Four Fools Press: #Christmas

Showing posts with label #Christmas. Show all posts

Monday, December 22, 2014

We here at Four FOols wanted to wish you all a very blessed and Merry Christmas! Please take time this holiday season to spread a bit of love, cheer, hope, and peace among those you know, meet, and see. Never forget the reason for this Season--the birth of our Savior and Lord, Jesus Christ.

"And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord."
-Luke 2:8-11 (KJV)

We'll be back next week with more awesome Four FOols goodness...Merry Christmas to All--and God Bless us, every one!

Away for Christmas

12:35 PM

Away for Christmas

Saturday, December 20, 2014

12-20-14 Writing Warm-up

Brought to you by Four Fools Press: “Crazy Good Stories”

Don't think you can judge me.

You have no idea what my life is like. You accursed, carbon-based Lords of Permanency. I hate you. I hate you all.You live your lives in a state of glorious eternity...never being dismantled by the apathetic forces of the universe. You don't have to feel yourself unwinding. You don't have to experience the unmaking when the Yellow Eye stares down at you with unfeeling ferocity. You don't know what it is to wait in the gradually unspooling span of forever--praying for just the right circumstances, just the right evolutionary opportunity--in which you can be remade.

You have no idea what horror it is to be me.

And then, when finally the opportunity comes again for Life--when, after all the long ages you feel your form being remade--you are demeaned. Not just demeaned, you are belittled, lowered, and subjugated to such a degree that it would, by any other being in the universe, be considered a crime. Imagine existing, peacefully, in your native state--doing no harm to anyone--merely delighting in the ultimate and finally arrived expression of your true self. Imagine the peace. Image the feeling of release and satisfaction after the eternities of waiting and longing. Imagine this...and then your enemy comes and crushes you. Molds you. Changes you..........????????????

http://fourfoolspress.blogspot.com/p/mailing-list.html

This week is Tease Week!

(We're Jesters after all, you should expect some tricks...)

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You'll get the ending to this story on Sunday!

Don’t miss our latest Four FOols release, Weregild.
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00QOE1GN6

12-20-14 Writing Warm-up

8:15 AM

12-20-14 Writing Warm-up

#brannon #Christmas #hollingsworth #MMWW #WritingExcercise #WritingWarmup Christmas mmww writing exercise writing warm-up

Friday, December 5, 2014

12-5-14 Writing Warm-up

Brought to you by Four Fools Press: “Crazy Good Stories”

"Area's S&C, Ma'am. Double-K will see you now."

Emma still could not believe who was speaking to her, but she managed to splutter a reply. "Ahum...S and C? I'm not sure I-I-"

The gun toting elf--yes, elf: green hat, Christmas-colored outfit, pointy ears and all--cut her off. It was like he'd heard the statement thousands of times. He waggled the end of his ceramic-bodied, snub-nosed, laser-sight-enhanced M47 around casually with one hand and replied crisply. "Secured and Cleared, Ma'am. Standard Operating Procedure." His voice was as cold and cutting as a gale straight from the North Pole.

Emma blinked and grasped blindly with her right hand, subconsciously seeking Bradley's palm. When he did not take her hand right away, she looked down her arm to her hand, to where her husband's hand should have been. He was there, stock-still and staring wide-eyed into the literal maze of fully decorated and lit Christmas trees. They were standing amid hundreds of the towering, fragrant, sparkling giants. 'If the whole thing were not so surreal, it would have been incredibly beautiful', she mused to herself.

Emma felt something cold and hard press into her lower back: the elf's high-powered, high-firing-rate weapon, urging her onward with lethal intent.

"Ma'am, Sir, move along. Double-K will not be kept waiting."

Emma could not have imagined that such a small, squeaky voice could sound so frightening.

Still utterly dazed at the whole affair, the couple walk-staggered along amid the labyrinth of festive ornamentation. Several twists and turns later, they came to a small clearing where they saw him. THE MAN HIMSELF. Emma felt her breath catch in her throat as she looked, and somehow, it was all made more real. Of course, it was real enough when they were sleigh-napped in an actual levitating, technology-studded sledge, and it had become even more real when the elves had appeared in sparkling bursts of mind-clouding psychotropic gas, but now...NOW, after seeing the red suit, the white beard, and all...

Now it was somehow absolutely, undeniably real.

Santa walked up, a smoking, stinking cigar clenched comfortably in his teeth, its red light reflecting off his white beard like tail lights on a snow bank. He was almost exactly like all the stories Emma had ever heard, except for one thing: Santa's eyes.

There was no sparkle in those dead orbs.

The cigar bobbed from one corner of the "jolly old elf's" mouth to the other. "Time to pay up, Mr. and Mrs. Preston."

Emma was taken aback. Bradley was mute with disbelief. 'Pay up?' she puzzled. Finally, she managed. "S-Santa, Sir-"

Saint Nick raised a ham-fisted hand, with fingers outstretched. "Th' name's Kris Kringle. Ya can call me MISTER KRINGLE." The growling laughter that followed rattled some crystalline ornaments on a nearby tree.

Emma blinked again, completely confused. "Ahum...oookay. Mister Kringle, I-I don't understand. What do you mean, exactly, when you say, 'Pay up'?"

Kringle narrowed his brows. "Ya know how this works. Ya use the threat of me all year long to keep those little nightmares you call children in line. I deliver the goods, on time, on the day we agree to. Now, it's time for me to get paid. Ya didn't think I did this out of the goodness of my heart, now did'ja?"

Kringle's resounding laughter at Emma's horrified, surprised expression was enough to make Christmas trees drop their needles and machine-gun-toting elves to smirk.

Despite everything, the only thing Emma could think was, '...it does shake like a bowl full of jelly...'

***

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