by john | Jul 9, 2009 | Fiction, The Chosen
As we headed out onto Broadway the streets were starting to fill. It was about 10 o’clock, and all the bars had their acts going. We meandered through the throngs of humanity until we got almost all the way back to the car. I had just started to think that we had made it through one whole city without anything stupid happening when Emily’s cell phone rang. She looked down at it, gave a puzzled look, and answered it.
“Yeah, mom? What’s up? Oh no.” I might only be able to hear one side of the conversation but it didn’t sound like I was going to like the outcome. “Alright, we’re almost at the car, we’ll be there as quick as we can. What? Yeah. We found him. What? What about my tone? Nothing, alright. Geez, we’ll be there in a few minutes.” She blushed a little as she hung up the phone and looked at it like it knew something it had no right to know.
“What’s up?” I asked. Em snapped back to the present and looked up at me.
“Oh. Um, well, we need to go.” She said.
“We’re on our way. Is there someplace in particular other than the hotel that we need to go to? And is there something that I should probably know about that you’re trying not to tell me?
“Well, it seems like there’s a bit of trouble at a biker bar just out of town.”
“Really? And who exactly is involved in this trouble, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“Eve. And Cain. And by extension, I guess, my Mom.” The first two surprised me not at all, and the third didn’t really surprise me, but the quickening of my pulse when she said Myra was in trouble was a bit of a surprise.
“Well, let’s get a move on. And why don’t you try a little explaining as we roll.” We got into the car and she gave me the address. I punched it into Myra’s GPS and saw that it would take us about fifteen minutes to get there.
“Well, nothing’s happened yet. Exactly. But Mom seems to think there’s a good chance that a big fight is about to break out, and that Eve and Cain might be in the middle of it.”
“In the middle of it or the cause of it?” I asked.
“She didn’t say, but I guess we could figure, based on past experience, that it’s probably the latter.”
“Excuse me?” Sidney piped up from the back seat where he and Michael had been listening.
“Yeah, Sid. What is it?” I asked.
“Um, Sidney. Please. I really don’t like to be called Sid.” He replied.
“Build a bridge.” I told him.
“Excuse me?”
“Build a bridge. It’s what we use to get over it. Now what do you want?”
“Um, did you say Cain? As in…” he trailed off. I think he was really starting to get an idea of exactly what was going on.
“Yeah, Cain. As in my second son. As in the founder of fratricide. As in really, really old and oughta know better than to get into bar fights with rednecks when you’re hopelessly outnumbered and there are people around who aren’t immortal. But his mother is a bad influence sometimes, so it’s not all his fault.”
“Um, his mother?” The kid was starting to look a little green. I couldn’t tell if he was getting carsick after drinking or if the enormity of the situation was just now sinking in. I guess it’s all well and good to sit in a bar and talk to a guy who says he’s Adam, but when you start throwing the rest of the Fig Leaf Brigade into the mix it can be a little much for most normal folks. Even normal folks with faces like pincushions and arms that looked like comic books.
“Yeah. His mother. Remember Eve, the weak one who took the apple? She’s not such the wilting flower as your little novel there makes her out to be, and she has a bad habit of starting fights in bars.”
“Now in her defense, Dad, she didn’t start the thing in New Orleans.” Emily chimed in.
“Okay, I’ll give you that one. But still, she has a history of starting fights that goes all the way back to Troy.”
“Troy?”
“Yeah, you remember Troy, right? Paris, Menelaus, big horse? Ring any bells?” I said.
“Yeah, but what does that have to do with Eve?” Emily still looked confused.
“There wasn’t a Helen. Eve was Helen. She was married to Menelaus, got bored, and ran off with Paris. Menelaus got pissed, called his brother Agamemnon and they besieged Troy for a decade or so. Eventually that whole thing with the horse happened and Troy was pretty well screwed. By that time Eve was wandering around Egypt hanging with one of the Ramseses, I forget which one.” I explained.
“Oh.” Emily was quiet for a few minutes, but then piped up with “There’s her truck.” Sure enough, that shitty old Ford was parked in front of what had to be the seediest looking bar within a hundred miles. Eve really knew how to pick ‘em. There were about two dozen bikes out front, mostly Harleys with the occasional Triumph or Indian mixed in. No BMWs or Ducatis here, and definitely no crotch-rockets. These were big, growling machines that were made to eat up the road and announce their coming from a mile or more away. There were a couple of muscle cars parked here and there, and a good dozen trucks with rifles in the gun racks scattered around the parking lot. Depending on how many people Eve had managed to piss off, this could be challenging.
by john | Jul 8, 2009 | Fiction, The Chosen
“So, what do I do?” He asked after he downed a shot of firewater to fortify himself. “Do I have to fight a horde of unbelievers? Do I have to martyr myself for my beliefs? Do I have to sacrifice my eldest son, because I don’t have any kids, but I could have some if I need to.” I reached across the table and put my hand on his shoulder.
“Okay, kid, calm down. We’re not fighting any hordes, at least I hope not. And nobody’s martyring anybody or sacrificing anybody for any beliefs. At least not that we know of. Let’s just take a step back and recap. How much do you know about what got me and Eve kicked out of the Garden?”
“Well, I know that Eve was tempted by the serpent that was Satan, and that she was weak, and succumbed to the temptation of the serpent, and that because of the weakness of Eve all mankind has suffered…what’s so funny?” Even Michael was having a hard time stifling his laughter, and Michael didn’t really have a sense of humor. I was laughing too hard, so I just motioned for Emily to explain it to the kid.
“You see, it wasn’t quite like that, and since we all know Eve, hearing her described as weak was just, well, it’s pretty funny.” Em started.
“Yeah, and you don’t want to let her hear that version of events. Because she’s packing.” I finished.
“Well, that’s what happened! It says so right here in the…” After a second the kid realized that since he was sitting with what historians refer to as source material, he might want to think a bit before he told me what had happened. “This is going to take some getting used to.” He finished lamely.
“Yeah, it’s like that at first. Just imagine how fucked up it is to find out he’s your dad.” I know Em was trying to commiserate, but I wasn’t sure I liked the method.
“Okay, so it was like this. Eve made a Choice to take the fruit and bring it to me. And all through history there have been choices. Some have been big, deciding to invade Poland, like writing the Magna Charta, like pulling the sword out of the stone. And some choices have been small, like deciding to put the top down on the limo in Dallas, like picking the right horse for Paul Revere to ride, like deciding to go see a play at Ford’s Theatre. Those are small choices, with big consequences. But every once in a while there comes along a capital “c” Choice. The kind of choice that you know will alter the course of humanity for a long time to come. That’s the kind of Choice we’re talking about. Like when Eve took the fruit from Lucky,”
“Lucky?”
“Just go with it. Like taking the fruit from Lucky, Like Abel letting Cain kill him, like the Carpenter going with the soldiers in the garden at Gethsemane. Those Choices that you know when you’re making them will impact people for a long, long time after you make it. That’s what we’re coming up on right now, another Choice. The first one in probably a few hundred years, if not longer. And you’re the guy.”
“What do you mean, I’m the guy? What guy?” His voice had gotten a little high-pitched and thready, so I knew he understood what I meant. I decided that this would be a stupid time to start sugar-coating anything, so I just went right back to the sledgehammer.
“You’re the one who has to Choose.”
“What am I Choosing?” His eyes had gotten big, and he looked a little like a rabbit staring at a .22 rifle.
“We don’t know yet, we just know you’re the one who has to Choose. And the rest of the world will have to live with your Choice.”
“Sidney,” Michael moved in to try and soothe the frightened kid. “We know this is a lot to take in all at once, but you are very important to us, and to the world. We need you, Sidney. Will you come with us? Will you make the Choice?” There was weight in the angel’s words, and I could tell by the look on the kid’s face that he knew that if he said yes, he was committing to something a lot bigger than standing on a street corner singing psalms and trying to teach the Lord’s Prayer to a couple of drunks.
He sat there for a long moment, and I was glad to see he was taking some time with the idea. Taking on the fate of the world isn’t something that should be done lightly, even if you’re a little drunk. After a couple of minutes he sat up, finished off his beer, and looked me in the eye. “I’m in. Whatever it is my Lord has planned for me I will do to the best of my ability. I will serve Him however He requires.”
Yup, true believers are a pain in the ass.
I waved the waitress over for the check and Em went to the bathroom while I settled up. We figured we’d head back to the motel for the night and head out in the morning. Michael hadn’t yet deigned to share with us our next destination, telling me “all things in time” in that tone that made me want to punch him in the face again. But I restrained myself in light of our new addition and his potentially sensitive views on violence. And I didn’t want the angel bleeding all over the back seat of Myra’s Civic.
by john | Jul 7, 2009 | Comics, Vampires
Obviously I haven’t abandoned Choices, but this might be the beginnings of something else entirely. Let me know what you think. I’ve never written for the graphic novel genre before, but you know, there really is a first time for everything. If any artist-types out there wanted to do up a sample page or two and chat about collaboration, that would be kinda cool…
UNTITLED VAMPIRE THING
P. 1 Four panels. Top left. Black frame. Text box – Being a vampire sucks.
Top right. Exterior of a crypt. Text box – That wasn’t a pun, puns suck more.
Bottom right. Rear view – thin figure standing on top of crypt, long cape swirling around, classic vampire look. Text box – I’ve been a vampire for 20 years now, so I should know.
Bottom left. Rear over shoulder view of figure – looking at lone cute 20-something girl walking through cemetery. Text box – You think it’s gonna be neat, flying, sucking blood, turning into bats…
P.2 – Full Page – Front view of geeky kid in a long poncho (what looked like a cape from the rear. He’s a skinny kid, kinda like a love child of Wesley Crusher and Anthony Michael Hall from sixteen candles, with Buddy Holly’s glasses. He’s obviously cold, wet and uncomfortable, and obviously in lust with the girl. You can probably see a little fang.
Text box – but when you’re a sixteen-year old vampire, and stuck at sixteen forever, it just sucks.
P.3 – Five panels – Two on top, one page-width panel in center, then two on bottom.
Panel 1 shows same kid clumping down stairs, maybe just show a pair of Converse Chucks squelching down stone steps. There should be an extension cord running along the steps.
Panel 2 shows an arm hanging the poncho up on a coat rack. Voice from out of panel says “Dude, you better get a towel. I do NOT want to bust my ass going up the stairs for dinner tonight.”
Panel 3 is wide center panel, it opens up into the crypt interior, which is outfitted with a ratty sofa, two coffins in a corner, a fridge in another corner, several floor lamps and a big TV. There’s another kid about the same age and relative geek level sitting on the sofa playing a video game on the TV. Maybe he’s a fat kid or a different variety of geek in some way. He says “Come check this out, I’m about to beat Ganon!”
Panel 4 shows kid sitting down on couch, looking less than impressed. “Dude, you’ve been playing that game since we were in ninth grade. And alive. Haven’t you defeated Ganon yet?”
Panel 5 looks over sofa as kid loses game and yells “DAMMIT!” Text box – This is my friend Wilson. Wilson Floyd Johnson, Jr. You think middle school was fun for him? Oh yeah, he’s dead too.”
by john | Jul 4, 2009 | Fiction, The Chosen
So I’ve finished the first draft of the whole thing, and now all I have to do is upload it to you, my faithful readers. All three of ya :). Enjoy, and thanks for reading!
“Alright kid, let’s start with the basics. What’s your name?” I said.
“Sidney. Sidney Joseph McEwen.”
“Alright, Sid,”
“Sidney. I don’t answer to Sid.” This kid was really going to irritate me. I could tell.
“Sidney, then. Sidney, how much do you know about the book of Genesis?” I figured that I may as well uncork the heavy stuff right off the bat.
“The book of Genesis is where we learn the origins of man, his dominion over women and all the beasts of the field, and…”
“Wait a minute, kid. Where did you get that stuff about dominion over women?” I interrupted.
“It’s clearly stated in Genesis that Eve was given unto Adam to be his mate and his servant, as were all the beasts of the kingdom.” Wow. Junior was gonna have some issues when he met Eve.
“Ok. Let’s start right there. Nobody ever gave anybody dominion over anybody else, and Eve was never anybody’s servant, I promise.” Emily had started to look pretty grumpy about the whole “servant” thing, but she settled back into the booth as I corrected the kid’s misconceptions.
“I’m sorry, sir. I don’t mean to disrespect my elders, but are you really qualified to question the written Word of God the Father? I have dedicated my life to the study of the Bible, and I daresay I know the Book a little better than the average man on the street.” Okay, he’d brought out the smug. It as time to play a little rough.
I reached forward and grabbed his lip ring and pulled him close enough to feel my breath on his nose. “Listen, pincushion. A couple of points here. One: nobody under the age of fifty uses the word ‘daresay,’ especially not in a bar in Tennessee. Two: if you’re going to measure peckers, you’d better make sure you’re not whipping it out next to John Holmes. I’m not the average man on the street, and while I haven’t really dedicated much of my life to studying the Book, I’ve got more than a passing familiarity with the book of Genesis. Mostly because I. Was. Fucking. There.” I gave his ring a twist with each of the last few words for emphasis. When I let go of his mouth he bounced back to the booth and looked to Michael like he wanted to bolt, but the angel just smiled at him.
“I think you should listen to Adam, Sidney.” Michael finished his second beer and waved the waitress over. He motioned for another round, and Sid took the high road and polished off his drink.
“So. Let’s work from a point of common agreement: you don’t know shit about the book of Genesis, and probably not much more about the rest of that book you’ve been thumping on. So I’ll start at the beginning, or at least as much of it as I remember. A long time ago, there was a guy alone in a Garden. It was a nice garden, if a little boring with no one to talk to. Then one day, this chick appeared, and things got a lot more interesting. After a while with just the guy and the chick, the normal things happened and there were some more people. Then there was a snake, an apple, a really bad afternoon, a couple of brothers, a big rock, another really bad afternoon, and then the rest of the world happened. You with me so far?” The kid just sat there, looking at me like I was going to bite him, which I supposed was probably fair. I had meant to scare him a little, and maybe I got a bit out of hand. But he annoyed me, okay?
“Adam, let me try.” Michael began, but Emily jumped in before either of us could say another word.
“Sid, here’s the deal. This guy is Adam. That Adam. The whole Adam and Eve thing? He’s half of that dynamic duo. The blond guy next to you with the rapidly fading British accent? He’s the Archangel Michael, although he’s tucked away the flaming sword for the time being. We’re tying to save the world, and Michael says that you’re going to be very important to that. So are you in?” She certainly did have a way of cutting through all the bullshit.
“Um, if he’s…and he’s…” the kid pointed to me and Michael in turn “then…who…what are you?” He looked almost afraid of Emily’s answer.
“I’m his daughter, but otherwise I’m just a waitress from Texas who has been known to consort with the wrong crowd.” She pointed at me and took a swig of her beer. “And seriously, Dad, PBR? I’m sure they have import beers, even in this redneck shithole.”
“Just keepin’ it real, baby girl. Just keepin’ it real.” I watched the kid for trouble signs, but he just sat there, processing.
After a minute, the kid reached out, drained his beer, and waved the waitress over. When she got to the booth, he said “Four Gentleman Jack, two ice cubes. And another round of PBRs.” All of a sudden, the kid was a trained professional. He might be okay, after all. When she brought the drinks back, he slid a highball glass in front of each of us and raised his in a salute. “To saving the world” he said as he tossed back his drink and chased it with a beer.
by john | Jul 2, 2009 | Fiction, The Chosen
We’re getting close. I’m at 55,000 words and I think we’re getting close to the final confrontations. Should be done in another 10,000 words or so. So if I can stay on pace, that would be next week sometime. But then it’ll be another week or so of uploading.
I found a parking deck just off Broadway, because I figured if a street preacher was worth his salt, he’d hang out at one of the dens of iniquities that made up the redneck street of dreams. There were enough sins committed against the memories of mamas, pickup trucks, dogs and trains in a three-block stretch of downtown Nashville to make Lucky blush, so I figured it was just a matter of time before we found our guy.
Sometimes I take being right to a whole new level. We’d walked a couple of blocks when a body came flying out of a bar almost directly on top of us. A kid landed flat on his ass up against a newspaper box while a couple of neckless bouncers glared at us like they needed a little more ass to kick while another guy came out from inside the club and threw a Bible at the kid’s head. Michael leaned down and caught The Book before it could hit the ground, and handed it to the kid.
“Thanks. This was my dad’s. I’d hate for anything to happen to it. I guess they don’t really mean it when they call it an open mike night.” He just lay there on the sidewalk, leaning his head on the newspaper box like it was something that happened every night. Hell, for all I knew, it did happen every night.
“Why? What happened?” Emily looked all kinds of concerned for the kid, which immediately set of the Daddy warning bells in my head. The kid looked like ten miles of bad road, with a pierced lip and eyebrow, more hardware in his ears than Emily, Eve and Myra combined, a couple of armfuls of tattoos, and a T-shirt that said, in big jagged letters “Jesus Rocks” on the front. He wore jeans that looked like they’d been torn more from getting thrown out of bars than from work, and pair of scuffed Chuck Taylors on his feet. I hated his guts a little, I thought.
“I signed up for a slot on the open mike list, and when my time came, I took the chance to speak the word of the Lord to those gathered. The proprietors took some exception to my version of the open mike performance, and I was asked to leave. When I objected, well, you saw the results.” He sounded a little like Michael. I definitely hated his guts a little. Then I looked over at Emily again, and I saw a little glassy look in her eyes. Shit. She was smitten. Things only got worse when I looked at Michael, who was grinning like a cat with a mouthful of feathers. Shit.
“You gotta be kidding me.” I said to the angel.
“No, Adam. This is who we’re looking for. This young man is the Chosen. I can feel it.” Michael looked like he was about to wet himself. Emily looked like she was head over heels in puppy love, and I’m sure I looked like I’d just swallowed something rotten. I was gonna need a drink or ten to deal with this one.
“Alright, Junior. Get up, come with me and keep your mouth shut.” I reached down for the kid and hauled him to his feet. I put an arm around his shoulders and steered him halfway down the block into another bar. The bouncer gave me a look that said “If I hear one syllable of proselytizing, I’m gonna toss you out on your ass.” Ok, the bouncer probably didn’t actually think the word proselytizing; I might be giving him a little too much credit. Either way, I led Junior to a booth in the back and ordered four PBRs. We sat there in silence until our beers arrived, along with our cohorts.
“I’m sorry, sir. I don’t allow alcohol to enter the sanctuary of my body.”
“Jesus turned water into wine. Now sit there and drink.” I was not in the mood for this, but it looked like I was going to have a conversation on faith and fact with a true believer. True believers give me gas.
Michael and Emily joined us in the booth, with Emily sitting next to me to better observe the tattooed and pierced messiah-in-training, and grabbed their drinks. Michael made a face at the beer, but after a look from me he wisely refrained from comment. I drained the first PBR in a long pull and motioned for the waitress to bring another round.
“Sir, I must insist. The body is a temple and I must honor my almighty Father by keeping it pure.” Junior was starting to wind me up a little, so I leaned forward and made sure I had his undivided attention.
“Look, kid. I’m gonna drink my next beer like I’m on a mission, which I am. Then I’m gonna nurse my third one while Michael and I tell you a little story. And I can pretty much guaran-damn-tee you that you’ll accept what we’ve got to tell you a little better if you’ve had a little booze to grease the mental wheels.” About then my second beer showed up, and I did indeed swallow it down with a certain intensity. I dropped the empty on the waitress’ tray before she had finished unloading the other three, and motioned for her to bring me another. “This time I promise to take my time, hon.” She gave me a little flounce of her cutoff shorts and headed back to the bar.
Junior looked from Michael to me and back again, studiously avoiding meeting Emily’s gaze. I was fine with that. I wasn’t interested in any budding puppy love, especially if he really was important to the “mission” we were on. When my third beer got there, I started talking.
