Novel No. 1 I'm Authoring (Book 1)

[J.M. Matthews]

MIKE AND THE WISH GRANTING GHOST 

(Ghost Story)

CHAPTER 1

 

Mike Stone knew his time on this earth was limited. He had been officially given 372 hours to live by doctors. Good thing he didn't care about a thing like mortality, he thought. Mike crawled into his king size bed, pulling the covers over him, with a pile of books weighing heavily on his bed. Mike was trying to keep his mind off his condition, and one of the best ways to do that was to A) Drink, and B) bury his nose in book after book, front to back cover without stopping. Mike enjoyed reading through the literary classics. From F. Scott Fitzgerald to John Steinbeck. It was a hot summer day, and Mike's black tee shirt was beginning to make him sweat. Mikes condition of cancer and the chemotherapy he went through to slow its progression made Mike break out into sweats when lying in bed. Mike began standing up to get something cold to drink and turn the air conditioning on icy cool. His house felt like an oven, and he was planning to fix that. Mike was also a compulsive daytime drinker. Liquor and vodka were his favorite drinks, and the fridge was looking pretty barren. He was going to have to hire his caretaker to go shopping to pick up some snacks, food, and beverages. Mike didn't watch television. Just some cartoons here and there. In his opinion television stopped being good around the year 2000, which tied into the problems in the economy and lack of budgeting in the TV industry and Los Angeles.

Now, I just sit back and wait to die,” Mike thought.

It was depressing as hell now that he thought about it a bit more. Not much happened during the next few seconds, until Mike became started by the sensation of the the ground started vibrating, and a glowing luminosity illuminated the upper half of the room. And the transparent smokey figure of a woman manifested in midair, floating above him.

“What do you want!?”, Mike asked the floating woman in timid fearfulness. “Are you a ghost??”

“Me?” The woman phantasm asked. “I'm the Thaumaturgist. I'm like a genie. I grant three wishes and turn them into miracles. “What is your first wish?”

“First wish??” Mike asked out loud to himself. “I guess I wish I got to live and didn't have to die.” said Mike

“Very well”, said the Phantasm. “Your wish”, she said, “...is granted”, and waved her hand.

Suddenly, a vortex opened up, and created an indoor twister. Sparks began flying into the air, as though they were fireworks. Furniture was being thrown about like ragdolls as Mike held onto his bed for dear life. Suddenly everything slowed down and the tornado of indoor wind weakened.

Mike's began to feel odd. Suddenly, Mike could feel a pressure in his upper torso, to the point of it being a bit painful.

“What is this feeling?” Mike asked the Phantasm.

“That's the feeling of your Cancer being erased,” said the Phantasm woman. “Congratulations, she added, “you're cured”.

“Say WHAT!?” Mike asked, in shock and disbelief. You're saying you cured me of my cancer?? How's that work”, asked Mike.

“The acts of God were not intended to be questioned”, said the Phantasm. “Only enjoyed. Like a fine whine.”

 

 

The Downtown Star offices were quiet this time of night, in the middle of the night. Only a few people walked the halls of the office building. Sungur Redgrave peer out the window from his office desk. Then it hit him. The intuitive insight hit him.

“He survived?” Sungur asked the empty room. “Goddamn it!” Sungur shouted to the empty room. “Why can't he just die a simple death like all the others! Needless to say I think I'll be keeping a very close eye on this one. It's time I finished the job.” And with that, he began the work of plotting against Mike Stone.

 

 

Mike sat on the elevated patient chair, waiting nervously, twiddling the fingers of both of his hands together as he waited for a medical analysis from the doctor.

“Nope”. Muttered the doctor. “No doubt about it. You're cured. You've gone from severe Type One cancer which is a guaranteed mortality cause, to having a clean bill of health. What's you're secret Mike?” Asked the Doctor. “Seriously, though, this doesn't just defy modern medical records, it defies science, too. Congratulations Michael. You're going to live. Now go home and get some rest...”

“Can do,” said Mike.

 

 

Somewhere, in one of the great Roman Cathedrals of Rome, people were gathering, and doing so in mystical attire. The inside of the St. Arthur Cathedral was illuminated entirely by large candles, to signify it's proclaimed sacredness. Members of the Druidon Cult could be found wandering about the edges of the Cathedral Interior in avowed silence. At the center of the cathedral were circles on the floor, composing a giant target symbol, and above the bulls eye floated a large Sphere with massive psychic energy. The members of the Druidon cult worshiped the sphere, as it contained much Immortal power, which could be sensed by the Druidons. They also believed that if they showed enough devotion to the Mystical Sphere, it would grant them immortal life. They sought Immortality above all else. Suddenly, one of the senior members of the sect proclaimed, SILENCE, the Mystical Ball is speaking to us again! The Deacon of the Roman Cathedral approached the Sphere.

“How can I be of service, to you, my master?”, asked the Deacon.

A Shadow shrouded figure from another realm appeared in the center of the orb.

“Listen well to me, non-immortals,” rasped the Shadow Figure.

“There is a man somewhere in the western world who has somehow, out of seemingly nowhere, attained a power that rivals our own. It's up to your group to kill him” the figure in the Sphere continued to rasp.

“Really??” said the Deacon. “Is he really that much of a threat to our sect”, asked the Deacon. “Isn't the sacred's message supposed to be live and let liv-,” asked the Deacon as his question was cut off by the mysterious figure.

“NO!” Shouted the mysterious man in the glass.

The man in the Sphere was covered in shadow. His face indecipherable.

“No! NO NO NO! He must die, and you must kill him. Or we are ALL DEAD! Do you not see!?” chattered the Shadow figure.

The deacon sighed a very deep sigh. “Very well. We will find him and kill him. Thy will is done.”

The shadow figure continued on with his ominous sermon.

“You must find the harnesser of The One. The One Who Grants the Wishes. Once you Kill the Guardian of the Spirit, the Keys to Immortality Will Be Yours. This feat must be achieved under the light of the moon. The spirits have informed me, his name, is 'Mike'. You Must Kill 'Mike'.”

 

 

With a clean bill of health, Mike decided to put away the Phantasm he had summoned. He had been gaining more control over his new powers. With his health intact, he arose from bed. His body had been covered in sweat from being bedridden for months on end, so the first thing he did was take a shower and get a change of clothes. With that he decided to turn on the television and watch some TV to relax. Not much was on at this hour, 10 o'clock at night. Some South Park, Jimmy Fallon, PBS, Discovery, MTV Classic. There just wasn't much on television lately. So Mike headed over for the fridge to see what he could get to eat. There was a Pizza he had ordered with his inheritance money. Mike was going to let the pizza be for another day or two, but he was starving. He also had a few cartons of Pepsi stashed around his house. Mike heated up the leftover Pizza he had in the microwave and chowed down.

 

 

Chris, one of Mike's best childhood friends, needed a few seconds to gather and compose himself.

“Whoa dude, hold on a second. You mean to tell me you got your very own Genie!? That's so cool!”

Mike nodded. “Phantasm actually, but yes.”

“And you mean to tell me you can just summon her with a spell and she just appears as a floating spirit out of smoke and thin air??”

Mike nodded.

“That is so cool man!” Chris exclaimed, loudly and enthusiastically, his energy gathering.

Mike felt excited too, especially now that he had someone to show his prize off to. “You know it bro!” Said Mike.

“Here Chris, watch this, I'll show you”.

And with that Mike summoned the Phantasm again with a wave of his palms through the thin air in front of him. And for the second time, the Genie Phantasm appeared.

“I am the Phantasm Genie of Centuries Past. Who hath summoned me, and what is thy wish”. “Okay”, said Mike, “Listen, Phantasm spirit, this is my friend Chris. I am Mike, your master”. “Yes Master, what is your wish”, asked the spirit.

“That's the thing”, Mike said. “Could I transfer the ability to make my second wish to the property of my best friend here?”

The spirit paused for a moment.

“Very well,” chanted the Phantasm. “What is thy Wish, Chris?”

“Oh, wow! I hadn't thought of it. Um, well, give me a second, and I'll see if I can't come up with something to wish for. I wish to travel the world, I guess,” replied Chris.

“Very well,” said the Phantasm, “It is so.”

The Phantasm cast the spell and waved her arms as mysteriously light and wind gusts surrounded her.

“Your wish is granted.”

Chris checked his wallet as he felt movement there, and not surprisingly it was filled with all sorts of passports and plane tickets.

“Wow”, Chris said. “Pretty cool,” he said.

 

Edited December 2, 2017 by Spindack

[J.M. Matthews]

 

THE PSYCHIC

CHAPTER 1

 

The Paris cafe was quiet and calm this time of day. The good Parisian citizens of Paris walked by and birds flew overhead. There were some tables with umbrellas set up out in front of the Parisian Cafe for people to sit at and relax in. Among the crowd was a young man with short unruly black hair, brown eyes, an orange shirt, khakis, black sneakers, and copper skin. Was there any better place in the world to be than right here and right now? In the streets of Paris? You know, I don't think so. Sure beats my older days back in The States. Lee never really felt at home in the U.S., so he did exactly what many who feel uncomfortable with American culture do: He relocated. To Paris, France. The place his lineage lead him to. But Lee technically was not traveling for pleasure. Well, not entirely anyway. He was on a mission. A mission to find his father, who was rumored to be hiding out from the MI6 which had been pursuing Lee's father throughout Europe and Asia ever since a mysterious news organization attempted to frame Lee's father for crimes he did not commit.

Lee's father wasn't as concerned about clearing his name as he was about getting to the heart of the matter and revealing the bigger picture, even if it ended up costing him his life. Which it could.

Lee then decided to walk the streets of Paris and head over to one of those Parisian comics shops he loved here so much.

As he walked, he took his smartphone out of his pocket. He was interested in the Google Play shop, and enjoyed downloading apps from there. And what a nice day to browse my cellular phone on, he thought.

Lee then decided to call his friend in the States, Edward Richards. He wondered if Edward was busy with things this time of day, so he proceeded to dial Edwards' number.

The phone rang.

* * *

Hello?, the voice on the other end said.

Hello? Edward? Hi! It's me, Lee.

Oh, so I see it is!, said Edwards. Aren't you supposed have been in Paris by now?

I am in Paris! I'm already here! Isn't that great. I finally left the stinking States. I'm free of that bondage. It is the best feeling in the world.

That's great Lee. You know I will support everything you do, said Edward. Including stopping into Europe, he said. So how long is this little "vacation"...of yours going to be, before you return to yanksville?

Oh I don't know, said Lee. I kind of hated living in the States. I might never return.

Aw, man, said Edward. You sure you want to go through with something like that Lee?, asked Edward Richards. All your friends would miss you. I'd miss you. Your my oldest friend.

Yeah, I know, said Lee. If it wasn't for people like you, Edwards, I'd Never come back., he said.

All right, Ed. I'm gonna let you go. This cell phone bill is going to cost 1 million dollars.

And with that, Edward and Lee hung up their cell phones. Lee decided to make his way further down

 

* * *

Paris was nice this time of year, and it was an autumn late afternoon. The red yellow sun was on its way to setting over the Parisian horizon. Lee watched the sun set as he made his way down the streets of Paris. Past busses, crowds, cars, and cyclists roaming the streets. Parisian culture was a street roaming culture. It was part of the culture. The architecture was ancient. Many hundreds of years old

Eventually, upon wandering the streets of Paris as the tanned sun set in the golden sky which was turning a light color of violet behind clouds. There it was. Le Livre Tavern. Lee's favorite book store in the entire world, right smack dab in the middle of Paris. The shop sold French comics that "weren't good enough" for the American market. Lee loved those books. He cherished them, collected them, and was in the process of learning to read them. Fortunately for Lee, the cashier spoke partial English. That was one advantage of living as a Parisian, was the books. There were so many of them here. Lee browsed the aisles of Le Livre' Tavern, and found some books. Their covers were so amazing. Painted by hand and with Photoshop. I was some of the most beautiful comic book covers Lee had ever been witness to, and Lee never would have gotten to see half as many as he did, or purchase as many as he did from his grant money if he wasn't in France.

Lee left the bookstore with a bag of 30 hardcover tomes, and walked off onto the streets of Indigo Paris Dusk, alone, but surrounded by Parisians on the streets. No one spoke to him except a few people, mostly just other Bande Dessinee readers asking him where he found the books.

It was getting late. Lee decided to head back to his apartment five or six blocks in reverse.

But what of Professor Thaddeus, he thought. Should I pay Thaddeus a visit? he thought to himself.

Lee decided to make good on his promise of visiting Oliver Thaddeus Sr. a visit. Oliver Thaddeus Jr. was another friend Lee Wonders hadn't spoken to in a while. The Thaddeus and Richards families shared a long time friendship with the Wonders family, but it wasn't everyday Lee got to visit Paris, so he decided to make his way to the Manor of Professor Oliver Thaddeus, which was located near Notre Dame Cathedral, near a dark ominous impoverished Parisian back alley. Much different than Thaddeus' first home, in the city of London, England. Lee didn't have to worry about navigations. His psychic powers saw to that. That Lee Wonders from the time of his birth to current day, was never lost like so many others in this unforgiving, merciless world.

* * *

It took a walk of about 5 miles, but Lee Wonders eventually found his way onto the gate of Arlingston Manor, upscale and much publicized home of Oliver Thaddeus Sr. III, Heir to Oliver Thaddeus Sr. II, and Father of Oliver Everett Thaddeus Jr. VI. Thaddeus has been known for welcoming all visitors who came to see him and hardly ever declining a polite conversation. The new business that was going on in the Catacombs, could be paranormal in nature, uncharted, mysterious, terrifying, and highly unexplained. Noises could be heard at night, moans of what some believed were creatures, perhaps C.H.U.D., now making their home beneath the otherwise peaceful and pleasant streets of the Parisian City. Lee Wonders had been tasked with risking his life to explore that entire area, to discover the source of the shrieking coming from beneath Paris, France, and he had plan to use his psychic abilities to get to the bottom of this mystery and save Paris.

* * *

Arlingston Manor stood upright, imposing, but still somehow mysterious despite its grand size. There was a bell at the front get, a doorbell, and a literally bell chime, like the ones seen at the Notre Dame Cathedral. Oliver in an impatient moment of energy rang both bells furiously, mostly for fun. Lee did like to hear chimes. He found them soothing. It was now dark and the night was creeping in, lights of the Parisian city began to turn on all around the city, illuminating the the entire landscape with a sea of lights. Suddenly, the gate to Arlingston Manor slowly and gently opened. The speaker switched on.

Hello, a gruff English voice inquired from in the Manor.

Hello? Said Lee. Mr. Thaddeus? Is that you?? It's been Ages!

Indeed it has my good chap, said the speaker at the gate. Well, make your way in, Master Wonders.

Thanks.

Lee proceeded forward.

* * *

Inside the Parisian Five story Mansion, Arlingston Manor was a sight to behold. A Dining Room, Eight Bedrooms, Three bathrooms, a guest waiting room, and a ball room, and that was just the first story. The Manor was Impressive. Lee couldn't believe he was in the midst of such majesty. And Thaddeus was such a kind man to have inherited such a fortune. Professor Thaddeus began proceeding, making his way down the ballroom staircase of Arlingston Manor. He looked like Colonel Sanders from KFC. He had glasses, a cain.

Lee was awestruck.

I see your speechless of this estate old boy. 'Tis quite all right my lad. I get that a lot.

How. How? Lee stammered. How can you afford all of this? Lee asked. I've never been in a house this big.

I do believe you are referring to my famous European Family Lineage my good boy. Doesn't make survival much of ah challenge, does it?

Oh. No! No. It doesn't, responded Lee, still in awe. I always wished I could live in a house like this.

Well actually. I'm glad you mentioned that. I've been thinking about your current situation, and have decided I'd like to let you live here, at no expense, with me and my company. I-if that's quite all right with you, of course. I have enough money to cover daily operational costs of this estate for well over the next 20 years. My family owns houses twice this size in Sweden and Switzerland, and Berlin, so affording a place to live is no problem. But as much as I enjoy solitude, I also fancy a decent conversation, and you are so well spoken Young Master

You-Y-You really mean it. You mean I CAN live in a house THIS BIG! With a prestigious family such as yours??

Yes. If you're interested

Oh! Of course I am okay with it. It's a dream come true. I don't know how I can ever repay you for all this!

Edited December 2, 2017 by Spindack

[J.M. Matthews]

TEH IDENTITY

CHAPTER 1

Dear Journal,

 

My name is Edward Richards. I don't normally write things down, but as you may or may not know, my doctors and therapists all pretty much thought it would be a good idea for me to write down the events, emotions, and thoughts of my life. Yes, I'm a full grown man and I attend therapy sessions in my spare time. I know that sounds odd, but I really do feel as though it's helping me, so I'll keep at it for the time being.

 

Peace

 

 

Dear Journal,

 

You ever have that creepy feeling your being watched, where someone's observing your wereabouts and behavior, and attempting to keep you from finding out about THEIR activities. I've been experienceing that feeling a lot in the last few years. But the real question is, what makes me so interesting, and who's doin the spying and intelligence gathering? All valid questions. So there's that mystery that's out in the open. Apparently I can't take a crap in a toilet bowel without the CIA knowing about it, or at least I suspect as such. But the real question is, what makes me so special. As far as I can tell I"m pretty normal. For instance, there's the vehicle parked across the street, the one that never moves. Just sits there with no one in it 80% of the time.

 

I'll figure this shit out eventually,

 

Peace

 

 

Dear Journal,

 

Please forgive me. I'm new this writing and journal log phenomena. When I was young, the whole idea of being a writer seemed kind of silly to me. Now I've grown accustomed to it a bit more, and I'm actually starting to enjoy it a bit more. I don't really work for a living. My birth father was a famous computer programmer, who provided coding for Microsoft and Apple, and worked alongside such tech luminaries as Bill Gates, Steve Jobs, and Steve Wozniak in his heyday. He wrote a lot of their early coding, and earned a moderate fortune from it. I inherited a lot of his money through his will when he died. But it all came at a price. He was not really a presence in my life, but apparently he cared very deeply about me despite that. My parental situation is complicated. Of course, since I'm 41 years old, I should probably be beyond all those childish notions like parenthood. And yet I'm not.

 

Peace

 

 

Dear Journal,

As science tells us, Time is Relative. Sometimes it moves quite slow. Other times it moves very fast. The season of each year change like its nothing. The sky shifts textures and colors, from blue, to purple, to black, to yellow, to orange, to red, to indigo. In the eyes of a poet, that would have to be quite useful, the existentialist aesthetics and whatnot.

Peace

 

 

 

Dear Journal,

Found a couple men in suits loitering next to my house in my yard again. Just what the hell they want is a different matter. I was getting out my mower to cut my lawn, and there they were, with black suits, ties, and sunglasses. Just standing in place, watching me. What the hell do you two want I said to one of them. That's classified information, he mouthed back. "Technically we can't tell you that," he said, almost sounding like he was brainwashed by higher forces. Then WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU ON MY LAWN YOU MOTHERFUCKER! I've had it with these guys. I'd call the cops if I thought it would make a difference. But the Men in Black usually have jurisdiction that ranks about police officers, meaning the cops can't touch them, which fucking pisses me off. Listen, I told him. If I keep seeing you guys tresspassing on my property, I'll be bringing weapons with me especially for you to. Comprende'? He continued giving me the secret agent silence treatment, and it infuriated me. I returned to the living room of my house, as the agents waved at me with a faked innocence that pissed me off even more. I've got to do something about those government agents, I thought. But what?...

 

Peace

 

 

Edited December 2, 2017 by Spindack

[J.M. Matthews]

The Shadow Walker

Chapter 1

 

 

Ed Wyzel is walking home from the comic book store when he encounters a Shadow Walker.

Ed Wyzel had made his purchase at the comic book shop a few minutes ago. He had just left the comics shop on a humid Tuesday evening. Edward hated when it was humid out. It made him feel sweaty and slippery, as though he had been drenched by a hose with warm water, if the water was sweat. Just kind of gross. But he decided to do his best to ignore the weather, even though the news had been saying some pretty scary things about it on television which Edward watched a little bit of on Channel 5 before he watched the house. He also remembered seeing a news report about a local robbery that had happened at the Burger Emperor down the street. That didn’t stop him from buying cool comics either. Suddenly Edward snapped back to where he was: a few blocks down from Comics N’ Manga on his way down the side of the highway, walking down the middle class urban decay and pollution of the decaying sidewalk on the side of the road, walking past bus stops and strip malls. The whole area glowed with neon lights from the nighttime strip mall that was lit up. In the day, this area was kind of packed and it was better to drive, but Ed decided for this moment, walking home. He still had a few blocks to go.

After a few turns onto neighborhood streets, Edward was almost home. There were not a lot of street lamps or well lit areas in his part of the city, particularly on Saint Lutheran Drive. It was 11:30 at night. Edward began to feel a bit creeped out by the darkness. He could feel something near where he was, not far from him. Something that was alive. He could sense something, blending in with the darkness. He was almost home, when he froze up. The thing lurking was closing in, he could sense it’s presence somewhere behind him. The near midnight sky had a few clouds in it, and numerous stars. Suddenly, there it was standing in front of him, the Black Leopard lurking in the street, glaring at him and growling violently. Edward was frozen in place with fear, he knew it had been a bad idea to go out at night. He had known there wasn’t something safe about this area he lived in and was creeped out by. His blood went cold, and he tried to run, but before he got the chance to he could feel the Leopard sinking its jagged fangs into his left ankle as he had turned around and attempted to run. As he looked down behind him, he could feel the muscles in his legs being ripped apart by the deadly Leopard that was attacking and killing him. As Edward passed out his comics he had been holding fell to the ground as he slowly passed out in a pool of his own blood as the Leopard began devouring his blood soaked body in a pool of blood. Why did it have to be like this? Why did I have to end up going like this?? Edward thought internally as he passed out from the pain as he feel the burning sensation of his lower body being mutilated by the Leopard. As a white light began appearing to him as he died, he could have sworn he saw the Black Leopard turn into something resembling a shadowy human figure that was standing over him waiting to die.

Where to put the body? The Dark Figure asked.

[J.M. Matthews]

I have some short stories, too. Post if you want to read those too...

[J.M. Matthews]

As for comics I'm working on: Here you go my friends

 

[J.M. Matthews]

As for Filmmaking!..

[J.M. Matthews]

AND music Albums

https://play-it-loud.bandcamp.com/releases

[J.M. Matthews]

AND comics and manga pages!

http://jm-manga.deviantart.com