Tony Ruggiero

Catching Up: June 30 to August 5

Tue, 05 Aug 2008 11:15:14 GMT

Hey Folks:

Yes I'm playing catch up. I've been delinquent in posting to live journal while posting to the other blogs that I have. Shame on me, I know. So here are all the entries that I did not post earlier. If you want to read in order of oldest to newest, start from the bottom.

Tuesday, August 05, 2008

Of WorldCon & Such

Well first of all—welcome to new readers and friends. We have had a big boost the past week or two from the New York area—so welcome! Please drop by the website and say hello to everyone.

Well a short week for me as it's off to Worldcon in Denver tomorrow. But hopefully before I go I will be able to get my tooth fixed. I was munching on some jelly beans the other day and crack—a piece of tooth came off. So I have begged and pleaded with my dentist to get me in before the trip to Denver because knowing my luck it will only get worse. So, hopefully, I'm planning on trying to relax a little while there and just…well hang out. I have two panels to do, one is about military science fiction; deals with real life stuff as compared to what writers are producing. The second panel is a vampire panel—of course. Other than that I will be doing some signings in the dealer's room at the EDGE/Dragon Moon Press booth.

A reminder that the free download of Alien Deception is still available at the main website: www.tonyruggiero.com. With the election year we should make this mandatory reading, it puts a lot of what the candidates bicker about in a new perspective as well as having some fun.

As to book progress, I have started the editing and rebuilding process of the next vampire book, Operation Face the Fear. By rebuilding I am referring to that we stole…well I stole a little from the third book and stuck it in the second book. So now I have to do some replacing and reorganizing. The release date has not been firmed up yet but I have asked for April-May timeframe.

That's it for now.

Take Care
Tony

Tuesday, July 29, 2008

Alien Deception--Audio File--Chapter 1&2

I have put up the audio file to Chapter 1 & 2 of Alien Deception. So go ahead and give it a listen:)

http://www.tonyruggiero.com/sampleaudiodatafiles.html

Tony

Friday, July 25, 2008

The Best Things in Life Really Are Free...

Yes...I did say the magic word of FREE.

If you go to my main webpage at www.tonyruggiero.com, you can download a FREE pdf version of my novel Alien Deception. Yes--I did say FREE. It is on my main page of the website just below the WORLDCON announcement.

If you do download it and read it, a review or blog about it would be highly appreciated!

Have a great weekend!

Tony

Monday, July 21, 2008

Tired Monday…

Well the title almost says it all. We have a new member to the family…her name is Maggie-Moo, she is an English setter who joins Victoria, our young 10 month old English setter who badly wanted a playmate.

Maggie is 3-4 years old and comes from the English Setter Rescue Organization. She was in a foster home in Louisville, Kentucky so to speed up the adoption process I drove to Louisville, Kentucky on Saturday and back to Virginia on Sunday…all in all about 1400 miles. I've forgotten how much fun it is to do the marathon drive by oneself. So needless to say this week is off to a slow start. If you want to see Maggie, click on the link: http://www.englishsetterrescue.org/family-album/adoptions-2008/A1647.html

As to writing this week, I will be working on my synopsis and ancillary materials for the newest book in preparation to pitch it to a few agents and WorldCon in Denver, CO quickly approaches. After that I hope to start my revising and editing of the next vampire book before the editor gets their paws on it.

Still need some reviews…so get out there and post some at Amazon or something:)

Off to nap…I hope.

Tony

Monday, July 14, 2008

Happy Monday…

Well yeah I am a little jovial today because I did finish the second draft of the new book—finally!

I still have to go back in and clean up my chapter lengths and stuff like that, but then it should be ready for the beta read. So progress has been made—and that's always a good thing. I'm pretty happy about the book so far. Right now it's called Last Chance, and it deals with the concept of a utopian world except this time with the help of vampires and werewolves.

Oh and before I forget—hello to all those new folks joining in from Oklahoma! The media campaign has started arbitrarily picking places to market, I know we just left San Francisco after making over a hundred new friends—it's always great to see new people and hopefully some new readers as well. Speaking of which…I need some readers to get some reviews posted over on Amazon. I'd appreciate any help there. Don't forget about the free book offer I talked about in my blog a week or two back—it's still going…

Other than that planning for the Denver trip in August to attend Worldcon. Looking forward to going—it's not often that I can make it to the Worldcon due to traveling and time considerations. If anyone is from that area, appreciate any tips about things to do and places to see while I'm there.

Well have to run…everyone be safe and…oh wait a minute…we need some useless news don't we. Let me see, I know I have something here somewhere. Here we go…did you know that in Utah, it is against the law to discriminate unfairly in the purchase of milk, cream or butterfat? And if that is not enough, in Utah, prosecutors can seek death for anyone who kills an on duty poultry inspector—does that mean its okay to kill an off duty one?

Later.

Tony

Wednesday, July 09, 2008

Not Quite Yet...

Well I wish I could say I was finished with the book—but I'm not. But it's not due to any lack of effort. I have been working on it every day for a few hours and it's just getting longer—I guess there was more story there to tell after all.

Anyway the important part is that I am back on some kind of schedule and for me that's very important. I'm averaging about a 1000 words a day so about 7000 words a week. I know it shouldn't be about numbers, but for me, it helps keep me on schedule.

Anyway before I run off—time for a little more useless news…

Did you know that in St. Louis...., it is illegal to sit on the curb of any city street and drink beer…from a bucket?

Also, still looking for some more folks to post their reviews up on Amazon.com…come on now, I know you're out there!

Take Care,

Tony

Thursday, July 03, 2008

Did You Know...

Okay...useless knowledge can be very funny.

Did you know that in Globe, AZ it is illegal to play cards with an American Indian and that in Illinois, it is illegal to fish in your pajamas in Chicago?

Have a Happy 4th, but don't play any cards with an American Indian in Globe, AZ or fish in your pj's in Chicago.

Tony

Monday, June 30, 2008

Almost there…but not quite

Well I have not finished the book yet…but I am getting closer.

Between editing and adding some new stuff, I think I added about 10,000 words or so for me and given the state of my writing lately that was a pretty good week.

So like I have said, I'm still pleased with the progress and I am now hoping to get it done maybe this week although that may not be enough time now because of new directions that have popped up. I have decided to try and keep this as a two book series but even that might change and become three.

As long as the words keep coming--that's a good thing. So…I guess we'll have to see.

Take care & have a Happy 4th,

Tony

I WANT YOU…to try one of my books—for free.

Tue, 17 Jun 2008 11:52:07 GMT

Hello Everyone!

Here's the deal—I have a very limited number of Alien Deception (Science Fiction) and Operation Immortal Servitude (Vampire), both are the first books in their respective series. I will send you a copy of your choice. If you like it—you have the opportunity to pay the full price, half price or nothing at all. If you don't like it, just send it back to me—that's it.

You can read more about these books at any of my web pages on Myspace, Facebook, LiveJournal or at www.tonyruggiero.com.

How It Works:

(1) Message me and tell me which book you would like. I am going to need an address in order to mail it to you. I will pay the postage to get it to you via media mail. Any form of expedited shipping is at your expense.

Within 45 days:

(2) If you like it and decide to keep it—how can you get it for half price?

Blog about it and post two reviews on line at a book selling site such as Amazon.com or Barnes and Noble.com. Send me the links to your blog, or someone that will blog it for you, as well as the retail sites.

(3) If you like it and decide to keep it—how can you get it for free?

Get two of your friends to buy a copy of any of my books. Obviously this would require that somehow you send me something that shows proof of purchase or they can order them through me at my website at www.tonyruggiero.com.

(4) If you like it and want to keep it and you decide to not do (2) or (3) and pay full price, I will give you the address to mail your check to or you can pay electronically via Paypal.

(5) If you don't like it, just send it back to me and pay the postage.

Rules: Yeah we have to have a few. I would ask that if you return the book, please do so in as decent a condition as possible and in a reasonable amount of time, say no more than 45 days later.

Full Price Trade Paperback: $19.95 per book

Half Price Trade Paperback: $10.00 per book

Thanks.

Tony

Time to Get Moving On…

Mon, 02 Jun 2008 12:34:47 GMT

First off—hello to all the new friends on Facebook and Myspace! I have been talking with a lot of new folks from the West Coast—Many from the San Francisco area. I hope you enjoy what information you get and if nothing else I welcome your friendship into our little world.

Well my little vacation from teaching at Old Dominion University in Norfolk, VA. is over—those 3 weeks went fast! Anyway this week I start my Saint Leo evening class—yeah its only one due to low enrollment numbers but at least its something. Anyway that's probably a better thing because I have to get hot on some projects. The first thing on my list is a short story that is due for a SF military anthology--although my story isn't that military—I have a rough draft complete, but I need to smooth and then have some Beta readers to take a look at it. After that I will have to split my time on the new book I have started as well as wrapping up the third book in the vampire series.

The bathroom renovations continue (as we approach the six month mark—or did I pass it already? Anyway…I actually have a working toilet! Sometimes we never know how much we miss the simple things until they are gone. Of course I have another bathroom but that is all the way on the second floor—up those stirs and into cat country—oh my. And when you have the bladder on a fifty year old man who drinks way too much coffee—well you can put it together. I have to resolve the faucet issue on the tub, get a door up and wood trim the windows and add a vanity—I think I am looking at another month or so.

Quiet on the weekend movies—just not much out there at the moment for me. I am enjoying watching the DVD of the old television SF miniseries of "V" from the early 80's. It has withstood the test of time well. Highly recommend it if you have not ever seen it and for those Marc Singer fans—you won't want to miss.

Cool video sent to me (thanks Stacy) on Youtube on Firefly: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6PlNJU7qBaU

Also as part of my "get back to writing" mode, I may not be on line as much. We all know how time flies when we get on these magic boxes and let ourselves be drawn in. But I can assure you that all emails will be answered—promise.

Take Care,
Tony

Official webpage at www.tonyruggiero.com
Myspace: http://www.myspace.com/truggiero
Facebook http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=1065973165
LiveJournal: http://aruggs.livejournal.com/

Catching Up

Wed, 28 May 2008 11:51:52 GMT

I forgot to crosspost so I am addding the blog posts that I missed. I know they are dated but it was easiest to just copy and paste them all...

Saturday, May 24, 2008

Indiana Jones Movie (contains spoilers)

Now remember, I said this post contains spoilers so you may not to read this if you have not seen the movie.

I saw the movie the night it came out—waited in line to get tickets and everything. WARNING: MY OPINION FOLLOWS: The short answer is walk to see this movie, but don't run. It was good, but not great. It was really awesome to see Indy in action (the beginning of the movie is fantastic) again and you have a good amount of chase scenes in the film. And having Miriam from the first movie come back was really kind of cool.

The part that was lacking was the mystery or solving of the puzzle; there simply was very little done with the concept that I feel made these movies so great, especially the first and third movie. Indy puts all the clues together to solve the secrets and save the day. Also, the alien concept was a little bit of a stretch for me as well which I feel was not like the other movies.

Still as I said, see the movie and enjoy it for what it is—Indiana Jones back on the big screen. There are a lot of good memories there worth revisitng if noithing else.

Ironman still holds the number one slot for the best movies I have seen this year—the question to be answered will yet "another" Batman film dethrone the man of Iron? Hmm….

Take care,

Tony

Thursday, May 22, 2008

Of Balticon and Bathrooms

On the road tomorrow for BALTICON; I will have a table in the dealer's room which I will be sharing with Tee Morris. My panel schedule is not too hectic so the majority of time that will be where you can find me. So please stop by and say hello! My panel schedule is:

Friday 7PM Outlaw Panel

Sat 2PM Smoking Tobacco (oh boy…)

Sat 9PM How to not make the second book of your trilogy a letdown.

Sat Midnight Vampires

The Bathroom Project! Yes, I've been quite mum about this one. It's the reason I haven't gotten much writing done over the past several months (or a good enough excuse). My house was built in 1927. It has three bathrooms which is great. Two of the three had been renovated and look pretty good. The downstairs bathroom had not been so it was decided to be the first project. Initially I foresaw removing the tile from the floor (so that I could level it off some because it was sloping about an inch) and walls and re-tiling and some painting and maybe replacing a fixture or two. Not that big of a deal…after all I have had lots of practice with this kind of stuff.

Anyway the demolition began and so did the headache…(to be continued…I have to get to work in the bathroom)J

Everyone have a safe Memorial Day Weekend and please take a brief moment to remember why we have this weekend.

Take care,
Tony

Monday, May 19, 2008

Front Porch Time and Indiana Jones

The weather has been gorgeous and I have discovered the front porch of my home. When I moved in about a year ago, there was not much time to get acquanited with any forms of "restfull" activities because as we all know, moving is such a fun endeavor. But now between the bathroom renovations, yes--that saga continues...the newest diasaster is the faucet but that's a story for another time. Anyway, so in between that and whatever else life throws my way, I think I will have to fit in more porch time.

Anxious about the Indiana Jones movie this week! I hope they didn't mess it up by adding to much cliche type material for Harrison Ford to dish out--that would be such a dissapontment but not unusual for Hollywood. Speaking of such I watched Escape from LA, a Kurt Russell film, and the sequel to the cult classic and one of my all time favorites, Escape from New York. I've seen it before, I'm referring to the sequel, and I always hope it will get better, but sadly it doesn't. Such a shame when Escape from New York was such a classic film and the character of Snake Bliskin had so much potential! Anyway, lets hope that Indiana Jones fairs better. I'll let you know because I will be one of those people standing in line to see it on Thursday!

BTW, I also saw the sequel to Narnia this past weekend--it was okay. Didn't get me going as much as I had hoped though.

Don't forget about Balticon this weekend!

Laters.

Tony

www.tonyruggiero.com

Thought for the Day & BALTICON

Wed, 14 May 2008 11:52:43 GMT

First I would be remiss by not welcoming all the new friends from the Baltimore area—so welcome to my crazy ramblings! It's great to have you all here and I hope to see many of you soon as you will see from reading on in this post about the upcoming Baltimore trip.

But first I need to discuss my dog…yes again. When I die, I want to come back as a dog (okay-hold the comments until I'm done) or at least a dog in my household. I want to be fed good dog food, have a doggie door that responds to my collar so I can come and go as I please. Get to wear really cool bandanas and dig holes in the backyard. I will also get to hang out with my other doggie friends at doggie day care. I will get to lie on the back of the sofa and stretch out and watch TV and stare at the cats that aren't any fun because they don't want to run around and romp with me. The toys they get me are also very cool. And best of all I will have owners who give me treats and love me.

Now if I could only get my dog to read this, maybe she will stop stealing my slippers!

Anyway, the next convention quickly approaches: Balticon 42 in Hunt Valley, MD. Memorial Day weekend I will be there doing panels and talks and I also have a table in the dealers room. This convention is usually one of my favorites because it is very book oriented and I have made a lot of friends there over the years. Although I have never really forgiven this convention from moving out from the inner harbor area, its still provides a lot to do.

So I hope that many of you will be there and that you get the chance to stop by and say hello. If you can't get to the convention, email me and maybe we will get together somewhere nearby. More information for the convention can be found at the Balticon website which I believe is at www.balticon.org.

And for those who were thinking about a title for the new project, here is a little something to consider:

"If there is to be a new world, the vampire and werewolf shall be part of it because the evolution of man has no allegiance to mankind, but only to God."

Take Care,

Tony
www.tonyruggiero.com

Of Movies and Books

Wed, 07 May 2008 11:09:41 GMT

IRONMAN is by far one of the better movies I have seen this year. It has some dynamic special effects, a pretty solid cast of characters and a reminiscent sound track for those of us of an older generation. It also features a "very modern" storyline, unlike the original storyline from the comic books but its message is fairly timeless in that regard dealing with greed. The dialogue is great and Downey does an excellent job with making it all work very well. It been a very slow year for good movies and many of us are impatiently awaiting the May 22 (I'll be standing in line for tickets) release of Indiana Jones, but in the meantime, check out Ironman.

I also just finished Stephen King's latest book, Duma Key. It's King at his usual best of creating the masterful suspense that he is known for, so in that regard it is quite entertaining. Although it's a long read, about 600 pages or so, I felt that it moved very well. I had to backtrack a few times to clarify something but other than that, I found the book overall enjoyable. It's not on the same level of my modern King favorite, Bag of Bones, but it is a good read.

Later
www.tonyruggiero.com

Title Help & Other Sundries

Tue, 06 May 2008 12:38:11 GMT

Okay…I have a problem (well one of many--beat you to it that time didn't I?) that maybe someone out there can help me with—I need a title. As many of you are aware, I am working on a new book that involves both werewolves and vampires. I can't tell you much because that would give away too much and at an early stage that is probably not a good idea. But I can say that beyond the unique type of characters, it also deals with the concept of utopia—the perfect world. Of course there is a conflict between the humans with the vampires and werewolves as well. Any thoughts…and I mean any…in this direction would be greatly appreciated and of course written credit would be bestowed if I like the suggestion and use it.

Also, if anyone has read my short story, Perspective, in the anthology, Breach the Hull, I would love to get some feedback because I have to make a decision if I should continue that story or write a new one.

The puppy saga continues…Victoria hurt her leg yesterday somehow romping with the other dogs. I'm keeping an eye on it; right now it seems to be just tender so hopefully just some rest will get her back to her usual romping self. It can't be that bad because she can still manage her cat routine—that is to make it up to the back of the sofa and lay stretched out…

Don't forget..BALTICON is coming up!

Until next time…

Tony

www.tonyruggiero.com

Life After RavenCon & Stuff

Tue, 06 May 2008 12:36:56 GMT

It's good to be home! We made it safely back from the convention and pretty much had dinner and went to bed--that is after the highly excited puppy pummeled us with dog kisses. Conventions are great--their fun and entertaining, but man are they tiring!

Anyway, it was another great year for RavenCon. Pretty much everyone I spoke with enjoyed the convention. My hat goes off to the staff for another superb effort at running a convention that has a little bit of something for everyone. In my mind they, or we, are setting the mark for what conventions need to be. Sure I am a little biased because I help on staff as well, but I think when you talk to people about it--you'll see what I mean.

Operation Save the Innocent book launch went very well--thanks to everyone who came and participated in the raffle--there were some big winners. For those of you who still have not gotten your copy of the new book--there is still hope. Amazon.com is still running their sale on it at: Click here. It won't last for much longer because stock is on the way to the distributors as we speak. What I had at the convention was a special lot shipped overnight from Canada.

I actually had a little time to hang out with some of the other guests...David Coe, Danielle and Mike McPhail, John Wright....and this list can go on and on. Let's just say that it was great to see everyone! That is still the best part of going to conventions to begin with--socializing and hanging out with friends. I also did a few panels but of course the quick write is always my favorite because you never know what you will get out of it in terms of a finished product.

And a VERY Special thanks to Gail Martin, www.ChroniclesOfTheNecromancer.com and her video blogging technology--she graciously has provided links to hear and see some interviews with many of the guests! Thanks again Gail!

Day 1: http://www.audioacrobat.com/playv/WZ1m0XG4

Day 2: http://www.audioacrobat.com/playv/WNTsBD64

Day 3: http://www.audioacrobat.com/playv/WB7Lmfh4

That's it for now--take care.

Tony

www.tonyruggiero.com

Life After RavenCon & Stuff

Tue, 29 Apr 2008 14:57:12 GMT

It's good to be home! We made it safely back from the convention and pretty much had dinner and went to bed--that is after the highly excited puppy pummeled us with dog kisses. Conventions are great--their fun and entertaining, but man are they tiring!

Anyway, it was another great year for RavenCon. Pretty much everyone I spoke with enjoyed the convention. My hat goes off to the staff for another superb effort at running a convention that has a little bit of something for everyone. In my mind they, or we, are setting the mark for what conventions need to be. Sure I am a little biased because I help on staff as well, but I think when you talk to people about it--you'll see what I mean.

Operation Save the Innocent book launch went very well--thanks to everyone who came and participated in the raffle--there were some big winners. For those of you who still have not gotten your copy of the new book--there is still hope. Amazon.com is still running their sale on it at: Click here. http://www.amazon.com/Operation-Innocent-Declassified-Tales-Darkness/dp/1896944604/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1209480073&sr=1-1
It won't last for much longer because stock is on the way to the distributors as we speak. What I had at the convention was a special lot shipped overnight from Canada.

I actually had a little time to hang out with some of the other guests...David Coe, Danielle and Mike McPhail, John Wright....and this list can go on and on. Let's just say that it was great to see everyone! That is still the best part of going to conventions to begin with--socializing and hanging out with friends. I also did a few panels but of course the quick write is always my favorite because you never know what you will get out of it in terms of a finished product.

And a VERY Special thanks to Gail Martin, www.ChroniclesOfTheNecromancer.com and her video blogging technology--she graciously has provided links to hear and see some interviews with many of the guests! Thanks again Gail!

Day 1: http://www.audioacrobat.com/playv/WZ1m0XG4

Day 2: http://www.audioacrobat.com/playv/WNTsBD64

Day 3: http://www.audioacrobat.com/playv/WB7Lmfh4

That's it for now--take care.

Tony

www.tonyruggiero.com

The Road to RavenCon & Other Stuff

Mon, 21 Apr 2008 20:08:23 GMT

Well a lot going on this week as I prepare for RavenCon in Richmond, Virginia), also need to start the wrap up of some of my classes at ODU and get final papers in for another…not to mention squeak in some writing time…if the bathroom renovation job permits. So if I make it to my own book launch on Saturday I guess I am doing pretty good then. I hope that I see many of you there—there will be a lot of cool stuff given away at the raffle! For more information about RavenCon, go to my events section or www.ravencon.com.

I received some sticker shock this weekend—I paid my membership dues for Worldcon in Denver, Co. this August and World Fantasy in Calgary, Alberta this October-November—$200. for one and $125. for another. I guess I remember why I do not usually attend them. I was on the fence about attending Worldcon in Denver but I was sure about World Fantasy in Calgary especially because my publisher will be at that one and it would be kind of cool to meet a lot of the other authors as well. I guess I need to teach some more courses to afford the trips…yeah right!

Movie report: 88 Minutes. Just the fact that it is an Al Pacino movie should be enough to go and see. I was not disappointed, but I guess I was not really impressed. It was a good movie but certainly not one of Al Pacino better ones but still worth seeing especially with the current movies out in the theater. They also previewed another Al Pacino and Robert DeNiro film coming out as well—looks interesting and is supposedly some kind of follow up to the original movie, Heat, that starred both actors.

Also watched an older but still very good film, The American President, (1995) with Michael Douglas and direct by Robert Reiner. Why is it a great film—simply the dialogue. If you get a chance—watch it—you won't be disappointed.

Has anyone read Stephen King's new book, Duma Key? I am about halfway through it so no spoilers please—just curious as to what people think about it. There has been a lot of discussion about old King and new King and quality of his work.

Well I need to get some work done…and dry off the soaking wet dog. One thing about a white dog—they don't look so good when they are wet and they really do get dirty fast! But I guess its tradeoffs; at least she has stopped stealing the cell phones!

Be good.

Tony

Leatherheads & RavenCon & Tax Day

Wed, 16 Apr 2008 21:46:41 GMT

I saw the movie, Leatherheads, with a mixed group of friends the other night. There was a varying consensus about the subject material but I thought we all found it interesting enough. However, the one thought that was pretty consistent was that the dialogue was either really good—or really bad. In some spots it felt as if it was so forced it felt disjointed. It was almost as if they were filming it individually and then putting it together later. There were some good one liners and some funny exchanges, but not enough to make the film memorable. However, at least the content was relatively mild making the film somewhat family friendly which is a rarity of late. Anyway, that's my two cents worth.

About RavenCon. This is a science fiction convention that started two years ago in Richmond, Virginia. The brain child of friend Mike Pederson, I agreed to jump on board and get it going in the area of programming events. This is our third year now and it gets more popular every year. Right now I would even go as far to say that it is the best convention going in Virginia because of the large variety of activities. Although we still maintain that we are mainly a literary convention we tend to focus a lot of our efforts on books. This year's con, which is very close, about two weeks away the weekend of April 25-27, I will be there but not actively engaged with the staff. I had too many personal issues this last year to get through and decided a year off was best because I would not be able to devote all the time to it I wanted. Anyway, I hope you can come!

Oh and by the way, I'm going to have a raffle at RavenCon! With the book launch of my vampire novel, Operation Save the Innocent, there will be a raffle held for lots of neat stuff like framed cover art and cover art autographed by the artist as well as free books and all kinds of cool stuff. How do you get tickets—well you buy the book from the book vendor in the dealer's room and show up at the raffle on Saturday night. Remember—that's the weekend after next so if you haven't made plans—get it into gear!

And for those of you, like me, who owe Uncle Sam some money--head out to the post office and wait in line. Yeah--its time to pay that debt. So if it gets you down--watch the movie, "Stranger than Fiction," (the only movie Will Ferrell made that's worth anything (I am ducking))which deals with an IRS guy, it will make you laugh on such a sad day...

Have to run

Don't forget to stop by www.tonyruggiero.com

Good News and Some Not So Good News

Thu, 10 Apr 2008 16:43:00 GMT

Well the good news is that I will be premiering the new book, Operation Save the Innocent, in Richmond on April 25th. The Not So Good News is that there will be a limited number available because of the costs of expedited shipping from Canada on the first print run. I may work out some deal for special orders or something so I will let everyone know when I have more on that. Don’t forget--the special pre-order price will go away on that day as well...hint-hint.

www.tonyruggiero.com

The Passing of a Legend

Thu, 10 Apr 2008 16:42:13 GMT

Charlton Heston passed away on Saturday. Although many will remember him as a social and political activist for the NRA, and civil rights advocate, I choose to remember him for the love of his movies. The newspaper discussed the "big" films and many remember him for those roles such as Ben Hur and The Ten Commandments, which were great films, however I remember him more for films such as Planet of the Apes (1968), and of course the many sequels that followed, but I only enjoyed the first and second one. Then there was Soylent Green (1973) and The Omega Man (1971)--two classic SF movies. He also made a very big contribution to legitimizing the genre. A very b-i-g contribution. I remember seeing the remake of Planet of the Apes and I have to say that it was another Hollywood blunder--Heston was what made the film! Why they even made a remake I’ll never understand—yeah, don’t get me started about remakes. Anyway, there are quite a few actors like him that go un-thanked, Kurt Russell, Arnold Schwarzenegger to name a few off the top of my head. I also remember the great westerns that Heston did as well, Will Penny (1968), Major Dundee (1965), 55 Days at Peking (1963) and many more.

Thank you Mr. Heston! You will be missed.

www.tonyruggiero.com

First Review of Vampire Sequel-Operation Save the Innocent.

Thu, 03 Apr 2008 11:28:01 GMT

This is the first official review of Operation Save the Innocent. We are thrilled that Ms. Klausner enjoyed it! However, I also need to add that there are two new chapters that have been added since the Advance Review Copy was released which we feel makes the book even better.

Operation: Save the Innocent: From The Declassified Tales of Team of Darkness by Tony Ruggiero
Review by Harriet Klausner
Dragon Moon Press Paperback: ISBN/ITEM#: 9781896944609
Date: 15 April 2008 List Price $19.95 Amazon US / Amazon UK / Show Official Info

Here is the abbrev. version: "Operation: Save The Innocent is a bitingly good supernatural thriller that keeps readers on the edge of their seats while considering whether illegal incarceration and abuse in the name of stopping terrorists (mindful of CIA rendition and Guantanamo) is justified."

THe full review follows:

It should have been the end of Commander John Reese's connection to vampires once he left the military. But, he's teaching a class based on a book he wrote on myths and legends with an emphasis on vampires -- something he knows all about, especially how they can be used as a weapon by their controllers. Reese was influential in the building of a prison to incarcerate the four vampires captured in Kosovo and found a way to control them by forcing them to wear collars containing an elixir that can be remotely detonated by their handlers. The U.S. military uses them to kill the enemy, for the vampires know the explosion of their collar would kill them.

Reese's superior General Stone knows that one of the four vampires, Josip, turned Iliga's children into vampires. Stone captured them and brought them to the States because their innocence could be shaped to make a loyal, better weapon than the angry adult vampires. The children were kept under strict control with the collar. Reese's doubts grow about the way vampires are abused as they act more humane than the military who demanded they perform atrocities or die.

Reese finally takes action and frees the vampires while telling his superiors he killed them while they tried to escape. He figured they would return to their homes in the Baltic, but instead they stayed in the States. When they realized their prison is in use again, the leader, Dimitri, infiltrates the facility only to find the confused children.
Dimitri and the others escape with the children. The military is determined to retrieve them. They reactivate Reese because he knows the vampires best and can recapture them. He is appalled that his government wants to use the children that way, but is resigned to doing the assignment if he wants to remain alive and out of jail.

Tony Ruggiero's tale is more a thriller than a horror novel or military science fiction. You could remove the term "vampire" and just call them super-soldiers who are used in the war against terrorism. Thus the audience receives an exciting pulp fiction tale where everyone falls into the classifications of either heroes or villains. The irony that refreshes the storyline is that the military is malevolent (perhaps too much) while the villains seem more humane than their human counterparts. They do not kill except when they are forced to and drink either animal or human blood for sustenance without murdering the source. Humans taught the vampires to be ruthless.

There are a lot of flashbacks that explain how what is happening in the present ties back to the past. Though somewhat disruptive, it works, as the audience understands more about Reese, a flawed hero who committed atrocities against vampires until he could no longer stomach what he and his government were doing in the name of freedom. As he got to know his prisoners, he learned they were not evil. His revelation comes too late for Dimitri to forgive him for his atrocities, but Reese feels he has somewhat atoned for his transgressions by liberating the vampires.

The audience does not get inside the heads of the vampires as they do Reese, and some questions remain unanswered for the obvious sequels. Still, Operation: Save The Innocent is a bitingly good supernatural thriller that keeps readers on the edge of their seats while considering whether illegal incarceration and abuse in the name of stopping terrorists (mindful of CIA rendition and Guantanamo) is justified.

Thanks for reading.

Tony Ruggiero
www.tonyruggiero.com

The Advance Orders & Other Stuff

Thu, 27 Mar 2008 18:21:41 GMT

WOW!

I wanted to say thanks to everyone for starting the pre-orders for the new book Operation Save the Innocent. It has started its climb on Amazon and although it has a ways to go to be number one—we have to start somewhere—so again, thanks to all of you who have ordered and taken advantage of the discounted price. For those who have not ordered—well shame on you and what are you waiting for (grin) get going because it won’t be long before that price disappears and will not be seen again.

Here’s the link to Amazon:

http://www.amazon.com/Operation-Innocent-Declassified-Tales-Darkness/dp/1896944604/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1206620067&sr=1-1

I heard a great line in a movie the other night and just have to share it. The film is "The King of California," and it stars one of my favorite actors, Michael Douglas, one of my favorite films of all time (The Game). In the King of California, although this is a slightly unusual role for Douglass, the film offers some interesting insights into life—or more importantly what we are missing from life. Now don’t go thinking that this is a serious film by any means—it is rooted in comedy and you have to work a little to get at the more serious element—but its there. During a conversation between Charlie (Douglas) and his daughter Miranda:

Miranda: You don’t take anything seriously do you? You think the world is just here for your amusement!

Charlie: But look at the world...

Miranda: I do. But unlike you I have to live in it!

I gave the movie 4 out of 5 stars…its definitely worth the watch if you are looking for something that is a little quirky yet still is able to hit close to home…well at least for some of us anyway.

Stop by the website at www.tonyruggiero.com

what else do you have to do?

Get It Now and Save!

Tue, 18 Mar 2008 15:51:34 GMT

For those of you that are awaiting the new vampire book release, save some cash and help me make my next vampire book a big success by ordering an advance copy at the highly discounted price. It won’t be this cheap for much longer! Order Operation Save the Innocent before the release date. After the release the price will go up by about $5-6.

Special Offers and Product Promotions

Pre-order this item now and you will receive an additional 5% off at checkout. Also, if the Amazon.com price decreases between your order time and release date, you’ll receive the lowest price as well as the 5% pre-order discount.

Click here to go to Amazon!
http://www.amazon.com/Operation-Innocent-Declassified-Tales-Darkness/dp/1896944604/ref=sr_1_4?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1205854616&sr=1-4

And if that is not enough incentive, here is some more! If you have not read the first book, Operation Immortal Servitude, you can see that the price on Amazon is $19.95. I will mail you (in U.S.) a signed copy for $15.00 with proof of purchase of the new book.

This offer is valid only until the release of the new title.

Thanks.

Tony Ruggiero

Freddy--A Late Post

Tue, 04 Mar 2008 13:04:40 GMT

(Somehow I forgot to post this entry here from my myspace page. This actually preceeds the entry that come after--yeah I know, its so confusing!)

About Those Monsters...

Yeah, we all have our little monsters—writers included. It's a stark reminder that nothing comes without a price. And I mean nothing. I have been striving to achieve the status of a full time writer for a long time—I am not there yet even after almost ten years of work, but that means that when I do achieve it—it will mean that much more. Like they say—if it was easy and anyone could do it—then what's the point?

As I teach college level English—it disappoints me when I have students try and cheat their way through writing classes. Do people honestly think that they can effectively communicate without being able to write? And what is it with all the people who think that they are "special." You know the ones—the I can park anywhere people—or the I don't want to wait in the line kind of people and try and cut in. Okay, I know I'm ranting—it's been that kind of week—well month.

To add to my own mayhem, I have had some disturbing experiences the past few weeks with business associates and other professionals. No one wants to say what they mean—instead they either don't communicate or they tap dance around issues. What is that about? I thought we were in this great electronic revolution of communication? Unless this great electronic communication network is a monster in itself—a cold one that simply says we don't have to communicate if we don't want to—that is why we have the delete key. Are we heading into a personal as well as professional ice age?

Okay…time to lighten up. Here is a short story called Freddy. It's a favorite—so much so that I have written a manuscript for a novel dealing with the same topic.

Welcome to all the new friends from Columbus, Ohio and Greensboro, North Carolina. I met some in Columbus last weekend and am looking forward to my trip to High Point, North Carolina in March.

Enjoy.

Freddy

"WHAT THE HELL are you looking at? I would just love to wipe that stupid grin off your face, you ugly SOB!" Ray said, as his bloodshot eyes stared at the morose looking figure that sat on the dusty bookshelf above his desk.

"What good are you anyway? You're supposed to give me...inspiration."

He paused, waiting for a rebuttal from the inanimate object.

"Instead, you sit there, with your fat little body, that stupid smile, and all of your teeth hanging out. Uggggly. Damn ugly is what you are. Maybe that's what I should call you instead of Freddy. Uggggly. What do you think about that?"

Freddy was a gargoyle. Not an evil or mean looking gargoyle, but what is known today as "cute." He was about thirty inches tall, poised in a pose that was supposed to reflect innocence. He had a grin from ear to ear, and yes, his teeth did all hang out of his mouth. His arms were crossed in front of him like a prissy little girl who has just been told she was the cutest thing on the face of the Earth.

"What's the matter, teeth got your tongue, Fred? Well that's a surprise." Ray leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling.

He'd bought Freddy at an estate auction on the outskirts of town. The sale had been at an old mansion that had been deserted for years because the city could not find any descendents of the owner's family. Their sudden disappearance was still a mystery to this day. Finally, the city had sold off the contents of the estate and plans were to level the site.

Ray wasn't really sure why he had bought the damn thing. Maybe he'd thought it would give him inspiration to write his stories. He'd heard or read somewhere that writers could look at an object with a past and write an entire story based on it.

Well, Freddy the gargoyle had been taking up space on the shelf for over a year now, but inspiration was nowhere in sight. There was only a layer of settled dust and cobwebs that covered his dark gray body.

Ray had been writing on and off for many years, more off than on, one might say, based on his publication credits. Fortunately, he hadn't given up his day job at the super market, because he would have gone hungry if he tried to live on his writing. Actually, the last story that actually paid anything had been published eighteen months ago.

Ray yawned in frustration. He had been at it for hours now. The paper in front of him still was as blank as when he had started, and he didn't seem to be spouting any fresh ideas.

"That's the way it's been for...how long now, Fred?" he asked the gargoyle in disgust. "Well, a long time. Inspiration is just not making any stops at Ray's place these days."

Ray took out a cigarette from the pack on the desk. His stomach balked at the thought of yet another cigarette, but he lit it anyway. The ashtray was almost overflowing from the evening's deluge of angry smoking. He lifted the coffee cup to his lips and drank deeply. Expecting the feel and taste of warm coffee, he gagged on the cold stale tasting liquid.

"Jesus Christ, I can't stand cold coffee!"

He slammed the cup down with such force that coffee shot upward and splashed onto Freddy. The gargoyle sat dripping the brown sticky fluid. Ray stared at it, and couldn't help but laugh.

"Looks like we're both having a crummy night, huh, Freddy?" Ray said as he watched the drops of copper liquid that clung precariously from the teeth of the gargoyle.

"Now, there's a novel idea. No pun intended," Ray said snickering, as he put the cigarette out in the ashtray.

"Maybe just a couple of minutes stretched out on the sofa will help. Give that old inspiration a chance to find the house and make a pit stop."

As he lay down, he looked at the gargoyle for several minutes.

"Hey, Freddy, how about you do me a little favor there, guy. While I'm catching forty, how about you just go ahead and crank out a couple of thousand words or something? Earn your keep."

Ray was soon fast asleep, but he did not sleep restfully. He dreamt of a deep menacing forest entrenched in the night. He was caught in the unsettling darkness, lost and disoriented, as strange sounds taunted him. Rain began to pelt his body as he ran for any shelter he could find.

He awoke with perspiration covering his forehead, thankful the dream had not gotten any more real. The clock's neon numerals flashed ..:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" />3:00 A.M., reminding him he would have to be up soon. He fumbled toward the lamp on the end table and turned it on. The light blinded him momentarily, but when his eyes finally adjusted, he got up and headed for the bedroom.

He casually glanced toward the desk, thinking about his inspiration, which seemed to have become fuzzy after his nap. But, something caught his eye that made him stop dead in his tracks. The blank and untouched paper he had left on the desk was now covered in handwriting. He picked up the stack of papers and saw that there was a sizeable amount of paper, maybe twenty-five or thirty pages.

Ray studied the pages and the style of the print. It sure looked like a dead ringer for his handwriting, and lots of it.

"Could I have done this?"

He began to read.

"Wow...this is some really good stuff," he said in awe, after reading the first ten pages.

He read until he reached the end. Then, he neatly stacked the paper on the desk and stared at the pile.

"When the hell did I do this? I don't remember writing it. What the hell is going on?"

Ray paced around the room.

"Did I wake up earlier and do this? Could I have been half-asleep? Did I sleep-write the thing? Damn this is weird stuff."

He looked up at the grinning gargoyle, which now had dried brown stains covering his body.

"What's up, Freddy? Did I really do this? What do you think? You've always got your eyes and mouth open."

Not expecting or waiting for a response, Ray continued. "Of course I did it...who the hell else is here? I must have woken up, sat down and wrote, forgot about it, and went back to sleep. Makes more sense than you writing the story, huh, Freddy?"

Ray thought about his earlier request to the gargoyle about writing some stuff, and he chuckled.

"Yeah, right. Did you do this, Freddy? Well, hell of a job there, guy."

Ray sat down to re-read parts of the story again. It was titled: Please Make Up My Mind by Ray Short, a science fiction short story of about seven thousand words. Feeling totally impressed with himself, Ray neatly stacked the pages on his desk and headed off to bed.

"Good night, Freddy. Sweet dreams, fella. We did real good tonight didn't we?"

Freddy stared back, grinning, as he always did.

As Ray clicked off the ceiling light, he wondered if Freddy's smile was meant to be innocent or sarcastic.

The next morning on his way to work, Ray decided to fax his story to an old buddy who worked on the editing staff of a science fiction magazine. When Ray got home that evening, he had a message on his answering machine. His buddy loved the story and told Ray that it was sure to be bought for publication within the next couple of months. Congratulations were most certainly in order.

Ray jumped up and down as he listened to the message. This was cause for celebration! This had been the first sale in...well...in a long time. He grabbed a beer out of the fridge and sat at his desk. As he poured the amber-colored liquid in a glass, he watched the foam slowly edge its way toward the top rim.

"Well, little ugly fella, this is it. Success!" He raised the glass in a toast to the gargoyle and drank deeply.

"Ahh...now that's good," Ray breathed with pleasure. "Really hits the spot when you have something to celebrate, doesn't it, Freddy?"

Ray continued to stare at the gargoyle as he finished his beer. Something was different about it. He couldn't place his finger on what it was, but something had changed.

"What's up, Freddy? You get a new haircut or lip-snarl job done or something? I know, you've been watching that guy on TV who jumps and shouts to the oldies with all those fat ladies, haven't you?"

The gargoyle sat grinning and unresponsive, devoid of any previous coffee stains. He didn't seem quite as dusty either.

Ray, still reveling in his newfound success, took out some blank paper. He laid it in front of him, pen poised in hand. He closed his eyes and searched for some ideas for the next story. He rested his head on the palms of his hands, then glanced up at Freddy, who just grinned.

Two hours and three beers later, Ray gave up. The paper was still as blank as ever. However, he wasn't really bothered by this because of all the beer he had drunk. He got up and walked over to the window. It was dark and stormy outside. The wind was driving the rain against his house making a rat-a-tat sound.

"Nice night out, huh, Freddy? Maybe for someone like you? This is a perfect night to write a horror story, I can just feel it. I just need to get started. Just a couple paragraphs to get me going, then I'll be like a race horse in the home stretch."

The thoughts of his dream the night before came back to him. He remembered that hopeless eerie feeling he had. He'd been scared. Damned scared, lost and alone in the menacing woods at night. He decided to channel those thoughts to the paper in front of him.

Hours later, two more beers were giving him that warm drowsy feeling. He felt the fuzz taking control of his mind and his full bladder taking over the rest of him. He headed for the bathroom and for another beer.

As he returned to his writing, he felt satisfied with what he had put to paper so far. In fact, it even chilled him just a little as he read it over. He yawned. It was now time to take a little break and get comfortable on the couch.

He looked back at Freddy.

"Hey fella, time out. Let's take a break. Take five or whatever the hell it is you gargoyles do."

Ray lit a cigarette as he sat back on the sofa. He inhaled deeply so when he exhaled, smoke rings formed from his mouth. He watched sleepily as the rings floated through the air, quickly dissipating as they traveled along. Feeling a bit drowsy, he snuffed out the cigarette and went horizontal on the sofa. It wasn't long before he was snoring.

He was in the woods again. This time a small crescent moon glowed with an eerie light over his surroundings. He slowly surveyed the area in all directions. On the horizon above the tree line, he saw what appeared to be the outline of a castle.

He moved warily in that direction. As he walked, he heard noises from the woods, leaves being stepped on and twigs crackling, the obvious sound of someone following him—and pretty close. Ray began to run in terror as a bell tolled somewhere off in the dark of night.

He awoke to the sound of the telephone ringing. It was light outside now. He glanced at the clock. It was 8:00 A.M. and he was late for work once again.

"Aw, crap!" he yelled as he leapt for the telephone.

It was just as he suspected, his boss calling to ask what was he going to do without a paycheck. Ray had been late one too many times. The conversation ended with a, "To hell with you!" and a slamming of the phone.

Ray's head throbbed. It wasn't so much from losing his job, as it was from the excess of beer last night. He went to his desk to get some aspirin. He opened the center drawer and fumbled for the bottle. As he labored to get the childproof cap off, he saw the new stack of pages. He read the title page: Human Nature by Ray Short, word count 10,000.

"It's happened again?" Ray sat down and began to read.

An hour later he placed the last page on the stack. "Excellent story!" he said, very pleased. "I'm getting really good at this. The best part is that I don't even remember sitting here most of the night and writing it. Unbelievable! Freddy, old buddy, we're on a roll."

Freddy simply sat grinning.

As he moved toward the sofa, Ray glanced in Freddy's direction and he immediately felt his stomach roll. The gargoyle was no longer sitting on the shelf, but instead had moved slightly as if in preparation to get into a crouched position. And, he no longer had that semi-friendly cute grin on his face. It was more like an evil leer now.

"What the hell has gotten into you?" Ray said, suddenly dropping the manuscript.

He observed Freddy's new position, but dared not touch the gargoyle. Cautiously, he studied the gargoyle from different angles in the room, trying to figure out what possibly could have happened to the thing.

"Hell, it's probably some cheap shit made in Japan or something, starting to warp and bend from the heat. Not worth the crap it's made out of. Yeah, that's it," Ray said nervously. "Well, look, uh, Freddy, we'll figure this out later. I've got to get this new story faxed out to my buddy."

Ray picked up the stack of papers from the floor and headed down the stairs. He quickly got on the phone with his friend at the magazine. Of course they wanted to look at it. Ray headed out the door to fax the latest story, and quickly forgot about the Gargoyle.

RAY TOSSED DOWN the beer to chase the shot of whiskey. He was celebrating at a local bar not too far from the house. He called the magazine a couple of hours after faxing it. Of course the magazine loved the story. They wanted more, possibly even a novelette. Could he do it they wanted to know? Of course he could do it, he had told them. No problem.

He shared several renditions of his newfound success with his friends, who were ready to celebrate anything imaginable as long as the booze continued to flow. After reveling for a while, Ray decided it was time to head home. Maybe even get started on the next story. He left the bar and began his walk home to the dismay of his drinking buddies.

Ray lived in the older part of the city. It was a section that could go either way, up or down. There were old homes, which were ornately decorated with gothic statues. Some houses were in the process of being renovated and some were past the point of any revitalization. Many had amazing remnants of art in the woodwork and ironwork.

It was then Ray noticed all the gargoyles. They were perched at precarious places to prevent the water from doing damage to masonry.

"I wonder why they made those guys so ugly?" Ray said. An answer quickly returned in his head. To scare away demons or something, you idiot.

As he continued to walk, Ray felt a strange eerie sensation. It was as if he could feel eyes staring at him. A shiver went up his back, and goose bumps formed along his arms and legs. He walked as quickly as the alcohol would allow. He thought he heard murmurs from the shadows, but when he looked around in panic, he saw no one. Yet the sound continued. It was just barely below a discerning level. But, it slowly grew in intensity. He realized it was a chant.

"Be careful what you ask of the Gargoyle. The success that it may bring you, has a high price you cannot afford to pay."

Ray whirled around too quickly, became disoriented and fell down. From ground level he looked around, yet he saw nothing.

"Damn bullshit! Too much boooozzze...(hic)... Way to go there, Ray," he laughed, half from fear, half from alcohol.

Ray knew only one thing for sure...he had to pee. He quickened his pace to get to his house.

Once home and relieved, he headed up the stairs to his study. He chuckled to himself thinking how he'd thought he heard chanting. He knew better than to mix whiskey and beer.

Everything was as he'd left it. Except...Freddy was now thoroughly in a crouching position, ready to jump. But to Ray's alcohol bleary-eyed condition all looked fine. He stepped back and leaned in, weaving.

Ray placed his face up to Freddy and kissed the gargoyle full on the teeth, almost knocking it over. His lips met the cold metal. If he had been sober, he might have felt the effect of the searing cold on his lips. But right now, he could barely feel a thing.

Ray did a perfect forward dive onto the sofa and was asleep in no time at all. Freddy glowed in the corner with the scowling smile of a creature ready to attack its prey.

RAY STOOD ON the eave of a house overlooking great areas of woodland. A mist hung above the ground and clouded his vision, yet he knew something approached the house. The evening sounds from the woods became silent as whatever it was drew closer, moving slowly but with a purpose. Ray scanned the area, searching for whatever it was. A sense of dread settled over him as acid churned violently in his stomach.

Movement...he caught the movement out of the corner of his eye. He concentrated his efforts to squint through the darkness. Then he saw it. He could now make out the outline of whatever it was that approached. It appeared to be the shape of a large monkey or maybe a short pudgy man. An aura of darkness surrounded it, making it look like a...shadow with substance.

As it came closer, an odor assaulted him. Something hideous like wet decaying wood. It was as if something had been buried for too long and was now exposed to the air.

Ray's mind told him it was death approaching as the rest of his body shook with disjointed thoughts. It was almost in plain view now, just a little closer and he would see it clearly enough to look into its face. The stench was almost overpowering. His stomach somersaulted with revulsion.

Teeth hanging from its mouth distorted the face that approached him, but the rest of the face looked incredulously familiar.

It was Ray's own face! His face on the body of a gargoyle.

Ray screamed in horror, "Get away! Why are you here? What do you want from me?"

It continued its approach, climbing deftly up the side of the steep wall, oblivious to Ray's screams. It advanced with ease even though the walls were very steep. It chanted something barely audible as it climbed.

Ray watched as the creature used its long fingers to grasp at seemingly nothing and hoist itself up. The closer it came, the more Ray could smell the foulness. Bile rose in his throat.

The voice became louder and louder, and he could almost make it out now. Ray tried to piece the sentence together.

"Geeettt oooooff meeinn sssssppoooot, (hissss)!" it slobbered. "Geeett ooofff meeeeinn sssssspoooott (hissss)!"

As the creature got closer, the words become clearer, as did the reptilian hiss. "Geett ooff my sssssppoott, (hissss)! Gett off my ssppott, (hisss)! Get off my spot, (hiss)! Get off my spot, (hiss)! Get off my spot, (hiss)!"

It continued chanting the same phrase over and over again.

"G-Get off of my spot? H-Hell, if that's all you want, don't worry, I'm outta here!" Ray stammered in sheer terror. He tried to turn but was shocked to find he couldn't move. He jerked and pulled to no avail.

Ray looked downward at his body and realized in horror that he had become a permanent attachment to the castle eave!

"Get off my spot, (hiss)! Get off my spot, (hiss)! Get off my spot, (hiss)! Get off my spot, (hiss)!" The words now smelled fetid. "You have used the power of the gargoyle and now you must pay the price, (hiss). Pay in full, (hiss)!"

Panic now roosted on Ray's shoulder and he could do nothing. The creature edged closer. Ray stared into his own distorted face. He watched the slimy drool drip down the creature's face and fly towards him as he continued the same chant.

"Did you think success was free? (hiss) Get off my spot! (hiss) That there would be no charge for my inspiration? (hiss) Get off my spot! (hiss) It is time to pay! (hiss) Get off my spot! (hiss) Prepare for what awaits you (hiss)."

The creature stood directly in front of Ray. Panic had now taken the form of hysterical laughter as tears rolled down Ray's cheeks. The smell from the creature was overbearing, and stifling.

The creature grabbed hold of Ray in a steel grip and began to pull and lift him. Its fingers wrapped around his arms. Ray could feel the tension on his bones as he was bent and twisted in all different directions. The pressure increased. The creature was grinning, his teeth hanging out of his mouth. The slimy drool flowed freely.

Crack! An unimaginable pain shot up Ray's side. He looked down in delirium and saw his ragged left hipbone protruding out through his ripped flesh, blood flowing freely.

Crack! Now, the right hipbone stood out in a similar position, blood spewing from the ragged tear. He nearly fainted into blessed darkness as the gargoyle ripped the last remaining threads of flesh that held his torn body together.

"Stick this in your next story, Ray. You wanted some inspiration. Well, here you have it. Now you get off my spot for good (hiss)! Go back to where you came from! (hiss) See what you get when you ask for the help of a gargoyle!"

The shock of the creature's voice made Ray brutally aware of himself and the excruciating pain and his body being torn to pieces. Screaming, he finally lost full consciousness as the gargoyle stuffed a manuscript down his throat.

RAY AWOKE ON the floor next to the sofa drenched in sweat. The illuminated red numbers on the clock said 3:00 A.M. He was breathing very hard and fast, but realized he was in his home and not being torn to bits by a creature that looked like himself.

"God damn, can't get much more real than that," he said shakily.

He froze as he spotted a bloody manuscript lying next to him. In red he clearly read the scribble, which looked as if it was written by a child's hand.

"Return it to where it came from if you choose to live."

As he read the statement aloud, he remembered the chant.

"Be careful what you ask of the Gargoyle. The success that I may bring you, has a high price that you cannot afford to pay."

Ray looked frantically at the shelf. Freddy's face had changed; it was beginning to metamorphose into him. Suddenly he knew what he had to do if he wanted to live.

Ray grabbed a cheap blanket off his sofa and spread it on the floor. Warily, yet quickly, he snatched Freddy off the shelf and laid him in the center. He wanted to carry it securely, and yet not really touch the artifact. He carried it downstairs and out to his car, where he threw it unceremoniously in his trunk.

He drove like a madman to the estate where he had purchased the gargoyle. While driving, he felt the flesh on his body becoming rigid and very taught. Also he thought he heard sounds coming from his trunk. He drove faster.

As he reached the site, he was not sure how to react to what he saw. The area had been leveled and cleared and a foundation was being laid. The smell of drying concrete was heavy in the air. His headlights glared on the wooden sign: Coming soon, Green Run Mall and Industrial Complex.

Ray could hardly move. His joints ached even with the slightest movement. He forced himself to get out of the car and open the trunk. He was suddenly caught off guard by what he saw. A gnarled gray hand was sticking out from the blanket, its fingers flexing, in and out. Ray suddenly lost feeling in his left hand. Using his right hand, he grabbed the bundle and moved as quickly as he could to where an area of cement which had been poured recently.

His right leg stiffened causing him to fall and spill the bundle. The side of the bundle now revealed a right leg of the gargoyle, now flexing as the hand did. Ray scooped up the bundle, got back up on his feet, and awkwardly limped on.

Nearing the pit he now heard the chant again.

"Be careful what you ask of the Gargoyle. The success that it may bring you, has a high price that you cannot afford to pay, R-A-Y...(hiss)"

This time the voice came from the bundle he held. Ray could no longer feel the muscles in his face. He knew he did not have much time. He lunged the last couple of feet toward the edge of the cement pit and tried to throw the bundle. He didn't quite make it. The bundle hung precariously on the edge. Ray crawled and wormed his paralyzing body on the ground to push it over the edge. Neither of his arms now worked. He tried to butt the bundle with his head the last couple of inches. His head was met with the sting from the sharp needles of teeth.

TWELVE MONTHS LATER, stories from Ray Short appeared in several science fiction and horror magazines. A month later his novelette appeared. They gathered a following and launched a virtual unknown into quite a bit of notoriety. Future novels and possibly a series were currently under negotiation.

An interesting article appeared in the Review of Science Fiction Writers of North America. The review was conducted by telephone and was pretty much straight forward, but listed several interesting comments about the author.

During the interview Ray Short indicated he considered himself a recluse to the point of not going out into public. Although not unlike many celebrities, many of Ray Short's prior acquaintances remember him as a very outgoing and people-oriented person.

Also, the reporter issued a standing disclaimer that any misinterpretations of any answers given by the author might be due to the unfortunate speech impediment, which caused a distinctive lisp—a hiss-like sound—in many of his words and sentences.

THE END

www.tonyruggiero.com

Woo-Hoo! (it just sounds good)

Tue, 04 Mar 2008 13:01:20 GMT

Hello Everyone!

What's up with the weird title? Beats me--it just happened. Anyway, lots of stuff for this week's blog! Welcome again to all the new readers from North Carolina! Looking forward to coming down there on March 14-16 for Stellarcon—hoping to meet many of you in person! After that its back home to Virginia for a one day event out in Virginia Beach on March 22—check out the events section for more details.

This week we have the last short story from my anthology, Aliens and Satanic Creatures Wanted: Humans Need Not Apply. Hard to believe we have gone through all 39 of them! I know that perhaps many of you have not had a chance to read all of them—I think many of them are archived on myspace—but if that's not the case we need to do something so let me know how you feel about that.

So what will replace the short story? Well I have a few other stories that I will be posting and as a work in progress—I may be posting from a new novel as well. If all else fails—there will just be the meanderings of a madman—in other words—just my ramblings about lifeJ

But we also have a special addition for this week—an exchange blog with Gail Martin—author of the Summoner & The Blood King. You can also go and listen to the conversation by clicking on the link for Gail's podcast:

It was great to talk with Tony on my Ghost in the Machine podcast http://gzmartin.audioacrobat.com/rss/gailzmartinpodcast.xml .

I met Tony at StellarCon last year, and we had a great talk about aliens, conspiracy theories and why it's always so much more fun to come up with a complex explanation when a simple one might work!

I'm not sure why we Americans love conspiracy theories quite so much—we just can't resist turning over rocks to see what's underneath. From the Kennedy assassination to Area 51, and even to today's biggest news stories, someone has an alternative explanation of what 'really' happened. And of course it's the stuff of adventure, science fiction and fantasy to let us see how those alternatives would work!

Even though my Chronicles of the Necromancer series is fantasy, it's got its share of conspiracies and hidden agendas. That's what makes an adventure fun. And while my books, The Summoner and The Blood King, don't include aliens, they've got enough vampires, magic-users and other strange creatures to keep a ghost hunting crew busy for a long time! As an author, setting up a hall of mirrors for the reader is part of the fun. Conspiracy theories keep us guessing about the real motives of characters all the way until the end. After all, it's what puts the 'plot' in plotting!

Gail Z. Martin, author of The Summoner and The Blood King
www.ChroniclesOfTheNecromancer.com

And alas…the last story from the collection of Aliens and Satanic Creatures Wanted: Humans Need Not Apply. Hope you enjoy!

Fulfillment

BOB LAY IN the jet-black shiny coffin; his face appeared full of the contentment of a man at total peace with everything in his forty-two year life. The billowing backdrops of murky gray curtains were obscured by the large flower arrangements that encircled his coffin.

Many people came to pay their last respects to Bob. He had been well respected and liked by most of the community. Few seats were vacant as even more people entered the establishment. Tomorrow would be the actual funeral and the trip to the cemetery.

A man in a black suit entered the funeral parlor and slowly made his way to the viewing area. He had the appearance of a man in good shape by the look of his physique, and his hair was tightly cropped. Yet his eyes were sharp and obviously avoiding contact with all those that looked his way.

Conversations were ongoing throughout the funeral parlor. They ranged from the last time someone had talked to Bob, to seeing if someone knew who had just entered the funeral home because they didn't recognize them. Another group drifted around examining the cards on the flowers to see who had sent them, comparing sizes and types to an obvious price differential. Funerals were more of a spectacle for the living then they were for the dead.

ALL THE VISUAL display readouts in his helmet were nominal. Oxygen ratio mix, temperature sensors, heating units, waste disposal, filtration system and exterior lighting were all good: phase one stationary systems functioning checks were complete. All systems go for phase two, movement and agility testing.

Bob knew that representatives from the Environsuit Corporation were monitoring the readouts from inside the mother craft. They had pushed this ambitious project even though designers urged caution. The vice president of marketing himself was here to witness the tests. He probably had one finger poised to make his press release, that Environsuit Corporation had the best and cheapest off-world environmental suit on the market. Affordable suits for everyone and at just the right price. Bob knew the type, they had to be first before someone else laid claim to it no matter what the cost, because this was business. How he hated their kind. All they cared about was making a buck regardless of the cost and sacrifice of others.

CLARA DABBED AT the tears that were forever forming at the corner of her eyes. She was an attractive woman in her mid-forties, but now appeared older because of the obvious stress she was under. Her eyes were blood shot red from the tears that never seem to cease. As much as she had loved Bob, she found it difficult to gaze at his former self in the coffin. Just a shell; it was so empty. She wanted back the man who flowed with life.

Uncle Jim sat next to Clara in the front row. He was the stalwart protectorate—every family had one. The kind and generous person who always wore a cardigan sweater and was always willing to listen and offer help, the person who was always there at the right moment.

He had always been there for Bob and Clara. Whenever something happened, Uncle Jim was there.

"You know, Clara," Uncle Jim began, his voice calm and soft sounding. "Bob always had a flair for the way-out sort of thing, didn't he?"

Uncle Jim remembered out loud how Bob could always get excited about anything concerning space travel or other scientific issues.

Clara's eyes began to glass over again as she listened to the words.

Uncle Jim's pleasant, reminiscing thoughts were interrupted when a well-built man in a black suit caught her attention. The man was obviously nervous for some reason, his eyes darting back and forth as if looking to see if he was being observed.

BOB STROLLED IN mental luxury on the Martian surface, kicking and shuffling his feet in the red soil. He forgot about the corporate joker in the dome and his designs on how rich he was going to become. Bob had higher priorities to think about. He couldn't care an ounce whether the suit would make the company a zillion dollars. He learned a long time ago that money was not the most important thing in life.

He was relishing every moment of being on Mars. It was hard to imagine getting paid to live your ultimate desire and fantasy. Dreams did come true. He had finally made it! It had taken him forty-two years but he had made it to Mars, to his dream of actually stepping on the surface of this red, magnificent planet.

Ever since he was a child, Bob knew that he belonged out here. He was the child that wanted the telescope for Christmas instead of the baseball glove. He never had the same interest as all the other guys. He was the kid at school who was interested in astronomy instead of football, baseball or fast cars.

CLARA TOOK A MOMENT before she answered, wiping a couple of wayward strands of hair from her face.

"He would have described it differently, he would have said that he was born before his time," she said smiling for a brief moment. "He was so involved with his love for science fiction that I think it...possessed him to the end."

"How so Clara?" Uncle Jim asked keeping an eye on the man who'd entered. Uncle Jim knew just about everyone. But this man, he did not recognize and there was something odd about the way he was acting.

Clara's words were slow and difficult to come out. "The doctors told me in the beginning that the heart attack and internal injuries from the auto accident would be fatal and that it was just a matter of time. There was just too much damage. He was in a coma most of the time, but...toward the end," Clara paused.

"What?" Uncle Jim asked. "What happened?"

"It was how he said it. It was so clear and concise, as if he was actually coherent and everything he said was the truth."

EVEN AS BOB got older it hadn't been easy. He'd had to go to work instead of college in order to help out his mom, because his dad was gone. He'd kept up with his hobby, though, in what little spare time he had. He'd watched videos, studied space research and kept up with the technological advances.

But his mom became very ill, and he could barely manage taking care of her. He hired a part time home caregiver to help out during the day. That was Clara, who, he would later marry.

After his mom passed away, he began to look for ways to get into space and to Mars. The military was too rigid for what he wanted to do. He didn't have the education to be in demand by one of the big corporate conglomerates because he hadn't gone on to higher education. So he hopped around from job to job trying to find his "in."

After so much disappointment, he lost confidence and was about to give up all hope of accomplishing his dream. Time to get realistic, settle down to life on Earth. It was at this point of his life that he married Clara. Clara renewed his hopes and desires and gave him confidence.

UNCLE JIM GENTLY grasped Clara's hand as he heard the pain in her voice. He tried to offer some reassurance to her as he watched the stranger kneel at the coffin and close his eyes.

"Clara, you don't have to tell me."

"I don't have to but I need to, Uncle Jim. Bob went on and on about how he had finally made it to Mars! I know it sounds crazy for Christ's sake, but it's true, Uncle Jim."

Uncle Jim listened intently to Clara as he continued to watch the stranger. He saw the stranger's lips moving. He assumed he was saying some kind of prayer. He grasped Clara's hand and stroked it reassuringly.

WITH RENEWED VIGOR, Bob continued his search to find a way to get to Mars. With persistence and perseverance he eventually found one. A new company called Environsuit Corporation, which designed environmental suits, was looking for a regular type of guy to advertise their new line of equipment.

Space travel was still too expensive for the average citizen on a regular basis, but it was getting more popular by the month and companies were sprouting up everyday to take advantage of the coming of the new market. They searched for cheaper ways to do things in order to make it more affordable. Everyone was going to get his or her cut by getting there first before anyone else, space travel for the average person; vacations on Mars, cruises through the solar system.

All Bob wanted to do was just get there once, just once before he died Earth-bound.

"TAKE IT EASY, Clara, he must have been delirious. Bob wouldn't even go on the mildest of roller coasters. In fact, I remember a story where he got sick on a teacup ride if I remember right."

Uncle Jim chuckled a bit as he ended the statement. It caused Clara to smile, momentarily. Clara glanced at the casket, looked at her hands in her lap, then continued.

"He described everything so vividly that he even had me convinced he was really there. The training he had undergone, the suit he was wearing, what the displays read and what the landscape was like and..." Clara's voice continued on but Uncle Jim was drawn to the man in the black suit whom he did not know. The man stood up and began to walk from the casket, obviously heading for the exit.

THE WAY BOB found the right door was by sheer luck. It was mainly because he knew George Nicholson. George worked for Environsuit Corporation. Bob knew him from the local bar that he frequented. Now George was a good old boy, he was the kind of guy that would stop when you got a flat tire when everyone else was passing you by at light speed.

However he had a bad habit of drinking a little too much sometimes and flirting with the women in the bar. All in all he was harmless most of the time. Well, one night things went a little too far and George's wife found out about it. She didn't find it so "harmless."

Bob stepped in as a kind of character witness; he lied for George and got things patched up with his wife. George was eternally grateful and he swore he owed Bob a large favor.

When Bob heard about the advertisement gimmick for their new lightweight, inexpensive and, of course, ultra safe off-planet suit, you can bet it didn't take five minutes before he had George on the phone reminding him about that evening and the favor that he owed him. With George's position and influence, Bob got the job.

Environsuit Corporation was not taking any chances. Their suit may have been for the average guy, but they were going to make absolutely sure that this average guy would be in excellent physical health. There was a lot of conditioning and training Bob had to go through. It was a long hard nine months of preparation, with exercise, simulators, test flights and the classroom work. Those nine months were full of a lot of fifteen to eighteen hour days.

Bob told Clara that he was working a new job and he had to put in the extra hours to move up quickly in the organization. He also mentioned that a lot of traveling would be involved. He hated lying, but he couldn't tell her the truth. Not yet. There were obvious risks involved and as much as he loved her, Clara would be extremely nervous and might even try to talk him out of it.

Bob wasn't sure what was tougher—the training, the wait to the launch date, or trying not to tell Clara about the whole affair. But that was all behind him now. All that mattered was that he was here, on Mars.

Part of the agility test was to ensure maximum flexibility and use of limbs. He started with small strides slowly increasing in tempo and in length. Soon he was moving at a pretty good clip along the surface. The terrain was pretty rough so he had to be careful. The view was fabulous!

As he strolled along, he was in awe over the landscape of the red planet. How right they were when they named this planet. The red soil and the mountains were remarkable. He wished Clara could be here to see it.

"HE DESCRIBED IT right down to the weightless feeling as he moved around," Clara's voice continued. "The soil and dust that kicked up, the landscape covered with its odd-shaped rocks. God, even I could almost picture it in my mind as he described it." Clara closed her eyes to compose herself.

Uncle Jim now felt drawn to this strange visitor and his reason for being here.

"Clara, I'm sorry to interrupt you, but I need to use the men's room. I'll be right back, okay, dear?"

"Okay, Uncle Jim."

Uncle Jim headed toward the bathrooms but did not have to use them. He placed himself where his path would cross with the stranger who interested him. The man approached.

"Excuse me, sir," Uncle Jim said. The man appeared startled.

"My name is Jim Carnanah. Most know me as Uncle Jim. I don't recognize you...are you a friend of Bob's?"

The man spoke slowly. "Yes. We worked on a project together. I have come to pay my respects, and to meet...you."

"Me?" Uncle Jim asked.

"Bob told me that you were the person to see if something...went wrong," the man said nervously as he looked side to side.

"What do you mean if something went wrong?"

"Bob wanted me to tell you...it was what he wanted." The man paused. "I'm sorry, I must leave. If I were seen talking to you it could...well it would not be a good thing. It has been a pleasure meeting you," he said as he grasped Uncle Jim's hand and shook it.

The man turned and left before Uncle Jim could say anything, but he had deposited a card in Uncle Jim's hand when he had shaken it.

THE VOICE IN Bob's headset brought him back from his daydreaming. The sense of urgency, the shouting...report back...seismic activity...meteor impact...it was too late. The surface gave way under his weight. He was falling down the side of the embankment, rolling over and over. His vision blurred from the cartwheeling effect. He tried to recover but his momentum was carrying him uncontrollably down, farther and farther.

His suit scraped the rocks and soil, but it was still maintaining a safe environment. How much could it take? He continued rolling, trying to grab onto anything to obtain a hold to slow down or possibly stop. Finally, he found something to grab, a small outcropping of stone. He slowed and finally stopped, breathing a sigh of relief.

It was then that the display lit up. "Environment Breach." The temperature dropped quickly and he became very still, only wanting to sleep.

When help finally arrived he remembered being carried away and catching bits and pieces of conversations. Irreparable damage, cellular decay, only a matter of time before he will be in a coma, too late to save him by the time they get him back to Earth.

UNCLE JIM SUBCONSCIOUSLY slipped the card into his jacket pocket and quickly returned to Clara. He knew she needed him by her side. He would try to figure out this mysterious person later.

Remembering where she had left off in the story, Uncle Jim sat down and commented to her. "Sounds like he had a hell of a trip." Uncle Jim said, smiling as Clara looked at his face.

"But it wasn't real?" Clara said pleadingly.

"Was it? Hell, I don't know? Who knows? If that was what he always wanted, at least he got to experience it or think he did. I'm happy for him and you should be, too, Clara."

Clara thought for a moment. A look of relief slowly washed over her face. "I am happy for him, Uncle Jim. Very happy," she said as fresh tears rolled down her face.

Uncle Jim removed his handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to Clara. The card that he had thrust into his pocket fell out onto the floor. He picked it up, the print facing him. Two words stood out in bold letters: Environsuit Corporation. Underneath the company name and in smaller print: Making space affordable for all.

THE END

As always folks—please visit my webpage at www.tonyruggiero.com as well as my page on Facebook and Myspace.

Take care & Best Wishes

Tony

About Those Monsters...

Thu, 21 Feb 2008 16:46:30 GMT

Yeah, we all have our little monsters—writers included. It's a stark reminder that nothing comes without a price. And I mean nothing. I have been striving to achieve the status of a full time writer for a long time—I am not there yet even after almost ten years of work, but that means that when I do achieve it—it will mean that much more. Like they say—if it was easy and anyone could do it—then what's the point?

As I teach college level English—it disappoints me when I have students try and cheat their way through writing classes. Do people honestly think that they can effectively communicate without being able to write? And what is it with all the people who think that they are "special." You know the ones—the I can park anywhere people—or the I don't want to wait in the line kind of people and try and cut in. Okay, I know I'm ranting—it's been that kind of week—well month.

To add to my own mayhem, I have had some disturbing experiences the past few weeks with business associates and other professionals. No one wants to say what they mean—instead they either don't communicate or they tap dance around issues. What is that about? I thought we were in this great electronic revolution of communication? Unless this great electronic communication network is a monster in itself—a cold one that simply says we don't have to communicate if we don't want to—that is why we have the delete key. Are we heading into a personal as well as professional ice age?

Okay…time to lighten up. Here is a short story called Freddy. It's a favorite—so much so that I have written a manuscript for a novel dealing with the same topic.

Welcome to all the new friends from Columbus, Ohio and Greensboror, North Carolina. I met some in Columbus last weekend and am looking forward to my trip to High Point, North Carolina in March.

Enjoy.

Freddy

"WHAT THE HELL are you looking at? I would just love to wipe that stupid grin off your face, you ugly SOB!" Ray said, as his bloodshot eyes stared at the morose looking figure that sat on the dusty bookshelf above his desk.

"What good are you anyway? You're supposed to give me...inspiration."

He paused, waiting for a rebuttal from the inanimate object.

"Instead, you sit there, with your fat little body, that stupid smile, and all of your teeth hanging out. Uggggly. Damn ugly is what you are. Maybe that's what I should call you instead of Freddy. Uggggly. What do you think about that?"

Freddy was a gargoyle. Not an evil or mean looking gargoyle, but what is known today as "cute." He was about thirty inches tall, poised in a pose that was supposed to reflect innocence. He had a grin from ear to ear, and yes, his teeth did all hang out of his mouth. His arms were crossed in front of him like a prissy little girl who has just been told she was the cutest thing on the face of the Earth.

"What's the matter, teeth got your tongue, Fred? Well that's a surprise." Ray leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling.

He'd bought Freddy at an estate auction on the outskirts of town. The sale had been at an old mansion that had been deserted for years because the city could not find any descendents of the owner's family. Their sudden disappearance was still a mystery to this day. Finally, the city had sold off the contents of the estate and plans were to level the site.

Ray wasn't really sure why he had bought the damn thing. Maybe he'd thought it would give him inspiration to write his stories. He'd heard or read somewhere that writers could look at an object with a past and write an entire story based on it.

Well, Freddy the gargoyle had been taking up space on the shelf for over a year now, but inspiration was nowhere in sight. There was only a layer of settled dust and cobwebs that covered his dark gray body.

Ray had been writing on and off for many years, more off than on, one might say, based on his publication credits. Fortunately, he hadn't given up his day job at the super market, because he would have gone hungry if he tried to live on his writing. Actually, the last story that actually paid anything had been published eighteen months ago.

Ray yawned in frustration. He had been at it for hours now. The paper in front of him still was as blank as when he had started, and he didn't seem to be spouting any fresh ideas.

"That's the way it's been for...how long now, Fred?" he asked the gargoyle in disgust. "Well, a long time. Inspiration is just not making any stops at Ray's place these days."

Ray took out a cigarette from the pack on the desk. His stomach balked at the thought of yet another cigarette, but he lit it anyway. The ashtray was almost overflowing from the evening's deluge of angry smoking. He lifted the coffee cup to his lips and drank deeply. Expecting the feel and taste of warm coffee, he gagged on the cold stale tasting liquid.

"Jesus Christ, I can't stand cold coffee!"

He slammed the cup down with such force that coffee shot upward and splashed onto Freddy. The gargoyle sat dripping the brown sticky fluid. Ray stared at it, and couldn't help but laugh.

"Looks like we're both having a crummy night, huh, Freddy?" Ray said as he watched the drops of copper liquid that clung precariously from the teeth of the gargoyle.

"Now, there's a novel idea. No pun intended," Ray said snickering, as he put the cigarette out in the ashtray.

"Maybe just a couple of minutes stretched out on the sofa will help. Give that old inspiration a chance to find the house and make a pit stop."

As he lay down, he looked at the gargoyle for several minutes.

"Hey, Freddy, how about you do me a little favor there, guy. While I'm catching forty, how about you just go ahead and crank out a couple of thousand words or something? Earn your keep."

Ray was soon fast asleep, but he did not sleep restfully. He dreamt of a deep menacing forest entrenched in the night. He was caught in the unsettling darkness, lost and disoriented, as strange sounds taunted him. Rain began to pelt his body as he ran for any shelter he could find.

He awoke with perspiration covering his forehead, thankful the dream had not gotten any more real. The clock's neon numerals flashed ..:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" />3:00 A.M., reminding him he would have to be up soon. He fumbled toward the lamp on the end table and turned it on. The light blinded him momentarily, but when his eyes finally adjusted, he got up and headed for the bedroom.

He casually glanced toward the desk, thinking about his inspiration, which seemed to have become fuzzy after his nap. But, something caught his eye that made him stop dead in his tracks. The blank and untouched paper he had left on the desk was now covered in handwriting. He picked up the stack of papers and saw that there was a sizeable amount of paper, maybe twenty-five or thirty pages.

Ray studied the pages and the style of the print. It sure looked like a dead ringer for his handwriting, and lots of it.

"Could I have done this?"

He began to read.

"Wow...this is some really good stuff," he said in awe, after reading the first ten pages.

He read until he reached the end. Then, he neatly stacked the paper on the desk and stared at the pile.

"When the hell did I do this? I don't remember writing it. What the hell is going on?"

Ray paced around the room.

"Did I wake up earlier and do this? Could I have been half-asleep? Did I sleep-write the thing? Damn this is weird stuff."

He looked up at the grinning gargoyle, which now had dried brown stains covering his body.

"What's up, Freddy? Did I really do this? What do you think? You've always got your eyes and mouth open."

Not expecting or waiting for a response, Ray continued. "Of course I did it...who the hell else is here? I must have woken up, sat down and wrote, forgot about it, and went back to sleep. Makes more sense than you writing the story, huh, Freddy?"

Ray thought about his earlier request to the gargoyle about writing some stuff, and he chuckled.

"Yeah, right. Did you do this, Freddy? Well, hell of a job there, guy."

Ray sat down to re-read parts of the story again. It was titled: Please Make Up My Mind by Ray Short, a science fiction short story of about seven thousand words. Feeling totally impressed with himself, Ray neatly stacked the pages on his desk and headed off to bed.

"Good night, Freddy. Sweet dreams, fella. We did real good tonight didn't we?"

Freddy stared back, grinning, as he always did.

As Ray clicked off the ceiling light, he wondered if Freddy's smile was meant to be innocent or sarcastic.

The next morning on his way to work, Ray decided to fax his story to an old buddy who worked on the editing staff of a science fiction magazine. When Ray got home that evening, he had a message on his answering machine. His buddy loved the story and told Ray that it was sure to be bought for publication within the next couple of months. Congratulations were most certainly in order.

Ray jumped up and down as he listened to the message. This was cause for celebration! This had been the first sale in...well...in a long time. He grabbed a beer out of the fridge and sat at his desk. As he poured the amber-colored liquid in a glass, he watched the foam slowly edge its way toward the top rim.

"Well, little ugly fella, this is it. Success!" He raised the glass in a toast to the gargoyle and drank deeply.

"Ahh...now that's good," Ray breathed with pleasure. "Really hits the spot when you have something to celebrate, doesn't it, Freddy?"

Ray continued to stare at the gargoyle as he finished his beer. Something was different about it. He couldn't place his finger on what it was, but something had changed.

"What's up, Freddy? You get a new haircut or lip-snarl job done or something? I know, you've been watching that guy on TV who jumps and shouts to the oldies with all those fat ladies, haven't you?"

The gargoyle sat grinning and unresponsive, devoid of any previous coffee stains. He didn't seem quite as dusty either.

Ray, still reveling in his newfound success, took out some blank paper. He laid it in front of him, pen poised in hand. He closed his eyes and searched for some ideas for the next story. He rested his head on the palms of his hands, then glanced up at Freddy, who just grinned.

Two hours and three beers later, Ray gave up. The paper was still as blank as ever. However, he wasn't really bothered by this because of all the beer he had drunk. He got up and walked over to the window. It was dark and stormy outside. The wind was driving the rain against his house making a rat-a-tat sound.

"Nice night out, huh, Freddy? Maybe for someone like you? This is a perfect night to write a horror story, I can just feel it. I just need to get started. Just a couple paragraphs to get me going, then I'll be like a race horse in the home stretch."

The thoughts of his dream the night before came back to him. He remembered that hopeless eerie feeling he had. He'd been scared. Damned scared, lost and alone in the menacing woods at night. He decided to channel those thoughts to the paper in front of him.

Hours later, two more beers were giving him that warm drowsy feeling. He felt the fuzz taking control of his mind and his full bladder taking over the rest of him. He headed for the bathroom and for another beer.

As he returned to his writing, he felt satisfied with what he had put to paper so far. In fact, it even chilled him just a little as he read it over. He yawned. It was now time to take a little break and get comfortable on the couch.

He looked back at Freddy.

"Hey fella, time out. Let's take a break. Take five or whatever the hell it is you gargoyles do."

Ray lit a cigarette as he sat back on the sofa. He inhaled deeply so when he exhaled, smoke rings formed from his mouth. He watched sleepily as the rings floated through the air, quickly dissipating as they traveled along. Feeling a bit drowsy, he snuffed out the cigarette and went horizontal on the sofa. It wasn't long before he was snoring.

He was in the woods again. This time a small crescent moon glowed with an eerie light over his surroundings. He slowly surveyed the area in all directions. On the horizon above the tree line, he saw what appeared to be the outline of a castle.

He moved warily in that direction. As he walked, he heard noises from the woods, leaves being stepped on and twigs crackling, the obvious sound of someone following him—and pretty close. Ray began to run in terror as a bell tolled somewhere off in the dark of night.

He awoke to the sound of the telephone ringing. It was light outside now. He glanced at the clock. It was 8:00 A.M. and he was late for work once again.

"Aw, crap!" he yelled as he leapt for the telephone.

It was just as he suspected, his boss calling to ask what was he going to do without a paycheck. Ray had been late one too many times. The conversation ended with a, "To hell with you!" and a slamming of the phone.

Ray's head throbbed. It wasn't so much from losing his job, as it was from the excess of beer last night. He went to his desk to get some aspirin. He opened the center drawer and fumbled for the bottle. As he labored to get the childproof cap off, he saw the new stack of pages. He read the title page: Human Nature by Ray Short, word count 10,000.

"It's happened again?" Ray sat down and began to read.

An hour later he placed the last page on the stack. "Excellent story!" he said, very pleased. "I'm getting really good at this. The best part is that I don't even remember sitting here most of the night and writing it. Unbelievable! Freddy, old buddy, we're on a roll."

Freddy simply sat grinning.

As he moved toward the sofa, Ray glanced in Freddy's direction and he immediately felt his stomach roll. The gargoyle was no longer sitting on the shelf, but instead had moved slightly as if in preparation to get into a crouched position. And, he no longer had that semi-friendly cute grin on his face. It was more like an evil leer now.

"What the hell has gotten into you?" Ray said, suddenly dropping the manuscript.

He observed Freddy's new position, but dared not touch the gargoyle. Cautiously, he studied the gargoyle from different angles in the room, trying to figure out what possibly could have happened to the thing.

"Hell, it's probably some cheap shit made in Japan or something, starting to warp and bend from the heat. Not worth the crap it's made out of. Yeah, that's it," Ray said nervously. "Well, look, uh, Freddy, we'll figure this out later. I've got to get this new story faxed out to my buddy."

Ray picked up the stack of papers from the floor and headed down the stairs. He quickly got on the phone with his friend at the magazine. Of course they wanted to look at it. Ray headed out the door to fax the latest story, and quickly forgot about the Gargoyle.

RAY TOSSED DOWN the beer to chase the shot of whiskey. He was celebrating at a local bar not too far from the house. He called the magazine a couple of hours after faxing it. Of course the magazine loved the story. They wanted more, possibly even a novelette. Could he do it they wanted to know? Of course he could do it, he had told them. No problem.

He shared several renditions of his newfound success with his friends, who were ready to celebrate anything imaginable as long as the booze continued to flow. After reveling for a while, Ray decided it was time to head home. Maybe even get started on the next story. He left the bar and began his walk home to the dismay of his drinking buddies.

Ray lived in the older part of the city. It was a section that could go either way, up or down. There were old homes, which were ornately decorated with gothic statues. Some houses were in the process of being renovated and some were past the point of any revitalization. Many had amazing remnants of art in the woodwork and ironwork.

It was then Ray noticed all the gargoyles. They were perched at precarious places to prevent the water from doing damage to masonry.

"I wonder why they made those guys so ugly?" Ray said. An answer quickly returned in his head. To scare away demons or something, you idiot.

As he continued to walk, Ray felt a strange eerie sensation. It was as if he could feel eyes staring at him. A shiver went up his back, and goose bumps formed along his arms and legs. He walked as quickly as the alcohol would allow. He thought he heard murmurs from the shadows, but when he looked around in panic, he saw no one. Yet the sound continued. It was just barely below a discerning level. But, it slowly grew in intensity. He realized it was a chant.

"Be careful what you ask of the Gargoyle. The success that it may bring you, has a high price you cannot afford to pay."

Ray whirled around too quickly, became disoriented and fell down. From ground level he looked around, yet he saw nothing.

"Damn bullshit! Too much boooozzze...(hic)... Way to go there, Ray," he laughed, half from fear, half from alcohol.

Ray knew only one thing for sure...he had to pee. He quickened his pace to get to his house.

Once home and relieved, he headed up the stairs to his study. He chuckled to himself thinking how he'd thought he heard chanting. He knew better than to mix whiskey and beer.

Everything was as he'd left it. Except...Freddy was now thoroughly in a crouching position, ready to jump. But to Ray's alcohol bleary-eyed condition all looked fine. He stepped back and leaned in, weaving.

Ray placed his face up to Freddy and kissed the gargoyle full on the teeth, almost knocking it over. His lips met the cold metal. If he had been sober, he might have felt the effect of the searing cold on his lips. But right now, he could barely feel a thing.

Ray did a perfect forward dive onto the sofa and was asleep in no time at all. Freddy glowed in the corner with the scowling smile of a creature ready to attack its prey.

RAY STOOD ON the eave of a house overlooking great areas of woodland. A mist hung above the ground and clouded his vision, yet he knew something approached the house. The evening sounds from the woods became silent as whatever it was drew closer, moving slowly but with a purpose. Ray scanned the area, searching for whatever it was. A sense of dread settled over him as acid churned violently in his stomach.

Movement...he caught the movement out of the corner of his eye. He concentrated his efforts to squint through the darkness. Then he saw it. He could now make out the outline of whatever it was that approached. It appeared to be the shape of a large monkey or maybe a short pudgy man. An aura of darkness surrounded it, making it look like a...shadow with substance.

As it came closer, an odor assaulted him. Something hideous like wet decaying wood. It was as if something had been buried for too long and was now exposed to the air.

Ray's mind told him it was death approaching as the rest of his body shook with disjointed thoughts. It was almost in plain view now, just a little closer and he would see it clearly enough to look into its face. The stench was almost overpowering. His stomach somersaulted with revulsion.

Teeth hanging from its mouth distorted the face that approached him, but the rest of the face looked incredulously familiar.

It was Ray's own face! His face on the body of a gargoyle.

Ray screamed in horror, "Get away! Why are you here? What do you want from me?"

It continued its approach, climbing deftly up the side of the steep wall, oblivious to Ray's screams. It advanced with ease even though the walls were very steep. It chanted something barely audible as it climbed.

Ray watched as the creature used its long fingers to grasp at seemingly nothing and hoist itself up. The closer it came, the more Ray could smell the foulness. Bile rose in his throat.

The voice became louder and louder, and he could almost make it out now. Ray tried to piece the sentence together.

"Geeettt oooooff meeinn sssssppoooot, (hissss)!" it slobbered. "Geeett ooofff meeeeinn sssssspoooott (hissss)!"

As the creature got closer, the words become clearer, as did the reptilian hiss. "Geett ooff my sssssppoott, (hissss)! Gett off my ssppott, (hisss)! Get off my spot, (hiss)! Get off my spot, (hiss)! Get off my spot, (hiss)!"

It continued chanting the same phrase over and over again.

"G-Get off of my spot? H-Hell, if that's all you want, don't worry, I'm outta here!" Ray stammered in sheer terror. He tried to turn but was shocked to find he couldn't move. He jerked and pulled to no avail.

Ray looked downward at his body and realized in horror that he had become a permanent attachment to the castle eave!

"Get off my spot, (hiss)! Get off my spot, (hiss)! Get off my spot, (hiss)! Get off my spot, (hiss)!" The words now smelled fetid. "You have used the power of the gargoyle and now you must pay the price, (hiss). Pay in full, (hiss)!"

Panic now roosted on Ray's shoulder and he could do nothing. The creature edged closer. Ray stared into his own distorted face. He watched the slimy drool drip down the creature's face and fly towards him as he continued the same chant.

"Did you think success was free? (hiss) Get off my spot! (hiss) That there would be no charge for my inspiration? (hiss) Get off my spot! (hiss) It is time to pay! (hiss) Get off my spot! (hiss) Prepare for what awaits you (hiss)."

The creature stood directly in front of Ray. Panic had now taken the form of hysterical laughter as tears rolled down Ray's cheeks. The smell from the creature was overbearing, and stifling.

The creature grabbed hold of Ray in a steel grip and began to pull and lift him. Its fingers wrapped around his arms. Ray could feel the tension on his bones as he was bent and twisted in all different directions. The pressure increased. The creature was grinning, his teeth hanging out of his mouth. The slimy drool flowed freely.

Crack! An unimaginable pain shot up Ray's side. He looked down in delirium and saw his ragged left hipbone protruding out through his ripped flesh, blood flowing freely.

Crack! Now, the right hipbone stood out in a similar position, blood spewing from the ragged tear. He nearly fainted into blessed darkness as the gargoyle ripped the last remaining threads of flesh that held his torn body together.

"Stick this in your next story, Ray. You wanted some inspiration. Well, here you have it. Now you get off my spot for good (hiss)! Go back to where you came from! (hiss) See what you get when you ask for the help of a gargoyle!"

The shock of the creature's voice made Ray brutally aware of himself and the excruciating pain and his body being torn to pieces. Screaming, he finally lost full consciousness as the gargoyle stuffed a manuscript down his throat.

RAY AWOKE ON the floor next to the sofa drenched in sweat. The illuminated red numbers on the clock said 3:00 A.M. He was breathing very hard and fast, but realized he was in his home and not being torn to bits by a creature that looked like himself.

"God damn, can't get much more real than that," he said shakily.

He froze as he spotted a bloody manuscript lying next to him. In red he clearly read the scribble, which looked as if it was written by a child's hand.

"Return it to where it came from if you choose to live."

As he read the statement aloud, he remembered the chant.

"Be careful what you ask of the Gargoyle. The success that I may bring you, has a high price that you cannot afford to pay."

Ray looked frantically at the shelf. Freddy's face had changed; it was beginning to metamorphose into him. Suddenly he knew what he had to do if he wanted to live.

Ray grabbed a cheap blanket off his sofa and spread it on the floor. Warily, yet quickly, he snatched Freddy off the shelf and laid him in the center. He wanted to carry it securely, and yet not really touch the artifact. He carried it downstairs and out to his car, where he threw it unceremoniously in his trunk.

He drove like a madman to the estate where he had purchased the gargoyle. While driving, he felt the flesh on his body becoming rigid and very taught. Also he thought he heard sounds coming from his trunk. He drove faster.

As he reached the site, he was not sure how to react to what he saw. The area had been leveled and cleared and a foundation was being laid. The smell of drying concrete was heavy in the air. His headlights glared on the wooden sign: Coming soon, Green Run Mall and Industrial Complex.

Ray could hardly move. His joints ached even with the slightest movement. He forced himself to get out of the car and open the trunk. He was suddenly caught off guard by what he saw. A gnarled gray hand was sticking out from the blanket, its fingers flexing, in and out. Ray suddenly lost feeling in his left hand. Using his right hand, he grabbed the bundle and moved as quickly as he could to where an area of cement which had been poured recently.

His right leg stiffened causing him to fall and spill the bundle. The side of the bundle now revealed a right leg of the gargoyle, now flexing as the hand did. Ray scooped up the bundle, got back up on his feet, and awkwardly limped on.

Nearing the pit he now heard the chant again.

"Be careful what you ask of the Gargoyle. The success that it may bring you, has a high price that you cannot afford to pay, R-A-Y...(hiss)"

This time the voice came from the bundle he held. Ray could no longer feel the muscles in his face. He knew he did not have much time. He lunged the last couple of feet toward the edge of the cement pit and tried to throw the bundle. He didn't quite make it. The bundle hung precariously on the edge. Ray crawled and wormed his paralyzing body on the ground to push it over the edge. Neither of his arms now worked. He tried to butt the bundle with his head the last couple of inches. His head was met with the sting from the sharp needles of teeth.

TWELVE MONTHS LATER, stories from Ray Short appeared in several science fiction and horror magazines. A month later his novelette appeared. They gathered a following and launched a virtual unknown into quite a bit of notoriety. Future novels and possibly a series were currently under negotiation.

An interesting article appeared in the Review of Science Fiction Writers of North America. The review was conducted by telephone and was pretty much straight forward, but listed several interesting comments about the author.

During the interview Ray Short indicated he considered himself a recluse to the point of not going out into public. Although not unlike many celebrities, many of Ray Short's prior acquaintances remember him as a very outgoing and people-oriented person.

Also, the reporter issued a standing disclaimer that any misinterpretations of any answers given by the author might be due to the unfortunate speech impediment, which caused a distinctive lisp—a hiss-like sound—in many of his words and sentences.

THE END

www.tonyruggiero.com

Psst...What to Know A Secret?

Tue, 12 Feb 2008 13:29:09 GMT

Operation Save the Innocent--the new vampire book is due out in April-May, but if you go to the Amazon link provided, you can save over 30% off the cover price! Yes--I did say 30%! I doubt you will ever see it that cheap again (until it hits the bargain tables).

Plus if you do that, I'll finally be able to buy that condo by the ocean:) So click here:
http://www.amazon.com/Operation-Innocent-Declassified-Tales-Darkness/dp/1896944604/ref=sr_1_9?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1202821686&sr=1-9

and go and order a few hundred copies...Amazon.com

Later.

Off to Columbus, Ohio this Weekend!

Tue, 12 Feb 2008 13:05:22 GMT

Well its time to head off to another science fiction, horror, and fantasy convention. We have a new one for this time of the year—ITSNOTACON…have to love the name, but I have to admit, I didn’t get it at first. I have attended other conventions in Columbus, but it has been quite a while since I have been there. I’m hoping it will be a fun convention and laid back—which is usually the beauty of the smaller conventions. You can find the information for this convention at this web link: http://www.itsnotacon.com/. Hope to see many of you there—if there are some cool places you know of in the area—drop me a line about them—let’s have some fun in Columbus!

We’re nearing the end of the short stories from my anthology—Aliens and Satanic Creatures Wanted: Humans Need Not Apply, and although we are not at the end today, that is what the story is titled. For the life of me I can’t remember why the story was not placed at the end of the anthology—I’m sure there was a reason but I can’t think of it at the moment (need more coffee).

Well I need to get to grading papers for class tonight so off I go—enjoy the story and feel free to comment with your thoughts.

Later & thanks for reading:).

The End

Thirty years after the nuclear holocaust.

ON THE TABLE lay the end of the electrical wire that led to the device, which was carefully hidden under some rags and animal skins he had found. The wire had been carefully stripped and sat naked waiting for a connection to be made that would allow the current to pass through it. At least that is what the man dressed in the tattered clothing, which had once been a coat, hoped would happen. He had found old manuals that described the process and he studied them, squinting by the candlelight, as he followed the squiggly lines in the drawings as best he could.
He inhaled deeply from the hand-rolled cigarette, savoring the effects as the nicotine entered his system. He held the smoke in as long as he could, then exhaled strongly in a torrent of streamed smoke that danced in front of his eyes. The smoke formed images of white billowy clouds he vaguely remembered. There were no white clouds anymore, only dark and dirty tufts that dropped the infected rain. The white smoke danced through the air and mixed with the dust particles that were illuminated from what little sunlight filtered through the dirty and broken window.
Outside he heard the triumphant call of the crowd as the axe fell again, as it had so many times before. Its resounding thud, and then the sound of the head rolling away from its former body, was becoming as familiar as the sounds of the crickets at night.
The crowd, a poor sampling of what humanity still remained, responded with their redundant chant. “The head rolled and life went on. Our new life is simple and just. The old one was complicated and fraught with danger from machines and those that controlled them. Things are simple again as they shall be forever more. The head rolled and life went on.”
“Life,” he said in a mocking tone. “This is not life, but a living hell! People living like animals, foraging for their daily existence, living in caves like primitive cavemen again. They resist technology for what it has done to them when they should only resent the people behind that technology that used it upon them and left their world in its cursed state.
The cigarette burned down to his fingers, the skin between those fingers scarred from previous burnings and without sensation from the radiation poisoning. His hand didn’t move from its spot next to the wire and battery that would power the device, even as he smelled his own burning flesh. He had to hide the battery, for if they found him with such a device, they would surely kill him as quickly as they had killed the others.
The next execution was not for five minutes and he could hear the crowd growing restless. The removal of state officials and the military heads of the old United States—he stopped and chuckled in a perverted sense at his unplanned play on words. “Removal of the heads...no pun intended.” The executions had been a long awaited event. The old leaders had been successful in hiding underground all these years since the nuclear rain had descended upon the rest of them. They stayed underground, eating their precious hoard of supplies, but even those were not limitless. When they arose from their cement underground fortresses, they were captured by his people and brought to him for justice.
They were good at that he thought, hiding after they had authorized the button to be pushed, which cast the global powers into this game of nuclear roulette. They had gambled and had lost, the price being humanity. What little survived was reduced to this mere fragment of existence.
He lit another cigarette without even thinking about how rare they were these days, but then it didn’t matter for he knew the end to this age approached. He twiddled the wire between the fingers of his free hand.
The feudal system had been reinstated and he was the lord of this area, in charge of dispensing judgment. It was a simple form of justice that they proclaimed; any crime was punishable by death—death by decapitation. The people loved it. They watched with baited anticipation as the sharp axe fell; it was perhaps their way to vent the frustration they possessed from what the world had done to them.
The door opened and two large men who served as his guard brought in one of the prisoners. The prisoner wore the remnants of a uniform, an Army General uniform from what he remembered. The guards released the man, but not before striking him a few times to get the spunk out of him and then dropped him in the chair opposite the room’s sole occupant.
After the guards left, the man with the cigarette spoke. “Do you have anything to say before the sentence is carried out?”
The Army man stared at him; anger filled his unblemished face, a face that had not been exposed to the deadly radiation. “Sentence? You’re going to cut my damn head off!” he screamed, spittle flying from the corners of his mouth. “Where’s the justice in that? Where’s my trial, my lawyer?”
“The law is simple now,” the man said as the smoke exited his mouth with the words. “The justice system works extremely well. There are no distractions anymore. No lawyers or judges...just the people.”
“This is barbaric! Is this what I have devoted my life to? So some idiot like you can be in charge, lopping heads off like it is no big deal?”
“What about what you and the others have done?” the man asked calmly “Faceless men with hands on buttons, that when pushed, sent destruction into the air and killed millions upon millions of people.”
His fingers fiddled with the wire as he spoke.
“Look around you. This is not life, this is death. Even though we lived through the bombs, missiles, and radiation, we are still dying. Do you know what the average life span is? It’s twenty-five! All the food is contaminated with the radiation. It’ll take centuries, if at all, to undo what you did in less than an hour!”
Silence fell between the two men. Soon the guards entered to remove the soldier. They had to drag him out as he screamed and grabbed onto anything he could reach.
The man lit another cigarette and prepared to make the wire connection to the battery. His own people would kill him when they found what he had. Even he was not beyond the reach of the henchmen’s axe.
Outside the crowds roared with energy as the soldier was placed under the axe, screaming and crying for mercy.
“This all ends now,” the man said.
The axe rose and fell swiftly. The crowd chanted, “The head rolled and life goes on. The old one was complicated and fraught with danger from machines and those that controlled them. Things are simple again as they shall be forever more. The head rolled and life went on.”
He connected the wire to the battery.
The head rolled down the incline as the children chased and kicked it like a soccer ball.
The lamp threw out a tremendous quantity of illumination as it lit the room. The man stared at it in awe and marveled at its brightness as he heard the footsteps approaching.

THE END (really it is)

Tony Ruggiero
www.tonyruggiero.com

Coming from Dragon Moon Press in April 2008
Operation: Save the Innocent
From the Team of Darkness Declassified Files
Order you copy now and save!
www.dragonmoonpress.com

Phishing and Other Issues--Oh Joy!

Thu, 07 Feb 2008 15:29:23 GMT

Yeah...somehow they got me. I apologize to those who may have received some form of advertisement (on myspace) appearing to be sent from me. I assure you it was not me. I have changed my password so hopefully it should be okay now. If you do receive any form of advertisement, please let me know.

Anyway, welcome all the new readers from Columbus, Ohio! I am looking forward to my trip coming up on the 15th and attending the convention. I'm hoping that if you are in the area you might stop by and say hello. The information for the convention is at http://www.itsnotacon.com/.

We're getting toward the end of the short stories...yeah its been that long:) But here is a short one called, Faith. Its favorite of mine because of the...well you'll see why.

Faith

SHE CRAWLED THROUGH the brush dragging the carcass of the animal she had managed to kill. She couldn't take it any farther without risking being tracked down by the enemy if they found the red stained tracks. Carelessness could cost her life.

The enemy, she thought in disdain. The ruthless filth that roamed the planet, spreading disease and disrupting the basic fabric of the lives of her people. In disgust, she spit the saliva that had formed in her mouth.

Somehow, they had ambushed her unit, scattering them and then tracking them down one at a time. She couldn't understand what went wrong; the reports said the enemy only had a few stragglers left in this section. But there were many, and they had been cunning enough to take her entire unit, either killing them or scattering the rest. Now, she was alone.

The horizon was beginning to lighten. Curse this forsaken planet! She hastened her steps, for she could not be out in the daylight. The sun's light would make her an easy target. She stared longingly back at the dead animal she still dragged behind her. Unable to control her instinctive and insatiable hunger, she lunged her teeth into its raw alien flesh. She felt the warmth of its flesh and blood as her teeth tore through the tendons and muscles. The meat tasted of pure ecstasy. She knew she must have this nourishment if she was to survive and this might be her last chance to eat for awhile.

Minutes later, her hunger satisfied, and seeing the horizon continuing to lighten, she quickly buried what was left of the carcass in a small ravine. She felt the temperature beginning to climb as the black turned into gray around her. Soon the sweltering heat would envelop her body, and the light would give the enemy and edge they would use against her. They were even more cunning during the day than at night.

She couldn't stop thinking about her unit and the fact that she was alone, with the enemy stalking her like prey in a quarry. It was driving her insane, fear coiling itself in her mind like a tiny snake. Only days before, everything had been so...different.

Move now!

She heard the voice in her mind that reminded her of the drill instructor and trainer. She quickly shimmied down into her sanctuary, a hole in an earthen mound she had found during the night. It would offer some relief from the heat and light of the day. She felt a refreshing coolness as she climbed into the darkness. It offered some small reassurance of survival where there had been virtually none. The damp smell of decaying organic matter hung heavy in the air. The scent reminded her of home, her family. As she lay on the cool ground, she again wondered about the rest of the patriots in her unit. Were they all dead? Was their flesh nothing but piles of ashes and dust crumbling between the fingers of their captors? How would she get back to her base camp?

These thoughts troubled her, but exhaustion claimed her body. Her brain was forced to shut down, at least the conscious part. She drifted into an exhausted sleep. She dreamt about her friends and fellow soldiers at the academy on Earth before this assignment. They had joined the Corps to rid this planet and all the others of the animals that roamed it, scavenging in the dark and killing. Basic training had been tough, but they'd still managed to find time to indulge themselves in drink and would often become giddy. She remembered the wild interludes in the dark with partners unknown. She remembered an ecstasy of fathomless want and desires fulfilled. They satiated themselves in a ritual orgy, then returned to their normal lives feeling refreshed. Those were pleasant times, she thought as the warmth of forgotten passions swept over her.

But those times came to an end as hostilities from the rebels escalated. Everyone thought there were but few left here and there amongst the rubble of the Great War that had expunged them from Earth centuries ago. There had been billions of them and some had escaped to other planets in the system and there they bred quickly as most diseased organisms did. Now, the enemy had resorted to gorilla warfare tactics, strengthening their hold on key planets, and even attacking the home-world, forcing an all out conflict of extermination. Then the orders had come for her unit to ship out to this hellhole to rid it of the new infestation.

She abruptly woke from her sleep, feeling the uninitiated motion of movement as she was dragged from her sanctuary. She reached for the rope that was on her ankle. It was a trap! How stupid could she have been? She was savagely dragged out of her hiding place by a rope that had been snared around her ankle. She lay in the open underneath the dark sky, surprised she had slept the entire day away in the earthen mound. She cursed herself for dreaming thoughts of comfort when she should have been watching for the enemy.

Quickly she was bound and immobilized by her captors. Their serious stares now lightened as they leered at her where she lay in the open of the night sky. There were two of them. Two animals, she thought as she stared at them, trying to keep her fear from showing. They were covered with dirt and grime, their long hair unkempt and matted. One leaned closer to her, as if to examine her more closely, and she nearly gagged, as the stench of a rotting mouth assaulted her nostrils.

Escape seemed impossible by any obvious means. Whatever she was going to do, she must do it quickly. She studied them more closely as she absorbed every bit of information she could while she tried to keep her fear at bay. They were...males, her observations revealed. She had been trained to tempt captors with her perfectly shaped body. She sensed that these animals were weak, and like males of other species fell prey to matters of the body quickly.

With her hands tied it would be difficult to deceive them. But try I must, she thought. While she had slept she'd unzipped the front of her protective suit to rest easier. She began to writhe, forcing the zipper of her skintight uniform to make its way down her torso. As she continued to move, she exposed her full-breasted milky white body to their easy view. She saw one of them was fixated on her with the look she wanted. She exposed her hips and arched her back toward him, smiling and staring at the bulge of his crotch. She forced her nipples to harden, easily seen through the skintight fabric. She stared intently at his enlarged groin and she ran her tongue slowly around her moist lips.

The filthy aberration licked his lips in lust and took a step forward toward her. He was obviously aroused and would get foolishly close to her. Perfect, she thought, come and get it! She concentrated on him and readied herself to attack. The other would watch and then try to take his turn, or at least that's what she hoped for. Her gaze locked onto his and drew him closer...closer....

Suddenly, the other lunged quickly and drove the wooden spike through her heart. Her surprise turned into shock as she screamed with rage. Her dying eyes gazed at the long protruding stake that rose from her chest. She bared her fanged teeth to the night as the breath escaped from her body. She collapsed to the ground and felt the pooling liquid from her wound escaping around her. Furthering the shame in her dying moments, she tried to lick her dry lips and felt smooth teeth, where once her life giving fangs had protruded upon command. She closed her eyes forever.

"One less vampire bitch to worry about. I told you she would try that shit didn't I, Brother Peter?"

"Yeah, you did Brother Anthony" he agreed feeling shamed by his almost life-costing mistake. "Only three million more of them to go, and only a handful of us. How will we ever reclaim this planet? Not to mention return to Earth someday."

"Come on, now. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. There's still a couple of hours of night left. Lets see if any of the other traps have anything. Maybe we can make it two million, nine hundred and ninety nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety nine left to go," Brother Peter said.

Brother Anthony wiped a tear from his eye and said, "Do you think our children will ever see the Earth? Our grandchildren?"

"Of course they will, but you must have faith Brother Anthony," Brother Peter said as he placed his hand upon Anthony's shoulder. "Come along now, its time to kill some more."

THE END

Tony Ruggiero

www.tonyruggiero.com

Until next time...

Let's Get Together in Norfolk, Virginia:)

Fri, 01 Feb 2008 23:37:39 GMT

Why don’t I have a book signing in Norfolk, Virginia and then I can meet you all in person? (well at least the local folksJ What a great idea? Well it’s in the works! Discussions are underway with the Barnes and Noble in MacArthur Mall for a May book event to welcome the newest addition to the vampire saga, Operation Save the Innocent. I’ll let you all know more as we get closer. However, if you want to ensure that this happens, flood the store with requests for my books and especially mention that a book signing would attract thousands and thousands…well I think you get the gist.

Anyone feel like Columbus, Ohio? Well that is the next event coming up in February, it’s a convention called ITSNOTACON…this should be interesting, but I am looking forward to it. Many times the smaller conventions are4 a lot of fun and you get to just hang out and have fun. I will also be flying Skybus for the first time so if any of you have any comment s on them—please let me know—soon.

So a story for this week—well why not. Here is a little gem written quite a few years ago. The point—well I think it will be obvious to you so go ahead and enjoy and let me know what you think. Have fun!

Human Nature

JAMES LAY IN bed watching the blackness turn to gray and then to golden yellow as dim sunlight crept through the bedroom window. He hadn’t slept well and realized there was no point in trying to doze anymore. He slid out of the bed, trying to minimize the disruption of the covers so he would not wake his wife. Last night they had discussed their daughter’s college education, but the conversation had turned frustrating for both with the realization that they could not afford tuition.

Quietly, he crossed the bedroom and retrieved his clothes from the clothes tree. As he made his way to the kitchen, he heard the repeating prose in his mind that he’d heard all night. Its litany presence, engrained upon all citizens and passed down from generation to generation, was common at times such as these. It served as a constant reminder that he faced a tough decision, as those who had come before him had, but that an answer was near at hand.

In the beginning there was nothing. We came with a dream. We asked for help, but none was given. We were alone—but we survived.

He filled the coffee pot with water, added the grounds, turned it on, then watched as the liquid began to trickle into the pot. Task completed, he headed for the door and carefully opened it. Between the groans, creaks and accidental slamming, this door was notorious for waking up even the soundest sleeper. When he had successfully navigated his exit in silence, he carefully closed it ensuring no disturbing sound was heard. It was early and there was no sense in waking everyone else up yet.

This time of the morning was a sacred experience for him. He would retrieve the newspaper, quickly scan through it, and separate the sections. The funnies for his daughter, which she never seemed to outgrow, and the coupons for his wife. Then he’d leave it on the table as if it were a present waiting to be discovered.

As he made his way down the driveway, James liked the sound that his boots made in the gravel. The crunch of the stone under his feet gave him physical reassurance of some sort and made him feel good, in touch with himself. He loved the morning. The clean smell of a new day. If only the problems from yesterday would vanish with the night before. What was he going to do about his daughter’s education?

We found ways to sustain ourselves. We grew in numbers. It took a very long time. We made changes from our past. We survived.

Being retired was not all it was cracked up to be, James thought as he rubbed the calluses on his hand—hard calluses, developed from many years of manual labor. It was great not having to work in the factory any more, but living on a reduced retirement check was a problem the government hadn’t considered when they came up with the mandatory early retirement age at forty-five. He could live, but not a whole lot more than that. Stupid law. James never understood why you were not allowed to work anymore. People who created those laws were arrogant bastards who made so much money they didn’t know what to do with it. Damn politicians.

We learned new techniques because we had to. If we didn’t, we would have certainly perished. Yet we survived.

The sky was a clear crisp blue. Not a cloud anywhere. The intensity of the blue always amazed James. He remembered growing up as a child; there were clouds in the sky all the time. Then the clouds and cold gradually went away and were replaced by a warmth he had never known or felt before.

Our discoveries did not go unnoticed, and interest began to mount. We kept all the secrets, and vowed never to share. We survived.

Money. Money always seemed to be the root of his problems. Now with his daughter approaching college-bound age, he wondered how he would afford it. Maybe he could convince her to attend the local community college. Sure, it was not as prestigious as the big schools, but what the heck. It wasn’t so much the expense of the education as it was the knowledge that they gained. Right? James wasn’t sure whom he was trying to convince—himself or his daughter.

We developed our own culture and a way of life. We adapted with every change, the only alternative being death. We had to mold and shape this new land. We did it carefully, trying to not make the same mistakes again. We survived.

What if she wanted to live away from home? The bucks would really start adding up, then. Room, board, and tuition. Then she would need spending money for food if she wasn’t eating at home anymore. The dollar signs were getting mind-boggling. Maybe she could apply for scholarships? But her grades weren’t the best. They weren’t bad by any means, but the word “average” seemed to fit most comfortably. There was a time when being average wasn’t enough.

There was fighting among our own, those who did not wish to go the course we had plotted. Those who thought there was always a better way. We survived.

James eyeballed the garden as he walked to the newspaper drop off site. He thought the garden was robust and looking good this year. His wife would brag to the neighbors and friends about all the delectable vegetables they would pick. Not a bug-eaten leaf in sight. Still, they were small in comparison to the pictures he had seen in the gardening magazine at the archives. Those plants had...what’s the word...substance to them. They looked abnormally healthy. They were large and fat and had fruit and vegetables all over them.

We searched for lessons from our own past. Made the changes that needed to be made. Found the common ground, which we all could stand on. We survived.

What about boys at school? She would be away from his watchful eye. Who would screen these guys? She would have to rely on her own judgment now, and that was a scary thought. He knew she had to grow up sometime and learn to be independent, and he had heard the stories of some children never leaving home. He didn’t want that, but he certainly didn’t want her to leave until she was ready to go out in the world and fend for herself. But he knew it was inevitable at some point.

We forged through all that needed to be done. It was a long, hard struggle and very costly. Many perished but we did what needed to be done together. We survived.

He looked at the bushes that were finally starting to show some growth. It had taken years but they finally were getting taller. He thought if he had the money he could pump some growth hormones into them or pay for additional growing time. But that was expensive, especially right now. Living within certain restrictions was a part of his life now.

We are what we have become. Through crisis and struggle we have become stronger. We stand together as one—we are united. We survived.

The military? If only she could be convinced to join the military. They would pay for most of the college costs. Maybe if he approached it from the travel standpoint. See the world and all that hype. It had worked before.

James felt the stomach acid beginning to churn. Too much heavy thinking before breakfast. He knew there was an answer, it just had to be reckoned with as with most things in life.

Now they are envious of us. They turn to us for answers after all the years that have passed. We have chosen to stand-alone. We survived.

James removed the paper from its holder, unfolded it and scanned the headlines. He always felt special, scanning the headlines before he brought the paper back into their living quarters; it gave him an added thrill to say what story was more important than others.

He read, “Independence Day Celebration Plans are released by the Mars Coalition Government. Mars will celebrate the 200th anniversary of its liberation in glorious fashion and tradition in recognition of its breaking of all political, social and economic ties with Earth. Remember our preamble: We Survived.”

We have molded Mars into our home. Earth left us a long time ago. We have left Earth behind forever. We are Martians, and we survived.

“Give it a rest,” he said as he headed back the way he had come. “Maybe things would have been better if we had stayed on Earth.”

Give me Superman—The old version.

Thu, 24 Jan 2008 19:17:45 GMT

What ever happened to role models we wanted to grow up to be like?

I remember quite a few that I aspired to be like and to this day I still look up to them. However today many of the younger generation look to the athletes, musicians, singers, and actors yet many of them cannot keep their noses clean for more than a few minutes. What has gone wrong—two words? Personal responsibility.

Anyone that is in the public eye has the moral responsibility to set a good example for all those fans that are spending money on them. If you can’t do that—then you shouldn’t be in the position and people should stop throwing their money away on that person.

Heroes are meant to be just that—HEROES--they save the day—they give us hope—they do not lower our self esteem or our own personal standards hopefully taught to us by our parents or our selves.

So ditch the idiots and find someone that really cares about what is going on outside of their own personal life—maybe even the person next door or the quiet guy or girl in the coffee shop. Remember, true heroes come in all shapes and sizes.

Antiques

“SO HOW MUCH for this one?” the young woman asked nonchalantly as her gaze roamed approvingly over the ancient piece.

“Ah, I see you have fine taste,” the salesman said, trying to gain some flattery points before he told her the price. “This one is five thousand credits.”

“Five thousand credits! That’s a small fortune! In all my twenty-two years, I have never heard of such a price. You’ll never get that much for...for this,” she said indicating the object by pointing toward it.

“It’s not so much when you consider that you will have access to all the history of the piece,” the salesman countered. “Imagine this...it is over a hundred years old, it has been through some of the most interesting times that our civilization has experienced. Think of what your neighbors will say when you tell them how old the piece is. They will be green with envy beyond your wildest dreams when you tell them you have an antique that still possesses total recall.”

“Well...I don’t know,” she said ponderously, walking around it slowly, obviously searching its surface for any imperfections or flaws.

“It is in excellent condition, full memories without any gaps, it doesn’t skip and the maintenance record is superb. Very low upkeep costs.”

“Would you consider maybe four thousand credits?” she asked.

“For you, my dear, I have a deal you will love.” He walked to another piece that stood immediately to the side of the one they had been discussing. “This is part of the piece you want, as you can plainly see,” he said, indicating the object with his hand, and pointing out the similarities. “They go hand and hand. Consider them a matched set. Double the memories and can even be used as a validation source because you have two documented and supported units. I bet no one in your neighborhood as anything close to such perfection. For you, I will give you both for five thousand.”

“Both for five thousand?” she asked, appearing to consider his proposal. “Hey, you’re not trying to pull something over on me are you? This is the year 2100 you know? And I am twenty-two years old, not some youngster waiting to be taken.”

“Well, if you’re not interested in the set, I don’t think I could sell one without the other,” the man said with finality in his voice. “Perhaps we should look downstairs in the basement. I have some younger units that are more in your price range.”

“Okay, I’ll take them!” she almost screamed at the man. “They better be as good as you say.”

“Very well, then. If you will please see the cashier, she will charge your credit card and have you fill out the disposition documents for the pieces upon your death. The government has considerable investments in the pieces. I’ve never understood it. Some old system they carried forward, I think it was called social security or something. Anyway, thank you for your business and I will see to the immediate shipment of your purchases.”

The woman marched off directly to pay for her items as the salesman busied himself in completing the transaction. He looked longingly at the two items for several seconds before he spoke.

“There...you have a nice home to live out the rest of your time,” the salesman said. “And as I promised, I have managed to keep you both together. That was your wish, was it not?”

“Yes,” the old man said as he helped the salesman remove the price tag that was on him. “Sarah and I will be together. I just hope they appreciate us. That last couple was such a pain in the ass; all they wanted to hear about was dumb stuff from the late 1990s. And not even real history, all they wanted was gossip about how crimes were being committed by more notable people such as movie stars. I hope this lady has at least half a brain.”

“How could they not like you two?” the salesman said, incredulous. “You have all the knowledge of the past; ever since the bad time when the virus was unleashed and the old ones such as yourself would no longer die and the young ones like us live only thirty years or so.”

“I know,” he said as he gripped his wife’s hand. “I can remember a time when as material things got older they became more valuable, but people didn’t become more valuable. It’s absurd what has happened in this society.”

“The times change,” the salesman said. “I’ll miss your stories. I rather enjoy them myself and I’m not getting any younger. I’m almost twenty-seven you know.”

“I don’t think I can go through this anymore,” Sarah said. “Shuffled from household to household to the highest bidder.”

“Now, let’s not have any thoughts like that. It’s against the law to deprive the young of what you have in your minds, you know It’s your duty to share.”

“Duty? It’s our duty, you say? Now you listen to me, young man. This world is so screwed up it’s pathetic. There used to be laws to protect the old ones, not the young ones as there are today,” the old man said as he stomped his feet.

“Easy there,” the salesman said. “We don’t want a broken leg or something that would affect the price. Not to mention the paperwork the government requires when something like that happens.”

“I don’t care anymore!” he cried. “You can take your laws and stick them where the sun don’t shine.”

“Shush now, your being foolish, the both of you. If you’re not careful, you’ll know what will happen don’t you?” The salesman asked. “The government will remove the influence of the virus that has allowed you to live a long, long...”

“I know...I know. But I don’t care anymore...they can take us to the flea market. It’s got to be better then this. I don’t care if we lose all our social benefits. Maybe there will be someone who will appreciate us for what we are—old people—and let us finally die as we were supposed to a long time ago.”

THE END

Cerebral Recyclers Part 2

Thu, 17 Jan 2008 13:52:04 GMT

Read part 1 first!

continued:

THE BETALOID, PRIME Minister Braxen, whom Gil Morris had named, “Mr. B”, impatiently awaited his arrival. He glanced at his time device impatiently. Mr. Morris was thirty minutes late.

The Prime Minister paced the room. “Nothing can go wrong now. We are so close. This is the last piece we need to form the whole leader. Forty years of my life has gone into this. I must not fail!”

He sat down and opened his data about Gil Morris. He looked over the psych profiles and the suspected thefts. Mr. Morris had been accused in a number of incidents, but never convicted. The report stated Mr. Morris had an unscathed code of ethics, and he never bragged about any past jobs that he had committed. Prime Minister Braxen smiled almost in admiration. “This Morris is quite a colorful individual, even if he is human.” He continued to read. “Hmmm, interesting. He never married, has no children or a permanent residence. No ties to anyone that could be located anyway.”

Braxen suddenly felt sorry for Mr. Morris. He thought that this human had chosen a very lonely life for himself. He continued to read the research. His educational background was very in-depth; he had graduated from an Ivy League school with honors at the top of his class in Business Law and Political Science. Unfortunately, it seemed that he had encountered problems dealing with the real world, and according to those few close to him, he became very angry. “Maladjusted” was the term he had been branded with. Gil Morris was unable to cope with the real world, which was nothing like the ideal world in the literature and textbooks he had so innocently believed. Frustrated with the corrupt system, he struck out on his own to become an entrepreneur, and wound up becoming a very specialized, and a very good, thief.

Braxen checked his watch again and his stomach began to roll. Mr. Morris was now an hour late; something had to have gone wrong. He pressed a button on the desk and summoned his associates. Two Betaloids entered.

The Prime Minister looked at them gravely. “Something has happened. We must find Mr. Morris. We’ll begin with his hotel room. You have the information?”

One of the associates nodded. “I have the hotel’s location and room number. It’s in the less well-to-do section of the Mars Dome.”

Braxen ran for the door. “Let’s go, and remember to keep your hoods up so we won’t draw any attention. Understood?”

“Yes,” the two Betaloid answered in unison.

As they walked briskly toward the transportation center, one of the associates asked. “What if Mr. Morris does not wish to cooperate? Or what if he’s used...”

The Prime Minister stopped him before he finished the sentence. “Nobody gets hurt, at any cost. And we will deal with that when the time comes. Recovery of the device is paramount here. The mission will go on and our people will be saved!”

GIL MORRIS STOOD in front of the mirror staring at the image looking back at him. He ran his hands across the contours of his face, searching for a lever that would reveal the answers to his questions. He found none. He looked down at the contents of the dresser: coins, scraps of paper and a wallet. He snatched the wallet from the dresser.

As he opened it, he read the identification card out loud. “Gil Morris. Identification number: ADC456. Birthplace: Earth, New Atlanta. Birth date: Earth Year 2210.”

He paused, looking from the picture on the ID to the mirror. A smile suddenly broke across his face. “That’s me. I’m Gil Morris!”

He quickly searched through the wallet for any other information, but found none. Gil Morris didn’t seem to want to be known. His newfound enthusiasm quickly departed. He continued to stare at himself in the mirror. “Okay, at least I know who I am, and that’s a start. I must be here for a reason. But why? And why can’t I remember anything?”

Suddenly, the door to the hotel room burst open and Gil was confronted by three hooded figures in robes.

“Who are you?” he asked, almost timidly.

“Mr. Morris, don’t play games...you know exactly who I am,” the largest of the three figures said as he stepped toward him. Gil assumed he was the leader because the other two stayed slightly behind him and said nothing. The leader removed his hood revealing the two toned skin color and the bushy eyebrows.

“You’re an alien?” Gil asked.

“This is not the time for jokes, Mr. Morris. Where is the device?”

“What device? Who are you?”

“Mr. Morris, I will give you one last chance to—”

“He believes what he is saying,” one of the other aliens said to the leader. “I sense no tonal inequalities.”

Gil watched as the alien leader’s eyes grew wide, as if he was surprised by some realization of the situation. But the look of surprise quickly changed as the alien eyes narrowed to a look that Gil thought was of fear and outrage.

“I don’t know who you are or what you want. I’m not even sure who I am? I found something that says I’m Gil Morris,” Gil said in a boyish voice, which was on the verge of tears. “Can you tell me if that’s right ?”

The two other aliens moved towards him, causing Gil to scamper into the corner of the room.

“Wait,” the alien leader said as he held up his hand. “Mr. Morris, where is the device I gave you earlier?”

Gil could only stare at him.

“The device, Mr. Morris. You didn’t use it on yourself did you?”

Gil had no idea what the alien was speaking of and could only stare at him blankly.

“Search the room,” the alien commanded his associates.

The alien turned back toward Gil and spoke in a soft voice. “We will not hurt you. These two are going to look for something that you may have misplaced in the room. Do you understand?”

Gil nodded, unable to speak at first, but finally managing a murmur. “Yes. I guess so.”

The alien moved carefully toward him. “Good. You may have forgotten Mr. Morris, but my name is Braxen.

“Braxen?” Gil questioned.

“Yes, that’s correct. Now tell me, Mr. Morris, do you remember anything? Anything at all?”

Gil shook his head. “No. I just woke up here with a bad headache. I looked in the wallet and I saw my face on the picture and that’s how I figured out I was Gil Morris.”

“Here it is!” one of the other aliens exclaimed as he held up the device.

“Let me see it,” Braxen said, his tone sounding anxious. The associate placed the device in the lead alien’s hand. Gil watched as Braxen carefully examined what looked like dried blood on the device’s pinchers. A communication device sounded, one of the alien associates handed the receiver to Braxen. Gil listened attentively.

“Yes?” Braxen spoke into the phone. After a pause, he responded. “I see. Thank you.”

Braxen turned toward his is associates. “The Ambassador’s secretary died twenty minutes ago. No chance to recover her essence. We are done here.”

“What about the human?” one of them asked. Gil saw his hand reach into his robe and retrieve a weapon but Braxen motioned for him to put the gun away. “He’s coming along with us. Perhaps our doctors can do something for him.”

“Why bother? He has foiled forty years of your work and our planet’s rejuvenation.”

“You’re exactly why our race is heading to destruction. Not an ounce of compassion in that so called brain of yours. None of this would have happened if we had not gotten him involved. I never told him all the facts about the device. He had no way of knowing.”

Braxen turned toward Gil, touched him on the shoulder to calm the alarm in his face and spoke in a compassionate voice, “don’t be concerned, Mr. Morris. We are going to take you with us to a place where they may be able to help you remember. Okay?”

“Okay,” Gil uttered softly.

Braxen took his hand and guided him out.

“OVERSIGHT? WHAT OVERSIGHT?” Braxen yelled at the doctor who had just given him the results of their attempt to place the stored thoughts into a Betaloid. “How could you not have known? You idiots. After all this time and research you never took into account a variable such as this?”

The doctor became defensive. “Brain waves were a common denominator in all the simulations, Prime Minister. Across the galaxy, all brain waves are related in some form or another. All tests indicated that the consolidation would cause no harm to the host.”

“Well, doctor, there is a dead Betaloid lying on the table in the next room from your failed effort that would tend to disagree. If he could, that is. But unfortunately he is dead. And with him goes the hope of saving our world from certain demise.”

The doctor wrung his hands. “But Prime Minister, all is not lost. We are running tests now to see if we can determine what went wrong. Also, we are running compatibility scans through the medical database with every known brain in the galaxy to see if anything shows up. We still have the stored essence and qualities of all the life forms that we have acquired. We will be ready to test again...”

Braxen stared at the doctor, his eyes narrowing, “Well, Doctor, the next test better be the right one.”

THE DOCTORS FINISHED their examination of Gil Morris just as Braxen entered the medical facility’s chamber. Braxen assured him that the people there would help him put his memories back.

“Well, doctor, what is the prognosis?” Braxen asked.

The doctor shook his head. “Memory wipe was complete of all surface memories and knowledge. There may be some hope for deep recovery in the long run. But, in essence, he’s clean. All he believes is what he learned from looking at the identification card in the wallet. He doesn’t know why you contacted him or what job he was supposed to do. As I said, he’s clean.”

Braxen slammed his fist on a table in anger. “There has to be something we can do! This wouldn’t have happened if I had not gotten him involved. We are responsible for this man.”

The doctor shrugged. “He could be reeducated, but that would take quite a while. At least it would give him something.”

“Something is not good enough! I will not settle for anything less than a full recovery. Find a way, doctor! Find a way!” He turned away in frustration and headed to the room where Gil was being kept. As he entered the room, Gil’s face lit up with recognition.

Gil smiled. “Hello, uh, Mr. B-r-r-a-...”

Braxen smiled warmly and touched him on the shoulder. “Just call me ‘Mr. B,’ okay?”

“Okay, Mr. B. Is it time to get my mind back now?” Gil asked, his tone hopeful.

“The doctors want to run a few more tests on you, all right?”

Gil’s face turned sullen. “They can’t fix it, can they?”

“Gil, they’re just not sure yet. That’s why they need to run more tests. I will be back later to check on you and I promise I am going to do everything I can to help. Okay?”

“Promise?” Gil said, sounding like a small child.

“It’s a promise, Gil,” Braxen said and turned away wiping the moisture from his eyes.

“A WHAT?” BRAXEN ASKED, incredulous.

“The human brain is the prime candidate,” the research doctor said excitedly. “Combining what we learned from the failed transference, and from the medical database scan, the human brain would be the optimum recipient of the transfer.”

“Well, that’s just wonderful,” Braxen said sarcastically. “The leader we will place in charge of our destiny will not even be a Betaloid, our own species, but instead will be a human? This is not acceptable. You have to find another way.”

“Please listen, Prime Minister. There is no other way. Unfortunately, the Betaloid brain has distinct electrical differences in their synapses. That is what caused the mental overload when we tried to do it earlier.”

Braxen rubbed his face in frustration. “Can’t you alter the delivery device in some way to accept the information in a different manner?”

The doctor again shrugged. “That is possible, but we would have to begin the attribute and thought collection process all over again.”

“You know that would take years and we don’t have that luxury anymore.”

The doctor pointed toward Gil’s room. “Braxen, it must be fate that the human is here. He has no memory and we cannot replace it. He would be perfect for our needs.”

Braxen realized the implications of what the doctor was telling him. He began to pace, battling with his inner self. Would it be wrong to use the human for their gain after all he had already been through? But if his original memory could not be replaced, would a new life be so bad? Yet if something should go wrong, he would be killed.

Braxen looked at the doctor. “How sure are you this will work this time?”

“The margin of error is virtually insignificant,” the doctor assured him.

“Do it, then, and may the gods have mercy upon our souls for what we must do.”

GIL FOUND HIMSELF sitting at the head of a large table whose length seemed to disappear into a faraway mist. As he looked down the table, he recognized a few of the people seated there. He realized they were all people who had died years ago. He jumped up, nearly knocking his chair over, “What the hell is this, some kind of cadaver convention?”

The person seated to his immediate right spoke first. Gil recognized him as the most controversial leader Mars had ever known, Sir John Watson. His claim to fame was the creation of the independent Mars state, over twenty-five years ago.

The voice, strong and authoritative said, “We have orchestrated this meeting for both of our benefits, Mr. Morris. Unfortunately, we were unable to communicate with you when we were all together in that strange device; your essence was never completed. But now that we have been embedded into your brain, we thought it best to call a ‘meeting of the minds.’ As you may have realized, we are the essences that the Betaloid have gathered from the dead or dying physical shells that we once occupied.”

Gil shook his head violently, unbelieving. “No...no...there has to be an explanation that makes sense.”

“Think back, Mr. Morris, you will find it is all there.”

Gil closed his eyes and tried to remember the whole scenario up to the point when he lost his memories. Moments passed as it all fell into place.

“Yes, you are correct, it is all there,” Gil agreed, incredulous.

Sir Watson continued. “I will speak for the group; it will be easier that way. Is that okay with you?”

“Sure, that’s fine,” Gil said, still trying to rationalize how the long dead person was advising him inside his brain.

“You know what the Betaloid are trying to achieve; they want a leader to take them forward to reach their destiny.”

Gil nodded in understanding. “Yes, I understand that is what they seek.”

“Well, ‘we’ all agree that there is a problem with this.”

“Which is?” Gil questioned.

“Imagine a hundred people getting together and trying to decide one of the most controversial topics imaginable. They wouldn’t get very far. Do you know why?”

“Too many different ideas on how to achieve the desired outcome,” Gil stated plainly. “You would end up getting less done because of the different opinions.”

Sir Watson smiled. “That is absolutely correct, Mr. Morris.”

“So what is the plan, Sir Watson?” Gil asked.

“Let the Betaloid think we are all in here.”

“But where will you be?”

“This entire process of transference will only take a few seconds to complete. This meeting we are having now is occupying only a tiny fraction of that time even though it doesn’t seem like it. We will have the opportunity to leave and go...well...wherever it is the essence of people go when they die.”

“That leaves me the way I was before I got into this whole affair, before my memory was wiped and lost. And the Betaloid will think you are all in here. They will expect some—”

“They don’t know what to expect,” Sir Watson said. “They have been living in the fear of a dying race for so long, they would listen to anyone they thought they could put their faith in. If you told them all to stand on their heads they would do it in a heartbeat, just to save themselves.”

Gil paused to take all this information into his mind. “This is a pretty tall order, Sir.”

“You can handle it. If you make mistakes along the way, so what? We all make mistakes, but at least you tried. You didn’t just sit back and let things happen. We will even leave you some suggestions, which will be embedded in your subconscious—things that we have done in the past that may be helpful in certain situations.”

“Yes, but...but the fate of a whole planet...”

“My associates and I have taken the liberty of poking around in your subconscious, and we have determined all the right ingredients are there. In fact, deep down you have been searching for something like this all your life.”

The images around the table began to fade and disappear before Gil’s eyes.

“Hey! Wait a minute, guys I have more questions!” Gil yelled.

Sir John Watson winked at him. “You’ll do fine, son...you’ll do just fine. Look into your mind and be yourself.”

GIL OPENED HIS eyes to find Mr. B. and several doctors peering over him, their faces studying him closely.

“How do you feel?” Mr. B. asked with concern in his eyes.

“Not too bad, how about yourself” Gil blinked several times. “You know, Mr. B, you really need to do something about that uneven tan you’ve got going there, and maybe get a landscaper to help you with that eyebrow problem of yours.”

The Betaloid laughed.

“How are the essences correlating with each other?” a doctor asked Gil.

Gil hesitated briefly before he answered. He closed his eyes and searched his mind. They were all gone. They saw their chance during the transfer to go on to their final resting place, wherever that was.

“They’re all doing fine.” Gil smiled disarmingly. “Just peachy. They laugh, they schmooze, they tell jokes, you know the usual party.”

At that statement all of the Betaloid in the room knelt down and lowered their heads in reverence to their new leader. One Betaloid kissed his hand and announced, “It is true this day, a new leader is born unto our race. He that shall lead us out of darkness and into the light, he will...”

“Enough already. I wish to speak to Mr. B....alone,” Gil said, embarrassed, as he snatched his hand away.

They all peered at one another with looks of confusion and slowly left the room.

“Is this the way it is to be from now on? People dropping to their knees when I walk into a room?” Gil asked.

“We shall respond to whatever you say, we shall do what you tell us to do, we shall go where you tell us to go,” the Betaloid said.

Gil narrowed his eyes. “Well, good, then. Let me begin with a simple tasking just for you, Mr. B.” He paused for a few seconds. “I guess I can’t call you Mr. B in public anymore. That’s not official sounding. What is your title?”

“I am called Prime Minister Braxen.”

“That’ll do just fine. “You, Prime Minister Braxen, will be the leader of your people. I bestow that upon you.”

“What? It cannot be...I,” Braxen stammered, his eyes wide in disbelief.

“You disobey me?” Gil asked forcefully.

“No!” Braxen said, stuttering. “I—I would never...I am just shocked at you request...”

“You shouldn’t be, my friend. You showed great strength and courage in the task that you have been dedicated to for so long. You showed wisdom and knowledge by carefully choosing each individual that you felt could bring something to your race. You showed compassion for me when in the great scheme of things, most would have just cast me aside and not been concerned about my fate. When it came time to make the important decision, you made the correct one. These are the qualities that make a leader great. The idea of mixing up a batch of minds and pouring out the perfect mold of a leader is ridiculous. You end up with mush.”

Braxen stared at him. “I am honored by your kind words and I shall do my best to do your bidding. However, I do not possess the infinite knowledge that you now possess.”

Gil smiled at his friend. “Don’t worry, Mr. B., myself and the rest of the boys and girls that are hanging out in my cerebral auditorium, won’t let you do it all by yourself. After all, I have to make sure you don’t try and steal the planet or something, and I can’t think of anyone more qualified for that job than myself. You know, being a reformed thief and all.”

THE END