This is another story that goes back to my experimental phase. I had read a book called 'World War III'. It was a tounge-in-cheek book about a war between China and America. The salient feature that caught my imagination was a private who was a writer. He wrote one story where there were voices speaking, but nobody was identified. I was intrigued, and decided I would try writing something similar.

I began cranking out this story while sitting bored in a Meterology class, using my sketchy knowlege of Cambodia, and its history. There used to be a dictionary definition to start the story, but I dropped it, over the issue of copyright. As you might notice, things turned out a little different than how I had planned them, but that is just the way these things work.

This might be of somewhat limited salability, but I think it is a little too off the wall for anything other than something that does cross-genre or experimental fiction. I chose it for inclusion since it is one of my experimental stories, and I think has stood up well enough as one of my early stories as not to need a rewrite.

I am aware that most of my fiction has a tendency to be within the traditional mainline of fiction, if a little highbrow in my language sometimes. I once committed the literary sin, since corrected, of using 'chitinous' and 'clthonic' in the same paragraph. Who talks like that? However, as an artist, I'm always trying to stretch my boundaries.

I have tried experimenting with various lengths - flash, short-short, and novellas - and I am always looking for new forms to try out. This might fall under the heading of going over the cliff of obsession, but if I can find the time, I might experiment with a horror sonnet.