Zilch, is all’s I ever got. My wife, the harpy, continually nags me to take her places.
I thought, “Peru is some place.”
The Inca ruins were breathtaking.
All I heard was, “The mountains are freezing.
So I bought Marjorie a coat made from mountain goat’s wool.
Later that day, we climbed to Machu Picchu.
We were standing on a cliff enjoying the magnificent view when a Harpy Eagle swooped down and seized her.
Soaring into a canyon, he dropped her on the jagged rocks.
He thought she looked like a tasty goat.
Now how’s that for ironic?
A Harpy eating a harpy.
***
Many thanks to my friend Steve Slack who pulled off not only a great “Z” for the end of the A to Z Challenge, but he did it in less than 100 words – Bravo Steve.
And here’s a tantalizing tidbit from Matt Harrill’s new serial The ARC Legacy that will be coming in 2016
***
His hands balled in fists, Zophiel dropped to his knees, his robes spreading about him.
Tears of purest light streamed down his face, glistening like the first rays of dawn on the morning of the first day. His head hung low.
“Metatron, my brother, is dead…” The whisper came from clenched teeth.
The lips peeled back as his shoulders trembled, the feathers on his enormous wings starting to shake as grief very evidently became rage. Those nearby took a step back.
“They did this.” His eyes opened, and the crystal blue had been replaced with irises of darkest night. “Release Nibiru,” he growled. “Unleash the host.”
“Zophiel, no,” Ioviel gasped. “The world will end.”
“The world has ended.”
***
And one final visit to the dark streets of New Cago…
“Luz, we are down to Zero!” Sam’s hands grew numb as he held a lifeless hand.
It was true the last of his friends (and hers) were dead.
Sam was all that was left, strangely he was more driven.
“Our blood gives you the best chance to succeed, Sam.”
“All my friends are dead and I’m supposed to be comforted?”
“No time for tears, Sam.” A woman who was wearing one pink slipper whispered.
****
“Zeek, today is your lucky day!”
Sam held a list. He gladly put a line through the last name – in blood.
Many thanks to the A to Z crew for another great year. I would like to put in one more mention for the Fill the Cracks program for children Orphaned by Ebola. We appreciate any support – reblogs, tweets…
The hawk-eyed man watched them cross the room while he toyed with the woman he had chosen in his dance of lust. The couple had fallen from his spell, their faces scared, the clarity of the alien situation thrust upon them. He realized he himself had become caught up in the moment, and regretted his momentary lapse of concentration. From across the room, a woman alone smiled at him, oblivious to the carnal riot going on around her.
“You never could concentrate on the task at hand, Asmodeus,” she purred, her voice no louder than a whisper yet attuned to his hearing
He smiled and continued administering kisses to the blonde woman he had chosen for his toy. They would be out of sight, but they could never escape him. In between kisses, his teeth grew to needle points, and, with a fierce bite, he ripped her throat out. She dropped to the floor, too overcome by lust to have even registered her peril. Her last thoughts of a lovers’ embrace, her loins tight with anticipation. Nobody in the room noticed.
“All in good time, Belphegor. All in good time.”
***
Today is the last day I will be featuring excerpts from Matt Harrill’s novel Hellbounce from the Arc Chronicles. Leave a comment and you name goes in the “hat” for a book giveaway.
Matt Harrill is the author of the trilogy The Arc Chronicles.
Matthew W Harrill lives in the idyllic South-West of England, nestled snugly in a village in the foothills of the Cotswolds. Born in 1976, he attended school in Bristol and received a degree in Geology from Southampton University. By day he plies his trade implementing shareplans for Xerox. By night he spends his time with his wife and four children. (and he writes sci-fi horror).
I have a delightful interview of Matt as well. He really is an interesting chap and his writing is to die for…
Chat with him on twitter @matt_harrill
You can find Matt on Amazon and will be glad that you did!!!
Tomorrow will begin a week of noir fiction with a bit of paranormal thrown in.
They passed without incident through the rest of New Market, pulling onto the interstate and resuming their journey south.
Eva let the tension build for half an hour or so while observing the man. Madden was right; she could see what he meant. As with those they had seen before, this man looked to be a figure out of history. His brown uniform appeared antique. He could have been from two centuries before. Unfortunately, the damning evidence was the hood that he had tucked at his belt. Eva leaned over as the terrified man stared at her and retrieved it. The hood was burlap, with eye holes and a larger gap for the mouth cut in one side.
“I see what you mean,” Eva said to Madden, who stared straight ahead, not responding.
She turned to the man. “You are of the Klan. What is your name and rank? Janus, remove his gag.”
Janus leaned over, and ripped the tape he had used from the man’s mouth before he had a chance to tense, settling back on the other side of the back seat.
“My name? You may call me Jack Crow.” He then laughed uproariously at some self-perceived joke. “I am a redeemer. What is this? Some sort of carriage? Why are there no horses? Who are you, eh? What right have you to entice me here? Who do you work for? Grant?”
“See,” Madden said without turning his head.
Jack Crow peered around him. “This is exceeding soft in here. This must be your powder room. So does General Grant allow you a man slave and a retard? Perchance your horses are decked with pretty pink ribbons too?” More raucous laughter.
“You have a lot of questions for someone in your position, Mr. Crow.”
“You aren’t here to scare me, lady. I have seen true fear. I have witnessed it. Whoever you are, and wherever this is, I don’t care.”
“That’s fine, then. We will stop here, and execute you now.”
Eva said this in such an offhand way that Crow was completely caught off his guard. “No! There are rules now, even if I despise everything you ragamuffins stand for. You can’t do that.”
Eva pulled out the mysterious book and handed it to Janus. “Let’s see, given what we have been through, just how much we are prepared to stick to the rules.”
Janus took the book, and pushed it against Crow’s face. The effect was instant. Smoke began to boil from the point of contact, and Crow screamed. The stench of burned flesh quickly filled the car.
“Enough,” Eva held out her hand and Janus returned the book to her. “How did you know we were coming?”
Crow panted for a moment as he stared at her in undisguised terror. “We… we… had no idea you were coming. We were left here and instructed to bar the way of any we felt needed it.” Crow jutted his jaw at Madden’s back. “We felt him coming. He is like a beacon.”
******
***I will be giving at least one copy of Hellbounce (excerpt above) away. Come back for G-L and leave a comment for a chance to win!!!***
Matt Harrill is the author of the trilogy The Arc Chronicles.
Matthew W Harrill lives in the idyllic South-West of England, nestled snugly in a village in the foothills of the Cotswolds. Born in 1976, he attended school in Bristol and received a degree in Geology from Southampton University. By day he plies his trade implementing shareplans for Xerox. By night he spends his time with his wife and four children. (and he writes sci-fi horror).
I have a delightful interview of Matt as well. He really is an interesting chap and his writing is to die for…
Chat with him on twitter @matt_harrill
You can find Matt on Amazon and will be glad that you did!!!
The lights in the hangar faded as the front hangar doors opened. The planes came alive, engines whining, and began to taxi out of the hangar onto the runway.
From her vantage point, Eva watched the small planes, capable of seating no more than six people each, crawling along the asphalt. The first turned and began to power up for takeoff. Against the backlighting of the main terminal, it was possible to see a figure run out past the hangar and leap onto the wing of the plane.
“What’s he think he’s doing?” Exclaimed Madden.
“He doesn’t think,” Eva replied. “He is past that stage now. It’s all instinct for him. However he got free, he is seeking me, and thinks I’m in there.”
“We suspect he isn’t the only one,” added Jeanette.
The planes continued in their take off, despite Brian clinging to one of the wings. Both accelerated to take off speed, and left the ground. Only moments later from a different part of the airport, two rockets flared into life, one heading to each plane.
The sound of the twin explosions shattered glass in the hangar, and the wreckage of the planes covered the far end of the runway. In moments, sirens wailed as emergency rescue vehicles rushed into action.
“Now we wait,” observed Janus.
“For what?” Asked Madden. “For them to start asking who owns the planes, who was in them, and who fired those rockets?”
“Should not be an issue. We have you and your legendary anonymity for protection. The planes were registered to a phantom company who have hangars elsewhere on the grounds. They were controlled by remote. If not for them being shot down, they would have crashed somewhere close by in the state, making everybody think you had been killed. A little misdirection can go a long way. Look out now – you will see already they start to gather.”
Eva peeked out of the hangar. In the darkness, it was easy to observe the helicopters beginning to fill the sky. Nearby in the hangar, some of the black-ops peeled tarpaulins off a black helicopter and began to prepare it for takeoff.
“We will just be another bird in the sky, with all of the others scavenging for a story.”
“We will. You are all important, and what you carry especially so.”
“The books?”
Janus threw the still-wrapped texts at Madden, who caught them by reflex. Instantly he hissed in pain and dropped them.
“There’s a good reason for that, rubber ball,” Janus said as he retrieved them. “We must go now, or see all of this destroyed. These texts might well hold the key to what has been going on.”
“To Egypt? You have a strange concept of safety.”
“You are here. Everybody knows it. Anywhere is safer than here. Can you not sense it?”
Madden was still for a moment. “Demons. Everywhere, but not close.”
“Not close enough to stop us this time. We go to the source of these scrolls, and for God’s sake try to lay low for a while.”
Eva took her place beside Madden, opposite Tilly. “Not coming, Jeanette?”
The blonde presenter shook her head. “My place and my job are here. I am the face of this. You need to see me, just turn on a television. Listen carefully when you do. There may be more being said than most understand.”
Slamming the door shut, Jeanette stepped away from the helicopter as the blades began to turn. She turned, and in a blink was gone through a doorway.
“Egypt, eh?” Madden said with a smile. “Always wanted to see the Pharaoh’s tombs.”
“Best hope it doesn’t become yours, too,” Tilly observed. “This isn’t over yet.”
***I will be giving at least one of Matt’s books away. Come back for G-L and leave a comment for a chance to win!!!***
Matt Harrill is the author of the trilogy TheArc Chronicles.
Matthew W Harrill lives in the idyllic South-West of England, nestled snugly in a village in the foothills of the Cotswolds. Born in 1976, he attended school in Bristol and received a degree in Geology from Southampton University. By day he plies his trade implementing shareplans for Xerox. By night he spends his time with his wife and four children. (and he writes sci-fi horror).
I have a delightful interview of Matt as well. He really is an interesting chap and his writing is to die for…
Chat with him on twitter @matt_harrill
You can find Matt on Amazon and will be glad that you did!!!
“Six months ago, what started off as a standard attempted bank robbery in the area of Montego Bay, Jamaica, has become one of the biggest mysteries the island has ever seen.” A map appeared on the screen, a red line detailing the route. It reminded Eva of the red line in the Indiana Jones movies when they tracked the adventurer’s movements whenever he was on board a plane.
“The high speed chase was seen by hundreds of passers-by, involved most of the Montego Bay police force, and ended when the getaway car landed in the ocean.” A montage of scenes followed, showing a column of squad cars behind an unmarked vehicle, obviously filmed from a helicopter. The car attempted to avoid a roadblock, hit the curb, flipped and dove into the sea. Eva winced as she watched it do so.
“As it transpired, underwater rescue specialists were on hand in case such an event occurred. Within a minute or so of crashing, the police apprehended the perpetrators. All of them, except the driver. All of the doors were shut. Windows adjacent to the driver were shattered, but local police were on scene. In short, there was nowhere for him to go. Yet, he has simply vanished.”
“What makes this case even stranger is that none of the other occupants of the car can remember what he looked like, or if he was even there.”
The scene cut to a police interview showing a swarthy Jamaican, one arm in a sling. The name ‘Turell Banks’ appeared on a banner at the bottom of the screen.
”Man, I tellin’ you, me dunno!” The man was clearly agitated, confused. “We had us a wheel man. Him just up and gone. No name, no face. Him vanish like a ghost.”
“The other members of the gang have offered similar explanations. They all know they had a driver, but they were all unable to provide the police with a description. Polygraph tests on all three men indicated that each man was convinced he was telling the truth. Whoever the mystery driver is, he has kept his identity well hidden. Jamaican police were satisfied with one outcome, however; the apprehension of a local underground drug lord.”
Again, the scene shifted to the man from the previous interview, a particularly evil-looking man, in an orange jumpsuit, his face a mixture of rage and confusion.
“As a result of Bank’s capture, our mysterious gang member became a hero in the eyes of the authorities through his choice of escape route, although many admit confusion when it comes to an explanation of his disappearance. One thing is certain; the legend of the disappearing driver is sure to grow. Coming up next: a man in Georgia claims to have seen a demon walking on the streets. More, after these important messages.”
***I will be giving at least one of Matt’s books away. Come back for G-L and leave a comment for a chance to win!!!***
Matt Harrill is the author of the trilogy The Arc Chronicles.
IN NEED – As we get closer to finalizing the book “A Song for Liberia” we will need people/ bloggers to help to share about the book. As I was sharing with a friend the other day few people realize that there are at least 10,000 children who are now orphaned because of the Ebola epidemic.
Today we continue with our body bag count. Not sure what our numbers are- Steve Slack racked them up quickly. Today we are switching authors and will enjoy Matt Harrill’s slealthy, predator as he circles…
“EVA!” Brian yelled from behind her.
She stopped and turned. He was perhaps a hundred yards or so back; the crowd had bunched around him.
“If thou hast done foolishly in lifting up thyself, or if thou hast thought evil, lay thine hand upon thy mouth. What benefit did you reap at that time from the things you are now ashamed of? Those things result in death!”
Brian was quoting the Bible? Before Eva could respond, the smiling woman lifted the girl into the air, and passed her to him. The feeling of hunger magnified a hundredfold, and the crowd began to growl, unutterable sounds that could not be recognised as human. There was an eager anticipation in the air, as if an abomination was about to be unfettered.
As one, the mob surged at Brian, and both he and the girl disappeared from view. Eva couldn’t see what was going on, but the mob piled into the space where Brian had stood, baying and scrapping.
Eva felt compelled to join them, but something inside her fought the feeling, preventing her from moving. She stood, immobile, as others ran past her to dive in.
Above it all, there was a piercing wail, tortured and desperate, extinguished almost as soon as it began. It wasn’t Brian they were after. He wasn’t protecting the child. He was slaughtering her! Then a flash of red sprayed up from the seething mass, and Eva began to scream.
*** I will be giving at least one of Matt’s books away. So each comment ( for Matt’s G- L) counts toward winning!***
Matt Harrill is the author of the trilogy The Arc Chronicles.
Matthew W Harrill lives in the idyllic South-West of England, nestled snugly in a village in the foothills of the Cotswolds. Born in 1976, he attended school in Bristol and received a degree in Geology from Southampton University. By day he plies his trade implementing shareplans for Xerox. By night he spends his time with his wife and four children. (and he writes sci-fi horror).
I have a delightful interview of Matt as well. He really is an interesting chap and his writing is to die for…
Chat with him on twitter @matt_harrill
You can find Matt on Amazon and will be glad that you did!!!
I will also add a quick plug for “Song for Liberia” a project that will benefit orphans of Ebola. More about that project here.
Art means something different to each person. It’s beauty, it tells a message… But what is it for artist?
The aim of art is to represent not the outward appearance of things, but their inward significance ~ Aristotle
I would like to thank French artist Piere Chalory for the willingness to do an interview with Friday Feature. Piere is having a very busy September with an exhibit in Le Lavandou, an article in Bold Favor Magazine and then he graciously took time for an interview.
When I originally saw Piere’s art, I was taken back with his surreal effects. My personal favorites are paintings depicting games. I read a commentary about society, the past, present and future. Some how I felt I was viewing a new Salvador Dali. I had no idea about the series that he had painted (in 1998) depicting an attack on New York City. I am grateful for his candor – I hope you can appreciate this gifted contemporary artist.
About 9/11 : The images and a reflection are on a blog I posted yesterday (911) so please visit there if you have not gotten a chance to see them. I asked Piere what it was like to see the towers in NYC come crashing down on 911?
I did not make exhibition (of my Twin Towers series) between 1998 and 2001 until September 2001, therefore, precisely 5 to 30 September 2001, and the day of September 11, 2001, ‘Twin Towers 1998’ was on display ! I have pictures to prove it.
The day of september 11 2001, I saw the crashes and at the time, I was extremely shocked to see the towers collapse like a house of cards! It was not until later in the afternoon that I realized I had a painting of the twin towers on display in a gallery.
In reviewing the painting with its two notches, they were located almost in the exact place of impact of the aircraft., I was more than surprised to have made this drawing more than 3 years before, and the gallerist and a friend were also . Objectively, when I made this painting and the one where I built the Titanic in the port of NYC, another catastrophic symbol, I have no particular view, one could say that only my hands were ‘guided by ‘something’.
Inspiration in this case equals vision/premonition: “It is also clear that when I paint, like any true artist, I’m kind of in a daze, a kind of trance, a fever. This inspiration is reached (and thankfully) from time to time, and then I have to create something, anything. But then, in the case of this picture really amazing, I admit I was a bit overwhelmed by the result.”
Can you tell me about your art and where you started your journey ?
I started painting in 1980, in fact I’ve always drawn and painted since the age of about five years. The surrealistic, sci fi, really popped in my twenties. I do not believe in the surrounding reality that we live every day, and subjective vision of my paintings is deliberately ‘shocking for people( conformists anyway.) Right now, I’m thinking to incorporate a ‘digital vision of my next paintings in oil on canvas. Before making anything, I will create mentally my best projects, which are sort of pre-made prior to their implementation. Today I live in Marseille, but I will be moving soon to a quieter place.
Who are your favorite artists?
My favorite artists are Picasso, Renoir, Da Vinci, Van Gogh. And all the great painters (in general) those who have managed to transcend reality into a personal visual approach and whose work ignores the conventions of an era.
Piere, how are you inspired?
Everything inspires me, color, contrast, a situation, an emotion, then I try to translate in color and shapes that I felt.
When you create what are your favorite subjects?
I have no favorite subjects, except the mystery, the tension between the real and transcendence, spirituality, esotericism. Any object or subject begun normally, then its appearance always ends with a subjective disintegration of common sense, colors and shapes.
Places where you can find the work of Piere Chalory:
Piere is featured in Le Portail Artistique Francais and in 2015 in L’Annuaire International des Arts
You can also ( if you are travelling in France) enjoy his work at the Dreem Street Gallery
I encourage you to go to some of the links that show Piere’s work. I was delighted to find not only paintings but drawings, sculpture,digital art. I also know he writes horror.
Piere also has a website where you can find his work and books: 3d-art-ebooks.com
So I ask you creative types is there something that we can see or feel that others do not? Are our hands moved to paint or write of events yet to occur? In the case of Piere Chalory, I would say “Yes.” I would also add it is a gift to be handled wisely!!!!
An aside: As I am finalizing this article, I realize when I asked Piere if we could do an interview I was thinking of an early September posting. This was before I knew about his 911 series. I never consider things accidental. Do you???
“And there you are” my tour guide said as we stood on a field, in who knows where, facing three doors.
“Really,That’s It?
We only travelled to Paris during the French Revolution where I almost lost my head. (my eyes narrowed)
Stalingrad during the siege of 42 – 43. I got frost bite (gritting teeth)
Kilimanjaro was a cheat because we didn’t start at the base. (throws up arms)
What about the blue door?
Intergalactic? No oxygen? A minor technicality. No gravity? We’ll bring the door. No Starbucks? What kind of second-rate travel agency do you work for anyway????”
And here we are at the beginning of this week’s travel in 100 words through Flash Fiction with our guide Rochelle Wisoff- Fields. Enjoy the journey!
Gud skaper noko nytt ved sitt Ord og sin Ande, vi kan ta imot det i tru og få oppleve at han gjer sitt verk med oss. Hans skaparkraft verkar konstuktivt i våre liv og skaper noko som er verdifullt for oss. Naturkreftene verkar nedebrytande, i fylgje entropilova, men Gud er Ånd og det som er født av hans Ande består. Jesu frelsesverk er fullbrakt og fullkome. Han er den siste Adam, som er ifrå himmelen og som for oss har vorte ei livgjevande ånd. Han gjev oss den Heilage Ande frå himmelen av berre nåde. Han gjev oss det evige livet.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before. - Edgar Allan Poe
I would like to thank French artist Piere Chalory for the willingness to do an interview with Friday Feature. Piere is having a very busy September with an exhibit in Le Lavandou, an article in Bold Favor Magazine and then he graciously took time for an interview.
penned in moon dust 