There’s a FREE FICTION FRIDAY at the end of this post as well.
Hello to my new readers! Thanks for picking my books on Bookfunnel. I hope you enjoy watching them get weirder and weirder for the next few months.
The Earthloop Trilogy is a series of three novels (and a fourth introductory novella) that follows Lax Morales, Nori Furukawa, and Brigid Pearson as they loop back through time to stop an alien plot before it began.
In the present, Earth has been captured by Fixer, an alien hunter who has quarantined the entire planet to isolate and capture a sentient time machine.
In the future, the sky has fallen open, revealing vast armies of alien ships lingering outside the spacetime bubble, waiting for Earth to be unprotected.
In the past, a UFO crashes in the desert beside Swamphenge. An alien crab stumbles out, brushes off his shell, and shapeshifts, assuming an identity as a popular psychic and founder of the world’s first simulation-based religion, Virtualism.
And all of this could be changed, if only someone could find Betty Bines.
(as always, excerpts beamed out for free here are first or early drafts. Story details may change before final publication)
EARTHLOOP
THE FURUKAWA PARADOX
2009
Darlene took a sip from the beer and leaned back against the fountain’s edge. She was nestled in one of four benches with Quinton, watching as Krystal talked them through the events of last night’s party. Krystal was stood in the middle of the quiet street, swaying and gesturing with every word.
“So, she tried to get out of my window, right?” Krystal explained. The sun was coming up over the shops in the town centre now, matching Darlene’s orange hair and agitating the cool morning air. Quinton was wearing his signature leather jacket; Darlene was wearing her old prom dress. Together they looked ridiculous, but not as ridiculous as Krystal, who was wearing a heavy metal t-shirt and tan trench coat she had borrowed from a party guest.
“Why?” Darlene asked.
“Because he thought mum and dad were here obviously. And I told him it wasn’t a good idea, but he got out and rolled and went right into the food on the front. That’s why your cake was splattered.” Krystal was trying hard to suppress her laughter. Darlene had been understandably upset about her birthday cake becoming fused to some guy’s denim jacket and had only now found out precisely why it happened. She took another sip from the warm beer, grimaced, then passed it to Quinton.
“You owe me a cake,” Darlene said.
Krystal stopped listening. She turned to the right and smiled slightly. A deep voice followed the click-clack of formal shoes on tarmac. Quinton tucked his hip flask away as a precautionary measure; Darlene hid the beer can down her side.
“Hey mister Morales,” Krystal smiled.
“Hello, what are you doing out at this time?”
Lax Morales sounded concerned and authoritative. He adjusted his wide-brimmed hat and checked his tie, which hung like a trail of blood from his white shirt.
“We had a party,” Krystal said, spinning on one foot.
“It was my eighteenth,” Darlene added.
“Oh, very good. Well, carry on. Don’t mind me,” Lax said. He passed between Krystal and Darlene now, moving to another side of the fountain and turning to face it, stopping and staring at the ancient bronze plaque.
“You okay mister Morales?” Krystal yelled after him.
“Fine,” he lied. Something was definitely, imperceptibly wrong. Darlene, now confident she could get away with drinking despite still being three years too young, took a quick swig of the warm beer. Quinton offered her something from his hip flask and she declined. He was decent in the early hours, when no crowds were about for him to perform for. It was like she was dating two people in one body.
Krystal shuffled out of sight to follow Lax Morales. The four benches around the fountain were each bracketed by tall, dense shrubs which sprung from concrete planters. Darlene leaned back and saw the glistening water gathering around the fountain. Across the water she could see Lax Morales stood solemnly, and Krystal approaching. The birds in nearby trees had started chirping, last night’s alcohol was starting to wear off, and Darlene sensed the world was just waking up.
Lax shuffled in place, his right hand clasped over his chest. Krystal approached him. Quinton made a stupid face and Darlene pushed him away, maintaining her focus.
“You alright mister Morales?” she asked.
“I’m fine. Heartburn. Go be with your friends.”
“You seem sad.”
“I have been here a long time, and I am tired.”
“Is this because of your job?”
“No.”
“You can get it back,” Krystal said.
“I don’t want it.” Lax was stern but polite. He didn’t look at her.
“Well… Okay,” Krystal said. She swayed in place and stumbled.
“Am I annoying you?” she asked.
“Only slightly,” Lax admitted. “Don’t worry about it. Go, finish your party.”
“Okay,” Krystal conceded. She stumbled again, pivoted and span around on one foot, then returned to Darlene and Quinton.
“He’s being weird,” Krystal whispered, loudly and drunkenly. Darlene looked across the fountain again, at the strange man who had become the talk of the town. He looked nothing like he did on TV. He was shorter and stockier, as if the weight of the real world had pressed down upon him.
“What’s he doing?” Darlene asked. Something about the man’s presence made her uneasy, especially at this early hour. Everyone else was asleep.
“He’s readin’ the plaque” Krystal explained.
Across from the trio, Lax Morales rested his right hand on the large bronze plaque.
IN LOVING MEMORY OF BETTY ELIZABETH BINES
1938 – 1944
MAY WE MEET AGAIN IN THE HEAVENS
What becomes of what remains
When pictures yellow in their frames
And memories broken, rearrange
Into shapes unknown and feelings strange
These quiet nights give us time to cry
To pray for your spirit, carried on up high
And I hope in time, that when I die
We shall meet again, above the sky
His hand traced the outer edge of the plaque, moving to the top right corner and stopping at one of the screws that held it in place. His thumb rested there for a moment. He looked over the brow of the bench conspiratorially, waiting for the teenagers and Krystal to leave. He read the poem a few more times to himself, remembering something privately, sighing.
“I have been here so long,” he said. He pulled his hand back from the plaque and reached for a pendant within his shirt. He pulled it into view from behind his crimson tie. It was a small lump of amber with an insect inside, its image warped by the angled faces of its prison.
“And so have you,” he continued. “Perhaps we’re not so different. Trapped as we are.”
He held the amber gently and rubbed it with his thumb. He fed his tie through the necklace so that the pendant could remain on the outside and turned the amber so the insect within was facing the brass plaque. His attention returned to the top right screw. He pulled a thin screwdriver from his suit pocket and connected it to the screw. He stopped. Darlene was looking over at him again, but at this angle could only see his face and neck. He stepped back and read the plaque yet again, remembering everything which had brought him here.
“One last adventure,” he said quietly, holding the amber pendant. The insect inside twitched. Lax adjusted his wide-brimmed hat downward, obscuring his face.
“But not quite yet.”
Silently, once he was sure the teenagers were not watching, Lax Morales resumed his work.
END
I think this will be the third scene in the first book of EARTHLOOP. It sets up some of the foreshadowing decently, and introduces Darlene at an important time in her life. She will come back to this memorial a few more times in the books. A part of me wishes I could have a scene here with Nori, Brigid, and Fixer as well, but that would be far too weird.
Or would it?
FREE FICTION FRIDAY
New readers might be surprised by this, but I’ve gotten onto a STRONG WOMEN freebie and free excerpt shelf. But don’t worry, I didn’t sneak in disguised as a suitcase or a lamp, I made sure to contact the creator and set out what my stories were about first.
I got in on merit. Just like that Masters degree I’ve got (have to brag once every 4 posts, I’m contractually obliged).
Anyway, women who are strong, and not just in the punchy way.
To stick to the brief, the only story I’ve submitted to this is HOLOGRAM KEBAB, the short story from WHO KILLED THE HUMANS? (pre-orders open now) in which Anya wakes up hungover after a night out, only to discover reality is ending.
The night before, Anya discovered her boyfriend had been cheating on her with a close friend. Sounds pretty basic on the surface, and that’s intentional. Underneath there’s a weird Sci-Fi twist that relies on Anya’s psychological resilience, as she navigates a disturbing new change in her world.
Is there any escape from this new technological trap?
Keaton certainly has no idea.
I would have submitted Stephanie as well, but by my own judgement I didn’t think she was doing enough cool stuff in my teaser to warrant squeezing her into this. She’s more ‘badass’ later on.
Anyway, here it is.
I posted it on Halfplanet because there’s a few other freebie shelves as well. Throughout 2024, I am going to be expanding the Halfplanet platform, bringing in new genres on subletters. I want to support the poets at some point, so if you know any sites which do poetry giveaways, let me know.
I’m also going to open up for short story submissions at some point. I can’t say when that is specifically, as I’ve just signed myself up for a huge comedy event so that’s going to be my main focus for a few weeks!