Monday, December 31, 2018

Confessions in the Cold: A Writer's Thoughts for the Culmination of Another Year Past

It is December 31, 2018. 

I never in my wildest imagination believed I would still be alive. There are so many challenges to my disabling illness that one misstep and I would suffer a gruesome fate. This year I have escaped it.

My art and writing get me through some terrible times. I have been betrayed at every level one can ever feel, but a handful of people have shown me the rewards of friendship. 2018 has been the year of tremendous losses and inches of gains. The kitties help me with some of the emotional rough spots. That is why the postings have been so sporadic. 

If I don't know where my next meal is coming from, then I am unable to do much creative work. I will put together some digital art in order to keep the worry and hunger pains at bay. Yet, here I sit without a working washer and dryer as well as the heater went out at 29 degrees this morning. 

You think you have problems? 

That is why I do the support, donate campaigns. I have shirts, mugs, journals, books, chapbooks, but it seems that creativity is not enough to cover even one bill in a year. With the lowest internet service I can get without sacrificing my needs, I am out over $1000 per annum. That does not count my three domain names and GoDaddy overcharging me. 

So I sit here in the dark. All night actually. It's me and the laptop. The kitties come when they get a chill, warm up, and then go play bug hunters! That is a job the cats can keep. I don't want it! I can only afford to turn lights on when I am up and around. Well, when I can. When the joints get cold, there is no walking around. That is with the heating pad. 

I need a miracle. I need a Fairy God Mother/Father. Just send a gazillion dollar check every month. Thank you. 

But, that is not how the world works. When I teach people how the world works in my articles and research on the VDP Gazette, let's just say that I don't have many friends after that. I don't buy into the Social Justice Warrior act, so that pretty much leaves me without confidantes. 

Sorry, I just won't lie to people. 

You will see my stances here too on Undawnted because I believe in justice. Not Just Us. Not Social Justice Warrior. Justice. The justice that takes a wide lense to a situation sees all the nuts and bolts, weighs the facts and figures, and examines the human aspects. You know what we used to call: Truth, Justice, and the American way... Thanks, Superman. 

America has gotten away from Justice. Instead we have people having tantrums over topics, there is no research, no logic. Only name calling and divisiveness if you do not agree with this rose colored glasses world view. 

Half the time I read these explosive posts calling me hater, bigot, and other colorful metaphors, I am hungry in the food sense. I do not need the emotional force feeding of ego based mind control victims. Let me double over in pain in peace already. I am never going to agree with two year olds trapped in an adult body. 

It is never going to happen. 

I am a JFK/Reagan Democrat. In today's post-modern apocalypse, it means that I have been erroneously skewed into the fake news alternative right category of politics. Just put my image on a milk carton already. Missing: Liberal Democrat who believes in the Declaration of Independence, Constitution, and Bill of Rights. Or is that put me right next to an artist's rendition of the elusive Big Foot? 

I am MIA and mythical all at the same time. 

Well good. I am a student of Joseph Campbell anyway. I might as well live up to his expectations that we are all on our own version of the heroic journey. Where's my light sword again? 

But I feel more like: Hello, my name is Galahad, may I take your order?

So my stories are not about the next societal fad. No SJW tantrums here. Someone wrote of me that I am a disabled woman without any illusions. Yet, I write fiction. I guess I have the best of both worlds...

Now if I could only get my cats to open their own cans of cat food, I would be getting somewhere!

If you would like to see more of my writings in the forms of fiction, nonfiction, and poetry, then please write a comment or two on my Facebook or Minds pages, Tweet me, or Gab at me. 

Best of all, purchase something on Lulu or Zazzle regularly. If you can spare it, then a donation to my Paypal (dlmullan AT yahoo DOT com) would go a long way in helping me stay focused with a full belly or paid internet service on a monthly basis. 

People don't believe how difficult it is living on the austerity measure called Disability until you are faced with a lifetime of it.  

In the light of everything that I have been through over the last year, I am still a grateful person. I am grateful for all of my readers. I am grateful I have survived one more year. 

Help me make it through 2019... you won't be disappointed!  

Thank you so very, very much!

Remember, your generosity keeps Undawnted Advertisement Free!


Saturday, December 29, 2018

Storytelling: What is Love? Can We Read Our Way to Fulfillment or Should We Demand a Refund?

As a writer, I am faced with making life choices for my characters and how love affects their lives. 

Do they have Eros, or erotic love? A fancy, an admiration? Or is their love quest something deeper? Perhaps even unrequited? 

How a writer views love in their own reality often reflects how characters in their imagination view the concept. Have you been thwarted by love? Been love sick? Maybe even a hopeless romantic? 

Eroticism can be written and sold like an old hooker in the night. No one sees. No one cares. The reader just needs a fix like an addict. Sex, please. Served in fifty shades of something.

RomComs are always fun to watch on the screen. For some reason, we [the audience] do not get tired of the retelling of Shakescpeare's Taming of the Shrew. 

Then there is the unrequited variety. We see someone from across the room we would like to hold and cherish but never do. We sit in our own delusion while life passes us by. That can be so dissatisfying to the audience. 

The next category is my favorite one besides the Taming of the Shrew, and that is the hopeless romantic. I agree with Jane Austen's assessment that every girl should marry up. I qualify that statement with a handsome, generous soul with means and connections. If a girl is going up in the world, she might as well go all the way. Shouldn't we say? 

No matter the love genre, a writer needs to write the characters as people and not as literary devices just for a boring sex scene. We want the meat and potatoes! The audience expects a well rounded couple for a good old fashioned romp! Ups and downs, heartache and pain, finally the reward for the faith and fidelity of their hearts. 

Unless of course you just want to stare at him or her from across the room for the rest of your life?

If you want to experience the beginning of a budding romance, then check out my first book in the vampire series, Nocturnal Redemption: In the Eye of the Beholder. 

Ryan Blackburn is a mythology professor. She has studied and built her life around her family legend: the protectors of humanity from the creatures that walk the night. One slight catch: she actually meets a pack of werewolves and a lone vampire on his nightly rounds. Her legends weren't so mythical after all.

In the coming days and weeks, Ryan is lured into the vampire's world called: The Lair. A slow but strong bond is formed between the vampire captain, Jeremy, and Ryan. Just as the politics that brought them together could easily tear them apart. 

Will Jeremy and Ryan choose each other? Or, will they go their separate ways? 

So when you write about love in your stories... what color of love are you? Black and white? Gray? 

We have to remember when we write about the heart, that we must write that the love story is the heart of the matter. And what matters is how the readers see us reflected in our respect for the affairs of the heart. I want to mirror the hopeless romantic in all of us. Love is a gift. When two people find love then we should nurture their inquisitiveness. No one is ever satisfied with a love that is unrequited. 

We as writers have to be the love Santa for a love starved populace. We have to write that great love story to keep our love Santa from getting stuck in the chimney of life. What did you expect? Cupid wasn't helping this along anyway...

Speaking of which, Valentine's Day is only 46 more days away!

Have a great and wonderful day.
Support. Donate. Enjoy. You keep Undawnted Ad Free.


Friday, December 28, 2018

J Michael Straczynski: Learn From Failure and Understand the Craft of Writing

Since Undawnted is on a Babylon 5 kick, let's entertain this lecture/question and answer session with JMS. In this Julius Schwartz Lecture, he discusses the importance of being fearless as a writer. JMS encourages writers to seek out failure in order to succeed.



What have you learned to help you with your writing today?

Thursday, December 27, 2018

Circles We Find Ourselves In, Babylon 5 Fanfic and Literary Device Writing Exercise, Part II

This past Xmas Day Comet TV held a marathon highlighting episodes from each of the five seasons. My favorite season is 3 because of Marcus Cole. His character brought so much humanity to an otherwise military and political discourse. 

I think that is why fans of the series are so taken with the character and his undying love for Susan. 

Every time I watch the reruns, I cannot wait to see Ranger Marcus Cole. For all his frailties, he was my Galahad. My perfect knight. He felt survivors guilt, was unwavering in his devotion, and maintained his forthright beliefs even in the face of the greatest odds. Isn't that the definition of being human?

Isn't that living the honor code of a chivalrous knight? 

_____
 
Circles We Find Ourselves In, Part II

           In the dimness, Marcus looked around. He tried to go the way he came but no door existed. No window existed. He was trapped in an endless cage of four blank walls. A spot light glowed in the middle of the room while the rest remained dark. He stood on the outskirts of the beam.
            “Hello? Emperor Mollari? Captain Sheridan?”
            “Is looking for you, Marcus.” A familiar female voice came from a small hooded mass. When the figure stepped into the light, she took off the cowl.
          The thick brown robe hid her tiny frame, but Marcus remembered well. He saw her wear her customary pink ribbon robes with purple sleeves underneath the camouflage. The Ranger One pin was located on her lapel.
          She was beautiful. Brown hair combed through her hybrid Minbair-human head bone. Rose colored her cheeks and lips. Young eyes sparkled. She smiled with recognition and delight.
            “Entil’Zha!” He grinned and bowed with hands together as he did in life.
            She returned the Minbari greeting. “Marcus, it is good to see you.”
            “It’s good to see you too. Delenn, what’s happening to me?”
            “A test.”
            “Test? For what? I’m dead.”
            “Yes, but your soul is primitive. At least, that’s what they believe. You see, humanity has grown. Knowledge, logic, and science have catapulted them into incorporeal beings ready for the Rim.”
            “So why me?”
            “Your life was cut short.”
            “I sacrificed myself to save someone I love.”
            “And, that‘s the intrigue and the problem.”
            “Could you please explain it to me? I feel like a puppet on a live wire act and at any moment someone’s going to cut the strings.”
            She smiled. “Not long after you passed, humans began living for hundreds of years. The longest reached three hundred and eighty-seven. With this, many human qualities slipped through their grasp, including love. So when it was time to leave the younger races to grow and learn by themselves, humans left behind their ability to create and maintain emotional attachments. Even John and I have grown apart these many millennia. So much so, when the Minbari decided to leave, I went with them.”
            “That’s terrible. Delenn, I’m so sorry.”
            “That’s the reason why Susan cannot come to you. At least, not yet. Humanity has forgotten what it is to feel.”
            “So they sent me a soldier first?”
            “It will take some time for them to understand someone so . . .”
            “Emotional?”
            “Passionate. Devoted. Loyal.”
            “Now, I feel that I am not a puppet but a tragic hero waiting for his heroine to awaken him with a kiss. So what must I do?”
            “What you are doing.” She placed the hood back on her head. Stepped backward into the dense shadow. Delenn disappeared. “You’ll understand soon.”
            “And what’s that? Delenn? Delenn!”
            After a few moments, the spotlight closed tight until darkness was constant. The black did not last long, gray emerged. Who Marcus saw next from the shadows was a man in a crisp gray suit.
            “Marcus.”
            “Mister Garibaldi. I wasn’t expecting you. Although in this Dickens classic, I was waiting for the Ghost of Christmas Present.”
            In the gloom, Michael gestured for him to sit. Marcus turned to see a well lit living room. Marcus sat on the couch. Michael sat in his favorite recliner.
            “Then consider me your present. Gift-wrapped and everything.”
           The Ranger gazed around the room. A couch, two chairs, coffee table, pictures, art, and trinkets adorned the area. Old southwestern American flare married to Mars distinct culture defined the orange and beige style.  
“I figured you would show me the inside of a Babylon Five prison cell.”
            “You didn’t get a chance to see me move up, so I thought this would be a great time.” Michael poured some dark yellow liquid from a glass carafe into two glasses. “Drink? Don’t worry, it’s orange juice.”
            “Love to.” Marcus sipped. “Very good.”
            “I have the ability and resources to get oranges brought to Mars. And I have someone juice them for me. Once a month or so, it’s a treat.”
            “Did you ever marry?”
            “Yep. To the ex-wife of all people.” Garibaldi swigged, set his glass down, and then handed Marcus a picture frame from an end table. “Got a daughter too in the deal.”
            Along with his glass, Marcus placed the item on the coffee table. “Beautiful. Now will I be told why I’m here?”
            “Right to the point, I like that. Or, moreover, we changed. Humans, I mean. We’re no longer in bodies.”
            “I’ve seen.”
            “I guess the most important thing is: do you have any questions?” Michael slouched with his juice in hand.
            With folded hands in his lap, Marcus sat with perfect posture. “Lots.”
            “Well, let’s hear them.”
            “Why am I here? What’s really going on? Why am I being tested?”
            “To help us.”
            “I thought I was the problem.”
            “You’ve always been a pain in the ass.”
            “And how does that help you?”
            “Even though you can be a pain, you are as civil as you are courageous and chivalrous. Stephen said once you compared yourself to Galahad.”
            “And him, Percival. Sorry, we never discussed you.”
            Michael chuckled. “That’s all right. I was never knightly.”
          “All of us have a knight in him or her somewhere.”
          “I would really like to believe so.” Marcus bowed his head away from Michael. “What is it?”
            The Ranger looked up. “It’s nice. Just to have a conversation.”
            “But?”
            “I have to know. How to fix this. Whatever it is.”
            “The captain told you how.”
            “So when my body’s released from the cryogenic chamber, I should wish for death? You’re off the hook?”
            “Not really. Once you’re back inside the collective, we have work to do. We have to make sure you’re evolved enough to come with us.”
            “You don’t know?” Marcus stood. “Then why are we having this discussion? Leave me in stasis. Forever. I won’t drag down humanity.”
            Michael reacted by getting to his feet. “You would sacrifice your soul too? It’s different than your life, Marcus.”
            “I am a Ranger. I place others above myself.”
            Michael chuckled while he nodded. “That you are. That you do.”
            “So why am I being tested?”
            “Evolution of the soul.”
            “No.” Marcus shook his head. “See, I don’t think so. I have been sent a soldier, now a security chief. I must be much more important than a lingering soul. I’m a threat. C’mon, admit it.”
            “You are but not in the way you may think.”
            “Keep humanity from moving onto the Rim. If not that, then why, Mister Garibaldi?”
            “Can’t recall. They talk but I don’t listen. Paranoia, I say. My advice to you is to be yourself. Show them what they’re missing.”
            Marcus shrugged. “Where can I go to think?”
            “There’s a guest room.” Michael pointed. “Down the hall on the right.”
            As Marcus walked to the door, he turned. “Are you sure?”
            “Yeah, of course, I’m sure. I live here, you know?”
            Marcus grinned. “Then I’ll be down the hall.”
            The farther he went, the longer the corridor became and no doors appeared. Marcus found himself walking faster. No matter the pace, walking, jogging, running, or racing, he could not get to the end.
            He stopped. He glanced side to side, up and down. The corridor had disappeared.
            “What do you want from me?”
            In front of him, a door appeared and opened. Inside the area was dark. No light. Nothing. The chasm of the edge whispered to him.
           Space- deep and dark and opaque- dangled. With a rush of air, he looked behind him. The walls moved and melted together. Pushed forward, Marcus edged closer to the abyss.
            When the walls converged on his position, the floor inclined. His boots slipped. Within moments, Marcus Cole fell into the void.
            “Ahh . . . !” He plummeted but his voice seemed muffled. No echo occurred. To his sensibilities, the declination continued for hours.  
            With a thud, Marcus hit the floor. His boots made a clink clunk sound. He felt lucky to be alive. “Lucky to be standing upright, I should say. Alive is still questionable.”
            A spotlight appeared in the dark grey. “Back here, am I? I wonder who’s going to visit me now.”
            He walked toward the circle. He noticed the main light was not the only beam. Nine circular light gray lights surrounded the white light of the middle.
            Marcus recognized the place. Again he stood by the beam but not in it. “The Grey Council chambers.”
            “You are the first non-Minbari visitor in centuries.”
            A light male voice descended into Marcus’s ears. “Lennier?”
            Lennier stepped into the light. He bowed as Marcus did in return. “It is good to see you.”
            “And you. Where’s Delenn?”
            “Unavailable. She sends her regrets and me.”
            “So, you’re now in the regret category?
            “Much happened after you . . . departed.”
            “I assume then you are the Ghost of Christmas Future?
            “I’m not sure what you mean. I feel very much in the present.”
            “It’s okay, Lennier. It’s just good to see you.”
            “Delenn wanted me to help you in any way that I can, but I’m not certain what that could be.”
            “Do you know what’s going on with me?”
          “Partly. First, I had to save you from Emperor Mollari. He wished to speak with you again.”
            “About?”
            “I don’t know but he does like to hold parties for everyone as well as private dinners.”
           “Dinner? Although I’m not particularly parched per se, but you are all dead and still have dinner?”
            “We break off the part of ourselves that once knew each other and reminisce about the past. Something we could not do while alive. Now that you are here, our compliment is complete.”
            “The question is: will I be able to stay?”
            “Who knows? The universe is as mysterious as it is infinite.”
            “It is indeed.” Marcus exhaled. “How may I prove myself worthy? I don’t want to live. I want to find Susan.”
            “Perhaps there is a way to do both.”
            “How? What do I need to do? Lennier?”
            “Delenn is looking into that avenue. I am here to keep you from the human collective consciousness until she can discover the truth.”
            “Why am I not? It is my problem after all.”
            “It is not your problem, Marcus. You are a pure soul. Full of courage, passion, loyalty, and love. The collective is different and doesn’t quite understand you. At the same time, must have you.”
            “In order to go to the Rim.”
            “Correct. They feel threatened by you.”
            “I’ve discovered as much for myself through other contacts.”
            “Yes, it’s the collective’s chance to prove themselves to the older races.”
            “What have the Minbari decided?”
            “That depends on you.”
            “Me? I’m not qualified.”
            “Why do you think you were chosen? As Delenn knew Sinclair was a Minbari soul, she saw qualities in you, she believes will help the humans progress.”
            “What do you think?”
            “What is, is.” Lennier turned his head as if he heard speech from behind him. He nodded. “Stand in the center.”
            “That’s an honored and reserved space.”
            “For you.” Lennier stepped away. “Please.”
            Reluctant, but eager to resolve the situation, Marcus stepped forward. The beam consumed him.

_____

Read the rest of the novelette on Undawnted's Circles We Find Ourselves In dedicated page.
 
*****

*Update: all workshops and special engagements have now been concluded, and new projects are now under Undawnted's Substack.

A writer at heart, Undawnted's own creative spark, DL Mullan, began writing short stories and poetry before adolescence. Over the years, Ms. Mullan has showcased her literary talents by self-publishing several collections of her poetry. She also writes novels, designs apparel, and creates digital art. Ms. Mullan‘s creative writing is available in digital and print collections, from academia to commercial anthologies. As an independent publisher, she produces her own book cover designs as well as maintains her own websites. She is an award-winning digital artist and poet. This year, DL Mullan has begun sharing her knowledge via A Novelist Idea Newsletter. If you too want to become a Fearless Phile, then subscribe to her newsletter on Substack.

Her innovative style teaches writers how to reach their creative potential, and write more effectively.

Learn. Grow. Master… with Undawnted.




Monday, December 17, 2018

Sonoran Dawn Digital Art Piece Inspired by the Effloresce Chapbook Cover Art

I do my own cover art. I do other people's book and album covers too. Digital art is rehabilitation for my brain inflammation. 

I was playing around and created the new Effloresce chapbook cover and a watershed of creativity opened up inside me. 

The inspiration created the art piece I called: Sonoran Dawn (left). I did it for my Zazzle Art Collection I. Then my publisher with the same name, Sonoran Dawn, decided to update their logo with my color scheme and motif.


The Sonoran Desert is represented by the bison skull, cactus, cross, sun, vines, and colors. 

The earth tones are muted like sunsets. The luscious green not only represents my Irish descent but also the green of the Palo Verde trees, Saguaro cacti, and wildflowers.

Abstract, expressionist, impressionist, the Sonoran Dawn art piece is an exquisite example of fine art in digital form.

If you would like see the Sonoran Dawn updated logo visit their site here.

Have a great and wonderful day!



Circles We Find Ourselves In, Babylon 5 Fanfic and Literary Device Writing Exercise, Part I


Some writers bulk at writing fan fiction. I have written fan fiction once or twice. To me playing in someone else's universe can allow me to experiment. Here I experiment with The Lady or The Tiger short story from high school.

_____
 
Circles We Find Ourselves In, Part I

           “Lights on.”  
As the computer spoke, the darkness faded into a slow, determined glow. Light bloomed. Soon no crevice held shadow.
            When the room was lit, he opened his green eyes. He blinked. He focused forward then around.
          “Navigation ready.”
            He discovered himself sitting in the captain’s chair of White Star Prime. He turned from side to side. He saw the consoles were ready for any adventure he set forth.
          “Jump engines online.”
The ship was as he remembered. The white captain and executive officer’s chairs sat beside the other. The smell of metal, plastic, and sweet Minbari incense filled the air. Even in the middle of the bridge, he felt the electronics heat up.
“Waiting for coordinates.”
           The thirty-five year old took stock in himself. On his person, he wore his Ranger uniform. Black boots, pants with a pullover under a dark two-tone cape. He touched his left side where his pike rested. Even his boots fit as snug as they ever did.
He slid his hand over his pendant. The cool feel of the green gem soothed his nerves. The symbol reminded him of his oath to protect the galaxy from the darkness.
“Good day, Ranger Cole.”
          With a steep breath inward, he prepared himself. He had a great many questions. For one thing, the computer misspoke. Updates were given in English not Minbari.
          “Computer. What is our current status?” His voice cracked with a rasp. His throat felt dry and painful. He mustered up some saliva and swallowed.
          The feminine voice boomed over the speakers once more. “We are currently at the edge.”
“The edge of what?” Silence. He scratched his beard. “Computer?”
“Unknown.”
“Unknown?”
“Confirmed.”
“Show me.”
            An image unfolded onto the front of the bridge. The holographic screen showed nothing. Space had no light. No planet. No galaxy. No star.
            He stood up. With the flutter of his cape, he walked toward the blackness. He viewed the absence of everything.
            “Computer. What is the closest system?”
            “Corianus Six.”
            “How long would it take us to get there?”
            “Forty-six years.”
            “Excuse me?” He turned around. "In hyperspace?"
            “Confirmed.”
            “How did we drift this far from course? How long have we been here? Where’s the rest of the crew?” His British voice raised in intensity and volume. “Answer me!”
            “We do not have a response.”
            “Why not?”
            “Because the computer doesn’t exist, Marcus.” A familiar voice startled the Ranger.
            Marcus pivoted on his heel. Instead of an empty screen at the front of the cabin, he saw a man from his memory. The past stood at hand.
            “Captain Sheridan? How did you get there? What’s going on?” Marcus looked about the area. He appeared to be looking for more unexpected guests.
The man walked to Marcus and offered his hand. Both men shook each other’s hands. Smiles and elation framed their faces as the men released their holds.
The captain wore the black ceremonial outfit Delenn had prepared for the command staff of Babylon 5. Above his Earthforce insignia, he also wore a Ranger pendant. A little more gray salted his brunette, but nothing else had changed about the man.
“I thought we were on a first name basis by now.”
           “You’re the commander of our forces. We’re in the middle of a war still.”
            “Are we?”
            “I don’t understand.” 
            “Marcus.” John patted the other man’s shoulder. “You don’t know how happy I am to see you.”
            “And, I you. What happened? How did I get here? Did we win against the Shadows and Vorlons? Where exactly are we anyway?”
            John furrowed his brow. “You don’t remember.”
            “Remember what?”
            “You died before the war ended.”
            “Died?” Marcus took a moment. He walked around the bridge. He thought back. “I’m dead?”
            “What’s the last thing you remember?”
            “We were about to confront the Shadows and Vorlons.”
            “We defeated the Shadows and the Vorlons. They went to the Rim. It was another battle for which you took off during and returned to Babylon Five.”
            “Why?” He shook his head.
            “Susan.”
            Marcus combed his fingers through his sable brown, shoulder length hair. “I did, didn’t I? Missed the battle between us and Earthforce.”
            “For love, honor, and sacrifice.”
            The Ranger stepped within a meter of the other man. “How is she?”
            “She’s fine. Waiting for us.”
            “Is she? Why can’t I see her now?” Marcus pointed at John. “Does this mean, you’re dead too?”
            “We all are.”
            “All? No one survived the war?”
           “Survived: yes. But you must understand, the human race isn’t like you anymore. We’ve evolved. In the last ten thousand years, we shed our physical bodies. What you see is my soul encapsulated in energy.”
            “If ten thousand years has gone by, then you would’ve died long before humanity had evolved.”
            “True, but the collective human consciousness which always existed has kept every human soul preserved, alive and well. Born again and again, until we became what we are now.”
            “And, what exactly is that?”
            “Something very different from you. You are a pure human soul. You lived a life of honor. Gave your life for love.”
            “Why is that different?”
            “She did the same for you. You’ve been in cryogenic status since your death.”
            “Cryogenic?”
            “Your life force energy healed her wounds. Upon her death, you were supposed to be removed from stasis and buried next to her. That never happened.”
            “What? Why not?”
            “You’ve got to understand the Earth government had retaken custody of Babylon Five. They transferred the containers in use before the station was decommissioned. Yours mistakenly got mixed up with the telepaths from the Shadow War. The container we thought you were in was given to the Minbari government.”
            "So I was supposed to stay on Minbar?"
            “Susan spoke to you everyday when she took over the Rangers.”
            “She became Ranger One? I'd always assumed it would be Mister Garibaldi.”
            “Nah, Michael had a different path to take." John gleamed. "You’d be so proud. She retired as General Ivanova and then came to Minbar. The mix up hadn’t been realized until after she died.  After all, the paperwork had been destroyed with the station.”
“They destroyed Babylon Five? For what reason?”
           “Lack of use. After the war was over, we created the Interstellar Alliance. Babylon Five was no longer necessary as a hub for trade or travel.”
            “So the Earth government took custody of my body. What did they do to me?”
            “Nothing. Put you and others away. One body was revived every century to see if technology and medical science had advanced far enough to revive you all. After awhile, being the last unopened container, you were simply misplaced and forgotten.”
            “For ten thousand years?”
            “A solar generator connected to a remote science research station keeps you preserved. You could last ten thousand more as long as an asteroid or other means of destruction doesn’t happen.”
            “So how am I here talking with you?”
            “You aren’t. What you see . . .” John twirled with his arms wide open. “Is part of your imagination. When your life force was drained, you weren’t actually killed. Just reduced your life energy enough to be determined dead.”
            “My prognosis was death but I’m not actually dead? So now I’m supposed to run around clanking chains? And who am I supposed to haunt?”
            John grinned. “After centuries of research, we figured out the alien device you used to save Susan did not kill as we understood. It was an alien punishment device. As the punishment goes, the device drains the life force from its victims but not completely.”
            “So I’m alive? In stasis?”
           “A low static charge has kept you in a coma-like state. The cryogenic chamber enhanced your ability to survive. The device was to trap a soul into the body as not to be released and not to be born ever again. Therefore it keeps the criminal from assaulting the species over subsequent generations.”
            “A permanent solution. So why am I here? I made my choice and I’d do it again.”
            “Being the last of our kind in its physical form, you haven’t evolved. We are concerned about the state of your soul.”
            With a chuckle, Marcus walked to the front of the bridge. “Apparently, it’s in stasis.”
            John snorted a laugh. “You always had a morbid sense of humor.”
            “What’s this all about? And, no more cryptic answers. I want to know the truth. I want to know which literary source I should be quoting. Dickins? Dickinson?”
            “I can’t help you with that one. I was more into Lincoln.”
            “I’ll just draw from my own intuition then. So, what can you tell me?””
            “When all human souls were called home to the collective consciousness, a tug of one was felt. One that was not free from its mortal bounds.”
            “So I must choose death in order to continue with you?”
            “In a manner of speaking, you must release your soul from your body.”
            “And if I don’t? I’ll stay trapped until the power source drains and then what?”
            “You will be alone. We will be gone from this place. Nowhere to go. No one to be born into.”
            “How about a Minbari body?”
            “That door was closed when Delenn changed. And, Minbari went to the Rim a thousand, thousand generations ago.”
            “So what must I do? Willingly die, again?”
            “The others in the collective and I have discussed your predicament. We wanted to find a way to restore your life. So when you do die, someone will come for you. A natural death would satisfy the balance.”
            “I don’t want another life. Everything I knew, I loved, it’s all gone. There’s nothing left. Family. Friends. What do you expect me to do?”
            “We know it’s difficult. The choice. Death or life and then death. The bright side is you’ll already be ahead of the game. You’ll know your soul will survive and join us.”
            “What if I don’t want that? What if I want to go now? See you? Stephen. Michael. Susan. Where are they anyway?”
            “I was voted to make the trip into your mind. The others have tried over the centuries but could not get in. Your Ranger training has served you well.”
            “Do the Rangers still exist?”
            “In a way. The Interstellar Alliance survived all but these last few hundred years.”
            “It’s quite an achievement.”
            “It was. The newer races, however, came and began wars- the whole cycle again. No one even remembers our names any more. The galaxy is all but empty of our fingerprints. New species have become sentient from the ashes.”
            “Phoenix rising.”
            “I want you to go and see the galaxy. See if there’s anything there that could be of interest to you.”
            “All I’m interested in is Susan.” Marcus smiled. “She might have moved on but I have not.”
            “You were deprived of a chance. She waits for you-”
            “I want that chance now. Even if it’s in my mind.”
            “Your body’s already been released. Alien doctors have begun the process of reconstituting your body; strengthening your muscles; pumping your heart.”
            “That’s not what I want. I want to go with you.”
            The lights inside the White Star dimmed then went gray. Marcus heard a heart beat. His heart grew louder with each second that passed by.
            “Stop it!” A strange male voice echoed.
            Marcus and John looked around then the room shifted. With a blink of his eyes, the Ranger found himself at the Centauri Royal Court. A man rose from the throne while the others filtered from the room.
            “Ambassador Mollari, but you’re not human.”
            Londo swished his hand in the air. He staggered down the steps. “Ah, I don’t play by their rules.”
          “Where’s Captain Sheridan?”
          “Finally, not bothering us.”
           “I see, you’ve moved up.”
          “I was exalted to Emperor.” He gulped from a chalice. “After several lifetimes I became less like the old Republic Londo and more like Vir, well, except for my flamboyance and cunning and drinking.”
            Marcus paced a few times. “But I thought I was being revived. I had to live out my life in order for me to advance.”
            “Sheridan was always full of himself. This has nothing to do with evolution, but guilt.”
            “Guilt? I don’t see how I’m a source of collective guilt.”
            “For letting you languish for so long. Not allowing you to rejoin the collective and be reborn like the rest. They were scared. With their petty self-interest to develop, they forgot one of their own. Couldn’t face the consequences.”
            “Consequences? Why would there be consequences?”
            “How can they compete with your earnest nature? A true knight. Yes?”
            “You speak of the Roundtable?”
            “I don’t really care what shape it is. I just know you have embarrassed them and now that they need you . . . well, let’s just say, they’re a little upset.”
            “Tell me how they need me.”
            “Even in my state, I can see it perfectly. Think about it.”
            Marcus contemplated, but could not see Londo’s inebriated point of view. Instead, he thought someone else might be able to help him: a close friend. “If I can see you, then why not the others? How about Stephen? Um, Doctor Franklin to you?”
            “He has been whisked away by G’Kar. Discussion of biology versus theology. Ever since he wrote a religious text, that Narn has been difficult to live with. Pious. Saintly.” He guzzled his liquor. “Eternity has been impossible with his rants. I hope Doctor Franklin has taken him to task.”
Londo went to the large window and pulled back the thin white curtain. He looked onto an idealized Centauri world. He gestured and the Ranger stepped closer. 
“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
           “Very.”
           “This is not what I left. I left destruction. Vir. Vir did this. Reconstruction from the old into a new Centauri age. I’m so glad he never learned a thing from me. But don’t tell him I said that. I don’t want to hear the ‘I told you so.’ It would be worse than listening to G’Kar.”
            Marcus grinned while Londo laughed. “So am I really dead?”
            “Dead? Yes . . . and no. The human collective is new and forming. They’ve figured out that you are the only reason why they cannot move beyond the Rim.”
            “Why?”
            “Because every soul ever born in the human collective consciousness must be gathered in order for them to move on. Some of the races during our time are already there. The Centauri, Minbari, even the Narn have gone. The humans are next, but there is a problem.”
            “My cryogenic stasis.”
            “Exactly, and they are most eager to release you from your mortal bonds, as they say. I don’t care either way, but causing a little bit of trouble is fun. Is it not?
            “I have been bombarded with information ever since I woke up. If in fact, that’s what I did. I’m not sure about this whole thing.”
            “You doubt. Good. A little skepticism is healthy. Come with me, and I’ll show you what’s been going on.” Londo urged Marcus to follow. “Hurry, before they figure out where I took you.”
            As the two went into the hall, the corridor turned dark. When Marcus reached the light source, he was no longer on Centauri. He was in a vast room.

_____

Read the rest of the novelette on Undawnted's Circles We Find Ourselves In dedicated page.

*****

*Update: all workshops and special engagements have now been concluded, and new projects are now under Undawnted's Substack.

A writer at heart, Undawnted's own creative spark, DL Mullan, began writing short stories and poetry before adolescence. Over the years, Ms. Mullan has showcased her literary talents by self-publishing several collections of her poetry. She also writes novels, designs apparel, and creates digital art. Ms. Mullan‘s creative writing is available in digital and print collections, from academia to commercial anthologies. As an independent publisher, she produces her own book cover designs as well as maintains her own websites. She is an award-winning digital artist and poet. This year, DL Mullan has begun sharing her knowledge via A Novelist Idea Newsletter. If you too want to become a Fearless Phile, then subscribe to her newsletter on Substack.

Her innovative style teaches writers how to reach their creative potential, and write more effectively.

Learn. Grow. Master… with Undawnted.

 






Subscribe to Undawntable Today!

Subscribe and receive news from Undawnted on a regular basis. Updates include: book release dates publication updates discounts contests/giveaways Join Undawnted's Creative Tribe.