Eric Staggs

is creating Stories, Science Fiction, Games, Fiction

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I'm not sure where to begin, so here it is: I used to publish other people's books. I worked with writers at all levels to help them create the best book, the best story possible. Now, it's time to publish my own work. 

I'm currently looking for patrons to help so that I can devote time to completion of my writing projects. It's the same story as any other artist - ideas don't pay the bills until they are completed and given to the world. 

Check out my website to learn a little more about me:

Here is a sample of my writing - it's a flash fiction short, written in less than 30 minutes, a warm up, really. 

What about this…
I was twelve the first time I was allowed to travel with my father to Agni, the Godship. My family was responsible for offerings and negotiations with our Godship and had been for as long as even grandfather could remember. I was scared when I saw Holy Agni in the sky for the first time. My grandfather travelled through the sky to meet the great machine.

I remember because the sky was dark and it was raining, until the coach landed for Grandfather. The clouds parted and and the sun shone. A cool bothersome wind hand become a gentle breeze. I held my fathers hand as we all knelt. The coach was silver and red, glowing with heat, smoldering like a day old fire. Father said not to worry, so I did not. Grandfather left and returned the next day. That evening, as the sun set, we saw Holy Agni pass in front of the sun. My father said that was the Godship waving, bidding us farewell.

The Godship returned many times as I grew up. When Grandfather died, the ship arrived to collect his soul. I did not at the time understand how it knew, but I knew better than to ask. I watched from the parapets of the palace as grandfather was lifted to Holy Agni. The next day, the coach came for my father.

So it went for some years, until my twelfth summer. I boarded the coach with my father. I was scared. I tried not to shake as I walked next to my father. My mother and aunts, my brother and sister all looked so grim. They stared at us as if it were the last time they would see us.

My father had said to me, “One day you will take over for me, as I did for grandfather,” he smiled his kindly patient smile, “and be the Speaker of Our People to Holy Agni.”

I think I made a mistake then. I asked, “But Father, what is Holy Agni? Why does it take our souls?”

He frowned, one of those rare moments where his superior patience broke. “Mikail, enough questions. We have discussed this. You will learn what you must, what you need. No more.”

I nodded sullenly. His patience came back and knelt to look into my eyes. The coach’s engines were spinning up. The heat and exhaust was so powerful, so magical.

I could barely hear my father. “This is important. Be quiet, do not speak unless spoken to directly. Holy Agni will make it known if you are expected to respond. Observe everything. There maybe surprises - be ready for all things. It is the responsibility we share now. We must Speak for your mother and sisters and brothers. We must speak for our people. Generations unborn. Be ready for anything.”

I nodded, assured him that I was. I was not, and could never be. But how does a twelfth-yearling know that? My ignorance was wrapped up hand in hand with my bravery. Feeling cocky, I turned and waved to my family as my father started towards the coach. I had to double step to catch up. When I came along side him again, he glanced at me and frowned.

The inside of the coach was comfortable, like the palace in which I lived. The seating was lavish and soft. There were windows and I as I sat, I could see my family on long walk to the coach’s landing perch. Beyond that I could see the palace grounds, the palace itself and even some of the devout gathered to see the coach ship.

The engines fired and I felt something like falling, falling upward. I could never have imagined the sensation until I lived through it. My father smiled, said something that I could not hear over the roar of the engines and I tried to breath.

The sky swallowed us, and soon it was as if we were in a sea of clouds, diving upward to find the lost treasure lurking on the other side. Then, the sound and fury stopped and all was silent. I could see for ever.

“Father, I used the think the ocean was like the sky.” I said.
“Oh, how is that?”
“Both are blue and eternal and I shall never see what is on the other side of either one.”
He nodded, “And now?”
“Now I know.” 
$14 of $200 per month
Serpent Rider was my master's thesis story, now on it's second revision. It's a great story, about the Fall of Atlantis, and pre-history Earth. This book is going to shopped to larger publishers.
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