by Grahame R. Smith, 21st August 2013
They had a new, lethal weapon: the love dart. This cunning creation slipped past SLs and implants for as long as it took to seduce the victim into not wanting rescue. Earlier that evening the management of the auditorium had pleaded with the more responsible Marleeseen to refrain from using the love darts during the evening’s performance – Meeko did not realize how near she had come to circumvent this. This arrangement, however, did not extend to Rahhoon’s party; the Marleeseen were there with serious and energetic intent.
by Grahame R. Smith, 26th February 2013
This is a deleted scene from my first novel At Risk ... A Perfect World.
by Grahame R. Smith, 7th February 2013
A low hum filled the air, indicating the end of the interval. Gradually, people returned to their seats. It was a slow process. For anyone anxious to see the second half it would have been a time of great frustration. Indeed, anyone of that persuasion would have been advised to stay away from the evening's live performance altogether and watch the whole thing later on holo. This was because the interval was of supreme importance for the audience, for much more important even than the performance itself. Intervals in Glory Town sometimes lasted for hours, in some cases much, much longer - there was even anecdotal evidence of intervals lasting for days, resulting in the complete cancellation of the second half. 'Do you know it was a wonderful show, but we never got passed the interval?' The Marleeseen were often at least partly to blame for this. Not this evening, however, as everyone knew of Rahhoon's party, for which the Marleeseen were saving the happy mayhem they planned to bestow.
by Grahame R. Smith, 1st February 2013
As the overture of evocation came to an end complete darkness invaded the auditorium. No one stirred or made a sound. Silence pervaded. Then, after what felt like an eternity, a light appeared centre stage, opaque and fragile to begin with, but gradually growing stronger. Encased in this shimmering light was the figure of a man. It was of extraordinary beauty, of divine and angelic proportions; it was Limbardin. Omigali gasped as her hands went to her face. She was elated, never had she seen such beauty. Rapturous applause now swept the hall in recognition of this great dancer. He began to move, slowly building speed, sweeping from one side of the stage to the other, entwined and complimented by other performers who little by little entered the arena.
by Grahame R. Smith, 18th January 2013
I remember when I saw Ben-Hur how impressed I was by the story of Jesus of Nazareth running quietly alongside the general narrative. Here was an exciting story involving adventure, political intrigue, action, and excitement, yet something came in from different angle, a parallel, transcendent story, a message of peace and hope. Despite the cheesy Hollywood thing, I was moved, not because it was Christian, but because it spoke of another possibility running across the storyline of human suffering and conflict.