Weird Wild Out Now!

Weird Wild

 

Weird Wild a collection of themed mixed genre shorts by Geraldine Clark Hellery is out now!

Have you been down to the Weird Wild Woods? You’re sure for a big surprise. For down in the woods the wild things lurk, from hungry trolls to battling fae. Join the bears for the teddy bears picnic and enjoy more than a slice of pie. Beware the chime of the bluebells and those who dance to their ring. Basque in the shade of the Dragon Tree but beware it’s flaming leaves. The lake is a beautiful place to be and for many a site of pilgrimage while the campsite is always a busy hive of activity. If you’re into history, there’s a cairn and a stone circle all ripe for exploration with locals who know their history as intimately as if they lived it. So join us in the Weird Wild Woods, I can guarantee it will be a visit you remember for the rest of your life.

Out now in Paperback on Amazon.com and due any time now on Amazon.co.uk

ebook will be available soon from Amazon, Spacewitch and Wizards Tower Press.

 

Chapter 2

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After the meal, I bade Mother good bye and headed for my own personal quarters. The servants had cleaned and aired it out, letting the fresh scent of pine. I sniffed appreciatively. The balcony looked out into the clan’s forest area, replete with lake and trees. I would meet up with my pack-crew later in the evening, perhaps sharing a hunt with them. They had to know about their new assignment. At the moment, I had the luxury of being alone.

I dressed in a light cream robe and padded out on bare feet. My quarters were secluded, away from the main mansion.

When I reached the pine grove, I stripped naked, letting my skin drink in the air, the space, the energy. With a laugh, I stretched and turned.

Oh, the flesh engineers made it simple for us to change. I couldn’t explain it and could only say that it was all based on energy and the transmutation of cells. Illogical explanation, but all I knew was that it was pleasure to turn, and agony to turn.

The limbs shortened first, followed by the rest of the body stretching, cracking and adjusting the spine, the ribs and the muscles. It also triggered the stretching of the jaw bones and the emergence of the fur. I would say that the agony and pleasure would leave me panting, writhing, like sex and orgasm. But oh so subtly different. Turning was never sexual or sensual: it was ugly as heck. There were sub-groups in the clans who used turning as a fetish – but we didn’t normally talk about them.

I lay on the grass, exhausted by the turning. My senses were now different. One thing the flesh engineers had done to our wolf bodies was to retain our human consciousness. I was aware of my wolf limbs, wolf body. Slowly, gingerly, I got up, shaking out the kinks and the aches. I didn’t normally induce a full-body change, except on vacation and shore leave. Most of the time, the shifts were minor: fur on skin, hands into claws and the lengthening of canine teeth. Full turning would require focus and concentration. And of course, going full nude.

My strength returning, I trotted into the forest.

~*~ Continue reading “Chapter 2”

Chapter 1

STAR FANG

The Rise of the Clan

 

Prologue

Wolves should not be in space, but here we were, a clan of wolves and merchants. Instead of the preserved forests of New Earth and Noah’s Ark, we were in ships of steel and armor, reading data scans and commanding officers on the bridge. Wolves within the uniform of merchants and mercenaries, human seeming, claws and teeth sheathed.
 

Our genes kept us apart from the homo sapiens race. Some merchant clans tried to spread the rumor that we were the product of genetic engineering, a pact made between the secretive flesh engineers and our clan progenitors, in exchange for what we didn’t know and care about. Some rumors were more far-fetched, bordering on the mythical and mystical and the alien, alleging raptor-like shishini or grey-tinged juka involvement.
 

They were partly right.
 

They were also partly wrong.
 

We were homo sapiens lupus.
 

We were a breed apart.
 

And we were set to rule space.
 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter One

Docking was a simple task, a routine procedure which let the machine navigator work it out and allow basic station instructions. I watched the data scans as the jets eased Starfang into her assigned lot. But my mind was already somewhere else. After the tour of duty, I was eager for a run in the forests of Noah’s Ark with my pack-crew. My body ached to move.
 

However, there was one thing I needed to do when I disembarked. I had to return to the clan home mansion to pay Aunt Gertrude a visit.
 

I waved my ID tag at the immigration officer who allowed me to pass. He recognized my uniform and my eyes. All homo sapiens lupus had what normal humans called “wolf eyes”. It was another thing that marked us as different.
 

The family car was already waiting for me at the arrival hall. I passed the trip gazing out of the tinted window. The green trees rushed past. The green called to me. It was a visceral song to my body, my cells.
 

They kept Aunt Gertrude – or “Cloud” if she wanted to be called by her hanzi name – in a separate enclosure. It was a walled enclosure, not more than a prison box, with only a slit for a window. There was a reason for this. Aunt Gertrude had the defective “R” gene that misfired and caused her to switch forms more frequently than the rest of the clan. For most of us, we could control the urges.
 

I loved Aunt Gertrude. She was actually my grandaunt, second sister to my grandfather, the Grand Wolf. I had seen the pictures where she was a hotshot pilot for our clan fighter corps. She used to hug me once I was younger and I loved her scent: earthy, like the forest. Comforting, like plush soft fur.

 

Yet, at the age of forty, Aunt Gertrude couldn’t control the urges anymore and was confined to the prison box where she lived for thirty years now. The family still provided food and water, as it did for the elderly and the injured. She had foregone the desire to bathe, like a high functional human being. She told me, before I left for New Earth, that bathing was over-rated.
 

“Aunt,” I said, modulating my voice for wolf ears were sensitive. No problem: she could already smell me. “Aunt, it’s me. Fransceca. Ming Yue. Have you eaten?”
 

I could smell the odor of something animal, something wolf. Pungent. Urine. Faeces. And interlaced with it was the forest. My aunt was still in there. I just wasn’t sure if she was wolf or she was human at this stage. Her control of the misfiring gene had already completely disappeared
 

“Ming Yue,” her voice – low, like growling – came through the slit in the door. “You are back.”
 

“Just today. We managed to quell the uprising at Olympus Mons.” I said. I heard the soft chuff-chuff-chuff of someone sniffing and I knew it was a wolf doing that.
 

“Aunt?”
 

The chuffing stopped and I heard a human cough. “I am glad you are here. It has been so lonely here.” Quavering voice, an old woman’s voice. Tired, panting.
 

“I am sorry. You know Clan rules.”
 

Another cough. “They tried giving me a vid. I can’t use it… You know…”
 

I hated pregnant silences. I looked down at the piles of dishes beside the door. The door was locked from outside.
 

“They gave me a beef haunch today,” Aunt Gertrude’s tone was amused, laughing. “How delightful.”
 

“What did Dr Yang say?” I asked brusquely.
 

“You mean the pills? They have not worked and they do not work. At my age… pffff. Dr Yang should know better.”
 

“He’s our best physician trained in homo sapiens lupus physiology.”
 

“I know he is,” another cough and another chuffing sound. “You have your father’s malaise. We are lang. Not some silly scientific term.”
 

“Aunt.”
 

“I only wish for open skies and trees,” Aunt Gertrude sighed and the sigh ended in a low snarl.
 

“Aunt?”
 

The snarling grew louder, turned into a whine — and then Aunt’s voice going: “Leave me be, Ming Yue. Enjoy your shore leave. Do not worry about me.”
 

“Aunt?”
 

The whine came back and then a snarl, a low angry wolf snarl, full of bared teeth and barely-suppressed rage. My back prickled. The pungent odor was heavier than ever, sour and richer than a woman’s menstrual cycle. I forced myself to walk away, back to the main mansion. Behind me, she howled, a mournful song reverberating in the air and chilling my skin.
 

~*~

The family hall was done in the traditional style, all rosewood furniture and clan banners on the wall. Paintings of ancestors lined the hall way, men and women. My ancestors: graceful, haughty, grim-looking in their court official wear, always with a black wolf sprawled beside them as they sat on their rosewood sedan chairs. My boots echoed as I made my way to the main hall. I suddenly felt filthy, in need of a good long soak in the hot springs and a change of clothing.
 

Mother sat on her crimson settee. She was wearing her sky-blue qi pao. She did not seem to age. Her hair was still black, jet-like, tied in a severe bun with a blue shell hair piece. In her youth, she captained the Starfang. She was now alpha female, co clan leader of the House. Starfang was mine now.
 

As I bowed politely in front of her, Mother stood up. Her slim frame belied her strength. She was lead hunter during the Clan Games.
 

“Welcome home, daughter,” she said.
 

“Mother,” I bowed lower. “Have you eaten?”
 

“The hunt has been fruitful this year,” her reply was routine, another tradition too.
 

“I visited Grand Aunt,” I said, still standing. “She is also well.”
 

The smooth planes of Mother’s face creased a little. Her eyes glowed a lighter amber. She inclined her head to acknowledge my words. She was one of those who protested Aunt Gertrude’s isolation.
 

“Come, daughter,” she smiled as if she wanted to dispel the sadness. “I cooked your favorite, pig trotters with ginger and vinegar. Tell me more about Starfangwhile we eat.”
 

I knew it was important when she, not Cook, cooked my favorite food. Mother seldom did things without a reason.
 

~*~

 
Mother had set the dining hall in clan colors – gold and crimson, with the black claw symbol on every banner. The main dining table was mahogany, made of one of the ancient trees from Noah’s Ark. As servants hurried about, laying out the chopsticks (all mahogany) and porcelain spoons, we chatted casually aboutStarfang. She had the same coolant problem in the same sector of the engine. The targeting system needed to have re-fitted and refined. Since my ascendancy as captain, I had installed more gun batteries, as the area I was tasked for my tour of duty was rife with piracy. But then, Starfang moved in her Pack Fleet, and the rest of the ships were armed to the teeth.

 
For a brief moment, Mother’s eyes glowed with pleasure and pride. Starfang was hers, before she retired.

 
“Sit, sit,” Mother gestured gracefully. I waited until she settled down. Protocols were still important, even though I was the eldest in the Clan, and daughter to the alpha pair. The fragrance of the vinegar and ginger invigorated me. It was a delightful winter warmer, and post-pregnancy food for new mothers. I picked at the fat of the trotter. The collagen would fetch a high price in the black markets everywhere in the galaxy. Rendered into pill form, taken intravenously, the hive rich would kill for this. But at this table, it was just part of our daily diets. Normal meal, nothing fancy. I took a few mouthfuls, sipped the jasmine tea and folded my hands on my laps, waiting for Mother to speak.

 
Mother nibbled at the pickled cucumbers, before she set her chopsticks down and glanced at me. Her eyes gleamed amber.

 
“I have received word,” she began steadily, “of an insurrection in Sector 41B. You will be re-assigned there.”

 
I winced. Sector 41B had always been restless. Three hive planets, providing raw materials to the clans for their wars and money-making. It had earned a reputation for being unruly, unable to listen to orders. Executions were frequent, almost regular. Sector 41B was also the hunting ground for the Pariahs, a clan of mongrels, who ought to be the instigators of the insurrection. Half-wolf, half-other things, the major clans considered them thieves, beggars.
 

“The Pariahs,” I said.
 

“Yes,” Mother nodded, tapping her chopsticks. “The mangy ferals. Beware, daughter. This time, they have the backing of another clan at odds with us.”
 

My fur stood on end. “The Amber Eyes. The Zuo. By the fur of our Progenitors, they hate us still?”
 

The Amber Eyes’s hatred ran as deep as the dangerous ocean under-currents. Our history with them harked back to the ancient forest days, when pack territory overlapped. Now, with their own ships and their wealth, they were fighting back.
 

“They are also fuelled with craz. And they feed the Pariahs with it.”
 

Mother’s voice was laced with revulsion. I could almost imagine her snarling. Craz, the addictive drug that fuelled, killed and drove the gangs like the Pariahs. I shook with disgust. I had an insurrection to deal with, and a drug trade I might have to stop. Yet things were not that simple. Eco-systems functioned differently. This was one such eco-system I had to handle with extreme care: other variables were involved. In the past, wolves and other predators were top of the food chain, managing the prey groups and niches. One false move – and the eco-system crumbled. What other prey groups and predators was I going to encounter? My academy teachers drummed that question into my head.
 

“Humans are involved,” Mother said finally.
 

knew it.
 

“Move with care,” she continued.
 

I picked up my chopsticks again. Indeed, I would.

~*~

Writing is not a Zero Sum Game

AMZfinalWeird NoirI saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked, dragging themselves through the virtual streets at dawn looking for an angry fix, angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of publishing, who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating ebooks, who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated by flickering gifs…

All because they could not get a grip on a simple concept:

Writing is not a zero sum game.

JK Rowling’s popularity is not dooming you to obscurity. Nora Roberts does not bathe in the tears of would-be writers. Stephen King does not laugh at you from atop huge piles of money (probably).

But writing for exposure exposes your willingness to write for exposure. Every time you share a HuffPo link, you say, ‘I’m okay with not paying writers for their work’. The choices you make build the world around you. A world that is willing to settle for ‘good enough’ if it’s free. There are a lot of people who write ‘good enough’ and are desperate enough to see their name in print that they will accept not being paid to do so.

There is a revolution happening via ebooks, but ‘the revolution will put you in the driver’s seat’ and you have to take the wheel. It won’t just happen of its own accord. People have to be lured into change. Seduce them.

Writing is not a zero sum game.

It’s a community–that’s why we have the skulk here at Fox Spirit. Do you read as well as write? Do you write reviews? Do you rate the books you read? Do you leave the kind of reviews for books that you long to see for your own? Do you comment or share other people’s books? Do you promote other writers the way you wish people would promote you? Do you share the writers you love?

They’re not your competition.

Apathy is.

The ease of letting hours slip away on Facebook or Twitter is. The quick clicks that take you to Netflix or on-demand television or movies is. All the mindless media that allows you to be barely conscious, to idle the days away without effort — that’s your competition. Reading is more work — yet a joy for those who hunger for it. A great book makes you hungry for another, and another, and another.

Make them hungry.

Write the books you want to read, the books that aren’t out there. Don’t get caught up in how your stories get to readers, just try to get them in front of them and lure them into reading them. Don’t spend your time sneering at the kind of books someone reads. The people you might score points with probably aren’t the ones who’ll be reading your books. Share the stories that hooked you, inspired you and made you want to write. Try to convey that excitement. A hook might get you to buy a book, but it’s the story that keeps you reading even if the writing isn’t all that good.

We’re still sitting around the campfire, waiting for the magic to happen — for characters to come to life, for imaginary adventures to seem more real than the fire (or monitor or phone screen) in front of us, to fall through the hole in the page and into wonderland.

Make some magic. Write.

[with apologies to Allen Ginsberg and Gil Scott Heron]

What is Noir?

extricate ebook 72ppiBy Graham Wynd

What is noir? You can Google the term and come up with a bunch of answers, but as librarians will ask you, are you sure you have the right one? I always say I’m a ‘duck test’ sort of person — an out-dated Americanism for recognising ‘communists’ viz. if it walks like a duck, quacks like a duck, it’s probably a duck (though Senator McCarthy might have been wise to have looked into more stringent methods).

Most people who like the genre of noir will point to the films with their bleak cityscapes, inky shadows and sudden gun shots. Ida Lupino and Humphrey Bogart frown with worry, Lauren Bacall and Gloria Grahame show their gams, while Farley Granger looks lost. In novels, Patricia Highsmith’s slippery Tom Rippley worms his way into people’s lives while keeping his intentions hidden, or Dashiell Hammet sends the Continental Op to a seedy location and the blood spills red down the walls.

When I think of ‘noir’ I tend to think of women who don’t see the options and men who make bad choices. The very gendered split of that thought is what led me to thinking about Drag Noir and how people might play with that divide. In the noir world, people invest in the gender divisions because it brings them some certainty in an uncertain and dangerous world.

Buddhists say desire is the beginning of suffering: noir is all about the suffering. And the desire — whether it’s for money or sex or something less certain. Fred MacMurray lusting for Barbara Stanwyck: we know the Double Indemnity story so well. But what about Lily Dillon in Jim Thompson’s The Grifters? Especially as embodied by Anjelica Huston in Frears’ film, she’s hungry and restless as a shark, but nothing really fills it for long. Sometimes there’s a hunger that can’t be fed.

Some folks spend their whole lives trying to keep it
They carry it with them every step that they take

Till one day they just cut it loose
Cut it loose or let it drag ’em down…

Yeah, that’s noir.

Extricate is out now: buy it Amazon.

A writer of bleakly noirish tales with a bit of grim humour, Graham Wynd can be found in Dundee but would prefer you didn’t come looking. An English professor by day, Wynd grinds out darkly noir prose between trips to the local pub.

Not The Fox News: The Superfan Delusion

(‘Son, you need to stay indoors! Burn some books! Don’t worry about the symbolism just do it! There’s a Bad Science Front sweeping towards you!’)

You know that scientist who always turns up in B-Movies? The one who figures everything out, and goes in front of The Board (Of…Science, presumably) to beg them to do something and they don’t?  And then THE AWFUL happens and they’re all ‘Oh save us!’ and the scientist, or Ripley as she does this too, is all ‘…FINE.’

Hi, I’m Doctor Stuart and I’ve worked out two of the things that are killing genre fiction.

Continue reading “Not The Fox News: The Superfan Delusion”

What’s new?

We are nearing the end of the second month off 2014 and we’ve been busy already!

Tales of the Fox and Fae, our second Bushy Tales anthology is out in paperback via amazon and ebook from Wizards Tower and Space Witch

Guardians, the third Fox Pocket is out in paperback from Lulu, following with our policy of releasing these as paperbacks first. The ebooks will follow shortly.

Extricate, the dark sexy noir novella by Graham Wynd is out now as ebook only. The paperback release will be a collection of Graham’s stories including a second novella.

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We have Joyce Chng’s serial ‘Starfang’ starting shortly on the site, a chapter per month this year. This will be raw and unedited.

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Editing on ‘The Velocity of Constant’ is underway and is almost complete on ‘Girl at the end of the world’ so we will be finalising the running order for those volumes soon.

We are also still taking articles for the ‘What I learned from Cult TV’ series, so please get those in to us!

It’s been a busy year already and it’s only going to get busier her at the Fox Spirit den folks. 

Out Now! Extricate by Graham Wynd

The dark sexy noir thriller Extricate by Graham Wynd is out now on Amazon and coming soon on Wizards Tower and Spacewitch

A story of sex, murder and betrayal, Extricate is being released as ebook only as will form part of a collection of Wynd’s stories coming soon from Fox Spirit.

https://www.foxspirit.co.uk/books/crime/extricate/

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Starfang: Rise of the Clan by Joyce Chng

Coming Soon.

Joyce Chng is releasing her latest book as a serial here on Fox Spirit.

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Is a clan captain going to sacrifice everything for her clan? Welcome to Starfang, a world where merchant and starship captains are also wolves and merchants. For Captain Francesca, is a blood feud worth her entire life?