Short story

0 comments on "New Release: Hesitate (short story, literary fiction)"

“Hesitate” is a literary fiction short story. It’s available from Kindle Unlimited if you’ve got a subscription and want to read it for free. Otherwise it’s $0.99 and will be published as part of a short story collection sometime around June(?) if you want to wait.

At 2060 words, it’s a short social commentary piece.

Trigger Warning: threat of noncon. character death.

0 comments on "FIC: Morning Song"

Title: Morning Song
Author: Harper Kingsley
Character: Neil Halsted, the Guy in 2D, Ben Hodgins
Note: Fill for Shower Buddies prompt

Neil “before Zod” Halsted was 32 years old, single, with dark brown hair and hazel eyes. He lived in an old apartment building that had been renovated several times over the years, going from The Shining-chic to something a bit more classic comfort. All he cared was that his apartment–apartment 2C–was a rent controlled two bedroom, two bathroom palace that he was going to live in until he died. They would have to pry the door keys out of his cold, wrinkled hands as they hauled him out on a stretcher, because he was not leaving otherwise.

He had a fabulous apartment in the city, and his neighbors were great. He’d never met them, and that was what made them great. He’d never had to complain to anyone about noise or cockroaches or mysterious leaks, and no one had ever had to complain about him.

His life wasn’t perfect, but it was good. He lived close enough to where he worked that he didn’t have to rush around in the morning, and there were plenty of restaurants and grocery stores within walking distance. There was even a bus stop on the street out front of his building, so on wet days he didn’t have to tramp very far in the rain if he had to get somewhere on the other side of the city.

His job wasn’t what he’d dreamed of when he’d put himself through college, but it gave him a nice enough paycheck. With the money he saved on rent, he was able to turn the second bedroom into the walk-in closet he’d wanted ever since he saw episodes of “Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous” and “MTV’s Cribs” as a teen. He was able to add to his wardrobe each month and still grow his savings account.

He had everything that he needed and a bit extra. He was even able to help out his parents when they needed it. Things were going good in his life.

And part of what made things pleasant was his morning shower. Where he stripped and stepped into the large stall and shared a song with the man whose shower was on the other side of the wall.

It had freaked him out the first time it happened. One minute he was singing alone, the next he was in chorus with the guy from 2D–who had a particularly pleasant baritone singing voice. And then it was kind of cool.

It became part of his routine. In the mornings as he lathered up, he’d sing along with his neighbor–songs he never would have shared with anyone else.

It was romantic, but in a nonsexual way. This was his singing buddy. This was his beautiful friend whose face he never wanted to see.

How horrible was that?

But he’d been hurt before. He’d fallen out of love with plenty of people when he got to see how they truly lived.

His step-sister had delighted in taking all of the magic out of his world when he’d been twelve years old. It was the one stark memory of his childhood that he maintained: that monstrous figure looming over him, spitting out poisoned words that burned into his brain. He’d thought she’d been demonically possessed.

Always so quiet and still, she’d leaped out of her chair and begun screaming out answers to every question he’d interrupted her with all night. Bulging eyes and raging mouth; he’d been completely terrified. And ever since then, his every bogeyman-moment was tied to that fear. (He wished he hadn’t posted his worst fear in his profile. It would have been better if he’d made something up.)

He couldn’t handle it if his singing buddy was horrible to look at. Not for any mean reason, but because he’d built up a fantasy in his head and he didn’t want to find out that the guy was the opposite of everything he’d expected. [B1-1] It would ruin the one good thing that he had.

Things hadn’t been going that great in his work life of late, ever since Ben Hodgins had joined the company. His happiness levels had gone way down. So there was something uplifting about starting each day with a song.

It felt good. It got him energized on even the most blah of days.

Starting the morning off with a song enabled him to keep his mind focused on work and not on how horrible his coworkers were. They were related to the owners, so he had to put up with their laziness and frequent absences while he did all the work. [B1-2] And if he didn’t start each day off with a cheery tune, he would have probably lost his shit dealing with them and all their baggage.

Having a shower singing buddy was a bright spot to his every day, one that he never wanted to lose. So even when he was feeling curious about the guy in 2D, he went out of his way to not run into him. Because if he lost the magic of his morning song, there was a good chance that he’d quickly lose his job as well. And without his job, he wouldn’t be able to pay his rent, which meant losing his fabulous apartment and having to move back in with his parents.

Neil was grateful that the guy in 2D had entered his life. But he never wanted to meet him and ruin the magic of what they had.

=The End=

Aside 0 comments on "Heroes & Villains: Psychotic, by Harper Kingsley [superhero]"

PsychoticTitle: Psychotic
Author: Harper Kingsley
World: Heroes & Villains
Genre: mm superhero
Word count: 8750
A/N: This story is set during part three of Allies & Enemies. It began as a cut scene and was expanded.
A/N 2: Includes excerpts of upcoming stories. First two chapters of Allies & Enemies, the first two chapters of The Panic Pure, and the opening of Normal Again.

Summary: Warrick should stay safe in their little cabin in the woods, but sometimes that whole superhero thing gets away from him.

Available at: Amazon, Smashwords for $0.99

EXCERPT:

He’d given up that life. He wasn’t that guy anymore. He’d made promises and commitments. But that was all in the past tense. He was in the moment, in the now, and there was the thunder red of rage-rage-rage burning across Vereint’s brain.

All this time, Warrick had been so great about following the rules. So why did he have to fuck up now?

Vereint had come back to an empty cabin, a TV still showing GNN, and a note. Warrick had seen something that called for Blue Ice, so he’d gone off to handle it.

Vereint’s panic as he chased after Warrick had gradually turned to burning anger. Didn’t Warrick understand what putting himself in danger did to him? The sense of helplessness and suffocating worry that he felt?

Vereint wanted to scream in Warrick’s face, but he knew he would end up on his knees begging him to never leave him. And that patheticness only made him angrier. Never in his life had there been anyone to bring him so low as Warrick could.

By the time he reached the warehouse, he was mostly in control. Then he broke the lock and slid open the door. It felt like the moment froze in front of him, the air going heavy and still.

Warrick was dead.

There was blood everywhere in a butterfly spray, and at the center the torn cocoon. Flesh splayed open in pink and white ridges of muscle and tendon. Eye sockets blackened and exposed amongst the brain matter. Warrick’s face was pasty and still, his shattered lips still parted around where his teeth had been kicked out.

Vereint sucked in a hissing breath and his hands clenched into claw shapes at his sides. He was going mad. The world was a riot of bright reds and softer pinks and the glistening lengths of intestine. The image before him soaked itself into his brain. Becoming the truth of his existence.

Then he noticed that the Blue Ice uniform was wrong. It was one Vereint knew for sure had been ruined in a fight with Behemoth. He’d thrown it away himself, which had been a real hardship. It had been his favorite.

Just that quick he knew someone was messing with his brain.

It was as though someone had snapped a new lens on a camera, everything coming into focus. He could still see the mind fuckery of the illusion, but it was hollow and thin, all the emotional impact removed.

There were two men in black three-piece suits standing next to a card table. They were laughing and joking, placing bets on how long he would freak out.

As his mind started working again, Vereint’s eyes were drawn to the vibrating silver device on the table. He’d only ever heard about them, but he was sure that it was a Psiren. It produced sound waves focused to some frequency that could force the human brain to experience different emotions. The feelings drawn up were so strong that some people experienced correlating hallucinations.

Vereint tried to make his body convey terror and grief and was glad of the ski mask he’d pulled on before leaving. He’d never been that great of an actor, which was why he usually let Warrick do the lying for the both of them.

His eyes slid to the back of the room where he’d spotted the glint of a blade pressed tight against the real Warrick’s throat. His jaw clenched tight with fear and anger.

Warrick wasn’t moving, was flopped limply, but Vereint could see the minute quiver of his breaths. He was pulled across the over-sized lap of a man that had to be a good fifteen hundred pounds.

Vereint recognized the man as Jericho Slim, sometimes called the Knife Man because he could do horrible nightmare things with a blade. He could draw them out of his flesh like gall stones. He would gag and a blade would come out from between his lips or sometimes it would just be slivers. It was said he could spit his Needle Darts faster than a viper and he could hit a target up to two hundred feet away.

Even though he was sure he was faster than Jericho Slim, Vereint didn’t want to risk the guy getting lucky. It was better to play it safe and maneuver the situation to keep Warrick alive. Because a single scratch from one of Jericho Slim’s bioblades and Warrick would rot from the wound like it was the bite of a Gila monster; it was a horrible way to die.

After what he figured had to be a good five minutes of shivering, shaking, and quavering garbled cries, Vereint let himself sag to the floor with a low moan. From what he knew, an improperly used Psiren could cause catatonia in people that had experienced severe psychological trauma.

He was worried about Warrick. With his history and not possessing Vereint’s natural protections, things were worse for Warrick. Being hit with the effects of a Psiren could give him permanent brain damage.

Vereint was certain he was going to be killing some people today.

/EXCERPT

9 comments on "My Message Against Homophobia"

 

"Hop Against Homophobia"I was honestly stumped about what I was supposed to say about the subject of homophobia. I don’t have any stories I feel comfortable sharing with the world at large and just the thought of it makes me uncomfortable.

So that’s what I decided to use as the focus of my post: the fact that homophobia is a very uncomfortable topic. It’s so uncomfortable that I think that’s the reason why no one wants to talk about it or even focus on it for too long.

People just assume that if they ignore all of the bad things that happen, then none of it will be real. Because of that, there are some people that are honestly ignorant of the fact that there is a whole group of people being treated like second-class citizens and that some expect them to just keep their mouths shut and take it.

This hop is not meant to just share the message of being against homophobia, at least, not for me. No, for me this is a hop to make people aware of the fact that homophobia still exists and that people shouldn’t just ignore it and hope that it goes away.

Just displaying the Hop Against Homophobia icon on my blog is my testament:

I do not support homophobia. I do not support racism. I do not support gender inequality.

I do accept the fact that these awful things exist in the world, but I fully believe that as long as a message of peace and brotherhood is being spread around, the times will change. Things will get better. Society’s views will change. The world will become a place where someone can walk down the street and not have to worry about getting attacked simply for the way they look or who they love.

I was happy to accept the invitation to join the Hop Against Homophobia blog hop. And I sincerely hope that you are enjoying your journey from blog to blog and that you are seeing many messages of solidarity about something that should be changed.

~Pax