New Author Friends Page (UPDATE!)

I think I now have everybody on who has asked. Due to there being a lot of people, I have split the page into four sections to try and highlight you all a bit more. I’ve done my best, but it was hard work. I might add more sections depending on if/how many more folk would like adding. Please feel free to click HERE and if you would prefer being slotted into another category just leave a comment.

Thanks everyone and I hope it helps

Richard

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New Author Page For Friends

Dear all;

I have just published a new page on my site. This addition is dedicated to all my good pals in the book business. I have placed links to as many of you as I could think of off the top off my head. If you’re my pal, your books are clean, and you would like me to add you to the list, please comment below. Leave me your links and I will add you. Also, if you’re already on there and would like to be worded differently (I gave up halfway down) don’t hesitate to correct me. 

As some of you know, I have the memory of a goldfish, so this sort of intricate stuff is extremely hard. Don’t be afraid to ask to be added, I can assure you I’ll be more embarrassed at not having done so than you will at asking.

This is just my way of hopefully promoting some wonderful people with wonderful books. 

HERE is the page link

I hope it helps

Richard

The Toilet Zone

Author’s Note: It’s hot as Hell today. I’m overheating and don’t know what I’m typing. That’s my excuse anyway. On the other hand, this is a wonderful tribute to that classic show The Twilight Zone. Yes, that sounds better. I think I got away with it.



The Toilet Zone

A cloying glue of absolute night, the darkness congealed around me like a wetted cape. One might’ve said the night entangled, and it did, stalling breaths and restricting movement. It was a warm, forgiving abyss, however, and for that I supposed I should have been grateful. My friends, or rather, companions, appeared not to share my enlightened view.

“Goddamn blackness!”

“Where the hell are we?”

“When I get out of this!”

Three separate and rather differing responses to one unavoidable truth; we were lost with not a hope of being found.

“We could light a fire,” I attempted.

“In Hell? Really?”

Jonesy was a man of little imagination so I forgave him his sarcasm.

“How do you know this is Hell?” blurted Smithy.

“Because it’s dark, scary and you’re here.”

“And you,” said Sigurdson.

Sigurdson was always practical delving right to the score of the matter as was his way. 

“What do you think, Rich?” he said to me. 

“I’d say we should light a fire.”

“But I’m not cold,” moaned Jonesy, his sarcasm suddenly deserted him before the physically imposing Sigurdson, (like all Icelanders, he was enormous).

Smithy was still having none of it. He paced about in the near dark like a restless lion. Even when we all moaned at him to stop, his restless energy prevented it. “Hell my arse!” he groaned over and over again.

And so it persisted in our nightmare world until completely out of the blue, I said, “Hang on, how did we get here?”

Three blank faces, or so I imagined, not being able to see them clearly and all that.

It became a game of cat and mouse after that. Each 0f us recalled what we knew. Each of us knew little. We distilled it down to this: we each fell asleep; we each woke to know their friends there; we each were as bemused as the next.

There we stayed in our crazed new world muttering and mumbling, snitching and sniping. For how long it lasted, who could say, but it was a long time. I knew for certain it was long because, as usual, Sigurdson grew hungry. Once at the point of madness and absolute starvation, he killed Jonesy and ate him. I was unsure whether I was angrier that he’d done this, or that he hadn’t offered me any. He finished off Smithy next having chased him round and round for hours. I heard his slurping of flesh from bones from the far corner of the cavern, or whatever it was we were in, and decided I had to make a move. That’s when I began to climb. 

There was no light to reveal my way other than the strange phosphorescence that had lit our lunatic friendship. Nevertheless, I climbed with the vim and vigour of a man who saw light within reaching distance. Or a man whose best friend was about to eat him? One or the other, anyway.

When my head hit something other than rock, I almost panicked. When I heard Sigurdson closing in, I almost did so again. But almost is a funny word when you’re close to death. Instead of almost dying, I pushed up and out, the thing resting on my head angling up as though on a lever. That’s when I recognised where I was.

My mum’s bathroom had a brown Paisley design that’s was so out of taste with interior decoration, it could only have been our home. Relieved, I dragged myself out of the toilet and sat back down on the lid just as the Icelander was about to climb out. He pushed and shoved and groaned and moaned, but couldn’t get out. That’s when I did for him. I flushed the toilet.

Sigurdson was gone in a plumbing-groaning explosion of gotten-ridden-of waste. Phew!

“Are you all right love!” bellowed my mum from her bedroom. 

“I am now!” I shouted back.

“Doctors for you tomorrow. Bleedin’ ridiculous struggling like that,” she said in a lower, more concerned voice.

Ah well, that was a problem for another day.

The Shy One

“I just wish she’d have looked my way.”

“Why?” asked Tommy.

“I can’t say.”

“Go on.”

“No, I can’t,” I said blushing and embarrassing myself even more. I hadn’t seen her full on, but she was wearing a rather revealing blouse.

“I aren’t going to tell anyone, I’m your best pal. So what if you’re shy. So what if you’re nervous. I don’t care.”

“You promise.”

“Cross my heart,” he replied, but I thought he had his fingers crossed.

“I wanted her to turn around because…”

“Because what?” he snapped.

“I think she was holding your car keys.”

“Goddamn!”

Author Feature: J.C.S

Richard’s Note: A Little Background

When I first took, what was for me, the bold step of putting my work on a writing site, I was terrified of what people would say. I loved writing, but expected everyone else to hate my every word (no exaggeration). I was then extrodinarily fortunate to meet two wonderful ladies, who helped me get through this, Jasmine, or J.C.S to everyine else, and if she’s reading this, Debbie.

Where I had no confidence, Jasmine exuded it. Where I doubted myself, she did not. I can honestly say that if not for her prompting and encouraging words, I might never have become a published author. That was four years ago now, and mine and Jasmine’s friendship is stronger then ever. It is a constant source of amazement that no matter how much I antogonise her, (which I can do becuase she can’t reach to strangle me from the other side of the Atlantic) that she remains my pal. Jasmine has now self-published several books, all variances of the Science Fiction Genre, and has become an accomplished graphic novelist and clothes designer, too. She really is multi-talented. It is to my personal delight that I can now help her as she has so often helped me.

Without further ado, it is my great pleasure to present to you my good friend J.C.S. Here is an extract from her latest work, Bleeding Stars and Paper Hearts: Romance of the Synthies. Also, some of her wonderful artwork.


There stood a tree, new, young, fresh. The leaves were newly bloomed. There lay grass, the sun cresting over a hill in the distance.
Adrianna came from behind the tree, rubbing her belly. Then a foot pressed out, it’s imprint making the both of us grin.
“This is all I ever wanted,” I said softly, now nestling my nose in her curls.
“Just the three of us?” she said.
Then she stepped back, tears spilling helplessly from that pretty little face. Like a sick magic trick, she turned to ash and covered my feet. The sky then darkened, as rolling clouds hid the sun.
And the tree that bore leaves greener than my eyes was now barren, and wicked in a way.
My eyes opened. My vision was blurred. I could hear the whizzing of machinery, and the beeping of a heart monitor. I felt a sting from my neck to my shoulders and realized the situation of my conformity.
I shot up, the sting now pressing down my back. My vision remained blurred, but I could make out the silhouette walking to me.
“Brandon,” I heard Thomas say, “we didn’t think you’d wake up so soon.”
“Where’s Adrianna?” I said, gasping for air.
Struggling to think.
Silence.
“Where is she?” I moaned.
Silence.
“Thomas!!!” I roared, clearly losing my mind.
“I don’t know!” he offended back.
I tried rubbing my eyes to clear the haze I was viewing. When I decided to stand, I felt that of an infant learning to walk. I stumbled, knocking over equipment and chairs. My vision cleared enough that I could see Thomas barring the door, but his strength was no match for mine even in my weak state.
I shoved him aside and swung the door open as my feet came into contact with cold, wet pavement. Being that I still couldn’t see, the rumbling sound of hovering cars, and their horns jolted my sight a little clearer. I was now backed into the wall by the door I exited, my heart beating at an abnormal pace.
Thomas came out of the door, holding his arm and glaring. When he saw my belittled expression, he then grinned and laughed a little.
“This is the supposed Dump,” he said, gesturing about.
“Where is Adrianna?” I asked again.
“Get dressed, and I’ll show you.”
After fixing my belt, and ripping a hole in my shirt to fit my wings, I proceeded to follow Thomas down the hall and into an empty room. A large screen played uniform images of Adrianna, as if she were facing a camera. Some of the video playback ran in fast forward, as other moments you could see the angst in her face.
Thomas sat down, typed in a few words onto a keyboard, and motioned I sit as well.
Then he sighed, before pressing the space bar.
“You won’t like what you hear…” he said, giving me a strained look.
“I don’t like a lot of things.”
“I warned you…”
Adrianna smiled, her eyes looking down. The camera seemed to be vibrating, as an obvious explosion could be heard.
I panicked. Until she spoke.
“I’m pregnant,” she said softly, “and it’s been nearly three months since I’ve seen Brandon…”
As if I myself walked into a sound proof tunnel did swirl my efforts not to become angry. I immediately rose to exit, when Thomas caught me by the shoulder.
“She left that house, Brandon,” Thomas whispered, “I don’t think anger is going to get you anywhere…”
Matted down angst rolled out of my sigh as I turned the knob on the door. There stood a studious looking male Synthie in a white lab coat. He seemed hesitant to speak, so I walked past without a word as well.
“We need to run a few diagnostics on you…” he mentioned, rushing to keep up.
“Did I excrete any liquids during my three month hibernation?” I asked.
He blinked, flipping through the pages of his clip board.
“We almost couldn’t keep up with the waste bag attached to your bed…”
“Analyze that,” I said, still walking.
Where was I going?
“Did we find the Baron?” I demanded to Thomas.
The doctor and Thomas exchanged uneasy glances before Thomas decided to answer.


collage-2016-09-21-11_36_20_resizedcollage-2016-09-21-11_31_11_resized collage-2016-04-27-10_51_55_resized

Here is the little lady.

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J.C.S.
Author, Artist, Designer
Creator and Owner of
Byond Epic Ent.
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I think these are some of her army of clones for when she takes over the world.
Below is the link to her website. Please do check it out.
Thank you all for reading
Richard
PS For those who worry about spelling and such. When I proofread my part of this post, the only word I’d spelled wrong was my name. LOL
Unless Ruchard is my name?

Laura L Comfort

Hi everyone.

A very good friend of mine has just joined WordPress. Laura is a wonderful writer and I’m hoping her new blog will help in her future success. 

But, here it comes, me being me, I can’t seem to reblog the page link to her books. So, in an effort to not be beaten, here is the link to her actual site Laura. If anyone gets the chance please check out her work, books and bio (It’s well worth it, especially if you have kids.)

And thank you.

Richard

Distant Friends

Authors note: Dedicated to a distant friend.


A distant friend

Is like a silhouette 

Intangible, yet there.

A constant companion

When the world blazes 

Too bright,

Their dark stanchions

Supportive,

They aid in silence

No payment required.

And when the Fall comes,

Winter after,

They lie within the wan light

Biding their time

Waiting to appear:

They always do.

Thank goodness for distant friends.

Thank goodness

For those strength giving shadows.