New Project!

Hey guys! Sorry that it's been a minute!

Here's the thing. I love Nezmyth. I love the world that's been created here... but I've actually been working on a different project for the past month. It's called "My Name Is Hammerfist."

It's a superhero story! But it's more on the fun side and doesn't take itself too seriously. It's a series I'm going to make available on the Amazon Kindle store for $0.99 an episode. I hope to release a new episode every month, and over time, compile the episodes into collections that will then be published in paperback.

Guys. I'm so excited about this. Like, so excited that it's almost obnoxious.

From this point, I'll likely be updating my writings through my main blog, but until then, I'd like to share with you a taste of the first volume of "My Name Is Hammerfist!" I'll post the same tidbit on my main blog as well.

Enjoy! :D

            I know it’s lame, but this whole story started because of donuts. Freaking donuts. Of all things.

            If you had tasted these donuts, though, you would probably know where I’m coming from. Zeke’s Grub has the best snack food hands-down in the town where I’m from—which is called Gladview, by the way. It’s funny that they call it Gladview because you can barely see anything and it made me anything but glad. It’s a tumor of a town that’s bunched together in the middle of forest, so I spent a lot of my childhood fighting off ticks and angry squirrels when I was out playing in the trees. But that’s beside the point.

            I wanted to drive home for the weekend so I could get some of those killer donuts at Zeke’s Grub.  I was just into my first semester at Carus Community College in Citytown, so I was feeling just a little homesick anyway. I graduated from high school with an astoundingly bland GPA not long before, but luckily Carus had open enrollment and it wasn’t too far away from home. That made my decision to move there easy.  Besides, I had no idea what I wanted to study and it seemed like a good idea to go there and get my general eds knocked out of the way.

            But again, I’m getting sidetracked. Oh jeez! I didn’t even tell you my name!

            I’m Herman Fitzgerald the third. Not exactly the most intimidating name, but I’m not exactly the most intimidating person—the last guy you’d expect to replace his prosthetic hand with a hammer and go beat bad guys in the middle of the night. I like cheese crackers, action movies, most of my jeans are ripped in the knees and I wear a size medium t-shirt. I also have plenty of acne scars, messy black hair and crappy brown eyes. Yeah. Kind of an average guy, but I’m cool with that.  Aren’t good stories about average people who deal with crazy circumstances anyway?

            So let’s get back to how this all began.

            “We can pay you for gas once you get home!” My mom lovingly said on the other end of the phone.

            “That would actually be awesome,” I replied thankfully.

            “I know you’re driving late, so just be careful,” she continued. “There are a lot of deer that like to hop into the middle of the road when it’s dark.”

            “I know, mom.”

            I was leaning with my back against my car, my eyes scanning the buildings around me. I was living in some off-campus apartments just a few minutes away from Carus. The skyscrapers of downtown Citytown weren’t too far away, but in the immediate area, I was surrounded by red brick apartment buildings that had to have been built in the sixties. Cars sped through the traffic light at the corner and occasionally honked at each other.  Across the street in another parking lot, a couple was making out against the side of a truck, some guys in tank tops were walking together laughing, and some overly-giggly girls were staring at them not far away. I exhaled and rolled my eyes, my thoughts completely occupied with savory, scrumptious donuts.

            “Have you had dinner yet?” my mom asked. She worries about me all the time.

            “I had a sandwich,” I told her. “And I’m going to stop by Zeke’s on the way home.”

            “Oh, that will be so nice!” she said. “Could you pick me up a Mega Choco-Blast while you’re there?”

            “Sure, mom.”

            “Okay! Love you! Your father is excited to see you, too! See you in a few hours!”

            I clicked the hang-up icon on my phone and pocketed it. My apartment was locked and I had just a few things packed in my car to make for a comfortable weekend stay with my parents.  I hung around outside my car for just a minute longer, looking around and soaking up my surroundings.

A lot of people from the boonies can’t stand the city. I’m the opposite. I love Citytown. Sure, people here are a little busy and can be kind of rude sometimes, but there’s always something happening. There’s more opportunity. There’s more of, well… everything. It’s dirty and loud and crowded, but I love it.

I took a deep, smoggy breath, pulled open my car door and slipped inside. My beat-up sedan from the nineties belched and churned as I turned the key and managed to back out of its parking space without a problem.  The last thing I did was check my tires and fill up at a nearby gas station before I hopped on the interstate heading out of Citytown.

            Billboards for restaurants, movie theaters and casinos crawled passed me as my car cruised along the freeway, joined with dozens of other cars like fast-moving ants along pavement. I turned on the radio, but didn’t listen for long after they played a crappy electro-pop song that kept saying “pump up the jams tonight baby.”  When I changed the station, the same song was playing. I changed the station again, and again it was playing the same song. When I changed the station another time, it was in the middle of a commercial… then that same song came on again. Click. Silence. Thank you.

            After several minutes, the urban landscape of Citytown evaporated to smaller towns, which then evaporated to even smaller towns. Trees became more plentiful to the point where the freeway started to cut through a forest. I started seeing more churches than I did warehouses and more quaint markets than superstores, which was a sure sign that home was getting close. The sun had dipped over the horizon and now the red glow of rear car lights were like angry ghost eyes glaring at me down the road.  I signaled and took an exit that turned into the road heading to Gladview.

            I’m not going to lie, the drive to Gladview is pretty scenic during the day when you get off the freeway.  It’s a narrow two-lane road that winds through a forest, and occasionally the view will break out into clearings or ponds. On any weekend, you could drive down this road and see Citytown photographers park their cars to get out to snap some shots. On a road trip when I was younger, I lit a firecracker and threw it out the window at one of these photographers. It missed the photographer by a longshot, but instead landed by a squirrel who was scavenging for some nuts. I swear I saw that squirrel crap itself and tear off when that firecracker exploded.  Freaking squirrel. I hate squirrels.

            At night, though, the drive to Gladview isn’t as scenic. It’s actually pretty creepy. If you’ve ever driven through a foggy forest at night before, you know what it feels like. You almost expect some crazy chainsaw guy to jump out at you from the trees. I was ready if he did. He was going to end up on my windshield. But I don’t think I need to tell you that it didn’t actually happen.

            Here’s what did happen.