What of the Demon?A segment of the Green Meadows Museum’s official transcript of Alexander Phillip’s recorded interviews with Kingsley Montivelo, the former President of Shiva and leader of the Killer Liberation Army (KLA)What of the Demon? by Delta-13
Kingsley Montivelo --- May 9, 1885
Introductory Interview with Kingsley Montivelo
Interviewer: Alexander Phillips
Copy 1 of 2
[Noises as tape recorder is adjusted]
Alexander Phillips: It is May 9th 1885 at 12:03. I am with Mr. Montivelo in his living room.
Kingsley Montivelo: Very official
AP: Mr. Montivelo, they did not give me much time so, if you wouldn’t mind I would like to jump straight into the interview.
[Sound of a cup being picked up from a table and someone taking a sip]
KM: You may begin, although I doubt I can tell you anything you don’t already know.
AP: As you know, it is my intention to write another book on the Second Shadow War.
KM: Does another really need to be written?
AP: And I would like you to answer a number of questions I have,
What If He Comes Back?“Samuel, it’s been a long time,” said Kingsley, clipping a dead rose bud.What If He Comes Back? by Delta-13
“You are not an easy man to see,” broke Samuel’s thin, reedy voice, “And I have been busy.”
Kingsley turned around and raised an eyeridge at the wavering skeleton before him. Samuel’s wispy brown hair clung for dear life as his quivering blue eyes stared at him from deep caverns and his face collapsed into a waxen and shattered skull. He was bundled up despite it being a warm spring day and his long, boney fingers with his long, sharp nails clicked against each other as he nervously twittered them.
“The years have not been kind to you.”
“The medicine slows the disease down, but it is not a cure,” sighed Samuel, gingerly sitting down on one of Kingsley’s stone benches, “It should have killed me a long time ago.”
“Are the Ferdarians making any actual progress, so is it like working with Andrea all over again?
Hi, I’m Sam, also known as Ham, and I’m a recent escapee from the Virginia Military Institute (VMI). I am a goof who pretends to be driven and organized. Currently, my sister, , and I are working on seven major projects:|
1. The first project is my fifteen book science fantasy series: Nothing but Glory:
“Everyone has a reason to die. It is history that determines if it was worth dying for.”-Kingsley Montivelo.
My series follows thirteen leaders as they rise to power, how they handle a world war that is catastrophic in scope, and watches as some are overtaken by their sins-both intentional and unintentional-and some rise to lead a stronger, but dying world into an uncertain future. The first nine book are ‘regional’ books (they focus on each region of my world) while the next six are the about the war itself. Think of my series like the Avengers movies. The first nine books establish my characters (like Marvel phase one) and the next six books are one huge Avengers movie.
2. My second project is a companion book to the Nothing but Glory series: For the Next Killer Who Dies: Selected memories of a Revolutionary::
Killers never forget, they never forgive, and they never apologize, but sometimes they explain.
This is Kingsley Montivelo's memoir on his time as a member of the terroirist organization known as the Killer Liberation Army (KLA). Kingsley is one of the four leaders who are responsible for the war that my series, Nothing but Glory, is about and this book is his attempt to set the record straight. It starts with the moment he decides to join the KLA and ends with a fateful visit that sets the stage for the series itself.
3. My third project is a collection of short stories that relate to my series: the Backroads of Terra. It has been published on Kindle and contains illustrations drawn by my sister . It can found here: [link]
4. My fourth project is Heroes: a dystopian novel about Singularity gone wrong.
“We offer you Peace, Security, and Prosperity. We ask for your Privacy and your Obedience.”-Turing
Heroes is a world where there is no death, no war, no disease, and no crime. It is a perfect world as long as everyone follows the rules and does not mind being observed by the four guardians at all times. There is a small movement known as the Time Keepers who are desperately fighting the Guardians and bringing freedom back to the world.
5. My fifth project is Stairway to Heaven and is about a former druggie and asshole who decides to help struggling teens because he needs community service hours.
6. My sixth project is The Undesirables and it is about our modern world merging with the mystical world. Angels now rule planet earth and humans share their cities with all kinds of monsters. Archangel Michael creates a team of losers, damned, and assholes to combat evil with evil. Oh and Cthulhu is involved somehow. That’s all I got so far.
7. My seventh and final project is Dangerously Delusional. It is a comic about super heroes and super villains who have no idea what the hell they’re doing.
Nothing but Glory Website: skamenn.wordpress.com/
My pinterest: www.pinterest.com/pepperdaphoe…
My Tumblr: pepperthephoenix.tumblr.com/
My sister introduced me to stamps:
Wargods - The Prophecy- Hello? Anybody there?
Ain was alone, in a dark place. He could see nothing at all. But he felt that wherever he was, he is safe. A brief moment later, light came out of nowhere, and now Ain could at least see himself. But he was different. His ordinary clothes were nowhere, he wore something different. A leather-like material beautifully made, the clothes fit him perfectly. Boots, leather trousers, leather chest armor, sleeveless, and a pair of gloves too. All were emitting a faint white aura around them, like the armor's color. Whatever it was made out of, he could feel magic flowing through it, into his body and soul. Or was it the other way around? Was he the one who enchanted his clothes? He didn't know. But as he was about ask what he was wearing, his surroundings changed. He was somewhere unknown, yet familiar. The buildings were shaped and looked like nothing Ain has ever seen before. It was like he was watching a science fiction movie up close. Tall buildings, some were even
Old BeliefsHe looks about his home in the Underworld. Anubis exhales then smiles slightly as he catches a photograph of him, and some of the other Underworld gods at one of the world gods meetings. Hades looked so unamused about something. He was sure it was something to do with how power was getting settled around the gods.
Anubis smirks a bit as he picked up his coat. He was dressed in the modern way. Jeans, shirt, boots and his favorite leather jacket. He could not change his face; he would always look like a jackal. He looks about himself again before taking himself to where he was thinking of going.
He was going to the city to mingle amoung the people. They had no clue. They did not know that no matter what god they followed that Anubis still got to make sure their heart was weighed and he took the good souls to the heavens.
Anubis walks the streets of the modern city of Cairo. People walk though him. He knows they cannot see him. He searches for those that still believe. Not that thes
a time to rise, and a time to fallI have never asked her what it is that she misses so much. Whatever it is, it turns her eyes blue mid-winter and chases the heat from her cheeks. The truth is, I never thought it was my place to ask: after all, I'm nothing but a stranger in her quiet heart. And even now, years after we first met, I do not ask her.
She stretches one morning, all smooth edges and warm spaces. She looks at me as she always does before she tumbles out of bed, and her eyes are blue. Again. The weeks melt away and I am staring at six years worth of winters, all rolled into one. It chills me and my teeth chatter. She doesn't say anything but I know that she has caught me looking, has inhaled my shiver and tasted old winters in it instead of fresh laid snow. There is no fooling her, there has never been any chance of that: she always knows.
I give up all hope of further sleep and step out of bed and onto rich, plush carpet. It is a violent hue, bu
6 things I know about my grandfatheri.
My grandfather was one of nine children, all identical in black and white photographs. Each had a crop of dark hair, slightly crooked smiles and as a child I thought they had black eyes too. The shades, the pigments, were lost in translation and even still I picture him with ink-drop irises, faded sepia skin.
He, like his brothers, joined the navy. They left behind their youngest brother Ronnie on the shore waving in time with his murmured, off-beat heart, stretching the hole in his chest 8,000 miles wide. The Atlantic embraced them, called each in different directions as the waves rolled on endlessly. Their boats drifted from safe bays and my grandfather fixed his sight starboard, back towards London as the masts of his brothers’ vessels faded over the horizon.
My grandfather was in charge of saving anyone who fell overboard, and was for a time a deep sea diver. But he couldn’t swim, was scared of the bottomless depths aching beneath the deck. He lied on his forms,