The Siren’s Dice Cup (Inktober, Thursday, October 22, 2020)

For Inktober, October 22, 2020. Prompt word: “chef.” Tuckerization: Chris Williams

A reminder that volunteering for tuckerization only means a character in the story shares the participant’s name. Other than that, no other similar characteristics are implied.

The Siren’s Dice Cup

by Alan Loewen

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The night air was chilly, and the streets were dark. Lantern light streamed through the frosted windows of the tavern, barely illuminating the overhead sign: The Siren’s Dice Cup. Above the streets, constellations, strange to Chris’s memory, twinkled in the sky. A gaseous nebula hung in the west, pale and majestic, its heart illuminated by a bright green star.

“So are we going to go in or spend the night in the streets?” The speaker was a young girl in her mid-20’s shivering in jean shorts and a t-shirt that exposed too much midriff. Chris regretted he couldn’t remember her name, but they had all just met that night. They had no idea where they were now.

“Might as well go in,” her companion said. He held her arm in his, and Chris remembered his name, Marc with a “c.” Marc’s voice shook, but Chris thought it was more from fear than the brisk night air.

The trio had already given up trying to comprehend how they had ended up in such a place. All of them avid fans of Dungeons and Dragons, they had responded to an ad for a new role-playing group. Each had already talked to Garret, the advertisement’s author, over the phone who expressed an eagerness for new players. As the Dungeon Master, Garret would act as rules interpreter and guide the trio through the adventures.

When they reached the address, Garrett answered the door with a friendly smile and ushered them inside. Strangely enough, his apartment was almost empty of furniture. There were no bookshelves, television screens, or any other furniture. They sat down at a bare wooden table. Chris also thought it odd the table was empty of dice and role-playing rule books. There wasn’t even the ever-present screen where the Dungeon Master would secretly roll dice to determine reactions, encounters, and events.

After a quick round of introductions, Chris put his books on the table along with a pad of paper, a pencil, and a large bag of dice. “Should we begin to roll out characters?”

Garrett shook his head and smiled. “No need.”

And suddenly, Chris and the other two players found themselves on their backs in a meadow outside a medieval-appearing town as the sun quickly set. It took a while to overcome the shock and the multitude of unanswered questions they asked each other. They saw their wisest move was to enter the town for shelter and information.

The streets were bare, and the trio only saw two or three individuals hurrying down the darkening streets. The hoods of their home-spun robes were pulled low over their faces as if to avoid any and all interruptions. Oddly enough, the townspeople did not even pause to stare at the oddly dressed visitors.

Now standing outside the tavern, Chris opened the door to be met with a gentle wave of warm air and the aroma of roasted meats and potatoes. Five or six people sat at tables and dressed in the same fashion as the people on the street. They drank from hardened leather tankards and ate from wooden trenchers. Seeing slabs of bread smothered in meat and broth and surrounded by roasted vegetables. Chris’s mouth watered despite himself.

A man looked up interrupting his conversation with a companion. His eyes showed no surprise at the newcomers but instead, he yelled through an open door behind the bar. “Hey, Mariah! We got some more newbies!”

A woman walked through the door wearing a well-stained apron. She walked up to the newcomers and looked them over. “Don’t tell me,” she said. “You went to play Dungeons and Dragons with a new Dungeon Master, and you found yourself outside the town in a meadow.” Mariah motioned the trio toward a table. “Have a seat, and I’ll tell you what happened.”

Thirty minutes later, Chris and Marc sat in shock as Marc’s girlfriend, Summer, quietly wept.

Mariah sat back in her chair and drained her mug dry before speaking again. “And that’s the story. Whoever this Garrett is, he sends new people to this world regularly, at least two hundred in the last year alone. Some settle down here, and others move on to settle new towns or explore. Wandering isn’t a safe option in my book. There are creatures out there with teeth.”

“So … so what do we do?” Chris asked. “Where do we go?”

Mariah nodded. “Well, we aren’t a charity. Tomorrow, you start earning your keep until you’ve earned enough to either buy a place of your own or move on. I need help in the kitchen. Another chef would always help.” She waved her hand at Summer. “I need somebody to wait tables.” She pointed at Marc. “You look like you can wield a sword. The town is always in need of new guards.”

Marc shook his head. “No way. I play D&D; I don’t live it. I’ll cook in the kitchen. I want to stay near Summer anyway.”

Mariah looked at Chris. “Well, you could join the town guard yourself or apprentice yourself to the blacksmith or cooper. It’s all hard work, but it’s honest. Those that come here with darker motives don’t last long. We don’t tolerate criminals. We have gallows on the other end of town. Fortunately, we don’t have to use them often.”

Ten months later, Chris stood outside the town wall and looked back for the last time. Marc and Summer had decided to remain at the tavern, but Chris had the itch to explore. Apprenticeship to the blacksmith had strengthened his body and honed his muscles. The very sword he wore at his hip, as well as the wrist and shin guards, were ones he had crafted himself. A bag of hard-earned coins jingled at his belt.

The walled village of Stonemere lay only a short day’s journey to the north, and the road was primarily considered safe from creatures that fancied a quick snack on travelers. And from there? Chris smiled.

Making sure his backpack was securely fastened to his shoulders and balanced on his hips, he took his first step toward his new life.

(Graphic by artist Carl Nilsson)

The Library of the Labyrinth (Inktober, Wednesday, October 21, 2020)

For Inktober, October 21, 2020. Prompt word: “sleep.” Tuckerization: Eric Hinkle

(Note: This story is adapted from H. P. Lovecraft’s Dreamland Cycle)

A reminder that volunteering for tuckerization only means a character in the story shares the participant’s name. Other than that, no other similar characteristics are implied.

Original by Jack Gaughan published
in The Fantastic Swordsmen, 1967.

The Library of the Labyrinth

by

Alan Loewen

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

In his twenty-second year, in light slumber, Eric Hinkle descended the seventy steps to the Cavern of Flame and encountered the bearded priests, Nasht and Kaman-Thah. Having answered their questions and riddles correctly, Eric asked a farewell blessing of the priests and boldly descended the seven hundred steps to the Gate of Deeper Slumber and set out through the enchanted wood.

Eventually, he found a home in Ulthar, a small town known for its huge population of cats and where it was a crime to harm or kill one of the feline denizens. However, his reason for taking up residence in the peaceful town known for the pink buildings, topped with old, peaked, red-tiled roofs, overhanging upper stories and numberless chimney-pots had nothing to do with his love for cats. Though he was fond of taking long walks among the suburbs of Ulthar with their quaint green cottages and neatly fenced farms, his love for his adopted town had nothing to do with nature or aesthetics.

Ulthar boasted several libraries and in his ever-present quest for knowledge, Eric became a well-known patron of them all. However, each morning in the waking world, Eric would have no memory of his life in the Dreamlands of Earth and at night, he would live decades in his little town, only dimly aware of his waking life and reluctant to leave his search for knowledge to once again live in the mundane world of waking life.

After many years of Earth and centuries of existence in the Dreamlands, Eric came upon a clue in a dusty tome of the town’s history of a hidden library somewhere within its borders, the Library of the Labyrinth. Carefully worded questions in Ulthar’s inns and taverns garnered only hints and rumors. Eric also paid a visit to the Temple of the Elder Ones that sat above the town on the area's highest hill. There in the modest, ivy-clad stone tower, home to priests and their ancient records, Eric sat and cajoled the high priest Atal with imported wine from the steaming jungle city of Hlanith.

However, his years of searching were fruitless, yet Eric’s imagination burned with a desire for a new library with stranger secrets and deeper and older wisdom than what was available in the more public athenaeums.

It was not until his seventieth year on Earth and his third millennium in the Dreamlands, Eric heard a knock on his door of the cottage where he resided in Ulthar. Upon opening, Eric found a man dressed in rags that held out a sealed letter in his grimy hands. Leaving without accepting from Eric the proffered coin for his troubles, the messenger walked away.

The letter was written on aged parchment in an unsteady hand inviting Eric to meet with the writer who signed himself as simply Meras.

On the appointed day, Eric made his way through the winding streets of Ulthar and found himself at the foot of a dark and foul-smelling alley. Concerned that the letter may have been a trap to release him from the few valuables he carried, Eric paused in consternation. However, seeing cats nimbly walking through the alley on their own personal business, Eric made his way down the passageway until he came to a nondescript door of rotten oaken wood.

As there was no response to his knocks, Eric released the latch and swung the door inward.

Immediately his nostrils were assailed by the aroma of old books and ancient scrolls. With his heart beating with expectation, Eric stepped inside the dimly lit hallway that led to a large room with bookcases overflowing with manuscripts and tomes bound together in thick leather covers and iron hasps. Scrolls overflowed onto the floor in a haphazard manner.

Barely able to breathe from excitement, Eric stepped fully into the room. To his right, a robed man sat behind a desk so overladen with books and scrolls he was almost concealed from sight. A black cowl hid his face.

Eric approached the librarian, for that was clearly what he was, and laid the letter on the desktop.

With a sigh of obvious relief, the man picked up the letter with shaking hands and welcomed Eric to the Library of the Labyrinth, a repository of all the ancient books of the Dreamlands. The Library, the man said, only had one patron at a time who was also the master librarian. When the old librarian comes to the end of his ten millennial long position it is his responsibility to find his own replacement.

Eric now sits at the desk formerly occupied by the previous librarian. It is possible to wander the Labyrinth for a decade or more among the stacks before returning to the desk but Eric does not mind for he grows wise with wisdom and knowledge.

He no longer returns to the wakeful world for he has learned an immortal truth.

The Dreamlands are not Earth’s land of dreams. The Dreamlands are the true reality and Earth is nothing more than a vague shadow of unpleasant illusion.

Author Interview: Ariel Avelar

In early February I purchased Influent by Ariel Avelar through Amazon, a short science fiction work from a new author. In my review I wrote:

With fully fleshed-out characters, Influent is a tale of two sisters and a brother trying to survive against impossible odds. The oldest sister has the psychic ability to manipulate people and she struggles with its ethical use even when she uses her talent to escape brutal confinement and dangerous people.

I was fortunate enough to obtain an interview with this up-and-coming author to discuss not only her first published work but also her philosophy of writing and advice for those just starting out in their writing career.

1. What was the inspiration for Influent?

Most of my stories begin with a “what if” question that then builds a world and characters around itself. What if someone needed to make their greatest enemy into an ally? What if orphaned children had to force an adult to be their guardian? The premise for Influent was born a few years ago while I was lying in bed daydreaming on the way toward sleep, and I added it to my list of story ideas and rediscovered it last year while looking for something new to work on.

2. Influent is not your typical adventure story as it centers on the compassion of the two main protagonists and the main antagonist. Could you comment on your decision to center more on the virtues of your characters than just the plot?

My favorite part about a story is developing and getting to know the characters, and I let them tell me the story through how they feel and think about their situation. In Influent, all of the action is dependent upon the decisions the main characters are forced to make, and all of those decisions have clear moral consequences, so developing their motivation and moral struggles was especially important. This particular story could have taken many dark and tragic turns if told by less admirable characters, and it was important to me to resolve the tension and the relationships in a positive way. It’s also a shorter story with a smaller scope of risk--with only the lives of a few people at stake, instead of a regional or national crisis--so the story naturally narrowed in focus on those few people, which gave them the space to open up about their struggles and desires. Most of my stories have large-scale conflicts of good vs. evil and are driven by more external forces beyond the characters’ control, so those would have a different balance between the plot and the characters’ internal struggles.

3. What is your next offering?

Several years ago I finished the first draft of a six-book epic fantasy series, 17 Crowns, which I’m now planning to edit and publish. It follows a company of kings who have been brought back from the dead, as was prophesied long ago, to rescue their country from a mysterious and pervasive darkness. I hope to have book 1 completed and available sometime this fall.

4. Tell us about your writing discipline, i.e. how many words a week? Daily or weekly writing goals? Do you outline your story or just write it with a general idea of the direction?

While working on a writing project and carrying a full-time job, I usually aim for a minimum of 1,000 words a day, with an extra push on the weekends. When inspiration strikes, I often write during every free moment and hours into the night until the momentum fades, then I take a break for a week or two to brainstorm and give attention to other areas of life. For this year, I’m trying to be more structured and set quarterly goals with small daily tasks, but I’m still working out the best system for my ever-changing schedule.

Writing for me is very intuitive, without a lot of planning at the beginning. When I have a new idea, I brainstorm until my brain switches from theorizing mode to writing mode, and that’s when I know I have enough figured out to begin. When the first section of the book is complete, I brainstorm again until I have a few scenes approximately figured out, but I don’t plan much in advance because the characters usually don’t end up doing what I expected them to, anyway. I write for the same reason people read: to find out what happens next.

Ariel Avelar

5. What advice would you give to a beginning writer?

There are a lot of aspects of writing that are difficult and unavoidable, especially in the publishing process, so I’ve found it’s essential to remember to enjoy the part you love: telling the stories that inspire you and compel you to write. Find something that you can’t stop yourself from writing, rather than something you have to force yourself to work on. There are always dry spells, but the best writing and the greatest joy come when you are excited and energized and having fun in the process. There’s hardly anything more difficult than forcing creativity out of yourself when you’re tired and unengaged, so be kind to yourself and be willing to step back and take a break until you’re inspired again. If writing becomes entirely like a chore, with none of the joy, then it’s worth the time to reflect and get back to what made you write in the first place.

It’s also important, in my experience, to find at least one person in your life who is willing, at any time of day and as many times as needed, to listen to you talk about your story, whether you’re stuck or discouraged or excited. In most cases, writer’s block will break after a good brainstorming session with someone willing to care about your story even half as much as you do. Writing itself is usually a solitary endeavor, but even writers have to come out of their caves now and then, and if you have someone willing and excited to join you in the worlds you’ve created and to value them, treasure that person and don’t let them go.

Influent at Amazon (US)

Influent at Amazon (Canada)
Influent at Amazon (UK)

Note: No money or services were exchanged for this interview. My desire is only to introduce my readers to a new author and her work.