Comments on "The Used-Boy Raisers"

The situation that we find to the two men, the woman, and the kids is being justified or explained throughout the entire story. The gentlemen both act as a kind of father figure or supporter for the woman and children, while the woman cares for the gentlemen and kids. The woman even expresses that her destiny is to be the servant of men. They go on about the church as if it an old and worn-out excuse of a model for how to live ones life, and that in reality things are never quite so simple. It appears as though the relationship is one of mutual need that the men and woman both get from each other. It is a triangular relationship that though one would objectively claim it cannot work, but upon reading the story, there is a believable example of just such a relationship at least appearing to work for all involved.

Comments on "Midair"

In reading this story, I was struck by how well the title describes the main character Sean and how he goes through life. The title Midair (for me) is indicating the whimsical nature that characterizes his emotionally driven motivations for all of his actions. For example; the attempt to enter the apartment belonging to Judy who isn't even there. All he understands is the desire to get into the apartment, and nothing is going to stop him. However, he is drunk at the time and upon suddenly becoming sober, the desire to enter the room is gone. His love for his children is what grounds him. He is different than his father in that he at least recognizes to some degree that he is unable to do anything he wants, unlike his father who holds this belief. Thus he is the one being taken away in a stray jacket and not Sean.

Men: More Than Tame Animals.

This story takes place in the Games Workshop owned Warhammer 40k universe. The characters and story are of my creation but the universe they inhabit are of the Warhammer 40k universe

I hear the clanging of steel on steel as I enter the training room. The apprentice Ranulfson had checked out this particular training room for a four hour period that ended two hours ago. “Okay Ranulfson, enough is enough. I told you to practice, not turn into a fecking fana...OH GOD-EMPEROR!” There was Ranulfson, stripped to the waist, covered in sweat and a half-dozen minor cuts and slashes that all bled down into his trousers. He hadn’t suffered any major injuries, but my experienced eye noted he was slowing considerably barely able to stand on his feet, let alone hold off three combat training servitors. It wouldn’t be long before he made a mistake or was cornered by the three automatons and butchered by them. One servitor apparently heard me yelling for Ranulfson, and was already making its way towards me. “Shutdown code Beta-88392” I shouted, already drawing my sword. The shutdown code would stop any new servitors from being sent into the room, which only left these three to take care of. The servitor approaching me closed the distance swiftly, already raising its massive right sword arm to strike. I hold my sword in a two handed grip, letting my opponents blade pass by unblocked. Overextended, I let my opponents momentum carry it into my upward swinging blade, opening a large gash across its midriff. With the return swing, I slash across the back of its knee, severing the limb.

“Why thank you Inquisitor. I must admit I was a bit worried there for a second.” Ranulfson says through gasps of air.

“Your skill has greatly improved. If I were not so impressed with your dedication and passion, I would punish right here.”

“Punish me?” he meet my gaze directly for the first time. Ranulfson was strong both physically and mentally, but that strength often came across as arrogance to those who did not know him very well.

“Your neglect for proper safety protocols nearly got you killed. I can see your improvement, but you lack caution and humility. You are good Ranulfson, which is why you are here instead of with a guard regiment somewhere. What’s worse is that you know it, and unless you learn to accept that even you have limits, you will not last long as an inquisitor. Got that?”

“Yes, Inquisitor Merula. I got it.” The second part coming out as if it actually hurt saying it, or it could just be his minor injuries making themselves felt after the adrenaline has begun to wear off.

“Get yourself cleaned up at the medicae and then report to my office.”

“Yes, Inquisitor Merula.” With a visible slump in his shoulders.

                Making my way back to the entrance of the training room, I hesitated at the door for a moment. “Randle isn’t it? Your first name?” I asked still with my back to him.

                “It is sir” he said with genuine surprise.

                “Lasting for six hours is good son. Fecking good.” I let the complement sink in for a moment. “Remember, in my office after you check in with at the medicae.” I stated over my shoulder and walked out.

As an Inquisitor of the Ordo Hereticus, I am bound to seek out and destroy all those who have chosen to turn from the divine light of his majesty the God-Emperor of mankind. Despite his eternal vigilance in watching over and protecting mankind from his golden throne on holy Terra, mankind must forever wage war upon the Xenos, the daemon, and the heretic. Though I have every respect for the Ordo Malleus (protection against the daemonic) and the Ordo Xenos (protection against the vile alien), the greatest threat to mankind comes from the threat within…the traitor…the heretic. My name is Inquisitor Caeso Flavius Merula (retired). I have been persuaded to write a full memoir of my career as an agent to the Ordo for ‘historical and educational purposes’. I will try to tell the account as accurately as I can but my 177 year old mind is not as sharp as it used to be. I preferred to have juvinat treatments done to keep my body much looking and functioning as good as it did when I was in my mid-twenties, rather than replace my ageing body with augmetics as the years went by. Okay, I do have a few body parts that are more metal than flesh, but they were due to wounds that proved irreparable. There was this one time I…oh yeah, career as an Inquisitor. I won’t bore you with my time at the Schola Progenium or the short period of time I was an Acolyte serving under Inquisitor Augustine. All you need to know is my hatred for Augustine was surpassed only by my respect and loyalty for him. If you want to know more about him, just read his thirteen volume memoir (yes, he thought he was that important). I will instead begin with my first assignment as a full-fledged Inquisitor.

 I had been sent to Sectarus Prime, a major industrial world in the Gothic Sector of Segmentum Obscurus. It was the early in the year 949 of the 39^th millennium. I was to eventually see the 10^th millennium anniversary of the Imperium of Man’s dominance over the galaxy in M41, but at that time I still ridding the high from my recent and unusually quick ascension to the rank of Inquisitor (having only been 24 standard Terran years old, and only an Acolyte of Inquisitor Augustine’s for just over three years standard). Anyway, my first assignment proved to be far more important and influential than just the fact that it was my first assignment.

I strain my senses for any sign of pursuit. Did I manage to lose them? Should I stay hidden or keep moving and try to find a way out of here? Something close to fear gripped my heart, causing me to hesitate with indecision. That moment of indecision would cost me. The sounds of pursuit managed to make themselves heard over the sound of my own heart beat in my ears.

“Feck” I cursed my moment of weakness. Come on, you are an inquisitor…it is time you started acting like one, I thought to myself even as the pursuers became visible in the weak moon lit chamber of the Planetary Governor’s palace. The giant hall was filled on either side with statues of previous governors, war heroes, or early depictions of the Emperor. These statues were positioned to be in between the giant pillars that rose up to the glass domed roof. The planet’s second moon was out tonight, casting the hall in a kind of twilight, throwing long shadows from each pillar and statue. I hid in the shadow of one of these statues, frantically trying to figure out what I was going to do to get myself out alive.

Peering out of the shadows I could see the lamp packs bobbing left and right as they began to spread out in search of me. There were nine from what I could see past the glare of the lamps, but there may have been more. I doubt I could make it to the front entrance as it was over thirty meters away from where I stood and the squad of cultists separated me from the entrance. Even in the weak light and the glare of the lamp packs, one could tell that these were Slaaneshi cultists. The weapons they held were as varied as the state of dress they were in. Some were dressed in little more than boots and tattoos, while others wore costume masks and the overly embroidered attire of any planetary nobility, or anything in between these two extremes.

“You are sure he came down this way?” I heard one cultist whisper to another as they wondered over to my general direction.

“Yeah, he couldn’t have gone far and we would have heard him use the main entrance to this hall. No, he is in here somewhere.” The other whispered back. The words came out slurred and distorted, as if the speaker were under the influence of a narcotic.

One came to within a few meters of where I hid. With no other choice, I quickly leaned out from cover and shot the nearest cultist with a round from my bolt pistol. Not having a chance to arm itself before making contact, the bolt passed right through opening a fist sized hole where their heart used to be. Las-bolts and auto rounds hit the statue I was hiding behind, spraying me with chips of rockcrete and mortar. I knew there was at least one other cultist off to my left close to the wall, as the cultist I shot was talking to someone else in that area. If these heretics had any sense, the rest of the squad would keep me pinned with suppressing fire while allowing the other cultist to rush my position, killing me before I had a chance to react. There was a scream off to my left. A cultist with a las-pistol was charging in the open area between the wall of the hall and the line of pillars. She opened up with several shots in my direction but they were poorly aimed and I dispatched her with two quick bolts. One bolt took her in the leg with such force, her upper body crashed forward onto the ground. A second bolt reduced her head to a puff of red mist as the mass reactive shell did have time to arm itself and upon impacting her head it entered and exploded outward, painting the floor pillars and walls red in a three meter radius.

The fire in my direction was becoming sporadic and inaccurate. The entire squad was charging my position. Drawing my sword, I did the one thing that they least expected me to do and charged. “For the Emperor!” I roared. In the blink of an eye, I was among them. Side stepping a bayonet thrust, I kicked out at a cultists knee joint separating their head from their shoulders on their way to the ground. Blasting two more with shots to the gut and chest, I thrust my sword up to the hilt in the back of a cultist who was getting up after slipping on the blood covered tiles of the hallway floor. My world narrowed down to my immediate surroundings. There was no conscious thought, just ducking, weaving, and dodging each threat as it came and disposing of it as I was able too. My instincts and reflexes made everyone else seem as if fighting against a powerful current, slowing their movements considerably. My blade opened the neck of one cultist, continuing the motion I sliced open the hamstring of another, bringing it back up in time to block a thrust from an old cavalry rapier used by an older gentleman in an old fashion white uniform with the chaos symbol painted on the chest where the medals would usually be displayed.

“Know the glories of Slaanesh” said the older gentleman.

“Far be it from me to keep you from them” I responded, placing the barrel of my pistol under his chin and pulled the trigger.

Though at the time I was too busy keeping myself alive, in hindsight I did notice that these heretics were actually wearing facial expressions that could only be described as ecstasy, even as I cut them down. Could these Feckers actually be enjoying their pain? Who knows when it comes to chaos worshippers?

Then, I found myself facing an open hallway surrounded by the mangled bodies of heretics. I was half soaked in blood, most of it not my own. Pain from a few minor cuts and bruises I don’t remember receiving hit me as I sheathed my sword and exchanged my empty clip in my bolt pistol for a fresh one. Stumbling for a few steps, I proceeded to empty the contents of my stomach as the butchery I had just committed caught up with me. My gray shirt, black trousers, and boots were all stained with blood. Wiping sweat mixed blood from my pale skinned face, I contemplated what to do next hoping the shacking of my limbs would stop soon (this shacking is due to shock at the intensity of combat I just engaged in, though knowing what it is, does not compare to actually experiencing it).

Comments on "Where are you going, Where have you been?"

Though it might be considered obvious and not worthy of mention, I interpreted this story as a warning. The warning was at a practical level to be safe and watch out for men such as this Arnold Friend. There are numerous occasions in the story that one can point too and state that with appropriate common sense and safety measures, the threat from someone like Arnold Friend could be avoided. For example, not opening the door for someone you do not know when no one else is home and not engaging in conversation with someone you do not know when no one else is home. These practical things aside, lets look a little deeper into the story. Connie has begun to rely on her good looks to obtain this near indescribable feeling of euphoria that she gets when others give her attention (primarily from boys), which I assume is felt by all girls to some degree at some point in their life (I say this as i know guys desire for girls to give them attention to some degree at some point in their life). It has lead to her dismissal and ignorance towards anything else that does not have to do with this obtaining of feeling of being longed for or found attractive by guys. The danger is that some guys may perceive this behavior that Connie engages in to get attention to be mean more than what is actually meant by it. What is worse in the story is that this Arnold Friend is a good psychological manipulator. He uses subtle means of manipulation such as, continuously telling Connie that she will go away with him or love him or simply get in the care. Friend also, manipulates Connie into believing that there is no other alternative than to do what he says, by alluding to her desire to be liked and thus unable to do anything that might compromise that, stating that she has always felt this way and thus was always going to belong to Arnold Friend. Finally, this Arnold gets Connie to consent or give in to a few seemingly harmless requests, but he is aware that one is more likely to consent to requests from someone who you have already said yes too, than you are to someone who you have not said yes too, no matter how trivial the earlier requests that one said yes to were.
I do however, find it hard to believe that a girl would be so blind to the obvious danger she was in by even opening the door and talking with this person for so long before actually becoming scared. She has not learned caution or discretion and it cost her in not being able to recognize this Arnold Friend for the deceitful predator that he was. 

This story takes place in the Games Workshop owned Warhammer 40k universe. The characters and story are of my creation but the universe they inhabit are of the Warhammer 40k universe.

As an Inquisitor of the Ordo Hereticus, I am bound to seek out and destroy all those who have chosen to turn from the divine light of his majesty the God-Emperor of mankind. Despite his eternal vigilance in watching over and protecting mankind from his golden throne on holy Terra, mankind must forever wage war upon the Xenos, the daemon, and the heretic. Though I have every respect for the Ordo Malleus (protection against the daemonic) and the Ordo Xenos (protection against the vile alien), the greatest threat to mankind comes from the threat within…the traitor…the heretic. My name is Inquisitor Caeso Flavius Merula (retired). I have been persuaded to write a full memoir of my career as an agent to the Ordo for ‘historical and educational purposes’. I will try to tell the account as accurately as I can but my 177 year old mind is not as sharp as it used to be. I preferred to have juvinat treatments done to keep my body much looking and functioning as good as it did when I was in my mid-twenties, rather than replace my ageing body with augmetics as the years went by. Okay, I do have a few body parts that are more metal than flesh, but they were due to wounds that proved irreparable. There was this one time I…oh yeah, career as an Inquisitor. I won’t bore you with my time at the Schola Progenium or the short period of time I was an Acolyte serving under Inquisitor Augustine. All you need to know is my hatred for Augustine was surpassed only by my respect and loyalty for him. If you want to know more about him, just read his thirteen volume memoir (yes, he thought he was that important). I will instead begin with my first assignment as a full-fledged Inquisitor.

 I had been sent to Sectarus Prime, a major industrial world in the Gothic Sector of Segmentum Obscurus. It was the early in the year 949 of the 39^th millennium. I was to eventually see the 10^th millennium anniversary of the Imperium of Man’s dominance over the galaxy in M41, but at that time I still ridding the high from my recent and unusually quick ascension to the rank of Inquisitor (having only been 24 standard Terran years old, and only an Acolyte of Inquisitor Augustine’s for just over three years standard). Anyway, my first assignment proved to be far more important and influential than just the fact that it was my first assignment. Even after all this time, I still wake up some nights in a cold sweat, with fading mental images of a woman with raven purple-black hair and piercing green eyes.

I strain my senses for any sign of pursuit. Did I manage to lose them? Should I stay hidden or keep moving and try to find a way out of here? Something close to fear gripped my heart, causing me to hesitate with indecision. That moment of indecision would cost me. The sounds of pursuit managed to make themselves heard over the sound of my own heart beat in my ears.

“Feck” I cursed my moment of weakness. Come on, you are an inquisitor…it is time you started acting like one, I thought to myself even as the pursuers became visible in the weak moon lit chamber of the Planetary Governor’s palace. The giant hall was filled on either side with statues of previous governors, war heroes, or early depictions of the Emperor. These statues were positioned to be in between the giant pillars that rose up to the glass domed roof. The planets second moon was out tonight, casting the hall in a kind of twilight, throwing long shadows from each pillar and statue. I hid in the shadow of one of these statues, frantically trying to figure out what I was going to do to get myself out alive. 

Peering out of the shadows I could see the lamp packs bobbing left and right as they began to spread out in search of me. There were nine from what I could see past the glare of the lamps, but there may have been more. I doubt I could make it to the front entrance as it was over thirty meters away from where I stood and the squad of cultists separated me from the entrance. Even in the weak light and the glare of the lamp packs, one could tell that these were Slaaneshi cultists. The weapons they held were as varied as the state of dress they were in. Some were dressed in little more than boots and tattoos, while others wore costume masks and the overly embroidered attire of any planetary nobility, or anything in between these two extremes.

“You are sure he came down this way?” I heard one cultist whisper to another as they wondered over to my general direction.

“Yeah, he couldn’t have gone far and we would have heard him use the main entrance to this hall. No, he is in here somewhere.” The other whispered back. The words came out slurred and distorted, as if the speaker were under the influence of a narcotic. 

I was grateful for my dark gray coat, black shirt and trousers, and brown boots. I carried my badge of office on a chain around my neck. Standing at just under two meters tall, I had a strong well toned body, white almost pale skin, and dark brown hair cropped short. I had piercing hazel-green eyes, a strong gaunt jaw line, and clean shaven face. At my belt I had my bolt pistol and custom made short power sword. I was confident that I could beat any single cultist in a strait up fight, but against a whole squad I would surely be overwhelmed. 

One came to within a few meters of where I hid, and it was then I noted the sounds of murmuring, giggling, and moaning coming from the cultist. The sounds were similar to the ones heard from private rooms of bars or taverns. The smell caught up to me and I nearly lost consciousness with the intensity it assaulted my senses with. Everything began to become hazy, losing its edge and clarity. Fear of discovery began to fade into the back of my mind. I couldn’t think clearly as the thoughts became like sand, slipping away as I tried to grab them. I knew I should be concerned about this, but even that was a fading distant echo of my consciousness, as my senses became overstimulated.

I began to lose myself in the swirling wonderland of sensual desire. It was then that I understood why people were drawn to embrace the foul God of unspeakable pleasure. Why live a life of tedious boredom? All that matters is the experiencing of pleasure no matter how forbidden they are. Slaanesh promises a life of constant pleasure and happiness where the limitations of society are thrown away in light of the true human existence. These thoughts went through my head as if being spoken by someone else, but with such seductive power I didn’t care about the intrusion on my consciousness.

“Here he is” one cultist shouted, though the sound barely registered in my reeling brain.

I knew I should be worried, but I could not summon the effort to care. There was something nagging in my mind somewhere. What is that? As if not wanting me to find out, the intrusive thoughts I had felt before came back with renewed effort. However, the harder they tried to keep me from focusing on the nagging feeling, harder I sought after it. Upon grasping it, I seemed to wake up from a bad dream, sweat coating my body, and feeling the disorientation of not remembering where I was. 

This is what I have thus far. 

Comments on Chapter 6: Dialogue and Scene

I will admit that of all the areas of writing covered thus far, it is in the area of dialogue that I felt I needed the most help. The books view of dialogue being easy due to our having done it all of our life was reassuring. The book does a good job of going through all of the little administrative problems that writers (such as myself) will likely run into. What I am referring to in administrative problems are the uncertainty of how to deal with dialect, slang, cursing, accents, and tone of voice. I believe that the book could have put a little more emphasis on the importance of visual data in everyday interactions. There is a reason why they have an application when someone sends a text, to add in some kind of facial expression along with the actual message itself, and this reason is that we rely on visual data to help interpret the meaning we think the other person holds when uttering a certain statement or phrase. The scene portion of the chapter did favor my way of thinking about how I write. The scene providing the overview or big picture than one knows contains all the elements that are necessary for the advancement of the story. There has to be a framework in which a character exists and interacts. A scene is where a plot is realized. The book goes into different kinds of scenes, but the overall purpose of a scene is still where and how the story is experienced.

"Rock Springs" comments and opinion

When one understands the philosophical and logical tendencies for how I think, it is easy to see why I would like this story. I found the story to be an accurate representation of how most individuals in our society think and behave. At the very beginning of the story Earl appears to just walk in the door one day and ask Edna if she would like to drop everything and go to Florida. Edna appears to give it little consideration or thought, acknowledging her desire to go to Florida simply because her datebook is not that full. The decision to leave is made with little or no rational analysis of the reasons for, feasibility of, and consequences of that decision. Though a rather extreme case as far as I have observed, this basis for decision making is evident throughout the story and reminded me much of how my more extroverted friends tended to make decisions. Things are done on impulsive, emotionally driven feelings. The couple in the story each acknowledge a history that they are running from or trying to avoid repeating or dealing with the consequences. Instead of dealing with the situation, there is that attractive option or 'easy way out' that involves just dropping everything and running away to do what makes one feel good or one thinks will make one feel good. The story for me was an accurate representation of how society states that one should treat difficult situations, base ones decisions, and live ones life.