I decided to start a tradition of posting a fragment of writing each Friday. Sometimes it’ll be flash fiction, sometimes it’ll be a poem, other times a piece of non-fiction and sometimes even a chapter, finished or in-progress. Some weeks they’ll be new, other weeks they’ll be from my personal archive, which means some weeks they’ll be examples of REALLY BAD WRITING.
Today it’s chapter 1 of The Finder, which is book one (of three) of The Remembrance War. The titles may change, of course.
I’m not a pro. Even if I was, the following would be true: Feel free to comment. I think I can take it, and if I can’t, what’s the worst that will happen?
It probably goes without saying, but the following is mine. If I find it online somewhere, lawyers will be mobilized. I’m pretty sure it’s not so wonderful that anyone would do that, but I’m covering my bases, here.
And so, it begins:
The thing the books, vids, and hologames don’t tell you about space travel is that, generally speaking, it’s boring as hell. Sure, there’s the occasional fight–but that’s rare, unless you’re in the military, and I’d left the service years ago.
Well… it was rare. Before the war. Before humanity discovered just how much we’d been lied to.
It all started with a distress signal…