Thursday, June 30, 2016

It's About Time for an Update, Folks

Oh boy! Oh girl! Oh person!

You listeners sure are listening, and I'm thrilled with the turnout so far for the podcast. With part one past its halfway point, it is very encouraging to have an established little audience.

I figured it's about time to fill you in on my upcoming plans.

Part One is ten episodes. As you may already know, we're currently on the sixth episode. Once all of Part One has aired, I will take a brief hiatus for a couple weeks to catch up on sleep, acknowledge my loved ones, and pet some dogs and cats.

Then comes Part Two. First recording, then releasing. Unlike Part One, Part Two of Extraordinary Terrestrials will be bi-weekly episodes to make certain that I have time to present the most quality podcast possible. Part Two will be a considerably longer season, and I hope to make the episodes considerably longer as well, but time will tell.

I don't want to get much more specific than that for the time being, but this explanation is coupled with a request. Before the conclusion of Part One, I need your help, listeners.

I'm not asking for money.

Not yet.

I'm asking for promotion. Now more than ever, I need your help getting the word out about Extraordinary Terrestrials. I can only tell you folks about the podcast so many times, because I know most of you. But you know people I don't know, and some of those people may even like the podcast without knowing me. So if you can think of someone who is a podcast fan, tell them all about the good word of Extraordinary Terrestrials, hallelujah.

Additionally, you can go to whatever app you stream the show on, be it iTunes (most of you), Stitcher (some of you), Google Play (crickets), or SoundCloud (shrug), and leave comments, ratings, reviews, whatever is going to grab attention.

I love attention, especially when I don't have to show my face.

So get talking, never stop learning, and of course keep listening!
Here's some links, because why not:



Google Play:



Twitter: @BloodsworthBog

Spring Peepers Recording:

Obligatory picture of black spruce trees:

Sunday, February 14, 2016

An Exciting Announcement

Dear friends and readers: You may soon find yourselves to be listeners.

For approximately four years now, I have been writing and editing a novel. Many of you may already know this, but what you don't know is that the time has come to release this novel to the public. Don't all of you go running to Amazon at once. There's something else you don't know.

Though 'book' may someday be its final form, it is not its next form. Before it can be tangible, it must first be audible. I'm venturing into the world of podcasts, and I'm taking my book with me.

So, without further ado, I am excited and terrified to announce the impending release of Extraordinary Terrestrials: A Serial Fiction Podcast. Ideally by May of 2016 your ears will be tickled and chilled by a tale of life, death, fear, time, mystery, friendship, humanity, and nature. There will be fires and explosions, there will be tragedies and romance, there will be cats and dead bodies, there will be voices and accents, and of course there will be original musical compositions.

So please, join me in May of 2016 for the release of my optimistic horror podcast about a supernatural wetland, Extraordinary Terrestrials.

Stay tuned for more info as this project progresses.

Monday, October 12, 2015

29. The Eyes That Stare Out From The Dark

Entry: I just remembered something that may be important. When I checked into this motel, I noticed the man running the desk had bags under his eyes. I haven’t decided yet if this is a detail I should take into account, or ignore. 

The End

28. The Eyes That Stare Out From The Dark

Entry: Whatever they are, they came to watch.
I write this from a motel room. After fleeing my apartment I drove for three hours. I’m exhausted.
I can’t sleep.
When I opened the door to my apartment that last time, the wall of heat that rushed me was in such great contrast with the cold air outside, I actually observed steam rising out of the entry. I left the door open, understanding that I would need a quick route out.
I knew exactly where the source of the anomaly stemmed from, there was no avoiding it any more.
It was hiding in there.


I tried to understand why my mind was drawn so specifically to this word. If I couldn’t see it, if it had already given itself away with the footprints, why bother hiding? What rational reason could it have?
Perhaps it wasn’t rational.

I found myself tiptoeing and creeping through my darkened apartment, my heart pounding in my ears, my breath heavily exiting my mouth, my sinuses too insulted by the temperature to function.
I passed the unchanged footprints in the living room and entered my bedroom. 
I observed my scented candles on the bureau, the wax liquefied in the jars. Perhaps I hallucinated this in the dim lighting, but the image of my closet door seemed to writhe and waver as if I was looking at it through hot air rising from a charcoal grill. I thought of atmospheric gasses passing in front of stars, making them twinkle to the naked eye.

My closet door.
The white paint glistened in the light from a streetlamp outside . The finish on the wood floor was tacky under my shoes. It was about damn time I opened that door. 

I went to reach for the metal knob but thought better of it. It radiated the heat of a freshly boiled pot of tea. I remembered what Ginny had said about her brother’s door. She’d used her sleeve. I used the hem of my sweater, the hot metal still managing to permeate the wool. Before opening it I hesitated, letting the reality hit me as much as possible. It was hiding in the dark behind that door. I was not alone in my apartment. Something dangerous was hiding behind a door I was about to knowingly open.
I opened the door.

I heard my neglected dresses and button-up shirts rustle from the sudden exposure to new air, and from something else. A hot wind blew outward, brushing up against me, causing my weight to fall back on my heels. 
I felt ill.

It was impossible to look directly at it. This was not just because of the darkness, but also the concern that it would burn my eyes. I got the paradoxical sense that by looking into the dark I was looking directly into the sun. 

But I could feel it. I could feel a lot of things.
I could feel its eyes, examining me, trying to understand me.
I could feel its raw energy, and I in turn understood something about it. 
Human beings rely on replenishing energy in order to continue with each day. We eat, we sleep and in so doing we survive. Whatever this thing was, whatever these things are, they work in an opposite kind of fashion. Like footage of an atom bomb in slow motion, they must constantly expel energy to survive. Maybe near the end, all that energy concatenates into one big flash. Or maybe they have no end, and they just re-materialize and combust over and over again, brighter and hotter each time.
Whatever may be the case, all these thoughts happening at once in that moment led me to understand true, rational fear.

Something that does not realize the threat it poses is just as dangerous, if not more, than something that acts with ill intent.

I felt its fear. It was scared because it knew I was scared but it didn’t know why. 
These beings, they are not evil, they do not intend to do harm, they only wish to learn, yet they do not understand that despite all these things, they will destroy us.
Playing off my own fear, that thing in my closet got more dangerous with each passing moment. I wondered if I was wrong with my initial assumption that these beings are opposite to humans, for isn’t fear it’s own kind of expelled energy? Isn’t a scream so much like an explosion?

There was no blast, no flash, no atomic bang as far as I know. Granted, I did not stick around to witness one. For all I know my apartment is now a pile of ashes blowing away.

I’m more inclined to believe it is just as I left it, in which case the conversation with my landlord is bound to be difficult. I left the windows wide open in the dead of winter, and with those dents in the floor the chances of getting my security deposit back are very slim. The chances are even slimmer if that thing is still hiding in my closet, though I did leave the door open this time.

Surely that counts for something.

Sunday, October 11, 2015

27. The Eyes That Stare Out From The Dark

Entry: I’m going in. I’m going to look, I have to.

26. The Eyes That Stare Out From The Dark

Entry: I packed up my car. I’m watching from the deck now, it’s much more tolerable out here. Last I checked, the second set of footprints had reached the same depth as the first. I haven’t looked in since around 10:30 pm, it’s midnight now. I can feel the heat radiating off the vinyl siding of the house. I can’t decide whether to go in one more time and try to get a look, or to simply leave before it is too late, before something explodes and my apartment becomes a charred skeleton.

I thought of the things Jim said, about what was in Don’s room, how it hadn’t meant to be detected, how it was a silent observer.
I thought about my own realization in the supermarket earlier today.
Is this town being watched?
Are there more?
Does each house have one?
Are other floorboards melting, other walls blackening?

Looking at the houses around mine, most of the driveways are empty, save Andy’s. Maybe Andy and Ginny are in the clear, considering they’ve already been struck. Maybe they can sleep easy.

There are sirens baying in the distance.

25. The Eyes That Stare Out From The Dark

Entry: I just realized something. The second set of footprints are positioned very close to the living room wall. On the other side of that wall is my bedroom closet.
The newer footprints are much deeper than when I checked on them an hour ago. It has gotten much warmer too. Unbearable, almost.

I don’t know what is keeping me here. I’ve started packing bags, but I have to keep taking breaks because of the heat.