Tag Archives: michael bradley

Thank You! Over 200,000 hits!

As of right now, my blog site received 201,600 plus hits!  As you regular followers know, I put a lot of work and love into posting one to three times a day with a peculiar mix of things I find interesting.  I am so happy that my weird interests are also often of interest to you as well.  I do not get any compensation or advertising dollars for the blog site, but I would appreciate you consider stopping by my store on occasion.  If you get a copy of The Travelers’ Club and The Ghost Ship, you can buy it on Kindle for just 99 cents, of which I keep 35 cents.  Obviously, not in that for the money either, I just want more readers.  Thank you for your ongoing support!

200000

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Twisted Nightmares Will be Out Soon!

The latest book project will be out on Kindle, Nook, and print versions soon.  I just got the proof copies and we are making a few small changes.  Twisted Nightmares is the second is a series of books that will come out once per year.  The first was Twisted History, an anthology of alternative history stories written by writers from all different genres, making it “twisted.”  The purpose is to induce fresh perspectives into standard genres by having new authors take different approaches to the work than regular genre writers.  In Twisted Nightmares, writers all submitted horror short stories and poems.  Our editor, Andrew Terech, then reviewed and selected them anonymously, and put them through a rigorous edit process.  Thanks also to Chris Wilke for his outstanding work on the cover and in the compilation process.

I am glad to say I have several that made it into print, including Future Sport, Humanity Won, Humanity Too, Terror Insertion, and The Hair.  This is the fourth time The Hair has been picked up for publication.  I will post when Twisted Nightmares will be available.  It will be 99 cents on ebook format and a bit more in print version (have to pay to get it printed, and if at a bookstore, they have to get paid too).  Thanks to all the great writers and readers out there!

T-Nightmares-Cover

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Oblivion – Movie Review

Oblivion

Movie Review

by Michael Bradley

Oblivion is the latest Tom Cruise science fiction movie.  I have never really cared for Tom Cruise or his acting, and special effects tend to be overdone in his movies, so that was my expectation entering the dark expanse of the theater.  I was in for a refreshing surprise.  Yes, there is Tom Cruise strutting, shirt off, close ups of his face as in all his films, and there are special effects full of eye candy, but there is also a fascinating sci-fi story as well.  This makes Oblivion definitely worth seeing.

The role of Jack Harper is portrayed by Tom Cruise, who gets nearly all the screen time as well.  Andrea Riseborough, an English actor portrays Victoria and does an outstanding job.  Olga Kurylenko, the Ukraine born woman who played the Bond Girl in Quantum of Solace, plays Julia.  Morgan Freeman, as always, plays himself, but the character is named Beech.  They are the only four with significant airtime.

oblivion_ver3

The story starts out with flashbacks and narration by Jack Harper that let you as an audience know that aliens called Scavengers, or Scavs, for short, attacked the planet.  Earth won but was destroyed, so the people went off to Titan, but they have to harvest the seas for energy.  Jack and Victoria are left behind to fix the patrol drones and keep the harvesters safe from the remaining Scavs who are bent on causing them troubles.

I hate the fact that movie trailers reveal too much.  I have to confess that the first couple of “twists” in the story I had already guessed from the trailers.  It is impossible not to see them in this mass media world we live in where they spend almost as much marketing as they do filming.  Still, the movie takes several turns and some were not expected at all.  The movie moves along at a good pace, revealing things one at a time, not making you wait to long, but having you reassess what is going on along the way.

A few caught me unawares, which is what I really enjoy.  Oblivion is not a movie that you will talk about for weeks.  It has no deeper meaning to it.  However, it is a refreshing bit of eye candy, action film, that is not mindless, but actually tells an interesting tale as it goes and you use your mind a bit to keep up.  I would like to comment on a few things that did not work as well, but I won’t.  They would require spoilers, and I won’t duplicate a movie trailer by giving too much away.

oblivion_ver5

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Death of a Dentist

Have you ever wondered about Doc Holliday, the gambler and gunfighter, with the Earps at the OK Corral?  When I was younger I did a lot of research, wondering why he was called “Doc.”  You see he was a dentist.  Now, why would a dentist with a thriving business back east move to Arizona to play cards and shoot people?  Most think it was because of his tuberculosis, which would be partially right, but don’t realize that he got his TB because of his profession…

DocHolliday-2-275

Dr. John M. Harris started the world’s first dental school in Bainbridge, Ohio, and helped to establish dentistry as a health profession. It opened on 21 February 1828, and today is a dental museum.[3] The first dental college, Baltimore College of Dental Surgery, opened in Baltimore, Maryland, USA in 1840. Philadelphia Dental College was founded in 1863 and is the second in the United States. In 1907 Temple University accepted a bid to incorporate the school.

doc-holliday-5

Doc Holliday died at just age 35, very young for a man to die.  Although life expectancy was low, it was mainly due to high infant mortality.  Once you matured to adulthood, you could expect to live into your sixties or seventies.  However, Doc Holliday had the riskiest career in America – not gunslinger – that was tame in comparison.  He was a dentist!  You see dentists were able to make a living in large cities, primarily in the eastern United States.  Those were all large, crowded, unsanitary locations with thousands of foreign immigrants.

early dentist

Active cases of tuberculosis, or consumption, were caught at Ellis Island and were housed nearby in a hospital until they died or got better.  However, thousands of immigrants came here infected with TB and spread it around.  An urban dentist was in the peculiar position of sticking their hands in the mouths of hundreds of people, who would cough TB and other particulates into their face daily.  They would have to break loose teeth and do other procedures that exposed them to blood born pathogens.  Being an early dentist, was the most dangerous job, worse than working in a mine or handling explosives.

early_dentist_office

Doc Holliday, the dentist, fell prey to what nearly all of his fellows did – TB from his patients.  It was believed that if you went to dry, hot air climates like Arizona, you would survive the disease better.  That is why Doc moved to Arizona and the safer professions of gambler and gunslinger.  In the end, he died from his earlier days as a dentist.

First electric dental engine in 1871

Above is a picture of the first electric dentist equipment in 1871.  Until then, it was all arm strength, or foot pedaled machinery.  People used to look for dentists with strong arms and a reputation for pulling a tooth with pliers in one yank.  So, next time you watch an old western, remember the real danger seekers were the Dentists!

 

 

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Steampunk Style

Steampunk is sci-fi mixed with the 1830-1900 period, the Age of Steam.  It often supposed advanced technology based on steam power rather than modern oil and electrical power.  Two of my novels, The Travelers’ Club and The Ghost Ship. and The Traveler’s Club – Fire and Ash, are both steampunk adventures.  I post steampunk vehicles separately, as I do steampunk animals, steampunk insects, guitars, and steampunk people.  You can find all my steampunk related posts by typing “steampunk” into the search block on my home page.  This then, is the catch-all representation of some steampunk style.  Enjoy!

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Earth: Judgment Day (flash fiction)

An unpublished flash fiction by yours truly.  Not for everyone, but I hope you like it.

judgment day

Earth:  Judgment Day

by Michael Bradley

Andrew looked up at the sky, so pretty, blue and distant.  He sighed heavily.

Dennis heard him and turned, “How do you know for sure?”

“They told me Dennis.  They appeared to me and said it was Judgment Day, and they would pour out destruction upon the Earth and start anew.”  Andrew look at the soft turf growing from the rich soil.

“How do you know they were real?  Maybe you just ate something that made you hallucinate?”

Molly strolled over, hearing the part from Dennis.  “Hey Andrew, hey Dennis!  What’s this I hear you telling everyone Andrew?”

Andrew appreciated the beauty of young Molly.  If they had any time left, he could see himself raising a family with her.  Now, what was the point?  “The world ends today Molly, at least for us.”

“How could you know that?  Why say such terrible things Andrew?”  Molly choked back a sob.  “It’s so nice out today, why ruin it with all this doomsday talk?”

Andrew thought about that.  Why ruin the day indeed?  What difference would it make?  Why not let them enjoy their last few hours in ignorance?  Andrew looked at his friends.  “You’re right, it must have just been something I ate.  I’m sorry, I’ll stop talking about it.”

Dennis and Molly, satisfied and peace restored to their moods, took off running.  Hunger overrode conversation.

Andrew looked back at the sky.  How long will it be now?  They had come to him in some sort of flaming object from the sky.  Cloaked in bright white light with wings of white feathers and flaming shafts in their arms.

The middle of three communicated to him, but in his mind, there had been no words spoken.  He saw visions of Creation, how the one great spirit had made the Earth, the sky above, the creatures that lived in it.  These three were his angels, spirits that lived with him in peace and looked after the Earth.

There were legends and religions among them for thousands of years that they had been created and this life was but a test.  One day, Judgment Day, they would be weighed and found worthy or be destroyed.  Andrew was horrified to find that all life on the planet had been found wanting.  The day of destruction would be today.

Andrew remembered with fear the images of a huge stone being directed at Earth from the skies.  It would hit with tremendous power, followed by a change in everything.  All life as Andrew knew it would cease.  The Earth would be made new, and the spirits would try again.

Andrew was fearful.  There was nothing he could do.  He could not stop the rock from falling, and telling his friends just made them sad.  He felt rooted to this spot.  Why had the angels told him?

He remembered the parting message, that in an instant, he would be transformed into a creature of light.  He was the last soul to be saved.  Everyone else had turned to fighting and killing, selfishness, greed, and had rejected the Creator.  Judgment Day had been postponed to squeeze out every last successful spirit.  That spirit was Andrew.

If only Molly or Dennis could come.  He had asked the angels, can I take my friends?

They smiled but said ‘no’ inside his mind.  It would be alright they reassured.  A travel through light, then all would be forgotten of this world.  He would feel peace, love, and be able to look after those who would come next.  He was told it would be a long time, but that time would not matter anymore.

Still, Andrew hated to say goodbye.  He just stood looking at the sky, waiting.

Then, it came.  The sky darkened, the ground shook, temperature rose and there was a sudden shock.  Andrew the dinosaur left his mortal coils.

Millions of years later, he watched as spirits were placed into the small pale mammals called humans.  He cheered them on, hoping they would last longer than his people, but he was to be disappointed.

 

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More Tea Shorts

There is a local establishment called The Scented Leaf, holding a flash fiction contest on tea shorts, that should be around 150 words or less.  I posted two earlier ones on Odes to Tea.  Here are two more.  Hopefully, they will be your “cup of tea” when you read them.  If not, please do not tea-se me to much about them.

tea1

Tea Romance

by Michael Bradley

My dearest Camellia Sinensis, how I do love thee.

Your teeth a silver needle white;

Framed by your delicious rooibos lips;

Heralded in their approach with your fine blossom of scent.

 

I know you have your dark moods.

You can be steaming, but other times you are calming.

We are from different worlds, you fresh and green with life’s flavor;

Myself, an Earl, grown grey.

 

Let me take you off to Darjeeling, where we can mate.

We can wed our essence in the warm waters there.

I can but pekoe at the future and our great happiness.

Oh, how I oolong for that day, when we can steep in bliss.

tea2

The Tea Duel

by Michael Bradley

It was high tea.

The gentle breeze failed to quell the heated temper of the ladies.

They sat in their finest regalia, ready for battle.

No men were privy to this most visceral of wars.

 

Onlookers, the previously beaten, looked on with envy.

Only two remained to decide the contest.

In front of each, the porcelain cup, piping hot with its destructive contents.

Amazing to the palate, but death to the awaiting biscuits.

 

The cucumber sandwiches and scones and tartlets ignored;

The warriors picked up their biscuits and dunked them.

The referee counted the time, announcing the withdrawal.

Each was prepared, retrieving the biscuit with as little stress as possible.

 

The slightest hand quiver would lose, the slightest flinch.

The ladies looked at each other, judging the steel of their rival.

Comparing biscuits, knowing they must consume the moist

Fragility of wafer before it fell.

 

Neither wished to go first, but time must decide all fates.

They moved soft but swift, biscuits towards their lips.

One piece fell, short of its intended mouth.

Victory!  The Lady of the Day exultant!

 

 

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Odes to Tea

A couple of flash pieces (had to be 150 words) on Tea.  For the Tucson Steampunk Society, which has awesome tea parties and tea contests.

tss

Sensational

by Michael Bradley

Exotic herbal aromas hint of ancient lands and mysterious unspoken secrets.

The steam darkens almost imperceptibly as the tender leaves release their potions.

Suspended beneath the enticingly hot waters the green magic is coaxed from its burnished cage as the gentle liquid soothes it to submission.

 

The china resists ever so slightly when first lifted, as if reluctant to divulge its hidden mysteries too soon.

Waters in the mouth seek that in the vessel with anticipation.

Flavors cascade on the tongue in a warm summer rain.

Explosions of robust health and calm shout their happy arrival.

 

Peace, harmony, self-worth and happiness flood throughout.

Gentle harmonies and sub-harmonies play their delightful melodies.

Time slows and deep thoughts arise, long in stressful slumber, released in the moment of bliss.

Only when the brew is finished and the last drop of the elixir drained, does reality come washing back in with the other cares of life less exciting.

tea

 

Enduring

by Michael Bradley

Once both peasants and Emperors tread upon my soil.

Great empires have risen and fallen, the blood of many washed away with the eons of rain, growth, and harvest.

Outsiders arrived from time to time.

Throughout, our worth was always recognized.

 

Whether petty money, tyrannical opium trade or war, all sought to possess us.

They realized not that we shall endure long after they have passed.

Our roots dig into the ancient soil; our leaves are bright in the sun.

We reach for the sky for its light and warmth, to the Earth for its dark nutrients.

 

Despite the trod of conquerors, we endure.

Our golden, orange, black and green treasured greater than gold, silver or bronze.

Youngest and smallest among us, our green leaves even bring life.

Tea we are.  Long ago the great lizards chewed upon our vines.  Now the humans boil our leaves for drink.

We will endure for the next ones who come.

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What Happens If You Read HP Lovecraft as you Go To Sleep

I read before I sleep.  I read at least one book a week and have since I was twelve years old.  I estimate around 4,000 books so far.  My wife bought me a copy of HP Lovecraft’s Best of…  Over a dozen creepy stories.  I was kind of bothered at his blatant racism and condescension, which I had not remembered.  However, his writing is still quite good, and I have to make some allowances, but not all, for the time in which he wrote from 1899 to roughly his death in 1937 at age 47.  Coincidentally, in that twilight land before sleep but not quite wakefulness is where I think about story ideas.  For some reason, what to my wandering mind should appear, but a mash-up of HP Lovecraft and a traditional Christmas poem…

HP Lovecraft

HP Lovecraft

The Nightmare Before Christmas

by Michael Bradley

Suppose a popular Christmas poem, written by Clement Clarke Moore (1779 – 1863) “Twas the night before Christmas,” also called “A Visit from St. Nicholas” in 1822, was based on earlier pagan folk tales?  We know such is the way of many things, with Christmas and various other holidays replacing pagan ceremonies.  The decoration of the evergreen tree, the yule log, and other customs coming from there.

Yes, I know St. Nicholas was an actual person who rode in a sleigh, lived in what is now Germany, and was a Bishop who handed poor children toys.  So, I don’t believe this to be the case, but what if it were…

The Way You Heard It

The Way It Was

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads.
And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer.

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

“Now Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! On, Cupid! on, Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!”

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of Toys, and St Nicholas too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of Toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack.

His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose!

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,
“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!”

 

Twas the night before shortest day, when all through the house

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,

In hopes Satanic would smell them and not come in there.

The children were huddled in fear in their beds,

With visions of torture and their own severed heads.

And mamma with her kitchen knife and I with my axe,

Had just settled our nerves for the longest night’s watch.

When out in the yon there arose such a clatter,

I sprang in fear from my bed to see what was the matter.

Away to the boarded window I flew with my axe, Tore open the shutters and threw back the latch.

The gibbous moon on the scabrous new snow

Revealed the horror of the creatures below.

 When what to my fearful eyes should appear,

But Satanic’s sled and eight nasty Peryton eating a deer.

With a spry ancient driver, so evil and quick, I knew right away – it’s Satanic!

More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,

And he whistled and whipped them and called them by name.

Now Gasher! now, Basher! Now Lancer

and Vixen!

On Vomit! On, Stupid! On, Conner and Blitzed One!

To the top of the porch, to the top of the wall!

Let’s slaughter them now!  Yes, slaughter them all!

Dry leaves crackle in death, then fall from the sky,

There was no obstacle past which they could not fly.

So up to the house-top the demons they flew,

With a sleigh full of dead, and bloated Satanic too.

And then with crashing, I heard upon the roof

The thrashing and stomping of each vicious hoof.

As I jumped back from my window turning my head around,

Down the chimney Satanic slid and came down.

We was dressed in fur stained red with blood from head to foot,

His clothes covered with brimstone, ashes and soot.

A bundle of bones he had flung on his back,  he looked like a butcher just opening his shack.

His eyes how they burned, his dimples so scary!

His cheeks were like coals, his nose like a ferret.

His lipless mouth was drawn up like a nightmare,

His teeth carved sharp and his beard like a goat’s in a snare.

 The stump of a chewed hand he held tight in his teeth,

And smoke encircled his horned head like a devilish wreath.

His face was broad, he was bloated of belly It shook drops of blood when he laughed, like a bowl full of guts.

 He was chubby and plump, and eaten quite well,

And he laughed when I saw him, despite his stomach’s swell!

In a wink of his eye, he twisted my head.

I was left on the floor, unable to move, but not quite dead.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,

Filled all  the stocking with kids, cutting throats with a jerk.

And laying his bloody finger to his nose,

And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose!

 He sprang to his sleigh, and gave his minions a shrill whistle,

And away they all went, back into the earth beside a thick thistle.

But I heard him his warn as he disappeared out of sight,

“I will be back next year, for another tasty bite.!”

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Write Westerns? Great Resource for Writing…

This is another of the many great resources I have found as an author.  I write a lot of historical fiction, including Steampunk.  The “Age of Steam” is considered to be around 1830 to 1900, and closely associated with the Victorian Era as a result.  However, lots of stuff happened in the United States at that time, as well as other countries.  In America, we had westward expansion, the Civil War, the trans-continental railroad, the invention of metal, steam-powered navies, and massive industrialization.  My book, The Travelers’ Club – Fire and Ash, crosses America in 1880 and I did months of research to get all of the historical information correct.  A bit added here and there really adds flavor to a story.  For western “slang” appropriate to the time period, I found this site:

http://freepages.genealogy.rootsweb.ancestry.com/~poindexterfamily/OldWestSlang.html

WESTERN SLANG & PHRASES

A Writer’s Guide to the Old West

1860’s ~ 1880’s

Being a small compilation drawn from period newspapers, books, and memoirs

Buffalo Bill Cody's Wild West Show Players

Buffalo Bill Cody’s Wild West Show Players

The thing I like most about sites like this, is that they are well researched.  This one takes words and phrases from actual newspaper, books and memoirs written by westerners from the 1860s through the 1880s.  You can only throw a bit of jargon at readers or they get confused, but a smattering here and there lends a great deal of authentic feel to the story.  Michael Stackpole told me he likes to read journals of people during the time of his books, so he can find those rare gems of information lost to regular historical accounts.  It was great advice.

At the bottom of the site are all sorts of other useful links as well!

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