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Grab Life by the Ass by Aaron Dennis

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Grab Life by the Ass

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Watch your thoughts; they become words. Watch your words; they become actions. Watch your actions; they become habits. Watch your habits; they become character. Watch your character; it becomes your destiny. – Lao-Tzu

Are you happy? Are you where you want to be in life? Do you feel like you’ve lost your edge? Consider the following: You only have one shot-not at happiness, or love, or success-you have only one shot at life. Your life will end altogether too soon, so there is no time to waste in crappy moods or thoughts. There are no survivors on this earth, so why do you throw away your few precious seconds living a life you don’t enjoy? Would you like to change that? This is not a BS self love book. This is an easy to understand manual, a map, that will lead you to the life you want to live. This manual contains 17 life lessons that will help you to transform your autopilot mentality into a magical awareness and appreciation for the short gift of life we’ve all been given. The world will not conform to your wishes. People will not change for you. You should not change for people, yet you should change your perspective for yourself. Even Gandhi told us: Be the change you wish to see in the world.

Let me begin this book with a story. When I was thirteen years old, I had a recurved bow. I got bored with firing arrows at a bale of hay, so I started letting them loose all over my grandma’s property just to watch them soar. The property was rife with oak trees, and some of those arrows vanished, never to be seen again.

One cloudy day, a storm threatening rain and winds blowing, I was walking around the back end of the property. I was standing beside the trunk of an oak, my mind wandering aimlessly, when something on the ground in front of me drew my attention. I can’t recall what it was, nor do I recall if I discovered what it was, because no sooner had I taken a step that something else drew my attention. I turned around.

A blue arrow had sunk about six inches into the soft ground where I had been standing. That arrow would have sunk right into my skull had not something made me move. It might have killed me, or it might have just made me a vegetable; it really doesn’t matter either way. What was important was the fact that I knew then, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that life ends. Life is short. There are no survivors on this earth.

Perhaps I was fortunate—obviously, I was fortunate enough to survive, but the question was why? God’s will? Perhaps, but more importantly than my survival was the lesson I received from the universe: You have one shot—not one shot at happiness, or true love, or following your dreams; you have one shot at life, and to waste even a single moment of it is beyond idiotic. Life is too short for missed opportunities.

I’m in my thirties at the time of writing this book, and since that day, I’ve maintained a special state of awareness, one that involves feeling the ever-presence of death, and before I make any decision, I ask myself if it’s a decision for which I’m willing to die. You see, if something hadn’t drawn my attention when I was thirteen, that might have been the end of my life, so a decision as seemingly insignificant as taking a step meant the difference between life and death, and each decision we make leads a little farther down the path of life, or it might lead us to our demise. My life since then has been lived with a magical feeling, and every action I perform, I perform with joy and alertness because it could be my last one.

Something as simple as driving to the store for a beverage can lead to a deadly car wreck. Leaving for the store at five instead of six can lead to my doom. Drawing money from an ATM can lead to a run in with a gun-toting mugger. Walking through a park during a storm might mean getting struck down by lightning, or the wind blowing a rotted branch, making it fall onto my head.

Do I dwell on the eventuality of death? Nope. Instead of focusing on the negative aspect, I choose to harness the potency of the positive aspect—I’m not dead yet, so there is still time to enjoy life, but then, why would I ever waste a minute doing something I don’t want to do? Why would I ever place myself in a position in which I don’t wish to be? Why would I ever perform an action for which I don’t care? My life is precious—every single second of it, so, too, is yours.

I’m writing this book because I don’t like the world in which I live. Don’t misunderstand that sentiment. I enjoy my life. I love the earth, but the world of which I speak is the world as perceived by mankind, a world of hurt feelings, regrets, wasted moments, comfort zones, poor decisions, and an overall disregard for the beauty, the commodity, and short expectancy of life. Too many of us don’t regard life as the magical thing it is, and by disseminating this knowledge, I’m putting something out into the universe, so, too can you.

Otherside by Aaron Dennis

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otherside

Welcome back, everyone. I’m still experiencing some delays in producing the Otherside audio book. From issues with Findaway Voices to new issues with Author’s Republic, the release of Otherside audio book has been pushed back and back and back.

I wanted to release it last Halloween, Halloween of 2020. My new goal is Halloween 2021. That gives me about a month to have everything resolved and approved, so fingers crossed.

While you’re waiting for the Otherside audio book, you can download the Otherside ebook for a 50% discount!

You can view and download Otherside via Smashwords

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A man witnesses a murder. The deceased speaks in riddles. Vertigo settles in….
Adja wakes to learn he’s got the mojo. The old woman teaches him the ways of Voodoo. He must stand alone, under the guidance of Bear, against Snake, a villain, a murderer, an innate force, but there are other forces amidst the crack between the worlds.
Are you brave enough to journey…to the otherside?

J, a childhood friend, and I were celebrating his new business deal. The real estate market wasn’t exactly booming at the time, but a little luck, and the right connections, graced J’s pockets quite nicely. In turn, he had invited me to spend a few nights in New Orleans.

“Once the sun drops below the horizon, a man can find just about anything,” he said to me with a crooked smile.

It wasn’t even five minutes later that we sat in our room, gawking at the hired women. They writhed in pleasure from the mere touch of my hands. Soon, the voluptuous, young ladies polished off our alcohol. Inevitably, I produced something else for them to polish, but J was displeased with the dwindling amount of liquor.

“Seriously, dude, I don’t want to see that,” J grumbled with a shake of his dark, bald head.

He fumbled at the nightstand for his wallet while I zipped up. “Heh, sorry,” I chuckled. “Didn’t mean to put you to shame, bro.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he slurred, obviously at the limit of his tolerance.

I walked over to get my wallet instead.

“Just go get more booze,” he added, holding back a laugh.

I licked my lips before taking it upon myself to gallivant away from the promise of sex in order to purchase more spirits. As it was, I had just taken a bump and was reeling from the white powder. A walk down the street might clear my head. Truthfully, muddled minds were always a thing of beauty for me back then.

I had no shirt on and was only wearing a pair of old, blue jeans. My cowboy boots made me stumble; the weight of fine leather and thick heels was uncomfortable. After a wink at my woman, I stuck my wallet in my pocket, secured my belt, and clunked out of the room. A look back revealed the dilapidated old apartment building then doubling as a hotel.

“Party-hearty,” I mumbled and tried to focus on my new task.

The boots I wore caused a degree of pain without socks, but it was too late to turn back. After all, I had managed to get myself down two flights of stairs. Blistered ankles were the least of my concerns, but damn did the leather chafe something fierce.

As I continued staggering down the street, I noticed the sounds were intoxicating, or rather I was intoxicated, and the street sounds became a melody of lewdness, lasciviousness, eroticism, and debauchery. I laughed to myself, smiling all the while at the street women who threw eyes my way.

They were flabby, but wore revealing clothing; teeth were missing, and their hair was a tangled mess. Just finished up with a few Johns? Ah what the Hell do I care? I ignored my inane, mental ramblings. My stilted pace through the glow of orange streetlamps required what little focus I maintained.

My face was numb. I rubbed my eyes with the heels of my hands. For a second, I thought back to those voluptuous breasts waiting, beckoning, up in my room, but I turned a corner and found myself in the alley next to the motel. Blue dumpsters sat along the red, brick walls. I stopped for some unknown reason. For the first time in my life, it seemed I had no thoughts; my mind was a total blank, and I felt my lips droop as I stood there.

The Adventures of Larson and Garrett

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Epic the First by Aaron Dennis

the adventures of larson and garrett epic the first
the adventures of larson and garrett epic the first

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A wicked daemon bestows great power on evil men in exchange for worship. An unlikely duo find friendship amidst war and chaos. Godly forces collide. Larson and Garrett are two simple, young men, yet they both have their own daemons. In the face of danger, of strife, they join forces and find friends among the elves, the dwarves, and the orcs. They find knowledge and faith among the Gods. Though an evil air has permeated the once great country of Ruvonia, the band of wizards and warriors join the cause of Prince Roan, for the Magickal Prince wishes only to vanquish that evil daemon called Lagos, that vicious daemon trying to gain enough worshipers to ascend as the new God of Destruction.

Prologue

During the First Age, what is formally called the Era of the Gods, or the Age of the Gods, the world was but an agglomeration of fields of energy, of magick, of power. Each force represented its own individuality and their commiserate relationships in uncertain terms. After all, it would be impossible for men, dwarves, elves, or any other creature to pin down how a God feels.

All we know for certain is that Gods either got along or didn’t, and when they didn’t, they pitted their might against one another. To our knowledge—that is to say—it is common knowledge that some Gods such as Ruolla, God of Blood, were defeated, but even defeated Gods do not die. These murky details slip into and out of tomes, tales, and weird traditions, but the conclusion of the First Age is simply that the Gods stopped trying to kill each other directly, accepted their inexhaustible life source, and created planes wherein new things, things called creatures, were given awareness, summoned, manifested, and bred. This, naturally, led to the Second Age, or the Age of Life, or sometimes called the Age of Strife, though that name is probably more suited for our current age.

The Second Age is when the different planes came into existence. Not all of them are physical, but their residual magicks or energies are of a confluence that can be described as bands or bundles of energy, and as such, each is distinct; each has its own rules, its own creatures, and so on, yet before the planes, everything—the Gods—is all there was and intent, though uniquely individual, was simply inconceivable by human standards—and really by all living standards since no living creature can grasp the true nature, the essence of the Gods. Although the elves claim that they can, it is impossible to conceive the incommensurable.

It was during the end of the Second Age that the intelligent creatures were forged—humans, elves, dwarves, orcs, goblins, but this is not altogether accurate; before the creation of those creatures, there were others with perhaps far more intelligence, at least far more than orcs or goblins. Once, there were giants, drollgors, daemons, and creatures forgotten by everyone save the eldest of sages and liches. They are not common knowledge, though, and so humans and elves and dwarves, and whomever else, worshiped one God or another and fought for some cause or leader, or what have you, until peace was finally achieved, but peace is never complete, never eternal. The universe, the world, is a composite of opposing forces, ebbs and flows in the tides of magick.

We are in the Third Age now. Some call it the Age of Enlightenment. How could it be known as such when we know less now than we did two thousand years ago? Certainly, times are mostly safe, yet pillagers and bandits still roam countrysides. Goblins and orcs occasionally raid the townships, but in these times no one—or at least very, very few people—war in the name of a God. At this time, no nation is besieged by another. It is during these times that universities dedicated to magicks house elves and humans alike. It is during this age that a church of Devloa can be erected across the street from a Temple of Han. A human might even bed an orc, and though most would be disgusted, the mention of having had a few too many drinks as the reason is more than acceptable.

So you must be wondering why I said this should aptly be called the Age of Strife. It is because this age is still rather new, yet old enough for those who remain living to forget how dreadful times were, and this sort of forgetfulness leads down well-traveled paths. Stay the course much as a true hero does, and behold the war, the tyranny, the villainous deceit and suffering that lays brooding just beneath the surface of the world of Ahkai, and there, you will find that all opposing yet complimentary forces, yes, the Gods, still hold sway. Two unlikely friends may argue about this, but when something greater than themselves reveals itself, they take up arms, clear their heads, empty their souls, and act rather than talk.

I will tell you of a man called Larson and a man called Garrett. I will tell you of a timeless quest to battle forces greater than themselves, forces so powerful they stagger the mind. I will tell you of Akalabash, God of War, of Tarielle, Goddess of Magick, and of Lagos, God of Destruction. Sit back, and I will recount to you the adventures of Larson and Garrett, a true tale of epic proportions.

Chapter the first- The Sleeping Tree

Flotsam was a small town in the country of Ruvonia, and while the majority of the country was wooded, Flotsam was no exception. The town, however, had an odd history. A ship had wrecked in the Derring Sea, and after the survivors coasted down the river, they used what remained of the wreckage to start a small camp in a clearing by a tributary. Years later, the town came to be what it is now, a small place surrounded on the north and west sides by Red Pine woods with farmlands to the east and south. The tributary from the River Jons ran from west to east away from the sea rather than towards it as the Jons itself did.

The Third Age had led to the sprouting of innumerable, small townships and farmsteads like Flotsam; if there was running water and some form of protection, people were sure to build. Like many other human towns, Flotsam was relatively new, a quaint town home to a handful of families—descendants of the shipwrecked—and little else. The Ross family, however, were newcomers, at least the parents were. The boys, Largo and Larson, were born there. Margaret Ross, the boys’ mother, died shortly after Larson’s birth, leaving their father, and in part Largo, to raise Larson. The boy’s father, Mathew, was a gentle yet imposing farmer, and while he instilled obedience, he also made certain the boys learned respect, honed their bodies and minds, and understood the value of hard work.

War and Glory

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Lokians, Book Three by Aaron Dennis

war and glory lokians 3 by aaron dennis
War and Glory Lokians 3 by Aaron Dennis

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Gray motherships have penetrated Earth’s atmosphere. Intel suggests the aliens are searching for NOAHH, a Non-Organic Alien Human Hybrid, yet the Gray Agenda insinuates the aliens wish to subdue Humans; why, then, are they destroying Earth and evac ships?
Riley believes only the traveler can reveal the answer, but knowledge is never what one expects.
In the face of a new Lokian threat, two factions of Grays, an elusive Reptilian, and hybrids lurking within Earth’s own government, Phoenix Crew must gather old allies, forge new allegiances, and exterminate numerous threats all at once.
Is such a thing possible? Is there, really, any glory in war? Or is this the end of Earth?

Prologue

Over a year ago, Earth Navy established contact with a race of aliens called Thewls. The space faring warriors sought help in a battle for galactic peace against a radically different race of aliens called Lokians, an insect-like race of monsters. The Humans and Thewls joined forces in search for ancient aliens simply referred to as the travelers.

After coming into contact with a single traveler, the Human crew, led by Captain Riley O’Hara, developed special abilities they used to defeat the Lokians on their home world in subspace. Following the battle, the Humans returned to their base of operations, Horizon colony, planet Eon. In lieu of a hero’s welcome, the special operations team was disbanded and reassigned. Moreover, the colony was disassembled before a chance to flourish into a new home for Humans traveling the stars.

It was discovered that President of the North American Union, Montrose, was on his way to piece together the covert operation. In reality, Montrose had ulterior motives; he was truly seeking information from the captain, information he believed might help him escape the ever-tightening grasp of his alien overlord, Oloroc.

The President arrived on Eon too late. Captain O’Hara had deserted his post. Montrose then sought out the special operations team, but they had different plans in mind, and with the help of retired Admiral John Lay, and The Bureau, they were reunited with their former captain.

Montrose used the last bit of his extensive resources to contact General Matheson, an aged Marine who was in charge of the Puller Strategic Compound on Mars. During the President’s chase, Riley O’Hara was tasked by The Bureau to capture a live Gray, a member of the aliens commonly spoken of in Earth science fiction lore. Unable to capture a Gray, Riley and crew managed to secure something else. They captured a robotic man, a Non-Organic Alien Human Hybrid, NOAHH.

The strange life form held information crucial to both Humans and Grays. Agent Adams of The Bureau teamed up with his former partner, agent Franklin. Together, they attempted an interrogation of the robotic life form. The results were astonishing. The new threat they learned of was beyond belief. The Grays were coming to Earth and in full force.

Chapter One

Captain Riley O’Hara sat fiddling with his black tie. He was back in his full dress uniform. The black slacks and blazer with gray blouse gave him a feeling of nostalgia. Once more, he was in a battle for his life, though not the battle to which he was accustomed.

The Department of the Navy Judge Advocate General was staring down at him over his spectacles. He was a heavyset, old man with a face like a droopy dog. “You do understand the implications here, Captain,” the judge asked.

O’Hara winced as he looked around the courtroom. He had waived his right to representation and requested a small hearing where only a handful of the Navy’s finest presided over his life; Century colony was as good a place as any to be Court Martialed.

“Yes, Your Honor, but I don’t think I’m fit to continue my duty,” Captain O’Hara replied, his hands clasped in his lap.

Hushed whispers passed between the five admirals. Of the five, Admiral John Lay was the most prominent. He was a graceful and powerful old man with cold, blue eyes and scars all across his face. The whispers subsided before the judge gave his attention to the captain. O’Hara sat there, a young, brash individual with sandy blonde hair, almond eyes, and an indifferent expression.

“Captain, would you elucidate upon your response? Why are you no longer fit to carry out your duties,” the judge demanded as his temper flared.

O’Hara remained relaxed with his left leg bent over his right. He then cocked his head back a little. He was taking all the time in the world to play through the proceeding.

“At any given moment, I might disagree with an order. I’m liable to go AWOL again or try to fight dangerous aliens on my own without moving through the proper channels,” O’Hara replied without looking at anyone.

Instead, he searched the room. Sparkling, wooden benches were empty. The Earth Navy Emblem, a black, five-pointed star over a battleship, was prominently displayed above the judge. The red carpeting had just been cleaned. A second wave of whispers washed over the men presiding. The judge responded by banging his gavel a few times.

“Just a second, men,” he said to them before addressing the captain. “You think you can just follow whichever orders you like? I’ll have you stripped of your officer’s rank.”

“Then, I’ll be a grunt, unable to follow even the simplest of orders. I think everyone here can agree…the best course of action is to simply discharge me.”

“I’ll send you to Hellsview for your insolence, O’Hara. You’ll do what we tell you, and that will be decided at the end of this hearing. Now,” the judge took a minute to compose himself as O’Hara’s apathetic demeanor had him on edge. “We are aware of everything you’ve done up to the war on Earth; that’s where details get sketchy. What I need to know is what possessed you to allow an alien robot the opportunity to commandeer a weapons satellite, invite an unknown race to establish communications in our system, and subsequently drop a pack of alien monsters on our home world without so much as a warning. Fighting with those…Omdu–Yal has been more than a burden.”

The captain looked over to Admiral Lay who nodded. O’Hara knew full well the admiral supported him and his decisions.

They Lurk Among Us

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Lokians Book Two by Aaron Dennis

lokians they lurk among us

The Lokians have been defeated. O’Hara has gone AWOL. His spec ops team has been disbanded and reassigned. The President of the North American Union is working with aliens. Gray-Human hybrids are controlling the Earth from sights unseen, but hope is not lost.
After recovering on Eon, Admiral Lay warned O’Hara of an impending threat, and the young captain left the new planet behind him as he flew through space-time with Adams and Franklin, agents of The Bureau. Now, The Bureau has a new mission for Riley O’Hara, and it involves the Gray Agenda…but what, exactly, is the agenda of mindless, alien drones?

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Prologue

The flow of time is not a constant. The limitations of man are not concrete. What can one do once the doors behind reality are opened?

One man is blessed with a gift, burdened by a responsibility; somewhere in the reaches of space-time, he travels, seeking only to continue doing what he knows in his heart is right. Once a respected Naval Captain, now working for The Bureau, Riley O’Hara continues searching for answers.

Eight months prior, in July of 2111, Earth’s Navy surveyed a new planet, one meeting all requirements for colonization. Eon was a celestial body located in the Gemini system, a system of twin suns. For all intents and purposes, it was a new Earth.

During the survey mission to Eon’s surface, Captain O’Hara and his special operations team discovered alien beacons. Soon after, Admiral Lay of Earth Navy made first contact with a race of aliens called Thewls. A detailed exchange of information transpired.

The Thewls convened on Eon with the Navy’s spec ops team. During the meet and greet, Humans came to learn that a second race of aliens called Lokians were on the prowl. This devastating force ravaged the galaxy as it destroyed civilizations to harvest technology.

Ambassador Weh of the Thewls proposed a plan. A unified front between men and Thewls was the only solution. Careful deliberations occurred behind closed doors as Admiral Lay slowly sequestered himself from the special operations team’s endeavor. Suddenly, the brash and young Captain O’Hara was in charge of the Humans’ most delicate mission in military history.

He led his team aboard a Thewlian vessel, joining their admiral, Yew, in a search throughout the galaxy for a weapon to wield against the so-called impending threat, the Lokians. Upon its discovery, the weapon was kept secret from nearly everyone on Horizon colony, including Admiral Lay’s second in command, Rear Admiral Shaw. At the end of the ordeal, the Lokian threat was curbed, but the captain did not receive a hero’s welcome. He woke up, injured from the final battle, in a hospital tent. The suns on Eon caressed his face as he looked over his commanding officer. Admiral Lay was concerned. He relayed to O’Hara what had transpired. Only recently conscious, and recovering from his wounds, the young man was shocked to learn the President of the North American Union had decided to shut down Horizon colony.

Unbeknownst to anyone, O’Hara boarded a craft with two agents from The Bureau, Adams and Franklin, whom served under the captain during the Lokian assault. Their whereabouts are currently unknown to both the Navy and President Montrose.

Chapter One

Phoenix Crew was officially disbanded; Swain, Fitzpatrick, Day, DeReaux, all of them were reassigned. It was a modest form of punishment enacted by their former leader, Admiral Shaw. With no other course of action, he commissioned Captain Bragg of the Phoenix to fulfill the removal of civilians from Horizon. The routine mission was supposed to have been O’Hara’s punishment, but he was off the radar, vanished without a trace.

Shaw’s graying hair gave away his level of stress. He stood there, staring at the strange vessel, the Bohemian. During the process of disassembling the colony, just weeks after Riley O’Hara’s departure, President Montrose had arrived on Eon by way of that odd craft. Immediately, the President had pulled Shaw aside to initiate a special investigation of the former spec ops team.

Montrose had wanted every detail on every aspect of the top secret mission. He had been outraged by O’Hara’s escape. He had begrudged Lay’s involvement as well, but that morning on Eon, Shaw walked up the vessel’s steps and into the airlock. A man in a black suit led him to the bridge. The President, a corpulent man, snapped his fingers and the menacing man walked out of sight.

“I’m glad you saw fit to keep me up to date, Shaw,” Montrose gave a crooked smile.

The aging admiral took a seat in a leather chair next to a small monitor. He looked around the bridge. The ship reminded him of alien technology utilized during the Lokian mission. The monitors and consoles were unfamiliar. They were of Human utility, but not design. Shaw met Montrose’s eyes. He felt uneasy with the big man presiding over him.

“I did what I felt was necessary for Earth. We can’t have all these secret alien meetings, and Lay was getting carried away with his trust in O’Hara,” Shaw replied with a strained tone.

Montrose walked over to him. Standing behind the thin, older man, he looked down onto the top of his head. The President then placed his thick hands on the man’s shoulders and rubbed him through his full dress jacket, a black blazer weighed down by medals and ribbons. The action made Shaw even more uncomfortable, causing him to fidget in his seat a little. Montrose then eased his round face next to his subordinate’s ear. His warm breath had the admiral on the verge of running away or throwing a fist.

“Where does your trust lie?”

“My home world, my country,” Shaw responded without turning around.

Montrose squeezed the admiral’s shoulders. “And?”

“You, Sir,” Shaw replied, hesitantly.

“Good,” he said with a friendly pat. After walking over to the helmsman’s chair, across from the admiral, he swiveled 180 degrees to face the freaked out individual, who was stroking his thin, brown beard to calm himself. “We need to find that captain. His going AWOL is an insult!”

Shaw nodded once. Then, he attempted to adjust the fitting of his dress jacket.

“Agreed. I went over the reports Lay had in his data archives, but I think something’s missing. I have all of O’Hara’s debriefings, but after he boarded that Thewlian vessel, much of whatever transpired has been left out.

The Dragon of Time Two

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Dragon Slayer by Aaron Dennis

dragon of time 2 dragon slayer

With the death of Kulshedra, Dragon of Truth, it has been revealed that Scar, the mercenary, is in fact Sarkany, the Dragon Slayer, a creature fashioned for the sole purpose of purging the Dragons from the world of Tiamhaal, yet such a thing is not so simple. Kings and queens yet war amongst one another. They, too, lie, connive, and coerce, and so, Scar and his friends must find a way to persuade those few, benevolent rulers to band together. In the midst of peace talks and dead Dragons, those still in the worship of the beasts grow more powerful. Some of them even doubly praise their oppressor in an effort to wield more magic. Now, united with his friends, Scar sets his gaze upon a hopeful horizon, but is strength in numbers sufficient to keep the Dragons from completing their machinations?

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Prologue

An amnesiac mercenary called Scar appeared in the middle of the territorial disputes of Tiamhaal. He brought a whirlwind of change, the kind of change no one expected. That man was in actuality the avatar of Eternus, the Dragon of Time, a being outside the realm of human comprehension. Eternus was the universe, it was the ineffable creator of all that was, but having taken a liking to a particular world, it sent a portion of itself to the world of men.

Crafted from the clay at the edge of the world and fashioned from the eight guiding principles of man, Scar, the mercenary, was sent to slay the Dragons, and so he was named Sarkany, the Dragon Slayer, yet his fashioning was not without flaws, and he lost his memories. Finding himself traveling aimlessly, seeking only to learn of his origins, Scar was beset by Dracos, the followers of Drac, Dragon of Fire, and then he was manipulated by Zoltek, Negus of the Zmajans, followers of the Dragon of Destruction, and finally, the warrior was sent by King Gilgamesh of Satrone, a worshiper of Kulshedra, Dragon of Truth, to the ruined kingdom of Alduheim where a forgotten memory lay buried in darkness.

It was there that he and his men found a paladin, a warrior named Ylithia, who fought in the name of Mekosh, a true God, the God of Severity, and even though paladins had always maintained that Dragons were posing as Gods, most people of Tiamhaal had never believed them ingenuous, yet what was witnessed beneath the rubble of Alduheim united them in their efforts to reveal the truth to their kings and queens. The leaders of every tribe had established their own countries under the name of their Dragon Lord posing as God; constantly, they fought for territory, supremacy, religious beliefs, and even peace. Things changed when warriors of Kulshedra, Scultone, Fafnir, and Tiamat joined forces with Scar and Ylithia, but their plan to bring to light the lies of Dragons was short-lived; Scar and Ylithia fell in love and left kings and pawns to squabble among themselves.

The two abandoned Gods and Dragons for a life of peace, but the spurned King Gilgamesh had other plans, and he sent his men to kill Scar, yet he was away, and it was Ylithia, who was cut down without mercy, and for that act of betrayal, Scar took his sword, joined his old friend, Labolas, invaded the impregnable palace, Inneshkigal, and killed Gilgamesh before all the Kulshedrans of Tironis. Upon the king’s death, Scar was transported to Drangue, where he battled the mighty Kulshedra, a misty whorl of a Dragon, and the Dragon Slayer took the beast’s soul.

Since then, the Kulshedrans have lost their powers—the ability to augment their armor through Dragon’s magic—and they struggle to maintain their borders, their culture, their lives, but Scar is far from finished; he owes someone a debt of blood, and so he has journeyed back to Usaj, the land of destruction ruled by the mighty Zoltek. In Meshoptam, capital of Usaj, Scar, the pale skinned, seven foot giant, in black, leather armor, has slain the Zmajan royal guards and come face to face with an old foe….

Board James A Fanfiction by Aaron Dennis

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board james

Board James, the character and web series, is owned by James Rolfe and Cinemassacre Productions, but I’m writing this story anyway, because I think James will like it.

Board James by Aaron Dennis is a work of fanfiction, and it was not created for profit. It is illegal to sell Board James by Aaron Dennis for profit as it is illegal for anyone apart from the owners of the rights to Board James and his likeness to earn a profit.

Do not sell this work of fanfiction for monetary gain of any kind.

Please visit Cinemassacre.com and watch the Board James web series. If you believe this story will make a great movie, let James know by reviewing this after you finish reading.

Allen and Sharon buy a new house. It turns out to be the former home of Board James. Strange occurrences frighten the newly weds. When Allen wakes up, he finds himself sitting before James, Mike, and Bootsy. They must play James’s newest, made-up game, Board James, to completion, lest they be forever trapped within the living game.
Board James is fanfiction based upon the Board James web series owned by James Rolfe and Cinemassacre Productions.

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Chapter One

“Okay,” James started. “Here we are again; it’s the night before Halloween, and time to review a classic board game. What do we have? One Night, Ultimate Werewolf…okay.” Indifferently, he tossed the box aside to reach for another one. “Level Seven, Escape.” He turned the box over a few times, shook his head while wincing, and tossed it aside as well. “What’s this?”

Amidst other, colorful boxes was a small, square box. A picture of a goofy ghost was on the front.

“Ghost Blitz, and look, there’s a green bottle on the ground next to him. Is that beer? Is he drunk? Is that why it’s Ghost Blitz? ‘Cause he’s blitzed? He sure as fuck looks tweaked.” James started to crack open the box, but paused. “Major fun award? What the Hell is that? Well, whatever. Let’s get started.”

After dropping the top, James pulled out a deck of cards and a baggy with game pieces. “Let’s see; we got cards with pictures of the ghost. This one has a chair. This one a mouse, and what’re these? Oh, this is the chair, but it’s red. Why’s the chair on the card blue? And what’s this piece? A butt plug? Oh, that’s the ghost.”

Once he finished rifling through the game pieces, he scratched his head in confusion, picked up the tiny manual, and read through it. “A reaction game as fast as lightning for two to eight bright minds. Yeah, no dumbasses allowed. Story and object of the game– Object? Do they mean objective? Anyway….

“Balduin, the house ghost,” he stopped speaking to laugh. “House ghost? Is that like house…? Never mind, we won’t go there. So, Balduin found an old camera in the castle cellar. I like where this is goin’; a ghost director. Kind of reminds me of something, but I can’t put my finger on it….” Trailing off, the reviewer readjusted his ball cap then returned his gaze to the manual. “Immediately, he photographed everything that he loves to make disappear. So, it’s like a camera for pictures not filming; too bad. I wonder if he takes a picture of his ghost shit, ‘cause ghost dookie vanishes, get it?” James smiled.

There wasn’t anyone else there besides James. To whom he was speaking was as much a mystery as to where his friends had gone. Word was, Board James was a serial killer, a madman cutting the balls off his mates whenever they got tired of his shitty games.

“Unfortunately, the enchanted camera takes many photos in the wrong color. What? Sometimes, the green bottle is white; other times, it’s blue. Looking at the photos, Balduin doesn’t really remember what he wanted to make disappear next. Yeah, and I don’t remember the last time I took a shit or what color it was. Guess I should’ve taken a picture…now that’s a shitty picture.”

Frowning so hard his lips curled down, James’s eyes went wide as he nodded. “Can you help him with his haunting and quickly name the right piece, or even make it disappear by yourself?” He threw the red, chair, game piece into the corner. “It’s gone, vanished, banished to the black hole of Uranus,” he asserted.

The game reviewer shook his head in consternation. Then, cracking the manual open, he perused the actual game rules.

Beyond the End of the World

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Lokians Book One By Aaron Dennis

Intelligent races travel through wormholes to explore the farthest reaches of the galaxy. Thewls inform Humans of a looming threat. Lokians are a ravenous race of space bugs. They harvest technology from advanced civilizations and integrate with it to mass produce living ships, dangerous vanguards, and formidable legions.
Captain O’Hara of Phoenix Crew travels with Thewls to retrieve an ancient vessel from a mysterious race simply known as travelers. Can a single craft be the key to saving the galaxy? Why do Thewls believe the travelers once visited Earth? Does O’Hara and Phoenix Crew have what it takes to obliterate the space bugs?

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Prologue

Man yearns to explore, learn, perceive, and break beyond the bonds of limitation. Great, philosophic minds pondered such implications, giving rise to questions with no answer. Who are we? Why are we here? What is the meaning of life? Are we alone in the universe? Can we reach for the stars?

A decade into the Twenty First Century, a space exploration program known as NASA retired their shuttle, stating their space station, the ISS, was sufficient to advance man’s knowledge of space; no more flights to the moon were needed, probes were built to reach other planets, yet a question arose; was NASA truly marooning their scientists in Earth’s orbit? Was there, really, no shuttle in reserve for emergency protocol?

What no one knew was that a new vessel had already been designed and produced. A drone shuttle carried equipment to the ISS, building materials, and there, the engineers constructed new probes. Launching them from beyond Earth’s gravitational pull allowed the tiny machines to explore without immense fuel requirements. New studies had commenced.

Survey satellites were then built and released to specified coordinates. Their role was to relay any information gathered by probes back to Earth. It took little time to obtain great findings. Less than a year into the program, the probes detected abundant deposits of precious minerals in asteroids both inside and outside the solar system. The next step required mining probes to retrieve the deposits. A new age began when humans no longer needlessly harvested their own planet’s resources.

A few decades down the road, survey probes revealed more than just resources; asteroids, moons, and planets were deemed acceptable for colonization with little cost or effort, however, there was always the obstacle of time. A journey from Earth to the closest sites meant decades of travel. Great minds set their combined efforts on the task, and a solution was proposed; send colonies to midway stations on small asteroids.

It was no surprise to NASA that very few volunteered. Many citizens of Earth were comfortable and happy in their lives. A move to a colonial life in space was practically permanent, and traveling for years only to live in the desolation of space was frightening. Then, the military stepped in, looking to soldiers for support. Project Safe Haven was announced.

In the year 2111, almost fifty years after the first successful colony, Admiral John Lay, the overseer of Safe Haven, commissioned Captain Riley O’Hara to lead a team of scientists and engineers aboard the Phoenix, a vessel orbiting a planet called Eon. The new ship and the new crew were set to break new ground; The Horizon Project was employed to begin colonization of the first planet outside the Sol system. O’Hara was beyond psyched.

Chapter One

O’Hara sat in crew quarters, little more than rows of beds, tables, chairs, and lockers utilized by eighteen military occupants, which included O’Hara. There were also ten scientists aboard the Phoenix—a mixture of geologists, engineers, climatologists, and biologists—and additional ship hands contracted by the Navy. Of the soldiers, O’Hara found the ship’s pilot, Sara Day, the more pleasant for conversation.

“Excited? This is our big break, Captain,” Day said, beaming.

She was short and fair. Her light skin blended perfectly with her flowing, blonde hair, and glimmering, green eyes. O’Hara smiled back, looking her over; she was a young, pretty Lieutenant at twenty one years of age.

“Bursting at the seams, Day. I still find it hard to believe Admiral Lay put me in charge instead of Rear Admiral Shaw,” the captain replied as he furrowed his brow.

He was rather tall, and of a darker complexion, older, twenty four, and though he lacked real world experience, his intelligence and determination shone through almond colored eyes.

“I heard he’s assisting Lay with the next step,” she remarked.

“Colonizing a planet…we’re really doing something here.”

“Yeah, I can’t believe they think we’re ready to do this,” Day sighed.

“First thing’s first, we need to determine the cause of those magnetic disturbances.”

“Swain’s working on it?”

“Yeah. Logically, it’s some sort of magnetized metal deposit, but there’s always the risk of radiation. There’s just as much we don’t know about Eon as we do know….”

A voice came over the Phoenix’s intercom. The Automated Monitoring System, or AMS as it was commonly known, stated in a robotic voice that entry into Eon’s atmosphere was taking place in two hours.

“Better hit the chair, Miss Day,” O’Hara smiled.

They stood. She saluted, he returned it then she ran to the bridge. It was not uncommon for a ship to have such a young pilot. All colonial children were enrolled in military schools, receiving the best of education. Once they excelled in a certain area, they were trained specifically for that field. Day was no exception. She also had the added comfort of the AMS assisting with small calibrations. At the bridge, she sat in the helmsman’s chair.

The Phoenix’s bridge was a cold, steel structure. The only decoration in the room was the burgundy carpeted floor. From the suede chair, Day checked the screens mounted in the console before her. She looked at the large monitor displaying their surroundings.

A tri-sectional screen calibrated to three cameras revealed a 180 degree perspective of the ship’s environment. A fourth camera revealed the vessel’s six, but the bridge officers marveled at the beauty of the purple and green sphere on display. Day smiled to herself before brushing a few strands of blonde hair from her face as she double checked the landing coordinates. Everything was in order, so she took manual control.

Maneuvering the Phoenix under atmospheric pressure was simple, especially since a location had already been programmed into the AMS. It was set to land about three miles away from a dig site. Any closer and the ship ran the risk of damage by magnetic interference, the same interference Swain was studying. While the Phoenix had its own anti-magnetic field generator, O’Hara preferred playing it safe, ordering a three mile trip from the site. He was anxious to set foot on the surface and lead the scientists to the dig.

Short Stories

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From the Mind of Aaron Dennis

9 short stories. The Tuurngait, a mind bending horror tale. My first, a horrible tale from a psycho’s point of view. The Potato Clock, a silly story, Hunting, the mind of a survivor killing zombies. Losing Human, a mad scientist loses his humanity. Eudora, a young girl used to be something quite different. Expedition, a fantasy. Raising Dead, a fantasy. A Night in Hartford, a zombie horror.

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He looked back at the phone. It was almost 8pm; the day had gotten away from him. Now, it was night in Hartford.

Eric nodded. He had grown up in town and practically lived at the preservation as a kid. He knew about the weird, run down shacks, and warehouse looking buildings on the east edge of the preservation, but as a kid he was too scared to investigate. Now, he hated himself, was full of negative energy, and had a burning question in his heart. Is there more to Hartford than a pretty girl and a preservation? He made his mind up on the spot. It was time to investigate.

“But how do I get there unnoticed? I can’t drive up to the gates…no, but I can drive up to the town dump and park in the orange grove up the road…then it’s just, what, a five mile hike? Yeah…time to find out what’s really going on.”

Silently, he laughed in his head. He knew there wasn’t anything going on. That was precisely the problem with everyone. There was never anything going on in Hartford. It was a boring paradise. At least, it was boring before Claire. Now, it was weird, and new, and kind of scary in a fun way.

He nabbed his camping gear, took from it his headlamp, new batteries, his CZ 9 millimeter handgun, his shotgun, a machete, ammo, packed two sandwiches, and filled his water canteen. Figuring nothing was going to be out of the ordinary, he took his hammock, too.  No way I’m walking five miles back to my truck at three in the morning. Last, he got his phone charger, walked to his truck, hooked up his dying phone, and sent one last text.

How’s your sister? Are you guys having fun? He held his breath for a second.  No reply. He started the engine. To his surprise, Mad Mike was still on.

“These so called police folk happen to be people no one in Hartford have ever met before. What do you think about that? We all know everyone! I tried to contact the Hartford Police Department. Their damned phones are off, and I get redirected to the county Sheriff’s office, and guess what!? They refuse to talk unless it’s an emergency! Last time I checked, the nonemergency number was for nonemergencies! Listen, people–”

Just like that, the radio station blared static. Eric looked through his windshield into the darkness. What the Hell is going here? Reconsidering for a second, he looked at his phone. Claire had not replied. She wasn’t going to. One little, jealous, insecure mistake, and it was over. For the first time in his life, Eric wanted to bleed. He hoped there was something strange going on that night in.

He turned on his headlights, and pulled onto the road. Forty five minutes passed in silence. Not a single car was on the road. There was no way for him to know the silent, black helicopters had already quarantined the town.

Once Eric spotted the sign for the dump, he shut off his headlights and crawled along in the darkness. The sound of the engine wasn’t loud enough to block out heavy wheels crunching small rocks. Moments later, he pulled off the road and into the orange grove.

From his truck, he pulled all his gear. With the handgun in a holster clipped to the back of his pants, and his machete dangling from his belt, he took his phone, strapped the headlamp on, set it to red, and loaded the shotgun. Two steps later, his nerves got the better of him and he had to pee.

The Dragon of Time

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Book One

Gods and Dragons

By Aaron Dennis

Gods, Dragons, a mercenary with a blade and no memory of his past…. The world of Tiamhaal is alight in war. Men ruled by kings slay their opposition in the name of their God, but there are others who claim the Gods are little more than scorned Dragons of ages past. Scar has come to find the truth, but is the truth an absolute certainty, or is it just the skewed memory of a forgotten kingdom?

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Gods, Dragons, a mercenary with a blade and no memory of his past…. The world of Tiamhaal is alight in war. Men ruled by kings slay their opposition in the name of their God, but there are others who claim the Gods are little more than scorned Dragons of ages past. Scar has come to find the truth, but is the truth an absolute certainty, or is it just the skewed memory of a forgotten kingdom?

Prologue-

Most people worship the Gods, if haphazardly, but there are some who claim that the Gods are liars, that they are not Gods at all. It is strange to conceive of an ephemeral voice, which grants magical powers, as anything but a God, and there is no proof otherwise. A great many men have gone to war over such a premise, yet the worst of war combines the arrogance of kings with the ignorance of pawns.

The nonbelievers are easily cast aside by dutiful worshipers of their respective deity, but all too often a man who worships Gyo, God of the Sun, finds himself staring down the blade of a woman who worships Drac, God of Fire. These contests have flared into a war that engulfs the entire world of Tiamhaal. There are many who wish for peace, yet there are many more who desire only destruction. Zoltek, Negus of Usaj, a country on the southern edge of Tiamhaal under the worship of Zmaj, the All God, threatens all those around him with his magic, his men, and his cunning.

Most recently, Zoltek has hired a pale mercenary to assist in waging war against King Gilgamesh of Satrone, a worshiper of Kulshedra, God of Truth. This mercenary calling himself Scar has no memory of his origins and seeks only to understand the world around him. In exchange for his unique talents with a sword and his sharp mind, Zoltek has promised Scar he will discern the truth from behind that hazy memory. Zoltek claims to speak to Zmaj on behalf of Scar, but only if the country of Satrone is felled in a bath of blood.

Chapter One-

Zoltek, tribal leader of the worshipers of Zmaj, the All God, ordered a small portion of his army to amass on the outskirts of the Kulshedran territory called Satrone. Small trees grew sparsely around a clearing. A tributary from the river Inliil sloshed over small stones. Urdu, son of Zoltek, stood before the tributary. The setting sun cast shadows over his form.

As with all the tribesmen in the worship of Zmaj, his was a swirling skin. The dark brown hue was enveloped in patterns of purple and blue melting into one another over his body. With his helmet off, the skin of his head and face held eloquent patterns, too, like colored water pouring over his visage. Urdu’s widely spaced eyes were fierce.

“I should lead this charge,” he grumbled.

Warriors clad in black leather, and gripping their menacing, steel weapons, chatted among themselves. One older Zmajan acknowledged the brash, young man’s words.

“Don’t be foolish, Urdu. Your father put Scar at the forefront of the vanguard for a reason,” the older man said in a raspy tone.

Portions of his color adorned skin showed over the unarmored areas of his body. His helmet, also black leather and with rams’ horns mounted on the sides, hid the patterns on his aged face. Urdu stormed over to the man with a scowl.

“You dare talk down to me?” he howled.

“Show the general some respect,” another man chastised.

Urdu glared at his fellow tribesmen then returned his attention to General Dumar.

“I’m the better fighter, not Scar.” Urdu judged the strange man sitting cross-legged on the ground.

The massive one called Scar did not so much as stir. Eyes turned to the only light-skinned man there; he was pale as a ghost. Sunlight glinted off Scar’s muscle creased stature. A great many healed over wounds were his namesake.

“This one does not even know who he is,” Urdu yelled to his kinsmen. “Look at him. What tribe is he? No hair on his body whatsoever. No marks. Those gray, lifeless eyes give nothing.” Turning to the scarred warrior, he barked. “Who are you?”

The hairless man still did not stir. He wore little armor; brown, leather leggings adorned his thighs. Worn boots covered his feet, and a chunk of steel protected his left shoulder across to his sternum. He was a frightening sight to behold. An odd blade stood—tip buried in the soil—before him.

“Answer me!” Urdu was practically frothing at the mouth.

“Hey, stop it,” Dumar growled. “The sun will set soon, and we march against the tribe of Kulshedra. There is no time for squabbling.”

“Not to mention your outburst will give our position away,” another tribesman advised. “If we want to break their perimeter, we require stealth.”

“I care not about such trivialities. We are strong, and we are many. We will wet our blades with Kulshedran blood. Zmaj has blessed us,” Urdu argued. Then, he approached Scar. “Tell me, mercenary, you don’t really believe you’re fit to lead this charge; a timid, Godless ghost.”