The next story is called The Lion of God

and it will be serialized here at some point (probably when it’s done, it’s only 8700 words at this point.  But I posted a couple of snippets on Facebook yesterday and today so it’s only proper that I post them here, too, in case anyone is actually looking at this site.

So here we go.

Snippet #1:

“You talk about the time stream as if it’s alive,” objected Ariela.

Wolff chuckled. “Oh, that’s because we’re pretty sure it is,” he said. Von Barronov nodded agreement, and Wolff continued, “It’s not sentient, it doesn’t think – or at least, we don’t think it does. But it has certain properties that make us think of it as a living entity. If you poke it hard enough, well, poke it in a metaphysical sense, I suppose, it certainly reacts. It has a sense of self-preservation that is pretty well developed, again, so far as we can tell. And that’s what seems to kick in when we try to approach a significant nexus, like the Kennedy assassination, or 9/11, or the Long Beach nuke and the subsequent Transfenestration of Qom, and so forth.”

Transfenestration?” Ariela looked puzzled.

“The insurgents didn’t bother to open the windows, first.”

“Ah.”

Snippet #2:

“We’re going on a reconnaisance mission,” explained von Barronov. “Buford wants us to sneak up on one of those ships, board it, and see what’s what.”

“And he’s lending us five Marines to do most of the seeing and whating,” added Wolff.

“Armed Marines, one assumes.”

“Yep.”

Hunky armed Marines?”

“Honey, they eat crayons.”

“So?” asked Ariela. “I ate paste when I was a kid.”

Hang in there.  I’m slow.


Snippets from “The Lion of God” are copyright © 2019 by Nathan Brindle. All Rights Reserved. Don’t fuck with my copyright.

Edit, 5/5/2020:  I won’t be serializing The Lion of God as it’s turned into a 75,000 word novel, and will be on Amazon if I ever manage to finish it.

Snippet

I don’t know where I’m going with this, but:


[S]ome years after he did convince Sarah to marry me, a giant furball of an intertemporal war started, as a far-future band of renegades posing as a Time Patrol came back to steal my – his – oh hell, OUR time machine, because it had a significant feature theirs lacked – namely, his version was actually a hyperdrive, and theirs wasn’t.  Neither was their machine capable of traveling “sidetime” – it was strictly an uptime/downtime  device.

Which is why they came to our time looking for him, and smashed hell out of things in our time-line instead of his in the process.  Luckily, our daughter figured out how to slip between timelines, found him, and to make a long story short, he came with his time-line’s US Space Marines and several US Space Force dreadnoughts, kicked their asses back where they came from, and finally the whole crew went uptime to fuck them up so badly they’ll never be able to build a spacecraft again, let alone build another time machine.  I’ve seen the combat videos.  Make some popcorn, they’re riveting.


This is not the next story (“The Lion of God”), but is sort of related to it as you can probably already tell.

Hello world!

My name is Nathan Brindle. I used to be a spy. No, that’s not right. I work at a desk. Some of us have met. Some of us have only met virtually.

Some of us…well, don’t know what you’re doing here, but if you’re here because you heard I do some writing in my spare time, that’s cool. Anyway — Welcome to my author site. Since I’m still working on my first publishable story, yeah, there’s not much here. Eventually I will make a real page and there will be real content. This page is just a placeholder. (Yeah, I really do know how to code HTML. Thanks for asking. But this is WordPress now, so yeah, if you’re one of those clowns who wants to tell me how to build a better site, fuck off.)

And if you are a SEO jerk or someone trying to sell me web services, or how to make me #1 Google rank, also FUCK OFF! I probably know more about how to do that than you do.

The potted plants and the rest of the stuff on the front page are just there because they were the default.  They have nothing to do with my fiction.

Or do they?