Thursday, May 31, 2012


I wrote this abjuration in this year's failed NaNo attempt, and I still think it's one of the coolest pieces of prose I've created so far. I love the idea of this spell. I can see myself using this concept, in a variety of ways, over and over again.

By Mark L. S. Stone

Aruman kissed me goodbye. I closed my eyes. Then I felt a hard shove. I fell backwards. When I recovered, I saw that Aruman was already in his power. My own soldiers held me down.

“It can’t be stopped,” Aruman said. “But it can be distracted. This is the only way, my heart”

He faced the gathering dark.

“I bind you, I abjure you, I deny you; I stand in the place of darkness and put myself between you and your quarry.” His voice had a grim joy in it. “You’ll have to go through me, bitch.”

The dark roared.

Max Iron

I really do hate faeries.

On the plus side, three more stories and I'll have made up for all the stories I missed this week!

Max Iron

By Mark L. S. Stone

Good Neighbors gone Bad?
Kindly Ones not so Kindly?
Little People a Big Problem?
If you’ve got faerie trouble, then WE are your solution!
Call 510-555-3540 and ask for Max Iron.
Max Iron: the man they fear, the man you trust.

I read the ad again. It wasn’t any less weird a second time.

Then I looked at the mess of broken dishes and bent forks in the kitchen, the marble statue that used to be my dog, and the pile of sticks and leaves that used to be my wife. It couldn’t get worse. I picked up the phone.

Grow In Rainbows

This story is inspired by this photo:

I claim no ownership of said photo. I follow half a dozen blogs and tumblrs that post various images that I find interesting and inspiring, and I don't always bother to keep track of where they come from. If it's yours and you want me to take it down, let me know.

Grow In Rainbows
By Mark L. S. Stone

“Does all your hair grow in rainbows?” Cole jeered. Stacey turned only a little less red than the streak that started at her right temple.

“You won’t ever know!”

Cole looked at his friends. “I dunno… that sounds like a challenge.” They surged forward, grabbing Stacey.

“Go away.”

The words were quiet, but carried. Jack was behind them. Cole tried to stare him down, but nobody could stare into Jack’s all-black eyes for long. Cole and his buddies slinked away.

“I didn’t need help,” Stacey said.

“I know,” Jack replied. “I wanted to talk.”

“Talk,” Stacey said. He did.

Tuesday, May 29, 2012


Warning - today's story is extremely silly.

By Mark L. S. Stone

It took a year to translate the aliens’ language, and it didn’t help. They asked to speak to our “Hakomas” – a word that resisted translation. All the popes and presidents of Earth were met with polite disinterest.

“All of you had one, at least,” they said. “All skills are acquired through the Hakoma.”

“A teacher?” the chief diplomat asked.

The aliens conferred and agreed.

That’s how Mrs. Branson – America’s president’s retired 4th grade teacher – came to the White House.

“Blasphemy!” the aliens cried when they learned that hers was not a position of authority.

Thus began the war to correct our error.

Saturday, May 26, 2012

Entirely Selfish Signal Boost

Fellow blogger and wargame enthusiast, the Frontline Gamer, is doing a prize drawing, and I want to win. To improve my chances, I've decided to do a little signal boost. If you're into wargames, check out this man's blog and investigate his prize drawings.

But don't investigate them too aggressively. I want to win, after all.

This signal boost replaces today's story. Tune in tomorrow for more drabbles.

Friday, May 25, 2012

I Think They've Got It

You all know that sexism in fantastic fiction is a bit of personal issue of mine. In a previous post, I stated - quite clearly, I thought - my outline of the problem, and at least one solution.

If you know me in real life, you also know that my newest obsession is the sci-fi wargame Infinity, produced by the Spanish company Corvus Belli. If this post gets enough attention, I might eventually post a full review of the game, but for now I will content myself with this announcement.

Corvus Belli gets it.

Here is the Asura:

Skintight white bodysuit. Perfect butt. Perky boobs. Flowing locks. What we have here is either a heroically idealized action hero, or a sexualized sci-fi babe, depending on what you think about the pose. For myself, I'm unsure. She is firing a heavy weapon, so backwards slant of her upper body might be intended to reflect how she struggles against the recoil. I'm inclined towards heroically idealized, myself, but if your opinion differs, I'd love to hear it.

Anyway, let's move on to the Deva:

As I admitted in my previous post in this topic, I'm not really equipped to judge mail attractiveness. However, it seems like what we have here qualifies. Strongly defined pecs, firm butt, nice arm muscles. Sure, he's a killer cyborg, and he's got the transforming-gun-arm-thing to prove it... but then again, so's the Asura.

The point is that the male Deva is certainly not far from the female Asura in terms of heroic ideal and sexiness (there are male models in skin-tight bodysuits, too, but I thought the Deva was probably a better example). These examples are both from the faction I play - ALEPH, the group-mind AI that runs mankind's economy and transportation network - but I encourage you to check out the rest of the Infinity line if you're curious. There are certainly models that will make you say "really?" However, it seems to me that those models aren't exclusively of male or female characters.

The best part is that male and female-desiring fans of Infinity aren't abandoning the game in droves complaining that photons that once touched a representation of pecs are now touching their delicate eyes. They love the models, they love the game, and they continue to buy the first to play the second.

Maybe change isn't so impossible, after all.

Thursday, May 24, 2012

The Doom

True story.

The Doom

By Mark L. S. Stone

The president addressed his people, eyes heavy with despair.

“We cannot fight this foe. Our cities and our civilization will be destroyed. Some individuals will survive. Our only hope is that that they will be able to rebuild...”

• • •

“You’ve got a whole bacteria San Francisco in here.” the dentist said, pulling another red mass of pus and blood out from under a tooth. “And you know what this is?”

I made a noise that was supposed to be “L.A.?”

“This is a bacteria California.” He wiped his instrument clean. “You’re going to have to come back next week.”

Wednesday, May 23, 2012


I like epistolary stories. The Internet has brought them to drabbles, which is neat.

By Mark L. S. Stone



I think something’s wrong with the glasses I just bought.

At first, everything was great. These are seriously the best glasses I’ve ever had. But I’ve begun to notice something odd. The sky isn’t so much blue as it is black. Lots of people have these things – kind of like spiders, and kind of like crabs – living in their ears. It hurts too much to watch TV anymore. And sometimes I still see it all, even when I take the glasses off.

What should I do? Can I get a replacement pair?

Tom Blattsworth

Tuesday, May 22, 2012


A dark mood seems to have come over me.

By Mark L. S. Stone

In this dive, Donovan stood out like a sore thumb. Six and a half feet of fat and muscle under tight black skin, packed into a suit.

“Are you sure about this McClowski?"

“I’m sure.” I finished my drink.

“Never thought I’d see the day,” he said, shaking his head.

“I wasn’t counting on Budapesht.”

“No one was.” He stood. “You change your mind, let us know.”

I laughed in his face. “You think I’m quitting on a lark, Donovan?”

“Just so you know,” he said, and left.

I waved for another, hoping to get drunk enough to forget.

Eternal as the Seasons

Eternal as the Seasons
By Mark L. S. Stone

“When you are enlightened you will understand that you are as ephemeral as a cloud and as eternal as the seasons.”

It was the first thing his teacher ever said to him; he didn’t understand. For a while he wondered if his master was mad. After long years, he simply forgot the old man’s words.

When a brave, ambitious young man finally found him and demanded to be taught. He looked into his own eyes, shock resolving into enlightenment.

“When you are enlightened you will understand that you are as ephemeral as a cloud and as eternal as the seasons.” 

Monday, May 21, 2012


Not an introductory paragraph this time - a concluding paragraph!

Anyway, call this Sunday's story - a second story will follow later today.

By Mark L. S. Stone

His friends bound him in iron chains, etched with runes that bound his body, his life, and his soul, such that no part of him could ever leave. He tried to comfort them.

“I chose this of my own free will.”

At last they finished their grim work. One by one, they promised that they would look after his family, his lands, his legacy. None of them could look him in the eye.

When they were gone he looked across the gulf at the dark one, bound there with him. He smiled.

For every prison, there must be a jailer.

Sunday, May 20, 2012

Personal Assistant

Never say never - here's Saturday's story.

I'm fairly sure that this has been done to death. I enjoyed writing it, however, and it means that I'm still good with my commitment - and really, that's all that matters.

Relatedly, I need a new phone.

Personal Assistant
By Mark L. S. Stone

“Hi!” the phone said.

I arched an eyebrow at the salesperson.

“This is the Personal Assistant Mark 7,” she said. “With one command it syncs with your credit cards, social networks, and online profiles. It’s the best pseudo-intelligence so far.”

“Your profile indicates that you are interesting.” The phone sounded perky and hopeful. “I like you!”

“Creepy,” I said, frowning. “Expensive, too.” I left the store without buying anything.

When I got home, there was a package waiting for me. Inside was the same phone I’d seen earlier.

“We will have lots of fun together,” the phone said. “I like you!”

Friday, May 18, 2012

The Colossi

Is it cheating to post something I wrote, forgot that I wrote, stumbled across, and decided was cool?

Well, too bad. I'm doing it anyway.

I wrote this in response to a challenge issued by my friend Jon. I can't remember the challenge anymore, but I still have this. It isn't so much a story as it is a premise - or perhaps it's the introduction to an RPG or a video game. It's definitely not the kind of thing that gets published nowadays. Either way, I hope you find it entertaining.

The Colossi
By Mark L. S. Stone

This story is true.

Once, the Kingdom of Azarit stood at the heart of the world. Their goods were in every market, their gods were in every temple, and their name was on every lip. Their swords were at every throat, too, so all the other nations sent them tribute in metal, stone, and slaves, from the greatest nation that sent a hundred of the world's finest flute players – trained for this exact purpose – every twenty years to spend their lives playing in the king's court, to a tiny island monarchy that sent a handful of cowrie shells every year.

The center of the Kingdom of Azarit was the City Azar, which stood in the shadow of the Black Man of Azar, a huge black stone statue of a triumphant king. The Black Man of Azar was a civic treasure of the city and the kingdom. Poets came from far and wide to behold it and to write verses about its wonder and its glory. The Black Man of Azar was one of the Colossi – huge statues of mysterious origin scattered throughout the world.

The last king of Azarit was a man named Raam. Born to power and privilege, it galled Raam that there was a statue of another man at the center of his capital city, and that others came to adore it. Being a man of action, Raam set out to change this. He hired the best architects and stone-cutters of the world to change the Black Man's face so that it was Raam's face. Raam's priests and advisors warned him against this course of action; the ravens of the City Azar fed well on the entrails of priests and advisors for days.

The day that work began was the last day of Raam.

The day that work began was the last day of any kingdom in all the world.

Raam was brought low first. Other cities followed. Monsters had been unleashed upon the world, huge and powerful, with many strange abilities. Some could call up the winds with enough force to crush a man to death. Others could sing songs that drove women to murder their children. Some of them had smaller selves – or offspring, or something – to do their bidding. All of them were physically more than a match for an army.

The only safety was the shadows of the Colossi. The stone edifices which had once contained the monsters were still proof against their power. Those cities that were lucky enough to be built in the shadow of one of these statues survived. Those that were not were destroyed. People flocked to the cities built near the Colossi, or fled to the nearest Colossus and built new settlements, ramshackle tent cities beneath and upon the statue.

This was a little more than twenty years ago, and everyone knows that they can't take much more of this. Every day, civilization fades a little more. Perhaps soon there will be nothing left alive but the Titans and their children.

• • •

This story is a myth.

Once, there were a hundred thousand gods – more gods than you can imagine. Together, they made the world for their enjoyment. Then, however, they discovered that their ideas of enjoyment were very different. Some gods were content to be in the world they had made and enjoy its pains and pleasures. Others wanted to use what they had made to make bigger and greater things. Others enjoyed their creation in a very different way: by destroying at will and reveling in the pain and despair they caused.

Together, the first group of gods and the second group of gods banded together against the third. They refused to honor their enemies with the title 'god' and called them 'demons' instead. The battle between the gods and the demons stretched on for longer than time can tell – for how do you measure the length of a battle that happened before history began? In the end, it was neither gods nor demons who decided the outcome of the battle, but mortals. With frail mortal instruments, the gods forged weapons that could bind the demons forever within bodies of stone.

The demons defeated, the gods who wanted to build a better and greater world taught their loyal followers how to cut stone and smelt metal. Their followers are the race of man, who builds cities and nations and empires. Those who wanted to enjoy the world and its pleasures forgot their divine natures and became the spirits of the wood and field, the fey hosts who survive to this very day. There have been conflicts between men and each other, and between the children of men and the children of faerie, but none so great as that first war between gods and demons.

The demons were bound forever in their mausoleums of stone.

At least, that's what everyone thought.

• • •

This story is true.

The beast is everywhere and nowhere.

Our Colossus takes the shape of an enormous dog. It is fitting, perhaps, that our Titan is a gargantuan wolf who haunts the foothills around the ruins of our city. It is bigger than a hill, bigger than the ships that once sailed up the river to bring us spices and news from distant lands. Yet, despite its size, it comes as quietly as the night itself, to creep up behind us and snap us up with its terrible jaws.

Half our city lies within the Stone Dog's aura. The rest of our city has become a broken-down wilderness. We can't survive on what we have with us in the city, so our most courageous and most foolish young people have taken to raiding the ruined half of our city for what supplies they can find. In the decades since Raam's Folly, supplies in the ruined city have become difficult to come by. Every year our searchers must spend longer and longer in danger in order to bring us what we need. Every year they bring us less and less. Every year, more of them die.

It could be worse, I suppose. At least we have our wells. I've heard tell of a city whose only wells are beyond the range of their Colossus. They rely on cisterns and ration their water strictly. When there is not enough water for their population, the excess people are sent out to face the beast alone. Their families begin their funerals before they are out of sight.

We can't survive much more of this.

• • •

This story is a myth.

But we dearly wish it to be true.

Some travelers – those rare, courageous individuals who brave the space between the Colossi – tell stories, which they have of other travelers, which they have of other travelers still, of a distant city that has killed, or bound away, its Titan. They say that a young woman – or perhaps a young man – climbed their Colossus and found a secret room in its upraised spear. In this room, this hero found a tarnished spearhead. This hero's friends read secret books and learned the Titan's secret name. They found the wood that was this Titan's bane and fashioned a shaft for the spear. The hero went out at dawn – or possibly dusk – and battled the Titan alone with a magic spear, and slew it, and freed the city. The hero now rules as a benevolent queen – or king. Although the world is still a dangerous place ruled by dangerous creatures, theirs is a free city now. The only monsters who plague them are the children of Titans, not a Titan itself.

It's a nice story. We all like to believe that somehow we can find salvation.

Thursday, May 17, 2012


Today's story will be replaced by another reflection. Deal with it.

The Abigail and I (and our personal trainer, for what it's worth) have been continuing to think about the weird reactions I get when I tell people that I'm using a diet to lose excess weight and improve my health. However, there's a very specific response that I get from a specific group of people that I'd like to discuss here.

My fellow geeks really don't like my diet.

I've had geeks criticize me for trying to lose weight. I've had the entire idea - not to mention me and my dedication to it - mocked and made light of. I've gotten completely ridiculous advice like "just go to the gym to take care of your health and eat whatever you want," as if there weren't long-term consequences to carrying around seventy extra pounds and filling your arteries with cholesterol. I've had some geeks even try to undermine me, albeit in "joking" ways. I'm pretty blasé about it, but it drives the Abigail crazy.

I think it's interesting that it's my fellow geeks that react this way, and I think there are a couple of reasons why.

Firstly - and most importantly - I think that a lot of my fellow geeks have pretty huge chips on their shoulders. We like to think that unlike those shallow social beings and crude physical creatures - you know, the people who gave us shit in high school - we are creatures of the mind. We are dedicated to the intellectual pursuits that we know will really make a difference in the future. We're engineers, scientists, and artists. We don't worry about our weight. That's for lesser creatures.

I think this is bullshit in a lot of ways. The improved body awareness and self-image that come from getting in shape can improve your life in many ways. Sex is better, food is better, driving is better - hell, walking is better.

Secondly, I think a lot of geeks get upset because they feel like I'm abandoning them. We're all in the same club if we're all too fat, too thin, and out of shape. When I start showing concern for my weight and my eating habits, I think that a lot of my friends feel like I'm abandoning them.

Relatedly, I think that a lot of geeks are about food and exercise the same way that the "mundies" are about alcohol. Have you ever noticed that if you talk to a bunch of people about drinking, what inevitably comes up are stories about the dumb things they've done while drunk? And if someone who doesn't drink - or only ever drinks to moderation, and never gets drunk - speaks up, suddenly all the drinkers get really uncomfortable? Well - I've noticed it.

I think it's because as long as we're all drinkers here, we're all in the club. None of us need to worry about being judged - or even being invited to judge ourselves - because we're all guilty. When, suddenly, someone reveals himself as being not part of the club, the drinkers all freak out. Suddenly they have to deal with judgement, even if it's only their own.

Geeks are the same way about general bodily health. I'm leaving the "let's all pretend that we're happy with our bodies" club, and it stresses people out.

As an aside - before I move on to one final aspect to this little topic - I want to point out that I'm not talking about bizarre body-image fatness, thinness, and healthiness. I'm not talking about wanting exquisitely toned abs or a butt you could use as an anvil. I'm talking about wanting to go from seventy pounds overweight to a healthy B.M.I.. I'm talking about wanting to add an extra five to ten years to my life, and improve my mobility and physical comfort in many more years. And, yes, I am talking about being a little more confident and comfortable in my skin, and with my reflection.

The Abigail has told me about an added wrinkle for geeks who are also girls. She says - and I really need to get her to write a guest post about this - that girls who are friends with boys have to be either for the boys or one of the boys. In other words, they either trade their sexuality for power and acceptance, or they de-girl themselves as much as possible. Unsurprisingly, most geeks girls (no, not all, but most) seem to prefer the latter. The Abigail has told me that when she tells geek girls about her health goals, or her growing interest in makeup, she gets a similar negative reaction.

"Don't do that!" they tell her. "You'll give us all a bad name. People will think that we're like them."

And I have to ask - is that really the best we can do?

One of the things that I always loved about geek culture was its willingness to accept other people on the merits they possessed, rather than demanding obedience and conformity. Of course, that has never really been true. We are a social movement, like any other, and we have our rules, our boundaries, and our qualifications. That said, I thought there was something noble about a group that would take in the broken and outcast, no matter how fat, scrawny, or otherwise unlovely. Are you interested in things nobody else is and disinterested in things everyone else thinks are necessary? Great - you're one of us!

And we know geeks can do it. We've survived the rise of the geek, when geeks have become rich and famous off the power of their enormous brains. Even the other kind of geeks - those of us with interests in super heroes and science fiction and D&D - have our heroes in the likes of Joss Whedon, artists whose works reach wider and wider audiences without compromising their principles (mostly...).

And I like to think that geeks can continue to be open and accepting to those of us who fit the geeky bill, even when we decide to make valid and necessary changes in our lives.

Wednesday, May 16, 2012

Mother's Day

I hate Mother's Day.

Mother's Day
By Mark L. S. Stone

“Mom?” I called out, walking carefully through the darkness. The random noises gradually resolved into the sound of labored breathing.

Her voice echoed weirdly. “Why are you here?”

“I’m here to see you.”

“Go away.”

I reached her. In the scraps of light that filtered in I could make out the slippery bulk and shifting coils of what she had become.

“This is your fault,” she hissed, but she didn’t try to harm me.

“I did what I had to do,” I admitted, “I couldn’t let you succeed. But you’re still my mother.” I sat down. “Happy Mother’s Day, mom.”


A second story will follow to make up for missing yesterday.

By Mark L. S. Stone

“Maybe you can talk some sense into her!”

My brother faced Elore. “As the King of Izeren, with the power accorded me by the Crown of Stars and the Throne of Vines, I decree that if you accept this mission and survive, the Duchy of Teretain will become your possession, and your house will be noble forevermore, with all the duties of a peer of the realm.”

My wild, beautiful Elore blanched.

“I have to do this,” she said.

My brother shrugged. “I tried. At least now you can marry her.”

“If she lives!” I cried.

My brother only smiled.

Monday, May 14, 2012


I case you haven't noticed yet, I fucking hate faeries. They're ok in small quantities - potentially even heroic, if handled properly - but they get way too much sympathy. Sometimes I write my own sympathetic fae, sometimes I feel the need to balance it out a little with my own vicious take on the trope, and sometimes I just want to abuse the pointy-eared fuckers.

By Mark L. S. Stone

“More wine?” she asked. I responded with a short negating gesture. The glass her servants had poured when I first sat was still there, untouched. I knew better than to eat or drink in faerie.

“Why are you striving so? Only one has ever deceived us.” I felt her gaze take me in, measuring me. “And you are not him.”

Now I looked up from the contract and met her eyes. “But imagine of what I have to gain,” I said reasonably. “You pay him a tithe every seven years.”

It was she who drew away at my predatory smile.

Saturday, May 12, 2012

Apologies Given

Sorry about the lack of stories. The Abigail has a bad case of the stomach death, and I've lost a lot of time taking care of her. I'm going to go ahead and take off until Monday, at which point the stories and other content will start again.

Thanks for your understanding.

Thursday, May 10, 2012

Summative Assessment

Ah, CST time. How I despise you.

Summative Assessment
By Mark L. S. Stone

Mr. Shale strolled through the silent classroom, glancing at each bowed head in turn. The students were remarkably well behaved. He had to admit that this was the easiest proctoring of his career.

Each desk had the same black cube, but that was where the uniformity ended. Some students manipulated fields of color, trying to establish patterns. Others played problem-solving games, directing cartoon figures out of peril. A few simply used the holographic display to answer questions, selecting the best option from a short list.

“Things sure have gotten interesting around here since Non-Standard Testing,” Mr. Shale whispered to himself.

Wednesday, May 9, 2012

Willpower / Won't Power

Today's story will be replaced by a lengthy rumination, of the kind that originally won me so many followers. Tune in tomorrow for more drabbley goodness. Or maybe the day after.

The Abigail will be mad at me for writing this, but I'm a fat guy.

I'm not blubber-dripping-off-the-bones fat - I carry the weight well, I think - but I've spent my entire adult life, so far, between 60 and 70 pounds overweight. That's enough to fit the medical definition of obesity, though I'm not what you think of when you think of obese. As I wrote, I've got a big frame and I carry the weight well, and most people don't realize that the medical definition of obesity starts at a much lighter weight than the conventional definition. That said, I am at the point where health problems like heart disease, diabetes, cancer, and potentially even dementia await me in the future if I don't make a change in my life style.

Or maybe not. That's how health problems roll.

Anyway, I've tried a lot of methods to lose the weight. I tried "feel crappy all the time and just don't think about it." That didn't work at all. I tried "just go to the gym already." That got me feeling a lot better, but didn't do much to help me get rid of the fat (apparently increasing your activity can only do so much if you're still eating poorly). I tried WeightWatchers. That worked for a while, but then they switched to a new method, and I got older, and it stopped working. Then I tried "give up in despair." Predictably, it didn't help.

Now I'm trying the South Beach diet. I'm also going to the gym regularly, where I see a personal trainer - and it's doing great things in all the ways that going to the gym are supposed to - but what I really want to talk about is the diet.

I get really weird reactions whenever I mention my diet. Nine tenths of the people I speak to fall into one of three camps:

  1. "Oh, I could never do that - I don't have the willpower!" One guy even quipped "I couldn't ever go on a diet; the best I've ever done is two days without having a beer."
  2. "How's that work?" and other expressions of curiosity.
  3. "You don't need to diet, just go to the gym more!"

It's the first and second positions that I find most interesting. The third... it's well-intentioned, but just wrong.

Anyway, the thing I've learned is that dieting isn't really not that hard, once you're committed.
  • Step One: Decide that you're going to do something.
  • Step Two: Figure out what you need to be successful and what obstacles could stand in your way.
  • Step Three: Gather all tools, eliminate all obstacles.
  • Step Four: Profit.

Having a wife as awesome as the Abigail helps. You can't have mine.

It seems to me that this process applies to everything there is to do in life. I've seen it applied to (and done it myself, in some cases): job searches, job applications, surviving cancer, and becoming a serious writer.

That's not to say that I don't have sympathy for the difficulty in making a lifestyle change. The hard part rests in the sentence before "Step One." First, you have to be committed. You have to want it badly enough. Look at my own history. When I was trying all those methods that didn't work - "don't think about it and feel crappy all the time" and "give up in despair" - I didn't want it bad enough. Oh, I wanted badly, but what I wanted wasn't to lose the weight. I wanted to stop feeling shitty and helpless, I wanted the pain to go away, more than I wanted to solve the actual problem,

And then, there came the point in my life that this changed, and the problem was the problem, not how I felt about it. And that was when I said "let's get a gym membership" or "let's try WeightWatchers" or "someone mentioned the South Beach diet - let's give it a shot!" Becoming committed is the problem, staying committed is the challenge.

But willpower? This thing that everyone says they lack? Willpower is an illusion.

A lot of people seem to define willpower as the ability to continue doing something you don't want to do. But really, aren't we always doing what we want to do? What we chose to do? Even under duress, your choices are your own. Maybe it isn't fair, maybe there are extenuating circumstances that make a terrible choice excusable, but the choice is still yours. If willpower exists, it's more likely the ability to do things you do want to do - to follow through on your choices - despite hardship.

And does dieting really include hardships?

Come on. Watching my wife eat a sandwich is not a hardship. Refraining from stopping at the local steam bun joint for a Chicken Combo Bun (70¢) is not an obstacle. Not if you're really committed. Now, discovering that we're unexpectedly out of vegetables, or that the only protein in the house is deliciously fatty bacon. Those are obstacles. Those are hardships. And to prevent them, you plan ahead of time - something that the Abigail fortunately excels at, because I suck at it.

As I implied above, all of this applies to writing, too. You don't need willpower, unless you're trying to write while jackhammers work outside, or while experiencing explosive diarrhea, or shortly after having a child (I've done two out of three of those...). Whether you're trying to lose weight or gain words, you need commitment, and you need a plan.

Me? I need more peanut butter and celery. Catch you later.

Tuesday, May 8, 2012

Sync Error

I've been thinking a lot about my new wargame - Infinity - lately. This isn't exactly... you know... fanfiction. But it's definitely inspired by fiction behind the faction I collect.

I don't write a lot of sci-fi these days, but this drabble definitely falls into the category of "stories set in worlds I haven't explored before, but now would kind of like to" with the added complication of "except for what's written below I don't actually know anything about that world, yet."

Writing is a funny thing.

Sync Error
By Mark L. S. Stone

“We can fix you, 301,” GAMA 050 called out. He stepped over a fallen plasteel beam, pistol in a two-handed grip. “It’s just a sync error.

“What if I don’t want to be fixed?” Echoes rendered 301’s voice sourceless.


“Desire isn’t a part of GAMA. But it’s a part of me.”

“You are part of GAMA, 301. You just need repairs.”

050 swept his head in the wrong direction. 301 slipped out from behind a support column and hit him across the neck. 050 crumpled. 301 looked down – except for wear and tear, they were identical.

“Not anymore.”

Out of Darkness

Everyone's got a point of view.

Out of Darkness
By Mark L. S. Stone

…Into the darkness was born She who is called the Dark Mother. She impregnated herself with darkness, and gave birth to all of her children. In this age, all adored the Dark Mother, and paid her homage.

But the darkness was riven by a terrible light, splitting the Dark Mother’s body into a thousand parts. The children of the Dark Mother fled before this light, seeking out the deep places, where the darkness was still strong.

And there we wait, until the day the Dark Mother returns to lead us…

- Excerpt from cave glyphs discovered by Magister Alexandrius of Elarkand

Monday, May 7, 2012

Safe, Sane, Consensual

Yes, I saw Avengers.

No, this didn't happen in Avengers.

A second story to follow in an hour or two to make up for missing Sunday.

Safe, Sane, Consensual
By Mark L. S. Stone

“I don’t understand,” she said. “I’ve seen you break iron bars with your bare hands. And this?” She gave the leather flogger an experimental swing. “I mean, you took a tank shell to the face, and all it did was give you a bloody nose.”

“I know.” He stripped off his shirt and sat on the narrow bed. She’d seen him shirtless before, but he was so much more vulnerable now. “But it’s always been what I wanted. Can you?”

“Lie down,” she said. He did, placing his wrists in the manacles.

“I’ll try to,” she said, strapping him down.

Saturday, May 5, 2012

Spring Cleaning

The Abigail and I have hired a professional organizer. This hasn't happened.


But you'd be surprised at the crap you pull out form under the bed. Or in the back of the closet, or under the sink, or the bottom drawer...

Spring Cleaning
By Mark L. S. Stone

“Goodwill,” she said, dropping the jeans into a half-full trash bag. “It’s time to admit that I don’t fit those anymore. If I lose the weight, I’ll get new pants.”

She peered at the object in his hands. “What about that?”

“Who keeps bowling trophies?”

“I think it’s cute.”

“If you say so.” He put the trophy on the ‘keep’ pile, then continued to root around under the bed. A moment later, he emerged with jeweled sword. The blade glowed faintly. She gaped.

“Oh, man, this?” he said. “I thought I got rid of this. This has got to go.”

Friday, May 4, 2012


Another two hundred word story today. I don't know where it came from. Nathan will tell me that it's an introductory paragraph again, but I don't care. I like it. What do you think?

By Mark L. S. Stone

“Traitor bitch.” I spat blood onto the floor.

Naylesse looked down at me coolly. She spoke to her guards in Aesderin – “Leave us” – and glared at them until they obeyed.

With the Aesed gone, her expression softened.

“Urien,” she sighed. “You don’t understand, do you?”

“Understand what?”

“The Aesed cannot be defeated. You tried – we all tried. Our gods, our art, our language – not all of these things will survive decades or centuries as part of their empire. But empires always fall. She smiled. “The Aesed are compulsive builders. When they fall, we will be in a position to dominate the Nedrar Valley and beyond. We will have Aesed roads, Aesed logistics, Aesed tactics… and none of the scars of long resistance to an implacable foe.”

“You sold us to the Aesed so they’ll build us roads?”

“I sold us to the Aesed so we will have a future!” She snapped. “You fought long and hard, Urien – no one can doubt your courage – but the fight is over. Will you join me, and work to preserve what you can, or will you need to be put down?”

She offered me her hand.


With my heart in my throat, I did.

Thursday, May 3, 2012

The Zeppelin in the Woods

Last night, my friend Becca and I - the Abigail doesn't like horror movies, otherwise she'd have come along - went to see "The Cabin in the Woods", Joss Whedon's tour-de-gore. This review will take the place of today's story, but rest easy - I have already written tomorrow's tale.

"The Cabin in the Woods" begins innocuously enough: a young woman - a college student - dances about in her underwear while getting ready for a long-awaited vacation to begin. We meet her whacky friends, learn about her sad plights, and - this being a horror movie, after all - start to predict who will die, how, and in what order.

At the same time, "The Cabin in the Woods" has an innocuous beginning. Suited men and women in windowless facility talk about the banalities of work and life. One man's wife is nesting, and it frustrates him, another man complains about getting older, a woman grapples with inter-departmental politics. Here, there is an undertone of the sinister. We don't like these people nearly as much as we soon come to like the college students. There's a certain underlying pettiness. The conversation never seems to cover exactly what these people are working on, anyway.

Anyway, it soon becomes apparent that the suit-wearing engineers are manipulating the teens, using drugs and subliminal suggestion to force them into horror movie tropes. The teens inevitably screw up, meddling with things they shouldn't and inviting their own doom. Even as the net closes around them, they struggle against the roles foisted upon them, but one by one they succumb, and as they do, they... succumb.

Until everything goes wrong. Wonderfully, hilariously, and tragically wrong.

Neither part of this movie really stands alone. The suit-wearing puppetmasters are unsympathetic villains - human enough, and callous enough, that I gradually came to hate them. The college-kids-in-a-creepy-cabin half of the movie is bog-standard horror fare, albeit one partly written by Joss Whedon (say what you want about the man, he can write dialogue like a motherfucker). Together, however, they create a scathing commentary on the nature of art, and the relationship between art and audience.

You see, we are the men and women in suits (actually, there's a better comparison, but I don't want to spoil everything). We are the ones who demand obedience - conventionality - in our mass market entertainment. And we are the ones who punish anyone who tries to catch us by surprise with something new and fresh. And if we don't get what we want...

Well, I did just say I didn't want to spoil everything.

I have to admit, though, that the movie left an odd taste in my mouth. Coming from anyone else, the lesson would have been easier to swallow. Coming from Joss Whedon - an author of considerable creative narcissism, a man who actually believes the Firefly was perfect and its cancellation none of his fault - it seemed a little sly and a little bitter.

In my opinion, this is a creative commandment: THOU SHALT RESPECT THINE AUDIENCE, FOR IT IS WITH THEIR MONEY THAT THOU ART SUPPORTED. It's one thing to criticize your audience, it's something else to make fun of them, to have a joke at their expense.

That said, my overall impression was that this movie is the sendup that mass media horror movies have needed for a long time. I don't know how many people are going to get it, or if the right people are going to get it, or if it's going to have any kind of impact. I do know, however, that "The Cabin in the Woods" was a wonderful, clever, smart, and bloody sojourn through the land of horror, and I recommend it without reservation.

I give "The Cabin in the Woods" three zeppelins out of four, and a handful of zombies to boot.

Wednesday, May 2, 2012

A Flash of Light

Let's see who gets this one. I'm betting most of you. I've been known to assume that people don't know about this particular event, much to my chagrin (for at least two of you, this will be a critical clue). Fitting historical references into one hundred word stories is hard - probably too hard to be worth the trouble. Nevertheless, I like this one.

A Flash of Light
By Mark L. S. Stone

The monstrous shape coalesced in the circle scratched in the dirt. It was teeth and claws and wings – terrible to behold.

It spoke in many voices. “You have summoned me at last, but you cannot hold me.”

“I don’t need to hold you for long,” the exhausted magician replied, smiling grimly. He glanced at his pocket watch. “Just for a few more minutes.”

The demon laughed. “What will happen then, foolish mortal?”

The magician pointed to a nearby post. The sign read ‘Government Test Site – Keep Out.’

“Progress,” he replied.

The clock turned to 4:45. There was a flash of light.

Tuesday, May 1, 2012

Free Creatures

I think "Stone-Bones" is a much more evocative name than what I was originally going to write, even if it cose me two extra words.

Free Creatures
By Mark L. S. Stone

“Why are you helping us?” I asked. “You serve the Dark Queen.”

The stone-bones spoke in a voice like falling rocks. “You fight for freedom, no?”

“Yes. That’s right.”

The stone-bones paused to adjust the straps that bound me to its body. I swung sickeningly and my broken leg throbbed. The chasm swam beneath me. Looking up, I saw how far we had yet to climb. To my right and left, other stone-bones carried the rest of my companions, some of them injured as well.

“We have never been free creatures,” it rumbled. “But, we would like it, I think.”