I do not have enough stuff to fill a magazine yet, so I’m going to leave the submissions open for another week. If I still don’t get enough bites, then I’ll come up with a different project to meet my goals.

Anyway, if you are at all interested in helping me out, check out the above link.

Author’s note:

Here’s just a little diversion. This could be the opening scene to a novel I’d like to write someday. You don’t get to meet the main protagonist, or even the antagonist, but it should leave you wanting to read more. I hope.

If you missed it, I posted a Journey of St. Laurent chapter earlier this week. Check it out.

Also, you those of you who like to write, I’m playing with a POD magazine platform, and so I’m putting together a silly little literary magazine. I’m paying for stories, too. (Albeit not a lot.)

Oh, and is it #FlashFriday or is it #FridayFlash?

Dwayne only had about an hour left in the year. He wasn’t going to reach his goal. His New Year’s resolution was a bust. Granted, it had been a pretty lofty goal – to change the nation for the better. The charitable foundation had collapsed within months, and his run for office was a dismal failure. The silver lining was that before sunrise he would get his chance to make a difference.

He pulled on the black gloves and wondered if he’d be able to go through with it.

He shook his head. Of course he’d be able to go through with it. It’s not like he even had a choice anymore. The decision was made weeks ago.

Could he even back out? He shook his head again. No, of course not. It’s too late.

Besides, the rest of the jury would never let him get away with that kind of cowardice.

He threw the rope, duct tape, and heavy duty zip strips in the little pack on top of the note he was to leave behind. The revolver he shoved in the front of his pants.

He fiddled with the remote and ordered the longest pay per view movie on the list. It wasn’t much, but it was some sort of an alibi.

If having affairs were the senator’s only crimes, Dwayne wouldn’t be staying up so late tonight. Infidelity couldn’t be excused, but it didn’t need to be punished like this. And Senator Jeremy Lither wasn’t just a philandering cheat, he was a traitor to his country, plain and simple.

Even with that knowledge, Dwayne’s hand trembled on the door knob. He had never murdered anyone before.

But is it even murder if you kill a traitor? It’s merely dispensing justice were the system has failed. Anyone with half a brain can see he’s guilty of treason.

Still, it was a tough thing to do.

The other jurors had all acted like it was some great honor to be the first to carry out a sentence.

Dwayne knew the truth; it is always hardest to go first.

The others would be relying on this one to go smoothly. It would give them confidence to keep up the fight.

Dwayne hated the thought of letting them and his country down when the stakes were so high.

On his way to the truck, he reviewed the plan.

The senator’s wife was a party lightweight. She would leave shortly after midnight, head up to their room, and take her sleeping pill. The senator would leave the hotel probably an hour after that. He’d go to the seedy motel where he had prepaid for a room in cash that morning.

In the motel room he’d meet with his latest hard bodied intern.

Dwayne would wait outside until the senator was done. It wouldn’t be too long. The three other times he had followed the senator during one of these encounters, the whole thing had lasted less than forty five minutes.

Once the senator came out of the room, Dwayne would do what he needed to do.

Even though the truck was cold, Dwayne noticed that he was sweating up a storm. He was a lot more nervous than he had expected to be.

The whole ride he had to tell himself "I am not a murderer. I’m a patriot. I’m a soldier, not a hit man. A patriot soldier that’s not afraid to do what’s necessary for his country."

The senator’s crimes were legion. He had authored four laws which whittled away at the freedom of speech. He had worked very hard trying to phase out private ownership of firearms. He had abused military and police connections in efforts to squelch his political adversaries. The list went on and on. Both American soldiers and American citizens were now dead due directly to Senator Lither’s actions. He had abused his power again and again, each time with the apparent goal of weakening the nation. He was a power hungry traitor steeped in corruption. One that the legal system would never touch.

It was time for a great change in Washington. Time for the government to respect the people again. That was why Dwayne had to follow through. There had to be justice. Senator Jeremy Lither had to be held accountable for his actions.

Reviewing the Senator’s traitorous acts gave Dwayne the strength he needed.

At last he reached the seedy motel where fourteen hours earlier the Senator had rented a room.

Normally, night hides the dirt and the debris and generally helps a motel look a little better. Not this place. Night just made it ooze even more. Very little of the big neon sign actually worked. Most of if was off or flickering at odd intervals. Many of the walkway lights were out. The dim shadows made the dirt and dust on the walls look like grease and tar.

Sure enough, the intern arrived first. It wasn’t quite one o’clock yet. The senator arrived about half an hour later.

Everything was going perfectly according to schedule.

It must be sign.

As soon as the senator’s door closed, Dwayne grabbed the little bag with the supplies and set everything up.

Once that was done, he crouched in the shadows behind the overflowing garbage can that sat underneath the window to the senator’s room.

Dwayne could hear every dirty thing that was going on inside. Fortunately, the senator was not exactly a great lover, and he’d be done and cleaning up in no time.

At length, the door squeaked open and the senator stepped into the night.

It’s finally time. No weakness.

As soon as the door clanged closed, Dwayne jumped up and pulled out the revolver.

"Senator, you are guilty of treason."

The senator spun around. "Who do you think-" His eyes went wide.

"Just make this easy on yourself and come with me."

Yes, last year Dwayne had failed at his New Year’s resolution. This year, however, he would start the revolution.

Micro Flash Fiction

Micro Flash Fiction is a one time experimental magazine containing very short stories. It will be visually appealing, amusing to read and be perfect for short bathroom stays or display on a coffee table.

What I want

I want one-time non-exclusive print publication rights to some very short fiction that you’ve written. You keep the copyright. I’m looking for 3 categories of stories: 140 Character (a tweet length), 140 word, and 1,140 word fiction.

What I don’t want

• Anything you don’t actually have all the rights to. No funky fan flash fiction, por favor.
• “R” rated stories.
• Non-fiction.
• Things that would be illegal for me to print.

What I’ll Pay

$1 per 140 character story – I’m looking for 16 of these. Don’t think it’s possible to write one that short? Check out this post or search twitter for #5secfic for examples.

$1.50 per 140 Word story – I’m looking for 6 of these

$3 for a 1,140 word story  – I’m looking for 2 of these.

Along with your story, I’ll print your name and website url.

If you’d prefer exposure over cash, I’d consider putting in a full-page ad for something you’ve written or your website or something. You’d have to provide whatever images and such you’d like to use. And I probably won’t trade a whole page for a single 140 word story.

I know it’s not much, but I’m just doing an experiment, and it’s coming out of my pocket. And then you can tell all your friends that you’ve been paid to write. Sorry, I’m not going to be able to afford to send out an author’s copy for this. I’ll be happy to send any interested contributor a copy of the pdf I’ll use for printing, though.

How to submit

I’ll be accepting submissions through email. Put your name, pen name (if applicable), your website url (if you’ve got one) and your paypal email at the top of the email. Then go ahead and attach your entries.

You can put your stories in the body of the email or attached as a .txt document.

Feel free to submit as many stories as you like in your email, as long as you’re reasonable. (I don’t want to read through your notebook of 150 flash fictions.)

Send your submissions to editor@storyhack.com

Deadline

Submissions will be open until at least Feb 2, 2010 (extended to at least Feb 9, 2010). After that, if I don’t have enough entries, I’ll go from there.

Author’s note:

At long last, Corbin is back. Again, I’m sorry this took so long. I’m chock full of excuses. See the latest post on my wife’s blog for one of them.

Also, a while back I made a politically charged video for youtube. I’ve recently been going the rounds with a commenter about it. I’d appreciate it, if you have the time and inclination, to check it out and let me know what you think, one way or the other. Am I up in the night, or am I right? Here’s the video: Theft & Taxes

Thanks to everyone who comments and corrects my typos and cheers me on. You are all wonderful.

For those of you who haven’t read any of the Journey Of St. Laurent before: You are now reading an online serial pulp novel. If you didn’t start at the beginning, you may want to do so. Chapter 1:  Down By The Bay. This serial is the sequel to my first novel, Oasis.

Chapter 27 – Go For A Swim

The sound was warbled, but it was definitely the sizzle of the ship’s terrible weapon preparing to fire.

I pulled and kicked against the water as hard as I could. Every inch I could get further down might make a difference.

The cool water wrapped around me and swept away at least one layer of the oily sweat and grime that builds up when you drive a convertible in scorching hot weather. It would have been quite relaxing and refreshing if I wasn’t so scared for my life.

And then it hit.

Through my closed eyelids, I could tell that the world around me was suddenly brighter, like I was in a tanning booth without eye protection.

The shock wave pounded the water which in turn pushed against me from all sides. It felt like a full body punch.

I held on as best I could, but it still knocked out some of my precious air.

Along with light and pressure, the water flashed hot. Hot enough that if it were a hot tub, I would never put my head under, and I might not even get in. I didn’t want to think about how hot it was at the surface.

I kicked all the harder and prayed I could stay down far and long enough to avoid getting cooked alive. Without drowning, of course.

My body was already calling for air. I fought the urge to suck in and kept swimming down.

The further down I went, the faster the water was moving. It pushed and pulled and swept me away, and I couldn’t tell in which direction. To be honest, for the moment I didn’t really care where it went, as long as it dragged me away from the blast site.

Within of seconds, my lungs and brain switched from calling for air to screaming.

The water around me still felt warm, but was mixing with and getting swept away by the current.

Is it still too hot up there? Have I drifted far enough?

It didn’t matter. I had to surface or drown.

I got my legs under me and pushed down, only the silty floor I had expected wasn’t there. I started to panic.

My wet clothes restricted my movement and weighed me down. My lungs burned for that breath of fresh air.

I thrashed toward the surface with the same fury I had dived down.

The water got hotter and my head finally broke the surface.

I coughed and sucked in a couple breaths before my wet clothes and the current pulled me back under. I didn’t even have time to get my bearings.

The next time I came up I caught sight of the beach. It took a couple of minutes to fight my way free of the undercurrent, but I finally got to where I could touch bottom.

As soon as my feet were under me again and stable, I looked around.

I had washed quite a ways from the spot where I had ditched the Jeep. The fast undercurrent that had nearly killed me had also probably saved me from a third degree scalding or worse from the alien blast.

The UFO was about a football field and a half away, hovering low over the charred Jeep. It made a great throbbing and whooshing sound.

For the moment I stayed close to where the shelf dropped down under water in case the UFO decided to chase me again. The thought of jumping back under was not terribly appealing, but now that I had a chance to catch my breath, maybe I’d be okay.

The silvery craft floated just a bit away from me and away from the water, lowered itself, then landed on the rocky beach.

Well, not exactly landed. It just kind of hovered there a few inches above the sand and rocks.

It occurred to me that standing in waist deep water and staring with my mouth open was not great cover if whatever was inside looked around at all.

The nearest trees or even tall grass were halfway between me and the ship and a good deal inland. However, there was a four-ish foot tall boulder on the beach about thirty feet away.

That’s as good a hiding spot as I’m going to find.

I splashed out of the shallows and onto the beach, then lumbered as fast as I could over to my chosen cover.

I collapsed with my back to the boulder and listened.

With the stress, physical exertion, and deprivation of oxygen I had just been through, the rock and sand felt surprisingly comfortable. Added to that was the hypnotic rhythmic sound of the UFO.

All of it together almost made me want to take a nap.

There’ll be plenty of rest later.

The UFO made a new whirring noise for a few seconds, then returned to it’s old sound.

What is it doing over there?

I waited as long as my patience would hold out, then I rolled to my right and chanced a peek over my shoulder.

A door was open in the side of the UFO, and an alien was out of the craft, circling the Jeep. The alien looked just like the one I had seen leaving the White House on television. Heck, for all I could tell, it might have just rushed from D.C. to chase after me. It’s skin was bright green, and it was wearing a black jumpsuit with a purpley-gray belt that had two mitten-looking things hanging from it. I wasn’t close enough to see any better detail.

The sight of it threw a whole pile of thoughts and feelings back into play.

I rolled back and plopped down. It made me sick to think of what kind of a sham deal the president had worked out with these murderers. It made me sad to think about the attack on Phoenix that I saw on TV. It made me furious to think about what the green bastards had done to Kayla, Jenna, and the new baby.

Now is my chance to strike back.

I didn’t have much of a plan. I’m going to run it down, tackle it, punch it, then beat its head against a rock until it stops moving.

I didn’t bother to check which way it was looking, or if more had appeared. I simply sucked in a deep breath, jumped up, and sprinted for the alien.

I had either underestimated the distance or overestimated my ability. It was a good deal farther away than I could sprint. It didn’t matter. When I couldn’t sprint, I jogged until I could pick up the pace again.

I was lucky, I suppose. The alien was leaning over the front passenger seat examining something.

The closer I got to the burned out Jeep and the alien, the harder the sand got. By the time I was less than twenty yards away, the ground was downright hot and solid. And suddenly a lot more slippery than I could have imagined.

So slippery that my left foot hit the ground and skidded out and away from me. My momentum carried me forward and I slapped down face first onto the sand.

If the alien hadn’t heard my approach, it definitely heard my fall.

Ouch.

I got a good, if brief, look and feel of the ground. It was hard and smooth, like a sheet of glass, but with rocks sticking out here and there.

The alien bolted for the other side of the Jeep, reached for its belt and slipped on one of the mitten-looking objects.

I scrambled to get my feet under me.

The alien raised its hand palm up and sneered at me with its thin lips and big freaky eyes. A little gate popped open on the underside of the mitten.

I instinctively threw myself down and rolled to the right.

The alien’s techno-mitten-gun-thing made a chirping noise and somewhere behind me I heard a patch of sand glass and rock shatter.

My mind raced. I had dodged the first shot, but now I was on the ground, and I doubted if the alien would miss again at this range.

The alien made a noise that sounded something like a laugh and took aim.

Now I’m going to die? Because I slipped and fell?

The thought of it really pissed me off.

On a side note, yesterday there was an article about my great-grandfather Dan Borg (& great-granduncle) in the Salt Lake Tribune yesterday. Despite the fact that he had lived with my Mom’s family for many years before he died, none of them had ever heard this story.

Check it out – Living History: Crime of passion in 1916 led to violence, prison

Also, I’d just like to announce it so I can have a good reason to keep up. I’m setting the goal to have The Journey of St. Laurent finished, edited, and in paperback by the end of the year.

Author’s note:

Merry Christmas, all! There won’t be a chapter this Friday, but Corbin will be back to kickoff the new year.

Dear DarcKnyt, Ballsack McNasty, Glenn, Jordan Johnson, girl, Tyler, Toothy, Noah L, Susan Houston, Jeremy, Rachel, & Josh. Thanks for commenting last chapter. I love hearing from you all.

Remember to tell all your friends about me.

Also, to all those other people you tried to leave comments. I don’t care if you use keywords instead of your name. If you leave a comment that has nothing to do with the post, however, I will not approve your comment. Ever.

For those of you who haven’t read any of the Journey Of St. Laurent before: You are now reading an online serial pulp novel. If you didn’t start at the beginning, you may want to do so. Chapter 1:  Down By The Bay. This serial is the sequel to my first novel, Oasis.

Chapter 26 – A Day at the Beach

I glanced over toward the water. Between me and the rocky beach was a large grassy area and some scattered clumps of trees.

The water might be my only hope. It might be able to cool the heat blast if I can get a few feet down. Maybe they won’t even notice if I survive.

I turned right and went the wrong way up the freeway on ramp. About five feet to the water side of the road was a beat up old barbed wire fence. The water was only a couple of hundred yards beyond that. I knew the barbed wire could very well mess up the Jeep if I tried to go straight through, but I didn’t exactly see an opening anywhere close. And it was old, so maybe it would snap fairly easily.

Then again, if I ram it straight on it might just catch me like a fly in a spider web. But if it were lying down…

I was in a hurry. I didn’t have time to dig up one of the big wooden fence posts or fiddle with whatever was securing the wire to the post.

So, I did the next best thing. I picked a fence post that looked like it was about to fall down anyway, and aimed straight for it.

I know it sounds crazy, but here’s the deal. I was being chased by a UFO. I was lucky to come up with any plan at all.

I closed my eyes, turned my head, and gripped the wheel. The Jeep met the post with a solid crack.

The post broke and the Jeep careened onto the downed fence.

Somehow, the windshield survived. The rest of the truck wasn’t so lucky. In the chaos, a fence wire bound up around my right rear tire. The remaining back wheel spun in the dirt. The Jeep squealed and the front end jerked around to the right.

Stuck.

I can’t stop here. Still too close to the road. I put the pedal to the floor.

The UFO overhead flashed those damn red and orange lights again.

The left rear wheel spun, slinging dirt and rocks and grass.

Something on the Jeep made a loud popping sound.

Can’t stay stuck here. Got to keep moving.

I let off the gas and pulled the lever to lock it into four wheel drive.

The drive train clunked into place and the Jeep made a horrible screeching noise. I pushed on the accelerator anyway.

Overhead, the lights danced faster.

The tires of the Jeep tore at the ground. The fence wire snapped with a twang and the Jeep lurched forward.

I let out a yelp of excitement and cranked the wheel back toward the water.

The Jeep’s screaching died down to a high pitched whine with a rythmic scraping. One of the tires sounded like it was spinning free. It also felt like the Jeep was limping every few feet.

In the back of my head, I knew that meant at least a flat tire, possibly a messed up transmission and who knows what else.

I kept on the gas, but the poor truck just didn’t want to sprint anymore. It barely wanted to stagger.

At least I’m moving.

The Jeep pulled hard to the right and I fought to keep it aimed at the beach.

The UFO overhead followed me along and didn’t bother to to turn off the lights this time.

Its going to shoot me.

The Jeep lunged here and there across the brush, like it was slipping in and out of gear. Nothing about the car felt right any more.

I leaned my head out looked at the front tire.

Sure enough, it was going flat. Probably not the only one, either.

Little by little I crossed the distance.

I was sure the Jeep was going to give up at any moment.

The beach was close now. It was rocky with big patches of mud and sand.

How long until they just shoot me and get it over with?

The Jeep slowed again as I hit more sandy terrain.

Just before the water was a good wide band that didn’t seem to have and rocks at all.

As I crossed into that band, the wheels bit into the watery sand and dug themselves in. The Jeep stopped moving forward and started slowing rotating as the sandy mud was flung from whichever tires were still functioning.

Stuck again. And there’d be no jerking the Jeep free this time.

Getting it unstuck might have been possible, but it would have taken longer than I had. I was only twenty feet from the water. There was no other option. I had to run.

I spared a glance up. The UFO was directly above me. Its color looked different now, less gray metallic, and more like I was looking through a red filter. The disk. It’s making the disk thing.

My heart raced even faster. It felt like it was going to pound through my ribcage. I jumped out of the Jeep.

The sand was wetter than I expected. I landed hard and slipped down to my knees. I sunk down a couple of inches in the sandy mud.

I scrambled up and ran flailing into the shallows.

The day was already a hot one and it seemed every moment to get even hotter. I knew it wasn’t just the sun. The aliens had already killed hundreds of others, and now they were going to kill me.

I picked up my feet and did my best to sprint through the waves that lapped the shore. Still not deep enough.

The air pushed down, like it was pregnant with a burning sandbag.

I could see the bottom drop away under the water a few feet ahead of me. This is it. I sucked in as deep a breath as I could manage and dived for it.

Even through the water I could hear the explosive sizzling sound.

See them here: An Alien Fiction

Check it out.

An Alien Fiction

Besides the video, the site also has the cover that I have pretty much settled on.

Journey of St. Laurent Cover

Check it out and let me know what you think!

Thanks, again Rhiannon.

By the way, Rhiannon’s latest book if finally available on Amazon. check it out via the link below.

*edit* Grrr. The link didn’t want to work. *edit*