Still plugging away at the NaNoWriMo book. I cracked over the halfway point of 25,000 words just after midnight Friday. Making the slow but steady climb to 40k by next Saturday, keeping at least a day ahead in regards to word count. It's a good thing they give out badges for this thing. I will do anything for imagined prestige and internet points. Or at least my gamerscore agrees with that sentiment.
All my energy has really been focused full force on Some Call Me... as I've been mucking about in Act 2. I really hate falling prey to the slowdown in the middle period, but when I obtain enough writing skill to pen a Mad Max: Fury Road style, balls to the walls, non-stop action thrill ride, you better believe I'll do it. Of course, while I'm totally an action genre fan, and love to write fight scenes like erotica writers make fuck scenes, I also enjoy contemplating my navel when I'm allowed the open freedom of novel writing. I hope that some day in the future that doesn't come back to bite me in the ass on a review. I can see it now...
"Bollweg's prose is as bloated and over-indulgent as a King Crimson album. He meanders about tired concepts with hardly any new insight on the subject. In the rest of his work, he builds a house of sticks surrounded by a paper thin facade of flashy gimmicks and hyperviolence..." - Guy Someone LA Times Book Review
Wow, future me has not grown at all as an author.
Speaking of growing as an author, this week is the post of the final chapter in my latest novella, By Starlight. We've gone from Cyberspace, to the real world, and now we're in the subconscious of the Universe itself. It's now time for our intrepid heroine Tressie and the ravenous Succubus Gribelle to end this chase. Who will survive, and what will be left of them?!
I've got nothing left to say this week. Enjoy the story after the jump...
Get my first book, with the tie-in story Sucking Out Loud, for free at Smashwords: Urban Legends of the Future
Get the whole story plus 3 bonus shorts in my latest book: By Starlight - Before Dawn
eight
Tressie came to the end of an ever growing tunnel that opened up into something out of a fantasy holo. Wall to wall, spiraling up into a natural cathedral, were all manner of beautiful creatures that terrified Tressie as much as titillated her. She stumbled out into the meeting hall, tree flesh melding back together behind her.
A sole Succubus orated to the assembly. The crowd, divided, were bickering over the long winded speech. Tressie crept forward. Compelled by an urge she couldn’t name, she stepped over the edge of where light met the sylvan barked floor.
“...shall find a way to bring them back.”
“You better rethink that,” Tressie said, stepping into the forum, having no further plan beyond ‘wing it’. The weight of an entire race’s gaze fell upon her. She wished there was anything to hide behind. The tree beneath sprung up to envelop Tressie in a protective cocoon.
Boos, catcalls, and hisses bounced off the outer layer. Tressie pounded on the inside of her shelter, then rubbed her hands over the barked up texture. The gears in her head meshed, triggering the muscles in her face to pull into a smile. Tressie closed her astral eyes and imagined the perfect anime katana, as a real and solid thing in her left hand as the world tree encompassing her being. The image took shape behind her closed, dreaming, lids. Two kilograms of folded steel weighed down her palm.
Making like Yoshiro from that sick Blade vs. Bullets scene in Akimbo, Tressie X-Slashed with all her imagined might. An impossible trail of red marked the air as if she sliced the sky itself. Her shield splintered about her, leaving a stunned Succubus blinking at her beneath a bumpy brow.
“What? Impossible for a lucid to... wait... I know you. You’re that meat that’s dogged my steps since I visited your planes. Seize it.” The Succubus thrust an accusatory finger towards Tressie.
Tressie switched to defensive stance with a blade flourish. A great calm overtook her and a wild grin spread over her lips. Tressie beckoned her attackers to their end.
A static of wild screams flooded the airspace, accompanied by the buffet of leathery wings taking flight. A clutch of Succubi, claws out, descended upon Tressie’s position. In a reaction before thought could form, Tressie’s dreamblade cut an arc above her at the first wave. Limbs flopped to the ground, still grasping at flesh with no purchase. Shrieks of disbelieving pain filled the air. Unused to a dreamer doing more than having the sexual energy sucked from it, the Succubi fell back. The bravado of their Incubi cousins would not allow retreat as the orator barked advancement orders.
One grabbed Tressie from behind. Her sword arm bicep was wrenched backwards as a second Incubus moved in to flank. Tressie cocked back with her right fist and haymakered the grasping dreamon’s bumpy nose. He loosened his grip, clutching his face instead. Tressie went for a flashy kick that missed the second Incubus. It grabbed her foot with crushing grip that elicited a yelp of pain from Tressie. The Incubus flipped her backwards into the arms of two incoming Succubi, suspending Tressie in aerial cruciform. Tressie’s katana clattered on the floor below. The Incubi and Succubi standing by, emboldened by Tressie’s compromised position, took charge en masse.
Tressie twisted and pulled against her captors, unable to match their strength. An Incubus lunged for her legs, which she lifted out of the way in the nick of time. The winged Succubi on each arm responded by pulling her higher into the air and dropping her in hopes of making a blood angel on Yggdrasil’s floor.
The mass of demons horded beneath, looking up at the rogue dreamer, anticipating tastes of her sexual aura. Tressie lunged forward as hard as she could, getting her feet beneath her. She formed into a slender spike, diving heel first into the jaw of a Succubus with a satisfying *CLUNK*. She landed full force atop the Succubus and swept out with a knockdown kick that caught another by their legs.
A pile of light pink and purple flesh flopped on top of Tressie. Tressie expected to feel smothered, but figured breath was useless in a place like this. Instead she felt giddy, lightheaded, and ravenously horny. The feelings of the most extreme orgasm in the world crested beneath a writhing mass of skin and bone. Each well muscled limb grasped for purchase on Tressie’s body, begging for a lick of what she brought with her.
Tressie kicked, punched and shoved. The horde pushed back. The weight of an entire riled up race smashed down at a scrap of meat dangled before them. Beneath the surge, Tressie braced herself and pushed upwards with her legs. Her hand came down upon bone wrapped in stingray skin. Tressie gripped the handle and yanked her dream blade free from crowding Incubi. Shrieks of pain sprung in an undercurrent to the rest of the room’s battle sound echo.
Tressie, still mostly buried, got herself into a crouch beneath the flesh pile. Still unable to swing her sword freely, Tressie’s frustration grew. She willed with all of her might that these dadfraggers would get the frag off of her. Her will manifested as a shockwave that knocked bodies into the walls and floor in a circle around Tressie. Once more she stepped into defensive stance, stoic in her guard, lacking the “come get some” bravado of the first time.
Incubi and Succubi rose to their feet in various states of disbelief and rage. The room distorted about them all as thousands of beings attempted to work their will upon the formless and mutable plane of reality. The resulting ripple in reality tore Tressie from the insides of Yggdrasil. She found herself in the desert beneath the midnight sun, blood red rays reflecting off her sword.
“At last. We are alone.”
***
After an hour of staring at a silver tree dominating the visage through the veil’s tear, a morphing egg ripple dropped a Tressie shaped yolk into the patchwork desert. She was holding an impossible katana that reminded Johnny of Ryu’s from Heaven’s Cloud 9. No one had broken the silence in the training room despite Tressie’s physical body showing signs of duress.
While her astral visage walked into the distance, the body anchoring Tressie to meatspace remained meditative. Occasional grimaces across her serene face matched with spiking biosigns. Johnny felt compelled to run to her through the veil. He attempted to sit near her, but Dr. Rattlesnake hissed at him to not break the trance.
Dr. Rattlesnake had busied himself with grinding earths and herbs into powders and poultices. A thick odor of mashed plants and dirt hung in the air. A drop of powder and a tossed match into the witch doctor’s mortar produced a sickening gray/green smoke. It hung over the candles and did not dissipate. When Tressie reappeared, Dr. Rattlesnake began a low chant in a tongue Johnny figured was Haitian Creole.
“What’s going on?” Johnny tried whispering to Erika, who shushed him and rejoined Estevan near The Codex room. It was all Dr. Rattlesnake and Tressie’s show. Madre Leon wrung her hands like she was bringing them back to life.
As Dr. Rattlesnake’s stinky smoke settled over the rift, a glittery shimmer took form over Tressie staring straight through Johnny’s eyes. A shadowy figure materialized behind Tressie as she took stock of her surroundings. The silver tree was blocked from view.
“Doc. What the frag man? If you’re gonna do something, do it fast.” Johnny bounced from foot to foot. Dr. Rattlesnake continued droning in his throat. “C’mon man. She’s in trouble. Can she wake up now or what?” Nothing but gibberish to Johnny’s ears. “Frag this, I’m waking her.”
“No.” Madre Leon snapped. Dr. Rattlesnake paid no heed. “If you pull her from the plane by force, it could sever her connection to her astral self. Then she’ll never return.”
“So what? We’re just supposed to keep sitting here doing--”
“--Yes,” Madre Leon choked on the word. Her gaze fell heavy between Johnny and the tear. The three remaining occupants of the training room stood in a tripoint around Tressie and her ring of candles. Dr. Rattlesnake tipped his head back and let out a violent bark to the heavens. He struck his chest with each repeat of the bark for a five count, then fell silent.
The shadow behind Tressie stepped forward to reveal a leathery winged female with something wrong with her near angelic face. The shimmering glitter of the tear took on more light in Dr. Rattlesnake’s silence. The being's lips moved.
***
“At last indeed,” Tressie said. “So you’re the Succubus.”
“One of many, yes.”
“What does this mean? Do we fight now?”
“If we do, it will be very one sided. I plan on enjoying the feast that will come after I’ve finished with you, my delectable sweet.”
“Is that all this is to you? For food?”
“What else would it be for? Besides removing a destructive element from The Dreaming before we take back your plane for ourselves. You will make an excellent host.”
“So does my destroyer have a name?”
“I am Gribelle.” Tressie stifled a laugh. “What do you find so comical about your own demise?”
“Sorry. Just kind of a silly name.”
“It means one who rises from the blood of nations.”
“Really?”
“You’ll have to take my word for it. Prepare yourself.”
Gribelle lunged at Tressie, eyes flaming with hate. Before Tressie could reflex, she was caught in a spin and slammed into the gritty dreamsand beneath. It clung to the corners of her eyes and mouth. The full weight of the Succubus crushed into her spine, electric pain shooting to her neck.
Tressie sputtered, “Get. The Frag. OFF ME.” She flung Gribelle from her back. Tressie got her footing and landed a kick square into the jaw of the stunned Succubus. "What's with all ya'lls jumpin on dadfraggers and skag? Dayum."
Tressie dove and rolled, snatching up her fallen katana with a grace impossible in real world physics. She slid to a stop, poised to strike as Gribelle regained herself. The Succubus lunged with an arcing slash of a taloned hand. Tressie dodged, centimeters from having her astral throat torn out, only to be cracked by an uppercut of a materialized energy mace. Tressie stumbled out of the way of the second blow that hit the dirt and slashed her own weapon through the handle of the third. Tressie dashed to close the distance. Gribelle sidestepped and caught Tressie with a backhanded fist. Tressie responded with a slash that caught Gribelle in the abdomen.
Gribelle clutched at her gut, leaking dark fluid from the gash. Tressie grabbed the bitch by the throat with her free hand, ready to finish her off with the sword arm, when Gribelle headbutted Tressie right in the bridge of her nose. Gribelle lashed out again, kicking up sand at Tressie’s feet as she spun away from connection. Tressie X-slashed to ward off further advancement only to be cut along the arm by whirling blades that materialized midflight, centimeters before impact. Tressie grabbed at her cut, shocked at the lack of blood. Gribelle was already speeding towards Tressie. She held her blade steady, skewering Gribelle along its length.
The two loosed bestial howls as Tressie pushed further through the Succubus. They stood nose to nose, hilt rubbing itself against Gribelle’s sternum. Tressie felt slippery guts in sticky blood on her fingers. She took her hands off the sword grip and dug her thumbs into the red glowing sockets of her enemy. A burst of orgasmic pain radiated through her as the dying Gribelle tried in vain to feed and sustain herself.
Tressie dug deeper. Aqueous humor, that burned like sulfuric acid, left tracks in the black blood covering Tressie’s hands. Unable to take the pain anymore, Tressie resorted to punching the Succubus in her horror show of a gorgeous face. She kept slugging till her knuckles were raw and the thing’s mouth was a black hole of gurgles and wet tooth stumps.
Tressie grabbed the hilt of her sword and twisted. A sharp *GURK* and a spray of black blood came from Gribelle’s lips.
“Eat this,” Tressie said. She wrenched the katana sideways, cutting a line clear through Gribelle’s torso, severing a wingtip in the process. She raised the blade two handed above her head and cleaved her foe in twain with a chi releasing kiyap. The incubus folded apart with an odd biology leaking from the shell.
Tressie dropped the sword, put her face into her hands and pulled them through her rough locks. Tiny grains of sand escaped into the strands and clung to her lips and cheeks. Tressie’s eyes fell to the floor. At first, she thought there was a shackle cuffed to her ankle that had been snapped in half. She shook a leg and the silver cord wafted in the wake.
Tressie dove to the ground, throwing fistfuls of sand away in a frenzy. “Oh no. Ooooooh nononononoNo. No. No. NO.” Tressie switched from throwing away handfuls to pounding the sand in impotent rage. Tressie braced herself on her arms, panting.
Shadows danced on the edge of Tressie’s peripheral. She played her and Gribelle’s dance over in her mind as it acted itself out like shadow puppets just out of sight. That swipe at the dirt wasn’t a miss. It was the jackhole’s insurance policy. That win or lose, Tressie wasn’t leaving this place.
Her astral thread's connection was severed to Base Plane Reality. Incubi and Succubi leaving the excitement of the world tree in search of sustenance sounded in the distance. Tressie reached for her sword.
***
When the cord was cut in a blast of sand Johnny was already diving beneath her, catching Tressie’s head once again with his back. Candles rolled about the gym mats, smothering out in their collected wax. Dr. Rattlesnake came from his trance, blinking his cataracted eyes to life.
“What you on about Johnboy? You fuckin’ wit’ it.”
The glowing veil that was mending itself together reduced to a faint shimmer against nothing. Tressie was smashing the holy hell out of the Succubus’ face. Whether or not it was the one that counted was unknown. Johnny grabbed for Tressie’s hand, watching her fade away from him forever. Reality was slowly righting itself and pulling layers over its weak points. The shouting elders in the room droned like white background noise. The smells of incense and smoke crowded the air with Dr. Rattlesnake’s stinky herb mash. Estevan and Erika joined the fracas, shouting, “What’s going on here?” and other obvious one liners.
Johnny didn’t care.
If anything, Johnny wished that Tressie wasn’t fighting with the power of imagination like a badass anime samurai against a human parasite from another dimension. He wished that thing she chased out of some sense of duty wasn’t being impaled on an impossibly cool sword. Instead it could bring an invasion of sex demons set to destroy reality for all Johnny gave a skag.
As far as Johnny was concerned, his world ended with the body resting blankly on his back. “Why did it have to be you, babe?” Johnny Marko whispered for Tressie Unknown’s deaf ears. Her eyes distant and vegged out as the tear in the veil vanished from Base Plane Reality, taking Tressie with it.
“Johnny,” Estevan toed him in the ribs. “‘Ey man, we gotta get her to the server room.”
Johnny blinked at Estevan. The man’s words wubbing in his ears in waves. “C’mon man, wake the frag up. We gotta get her box uploaded, pronto.”
“I’ll grab life support,” Erika was off and running behind a partition.
Johnny was jerked to his feet from beneath Tressie. Johnny started to struggle, but came to his senses. They met Erika halfway and loaded Tressie onto the surgery gurney.
In The Codex room, Estevan was incapable of breaking Tressie’s graybox wirelessly. He grabbed a laser scalpel from the tool caddy and sliced open behind Tressie’s right ear, unslotted her direct access port, and jacked in direct.
“Do you know her password?” Estevan said over his shoulder as the display requested it. Johnny fished in Tressie’s wallet and pulled her authenticator card. He touched it to her left temple and said, “DX4 dash 77P7133Q at 8AN hashtag Unknown underscore Soldier.”
“Cool handle,” Erika said over nanomed prep work.
“She’s resynching,” Estevan said. “Should be just a few, there we go.” The status bar dinged 100% and nothing else happened. Estevan banged on the spacebar a few dozen times until a, “STOP THAT,” scrolled across the command line.
“Tressie?” Johnny said to her.
“I’m in The Raw. And The Dreaming. My brain feels partitioned.”
“Sacred skag, can you hear us?” Johnny said.
“I’m getting error messages when I try to log out. It says my body is in critical condition. I’m killing a whole lotta fragging monsters in one of these places. Is anyone getting this? Helllllooooooooo?????????”
Estevan typed back, “You’re line text.”
“Am I on The Codex display?”
Johnny said, “Tressie, this is amazing. Is your con--”
“Ew I’m reduced to spinach green terminal font?”
Johnny stifled a laugh while hiding his tears. He nudged Estevan aside and touched keys. He typed, “Babe, You’re really in there? Erika’s got you on life support. You went blank when your cord was cut.”
“The tear?”
“It closed, a little.”
“I’m running across a desert. No end in sight. There are many dangerous creatures here. But I’m only marginally aware of that. But I’m only marginally aware I’m talking to you. But fully engrossed in both.”
“How is she?” Madre Leon said from the doorway. Dr, Rattlesnake pushed past, checked her uneven pupils and pulled on his beard. “She doesn’t need you. She need real medical help,” Madre Leon snapped.
“Her connection to this plane is gone. That whirrin’ plug in there must be goin off what’s left of her consciousness.”
“So, what? We keep her plugged in and she’s stuck in every world but the real one?” Johnny spun around in his chair. “Does your rinky dink boogeyman crime fighting gang have the resources to sustain her?
“Are you serious? We’ll have carte blanche from the Psychopomp when we tell them about this,” Erika said, tossing a needle into a biohazard bag.
“What the frag? Have some heart,” Johnny said.
Erika shrugged, “Sorry, but it’s true.”
“Think about it, Johnny,” Madre Leon began.
Johnny got in her face. “She’s only in this mess because she came here and listened to you.”
Dr, Rattlesnake put a hand on Johnny’s shoulder. It wouldn’t be until later Johnny realized he was blocking Erika and Estevan from beating the skag outta him.
The Doctor cleared his throat, “Don’t be mad for a good deed, Johnny Marko.”
“You call this skag a good deed?”
“You can’t transport or care for her, Johnny.” Madre Leon continued, “Let us take care of her. You know the Universal Church has the resources. And you aided and abetted a murder suspect, if you walk into a hospital--”
“--What about closing the veil? Isn’t that what this is about? We don’t even know if that was the right thing she killed in there, man.”
“Then she’s in the best position to make sure nothing comes out. Moving her could disrupt that.”
“Don’t take her away from me,” Johnny’s eyes burned too much to hold back the tears any longer.
“It’s too late for that, Johnny,” Dr. Rattlesnake shook his locks. “They made them mind. Let’s go.”
Estevan cleared his throat. “Um, Johnny. She’s not responding any further, but this was her last message.”
Johnny pushed his way through the crowd around the spinach green terminal screen.
“I’m busy not dying. Johnny, I love you. We won.”
Johnny sighed with his whole body, tears dripping onto the keyboard below. “Alright. Let’s blow this joint. Any longer in here is too long.” He gave one last look at Tressie’s new state, then left her behind. Her final words hanging in the confines of an old monitor, a cursor blinking on and off at their end.
THE END
Purchase a copy of By Starlight - Before Dawn for $2.99 The book contains the full novella, By Starlight, bundled with three new short stories. It comes in the following formats : Paperback | Kindle | eBook
My first book, a collection of six short stories, Urban Legends of the Future, is available for free in eBook format on Smashwords.
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