Wednesday, 11 October 2017

Over £1700 Raised for Special Effect So Far!

I'm very pleased that so far my charity hair and beard shave on November 11th has raised £1742 for Special Effect - a wonderful charity who do excellent work with disabled people by improving their lives using technology.

If you haven't donated yet, then there's still time to do so - any support, no matter how small can help better someone's life:

https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/michael-brookes-headshave

The removal of my Samson like powers will take place at The Dun Cow in Christchurch (near Wisbech) on November 11th at 8:00 pm. All money raised in the venue will go to the East Anglia Air Ambulance. So if you're in the area, why not come and support me in person?





Monday, 2 October 2017

Raising Money for Special Effect - Sponsored Head and Beard Shave on Nov 11th


Hi all!

I will be participating in a Head and Beard shave (Assuming we raise enough money!) for the wonderful people at Special Effect on Saturday 11th November, in the Dun Cow in Christchurch at 8pm. If we raise £750 then all my hair will be shaved off, and if we manage over £1500, then the beard goes too!

I'm honoured to be an ambassador for Special Effect who use technology and video games to improve the quality of life for disabled people around the country. Please give generously on my JustGiving page here: https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/michael-brookes-headshave

All donations - no matter how small will help change someone's life.

If you're in the area then please come along and witness how cold my head and face becomes in person :-) At the venue we'll also collect for East Anglia Air Ambulance, who provide a valued service bring those injured in far flung places to hospital. I have to personally thank them for rescuing my sister after an accident on a  horse. So again, please come along and give what you can there as well.

Thank you in advance for any support you can provide, and please share this post as widely as you can.

Saturday, 12 August 2017

Excerpt from Song by Jesse Teller

The Guard of Mending Keep
One Year After The Escape

The serving boy’s face was stained green with disgust and horror. He looked about to be sick, about to flee, about to weep. Rayph saw the trembling lip and the panic in the eyes, and he knew what the boy was carrying. It was small, maybe a little over a foot wide, spherical, and covered with a towel. The boy wove a path through the reclining bathhouse patrons and made his slow, methodical way around the main tub to the corner where Rayph sat with his good friend, playing crease and taking in the steam.
As the boy drew closer, the dread that rose up within Rayph prompted him to turn to Dova and grimace. Rayph moved his tile, tapping it lightly with his finger, and shook his head.
“I’m afraid we are about to be interrupted,” Rayph said.
The boy trembled beside the gaming table. His white, sweating face held the world’s shock, and Rayph nodded at him. “Set it down.” He waved his hand across the boy’s eye line and muttered his spell’s incantation. The serving child’s face smoothed clear of all trepidation, and he let out a long-held breath.
“Where did you get it?” Rayph asked.
The boy’s dark eyes looked troubled even through the effects of the spell. “He hurt me,” the boy said.
“Hurt you how?” Rayph asked.
The boy pointed to his temple. “He got in here. He burned me.”
Rayph clenched his fist and anger bubbled deep within him. “What did he look like?”
“He was trimerian, but his third eye,” the boy rubbed his forehead, “it seemed to be flaming. He stunk of sulfur.”
Rayph’s blood ran cold, and he stood. “Watch the boy. Lock down the house. If he returns, do not engage, just defend, Dova. He is beyond even you.”
He looked to his ethereal friend, naught but churning wind where his body sat. The towel draped over Dova’s shoulders and tied around his waist, the only indicator of his form.
Rayph grabbed the boy’s shoulders a little too rough, just a little too hard. “Where did he go?” Rayph tried not to let fear get the better of his voice, but it trembled. There are so many innocents here. If he unleashes, how much of the city can I save? The answer was very little.
Dova exploded with a slight puff of wind. The towels fell to the floor. Rayph could feel his friend fill the room, warm air, fluttering and vibrant with life, swelled, blowing curtains in a flurry. The doors to the bathhouse slammed shut.
“Where did he go, son?” Rayph asked the boy.
“Who said he’s gone?” The voice held a new lilt of arrogance to it, a soft tinkling, musical and filled with spite. The boy leapt back. His forehead ripped open, betraying an eye. His back split and out flapped two wings that bled greasy smoke.
“Clear the room,” Rayph commanded as he loosed his spell. The power of the spell’s thrall was so great that every reclined man leapt to his feet and rushed for the door. The doors flew open to slam closed again. Every lamp in the room surged, hissing flame before dying completely. The room was thrown into gloom, the only light issuing from the great opening in the roof centered over them.
With a flick of his wrist and the uttering of a command word, the air around Rayph’s right hand tore and his sword dropped from the wound. The air zipped closed again, and Rayph turned to the serving boy, who hovered before him.
“You harm that boy any further and I will hunt you, Meric. I will plunge into that darkness you surround yourself in and I will rip you from it.”
The boy tossed his head back and unfurled a hideous laugh that trembled the ceramic tiles of the wall. “I have not come to quarrel with you, old friend.”
“You and I were never friends,” Rayph said. The sky above the opening darkened, and Rayph stepped closer. “Why have you come here? Why show yourself now, after this many millennia?”
“The nation is wide open, dear friend. No one is watching over Lorinth in your absence. You have forsaken your post.”
“I still guard this nation. I serve not the throne, but this is still my home. I will return as court wizard one day.”
The boy’s head lobbed back, and he poured out another hideous laugh, so violent the corners of the mouth split, and the boy coughed blood. “Too late, Rayph, you will return too late.” The head shook. “You have not yet looked at the present I left for you. How rude you are, Ivoryfist.”
Rayph extended an arm toward the table and muttered a word. His eyes stayed locked to Meric as the object floated the room to hover before Rayph. With a jerk of the cloth, he unveiled the severed head. Rayph looked in horror at the face, so contorted in pain from its last moment he could not recognize it.
He stared at it. The left side of the face was badly burned, the neck severed with some keen, hot blade that cauterized the wound perfectly. Deep claw marks covered the right side of the face and neck. Blood stained the chin and mouth.
Rayph’s heart broke out in a rampaging rhythm, and his mind burst into flames as he recognized the face. “No.” He looked away, but his eye was drawn to the head again as the identity of the head locked in his mind. “It can’t be.”
A gurgling laugh filled the room, and Rayph summoned forth the power to smite Meric.
“No, Rayph, you mustn’t!” Dova screamed. He threw his whistling form before Rayph, and two thrumming hands landed on his shoulders. The air that comprised Dova’s body filled with the water of the tub they stood in, making a figure of rampaging moisture. “If you engage him here, you will destroy my city. You must not.”
“Listen to Dova, Rayph. He always was one for caution,” Meric said. “Caution and cowardice looking so much alike and all.”
“Rayph, who is it?” Dova motioned toward the head.
“Stoic,” Rayph breathed. “He has killed Stoic.” Saying it aloud let the words take on meaning. His friend was gone, his guard, dead. What would become of Mending Keep? Had they all fled? Had the world’s unkillable fiends made good an escape?
He knew the futility of the words before he spoke them but felt helpless to say anything else. “I will make you hurt for this, Meric. In this one act, you have killed yourself.” Rayph felt nauseous.
“Step aside, Dova,” he said.
“Oh, my dear Rayph, please do keep tight check on that temper of yours. I would hate to reduce this city to rubble because you threw a fit,” Meric said. The black smoke issuing from the flapping wings filled the room with unbreathable air. “Stoic is gone, as are his charges, but that does not mean we need come to blows. I was not the one that killed your boy.”
“This head was severed with your blade. Do not try to deny it.”
“Yes, for easier transportation, I assure you. He was dead long before I got there.”
Was Meric lying? Did he have any reason to? Why bring the head at all? Meric was not one to gloat. It was not his way. Why alert Rayph the prison had been broken in to? There was an element to this Rayph could not see, something big moving powerful pieces about the board.
“Who did this?” Rayph asked.
The boy laughed again, weaker this time. He doesn’t have much time. I have to get Meric out of that boy as soon as possible.
“I won’t do all of your work for you, Ivoryfist,” Meric said. Lightning flashed outside, the inky clouds that followed Meric everywhere boiling in the sky above them.
“Does this mean you’re coming off sabbatical?” Meric asked.
“I will find out who did this and why, and when I do, if your name comes up at all…”
The boy laughed again, a hissing wheeze that scared Rayph.
“Remember who helped you when it all comes out, Rayph. Remember who alerted you to the break. You owe me now,” Meric said.
“I owe you nothing. You did not do this for anyone’s reasons but your own.” It’s big. It’s really big, but I can’t see it.
Meric laughed again. The wings pumped, throwing blood through the air, and the boy’s body lifted.
“Leave the boy!” Rayph said.
“You don’t give me orders any more, Rayph. Those days are over.” The boy’s body lifted high above the bathhouse, and Rayph splashed into the center of the tub to stare up at darkened skies. With a deafening explosion, Meric broke loose of the boy’s body, and the child dropped. Rayph set his feet and watched as the body tumbled. The boy dropped through the opening in the ceiling, and Rayph caught him in his arms. The sky opened and rain hammered the city. Rayph looked up at his friend and grimaced.
“I must leave, Dova,” Rayph said. “But first I have to know what happened to Stoic. Can I use your lab and summoning room?”
“Everything I own is at your command, Ivoryfist, you know that.”
The boy woke up screaming.


 Song
The Manhunters Book One
Release Date: October 5, 2017



Some of the darkest minds in Perilisc attacked Mending Keep, releasing all its prisoners. Despite his strained relationship with the crown, Rayph Ivoryfist calls old friends to his aid in a subversive attempt to protect King Nardoc and thwart terrorist plots to ruin the Festival of Blossoms. But someone else is targeting Rayph, and even his fellow Manhunters might not be enough to save him.

About the Author
Jesse Teller fell in love with fantasy when he was five years old and played his first game of Dungeons & Dragons. The game gave him the ability to create stories and characters from a young age. He started consuming fantasy in every form and, by nine, was obsessed with the genre. As a young adult, he knew he wanted to make his life about fantasy. From exploring the relationship between man and woman, to studying the qualities of a leader or a tyrant, Jesse Teller uses his stories and settings to study real-world themes and issues.

He lives with his supportive wife, Rebekah, and his two inspiring children, Rayph and Tobin.


Recognition
SPFBO 2017 entrant
Literary Titan Gold Book Award Winner, April 2017
Drunken Druid Editor’s Choice, March 2017
Drunken Druid 2016 Book of the Year Short List
Hungry Monster Gold Book Award Winner, September 2016

Jesse Teller is a talented author with the future in his hands.” —Peter Tr, booknest.eu

A very strong author who boldly builds the world he has created with strong themes and no apologies.” —Dianne Bylo, Tome Tender Book Blog

Jesse’s newest project, Song, is part of his Perilisc fantasy world: a richly detailed setting, ripe with legends, magic, and secrets whispered but not yet explored.” —Bookwraiths.com


Tuesday, 4 July 2017

New Drabble - The Dreams of the Dead

Image credit: http://latoday.deviantart.com/art/souls-147715429
It's been a while since I last wrote a drabble (a story that is exactly 100 words long), but inspiration recently hit me with this one :-)

The Dreams of the Dead

I dream the dreams of the dead. The constant hunger for the luminous vibrancy of life burns and subsumes all capacity for reason or feeling. We exist alongside the living world, but it’s shadowed by the veil of our passing.

Our grey existence is eternal, and our hope is singular.

An explosion of light shatters the gloom. A rainbow in human form cast into a glowing shockwave passes through those nearby. For that moment, we glory in the life of the newly departed. All too soon the sensation fades, and our existence is grey once more.

And it sustains me.

You can read some of my other drabbles here: http://thecultofme.blogspot.co.uk/p/100-word-stories.html

Monday, 3 July 2017

Pre-order Best of British Science Fiction 2016 Now

I'm very pleased to announce that the forthcoming Best of British Science Fiction 2016 is now available to pre-order on Kindle. I'm honoured to have a story featured in this collection!


Editor Donna Scott has selected the very best short fiction by British authors published during 2016. Twenty-four stories, from established names and rising stars.

Contents:
Introduction by Donna Scott
Joanne Hall - Arrested Development
Peter F. Hamilton - Ten Love Songs to Change the World
Eric Brown & Keith Brooke - Beyond the Heliopause
Gwyneth Jones - The Seventh Gamer
Nick Wood - Dream-Hunter
Robert Bagnall - Shooting the Messenger
Neil Davies - The Lightship
Liam Hogan - Ana
Jaine Fenn - Liberty Bird
Sarah Byrne - Joined
Ian Watson - Heinrich Himmler in the Barcelona Hallucination Cell
Una McCormack - Taking Flight
Den Patrick - People, Places and Things
Paul Graham Raven - Staunch
Adam Roberts - Between Nine and Eleven
Natalia Theodoridou - Ajdenia
Sylvia Spruck Wrigley - To Catch a Comet
Tricia Sullivan - How to Grow Silence from Seed
Tade Thompson - The Apologists
Ian Whates - Montpellier
Neil Williamson - Foreign Bodies
Michael Brookes - The 10 Second War
Adam Connors - Possible Side Effects
E. J. Swift - Front Row Seat to the End of the World

Pre-order now from Amazon: http://amzn.to/2uBPB1m

My Books on Goodreads