Tag: Fiction

Twisted: The Assassin Aleen


4.
The Great Winged Assassin Aleen sat like a large boulder perched on the side of Mount Bastion across the valley from where The Castle Ur stood. His vantage point overlooked the Sea of Rife and the Companion Halls of Medore. He took a deep breath in and listened as his leathery skin expanded and then exhaled slowly, meditatively. Then, again, a slow inhale, then slower exhale.

He had been practicing this form of breathing for years before a kill as it relaxed him and placed him in a state where little affected him. He drifted outward and inward at the same time moving away from his central core to a point where he was no longer attached in spirit. Time would pass and he would breath in deeply and then slowly allow his wings to unwrap from around his bat-like body startling those nearby at the unexpected exposure of a muscular frame hidden there concealed beneath a skin so black that he could stand silently and without movement during the night next to a victim or military guards and never be seen until he struck.

He was deeply feared as an assassin and plan for his removal had been in place for over a year, but he had struck first leaving not one council floor covered with spilled blood, but three of them. He had moved so quickly that those killed were never able to leave any message to alert others of his actions. He was a master of treachery and his intended kills sat nearby completely absorbed in a juvenile conversation about how famous they would all become in the near future. Not one realized their future would end that night

TWISTED: 2


2:
It was just an hour before dawn when a lone figure slowly picked a path through a field of boulders that lay at the base of what was called by some to be the South Tower of The Castle Ur. As the figure went slowly walking there approaching the outer wall of the tower, a second slipped out of the dark and approached the first.

“Nadine?” the second quietly spoke, almost in a whisper. The voice was deep and rumbled like the sound coming from the distance thunder storms that never seemed to leave the land all around the mountain upon which sat the castle itself.

“Nadine?”

The first stopped walking and from beneath the hood hiding the facial features of the person there within a higher pitched voice answered simply and quietly, “Yes, Great King Mont, it is me.”

Mont flipped back the heavy dark hood exposing his rounded and bearded face. “Nadine,” his voice took on a degree of excitement. “Nadine, my sweet and dearest friend, how I have longed to see you these passing months.” He opened his arms and took several steps to close the distance between himself and Nadine.

“As have I.” the other answered softly and raised arms beckoning the first openly to be embraced. “Come to me and hug me like we have in the days past. Show you still care for me and rub my back to relieve the pain from the slow climb from below to here.”

Mont stumbled on the loose footing of gravel and stone but recovered and began to close the distance when he suddenly caught the glimpse of a steel blade concealed in the other’s hand. He stumbled again but came to a stop less than five feet from the other there in the slowing ebbing darkness as the Sun was coming up bring dawn and announcing a new day.

“Nadine, what?….”

Nadine stepped forward and thrust the blade deep into Mont’s body as the man looked down in shock and then up as the assassin pushed back the hood to reveal their face.

“Talia!”

Mont stepped forward and grabbed the shoulders of the other party as she pulled out the knife and reinserted it back into Mont’s body again and again and again until he dropped to his knees and then fell over quite dead.

TWISTED: FAIRY TALES FROM A DARKWOOD (not your typical childhood book)


TWISTED: FAIRY TALES FROM A DARK WOOD
(This isn’t your basic children’s book so beware.)

The land of Darkwood was bathed in a constant drizzle. It had been so for over a hundred years. Once the island had been a place of beauty, but then….the terror came. It arrived in the middle of the night and when it did it came as a destroyer, touching all that was beautiful with an angry curse. There was nothing that could be done, or so it seemed, for anyone who even looked as being opposed to the rule of Talia was imprisoned or executed immediately upon her request. How strange it seemed, she had been the most loved Princess in the land and then the change took place and she went from being good to being the most evil woman ever known. There were sections of The Castle Ur that reeked of the smell of blood; some said she bathed in the blood of young women believing it was good for her skin. There was always a parade of girls coming but never leaving. Even the Seven Dwarfs that were always by her side seemed a bit, er, put out about the whole issue but they too risked their lives if any insolence was determined to have occurred. As it was the King of the Dwarves was a prisoner in the South Tower and had been there for six months. But on this day he was allowed to go for a walk…..alone.

 

The Three Stooges


Death speaks thru the window of the train

While we travel going nowhere from the past to the present

in our clothes from best to worse and back again

looking for the answers to the riddle of questions

wanting to know who the Three Stooges represent

in our lives spent deceived by the world surrounding.     5.23.17

WHY DO WE TEACH LIES TO CHILDREN?


Why is it that we teach children to lie? Why do we tell them lies? Santa Claus! Adults think it is cool to tell children all about Santa Claus. Kids get around older kids and the older kids berate the younger kids making them feel foolish and then the heartbreaking truth is revealed that the adults … parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles….lied to them. And you expect them to learn to be truthful doing this? What about the Easter Bunny and egg hunts? …..bunny = eggs?

KIRKUS REVIEW OF DO YOU KNOW HOW TO FLY?


KIRKUS REVIEW

Kuhn’s debut true-crime story shows how a violent man’s life led him to death row.

The author uses interviews and other sources to piece together the life of Delmer Smith, a seasoned career criminal awaiting execution in Florida. Smith was born in Detroit in 1971, on the cusp of the city’s economic decline. By age 14, he was convicted of raping a woman at a carwash where he worked. The 18 months that he spent in a juvenile reformatory dashed any possibility of rehabilitation; instead, he learned “how to be more proficient as a criminal” as he became “a creature without a conscience.” As a young adult, Kuhn writes, Smith carried out burglaries, carjackings, and bank robberies, which eventually led to a 15-year incarceration. After his second prison stint, he moved to Florida; there, Kuhn writes, Smith assaulted and beat multiple women—all the while leading a double life as a “wise and loving uncle” to his two nieces. Eventually, the violence led to a murder conviction. The author interviewed many of Smith’s victims and found that the women were now “desperately seeking someone or something to fully trust again.” Thanks to these firsthand accounts, readers receive a nuanced portrait of a predatory man. Kuhn’s decision to jump between accounts of Smith’s early life and present-day interviews is an effective one; by regularly pulling readers back to the present, he reminds them of the painful, enduring impact of his subject’s actions. Moreover, Kuhn shows a great deal of sensitivity when recounting the crimes, evoking deep pathos instead of graphic sensationalism. That said, the book does include some unnecessary background information, including three pages on Smith’s birth alone; it also bafflingly overuses section breaks, which disrupt the otherwise strong narrative flow.

A thoughtful, engaging account of a brutal life and the carnage that it left behind.

Eric the Field Mouse conti.


Eric sat up in the smother of hay and looked at the two other mice whose faces had emerged from behind a pile of damp fiber. “I told you he would wake  this day,” said the one to the right. “I cast stones and they said it would be today.”

“Oh shut up,” said the one to the left. “What do you know about stone casting.”

“Ha, more than you.”

Slowly  the both emerged from the shadows.  “You’ve been asleep a long time,” they both said almost in unison. “Mind if I touch you,” the one of the right said and extended a paw.

“Who are you and where I am I,” Eric said pulling back as he realized that both of these field mice were much larger than he, almost like rats.

“Ah, you don’t need to worry yourself about who we are but as far as where you are well, that is another matter.”

“And the time. The time and day of the year is important.”

“Fine,” Eric said angrily. “Where am I. Isn’t this Farmer Gragers’  farm?”

“Yes, but another time and day and you’ve travelled here. You would think you have come forward a hundred years but in reality you slid sideways. We tell every arrival that they have gained a hundred years. It is just easier that way.”

“Yes,  Easier.”

“How so? Well, when are able to you will see and find you are different.”

“Yes,” the one on the right said excitedly.

“Can I tell him where he is?”  The two looked at each other  and then said, “Outside, just down the road is the town of Llandia. Do you know it?”                                                                                                                                                   1/13/17 Copyright Gordon Kuhn Unedited Text.

 

ALEEN Continued


And so as evening fell fully away from the day and
Those watching went their separate way
Speaking not of evil left there cloaked in dark wings
And left behind small Aleen to sit high upon the hill
The rocky hill that overlooked the city of LLandia
Where the mission keeper sat and looked past them as they left
Brooding about the mission sent him on
And snarled at those who turned to look back at him
For what was their want? Could they have found a better one.
His dark fangs revealed his mood and waited for the taste of blood.
That would run from throats slit by fingernail and dragon tail of wingspan spread
He would wait till fully dark and then mount his quest and deliver the blows
While the silly younger ones left behind who groveled at their teachers feet
Waited for a tasty treat and yet
And yet he recalled Anlock the Strong who spoke to him so long before
Long before the mission clear was in his mind and vision spell
There he had lain away so many days and nights until it became so very clear
That death, dear death would somehow come once again near
And as told when Anloch’s face was close, so close he could hear
The breathing from the lungs deep behind the lacquered armored hide
“Kill them swifty, little one. Surprise those of your kind larger than you.
Surprise them at your strength and keep in mind,
There will come a day when you will have to kill them too.” 1/12/2017

Eric the Tiny Field Mouse Chapter Two


So it happened that Eric fell asleep for what appeared to be only a few minutes, but the reality was it was hours and days and months that had passed in a twinkling when Eric finally yawned and sat up in what was now a pollution of rotted hay for he had been left there as the others were unable to wake him. But then there was a shuffling noise in the far in of his den and out popped the faces of two who were his own age, except you had to consider he was actually over a hundred at the time, but not physically. Physically he was only 3 or was it 4. I’m not sure, maybe 5. Yes, let’s say he was 5 and be done with it except…..well….plus a hundred.

Aleen the Winged


He sat up high on the hill above the city of Ilandia  His six foot wingspan had been closed and wrapped securely around him more for warmth than stealth and concealment. He sat alone, disliking being near the others who were  mostly newlings out for their first hunt and kill mission. They were all several hundred feet below  him babbling about how lucky they had been too fly with such a  master.

“Master,” he snarled to himself after overhearing one of their comments. “What do they know of Masters. They are too young to know the virtues of such as Anloch the Strong who took out a thousand Betweens on a day many called ‘Judgement Day.'” He snorted and tightened the grip of his wings upon his body.

“Still strong,” he looked down at himself, at the muscle structure of his arms. “After all these years, still strong,” he sniffed in pleasure and recalled his first mission.

“They are missionaries,” Anloch had said in a snarl, his gargoyle like face close to Aleen’s. “Kill them swifty, little one. Surprise those of your kind larger than you. Surprise them at your strength and keep in mind,” his voice dropped low and his lips touched Aleen’s ear, “there will come a day when you will have to kill them too.”