DMAJOR / SHORT STORY
This story is a take on Tibetan Buddhism that is guaranteed to offend many.
DMAJOR / SHORT STORY
Some of the more attractive incidents described in the following story — the stuffing of windows and doorways with the bodies of the dead, the scientists engaged in research while fighting rages around them, the officer attending to his wig — these all did happen during Napoleon’s retreat from Moscow, according to contemporary accounts.
It is also certainly true that the entire complement of the First Division of the Young Guard (General Berthezene’s command) were lost during the campaign in Russia. Of his six battalions (approx. 8,000 men), not a single soldier was left to answer in roll call.
Of the 50,000 that were the total of the Guard (the Young, Middle and Old combined), 1,100 survived.
As for Napoleon’s death on the roof of a burning library outside Borodino — I’m absolutely sure that that happened. – D.M.
DMAJOR / PAPERBACK & EBOOK
DMAJOR / EXCERPT FROM THE DAY OF THE NEFILIM
The people look up at the sky, where some of them notice to the east a star falling to its death, and others watch the hulking disk of the moon that obscures the sun. It was all there in the sky that day, above Barker’s Mill.
After a few minutes, the eclipse is over. The planets creak slowly along their orbits, and soon everything is as it was.
On the ground far below, life teeters on the edge of changing forever, but for today at least, it changes its mind and proceeds as it always has, grinding along the rusting tracks of its normality. It forgets quickly the strange orange dusk that had descended from the middle of the day.
On the edge of a tree-lined bay, with water the same deep green that you find in the glass of old bottles, stands Barker’s Mill. The town has been laid out with the same care that a child gives to the arrangement of a new set of blocks. Its houses sit solidly, arranged in neat rows, portly squires gathered around a dinner table on their foundation seats of brick and bluestone. It is a most respectable gathering; everyone is well behaved.
The premise of The Day of the Nefilim is simple: take a good-sized sampling of the most popular conspiracy theories and new age thought forms that the culture has to offer, put them in a blender, and hit the switch.
From the resulting goo, create a sequence of events which begins with the arrival on earth of a time-travelling, aether-surfing ship crewed by a collection of ingrates and leeches (not literal leeches, metaphorical ones), while at the same time, in a coincidence of astronomical proportions, the Nefilim home planet, Marduk, is reentering the solar system after its 3,000 year orbit around the sun. How this plays out, and what a few of the locals have to do with it, only time can tell.
It seems that the New World Order might not be so orderly after all…
“THE DAY OF THE NEFILIM is an impressively written science fiction saga that involves culture clashes between humans, underground mutant races who yearn for the surface, an alien civilization chasing after their lost home planet in Earth’s solar system, and much, much more. The Day Of The Nefilim is highly recommended to science fiction enthusiasts as an engaging, mixed-up adventure of conflict, negotiation, back-stabbing, conspiracy, — and a small-town girl who unknowingly impacts upon it all.” — MidWest Book Review
DMAJOR / SHORT STORY
So tall was the gate that it was five times higher than the tallest horse on the island; taller even than the shadow made when the guardsman whose mount it was sat high on the great beast in his ceremonial armour with its feathers and fur all flying up around him and across his blue skin, so that he would look like a sunset — even this guardsman and his mighty horse were dwarfed in their height by the city gate.
No one in the city could remember a time, or had even heard of a time, when the gate had been closed, and the drawbridge across the moat drawn up. The moat had never been breached. This is no surprise, because it was so full of dark fears; things that crawled and slithered and stung, or things that were the dark shadows of themselves — but about these things and the moat and its awful depths we are not going to concern ourselves, because they are another story altogether, and one much more difficult than this.