PLMII will be a guest @ FSC 2013 – http://www.floridasupercon.com/

They have a great guest list this year and PLMII will be hosting several Writing Panels as well.

See you there!

The story opens in London during the height of Jack the Ripper’s rampage in Whitechapel. To stop the killings, which involve her family, The Queen of England summoned a trusted friend known for dealing with such incursions, Dr. Daedalus.  As one assigned the task of maintaining order and balance between our world and that of the supernatural, or Veiled, Dr. Daedalus begins his search for the creature responsible for the killings. Upon finding him, he learns of a greater evil long thought dead that threatens both England and France. To hunt down the new monster , he must first enlist the help of a woman facing death for a list of crimes so long and heinous she’s been condemned to die by two governments.

One of the things that stuck out to me was the liberal use of various characters from history and mythology. Characters and people like Varney the Vampire and Nicolas Flemal and his Philosopher’s Stone gave the story a comfortability for me and helped to pull me in. Even the main character, Dr. Daedalus, should be familiar to history/mythology fans.

My only issue is I would’ve liked to see the story become deeper. While a quick read, I wouldn’t mind it being a four hundred page novel, but that’s my own feeling. All in all, I really enjoyed it and recommend it for any fantasy fan looking for a new take on the genre.

Original post located below:

http://cpbialois.wordpress.com/2013/04/26/in-the-books-featuring-dr-daedalus-the-devils-army-by-philip-mccall-ii/

In this episode we find out the fate of Jaime who lost his hand at the end of last episode. Meanwhile, in King’s Landing, King Joffrey, I believe is finally sowing the seeds of his own destruction. Lord Varys finally shows some muscle and the extent of his power and that he is far more dangerous than many know. Yet the whole episode is rocked when Daenerys claims her army and slays those who sought to take her for a fool. The last part of this episode was just earthshaking and right on point with the character of Daenarys. I will take this victory for her with a sigh of relief but know that somehow she will pay for this day as all do in the GoT universe.

Author’s Note: I wanted to write a story with no dialogue and pay homage to Peter Beagle, author of ”The last Unicorn”. I had the privilege to meet Mr. Beagle many years later and  I shared with him my writings, including this story. He loved this particular piece of all my writings. Mr. Beagle, told me that I had created my own memorable tale of a Unicorn, one he had enjoyed very much.   

The moon’s light poured gently through the forest canopy, as the animals of the forest crept about. The predators of the forest listened to the wind for the slightest movement, while the prey held its breath avoiding detection. A game of silence and death played its continuous cycle amongst the ancient oaks. Suddenly without warning, the winds foretold of danger, the forest now no longer safe, sanctuary sullied. The hunt of the unicorn had begun.

The queen of the forest smelled them on the wind, heard their voices echoing in the cold night air. The invisible hands of fear touched her spine sending chills throughout her body, her muscles tensed instinctively and her nostrils snorted in the fine mist. The unicorn’s eyes searched the trees for the intruders; she must know what shape death might chose to hunt her this night. The animals of the forest scurried, darting for cover, while the unicorn galloped off to a nearby hill to see her enemy.

Four humanoid shapes crept through the trees. They carried no torches but she could see their red eyes glowing in the darkness. She recognized the goblins by their scent as they entered the forest. Their dark intentions hung about their heads like ill-fitting, rotting skins. They wished to kill her and take her horn.

They would have to catch her first. She reared up, bayed, and called them to the chase.

The vile creatures grunted and ran in pursuit of the fleeing unicorn. Arrows rained within the canopy of shadowed green; swiftly the prey avoided their deadly touch. She could feel the wind dance rhythmically through her silken mane. Hooves clicked sharply in the shadows as she quickly darted across a small forest path. The screams of the goblins sang of frustration and the willingness to continue the chase.

The ancient oaks watched in horror as the goblins pursued the unicorn with a thirst for blood unmatched by any forest predator. Death laughed on the wind, as it blew through the trees. The unicorn shot through the forest on fiery hooves, like a comet. The hunters continued their grueling pace, firing arrows at the magical beast, taunting each other as they missed. None of the shards of death seemed to find their mark, but the hunt continued. She felt the burning in her lungs and the chill of cold sweat line her body. Halting to gain her bearings, she noticed the goblins had come over a nearby hill. They grunted and motioned to her, thinking they had cornered their quarry. They wore their false pride like bright tin armor. Once more, the unicorn reared defiant and proud. The sound of fired bows rang out, but the arrows struck only the ground where the magical beast had last stood.

Storm clouds gathered, dousing the moon’s light and rumbled like war drums in the sky. Lightning struck a worn dead tree, bursting it into flames. The air grew hot and moist, announced the rain would soon come. Still the unicorn ran on the thrill of the pursuit coursed like raw fire through her veins. The hunters pace had slowed as they gasped for air and rubbed sore muscles. In anger, they looked about for their prey. The goblins examined the dark forest surroundings.

A primordial dance had begun, as the treetops swayed in unison under the weight of the growing winds. Some of the goblins announced their desire to end the futile hunt, while the majority silenced their cries and moved on.

The unicorn watched their movements from a small ledge, covered in wild grass and flowers. They had almost given up, but their evil goal had goaded them to continue. The goblins followed her tracks hoping to catch a glimpse of her. She was tired and knew if the goblins continued the hunt, sunlight would never frolic in her mane again. The unicorn felt old and a bit worn, but she would not let death take her so easily. She reared up, mocked her hunters and death, as the arrows tore through the turbulent wind. One of the arrows almost found its deadly mark. The unicorn snorted in disbelief and sprinted off. The goblins screamed as they chased her.

Fear crept like an unwelcome guest into her heart. She felt the cold touch of death reach for her once more. She galloped faster through the lush forest, and outrun fear to leave it behind in the dark. In the sky, dark clouds churned and rumbled like a witch’s brew. Soon the spell of rain would be completed and fall upon the earth. The goblins continued their chase, sensing the unicorn’s fear. This could mean only one thing she was beginning to tire. They would have their prize soon if they did not give up. One of the vile creatures blew a horn to raise the moral of his fellow hunters. The goblin bows sang again, the shafts took flight still unable to deliver death to their prey.

The moon fought in vain to pierce the dark clouds, under the violent ebony sky blanket. The hunt continued, prey running with death just upon its heels. The forest animals could not help but watch the mad race go on. They felt pain for the unicorn, which had protected them so long. Tonight they lay hidden unmarked by death, only the queen of the forest was and in a way, they were thankful. Somewhere in their minds they knew, her sacrifice would save so much more.

How free she felt as the midnight air, raced upon her body as she ran. The energy of youth was returning to her old body, she knew this might be the last hunt. The unicorn snorted the thought away; the goblins would have to kill her first. She slowed to a trot and looked back down the hill; the goblins struggled to keep up. Their screams came between their gasps for air, and the futile attempts to fire arrows upon her. The unicorn knew just over the hill lay her salvation. Many moons ago an old tree had fallen across a gorge, creating a natural bridge. She planned to cross the log. Then kick the old fallen tree into the deep ravine below. The goblins would have no way across. They would have to head back to find a way across, by then she would be far from their clutches. The rain began to fall in waves from the sky, the unicorn bolted up the hill.

The goblins clamored upon the hill. They spotted the unicorn as she headed for the gorge. They could see a tree stretched across it, and one of them screamed to fire their bows. Arrows took flight but the unicorn was too fast. The old tree lay just ahead and the unicorn summoned all her strength to dash across. The sky above shook in anger and a bolt of lightning shot out of the heavens. The fallen tree could not handle the lightning strike; it began to snap in half. The unicorn reared up and bayed in fright, regained her wits, leaped back to the hill and the waiting goblins. There was no way out now, the bloodthirsty goblins stood bows notched. The unicorn reared in defiance, and in the sky, lightning flashed lighting the forest for all to see death standing upon the hill. Arrows zipped through the rain as the unicorn charged the goblins.

Death embraced the queen of the forest, as her body fell to the ground. The unicorn could hear the goblins scream for joy, as death’s cold grasp pulled her slowly away. She would run now with the herd across the sky. Like all of her kind she knew, one day she would not get away. The goblins could have her horn; her passing has saved so much more.

The morning sun chased the storm clouds away, shining upon the animals of the forest gathered around their fallen queen. Predator and prey sat together mourning the passage of their monarch.

Suddenly a white form burst from nearby brush, sending the animals scattering. A young unicorn trotted up to the fallen queen, her mother. She touched her small horn, to the stump where her mother’s used to be. The animals sounded off, as the new queen raised her small head. There would be no tears for the young monarch. She knew one day hunters would seek her, but they would have catch her first. The young queen reared in defiance ran off into the ancient green forest.

END

 Copyright 2013 – PLMII

Forever he goes to the river

To lay his tears to rest

Beside the running blue water

Lay the prices of a broken trust

It was so many years ago

And only the wind truly knows

The forgotten tale of two lovers

Who proclaimed their love by the river

Once beneath the moon and stars

Love left its terrible and unforgotten scar

Upon two young loving hearts

Whose once sweet world has fallen apart

So night after night he comes to cry

Talk to memories and ask why

That a love said to last forever

Became a sacrifice upon an unseen altar

Beneath the stars

Beside the river

Underneath the moon

She was young

Full of life

An ever so fair

She dreamed

She loved

She dance upon air

She the beauty fair

Belongs in his longing arms

Not in an unknown writer’s song

Fate can be so cruel

As it plays by self made rules

It came like a thief in the night

Among the shadows far from sight

With tainted dagger it slew true love

Like a pure white sacrificial dove

She was alone under obsidian sky

As death the collector came

Forever she closed her eyes

Beneath the stars

Beside The River

Underneath the moon

How quickly death slipped away

After her soul was set free

Before the sun claimed a new day

It was then her lover

Came upon her skin so cold and pale

He knew he would never know the tale

So he gave her to the churning river

Upon a handmade raft full of flowers

Mother Nature took away the empty shell

Far away a soul stood judgment in hell

A thousand years have come and gone

Yet his soul’s lamentation is far from done

He sits alone endlessly in ghostly tears

Lost everything he considered so dear

And you the reader must wonder why

Why his soul returns endlessly to cry

Nightly beside the lonely river

His lover’s reflection haunts the water

So together he and she

Must live out endless misery

The see each other so much

Yet alas they never touch

For if he reaches to touch her face

The sweet longing reflection separates

She leaves with a trace

An the night how it grows ever late

Two worn spirits fill with endless hate

As the murder remains ever free

Their eyes to never see

Beneath the stars

Beside the river

Underneath the moon

So I lay down my pen

And remember the murder again

I saw the terror in her eyes

As I heard her futile cries

My dagger slide in

I committed my sin

Beneath the stars

Beside the river

Underneath the moon

You say I am a murderer

My words untrue

She was alive till you read

You are the true murderer

No one killed her but you

Beneath the stars

Beside the river

Underneath the moon

I wrote these words you’ve read

Now too my words done

I am dead

END

Copyright 2013 – PLMII

In the land of dreams, monsters stomp and creatures creep,

As they wait for young children to fall asleep.

When the sun is set and the moon has risen,

Monsters escape from the Sandman’s prison.

Through a cracked closet door or from under the bed,

They come with claws and sharp teeth,

Bringing dread to children’s heads.

Every night they escaped to have wicked fun,

All that is except for just one.

They call him Moroi the littlest nightmare,

It was his job to just sweep,

Never to stomp or to creep.

He longed to scare just one, Girl or a boy,

This was the wish of little Moroi.

As all the other monsters prepared for an evening of doom,

Moroi stood there holding his broom.

Heebie-Jeebies, the creepiest monster of all,

Gazed down at Moroi and made him feel very small.

“Why are you standing there?” Growled Heebie–Geebie with a menacing glare.

“Tonight, I wish to join the scare,” squeaked the littlest nightmare.

All the monsters began to laugh and squeal.

Could this little fellow’s request be real?

“What do you think my fellow fiends, can this twerp ruin dreams?” asked Heebie-Jeebies.

“Him, make a child scream?” laughed Jeepers

“Or ruin a dream,” howled Creepers.

“I say let him try a scare, if he is up to the dare.” Willies said with a smirk.

Heebie-Jeebies scowled at Moroi his eyes glowing bright red. “Well, you heard what they said.”

Moonlight then filled the room,

And the monsters left through a portal to deliver vast doom.

Moments later into a room they all did creep,

To find a lone child fast asleep.

“Let’s see what you got?” said Willies as he crawled from under the bed.

“Okay, stand back” Moroi chirped, and prepared to deliver dread.

He growled…He stomped…He screamed.

Yet the little boy just smiled in his sleep and quietly dreamed.

It was as if he was not even there,

The child slept undisturbed by the littlest nightmare.

The other nightmares laughed and rolled about the floor,

They could hardly take anymore.

“Let me show you how it is done!” Growled Heebie-Jeebies who longed for nightmarish fun.

Suddenly the boy began to twist and turn,

While his brow did suddenly burn.

The boy cried out in distress,

As Heebie Geebie made his dreams a mess.

Moroi could not bear to see,

The child in such misery.

Then with all his might Moroi, closed his eyes and shouted, “This is not right!”

A sudden flash then erupted,

Away went the dream that Heebie-Jeebies corrupted.

When Moroi opened up his eyes,

He was now alone to his own surprise.

“Who’s there?” said a small voice.

Moroi froze.

Should he answer, did he have a choice?

Then a silvery dust filled the air,

And the boy fell back to sleep without a care.

“I saw what you did, “said the Sandman with surprise.

Moroi felt suddenly ashamed, as tears welled in his eyes.

Then he saw a smile spread on the Sandman’s face.

“Don’t think that you are too small, or of no good use.  Did you not stop Heebee-Jeebees’ abuse? “

“Yes, but where have all the other nightmares gone?” asked Moroi.

The sandman said while rubbing his chin, “They have been sent back to prison.”

Moroi thought how angry the others would be,

Because of him they were no longer free.

“As to their fate you should not care, you are more than just a simple nightmare.”

The Sandman then said with delight, “You are a pint-sized slayer of fright.”

Moroi beamed with monstrous joy,

He had indeed helped this little boy.

He realized that in this world he now had a place,

As a fanged smile crept to his face.

So when you turn out the lights,

And monsters creep with thoughts of fright.

Never fear of the terror they shall employ,

You are under the watch of little Moroi.

END

Copyright 2013 – PLMII

I awoke with a knife in my hand, protruding from my own chest. A laugh rumbled in my chest and escaped my lips now spread in a wide smile. I sat up, yanked the large kitchen knife free, and looked about the room, which was now in ruins. Everything had gone according to my plan. My debtors would now consider me dead and I was now a billionaire, thanks to stolen mafia funds, safely deposited in several Swiss bank accounts. Working was for the living, and I was not bound by such a problem. My long life has always been funded and of course fed by the dregs of society. However these dregs are a long way from their humble beginnings of begging for copper on the streets of Godrano, a small municipality in Sicily, in which I had executed my current plan of deception.

Sicilian blood is much like their wine, fiery and full of life. I stood and looked at the unlucky mafia thugs, dead on my floor. I could smell their now cold blood and hunger filled my senses. It would not be wise to feed upon the victims of a future crime scene.  I ignored my thirst, walked over to a nearby closest and removed a corpse stored there. I dragged it over to where I had supposedly died. I gazed at my own face, took the knife and plunged it into the chest of my dead clone. I had learned many things in my long life, and plastic surgery was by far the most useful. It only required a victim with my general looks and build; the scalpel would make the rest of the illusion. It was also important to be killed in a small town, whose police did not care for investigating a crime farther than necessary. It was a bonus if they were on the mafia’s payroll. The evening sun poured through the windows of my small villa and I smiled. The Vampire Council had done a great job of perpetuating myths about us, so that we could walk in full daylight and none were the wiser. It is odd how people believe things upon word alone, those said beliefs are often more powerful than those based upon their own witnessing of an event. The council would not be pleased with my latest con should they catch wind of it, but forgiveness was only a monetary donation away.

After I mocked up my own murder scene, I left and walked across the hall to the other apartment I had rented using a glamoured victim. The room was sparse since I only needed it to feed; I never drank a victim in my living quarters. Sometimes I would feed upon a victim for several days, having a room to store them in was quite useful. The room was empty now except for a pile freshly laundered clothes I would be changing into.

After I had showered and groomed myself to perfection. I grabbed my old, bloody clothes packed neatly in a small leather satchel for disposal in the trunk of a cab that would take me to the airport. My business was finished here in lovely Godrano, and I thought that Ireland would be a good place to haunt for a while. After all who misses a few drunken Irishmen, especially in the back country?

I locked the door and proceeded to head to the parking lot and await my cab. The evening sun was warm and felt invigorating upon my skin. I saw the manager of the property and waved him over. He chatted with me about the weather and informed me of the local fisherman’s good haul of fish for the day. My cab arrived and I smiled and wished him a good evening.

I told the driver my destination and entered the cab. I gazed at the property manager one final time, as he went about his duties blissfully. He would have a hard time explaining to the local police how he saw me take a cab after my demise this afternoon. Several hours later I arrived at the airport and I then placed a glamour on the driver. I told him to burn the satchel in his trunk, and forget that he ever saw me. I then exited the cab, without paying and walked to my flight. I silently wished the part about vampire’s turning into bats was true; it would save me money and the pain of an in-flight movie.

END

Copyright 2013 – PLMII

There once lived a Boy who could see Death. Not the death, that to which all living beings must succumb, but the very being himself. He witnessed the malevolent spirit as he caused a horse drawn cart to barrel out of control and kill a man crossing the street, in the market square one summer’s day. Another day he spied Death stroking a boney hand upon a local farmer’s cattle that perished of disease only days later. No matter how many times he saw Death, it seemed that no one else about did, which caused the Boy to become very sad. The Boy often thought how terrible it was to see Death coming for someone and there was nothing he could do about it. One day while mulling in deep sorrow the Boy got an idea.

The very next morning, the Boy went to the market in town and waited for Death. He figured with so many people in one place Death could not resist to show up. The sun waned in the sky as the Boy waited and his patience was rewarded. Death swept into the square towering over even the tallest of men in the village. His long black cloak and robes fluttered in the evening wind. His cowl moved about as if he sought to find a long lost friend or perhaps his next victim. Suddenly Death moved toward the town’s fountain, placed his fleshless hands upon the King’s statue within its center and began to shove. The Boy wasted no time upon seeing Death’s intended target. A young maiden sat upon the edge of the fountain and watched the village folk mill about the market. She was totally unaware that death sought to take her life. The Boy arrived at her side just in time to shove her out of the way, before the statue crashed to the ground upon where she had once been seated. The Boy was pleased that he had saved someone’s life, but in the corner of his eye he could see Death’s hollow gaze upon him. The Boy made no indication that he could see Death, and the phantom, momentarily defeated, left without a soul that night.

The Boy continued to thwart Death whenever he came to the village and he was careful not to let Death know that he could see him. All seemed well until the day Death came for him. The Boy, now a young man was riding to the market upon an old mare when suddenly he saw Death leap out onto the road in front of him. The Boy veered his frightened horse barely missing Death, and drove the mare off in a panicked gallop. He arrived at the market hours later to find Death waiting. The specter moved in, grabbed the Boy and threw him into a nearby alley.

“It was you all this time stopping my work!” Death boomed like a raging storm.

“Yes I saw your hand and sought to avert its device.” The Boy spat back.

“You have cheated me of what is mine and for this offense I will take you for punishment.” Death grabbed the Boy and whisked him away to a fury of shadows. Light faded from the Boy’s eyes and he saw no more.

The Boy awoke in a small cottage and through its sun lit window he could see a beautiful garden. Death was there speaking with an Old Man dressed in pale white robes. The man’s face was kind and while he listened intently to Death’s ranting, he also gazed upon the Boy with a smile upon his lips.

“It would seem the cheat has awoken.” The Old Man said with a chuckle that caused Death to become silent.

The Old Man walked over to the Boy and helped him stand.

“Death is very angry that you have interfered in his work.” The Old Man said softly.

The Boy gazed upon the old man. He suddenly felt that he could tell him anything and that it would be okay. “Yes, but he does not even give his victims a chance. He sneaks upon them like a thief and steals their lives without warning.”

The Old Man glanced at Death who looked the other way much like a child, who wished to appear innocent. He then turned to the Boy and smiled once more. “Death must come to every living being and one cannot predict how and when they shall die.”

The Boy was about to protest when the Old Man raised a finger to silence his reply.

“You have seen Death and spared many from his grasp, if only to be taken another day, a very admirable thing you have done.” The Boy smiled and the Old Man continued. “However you also have used your gift to avert your own death, and that was a selfish act. “

The Boy could not argue with the Old Man’s logic and knew that he must accept his punishment whatever it was.

“I did as you have said, but I think it is unfair that Death can waylay his victims without offering them a chance to escape his grasp.” The Boy said, while he stared at Death, whose fleshless face seemed to gloat back with a hollow smile.

“You are right.” The Old Man said and patted the Boy’s shoulder.

The Boy swelled with pride and thought his troubles might very well be over. He thought perhaps he might escape punishment. He was however wrong.

“Death tactics are unfair but you did cheat him, he did not know that you could see him.” The Old Man paused and then pronounced his judgment. “The Boy must pay for his treachery with his life.”

Death laughed loudly, while the Boy sighed with deep sadness. He closed his eyes and waited his punishment. He suddenly felt the Old Man’s grip his shoulder.

“Open your eyes,” the Boy did as he was bid, “Your acts of kindness have stirred my heart and I think you are right about Death’s unfair practices.” The Old Man’s gaze silenced any of the specter’s protests.

“I cannot return your life because Death’s debt must be paid. I can however grant your wish.”

“My wish” the Boy said in confusion.

“Yes, I will allow you to give the living a fair chance.”

“How will you do that if Death is to take me?”

“Death will take everything but your voice, and with it you shall warn the living about Death’s possible approach or trickery. Not all will listen to your words, Death must also have chance. ”

“So I can warn every living being about Death?”

“Yes, they shall hear your voice inside their minds telling them to be wary of things they do for it just might bring them harm. Yet it will be nothing but a small whisper, a passing thought and only the wise shall head your words to live another day. “

The Boy considered all the Old Man had said and thought his offer was fair.

“So be it. I will accept my fate.”

“Death you may now have the soul of young Conscience, but remember he will be watching your every move and helping all that shall listen to him,” The Old Man smiled as Death took all but the Conscience’s voice to Hades his dark realm below.

 ***

So the next time that little voice in your head, tells you something, you just might want to head its warning. Your Conscience might just know something bad is about to happen.

 END

Copyright 2013 – PLMII