John-J Anderson

  Bulldog 1: Too Many Monsters Chapter 4: Two Goodbyes We had been driving for forty minutes and the tank was close to emptying, every petrol station either mobbed to the point of violent skirmishes or had been destroyed by this invading force of which I had only witnessed from the presence of rogue missiles in my parents neighbourhood. If the tank runs dry, we will have to walk. It would likely be a struggle for Mum. Her legs aren’t what they should be for her age and with her mental stability getting worse every year, she could quickly become upset at the prospect. “Hopefully it doesn’t come to that.” Just as we reached the county line, almost dead on the line, we witnessed another catastrophe. This time an oversized truck, eighteen-wheeler variety, had come off the adjoining through road and ploughed straight through two cars that waited in the layby beside a grassy embankment. Pieces of human seemed to be littered across the lane, glass and metal twisted into the bodies. I begg...

  Bulldog 1: Too Many Monsters Chapter 3: Writings on the Wall The siren blared, and the gate creaked into motion like some mechanical jaw unhinging. Fitting, considering we are likely marching to our consumption and demise as a well-rounded group of hundreds. Nothing to do but take a stand and try to face whatever is waiting for us with dignity, defend our country in the only way we can. By surviving. But I counted my odds, the faces around me and the hysterical nature of the surviving numbers. This was going to be a massacre if the last batch of slaves had been seen off so effectively. I didn’t realise how dead my legs had gone sitting in what was essentially a wall-lean for however long we had been trapped in the tunnel. Waiting in the dark for our turn in whatever game they had arranged for us. “Here we go,” the kid said, interrupting my thoughts once again. The door was open and the first batch of those closer than us ran out into the blinding white. I saw the tops of their he...

Perhaps it was the freedom that came from taking my work away from Amazon, but I feel very excited in some kind of way that feels both understated and "professional" for lack of a better word. I have been slacking in terms of getting another blog update out with any news on the current projects; I could blame the heat, work being tough or wanting to take some time to enjoy simple hobbies that got kicked to the side. But in reality, I have just not had the motivation to write over the last few days.  What that looks like is still likely better than some; I have two ongoing projects, one new and one ongoing that I hope to finish before the end of the year. While I have taken time on projects before, Bulldog 3 is really putting me through the inferno of patience. I am just stuck on some character arch's closing out while the overall story could be concluded, while the overall plot points are solid and I think its a worthy end to the journeys these characters have been on und...

Sea Foam and Shattered Skulls Sunshine danced across the waters; they rolled foamed and crashed against the concrete. Crowds flooded the bay as the news reached across the globe, the days plans all obsolete. Everyone came to see the ships push out, the national guard, the army in force. But the flags rose all the same, the creak of wood, the crowd controlling horse. I only needed a glimpse, it was something so unreal, out of time from the rift these wooden ships afloat. Could this still be a hoax, some elaborate prankster gone viral, could we all have fell for something so remote. - The crowd was now roaring, the police riding between the two seas, one of humanity and one of salty drink. It was all across the news when they opened it, the scientific marvellous rift, I didn’t know what to think. So, there I stood staring across a moment in history, all to catch a glimpse of the black sails bobbing into view. What would this change really, do these men out of time f...