I haven't been on the site in a while because of school and I've been working on a book fairly diligently, but I thought I'd check in and see if I can get involved again.
One of my books is a science fantasy story set in the far future. Humans discovered a planet that was projected to be habitable for life in a few thousand years, and the Church of Christ sent a seedship out to it. The history sent along with them was very christian, and thus they retain many aspects of the Christian religion. On the planet when they arrive is a city already built on a far corner of the world. In this city is a church with a cross, and since humans could not possibly have created it, the people see it as a proof of God. However, everyone who goes inside either dies or goes insane and dies soon after. In this world, a boy is ready to become a man and make the journey south to the City of Beliad. Thus begins a journey that will take him around the world.
The other story I have been working on is a story of a young boy from a fictional town in Guatemala who gets wrapped up in the revolution, swept up into the unrelenting tide of chaos into which the world has fallen. Eventually he escapes his country and immigrates to the USA, only to return to his home many years later after making his fortune, only to find his hometown transformed by progress and stripped of its character.
How are you all doing? What's new? What are you writing?
Here is a little piece I wrote in honor of a boy I met at the hospital in Antigua, Guatemala:
Elmer de Los Santos was the first patient of the Hospital de San Pedro in Antigua when it first opened in 1663. At seventeen, he is still but a child, as he has not aged a minute since the day of his sixth birthday. And on his sixth birthday, all he could do was color within the lines and write. Now, here he is, eleven years later, sitting in his wheelchair, drooling out of the left side of his mouth, and writing the next chapter in the endless story he has been writing since his sixth birthday, just for me. In it, worlds are destroyed and created, creatures emerge to play from the darkest depths of the seas, from the highest heavens, where God himself sits upon his copper throne of lies and laughs at all those below him, empires rise and fall, people fall in love and fall out of it with the same melancholy, and through it all the simple touch of childishness, writing of the highest irony and the most optimistic nihilism. "Daddy said yesterday that everybody dies but that's okay because if they were good, their name will be written in Illyin." Yesterday for him, the Eve of his sixth birthday, before the world stopped spinning and the child writer breathed his first immortal breath.
It was back in the time before the automobile, before the electric light, when people still walked on air, and the volcanoes spit water instead of fire, and the sparrows pecked at the frozen pigs’ carcasses which lay scattered about outside the entrance to the home of the Maestro Eduardo Aguilar, which stretched, in its brilliance, across the south side of the city of Guatgital, at the foot of the water volcano which flooded the city once every hundred years, and washed away the coffee plants and corn which lay between the mountain and the golden walls of the house of the Maestro.
So begins my new project, in which I ignore all the rules of writing and just have fun!