Self post: Tarot Stories: Deck I is out!

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HI!
Despite my last post only two hours ago, I’ve wrangled the formatting and managed to get the interactive contents page working. The anthology is now out as a free eBook! Oh, I’m so happy. You can download it from Smashwords here;

http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/529779

Thanks!

Ben

Selfpost: Twitter and formatting snags

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Hello to the 40 most beautiful people on WordPress (as voted by Heat magazine),
I’ve just started a Twitter page that I hope that I won’t forget to use. The page in question is here; https://twitter.com/TheFarPastures
In other news, formatting an eBook has turned out harder than I thought. All the content is there, it’s just that it comes up on Kindle looking like the last board on Pac-Man if the arcade machine had been hit with like 10 hammers (in succession). I hope I can fix it soon, it’ll take some reading. In the meantime, literally all the content (minus the introduction) is on this very WordPress.

How have your days been?

Ben

Selfpost: Free eBook coming soon.

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Proposed cover

Hi everyone!
I started the tarot card-based story endeavour a few months ago, and I now have a semi-sizeable set of flash fiction stories. With this first set, I’ve decided to release them as a convenient – and completely free – eBook. The first will be released on Amazon in the coming days, with others set to release as the collection on WordPress grows.
Thank you kindly!

-Ben

The Tower

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The Tower

I locked myself in a box, once.

There was a storm coming. I knew I didn’t want to be a part of it; become swept away like my friends and family (and all other stupid people). No rain nor hail nor sleet nor lightning could get me in here.

No fiends, no raiders, no radiation nor mutants could come in, either – I locked it good and tight.

I knew that when the storm came, I was safe.

And it did, and I was.

But they pawed at the door when I heard it approach – let us in! let us in!

Brothers, I tried, but I couldn’t get out if my life – or all life – depended on it.

Help.

All Previous Partners

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I went limp when I was told, spread doll-like across the mattress. The phone had fallen by the side of my head as it slipped out of my fingers; I could still hear him buzzing inches from my ear, a wasp with a bulging sac of venom crawling into my brain. Smug. He always sounded that way, when we were seeing each other. He told me the news like he’d been promoted. Upbeat. Nasal. The buzzing said something else before it cut out, not bothering to know if I’d listened to what he said, leaving the low hum of the receiver to envelop my head and let the news float in the dreamlike fizz.
All previous sexual partners – he’d infected me. He only had two months left.
That’s all I caught from what he’d told me. But I knew he knew, before he did it. He was taking me with him, caught in his death roll as we both sank into a trench – the jaw was locked, and fighting was hopeless when we were both drowning.

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The Bull Arrives

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Monday morning,
And fear was dawning
In a sleepy village of rot and dust.
IT WAKES
To the rumbling
Of his arrival.

He roars, and out of the doors
And shutters and panels
And kennels
Gingerly come the townsfolk
And their dogs,
Quaking and shaking.
Glass shatters, teeth chatter.
That roar they had heard before.

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The Hanged Man

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The Hanged Man

“It’s over.”

“It never is.” Kevin got up, eyes still on his shoes, and left. His lessening shape moved into his room – a featureless, grey box – and the door silently slammed.

“It’s been five years, Kevin! Let it go!”

No answer. Janet fell into her chair – why was she bothering? She knew that she would get absolutely nothing out of her brother. Especially after all this time – five years. I mean, she told herself, I’ve moved on, moved past it, in this time. She paused, and added, Have I?

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