jaflynnauthor

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[jaflynnauthor]

District 9: Hansen's Hope (Fan Fiction) - 1: Hansen's Residence-11:00PM (on Wattpad)  Based on the Oscar-nominated film District 9, J.A. Flynn takes you to an alternative story set in the same universe. Hansen, a progressive man living in South Africa is under the iron fist of his father, a right-wing tyrant who enjoys exploiting the aliens known as 'prawns' in the slums of District 9. Going against his father's wishes, Hansen not only attempts to help these poor creatures, but finds an unlikely ally...

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Robert E. Howard

When quarantine started I knew I was going to be bored. I had written my first book FORLORN. I wanted something fantasy-esque. I thought of Game of Thrones but I thought the books looked too long. Mr. Martin is a talented writer, but not the kind I want to read just yet.

I remembered the original movie Conan the Barbarian. And how many times I has re-watched the original over and over. I also knew they were based on books. Now their was something I could sink my teeth into. Short stories / novellas. Accessible. Don’t have to follow 9 different characters.

I admit, the first time I picked one up I was surprised. This wasn’t easy reading. This was pure emotion. So much passion put into each action. The violence reminded me of that Starz TV show Spartacus. And the character of Conan was way more dimensional than I initially thought.

I was hooked. And still am hooked. I’ve now read maybe 8 or 9 of the stories and plan on reading all of them. I truly love the poetic style, the plots which feature monsters and a big muscular man coming to the rescue. As a writer, I really could FEEL Mr. Howard’s passion with each page. I can picture him smiling behind his typewriter and just pouring his soul into this world and enjoying it. That joy truly seeped into me.

The character inspired me so much in fact that I’ve brought one of my own characters into the spotlight. Darak the Minotaur. He’s someone I’ve had in my head for quite a while but didn’t know how to write him. Thanks to REH now I know what sort of stories I want to tell with him. If I can hold a candle to Conan, then I’ll be shocked honestly.

There are two factors I should mention. Sexism and racism. One of which I see and the other not so much.

Howard seems to write about females being strong a lot. Granted they’re the ‘damsel’ types but I feel that they’re also witches and warriors who fight along side or against Conan. I think it was the film adaptations that sorta painted Conan in a certain way. In the books, he doesn’t say his famous ‘crush your enemies’ speech.

Racism. Yes. And that’s my gripe. The story Red Nails is especially racist-which is a shame because they’re lots of good story beats there. I don’t excuse racism. I feel icky when I read anything like that. I hate that Howard thought that way. Yes he grew up in the South at a time when a lot of people didn’t have rights. Even some of Howard’s colleagues were put off by these ideas. But he still inspires me as a storyteller. I love the character of Conan himself. He’s addicting.

I wish that a company would release Howard’s stories and put a notice speaking of Howard and how his beliefs are inaccurate. No harm with putting labels on things. Or even taking it out all together. The stories themselves wouldn’t be effected.

I think everyone should be able to enjoy Conan. Teens and young adults especially. I think in high school teens would love Conan and really find the tales fascinating. I know I would have back in class. I urge anyone who writes or hell, anyone who just wants good entertainment to pick up Conan.

[jaflynnauthor]

Darak the Minotaur: Smoke and Flame - Preview

CHAPTER 1

The blade of the ax hit the thick bark of one of the various tall trees in the woods. The tree tumbled with a deep thud which radiated across the forest.

Bending his knees, Darak the minotaur lifts the large trunk with two arms with a gentle grunt, over one broad shoulder. This was all in a day’s work for the mighty creature, who stomped through the woods gathering supplies. Food, water, trees for building fires. Up keeping his cabin wasn’t easy work, it was tedious and caused soreness.

Blue skies and golden rays of sun surrounded the beast as he thumped through the land, dirt kicked up with his every massive step. This was the final tree he would bring back to his home.

His brown fur dripped with beads of sweat. His massive bull head turning left and right.  The horns which sat on his head were thick and white, and sharp enough to pierce and slice enemies as a last resort if his hands were somehow bound.

His smooth light brown snout huge, with two large nostrils which moved with every heaving breath. The smell of pine and crisp air put the beast at ease.

As Darak heaves the large trunks back to his cabin, his large, hoofed feet stay undamaged from the various tiny rocks and thorns which littered the woods.

The weather this month was warm, so warm in fact that Darak only walked about in a homemade loincloth, his father and mother had taught him how to sew, how to cut bear skins to make heavy garb. How to use every part of every animal to increase survival. Until the day they died of old age, they guided their son proudly through the woods, teaching him how to survive and to ignore humans as much as possible. The minotaur was now in his young adult years, in his prime for strength and agility.

He hadn’t visited many towns in his life, he hadn’t had much experience with how humans ran their world-but soon that would change. Time and life events can either be kind or cruel, and in Darak’s case, both would collide and change his life forever.

Chopping wood in front of the large cabin, Darak would take time in between chops to admire the birds and squirrels which danced around his home, unafraid of the creature. Leery yes, but animals didn’t hate the minotaur. While these anthropomorphic bulls were uncommon, most just lived their own lives, and went to bed with anyone who would have them.

Darak was 7ft tall, brown furry arms thick as cow hide and muscles that would make a Greek warrior jealous, but he wasn’t a fighter unless provoked. He was a minotaur farmer. Soon to be an accidental warrior.

Once branches were cut and ready to warm his home, Darak stepped into his one-story house.

The cabin held a fireplace in one corner, a large wooden chair sat a few feet from said fireplace. Windows were made of strong glass which casted sunlight throughout the wooden building. To the left of the fireplace, lied a dining room table with mugs and a jug of water collected from a nearby river. He had a Woodcutter’s ax for chores, he had clothes piled in a corner. It was all Darak needed. It was all he wanted.

 Nighttime fell, stars covered the sky, crickets chirped in the distance.

Darak sat in his chair, watching the fireplace. The orange and red sparks calmed him, his brown, furred body no longer tense. This relaxed state was common for him, he was so tired from the day’s work that nighttime was almost a blessing. The cabin was so warm, now he wore no loincloth, meaning he was nude, sitting in a position that frankly would be inappropriate in any other setting. Nudity didn’t bother the creature, it was natural. He didn’t think twice about it, clothing was only needed for protection-and protection was in spades in the cabin.

Getting up from his chair, he stretched with a deep groan, his arms, and legs sore.

He poured himself a mug of water and drank noisily. Splashes hit the floor of the cabin, but Darak paid no attention to it. As he gulped his second mug, his ear flicked to the sound of a twig breaking in the distance-and the sound of human voices.  

Four muscular men each held swords and torches, and one 7ft tall, green orc held a large, two-handed golden ax. Each of the soldiers had armor which was heavy. There boots also coded with metal. The four humans and one orc were prepared for battle.

This was a moment they all waited for.

The orc spoke in a gravely, deep voice. His armor black. He led the four men through Sitka woods. “We strike two at a time. Remember, we cannot kill the minotaur. The queen wants him alive.”

“I can’t believe we have to listen to you, Martin. An orc no less.” One of the men piped up, he stood right beside the orc. He was hired as second in command.

“Shut up.” Martin spat, his teeth sharp, his eyes black. His greasy hair long and tied into a ponytail. His muscles nearly as well build as Darak. “We’ll never get our coin if we alert the beast now, idiot.”

“Suck my cock.” Whispered the bully. Martin slapped the soldier before continuing with the plan-the plan that would ruin Darak’s life.

The minotaur meanwhile had tied a leather kilt to his waist, studded with gold. He rarely wore it but had it in case an intrusion would happen. No one could be too careful in these brutal times.

Darak never wanted to be a soldier of war like most males. Tonight however-the mighty creature would be tested.        

Chapter 2

 The glass window was shattered, Darak nearly jumped out of his fur as a burning torch lied on the ground-and the flame erupted. Coating half the cabin in black smoke and fire.

Quickly filling a bucket of cold water from the kitchen, he threw the liquid onto the flame, but it did no good. Perhaps the torch was coated in some sort of black magic, Darak nearly cried as he watched the walls of the cabin slowly succumb to the flame.

He had no choice but to escape the home, the only home he had. Looking at the heavy wooden door, he snorted in anger and charged-with a mighty blow he knocked the door down and stumbled into the dirt below.

His burning cabin close by, the flames only grew larger.

As the minotaur stood at full height, the sound of arrows flew, hitting his tough flesh. The arrows didn’t do much but cause a mild stinging-but he knew he couldn’t stand the pain forever. Darak now knew his cabin wasn’t burned by some freak accident, but by hunters.

From the dark woods, four soldiers stepped closer to the beast as he frantically searched for the source of the attack-arrows continued hitting him, blood dripped from his chest and onto his large legs.

“We’ve got him!” Shouted one of the men. “Keep firing your arrows!”

Frowning, Darak gripped a large tree branch from the ground, using both hands he swung the weapon-hitting one of the four men who stood in a differing area to flank the beast. Bone and flesh were crushed as the single soldier flew with a terrified scream. The now dying soldier crashed to the ground, his arms and legs shattered, blood dripping from the side of his head.

The other three scattered. In a panicked state, Darak heaved the thick branch over his head and crushed yet another soldier, his body practically exploded upon impact, sending limbs, a geyser of blood and pieces of brain matter up towards the stars.

The final two human soldiers were nowhere to be seen. Darak heard no footsteps.

He took this opportunity to remove the arrows lodged in his flesh. Grunting loudly as he did so. The arrows wouldn’t leave lasting damage, but they hurt like hell and would probably make the minotaur sore for the next few days.

He would have turned to lament the burning of his cabin, until a much larger foe came out from the blackness of night. The green skinned creature spoke. “You’ve got a rather good bounty on your head from the queen. So-I will do what I do best, get you to her and collect my payment. First-I must break you. Mentally and physically.”

Martin chuckled and fearlessly walked up to Darak-both were of similar height and strength. However, Darak had anger on his side.

With the cabin burning brightly behind the two fighters, the orc swung the ax left and right, the right swing grazed Darak’s arm.

Martin then lifted the ax above his head, Darak then gripped the weapon by the top of the hilt as it came down toward his skull. He gave the orc a mighty kick to the chest, causing him to stagger back.

Darak knew he couldn’t just crush this creature; he was much too tall and strong.

The ax swings left, instead of dodging the minotaur gripped the ax yet again, inches from the blade. He tugged as hard as he could. Sending the orc falling forward with a surprised yelp.

With the ax in hand, Darak smiled and swung down, his muscles tense lifting the heavy object. Martin rolled out of the way and stood in a fighting stance.

The heat from the burning home caused the two to sweat, smoke began to fill the air and surround them. Martin quickly rubbed his face, to alleviate the feeling of an intense burn from his eyes.

With a deep yell Darak ran toward the orc, knocking him to the ground.

Now the two were further from the burning cabin, the fires still illuminated their personal fighting arena.

With Darak on top of Martin, both fight over the ax, tugging and kicking.

Martin smiled and took a fist full of dirt, slinging rock, and mud into Darak’s blue eyes. With his eyes closed, Martin took the opportunity to send a booted foot to the minotaur’s large groin. Rolling over on his side, Darak clutched his manhood, tears streaming down his face and yelling in pain.

Martin shook dirt off himself, holding the ax once again and looking down at the injured beast.

Martin sighed tiredly, his armor disheveled, his long black hair covered in dirt. His green skin chipped and bruised. “Sorry my furry friend. No man has beat me yet. You gave a good effort though. Now come with me.” He slung the ax over his shoulder confidently.

The woods were still and silent, except for the fire raging in the background and the heavy breathing from a minotaur and orc.

As Darak went to his knees, mud dripped from his face, he snorted like an angry stallion and with a burst of adrenaline, he yet again slammed into Martin.

Not using his foot as he had before, but the one weapon he had left. The two sharp white horns on his head. Both were dug deep into Martin’s gut.

The orc coughed violently.

Looking down at Darak who now looked less humanized and more beastly. Yanking his large head quickly, Martin’s entrails spilled on the ground. He fell forward.

Narrowing his eyes, Darak picked the golden ax up off the ground and admired it.

He approached his cabin, which now was a pile of black ash, wooden walls still stood, but were ultimately unfixable. The piles of black wood smelled strong, smoke still surrounded the woods as the minotaur helplessly sifted through the rubble, hoping to find something-anything to help him rebuild what he had.

 ***

 There was a lake close by the cabin, so Darak sadly trotted to the large body of water to clean his wounds and wipe dry blood from his fur.

He also took time to shine the brand-new ax he now possessed.

He bathed for an hour, the water was warm as bathwater now that the sun had risen and covered the woods.

He took a few dives under the liquid, swimming and trying to ease the soreness of his muscular arms and legs. Nude and swimming in a lake felt freeing-it felt rebellious, it felt right. Washing away the darkness of night to start a new day.

 Once the minotaur had dried off, he found himself taking one last look at Martin, he noticed he wore a genuinely nice leather kilt with golden studs. Something the minotaur couldn’t ever afford or make.

He unceremoniously removed it from Martin’s hips and put it on himself. Martin was now left half nude and disemboweled-good enough for him thought Darak.

Sadness filled his soul as he realized he’d never again set foot in the home he grew up in. Those memoires would remain, but now he realized he had to make a tremendous change in his life.

The minotaur’s life was once consumed with everyday tasks. Lifting wood, gathering food and supplies, keeping away from humans.

Now his life would be consumed with the one thing he never thought possible. Vengeance.  

Chapter 3

 Waking from her peaceful slumber, Queen Adina felt the chilly morning air from her large bedroom window.

Her bed covered in bright red sheets, the walls a darker shade of red.

Getting up to close the window, she smiled.

Being a ruler was fun. The best position one could be in as far as this time in history.

Adina turned, hearing her bedroom door unlock. She didn’t bother covering her bare breasts. She just faced the door, unapologetically on display. Not an inch of her body was flawed as far as she was concerned. Her blonde hair the perfect length, her eyes a striking purple color. Her scent vanilla, her flesh smooth as silk. At 6ft tall, she was as tall as a lot of the men under her iron fist.

Kiev smiled nervously stepping into the room, never knowing what mood Adina held in her heart. Would she smile and wave or give him a nice slap across his slightly hairy chin?

Her right-hand man held a silk black robe for her to slip into.

“Kiev. You’re right on time as always.” She said as she put the garb on.

“Thank you, my queen. Are you hungry?”

“Not now. Is the minotaur in my grasp?” She didn’t bother tying the robe around her waist. She eyed Kiev; she was now a few inches from his face.

That stare. That stern-tell me everything stare she owned got to the soldier every time.

“No, my lady. The minotaur killed them. I-I ran away after I saw how strong he was.”

“Even the orc?” She cocked her head.

“Yes ma’am.” Kiev clenched his fist. His heart pounded. He admitted he ran off after seeing the destruction. A fine soldier he was, sarcasm spoke loudly in his brain.

Surely, she would hurt him badly for this. “You don’t need to fear me.” She smiled and held the young man’s hand.

She was 27. He was 25.

She continued, her voice smooth as silk. Able to seduce any man she wished. “You’ve been nothing but kind. Nothing but submissive. You ran. Yes-it’s a flaw. But you’re such a handsome soldier, I’ll let it slide.” She leaned in and kissed his lips softly; he tasted a hint of cherry enter his mouth as she did so. “You give me my power.”

She placed a soft hand to his cheek which had a bit of scruff.

Kiev’s black hair reached his shoulders, his eyes purple like hers-however he was not part witch.

Kiev would have kept his distance if he could have. Once the unexpected kiss was placed on him, he was done for.

He removed his armor, his vision blurry. His mind not where it should be. This felt like a dream.

Sitting in one of the many cushioned chairs in her bedroom, she spread her legs and he automatically got to his knees. He looked up, seeing her smiling over him.

“I think we have time for a quick round. Brother.” She chuckled as she forced his head between her legs.

 Adina sits on her throne. Sipping wine and giving small orders to the soldiers that surround her. The wine holds not only grapes, but potions that make her more awake and stronger. She had barely any muscles, but with the help of dark magic she didn’t need to be a muscular woman.  

She wanted the minotaur most of all. Not only was it annoying having him romp in the forests beyond the town, but she also saw a fantastic opportunity. Gladiator fights were once a major source of entertainment for the people of Sitka, but with a lack of bruting men she really couldn’t hold these epic fights.

With a minotaur in the ring though? People would flock to those fights. People would give all sorts of coin to see a beast of that size.

In addition, he could be a great bodyguard for her. When she wanted to take walks. The strength of men satisfied, but a minotaur would give her close to ultimate power.

Everyone feared minitours, dragons-these creatures were the definition of fear. These creatures commanded respect. Adina had respect-but she wanted fear.

The queen looked straight ahead and stood as the double doors of the castle opened.

Stepping closer to her throne were two guards both wearing silver armor and wearing helmets with visors. Both held tight to an elderly man with grey hair and wearing a dirty tunic. His eyes wide and his movements stiff. He had never been brought to the castle before. He had never even seen Queen Adina.

The peasant was forced to his knees once he was close to the throne, two men standing beside the throne drew their swords.

Removing his helmet, the taller of the two peasant abductors spoke. “He was seen trying to steal bread. He said it was for his starving daughter. What say you, old man?”

Adina approached the old man, her footsteps echoed through the castle walls. She smiled sadly, listening intently.

“P-please my queen. I-I only want my family to survive. I don’t have much.” Tears fell from his eyes.

“You want food and drink?” Adina smiled softly, her knee bending to the old man.

“Y-yes. Please. I’ll do anything for it. Anything!”

The queen pets the farmer’s silver hair. “Kiev. Get him a bag of food and wine. Send him on his way.”

Her brother was surprised she showed such mercy. He quickly ran off to get the supplies.

 Oh, how happy the farmer was. His walk was confident. His smile noticeable. He would be set for a long time.

Adina then gripped Kiev’s arm and brought him to a room behind the throne, her personal office.

The office was spotless, covered in glass windows where sunlight beamed through. The desk made of a dark red wood with a marble edge. Papers were all alphabetically organized. She was good at keeping papers signed and other kingdoms happy.

“My brother. I have a favor to ask.” She nodded and shut the office door, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Yes. Anything. You seem to be in good spirits, sister.”

“Good spirits. Yes. But we can’t have peasants stealing things.” She frowned.

“Well, you fixed that farmer. He’s happier than a pig in shit.”

She handed Kiev a paper with various names. The farmer’s name was underlined. Bob Kirk. “You will kill him tonight. Then retrieve the goods I gave him. For their my goods.” She smirked.

Kiev was going to yell. He was going to throw a fit. He was going to perhaps slap her. He kept his cool. “Well, my sister-who am I to cross you? Who am I to say no? An elderly farmer can’t put up much of a fight. Consider Mr. Kirk dead.” He nodded handing her the paper back.

Kissing his cheek, she nodded. “Gather what you need for tonight. Most importantly? Make sure no one knows it was you. Leave no trace. Can’t have people thinking the queen’s right-hand man is a sadistic bastard.”

 ***

 Once the sun was down, and the sky a black mass, Kiev got his sword ready.

The bedroom he got dressed in was so silent, almost calming had it not been for his half-dressed sister reading a book. Sitting on the edge of the red bed, Kiev did indeed wear his armor, combed his black hair which reached his shoulders. His sword was ready, as were his arrows. Adina didn’t pay any mind to the fact he was donning his full soldier outfit. She didn’t care what he did. She knew he’d come back with the job done.

Kiev opened the bedroom door and looked at his sister with a sigh. “Goodnight, sister.”

“Goodnight brother.” She said not even looking at him. She listened to the door close and her brother’s footsteps retreat.

“The bitch won’t get her way this time.” Whispered the soldier as he left the castle grounds, not bothering to turn back.

He knew he’d be fired, hell in these times ‘firing’ sometimes meant execution.

He knew he’d be an outcast. It was worth it to him. His sister was evil-and sometimes to battle evil, you had to do dangerous things.  

Read the rest: https://www.wattpad.com/story/262230944-darak-smoke-and-flame