image courtesy of Stephanie Pui-Mun Law

More by Brant David McLauglin

Remnants of Angels
from the Lemuria Forum

Recollection is bittersweet as I mind-walk in my garden of luminous memories and exquisite feelings.

“Love does not diminish, You,” she used to say to me. Even, “the word love cannot express or capture what I feel for you.” It was true that our passionate love burned in a dancing bonfire of violet flames. It is something that has a life of its own, like a third body generated between Us (we always capitalize Us in written correspondences). Just a conversation with her made my heart soar. Any day in which I spoke or interacted with her was lit up, almost unbearably bright like a snow-covered landscape looked down upon by a sun from a cloudless sky at noon. We are each other’s spiritual half-sibling, the most electrically tantric of would-be lovers, the dearest friends, alters in each other’s egos. As the incarnation of “if ever two were one, then surely We” would have it, we are even intense research companions; which is how things all started, in better, vanished days…

Astral Voyagers - Brant's Blog
The Heart of the Raven


Introducing Brant David McLauglin

Brant David McLauglin earned his B.A. in Literature and Communications Arts from Eastern University in 1993 CE. He was given his first publication contract for a novel in late 1995 CE from a Canadian publishing house; however, due to that corporate entity's subsequent bankruptcy, his manuscript never went to print. Which is just as well with him, for in retrospect he finds that it was rushed and mediocre work and he is happy that no one saw it.

Being a perfectionist, he paused from pursuing professional writing for several years so that he could reflect more deeply on life and the universe and everything while he kept private journals and sketchpads. A few years ago he picked up a book for personal research purposes and upon beginning to read it he had the Voices murmur unto him that he was at last getting Waters of Life out of the Writing Stone again; he dived down into the arduous research for what is to become a series of unique epic science fiction novels.

He is presently writing at least three and perhaps 10 books while also being under contract to write "Takes" and "Commentaries" for The Motley Fool . He has determined that a minimum of two of these will be completed by year's end, as he has emerged from last year's unexpected personal upheavals with flying colors. His career of passionate love has begun again in earnest.

Publishers, agents, angel investors, and those who find him strangely interesting can reach him at or .

Excerpt from one forthcoming book

The Lord Commander paced his command chamber, recalling the recent conversation with his Hero, Prince Nusku. “Nusku—I shall be their god, and they shall be my people. I will come to possess them, and through them I will possess this outpost.”

In all the annals of the People, this kind of audacious action was unprecedented. Nusku was high fidelity, but he was disturbed by his Lord’s attitude and his ambitions. They were riddled with the motives of vengeance—not justice. But in the mind of the Lord Commander, the Lord Enki never should have brought forth the hybrid creatures. And even after he had made them, he still wanted to transform them so that they would become as he was, as the People were on the Home World. This was an atrocity.

The Emperor would uphold his ambitions. He could be persuaded; yes. He, too, had had to take power where it was not being given him as rightfully it should have.

The Old Order had been defeated by Emperor Anu. Allalu had been taken down and put to death. With his death, the seeds of the old precedents had perished at last; his visage was nevermore to grace the night.

Enlil permitted himself an icy smile as he reflected that they were now within the rising of the New Order. Yes. One of much tighter adherence to duty. One of greater pride in the People’s nature and ways. One of obsession with the galactic mission. Enki had led them astray. He had not meant to, but he had. He interfered with the nature of things. Just like the Elders had and, by way of their meddling, had brought about their own demise. Could his brother not see what was so clear? Could their sister not see either?

The A.I. entities were enough of a solecism.

The vile creations had become fundamental tools (Not “beings”; never would Enlil give them that definition even within the closed doors of his own mind.) to their civilization, as he had to reluctantly admit, but it had been wisdom for him in Council to spearhead the prevention of their numbers from being vastly multiplied at the expense of so many resources and at such risk. Enki’s initial appeal to using them as the new mining force on this outpost had been wisely disapproved of by the Council.

In the wake of the rejection of his advice, Enki had been given the approval for bringing into existence an even viler solecism—the Children. To Enlil’s mind, the Slime Children.

His circumambulatory pacing took him past his crystalline desk. He slammed a powerful fist down upon it. The loud report could be heard on the other side of his chamber’s door, but none sought to inquire within about the cause of the sound.

The concept raged red through his mind: Mere animals made into the likeness of people! But, they were morbidly fascinating to the Lord Commander. At least they had been at first, when they were kept as they should be kept. They made unusually useful pets.

Now…they were a problem. Another noisy problem.


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