Tag Archives: short story

Review: Tails Of The Apocalypse

It’s been such a long time since I’ve read any fiction from an animal’s perspective, and of those, only Watership Down and Tailchaser’s Song come to mind. So it was with some trepidation that I picked up Tails Of The Apocalypse. After all, it has to be pretty hard to write fiction with animals either central to the plot or the main characters outright. Right? Maybe for me that’d be true, but not for the authors involved in the project. I found myself cheering or even holding my breath as each plot unfolded, though more often I was moved to regions sentimental. Because it is the apocalypse we’re talking about here. Dangerous things, apocalypses… Throw in some faithful animals that never hurt anyone and you’re bound break a few hearts. (I swear, if you’re not crying by the end of Chris Pourteau’s or Stefan Bolz’ stories, you might not have a soul).

One other thing I liked about the collection was how the worlds were often very unique. Perhaps the most unique was Hank Garner’s story of the first apocalyptic story in human history (I’ll let that tease you a little … you gotta read it). From a storytelling perspective, I’d say the authors did a great job, collectively — and for a very good cause. For every copy sold, $1 goes to the charity Pets For Vets. It’s win and more win everywhere you turn. Be a winner and get your copy today (click image below).

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Just picked up Lady Lilith by E.E. Giorgi — Free

I’ve been meaning to read something by “She who is called E.E.” for a while now, and here’s my chance.

Snag it while it’s free, and be sure to leave a review 🙂

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American Glory

 The following story first appeared in the charity anthology “Authors off the Shelf”.  If you enjoy it, please consider purchasing a copy of the anthology, which is filled to overflowing with stories and poems and even dinner recipes.  All proceeds go to charity.

 

American Glory

by John L. Monk

There’s a town in America few people outside of a hundred miles ever heard of. It had never won an award for the prettiest flowers in the state or grown the biggest pumpkin or squash or had the biggest pig at the state fair. One of the fifth-graders went to the national spelling bee once, but she couldn’t spell “chauffeur” and got sent home. Not even an English word, the locals said.

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Short Story: The Emperor’s New War

I won the flash fiction competition for my Goodreads group.  To do it, I had to follow a number of guidelines in constructing this story.  Here are a few:

  • Had to be a scene involving battle
  • couldn’t use the words: night, dark, die, fight, angry.
  • someone had to die
  • I’d get extra points for using the words “sandwich” and “brother”

If you’re interested in a Goodreads group with a wide range of interests and who do a lot of cool things like quizes, reading/writing contests, giveaways, etc, I can’t recommend Pro-Active Destruction enough.

The Emperor’s New War

The Imperial Legionnaires had been bombarding the planet for three days, reducing most of the buildings in the planet’s six population centers to rubble, with one exception: the rebel headquarters. General Foxworthy had whole star systems of ordinance available at his fingertips, but he’d spared the troublesome base.

“General Foxworthy?” his assistant said. “The rebel leader Carter is waiting to see you.”

“Thank you Eliot, please send him in. Oh, and would you ask Rose to make me a sandwich?”

“Certainly sir.”

Moments later, Elliot escorted in a young man dressed in a Mark-3 Zherun war suit. Capable of withstanding impossible compression ratios, the suit could survive almost any sort of conventional attack. Standard-issue suits also came with a complement of sophisticated weaponry molded into the frame. Foxworthy knew about the suit, and the weapons, but had said nothing to Elliot about disarming the man.

Carter surveyed the lavish cabin, his eyes finally drifting to the enormous viziframe covering the wall. It showed the rebel planet C3JU625-Andrew-Prescott. Five hundred standard years previous, the legendary Captain Prescott had discovered the remote little world during his famous exploratory voyage. He’d named it according to the imperial planetary classification system. Two weeks before the General’s bombardment, the planet had been renamed “The Emperor’s A Big Fat Donkey” by Carter, who transmitted news of the change by a looping broadcast throughout Occupied Space.

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Fogland Episode 3: House Call on Queasy Street

Mark Capell, an author I learned about through Lindy Moone, has produced a podcast of a story I submitted for his Fogland project.  You can listen to it for free at the Fogland website. It’ll also be available on iTunes.

Ladies: if listening to Mark Capell’s sexy British accent doesn’t do it for you (it did for me), you can download the ebook for 99 cents on Amazon.

Anyway, what else?  Oh yeah, here are the links:

Podcast on Fogland Website (free/sexy)

eBook on Amazon (99 cents)

Amazon UK (.77 in pieces of eight)

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The truth about the John L. Monk steroid scandal

Against the wishes of my family and my attorney, my priest and my neighbor Tony and his kids, Wanda and Monique, and some of their friends at school, I’ve decided it was time to come clean about the so-called “steroid” scandal that has been circulating in the media about me this week.

When I started writing Kick, the competition was quite fierce in the rankings on Amazon. Every day, someone on top came hurtling down, only to be clawed to pieces by up-and-coming indie authors like Carol Ervin and Lindy Moone.  Fortunes were eradicated over night, families broken up, economies toppled, and empires reduced to rubble.  These young authors were like the Huns against the helpless farmers in Medieval Europe.  Who wants to read tame stuff like “Kick” ($2.99 on Amazon while supplies last) when they can fry their brains on Hyperlink from Hell or lose their hearts to The Girl On The Mountain?  I’m only human, ok?  I’m just as vulnerable to temptation as anyone.  But I’ll be damned if my reputation is raked through the coals any more than I deserve.

Here’s what really happened:

So I was walking along one day, minding my own business, when I turned a corner and bumped into someone standing there.

“Excuse me,” I said, and started to pass.

“Where you going, bub?” the figure said.

“To the soup kitchen,” I said, “where I volunteer every day for the homeless.”

“And where you coming from, bub?” he said.

“I just finished a 12 hour stretch at the orphanage,” I said.

After first determining that the man wasn’t someone in need, I blessed him and wished him a jolly day, then continued on my way to the soup kitchen.

“Hold up, bub, com’eer,” he said.

I held up.

“Yes?”

“I heards you’s a writer,” he said.  “I heards you’s got a lot of competition.”

“Wheres did you heards that?” I saids.

“Never mind that. There’s uh, things…you know, that can help you with your, uh…shall we say….performance problem.

My back straightened fractionally and I felt my face begin to redden.

“I perform perfectly well, thank you,” I said, and started to turn away.

“Not that kinda problem, wiseguy,” he said, laughing quietly.  “How’s your hands today Mr. Monk?”

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