A Galaxy Wars Carol Part 1

Originally written in 2003, this was my first Christmas story and is in a dire need of a rewrite. We shall see what 2019 will bring.

***

‘Twas getting late on Christmas Eve, so I left L-Ron in charge of the Key West. I took a big yawn and exited the bridge. Several waitresses hustled passed me by without saying a word, however, one did shout, “Merry Christmas, Cap’n.”

To which I shouted back, “You’re still working tomorrow… lass.”

Minutes later I stopped in front of me room; the door refused to open. I pushed manual button several times, nothing happened to which I cursed, “Oh Pooh.” As I tried to figure out how to end my predicament an image began to form on the door. It slowly formed into a skull; I couldn’t believe me disbelieving eyes. I closed them and shook my salt and pepper head, as I opened them the image was gone and the door flew open.

L-Ron and the boys are having a little fun I surmised and fast as I could I entered the room, where a freshly cooked pizza awaited me. I took a couple of slices and sat down in front of the view screen. It turned itself on as I sat down, the latest Imperial news played; still no news on Commander Tara Wolf.

I shook my head and inhaled the slices. They were washed down by a glass of ice cold root beer. I then leaned back in me chair and flipped off me shoes. I had just shut me tired eyes when I heard what sounded like a chain rattling.

This is going to get on my nerves pretty quick so I opened my eyes and nonchalantly stated, “Ok L-Ron, you’ve had your fun, enough.”

The sound of ice cold chain rattling continued, however; I angrily rose from my chair to find the disobedient robots. The sound grew louder as I neared me private room. I placed my ear on the door to get a better listen to. Alas the sound grew faint, so I entered the room expecting to see the boys up to no good.

The door flew open as I screamed, “Ah Ha!” My index finger blazed the way at nothing, the room was empty. I cautiously entered the vacant room, “Hello?” I timidly asked.

I turned back around at the open door and quickly high tailed it back to the warm room. I sat back down in my chair and tried to close me eyes when I thought I heard someone say me name. I quickly threw the warm blanket over me head and shook like a terrified coward that I was.

My name was weakly repeated; it grew louder with each repeat. Suddenly, the voice took a rich heavy Jamaican accent, “Whitebread Mon.”

I recognized the voice, but it couldn’t be the voice. The man behind the voice had been dead for nearly fifteen years. I slowly pulled the throw off me head. A ghostly apparition soon appeared… my mouth hit the floor in utter disbelief as a mysterious fog slowly formed on the floor. In front of me a specter of me past slowly formed; me old business partner: Bob Marley, in chains. His ‘body’ was completely encompassed with ice cold metal chains attached to two heavy metal boxes on the floor.

“Bob Marley?” I asked dumbfounded.

His chains continued to rattle as he replied, “Whitebread dude,” he stopped and took a hit of something I thought ghosts wouldn’t smoke, “I’ve come to help you.”

“Me?” I asked pulling my head back, “I ought to save you.”

“My chains are from my selfish greedy life; I wear the chains I forged in life,” replied the Jamaican Ghost. “I made it link by link, and yard by yard; I girded it on of my own free will, and of my own free will I wore it. Is its pattern strange to you?”

I began to tremble as he continue to speak “Or would you know,” pursued the Specter, “The weight and length of the strong coil you bear yourself? It was full as heavy and as long as this, fifteen Christmas Eves ago. You have labored on it, since. It is a ponderous chain!”

I glanced around expecting to see fifty or sixty phantoms with iron cables surrounding; but I could see nothing as Marley continued,” However, you bear such a burden, no man has ever bore,” he flatly stated as he put his hands on his chest, in a pleading manner.

I turned around the room looking up as I balked, “Ok L-Ron, you’ve had your fun.”

The specter’s demeanor quickly changed, “You Fool! L-Ron has nothing to do with this! Why do you not believe me?” He stopped and took another hit as the eerie fog continued to rise from the floor.

“I don’t,” I replied as I folded me arms.

“Why do you doubt your senses, Mon?”

“Because,” said me, “A little thing affects them; a slight disorder of the stomach makes them cheats. You may be an undigested bit of cheese pizza, a blot of tomato sauce, a crumb of garlic, a fragment of crust. There's more of gravy than of grave about you, whatever you are!''

As I was about to continue when I heard multiple voices lowly mutter me name; I slowly turned around and gazed out the view port. I wish I hadn’t, I saw an unnumbered amount of chained ghosts floating outside in cold space; all moaning me name. They weren’t holograms; every hair on me neck stood up along with me salt and pepper hair.

I turned my attention back to the floating chained apparition. I slowly asked, “Why me? I can think of several Imperial officers worse than me.”

“There’s still some good in you, Mon,” he softly stated then his voice changed into that of a stern warning, “You will be visited by three spirits tonight. They will show you the way.” As he finished speaking he slowly began to dematerialize. “Remember,” he said as it began to echo.

“WAIT!” I thundered, but it was too late for me; the ghost of Bob Marley was gone.

“BAH!” I bellowed. I ran over to a drawer and pulled out a blaster; if I was going to be visited by three more phantoms….

April 4, 2018 in Photos

Heading into Twilight Chapter 25 Snippet

51 minutes later Crusader squadron was approaching the blanket of Darkness. Gunn lowly whistled, “Wow, I didn’t know it was that immense. It seems to go on forever, like a black wall that stretches to infinity.”

“Yeah,” I replied. “You three hang back. If I my LiDAR doesn’t work, I’ll use my compass and return. Mission will be aborted.” The Crusaders banked away from the Darkness as I raced undaunted towards it.

“Godspeed,” Gunn said as my fighter was swallowed by the Darkness.

“Praise God!” I exclaimed. My bird’s LiDAR was easily slicing through the unnatural Dark. “Crusaders 2, 3, and 4, proceed. I repeat, proceed with mission. Over.”

“ROGER!” Gunn exclaimed with calm exuberance and banked towards the Darkness. “Ospreys, mission is a go. I repeat, mission is a go!” she said before her Crusader was swallowed by the Darkness; Austin and Hawke quickly followed.

The Ospreys were flying NOE (Nap-of-the-earth), flying at a low altitude to avoid detection. “Roger,” Erickson coolly replied, “Proceeding with mission.” She looked up at the Israeli Crusaders that were providing cover for the tilt wing aircraft. “Mission is a go Lieutenant Wolf. I repeat, mission is a go!”

“Acknowledged. We have your six. Over,” Eve stated.

We slipped south of the sleeping armor. 30 clicks away were the supply trucks; I counted about 50. I flipped to thermal and I couldn’t believe my eyes, lots of bodies strewn about but no thermal readings. The supply trucks were sitting unattended, they had been abandoned! I wondered for a moment if this were a trap; I circled a couple of times around and saw nothing.

I still wasn’t convinced. “Flip to thermal,” I ordered.

The squadron lowly whistled at the site. Gunn chimed in, “Reminds me of Gideon.”

“My thoughts exactly, they killed each other in the confusion, much like Gideon.”

“Who’s Gideon?” Ensign Hawke asked.

“He’s a judge from the Bible, but Four, I’ll let Gunn finish the story,” I replied.

“…thanks,” she dryly said as she glared in my direction. She cleared her throat and gave a lesson, “I’ll give you the Cliff notes. Gideon was from the tribe of Manasseh. He was the least of the tribe’s least family. He was hesitant when he was called and asked for two signs. God performed them, God dwindled his army down to 300 men. During a shift change with the Midianite army they broke their pots holding torches. The confused men thought they were being attacked by Israel and killed each other.”

“Oh,” Four answered.

“Good work Gunn, you’ll make a great Sunday School teacher one day,” I retorted and grew serious. “Three, see anything?”

“I’m scanning now, I don’t see anything on the dead bodies except for equipment. No signs of trip wires or traps. But I can’t see any evidence of IED (Improvised Explosive Device),” the junior lieutenant replied.

My anxiety eased a bit, “Osprey 1, Supply trucks are abandoned. I repeat, the trucks are abandoned; not sure if this is a trap. Over.”

“Acknowledged,” Erickson said. “Keep air support in case it is.”

“Wilco.”

The Ospreys landed a few hundred feet from the supply trucks. US Marines wearing night vision goggles scrambled from the birds and rushed to the trucks. They picked a medical truck, they inspected it and saw no signs of booby traps. Two of them climbed aboard and started to unload it. Other Marines broke away and hit another truck. It too was inspected for signs of sabotage; it too passed. A Marine hopped on board and quickly tossed boxes to his buddies. They caught them and rushed back to the waiting Osprey.

About twenty minutes later Erickson’s bird took off, the ensign escorted her out to the Light. Eve escorted her home while Four returned with a MH-53. The MH-53 landed after the other Osprey took off.

I circled high above, keeping a constant watch on my LiDAR. One side of me had a nagging feeling that I would soon see it lighting up like a Christmas tree with multiple contacts; the other was cool, calm, and collected. God was providing for His people as He said he would. A calm assurance came over me, the Crusaders could engage any and all targets in daylight and not be seen, let alone this total darkness.

End Times Story Update

I originally wanted to write a piece debunking the teaching that the Revelation 12 sign was going to occur on September 23, 2017; triggering the Rapture. Every time I attempted to get my thoughts together and jot them down something stopped me. When I did have the time nothing flowed, I couldn’t capture my thoughts. I realized God was saying, “No.” Thus I stopped.

I prayed what to write next, continue my Trigeminal Neuralgia Trilogy with my USN fighter pilot Ryan Wolf or write my fourth installment of the Chronicles of Pumpkindom where my pumpkin character was to exterminate 2016 (A spoof of the New Year’s Eve shows).

A few days later I saw Ryan flying his forward swept wing stealth fighter through a fiery fireball shower. I was a bit taken aback; my character was in the Ezekiel 38 & 39 battle. I thought it odd since he was a Christian. However, I jotted the idea down and left it there to explore at a future date.

I really wanted to write PK Executes 2016, I had a strong outline and was chomping at the bit to get it finished by October. However, something happened along the way. My creativity dried up, the harder I tried outlining or writing, nothing happened. My muse was shot. I couldn’t do anything; looking back I know God turned off my imagination spigot.

Weeks later I was sitting in church, the praise team was leading the singing. I heard an inaudible voice ask, “What about that story?”

I hung my head and replied, “Yes, Lord. I’ll start it.” I felt better but a wave of nervousness washed over me. I know all about the warning Revelation 22: 18-19, not to add or take way from the book. I was apprehensive, but I still proceeded.

I outlined the story, told friends what I was doing; suddenly the apprehension and nervousness turned into excitement. When I started writing the creativity flowed again; God had turned my imagination spigot back on. At times I was overwhelmed with the mighty flow of creativity. I prayed that God would allow the Holy Spirit to bring back the ideas to my mind when the time came. He did; hallelujah!

The story is still untitled; it’s over 23,000 words and has 10 chapters. I’m stopping now, right after the Sixth Seal. I want to relook at my outline and plan out the Seventh Seal through the Sixth Trumpet and pray for more guidance. I have a major battle planned between US Forces; one Israel friendly, the other is aligned with the Anti-Christ. I want to do it justice because Ryan, his squadron, and the crew of the Enterprise (Ford Class Carrier) won’t be able to go home after that.

Lastly, I don’t care if you’re pre-trib, mid-trib, post-trib; I’m not going to throw stones at you because we differ at bit on eschatology. If you don’t believe, I won’t throw stones at you either.

Writing Update

First page of a very rough draft of my writing project. Thank God He's let my muse return!

***

My hazel eyes exploded open. I frantically glanced around the room, keeping my head on my specialized neck pillow. Satisfied that I was still in my bedroom, lying on my side on my own bed and Brooke was sleeping next to me, for I felt her warmth; I relaxed a bit and stared at the Bermuda Bay colored wall.

I lost track of time as I stared away at the teal wall. I finally glanced at the clock, it read 07:59. I didn’t want to startle my wife from her sleep so I got out of bed as slowly as I could, stood and walked into the bathroom with my tail tucked between my legs.

I glanced in the mirror, I looked like garbage. It felt like I hadn’t slept in seven years and my reflection showed it. I turned the cold water on and splashed my face. I looked up and I could see my fiery wife standing behind me. She’s a natural redhead and I could see the smoke rising from her redhair. “What’s going on?” she asked.

“Nothing,” I lied.

“Rubbish luv,” she replied, “You walked in here like your tail was tucked in between your legs and you don’t even have one!”

“I…,” I paused and splashed my face with more cold water.

Brooke wasn’t happy, “What are you doing Ryan? That’s cold water! It could trigger your Trigeminal Neuralgia pain and you’ll spend the rest of the day in bed.”

I stopped and glanced up at my reflection. I blinked as I looked at the couple in the mirror. I hadn’t thought of that, I quickly turned the water off and grabbed a towel. “We’ll talk over breakfast,” I said as I dried my haggard face.

I grabbed a handful of delicious blueberries, natural therapy for my Trigeminal Neuralgia, and placed them in my cereal bowl. I picked up a box of the Sugar Frosted Bombs type cereal and poured a bowl for each of us. I added some 1% milk and sat down at the table as Brooke prepared the rest of breakfast.

She sat down across from me, we held hands and I said Grace. We released hands; I stuck my spoon in my cereal and played with my breakfast as Brooke buttered her toast. My ginger looked up at me, asked, “So what happened?” and took a bite.

I picked up my glass of chocolate milk and took a sip, “I don’t know where to begin.” I sighed and continued, “I don’t know if it was a vision or a dream. It wasn’t dull like a dream nor bright like a vision, it was somewhere in between. It feels like I haven’t slept in seven years.”

“You slept peacefully all night, I didn’t feel you move.” “Really? Even with half my dream in a near constant state of death and destruction?”

Brooke closed her baby blues and nodded her pretty redhead.

New Writing Project

I’ve shelved editing all PK’s three novellas and writing his fourth one. I have also shelved Ryan’s Trigeminal Neuralgia Trilogy as well as his “reboot” story. I’m about to embark on a story that scares the fire out of me.

A few months ago I forget what I was doing, but I saw Ryan, my friendly neighborhood fighter pilot, flying in his F/A-39 Crusader, dodging and weaving fireballs as they fell from heaven. I shook my head and said, “Ezekiel 38 and 39.” I quickly jotted the idea down in my new spiral notebook as not to forget the intriguing idea.

Yes, intriguing and with some trepidation thrown in; this would be a great responsibility to write fiction along with Biblical Prophecy. I took a Daniel/Revelation course at Miami Christian College; I know this wouldn’t be an easy assignment for I know the warning of Revelation 22 and other Biblical ones. I thought about End of Times story off and on, but nothing serious. It became a struggle to write PK, it’s never a hard to thing to write about that fruitcake pumpkin. The harder I tried to write his fourth story the more the creative drought worsened. A few weeks ago I was sitting in church and I heard God’s inaudible voice, “Brian, what about that story?”

“Yes, Lord,” I replied in my mind and God slowly opened the spigot to my creativity. The flow continued even as I was lying in bed ready to go to sleep. I prayed that He would allow me to remember the ideas that were appearing in my mind.

In the morning I awoke and those ideas were still there. I jotted them down; hours later I was coming home from work and God opened the spigot again. Again I asked Him to allow me to remember the ideas when I got home. He did and I opened up my notebook and wrote them down.

I have five to six pages of notes for this unnamed story. I’m still not sure how to write this since my character is already a Christian and I’ve never been to Israel. I know I need to take some creative liberty, but how much and not cut into Biblical accuracy. However, no matter, I’m going to write it.

Please pray, thank you.

Camp NaNoWriMo

Despite battling TN induced brain fog, Teal Beast Rising is over 30,000 words; making it an official winner for Camp NaNoWriMo. However, it feels like a hollow victory. The second entry of my Trigeminal Neuralgia trilogy is far from completed. I'm going to set it aside and probably won't get back to it until I completely edit A Wolf in Gotham, the first TN "novel".