Twenty-11 will be a very interesting year! Pretty soon, if all goes as planned, The Vessel of Terror will start to see the light of day. All of you who has followed the calender on the Facebook page know that the work put down by the artists is flabbergastingly cool.
For those of you who haven't seen the teasers, here is the rest of the calender. Day 13
Day 14
Day 15
Day 16
Day 17
Day 18
Day 19
Day 20
Day 21
Day 22
Day 23
Day 24
I will also have two stories in two pretty huge anthologies in 2011. More on that when the time is right.
If you haven't followed The Vessel of Terror Xmas calender on the Facebook page, here are the first 12 days:
December 1st
December 2nd
December 3rd
December 4th
December 5th
December 6th
December 7th
December 8th
December 9th
December 10th
December 11th
December 12th
Join the Facebook fanpage to follow the countdown to the 24th!
Dødsengel (which I am sporadically involved in) have just released two new offerings. A 7" EP named Ecstatic Horror, which includes the two spells "Axis Mundi" and "Unchained and Reborn", and Alongside Choronzon, a 10" EP including the four tracks "Contra Mundi", "Vi, Templa Diaboli" (written by me), "Of Kali, of Seth, of Satan!" and "The City of Pyramids".
"Leave the job behind, they said. Don't take it home with you." - Lieutenant Mike, Bug City Police Department.
Now, it's been a while. A long, stretched out while. Life offline always gets in the way, doesn't it?
But things have kept rolling behind the curtains. As always. A large new project is underway. And I've teamed up with fellow writer Michael DeShane to wake this beast from its slumber in the idea world. More on this massive project when the stars are aligned and the time is right.
The Vessel of Terror is soon ready to take aboard passengers. A few more repairs and pit stops and we're there. A short little peek at some of the lines in issue three:
And here's a whole page from the a thrilling insect noir me and Laszlo Seber is putting together, starring Lt. Mike. The buzz will soon be on! (Click for larger version!)
Until next time, which won't take so long (and that's a promise), take control!
My space comedy is featured in the second issue of Pulp Empire (Metahuman Press/Nicholas Ahlhelm). If you like a raunchy race in space, go check it out here:
Support the Empire by buying the book over at Lulu! Also availiable as a digital download for just under $5!
- COMICS - At the moment I'm in collaboration with several artist on several short stories for different anthologies. Stories about the book of love, a fly cop, a little girl destroying the universe and such. I'll keep you posted once things are on a roll.
Nidaros 2042 is also back on its feet. More to come, soon!
To round off, here's a few teasers from The Vessel of Terror. We've just begun on issue three and things are looking as sinister as ever. In a good way!
Some news from the madness aboard the vessel. We've finished the first issue, called The Catch. Just a few tweaks left and we're ready. We've also concluded the second issue, called The Arrival on the pencil and ink side. Only colour and lettering remaining.
We've had some changes in the crew, as well. Fabulous Jeremy Robert, who coloured the first issue had to be let loose. Not enough hours a day to commit fully to join us on the vessel any further. Therefore we had to find another explorer of colours, so joining us now for the second issue and furthermore is Goran Kostadinoski. Check out more of his work here: http://comic-coloring.deviantart.com/
Here follows a few teasers from the second issue, The Arrival:
For more news and teasers about The Vessel of Terror, go check out the TVOT-page on Facebook.
Until next time, si monvmentvm reqvires, circvmspice!
I've been a bit slow on the updates lately. Been a bit to organize regarding some comics and everyday life. Now, I was going to post my latest story, but the story will be featured in Pulp Empire soon, so I'll leave the surprise till then.
Now, untill next time you all should check out the animation movie 9 by Shane Acker. The story's decent, the character's alright. But the sheer creative fun and hilarious gadgets in the movie are a blast to watch. Watch it!
With immense speed I rush through sights I’d never imagined in my deepest dreams. This spacescape of violent colours, sparkling fireworks, lush shapes and magnificent formations. A mist of mists. The Roma Nebula.
I sit in my seat, which I ripped off its station socket a long time ago and placed right in front of the huge tinted glass, and look out into the different hues and shapes. I’m not sure how long I’ve been sitting there. One hour, eight hours. It doesn’t matter anyway out here. Spread out on the floor around me are plenty of empty wrappings, cans, half eaten nutrition bars, bowls with vitamin cereals, snacks and water bottles. Since I’m alone, there’s more than enough food for this last of journeys. I guess I’m content here I sit, drifting towards the black wall. I never figured out what kept me going, and lately I haven’t bothered trying.
The first months after the killing I drowned in self-deterioration; blaming Evelyn, myself, questioning everything, looking for answers I never found. I reckon they wouldn’t have satisfied me, anyway. Filthy, sick and tired I wandered the Choronzon like a ghost, seeing things belonging to dreams. Weak and scared I would spend days never leaving my bunk, the lights on. Sometimes I woke someplace else on the ship and, with the feeling someone was behind me, hurried back to my quarters. Suddenly one day, or night - is there any difference? - I was at the control panel in the Pit for no apparent reason, and discovered that the ship had been picking up great speed the last couple of days. I didn’t think the gravitational forces of the singularity would pick at the vessel this early, and scanning the sector revealed a huge sun not far off, also heading for the black wall. The star’s gravity probably pulled at the ship, since I could find no other plausible explanation. Later I named the star Sol, to remind me of home. Finding some kind of answer for once, pulled me out of my zombie-like ways, and as I peered out through the huge glass in the Pit, and saw this great sun, with the same destination as myself and Choronzon I smiled for the first time since Mira left my quarters that day, and I cried, not trying to stop the tears. In all my self-deterioration I was never really awake, and hadn’t noticed this star, so close I now could see its surface textures, so close it lit the Pit through the tinted glass and panels with a warm green glow. Only then did I realise that I was on the outskirts of the nebula, and all around me there were colours from another world.
I yawn, rubbing my newly shaven jaw, not really feeling tired at all. My buddy Sol is dying. Half of its mass has already passed the event horizon, the rim on the visible side blazing fierce. All around us the nebula, its suns, gasses and particles crash into the immense wall, stretching further than I can imagine. I am the only one to see this, I realise, somewhat saddened, yet pleased by the thought. If my calculations are correct I have about two hours till impact. I get up and start cleaning the floor. I place the food back in the kitchen, dispose of the litter and head for the cargo hold to do some workout.
Four months have passed since my minor epiphany, where I suddenly started taking care of the Choronzon and myself, leaping out of the slow decay of everything around me and in me. Right after the killing I had placed and bagged every body next to the Pytheacon crew. During my months of carelessness every Sleeper had died, except the young woman. Of the sixteen bodies in the cargo hold, only one chest was moving in slow rhythm. Somehow she had some life left in her. She looked skeletal and inhuman as I began feeding her again, but after some weeks she had rejuvenated nicely, though still her torpid state persisted. The first week after she had regained her weight and vitality I tried numerous things to wake her, wanting someone to talk to, to share the amazing sights with, but nothing had worked. I even carried her up to the Pit, so that we could watch all the activity outside together. After some days and tedious one-way conversations I felt stupid, and took her back to the cargo hold. I gave up trying to wake her, making myself realise that I was on my own now. At least I had my buddy Sol close by.
A couple of months passed, or maybe three, and I kept the vessel clean, worked out, read everything I could find in the databases, tried every recipe in the kitchen terminal, snapped photos of the spectacular nebula and Sol, fed the sleeping woman and made modifications wherever I could on the ship. Sometime during these days I disposed of all the other crew members, both mine and the Pytheacon’s. I had placed them in the air lock exit and released them, one by one. Giving them up to space. I had hesitated with both Mira and Evelyn, but eventually they drifted out among the others. The young woman, still alive and breathing, I carried out into the air lock last. I sat there for almost an hour, caressing her face, speaking words I’ve forgotten now. Whatever meaning they carried, they really didn’t matter. Nothing did. I wasn’t crying as I pulled the release lever, seeing her body rise behind the panel, freeze and drift slowly away from the Choronzon. Her eyes were still halfway open as space took her life. I had taken two lives, but like me, they were already dead in a sense. I stood there for a while, watching all of them. People I’ve known well and people who were complete strangers, floating away into a backdrop of a thousand colours.
I sit down in my seat, placing a bottle of water next to me. My hair is still wet from the shower I had, and I smell fresh with cologne. I correct my uniform and tighten my shoelaces, while glancing at the Mv9 pistol lying next to me on the steel-grated floor, wanting to check it again. I resist, knowing it is loaded.
“Just in case. Just in case,” I whisper, breathing out with excitement.
I’ve shut down almost every system on the ship, except the air and gravity controls, the panel tint controls and the lighting. The Pit is silent, except for a few instruments beeping vaguely. I peer out, trying to perceive where the wall actually is. Where I will be swallowed by the event horizon. It’s hard to tell. Should be some minutes left, I guess, taking a sip of the water bottle. I sit there for a long time, looking around, gazing out in every direction. The nebula and all its colours, all around, are soothing. I wonder if it will be an instantaneous death, or slow and wretched. With our speed I reckon it’ll be fast. I remember the worm and the excitement back then. I had never imagined the journey to end like this.
“Should have stayed behind,” I smile.
My star seems to be struggling against the powers of the singularity, sucking at the massive orb. Burning gas tongues lash out, and if the Choronzon had been any closer my friend had probably been my doom. I take another sip from the bottle, feeling restless. Taking deep breaths I try to calm myself. All these forces, so beyond me, are thrilling, and I feel sweat coming.
I’m about to get up and walk around to release some tension when suddenly I notice something odd. A shape is drifting into view in front of Sol, black as space itself. I freeze, leaned back, just staring at it. The shape seems to turn slowly. I mumble something as I get up and slowly approach the huge glass. With its bird-like shape I’m certain it’s another vessel. I touch the cool glass, mouth open, staring perplexed. I rub my eyes, not trusting them. They haven’t deceived me.
“Here…” I wave slowly, not sure what to do.
A rapid flash of lights, like a pattern, and the shape is gone. I peer out intently, searching. Nothing. I lean my head on the glass, the cool surface easing the feeling of helplessness now growing. What for a brief moment felt like hope, now feels like the end. I look out at my sun, its glow warming my face.
“Here we go, buddy…”
The Choronzon starts shivering, more and more violently. It is time and I smile bitterly. We sure found frontiers. My head aches with countless questions before there’s a fierce jolt hitting my body and everything snaps blank.
And thus the journey of the Choronzon ends. For now.
CHORONZON: INTO THE VAST INTO UNKNOWN SPACE - fragment five –
I am dead. A sun is burning behind me through the tinted massive glass. I stand up straight, bewildered, numb.
The words come at me in cascades like snow, but before my brain interprets them, they melt. Her voice melts together with the low humming of the fuel cells and the radio static. My senses subside. I can only see memories. Memories of home, of sun piercing through curtains to reach my bed, of the I.C. meeting, of friends waving goodbye. Clear memories of the first day onboard the Choronzon. Sunshine and introductions, laughter and anticipations. The ship shudders, piercing through my memories. My senses emerge again. The radio static increases and Evelyn’s sobbing words become screams. She’s still aiming the Mv9 pistol at me, shaking.
“... was me,” her voice turns into muttering. I close my eyes and open them slowly, looking at the blood red floor. Mira’s body is lying in front of me. Shot dead. My silhouette is hovering over her, like some alien hero. Who came too late.
Ten minutes ago. Mira kissed me tenderly on the lips and left my quarters. The last thing I saw was her smile before the door slid back. A smile that kept me going. I put on my suit and checked the mirror. Same as usual, but I hadn’t had a shave in two days, and my facial hair added a certain darkness to my face.
In the cargo hold I was checking up on the Pytheacon crew, their features had slowly turned skeletal with the lack of proper intravenous nutrition. Suddenly I heard gunshots, echoing through the steel-grated corridors. I tried contacting the Pit. No answer. The radio cut off into constant static. I hurried up the corridors to the Pit. More gunshots echoed down towards me. I stormed into the room. Mira was on the floor. I checked her pulse, trying to constrain my erupting pain. Nothing. I looked up into a smoking Mv9 muzzle and Evelyn. I gazed around at the five other bodies scattered in the sunlit room.
“What the fuck are you doing... what the h...!?” my voice trembling.
Now. The terminal attention lamps are whirling, red and alarming.
“Do not push that button!” I threaten.
My voice overwhelms the room, silences her muttering and conquers the engine hum and the radio static.
I repeat. “Do NOT push that button!”
Evelyn is in tears, looking at me with sad, yet angry eyes. She tries to speak, but chokes on her words. She pushes the button. The fuel cell indicator bars drop rapidly on the screen together with the dying hum of the engine. My gaze falls back down on Mira as my fists clench. I can no longer control my rage.
I hurl towards Evelyn and the gun, but she pulls the trigger in reflex before I reach her. A spray of blood hangs in the air behind me as the bullet pierces through my left neck muscle. I end up crashing into the terminal, just missing her right arm. She dashes towards the corridor, sending two more bullets at me, shattering into the terminal right next to my head. I can barely feel the pain pulsating from the wound in my shoulder as I get on my feet and dash after her. I don’t know what I’m screaming as I chase after her down the corridor. She reaches Section 2 and hammers the door button, but I’m fast enough and bolt through the doorway before it closes. Now I’m too close for her to turn around and use the gun and she knows it, running down corridor B, screaming desperately. She takes a left to the parallel corridor A, but doesn’t realise I’m actually not behind her. She hits corridor A and takes a right and is about to pass the next intersection, but I slam into her from the left, deliberately. We both fly and crash hard on the steel grates and she loses the grip on the Mv9. In my rage I feel no pain and quickly fumble after the gun. Before she manages to get up I drag her by the hair, slamming her into the corridor wall, sticking the gun in her face and gripping her throat with my other hand.
“Please... please. I think I did...” her voice is almost breaking in the choking sobs. “...it, I’m so sorry.”
My rage lets go, like something in her voice is the trigger. Everything dawns on me in a rush and my head aches and pain comes like heartbeats from the neck wound. No more fuel. The rest of the crew dead. Mira gone. Tears are running down Evelyn’s face. I close my eyes and let go of her throat. We’ve all been dead long ago. I try to catch my breath, looking for answers in her eyes.
“Should have stayed behind,” she tries to smile, and I reach out to wipe away her tears. We lean close and kiss. As the kiss ends I lower the gun and fire two shots into her chest. The echoes fade out. Evelyn looks at me in silent content as her life wanders off into unknown space. The smoking gun clatters on the steel grate. Her body sinks and I fall to my knees next to her. I stay with her till she dies.
Silence. No engine hum. Just Choronzon and me.
So ends the fifth part of the tumult in space. The sixth, and final, will be up in a short week. Thanks for reading!
