Tag Archives: story

Why I decided to write this book

Available here:

Ok, first off. Is this a shameless plug for my book?

Yes of course it is. But also I would like to explain my reasons for writing the book in the first place. Now I am aware that most of you are writers and creators so I’ll spare the “it was yearning inside me” tropes for another time. But the reason I wrote this is purely to see if I could.

To see if I could take an idea inside me, not the story mind you. But the idea of being a writer, and putting it into the world. Showing people, some close to me and others that are not, that I can be more that what is always on display in front of them

To show others your writing is to let people inside your head, even if your writing fiction and a character in no way embodies any of your own characteristics, those thoughts and words came from somewhere in you. And when you show others this, I have have found it to be more anxiety inducing then public speaking. Thankfully when people read my book (which is about a very violent and otherworldly cult) they didn’t change their opinion about me too much.

So this experiment was a success, the data was recorded and now I am halfway through my next book. Thank you for reading and supporting me.

The Rites Of The Moon

A choice part from my new survival horror novel. available now. Click HERE

Below him, about four meters down at the base of the tree, three of the strange painted people had gathered. They weren’t acting aggressive so Thomas stood extremely still, balancing on the tree branch and watched them closely. It was a small man with a backwards baseball cap and underwear on and two women, the first looked to be in her mid-sixty’s and wore only a pair of cargo shorts, the other was probably mid-thirties and was fully clothed in a tank top and short shorts, they all were painted gold and had black markings painted on them. The strange gold painted people seemed to communicate in clicking noises and hand gestures, almost a crude form of sign language and both the older woman and the male seemed to be getting instructions from the younger woman. It didn’t appear that they had followed Thomas’s tracks which made him kick himself for not being smart enough to cover them up, but it seemed as if they were resting by the tree and getting some sort of debrief with the younger woman going into long periods of gesticulation and clicking whilst the others nodded. It seemed odd, these people all seemed as if they were normal and well looked after people, both of the women had clean looking hair and outside of the paint they seemed to be of normal appearance, the man looked as if he was a simple IT professional but had somehow tripped into a vat of gold paint, how could these people who looked like regular middle income westerners act like howling and screaming Neanderthals hungry for blood. Suddenly the trio of gold painted people looked to the west in unison then a shrill screeching filled the air that melted into a long deep bellow, it was unbearable and Thomas had to lean against the tree and hold his ears. The sound slowly faded and the trio below him looked at one another than ran off in the direction of the sound, Thomas looked up and through a tiny gap in the leaves could see the moon, not fully pale blue anymore, but now holding a hint of magenta. He waited what he felt was a few minutes then descended the tree and slowly contacting the soft ground. He peered off in the direction that the trio ran but he could see nothing, the blackness of the dark swamp swallowed them. He rounded the tree trunk and orientated himself toward where he saw the gap in the treetops and headed toward it, not at walk but not at a jog either, shuffling to get some blood moving and to get him out of this situation quicker. He was trying to think what he would say to the people, if there were any people, and how they would react. He would sound crazy, babbling about a strange group of feral people and robed weirdos…. and the slaughtering of a man he had just met, and of course, the three people he had killed. He was in the right, it was self-defence, he knew he would have been killed if he hadn’t acted the way he did but still, how does one breach the subject of a wild story that is peppered with killings. He pushed on and pushed the thoughts from his mind, he would tell the tale as it came to him when he got to wherever he was headed, and just let it fall out of him organically. His legs were burning and cramping up, he noticed that without his permission his arms had begun to reach out and grab the trees to pull and push himself along, his body had entered survival mode without his brain noticing and this made him think just how much longer he had without going into shock. The beams of moonlight that shot through the gaps in the canopy like a Laser beam were beginning to get more numerous and closer together now as the trees started to be more and more sparse, alarmingly the beams of light that gave off an almost undetectable beauty in their ethereal pale blue where now tinted by that same hint of magenta that Thomas had seen in the moon before, so many burning questions, and no time left to wonder about them. Up ahead he could make out the clearing he saw, he was right on the mark with his direction, there appeared to be a metal structure although he was still a solid fifty meters away and the trees where still thick enough to obscure a lot of what lay ahead. He slowed down and removed the pistol from his waistband, bringing it into the ready position that was still natural from his days practising on the range. His steps where slow but determined, scanning to his left and right at 45-degree angles from the point in front of him searching for movement. Finally, he came to the last tree that stood between him and the clearing, looking into it he saw that it was about ten meters across and almost a circle, as if it was man made, in the middle stood a small wooden shack that looked new enough that it may hold some supplies, but Thomas doubted if there were any people in it which at this stage could still be a good thing. He cast his eyes over the clearing and when he felt satisfied, he entered the knee-high grass that inexplicably sprouted up around him. The whole area was bathed in the same magenta and pale blue light that seemed to confuse the eyes. He walked purposefully up to the cabin door and raised his hand but brought it back down, if there were people on the other side, and they weren’t friendly, then Thomas would want to have the drop on them, he took in a deep breath and brought the pistol to the ready position and entered the cabin. 

I hope you enjoyed this, please follow my Instagram and share and if you did enjoy this story please consider buying the book, let’s support DIY writers!

Fighting Uphill

“This universe henceforth without a master seems to him neither sterile nor futile. Each atom of that stone, each mineral flake of that night filled mountain, in itself forms a world. The struggle itself toward the heights is enough to fill a man’s heart. One must imagine Sisyphus happy.”

– Albert Camus, The myth of Sisyphus

Followers of my writing know that I depart from topics that I take up only to return to them eventually down the track somewhere at sometime. Many reasons I suppose for this behaviour. First amd foremost I am a writer that enjoys many topics and I am fascinated by many things. But the one thing that acts as a tree trunk for all the meandering concepts, stories, advice and rants is philosophy, and how we can take the deep thoughts, meditations and questions from dead and alive men and women and apply them to our lives.

An absolutely beautiful guidline of philosophy is it rarely ever has a set interpretation, rather it offers a new way to think about ideas or problems or indeed yourself. And that’s where we come to Sisyphus.

The long and short of the ancient myth is that Sisyphus was a great king who was hated by the gods. They had sent their version of death to claim his sole many times but each time he outsmarted them. Finally, finally hades hatched a plan to put a large boulder at the bottom of a long slope in a cave, at the top of the slope was a hole that lead to the outside world. Hades and death brought Sisyphus down here and told him “we are sick of this game we play, we only have one final test for you. Roll this boulder up to the top, then you you will claim immortality, but once you start, you cannot stop till you reach the top”

Sisyphus was bold and had already outsmarted the gods and death itself numerous times, so he flicked back his golden hair and placed his hands on the boulder. It was heavy but he could roll it slowly, and by the time he got to the tope he had expended all his strength. But then the boulder jumped out of his hands and rolled back down to the start. Hades had cursed the boulder to never reach the top, effectively trading Sisyphus in this constant pushing then walking back down and pushing for all of eternity.

How do we apply this to our lives? Well let’s look at his task. An unlikeable one to be sure. He could wallow amd lament. He could thrash his feet and cures the heavens. Or he could spite the gods that cursed him. If we imagine Sisyphus setting about his task with a broad grin, laughing as the boulder rolls to the bottom, then he hasn’t lost. He is the king of his own environment. Completely in charge of how he views his reality and not tossed about carelessly by forces beyond his control. And by reframing his outlook. His life will forever be positive.

If you enjoyed this please share and tell me what you think. I would love to delve more into philosophy at some point. Also follow my new writing instagram, – kj_thewriter

The Empty City, Part Two

The Hidden

Dr Carrington tried to place the strange hieroglyphs to anything he had seen before. From any other culture but so far he was at a loss. The strange swirling patterns showed some sort of intelligence and the fact that some symbols repeated themselves showed that this was indeed some sort of language. He shook his head in frustration and looked further down the path. The giant walls of the mesa blocked out the already dwindling sunlight and he could feel the air cooling rapidly, he would need to find shelter quick. He shambled forward along the path and quickly came across more of the strange tombstones, as if they were some sort of mile markers that one would find on the outskirts of a city, He had hoped this was the case as the pain in his foot was reaching a screaming pitch and if it weren’t for his curiosity he would be completely awash in pain.

The Path began to get narrower and soon the walls were rubbing up agains the good doctors shoulders giving him nasty scrapes when he became to carless with his meandering. he now had to turn side on and shimmy through the crack which seemed to be getting thiner and thiner. He could see markings on the wall directly in front of his face telling him that indeed something was this way. The doctors mind began reeling at what possiblilities waited further down, would there be anything at all?. Finally it seemed that the crack had stopped, above him the two walls of the crack had joined and become soild mesa wall, only a small child sized hole was remaining at the bottom. he could feel air blowing from the otherside telling him that whatever soace was in there was large enough to generate a strong breeze. here he faced a dilema. the Plane radioed its last position before going down and burning, should he stay just in the mesa’s crack if the Royal airforce sends its pilots from Cairo to look form him or should he indulge his curiosity. It kgnawed at him, the idea of something unseen on the otherside of this limestone wall, would this lead him some sort of unexplained tomb? This could be his legacy, this could be his new tale of daring adventure. He took a deep breath in and struggled down to a crouching poisition. his bundled up frame struggling to compress itself to a size small enough for the hole. he sent his legs out in front of him and let them pass through the hole. he was kicking his legs to find some sort of footing, a ledge to stabilisr himself perhaps but he found nothing but air. he slid his back along the ground forcing his torso through the hole until only his head reamind. still tring to find a footing, something on the other side to hold. thenhis weight made the decision for him and he fell through the hole into the other side.

The air was russing past him and for a brief moment he was in free fall when he crashed into what felt like hay and loose sticks. laying there for a few moments trying to collect his thoughts as the wind had been knocked out of him. he glaced up and could see the hole, it was perhaps ten meters above him on the wall, but where was he?. The doctor sat up, he appeared to been in some sort of room, the walls seemed to be made of compreesed and dried mud like one would find in the older parts of Cairo and there was a few pots and wooden debrie scattered around. he figure he had crash landed in someones house!. The doctor got to his feet in case the occupants or some other witness to the fall came running and he tried to make hiself look as presentable as possible, but curiously noone came. He slowly walked to what looked like a door, it was made of planks of wood lashed together with no door handle, he stood at the door and listend for a moment. All he could hear was a low howling of the wind, peaking through the planks of the door he could make out a roough street and what apeared to be another house on the other side. taking in a deep breath he placed his hand on the door and pushed it open into the street. He was standing in a narrow lane, four meters wide with bulidings on both sides, looking down the lane he could see that buildings went further into a great mass of them, towerering ever higher, some higher then what he had seen in london, all apearing to be made out of the same compressed dried mud as the building he had exited. He had to collect his thoughts, for when he faced the way he came, he could see the hole he fell through, the walls of the masa stretching out in both directions until they disapered from veiw. but oposite the wall, the city towered ahead, possibly hundreds of kilometers ahead. it made no sense, they would of seen this large habitation from the sky, and surely a city this large would of had some sort of radio and heard their distress calls. He couldnt belive it, the city ahead of him rivaled New York in size, yet there was one, glaring, strage, and imideate diffrence. The city was completely silent. the whole area infact, you could hear a pin drop and indeed the most notable sound that the doctor could hear was the sound of his heart beating. He called out into the distance, a long bellowing hello followed by a request for help. nothing, and even more eriely, his voice made no echo in the massive space. The light here was dwindleing, the sun going just over the horrizon now bathing the world in a dark almost blue hue. he would have to find someone, his foot was screaming in pain still and he was starving and thirsty. a battle of curiosity, fear and survival insticts where raging inside him, he glanced back to the hole he fell through, the house, if it were a house, that he crashed into, and the street that stretchout toward the large and towering city. Deducing that he would have a better chance in a large urban area he lumbered off toward the city.

The going was getting slower and the light fading. on the walls of the buildings lay dry torches so he grabbed one and using his lighter created both a source of warmth and light. Moving down the lane in the near dark with the light flickering off the surroundings, the cold and silent surroundings made him feel the sort of fear one has as a child, the light playing tricks on him as the dancing flame of the torch cast up almost moving shadows around him. Looking around he still could see no sign of human habitation, other than the buildings around him, no signs, no street litter, nothing. as if some great culture had built a city with the intention of filling it with people later and just not getting around to it. he stopped for a moment, he had reached a intersection, his light not strong enough to make out anything in any direction. He slowed his breathing, forcing himself back into the scientific mindset. Maybe its inhabitants left following a plague, maybe they were conquered, maybe the city used up its resources and its people had to flee taking all their possessions with them. All the deductions and calculations running through his mind, when suddenly, a sound that evokes the primal sense of unease was conjured up from the shadows to his left. a low grating noise that could be misconstrued as breath. His attention immediately drawn to it, he whipped his head in the direction of the sound and he thought for a moment his eyes played tricks on him. For a brief flash he saw what he thought was a tall figure, around ten meters from him, and standing at three meters tall wearing a long cloak. the image was there for a second before it seemed to melt away into the blackness. His hear racing he called out into the dark, once , twice, several times. but nothing replied to him. thoroughly shaken he quickly turned and headed in the other direction, unsure if he was still heading to the centre of the city. He was trying to piece together the apparition in his head but each time he tried it seemed to melt away, as if even in his mind it was ethereal. slowly his scientific mind came to its senses, a trick of the light mixed with a tired and dehydrated brain, he thought as he confidently trudged on, then the low scraping breathing noise came again, from behind him, closer, and seemingly gaining on him…….

To be continued

What you can do when you can do nothing

So. You are injured. Or you have no time. Or you are somewhere that stops you from training physically in some way.

What do you do?

Get mad, frustrated, these are the things I used to do when I couldn’t get my physical training sessions in. It took me a long time to realise that what I was doing was hiding behind the physical distraction of training to make somthing better in my life (relationships, work stress, mental health issues) this isn’t to say that I didn’t love training because it’s one of the pillars that hold my life up. But it was the only pillar back then.

This is when I found I could plumb the depths of my mind, I started small by asking myself why I missed training so much, why did it mean so much, what would I do if I could never train again.

This not only got my mind working but also introduced me to my first concepts of philosophy. I was having a Socratic dialogue with myself. I didn’t appreciate this moment for a long while but it laid the path for me to philosophy which in turn laid the way to art and creation and building multipul pillars to hold my life up.

So what can you do?

Start a Socratic dialogue yourself, with yourself. Be terrifying with it. Don’t hide from questions, ask deeply and truly even when it hurts. Pull back what feels safe and what you know people see you as, why are you doing xyz? Our old friend Socrates didn’t do these things to others (most notably his friends in Plato’s discourses) to hurt or humiliate or seem like he knew better because he didn’t, he just wanted to get to the raw truth that he knew would help. He saw on the battlefield (not many know but he was a extremely competent warrior) that truth in one’s morals and ability will always bring saftey. It’s why he questiond the state that lauded praise on him initially then sentenced him to death by suicide which he gladly did to prove that he would never give in to another’s false ethics.

So start questioning.

Start today

Right now

See where it gets you.

Why do you stop!?

HARK! You young!, you that is burdend by youth and the outlook of many years.

Why are you not moving? Not viewing? Not enjoying?

You see others with their supposed gifts and their baubles and trinkets and you wish to be shoulder to shoulder with these people that are no more then images!

Do you not see? Perhaps not

You, yes YOU! , you are a God, a being that wanders the earth with the power to create and evolve, to dream and determine, to gaze deep within and understand yourself and by that method you understand the stars themselves!

Look not to others! Look not to another’s achievements or goals or dreams or wishes.

Take your life seriously, grip the reins of your own universe created muscle and bone and sprint toward your own vison of yourself! Create what you wish!

Only you know when you have stepped on to the right path, only you can understand what is truly success to you!

Drive your curiosity within! Meditate deep on yourself, your mind, your body, your bones, you fibers, and when you emerge from the depths of the churning ocean that is you, you will hold the book that will detail the next move for yourself

Fight on

DUTY

A great evil lurked deep within fenrir that was yet to manifest itself to the Asiŕ. The gods were largely ignorant, all except Odin, the all father knew that in time this great beast would destroy the world and through a vain attempt at subverting prophecy he had the world eater bound 3 times in great chains under the pretence of a game, knowing full well the wolf would break free. On the fourth time odin had the dwarves work their magic on golden chains and he and the other gods all presented them to Fenrir.

“Oh great Fenrir, how strong you have become, how large you are now that your den is too small” – jested odin – ” I have one more test for you, if you are game, let me bind you in my personal chains, that is if you are not afraid “

Fenrir eyed the chains suspiciously before agreeing on the stipulation that one of the Gods place their sword hand in his mouth as insurance that they would let him out. The gods became nervous, they all knew that fenrir would be held captive by these magic chains. It was though , with a great sigh, that Tyr , the God of war and honour and the one who raised Fenrir placed his hand in the beasts mouth. Fenrir struggled and strained yet the chains would not budge, finally he gave in, realising the gods plan and that he had been tricked. Tyr looked to the great wolf that gave him a flash of betrayal, and with a nod of acknowledgement Fenrir tore the hand from Tyrs wrist.

We all have duties that manifest in different ways, some small others enormous. We should strive like Tyr, even though the outcome will perhaps be unpleasant. We have a duty to our allies, our friends, ourselves…. and we cannot fail

STORM

– STORM

Cold peirces the steel hull, like icy fingers probing through every crevice and nook. No man finds comfort, no man finds relief. Stale bodies huddle together and shiver, clinging to eachother and the surrounding cold environment. The hull groans with each wave beating its full power against it. This thin shell of man made steel all that stands between the wide eyed men and the full force of nature.

The ship sailing at full speed launching itself off the crests of waves, designed to cut through possidons greatest waves like heated blade through flesh. The seasoned men stand, braced and ready on the upper decks in defiance of the storm, some wild eyed and laughing, breaths soaked with rum and skin wrinkled from sun and stained with ink from ports unknown. These men have no country anymore, the belong to the sea, but it is a belonging that is in constant flux, at one moment a sunny day and a light breeze giving new meaning to beauty, the next moment is one of abject terror and monstrous waves seeking to pull brave souls to the depths, to a tomb no one will ever visit

Death in the ocean is never peaceful. One would hope to be struck by falling debrie and silenced quickly, rather then float in the elements with the tourture of the mind relenting in its horror at the hoplessness of ones situation. Other options include being relentlessly dragged under the sea then pushed to the surface struggling for breath only to be cruelly pulled down again, this is repeated untill finally the lungs give out, or ravaged by the denizens that call the ocean home

All this aside. Time after time, men will crawl into steel temporary homes, and defy the most ancient of gods, Possidon, Yam, leviathan, Enki and many more in search of adventure, riches, and meaning.

NO GRAVE BUT THE CRUEL SEA.