London torn. Night and day. Sinners and angels. Debut novel by Mark A. King, available now
I'm not behind the times, but I actively resist watching 'the latest must see' TV shows when they come out. My first (reluctant) episode of GoT was only last year, 2017. I didn't finish the first season, likewise Breaking Bad, where I got to the second season but didn't get any further. The Leftovers, I …
There is a massive Easter egg right at the start of Blade Runner 2049. Almost all reviewers and casual watchers have missed it so far. I only noticed it as I happened to watch a 'making of' Blade Runner last week (filmed for the Final Cut version of the DVD). It told the highly turbulent …
To celebrate my debut novel, Metropolitan Dreams, I will be posting free stories over the period of the campaign. What can you do to support me? Click the link and view the page below (it takes only a second): Kindle Scout Link If you like what you see and want to support me you can …
Codex I blew the smoke from my blunderbuss and readied chamber with gunpowder and buckshot, prepared to shoot the injured daemon should it rise. It did not. I jumped on to my steam-powered bike. Fired the engine–it gave a satisfied hiss as the wheels engaged with the cobblestones and the primitive power unleashed. I …
Continue reading "Flash! Friday: Vol 3 – 29 | Flash! Friday : Codex"
Metropolitan Darkness “I have watched attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion,” the charismatic Replicant says on the large LCD screen. From the Kinect senor, I watch the friends, their gormless faces and silly hats illuminated in harsh TV ghost-light. I have been calling them to me since the Nordic ships, since the …
Continue reading "Metropolitan Darkness : Flash! Friday: Vol 3 – 16 | Flash! Friday"
I was honoured and privileged to be chosen as winner at The Angry Hourglass for my story “The Soul Catcher”. Many thanks to judge Voima Oy.
The Soul Catcher
by Mark A. King
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A Photograph Captures the Soul – Traditional Indigenous belief
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I remember the first photograph. Yes, yes, how could I not?
My emaciated body ravaged over the centuries, gorged on that first image. I’d fed on the scraps of paintings, the reflections in mirrors and water. But this barely sustained me. I was a but a shell, a vessel, a husk.
They say John the Baptist consumed nothing but locusts and honey in the arid deserts and I have fed on worse.
The very first picture, low definition, grainy and monotone – was like the promise of manna.
Yet I was still hungry. Always hungry.
Later, through the lens of glorious Technicolor, I devoured the entire spectrum of a soul. The dry chalk of powder-puff blue, the bitterness of yellow, the tang of crimson and the spice of teal.
Oh, the souls…
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