The Guardians of Dargniion, part three

(Before reading, if you haven’t read the first two parts of this story:

Click here, for part one;

Or here, for part two!)

Fractar Roeh watched the destruction of Lakeshore on a holowave set in another seedy room. Stunned as he was by the sudden finality of it, he still felt no real surprise. This reaction by the Guardian Force could not be said to be unexpected. In fact, he was suddenly sure that this was the very response that the Nine wanted.

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The Guardians of Dargniion, part two

Read part one here…

Two days passed. On the two square miles in which the twenty-four ramshackle buildings of the Lakeshore Apartment Projects hunched and huddled darkly, all was quiet as a tomb. Fourteen-year-old Naith Threlt sat at his window, looking out and doing some hard thinking. He was in his bedroom in Building 18 of the Lakeshore Projects. The criminal quarantine was still in effect, but oddly, guardians were no longer storming through apartment after apartment. They continued to patrol in squads of eight , and had at least fifty officers stationed around the perimeter. But they no longer seemed to be questioning anyone.

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The Guardians of Dargniion, part one

Dylan’s Note:  This short story is a prologue to a longer tale, but stands on its own I think. It’s not that funny, sorry about that. I’m going to post it in at least two parts, maybe three, as its about 7000 words in length. Of everything I’ve done in my (non-published) writing career, this one is probably the most indicative of what I want to do. SF action/adventure with a message.

It was the rookie, of course, who spotted the crime in progress.

Stop!” Allfeld cried out.

Startled, Guardian Tiroz pulled over the two-seat patrol cycle. His grey eyes, which bulged grotesquely from the faded indigo of his face, looked at the eager trainee with disgust.

Observe and call in, rookie,” the grizzled vet said wearily. “We’re only on a watch patrol. We’re not to stop.”

Trainee Allfeld was a physical contrast to the aged guardian in every way; the indigo of his skin was still dark and glistening and his black eyes and hair hadn’t a hint of grey. But the difference between the two partners was more than merely age.

I think they’re killing someone!” he informed his senior. “At least four, maybe five guys are beating up a girl by that corner!”

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Why “TreatmentofVisions”? Huh? WTF Does it Mean?

So I’ll try to tell you what TreatmentofVisions means, okay? I’ve heard it seems a strange kind of title. People go “Why don’t you name your blog after yourself?” “Call it something normal”, is another suggestion I’ve gotten. (What is normal is an entirely different discussion, so I normally disengage from those kind of judgements.)  Others insist “Your title should be something funny!” I guess since the tone of most of my posts here are mostly humorous. I think those people actually make a good point; but, on the other hand, funny blog titles can make it seem that the writer doesn’t take their content very seriously. Let me tell you: even when I’m being funny, I’m serious as all fuck about it. (Try on that pair of paradox-pants!) Finally, some folk merely express confusion over the title of this blog, or simply never address the issue at all.

First of all, I’d like to suggest to you, gentle reader, to not overthink it. Despite the kind of serious tone of my blog title, this site is not some kind of academic wormhole of analyses and diatribes. I just post shit here. I didn’t overthink the title when I decided on it. The fact is, this blog was started as a college assignment. (If you go back to my earlier posts, you can kind of tell.) Everything was posted as a response to a class exercise or as drafts of essays we were working on. So, in that sense, the Treatment of my Visions would entail both the teacher’s grade and the comments from my classmates. Also, I would comment on their blogs and be very kind and encouraging and shit. I would treat everyone’s work with respect and constructive criticism (if required). So there’s that explanation.

Another thing is that Treatment of Visions makes me think of a bigger project that I am working on. Keeps it in my mind even if I’m not able to work on it as much as I would like to right now. So the title relates to a larger title, so to speak. I can’t talk much about that project yet. Stay tuned.

Image of cover of Dangerous Visions

image taken from Google Images

Someone out there might think of Dangerous Visions, a famous anthology of SF stories edited by Harlan Ellison.One of the most lauded and controversial (at the time) collections ever printed, this fantastic volume was first published in 1967 and remains in print to this day. If someone were to point out that I might have had this book in my subconscious while choosing my blog title, I couldn’t argue. I’ve been undoubtedly influenced by this collection, and all of the authors represented in it are SF giants. So there’s that, too

From a creative standpoint, I think of the posts I put up here as practice for publication, either on the web or print. Not quite rough drafts, but stuff not quite ready for prime time. In other words, treatments. Just because a story is on here doesn’t mean that’s the end of its life or that I’m finished with it. Hopefully, this is only the beginning. As far as my outbursts and mania, well, this is probably the only place for those mind-excretions. (You’re welcome for that glittering image.) Also, any feedback I get from my gentle readers is treatment. I’m not getting many comments yet, but please comment. Even if its “EEEEEWWWWW!” Everything is helpful to me at this point.

In short, that’s why “treatmentofvisions”. I didn’t really intend for it to be a permanent title, but now I’m accustomed to its presence, you know. So I think I’ll let it stay. Let me know if you have a strong opinion one way or the other in the comments if you like. Give me the treatment, gentle readers, you princes and princesses of the internet! See you later.

My Mind’s Eye, Splintered

So let’s go back to the summer of 1978. I was still a wee splinter, about eight-years-old. And the Star Wars franchise was only a year old. In fact, it wasn’t even technically a franchise yet. Only one movie existed, just one. Oh, we had the Marvel comics; there was an abominable Christmas Special that’s best forgotten; and I think Mark Hamill had been on The Muppet Show by then. And that, my friends, was it.

Till that summer of ’78. One day, I found a little paperback called The Splinter of the Mind’s Eye. Subtitled from the further adventures of Luke Skywalker,  the novel was indeed from the further fucking adventures of Luke Skywalker, and oh Jesus was I ready for more! Snatched this beautiful book off the shelf and ran out with it. Almost literally. (Think my mother might have insisted on paying for it, not sure didn’t care.)

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