Cyberpunk and Protocyberpunk novels of note

There are several early science fiction novels that have influenced the Cyberpunk genre, which emerged in the 1980s. Some of the most notable examples of both Cyberpunk and Protocyberpunk novels include:

"The Space Merchants" by Frederik Pohl and C.M. Kornbluth (1952) - This novel is set in a future where corporations have taken over the world and advertising is the dominant form of communication.

"Stand on Zanzibar" by John Brunner (1968) - This novel is set in an overpopulated future where corporations have taken over the world, and it features a fragmented narrative style and a focus on social commentary.

"The Demolished Man" by Alfred Bester (1952) - This novel is set in a future where telepathy is a common ability, and it follows a businessman who commits murder and must evade capture using his psychic powers.

"Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?" by Philip K. Dick (1968) - This novel, which was the basis for the film "Blade Runner," explores the theme of what it means to be human in a world where artificial beings have become indistinguishable from real humans.

"Neuromancer" by William Gibson (1984) - Widely regarded as a foundational work of Cyberpunk, this novel introduced the concept of cyberspace and popularized the idea of a virtual reality that could be accessed through computers.

"The Shockwave Rider" by John Brunner (1975) - This novel features a protagonist who is a skilled hacker and explores themes of government surveillance and control in a dystopian future.

"Altered Carbon" by Richard K. Morgan (2002) - This novel, set in a future where human consciousness can be transferred between bodies, explores themes of identity and the relationship between the mind and the body.

"Snow Crash" by Neal Stephenson (1992) - This novel features a protagonist who is a hacker and swordsman in a world where virtual reality has become a dominant form of communication and commerce.

"The Stars My Destination" by Alfred Bester (1956) - This novel tells the story of a man who gains the ability to teleport and seeks revenge against the people who wronged him. It features many Cyberpunk elements, such as a dystopian society, genetic engineering, and advanced technology.

Question of Faith: The Gallows

This is a short story a long time coming. I began writing it as part of the 'Question of Faith' game I was writing several years ago. It was a game of dark fantasy where the characters are all cleric, priest and paladin types fighting demons and saving the souls of the people. The setting wasn't nice, it wasn't apologetic, and was going to be gritty. This particular story I was working on was about those found guilty in a trial being hung at a gallows where they have just one more chance at salvation. 

I stopped writing this when a friend of mine took his own life by hanging himself. Hindsight, like always, was 20/20. Shortly before it happened I had been talking with him online, he was frustrated, having trouble finding work, in debt and getting self destructive. But I didn't notice the severity until I looked back once it was to late. Needless to say writing about people being hung at a gallows was suddenly the very last thing I wanted to write about. 

Now looking back on unfinished work and projects I decided to finish the story. Maybe even try to finish the game as well. Just remember to keep an eye on those close to you, and even those who aren't. Never be afraid to reach out and offer help. 

-------

The Gallows

“The next group is ready Brother. Shall we begin?” Joseph sighed as he heard the recruit behind him. Closing the holy book and locking its clasp in place he rose from his knees. Groaning slightly as the wounds on his back ached, pausing once he was upright to let the dull pain subside. Without a word he walked past the recruit and out of the tent.

Sister Mary was waiting for him outside. Her right eye bruised and swollen slightly, robe still stained with the blood of those they vanquished earlier in the week. There was no smile on her anymore, today's dealings were grim and weighed on even the most devout souls. Raising his hand he made a slow fist over his heart as a sigh of strength, she followed suit with the same gesture and then took up her walk behind him to the gallows.

Constructed as he had ordered, four places for those sentenced to be hanged, the ropes dyed black. They were built low as well with no weights for the feet of the condemned so there was a chance of a slow death by strangulation instead of the neck breaking. All so those who had gathered before it could watch.... and hopefully remember well. The townspeople were clustered around its front, well over a hundred, some cheering on today’s deeds like fools, others begging for the lives of their loved ones like those who had lost hope and some praying for redemption, the ones who were secure in their faith.

Pausing for a moment he stared at the two carts for the dead, between them there were fifteen bodies there waiting for the flame. Some family members knelt beside them crying, praying and cursing. He glanced back to Mary at his back, “How many more after this group.”

“Only one thankfully.” her voice somewhat distant as she answered, “I pray more of these seek redemption and gain it. This day is pressing heavy on the townspeople.”

Nodding in agreement the march continued as they made their way. The executioner, clothed in gray and masked, climbs the steps first and takes his position behind the first person in line. They all stood there, nooses around their necks and arms bound tightly behind them. Making their way up Joseph and Mary stand in front and face the crowd. She holds her hand open and Joseph places the coin in her palm which she then holds up before the crowd and speaks.

“These four have been tried and found guilty of crimes against the Church. They are sentenced to be hung before the people they betrayed. However the Lord is merciful to even these who have turned their backs on Him. They will be given one chance for salvation and tested to insure faith is truly in their hearts.”

Turning to the first in line, an overweight man in once fine clothes, one of the town leaders. He looks at her as if he has been slapped. Holding up the coin before him he takes a deep breath before opening his mouth. After it is placed on the tongue he begins to recite the Lords Prayer for his allegiance. Half way through he begins to gag and wince and the coin falls from his mouth. Jacob moves forward and grabs his face forcing the mouth open, seeing the burn mark he motions to the executioner. With a pull of the lever the man drops suddenly stopping with a cracking noise as his weight snaps the neck.

The crowd roars. Jacob wonders just how disliked the man must have been. Mary retrieves the coin, cleanses it with a wave of her hand then moves to the next person and the crowd goes suddenly silent. The old woman stared straight forward unflinching. “My faith wavered I have honestly and opening admitted. I am ready for my test Sister.”

Mary smiled as if she already knew the outcome. Placing the coin in the woman's mouth she watched as she recited the prayer without error or hesitation. A good portion of the crowd roared in approval as the coin was taken from her mouth. The executioner cut the ropes freeing her hands and she immediately placed them on the arms of Joseph and Mary. “Thank you for the chance of salvation, I shall never stray from the light again.”

“Go old mother, we see you facing the light once again, be strong and He will guide you.” Mary says as the woman is helped down the steps by a recruit.

Third in line is a young lanky boy, not even of age to be married. He stood absolutely terrified and visibly shaking with tears running down his cheeks. Mary holds up the coin before him and he opens his mouth and tries to keep from sobbing. Behind them in the crowd is somebody telling the boy to be strong. Once in his mouth he begins the Lords Prayer. Stammering and stuttering his way though out of sheer panic. But he completes the task and stands shaking as Mary holds out her hand for him to open his mouth and removes the coin.

The crowd applauds softly mixed with the sobbing of joy from his family. Once his ties are cut Joseph steps forward and holds him tightly. “You were led astray by those you trusted, by those whom you were taught to obey. It's not your fault son.”.

Nodding in understanding he wipes away his tears before heading for the platform steps. Turning before walking down to speak, “Thank you Chevaliers, thank you for showing me back to the path.”

Then came the fourth waiting in line. She just stood there, a young woman in the robes of a kitchen girl for the keep. Her brown hair unkempt since the trial and blowing slightly in the wind. Mary walked before her and held up the coin. The girl smiled slightly and tilted her head a bit. “Funny little piece of metal that you all trust. Put some pictures on it and say some words. But you all are drowning in your own righteousness.”

“Please,” came a voice from the crowd, a woman who also worked in the kitchen, “We told you, she's touched in the head. She's been like this ever since we found her many years ago.”

“Open you mouth and recite the Lords Prayer.” Joseph with a sternness in his voice stepped forward a bit. But the young lady didn't even look at him just smiled.

“Oh I'm sorry but I don't want that dirty thing on my tongue. So please go ahead and pull that lever and make me dangle for your amusements. I mean that's all you really want. To see me dead like the rest.”

Mary frowned and returned the coin to its pouch. Then looked over at the executioner and gave him a nod. The lever is pulled, the bottom dropped, people screamed and the young woman dangled. Then she opened her eyes and smiled, completely unaffected by the rope around her neck.

“Well I hope you got your enjoyment from that.” She said flatly and then began to laugh in a high pitched voice. The crowd drew away, some ran and a few dropped to their knees in prayer. Joseph stepped back and pulled his sword while Mary waved for recruits to come up onto the platform.

Then the dangling woman burst into fire, completely turning her to ash in moments, setting the gallows platform and black rope on fire at the same time. Retreating back to the ground nothing could be done but watch it burn to the ground complete with the body of big man still hanging.

“Well that's not a good sign at all is it?” Mary asked of Joseph as she stood by his side.

“Sister Mary, I've never seen anything like that so I am not entirely sure.”

Question of Faith - Prologue

PROLOGUE

They stood in the center of the room waiting. He was one of the old guard, mid-thirties and worn by fighting. His armor marked by repaired damage and stained with the blood of the dark ones. She was much younger, untested and nervous. Even her armor betrayed her lack of experience, new and unmarked. Both stood beside each other looking about the room. Two empty cells made of barred walls, a table in the middle of the room covered with papers, books and some writing instruments, wooden stools and a single oil burning lamp hanging from the ceiling.

Within a few minutes a third man enters the room through the door. Wearing the leather armor of a town guardsman with one arm colored black to denote his rank as a sergeant. Carrying a bowl of soup in one hand he stops just two steps in as he raises his eyes to meet those of this visitors.

“Chevaliers... I was unaware of your presence or I would not have kept you waiting. It is an honor to be graced by your company. Please have a seat.” he motions to the chairs as he sets his soup onto the table, “I was attending to tonight’s orders and grabbing a late dinner. There is still more left if you are hungry. I can have a man bring you...”

“That isn't necessary Sergeant we are not in need of food at this time. I am Brother Joseph and this is Sister Mary, we are here to look into some matters involving some of your men.” He motioned for the guard to sit down, “Do sit down and enjoy your meal, we have a few questions to ask you while you eat and then we'll be on our way.”

With a little nod he takes his seat. A bit of sweat already appearing on his brow. He pulls a spoon from his his belt and stirs the soup a bit. “Anything you say Brother Joseph, I am always ready to aid the servants of our Lord.”

“Then before your first bite... put this in your mouth for a moment.” He drops a silver coin onto the table where it rolls a bit before stopping. The guard stares at it for a moment, sweat building more on his face, before looking up.

“Why do I need to do that? I mean what is it for Brother?”

“Just put it in your mouth please, on top of your tongue.” Her voice was a bit soft compared to the two men. But very clearly spoken and slow as if every word was premeditated long before they were spoken. Staring at her for a moment he then reached over and retrieved the coin from the table top and rubbed it slightly with his fingertips. Glancing back over at Brother Joseph while laying the coin onto his tongue.

“Good, now please swear your loyalty to our Lord who...” His words are cut short as the coin is spit back on the table, smoking with a good deal of burnt flesh and blood clinging to it. The guards mouth hanging open and a charred twitching chunk of burnt meat laying out of it. The body shook, eyes rolling back into the head, “A prayer of cleansing now Sister Mary!”

The thing that was the guard stands up quickly, inhumanly fast, bringing the table up with it. Running it forward slamming against his enemy as he tried to draw a blade. Running him back into the bars with a metal clang as they met with his armor. Sister Mary pulling her Lords Badge from beneath her robes immediately begins reciting a prayer in a clear determined voice.

With its face growing red with blackened veins it looks over to her and lets out a shrill scream. The skin of it starting to smoke faintly. Joseph regaining a bit of footing shoves the table back pushing the creature back across the floor and against the wall, shattering the table between them. In the close quarters neither are able to pull their swords reducing the fight to short strikes, kicks and shoving each other into the walls. As the prayer continues the smoke gets thicker and an acidic smell fills the room. Finally as the two tumble through the middle of the room one manages a grip on one of the chairs, bringing it across the others head knocking them down in a heap.

“Stop... that... you... wench...” Gurgling out the words as it turns towards her. The eyes bulging out now, face an almost purple red and the neck swollen to twice the width of the head. With a forward lurch and a cracking noise as a jaw dislocates itself a spew of intestines is vomited forth onto the last the Sister. Moving around her body and slithering upwards towards her arms. Pausing for a moment to keep from throwing up herself she keeps on with the prayer as the guts wrapping around her smoldered as well. They continue to pull around her, gripping her arms tightly as they constrict, trying to pull down her arm that holds the badge forward. Her throat burning with each breath from the smoke and eyes running with tears from it as well. Each word a struggle as they fight to see who can outlast the other.

Suddenly there is a flash of steel from behind the thing and the tendrils of guts go limp around her. Brother Joseph had regained his feet and finally managed to pull his sword. Headless and spurting blood the creature falls to the floor. The Sister backs away shaking the gore off of her and stumbles back against a wall gasping for breath and covering her mouth.

“Sister Mary are you injured.” She shakes her head in response as she swallows hard still keeping herself from throwing up. “You did good, your faith did not falter. Well done, especially against a Baalarashi. They are quite a nasty bit of business.”

Speaking from behind, her hand still at her mouth, “I fear my stomach may not be as strong as my faith...”

“Nonsense,” with a grin and a laugh. “the first time I came face to face with one I threw up all over it and myself.”

Lowering her hand and finally smiling a bit she nods. Reaching down and retrieving the fallen coin he tosses it to her. With clasped hands around it she utters a silent prayer and the flesh and blood of the creature turn to dust. As she hands it back over to him she looks out the small window into the night. “ Baalarashi almost never travel alone do they?”

“No... they do not. I fear we have our work cut out for us in this town Sister.”

They both turn as the door suddenly flies open, one with sword at the ready the other holding forth their Lord's Badge. A guard stands stunned by the sight at the doorway, short sword in a trembling hand. “Sergeant! What is going on here? What has happened?”

“Your Sergeant is no more, he had succumbed to the dark ones. Look for yourself at his remains he was one of the unholy soul and body.” The guard glanced down towards his fallen commanding officer and winces holding back emotions. His eyes narrowed and watery now. Finally he looks back up, holding his sword towards the floor and straightens his stance.

“I understand Chevaliers, you do what must be done.” Pausing to swallow hard and keeping his eyes averted from the mess at their feet. “What are your orders for me now?”

“What is your name watchman?” Mary asked.

“I am Morgan Wright sister, named after our patron savior Morgan the Black.”

“Well Morgan,” Joseph fumbles his free hand into his pouch, “you can start by putting this coin in your mouth and swearing loyalty to our Lord who stands behind us at all time.”

Hexcommunicated

Picked up Hexcommunicated from Rafael Chandler a while back in one of those bundle deals. Finally managed to start reading it a few days ago. So far I'm pretty damn impressed. Not at all what I thought it was going to be. Probably be finishing it up this week at work on breaks.  Probably try writing up a review for it after that. 

 

You can find it here at Drivethrufiction:

 

Hexcommunicated

 

Here is the write up on the book.

 "Murderous Soultergeists prepare a gruesome ambush in a Cary hotel. A massive Frankenstitch lumbers towards a quiet Apex farmhouse. And above a derelict asylum in Raleigh, a disembodied Skelekinetic deploys a horrific weapon.

Agent Nick Tepes is a Vampoule, a synthetic vampire specializing in counterterrorism operations. When his team picks up chatter about an imminent attack from the Al-Hazred terrorist network, Tepes and his unit of FAE operatives move to intercept....

However, a psychic has already seen the future: as the sun comes up, the terrorists will strike, and Tepes will die. The team has one night to prevent this prophecy from coming true, but the psychics of Hex Division are never wrong...

The debut novel of video game writer Rafael Chandler (SOCOM 4, Final Eden, MAG, Rainbow Six: Lockdown), Hexcommunicated is a white-knuckle mashup of urban fantasy and techno-thriller, set in a world of cybernetic werewolves, undead spies, and Lovecraftian WMDs."

 

 

Story out of Sequence part five

“Vehicle is a white Monte Carlo year 1980, excellent condition, plates number is SD4 56T. Doors appear to be locked; windows are rolled up, no keys present in ignition.” Detective Samantha Haberlin circled the vehicle talking into a small recorder in her hand. “In the back seat there is a plastic rifle case, several boxes of ammunition and a closed green sports bag. In the front there appears to be an empty bottle of Jack Daniels, an unfolded straight razor, loose cartridges for a pistol on the floorboards and a photograph of a girl. Oh and a sealed blank envelope on the dashboard.”

“You always seem to beat me to the scene Sam.” A voice sounded off from behind her.

“That’s right Murphy, always have and always will.” She turns to see the detective making his way around the police cruiser blocking off the alley. He looked like death warmed over this morning, probably hung over again. “Rough night?”

“As usual. It locked up?”

“Yeah, we’re supposed to get the keys for it sent down here once Julia gets done with the shit bag down in the morgue.” After pulling a five out of her coat pocket Samantha flags an officer over to her. “It looks like we will be here for a while why don’t you go get us all some coffee. Make mine black.”

“Same here.” Murphy spoke in as he peered through the side window of the car.

“Yes ma’am.” The officer turned away and headed off towards another patrol car on the street.

“So you think it’s going to be awhile before we get the keys Sam?”

“Well the body got pretty well ventilated. Jones is the one that finally took him down and you know how trigger-happy he is. With the way this guy went off you know he didn’t spare him any lead either.”

“Last count I got on the way up here was nine dead and fifteen wounded. With two of the dead being cops. I just can’t wait until we get a bullet count of how many rounds he put into him.”

“Detective Haberlin?” An officer approached from the end of the alley. Sam turned and gave him a nod. “Miss Bates down at the morgue wanted me to deliver you this. She said you wanted it as soon as possible.”

“Thanks.” Sam takes the envelope and looks inside, “Better glove up Murphy. For once somebody worked in our favor. They went ahead and sent us the keys.”

“I call dibs on the trunk.”

“I figured that much.” She sat the envelope on the hood of the car and slipped her gloves on, then pulled the keys out. “Quite a few on here, guess later we get the honor of trying to find out what they all go to.”

“Yeah lots of fun that will be. Hopefully he had some local next of kin to help us out when we get ready to do that.” He made an angry face as he pulled his gloves on with a snap.

“You always look like you’re about to give a cavity search every time you do that.”

“Yeah but the guys down at the jail hate it when I do one, my hands are to big for their tastes. Now come on let’s open the baby up.”

Sam looks through the keys a bit before finally selecting one out. She slides it into the lock on the trunk and turns it. “Well time to see what a psycho gun nut keeps in his trunk.”

“Oh didn’t know we were going through Jones’s car.” Murphy said with a grin as the trunk rose. “Okay now that’s not what I expected.”

“Holy shit…” Sam raises the recorder up to her mouth, “Inside the trunk there are several knives lined up in a rack, varying in size. A box of latex gloves, plastic bags, several rows of duck tape, rope, a Polaroid camera and some storage boxes.”

“I’m opening one of these boxes.” His hands gently lift the top of one of the boxes open while attempting not to disturb anything else. “Pictures, um … nothing special just a few… wait a second.”

“What is it?”

Murphy stood back up and goes through a hand full of Polaroid’s while Sam looks over his shoulder. “Victims I assume. Bound up and apparently being cut to death.”

“I recognize that person. She’s one of the victims of that serial killer that disappeared about a year ago. You remember that?”

“Yeah the one who got nicknamed the slow slasher since he took his time killing the victims. That means our man lying on the slab at the morgue is probably him.”

“I’m gonna go call this in. This pulls it out of our jurisdiction now.”

Story out of Sequence part four

“So we’re just going to put his soul back into a body that’s been rotting in a box for a couple months? I thought, like, it would go into another body. Send that person’s soul out and put my fathers in.” Tonya spoke while still staring at the doors, waiting for an explanation.

“Well…” Robert paused long enough to light up a Camel, “…it’s only going to be in that state momentarily. Once he is safely tucked away inside I start up another ritual that restores the body. Normally it would be impossible for it to work on a corpse, but with the soul inside it takes. In about a week your dad will be up, walking around, in his old body just like it used to be.” Taking a few paces up behind her he placed his hand on her shoulder. “How does that sound to you?”

“Better than I had imagined actually.” Tonya turned around with a grin of excitement upon her face. She reached up and takes the smoking cigarette from his lips and took a drag off of it. “Of course I should have realized for what I am paying that I am getting a true professional.”

“I am nothing if not professional.” He let out a sly smile and moved his hands to her hips, pulling her closer. “On top of that there is nothing that I wouldn’t do for you.”

“Well then let’s get this started, shall we?”

“That bit of detail certainly got your enthusiasm up didn’t it?” Over dramatically he stepped away from Tonya and turned towards the doors. Turning his head just enough to catch her face in his vision he placed his hands on the handle and turned it. With one swift motion he turned back towards the doors and pushed them open while walking in.

Her breath nearly escaped her at its site. On a rolling rack before her was the very casket she had picked out for the funeral, slightly dirty with a few dings on the top and smelled of earth. She took a few cautious steps forward and placed her fingertips along its side making sure it was solid and not imagined. Then running her hand over its top she stopped at a folded red cloth just above where the head would be. “You’ve certainly outdone yourself Robert, I will give you that. But what’s in the cloth?”

“That contains something that will be most helpful in finding your dear departed father. You see contrary to popular belief the soul doesn’t leave the body upon death, but only upon burial. Until that time it is trapped inside and witness to the events that follow. Once the first few shovels of dirt land upon the casket the soul is pushed up and out of its former shell from there it will go wherever it is supposed to go.” Robert walked onto the side of opposite of Tonya looking down at the cloth. “Normally it is through a sample of dirt that is collected that we trace the soul through since that is what it passed through. This time, however, we have something very connected to you and his soul passed through it. We have the rose you laid upon the casket before it was lowered into the ground.”

“My last farewell to him. I was the only one who stayed to watch the actual burial. They took the other flowers off but I asked them to leave one that I had brought. Something that I hoped he would take with him to the other side.”

“He may not have taken it with him, but rest assured he did touch it on the way out. Now you guide from the front and I will push. Tell me before we get up onto the lines on the floor, we’ve got to be careful going over them.”

The wheels of the rack began to squeak slightly as Robert started pushing. Tonya grabbed the front handle with both hands and pulled as best she could while trying to watch over her shoulder directing them. With the weight being so high it felt as if there was an unavoidable topple whenever they hit any small crevice in the floor. Slowly they manage to get it up to the circle.

“Alright from here we are going to have be on either side and lift the rack up and move it forward over the paint. We need to take it slow or we will wind up having to start all over again, and that’s something I would rather not do.”

“No problem, I got it.”

“Get on the left; I’ll get on the right. Okay. You ready?”

“Yeah I got a good grip.” She looked down at the floor underneath her and placed her feet appropriately so as not to step in the wrong place. “I’m ready.”

“Good. On three, one, two, three lift!” They both strain and manage to lift the front wheels of the rack an inch off of the ground. “Now forward just six inches.” Franks voice strained. Each slowly inched forward just enough to bring the wheels over the line. “Down.”

Tonya looked back up at Frank with a little exertion sounding in her voice. “So tell me, why we didn’t move the casket in here before you put the lines down?”

“Can’t, the lines have to be down first then the host body added on top of them for it to work properly. A lot of magic like this is very specific about the order in which you do things. One thing wrong and it doesn’t work or worse, it does something unexpected.”

“Ah, okay. I should have realized there would be some sort of reason like that.”

For the next half hour they move the casket to the designs center a few inches at a time. Stopping to rest for a moment or two here and there before continuing on. A few final alignments at the end and Robert walks back to the side room.

“What next? We have something else to move?”

“Nope just a few things to carry with us to the other side. Come with me I’ve got something for you.” He works two locks open on a cabinet in the corner and waits until she has walked up behind him. “We are going into an unfriendly area. It is best that we protect ourselves why we are there.”

Tonya steps closer looking at the cabinet’s contents with a slow studying gaze. Several weapons hang inside, knives, swords with ornate handles, a beat up looking fireman’s axe and a host of necklaces and assorted objects. On the inside of each door was a black leather backpack with several pockets; along the bottom on the inside the cabinet were various clear glass vials of colored liquids.

“So are we going to have to take all of this with us?”

“No. Only a few will do us any good on the other side, the ones made to deal with those who reside there. What do you know how to use?”

“Well I can use a knife decently I guess but I’ve never even held a sword. I’ve used an axe to chop and split wood but not for anything else.”

“Then you will carry the axe. Put this necklace on as well, it will make it harder for you to be seen.” Robert throws a backpack over his shoulder and hooks a sword to his belt. “Whatever you do don’t loose the axe, it belonged to my father.”

“The only way I’ll let go of it is if I’m dead.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

Story out of Sequence part three

Frank leaned back against the register looking off at the sun dropping behind the city skyline. Well as much as one could see through windows covered in sales posters, security bars and alarm wires. This was the time of day he enjoyed the most, almost no customers and nearly silent except for Tim stocking the shelves added into that the fact he got to go home in a less than half an hour. It was a good time to just relax, let your mind wander and plan what to do for the night.

Ringing from the door opening pulled his attention back into the store as someone entered. He looked over to see a young woman walking towards the counter holding a book bag out to him. “Thank you miss.” He uttered as she handed it over to him to place behind the counter, “Remember it on your way out.” She was kind of cute, he thought to himself, in a nothing fancy girl next door way. He couldn’t pull out much detail about her body but he did like what she was wearing. Loose fitting jeans, not those baggy ‘gangsta’ style ones everybody was wearing now days, just loose. A turtle neck sweater that covered her all the way up to the bottom of the jaw and only allowed her fingertips to stick out. Thin with a walk that was not attempting to show anything off.

He turned his attention back to the skyline, watching the glowing yellow disappear behind the business offices and car garages. All the while checking off in his mind the various activities that presented themselves for later. No dance clubs, didn’t feel like listening to throbbing music and even much less for dancing. Just going out and getting a good drunk going didn’t sound like what to do either even though he didn’t have to work the next day. He wanted music but nothing heavy, maybe some coffee with it as well. Maybe one of the more quite clubs down near the east side of the campus would do. Maybe.

“Next isle over ma’am, about half way down on your right.” Tim’s voice pulled him back into the store this time. So professional sounding, so utterly fake compared to what it’s like when he’s not around customers. He turned to watch the girl walk out of one isle and into the next one over.

“Hey Tim are you done stocking back there? It’s getting about time for me to clock out.” Frank called back.

“Yeah just a couple more boxes left and I’ll be done man.”

Beginning his normal leaving routine Frank cleared the bits of paper and plastic from around the register and wiping the counter down with a dust rag. Finishing up just in time as the girl walked up and place and armful of items down in front of him. “Find everything fine miss?”

“Yes.” Her small voice answered back.

She had beautiful blue eyes Frank noticed as he began scanning the items through and placing them in a bag. Looking at the prices ringing up and back at her more than at what was passing through his hands. “Looks like it’s going to be a nice night tonight, weather just cool enough for a jacket.”

“Yes it does look like it will be a nice night.” Her voice sounded smooth and quiet with a hint of shyness.

An exchange of currency between the two occurs without an announcement of the amounts. Frank handing her back the change without counting it. “Hope you enjoy it then.” He replied as he held the bag of merchandise out to her. “Oh and here’s your back pack also.”

“Thank you.” She turns and walks out the door without another word. Walking off to the left and disappearing from view.

Frank returned to his cleaning and realized that he forgot to give her the receipt. He pulled it out of the register and casually looked at it, going over the items in his head. Sewing needles, thread, rubbing alcohol, sterile gauze, medical tape, razor blades and a bottle of antiseptic spray. “What the hell.” He whispered to himself. Looking back out the door she left through he pocketed the receipt.

“Finished up man. Go ahead and get out of here if you want.” Tim’s voice barked, suddenly right beside him.

“Shit, don’t sneak up on me like that dammit.” Frank replied back with a smile.

“Sorry. Did Anna the ice princess get your attention? Noticed you watching her leave.”

“Ice princess?”

“Yeah down at the college nobody can even get her to talk to them for more than a couple lines. Lord knows a lot of us have tried, male and female.”

“Guess she’s not into being socially interactive.”

“Got that right. The only place I ever see her hang out at besides school is at that club down by the campus. She just sets in a corner booth drinking coffee all night and reading.”

“Which club would that be?”

Story out of Sequence part two

The brush glided along the floor leaving a trail of purplish red behind it. It turned, created circles, moved off at angles. Slowly the lines are laid down and each with its own purpose. Each stroke almost seemed random while it was being laid down and yet the finished product looked entirely predetermined. When all is done the brush is dropped into the jar holding the excess paint that was not used.

Robert stood back and gave a slow glance over his handiwork. It looked complete and, most importantly, perfect. He put the lid back on the glass container holding the specially mixed paint, leaving the brush inside, and placed it back on the altar. The mix must be kept separate from all the others, each has its own special ingredients and one would ruin the other if they were ever to come into contact.

"Well is it ready?" Tonya finally spoke up. She leaned forward out of the shadows of the far corner looking directly at his face. "Are you ready to start now?"

Robert moved only his eyes to look at her keeping his head facing the floor, "Why are you so eager to look at death? That is where you want to go isn't it?" She stood in silence at his words. "The realm of the spirits the home to those who have died. Called by many names such as hell, purgatory, limbo and countless others by those who have seen it or are bound there."

"You told me all this before Robert. Why do you keep saying it again and again? Do you think I am suddenly going to have second thoughts and back out?"

"If you are so ready then begin lighting the candles around the circle, and be careful not to smudge the symbols when you walk." He turned from the altar, holding a worn black leather book in his hands. It was made by his own hands, even the paper, then stitched together slowly over time, it was something wholly his own. "The slightest damage to them could get us bound there as well. What they do to people who don’t belong there is beyond reason and imagination to those who are still alive." Tonya looked at him with wide eyes and a face that was slowly filling with the emotion of fear. "Well are you still so anxious to go?"

"Of course, I have to do this." She tried to put on a sterner face but her eyes showed the fear that was building within her. He stared at her for a few minutes and then looked back towards the floor." Are you getting afraid yourself is that the problem?" She blurted it out in a louder voice than before, attempting still yet to summon up her courage.

“Now you do know that if we find him and successfully bring him back he may not be the same person that he was before?”

“What are you talking about? You told me that we will get his soul, the only soul he’s ever had, not a copy or dupe of any kind, but HIM! So it will be the same person as it was before, it will be my father!”

“Oh yes it will be your father. But… he may not be like you remember him.”

“What are you talking about?”

Robert turns towards her; she can feel his eyes like needles upon her face. It’s like this every time he’s about to get really serious. “He has spent some time in hell, his own personal hell. This is something that nobody can ever be fully prepared for. In that place minutes can seem like days on end, eternities could pass in a single day’s time. Nobody walks away from that unchanged.” He takes another couple steps through the symbol, careful not to touch a single brush stroke. “I know this from experience.”

“What, you mean you’ve died and came back yourself?”

“No. I’ve brought somebody back before, and she changed more than I could deal with. Fortunately for the both of us her changes also made me less desirable to her. So in the end the person I went to hell and back for decided that we were no longer meant to be together. So much for love eternal and undying eh?”

“Well that’s a risk I am willing to take for my father. He means everything to me.”

“Alright then let’s begin the final preparations. I will need your help to move your fathers casket out here into the center; it’s currently in the side room there.”

Face draining of color she follows his finger to a set of double doors on the side of the room. “You mean his body? You’ve got his body in that room?”

“Of course. I mean, his soul has to go somewhere when we bring him back doesn’t it then?”

Story out of Sequence part one

Roscoe sat crouched down on his knees with his back resting against the brick. The cold felt reassuring against his spine. He could feel the sun beating down on him, especially on his head and face. The red glow inside his closed eyelids was even bright to him; all he wanted was the darkness. Only the cold metal in his hands gave him any other comfort besides the bricks at his back.

The sounds of the city around him beat in on his eardrums giving no silence for those who wanted it. The never ceasing dull hum of engines set the average that everything seemed to challenge. Horns blared loudly without notice, like spikes through the skin. Screams of insults and foul language would often erupt, usually after the sounds of smashing metal and breaking glass. That would bring those terrible sirens of the local law enforcement that would add even more raised voices and insults. It was all an unending circle of noise and aggravation. It never ceased and it continued to drive itself further into his head every day.

“Still crying about the sounds?” the voice in his head finally rang out.

"Go away. I don't want to hear you today." Roscoe said out loud. Becoming suddenly aware that he was doing so. He calmed in a second when he realized that there was no one else on the rooftop to hear him. "You give me a headache."

"I give you a headache? No, what gives you a headache is yourself listening to all the sounds of life out there. You focus on them instead of ignoring them or trying to get them to be quite."

"You make me listen to them. I know it. I never used to be this way until you came along. Now all I hear is every little noise around me no matter what I do to drown them out."

"Oh I did this did I? Maybe you’re just having your midlife crisis or something. Did you even think about that? Or are you just looking for someone to place the blame on?"

"You ask too many questions. Shut up."

"Shut up? Me? What have I done to you?"

"Shut up."

"I will not. I have a right to speak just as you do. Its not my fault that you're the only person who can hear me." In the distance the sound of car alarm rings out.

"Shut up!"

"You only think of yourself you know that? Have you ever thought of anyone beside yourself? Are you listening to me?" In the apartment building across the street the sound of a child screaming suddenly blares out.

"Shut up!" Roscoe stands straight up. He opens his eyes to the pain of the light in defiance. A car backfires. "Shut up!" He spins to face down onto the street. An argument starts between several teenagers over a game of basketball. "SHUT UP!" He clicks the safety off, and raises the rifle. The noise being added now is being created by him. Every part of the sound is audible, the inner workings of the firearm, the round firing, the ejection of the empty shell casing, the brass hitting the rooftop, the screams from below. "I said Shut Up!"

"No."