The Indwelling

I find it a tad hard to look at myself in the mirror these days. I'm only 28 and yet can see the decay of age steadily working its eroding influence upon my fading, fragile youth. Stress is carving lines across my face as the hair of my scalp thins to a barren field. The shadows are gathering 'round my eyes, only a dim spark remaining of a once proud flame. My soul is weary, tired, waiting to sleep, soothed by the slowing lullaby of my heart.

But I do not allow myself to sink into the darkness. Not just yet. There is still something, some destiny I have yet to complete.

I ponder what awaits after the final curtain of my eye lids do fall. Will I dwell in golden Elysian Fields or haunt the catacombs of Hades, wandering through the bones of Terra?

Yes, I am brooding. Oh, how entertaining I can be! Luckily I am sober. If I'd written this last night you would have gotten drunken, depressed me and that would not have been as "peppy" as the above.

So, as always, I am doubting the path I find myself wandering along. I never have followed the well worn, paved thoroughfare of my forebears and present peers. I always find myself veering off on the side roads, seeing sights and experiencing adventures normal people believe only happen in books and movies. True, I have experienced life. I have also learned the value of said existence. What I have gathered from these many kernels scattered along my hidden trails is the belief of not endowing anything with too great a price. Things come and go, ebb and flow. You must be willing to let go of things. The physical as well as spiritual memory can only weigh one down. You can't allow yourself to become fixated. Obesession is nothing more than an addiction which rots away possibility.

I've been thinking about once more trying to sell a comic book idea I have. I'm not quite sure whether or not the various publishers will be more open to my work than before. Why do they not recognize a true artist I ask you. It is a fun little tale with so many adventures involving an unwitting protagonist drawn into a universal state of affairs. To describe it is difficult. None of my tales ever fit neatly into a single category. But hey, I can always try:

My comic book revolves around a sci-fi/fantasy/superhero premise. It is 1930. The world is suffering through the beginning of the Depression. The Midwest is turning to dust, once flourishing farmland rendered desert as the world teeters on the brink of collapse. There is a young man, uncertain of his future. His father is dying of cancer. The farm his family owns is facing foreclosure. He is near losing everything.

Across the stars travels two races: one explorers, the others conquerors. The one race, an ethereal breed who seek out only life and the discovery of new worlds. But they are old, their civilization fading. Once protectors they slowly face extinction, yet they seek to prevent their conquering counterparts from crushing humanity and adding them to their empire. These explorers, the Etheria, see a vibrant planet being threatened by the encroaching darkness of the savage Shaka Ri, a Serpentine race united under a single despot whose grip crushes thousands of star systems.

The Etheria are too small in number and weak in forces to stop the initial invasion fleet so they use the Shaka Ri's own law to forestall humanity's fall. Proud warriors, the Shaka Ri are convinced to postpone the invasion of Earth in an old custom involving war by proxy. The Etheria claim Earth for their own having reached it first. Rather than battle starship to starship, the Etheria offer to do battle according to the ancient laws. The Etheria will choose a champion to face a champion of the Shaka Ri.

And so that farmboy finds himself drawn into the initial battle between Etheria and Shaka Ri which will draw him towards a destiny which will span light years from Earth.

It is a deep, complex story with multiple arcs. I wish I could write them all down. That, though, would take far too long. Trust me. I have the equivalent of maybe eight to ten years worth of material for a comic book or eight to ten books worth. I would much rather see this in comic book form though. The imagery in my head. Astounding.

So here I am hoping that at least something I've written will capture the attention of the powers that be. I just keep hammering away with this keyboard, hoping one of my blows will finally bring the walls down...and not upon my head. Who knows. Maybe one day you guys will actually be proud to have known me.