So it’s been nearly an eon since my last sporadic post. So today I will announce my recent literary victory.
In April, Dark Corners magazine, a swiftly-rising publisher of pulp fiction edited by Craig T. Mc Neely, welcomed my short story, “The Friend Zone,” into their noble ranks of authors, including such names as Will Viharo, Gabino Iglesias, Warren Moore, Mark Rapacz, Ryan Sayles, William E. Wallace, and Chris Leek. I have heard and read just about none of them, but apparently they’re each a sacred slice of the literary pie. Guess I am now, too.
This story spins the tale of a young lad who embarks on a terrible pilgrimage through a desert wasteland in search of his lost love, only to find himself fleeing from ravenous harpies instead. I’ll admit, it’s loosely inspired by a long-ago rant I posted about unrequited love. It’s my first literary acceptance, and honestly I was dumbfounded. If you aren’t mesmerized by the epic cover artwork of a bloody Ying-Yang branded to a nuclear bomb blast (I’m the Adam Bomb, you dig?) then here’s a teaser of the tale, epigram from John Milton’s Paradise Lost omitted:
“A quarter of the way through my life’s journey, I went astray and awoke to find myself lost in a great desert. It was the desert that cast all other deserts in the universe as its shadows: Cacti legions bristled at the sky like fists of vengeance; dunes wove across the desert like the spines of brooding vipers; the sand was bright and infernal, washed in blood and rust. A ridge of mountains reared as far away as planets, serrated summits vanishing in the strata, and marched thousands of miles around this bizarre continent of windswept emptiness. It was a desert ancient beyond creation, and I was all that breathed.
“I wandered into the desert. A shadow loomed over me, and I stared up at a broad green highway sign blotting out the sun, but there was not a road in sight. It was half-buried and its corners were caked with windblown sand. When I read that sign, all hope drained from me.
“THE FRIEND ZONE
“I remembered hearing about this place when I was alive on the Earth, but I never believed in its existence. I thought it was just a myth spun by white teenage boys angry about their sexual frustration, a way of guilt-tripping the girls who rejected their sexual advances. But I could deny no longer the land of the nice guys, this cosmic desert floating through the black gulf between dimensions. I could see now that the Friend Zone was as real as the corkscrews of sand blowing around me, more horrible than the visions of the darkest occultists of history…”
Tantalized yet? Purchase a copy. Read mine, then read the others, then read mine again. Click here to get your hands on it!