Wednesday, April 29, 2015

1st Annual Dani J Caile, Quicky Yet Sardonic Invitational

Hey! Cool...some recognition...I'm touched.
After posting this...
...Brian Rogers of the Iron Writer Challenge announced the "1st Annual Dani J Caile, Quicky Yet Sardonic Invitational", where other Iron Writers can try the same thing, a 500 word story from 1 element per weekly challenge :-)
Thank you, Brian!
Go to and see what's happening...

BTW, Dani's Shorts 4 is almost at 200 free downloads!

Tuesday, April 28, 2015

2nd year Anniversary Iron Writer 500 worder

To celebrate the second year of The Iron Writer Challenge, I thought I'd do as I did last year and create a story with an element from each weekly challenge of the year, in order. All quite pointless, really, but a lot of fun,
Here's a link to last year's..."Waiting for the Equinox"

And here is this year's :-)
Hope you like it...

Trouble at the Lodge

(500 words, 1 element from weekly challenges 59+61-109)

"Look, I'm an atheist, okay," said Dave, pushing through the revolving doors of the ski lodge.
"But you can't hit it with a wooden club, in fact, any weapon."
Dave looked at his companion. "Take that paper bag off your head when I'm speaking."
"No," said Bob.
"And irrigation boots? We're in the Alps!"
They walked to reception, where two staff members were playing rock/paper/scissors, another was eating breakfast with Thornwood tableware, and two others fought with light sabres in the back room. A Minion Dave plush ominously stood over a desk sign which said 'Caution: sharp edges'.
"Excuse me, but I'd like to report a broken thermostat."
"Why sir? What did it do?" asked the receptionist.
"It's broken." Dave gave his most evil stare.
"I'm sorry sir, but the horse has been taken to the halberdier's. We do, however, have a pink fairy armadillo..." He showed the creature from behind the desk.
"Is it gluten free?" asked Bob. Dave moved from 'evil stare' to 'WTF'.
"That would be the poodle, sir. You'd have to asked the bellboy." He pointed to an old genetically enhanced gnome drinking Dr. Pepper over by the lift. The gnome instantly took out his ninja weaponry, ready for battle.
"Looks nasty to me," muttered Dave, watching the kusarigama and fukiya.
"Don't worry, sir. Use a perfume atomiser and call his sons Saggitians. Works every time...sir?"
Dave was transfixed by the poster under the wall clock showing Neo from 'The Matrix' holding a Sooty puppet.
"How can that be?"
"Oh, that. It was our late manager's. We leave it there, out of respect."
"Yes, he suffered from Misophonia."
"He died from Misophonia?" asked Bob.
"He had breast cancer, sir." They stood in silence. "We also have his lucky goat's hoof," he said, "and his certificate of achievement from the Gloustershire Annual Cheese Rolling Competition, 2001." The ski lodge suddenly went dark due to the encroaching storm clouds. With a smile, the receptionist held out a Montblanc fountain pen and an entry form to the evening's Fried Bologna sandwich cookoff. "Would sirs like to attend?"
"I have too much facial hair," excused Bob.
"Not if I was the last person alive on Earth," said Dave. "Besides, I'm wearing my tap dance shoes and it's tame dinosaur bathing night."
"Bacon?" A grieving boy wearing argyle socks and Steampunk goggles came over. With one motion from the receptionist the boy was sucked up by a floor buffer.
"Anyway," said Dave, "I'd also like to report that the flagpole outside was knocked down by an enraged lame llama who was fed Haggis made from barn owls."
"Thank you, sir. I will need to change the lawn mower blade on the Star-Bellied-Sneetch machine and call for a terracotta soldier from China, then."
"One question?" asked Bob.
"Yes, sir?"
"Why isn't there mouse-flavoured cat food?"
"One more question?" asked Bob again.
"Yes, sir?"
"Can I buy a Moon rock here?"
"Where do think you are, sir? Venice?"

Saturday, April 25, 2015

2 silly spelling mistakes... (TIW Spring Open Final)

Well, I came 2nd out of 4 writers in the Iron Writer Spring Open 2015...which means I'm not in the Annual Final this year :-(
The judges' feedback was, as usual for me, strange. I was expecting top points in Spelling and Grammar (as you would) but I forgot to use "Spell Check" on my new fangled computer (I didn't know where it was in Hungarian) and 2 really silly spelling mistakes were left in my 500 word story "Uncle Terence" (see below). That lost me many points. Plus the fact 2 of the 3 judges didn't "get" the story - which is a shame. That was quite possibly my last outing in the Iron Writer, though I stay on as a judge...methinks.
So, WITHOUT the spelling mistakes, here is my non-winning story...

(Elements: Venice, Astigmatism, Magma, a Solid Plutonium Halberd)

Uncle Terence

A cool breeze sweeping down the canal stirred Uncle Terence into action, awakening him with a snort. The gondolier continued on as before, propelling us skillfully through the water with each stroke. 
"I say, it's a little chilly this morning." He wrapped his infamous Alpaca scarf tighter around his neck, allowing no room for any mischievous nip.
"Aren't we meant to be at Saint Mark's by eight?" I asked, knowing full well Uncle Terence had no intention of keeping the appointment. He hated anything to do with religion or the church, it reminded him of his own mortality and wicked, selfish life. Myself and the rest of our entourage blamed it on those Franciscan friars from his youth. Uncle Terence pretended to ignore my inquiry and gazed at the buildings we floated by with indifference. I went back to my Marlena de Blasi paperback.
"Ah, Venice. Such an auspicious city, full of wonder, full of history. My family's connection with this glorious place dates back to ancient times. There were Viscounts, Barons and Baronesses in my ancestry, even a hero or two."
"Heroes, uncle?"
"Oh yes, heroes. One I know well, Gerhardt Le Lorraine the third, twenty-second 'nobiluomo' to the Emperor himself." Uncle Terence brushed the gondolier's insolent cough off his Radford jacket.
"When was this, uncle?" Stories of his ancient noble ancestry were synonymous with the greatest of fragrant untruths.
"Oh, long ago, when men were men and women..."
"...were women, uncle?" I giggled at his clich├ęd manner.
"Quite. Gerhardt Le Lorraine. He slayed the monstrous Beast of Grotta del Cavallone! With his halberd made from solid plutonium forged by the magma of Mount Vesuvius, he boldly stepped into the cave where no man had ever returned alive before!"
"Uncle, how can you forge a solid plutonium halberd with magma?"
"He didn't, of course. It was Hephaestus, God of fire."
"Hephaestus was a Greek god, Uncle. Don't you mean Vulcan?"
"What's in a name? Anyway, it was said that many times Gerhardt thrust that great weapon at the beast. You see, he had blurred vision and was known as "Squinting Jack" by closer acquaintances. An inside joke, perhaps, as some of his earlier responsibilities were akin to those of a valet."
I couldn't keep up with all these connections and tangents. Sometimes Uncle Terence's mind would fly off on such an imaginative journey no one could grasp where he’d been or where he was going.
"He had astigmatism. Runs in the family, as far back as anyone can perceive. We are all blind."
"Well, 'among the blind, the squinter rules'," I replied.
"Quite." We passed under a bridge, making our gondolier duck. Uncle Terence shivered slightly as the bridge’s shadow brushed across his being.
"Wouldn't he die of radiation poisoning, uncle?"
"Excuse me?"
"Plutonium, uncle. You said his halberd was made from solid plutonium."

"Did I? You are quite attentive, my dear," he smiled and settled down once more, taking only but a moment to return to his dreams.

Friday, April 17, 2015

TIW Spring Open Final

Okay, votes are needed over in the Spring Open Final at TIW.
So, please, come on over to the Iron Writer website and check out the 4 stories on offer!
I'm not going to say which is mine, but I'll try and say one sentence for each story, to 'sell' them to you. You'll find the stories here...
...but before you go over, check out my one sentence summaries...

Last Call - Dante is having trouble in the pub, getting drunk and then falls 'into darkness' with the ferryman.

Hellfire Eyes - A person who suffers from severe astigmatism for a long time finally has a special operation and can see again.

Uncle Terence - A companion endures a morning in the Venice canals with his strange, rich 'uncle'.

Alone and Forsaken - A 'slightly past her prime' woman with her dog picks up a disturbed hitchhiker on a lonely road and the inevitable ensues.

Guess which one is mine? I bet you can't. Just vote for the one you enjoyed the most :-) Because that's fair.

Monday, April 13, 2015

Over 100 downloads! ...yip yip...

"Dani's Shorts 4" FLEW past the 100 free downloads mark yesterday (well, I say 'flew', I mean 10+ downloads in one day). Now maybe someone will read it and leave a review? Who knows? Sometimes these things happen...
Working on short stories for anthologies at the moment, but those 2 novel ideas are STILL knawing at my fingers, waiting, wondering when they'll come to light. I like it when I get an idea and DO it, not sit on it forever, then have to reread it again and again, trying to find where I got, how far I need to go. What is even more frustrating is that I lost about 4000 words of one somewhere... ebooks...:-) Take 'em, read 'em, review 'em :-)


Sunday, April 12, 2015

FREE ebooks...really! No catch!

Sugar, Spice and Everything Nice is also on Amazon now ('ll be ready in paperback very soon, though it's


on Smashwords (, so why use Amazon, that big bully...

Dani's Shorts 4 is so close to 100


downloads now... (

Saturday, April 11, 2015

And into the Final!

I am now in my...3rd or 4th Iron Writer Open final :-) Finally the judges liked my story enough for me to get through...but it was close.
My effort was called "How the Mighty"...
...and I have already written my entry for the Open Final, ready for Thursday. Who knows? I might get through to the Annual Final!

The elements : Artemis, A Dilettante, Jello Wrestling, A Moon Rock

How the Mighty

Zeus, her father, was at his easel trying to capture the right shade of cloud passing by his window in the Heavenly Deities Nursing Home. His was a large room, comparative with his once-held status as ruler of all Greek Gods and raper of any woman he took a fancy to, including her mother, Leto. She tip-toed over and tapped him on the shoulder.

“Oh, hell, Artemis! You startled me! You could’ve given me a heart attack. If I had a heart, that is.” Zeus put his paint brush down and hugged his daughter. “What brings you here to my humble abode in this retched place?”

“Can’t a daughter visit her father when she wishes?” She sat on the edge of his bed, testing its softness, and then jumped up and down on it to test the springs.

“I guess you can.” Zeus went back to his painting. “Mmm, I’m still not quite happy with the depth of my stratocumulus…”

“Painting again, father?” She patted the small package in her pocket making sure it was still there after jumping.

“Oh, you know. Being kicked off Mount Olympus doesn’t really make your immortality. When you’ve been a god, and a top god at that, where do you go? After a millennia of depression I’ve tried everything. Music, sculpture, painting, dancing, even tiddlywinks, but it seems I’m just an old dilettante, dabbling in a million things but getting nowhere, that initial interest dies…” Zeus put his brush down once more and turned to his daughter. “Hang on. I don’t understand. Why aren’t you shouting your head off at me, or pleading me to help you in some way? Where’s the ‘deus ex machina’, Artemis?”

She giggled and ran over to him, placing the small wrapped package into his hands.

“Happy Birthday, father,” she smiled, as his face beamed in happiness, brightening the room.

“You remembered?” He sat there for a moment in surprise and joy, the light around him

dimming only when his smiled had left. “I didn’t. No one else did, either.”

“But I did. I got you this.”

Zeus struggled with the wrapping until it fell to the floor in pieces.

“It’s a rock.”


“Does it…does it symbolise anything? Am I a ‘rock’ in your life?”

She shook her head.

“It’s a special rock, father. It comes from the Moon.”

“Oh, thank you.” He threw it up a few times feeling its weight, then placed it on his easel. “I’ll put it with the other three thousand or so I got from Selene and Hecate earlier.”

“Well, to tell the truth, all the shops were closed and seeing as I was passing by the place…”

“Ah, the truth comes out…”

“But I remembered, father. At the last moment, yes, but I remembered!”

“Thank you. So, it’s my birthday! I think I’ll open up Youtube and watch something sleazy…jello wrestling, yes! It reminds me of the good old days, you know, with all those goddesses and mortal women…”

“Father! Please!”

Friday, April 3, 2015

April the 8th! "Sugar, Spice and Everything Nice"

I'm in the TIW Open Round again, the 7th time...but there are no names on the if you dare!

I also have a few things in a children's compilation with The Indie Collaboration, a poem (Reflections) and a story (Tommy Tentacles and Mr Fox...adapted from a story by the late Nanny Shorey and including reference to the new Indiana's "Religious Freedom" Law).
The Indie Collaboration bring out regular compilations to promote their writing. I don't know who has contributed but I'll know soon.
The book will come out on the 8th of April (2015), on Smashwords (free? I think so).
I don't usually do exclusively children stuff, but I thought 'why not'...
I'll post when it's available.
Here's the cover! (the purple might be changed to blue)

7th review! Yay!

Yes, there are people out there reading my NEW book (other than "Dani's Shorts 4" on Smashwords).
Just picked up my 7th great review on (my 9th or 10th I think so far, including, and Goodreads).
Here's a link to the book, "How to Build a Castle in Seven Easy Steps", and below is the review...

on April 3, 2015
Format: Paperback
Dani Caile effortlessly conjures for his readers a mayhem-filled Medieval landscape dotted with semi-lucid hags,
farty princesses, crooked officials... Sounds a coin-flip between fiction and NON fiction, doesn't it? As a rule,
fantasy books are abundant in imagery and not much else (too often, characters laugh for no reason because 
some author THINKS he's told a joke but can't quite get his pen around the funny). HOW TO BUILD A CASTLE 
IN SEVEN EASY STEPS is different in the best possible way. It is the first book in [my] recallable memory in 
which the characters talk and relate to one another without the interplay between them feeling forced.
If you've not yet read it, please do. You won't be sorry.