So, Alarin and I are getting a plan together to have regular updates of fiction at AlterniaComics.com. I've been working on the behind-the-scenes workings of the site, getting the content in to easily readable organizational structures.

Still some to go, but I'm comfortable linking to the site as it is now. I think it's neat.

Suggestions for layout issues are welcome as I rarely have an idea about how things should look.

This also means I've been charged with getting more writing done. I think my duties at the moment are two short stories every twenty days while we/I post chapters from longer works until they're caught up.

My most recent, never-before-published-online story is Swing Shift. I like it, but then I haven't read most of it for the better part of a year. I re-read the ending while transcribing it (most of it had previously been typed up.)

For no good reason I've been tired and cold most of the day. Tonight feels like another good night to spend tonight's fifteen minutes on a short bit of fiction. I can't promise much based on that last sentence though.

---

"You okay?" Jake took his hand off the steering wheel. He sat back in the passenger seat, his gaze flicking between the road and his friend.
"Yeah man. I'm okay," Sam gripped the wheel with his left hand. He used his right to rub the sleep from his eyes, one after the other. "Just a little tired, I guess."
"There's a rest area up ahead. Pull over and we'll switch."
"Naw, man. I got this. I've driven this highway dozens of times."
Snow fell lightly in large, fluffy flakes; a flash of white in the sedan's headlights. It had been snowing lightly since they hit the road that afternoon, but had only recently begun falling heavier.
Jake checked his seatbelt: still there. "You sure you're alright?"
"I told you, I'm fine!" Sam quickly changed his demeanor from sleepy to livid. How could Jake not think he was okay to drive? Sure, he'd been awake for almost 27 hours, but he was fine. Who needed sleep anyway? Not Sam, and especially not when he had coffee and energy drinks. Stupid overly-cautious Jake. Mister Know-it-all. Mister Let-me-drive. Mister I-can-drive-in-snow-and-I'm-not-tired-because-I-slept-last-night. Jerk. Jake the Jerk.
Sam had a white knuckle grip on the steering wheel, his hands at ten and two. He stared intently through the windshield, grinding his teeth. While Sam fumed in his head, his foot got heavier and heavier on the gas pedal. The four cylinder engine worked like mad, nosing the car up past 90 miles per hour.
Jake checked the speedometer then in what he hoped was a gentle tone, asked "Sam?"
"WHAT?!" Sam turned to look at Jake in the passenger seat as they flew past the rest area exit ramp. "What do you want, Jake? Want to tell me I'm too tired to drive? Gonna tell me we need to find a hotel to stay in because the weather is getting worse?"
Jake pointed out the front window. "TRUCK!" A pair of long-haul trucks were in front of them, one passing the other, blocking both lanes of the highway.
Sam whipped his head back to facing forward and saw the red lights of the backs of the trailers ahead. Shouting obscenities, he stomped hard on the brakes. The car swerved to the left. Sam over-corrected and his car began to fishtail.
"Steer in to the skid!" Jake shouted. "Left! No, your other left! More left! Too far! Rightrightright!"
Panic overtook Sam. His heart pounded in his ears, drowning out Jake's advice. The car spun out of control, eventually ending up in the median facing the way they'd come.
Both me sat in stunned silence as their rational mind caught up to the chaotic events they'd just gone through. Jake spoke first.
"Are ... are we okay?"
Sam let go of the wheel and held his head. "I think so." He ran his hands quickly over his body. "Everything seems to still be here." He pressed the button for the dome light and lit up the interior of the car. "Any blood?"
"No. Looks good. That was ... intense. Let's not do that again, okay?"
"I'm convinced." Sam opened his door. "You drive to the next town and stop at the first motel you see. We'll hit the road again in the morning."
"Good plan." Jake agreed and changed seats.
Jake had a little trouble finding traction in the snowy median, but eventually got back on to the shoulder of the highway.

---

I'm not sure how to end this, so I'll leave it open. Maybe Jake and Sam will have more adventures later. We'll see.

Tonight, I'll take a stab at some fiction. This is an idea I've toyed with off and on for a few years, mostly off. Most recently it became the new version of the Optinomicon prologue / first chapter.

---

Every night I lie awake.

I know Sleep should wash over me. I know it will, but I never see it coming, creeping toward me in the dark.

I close my eyes. It doesn't help. I know it's still there, and it knows I'm still awake.

I open my eyes. In the dim light from the bedside clock-radio, I see the outline of the light fixture on the ceiling. (It should be too dark to see that level of detail.)

The furnace kicks on, a low rumbling. Almost soothing, comforting in its consistency. I turn my head toward the heating vent and see my wife laying beside me. The blanket rises and falls with her breath. (I don't have a wife. Do I?)

Rhythmic. Soothing. Reassuring.

I close my eyes. Shut out the noise, the glare of the radio. (The disc jockey spins a Beatles record.)

My eyes are open. Figments move at the periphery. Shadows in the darkness.

Sleep stalks the insomniac.

I want to shout, to shatter the stillness. I stifle the urge, resist the movement.

"Lay back. Stop thinking. Relax. Float on dreams," I whisper to myself in the dark. The quiet broken, I sigh.

I roll on to my right side, an arm around my wife. My face buries itself in the back of her neck, inhaling her scent.

A smile spreads across my lips and my eyelids, heavy, close with a finality I seldom feel.

The sun rises and beats a ray through my curtains. I blink away the sleep. I find I'm curled about a pillow.