A big thank you to editor Manuela Timofte for publishing my latest poem to the wonderful Gobblers & Masticadores site. Concave is a short poem about love. I hope you enjoy.
I’m delighted to announce the fabulous people at Spillwords have chosen my short fiction, “Anywhere but Nowhere’, to be their featured post of the day.
I hope you get chance to check the story out and read the many other wonderful poetry and prose pieces on show.
A big thank you as always to Dagmara K, Director of Development | Editing Department for her support.
I feel very privileged to announce that my latest poem, Terrarium Nights, has just been published in the stunning Boats Against the Current. A big thank you to editor-in-chief, McKenna Themm, for including me amongst such prestigious company.
I’m very proud to announce the release of Through Rain and Storm and Sea, co-written with the wonderful Gina Maria Manchego. We are blessed to be among many fine writers and poets included in the latest issue from Lavina Press.
This latest issue is available in paperback from Amazon HERE
I am delighted to announce the arrival of Britannia Unleashed not only in all book formats but also as an Audiobook.
Available now from Audible and Apple Books, my story is magnificently read by the English narrator Michael Langan as a full unabridged version. His reading is exceptional. For anyone who enjoys Victorian Alternate History, Steampunk, or just outright Adventure, you’ll have one hell of a ride.
Britannia Unleashed by Richard M. Ankers. Narrated by Michael Langan.
Here’s a taster
The Unmade
“They must be unmade, Robert.”
“I cannot.”
“Her Majesty wishes them expunged.”
“I shall not.”
“If you do not, Master Swift, then it will be your position within Her Majesty’s government that is unmade.” The elder man creaked leather-gloved hands together, wringing every last syllable from his over-emphasised words.
“How long do I have to consider your request?” Robert swept long, dark hair from his gaunt face, the hours spent in his workshop given clear definition by the single, flickering candle.
“How long? How long! Did I not make myself clear? The order has not come from some vagabond, some chance met acquaintance, some nobody, it has come from Queen Victoria herself. There are no ifs, maybes, or buts when discussing Her Majesty’s orders. One simply does as one’s told and does not question it. People that do oft’ regret it.”
“Is that a threat, Carrington?” Robert bristled in his seat, the glass of wine held in his right hand quaking at his intonation. A trace of the old fire sparked in the inventor’s tired eyes but soon dimmed to embers.
“That is Lord Carrington to you, Swift.”
“Or else?”
“One can be made to act as required. Facts and threats are rarely grouped together.”
“Then if I am not being threatened and am still allowed the freedom of choice, I refuse. I could no sooner unmake my left leg than I could my children.”
“Children!” Lord Carrington jumped to his feet as a man half his years should. “They are not your children; they are your handiwork. They are automata, constructs, or any number of other things, but when one sieves through the salient details of this disagreement, one will find one unequivocal and singular truth.”
“And that is?”
“That every one of those metal mishaps is the property of Her Majesty Queen Victoria, your sovereign and empress of half the world. She would rule the other half, too, if she wished it, but that is by the by. So, I ask again, will you unmake those you have created to facilitate the prolonging and general longevity of your monarch’s reign? Will you uncreate those designed to bring immortality to Her Majesty? Will you remove the criteria for others to do the same?” Lord Carrington ended the sermon with a sharp thrust of fist to desktop sending his own crystal-cut glass shattering to the floor.
“But why?”
“As I have stated, ours is not to question why.”
Robert took a deep, long breath and rubbed at his temples. “It is only through my children, their nature, their existence, that Her Majesty still functions. It is my children’s technologies that have inspired her adjustments. They have gifted her life, saved her life, it makes no sense to deprive herself of future corrections. She might die because of it!” Robert tore at his hair with frustration at the whole affair before regaining his composure. “Lord Carrington, I ask you again as a man I once held great respect for, why? Britannia would be without its Queen if not for my children.”
“Your point being?”
“My point being, without them she’d have died years ago. The explosive aftermath of Sir Belvedere’s vanishing would have killed her. Should have killed her. She bore its brunt yet lived. A miracle prolonged by my children.”
“How do you know about that? Carrington barked.
“My dear man, every citizen of a certain standing knows about that and certainly those who have dealt with its repercussions.”
“I see,” glared Carrington.
“What has Headlock to say about this, or Cuthbert, or even Monk, though I cannot abide the man?”
“It matters not what they say, think or do, because they are not she.”
“Then we have nothing further to discuss. I shall not be party to exterminating our Queen even if she sees it otherwise, and as I have stated, I shall not murder my family.”
“So, I am to gather from that little monologue that you are unwilling to concede them.” Lord Carrington spat the final word.
“I will not, and they have left already. I could no sooner divulge their location than I could the contents of your sick mind.” Robert folded thin arms across his charcoal-suited chest and crossed one leg over the other in defiance.
Lord Carrington eyed him with a venom that the Britannian elite reserved solely for the underclasses; a societal standing Robert belonged to and was only too aware of. He sought to see inside the younger man’s soul with those jet-black eyes, to unpick the contents of his inner being. When he seemed certain of Robert’s underlying character, sniffing it away with a snoot, he bellowed, “Guards!”
Two men of imposing physiques dressed from head to toe in Her Majesty’s colours, a sure sign of her involvement, burst through the study door.
“Take Master Swift into confinement. Somewhere remote should serve best. He shall be dealt with at the Crown’s convenience.”
The two men nodded in symmetry.
“Oh, and gentleman.”
“Your Lordship,” one replied through a voice like crushed bricks.
“Make it an unpleasant arrival.”
“With pleasure, Your Lordship,” the same answered, as the other advanced on his prey.
Thank you for reading Richard
Richard M. Ankers Author of the brand new steampunk extravaganza Britannia Unleashed.
Richard M. Ankers - Storybook 
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