Archive for February 18th, 2013

February 18, 2013

Behance… A Cool Writer’s, Photographer’s Etc. Artist’s Site For Your Stuff

by darkjade68

My Apologizes Disperser, for Posting on your Day… Just wanted to Share This Site with All you Writers, Photographers, Artists Out There…


behance-22_600Behance… A Cool Writer’s, Photographer’s Etc. Artist’s Site For Your Stuff

So I just Read a Tweet from my Novella “I Died Once” Cover Artist…

Here’s Her Tweet;

Monica Gomes@smogartist

Check out new work on my @Behance portfolio: “Drawings . Feb2013” …

So I Checked out the Site, and it’s Pretty Damn Cool

Here’s the Profile I Just Created For Myself Behance Profile James Mahoney

Whether you have Finished Projects, or Works in Progress, I’d Recommend taking the time to Check Out This Site, and get yourself up there!

But that’s just me… Hope some of you find it useful

I Now Return you to our Regularly Scheduled Monday Posting


*Here’s Their Twitter Too @Behance

February 18, 2013

The Entries Are In! The Judges Are Reading! The Results Are Rolling In!

by darkjade68

v-dragon-028 2

The Entries Are In! The Judges Are Reading! The Results Are Rolling In!

Thank You to the 13 Entries

Entry 1

Entry 2

Entry 3

Entry 4

Entry 5

Entry 6

Entry 7

Entry 8

Entry 9

Entry 10

Entry 11

Entry 12

Entry 13

Soon The Reader’s Choice Finalists Will Be Posted for our Readers To Vote

Until then, try to relax… Enjoy Your Day, Lol



February 18, 2013

Monday Flash Fiction – Part II, Mankind’s Future

by disperser

Mankind’s Future

By E. J. D’Alise (Disperser)
Copyright February 2013

The object had been spotted a year earlier, and had caused quite a stir.  Initial indications showed it would cross Earth’s orbit.  That meant a non-zero chance of collision.  

Subsequent observations caused even more of a stir . . . the odds of collision were pretty good.  One in one hundred.  Not very good if you were betting in Vegas, but pretty good relative to the lottery . . . the cosmic impact lottery.

Normally, as observations were refined, odds always got smaller.  From one in a hundred, one might expect them to go to one in a thousand.  This damn rock’s odds of collision went to one in twenty-five.  People were beginning to worry.  Some prayed their hearts out.  Others fornicated their . . . well, they fornicated.  Many just carried on with their normal routine.

Dean looked at his data, and checked it again, the tenth time he had done so.  This latest observation was going to throw the world for a loop.

Standing in front of the congregated press, military, political, and just plain curious audience, he put up his animation.

“As we can see, as of last night, the projected course of the object has it in a near-certain collision course with Earth.”  Dave pointed to the sped-up animation, showing what would happen in three weeks. The dotted line neared a point in space toward which the Earth was also speeding.  They merged.  Or would have, had it not been for the latest observations.

“Ah . . . however, based on the latest observations, confirmed by multiple observatories, now has the object missing us by a wide margin.  The reason is that the “object” made a massive course correction.”

The room exploded in noise, questions, and general mayhem associated with large groups getting the biggest shock of their lives.

Eventually order was restored.  “Yes,” Dave answered the question from one of the cable networks, “it means someone, or something, is controlling it.  Possibly, intelligent life.”

Not that you would recognize it!” Dave’s unvoiced thought reflected his opinion of the current status of “news” organizations.

The world came together in one of those rare moments where things get focused to a common purpose.  Massive communications arrays were put into service, some restored from having been decommissioned, with one purpose.  To signal, and possibly communicate with the object.

The first response came after about a month, the object now receding from Earth.  Subsequent messages and responses concentrated on developing the basis for a common language.  As theorized, it started with mathematics, then elements, then more complex math, and so on.  

Teams of researchers around the world poured all their efforts into deciphering the messages.  Initially, the messages were lengthy, but soon the message from the aliens settled in what appeared to be one short sentence.

Within another few months, the aliens ceased responding to all messages.

While the public soon forgot about them, concentrating instead on some starlet or other breaking up with some other star or celebrity extraordinaire, scientists continued to pour over all the communications.  Eventually, in the hope not all were idiots, the unedited messages were made available to the public at large.  

Gavin stood staring out at the bird perched on the tree outside the window.  His mother, working on a paper for a science journal, glanced over at him.  She had long resigned to his autism forever being a barrier between her and her son.  She turned to her writing; a speculation on the sentence the aliens seemed intent on passing on to humanity.

As she wrote her conjecture, she turned to see Gavin intently looking at the screen.  She had not heard him approach, and she almost resumed working, but his expression gave her pause . . .

“What is it, Gavin?”  She asked out of habit.  Gavin seldom spoke.

But Gavin did speak, carefully mouthing each word of the message.

“Run . . . you . . . fools . . . They . . . are . . . coming”