“Friday, 3 AM” gets a positive fan review

My short story “Friday, 3 AM”, which appears in issue #9 of A Thousand Faces has received a positive review from a long-time fan of the superhero anthology. PaulMc shared his thoughts on the A Thousand Faces forum:

“I’ve read quite a few emergence stories over the years since I first discovered the superhero fiction and they’re usually an interesting read. This tale was all the more interesting because it wasn’t so much an emergence story as and acceptance story. This was an interesting angle, especially from the point of view of someone who loves the whole superpower idea: how could you not accept or enjoy such abilities? Well, Chad Boudreau gave me a good answer to that: it’s a hell of a lot to live up to, especially if others have done well before you.  The other aspect to the story that I enjoyed was the action scene in the store; there was a real sense of anticipation and silence before everything happened.”

I replied to his post, thanking him for the great feedback.

Not yet read “Friday, 3 AM”? You can check it out here at A Thousand Faces.

“Friday, 3 AM” published

Back in October 2008, a short story I wrote was accepted into a future edition of A Thousand Faces. This publication is a quarterly journal of superhuman fiction. Published four times a year in both online and print formats, A Thousand Faces is more in tune with the pulp roots of the superhero than the comics that would later appear.

After much waiting I am happy to announce my short story “Friday, 3 AM” has been included in A Thousand Faces #9, which was released on the Labour Day long weekend.

You can read my story for free at thousand-faces.com. If you prefer something you can hold and put on your shelf you can order a print edition of the publication at the Thousand Faces online store.

Regardless of the format, if you check it out please drop me a note and let me know what you thought.

The New Mate is finished

Just a quick post tonight to let you know the conclusion to “The New Mate” has been posted on bohemian-zen.com. Here are links to the whole series:

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4

The New Mate: A Tale of The Pirates of The Tax Free Zone

As part of the Special Edition project I wrote a short story featuring The Pirates of The Tax Free Zone, just one of several gangs that populate 3!LL’s world. The story is an introduction to characters readers will meet again in a comic I wrote in 2008. That particular story has already been illustrated by 3!LL and is scheduled to be released on bohemian-zen.com later this year if everything goes according to plan.

The short story is entitled “The New Mate: A Tale of The Pirates of The Tax Free Zone” and is being published in serial form on bohemian-zen.com. It’s a four part story.

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4

Here are the characters featured in the short story. Artwork is by 3!LL.

The Captain

Numbers

Basil

Greasy Jesus

The Skid

 

 

 

In the Morning, He Died

He sat in his car. Outside snow was falling. A soft snow. Big flakes. The kind of snow he liked. It lazily drifted to the ground as if it too felt it was too early for work. The sun was nowhere to be seen. Security lights at the corners of the building provided pockets of illumination but did little to beat back the night. The winter darkness refused to let go.  His car’s headlights splashed against the industrial gray siding, reflecting harshly and filling the interior of the car. The engine had only been off for a handful of minutes and already his breath hung in the air with each exhale. Cold was creeping in. He sucked back a small mouthful of hot coffee, held it for a moment before swallowing. It was bitter, not enough milk. He sighed and muttered a sharp “fuck”.

The car door swung open, hinges protesting loudly. Too cold even for metal. A slash of brown liquid cut the snowy ground like the slash of a knife. Steam rose. The trunk was popped, a faux leather satchel empty except for a brown bag lunch and a packet of chewing gum taken from within and slung over a shoulder. Trunk closed, he turned and took a moment to relish in the misery of the bitter cold. Another, quieter “fuck” was next and then it was time to go to work.

He was early. The first one to arrive. There was a deadline to meet.

He was in his head, thinking already about the task before him even as he silently cursed the prospect of having to drink the swill a coworker would brew later that morning. His shoes were tread-less, stylish and very professional looking footwear but useless in winter conditions. Below the dusting of snow was a patch of ice. His foot shot forward. His weight went back. His hands were tucked deep in coat pockets. His mind was elsewhere, his reflexes dulled by a restless sleep and a difficult wake-up.

There was the briefest moment where he was no longer connected to the ground. Two snowflakes were sucked into his mouth with a sudden intake of breath and melted instantly and unnoticed on his tongue.

The back of his head hit the pavement.

The crunch was loud in the crisp winter air.

For a moment he only looked stunned, wide-eyed and out of breath. Then a halo of wet darkness started to appear and the lights went out in his eyes.

Twenty minutes later the security lights turned off automatically when the sun broke clear of the horizon.