Wednesday, August 15, 2012

I'm back... Hopefully you're as happy as I am.

The second book Survival of the Fittest - The Closest Enemy is out in all forms (hardcover, paperback, ebook, Kindle, Nook, Kobo, and everything else available). 

I loved writing this book.  I think it has so much action and twists that it could be hard to keep up with everything that's going on.   I loved giving readers great and interesting storylines for all the characters they might have fallen in love with.

I'm currently working on 2 more books, the third book of Survival of the Fittest - The Battle for Earth, which so far will prove to keep readers hanging on for the ride of the lives.  The other book I'm writing is titled The Haunting - The War Begins. 

I'm sooooo hoping that more people will grab their copy of Survival of the Fittest - The Closest Enemy and continue the ride they've already begun.  You know you want to.  :)  Glad to be back everyone.

Tuesday, July 17, 2012

Tomorrow is the BIG DAY!

Well ok, there have been 2 BIG DAYS in July for me.  On July 5th, Survival of the Fittest - The Closest Enemy was released.  Hoping that will excite some people to run out there and get their copy or kindle or nook, or kobo, whatever it may be, as long as you get it.  I KNOW YOU WILL LOVE THE SECOND BOOK.

Also, tomorrow, July 18th, the furniture moves to my new house.  I will now have a homebase where I will write from instead of jumping apartment to apartment.  So once I'm in and settled, I will begin serious work on Survival of the Fittest - The Battle for Earth - the third book in the series.

Monday, July 2, 2012

Need to take a break from the blog...

I know I don't always write as much as I should when it comes to my blog, and recently, I've really been slacking off.  The reason:  bought a house and I'm in the process of painting, removing wall paper (horrible stuff), and moving the little things so my movers only have furniture and no boxes filled with things that I'll have to empty anyway.

I should have all the things moved by this weekend...July 7th.  I should also have all the painting done by that time, fingers crossed.  And on July 18th the furniture will be moved - making July 19th my first night at the new house.

So, I'm going to take a short break, maybe until the end of July, but then I'll be back.  And by that time, the second book, Survival of the Fittest - The Closest Enemy should be out.

Saturday, June 23, 2012

Another typed out blog - I'm getting a little lazy...

I'm thinking that I'm going to have to take a break from writing for a little while.  Not that I'll stop entirely, I don't think I could do that.  Too much is always clicking away in this old head of mine.

But I'm thinking I will show updates of the house as I paint and do sprucing up.  It's the first home I'll have ever owned and I'm just so excited.  The closing is this Thursday 6/28 so I know I'll be getting everything started on Thursday afternoon or Friday, well definitely on Friday, ALL DAY!

Monday, June 18, 2012

Usually I do a video, too excited right now...

I finished my edits of Survival of the Fittest - The Closest Enemy and have sent the manuscript in.  The next step is to look and edit proofs and then onto publication. 

Look out world, here comes book number 2 in the Survival of the Fittest series.

Tuesday, June 12, 2012

Monday, June 11, 2012

Start Again A Short Story - by Michael Taylor

                “Start again.”  The voice was bland, non-descript, with absolutely no tone to it.

                “I don’t want to.  I don’t want to start again.”  Calvin was tired, more like exhausted.  He’d heard those words more times than he cared to remember.  “Who are you?  Why are you doing this?”

                “Start again.”

                “No,” Calvin shook his head defiantly.  “You can’t make me do this one more time.”

                Calvin was doing all he could to lengthen the amount of time he was in this specific location.  It was the one constant in everything he’d been going through.  But just like the sound of the voice, there was nothing special about this place.  He couldn’t see walls, or a door.  There were no windows, and when he looked up and down, it appeared as if he was suspended in mid-air.

                “Tell me who you are?” Calvin shouted.  “You owe me that.  You should at least tell me who you are and why you’re doing this to me.”

                “You have no need for answers.  We owe you nothing.  Start again.”

                Calvin finally picked up a tone.  The voice meant business, and from what he’d already learned, it would start again whether he liked it or not.  “Please, not again.”

                Calvin appeared on the city street, a busy intersection, and cars moving quickly.  A small boy stepped into the crosswalk.  Calvin jerked his eyes toward the crosswalk sign, it was white, clear to walk, but the cars weren’t slowing.  He screamed out, “Stop!”  He tried to dart forward to snatch the boy’s arm, but missed by mere inches.

                Calvin felt the sting of a car mirror slam into his hand.  He felt the warm spatter of blood spray on his face and arms.  He didn’t give a thought to the pain he was in.  He jumped up and darted into the street.  He ran about twenty feet, knelt down and looked in the boy’s bloodied face, the body limp.  He turned his head slowly to see the driver of the car. 

                She had already jumped out and rushed toward the scene.  “Oh my God!  Oh my God!  I didn’t see him.  He just stepped out into traffic.  I didn’t have a chance to stop.”

                Calvin lowered his head, brushed the bloody hair from the boy’s forehead and muttered, “Your light was red.”

                “Start again.”

                “I can’t.  I can’t do this one more time.”  Calvin looked all around him into a vast nothingness.  “You have to tell me what you want.”

                “We want you to start again.”

                “Please!  Don’t do…”  Calvin’s cry was cut short.

                The intersection again, cars moving faster than they should be, and a young boy beside him.  In an instant he caught the flash of white out of the corner of his eye, it was the crosswalk sign.  Calvin looked into the crush of oncoming traffic.  Dark green, gold, gold, silver, blue, black, and then he saw it, the seventh car, the red one, the one that would hit the boy. 

                Calvin turned back, lunged forward, and missed the boy’s jacket completely.  He fell hard on the street pavement.  Sprawled out, arms outstretched.  The sudden pain, the flash of red, the wet spatter on his shirt side, then the sound of a thump. 

                Calvin scrambled to his feet; he didn’t bother to look at the hand that had been driven over.  As he rushed for the downed boy, he heard a woman’s voice. 

                “He just stepped out into traffic…”

                “Start again.”

                Calvin dropped to his knees and began to sob.  “I can’t do this.  I don’t know you’re doing this to me.  Why do you keep torturing me?”

                “Your questions are irrelevant.  Start again.”

                Again he stood at the busy intersection.  This time he looked directly at the boy who was paying strict attention to the crosswalk sign across the street.  The reflection in the boy’s eyes went white.  Calvin thought quickly, stuck his leg out and tripped the boy who began to fall forward.  He reached out to snag the boy’s jacket sleeve, but missed.

                The black car swerved, its brakes began to squeal and then the color red.  The red car careened toward the curb, the boy, lying prone in the street, nothing but a mere human speed bump.  Th-lump, th-lump, the sound was sickening.

                Calvin looked down, wide-eyed, horrified. 

                “Oh my God…” the female voice echoed.

                “Start again.”

                Calvin was already sobbing when he heard those words.  The cold, bland, uncaring voice made his stomach churn.  “How many times?  Why do you make me live this over and over again?  Did I do something wrong?”

                “We will answer you now.  You have lived this moment approximately seven thousand, six hundred, eighty two times.  And, yes, you did do something wrong.”  A brief moment of silence, and then, “Start again.”

                Calvin was on the corner once again.  He held up his right wrist and looked at the time.  He saw the boy beside him.  His head jerked toward the crosswalk sign.  The boy was already in motion before he could react.  He reached out to snag the boy, missed again, and then Calvin’s mind began to flash pictures.  He could hear his own voice.

                “We’re going to walk downtown.” 

                “Don’t let go of my hand.”

                “Remember, we only cross when the crosswalk sign is white.”

                What time is it? Calvin thought, and then looked at his wrist.

                Calvin darted into the street, he ignored the sharp pain he felt, and stood over the boy’s body.  The woman’s voice cried out, “I didn’t see him.”

                “Start again.”

                “The boy, he was my son.”  Calvin looked all around him, “I don’t understand. Why do you keep making me live this over and over again?”

                “Finally, you have discovered a truth.”  The voice finally had a tone to it.  It wasn’t an ‘ah-ha’ tone, but a sinister sound.  “The child should have never died.  The death was meant for you.  But, you, too busy with other thoughts to give the child any consideration, you, consumed with the concerns of time, rather than the life of your own child.”

                “That’s not true.  I love my son.  I love him.  I wouldn’t do anything to hurt him.”

                “You wouldn’t do anything to hurt him?”  There was an audible sigh of disgust from the voice.  “You let him die.  You tried to protect the child when it was already too late.”

                Calvin shook his head.  “How could I know what was going to happen?”

                From somewhere in the emptiness around him, Calvin heard his own voice, “Don’t let go of my hand.”

                “He didn’t let go of my hand,” Calvin argued.

                The voice answered, “That is correct.  You let go of his hand.  Time was more important.”

                Calvin swallowed hard.  He realized now exactly what had happened.  “I didn’t mean to.  I was just checking to be sure we were on time.”

                “And now you have plenty of time.”

                “What’s that supposed to mean?  Isn’t it enough that my son is dead?”

                The voice, deeper, darker, more ominous sounding than it had ever been, answered, “You have time too, and you have more time than you even understand.  In Hell, time lasts forever.  You, Calvin, will live the moment over and over again, for eternity.”


                “It is a parent’s job to protect their child.  You failed the boy.  You failed and you paid.  Not just in the boy’s life, but with yours.”

                Calvin doubled over; dry heaved, and choked out the question, “I’m dead?”

                “When one fails to see beyond himself, there’s always a price to pay.  There is a definite difference in the definitions of the words, selfless and selfish.”

                “But I…”  Calvin didn’t have a moment to finish his response when the words rang out.

                “Start again.”

Saturday, June 2, 2012

Pictures Speak A Thousand Words A Short Story - By Michael Taylor

All four walls were covered from floor to ceiling with pictures.  Each picture had one thing in common, David Wallace.  The pictures ranged from childhood to his last moments of consciousness.  David Wallace had fallen into a comatose state for an unknown reason.  Doctors, Specialists, and anyone with any medical know-how did all they could to determine the cause of David’s coma, but there were no tests that would or could give even the most notable and knowledgeable doctors a definite reason.

                The pictures were hung by David Wallace’s mother who had passed away shortly after his comatose state began.  She had no idea why she hung the pictures.  She had never been the type of woman to clutter up the walls, or anything else for that matter.  She was a meticulous woman who kept house better than any other.  But for some unknown reason, she found herself hanging picture after picture on all four walls of the room where her youngest son lay silent.

                David Wallace, prior to his mother’s passing was moved home.  It was believed that he wouldn’t live much longer, but weeks, months, and then a year passed, and still, he remained in his unbreakable coma.  Sarah Wallace, David’s sister took possession of her family’s home and kept her brother as comfortable as possible.  For Sarah, her devotion to her brother had cost her, her marriage, but blood was blood, and she would not and could not leave her brother in the care of a nursing facility that may or may not give David everything he needed.

                As with any other day of the week, Sarah found herself sitting in the room with David.  Her eyes would trail over the pictures on the walls.  Sometimes she’d hone in on one, and find herself lost in a memory.  Today though, a new thought had come to her mind, take the pictures down.  She pondered that idea, stood from the chair next to David’s bed and looked at her brother.  “I don’t know why.  I don’t know what keeps me from taking all these pictures down.”  She brushed a few tears from her cheek.  “Maybe it’s because mom hung them.  And for her to do that, well, it’s just, it’s just not like her.”  Sarah glanced around the room one last time and then walked out, closing the door behind her.

                “She’s going to do it.”

                “She can’t.”

                “Do you know how much I want this to end?”

                “Maybe you want it to end, but I love it.”

                “I have to be honest; I’m tired of living this moment over and over again.”

                “You just don’t understand what’s coming.”

                “He may not understand what’s coming, but I do.”

                “You should shut up.  Stop acting like a bunch of meanies.”

                “Yeah, just shut up.”

                “When I want to hear from you, I’ll ask your opinion.”

                “He’s right, children should be seen and not heard.”

                “I hate you.”

                “Listen kid, you don’t know what hate is yet.”

                “Yeah, you ought to be here right now.”

                “The kids are right.  Our life hasn’t been that bad.”

                “Fuck that!”

                “You said a bad word.”

                “You’re right, I did say a bad word, and it’s because I know things that you don’t.”

                “And I know things you don’t.”

                “Can we all just stop arguing for a minute?”

                “A decision has to be made.”

                “I can make it.”

                “Oh no; not you, we all know what you would decide.”

                “Do any of you realize just how happy I am right at this moment?”

                “Do any of us really care?”

                “Stop it, stop it, stop it.  I’m gonna tell.”

                “I swear, if I have to listen to that again I’m going to rip my ears off.”

                “Just be happy the crying Santa hasn’t started up.”

                “I’m serious, look at me.  I’m here at Lake Tahoe.  I love it here.  I don’t want this to end.”

                “Screw that, you don’t know what it’s like to be bullied every day.  I don’t want this to go on.”

                “But you have to understand that things get better.”

                “He’s right you know.  Things do get better, but then they all just go to hell.”

                “Why can’t all of you just remember this day?  We were happy.  Not a care in the world.”

                “The reason we can’t remember that day is because some of us came after it.”

                “Where’s mommy?”

                “Should I tell him or do you want to do it this time?”

                “Mommy is out grocery shopping, she’ll be back soon.”

                “Such a liar, and a good one at that.  If I didn’t know better, I’d even believe you.”

                “Look, I’m happy where I’m at.  I don’t want this to end.”

                “Yeah, well if you only knew what happened right after that, you might change your mind.”

                “Happy Birthday to you…”

                “Someone shut him up.  He does this all the time.  Hey kid, there ain’t no birthday.”

                “Leave him alone.  For him it’s his fifth birthday.”

                “Can I change the subject for a minute?  This Christmas tree has to be the ugliest tree we ever had.  I mean look at it.”

                “It might be an ugly tree, but at least you’re with family.  You don’t remember this tree, do you?”

                “Holy shit, here we go; the fucking tree arguments again.”

                “You said another bad word.”

                “And if you keep telling me that, I’m going to say a whole bunch of bad words that’ll make your head spin.”

                “I think it’s a pretty tree.”

                “Who said that?  And which tree are you referring to?”

                “The one where I’m alone.”

                “Yes, it is a pretty tree, but it’s just so lonely here.”

                “So there’s another for our side.  It’s time to end this.”

                “Oh, so now we’re voting?  Well I think we all know where this will go.”

                “Fifty-fifty, there won’t be a definite decision.”

                “It’s been a year now, and we haven’t been able to make a final decision.”

                “Because there’s a bunch of you sentimental, bleeding hearts.”

                “And what’s wrong with be sentimental?  If we could all understand how some of us feel at our moment, we might not want to end this.”

                “There’s too many of us.  And we all know why we’re here.”

                “And is that supposed to make me feel bad?  I just got out of the hospital after a car accident.  I’m still in pain.”

                “At least we survived.  You should be happy for that.”

                “I know most of us know how we feel where I’m at.”

                “It was a difficult time, but we got past it.  We knew that suicide wasn’t the answer.”

                “I say wake me up.  It’s time to end this.”

                “No, you’re wrong.  We all know what that would mean.”

                “I have to admit, I don’t like where I’m at right now, but the other option isn’t very appealing.”

                “It is for me.  I don’t want to go on.”

                “But you’re not thinking clearly.  Our end is the end for everyone.”

                “Is there something so wrong with that?”

                “We are what holds this world together.  We are the world.  Without us…I don’t even want to think about it.”

                “I want to go home.  I’m tired.”

                “You are home.”

                “Could you be anymore snotty when you answer us?”


                “Oh God, there goes the Santa kid.”

                “There’s really only one of us that has the right to make the final decision.”

                “You’ve been pushing this on me for a year.  I don’t want to make the choice.  Someone else do it.”

                “You are the last picture of us.  You really should be the one to decide.”

                “It’s more difficult than you think.  I remember all of you.  I experienced everything around me.  And sure, there were some horrible times, but there were just as many good times.”

                “I think you should be taking the pain we’ve felt and using that to make your decision.”

                “And I, unlike him, think you should look at the good times.”

                “If I choose to wake, it’s the end.  Mom hung all these pictures of us for a reason.  She didn’t know why, but she did it.  If she knew that her actions meant saving the world, she would do everything she could to keep it going.”

                “Really, was mom always so great?  Remember when she kicked us out of the house?”

                “Decision made.  David, it’s time to wake up.”