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Keith Edward English, Wordsmith

Professional site for all Keith's writing adventures, misadventures, and generally whatever the hell he feels like blathering on about.

Game of Gods Prologue

     Gods convened as a final dark figure emerged from the anomaly of light. The spectacle was nauseating, glimpses of limbs and torsos tangling together then being spat out and taking form with each arrival. The portal was a mass of dim, white light that folded in on itself incessantly as if it were smoke billowing from a forest fire.

Despite the several black flames smoldering in the corners, darkness blanketed the room. The odd light dancing around the room from the supernatural flame was scant at best and did nothing more than suggest the corners of the hooded robes covering the figures and the furniture set in the middle of the room.

Black and white ruled this place and the figures inhabiting it would have it no other way. The latest one to arrive sat down with the others and all six chairs around the table were now full. Continue reading “Game of Gods Prologue”

A Snippet from Game of Gods: Ukebrelek Joins the Fight

Deth Uk and the enemy fell quickly. Soon the avenues became choked by corpses and set the living to tripping over limbs and swords. All the streets were occupied by men fighting ’til their final breath.

Ukebrelek’s old body began to move in the steady rhythm of a man anticipating death and murder. The dam that kept his bloodlust in check shattered and he hobbled into the fray. One arm held a staff that kept him up while his other fist gripped a scavenged axe that he swung without grace, but with savage fury.

The old man shouted as he fought, in both anger and pain as his bones and muscles protested each quick step and hard twist. Suddenly, fire erupted across his face as a blade sliced through his left eye, destroying it and opening a large gash from his brow to his jaw. The pain was horrific, paralyzing, and Ukebrelek was only allowed a few seconds to comprehend his ruined vision. His other eye reflexively shut and he groped his face, losing his grip on the staff that kept his feet beneath him. Continue reading “A Snippet from Game of Gods: Ukebrelek Joins the Fight”

A snippet from Game of Gods: Talking of Home

Micale stirred in his cot to Phalax’s left, squinting his eyes as shafts of light spearing from the cracked shutters struck his face. Phalax placed the pad of paper and charcoal pencils he’d been drawing with for the past thirty minutes on the floor next to his chair. A single rose was etched onto the page, one he had replicated many times. “Morning, Micale.”

“Is it now?” Micale grumbled in response. “Already?”

“Eh, it is a little early. But you slept all night long.”

“Can’t I sleep for a week?”

“Some people call that death. I don’t think that would fit you well.”

“Obviously not. At least not with these wizards. My back is sore as all hell thanks to them.”

“Oh, come on. You can’t blame them.”

“No. But it feels better to be a little angry at someone rather than just in pain. Well, now I’m really up thanks to your blathering.” Micale grinned as he pushed himself up to a sitting position. His smile turned into a frown as pain seared his back though.  Continue reading “A snippet from Game of Gods: Talking of Home”

A snippet from Game of Gods: Phalax’s Family

The wizard surfing the skies and raining death down upon the streets looked over his shoulder then signaled the others to move that way. Phalax began, along with the others, managing two feeble steps before he was frozen in place by horror.

Strength fled from him the instant he looked into his son’s eyes. Holris was terrified, pleading for his father to save him. A creature from the depths of hell stood several yards to his side, lanky arms nearly scratching the street with curved, dagger-length claws. This was the thing that had killed Holris, then murdered Felicia, his wife. Continue reading “A snippet from Game of Gods: Phalax’s Family”

Phalax vs. Jayko

Oh, this is a fun one. Phalax, beloved protagonist from Thoughts of Steel against Jayko, demented antagonist from my DZ stories Death Blooms. Enjoy.

Dying a second time was only slightly different than the first. Of course, when Jayko’s soul and mind had become unmoored from his body then, he had immediately filled a new vessel, making his acquaintance with death quite brief, but still no less terrifying. This time, he felt the whirling chaos of fear and confusion clouding his every thought, ripping away his voice, stealing what little control he had over Aerimon’s body, casting him into an abyss. Just as it had before. Only now, it was lasting far longer.

He attempted to scream; nothing came of his efforts. His mind ran rampant through his memories, touching on each one momentarily, mashing many together, shredding others, perverting them to create a gross spectacle of his life. He saw himself suckling his mother’s nipple as a babe, then was suddenly twenty seven years of age. He watched as he dismantled a man strapped to a wall by all manner of leather straps and chains, then took the man’s place as another began to carve into him. He revolted as he made love to Helena, only for Aerimon to appear and guide her mouth toward his manhood, which she joyously accepted.  Continue reading “Phalax vs. Jayko”

The Source

I wrote this following a dream. All I can remember from the dream is that I was standing atop a platform in space and there were three rings floating in the darkness right at the end of the station. One of these rings was sheathed in flame. Thus, the inspiration for the beginning of this story. What followed afterward, is simply of product of my mind without the influence of my dreams. The game Dead Space may have influenced me a bit as well, if I’m being honest. Continue reading “The Source”

I am…

…Lulled into wakefulness by the gentle song of the seagulls, their chorus ringing out over the din of the waves softly caressing the cliff side far below. My eyes slowly crack open and gaze upon the weak sun rays beginning to leap over the horizon, painting the clouds a brilliant orange against a pink backdrop. Continue reading “I am…”

Ricky vs. the Black Knight

Normally, around this time, I’d have a short story for you to gobble up with your viewing spheres. Well, I don’t. Instead, I give you part of the final battle in One Last Vigil (and I’m only allowing you to have a little bit, which forces you to buy the book if you want the rest). Goodness comes both before and after this scene. If you enjoy it, go here.

***

“You don’t fucking know what I’ve been through. You don’t know who you’re fucking with,” I whispered between my teeth. He entered the room and continued his sprint, never slowing even once. I roared with righteous fury, “I’ll fucking kill you!”

He shrieked in response and bounded up the stairs. Then, he was upon me. Continue reading “Ricky vs. the Black Knight”

2 Years Ago

Ricardo Cota Jr. passed away August 30, 2014. I still sit and think about him often. Once the day has gone, and I’ve put in my 8 to 12 hours working, I get a moment to soak in the fact that he is gone, which is still a hard thing to swallow. I keep hoping he’ll just appear somehow and we’ll continue on as though not a single misstep occurred. Normally, when August 30th or his birthday rolls around, I spend some time alone, drinking a beer with an open one set out for him, the wristband with his name engraved on it sitting around the bottle of his beer. This time, I didn’t. Instead, my therapy was the release of One Last Vigil, something so very personal to me and at the same time meant for every single person who has been affected by cancer or another terminal illness in any way. Continue reading “2 Years Ago”

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