WOOL Gathering

by WJ Davies on April 2, 2014

My writing group released an anthology of 9 Wool related stories about 3 weeks ago. Thanks to everyone who purchased this collection. As you might be aware, we are donating all proceeds to a writer’s charity, and so far we’ve raised over $800 towards the cause. I wish I could see the look on NaNoWriMo’s face when they receive this nice little nest egg. The members of the LOOW Collective couldn’t be more pleased with the reception this book is getting (including some awesome reviews), so again, we truly appreciate your support.

To learn more, check out the collection’s Amazon page by clicking the image below. Happy reading!

WOOL Gathering


Here’s the first review, which give a synopses for each book:

“When the pioneers of Wool fan fiction gather together, readers get a winning anthology!”

When Hugh Howey, author of the awesome Silo Saga trilogy, gave his blessing for authors to write fan fiction set in his world, he told them they should charge something for their stories. A movement was born and many great stories came out of it. Collectively known as the League of Original Woolwrights (LOOW), all of these authors have written stories in the Silos, pioneering the fan fiction movement and garnering acclaim and sales. In the process, it has launched or enhanced their writing careers as well! Here is an anthology of original Wool fan fiction that celebrate all of these achievements and showcase their skills, with an introduction written by Hugh Howey himself.

We get nine great Wool stories here, check them out:

1.) Ann Christy’s ‘The Last Republican” – We meet two brothers, Theo and his brother Sam, and Sam’s fiancée Pam. Set just before the events forcing others into the Silo, we see how Theo’s choice to go to this event in place of his brother turns out to be both a blessing and a curse. The author establishes vibrant characterization quickly with these three through their easygoing banter and Pam’s devotion to their two beagles. This characterization makes it all the more heartbreaking as you watch how they were swept into the Silo and what happens after. You also see how the author skillfully puts you into the characters shoes, demonstrating how the claustrophobic Silo transforms their moods before and after the event. Also, I loved the humor in this story, giving grace notes of lightness amid the encroaching darkness of the Silo that you know will envelop them.

2.) Thomas Robins’s “Eight” – What happens when someone who doesn’t drink alcohol wakes up from a drunken stupor and finds a mysterious note he wrote to himself telling him to drink in order to remember? That question sets up the intrigue in a fast-moving tale as our protagonist, Chad, tries to investigate what happened and why. We are briskly taken through the enthralling story, with surprising revelations as all the pieces of the story fit completely together, featuring an ending that left my jaw on the floor with its inventiveness & awesomeness.

3.) WJ Davies’s “Lost Water” – When people start getting sick and losing their memories, the inhabitants of Silo 36 lose their ability to function in their jobs properly. With most everyone falling ill and dying, the task of solving this conundrum falls to Meredith, who is unaffected. With the lives of everyone in the Silo at stake, will she be able to surmount the obstacles she faces? Creating an ominous mood and featuring a twist that I didn’t see coming, Davies deftly and impressively raises the stakes while forcing Meredith to deal with far more than she bargained for. This story features the origin of the problems plaguing Silo 36 (as featured in “The Watcher”, the final part of the authors Silo Submerged trilogy) but it can be read completely on its own as a stand-alone tale.

4.) Lyn Perry’s “The Last Prayer” – When Elias, a priest, takes a last confession from someone sent to clean, she is not who he expected. With this revelation, the disillusionment he’s felt for a long time as a member of the clergy (and its waning power in the silo) comes to the forefront, embodied in the dilemma he now faces. In the background, a story of class warfare between the have’s and the have-not’s simmers, agitated into a boil by this dilemma. Deliciously twisty with power struggles and behind-the-scenes machinations, tensions rise as this story intelligently explores the concept of belief and the role it plays in a Silo for the young, the old and the disenfranchised.

5.) Logan Thomas Snyder’s “Turning the Earth” – When Frankie was born, she was lucky to be alive. As an adult, she developed a desire to give back to others as a means of returning the favor for getting to live the life she’s been given. Working as a miner down in Mechanical, she can do that. Paired with her partner Julia, with whom she has a strong bond of friendship, they explore a mine excavated deep down in the Silo. When the unexpected happens, we get a nuanced portrait of two strongly connected people who embraced their purpose in life serving others and finding something more for themselves in the process. In this absorbing & engrossing story, we feel for these characters and invest deeply in their fates.

6.) Carol Davis’s “Climb” – As Violet realizes that at her advanced age, she’s achieved all she wanted to achieve in this life, except for one thing. She wants to go to the top of the Silo. Having lived her life in the down deep, its something she’s been yearning to do, even though her remaining family doesn’t want her to go. Poignantly written and emotionally driven, Davis delicately weaves her way through Violet’s thoughts, adroitly showcasing how Violet reached her decision while empowering her to embrace her final purpose in life.

7.) Fred Shernoff’s “Rattle of Bones” – When a madman kidnaps Jim, the head of IT, the reader is thrown disoriented right into the middle of this mysterious scenario along side him. As we learn more about the violent kidnapper and his demented motives, the horror of what is going on becomes readily apparent with each discovery Jim makes. Once Jim takes action in order to survive, we find out that there are still more secrets left to uncover, leading to an exhilarating finale. A taut tale fraught with terrific twists and turns, this one kept me on the edge of my seat in suspense.

8.) Will Swardstrom’s “The Sheriff’s Son” – With an opening sentence that immediately grabs you, we get the full story of long-lasting friendships between three fifteen year-olds, Tom, Jed and Karen, in the Silo and how it appears to have led to one friend murdering the other. As all is revealed, you come to see the full tragedy of how events could spiral so badly out of control. Compelling and moving, Swardstrom drops tantalizing clues in the narrative that heighten the tension and help you piece together events, demonstrating an emotional depth to his characters that help you truly understand their motivations by the time you reach the end. This impressive story is an emotional powerhouse.

9.) David Adams’s “Evelyn’s Locket” – This final story starts innocuously enough, with a child searching for her precious locket. Appearances are deceiving though, and as you move through the story, we realize that things are just a little off kilter, making you wonder what the heck is going on here. The story continues to evolve as a series of startling revelations take place, culminating in the most stunning, shocking reveal of all, making me gasp at the audaciousness of it. Once I read that, everything else up to that point now made perfect sense. Haunting, moving and bold all at the same time, this satisfying and engaging story is the perfect one to end the anthology with.

As you read through the anthology, I noticed that the stories move in a linear fashion, with stories taking place in the early years of the Silos in front of the book, then move through different generations of its residents and even… well, that would be telling. :)

It’s also nice to see the authors notes after each story, providing some additional context and explaining how they came to be involved in Silo fan fiction.

In conclusion, as if you didn’t have enough reasons to buy this book:

1.) All proceeds go to the National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) Young Writers Fund, an organization that encourages writing and challenging them to channel that creativity. Many (if not all) the authors in this anthology have participated in this program over the years and obviously, have done well. Buy this book because it is a great book and because it gives its proceeds to charity – that’s a win-win situation for both the charity AND the reader. :)

2.) This anthology is a box of chocolates, providing a delicious sampler of the authors stories. And there’s a LOT to enjoy in this anthology, because this is a sampler where you will find that all the chocolates are delectably excellent; there is not a bad one in the bunch.

3.) As independent, self-published authors, many work a day job while in their spare time, achieving their dreams of writing stories. If you liked any of the stories in this anthology and want to read more of the individual authors that you like, go forth and enjoy more of their stories, as they are terrific. From these authors, you will find many different stories of all flavors out there to savor from science-fiction to suspense to romance to fantasy to thriller. All of them have published fan fiction in Hugh Howey’s world of Wool and many of them have non-Wool stories out there as well. Support talented indie authors like these and their works as they write imaginative and interesting stories that are thrilling, suspenseful, captivating, thoughtful, insightful and well worth your while!



by WJ Davies on March 14, 2014

Wow, I’ve been completely neglecting this blog, haven’t I? Really sorry about that folks, but it’s been kind of a tumultuous 3 or 4 months. I took a leave of absence from my job in Toronto and moved to Asia. A pretty dramatic decision, but one that I’m incredibly happy with. My best friend teaches English in Taiwan, and he told me I could come crash on his couch and focus on writing. So that’s exactly what I did. The weather has been great, the inspiration has been flowing, and I’m generally enjoying what life has to offer. If you ever have a chance to do something crazy and unexpected, I say go for it. There’s not much that can go wrong when you’re following your passions.

Wes in Asia


This past week has been a busy one for me. I finally finished part two of my Binary Cycle series, titled “Revelations”. I’m REALLY apologetic that it took almost a year to get part two out, but you know, the silo stuff got in the way, and I mean that in the best way possible. Click Jason Gurley’s fancy book cover below to get directed to the book’s Amazon page. Rest assured, I’m working diligently at part three now.

WJDavies_Revelations_web copy


Only a few days after releasing Revelations, my writing group, the League of Original Woolwrights (LOOW), released our long awaited, highly anticipated WOOL Gathering Anthology, of which the proceeds will be donated to a writing charity (NaNoWriMo Young Writers). We’re all very proud of the stories contained within, and have been working hard on this for the better part of half a year. Please consider giving these 9 WOOL stories a chance, and help out young writers all around the world, for only $2.99. Now introducing WOOL Gathering, A Charity Anthology, available for kindle. Click the pic below, yet another fantastic JG cover.



In other news, I’m in the Philippines at the moment pretty much having the time of my life. I’ve met some amazing people, and am loving the hospitality and friendliness of this culture. Can I stay here and write just a little longer, please? Or forever?

So that’s me. I hope you’re all well, and I’ll catch you on the flip side. Happy reading, everyone.


Update: November 2013

by WJ Davies on November 5, 2013

Things have been busy here in WJ land, though I haven’t released anything since Oct. 2nd. If you haven’t seen it already, I’ve released my three Wool inspired novellas as one novel called “Silo Submerged”.



Click the image to see the Amazon page

Although I haven’t released in over a month, I have not been idle. I finished up two short stories. The first, titled “Threadbare”, is a story taking place in the Walk the Fire universe, and will be part of the second anthology of the series. Check out the first collection on Amazon here. It’s great, I read all the stories! Then you can get the second instalment and check out my entry ;)

I also wrote a 7,500 word short Wool story which will be part of an upcoming fanfic anthology. It will include stories by Patrice Fitzgerald, Michael Bunker, Thomas Robins, Ann Christy, Will Swardstrom, Fredric Shernoff, myself, and others! All the profits will go to a writing charity. My entry is called “Lost Water“, and you can read part of it in the post below. It’s a very early prequel to my Runner series.

Binary Cycle: Revelations and Binary Cycle: Skyward are both written. I’m in the editing phase now and hope to release at least Book 2 in November or December. Bear with me!

The past five days I’ve been a part of NaNoWriMo, which is a national novel writing month. The challenge is to write a 50k novel in 30 days. So far, I’ve been able to stay on pace, and have written more than 8,000 words toward a new series of books I’m working on. There will be three parts, 25,000 words each, making up the Transfer Series. I will write the first two for NaNo and complete the third in December. I’ve learned my lesson from Binary Cycle, and will make sure I get all three instalments more or less complete and then I’ll try to release them a week or two weeks apart. None of this waiting for months business!

My short term goal is to have released all three books of both Binary Cycle and The Transfer Series by January 20th, 2014. After that I think I’ll write one or two more books in the Silo Submerged series, release them in the spring, then do another novel next summer. I’ve got a couple great ideas I’ve been simmering over for a few months now, just need to get the writing time! That will come soon hopefully as well, more news on that later.

Thanks for reading, and those of you doing NaNoWriMo, make sure you add me as a friend! I’m under W.J.Davies, or you could try this link: http://nanowrimo.org/participants/w-j-davies

See you around!



Silo Short Story

by WJ Davies on October 7, 2013

“Lost Water”



A mutter.

“You’ve got to wake up, Carlyle.”

He tried to turn toward her, but his forehead just ground against the hard floor.

She shook him with a furious intensity.

“Wake up now, Carlyle. Please.”


His wife’s voice calling him. Pleading with him. For how long?

He tried to swim out of a deep and dreamless state.

When he opened his eyes, he was confused at the view. His vision was spilt in two; half was consumed by his wife’s worried eyes, peering down at him, the other half a large sheet of cold gray floor. With everything he had, he tore his head up off the concrete and looked at his wife, a spatter of relief flickering across her dark blue eyes at the sight of seeing her husband up. She was deathly white, as if her skin hadn’t been exposed to sunlight for weeks. Which in fact it hadn’t. He suspected he probably looked a hell of a lot worse.

Then he noticed that she was holding something—someone.

Sweet baby Caroline.

“What… what are you doing with Caroline,” he asked drowsily, each word coming out slow and forced, as if he was just learning to speak. “Shouldn’t she be in bed?” Then he noticed the bag she had strapped around her shoulder. It was bulging, just like the baby’s eyes. “What’s going on, Meredith? Are we leaving?”

Her frown deepened. “She’s sick, I’m taking her away from here. And frankly, so are you, and everyone else.”

“Sick? I…” but Carlyle couldn’t find the words. He couldn’t string his thoughts together, and instead felt a great white fog clouding his vision, strangling his words. “Meredith, I…”

“Shhh, it’s okay. I know it’s not your fault. There’s something about this… place. This… silo. We aren’t meant to be living down here, Carlyle. It ain’t good for the soul. And it’s killing us from the inside. It’s…” and then she broke down in tears. “I’m sorry, Carlyle. I have to go.”

She put the baby down and helped him up into the bed. She tucked the covers snuggly around him and placed a glass of water on the small table.

“There,” she said, her eyes swelling with tears. “There. That should do it. You just stay here, Carlyle. I’ll come back for you. I just need to get the baby somewhere safe, and then I’ll come back for you. I’ll…”

She kissed him gently on the forehead (a few renegade tears slipping off her face and pattering on his) and then she padded off toward the door. He reached toward her dumbly, succeeding only in losing his balance and tumbling out of bed, pulling all the sheets down with him, knocking the glass of water off the table. His cheek scraped harshly against the grain and the baby started to cry. If he had been more aware he would have felt the sharp pain, and noticed the blood dripping from a gash in his cheek bone. But as it was he only sighed. A pitiful, dreary sigh like that of giving up, or losing hope. “Sweet baby Caroline,” was all he could think to say.

“You were supposed to be watching her,” he heard her whisper as she lifted him back into bed. “And I come home to find a pot of boiling water on the stove and her trying to climb up onto the counter to get to it. And you were lying on the floor.” Her voice seemed scared, and Carlyle thought that maybe she was mad at him.

In a daze he heard the stomping of her boots cross the room toward the door. “I can’t leave her with you, anymore. Not until I can figure out what’s going on here.” Now it was her turn to sigh. “Why this is happening, Carlyle?” She sucked back a sob. “Why is this happening to us?”

All he could do was moan as his thoughts became more jumbled. He wanted to get up, to hold his wife, and coddle his baby, and was confused when he couldn’t force his limbs to obey his commands. When did moving become so hard? It was like the great government shutdowns of the 2030’s, forcing furloughs of hundreds of thousands of workers. But now his body was on furlough. It had been forced into inactivity by this place. By the sickness that was consuming them. By the terrible people who had dropped the bombs in the first place.

“Meredith, wait—”

But she was already gone.


5 days ago


“Some people think it’s the radiation. You know, from the bombs,” Larry Oldsmith said as he sidled up beside Carlyle in the cafeteria line.

Carlyle wasn’t really listening. He was watching the man in front of him receive a massive helping of mashed potatoes from the lunch attendant. Carlyle thought he could swear up and down that that man had just finished eating and had already left the cafeteria.

“Hey, man, anybody home?” Carlyle looked up and saw that he was next in line. The attendant was crossing him arms at him, frowning. Carlyle took one more glance at the mashed potato man and then held out his tray. The attendant splashed a huge dollop of gravy into his bowl and motioned for him to move along.

When Carlyle didn’t move, the attendant stomped his feel. “What is it?” he asked, staring wildly at Carlyle.

“Umm, I think you forgot the potatoes.”

The man’s eyes went wide as he glared into Carlyle’s gravy filled bowl, and then his face relaxed. A relief seemed to wash over his body. “Oh yeah,” he burst into a grin. “Guess I did.” And along came a massive hunk of lumpy mashed pomme-de-terre into Carlyle’s bowl—the silo’s finest.

Carlyle found a table while Larry finished receiving his lunch, hopefully with better luck than he’d had. He glanced over at the next table at the potato man, who was sitting alone and staring stupidly at his overflowing plate of chunky carbs. “Lost your appetite, big man?” Carlyle said cheerily.

The man looked up, and Carlyle was taken aback at how distant he seemed, how vacant his eyes. “What?” he said, and then snapped back to focus. “Oh yes. I mean, no. I just can’t seem to take another bite. I feel so full. But I haven’t even touched it. I don’t think—”

Larry sat down heavily beside him, and Carlyle turned away from the man, letting him get back to his staring contest with the mashed potatoes.

“So,” Larry said, digging a spoon into his meal, “what do you think about my radiation idea? Think that’s what’s causing everyone to go a bit haywire? It’s turning into a looney bin down here.”

Carlyle shook his head. “This place was designed to store nuclear waste. We couldn’t possibly have found a better spot to hole up for a few years. We’ve got everything we need, man.” He pulled at his yellow coveralls which marked him an an employee of Supply. As if this gave him the final say on the matter. “We’re good, Larry. It’s not the radiation.”

Larry nodded slowly. “Okay, so what then? Lack of sunlight? Improper vitamin intake? Shortage of O2?”

Carlyle waved him off. “It’s grief,” he said simply. “People are just now coming to grips with how much we’ve all lost. And not only our friends and family who are dead, but everyoneweveeverknown. And think of all the places you’ve dreamt of visiting. That’s all gone. The world is gone, Larry. It’s going to take folks some time to get used to that.”

“I appreciate what you’re saying, but trust me, grief doesn’t make people act like that.” He pointed at the potato man, who now had his hands deep into his mash and was forming it into one great globulous ball. He had a look of sick fascination on his face, as if he were a child, holding his mother’s hand as he walked through a dinosaur exhibit for the very first time.

“I’m telling you,” Larry continued. “There’s something else going on here. And everyone who has the power to do something about it is getting sick too. I’ve heard the mayor they appointed up there is raving mad. It seems to be worse in other parts of the silo, especially around the 30’s, but it’s getting bad down here too.” Larry suddenly stopped talking and he let out a breath. He clapped a hand on Carlyle’s shoulder, which nearly made Carlyle drop his spoon. “How are you feeling, man? You doin alright?”

Carlyle started to nod, but then realized he hadn’t really stopped to ask himself that in a while. How was he doing? He thought of the lucky chance it had been that he run for the local government that year, and how he had been invited down to the big ol’ convention and how proud he’d felt, just a few weeks before. He and his family were off to a good start, and damned if he was going to let a little nuclear holocaust to put an end to all that.

His nodding turned more confident. “Yeah, Larry, I am. I’m feeling pretty damn good right about now.” And he meant it.

“And Meredith and the baby?”

Carlyle smiled thinking about them. The two loves of his life. “I think they’ll be just fine.” Though now his vision wasn’t as crisp, and a dark cloud hung over the room when he thought about his girls. Would they be okay? Will any of us be okay?

Yes, yes. We will be.

“Pardon? Did you say something?” Larry frowned at him.

“No. It’s just that. We’re all gonna be fine.”

Larry nodded. “Alright, Buster,” and then he gathered his dishes and stood to leave. “Just be careful, okay? And let me know if you have any other ideas about this. I mean… if you ever wanna talk.”

“Thanks Larry. I appreciate it.” And he really did. It felt good to have a friend in this place. Since they’d all been shuffled down here on Day One, Larry had been the first to really try to get to know him and his family. A friendly face among the strangers. Somehow he made Carlyle feel a little more at home, even though their home was the biggest stranger of all.

After Larry left, Carlyle let out a breath which turned into a chuckle. He took another bite but then broke into a laughing fit, spraying a mouthful of bits across the table. “My god, we’re eighty floors down in the earth!” He was struggling to contain his laughter even as tears found their way to the surface and broke free from their previous glandular dwellings. They came from deep within his body and were destined to fall deep into the maw of this limitless ground. Those tears never had anywhere to go but down. Down onto Carlyle’s half empty plate, adding a little extra salt to his remaining potatoes; down onto the washed-out gray concrete floor which was still slick with fresh cement; and down onto his pant-leg after he’d brushed them away from a swollen cheek, his gruff hand depositing streaks of gravy to replace the lost water. In turn, he wiped the gravy away with the sleeve of his crisp, yellow coveralls—the color of sunshine tinged with mud.

When he finished eating he looked over at the potato man, who was sleeping soundly in his chair, using the puffy mashed ball he’d created as a rather comfortable-looking pillow.

No one else in the room seemed to notice his gentle snores.  


Present Time

Meredith clutched baby Caroline in her arms and headed up the stairs. The power had been out for two days, nothing but emergency lights casting devilish green light over the cold metal railings and grated landings. The stairwell was mostly silent. Last night she had heard a blood-curdling scream echo down the central shaft of the silo, and she had pulled Caroline closer to her as they slept in one of the storage closets. She still had no idea what was happening to everyone, she only knew that for some reason, she herself didn’t seem to be affected by it. She sometimes felt lightheaded, or dizzy, but that was the most of her physical discomfort. Nothing like the people she’d seen on her way up from her apartments on 85.

She turned a corner and continued up the stairs. She thought about Caryle… poor, sweet Carlyle lying in bed, sweating, feverish and delirious. What could she do to save him? Was there anything she could do? And what if her baby started to get sick? So far, she didn’t think Caroline was affected, but it was hard to tell considering she was only 6 months old.

Meredith heard a rustle in the dark. A harsh, scrapping shuffle coming from one of the side corridors.

“Who’s there?” Her voice carried lamely into the shadows. A low moan, a hollow mumble.

She reached around to her back and produced a long, black flashlight from her pack, holding the baby with one arm. She clicked on the light and nearly dropped it when she saw the man. His face was sunken, gaunt, as if he hadn’t eaten in a week. His hair was patchy on his head, bare in some places. She wondered whether it fell out due to the sickness, or if he’d pulled it out himself. His clothes were dirty, dark stains covering the front of his coveralls, which she saw used to be green. A farmer. The worst were his eyes. Large, blue eyes squinting against the light of her torch, haunted eyes with a horrible vacancy, as if this man’s soul had long since departed, fled upward toward the broken world, praying it would be better than what was going on in these forsaken depths.

Meredith approached the man carefully, clutching sweet baby Caroline against her chest. “Can…can I help you, mister?” But she knew she couldn’t help him. The same way she couldn’t help her husband. She was beginning to fear that all this was futile, that she would die down here just like the rest of them, cold and alone.

He moaned and shuffled toward Meredith, his arms outstretched like some kind of zombie. She almost let out a giggle. Darkened corridors, flickering lights, doped up zombies, a nuclear explosion—these were the stuff apocalyptic dreams were made of. But this was no dream. This was her bitter reality.

Suddenly, the man’s eyes seemed to focus for a split second, not on Meredith, but on baby Caroline.

“No, don’t you look at my baby, you freak!”

Ignoring her admonitions, he picked up his pace and half ran, half stumbled toward Meredith and her child.

“Get back!” she brandished the flashlight in front of her like a crude weapon, sending the beam of light whipping around the hallway. She backed up toward the landing, even as the man drew closer. That’s when she saw the blood on his face, lining his mouth like a drunken lipstick job. Oh my god. She flashed the light past the man down the hallway behind him and saw a crumpled form, a dark pool of liquid surrounding it.

“Get the hell away from me!” she screamed. Baby Caroline was crying now, muffled sobs getting absorbed by her jump suit. The man was only a few feet away now and she could see the pained, crazed look in his mirthless eyes. When he lunged toward her, she took a step to the side and swung the flashlight with all her might. It connected solidly with the side of his head and he stumbled past her, dazed, and crashed into the stairwell railing. He slumped over it, his head over the edge, and then Meredith watched in horror as he lifted his feet and pulled himself the rest of the way over the edge.

“No!” Meredith screamed in spite of herself. He toppled over the railing and was gone. She ran to the edge (something she would regret for the rest of her life) in time to see his body smack onto the grated landing three or four levels down with a sweet, sickening, squishy sound. Like a water balloon thrown onto jagged rocks. He seemed to explode, sending blood and guts flying in all directions and then all was quiet once again.

She sat down onto the grated floor, patting the baby quietly on the back, trying to force the terrible sight out of her mind, almost hoping Caroline’s cries would drive that sickening crunching sound from her ears. She had no idea how long she sat there. One hour? Three? But when she got up, baby Caroline was asleep, and she continued her laboured ascent up the steps.

They spent the night in the lower infirmary. There were dead bodies throughout the level. People had come here to figure out what was wrong with them, but by then, even the doctors were sick. She found a small office, placed Caroline in a corner, and dragged the body of a doctor from the room and deposited him into the hall. His face was not gaunt, his eyes were not sunken, he had no noticeable legions or abrasions on his skin. He was simply dead. That’s how she found most of the bodies. It was a rarity, she knew, for them to survive this long, and the man she had met earlier was likely one of the few surviving members of the silo. As far as she knew, she and baby Caroline were the only survivors. But the silo was a big place, and she still maintained a shred of hope that she was wrong. She found some fresh blankets, made a little nest in the corner, and quickly fell asleep, sweet baby Caroline breathing softly in her soft cave of wool.


She awoke the next morning with a kink in her neck. Well, she had no idea if it was actually morning or not, but even so, she snatched up the baby, washed in the large basin in the room, and then they took to the stairs once again. She had no idea what she was hoping to find, but it was psychologically easier going up instead of down.

A while later she heard the wails of children. As a young mother and under normal circumstances, this would have caused her supreme discomfort. But today, this brought her supreme hope. There were others.

If there were still babies alive, then that meant there was someone taking care of them. She figured the sounds were coming from somewhere in the 20’s, so with a new hope, she trudged upward through the shimmering green lights.



Email of the Day!

by WJ Davies on September 17, 2013

“Thanks for such a good read. I hope you make a living off this. I’m sure random house hates you. This was a great example of freedom of the press. Thanks for taking a chance and giving me hours of cheap quality entertainment.”


You’re welcome! I hope Random house doesn’t hate me…


E-Book Marketing – How Releasing a New Book is the Key to Success

September 7, 2013

“I used Grammarly to grammar check this post, because ain’t nobody got time for proofreading.”  ——————————- I’ll be the first to admit that I’m fairly new to the publishing game. I self-published my first ebook about 9 months ago, back in January 2013. My experience has been quite unique, as I ended up selling over [...]

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The Watcher (A Silo Story)

September 3, 2013

This journey has come to an end. What began as a writing exercise (The Runner) has turned into a mini-bestseller, moving over 12,000 copies since January. This wouldn’t have been possible without the undying support of Mr. Hugh Howey and his legions of Wool fans. I stumbled into this by accident–first by discovering WOOL on [...]

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WICK Omnibus – One for the Ages

August 10, 2013

Congratulations to writer and fellow LOOWITE Michael Bunker on the release of his WICK Omnibus collection. Grab it today for only $5.99, or grab WICK 1 for free.     This is the complete WICK Omnibus Edition, and includes the completely re-edited and expanded text of Michael Bunker and Chris Awalt’s four, bestselling WICK series books. [...]

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The Watcher – Chapter 1 *SPOILER ALERT!*

August 7, 2013

1 His world was darkness and the pain was gone. So, this is heaven, Ace thought. An absence of being, of light, of senses or sound. But then, why was he still thinking? He felt a distant tug, as if his body were being pulled across sandpaper, dragged across rough and uneven ground. His eyes [...]

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The Watcher: Update

August 5, 2013

I haven’t been posting too much lately because I’m hard at work trying to finish the third and final installment of my “Runner” trilogy. I started writing this story at the beginning of July with a few paragraphs of synopses and a 16,000 word goal. Well, a month later and I’ve written over 30,000 words [...]

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