I Always Wanted One of Those!

Fearless Reader have you ever had one of these days?

Today, well I guess yesterday now that it is Saturday according to the clock, was halloween dress up day for the office and being a young guy of twenty I am still frustrated at not being able to grow a respectable, mustache, goatee or beard.
I mean how will any team I like win in the playoffs without my beard for support? But I digress, I was an 80's punk with rolled up shirt sleeves and aviators and smokes rolled up in my t-shirt. I had to pencil in a goatee with eye-liner. And the sad part is, from a distance it looked good and people who didn't know me were fooled.
I heard "Oh that really suits you." And of course my beloved Miss McGoo described it in one word; "Hot."
It was one of those days where I wished I had a real goatee. One of those days where something you really want seems like it's there but it just isn't you know? My old man rocked a wicked goatee for a number of years! It has since vacated his facial region but still, I gotta have the genes for that right?
Needless to say my chin will be cold this winter, as always, without the insulation of some facial hair to keep the wind off it on those nasty Canadian days.

Make your beards live long and prosper (unless you're female...in which case please don't grow a beard. Seriously nothing more nasty than a woman with facial hair!)

Miss McGoo, I love you

A Zombie Killer with a Heart

Every pretty lady deserves to go to a ball. It's true. So when I was presented with the opportunity to attend such an event in Niagra Falls tomorrow I naturally jumped at ensuring I could go. I am taking with me said pretty lady and I guess it's time I reveal another side of myself to you Fearless Reader (although you may be a fearful reader, but I promised I won't get too mushy).
I've been dating this girl for about 1o months and I guess the need to give her credit and the spotlight is overwhelming. They say behind every great man is a great woman and although I question whether I am a great man I know I have a great woman. She's been an inspiration to me over the last couple of months and was an incredible listener as I was struggling with not writing, then deciding I was going to blog again, and then deciding I was going to seriously pursue writing. She's got the patience of a saint and the insight of a professor.
If my own deliberations fail me then I have this supremely intelligent girl to talk to and bounce ideas off of. I wouldn't be writing this right now if not for her. She's the kind of person that makes you feel so good about yourself that you realize you CAN do anything. I know with her help I will acheive my goals and for that I am thankful. I am blessed and undeserving of the gift that is her love which she has given to me unconditionally.
She's recently been extremely helpful with my in progress story entitled Fortes Fortuna Adiuvat which I will reveal is a four part story. She's helped me become happy with the first two parts and the third is now underway and should be here for your viewing (dis)pleasure sometime in the next two weeks.
I hope I haven't tested your patience too much tonight Fearless Reader and I hope you don't think any less of my resolve when Z-Day rolls around! I just had to go there tonight;
Miss McGoo, I love you

Erasebook

Tonight I decided to finally remove my Facebook page. I haven't been on in months and I haven't used it regularly in over a year so it was time for it to go. I imagine that you will not have had the experience of deleting a facebook page before so let me tell you the story of mine.
I tried to load the screen once and my computer mysteriously froze. As in my COMPUTER...not just the window or program. I had to physically turn off the unit. This is not something that has happened to me before. So is it coincidence that I get a little bit farther when I log back on and my computer crashes again as my mouse hovers ever closer to that 'deactivate' button? I think not! But remember, this is coming from the guy who is telling you how to survive the Zompacalypse, always consider your source Fearless Reader. And for those of you who just went, "What in the hell is a Zompacalypse?" please consult my post entitled "Z-Day."
So I managed on the third attempt to hit the deactivate button, where I was then prompted to enter my password.
I was then prompted to end the 'hidden' code in the blotchy picture.
I was then consulted as to whether I was certain and was shown pictures of my 'friends' and notified that they would miss me.
I was then asked why I was deactivating my account and when I told Facebook I found it useless, it suggested ways for me to find it more useful.
When I assured Facebook that I was sure I wanted to deactivate it kicked me out. No confirmation, no verification, didn't even to offer to cook me breakfast.
It was an ordeal I just had to share with you, however as I type this I am a Facebook free man, in high school it was a self made label that said "Social Pariah" but to me right now it seems like a great choice. After all, if we were friends, I would ask you how your day was, invite you to my party, let you know when something interesting happened and generally gave a shit about your life.
So to you Facebook I bid you adieu. And in response to your comically long and horribly lame deactivation 'oh-my-god-that-was-a-pain-in-the-ass' deactivation nightmare...
SUCK IT!

Fortes Fortuna Adiuvat II

Part Two: The Morning


The call to arms sounded just after sun up. Larcius rubbed the sleep from his eyes but he was already slipping on the heavy leather kilt and armoured belt before the second call went out ten seconds later. He pulled the tunic over his head and began working on putting on his grieves and arm guards when a knock came at his door.
"Enter," he said gruffly as he continued to do up the straps on his armour. The night-watch sergeant stepped into his quarters, a short and somewhat small Serb the man was named Boian. "Three men sir, approaching on horseback. Moving slow and showing signs of battle, they are definately some of ours Commander," Boian said.
"I will be with you presently Boian, please send a squad to open the gate for these men," Larcius instructed as he saw Ruffus move into his quarters to do up his chestplate, the final piece of his armour. As Ruffus began to work on tightening the straps, Larcius remained silent.
"Thank you Ruffus, now, let's go see what the excitement is all about shall we?"
They both left Larcius' quarters and moved at a brisk pace to the platform built beside the wall so they could look out over the field in front of the fort. The place was buzzing with activity as three hundred and fifty foot soldiers readied themselves for combat. His battle group was one hundred legionnaires and fifty archers in support as auxilaries. The other two infantry groups were commanded by his two senior lieutenants, Ruffus being one and the other a gruff Serb named Viktor. Viktor was stalking towards them as well and saluted as he approached.
"Commander my men are equipped and ready for battle," he said smartly with a thick accent.
"Viktor let us pray it does not come to that, come with me gentlemen let's take a look," Larcius said taking the steps quickly, they again groaned in protest at his bulk.
The blank stares amoung the soldiers who were on the watch duty fell upon their commander. Larcius spotted the three men quickly, they were moving very slowly, within four hundred feet from the gate. His dark brown eyes squinted to better see the men moving towards them, the sun was at his back and he thought he recognized all three faces although battered and bloodied they were.
"Zombii..." One of the Slavic men whispered a little more loudly than he'd thought as he hissed it out with a sharp breath.
Larcius snapped his head towards the man and was about to scold him when Ruffus tapped his shoulder and pointed back towards the three men. One was jerking violently and was actually attempting to grab one of his companions from his horse.
"What the hell," Ruffus said.
Viktor leaned forward to whisper to Larcius and Larcius twisted his head to provide a better angle and as he looked over his shoulder he saw the stable master, Dragan, standing amoungst the gathered troops, he clutched an aged sword, longer than the short sword worn on the hip by the legionnaires and there was a fire in his eyes.
"That man is no fool, those horsemen could be zombii-" Viktor could say no more as the flailing horseman finally grabbed hold of his exhausted victim and pulled him to the ground roughly from the saddle. This startled the third horse and the rider seemed to wake somewhat and he kept the horse moving towards the fort at a good pace.
There were three archers on the wall, they immediately began fumbling for arrows from their quivers. At this distance they would do little good, these men were by no means highly skilled archers and there was no sense in firing at both men.
"Hold," Larcius barked.
"They couldn't get a kill shot anyway Commander," Viktor said. This remark only earned a silent look from Larcius.
There couldn't possibly be anything to merit this folly of zombii. It was a myth and a superstition handed down to each generation to scare obedience into poorly behaved children.
"Stay here, I'm taking a squad out there," Larcius said. He pushed past his lieutenants and walked down the creaking stairs. His personal guard, a squad of ten men stood waiting for him.
"Dragan could you please fetch a horse for me," he said meeting the old man's stare. Dragan shuffled off in the direction of the stables, still clutching the old cavalry sword in his hand.
Pacing over to the squad he instructed them to secure the third rider and make sure his injuries were attended to. Dragan had lead his horse over by the time his instructions were dealt the the wooden gate stood open with the lone rider nearly to the fort.
Heaving himself onto the back of the horse he kicked it forward, Viktor and Ruffus stared down at him and he felt their eyes on him as he left the fort. He passed the third rider on the field, the man was barely able to lift his head to meet Larcius' eyes. He recognized the young man as a promising young Roman named Marcus. Marcus' appearance was ragged, his helmet was missing from his head and his fighting dagger was the only weapon he appeared to still possess. His dark skin was covered in dirt from the road which was caked with blood and sweat as well from what had obviously been a laborious fight. There was scratch marks down his cheeks and arm as though a jealous lover had taken her wrath out upon him. There seemed to be a large bite mark on his bicep, it was not a bite from any animal Larcius knew. It looked like a man had taken a piece of his arm away with that bite. The arm hung loosely by his side and his head rolled to look up at Larcius.
"They are not men anymore Commander, nor shall I be for much longer if they have both turned. Kill me, please Commander kill me. I must have my head severed from my neck, please I beg you. I cannot become one of -" there was an odd groaning noise from deep inside the young man and his body began to convulse. He fell awkwardly from his horses' back and Larcius could hear the snap of his neck as his head struck the ground.
Larcius leapt down from his horse, calling to his squad to hurry to his side. He rolled Marcus onto his back and he continued to convulse, making that odd noise in his chest. His eyes weren't moving however, they remained mostly closed nor did he appear to be breathing, just as well as his neck bone was protruding from his neck. Larcius leaned back on his haunches and looked up at the faces of his men. Marcus finally lay still and when Larcius looked down on him again he noticed that the dead man's eyes were now completely open, and darting around in a rapid pattern.
"By the gods," Larcius whispered.
One of his squad members stepped forward and prodded the dead man's side with the end of his pilum, the javelin carried by all foot soldiers of the legion.
"He's moved on this one, " he said as he pushed a second time against Marcus' side but this time what had been Marcus rolled over and bit the legionnaire right on the ankle through his sandal.
"Fucker!" the man shouted and he brought his shield smashing down on the zombii's head, again and again until there was little left. Larcius could hardly believe it but there was no point in denying it now. He felt a terrible sinking feeling in his gut as dread poured into him as he considered their chances of survival is this was a tool of war unleashed upon them. He had to assume all of his light cavalry had been turned as well...and that they were coming this way.
"Can you walk and fight?" Larcius asked the man who had taken the bite.
"I think so sir," he said bravely. When they met eyes it was clear what the legionnaire intended to do. Larcius nodded his consent. The legionnaire turned round and the other two zombii's were approaching, within one hundred yards of their current position. Larcius turned to see Ruffus and Viktor, side by side on the wall looking out at he and his squad. Both faces looked completely drained of colour.
The legionnaire clenched a fist to his chest and nodded to the men around him saluting his squad members for what would be the last time.
Turning towards the zombii's he taunted, "Alright you bastards, let's have it now," and he stalked forward until he was within twenty feet of them. The legionnaire cocked back his arm and threw his pilum with the strength and accuracy of a veteran and professional soldier and it struck the lead zombii square in the chest, a killing blow for a man however this seemed to only knock the creature to it's back from the momentum of the pilum, carrying through it's body. Larcius could see the zombii's head and arms still moving, attempting to reach out to a victim that just wasn't there. The legionnaire advanced on the second zombii, hitting it with his shield, it stumbled and again with the ease of a man of arms he stepped forward with a striking blow across the arm that reached out for him. The razor sharp short sword severed the arm cleanly at the elbow and the man carried the momentum of that strike through to a second slash across the neck. The head fell from it's body and there ceased to be activity from that body. Larcius watched with grim satisfaction as the struggling zombii trapped with the pilum buried in it's chest was dispatched as the trooper smashed his shield onto it's skull.
"Inside, all of you and take my horse," Larcius ordered the rest of the squad as they marched back into the fort.
"What's your name soldier?" He asked the legionnaire.
"Jovinus Orcta Silvanus, Commander I know what you must do but promise me something first Commander," Jovinus said, his brown eyes alight and burning with passion.
"What can I do?" Larcius asked.
"If you survive what is to come and you make it back to Aquincum to report to the Legate what happened here look for the house with the long green banner out front. It is down the street from the Legate's headquarters and is where I lived with my wife and son, it is her fathers old house. My wife, Alexa, will be there minding the place and my seven year old boy will be there as well. Tell her I died in service to my Emperor and that I shall wait for her on the other side," tears were in his eyes as he knelt before his Commander.
"I shall tell them you died with honour, a soldier's death," Larcius said. He stood behind the legionnaire and placed his gladius at the base of the neck, he brought the blade up and pushed it through his neck. Completely severing the spine and major arteries from reaching the brain, it would be a sufficient wound to prevent the man from turning into a zombii.
Larcius carried the body back into the fort with him.
"We shall burn his body tonight upon a pyre," he said as the gates closed behind him.
"Commander," Ruffus called from the battlements, "he won't be the only one...take a look at this."
The early morning sun had risen sufficiently to give the field before the fort a large dose of sunlight and along the beaten path the three men had come this morning there tracked a large body of slow moving men. Very large. And they were not men, it was an army, an army of zombii.

Fortes Fortuna Adiuvat I

Part One: The Night

It was a lonely post, and boring too, Larcius thought as he saluted with a clenched fist to his breast as the men stationed for first watch took their places on the wall. He waited while the men took their places and nodded as their sergeant got them arranged in their places and he trusted the man to maintain the watchfulness of the men under his command.
Larcius moved down the wooden stairs and each stepped creaked under his weight, he stood half a head taller than most men, was muscled from a life of constant training and action and was weighed down by his full armour and weapons.
They had spent the last month building the fort, it was an attempt to expand the boundaries of the empire's Pannonian border. Located fifteen miles from the city and fort at Aquincum this fort was surrounded by a heavy forest and many Slavic villages. The villages populations were made up of Serbs and Croats, barbarians who were mostly passive unless their land was taken away, this unlike the Germanic tribes who oft invaded in large parties and fought pitched battles with legions of Roman soldiers. Larcius had once served on that border but a misjudgment in battle had landed him halfway across the empire to a province who had but one stationed legion.
For the last hundred years the Slavic tribes of this region had been pounded into subservience and most were content with moving away from the ever expanding border of the empire.
Larcius moved towards his quarters, tonight he would sit alone and write his weekly report to be taken to the Legate of the II Adiutrix legion. It was in the Legate's lavish office where he was told he was to take a band of misfits and auxiliaries 15 miles from the border and establish a fort for future occupation. He would have five centuries under his command, one and a half cavalry and three and a half foot. With this he would routinely patrol the surrounding area and protect the fort while it was constructed by the army of workers who would accompany them.
And so far they had far exceeded their original expectations. By the first week he had surveyed the walls and they were almost completely in place with a ditch dug around the entire perimeter and by the third week oversaw the erecting of the barracks, stables, officer's quarters and the mess hall. They were now into their sixth week and all the men were beginning to dull with the routine of inaction. He had sent the cavarly on a patrol east to west this morning and they ought to return within the next two hours before nightfall.
He passed some men and continued on without socializing or inspecting their work if they were not off-duty. He was nither in the mood for banter or criticism. His friend and lieutenant Ruffus was approaching with a broad smile on his face.
"Larcius old friend, please tell me you aren't going to turn me down for a game of dice," he moved in closer and lowered his voice, "we need to talk, now. In private."
The words made it an order but the tone of his voice was something different, Larcius could sense a nervousness and fear in his lieutenants voice. Fear was not a typical tone to hear from Ruffus and as such it threw Larcius off kilter.
"I would never dream of it Ruffus," Larcius responded as they stepped into his quarters and closed the door behind them. His quarter's was a small hut constructed of wood with just two small rooms. He moved into the open bedroom and began to remove his armour and weapons.
"Speak Ruffus," was all he said and he removed his helmet and began working on the buckles of his chestplate.
Ruffus was looking out of one of the windows and removed his own helmet, placing it on the spartan table and pulled back a chair to sit on. He ran his hand through his dark hair and moved down to scratch the beginnings of the beard that had started to grow in the last couple days. Larcius' own head was completely shaven and he paused after removing the chestplate to look out the doorway of his bedroom at his old friend.
Looking up Ruffus managed an odd smile and got up again and looked out the window.
"I overheard a few of my men talking while they worked today. They spoke of a dark evil from long ago, of an affliction that makes men look dead but somehow they are still alive. They said they have seen omen's that do not bode well for us. I know what you're thinking but these are men who I know have fought and killed men before, this is not the idle chatter of adolescent boys. It rattled me the way they spoke of these creatures."
"Ruffus they are superstitous and the stories you have heard warrent no merit or concern. Why should you be so affected? We are not going to be attacked by invincible creatures from hell, I ought to send you up on the wall for the night watch for bringing such talk to me as though we are about to have a mutiny on our hands," Larcuis retorted. Completely shed of his armour, save for his thick leather kilt he removed his dirty, sweaty tunic and grabbed a new one from his clothing chest.
"Wine?" he asked as he walked past Ruffus and grabed a wineskin from a seperate chest and without waiting for an answer placed two glasses on the table.
"Please. I don't know how to respond to you Larcius. You know me not to be a fright or a gossip but the way the men spoke..." Ruffus said no further as he raised the glass to his lips and took a very long sip.
Looking down at the table in front of him Larcius thought for a moment more before speaking again. His intial reaction had been disbelief, now he was bordering on anger.
"Perhaps it has been too long a day and the work too mundane. Tonight we shall dine with the men and perhaps their spirits shall be lifted," he said biting back the sharp words he thought of unleashing upon his old friend.
"Very good sir," was all Ruffus said in reply.

That night most of the men, save for the one and a half centuries who were either on guard or would take up the other half of the night watch ate and drank their rations of salted pork and wine together. There was a forced labour to the conversation for those men who were Serbs or Croats which was about half the men. These men had primarily served as auxilaries to the II Adiutrix and were easily replaced amoung the population of Aquincum. When it reached three hours after sundown and the night began to take on a slight chill most men had already found their bunks. Ruffus was no where to be seen and Larcius left the party of officers to continue their conversation of women and feats of valor to check in with the stable master.
He could not recall during their dinner nor after hearing the cavalry come back from patrol. The stable master was an old Slav by the name of Dragan. He entered the larger of the two stables where Dragan had actually made his home only to find it abandoned. It was a bright night, the moon nearly full and he strained his eyes trying to pierce the darkness.
"No one is going to come back Commander," Dragan said, the voice coming from the darkest corner of the stable.
"Who do you speak of Dragan? I have come to inquire after the cavalry, you have received no word from Fronto?" Larcius asked, speaking of the lieutenant of his cavalry detachment.
"No sir, nor do I suspect we will. There have been bad omen's of late, first the men found a dead hawk outside the gate this morning," Dragan spoke softly.
"Surely you don't expect me to be bothered with this," Larcius said, a little more than frustrated, as he turned to leave Dragan spoke again.
"The bird was an albino, this is a very bad sign amoung my people. Also the carpenters hauled in a dead tree today, this tree was black, black as the darkest night I have ever seen. There has been other signs, death is descending upon this place."
"So we are all to die then? Am I to wake up tomorrow in the underworld? Shall I pack some coins with which to bring the ferryman?" This was said with more than a little sarcasm.
"No. What I meant was the dead descend upon us. The living dead. The only way to kill such a creature is decapitation. Cut the legs out from under it and it will pull itself along the ground towards you. It's the biting that turns you. A bite will turn a man in under an hour into one of those things. I saw one once, when I was a very young boy. A man, or what we thought was a man, came into our village. He had vicious bite marks on his arms and shoulders and barely had the strength to walk let alone wield the bloody sword he carried. He spoke of a terror that wiped out his family, slow moving but relentless, pressing and ever pressing against the gates until they broke. He thought he had made it safe from his village but ran into a group not a mile from our town. He had tried to kill the wretched beasts but was taken from behind. He warned us off, warned us they were coming. He had my father cut his head from his shoulders without flinching or any fear. He feared becoming one of them more than certain death. That Commander Larcius is what decends upon us." Dragan was shaking and his eyes were closed, reliving his story.
"Dragan that story may work to prevent your children from running away but it will not keep me awake this night. You are lucky no one is around, I would have to have you punished if you spoke in such a way in front of the men. I am to be notified immediatly upon the return of our cavalry, they have obviously camped for the night and will return in the morrow." Larcius turned and stalked off to his quarters, fuming with frustration over the sudden superstition that the men seemed to have adopted because of the number of times the wind blew and the colouring of dead plants and animals.
He stepped into his dark quarters and by memory took the five paces to his bedside and removed his clothing and was in his bed sleeping within minutes.

Great Works & Works in Progress

Reading is one of my favourite pastimes, it has been for a number of years. I think it's probably a motivation for why I write. Reading is very important to me and I think it's important for everyone to do, it's definintely necessary for any writer to do.

For me I associate certain times of my life with books that I read at the time (I do the same with music too) and it seems I spend every summer reading a series. I don't know how this started but it is a trend that began a couple of years ago.

Currently I'm reading a great series by Naomi Novik, the story follows Captain Will Laurence and his dragon Temeraire. It is based in fantasty but when read feels more like historical fiction than anything else. It's definitely a good read and I always like to advertise a good book (or books!) when I come across one (or them!).

I have decided that I will be entering some writing contests next year. What will likely happen is I will post the bits of the story as they come to me on this blog. Partly because I need to write somewhere and I like to have the posts on here to keep you reading and because I wouldn't mind some comments on what is good, what is bad and any other thoughts on what I've posted. Once I know what contests I will be entering I will know what kind of stories I will be writing, although I do have a couple ideas that I was hoping would become more clear to me so I can write about something other than well; writing.

Fearless Reader I promised you I was back and I am. I am more serious than ever and there will be some serious writing, not just blog posts headed your way shortly. Until then though I hope that you don't mind reading my blog. I certainly enjoy writing it.

Don't let your guard down!

War and Peace

One of the things that brought me back to writing was a card. Whenever I receive a card be it christmas, birthday, erotic love poems or otherwise I put them into the same drawer in my room.

Every couple years I clean out this drawer as it gets full, recently (just after my birthday) I grabbed all the cards and put them on the floor and got rid of lots of them. I held onto a few, those that stirred me when I read them again and the rest went into the trash. One such card was for winning a poetry contest back in Grade 12 at my high school. There was a contest on who could write the best Remembrance Day poem and a teacher of mine (one of my earliest and biggest fans) said I should enter.

Now poetry is not my thing, this is probably one of ten poems I have ever written in my life and certainly the only one I am happy with. I guess there are too many amateur poets out there and I have read too many bad poems that all said the same thing to be interested in writing them. Don't take that as a knock against poetry because I do love reading a truly good poem, however a lot of the new material I encounter is crap. Straight up. With all of this in mind, Remembrance Day and patriotism are two things that are important to me and this was at probably the most creative time of my life so I tried my hand at a poem.

I am about to share that poem with you Fearless Reader but first let me finish my story about 'the card.' I entered this poem into the contest and it won. When my family had heard the news they did something special for me, they did some writing of their own, in a card and their words inspired me. I know that no matter what, I will always have some Fearless Reader's out there and that warms my heart. But it is truly special to receive comments and especially positive feedback from your loved ones about something that is near and dear to you. I re-read that card not long ago, it was one of the things that has brought me back from the dead. Now here is the poem as promised, I hope you enjoy it.

War and Peace

The dust has settled, and the smoke has cleared,

the fires have been extinguished, and the rubble has been removed,

the buildings are rebuilt, and the crops resown.

Is this peace?

Because our cities aren't in ruin?

Because our sons aren't off to war?

Because our houses stand, unravaged by the horrors that we have forgotten?

Has the world really changed that much?

War to peace. Impossible.

Fight to keep peace;

the irony defeats the practicality.

The irony is:

Sublime.

Somewhere, a mother's son is at war,

Somewhere, smoke rises above the smoldering carcass of a town,

Somewhere, a family sleeps in the street because their house no longer stands,

Somewhere, mines lay slumbering and ambushes wait,

Somewhere, there is a war raging.

Tearing a hole in the blanket of peace we thought covered the world.

And as the bullets fly, and the bombs drop, and the sons die.

Somewhere far away from our homes;

we are smug enough, naive enough to believe,

that there is peace.