Writer's Journal

(Here’s a weird one:  An idea I had for a bit in White Knight, but couldn’t fit in.  If you haven’t read it, it’s got its own category button, just look up there, beneath the title.)

“As some of you may or may not know—I daresay most of you do, though—I recently left on an expedition across the Gulf and the Sea beyond it, down to the Jungle our ancestors wrote of.

“I paid off the corsairs between us, and one of them even escorted us through their waters, the machine-gun at her bow providing the safety that bourbon, pure water, tobacco, and local currencies couldn’t.

“It took us four weeks to reach the Jungle. Some say that the Change happened the earliest there; and I can believe it.

“During the day, it was fairly peaceful. We followed a river in, and we were enveloped by an emerald darkness the likes of which I had never seen.

“Night was a different story, altogether.

“It rained as night came on, and a fine dust rose up from the ground. One of my men inhaled some, and he was dead by morning, his body swollen as if he had edema. When our surgeon lanced the body to determine cause of death, he discovered a multitude of worms swimming in the fluid accumulated between his skin and the flesh beneath. Wriggling, sightless things.

“I ordered all of the men to wear goggles and face-masks, as if we were dealing with a dust storm.

“We continued up the river, towards its source.

“There were squirming, tentacled things in the water. Like Devilfish in form, but with bullet-shaped heads. They swam alongside he boat, looking at us with their great, glassy eyes.

“Large alligators paddled alongside us. Their backs were covered in weeping sores, and they kept their nostrils above water. We saw one of them climb out of the river and lick dew off of leaves with a wormy tongue.

“We learned why when our cook drank some of the river water: his hair fell out, and his stool was mingled with copious amounts of blackened blood. Our surgeon attempted to test him for various poisons, but the smell of his blood was so foul that the surgeon actually fainted, and several of the crew vomited.

“We had to toss the corpse overboard.

“We never made it to the headwaters of the river, but we did see he great, bombed-out shell of a great nuclear power-plant, of the type built by our ancestors. Its toxic light no doubt poisoned the waters of the river, making the flora and fauna of the Jungle monstrous and parasitic. But could it account for it all?

“Low on fuel, we drifted down the river, sickness and parasitism claiming my men one by one, until only I was left.

“I was not untouched by the parasites of that place, though. As you can see, some amputation was necessary to remove a…worm-thing…that grew in my leg.

“Thus, I implore you: Never send another expedition to Brazil.”

Chapter Thirteen

And it is finished.

All yours.  Now leave me alone, they’re playing Doctor Who.

And I suppose I should do homework.

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Eleven

No intermediary page this time.  Just a direct pipeline to the story.

I predict that the first part of White Knight will end, soon; perhaps two or three more chapters.

Chapter Ten

I’m trying a different method of attaching the file, today.  Let’s see if it makes a difference.

What do you get when you cross Fallout, The Handmaid’s Tale, and sleep deprivation?  This:

Chapter Nine

Coffeecoffeecoffeecoffee

Chapter Eight

Have fun.

(As always, the entirety of White Knight is available by clicking the little link below the post’s title.)

Chapter Seven

All yours, folks.  First post (and first writing) from the new computer.  Enjoy.

Chapter Six

Just woke up.  Hope you all enjoy this.

It’s Friday, that means one thing.

Chapter Five