Snippets: Attacked By A Monster

Fortunately (or unfortunately, if you think of it that way) I wasn't there the first night. Jacques told me the next Monday. I don't know why actually, he hadn't been particularly amiable in the past and we got the impression that he was in need of a friend or two.

'It's aliens or vampires or monsters or something!' he blurted out. 'They got in a circle and started chanting, and there was a flash of light and -'

'Hang on,' interrupted Jaime. 'Where did you say you were?'

'I didn't. It was out by the shopping centre; I was... out... at night and it was around the back. You could see through the window because of the construction going on. Something's up.'

'One moment,' I said, 'you said that they took someone in there with them?'

'Yeah. Maybe it was some sort of transformation,' Jacques said as if he was watching the science fiction channel.

'Or it was just some cult and they were initiating them,' Jaime said, unusually killing the air of mystery with additional mystery.

'Then it could be like that story, you know, Drydal Bones and the Cult of Del-Saperoth - Chumley discovers the ancient tribe hellbent on summoning evil into our world!' Again, Jacques' enthusiasm made the whole business seem ridiculous and childish.

'Jacques reads too much Strange Fables,' Jaime dismissed him with ease. 'Come on, Mike. We'll leave him to his games.'

Regardless, that Thursday night the three of us hid in an empty store, watching the security lock the doors. These things happen too fast, too unusually sometimes - just like the stories.

Snippets: Is Dead?

'Nah, he's just sleeping,' the voice said rather certainly. 'The past few days were fairly hard on him. First there was that business with the police at the docks.'

'Would you kindly hand over the sword sir?'
'What? This is barely a knife - besides, haven't you heard of cultural integrity?'
'Obviously not; you must understand that visitors to the port have to maintain decorum.'
'Yeah, and what's with those spectacles? How do you see anything through them?'
'They're called SunGlass. They protect my eyes from rays.'
'This guy's delusional, Dave. He thinks the rays can get him on land.'
'No kidding, Mott. Sir, would you please -'
- one simple slash. It was one sided. So was the sword. Now he should clean it on the grass up on the cliff.
Except that didn't happen, because he thought he was a sensible man.
'Look, it's got a lock, okay? No one's getting their hands on this.'

'True. You heard of how he took out those thugs at the west cape, didn't you?'

'How did he get in here? You idiots, get him!'
'I wouldn't come any closer if I were you.'
... ... ...
'Ew. Good point. Ah, boss?'
'Don't just stand there, you've got weapons; take him out!
'Sorry, but we can't let anyone escape, knowing that you'll just tattle to the authorities.'
'I don't tattle.'
Several moments later there were no smugglers to turn in. The man felt great remorse for defending himself.

'He's waking up,' said the first voice.

'What is wrong with you? Do you enjoy being vague and turning yourself in for self defense?' said the second voice. The be-sunglassed man sat up on the bed in the island village.

'I just had a tip, that's all. You people have your families back from their dungeons, and now I will be out of your way. Can you handle that?' The man stood slowly.

'It's okay,' said the first man in the room, eyeing the second disdainfully, 'you can stay longer if you need to.'

'I have to get going back to the mainland. There's a seaship leaving for the other continent tomorrow and I will continue my search there.' The man was already at the door, without the two having witnessed the intervening traversal. He took the katana-like blade from the wall to hitch back into his belt.

'So what are you looking for, if it's not too personal?'

'I am sure I already told you, but of course it is personal. They took my wife.'

After he had gone, there was one sentiment in the air echoed in a quote from the pub that night -
'If he wasn't a walking stereotype, I don't know what is.'

Snippets: A Man Named Johan Bowiel

Felice had heard other stories about the East Wing, but many were assumed to be made up by the executives to dissuade investigation. She was certain that she had heard of some of those that worked here, if only by how badly their reputation had plummeted since they arrived.

The door to the next room up was labeled '13', but there didn't seem to be any numbering system around here - she knocked and the squeak of a chair and a grunt or sigh at least told her someone was listening.

'Hello?' hesitant opening of door...

'Ah, you must be the new sacri- uhm, applicant. Uh, come on in.'

Felice continued through into the dark room.

'Oh, thank you dear, the light from the corridor is most annoying and it's good you, ah, closed the door.'

The figure speaking was behind a desk at the back of the room, as much as she could make out, sitting behind it - was that a cigar in (his?) mouth?

'Oh, take a seat my dear, uhm, what can I do for you?'

'I was just shown my room and I really have no idea what I am supposed to be doing, Sir.'

'Uhm, you don't have to be that formal around me, Miss Strange, ah, you can just call me Johan - Johan Bowiel.'

'Are you the Johan Bowiel?' Felice said without containing the amazement. 'The Johan Bowiel who stopped writing five years ago? You're practically a legend!'

'Um, I wouldn't go so far as to, uh, say that, Miss Strange. I was simply good at what I did. The time came that I had to, ah, let the up an' comings come and retire gracefully. Uhm, I couldn't just finish like that, so I, aha, came here to wind down. Some of the people who work in this wing are, um, very remarkable. Pity that none of our -'

'Please, can you just tell me what we are - I mean I am - supposed to do here?'

Johan creaked his old chair.

'It's hard to say.'

'What do you mean?'

'Look, uhm, you just take the package next to the door down the hall, ah, up the stairs and across the floor to the Juggler, and then we'll, uh, talk about your work.'

Felice stared blankly at nothing for a while. 'Ooo-kay,' she drew out. She felt around near the slightly less dark of the crack under the door and quickly left the room with the package.

It occurred to her, although she couldn't have told for sure what she had seen in the pitch black, that if Johan did have a cigar, it hadn't moved while he was umming and ahhing, and not once had he taken a puff.

Adrian Continues?

Now of course, the ending to this serial comes with an opening for further adventures of the Knight of the Clockwork City - at least expansion on the world in general. So before I go and revise the Golden Lentil further and take up more of your time with a PDF book download or a published work, I am setting up a poll for anyone who reads this to voice what they think should continue.

Along with this comes a stronger version of the reactions for every post: a poll of slightly more detailed reactions to the story! Okay, neither are compulsory, but we don't just want more of the same do we? Right?

Adrian's External

Now for the pleasure of the several individuals who read this, the last installment. Feel free to read this part and then the preceding one (that is, the linear order) or read the previous and then this last one (which is my preferred order, with my favourite ending).

Now how did Adrian resolve the dragon incident to eventually make his way back?

Adrian had tip-toed carefully into the cavern, the hot breath condensed on his face and mixed with sweat. Around a corner there was a cage comprised of bones, as though the food had assisted with the décor. Inside were two cadavers and three gaunt figures whose eyes followed him as he approached.

‘Shh,’ he said. The captured heroes barely displayed signs of life.

‘Are you here for the lentil?’ one said shakily.

‘Yes. What is up ahead?’

‘Tis an abhorrent dragon, friend. He captured us one by one, and eats us periodically. Two have managed to will themselves out of the apprehension.’ He pointed at the bodies.

‘Eww. Look, stay here – I’ll find a way to break you out.’

Adrian tried to wyrm his way into the inner lair. The old thing’s senses were still as sharp as ever, and nearly toppling him backwards came its booming voice.

‘Who is it that dares intrude upon my hoard?’

The muzzle of the massive creature filled Adrian’s vision.

‘It is I, Sir Adrian Salem of the Clockwork City,’ said Adrian after recovering from the shock.

‘What is your purpose here, Adrian Salem?’

‘I have come to claim the Golden Lentil,’ Adrian said.

‘Golden Lentil? What Golden Lentil? Aren’t lentils brown, mushy and tasteless vegetables?’ it bellowed. ‘A dragon has no use for those!’

‘You may have got it wrong, noble Dragon. Contrary to popular belief, lentils are delicious and nutritious! I have come for the one you may have mistaken for gold,’ the knight rebutted.

‘Very well, but you should know I cannot let you simply walk within and take what you like. Also, contrary to popular belief, not all dragons are noble creatures.’ The thing slowly began to move. Adrian realised what was happening and ran. From behind, a great boom rippled out from the dragon’s footstep. Adrian reached the bone cage and tried to look for a lock or door.

‘It’s no use. Dragons have no thumbs, they don’t build a cage with a door,’ said one of the food prisoners.

‘I’m not going to leave you people behind!’

‘Are you kidding? Save yourself!’

‘Okay.’ Adrian was sure he could hear the lumbering, elderly monster drawing breath. He made it around the corner in the cave and didn’t look back, but the scorch and glow made it clear what it had just done. He spared a moment’s thought for the heroes who had gone before him, but before he continued on there was a heave noise and a thunderous crash.

Adrian ventured a look around the corner after several beats. The giant reptile lay still on the ground. Dead? he thought. It still wasn’t moving.

‘Well that was anticlimactic,’ he said to himself. Behind where the dragon had emerged from was a pile of plunder, including the armour of several knights. Right on top lay a golden, sparkling, roughly pillow shaped object – the Golden Lentil. The issue plaguing his mind was how to get back carrying the damn thing, more implicitly how to descend the mountain.

Back outside the cave he got a chance to really survey the countryside; it wasn’t a bad place to be. His mind slipped into thinking about how he had spent most of his life in the Clockwork City before becoming a knight, and presently parts of his life were showing themselves before his eyes. The feeling of a presence came upon him and from behind a woman’s voice as sticky as honey and dark as ebony said:

‘Why hello again, Adrian. Care for a dance?’

Adrian's End (For Now)

Unconventional, yes, but this whole writing is yet to be consolidated as a whole anyway - so for reasons that I might make clearer later, here is the chronologically last part of the story:

Finally Adrian had claimed the Golden Lentil and returned to the Clockwork City. Just in time, too, because people were beginning to starve to death. He was outside the western gate and talking to the same man who had sent him on this journey.

‘Your clues were helpful… I guess,’ he mumbled.

Egghead sighed, ‘I’m afraid that if I hadn’t given you those clues you wouldn’t have had such a hard time. It’s all to do with narrative flow.’

‘What?’

‘Oh, never mind. Anyway, you’d better get that Lentil in the ground.’

Adrian ceremoniously lowered the legume into a hole dug by the substantially compensated farmer. As soon as the earth was replaced over it, a plant more than two metres tall burst from within the ground like a firework. Within seconds, pods had exploded all around, and any fertile soil within a kilometre was springing with lentils itself. Within a clearing in the forest, a new lentil plant was approached by a battle scarred spinach which made whistling noises, and the fields of the fiefdom were filled with plentiful and healthy food.

The story of Adrian and the Golden Lentil was spread throughout the land, and before long the City became a regional tourist attraction. Out of the flow of foreigners, the Prince was even able to trap a wife. That certainly calmed him down. Everyone in the end lived happily – until the next time Adrian was needed to help them out.

Adrian's Precipice

This part in turn follows on from Adrian's Dialog.

‘Adrian Salem, Knight of the Clockwork City,’ the woman pronounced. ‘I admit that many would not predict this happening so soon.’

‘Do I know you?’ Adrian said.

‘It is a matter of perspective. We were bound to meet sooner or later.’

The woman stepped into what seemed to be light, but in this nothing Adrian could not be sure. What he did see as the figure drew closer though, was that her pupils were not black and round but made the shape of skulls in the iris.

‘You’re… her… aren’t you?’ he began with fearful reverence. ‘What can you do for me?’

‘Theoretically, anything, Adrian,’ she swung the scythe with a sense of drama, ‘although the price would, lamentably, reduce the effectiveness of the deal.’

‘Why do I have to be here?’

‘You asked a favour from the swamp lady. I was indebted to her in turn, so here I am for you.’

‘Then why is everything gone?’ Adrian looked around. Something was almost visible in the nothing.

‘It gets like this when you are close to Death.’ She stepped closer and the image in the distance became a baby, growing fast, whom Adrian recognised all too well.

‘Can you get me to the mountains alive?’ Rightfully, Adrian was a little nervous.

‘Of course!’ She now turned away from him and his lifetime faded away. She faced him again and said, ‘it may require, say, a “brush” to take you that far.’

‘A brush?’

‘Okay.’ Death grabbed his hand and Adrian felt the sensation of being pulled free of a guillotine only in the nick of time – then a noise you would think to be a motorbike running out of petrol. After this he was standing halfway up a steep incline, a valley visible around the bulge of the mountain but not where he was heading.

‘Excuse that, but this is as far as it will take you. I know we will meet again, Adrian. I won’t spoil the surprise though.’ The voice faded away and he was alone in a wild country with only a fading memory of where to go. Somewhere towards the crest of this hill was the cave where who-knows-what stood between him and the prize he required so desperately.

Adrian skimmed down and stood on the goat track winding up the hill, when out of the blue the scene from Egghead returned with a possible alternative route. The cave he was to enter formed an opening to the subsystem under the mountain range, but further down the slope was a larger, horizontal entrance that would take a longer walk to find the Lentil and alleviate him from sliding down a long precarious shaft.

Lo and behold there was such a cave on this side of the rise but celebration was extinguished by a loud, deep breathing that wafted out onto Adrian’s face. Though he would didn't know it yet, an ancient dragon had taken up residence in the cave and now guarded the Lentil jealously as part of its hoard.

The Alice Treatment

'Your work in this area is so exemplary that we are moving you to continue it in a better environment.'

She didn't want to admit it, but they were doing this to quiet her opinions. Anyone moved to the east wing was never heard from again. Not literally of course, they were still seen coming to work and such, but their projects didn't seem to reach the light of day - appropriate considering the tinting in that area of the building was very excessive.

'You're the new girl, right?' the lady by the elevator began. 'I'll help you take your stuff up there, but they aren't so keen on tours, so you will have to find your own way around.'

The elevator to the main sector for the east wing was normal enough, except inside was a mildly unsettling plaque announcing "You're down the rabbit hole now." The third floor was where she would move in.

'Gee, it's quite dark in here, isn't it?' she commented inquiringly.

'I guess you get used to it,' said the elevator lady. 'Some of the employees prefer it this way and should you need more light the offices have plenty of lamps.' Down an adjoining passage an orange goo was spreading, she had barely stopped to look when the elevator lady turned around and grabbed her by the arm.

'Come on! I knew we should get some more fungicide.' They continued along the corridor to the Important Door.

'What is that stuff back there?'

'We call it Orientation. It can be useful sometimes, but around here it just wastes time.'

'I think it was shaping out my name.'

'That reminds me,' the elevator lady must have thought she was changing the subject. 'I'm Alex. What do people call you?'

'Well, people call me by Felice Strange, my pen name.'

'Oh, I read some of your work! Don't worry then, you'll fit right in here,' Alex said. They entered the room and Felice saw that there was one simple desk in the centre of the room.

'I get a whole office to myself?'

'Intermittently,' Alex said as if it was a matter of fact.

'What exactly am I working for here, though? They just said in the letter that I would be "continuing".'

'Talk to John up the corridor - he leads things around here.' She started to leave.

'Leads what?'

Alex acted like she hadn't heard the last part and suddenly remembered something, 'you have a padlock, right?'

'I always carry a lock, yes,' Felice dumped her portfolios on the small desk.

'Put all of your things in the big draw and just lock around the handle. That way you will always see it.'

Always see it? This was surreal, though Felice would be forgiven for thinking it was the extent of the crazy she would witness today.

Adrian's Dialog

This continues from Adrian's Amble, I apologise if it comes off as a bit boring, I promise that the next part is more interesting :)

The goo reaching just below his neck and the breathable air having quickly turned to hot, reeking steam, Adrian was nearly driven to despair. Unusually, though, the sinking stopped and he stood there – nearly immersed but definitely alive. Several seconds passed where nothing happened, the gloop of a bubble the only sound in the cookie cottage until a wrinkled arm shot up out of the “water”.

‘Blaa!’ he said, startled. Adrian would have jumped but the liquid was too viscous. The old, purplish hand was holding a disembodied eye. Another arm shot up out of the muck and the hand made the shape of a mouth – it began to “talk” to him in a clear and whiny voice, as if the hand itself had a voice box.

‘Why, you aren’t a child! Why go to all the trouble of building a place like this if all I catch are disgusting old men – hmm?’

‘I’m not an old man,’ Adrian complained.

‘Well you might as well be.’ The hand clicked its fingers. The house was gone and Adrian was simply in the middle of the swamp. ‘This place is supposed to look like whatever you want most on the outside. Could never quite get the inside to work though, always ends up as a gingerbread house.’

‘I don’t see the point of –’

‘Quiet.’ The hand lent forward. ‘Is that spinach that I can smell?’

‘Sure, but –’

‘Why didn’t you say so?’ The hands disappeared beneath the surface, and quickly the head and torso of a short, bulbous hag emerged. The hag squished the eye back into its socket, and she clicked her fingers again; Adrian was now standing only knee deep in the slippery ooze.

‘Come on – let us have the spinach, love. If there’s one thing I like more than children, it’s spinach.’ Now it was talking with its mouth, as well as slavering profusely.

He began to reach into his pocket but stopped abruptly.

‘You’ve got to promise me that I can leave the swamp, and that you’ll show me in the right direction to the mountains.’

‘Alright, alright, anything if you give me that spinach!’

‘And I – well if it’s anything…’

‘Yes, yes, anything, give me the food!’

‘I want you to take me there. Take me to the Lentil.’

‘The what?’

‘Look, just use your magic or something – you people know all sorts of tricks.’

‘I will call you in a favour I’m owed, okay? Now make with the spinach.’

Adrian handed over the green stalk, and everything began to fade away. That isn’t to say that he fainted, but the whole of everything but himself faded out of view and left him standing in nothing. A blackness was formed in front of him – out of it came a young woman in a hooded cloak, carrying something in her arms.

Adrian's Amble

This follows on from Adrian's Quest.

Adrian left the city through the western gate – unceremoniously nicknamed ‘the armpit’ by the populace. Around here was the farmland that was so desperate for something to grow. Sir Adrian, being the upstanding gentleman he was, ‘donated’ a considerable amount of gold to one of the farmers to make it easier to tell him in which direction he could travel to make it through the forest.

‘See,’ said the farmer, pointing at a tree that looked no different from any others. ‘Along that path and you should be at the swamp. I suppose that beyond it are the mountains.’

‘But there is no path!’ said Adrian.

‘You have to squint just right to see it,’ the farmer said.

In here the trees were so close together that only a weak, tea coloured light penetrated the canopy. The only thing he could be sure of was that he was moving away from the city. As afternoon turned into dusk, Adrian began to understand why this wasn’t the Happy Bunny Forest. Owls hooting in the distance, and a wolf’s howl once darkened his mood to an idle apprehension. He came to a small clearing – or at least what amounted to one, it was barely four metres across – where a patch of spinach wavered in the night breeze. Obviously puzzled, but still wary, Adrian bent down to grab some. The spinach shrunk away into the ground like a crab at the beach. When he stood up, the spinach popped up again several steps away. He went to grasp it and yet again it was sucked back into the dirt. Looking over his shoulder, the patch had now reappeared on the other side of the clearing.

‘Third time’s a charm.’ He dived for the ground and snatched the tip of the plant as it went away. There was a ripping sound and a screech. Something tapped his shoulder. Slowly Adrian turned around and saw, noting that it hadn’t been there before, a large willow tree with two knots on the front. The branches above gave the impression of it frowning. The thing on his shoulder was another limb. He casually pushed it away, but a large groaning creak from within the tree made his eyes widen with fear.

‘Oh. No.’ The tree reached out with its branches, but Adrian was no longer there. He ran and ran, trees ripping at the cloak covering his chain mail, boughs glancing off of his pauldrons. All of a sudden the most horrible stench reached his nose and he realised he must have been nearing the swamp. Up ahead was a cliff side with a well-worn door in it. He dodged the last irate tree and clambered inside.

There was a sweet aroma in the air. Perhaps it was just more desirable than the pong of the “flatulent” swamp. He pulled out a match from his breastplate and struck it on something. He couldn’t see a cave at all, but the interior of what he imagined looked like a gingerbread house of all things. He took a step forward and a tile in the floor moved. The walls around him began to lower. Bubbling up was stinking ooze. He tried the door and it didn’t budge. He began to frantically bash on the walls and windows but to no avail. The whole place was sinking into the swamp and Adrian had no way out.

Bob Up and Up

So, while I am thinking up the next story scene, here's a few sections that I have so far come up with. Sorry about the format, but like I said, I did originally start designing this as a computer game.

After Bob finds himself in the new country, he has to make his way through:

Windown Fields - Rolling hills populated by bouncy Boocark birds and littered with water wells, windmills and bridges, but farmers are nowhere to be seen. The mother of the Boocark birds does not take kindly to Bob using her young to jump up high and chases him, forcing him to take refuge in Château des Poissons Rouges (The Castle of the Red Fish).

Château Magnifique - Making his way through the castle, Bob meets Fishington, a red herring. While he navigates the puzzles and traps, Fishington taunts him, when finally, at the tallest tower, Bob has to engage in a battle of wits with the strange creature. When Fishington concedes defeat, he mentions that to reach Augusteen he must first conquer the mountains. Bob now must choose whether to take the path of the high peaks or the caves underneath, each with their own fair share of danger.

The Mountain Pass - After escaping grouchy goats and dodging perilous falling paths, Bob reaches an abandoned monastery. Suddenly, as he is about to descend, the hideous G'Daarg appears and calls avalanches which threaten to bury Bob. Bob manages to trick the creature into burying itself, and slides down the mountain to the foothills below.

Cavern Maze - Underneath the mountains it is very hard to know where you are going. Bob finds his way by following the light sprites that guide him to the crystal jungle (a sort of geode in the caves). He doesn't have much time to view the beauty, because to reach the surface he must fight the Prefect (a caveman with a large head, hardly any legs but a big club) on the bridge of Itsurdoom.

Adrian's Quest

Here's the start of a serialized version of one of my short stories.

The citizens of the Clockwork City were a morbid bunch, due to the many rules and regulations with which the Prince had constrained them since the death of the King. The Prince did not like his city or his circumstance. Being, in his opinion, a perfectly organised person, he couldn’t stand the disorganisation of an entity with the word Clock in its title. For example, the rains were late, the people were hungry and whichever girl was going to marry him was nowhere to be seen – without a Queen he could not be King. This story is not about proving whether the Prince was competent, evil or good though; it is about Sir Adrian, Knight of the City on his quest to find the fabled Golden Lentil.

‘The what?’ Adrian laughed.

‘I said, to feed the people and raise their spirits, you must find the Golden Lentil!’ repeated the wizened old Egghead. ‘The Golden Lentil is a huge, magical lentil; it will grow many lentil trees and provide food for decades to come. The only problem is it is located in a land far to the west – beyond the Foreboding Forest and the Flatulent Swamp. Anyway, we need a knight to go there.’

‘And that knight is me?’ said Adrian sceptically.

‘Not necessarily, there is William,’ Egghead muttered.

‘I’ll do it. But what exactly do I do?’ Adrian said.

‘You simply make your way through those lands to the ancient resting place of the treasure.’

‘What if it isn’t there?’ said Adrian.

‘I will give you three clues,’ Egghead continued, unabated, ‘the first is the true location of the bean, only known in thoughts, not in words.’ Egghead touched his fingers to Adrian’s head. A flash of a cave, and something large – and alive; then a wide, sweeping image of the mountain scenery, showing him the route to climb.

‘The second is a message from the last hero who attempted to find the Lentil.’ Adrian heard in another voice the phrase: ‘Oh, it hurts, so badly!’

‘Wait.’ Egghead’s message stopped. ‘A little further back than that,’ he mumbled. There were sounds like a mosquito flying backwards and then ‘The hag likes spinach.’

‘The hag likes… huh? What’s the point of that?’ Adrian was becoming impatient.

‘The final clue is… that contrary to popular belief, lentils are delicious and nutritious.’

‘This is ludicrous - how am I supposed to make it to the western mountains and all the way back again with nothing but a mental image and some stupid sayings?’

‘That is up to you,’ Egghead was gone when Adrian tried to look at him.

Rob

Bob remembered that in his world, about a year ago, there was a very stupid plot of Evil Bob's that involved taking one of Cityville's terrible television shows and setting it loose on the population.

The result was Rob, an inventor from an afternoon soap-opera who didn't want to rage or smash, so Bob gave him a home. Rob built the Bobmobile and set up several contraptions in Bob's basement.

One day Rob was tinkering with a radio that wasn't plugged in but managed to hear a message that concerned him quite a lot. Bob never found out what Rob heard, but the next morning there was a note on his door saying he had to leave in the Robcopter urgently. Bob decided to fly in a random direction to try and find him, but so far there has been no luck. This brings us to the beginning of his latest adventure.

Set of Stories

The following are a few ideas that I haven't fully developed. Hopefully I will decide to use one for the blog - feel free to comment on them or suggest which I should keep going with.

Alternate History - It is 1923 and most of Europe has been overrun by the Austro-Hungarian Empire. The British and French as a coalition have retreated to Quebec and Japan has launched an attack on Beijing. European royalty has taken refuge in Greenland and New Denmark (Australia) while Australian Wales is busy defending New Guinea. Jacob Garnet is a teacher in Milan called to find a lost weapon that could possibly force Austro-Hungary to retreat (I know this last bit sounds familiar - it could be in the style of pulp adventure stories like Indiana Jones).

Fantasy - A golem becomes self-aware and is guided by a talking crow to Tartarus at the ends of the earth to find Chaos, who they think might grant him a life.

Fairytale - A talking cabbage and a lost dog travel towards the sunset to find paradise. Along the way they meet a kingdom of mice, accidentally join the circus and get swept to the arctic while sailing on the ocean (this seems like an old afternoon television show where they may not reach the goal anytime soon, but have plenty of adventures).

Meet Bob

It was 2003. There was pottery involved. Less than a year later I had attempted to draw a set of comics starring the character. They were fairly terrible.

Bob was a new resident of the imaginary "Cityville", but nobody suspected that he was in fact the cover identity for... Bob (the caped, flying vigilate), always in the nick of time to save Cityville from Evil Bob's dastardly schemes. Evil Bob was similar to Bob in shape and stature, but had no lips, pinpoint eyes and wore a monacle. Needless to say I enjoyed the idea of the character, but I probably didn't like the idea of the actual comic. The mythology grew but the amount of story did not. Rob, a friend of Bob's, was an evil creation turned good, and Mr Mayor was the only human who knew Bob's secret identity. Stay with me here, it gets better.

I realised I needed to start again, but gave up on the idea for several years. Then, the weird started to set in. What if Bob's cape were what let him fly? What if there were a platform game with a green blob character? And what if the story weren't trash? Well it could maybe, just maybe be something worth thinking about.

One day, Bob was out flying over the ocean, when suddenly a bird stole his cape. He began to fall, but a chasm in the air opened beneath him, and he fell some more. Down in a deep, dark place he slowly stood up - there seemed to be something on the walls. A movie projecter roared into life, and before him was a simple message - "We Need You!". The image flickered away and out of the gloom appeared a spooky abberation hanging from the ceiling. The thing with glowing eyes pointed at him with a bony, upside down arm. It spoke in a muffled tone, like its mouth were covered.

"You will help me"

"Why?" Bob asked.

"You will destroy the evil one, known as... P. T. Giles."

"P. T. Giles doesn't sound very evil; and you're one to talk - hanging from the ceiling with eerie glowing eyes!"

"That is immaterial! You will first seek the advice of Spring Augusteen! Go to the East!"

"Where?" Bob asked, but he was standing on a beach, facing across rolling hills to the rising sun.

It's not much, but should be a start. Stay tuned for some character descriptions and Bob's further investigations of this strange place.

Welcome to my head

Anyone is welcome, but understand that it's weird in here.

I'm an amateur photographer, and I enjoy writing stories, though I've finished few. I'm also interested in game development but my complete lack of graphical talent seems to preclude the genesis of anything particularly worthwhile. On the other hand, I do sometimes imagine things with a pencil in hand - a fake superhero and several foreign lands happened this way.

If you are still reading by now then maybe you have what it takes to join in the fun and sound off in comments on my random ideas.