Now Reading ‘A Children's Tale’
And with that last episode, this would be the end of the “Children’s Tale”. I hope everyone enjoyed the story as much as I did in writing it! As usual, I’ll be putting the “Children’s Tale” together in its entirety for download as complete “PDF” and “Kindle book” versions. These naturally will include an Epilogue that will not appear online here. What’s in the Epilogue you might ask? (… and some have!) The Epilogue, to borrow a phrase, would be “the rest of the story”. Just a little more to round out the edges and possibly answer a few little questions that might linger after enjoying the “Children’s Tale” in its entirety.
In any case, once done, it’ll join the ranks with “Red Lightning” and I’ll place a link in the sidebar on the right for anyone interested in purchasing a copy.
Now, this is by no means the end! Out of the old dusty trunk, I’ve many more stories to relate here of the adventures of the Brass Griffin and her crew. Also, due to suggestions from some of you, I’m considering a ‘tech manual’ and other similar wiki-like pages that I’ll link to from the menu above! These will, I hope, give a deeper look into the world of the Brass Griffin.
So… goggles down and full steam ahead with the next installment for Tales of the Brass Griffin: “Dead Air”… here’s a preview pulled from a rough draft! (some cases more rough than others…)
“Remember, only wound him. He’s more valuable to us alive than dead.” The tallest of the dark figures commented icily.
“I remember,” was the gravelly reply.
The shot echoed in the night air, just as James rose to bolt for the trees, a mere fifteen feet from where he left the campsite. James yowled in pain when a white hot lance of fire shot through his right side that caused him to stumble. He kept his feet however and through brute force of will stumbled in a blind panic for the safety of the forest.
Branches whipped and tore at his face. Roots, upthrust from the forest floor, tripped him with each exhausted step. He paused for a moment at tree and gulped a lungful of air. A wave of nausea and excruciating pain shook him like a wind-tossed leaf. He leaned over and panted heavily, his vision red and blurred for a moment. When it cleared, he could hear his pursuers while they crashed through the burnt out camp not far behind him. He looked down at the pain in his side and saw a modest-sized crimson stain mingled with the soot, dirt and sweat already present in his shirt.
“Must keep going,” he panted to the moonlight, the forest, and to himself. “I can’t stop.”
With sheer force of will, Dr. Von Patterson pushed himself off the tree, took a firmer grip on his pistol and the canvas wrapped package, then stumbled off into the forest.