be seen from the stars
-Inscription in a Mausoleum

/Story

[What Came Before]

Story 147 Nov 13

Vac is the Bovine, She is the Word, the spark of creation retrieved by Indra at the behest of the Brahmins.

She is the cows, the cattle of Logos, awaiting the Vedic gods in the Void.

How did She come to be there, in the watery blackness of the Cosmic Ocean?

I led Her through the eye of the needle, the wormhole, the livestock of the Sun that I enchanted with my pipes and drew into a cave, a universe encompassed by stone made by the beating heart of the World.

/Story

[What Came Before]

Story 148 Nov 14

I'm yanking my dick hard, watching this chick get double pounded.

(This is the best I could do, trying to find a woman who seemed to enjoy what she was doing. She'd been joking around with this two guys before the shoot after all.)

I come before the scene ends, and when they slide out of her she has a haunted look in her eye.

Fuck.

Wish I hadn't seen that.

Thought I could get a few more tugs out of this one, before the dullness set in.

How deep does this rabbit hole of ennui go?

/Story

Story 149 Nov 15

I think of him spending time with her, how close they've gone, and how I think he's gay.

Fucking Faggot.

The thought comes as if shouted by a stranger in the darkness of my skull, startling me as it feels me with shame.

It doesn't even make sense, I reproach my inner bigot, why would I be jealous of a gay guy?



/Story

[What Came Before]

/Story

Story 150 Nov 16

I read her facebook message, yet another one of happiness.

I calculate the time from the first one, the fun lunch that I take as their first date.

Three weeks. Three weeks of happiness....they must have fucked by now.

Why do I stay friends with my exes?

Have to acclimate myself to this...this threat to our Return. Have to accept it.

I glance over at my office mate, and then dip my hand and rub myself through fabric of my suit pants...


/Story

[What Came Before]

148 adendum

So I surf over to horny house wives and their husbands, yet another suppy amongst the cornocopia of sources - far as I can tell, they are legitmately together. Hot, her girlfriend is manning the camera! They even boss the guy around some, laughing as girls are in charge...

Okay, okay, ooooohhhhhhhkay FUCK! The haunted look again!!!?? I practically rage quit, nearly sweeping the monitor from the desk!

What the fuck! Isn't there supposed to be promised ground, where it's just all right!? Yeah, I get porn is bad, but isn't there a promised land? They're not supposed to have history!

[What Came Before]

Story 151 Nov 17

I'm trying to watch an old Playboy video, when my favorite playmate was single, young, not aged by childbirth and marriage and all that jazz.

But I can only find the vid on a site with ads of terrified girls with braces getting fucked by creepy looking dudes who'd scare even me if met in a dark alley.

I stop what I'm doing, just for second, to minimize the browser enough so I don't see the ads...

/Story

Story 152 Nov 18

Gods tricked into quests with no resolution - how does the Divine murder Chaos?

Gods tricked into fighting each other - how does Fire defeat the Wave?

A graveyard of gods is His gift to Mankind.

Finally Trickster appears, holding no tablets and offering no blessing save for the knife that He plunges into His own sidereal Heart.

"Now", He says with a bitter, wry smile, "now You are Free."

/Story

[What Came Before]

I stop what I'm doing, just for second, to minimize the browser enough so I don't see the ads...

I shouldn't laugh at the minimizing, but I did!

[What Came Before]

So, after much internal conflict, I've decided to indeed finish Perennials (this might be the...fiftieth time I've had this debate with myself?) while simultaneously starting a brand new project, which will be a one-off novel probably around 60,000 words. As much as I desperately want to start working on my epic fantasy, I simply can't help but feel like it's not good for my career. It's just going to take too long before I can have something that's worthwhile and presentable. I've already started fleshing out the new story, which is actually not completely new...I had the kernel of the idea back in middle school, and it's kind of been gestating ever since. To give the most simplistic and derivative of explanations, it's essentially Harry Potter mixed with Inception and Catcher in the Rye. Like, the children of elitist hyper-rich socialites being "trained" to become part of a pseudo-illuminati group. Although I'm not aiming for Young Adult, it will be a story centered around, well, young adults, so in that sense I should have a better chance of marketing it.

Am I making the right decision?

[What Came Before]

Pondering it, I think you should set yourself a schedule - a time by which it will be done by, in years. IF that time seems too long for your career, even if you dial it downward to the barest minimum, then you're making the right choice. Right as in choosing the least worst of two worst choices, because you are discarding this by doing so, regardless.

If you try it within a schedule and fail - all endevours are hope. Either that's what you must base a schedule on, that it's hope, not certainty - unless your a bit obsessive compulsive - that sort of person can think of a schedule as a done deal and either compete it and/or go mad.

The muse wishes to move of it's own pace - it's hard to make clear that it's not you trying to force it to go, but the world - more specifically, father time.

Alternatively, sunshine and moonbeams, everything will be alright! 

[What Came Before]

All good advice, Cal. I definitely need to get back onto a more regular schedule, like I did when I first wrote Perennials and for the short story contest (even though that one ended up sucking, I still had a good routine going). I haven't really gotten back into a rhythm since then, though. At this point I'm basically certain that I'm going to write this new story before the epic fantasy. I just can't justify spending that much time on a project at this particular point. My muse is a real moody bitch. I always make plans but then she tears them all down! The upside is that I'm never at a lack for a story to write -- quite the opposite, actually. By now I've come to terms with the fact that it's physically impossible for me to complete all of the different stories I'd like to tell in a single lifetime.

[What Came Before]

Francis, one thing to do is work on multiple projects at once. I think it's easier to work on at least two projects so when one is blocked you can switch over.

But I'd prioritize the shorter novels if you want to get published sooner, especially as I'm not sure how saturated the market is epic fantasy.

=-=-=

Reavers of Winter (153, Nov 19)

Resembling nothing more than primitive Northlanders with frostbitten skin and iron grey eyes, the Reavers of Winter are held within a continental span of land in the Eald enchanted into a state of Eternal Winter. A seasonal spirit in the form of a massive linnorm sleeps in the tallest mountain of this land, tasked with dreaming up this unending time of ice and snow. The reavers continually make war on each other, with only a few despondent souls turning into hermits at the edge of their confinement.

On all sides, the reavers are surrounded by bright lands flushed by Summer's warmth and vibrancy. If any reaver were to step off the frost encrusted land onto the vast, Summer kissed acres that keep them confined, they would die from a days long rotting of skin, muscle, and bone, their consciousness refusing to leave the body until the flesh failed completely.

For reasons unknown to any but the elder spirits of the Eald, reavers can only walk, fly swim, or sail where Winter takes hold. Within their own lands, they are continually forced to offer sacrifices to the linnorm spirit at the center of their wintery territory. Once a year the linnorm awakens and devours the hundred and eleven victims offered to it. Should this sacrifice ever fail to satisfy it, the linnorm would leave and thus condemn all the reaver tribes to death.

While primitive and warlike, the reaver tribes possess a great deal of knowledge of benefit to shamans and druids. Each tribe also possesses a necklace holding a single white dragon tooth. Each of these represents a pledge from a specific white dragon bloodline, and it is with these that they maintain contact with areas beyond the icy area of their own confinement.

Whether the reavers are actual fey condemned into mortal form, or some ancient humanoid race imprisoned by fey is one of the great mysteries of these tribes, as even they do not know. Their oldest histories offer no insight into this conundrum.

Blessed Gluttons (154,Nov 20)

Voluptuous androgynes with smooth, red skin, Blessed Gluttons are fey that swim the waters of Narrative Time, utilizing that planar pathway to find the "sinners" that are their food source. These fey wander the Multiverse, feeding on the various hungers and emotions that inspire people toward acts of carnal lust, obsessive scheming, and insane violence. They don't eat sin, rather they eat the motivations people have for sins, leaving their victims less than what they once were.

What makes these fey different from some of the other empathophages of the planes is that their victims must be willing, though this consent can be given under duress from beings who do not have any trace of fey blood in their veins. They also cut out the very ability to feel the emotion or muster motivation, rather than simply feed off the expression of emotion or will toward a particular purpose.

Blessed Gluttons are drawn to remorse, hoping to catch people wild with grief so that they might surrender that part of themselves responsible for their sins. Sometimes one of these fey will hunger for an aspect of a particular person - a banker's avarice or a rake's nymphomania. In these cases the fey take a direct hand in manipulating events to these persons have cause to regret not just their actions but the very nature that led to the commission of their sins.

Strangely enough, there are some worlds in which Blessed Gluttons are invited in order to magically castrate or permanently mollify those suffering from mental illnesses that cause them to victimize others.

The Seven Riders of Revulsion - War, Wine, Wind, Whispers, Wool, Warmth, Water

(155, Nov 21)

These planewalking fey resemble finely dressed elven toddlers riding on miniature versions of various fauna, armed with varied weapons by which they transmit their respective curses. Each rider, beyond possessing magical abilities related to illusion and enchantment - causes feelings of nausea whenever someone is forced to contact with their domain. Each of their curses can only be undone by a wish or an artifact.

The Rider of War is armored in enchanted golden plate, his beautiful blond hair flying free in the wind as he rides a shining argent eagle. Armed with a bow and an inexhaustible quiver, the Rider of War can turn the tide of battle or enforce peace by ensuring people are made sick with their participation in war. Sometimes he'll cause one side to slaughter another, other times he'll infect politicians who would call for battle overseas while remaining safe in their homelands.

The Ride of Wine is an innocent looking, tawny skinned chubby girl who rides a piglet. Oftentimes she'll become part of a traveling troupe of performers, spiking the liquor and food in the aftermath of a royal feast or galla thrown by major noble houses. Other times she'll attack vineyards on her lonesome in the dark of night, cursing monks who depend on wine making to support themselves.

The Rider of Wind is a rag covered, ruddy waif who rides a mange ridden hound. His weapon is the swarm of biting flies that serve as his boon companions. Anyone bitten by one of these insects ends up feeling sickened whenever they feel even slightest breeze on their skin or hair. Completely insane and uncaring as to the nature of his victims, this Rider wanders the Multiverse for another purpose than to sow chaos wherever he goes.

The Rider of Whispers is a jaundiced skinned boy with pitch black eyes that have neither whites nor pupils. This Rider sits atop a grand black widow the size of a mastiff and is armed with blow gun. In the misty confines of the Market of Secrets, the Rider of Whispers has upset many a chant broker by causing them to vomit for hours every time someone whispers in their ear. The Rider has been hunted by varied parties that have a stake in the Market, but as of yet has never been caught.

The Rider of Wool is a sickly boy with wispy white-blond hair and faded blue eyes. His mount is a wretched goat that always seems to hover on the edge of death. This fey enjoys wandering tundras and deserts until "rescued" by those unfortunates - nomads, merchants, shepherds, garment makers - who end up pricked by his dagger and find themselves unable to bear contact with wool of any kind.

The Rider of Warmth is a redhead with bright yellow eyes whose steed is a miniature horse. Unlike the other riders, the Rider of Whispers makes her services known and contracts herself out to those who can pay her varying fees. Sometimes its grand piles of orchid petals that she demands, other times its her own weight in sun bleached sparrow bones. After payment is received, she attacks her victims with a magical dust made from crushed nacre that causes her victims to seek ways to drive all warmth from their bodies.

The Rider of Water appears as a mermaid child riding a seal. Her hair is white and her eyes sea green. She will ride beside ships sailed by mortals across the worlds and demand tribute be dumped into the water. If her demands are not met, she'll use her flute to make every male develop a phobia of drowning as well as an inability to drink water without vomiting it back up.

Sorrow Masks (156, Nov 22)

These exiled members of the Seelie Court want to feel grief but can only do so through others. It's unclear how this apparent tragedy came about, but many of these fey blame the Blessed Gluttons for tricking them. What disaster caused these fey to surrender this emotion is unclear, as is the reason the Blessed Gluttons devoured regret and grief instead of their usual diet of anger, lust, envy or determination. What is known is that their need to engender sorrow is what caused their exile from the Weal.

The Sorrow Masks are a small court unto themselves, fey of varied types wandering the Grey and when possible the mortal worlds. Fortunately for the Prime, the ability of these fey to leave the Wyld is limited to full moons and even then they can only stay on that world for a single lunar cycle after which they can never return. Wherever they are, the Sorrow Masks seek physical contact with those who are feeling sorrow of some sort, vicariously experiencing the one thing that they cannot have and thus, in classic Seelie fashion, crave above all else. Sorrow Masks are amoral, and have no qualms about forcing others to states of suffering.

Though Blessed Gluttons refuse to speak of their relationship to the Sorrow Masks, they do follow them when they enter the Prime, taking a special pleasure in robbing those hurt by the ex-Seelie of their emotional aspects.

[What Came Before]

Story 157 Nov 23

Hear we are, in bed together, my friend with benefits and I.

It's been a few years, but we take up our old positions in the dance with an eager and hungry grace...

She's been spending time in the sun, which is why she has a gorgeous tan but also so (too) many new wrinkles.

So awkward to feel the embers of my passion cooling, fighting to keep myself from going flaccid, I'll just spend some time buried in her thighs imagining the youthful face of her past...

/Story

[What Came Before]

Story 158 Nov 24

3 text messages from him today. Plus a phone call from last night.

You'd think most guys would love a hot booty call with no strings attached, even if it's only once a month.

I'm not trying to be a bitch about it, but we have nothing in common and I'm not attracted to him when he's human.

But my God the walls come down when we fuck as wolves!

/Story

Story 159 Nov 25

There's blood under my fingernails.

I raise my hand to my lips but my second mother slaps it back down. Her fangs are bared and slow fading human instinct causes me to recoil but I draw closer when I see the hurt in her face.

After a few minutes of quiet, the Arizona desert going by around us, she speaks.

"We've 500 miles to go and we can only travel by night through this wasteland. Save it for later baby."

Keeping her eyes on the road, the same hand that slapped mine away squeezes my knee with a gentleness that floats between sexual and maternal.

"Save it for later okay?"

/Story

[What Came Before]

Story 160 Nov 26

I was an elf in a past life. I know this like one knows mathematical truth, but there's no way to prove it.

I meet others sort of like me - Some say they were dragons, some say they were animals, and a few say their lives inspired everything from ancient scripture to modern cartoons.

I don't know if I believe all of them, or if all of them believe me.

But how can I deny their truth, when the truth I feel in my marrow has no proof?

And so here we are, together, a family of believers forced to accept beliefs not their own, biting our tongues lest someone pierce our own faith with arrows of doubt.

/Story