Death of a Star – a novel excerpt

Greetings from the aether.

(yes, I have a picture at last :p)

To go with the more regular posting I want to endeavour to post more of my prose work. The item below was written all the way back in May of this year. Much has happened in the novel since that time however there is far more to go!!

In the extract we see a new character, soon to be central to the plot, be transformed and not necessarily by choice. Later in the novel it will be a part of the sobriquets that the lead characters are often known by: Star Eaters.


Please provide feedback if you have any thoughts! πŸ˜€


Diablo Ex Machina

Part 4 – Playtime

Chapter 75 – Death of a Star

…Blood and power both, feeding him, nourishing the empty hole where he had once held a reservoir for food and drink. It filled to maximal capacity and then kept increasing. More, more, more, more….MORE MORE MORE MORE MORE.

It was too much. Raviz looked out of his hellish isolation within the burgeoning apotheosis that he was fearing would cast him astray from the dimensions of logical space. He met Lordan’s eyes again, saw his ragged jaw and sharp, animal teeth forming a litany of unholy smooth noises that washed over him. He bent over, groaning, tried to close his eyes.

It made no difference.

There was no salvation in the void behind his eyelids, the fear kept on building, building, fears upon fears upon fears, and the star pulsed on. He thought that he could hear it, the forces at work within the giant ball of hydrogen tearing, the flow of particles splitting from their normal process of activity, that penumbra so huge that it was eclipsing all he could take in with his eyes. The corona was lost to that black, that surrounding darkness having grown till it had become the world, everything he knew, the colour of fear and how often our fears are realised, becoming true in silence and screaming together, the juxtaposition of horrors come true in the melting pots of our minds.

Orange, flaring madly, poured from the star in huge gouts that could have swallowed entire planets in illogical jets, ruptures that were sending magnetic energy and radiation far out from the star system. The star was dying, and its system of 4 worlds would die with it. The nova which would result from this sorcery would be contained, channelled, fed into Raviziel.

He started to scream then, feeling as if he couldn’t take anymore, knowing that he couldn’t. Raviziel reached out a hand palsied by uncontrollable tremors to the robot as he waved his staff, was ignored. Lordan whirled the staff like a devilish conductor of some ungodly orchestra.

When he felt his shoulder blades break the skin and muscles on his back Raviziel’s brain broke.

At last he passed into unconsciousness from the world as he had known it…


Peace y’all.



Unexpected Inspiration – a musing

True to my word, here I am, making an effort to post in a more regular fashion.

Weekly is regular, right?

right?? XD

The working week is endured and bookended by the weekend. I deal with the various joint pains as I attend work and write in the evenings when I’m well enough to do so. The novel continues as I weave the current part, number 8, with the poem, The Chairmaker’s Soul. Novel reflects poem and poem reflects prose.

Today I wrote 2450 words that detail most of the poem content as a part of Diablo Ex Machina, part 8, Definition of a Deity. At its heart lies the concept of what we consider to be a god. Is immortality the same as divinity? Not necessarily. It is a concept that I have been tackling throughout the story, and draws on a lot of inspirations. For instance, unkillable does not mean unbeatable. I think that quote is from Berserk, a manga series by Kentaro Miura.

What is truly original?

Writing is the synergy of ideas which the writer is inspired by, their understanding of it woven into a new tapestry. That which they see in a film may be threaded with a concept they read in a book, a poem, behold in the world around them.

As the sunlight fades to darkness (quote from The Nosleep Podcast, David Cummings) I find myself drawing inspiration from an odd novel in my collection. The Crimson Petal and the White, by Michael Faber. I read the sequel first, The Apple, a slim volume in comparison to its predecessor which stands at roughly 700 pages. It is a tale concerning a prostitute called ‘Sugar’ in late 19th century England.

If I say that it is like a fusion of Dickens, Woolf and modernism then I think that is a faithful description. So Diablo Ex Machina takes a turn that I was unprepared for. Woven into the framework of immortals seeking absolution as they go about murdering one another is that immorality is not all it seems to be.

Do not judge, for judgements of the obvious are not always warranted.

Peace y’all.


The Chairmaker’s Soul – a poem extract

Long gone are the days when poets would write in a formal style.

Spenserian, Petrarchan, Alexandrian- wait, I don’t know if the last one is real! XD

Nowadays poetry has much looser definitions and you need not have an exact amount of syllables per line in your work to be a poet.

The Chairmaker’s Soul is a poem I’ve been writing the last two weeks, standing at 684 words right now. Inspired by Lovecraft’s Fungi from Yuggoth sonnet cycle, my poem follows similar themes: a protagonist with a willingness to sacrifice for unholy gifts, some ancient device of devilish esoteric nature, an unending curse.

I’ve been surprised, frankly. I thought my desire to write poetry at all had atrophied to nothing, but I’m happy to be proven wrong. The style is kind of in rhyming couplets, sometimes alternating, other times veering off from that to provide a poetic rhythm without formality.

An extract follows below. Hope you enjoy. Please leave a comment if you do. πŸ™‚



The Chairmaker’s Soul – an extract


The window, the window promised light

In a dark time, every chair made a compromise

Of self, spirit, talent and damning

Comfort for the upper classes, sitting.


When the machine of interminable routine

Breaks down, inexorable pause, noiseless

Motion within the circle, tiny force

Beyond the twilight lit stone gate of Avalo.


That former forfeiture of humanity

Led to this impasse in evening slavery,

Nightly endeavours past the gate

Formed from stone marked with sigils of fate.


Standing tall, the figure high, grinning teeth

Bared, bloody thousand arms held aloft,

Avalokiteshvara the guardian smiles down;

Keeper of the invisible ringed enclosure.


A bonfire of dreams warms where

The opium bottle runs low, moonfire

Showy over the grotesque legacy of carvings,

A symphony of darkly made human effigies.

Cycles of Life – a musing


I swear I’ve made this style of post so often by now.

I will endeavor to post more, regularly each week etc etc etc.

Unfortunately life gets in the way. Ongoing joint pains (undiagnosed alas) have caused me to call in sick to work twice in as many months. Long. Mentally, emotionally and physically tiring. My life is divided into cycles of extreme activity followed by grand convalescence.


Nevertheless I continue to be productive, working on various projects as I go along. The past two weeks have seen me scribbling on spare scraps of paper at my desk (I keep a pile of scrap paper so I can, at least, try and save some of the trees). With a rough timeline in my head, a poem slowly took shape, spread over 4 pieces of paper and my phone. It has been a great deal of time since I wrote my last poem and this one is shaping up nicely, seeming to make up for all the unwritten ones of the last year or so.

Working title is The Chairmaker’s Soul.

I won’t go on about it too much here as I’m planning a separate post. I’ve been reading and listening to the works of H.P. Lovecraft a lot of late, in particular The Fungi from Yuggoth sonnet cycle, and have drawn inspiration from the horror poetry genre. I have yet to check out other writers who’ve contributed to this field, however there’s some interesting candidates lined up.


Meanwhile I continue to work on my current novel, which has seen me writing (almost) daily for the past year. Diablo Ex Machina, or The Devil Machine. We’re up to chapter 167 now, spread over 8 distinct parts. When it’s done it will likely be separate books because of the length.


And now, sorry that I’ve been a ghost.

I’ll be trying to come out into the sun to play more often now. πŸ™‚

I missed WordPress and everyone here!!