The Missing Life at pif Magazine

Sins of the Future

Now on Amazon: Halloween Drabbles

A magazine has accepted one of my stories, of course they are not a paying market. Details when they give me some. http://www.pifmagazine.com/2015/11/the-missing-life/

Last October we released an anthology called Sins of the Past. This year we decided to release an anthology called Sins of the Future. Every story is set years into the future where anything is possible, from self-driving cars to aliens taking over the world. Each story is unique in its own light because each author took their own views of the future and twisted it to become the stories that are featured in Sins of the Future that is set to release October 31, 2015. Sins of the Future features:
They by Jackie Pitchford
In the Driving Lane by Misha Burnett
Highly Strung by Stephen Blake
Add Green Sauce by Matt Lovell
The Verge by R.L. Andrew
The Man with Bio degradable Skin by Angela Garratt
The Nyghtmare Machine by Don Miskel
Kitty by Boyd Miles
Mercury's Kiss by Jen Ponce
Graduation Day by Chasity Nicole
Malfeasance by Kerry E.B. Black
Return to Sigma Seven by C. Lloyd Brill
Doris by Debbie Manber Kupfer
Looking through Different Eyes by Steven Soul
The Day Everything Went Still by Leticia Toraci
Now that you know all the stories and authors featured in this amazing, futuristic anthology and you know when it's to be released, it's time for the big cover reveal.



Our cover was created by the wonderful Cleve Sylcox who was an author in Sins of the Past.

The Verge by R.L. Andrew 'Sebastian is torn between the only life he's ever known and freedom. Mission after deadly mission Sebastian struggles against his bonds, gathering strength to fight the ultimate battle; for his soul.'

I have two drabbles in this and my son has one. Spooky Halloween Drabbles 2015

The Man with Bio degradable Skin by Angela Garratt "No longer do we test on animals in labs."

 

Highly Strung by Stephen Blake

'Are all those who do evil things evil? Or are they having their strings pulled by dark forces? Joe sees the truth of it. Only he wishes he couldn't.'

Graduation Day by Chasity Nicole

'Graduation Day is supposed to be the greatest day of a teenagers life. You graduate high school and embark on a journey to college and into adulthood. But, sometimes what is supposed do happen on Graduation Day doesn't happen. Sometimes, your life takes a horrible turn and you never know what your future was supposed to behold.'

In the Driving Lane by Misha Burnett

They said that everything was perfectly safe. They said that nothing could go wrong. They lied.

Banner Ads

Five more or so and the cover, hope to have an Amazon link to go with the cover but it might not be published yet. I need to write some more flash contest stuff but today, if it warms up, I need to build a book shelf.

The Day Everything Went Still by Leticia Toraci

'Helena wakes up in a still world. She seems to have survived fatal drug-resistant pneumonia, even if she was dying the night before. She was then used to the idea of dying in a world taken to chaos by most of its population getting ill with fatal diseases. In this new world she can't see dead bodies on the street, the supermarkets aren't pilfered and she can't see living humans around her house. To which world has she awaken to?'

Malfeasance by Kerry E.B. Black

'In a future age, information is uploaded directly into computing systems within people. This efficient access eliminates the need for books. When Winnie finds a mysterious tome, she’s fascinated. She smuggles it to show her friend, Joan, but Joan recoils. Winnie embraces archaic knowledge and discovers some information is better left unshared.'

They by Jackie Pitchford

In the near future They arrive and our world is changed forever, this is one persons journey through that change.

The Nyghtmare Machine by Don Miskel

The future ain't what it used to be and technology can sometimes open the WRONG types of doors. A crime scene cleanup specialist discovers that his worst dreams come true in The Nyghtmare Machine.

Doris by Debbie Manber Kupfer

'Good help is so hard to find, but today with the Vacuu-Droid 3000 series all your household worries are over - or have they only just begun?'

Return to Sigma 7 by C. Lloyd Brill

Drabbles

A drabble is a short work of fiction of around one hundred words in length, not necessarily including the title. The purpose of the drabble is brevity, testing the author's ability to express interesting and meaningful ideas in a confined space. -- Wikipedia The definition from Wikipedia is pretty much to normal rule, 100 words not including the title, no more no less. They are a fun writing challenge. Now why am I mentioning this writing form? Well, I have drabbles coming soon in two different collections, in one collection my son Henry also has one. Details will be revealed soon.

Kitty by Boyd Miles

'Science without ethics creates a new underclass. Forced into slums they create a society both dependent upon and victimized by mankind. What makes you an animal, what makes you human?'

...Add Green Sauce by Matt Lovell

"Todd likes green sauce - maybe a bit too much ..."

Looking Through Different Eyes by Steven Soul

"Edd is willing to do anything to save his planet."

Mercury's Kiss by Jen Ponce

Polidori Corporation, the world's largest provider of innovative robotics for home and office, is proud to introduce the latest addition to their Personal Assistant Robot family: James. James is the first Passbot to combine home maintenance with security. State-of-the-art A.I. allows James to monitor your family's day-to-day activities so he can better serve your every need, all the while keeping your family and home safe.

"With the introduction of James to our Passbot line, Polidori Corp really takes the lead in both the personal assistant robotics sector and the home security sector," said Craig Polidori, CEO of Polidori Corporation. "Our Passbots are powerful, low-maintenance, and perfectly suited for use in a family environment. We have consistently met and exceeded the Robotics Safety Commission's strict standards of safety and performance.

"We are constantly looking to expand out Passbot line, and we're willing to do whatever it takes to fulfill our customer's needs."

So I have a story in two soon to be published collections, Spooky Halloween Drabbles 2015 and a much longer story in Sins of the Future.

Just got word that both my son, Henry, and I will have micro stories in the 2015 Spooky Drabbles collection published by these people: http://www.salgado-reyes.com/

Ten Legged Tales
 I Have a new story out, actually got published on 9/15 but the publisher didn't let us lowly authors know until today.

Massacre Magazine - Issue 7
My son has a story in this issue, Henry A Miles, writer of very dark horror.

I hadn't done a Mid-Week Blues Buster for some time, here is one.

Eva Called

by Boyd Miles

Eva was watching the gas pump suck her bank account dry. Refilling her tank so she could put more miles between herself and the man she had fallen for. Cassidy had been her first true love, sure she had had flings, stands, dates, hook ups, wild nights but never had she fallen in love. She had fallen hard.

Car filled, bank account no longer so, Eva got behind the wheel of her old Dodge Neon and aimed herself toward the interstate. In the corner of the lot stood a vanishing icon, an aluminum and glass box with a folding door. When had she last seen a phone booth? She backed the car away from the road and parked by the booth.

Long minutes in the sun, her windows rolled down, dust and noise from the passing trucks filled her beat up car. Her few belongings gathering a layer of desert sand while she just stared at the booth waiting for the decision to be made.

At last she opened her door and walked to the phone booth with all the change she could find in her ashtray and under the floor mats. She fed the black and chrome phone all she had and dialed the number she had written on a scrap of paper. It would have been easier to use a cellphone but she had left that behind, she didn't want to risk having him call her. She didn't want to risk him not calling her either. Three rings and his voice mail answered.

"I had to call, I had to say why." She hesitated, there would be a long section of muffled road noise on the message. "It is the moon, I love you but the moon." She knew this sounded crazy. "The sky is beautiful, blue and clear...... look, I did it for you, the moon, the moon is full and I.....I change. I love you, I can't help it. Goodbye."

Eva got back in the car, cried for a time, started the engine and drove on, deeper into the desert.

Cassidy's phone chimed to announce the presence of a new voice mail. That and the buzzing of flies were the only noise in the blood splattered apartment. Eva had left one night too late.

             end

There will be news soon, title, link and such.

In Defense of the Unnamed Character
by Boyd Miles


Any basic bit of writing advice tells you to name your characters. A name allows the reader to identify with and care about the boring bits of life the character must suffer through for the rest of the story. You can even find advice on how to pick the "perfect name". I say screw that.
Leave your character nameless when telling the story and the reader is forced to identify with them. The character and the reader become one, the action is happening to you not some guy name Bob that you have never met and could care less about. So when his wife dumps him for a troupe of Chinese acrobats the reader gets to feel the pain, not just go, "Dumbassed Bob's wife left him, good for her." The reader can dislike Bob, feel sorry for Bob or worse yet not care about Bob. But if you have cleverly sucked the reader into the story of the nameless person that they can see as themselves then they do begin to care. It becomes, "I can't believe she left me for a troupe of Chinese acrobats. What did I do to deserve that?" Then you tell them what they did to deserve that and how they got their revenge. Lead them around by the nose for a bit and show them the error of their ways if you want or show them how they got the better end of the stick. Whatever you want them to feel you can make them feel, about themselves not some schmuck named Bob.
Once the character has a name they are fixed, a being, unique and alive. Unnamed they can be projected, inward or out. The reader can become the character or the character can become, "I knew this guy in school, I hated him." Some people can't see themselves at all but they can see others in a story, let them enjoy the misery you are inflicting upon the character by allowing them to name them after somebody in their own life.
I know the above is going to be the worst bit of advice ever and any time you use it your story will go unpublished and unread. That's the way it is in the world. Editors like names, readers like names, nobody wants to have to think. Play it safe, name everybody and if it is science fiction or fantasy make sure the name can't be pronounced, you see that a lot so it must be the right way to do it.
Spin the wheel of characters, plug them into the plot, don't experiment, you will do just fine.

Ceilings

"You never listen to me," Amanda screamed at Jim once again. She screamed this often and he ignored her just as often. "I don't care what the neighbors think, let them call the police, assholes," her rant continued. "You make me sick, just lie there, just stay in the damn bed you lazy bastard."

Amanda raged out of the room slamming the door behind. A dust bunny ran across the floor like a tiny grey tumbleweed. She stomped it as it ran by, offending her by its presence. "Bastard won't even sweep the floor," she muttered. "When are you going to clean up this damn mess?" she yelled at the walls as she walked away.

Lying in her bed looking at the bright sunny sky painted on her ceiling Amanda imagined the clouds floating by. The painted birds soared and she felt the cool wind in her hair. Here in her room life was perfect, her refuge, her oasis. On the walls were trees and mountains, a vision of a country side she had only seen in pictures. It was the most real thing in her life and the most precious.

"I made breakfast, are you getting up?" Amanda said with a mix of concern and challenge. Slashing the eggs with the spatula 'scrambled' hardly described the results. "These are the last of the eggs until somebody goes to the store so get up now before they dry out." "Well, screw you then, bastard. I'll eat them myself. I will, I'm not bluffing." Jim didn't answer. "You missed your chance, you want eggs now you make them yourself."

Amanda put her dish in the sink, it was Jim's job to wash them. "When the hell are you going to wash the dishes? I can't take much more of your lying around not doing your part." Amanda said, each word more shrill than the last. "Asshole," she muttered before stomping off to her room.

The birds sang, bees buzzed and a soft breeze fluttered the painted leaves on her walls. Clouds sailed overhead, birds flew across her ceiling in the bright sunlight. All was well in the world.

It was late, the kitchen light was off, the darkness improved the appearance. The sink overflowed with dirty dishes and the stove was caked with spilled food. Amanda was a sloppy cook, a habit formed by always having somebody to clean up after her. She thought about getting something to eat but decided it wasn't worth the bother. The refrigerator was nearly empty, somebody, Jim, needed to do some shopping. She went back to bed.

In the dark the sky on her ceiling had glowing stars, 'should have a moon,' she grumbled to herself as she did every night. She lay there looking at the twinkling stars, an owl hooted in a distant corner of her mind.

Outside the wind blew up a dust devil, swirling ashes of civilization. Jim was lying in his bed, his empty eye sockets stared at the ceiling. 

end

for:  https://thetsuruokafiles.wordpress.com/2015/05/05/mid-week-blues-buster-week-2-49/

 http://lilliemcferrin.com/five-sentence-fiction-departure/

She was finally free, there would be outpatient secessions but she was free. A new life started today.

The air was crisp and a cold wind buffeted her at the airport as she dashed from the taxi to the terminal. She had her ticket to Aspen gripped in her shaking hand.

The ski lift awaited.

I haven't done any of the flash fiction posts for some time, did this one for Mid-Week Blues-Buster Week 2.48:

Club Night

Robby was late and broke. Jean would be waiting at the club, Robby just knew she was there early and blaming him for waiting in the rain. The rain fell just hard enough to get you wet but not enough to seek shelter. A summer rain, the moon was full and gave the alley light. The kind of rain that happened when the sun was shining, the kind the old folks back in the country called "the Devil beating his wife."

The music from the club bounced off the brick walls in the maze of alleys, Robby ran them like a prize rat, his shoes splashed in the filthy puddles. Shoes like he had never worn at home, home, that place would never be home again, he was at home, the city was home. In his city home he wore shoes for how they looked not for how they held up in the mud. The pointy toes reminded him of his father's cowboy boots, boots that Robby had shined every Saturday afternoon for years.

The music from the club was nearing, more distinct, less echos. Robby was nearing the scene he would soon be having on the street with Jean. The moment approached when he would have to tell her he didn't have enough money to get them in much less enough to buy drinks. His pace slowed, the rain stayed the same.

Robby turned another corner, nearly there, this alley, a turn and then a straight shot to the club. The moon's glow, the music and his internal compass guided him. Next to a dumpster stood a man facing the damp brick wall, adding more wetness. The urine stench in the alley wasn't going to get any worse for one more and the rain was sure not going to wash it away. The bricks were saturated, the alley got more use than the facilities in the club. The man wore a white jacket and in the moonlight it almost glowed in its whiteness. Robby saw the man was unsteady, unaware, alone.

The moon glinted on Robby's knife. The rain fell in the alley. The music seemed to soften as Robby began to hear his own heartbeat. Robby's shoe splashed in the filthy puddle of rain water and beer scented urine. The man stood there swaying, white jacket glowing. Robby struck, lower back, twice, three times in rapid forceful blows. The knife in his hand dripped black in the moonlight as the man fell wordlessly to the pavement. A moment to find the wallet, a moment to pull out the cash and another to throw the empty wallet into the dumpster.

Robby wiped his hands on the wet, white jacket. The white glow of the jacket dimmed from the stains. Blood, urine, alley water. Robby pushed the dumpster over the body. In the dark it wouldn't be seen, in the rain no blood pools would be noticed, in the alley no odors would betray.

"Hey Jean, been waiting long?" Robby handed the doorman a bill and he let the couple into the club. The music covered the sound of Robby's beating heart.

Got around to reading the Novopulp 2 anthology. I am humbled and proud to be a part of this collection. There wasn't a bad story in the collection, or at least one I didn't like. A couple of them ended leaving me wanting more. Layout and formatting errors were almost non existent, very well edited. Nice art throughout and the quality of the writing is outstanding. I don't know why there are not any reviews on Amazon for this.

My son wrote a story for a themed anthology. The editor who had created the world that is the setting had gone over the story and the problems and issues had been worked out. The publisher over road the editor and demanded a total rewrite that would change just about every aspect of the story and would require a change in the writing style. I don't think the story is going to be in the anthology.

New Anthology Published

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00TCO6TEG

I have a story in it so buy a copy, read and review.

Photos Elsewhere

Some of my photography can be seen here: http://1179miles.deviantart.com/