God’s Bolt – Paperback – A Sci-fi novel with a difference

Posted on by Opher

In this little extract Helen, alone on the space station is witnessing the end of the Earth with the realisation that she is completely alone – the last human being.

I wanted to write a novel that started at the end and only had one character. This was the scenario I conceived. It was a challenge.

God’s Bolt: Amazon.co.uk: Forsythe, Ron: 9781092713597: Books

Extract

I forced myself not to give in to hysteria. Once I’d started down that road there was no telling where it would end. But once those thoughts were born they could not be unborn. I kept feeling what it was like for a wall of searing heat to vaporise a human being. That is what had happened 4 billion times.

Despite the logic of my own eyes I kept imagining that somewhere down there, perhaps in a submarine at depth, someone would have survived. But I knew that was impossible. The thin crust of the world had been fractured into a million pieces. The tectonic plates would have been ripped apart. I knew the science. I’d seen the magnitude of the impact. The magma was flowing freely, the oceans boiled. Nothing could have survived – at least no life of any sophisticated nature. I had no doubt that the extremophiles, the bacteria and algae adapted to extreme temperatures of volcanoes and underwater vents, would survive. In a billion years or so perhaps the planet would be green again and a new range of organisms would call the planet home. But what good was that to me?

Strangely I did not feel like screaming like they do in the tridee movies, though I thought that maybe I should. No tears came to my eyes, no swearwords to my lips. It was beyond all that. I was completely numb.

I think I spent hours, days, in a stupor just staring down at the raging planet and not registering a single thought. I did not eat or drink and not even Eunice’s chiding registered with me. My universe had been blown apart. Everything I loved was gone. I could not take it in. Somehow, despite the obviousness of the possibilities, I had not prepared myself for this. It was too big, too enormous. I still refused to believe it. Perhaps it would all settle down and be OK?

I was outwardly calm, though the inside of my head was raging as it futilely tried to absorb the facts. It was gone. The whole Earth was gone. They were all gone. I would never see anyone again – not anybody. I would never see green fields or blue skies ever again. I was on my own. I would spend the rest of my days in this Space Station, this cage, this hell. I would never see Mum and Dad, or Joe and Richard. They had been burnt alive, seared to a crisp. Everything was just ash. My friends and lovers were gone. They were seared with fire. Seared to cinders. Everything was destroyed, smashed, broken, burnt, consumed, swamped with magma, broken apart. There was nothing to heal. I was on my own. I was on my own. I was on my own. For the rest of my days I was stuck in this prison. I would never breathe proper air. I would never walk on the Earth’s soil. The silly thought came into my head and tore at me – my dog was gone. All dogs were gone. All animals were gone. They were flecks of heated ash in a hurricane of fire. Nothing could have survived. I was on my own.

My head was roaring like the atmosphere on Earth. My mind was raging like that hurricane on Earth. It was eating me up.

I think I was trying to shock myself into reacting, to feeling something. But the feelings would not come.

I stood mindlessly staring out at the ball of fire below me and that ball of fire was in my head. What it was doing to the planet it was doing to me – eating me alive. That naked molten lava was in my head burning my brains. It was agony. Those hurricanes of fire were burning up my thoughts, whirling them into raging whirlwinds of scattered meaningless thoughts. My sanity was whirling, spinning, tearing itself apart. It was a monster. It was something out of my worst nightmare but thousands of times worse!

It was all pointless, all hopeless. I could not face it. I could not face the future. I did not want to be alive. They were all gone. Why me?? WHY ME!!! I FUCKING DID NOT WANT TO BE ALIVE!! I WANTED TO BE WITH THEM!!!! I WANTED TO BE WITH JOMO!!!!

God’s Bolt – extract and audio book

Posted on by Opher

I had a bit of fun yesterday. Kindle Publishing offered me the opportunity to turn a number of my books into audio books using AI. It was really simple. I had the choice of a number of voices – none of which sounded at all like me – and then clicked the button. Lo and behold a voice began reading my book. I was intrigued. Could the voice pick up the inflexion and nuance? What about words I had invented? How would they be pronounced?

It was a strange experience to hear my words being spoken aloud.

Anyway, it’s probably a mistake. I shall take them down at some point, but I am still intrigued. I shall find a quiet period and sit and listen to one of my books being read to me. If nothing else it’ll give me far greater objectivity.

From what I can see the audio books have not linked up to my UK Amazon but they are on the USA site. Not sure why that is? Maybe it takes a little time to hook up? Anyway, I don’t suppose it matters too much downloading works from anywhere.

Maybe you’re as intrigued as me?

Amazon.com : Ron Forsythe

Extract from God’s Bolt

After an eternity, the twilight horizon crept over the edge of the planet and the coast of the United States of America crept into view. Despite the mass evacuations it was still lit up like a giant funfair. The sight of it sent chills through me. I could imagine the scenes in the cities below me. I’d seen the news reports. It was pandemonium. Impact was centred right over the Eastern seaboard. One of the most populated places on earth. I know they’d moved most people out but it still did not bear thinking about.  I could imagine the huge throngs of superstitious religious lunatics – those who had called the event God’s Bolt and believed this asteroid was an act of God, sent to punish us for the sins of humanity – gathered on the hilltops praying to God and exalting him to spare them. Part of me desperately hoped they would prevail even though my rational self ridiculed their foolishness and maliciously hoped a meteorite or two would land right among them and put an end to their nonsense.

Already the sky was lit up with a criss-crossing of orange streaks from the early vanguard of rocks liberated from the blasting of Chang’s Comet. They were harmlessly burning out in the heavens and putting on quite a display but one that was merely a precursor to the main show.

I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach and it was nothing to do with the lack of gravity. I was a seasoned pro when it came to weightlessness. No – I knew the number of planet-busting rocks that were heading our way. Shortly we would see whether all the preparations had paid off. The closer it got the more anxious I was becoming. My head was full of doubts. I could sense the uncertainty that existed down there on Earth. If they were not convinced how could I be? I just hoped our depleted and unpractised military knew what they were doing and could neutralise the threat. Ironically I just hoped that the long decades of peace resulting in the run-down of all military weaponry had not completely emasculated them. My confidence was not super high. I knew we had very little left in the kitty to throw at the threat. I knew more than most of the magnitude of the operation; it was running more on hope than logic.

At 10.23 p.m. Eastern Time the main show began.

Amazon.com: God’s Bolt eBook : Forsythe, Ron: Kindle Store

Farther from the Sun – now available in paperback

Posted on by Opher

Lives and Values

Something completely different!

My new novel – Farther from the Sun – is now available in paperback.

It is a mosaic of a novel – part anecdotes, part commentary, part homage, telling the story of two lives and a relationship. A commentary on life and values.

In the UK:

In the USA:

In India:

In Canada:

Or available from your local Amazon.

Opher’s Art – I called this one Work!

Posted on by Opher

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This was a painting that I did in the early 1970s. I called it work. At the time I was doing so research on day release and working as a laboratory technician. It was very boring.

I saw work as a prostitution. I sold my body and time in exchange for money which paid for the rent, food and clothes.

I’ve always been hard working. I don’t mind work. It is merely that there are so many other creative, social or enjoyable things that I could be doing. I don’t have enough time to fit all my life in!

I imagined myself in a prison, in a cloud looking out at life with all its possibilities.

Writing

Posted on by Opher

I prefer writing to reading and I love reading! My head fills up with thoughts and ideas that I am driven to write down. As soon as I have committed them to paper I am free of them. I find the creativity essential to my mental well-being. I become elated when I write. I love making up stories.

My wife says I am obsessive. I would prefer to see myself as driven. Writing is a compulsion.

I have been writing books for forty four years. I doubt that I will ever stop.

I do not write in order to become ‘successful’. That is not the motivation. I know it will never make me rich and famous. I write in order to revel in the joy of communication. I write to attempt to capture the thoughts that are in my head, commit them to the tangible symbols of words and understand them better myself. I write because I am an idealist who wants to change the world for the better; who believes that we can make it better and who believes in the power of words. I write for the sheer joy of it.

I write for myself. I do not write for a market. Because of that I am totally unrestrained. My work is often shocking, extreme and pornographic. So be it. That is what comes out.

I know that writing for yourself is indulgent and does not achieve the stated aims of improving the world and communicating with others. This is a conundrum. I know that if I was hopelessly stranded on a desert island I would still write. Yet I also know that any creative person requires an audience. I need an audience in order for the process to be complete. To be completely satisfied I need to know that people are reading my books. That is why I have published fifteen of them so far.

Being in the luxurious position of being retired with a pension that enables me to live I can and am devoting myself to rewriting all those books that have come out of my type-writer over these last four and a half decades. I have the time, energy and inclination. I am enjoying myself.

Hopefully I will ruffle a few feathers, gain a few friends, shock a number of people, and have a great deal of fun in the process.

Sometimes I write graphically about torture, environmental degradation, exploitation and war. I write in the hopes that these things will improve. I want to shine a spotlight on them. I write because I am angry. I write so that they we can raise our awareness and sensibilities. I write in order that those things will not happen.

I write about sex because I think our culture is hung up about it. Sex is natural. It should not be taboo or embarrassing. We have made it so.

I write about the future as a warning.

I write to relieve the pressure cooker in my head and because I love doing it.

I hope you might enjoy being my audience.

My books are available on Amazon under Opher Goodwin. Why don’t you have a look and see what you think?