A Good Time

Well, hello again, everybody. I think winter has once more left Sydney. Thank God! Anyway, now we are up to the fifteenth story in Aberrant, entitled, Luna's Grace. This story I wrote as both something very fun to write, like last week's story, as well as something very serious. Let me explain.
     One day, several years ago, as a result of sharing some wine with friends, I thought it would be fun to write a story where a man had a torrid, and tactile, relationship with Luna, the Moon. In fact, I thought, wouldn't it be fun if we wrote it to be pornography for women. It certainly seemed like fun.
     I also wanted to write this story to briefly reflect a brief, intense, and tactile, romantic relationship that I myself had with Luna. This relationship was another of the weird things that I experienced when I was homeless, and I feel that I have accurately described in the story the intensity of my passion with Luna. She's all woman.
     I still fondly recall Luna sometimes, and those times we had, and I am glad to be able to share the tale with others. After all, crazy or not, I had a good time.

A Funny Thing

Change continues apace. Now we are up to the fourteenth story, on another typically cold, Sydney winter day. At least it's bright. Anyway, the fourteenth story is entitled, A Momentous Epiphany, and I wrote it simply to give an unexpected wrench, not a twist, to a common saying. In this case, absence makes the heart grow fonder.
     As is common with my more romantic stories, this story draws on real life experiences with my desired belle, Elizabeth, and as a result all of my romances tend to be very similar. But I make no apologies for this as I write largely for therapeutic purposes. Writing about Elizabeth helps a lot.
     To the story at hand, though. When I was teasing out this saying, unwinding it in order to recast it anew, I was greatly surprised at how logical the whole thing was to reshape. How rational. For this reason, I suggest you not try the logic at home. Even I'm wary of it. The story though is just meant to be a bit of  fun, and I have been told that the very last line is very funny and piquant.
     There are a few such stories in Aberrant, stories written just for fun, and I still have fond memories of writing them. I love being a writer.
   

A Great Magick

Now, everybody we are up to the thirteenth story in the Aberrant Selected, entitled, Thus Encapsulated. This story is a bit of a horror story and I wrote it to deal with some powerful magick that I still possess. Let me explain.

     About twenty years ago I was shown a jar of vitamin C tablets, by a friend, from Soul Pattinson chemist with the label 'Souls' on it, and the price. At the time the significance of the label didn't impact me. But one night, around a year later, laying back on a filthy foam mattress, under the floor of a squat, munching on some of the tablets from said jar sold by Soul Pattinson, I realised that I held the jar of souls. Which was funny because I used to have voices in my head saying that they knew how to make a soul gibber eternally, specifically mine, if the voices commands weren't strictly carried out. All the voices had to do was to take my soul and to seal it in a jar. Thus, I realised that I held everyone's souls in my hand, to do with as I pleased.

     Now you may think that having such power would be a tremendous boon, but in fact the opposite was true. What was I to do with the jar of souls? Did I have to hold onto it for life, to protect? At the time I was not capable of looking after myself and terribly resented now being made responsible for everyone's souls. My response was to damn everyone, except me, my family, and my friends. It was the easier solution, and let me carry on with my precarious life.

     To this day I still have the jar of souls, but no-one, except paedophiles, are damned. I keep the jar safe and I have stipulated in my will that the jar of souls, with other decoy jars, are to be buried with me. I am no longer bothered by this immense power and I think I am doing a good job of looking after everyone. I also enjoy occasionally looking at them.

In Search of Love

Now, everybody, we are up to the twelfth story in Aberrant Selected, entitled, Narcissus Loved Again. And in case you're wondering, there are forty-five stories in the collection.
     Narcissus Loved Again is my personal favourite from the collection and I wrote it just for fun. It tells the story of Narcissus awaking in Paradise and of how he settles in There. Naturally, being set in Paradise, God is a character, and Him and Narcissus get along very well.
     The story was also written to briefly explore the last great sexual taboo of Western society, that of self-love. God, in this story, is shown to be a very loving Character, even to the point of being genuinely flattered when Narcissus makes a pass at Him. But as to Narcissus' self-love, and God's attitude to such, that I will leave as a surprise.
     Not only is this story my personal favourite from the collection but it is very high among the personal favourites from all of my short stories that I have written over the past three decades. The best part I like about it is the ending. I gave it to a friend to read several years ago and she thought it was absolutely excellent, confirming my own extreme liking for the story. I am sure that you too will like it very much also.

Serving Satan

Well, everybody, things are chugging along well and this week we are up to the eleventh story in Aberrant Selected, entitled, Discovered. This tale is of a young homeless man who chooses to abandon his service to God, choosing to serve Satan instead. This choosing of Satan was very deliberate and one that I wrote to be even handed and fair. As I mentioned near the start of this blog I have a God Complex and consequently very much enjoy writing short stories with God as a main character. But then one day I realised I was being somewhat lopsided, and so chose to write a story with Satan as the main character.
     I thought using Satan as a main character would be fairly straightforward but the reality was vastly different; I was very hesitant to call him up, if even only fictionally. Thus, in the story, Satan has no dialogue and is only seen as if through a veil, or through a steamed up window. Even that was too close for comfort for me.
     Mind you, towards the end of Aberrant, Satan makes another appearance, but as a black kitten. Well, the kitten was actually named Lucifer, which was Satan's name before he Fell from the Heavenly Host.
     As I've mentioned earlier, regarding my stories involving God, Satan didn't need his nouns and verbs capitalised either, as was the case with God. This meant that Satan was a much easier character to write than God. That being said though I was glad once the story had been written and had been to my editor. This story, by the way, is currently available, gratis, at The Short Stories Club (www.shortstoriesclub.com) if you'd like to have a real good peak at what Aberrant Selected has to offer. It is certain to be one of the very few times I balance my stories of God with stories of Satan. Amen.

A Past Time

Well, everybody, we are now up to the tenth story in Aberrant Selected, entitled, Raising Fire. This story I wrote for the sole purpose of talking about one of the significant voices that I used to hear in my head, Father Time, or, as I called him back when I was hearing voices in my head, Lord Time. When I first began hearing these voices I thought I had come into telepathic contact with The Gods, and Lord Time was one of the Gods in the forefront of this menagerie.

     Lord Time was a difficult God and he was always challenging me in way way or another. There was one night, whilst I was in the locked ward of Rozelle Psychiatric Hospital, where he challenged me to slit my wrists, in concert with him. The first one to drop from loss of blood would be the sad loser, allowing the other to crow eternally. I accepted Lord Time's challenge but when I told him that I had no razor blade he said that that was okay, we'd just both slit our wrists with our thumbnails. As I couldn't draw blood with my nail the challenge was soon over and a stalemate declared.

     This was just one of the many, many crazy things that I would be involved in with Lord Time, and, when I entered a full remission with my paranoid schizophrenia, decided to fondly use him as a character. I presented him well in Raising Fire, although in real life, and like I said, he was perpetually challenging me in one form or another.

     These days I no longer have voices in my head that only I can hear but I often reminisce about Lord Time. Sure he tended to be cruel towards me, like the other Gods, but he and they were all being cruel to be kind. Still, I am very glad I no longer have to put up with his harassment. Yet another reason to take my meds on time.

Unfinished Business

This week we are up to the ninth story in Aberrant Selected, entitled, A Perfect Mirror. This story I wrote to conclude a bit of unfinished business, business that was around fifteen years old. I first came up with this tale when I was homeless in Melbourne, in a Salvation Army hostel. The hostel had a building attached to the main residence and I often sneaked in there late at night to write, and to sleep, because I could not afford the price of a bed for the night. One time, while in this outbuilding, I decided to write a story where a main character was both homeless and in safe shelter, or relatively safe shelter. To give myself a better grasp of this apparently incongruous concept I pretended to be living in safe accommodation and then, to better imagine living completely wild, I would move to the other side of the outbuilding and pretend I was living completely in the wilderness. Unfortunately though the story did not get completed at the time as I spent most of that night moving from one side of the outbuilding to the other, living in my imagination, but to little effect.
     Throughout the proceeding fifteen years or so I would often think of this tale and feel guilty that I had not finished it, especially as it seemed to me to be a very good idea. Eventually I took the bull by the horns and wrote the story and still am extremely pleased that it came out so well. Mind you, I invariably finish what I start so it is no surprise that the story was eventually written. The actual writing of the story was fairly straightforward and I am still surprised that it took fifteen years to write. Well, I guess, better late than never.