An odd little tale

My Clarion West Writeathon report came in and I was pleasantly surprised to find out how much I’d raised. I’m releasing another bit of previously unpublished work today in honor of that.

I can be a Rock Star was written back in 2010–I suppose you could call it an experiment in black humor or the unreliable narrator. I really am never sure which one it was. I just wanted to go with the flow and find out where the music would lead and it led to this tale which is somewhat odd. I do hope you’ll enjoy the read.

It is an aswang story of sorts and was great fun to write.

I think the psyche is this wonderful untapped resource and truthfully the line between sanity and madness is quite quite thin. ;p

Thanks for sponsoring the Clarion West Writeathon writers. I hope you all enjoy this odd little offering.

New Free Fiction

I did promise that I would post new free fiction and this time, to commemorate the fact that I’ve raised 53 bucks for the Clarion West Write-a-thon, I’m publishing something that’s never been published before. I think I sent this one out once or twice and then forgot about it.

When I wrote The Singing of the whales, the rising of the waters and the harvest of tears, the image in my head was of Roxas Boulevard. When I was still in college, it was part of my daily landscape and there’s a different quality to it at night as compared to during the day. I know it’s considered more dangerous at night, but I remember being stuck there with a friend once while we waited for a taxi or a jeep or just any kind of transport to take us home. Across the street there were a number of bars with neon lights and I always found myself rather curious about them. There was one in particular that drew my attention as there seemed to be a regular jazz band playing.

So, it was that memory that made me think of this story and writing this story felt like dreaming on paper. I didn’t really plan this story to be this way. I was curious. I wanted to follow the opening lines and to find out where they led me. Writing this story was an experiment–whether it’s been successful or not depends on the reader. I do like that the story features sisters and the thing is this: no matter what differences I may have with my sister, I also love her fiercely. So, I suppose it is love story of sorts.

An excerpt from Return to Metal Town

Here’s a very first drafty excerpt from Return to Metal Town. This was one of the short stories that came to me during the Clarion West Write-a-thon. If you’d like to sponsor me, my write-a-thon page is here

Next week, I’ll post a first drafty excerpt from the novel in progress. 

Excerpt: Return to Metal Town

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Father wears the face of a numbered man. He wears the suit, he carries the briefcase, he drives the car.

 At home, he morphs into someone Mother argues with over their dinner.

 “I don’t see why you feel the need to indulge him,” Mother says.

 “He thinks it will be a good experience, and I agree,” Father replies.

 They are discussing Adventure Boy’s desire to visit Metal Town.

 Mother doesn’t wish them to go, but Father sees no harm in it.

 “I don’t understand why you want to see that place again,” Mother says. “I shudder when I remember how I almost lost you there.”

 “But you didn’t lose me,” Father says. “And we can’t deny him this. If he wants to know it for himself, then he should know it for himself.”

 “I won’t go,” Mother says.

 “If you don’t want to go, you don’t have to go,” Father replies.

 Adventure Boy lies on his back and stares up at the ceiling. He had bought a picture of the Remembrance Monument and Father had hung it from the ceiling. At night, the lines of the monument glowed in the dark.

Mechanic’s words rang in his ear.

“You can still hear the voices of those who have gone before.”