Dear Subscriber,
I’d wager most of you won’t have the (metaphorical) balls to read my novel, Russian Wolves, based on the real Russian serial killer, Andrei Romanovich Chikatilo. I’ve read chapter three to crowds who walked out because of its graphic intensity. I had an almost knock-down, drag-out argument over the First Amendment to get three chapters of it published in a magzine to promote it. Whatever. Needless to say, it’s not exactly “politically correct.” So, being forewarned is fair play.
Continuing saga in my story featured in my ChatGPT tutorial ChatGPT Unmaksed!
About 4K words into my short story Kokopelli is Damned. For the anthology’s purpose, I had to work in a song that is fucking scary, so I’m at the turning point (climax) in the story when my narrator is confronting the dark bastard–his shadow self–in the form of a masked (Kachina) supposed Fire Clan elder who enters his studio booth at night on the rez. Here’s a taste from my story.
The set-up for the anthology is that all stories must have a song that was found in a playlist consisting of horror songs buried down in a mine shaft (cool beans!).
Voila:
“Once you are the true Kokopelli, you will write the song that needs to be recorded. You and your Scalpers will also perform it live on your world tours, and the kids will love it. You’ll be a big hit, man. Bigger than Buffy Sainte-Marie, Supaman, Litefoot, Drezus, and Red Cloud put together.”
I was becoming excited, as I believed him to be a true spirit elder. He was floating two feet off the fucking floor of my radio booth! I grabbed my desk to stand still.
“What’s the catch, man? There’s always some catch, even if you are the real Fire Clan elder,” I said.
“We need a little return on our investment from you and your boys. See, there’s a bit of business going on over at the Grand Canyon. That previous fat old white man in the White House made a law that gave the government mining rights to get all the uranium they can from our land. In return, they’ll give us enough money to start a casino and do other remodeling around here. Let’s be honest. It looks like one big dump right now.”
I was not in my right mind. I kept seeing him float in the air, and I kept staring at the purple gemstone hanging from the chain on his bare chest.
“I don’t get it. Isn’t that law going to be stopped by the old guy in office now?”
“Not if you sing your song and have it recorded. Anybody who hears it will want to keep that law going, including the current President and his gang. Only then will the true tribal White Bahana come.”
“Who is he? Isn’t this uranium for our weapons, like the nukes that can blow our world into the Dark Ages?” I was straining to overcome his power over me, but it wasn’t helping much.
“I can’t tell you who right now! You’ll be a patriot. We’re getting pushed around in the world now. We need more weapons to keep those Russians and Chinese from ganging up on us. Don’t you want to save the world and make the money for your tribe?”
