The Fine Print: 2016

Friday, April 22, 2016

The Blood Post

The Blood Post is a project I have been working on that is really beginning to take shape! This will be my first Thriller/Horror title, and I am very excited to see it evolve as I work on it... In the meantime, I will share the newly designed cover for the book, created by Leona Oates of Vertigo Productions.

Dennis Stein

False Pharaoh

False Pharaoh is a new project I have in the works, a story of conspiracy and mystery set in ancient Egypt. I won't say too much about it at this point, as the story is in its infancy still, but I hope that it will become an amazing tale. I have several different ideas for the plot in this story, as the reader follows the life of the young Pharaoh Tutankhamun.

What really ended Tut's rule? You will have to read it to get my take on it!

Dennis Stein

A Sneak Peek At The Sequel to The Gecko's Gate

Here is a little unedited piece of the upcoming sequel to The Gecko's Gate...

The sail billowed and the wooden deck planks creaked as the boat surged forward on the calm of the eastern sea. The companions could taste the salt in the breezes as the sun reflected off the clear waters. The wind was steady but light, a beautiful day for sailing.

Kiko watched over the side as vast coral reefs went past below, the water so crystal clear that she could see every detail, and her eyes shone in wonder. Fish, both large and small, in every colour of the rainbow swam alongside the boat curiously. It suddenly became obvious to Kiko why the fishing city of Patima was painted with such bright colours.

Chase and Jonas stood at the bow, watching the horizon, and the crew was at ease. The toad fisherman checked the sail rigging, and stowed away nets while the boat captain manned the large wheel near the stern. He occasionally hollered orders to members of his crew, which would send one or perhaps two of the toads to quickly check on something, or adjust the sail.

As Kiko watched, one of the crew stepped up beside her and cast a long line with a baited hook off the side of the boat, wheeling it out by hand until she could no longer see it behind them. He sat on a barrel next to her, holding the line wrapped around a thick, short stick. He simply sat and waited. Kiko smiled, wondering if he would catch anything.

Just then, amid the calm peaceful motion of the boat, the Captain broke into song in a thick hearty voice...

On we go across the sea,

To fish and bring our catch to thee.

We fish for fish, we fish for whales,

So we come home with many tales.

The other crew instantly joined in, until a dozen toad voices rang out in a joyful chorus…

Oh, we fish and sail, we fish and sail,

Till we come home through the gale.

We fish and sail, we fish and sail,

Till we come home with many a tale...

The three friends laughed just as heartily as the crew as they finished their song, and Chase felt his spirits lift slightly, that for the first time, maybe they could accomplish this mission after all. His thoughts were interrupted by some sort of commotion along the side of the ship.

The toad sitting next to Kiko let out a holler as he jumped up off the barrel he was sitting on, straining to keep hold of his fishing line. Kiko's eyes brightened in surprise.

"You've got one?" she asked excitedly.

"Aye lass!" he exclaimed. "Give us a hand!"

She jumped forward, helping grab the line and pull it in with the fisherman. It was heavy, and each time they pulled another arm length of line in, Kiko could feel it quivering with the fight of a fish. It took several minutes to get whatever had taken the bait up alongside the boat. The toad suddenly grabbed a long pole with a hook on it from beside him on the deck and leaned over the side while Kiko continued to pull the line. He reached down, fiddling with the pole in the water. Kiko was back away from the side, and suddenly heard splashing as she held on tightly. Moments later, the fisherman heaved on the pole, bringing a large red flopping fish up onto the deck with a wet 'thud'. It was enormous, at least to Kiko.

"Aha!" yelled the Captain. "Thar be dinner tonight!"

Kiko smiled wide as she looked up at Chase and Jonas and the others. They all clapped, laughing and cheering. She turned back to look in wonder at the large red fish, still flopping around feebly, spattering water all over the deck. The fisherman quickly grabbed it by the gill, and hauled it back to a hatch in the deck. Throwing it open, Kiko could see that it was a compartment filled with ice. The toad then hefted the huge fish in and shut the hatch.

Things settled for a while, the crew going about their duties, and Kiko joined Chase and Jonas at the bow of the ship.

“So, good with a bow AND a fishing line! We’ll never go hungry again!” said Jonas with a smirk, elbowing Chase.

“And I guess with YOU around, we’ll never be short of laughs!” Kiko shot back, grinning.

Their conversation was ended with another yell from the Captain.

“LAND!”

The three friends turned forward, seeing a massive mist-shrouded island coming slowly into view. Just looking at it gave them all a slight chill, despite the warm sun on them. It looked simply evil. Twisted mountain peaks rose on either end of the landmass, and high rocky cliffs could be seen. Chase hoped that it wouldn’t take them forever to find what they were looking for, and he felt his spirit sink slightly at the sight of this grotesque looking piece of rocky land jutting up out of the sea.

“I don’t like the look of that!” said Jonas quietly, adjusting his sword belt.

“It looks ugly.” agreed Kiko.

It grew larger in front of them as the boat sped along the sea, looming like a giant shadow in spite of the clear day.

“Well,” began Chase, “It can’t be worse than Stigia.”

The three were suddenly startled by the Captain’s voice behind them.

“Nay laddie,” he said, looking with dark bulbous eyes at the island they approached. “That’s one place even the horned ones won’t go…”

Thursday, February 11, 2016

Drones

One last minute of the moonlight bathing me, before I have no more unconsciousness left to comfort me…

The morning came, uninvited. I opened my eyes slowly. The warmth of the covers were shed, as I rose from my bed, tossing the covers in a haphazard heap. The bathroom and the solace of a hot shower beckoned as I stumbled my way forward, in the same manner as I had done innumerable mornings before. The haze of the dreams, already half-forgotten haunted my peace as I stepped into the warm rain of the shower. What had I dreamt?

The thoughts of those disjointed dreams where I went somewhere that for fleeting moments I was happy were gone, engulfed by the remembrance that I had to go off to work. Work… As I let the water flow over my hair, leaning back to embrace the warmth of the water, my brain registered the many things that my day would entail. I was nothing but a drone, someone who worked to put numbers on a spreadsheet for my superiors, someone who was just a number. The idea of going back to the grind after a couple of days to relaxing were paralyzing.

Dressed now, I made my way out the door, after ensuring the dog had been out to desecrate the lawn, and the cats had been given their breakfast. My wife gave me a wave from the doorway, a last farewell before she got ready for her own trials at work for the day. She had an equally difficult day ahead, perhaps even harder, dealing with the public.

After our day is done, we only wish for the monotony of dinner to be over, not having the energy to engage the youngest boy still living in the house. All we want is to return to the comfort and seclusion of our ‘nest’, to lose ourselves in a movie before drifting off into the infinity again, warm and at peace…

New Stuff!

Space Mail

The main console came to life, and LEDs began to light up everywhere in the darkened cockpit. It had been three months in cruise mode, and an audible beeping woke her from cryogenic sleep. Kara was drowsy, not with it yet. The computers came back online slowly, and the bay where she slept lit with a faint light. She was cold. Yawning and rubbing at her eyes, she sat up, sweeping blonde hair out of her face. The console was flashing with an indicator for a message waiting. Can’t even wait for me to be conscious, she thought sarcastically. There were several hours to spare before there was any need to make corrective maneuvers in her ship’s course in order to dock with the atoll, so she reached for her housecoat and told the galley computer she wanted her tea. It was ready in an instant, and she held the acrylic mug in both hands, feeling the warmth promised by her favorite morning drink. Was it morning? she mused briefly. It certainly didn’t feel like it. Reading the incoming messages, Kara shook her head. They knew she was the only one inbound to them, knew that she had their precious spares aboard. Still, the bullshit. She tapped out a quick reply, and headed to get dressed, the shower on board being little more than a tight closet. Kara spent a lot of time to make sure she was as well groomed as possible, an ingrained idea that she followed on a daily basis. It was better than nothing, and she always arrived smelling much better than her male counterparts. ‘Mailers’ were a group that were different than most others. Tough. Able to weather any storm. She hadn’t even glanced out at the stars today, she suddenly thought. Something she normally loved about these long runs between humanity when Kara first took this job. As the shower door closed and sealed, the small ship sped forward, having dropped from lightspeed, gliding effortlessly through the vacuum of space…

The atoll ‘Constellation’ was a massive vessel, well over two miles in length at this point in time, and carrying almost three thousand people. Massive solar sails stood erect off the cruiser’s surface, feeding power to all of it’s internal needs. The atoll was one of several, spread throughout the galaxy, and it’s interior had become home to humankind. The hum of the ion drives could be felt even out in the coldness of space. Pinpricks of light pierced the hull, windows out on the only solace that humans had now. The bridge of the ship stood up on a spire above the main body of the hull, like an eye on it’s surroundings. The commander sat here. It had been a long day for everyone, and he sat in the command chair, reviewing the day’s logs. Food shortage. Problems with waste disposal. Electrical relays that had begun to fail. He needed those replacements, or it would soon be a dark atoll, regardless of the output of the sails. Danek put his face in his hands, tossing the tablet aside. Too much today… All of the critical systems strung together throughout the ship were showing their age, and he wondered if it wasn’t simply the sheer size of the vessel that still made it habitable at times. Today alone the power had failed on part of the concourse level, the atmosphere generators dropped their output levels, and the waste recycler had stopped for several hours. If one of the main ion drives suffered a failure, the atoll would be adrift, helplessly tumbling through space. He stood up from the command chair, walking forward to check on the sensor banks, flat screens laid out on a desk-like console. Nothing but the service drones, flying around the hull to perform inspections. He needed those spare parts. The other atolls were just as desperate, their mining and manufacturing just as taxed as the constellation. He looked up briefly, everyone was at their post. The dozen or so people still on the bridge looked at their panels, working diligently.

New Stuff!

The White Room

He had not slept again. Days and nights were the same here, after all. No changes in the amount of light, and everything was devoid of colour. For his own safety, and that of others. His room was very carefully designed, round with no edges, even the locked doorway was seamless, the lighting a harsh bright white glowing from behind translucent panels in the ceiling. Color was not a good thing for him. The table he sat at was of course entirely white. The same for his chair. A bed at the other side of the room was little more than a futon, but again, white. No color anywhere. His hair had been shaved, a precaution against him pulling any of it out and seeing it's brown strands, and he was clothed in white, a simple t-shirt and pajama pants, white pull-on sneakers and gloves. Without any mirror in this cell, he could not even look upon the color of his own eyes. He sat at the table quietly, waiting. A voice over some hidden loudspeaker had told him to do so a short while before.