New Avalon

By David Martin

A compilation of stories that spans the gamut of genre fiction. This book will scare entertain and amuse you. It takes you from the from the occult of Old Virgina to the world of translated beings that live beyond the stars. Thoroughly absorbing.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Mar 31, 2011
• ISBN: 9781257315475

David Martin

David Martin is Professor Emeritus of Sociology at the London School of Economics and Political Science (LSE) and Honorary Professor of the Sociology of Religion at Lancaster University.

Book preview

ACROSS A SEA OF

RANDOM

WRITINGS

BY

David B Martin

HOW?

How do you write? Or draw, or create period? Not really knowing, I decided to sit down and experiment. This book is the result. Within the pages of this book you will find, classic horror, in the form of the novella, The Ghost Plantation, supernatural mystery with the unusual tale of The Visitor, satire and humor in the pages of, The Job Police, a potpourri of insanity with a sci fi bent in the stories, Area 51 and Planet Hopping, standard science fiction, but in the form of an adult children’s story, with AVALON, pure experiment, in Marketing 101, and some lyrics and maybe poetry (you’d have to be the judge) not because I understand iambic pentameter or ekphrasis, but because it rhymed.

The book also contains several short-shorts, and finally, instead of the standard blurb, About the Author, usually found at the end of a book, I decided to try a new art form -at least I think it’s new. I’ve never seen it done before. It’s what one might call, a memoir vignette, written as a fan tribute to an icon.

...........................................................

As to critically analyzing these stories, I leave that to anyone that cares to do it. I just wanted to write some strange stuff and have fun doing it. I hope you have fun reading it.

David B Martin

Acknowledgements:

Many Thanks to a plethora of people that over decades gave me a wide range of character types to draw from. Special thanks to Susan who gave me the working model for Megan and to Gloria for her words of wisdom. To all my Pi Kappa Phi Bro’s who I expect to buy the book, (Robbie, since you’re a millionaire now you can buy several copies), just kidding, well- no I’m not. To Ken -my old friend who used to work for Nasa-hope I got the Astro-Physics right. Science is a new universe for me. And to my other old friends from both Virginia Commonwealth University and The George Mason School of Law who constantly said,

Dave, you should write a book. Well, ok, I did, though it’s probably not the kind any of you expected. Also of course, thanks to all the kids, just for being kids, like you Cade, to Josh my web-master (couldn’t load my MP3’s without you}, Tiffany-the real poet, Chris of the big heart, Jason-who inspired Marketing 101, and especially thanks to Steven. May you always find your way (and continue helping the rest of us to find ours)

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Attributes:

And Your Bird Can Sing

By

John Lennon and Paul McCartney

Nowhere Man

By

John Lennon and Paul McCartney

And

Witchy Woman By Don Henley & B. Leaden

Copyright © 2005. All rights reserved.

eISBN: 978-1-25731-547-5

The Ghost Plantation

By

David B Martin

Freestyle kumite was Michael’s favorite part of karate. Weaponry was a close second, but there was nothing that made his blood rush quite like sparing. He blocked a kick to his chest, returned one in kind to his opponents lower back, turned in perfect form just in time to block another simulated deadly blow to his carotid artery and made a mock retreat for a feigned moment of confusion. The moment was enough to throw his opponent off guard and fuel the overconfidence Michael was looking for. When Brian came in for the kill Michael was ready for the predicted blow. With a quick twisting move Michael was behind Brian, a light kick to the kidney‘s incapacitated him and then he was in front of Brian.

Michael feigned a classic knife hand attack (the kind they referred to their students as The Movie Blow). Halfway to Brian’s throat he stopped dead in mid-air and drew back the deadly blow. He watched Brian’s eyes, the surprise and uncertainty were there. Whirling in a counter-clockwise motion he swept his right leg low knocking both of his opponents legs off the floor. Hey , no contact allowed man, Brian groaned mockingly from the floor where he sat grinning.

Dr. Death follows no rules. Isn’t that what you said the last time you caught me by surprise? Michael replied as he extended a hand to help Brian up. As Brian stood Michael noticed the peculiar apple shaped pendant he always wore around his neck, it had spilled out from his gui. He assumed that it was some sort of techie emblem. He had never seen him without it. Once, he’d asked him what it was, and Brian replied that he was always looking for the other half and that apples came in pairs, there was no further explanation.

Michael had nodded his head and replied, of course,

Guess no black belt, for this black man tonight. Brian said At the rate your going, it won’ t be long though, as soon as you get your teaching hours in.

Yeah, fat chance of that with my schedule.

Whoa, let’s call it a day and get a shower.

Michael Schafner was a 1st degree black belt in Sotokan karate-he knew just enough to be dangerous he thought to himself. He’d been studying since before he was an undergraduate at The University of Wisconsin. Brian Heartsoe was a rank below just about ready for promotion. Michael had a set of keys to the dojo and it wasn’t all that unusual that they were the only ones in the place at the dinner /happy hour.

They had met each other at the Medical school where they were both first year students and had rapidly become friends within the first few weeks. Everyone else had a difficult time understanding why two people dedicating their lives to an art that healed and saved lives would have spent so much time perfecting and practicing something that seemed to promote just the opposite. Michael had at times explained that the higher levels were actually very much attuned to healing, but that, that, qualitative understanding usually came to practitioners only much later, after the physical had been mastered.

Right now both he and Brian’s schedules were hardly in line with being able to practice during the dojo‘s regular hours, so the Sensei allowed them 24 hour access.

The Capital of the Confederacy, Michael mused aloud, noting the layout of the city, as they drove down Broad Street back toward the Medical College. Unlike most of the med students, they actually lived in a dorm room on the campus.

You know , before I came to school here, I’d always thought of Richmond Virginia as a little cow town straight out of civil war days.

Yeah, well cows is a good analogy, Brian said, This place is a slaughterhouse, every year since I can remember the murder rate here is one of the highest in the country. I was born and raised in Virginia but I never have understood this city. Maybe they should have left the capital where your girlfriend lives in Williamsburg.

Really, the state capital used to be Williamsburg? Michael asked in surprise.

Sure did. Long time ago. He seemed far away.

Why?

Back in colonial days they needed the ports of the James River. Had to bring in their merchandise from the big ships. You know, tobacco, fabrics to make their own clothes, SLAVES , Brian added with a sardonic grimace.

All the property a respectable planter felt was necessary, he tacked on, this time with an insane facial contortion.

Between Brian and the third member of what Michael thought of as their little musketeer group, Meg Ramsey, he was getting quite an education. They had both lived here all their lives here and took great delight in initiating him into the historical realities of the Old Dominion. Despite it’s problems they both obviously loved the state. And who could blame them? It was a beautiful place. Megan had once quoted some old English poet who had visited the state and called it earth‘s only paradise. Michael certainly wouldn‘t go that far but they did seem to have everything here, beaches, mountains, metropolitan centers and quaint little villages. Most of all though, the place had history. In fact, a fair part of the history of the nation had begun here and the richness of that history lay in the air almost like a palpable thing.

Brian, was in some respects about the most cynical person he had ever known. Still, he felt a kind of kinship with him. Upon telling him his own life story he found gapping holes in Brian’s, but he had discovered from what few specifics he did let slip, that their respective histories had similarities. They had both grown up dirt poor and had gotten as far as they had on brains and determination rather than connections and private schools as so many around them had. Brian joked about his family living in a little cabin outside of Richmond somewhere, but the truth was, Michael couldn’t really tell if he was joking.

Their backgrounds hadn’t caused any problems with acceptance by the other students somewhat to Michael’s surprise. In fact, it sometimes seemed almost like they had celebrity status because of it. The only thing anyone thought strange about Michael was his almost complete disinterest in money. He would say he was in medical school for the old fashion reason of wanting to help and heal people and be greeted by smirks.

Meg had told him once that in the real world, no one with brains, looks, and personality, could possibly also be a nice guy and so they were assuming he was being disingenuous with them.

He wasn’t.

He wondered at times what SHE thought of him. What she REALLY thought.

Megan sat at a picnic table outside the dorms staring lifelessly at a Histology text held upside down in front of her as they pulled into the parking lot. Unlike them, she was the epitome of the ultimate insider here. She was from an old established southern family whom it was rumored had megabucks from a fortune built before the civil war. The confederate dollars had easily weathered the conversion into northern currency via the continuing success of the businesses which was still accumulating real dollars right up to the present day.

She had majored in, Theory of the Dance. Stupid!, Michael had said, staring blankly when he had heard this, unable to accept that there really was such a thing. Even while he said it though, he realized that she was, in fact, the best dancer he’d ever seen. No one, but no one who went to medical school majored in theory of the dance. There was a law against it, he was pretty sure. Meg had immediately pointed out to him, upon hearing his Stupid response, that actually he was doing the same thing that he was kidding her about every time he practiced kata in karate. He’d never considered the analogy before, but upon reflection, he had reluctantly realized that she was right.

Theory of the dance, he sighed. She had breezed through the bare minimum science courses required as electives and had achieved one of the highest MCAT scores ever recorded. If there was a person who could be forgiven for the dedication to the dance, it was her.

She had girlfriends with names like Player and Summer, many of them, Michael thought secretly, looked like a bunch of in-bred hemophiliacs Not her though, Megan was beautiful. A leggy blond , the classic head cheerleader type and he wasn’t at all above appreciating superficiality, for its own sake or admitting that he did so. There was more to her of course , she was, for example, the most open person he had ever met. He supposed it was because she had enough going for her naturally that the games and deceptions of the type most people played had little purpose in her life.

She made no secret of the fact she found him attractive, he had modestly replied to that, as well you should.

At this point though, they had an unacknowledged agreement to keep things platonic -as well as an unacknowledged awareness - that things could change. Michael did after all have a girlfriend in Williamsburg.

Megan had a slew of boyfriends, anything could happen in her life at any time.

Meg dropped the book and gave a little wave as she sort of skipped over to them. She was wearing faded torn blue jeans, a brand new pair of white sneakers and ………My flannel shirt , Michael noted.

Proper enough attire for the limo-liberal set.

Hey, my two favorite guys, so does (she searched for some famous martial artist to reference and finally came up with/because he was on that info-mercial with Christie Brinkley)- does Chuck Norris have anything to worry about yet?"

Shh…., only if we have to operate on him, Brian said.

Melissa called, she informed them.

Oh, been spending time away from your luxury apartment to hang out in our exclusive dorm room again, have you?

Yeah, I like to make her jealous when I answer the phone.

I know, Michael sighed.

Did you tell her what time we’d be there?

Sure, told her to hide her boyfriend too.

Michael stared impassively. .

I’m only kidding, she said, shaking her head and laying a friendly hand on his shoulder.

Well, your membership in assholes anonymous is still safe then, Brian chimed in.

Your membership’s not so anonymous Brian, I know why you want to go. I’ve seen Melissa’s roommate, she added in a soft, teasingly feminine voice.

Michael held up a hand before Brian could shoot back, "Bones, Bones….

Dammit Jim, let’s just get going. Brian replied .

Meg looked quizzical.

"A reference from sci-fi