The Official Announcement

Someone once said that the greatest thing about being a Geek is the ability to unashamedly express excitement for the things you love. Whether it is Science Fiction, Horror, Comics, Anime, or any combination of them. A Geek revels in those things and longs to share that passion with the world. Be it through writing, music, poetry, art or performance art the passions in a Geeks soul cannot be denied.

I am building a place where those passions can come together, where Geeks of all sorts can Dress up, dance, sing, draw and tell stories to one another and the world. Trilith is a multi-media web-magazine that captures the things that inspire Geeks and the things Geeks aspire to.

This is truly a project in the works and I would like as many people to follow along as possible, I have already begun recruiting my team and once all of the technical issues are addressed a campaign to raise funding will begin.

As for now I will be posting samples of some of the content that I plan to use both on the facebook page and the blog.

“A soul aflame burns brighter than a million stars.” – Percival Bac.

A little bit of course correction….

Today is going to be different from anything else I have done before, why you ask. Because prior to today everything has been centered around the progress I have been making towards the publication of ‘The Lost Prophet’ and while I am still working on that I have undergone a little course correction this week and I think a little details are in order. For those who are not aware I was laid off from my day job back in May of this year, and while I have been looking for work I have also been devoting time to making progress with getting my book ready for publication.  However I have run into a little snag in that I am almost done with the second draft of the book, not sure if I want to go ahead with feedback from friends or hiring a professional editor, at the same time I am thinking about the costs of design and cover work on the book. All of which I have no money to spare for at the moment.

At the same time as all of this has been going on, an idea that I originally came up with about a year ago was tapping at the back of my head. When I read a blog post about software that could be used to organize your writing, I decided to give it a try. I was not significantly impressed with it to give a ringing endorsement, but since I needed a project that I had not done much work on to try it out with, I figured let me work on this story. Well the software was abandoned, but I have been building the story more and more. I plan at this point to write it out as a serial, with each installment building more and more on the story. Not sure how big it will get in the end but I think I will let the story decide where it wants to go.

Now I was faced with the problem that I needed a place to publish my story, and I imagined the perfect place would be a literary magazine that focused on Geek culture. But to the best of my knowledge no one does that sort of magazine and the more that I thought about it the more it came into focus.

A multimedia e-magazine that focused on geek culture, specifically cosplay and the movie, music, art and poetry that  inspire it and are inspired by it. A place where fantasy and reality mix and mingle.

And I said to myself if no one else has made a magazine like this, then I need to be the person to do it.

As of now I have already begun assembling my creative team and drawing up plans and specification for what we can do right now with this format, and how we can make it like nothing that has ever been seen before.

Trilith – a prehistoric structure consisting of two upright stones supporting a horizontal stone. An archway or portal to somewhere else.

Cant remember what was said or what you threw at me

Well that was interesting.  I simply made a few comments regarding the lack of connection with readers in my last blog and all of a sudden I have my most active day ever, followed by my third most active day ever. People actually went back and took a look at some of my older post and listened to what I had to say.  On the negative side I did not get the amount of questions and comments that I would have liked.  I do feel that since this experience is a journey for me, and not just some expert lecturing on a subject, then all feedback that I receive from those who are reading this can only help me.
Based on that then I need to get more feedback from the people who read my blog. I have been working on this blog for several months, I have been writing about my past, my inspirations, about the things that I have done in order to get my book ready to publication. I have asked you all to follow along on my journey as a writer and an artist.  But with the exception of one story that I created the characters and plot for twenty years ago, and was scripted by my wife ten years ago I have given you folks nothing to earn the support that you have given me as I make my way as a writer.
So I realized that I should also start posting along with the other things that I have been putting up a selection of the things that I am working on now.  Short stories that I am writing currently some could become chapters of novels, or parts of series, some will be story-lines that I am writing to develop as independent films, but It will be a selection of shorter works of mine. What I need from people is to determine if I should make them part of my regular posts, or if my fiction work should be listed under a separate page.  And is anyone even interested in reading some of my work.  Please let me know what you think and give me some feedback.

P.S. just to let people know once I work this out I have a first draft of a story that I plan to post.

There’s no reason to worry, There’s no reason to doubt

So I am going to take another detour today and try something different than I had originally planned with this blog.  Last week I had posted a story that was written by my wife and myself early on in our relationship.  I had some feedback that was positive, but I also noticed cases where people were liking the post, but no one had clicked on it to read it.  Now either this mean that there is a problem with WordPress’ software or people are liking post with out actually reading them.  I wasn’t sure what to do about that, then later in the week I came across a post in regards to people liking blogs just so that the writer of the blog will feel the obligation to like their posts back.  In essence a giant echo chamber where people are liking each other out of obligation and not due to the quality of the work.

So what does this mean in regards to what I want to do different with my blog this week.  I am going to turn it over to the people reading.  In the comments section below please feel free to ask any questions, about me, my work, any of my previous blogs.  If you have something that you would like for me to discuss in a future blog please let me know.  I know that odds are I will got few if any responces, but I need to feel like I am connecting with even one or two real people.

So please ask away…

Acceptance (Part Four) by Christine & Bruce Ellis

Pressing down on his shoulders, she coaxed him silently onto the black satin sheets that covered her bed. “You are so handsome,” she continued. “So strong, so masculine” she purred. He reached up to her naked form, and pulled her into a deep longing kiss. She mounted him, and moved her body against his, rubbing slowly, feeling his hardness against her. “Kiss me lover, kiss me again” she seduced. His lips covered hers, and he reached out to cup her breasts. “You are so handsome, so strong” she whispered.

He heard the lies part her lips, and wanted to believe them, but he could not bring himself to do so. He was a loathsome creature whose only flesh and blood died at birth. His eyes locked upon the money on the bureau, and realized what he was doing. He was filled with hatred and rage. “It’s your fault!” He screamed. “All your fault! You seduced me! You whore!” He pushed her off of him violently and grabbed his clothes.

“I took you back here out of the goodness of my heart! I didn’t bring you here to fuck you! You were the one who wanted it!” She screamed out. “You were the one who needed a friend, not me!” She said as he dressed. She stood beside him and put her hand on his shoulder. He knocked her onto the bed, and finished dressing, then slammed the door on the way out.

Within an instant he was storming down the stairs to the fresh morning air. The city lights were no longer needed as the night had already passed by. Cars were slowly passing, rushing along to start their days. “That bitch” he uttered softly. “I can’t believe I thought she wanted to help. She tricked me! That bitch!”

He walked along the streets, filled with rage as he looked for his car, wishing that he had paid more attention to where that slut was leading him.

After what felt like forever, he had given up hope after he found himself walking in circles, then sat down on a curb to wallow in self-pity.

He rested his head in his hands and shook his head, recalling not only the evenings events, but also his wife; how she stuck by him in all of his needful times, how she slept, how she cooked, how she would hold him in her arms late at night when he was stressed, taking it all from him, being strong when he could not be. It was in that moment, that he realized his love for her, and that having a child would have only been another delightful thing to add to their time together. That wasn’t important though. He realized that no matter what will ever happen, that she would be there for him, to hold him, to love him, to cherish him.

He Cried.

He cried not only because he had betrayed her, but also because he was too busy blaming her for losing the child, His child, that he lost focus of what was truly important in his life… Her.

He looked up a moment later, and his car was there, across the street where he had left it. He had been so blinded by his anger that he had passed by it too many times to count.

It was a long ride home, perhaps the longest journey he had ever taken.

He pulled up in front of the house, and breathed a sigh of relief. He was finally there.

Quickly, he walked up the front steps of the house, slid his key in the door, and turned the knob slowly.  He entered quietly, and called his wife’s name softly. “Karen?” he uttered over and over, through each room of the house. He ran upstairs, and for the first time, passed by the baby’s room without a second thought.

He reached the bedroom, and there she was sleeping, oblivious to all that had happened. He sat down on the bed beside her, and whispered to her “Karen, I love you. I really love you.” She opened her eyes, and smiled at him softly. He was so happy to see her. He caressed her face and kissed her lips.

“I can’t tell you what happened tonight, but I’m sorry, I’m truly sorry.” He breathed deeply, and looked down to her. “I have never stopped loving you, and I never will. You are the light in my darkness, you are the song in my heart, and you are the stars in my heaven.” He continued as he caressed her gentle face.

“I realize I have only been thinking of myself, my needs, my wants, my desires and I never stopped to think how you must feel. For that, I am truly sorry. We’ll have a child if you still wish it, but I want you to know, that it’s you who is important to me. It is you who have made my life complete, and it is you who has been there for me through all the times that I have needed you. You never turned your back on me, for that, I am grateful. I love you with all my heart.” He sobbed.

Just then, she reached her hand up to his lips, as if to shush him. “I know dear, I know. Now come, rest with me.” She pulled him down to lie beside her, and held him tightly in her arms, making all of his fears disappear.

Acceptance (Part Three) by Christine & Bruce Ellis

They arrived at the top floor finally, and he gazed at his surroundings. There was a window there, broken, and shards of glass lay by the stairs. A black and white cat, curled up into a ball was sleeping soundly on a newspaper in the corner, apparently off duty as he noted the rats scurrying on the staircase. The jingling of keys startled the cat as she opened the door to her apartment, and it scuttled down the stairs out of sight.

She entered the apartment, and motioned for him to enter. A sweet aroma beckoned him in. The scent of incense was plentiful, and despite the musky smell in the corridor, her apartment was not affected in the slightest. She motioned for him to sit on the couch, and as before, he obeyed. She slipped off her heels by the door, displaying her dainty feet wrapped so neatly in the skin toned nylons she wore.

It was a small cozy apartment. The living room and kitchen area were combined to make it appear larger than it was. The couch was tan, several years old, but very comfortable. He sank into it as he rested against the backing. “Do you mind if I change into something more comfortable?” she asked. “No, no, go ahead.” He nodded, and she slipped into the other room to change. “So how long have you lived here?” he asked loud enough for her to hear. “Ahh, only a few months,” she bellowed, “I go to the university here, and work at night to make a living. It’s a long story, I don’t like to talk about it much.”

“I see.” he stated, as he looked towards the sound of her voice.  He could see her naked form in the mirror as she changed out of her clothes. He watched her for several moments, as his erection stiffened.

He watched her take off her bra and panties then stand naked before the mirror to gaze upon her luxurious body. Her hands caressed her thighs, her stomach, and then finally her breasts.

In his mind he could see himself touching her, caressing her, fucking her. He shook his head violently to erase his thoughts, and feelings as if he had intruded on her enough; he cleared his throat, readjusted himself, and searched earnestly for something else to occupy his thoughts.

He sat up stiffly, and studied the adornments on the wall. There were no pictures, nothing at all that would tell of her friends, her family, or even her acquaintances. The furniture was sparse; there was only a couch, chair, and a coffee table in the room.

She slipped out of the bedroom wearing a dark blue silk robe that barely covered her essence. The muscles in her thighs were defined as she walked across the room. He stared at her form in awe. “I don’t even know your name.” She said casually, as she bent over exposing herself to him.  She opened the cabinet to find a bottle of scotch.

“Robert” He stammered. “Robert Harris. And yours?”

“Rachel” she said in a soothing tone. She chuckled softly and continued to retrieve drinks for the two. She stood, took two glasses from the strainer, and began to pour the scotch. “So what brings you around this neck of the woods?” she asked.

“My wife…” he stopped abruptly.

“Ahh, I should have known you were married, all the good men are taken.” She stated.

She turned and walked towards him, holding the glasses with a delicate grace. She handed his glass to him with a slight curtsey, and then sat down across from him on the couch. Sipping her drink, she smiled a childish grin, and then stated “So tell me about it, what brings you here?” He sighed deeply and began to tell his story.

Hours passed, the bottle lessened, and his self-pity grew more and more as he recalled to her the last ten years of his life. “Your not to blame.” She said with a softened smile. She drew her arms around him, consoling him with her touch. He felt comfortable, but more importantly, he felt loved.

She wiped a tear from his eye, and smiled again, this time more lovingly than before. Within an instant, his lips were pressed against hers, locked in a passionate kiss. He pressed his hand against her neck, drawing her into him even more. He felt the lusting in him grow as she pulled away from him, lending him her hand, and begging him with her eyes to stand. He stood slowly, as she led them to the bedroom.

She closed the door behind them, enclosing them both within their own passions. She stood before the mirror, and turned to face him. Slowly she untied the belt that sheltered her precious body. The robe fell from her shoulders, and lay upon the bends of her arms. Her auburn hair flowed down her back a little past her shoulders, and her bare breasts yearned for his touch.

She walked casually towards him with a seductive smile, and slowly unbuttoned his shirt. Running her fingertips across his back, her nails sent shivers through his spine. She caressed his chest lovingly, and with a soft kiss she whispered, “I’m off duty now, but I can still use the money.” She slowly unbuckled his belt, and reached down to unbutton his pants. Again she whispered, “Do you have any?”

She caressed his hardness through his pants, and instinctively he took out his wallet. “How… how much do you n…need?” he uttered, not thinking.

“Fifty dollars. I wouldn’t ask, but business is business.” He halfway paid attention to her as his mind kept thinking about the child that died. He reached into his wallet, pulled out two twenties and a ten, then handed them to her. “Thank you good Sir.” She said softly.

She reached behind her, and placed the money on her dresser, then slowly slipped off his pants.

She kissed his chest, and felt his hardness against her stomach as she pressed against him. “Come, come with me,” she purred. She took his hand in hers again, and led him to the bed.

Acceptance (Part Two) by Christine & Bruce Ellis

He suddenly became tired, and pulled the car off to the side of the road. He rested his head against the headrest, and closed his eyes for a few moments.  Just then, he heard a noise. He looked up, and spied a small insignificant man enter a bar. “A drink sounds good” he thought.

He walked up towards the front door of the bar, and placed his hand on the doorknob. A wave of dread coursed through his body as he began to open it. He heard laughter, and gaiety from within; slowly he withdrew his hand, as all the loathsome sounds he wanted to avoid came pouring forth. For several moments he stood there gazing at the door, studying it, focusing on its shape.

He exhaled deeply, and closed his eyes tight, as he felt the warmth of his tears beginning to fall from his eyes. The anguish was unbearable. He began to feel his chest heave as the sobbing came from deep inside him.

Blinded by tears, he maneuvered his way towards his car, knocking over trash cans with his stumbling.  Unable to go any further, he rested against a light post, and then sank down to the sidewalk. “Jesus Christ” He mumbled, “How could you do this to me? How could you take away my own flesh and blood? What did I do that was so wrong?” he sobbed and buried his tear-stained eyes in his hands.

Soft, cool hands touched his shoulder, and he looked up.

It took him a few moments to focus on the figure that stood before him. She brushed her hair back from her face, allowing him to get a better look. A warm smile parted her rose-colored lips, and her charcoal eyes revealed the sensuality that only a woman could have. “Come now,” she said melodically, “Things can’t be that bad.” She squeezed his shoulder lightly, and then offered her hand to him.

He gazed upon her for a long while, studying her features; her alabaster skin, her soft auburn hair, her small button nose, and her rose-colored lipstick that lined her voluptuous lips. Again she reached out to him with her slender fingers, once more offering him her kindness.

As the street light accentuated the redness in her hair, he spied tiny diamond earrings twinkling from beneath.  He reached up, and grasped her hand.  Standing slowly before her, he rose to be a full foot taller than her.

She had a petite frame, and an aura of innocence surrounded her. A long black skirt emphasized her slender hips, and the white silken blouse left much to the imagination.

“Come, follow me.” She said softly, “We’ll get you a drink, and we can talk more…privately.” She ran her fingers up his arm with a softened smile. He gazed around at the bums sleeping in the alley, and then nodded his head slowly in agreement, following behind her obediently.

The streets were narrow, and lined with darkness and clutter. Tall buildings surrounded them to either side. The street lamps were broken, and the moon provided the only light to guide them. He watched her walk, and in the recess of his mind he though how misplaced she seemed to be amidst their surroundings.

Just then, a little red car drove by and a man screamed out from the window as they passed, “Hey baby, how much!?” She shook her head slowly then turned towards him to explain, she was surprised when she found him oblivious to what had happened.

They continued walking till she stopped by a set of stairs and gazed up towards the building.  It was intimidating in its size, perhaps ten stories tall. “I live on the top floor,” She said, “I hope you don’t mind the climb.” She continued up to the door, and awaited him.  He followed her hesitantly, but the thought of a refreshing drink allured his senses.

The stairwell was dark, and the bulb that shone at the top of the stairs barely illuminated their passageway. The stairs were steep, and decrepit. The walls were dark, and the paint was peeling off as if it had not been touched up in decades. Papers, cigarette butts, and empty bottles in brown paper bags accompanied them along their journey. Even a rat would scurry across their path occasionally. It was a far cry from what he was accustomed to; living in his suburban house, complete with the white picket fence surrounding the property.

After the seventh floor, he had to stop to catch his breath.  He gazed up disparagingly towards the top.  Being a middle-aged man, with financial means, he had let his body get badly out of shape. He looked down towards the belly that hung over his belt, and recalled the doctor telling him he would have to loose forty or so pounds to have his physique back.

He looked to the woman who had brought him here, and he thought to himself, “My god, she can’t be more than twenty, twenty-one perhaps?” He began to think of reasons for such a lovely lady to be living in the slums.

“Maybe her husband left her with no means of support… the bastard.” He thought, “I wonder if she has any children? I wonder…”

She interrupted his thoughts as she spoke “We’re almost there, c’mon, I’ll make it worth your while.” She said with a chuckle.

Acceptance (Part One) by Christine & Bruce Ellis

Last time I stated that this week I would post a story that I originally wrote twenty years ago and was re-written by my wife ten years ago.  Once I pulled it out to type it up for posting,  I only have a printed copy of the story and not the word file,  I realized it was a little too long to post all at once.  So I am going to serialize the story over the next four days. 

“Seven years,” he thought to himself. “Seven years, and this is it?” He could not grasp the concept of what he was feeling.

 His mind wandered suddenly to that fateful night when he stood by his wife’s side and held her hand at the hospital bedside. “You can do it sweetheart, it will be all right.” He said softly, as he soothed and caressed her sweat-beaded cheek. The panic in his voice was well hidden by his actions. He looked down to the stirrups that held her legs wide for the world to see, sensing the vulnerability that she felt, and the helplessness to take away her pain. Another contraction and her grip once again tightened around his hand. Her face turned a bright crimson as she once again pushed, bearing down, just as the coaches taught her in the Lamaze classes that they took. “Bear down,” he said quietly as he comforted her with his touch.

He shook his head and breathed a sigh of distress as he recalled those words; those words that had forever changed his life. “We’re loosing her! Nurse!” the doctor screamed out. Before he could comprehend, he felt the shock of the hands pulling him backwards, leading him quickly out of the room. Not a word was uttered to him from the faceless, nameless hands. They only took him abruptly away from that which he treasured, that which he loved, the woman who held his unborn child in her womb. As he saw the door close before his eyes, he felt his heart break.

The seconds passed by like hours, minutes like years, and finally, after a few centuries had passed, the doctor appeared silently from behind the tremendous double doors.  He looked up slowly, his eyes showing the silent chaos tormenting his mind and soul within them. “I’m so sorry,” the doctor whispered, “your wife will be fine, but…” A long silence echoed through the colossal halls outside the delivery room as the doctor just shook his head.  He knew he’d never forget that moment, his own flesh and blood, his own creation, and his life. “Your daughter didn’t survive.”

Those words echoed in his mind as he rested his head in his hands, covering his face with his enormous fingers.  A softened sigh parted his lips as he shook his head, and a tear trickled down his cheek.  He closed his eyes tight, and imagined swinging his beautiful blonde haired – blue eyed daughter from the swing he had hung in the back yard just a few short weeks ago. “I can swing the baby here during the summer, and we can have a picnic over there,” as he pointed out towards various areas of the yard, “We can put a jungle gym over there. And when she gets older, we can get a dog and she’ll be able to play with it with no worries.” He said to his wife as she nodded, smiling contentedly and looking at the proud father-to-be.

The room suddenly looked bright, almost blinding hi, when the sound of the door opening brought him back to his reality. “She’s ready to leave Mr. Harris.” A man in a white nurses uniform said softly as they carted his wife in a wheelchair by him, towards the exit of the hospital.  Mechanically, he stood, and slowly followed the two out towards the Emergency Entrance Door. They swung open as the group approached with a whoosh. The fresh springtime air overcame his senses and the thoughts of him swinging his precious daughter back and forth on the swing only made him more miserable inside.

They spoke not a word on the long ride home. She sat beside him, quietly caressing her stomach where the child she carrier within her, lived for so long.  He now felt only sorrow, and was unable to comfort her as she gazed out the window towards nothing in particular. She took her hand and placed it against the cool glass window then uttered a soft sigh. He needed escape, he needed to get away from her, she lost his only child, and they had been waiting for so long to conceive.

Before he realized, the brakes of the car were making that familiar squealing sound as he pulled up in front of the house. “I was going to have the brakes looked at last week, wasn’t I?” He sighed as he remembered yet another thing that needed to be done. He sat there for a moment before placing the car in Park, then opened the door, and got out. His wife met him at the walkway to the house, and he followed despondently as she made her way to the front door.  She squeezed his hand softly, offering him the little comfort she could, as she turned the key to the front door.

In the entrance-way, there was a large package from his parents. He recalled the conversation he had with his mother just a few weeks before. “Make sure you don’t buy a car seat. Your father and I just went out and bought the most beautiful one for the baby!”  He shook his head and made way towards the kitchen.

The house was dimly lit.  The curtains were still drawn from the night before, and there was an eerie quietness surrounding them. He looked up the staircase, and saw the light to the baby’s room on. Instantly he could feel his sanity slipping away.

She interrupted, “The Doctor asked if we’d be trying again.”

“Try again?” He thought to himself. “I can’t do this, I can’t do this again.” He shook his head and spoke silently to himself. “I couldn’t live through this again!”

“Tim needs me in the office.” He uttered softly. “I need to go to work.” She nodded her head, and smiled sweetly, not allowing him to see the pain that she bore within her. “I need to rest.” She said softly. Then again there was silence.

The next few moments were non-existent, and he found himself once again in his car.  He pounded his fists against the steering wheel a few times, then slammed his hand down and pulled the lever into Drive.  The tires left patches of rubber in front of the house as he sped off, and left his frustrations in the tar.

The skies fell dim, and the city lights glowed with a whorish tinge. Just then, he came to the realizations that he had been driving for hours.

What a long strange trip it’s been (part8)

I talked last about the least productive time in my life as a writer.  Then all of a sudden after three years of poor to no production as a writer I was presented with my biggest inspiration of all time.  My muse.  I met my wife.

She inspired my to get back to my writing, to take those things from the past that had not worked, to take them apart and rework them to get the characters to do things that I never thought was possible before.

It started one night.  We were laying in bed trying to get some sleep.  She is an insomniac and was trying to get a good nights sleep for once.  As she laid in bed she said to me “Tell me a story.”  I blanked, I could not think of anything.  And then it struck me, A story that I had written almost seven years earlier while on a trip to Philadelphia.  A story that had been rewritten several times as I became a better and better writer.  Something which I considered one of my best work.  I told her the story, and something amazing happened.  As I slept that night the story got inside her head.  Unfortunately she didn’t get any sleep that night.  She sat down and did a re-write on the story.  When you have someone who inspires you and who you inspire it becomes a form of magic.  As I read her interpretation of my characters and dialogue It inspired things in me things that I had not known that I had missed.  It was that moment that I started getting back into writing.  I had decided years earlier that until I felt that I was a better writer I would not be ready to try to write a full length novel again.  Now I saw that it was possible to do that with the help of my wife in order to improve my skills at writing dialogue.

This is when I finally rededicated myself to working on a novel.  Now all I needed to do find the idea that would spark it.

As a sample of my wife and I’s work next week I will post the story that I referenced here.  I am not sure if the copy I have is a second draft or the original one that she typed out that very morning, but it still takes my breath away.