A. L. Kaplan

Tag: portal

  • WOLF NOTES: An Uncommon Interview – Ken Schrader

    081Welcome to WOLF NOTES, where interview questions stray from the rest of the pack. It’s nice to know the usual stuff like where an author gets their inspiration and why they write, but sometimes we need a little fun in our lives.

    Wolf: Welcome to Wolf Notes, Ken. Tell us a little about yourself.

    Head shot and profile picKen: I am a science fiction and fantasy writer, a shameless Geek, a huge fan of the Oxford comma, and I make housing decisions based upon the space available for bookshelves. I collect books, movies, and music.

    I sing out loud when I think there’s no one around, and I try to get a blog post up once a week – both with varying degrees of success.

    I love music of all kinds, books, the big sky off my front porch, Star Wars, Firefly, Blind Guardian (to which, I write almost exclusively), Rugby, star gazing, jasmine tea, and the smell of rain on the air.

    My favorite flavor of ice cream is chocolate. My favorite food is a grilled steak, and I can suspend disbelief embarrassingly quickly.

    I live in Michigan, am co-owned by several dogs (especially the Border Collie), and I am one of the rare breed of folk that enjoys mowing the lawn.

    Wolf: Wow, we have many things in common. Too many to list. If you had to pick a weapon, what would it be and why?

    Ken: A lightsaber. Because it’s not as clumsy, or random as a blaster.  Also, because it is a sword that can be turned off.

    Wolf: That is kind of cool. Makes your sword much more portable. You’ve just been turned into a plant. Describe yourself.

    Ken: Oh, I’d be an orchid. Long, thin stem, pinkish-purple flowers.

    Wolf: Sounds beautiful. Purple is one of my favorite colors. Do you consider yourself a cat person, or a dog person?

    Ken: Dog person. I can’t imagine my life without having at least one dog in it.

    Wolf: Same here. While walking in the woods you come across…

    Ken: A pair of standing stones. Tree limbs, and vines, growing across the top to form an arch. Beyond the arch is…somewhere else. Somewhere you can’t quite see in detail, but feels warm.

    Wolf: I sense an adventure coming. If you could have a super power, what would it be?

    Ken: Immortality, with a dash of Wolverine’s healing factor. So many books, so little time…

    Wolf: Agreed. I have a huge stack of to be read book. There is a door at the end of a dark, damp corridor. You hear rumbling. What do you do?

    Ken: Oh, I open that thing and peer inside. No doubt about it.

    Wolf: You are definitely a true adventurer. What is your favorite body of water and why? (river, ocean, waterfall, puddle, bottle…)

    Ken: The “pond” in my front yard. It’s not really a true pond, but for ¾ of the year, it’s under water and, in the spring/summer, the Peepers sing at night. I love my Peepers. When I moved out into the country, I thought they’d drive me nuts but, when they’re hibernating in the colder months, I really miss them.

    Wolf: I like peepers too, and they eat those pesky mosquito larvae. What story are you working on now?

    Ken: A smuggler turned Empress must unite three disparate races in order to prevent an insane AI from wiping out humanity.

    Wolf: I look forward to reading that one. What do you like to do when you’re not writing?

    Ken: I like to hang out with my family, grill, watch the sun set. I’m also an occasional gamer, and a HUGE rugby fan.

    Wolf: A gamer? I never would have guessed. (chuckle chuckle) Thanks for stopping by.

    You can connect with Ken through these links:

    Website: www.Ken-Schrader.com

    Twitter: @kenschrader4882 (ask me about that number sometime)

    Facebook: www.facebook.com/ken.schrader

     

    Don’t forget to pick up your copy of

    STAR TOUCHED

    Startouched front cover2

  • AIN’T GOOD

    crow composit

    “Look at all them owls in that tree,” said Lowell. His jowls wobbled as he wiped sweat from his face with an already soaked and disgusting orange sleeve.

    Harvey wrinkled his nose. The putrid scent blowing down the hill wasn’t much worse than Lowell’s odor. If he didn’t still need the despicable little man, Harvey would have strangled him on sight.

    “They’re vultures,” said Harvey. “Owls ain’t up in daytime and don’t flock like that.”

    “Well they stink. I don’t wanna go this way.”

    “It’s this or rot in prison.”

    Lowell continued to whine. “You said you had a way out, a secret way.”

    “I do,” said Harvey, as he trudged to the top of the ridge and gazed at the vultures.

    Lowell joined him a moment later, gasping from the exertion, eyes closed. It was a full two minutes before Lowell opened his eyes and saw the partially decomposed bodies strewn under the tree. Their telltale orange jumpsuits marked them as prisoners. His meaty hands grasped Harvey’s arm.

    “Those are guys who supposedly escaped.” Lowell’s voice rose in pitch. “They’re dead! We’re gonna die!”

    “No, Lowell,” said Harvey. “WE ain’t gonna die.”

    Dozens of beady black eyes watched as Harvey cut Lowell’s throat and pushed him against the tree. Blood coated the bark, which began to glow.

    “Hurting little girls ain’t good, Lowell. Judge went too easy for what you did to my sister.”

    Harvey watch Lowell’s eyes widen as the birds descended then stepped through the portal.

  • RED ROVER, RED ROVER

    “Damn fracking,” mumbled McAllister. He stared at the red water in the little creek. “First they cause an earthquake, then they pollute the groundwater. Now something’s using my farm as a fast food highway.”

    After the quake last year he’d been thrilled to have a new creek bubble up across his farm. Not anymore. The weird noises grew louder every night. Livestock vanished with increasing frequency.

    Sweat dripped down McAllister’s back, but not from the sun. Last night he saw something slither up this creek bed, leaving a trail of feathers. A dozen of his best layers, gone. The unearthly prints around the hen house were the only clue something wasn’t right.

    The bushes rustled. High pitched chirping echoed around him. He tightened his grip on the shotgun and kept moving. The air felt charged, pricking his skin. His heartbeat quickened. Maybe it wasn’t the fracking after all. Maybe it was something else.

    Wind and darkness swirled around him. He leaned into the tempest and continued forward. The storm vanished as quickly as it arrived, leaving McAllister in a still and barren landscape with a red stream. He blinked in the bright light and scorching heat. Large and small leathery wings filled the sky. Their screeching and chirps made his hair stand on end, but the golden eyes that studied him nearly made his heart stop.

    “Mmm, a human,” said the dragon. “I wonder if it tastes like chicken.”

    “Looks old and tough. Not enough meat for the children. Throw it back in the portal and try a different opening.”

    The dragon flicked a claw at McAllister knocking him back into the whirlwind. A moment later he landed on his farm next to the now dried creek bed.

  • PORTAL

    Papa?”

    Davis looked at the child. Her pale face smiled as she lay in the hospital bed. Dark smudges surrounded her eyes, eyes bereft of lashes. Tubes and wires stretched from her to the bank of monitors that bleeped, dripped, and ticked. Each sound a symbol of what life had become. His baby girl, barely starting life only to have it cruelly yanked away.

    Eyes clamped shut; he sucked air through a constricted throat. He couldn’t watch anymore; couldn’t bear any more pain. The doorway shimmered behind him. He’d turned away from it during the war and when his wife died. Living through life’s adversities was the best teacher, but what was there to learn from watching a death like this? One step through the portal and this experience would be left behind. He could escape the grief. But if he passed it by again would it return?

    “Where’s that door go, Papa?”

    His eyes sprang open. If she could see it her life was at a brink, teetering; waiting for her choice.  It meant she was like him in more ways than he thought.

    “It leads away, Ariel, around the pain. But it makes you forget who you were.”

    She pursed her lips a moment, thinking. “I think I’d rather stay here.”

    He stroked her skeletal hand. The taut, yellowed skin felt dry. So frail, so young. All he had left. He couldn’t leave her. Every second was worth the pain. Maybe this treatment would be the cure….

  • Freedom’s Landing

    Still propelled from his cliff leap, Ramone smacked face down onto a snowdrift only to look up into a maelstrom of flakes. Nothing but swirling white met his eyes. The sweat on his body froze into an icy sheen that fell in crackling shards as he moved. Ramone’s belly twisted. At least in that dreadful island prison he hadn’t frozen. Fifteen years, wasted, imprisoned for opening a portal into the wrong world. All he wanted was to go home.

    Beneath him the ground lurched, tossing Ramone into the air before dumping him back into the snow. Earthquakes and freezing cold. What hellish world had he landed in this time? He brushed away as many flakes as he could and trudged forward. There were no more spell components, but he’d come too far to give up now. Eyes down and half closed against the biting wind, he continued moving. It was all he could do. All he had left was hope.

    Something hard smacked his forehead, nearly knocking him over. Ramone looked up, his brow wrinkled in confusion. Behind him the storm raged, but in front, a bright open space. There was no rock, no wall, only an invisible barrier. He pushed against the smooth surface, moving along its length while his heart galloped. Step by step he broke trail through the snow drifts, stopping only when he reached a set of prints identical to his own. Tears streamed down his face, freezing as they fell. A rat, caught in a crystal cage.

  • Freedom Jump

    “Quae me domum ad locum regione viarum.”

    Ramone spoke the words of the spell as he ran, praying that the improvised components he had collected would work. Powdered rat liver just wasn’t the same as that from a hippogriff. Same went for the cockroach legs he had substituted for locust. But it was all he had.

    Vines tangled his feet, sending him crashing into the hard packed dirt and rock. He muttered curses as the spell slipped from his grasp. Ignoring the lancing pain in his knees, he scrambled to his feet and continued to run. Only once had he seen the outside of the island prison, fifteen years ago when they had shipped him here, but he had heard plenty of stories through the years about the snake infested jungle and deadly cliff that sandwiched the place.

    That same cliff loomed ahead. The other inmates called it the leap to freedom. Ramone had no more desire to die than he wished to rot in a dark stone cell. He wanted true freedom. It had taken years to dig a tunnel under the walls. Now his only hope lay in a handful of junk and a half remembered spell. Behind him the hounds closed in, close enough to hear their panting.

    Grasping the last of the components, Ramone repeated the spell.  This was his last chance.

    “Quae me domum ad locum regione viarum.”

    He leaped from the cliff’s edge just as the portal opened and disappeared into the void.