SPACE ELEVATOR ANTHOLOGY

Mars geodynamo had been reactivated in the past 75 years to deflect cosmic rays via use of Molten Metals, Convection and Rotation but the atmosphere, cloud cover and unfiltered radiation were still dangerously unstable to human habitation outside of their protective suits and protective buildings. Hence the need for more advanced radiation protocols from science were demanded and given. Alien protective skin technology had been re-engineered and utilized. “You mean to tell me all of those strangely mutilated cows bodies found abandoned in fields were the starting point of this technology?” Allie had asked of her new friend, the only other woman on the mission, Pauline aka “Robin”. “Well way, way back in 1998, Apligraf was developed in Canton, Massachusetts by Organogenisis,” Pauline had told her. “In those early days it was done via harvesting the subjects own skin, post-circumcision human neonatal foreskin and bovine collagen.” She went on to tell Allie that Alloderm (LifeCell Corporation) Woodlands, Texas had then further created a skin that didn’t decry immunology or cause rejection. Then the newer generation of Apligraf was further developed where the skin was not external: it had become part of the body as a long term solution: but that still had taken sixty days to grow and fuse into the human skin cells. “Today it will only take ten days to genetically engineer to our body skin,” Pauline said reassuringly. “And we will be a blue color,” she further added aside. “Will it fade away when we return to Earth?” Allie asked as she shuddered. However Pauline was already walking out of the medical unit and away from her so she returned to watch as the doctor started the last procedures on her skin that would protect her from excess radiation..........(c) CBJ “To tAmbl,wi:D”

Latest Cthulhu story set in the 50's

THE R’LYEHAN DANCE By Christene Britton-Jones "Tulu gasped in shock as his skin started to split and melt from his body into a pool of liquid at his feet upon the vibration frequency of his long low deep vocal unearthly growl. He roared from deep within as he morphed at a frightening pace from that of a man into a monster in anthropoid form. He shot upward, taller and taller, forty feet at least. Massive shoulders appeared, arms lengthened, and talon-like claws grew from his hind and fore-feet. His octopus-like head grew multiple masses of waving tentacles, feelers, all reaching, searching. From his back sprouted long narrow bat-like wings that flapped open with a thunderous crack. “My Liege,” Tulu murmured endearingly, reaching for the gigantic cephalopod. Gliding across the deck he approached her, hovered over her for what seemed like an eternity, but was only a few seconds. The raging storm was furiously battering them and the ship. Gently, tenderly, he reached one small sensory tentacle out toward her and stroked it down her cheek, collecting tears of joy as she cried. As soon as the tentacle and briny tears made contact, electrical sparks grew into a rolling ball that expanded larger and larger, surrounding them"............(c)CBJ

SteamPunk Cthulhu

Finished and sent to the editors (who fingers crossed will think it suitable for the SteamPunk anthology) my story set in India in the days of the British Raj: the writing, speech & vernacular all set as Victorian English. Following is a short clip/excerpt from "The War Elephant"...... Inside, all was decidedly safe, cozy, and warm. An uncommon silence interrupted by the constant mournful sound of the high Himalayan winds outside as they wrapped around the swiftly moving airship. Then a slight shuddering as small vibrations underfoot peaked and the big steam driven airship turned slightly onto a new course correction, aligning with a compass setting. Emily stood transfixed at a panoramic viewing window, staring down upon the white blanketed mountainous ridges for she was still trying to put her jumbled thoughts into some semblance of order. This had all happened so fast. It was much too fast to comprehend. “This shall henceforth be my travel mode,” declared Emily, smiling as it fully registered that she felt no illness whatsoever. Yes, this new way of travel suited her admirably. George was deep in conversation with the engineer, asking all manner of questions regarding the workings of the airship. “Hydrogen, helium, with steam you say my good man?” George was totally baffled, trying to grasp some rudiments of the workings of the mammoth airship. “It has not one but two balloons, one within the other,” the engineer started to explain. “The outside one is full of helium, the inner one filled with hydrogen.” He continued to explain that the outer layer of helium gas would prevent any fire from burning, working as a buffer between the oxygen outside and the inner hydrogen balloon. “Here, look at those control panels,” the engineer continued, directing us to the Captain’s Bridge. He further explained that they could see from the control room gauges if their air pressure was dropping in which case they would immediately send repair crews before the helium leaked out. “It gives us enough time to land or evacuate if need be,” he added. A sudden hissing sound jarred George’s attention.........(c)CBJ

Grateful for a small mention of my story here yesterday.......

Fiction that binds: Japan's hope after disaster

By STEPHEN MANSFIELD
Kizuna: Fiction for Japan, edited by Brent Millis. CreateSpace, 2011, 228 pp., $15.99 (e-book)
It's no coincidence that the Chinese character chosen to represent the most expressive sentiment of the year in Japan, one that signifies hope after disaster and misery, was kizuna, meaning a bond of fraternity. Bystanders gather at the Kiyomizu Temple in Kyoto to watch as the iconic kanji is drawn by a priest wielding a giant calligraphy brush.



In the timely named "Kizuna: Fiction for Japan," we have a work that is both real and immaterial, a book that can be switched on and off, its pixels massing, then just as easily vaporizing with the brush of fingertips over a touch screen. If this suggests vapidity, it is a delight to discover that, although you may not be able to feel the physical density and heft of this digital book, its contents, dedicated to the victims of the March 3, 2011, earthquake and tsunami, have verifiable weight and substance.
You may not be familiar with all the contributors to this anthology, although the name Michael Moorcock is one that most readers will know. Over 70 writers from all parts of the globe have donated their time and creativity to this collection of new, previously unpublished work.

Although some of the stories are set in Japan, none are directly connected to the events in the Tohoku region. Like the recent microfiction genre that has reached the West in translation from China, all of these contributions are short and pithy. That said, there is a good deal of reading here.

Judging from the imaginative content, this is the age of sci-fi, fantasy and extreme fiction, of exploring the outer confines of sensations and experience. The influence of powerful imaginists like Edgar Allan Poe, H.P. Lovecraft and Kurt Vonnegut is evident.

What links these contributions are the human bonds created between the fictive subjects, some of them fulfilled others severed. Highly descriptive and experiential, the stories may be multi-national, but in serving up a smorgasbord of ideas and emotions, they transcend borders. In this fiction sans frontiers, writer Christene Britton-Jones takes us deep into the Australian Outback and its vernacular; John Rice, an Englishman in his 80s, offers a Sherlock Holmes' tale of extraordinary period authenticity. Another writer, Katherine Govier, searches for the Edo Period artist Hokusai's daughter; Ken Asamatsu is haunted by a Sapporo locale linked to the failed suicide of a friend.

There are contributions from a Japanese novelist and scriptwriter, a Western author who lives in India and has contributed a strange Hindu-Gothic tale, a theologian who writes chillingly of the habits of a neo-Nazi, and an intriguing sci-fi inspired story from Philip Overby, who claims among other things, to have served as a chicken factory worker, plumber's assistant and ex-pro wrestler. He now teaches English in Japan. These works by authors from very diverse backgrounds are testament to the extent of creativity that exists in our time, and the good will of these writers in contributing their work.

Some of these imaginative tales replicate the concept of kizuna, the bonds that can be made between people from jarringly different walks of life. In "Kamiya Bar" by Dan Ryan, the legendary Tokyo watering hole, once hallowed ground for novelists, dissolute poets and assorted flaneur, serves as the stage for a cordial encounter between an American couple and a Japanese war veteran, in which a potentially troubling past is resolved in the communality of the present.

Inspired by tragedy, it was a joy to read this anthology.
All the proceeds from sales of "Kizuna: Fiction for Japan" go to helping orphans in Japan's disaster-hit areas.

http://www.japantimes.co.jp/text/fb20120401a3.html

Latest Updates

Feb:My story “The Bunyip” has been accepted by Static Movement for the ‘LEGENDS AND LORE’ anthology edited by Todd Seaward.

Five of my Gothic poems have been accepted by Static Movement for the GOTHIC POEMS AND FLASH FICTION anthology edited by George Wilhite.

From the web site of Carson-Newman College: http://web.cn.edu/kwheeler/lit_terms_G.html

GOTHIC LITERATURE: Poetry, short stories, or novels designed to thrill readers by providing mystery and blood-curdling accounts of villainy, murder, and the supernatural . . . the conventions of gothic literature include wild and desolate landscapes, ancient buildings such as ruined monasteries; cathedrals; castles with dungeons, torture chambers, secret doors, and winding stairways; apparitions, phantoms, demons, and necromancers--an atmosphere of brooding gloom.

2011 Journey………….

January…Birthday flowers from Dawn & Linda/Sun on snow/ Pixie cosy & warm.

Feb…Icicles melting/Yummy chocolates & roses/A new Valentine's Bear

March… Cladding in winter snow/Clyde supervising/Pixie changing light bulbs.

April…Clyde my office assistant/Cooked up a Braii/All too much for Rufus.

May…Cowgirls working gear/Fresh cinnamon buns for breakfast/A winter visitor

June… Tipi poles collapse/Black mold growing/Tom on the ride on mower ….

July…Clyde catching rays/Harley out/Ancient apple tree over loaded.

Aug…Visiting Niagara/Gal’s day out/ Harley & Honda ready to ride.

Sept…Notice to leave farm/Mushrooms & Heritage tomatoes/Corn field thriving.

Oct…Three apples for Bailey/Goldie wants me to write/Last days with Linda.

Nov…Heading out All Hallows Eve/Lighthouse/Walking along New Smyrna Beach.

Dec…Australian Gum Tree/Clearwater Beach/Koreshan Settlement(all in Florida)

When Tears Fall............

http://www.flickr.com/photos/maguaphotos/4327764661/in/photostream

Tears on the wind

Whisper with the wind

Gently mouthing words

Rippling past my lips

Unheard…

Echoes the tear drops

Softly deepens within

Trickles down ears

Washing……..

Clash of thunder rolls

Loudly beats my heart

Livens my vibrations

Drumming...

…©CBJ

Another Angel went.....Winging her way Home

ANGELS SMILE AND WALK THROUGH OUR LIVES EACH DAY

You know when an angel touches your heart

Usually when you least expect it to happen

Suddenly they are right there beside you.

And that presence fills up your soul

With a complete utter happiness.

There was no rhyme or reason knowingly

For Angels to come in your life right then

But quietly your heart murmurs names.

Then they are there and you feel

Very enriched by that closeness.

So have you ever been touched by an angel

Brushed lightly by softy downy feathers

In the wind as they move around you.

Your heart lifts beating with love

And total happiness in response.

At once they have charged you with energy

As love and light fills your body and soul

Sometimes they move on and away.

Passing as ships in the night of life

But you are never the same again.

My beloved Lady whom I gladly called a friend

You filled my heart with such pure love and care

I was bound to you for as long as you walked.

But in passing you gently tug strings

From me left in this earthly life.

In my heart I am grateful for having known you

For a short time you filled my life lovingly

My days were so filled with your smiles.

You shared your loving unconditionally

Through our busy virtual internet

Yes I have met a beloved angel here on earth

Distinctly knowing it when we first hugged I

Fell in love/friend/family with you forever.

Now waving goodbye my heart is heavy

Till we meet again my beloved angel.

© CBJ

Meditations of a Tree

Meditations of a Tree

Oooooooommmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm …………………..

Going within myself to find the peace that I cannot find without

To that place of no pain no strain and no involvement with life.

I am no longer a tree bound to the earth standing stock still

I am a free spirit soaring far above the clouds bathed in the sun

Feeling the warmth surrounding me, cosseting and comforting me.

Oooooooommmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm …………………..

©CBJ

CBJ

"Your journey is not my journey, but we may share a moment in time and walk side by side and our hearts may beat in unison for that short pause" (c)CBJ

Silence

SILENCE

Sh-h! Si-len-ce

Whisper no word no sigh.

Red turmoil screaming

……..(c)CBJ

Be Aware............

A nation of sheep will get a government of wolves.

 - Edward R. Murrow

Look for me...............

When I am Gone

Look for me in the soft summer breezes

In zephyrs running through sweet grass,

As my orange glow fingers trail the sky

Let slip a burning fiery red ball on dusk.

Listen to my sighs from high tall timbers

Down through swaying green boughs,

While steadfast stones hold my essence

That once was spirit turned lately to dust.

Feel on your skin kisses of my tears caress

Within that new mist of fresh fallen rain,

Our heart beat resounds together in sync 

As my love enfolding encompasses all.

Find me in the pauses those quiet moments

Before storms arrive raging through the sky,

In the darkest night sky illuminated by stars

In the clearest canopy stretched out above.

I shall be there when the tempest break

In Banshee’s frenzy of wild roaring winds,

As lightening rending black velvet nights

Electrifying and binding our souls delight.

I have not left you my sweet hearts delight

For I am with you always and for everlasting,

My love binds tightly to your spirit in eternity

Our pathways flow through the ages of time.

…..(c)CBJ

KIZUNA ... Fiction for Japan

"Yara-Ma-Yha-Who" is a story that I wrote for KIZUNA (Fiction for Japan) anthology. This is to help raise funds for the Red Cross to use for the recovery of Japan and her devastated peoples.