So, I wrote a novella a while back. I edited, and worked, and its time.
It’s only 21k words and it’s about people chasing dreams, tragedy, and cybernetic parts.
The title’s Crane.Wife: A Cyberpunk Tale, and it’s my first work of fiction available for sale!
I did it, guys! Not the whole thing, still working on the world famous bit and all that jazz. But people have paid to read my work. I’m an author now.
Thanks, everyone! For every kind word, like, rewteet, and just all of it. I’m doing this thing, and I’d have never come this far without all of your support.
You can read a sample of the first chapter at the bottom of this page!
And here’s where you can pay 99 cents for my glorious work:
Kadence shuddered as he woke, late and in pain.
Business as usual.
The hole in his torso caused the initial suffering; the other pains stepped in and out of the dance as waking stumbled over Kadence.
At least he had a few years off to reflect on mistakes and heal. “Next time, you’ll stay down when the strider’s are fighting,” he muttered to the empty apartment. “If there is a next time.” The war could be over by the time Kadence healed.
His laser wound barely oozed these days, but the replaced spine and ribs sure hurt like hell most the time. He reached for the bottle of pills on the nightstand, shook one into his hand, and tossed the oblong red pill back before the ache got worse.
A muscle in Kadence’s back spasmed. Three long twitches before a short set of dancing taps.
Hunger hurt too. The pills ravaged his stomach, but getting food without them might not even work. Retching with a chest wound could go bad fast. Waking up on the kitchen floor in a puddle of your own bile once, lasted a lifetime.
Time passed in counts of agony and when they reached the lowest number Kadence pushed himself out of bed with his cane to stumble for the bathroom. He dropped to the icy steel toilet seat without locking the shared door to the next apartment, and hoped their neighbor knocked first. Pissing standing up added too much risk; the odd twinge, a jerk of hands, and there’s a mess you can’t reach. Amias didn’t need to deal with that after work.
Pulling himself off the toilet with the towel rack, Kadence limped to the sink for cleanup and to choke down the other eleven pills making his life easier. At least half needed food, so he finally worked his way to the kitchen. A bag of tomato soup with crackers sated him. The pills worked their magic, and Kadence did his own dishes for the first time this week.
Cleaning everything he could reach in the one-room apartment only took a few minutes. Bending down caused torment the pills couldn’t mask. Nothing saved Kadence from that abyss. The nightmares got worse with the pain, haunting sleep and bringing the battle back in dire relief. Even on the brightest of days, the memories eclipsed his dreams.
Kadence collapsed on the bed after wiping the last counter. The game console shined, but the allure of shooting games bled out in a muddy trench in Louisiana. Other games existed, he was sure, but Kadence didn’t bother. He put on the forest sounds video and tried not to think. Not too hard a task under the medication’s molasses trance.
The pills made time strange often, and he couldn’t be sure how long had passed when a text lit his Compani. The coin-sized device lacked a wristband since Amias’ broke last week. Kadence rarely left the house anyway, and she needed one for work, so he went without until payday. His band was too big for her small arm, but better than nothing.
Standing again, Kadence headed to the kitchen counter next to their tiny fridge and pulled the Compani from the charging station. Flicking past the media notices and newswire hits, he opened the text app.
Dek wanting narbens. Ten pills. About a hundred and fifty bucks in the red painkillers. The addict must be grick desperate, he left three messages before Kadence woke this morning.
Kadence waited about an hour. Dek liked to haggle and Kadence liked fifteen a pill without hassle.
<You need them now?> Kadence texted back.
<Yes,> Dek replied almost instantly.
<Hundred and seventy total. I’m getting asked to piss in cups and prove how many of these I’m taking. Doctor said he might nanotrack them soon.>
<I’ve got papers.>
<Damn, that’s harsh.>
In reality, Kadence barely even had appointments anymore. The Federation didn’t care how hooked he was and they made the pills. Cheaper and easier if he OD’d on them.
Easier on a lot of people.
“Oh stop,” he said to himself, and flipped to Amias’ picture in his phone. His wife’s smiling blue eyes and gap-toothed smile shined up at him.
The grick Dek messaged again, <Dude, plz.>
<Meet me when I text.>
<Calla Laundry. Yosemite and Jack Tone.>
Their apartment backed up to a convenience stone on the Jack Tone side. Kadence could watch Dek arrive from the Slush machine and saunter over when everything looked clear.
Standard precaution. Dek sold himself, when he could, and wasn’t the most trustworthy sort. Come down to the wires, he’d probably sell out his mom for a dusty baggy. Kadence knew a few other contacts, but none with an appetite like Dek.
Kadence measured out the red pills first, and then pulled fresh clothes on. Amias bought him little dealing supplies so he dug the box out. Smiling cartoon ducks dotted the front of the bags. Kadence packed with a similarly goofy smile on his face. “Dork.” He tapped out a quick love text to his little weirdo and headed out the door.