"It's foreshadowing," said Tad. "We saw the gun on the mantelpiece."
"Gun's not on the mantel now," Doug grunted. He displayed it in his hand. The snow-cold light from the cave mouth reflected from the barrel.
"I'm talking metaphors," said Tad. He stared outside. Grey-white flakes sifted down. It wasn't snow. "We should have seen this coming."
In the distance, there was a flash-rumble as another building fell.
"Three," said Doug.
"What?"
"You asked how many bullets. There's three."
"Good. That's good. I wouldn't want to leave her without an option."
The curtain came down.
A shot rang out.
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Friday, January 22, 2010
Treasure
"Gotta be careful, Tibber," Julie-Ann admonished the teddy bear. "This is the Shadow Witches' cave. If we can steal their gems, we can save the castle!"
Raoul watched from the sink. Julie-Ann crept in with exaggerated stealth. She clambered onto a chair and peered into the paper grocery bags.
"We found them!" she squealed. She reached in and retrieved a shining stone, big as Raoul's fist. It lit up the room. Julie-Ann dashed out, Tibber bouncing against her leg.
Raoul set down the pot he'd been scrubbing. Hesitantly, he leaned over and peeked in the bag.
Cans of tuna. A bag of beans.
Raoul watched from the sink. Julie-Ann crept in with exaggerated stealth. She clambered onto a chair and peered into the paper grocery bags.
"We found them!" she squealed. She reached in and retrieved a shining stone, big as Raoul's fist. It lit up the room. Julie-Ann dashed out, Tibber bouncing against her leg.
Raoul set down the pot he'd been scrubbing. Hesitantly, he leaned over and peeked in the bag.
Cans of tuna. A bag of beans.
Thursday, January 21, 2010
A Good Servant, But a Poor Master
He was unlucky. The window would have melted to slag, but he struck one of the steel support beams instead. It bent out of true with a clang, and shards of glass and drywall fell around him.
He stood, a dribble of fire leaking from the corner of his mouth. Tongues of flame licked from a dozen small cuts.
“Why?” she rasped, crouching low as he collected himself.
He spat. It flared across the ruined tables and ignited on the countertop.
“This is what’s inside me,” he said, his mouth painfully bright to look upon. “What can I do except burn?”
He stood, a dribble of fire leaking from the corner of his mouth. Tongues of flame licked from a dozen small cuts.
“Why?” she rasped, crouching low as he collected himself.
He spat. It flared across the ruined tables and ignited on the countertop.
“This is what’s inside me,” he said, his mouth painfully bright to look upon. “What can I do except burn?”
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Defenses
She sat at the brightly-lit table, watching the night press in against the plate glass windows. The knife wasn’t terribly sharp. She sawed at the back of her hand anyway, making a piercing screech. She paused and blew away the metal fragments, then regarded the dulled knife owlishly. Nothing.
It all had to come from somewhere, she knew. The armor. It came from inside, left her raw and hollow.
She hunched over, inhaling the smell of stale ketchup. She was afraid.
On her back, the defensive spines poked through the thin fabric of her shirt. They’d started growing that morning.
It all had to come from somewhere, she knew. The armor. It came from inside, left her raw and hollow.
She hunched over, inhaling the smell of stale ketchup. She was afraid.
On her back, the defensive spines poked through the thin fabric of her shirt. They’d started growing that morning.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Alone on the Diamond Sea
With a grunt, Jared hauled the net the final few feet. It tumbled, dripping and glittering, into the bottom of the boat. Several rough ovoids fell out and rolled. He kicked at one. It arced out over the water and landed with a splash.
Diamonds again. He picked one up, held it to the light, watched it sparkle.
You couldn’t eat diamonds. No-one on the island had any use for them, once everyone had some to decorate with.
“Stupid talking fish,” he muttered. He sat back and stared out to sea, turning the gem over and over in his fingers.
Diamonds again. He picked one up, held it to the light, watched it sparkle.
You couldn’t eat diamonds. No-one on the island had any use for them, once everyone had some to decorate with.
“Stupid talking fish,” he muttered. He sat back and stared out to sea, turning the gem over and over in his fingers.
Monday, January 18, 2010
All Thumbs
Rito shrank against Delia’s skirts. The street vendor’s wares clattered in aimless circles around the hem of his coat.
“How adorable!” Delia cooed.
“Little works of art, every one,” the vendor agreed. “Scissorboys from the Scissors Man. He grinned snaggletoothed at Rito, who was gnawing a thumbnail. “Scissors Man comes to cut off your thumbs,” he crooned. “Best break that habit. Your teeth’ll come in crooked.”
Rito whipped his hand from his mouth.
“Come along,” said Delia, her smile cooler.
Rito glanced backward. The scissorboys clacked their bladed beaks at him, straining on the ends of their leashes. The Scissors Man lifted the hand that held the strings and winked.
“How adorable!” Delia cooed.
“Little works of art, every one,” the vendor agreed. “Scissorboys from the Scissors Man. He grinned snaggletoothed at Rito, who was gnawing a thumbnail. “Scissors Man comes to cut off your thumbs,” he crooned. “Best break that habit. Your teeth’ll come in crooked.”
Rito whipped his hand from his mouth.
“Come along,” said Delia, her smile cooler.
Rito glanced backward. The scissorboys clacked their bladed beaks at him, straining on the ends of their leashes. The Scissors Man lifted the hand that held the strings and winked.
Out Standing in His Field
The crow settled on the crossbeam and pecked amiably at the burlap sack. “So why’re you out here, anyway?”
The scarecrow shrugged, or tried to. “It’s an easy gig. Plenty of sunshine.”
“No, I mean, what is your job?”
“I scare you birds away.”
The crow cocked its head. “How?”
“Well, you’re supposed to assume I’m a real person.”
“We don’t even run away from the actual farmers!” the crow guffawed. “Why don’t they just stop leaving food?”
“You’re asking the guy with a sack for a head who’s nailed to a stick. I don’t even pretend to understand anymore.”
The scarecrow shrugged, or tried to. “It’s an easy gig. Plenty of sunshine.”
“No, I mean, what is your job?”
“I scare you birds away.”
The crow cocked its head. “How?”
“Well, you’re supposed to assume I’m a real person.”
“We don’t even run away from the actual farmers!” the crow guffawed. “Why don’t they just stop leaving food?”
“You’re asking the guy with a sack for a head who’s nailed to a stick. I don’t even pretend to understand anymore.”
A String, Doubled
“Really, what is complexity?” said the minotaur, moving a pawn forward. “Layers. As you add the layers, your structure becomes more complex. Yet each layer in itself is simple.”
“I’m not sure I agree,” said Theseus. He considered, then shifted his bishop. “Complexity comes from decisions. Comparing options requires processing capability, knowledge, and luck. In a word, wisdom.”
The minotaur regarded the board solemnly. “It’s true. With each choice we make, we close a dozen doors. In the end, it seems as though the whole was inevitable.” He stood, horns brushing the ceiling.
“Yes,” said Theseus. He drew his blade.
“I’m not sure I agree,” said Theseus. He considered, then shifted his bishop. “Complexity comes from decisions. Comparing options requires processing capability, knowledge, and luck. In a word, wisdom.”
The minotaur regarded the board solemnly. “It’s true. With each choice we make, we close a dozen doors. In the end, it seems as though the whole was inevitable.” He stood, horns brushing the ceiling.
“Yes,” said Theseus. He drew his blade.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Vend-a-Friend
"...and I just don't know what to do without her," Riley finished.
S117 nodded, frowning thoughtfully. "You just need some time to restabilize. I'm sure you'll come through it."
Riley smiled. "Thanks. And thanks for listening; you've been a really good friend. I'm sad to see you go."
"Oh, there are lots like me. You know where to find a sympathetic ear if you need to talk again."
"Yeah," said Riley. He waved and left the booth.
S117 sat back on his seat and watched the last few seconds of Riley's half-hour tick away. He closed his eyes as the disintegrator flared.
S117 nodded, frowning thoughtfully. "You just need some time to restabilize. I'm sure you'll come through it."
Riley smiled. "Thanks. And thanks for listening; you've been a really good friend. I'm sad to see you go."
"Oh, there are lots like me. You know where to find a sympathetic ear if you need to talk again."
"Yeah," said Riley. He waved and left the booth.
S117 sat back on his seat and watched the last few seconds of Riley's half-hour tick away. He closed his eyes as the disintegrator flared.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
And, Of Course, the Editing Room
The next room was chaos. Splashes and hissing erupted sporadically from all sides. Underneath that sibilant punctuation was a multifarious machine-gun patter
“This is the heart,” said Jolbert, shouting to be heard. “We can output documentation, fiction, code; anything you need at half the cost.”
The investors glanced around.
“The Million Monkeys technique. That’s a trademark, gentlemen.” Jolbert gestured at a squat, hairless man pounding furiously on a keyboard. A pile of broken discards lay nearby. An androgynous youth threw a dipperful of water over the man’s bald head. Steam rose in clouds.
“Overclocked,” said Jolbert, “every one of ‘em.”
“This is the heart,” said Jolbert, shouting to be heard. “We can output documentation, fiction, code; anything you need at half the cost.”
The investors glanced around.
“The Million Monkeys technique. That’s a trademark, gentlemen.” Jolbert gestured at a squat, hairless man pounding furiously on a keyboard. A pile of broken discards lay nearby. An androgynous youth threw a dipperful of water over the man’s bald head. Steam rose in clouds.
“Overclocked,” said Jolbert, “every one of ‘em.”
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
(copper and ashes)
This post is a violation of the rules. I wrote it and trimmed off about twenty words, then stalled. Finally I realized that any further trimming would hurt the story more than helping. Rather than gut the story in the name of my abstract and arbitrary rules, I'm letting this one stand at about 125 words. What do you think?
---
Edan woke to the taste of blueberries. Blueberries were invigorating. There was a push to add another flavor, pancakes or muffins. The Flavor Board would hear arguments next week.
Edan chewed the pap from his morning NutriPak. He read the paper (smoky bacon) and kept an eye on the clock (strawberry jam). When it was too tart to delay any longer, Edan left.
His car was cold (cinnamon) and the traffic report said there was congestion (lima beans). Edan took a shortcut that smelled like burnt toast. He’d get to work on time (unripe bananas).
He didn’t see the truck until it was too late. They barreled toward one another, and all Edan could think was that he’d finally know what it tasted like…
---
Edan woke to the taste of blueberries. Blueberries were invigorating. There was a push to add another flavor, pancakes or muffins. The Flavor Board would hear arguments next week.
Edan chewed the pap from his morning NutriPak. He read the paper (smoky bacon) and kept an eye on the clock (strawberry jam). When it was too tart to delay any longer, Edan left.
His car was cold (cinnamon) and the traffic report said there was congestion (lima beans). Edan took a shortcut that smelled like burnt toast. He’d get to work on time (unripe bananas).
He didn’t see the truck until it was too late. They barreled toward one another, and all Edan could think was that he’d finally know what it tasted like…
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Remembrance of Me
I threw a stone, and it hit a bird. I know this. I know this.
I can see the stone, as if I held it now. I threw it. I hit the bird.
Raven on a fencepost. Sitting there. One of two, two ravens on the fence. Throw stones at them. Throw a stone at the raven.
I can’t think. I don’t know what to do. It said something. The raven spoke. I threw the stone and the raven spoke. It lay on the ground and it spoke.
“Brother!” it said. “Muninn!”
And then it died.
I threw a stone…
I can see the stone, as if I held it now. I threw it. I hit the bird.
Raven on a fencepost. Sitting there. One of two, two ravens on the fence. Throw stones at them. Throw a stone at the raven.
I can’t think. I don’t know what to do. It said something. The raven spoke. I threw the stone and the raven spoke. It lay on the ground and it spoke.
“Brother!” it said. “Muninn!”
And then it died.
I threw a stone…
Monday, January 11, 2010
Environmental Sensibilities
“Time to muck out the cages, Bartlett.”
“Why do I have all the carnivores?”
“Waste not, want not. Besides, at least seven of them are omnivores. The rabbit part of the rabbit-sharks enjoys lettuce quite thoroughly.” Doctor Geisteskrank threw open the doors. A cacophony of animal sounds nearly drowned out Bartlett’s next question.
“Why are we doing this?”
Doctor Geisteskrank blinked. “Biodiversity! Nearly two thousand species extinct every year. If nature can’t keep up, then it falls to the man of science to fill the void. What we have here, Bartlett,” Doctor Geisteskrank gestured, “is diversity in its purest form.”
“Why do I have all the carnivores?”
“Waste not, want not. Besides, at least seven of them are omnivores. The rabbit part of the rabbit-sharks enjoys lettuce quite thoroughly.” Doctor Geisteskrank threw open the doors. A cacophony of animal sounds nearly drowned out Bartlett’s next question.
“Why are we doing this?”
Doctor Geisteskrank blinked. “Biodiversity! Nearly two thousand species extinct every year. If nature can’t keep up, then it falls to the man of science to fill the void. What we have here, Bartlett,” Doctor Geisteskrank gestured, “is diversity in its purest form.”
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Demonstration
“Nim! Where have you been? We’ve been looking all over for you.”
The slender form edged further into the light. “I was fine. You should have known that.”
He shook his head, went to the fridge. “This whole thing has been stressful enough without that imaginary friend crap. Give it a rest.”
“I always thought you were mocking me,” said Nim. “Some sort of cruel joke. I realize now that you can’t help it. You just can’t see. No one can.”
Something knocked the bottle from his hands. Something else slammed him to the floor.
“We’ll have to make them.”
The slender form edged further into the light. “I was fine. You should have known that.”
He shook his head, went to the fridge. “This whole thing has been stressful enough without that imaginary friend crap. Give it a rest.”
“I always thought you were mocking me,” said Nim. “Some sort of cruel joke. I realize now that you can’t help it. You just can’t see. No one can.”
Something knocked the bottle from his hands. Something else slammed him to the floor.
“We’ll have to make them.”
Saturday, January 9, 2010
The Final Fight
With the smallest flick of his fingers, the Master sent the guards scurrying away. “Do you mean to fight me, then?”
Ye Chin furrowed his brow. “Yes,” he said, feeling weak in the knees.
The Master sighed, stood up, and began gathering his blankets and cushion.
“What are you doing, Master?”
“Getting my withered keister out of here before I get killed.”
“But… all your victories… dozens of defeated champions…”
The old man glanced over his shoulder. “Congratulations. You exposed the fraud. The seat is yours.” He heaved his bundle over his shoulder. “Good luck, kid. You’re gonna need it.”
Ye Chin furrowed his brow. “Yes,” he said, feeling weak in the knees.
The Master sighed, stood up, and began gathering his blankets and cushion.
“What are you doing, Master?”
“Getting my withered keister out of here before I get killed.”
“But… all your victories… dozens of defeated champions…”
The old man glanced over his shoulder. “Congratulations. You exposed the fraud. The seat is yours.” He heaved his bundle over his shoulder. “Good luck, kid. You’re gonna need it.”
Veneer
"It's so cold," I said, "up there, in the stars. Cold and empty, with tiny dots of light just floating alone in the dark until they burn out, one by one." I shivered and hoped Drake would get the picture.
He chuckled, and I didn't like the sound. "Is that what you think?"
I frowned and turned away. I didn't even want his stupid jacket anymore.
"Look," he said.
I glanced over.
He reached up his hand and raked a fingernail across the blackness. Starfire flared in the gap he tore, and I gasped as its heat seared me...
---
Alternate Title: "All the Worlds Are Burning."
He chuckled, and I didn't like the sound. "Is that what you think?"
I frowned and turned away. I didn't even want his stupid jacket anymore.
"Look," he said.
I glanced over.
He reached up his hand and raked a fingernail across the blackness. Starfire flared in the gap he tore, and I gasped as its heat seared me...
---
Alternate Title: "All the Worlds Are Burning."
Friday, January 8, 2010
Dramatic Theme Music
I have been a bad writer monkey. In my defense, I've just basically skipped two weekends to travel, once for a whirlwind of family visits and once to clean the darned house once and for all and get it ready to be painted and sold. (Anyone want a townhouse in semi-urban Virginia? Reasonable prices.)
I'm two in the hole for this month, and now I'll be working overtime and unable to make up the deficit tonight as planned. Here is today's, and I'll try to trickle 'em in as I get time on breaks and such.
"We've got to save them!" The handsome man lurched into the bedroom.
"He's still a little woozy," said Kate. "He's only been real for an hour. I shouldn't have let him watch CNN."
"I'll hack into the bank's systems!"
"Can he do that?" said Kelly.
Kate shrugged.
The man sat at the laptop and tapped at the keys. Kate leaned over his shoulder. "You just typed 'asdfg;lkjh.'"
"It's always worked before."
"I hate the ones from action movies," said Kelly. "Even the superheroes catch on faster." She lightly struck the man's head. "Hey! Don't jump through any windows. Blood stains."
I'm two in the hole for this month, and now I'll be working overtime and unable to make up the deficit tonight as planned. Here is today's, and I'll try to trickle 'em in as I get time on breaks and such.
"We've got to save them!" The handsome man lurched into the bedroom.
"He's still a little woozy," said Kate. "He's only been real for an hour. I shouldn't have let him watch CNN."
"I'll hack into the bank's systems!"
"Can he do that?" said Kelly.
Kate shrugged.
The man sat at the laptop and tapped at the keys. Kate leaned over his shoulder. "You just typed 'asdfg;lkjh.'"
"It's always worked before."
"I hate the ones from action movies," said Kelly. "Even the superheroes catch on faster." She lightly struck the man's head. "Hey! Don't jump through any windows. Blood stains."
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Lent and Shaken, Given or Taken
He found the first one in the attic, in an old cardboard box. He pulled it out and whistled.
"A hand!" he said. "And in such great shape."
The hand gave a thumbs-up.
Once he was looking, he found them everywhere. He found two at a garage sale. Seven at consignment stores. Five in dumpsters. He became a hobbyist. Then obsessed. Then driven.
"We need to have a talk, Grampa," said Jillian one morning.
"About what?" he said, as a hand tucked his napkin in, another cut his waffle, and a third poured syrup. "Many hands make light work, right?"
"A hand!" he said. "And in such great shape."
The hand gave a thumbs-up.
Once he was looking, he found them everywhere. He found two at a garage sale. Seven at consignment stores. Five in dumpsters. He became a hobbyist. Then obsessed. Then driven.
"We need to have a talk, Grampa," said Jillian one morning.
"About what?" he said, as a hand tucked his napkin in, another cut his waffle, and a third poured syrup. "Many hands make light work, right?"
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Trouble Route
“I hate this part,” said Vic.
“You were told when you took the route,” said Webster. “They warned you.”
“Yeah, after the non-disclosure was signed.” Vic grimaced. “I didn't understand what it meant. I thought they were joking.”
“Most do,” said Webster.
“Well, better get the announcement done.” Vic reached for the intercom. “Ladies and gentlemen, it looks like we're going to hit some turbulence up ahead. Please return to your seats and buckle your seatbelts now.”
“Here they come,” said Webster. Below, the first of the pterodactyls were spiraling upward.
“You were told when you took the route,” said Webster. “They warned you.”
“Yeah, after the non-disclosure was signed.” Vic grimaced. “I didn't understand what it meant. I thought they were joking.”
“Most do,” said Webster.
“Well, better get the announcement done.” Vic reached for the intercom. “Ladies and gentlemen, it looks like we're going to hit some turbulence up ahead. Please return to your seats and buckle your seatbelts now.”
“Here they come,” said Webster. Below, the first of the pterodactyls were spiraling upward.
Sunday, January 3, 2010
Failure
There was a frozen moment. He reached out to touch her still face. His hand left a smear of blood.
Nadir stepped back, his blade dripping crimson. “Try it again!” he shouted. He no longer looked so confident.
“Yes,” the man whispered, but not to Nadir. He stood and looked around them at the shadows. There was nothing there. “I release you,” the man said. “God have mercy on me, I don't care any more.”
The shadows boiled, shifted. The guards behind Nadir cried out.
“God have mercy on us all...”
The darkness leapt forward.
Nadir stepped back, his blade dripping crimson. “Try it again!” he shouted. He no longer looked so confident.
“Yes,” the man whispered, but not to Nadir. He stood and looked around them at the shadows. There was nothing there. “I release you,” the man said. “God have mercy on me, I don't care any more.”
The shadows boiled, shifted. The guards behind Nadir cried out.
“God have mercy on us all...”
The darkness leapt forward.
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Cruise Elroy
"Explain it again," said the President.
"Er... the sun has a crack in it," said the lead scientist, a sad-faced man with a fringe of gray hair. "It appears to be opening, as though hinged."
"Or like a mouth," put in a dark-haired assistant.
"And that's related to the dark patch behind it? The Inky, you called it?"
"The action seems to have been in response to its appearance, yes."
"And the radio signal?"
"We've decoded it." The assistant pushed a button. The sound poured out: wakka-wakka-wakka.
"Regrettably, sir, it appears that the universe is in need of a Power Pellet."
"Er... the sun has a crack in it," said the lead scientist, a sad-faced man with a fringe of gray hair. "It appears to be opening, as though hinged."
"Or like a mouth," put in a dark-haired assistant.
"And that's related to the dark patch behind it? The Inky, you called it?"
"The action seems to have been in response to its appearance, yes."
"And the radio signal?"
"We've decoded it." The assistant pushed a button. The sound poured out: wakka-wakka-wakka.
"Regrettably, sir, it appears that the universe is in need of a Power Pellet."
Friday, January 1, 2010
How Not to Fight
"I mean to kill you!" the warrior cried.
"Why?" asked Taku.
"Our tribes are enemies. Come down! Fight me!"
"The Wisest Stone taught me patience. I have food."
"Pah! Superstitions. My god is greater."
Taku shrugged. "Mine is smaller, but he teaches sufficiency."
The warrior grinned. "Fight me... or I will burn your village!"
Taku thought on this, then slid from his perch. "I will fight, though I am unskilled. I was not taught warfare."
"You are soft!" The blade plunged forward. The warrior's face fell.
"No," said Taku, looking at the shattered knife. "That is not something I was taught, either."
"Why?" asked Taku.
"Our tribes are enemies. Come down! Fight me!"
"The Wisest Stone taught me patience. I have food."
"Pah! Superstitions. My god is greater."
Taku shrugged. "Mine is smaller, but he teaches sufficiency."
The warrior grinned. "Fight me... or I will burn your village!"
Taku thought on this, then slid from his perch. "I will fight, though I am unskilled. I was not taught warfare."
"You are soft!" The blade plunged forward. The warrior's face fell.
"No," said Taku, looking at the shattered knife. "That is not something I was taught, either."
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Imagine All the People
That morning, Burt had ignored them tying his shoelaces together and stealing his keys. He aimed for them on the road. It was silly, of course, trying to run over imaginary blue men the size of dolls, but it eased his burden to try.
Muller came by, dropping off a report. Burt noticed his eyes dart down to the desk, where the blue men were converting a stapler to a catapult. Burt goggled. “You see them!” he cried.
“Who?” said Muller, stricken.
“Wait,” said Jenkins from the next cube. “You two see them, too? I thought it was just me!”
Muller came by, dropping off a report. Burt noticed his eyes dart down to the desk, where the blue men were converting a stapler to a catapult. Burt goggled. “You see them!” he cried.
“Who?” said Muller, stricken.
“Wait,” said Jenkins from the next cube. “You two see them, too? I thought it was just me!”
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
The Story of His Life
"Hello," said Marivel.
The paper man turned his blank white face toward her. He raised his pencil and drew in a smile. Marivel waited. The paper man sketched in a pair of raised eyebrows.
"Can't you talk?"
With a rustle, he erased his questioning brows and drew a frown.
"What are you writing?"
Rustle... scribble... angry now. He shooed her away.
Marivel tried to lean in and see. The paper man pushed at her, but he was made of paper. He crinkled beneath her.
"Ha!" cried Marivel, reaching triumphantly. She froze then at the unmistakable sound of tearing paper.
Neither moved.
The paper man turned his blank white face toward her. He raised his pencil and drew in a smile. Marivel waited. The paper man sketched in a pair of raised eyebrows.
"Can't you talk?"
With a rustle, he erased his questioning brows and drew a frown.
"What are you writing?"
Rustle... scribble... angry now. He shooed her away.
Marivel tried to lean in and see. The paper man pushed at her, but he was made of paper. He crinkled beneath her.
"Ha!" cried Marivel, reaching triumphantly. She froze then at the unmistakable sound of tearing paper.
Neither moved.
A World of Rocking Chairs
"Fetch my blade!" cried Prince Sarib.
The weapon clattered to the tiled floor. Sarib hissed and leapt down after it. It spun several times before he managed to hook one paw through the handgrip. He stalked three-legged for the door.
"Perhaps," suggested his majordomo, "a duel is not the ideal solution? In your current condition?"
"I may be an ensorcelled cat," Sarib spat, "but that man is a flea-bitten dog who dares touch my sister. I shall teach him a lesson regardless!"
Sarib stood in place, shedding angrily. "Well?" he said. "Aren't you going to open the door for me?"
The weapon clattered to the tiled floor. Sarib hissed and leapt down after it. It spun several times before he managed to hook one paw through the handgrip. He stalked three-legged for the door.
"Perhaps," suggested his majordomo, "a duel is not the ideal solution? In your current condition?"
"I may be an ensorcelled cat," Sarib spat, "but that man is a flea-bitten dog who dares touch my sister. I shall teach him a lesson regardless!"
Sarib stood in place, shedding angrily. "Well?" he said. "Aren't you going to open the door for me?"
The Last Desperate Stand
Se-Rok-La, the Blade That Thirsts, lay shattered on the ground. The hand that had wielded it rested nearby. The rest of the hero was not in evidence, at least in the immediate area. Crimson splashes on the ground suggested, to the inquisitive mind, the disposition of the other remains.
The princess and the wizard huddled in the base of a shattered tower. The princess was sobbing loudly.
"Impossible," growled the wizard. "I refuse to accept this. There has to be another way!"
A shadow fell over their hiding place, horned and terrible. "No," said the Demon King, "there really doesn't."
The princess and the wizard huddled in the base of a shattered tower. The princess was sobbing loudly.
"Impossible," growled the wizard. "I refuse to accept this. There has to be another way!"
A shadow fell over their hiding place, horned and terrible. "No," said the Demon King, "there really doesn't."
Keeping Up With the Jonezzezz
It's super-story day as I catch up with the three days of holiday traveling I did. Whee!
---
Chad and Lisa watched the new house crumble in the breeze. It was made of sand, though patterned like brick. They were so busy staring out the side window that the doorbell startled them.
The form outside was nominally female, clad in an apron, rubber gloves, and full-face gas-mask. She bulged oddly, as though made of clay that was constantly being reworked.
"Yes?" said Lisa.
The woman's voice was a layered buzzing, strangely resonant. "Borrowzz... zzugar?" Her hand came up, clinging to a dirty measuring cup. Several ants fell out of her sleeve.
Lisa glanced at Chad. Chad nodded urgently.
---
Chad and Lisa watched the new house crumble in the breeze. It was made of sand, though patterned like brick. They were so busy staring out the side window that the doorbell startled them.
The form outside was nominally female, clad in an apron, rubber gloves, and full-face gas-mask. She bulged oddly, as though made of clay that was constantly being reworked.
"Yes?" said Lisa.
The woman's voice was a layered buzzing, strangely resonant. "Borrowzz... zzugar?" Her hand came up, clinging to a dirty measuring cup. Several ants fell out of her sleeve.
Lisa glanced at Chad. Chad nodded urgently.
Saturday, December 26, 2009
A Matter of Degrees
“Nothing!” Doctor Geisteskrank threw the alembic across the room. “Truly, this must be my greatest moment of failure yet!”
“What about the crossbred gerbil-cobras?” said Bartlett, heading for the broom closet.
“Feistier than intended, yes, but-“
“Or that perpetual motion machine that you hooked up to your blender?”
“Probably nearing the Earth’s core, admittedly-“
“The time you built a robot powered by human despair!” said Bartlett. “No way that could go wrong, right?”
“It was such a ubiquitous power source! At least those projects did something, even if it was not intended.”
“You fail a lot, is all I’m saying.”
“What about the crossbred gerbil-cobras?” said Bartlett, heading for the broom closet.
“Feistier than intended, yes, but-“
“Or that perpetual motion machine that you hooked up to your blender?”
“Probably nearing the Earth’s core, admittedly-“
“The time you built a robot powered by human despair!” said Bartlett. “No way that could go wrong, right?”
“It was such a ubiquitous power source! At least those projects did something, even if it was not intended.”
“You fail a lot, is all I’m saying.”
Friday, December 25, 2009
Someone Comes, Someone Goes
Donny was sweeping dust at the Wall of Faces when he noticed something strange.
“Hey, Mitch!” he yelled. “C’mere and take a look at this!” He pointed. “Ain’t that a new one?”
Mitch put down his mop and came over to peer at the writhing marble, the carved features contorting in silent screams.
“Don’t recognize him,” Mitch said at length.
“No one’s missing, though.”
“That ain’t right. Someone comes in, someone goes out. That’s the rule.”
Mitch shrugged. “Maybe they’re expanding operations.”
“Figure we’ll find out, soon as the new guy gets in,” said Donny. He glanced up at the firelit ceiling and the saw-toothed trapdoor.
“Hey, Mitch!” he yelled. “C’mere and take a look at this!” He pointed. “Ain’t that a new one?”
Mitch put down his mop and came over to peer at the writhing marble, the carved features contorting in silent screams.
“Don’t recognize him,” Mitch said at length.
“No one’s missing, though.”
“That ain’t right. Someone comes in, someone goes out. That’s the rule.”
Mitch shrugged. “Maybe they’re expanding operations.”
“Figure we’ll find out, soon as the new guy gets in,” said Donny. He glanced up at the firelit ceiling and the saw-toothed trapdoor.
Thursday, December 24, 2009
The Meaning of Christmas
Naughty and nice isn’t the half of it.
Examine the patterns. The color of the ribbon. The fractals hidden within drawings of jolly reindeer. Even the nature of the toys.
Everything contains a message. Or perhaps it is a message, all of it, a code so intricate that it cannot be perceived. We are ants attempting to view the globe entire.
It is hard, to know everything. Even now, the red-clothed form twitches in a trance, eyelids flickering. He will begin his work again, soon, and we are no closer to an answer. Is the message even meant for us?
---
A part of Advent Ghosts blog event.
Examine the patterns. The color of the ribbon. The fractals hidden within drawings of jolly reindeer. Even the nature of the toys.
Everything contains a message. Or perhaps it is a message, all of it, a code so intricate that it cannot be perceived. We are ants attempting to view the globe entire.
It is hard, to know everything. Even now, the red-clothed form twitches in a trance, eyelids flickering. He will begin his work again, soon, and we are no closer to an answer. Is the message even meant for us?
---
A part of Advent Ghosts blog event.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Sustainable Anthropophagy
“…and then he asked what they’d feet the rats on, and they said, ‘Oh, that’s easy. We feed the cats to the rats, and get the skins for free!’”
“That story doesn’t make a lick of sense, Lincoln.”
“It came to mind, that’s all. I always think of it when it’s my turn.”
“Get on with it. Knife’s not getting any sharper.”
“Meat for the pot, Lincoln.”
“Look, it’s my damned arm, okay?”
“And it was my leg yesterday.”
“And my shoulder the day before. The nanites’ll grow it back in a week. Just get on with it; I’m half-starved.”
“That story doesn’t make a lick of sense, Lincoln.”
“It came to mind, that’s all. I always think of it when it’s my turn.”
“Get on with it. Knife’s not getting any sharper.”
“Meat for the pot, Lincoln.”
“Look, it’s my damned arm, okay?”
“And it was my leg yesterday.”
“And my shoulder the day before. The nanites’ll grow it back in a week. Just get on with it; I’m half-starved.”
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
The First Step to Acceptance is Understanding
“I used to be afraid of them,” Vitari said. “Something in the mind just… recoils. Too many legs, moving too many directions.” He scratched at his ear. “They’re not like us. They’re alien. We can’t understand how that kind of brain can work, and so we fear them.”
Mari kept her back to the wall, watching wide-eyed.
“You have to open to the possibility. Once you understand them, the fear goes away. I know you’ll see. You only have to let them in.”
His eyelid twitched, then bulged, as something with too many legs began to push its way out…
Mari kept her back to the wall, watching wide-eyed.
“You have to open to the possibility. Once you understand them, the fear goes away. I know you’ll see. You only have to let them in.”
His eyelid twitched, then bulged, as something with too many legs began to push its way out…
Monday, December 21, 2009
Tilt
The battle raged for a night and a day. Five men were killed. The phoenix, glorious and deadly, spread its flames with abandon. The dragon, though twisted and loathsome, moved with cunning dexterity.
Then the Debate Floor doors slammed open. An aged man strode in, clad in the rags of a business suit and bearing a battered briefcase. “This villainy must cease!” he cried. “Sancho! The injunction!” He held out a hand.
A bolt of phoenix-fire incinerated him on the spot, moments before the dragon’s jaws closed upon his blackened body.
Everyone agreed it had been a most profitable debate.
---
For reference.
Then the Debate Floor doors slammed open. An aged man strode in, clad in the rags of a business suit and bearing a battered briefcase. “This villainy must cease!” he cried. “Sancho! The injunction!” He held out a hand.
A bolt of phoenix-fire incinerated him on the spot, moments before the dragon’s jaws closed upon his blackened body.
Everyone agreed it had been a most profitable debate.
---
For reference.
Sunday, December 20, 2009
On the Debate Floor
“The Senator from Arizona is out of line!” said Chairman Gordon.
“I demand the right to speak,” growled Senator Krantz.
“I invoke Rule 714-point-3,” said Gordon. He rose, his hand rising to the shimmering talisman at his neck.
“So be it.” Krantz narrowed his eyes and stepped from behind the podium. With a sharp gesture, he snapped the ruby off of his tiepin. It flared with crimson light, and the phoenix burst forth in a gout of flame.
Gordon clutched his viridian stone and the winged saurian form of his own guardian emerged, hissing. “Let us now debate!” he cried.
“I demand the right to speak,” growled Senator Krantz.
“I invoke Rule 714-point-3,” said Gordon. He rose, his hand rising to the shimmering talisman at his neck.
“So be it.” Krantz narrowed his eyes and stepped from behind the podium. With a sharp gesture, he snapped the ruby off of his tiepin. It flared with crimson light, and the phoenix burst forth in a gout of flame.
Gordon clutched his viridian stone and the winged saurian form of his own guardian emerged, hissing. “Let us now debate!” he cried.
Friday, December 18, 2009
Translation
Captain Jennings gave the alien a level stare. "Tell him my government objects most strongly." He glanced at the interpreter.
The interpreter sighed. "Most strongly?"
Jennings nodded.
The interpreter flung his hands up, then snaked down in a sinuous dance. He lifted one leg and emitted a high-pitched squeal of flatulence, face a mask of concentration as he modulated the tone. The alien watched intently, scent-pores dilating. Then it opened its toothless mouth. A fleshy, viridian tongue flicked out and slapped the interpreter twice.
"He's willing to negotiate concessions," said the interpreter, dripping pungent slime. "And he complimented my accent."
The interpreter sighed. "Most strongly?"
Jennings nodded.
The interpreter flung his hands up, then snaked down in a sinuous dance. He lifted one leg and emitted a high-pitched squeal of flatulence, face a mask of concentration as he modulated the tone. The alien watched intently, scent-pores dilating. Then it opened its toothless mouth. A fleshy, viridian tongue flicked out and slapped the interpreter twice.
"He's willing to negotiate concessions," said the interpreter, dripping pungent slime. "And he complimented my accent."
New Wave
“What are you guys doing?”
Zini was lying on the floor with a book across her face. Syd rested her chin on the coffee table, staring fixedly at an immobile snowglobe. Kev had his face pressed into the corner and his hands cupped at his ears.
“Oh, hi, Sam,” said Logan. He was kneeling by the couch, one ear against the upholstered arm. “What’s up?”
“Not much,” said Sam warily. “You?”
“Just listening, man.”
Sam looked around. “Uh-huh.”
“Aren’t you listening to anything?”
“My iPod, when I jog.”
Logan actually sneered. “Man, get with the times. There’s music in everything.”
Zini was lying on the floor with a book across her face. Syd rested her chin on the coffee table, staring fixedly at an immobile snowglobe. Kev had his face pressed into the corner and his hands cupped at his ears.
“Oh, hi, Sam,” said Logan. He was kneeling by the couch, one ear against the upholstered arm. “What’s up?”
“Not much,” said Sam warily. “You?”
“Just listening, man.”
Sam looked around. “Uh-huh.”
“Aren’t you listening to anything?”
“My iPod, when I jog.”
Logan actually sneered. “Man, get with the times. There’s music in everything.”
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Infinite Possibilities
Dodd stumbled. The portal hissed closed behind him, water on a hot skillet.
He clenched his fingers, felt smooth sand. He stood.
“Where am I?” he said. An indigo sky filled with arcing lights shimmered overhead. An old fisherman sat on the beach.
“You’re in the endless world of thought,” the old man said, twitching his rod. “The lights of all the minds that are, were, and will be shine over us. Anything is possible here.”
Dodd stared down. “And you?” he asked. “What are you doing here?”
The old man gave him a withering look. “I’m fishing,” he said.
He clenched his fingers, felt smooth sand. He stood.
“Where am I?” he said. An indigo sky filled with arcing lights shimmered overhead. An old fisherman sat on the beach.
“You’re in the endless world of thought,” the old man said, twitching his rod. “The lights of all the minds that are, were, and will be shine over us. Anything is possible here.”
Dodd stared down. “And you?” he asked. “What are you doing here?”
The old man gave him a withering look. “I’m fishing,” he said.
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Shifter
“The question, of course, then becomes ‘How do we capture his exact likeness?’” said the shifter, smiling genially at the bustling technicians. “After all, someone once had to have done it, and with prehistorical technology, too, or the stories wouldn’t exist.” He grew a pair of donkey’s ears and waggled them.
The light flashed. The shifter smirked. “Too slow,” he said.
One of the technicians, unable to contain himself, violated protocol. “The picture is transmitted through the cable in less than one millionth of a second,” he told the shifter.
The shifter nodded. “Nothing ever stays the same for long.”
The light flashed. The shifter smirked. “Too slow,” he said.
One of the technicians, unable to contain himself, violated protocol. “The picture is transmitted through the cable in less than one millionth of a second,” he told the shifter.
The shifter nodded. “Nothing ever stays the same for long.”
Monday, December 14, 2009
The Dregs of Beauty
He was ethereally beautiful, a creature of pearl and night. The high priestess was a mere shadow of her fiery glory, compared to him.
He knelt and plucked up a flower, holding it like a wineglass. He stared at it. The watchers held their breath. This was why they had summoned him, a being of true beauty for this ugly world.
He lifted the flower to his lips, as though swallowing a liquor. When he was finished, all that was left was a withered tangle of thorns. Eyes gleaming, he turned his gaze to the crowd, drinking in their loveliness...
He knelt and plucked up a flower, holding it like a wineglass. He stared at it. The watchers held their breath. This was why they had summoned him, a being of true beauty for this ugly world.
He lifted the flower to his lips, as though swallowing a liquor. When he was finished, all that was left was a withered tangle of thorns. Eyes gleaming, he turned his gaze to the crowd, drinking in their loveliness...
Saturday, December 12, 2009
Falling on My Head
“It’s been kind of weird.”
“I guess we’ll get used to it eventually.”
A car splashed through a puddle on the street. “Ow, ow,” said the puddle.
“I think my toilet tried to grope me the other night.”
“The toilet?”
“Well, you know, the… inside.”
“Ah. I’m amazed you can still use it. Mine kept making retching sounds. I rented a Port-a-Potty.”
They walked in silence down the rainy street for a time. A stream of water chuckled darkly as it slithered into a storm drain.
“It’s just been weird, is all.”
“Yeah.”
“Wheeeee!” cried the raindrops as they fell.
“I guess we’ll get used to it eventually.”
A car splashed through a puddle on the street. “Ow, ow,” said the puddle.
“I think my toilet tried to grope me the other night.”
“The toilet?”
“Well, you know, the… inside.”
“Ah. I’m amazed you can still use it. Mine kept making retching sounds. I rented a Port-a-Potty.”
They walked in silence down the rainy street for a time. A stream of water chuckled darkly as it slithered into a storm drain.
“It’s just been weird, is all.”
“Yeah.”
“Wheeeee!” cried the raindrops as they fell.
Friday, December 11, 2009
Lord of the Greenwood
“So you’re a prince?” said Brian. “What are you the prince of?”
“I rule this wood, from the first oak to the last sapling!”
Brian glanced around. “That’s about three trees.”
“Insolent!” said the Prince. He waved tiny fists. “A dark cloud the size of an apple appeared. A minuscule lightning bolt flicked out, stinging Brian’s nose. “Teach this impudent whelp a lesson, minions of the forest!”
An elderly badger struggled from its burrow. Brian rubbed his nose as the badger solemnly gummed his sneakers. Brian glanced at the self-proclaimed monarch.
“There have been some regrettable cutbacks,” the Prince allowed.
“I rule this wood, from the first oak to the last sapling!”
Brian glanced around. “That’s about three trees.”
“Insolent!” said the Prince. He waved tiny fists. “A dark cloud the size of an apple appeared. A minuscule lightning bolt flicked out, stinging Brian’s nose. “Teach this impudent whelp a lesson, minions of the forest!”
An elderly badger struggled from its burrow. Brian rubbed his nose as the badger solemnly gummed his sneakers. Brian glanced at the self-proclaimed monarch.
“There have been some regrettable cutbacks,” the Prince allowed.
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Nailbiter
“Yup. He’s at it again.”
“At what?”
Cory pointed. “Look there, the fingertips.”
“Looks fine,” said Otis. He lifted a hand and squinted. “Wait. It’s a little dinged up. Crumpled, like.”
“That’s the sign.” Cory hefted the controller and started the lift up again. He reached out a hand to pat the pitted metal surface as they rumbled slowly past. “Don’t worry, big guy,” he said. “We’ll patch you up.”
Overhead, the streetlight eyes blazed open. The iron jaw creaked, emitting a deafening but piteous moan.
“Sounds like he’s working on another ulcer, too,” said Otis. “I hate internal surgery.”
“At what?”
Cory pointed. “Look there, the fingertips.”
“Looks fine,” said Otis. He lifted a hand and squinted. “Wait. It’s a little dinged up. Crumpled, like.”
“That’s the sign.” Cory hefted the controller and started the lift up again. He reached out a hand to pat the pitted metal surface as they rumbled slowly past. “Don’t worry, big guy,” he said. “We’ll patch you up.”
Overhead, the streetlight eyes blazed open. The iron jaw creaked, emitting a deafening but piteous moan.
“Sounds like he’s working on another ulcer, too,” said Otis. “I hate internal surgery.”
Girl Stuff
“Widen your stance, Abigail,” Marian instructed. “You’ll tip right over if someone charged you.” She pushed on the girl’s shoulders to demonstrate. Abigail swayed like a sapling in the wind. “You’ll never defeat anyone if that’s as stable as you get.”
“Keep your blade up, and between you and whatever might be coming for you.” Marian flicked a sweaty braid out of her face and raised her own sword. “Now get ready!”
“Hey, Marcus!” cried Abigail, spotting her older sibling walking by. “You wanna practice swords with me an’ Mom?”
Marcus sneered. “Why would I wanna play with girl stuff?”
“Keep your blade up, and between you and whatever might be coming for you.” Marian flicked a sweaty braid out of her face and raised her own sword. “Now get ready!”
“Hey, Marcus!” cried Abigail, spotting her older sibling walking by. “You wanna practice swords with me an’ Mom?”
Marcus sneered. “Why would I wanna play with girl stuff?”
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
The Revolucion Will be Televised
“Ben, can you bring the toolbox over here?”
Ben entered from the side where the front wall ought to have been. “Que? No comprendo que me dice.”
“Crap, it’s gone on the fritz again,” said George. “Picking up Telemundo or something.” He reached up and banged on the ceiling. The garage jumped, growing fuzzy.
“I think you fixed it,” said Ben, before tripping over the knee-high white letters that formed as he spoke.
The laugh track cut in, rolling across them as they sat frozen in place. “You lot shut the hell up!” snarled George.
The laughter only grew louder.
Ben entered from the side where the front wall ought to have been. “Que? No comprendo que me dice.”
“Crap, it’s gone on the fritz again,” said George. “Picking up Telemundo or something.” He reached up and banged on the ceiling. The garage jumped, growing fuzzy.
“I think you fixed it,” said Ben, before tripping over the knee-high white letters that formed as he spoke.
The laugh track cut in, rolling across them as they sat frozen in place. “You lot shut the hell up!” snarled George.
The laughter only grew louder.
Sunday, December 6, 2009
Down to Here, Down to There
“Get a haircut,” grumbled Stockton.
“Whatever, old man!” said the long-haired youth. “You just can’t handle it. This is what’s coming!”
Stockton shook his head and walked away. Soon, the hair was everywhere. Men, women, boys, girls, everyone with luxuriant locks spilling down their shoulders, their backs, even further. Everyone (except Stockton) rejoiced in the new and exciting fashion.
Then a cat was photographed with a mop-top. A horse sporting dreadlocks was spotted. Everyone was mostly calm, though the question of how was raised.
Then came the day a window-washer found the first new hairs growing from the thirty-ninth story…
“Whatever, old man!” said the long-haired youth. “You just can’t handle it. This is what’s coming!”
Stockton shook his head and walked away. Soon, the hair was everywhere. Men, women, boys, girls, everyone with luxuriant locks spilling down their shoulders, their backs, even further. Everyone (except Stockton) rejoiced in the new and exciting fashion.
Then a cat was photographed with a mop-top. A horse sporting dreadlocks was spotted. Everyone was mostly calm, though the question of how was raised.
Then came the day a window-washer found the first new hairs growing from the thirty-ninth story…
Saturday, December 5, 2009
There Is
Listen! Listen! Listen quickly, there's no time!
There is a beach, I don't know where, and on the beach a crab is crawling up the sand. The waves come in - whoooosh! - and wash the crab out to sea. There is wisdom here, listen! He crawls back.
Somewhere else, an ant carries sand. She piles her grain with the others - so many others! - and there is wisdom in this. Listen! A boy, a small boy, he watches, and when the anthill is complete, he jumps - crash! - and kicks it away. The ants carry it back.
Listen, listen to me! Won't you listen?
There is a beach, I don't know where, and on the beach a crab is crawling up the sand. The waves come in - whoooosh! - and wash the crab out to sea. There is wisdom here, listen! He crawls back.
Somewhere else, an ant carries sand. She piles her grain with the others - so many others! - and there is wisdom in this. Listen! A boy, a small boy, he watches, and when the anthill is complete, he jumps - crash! - and kicks it away. The ants carry it back.
Listen, listen to me! Won't you listen?
Friday, December 4, 2009
The Giant's Marrow
It bled a little, but it had to be done. He gave up on the cleaver early. It was too clumsy. The mechanical grinder was worse; it used him up so fast, besides making an awful mess.
In the end, he used a long knife to make thin slices of meat, starting from the feet and working up. Then the bones went under the mill-wheel, one at a time, each making a handful of flour. While his hands held out, of course.
He was no Englishman, of course. It spoiled the taste a bit. But he had his daily bread.
In the end, he used a long knife to make thin slices of meat, starting from the feet and working up. Then the bones went under the mill-wheel, one at a time, each making a handful of flour. While his hands held out, of course.
He was no Englishman, of course. It spoiled the taste a bit. But he had his daily bread.
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Dress Codes
“Simmons, I need you to… uh…” Muller trailed off, his brows furrowing, then slowly lifting upward.
“Yes, boss?” said Simmons.
“I… uh… you… what are you wearing?”
Simmons glanced down, then back up, smiling. “Casual Friday, sir.” He rustled when he moved.
“That’s a bear skin.” Muller’s tone was flat.
“Yes, sir.”
“And… burlap pants?” He couldn’t restrain a wince.
“Yes, sir. The code of conduct doesn’t specify any of these as contraband,” Simmons said reproachfully.
“Look, the thing with Jenkins was bad enough. This is-“ He froze. “Did your belt just move?”
“Garter snake, sir. Couldn’t find my belt.”
“Yes, boss?” said Simmons.
“I… uh… you… what are you wearing?”
Simmons glanced down, then back up, smiling. “Casual Friday, sir.” He rustled when he moved.
“That’s a bear skin.” Muller’s tone was flat.
“Yes, sir.”
“And… burlap pants?” He couldn’t restrain a wince.
“Yes, sir. The code of conduct doesn’t specify any of these as contraband,” Simmons said reproachfully.
“Look, the thing with Jenkins was bad enough. This is-“ He froze. “Did your belt just move?”
“Garter snake, sir. Couldn’t find my belt.”
Dead Inside
“I look at the trees, green and growing, and I see a ruin of skeletal limbs, black bark against a stark white sky. Winter, forever. Or, worse, just a stump. Nothing left at all.” He wouldn’t meet her eyes. “It’s the same… with everything. Inside, there’s a death, clawing its way to the surface. Inevitable.” His hands wrung each other, pale fish writhing in a sunless well.
“Look deeper,” she said. She held out the bit of spongy wood she’d taken from the trunk. The soft white bulb of a mushroom clung to its surface. “Just a little deeper inside.”
“Look deeper,” she said. She held out the bit of spongy wood she’d taken from the trunk. The soft white bulb of a mushroom clung to its surface. “Just a little deeper inside.”
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Frontiersman
Happy birthday to me!
Yes, I'm a year older today, but seemingly no wiser (nor any closer to actually being published.) May the Wisest Stone bless us all with his insight and general truculence in the coming holiday season.
If any of my fan(s) knows more about migrating Mirrorshards to its own website/server, let me know. As far as I'm concerned, the computer is the Magic Box that does stuff when I push buttons. I'd like to be able to mirror this on its own webspace; I'd feel more like I was accomplishing actual "publishing" that way. ;-)
---
The farmer found, to his dismay, that the stone which had halted his plow was rather larger than he'd thought. His digging revealed what was almost a boulder, out of place in the soft loam of the countryside. He nearly dropped his spade when the stone spoke.
“What are you doing?” asked the stone, in a polite but disinterested baritone.
“I'm a farmer,” the man answered. “I tame the wilderness to bring order and plenty.” He indicated his plow, horse, and tools.
The Wisest Stone thought a while. “I do not feel particularly tamed,” he said.
Yes, I'm a year older today, but seemingly no wiser (nor any closer to actually being published.) May the Wisest Stone bless us all with his insight and general truculence in the coming holiday season.
If any of my fan(s) knows more about migrating Mirrorshards to its own website/server, let me know. As far as I'm concerned, the computer is the Magic Box that does stuff when I push buttons. I'd like to be able to mirror this on its own webspace; I'd feel more like I was accomplishing actual "publishing" that way. ;-)
---
The farmer found, to his dismay, that the stone which had halted his plow was rather larger than he'd thought. His digging revealed what was almost a boulder, out of place in the soft loam of the countryside. He nearly dropped his spade when the stone spoke.
“What are you doing?” asked the stone, in a polite but disinterested baritone.
“I'm a farmer,” the man answered. “I tame the wilderness to bring order and plenty.” He indicated his plow, horse, and tools.
The Wisest Stone thought a while. “I do not feel particularly tamed,” he said.
Warfare
“It is to be war,” said the young man, his eyes as dark as his hair. “There is no other way.”
The old man turned and opened a bamboo cabinet. He removed a laquered tray, two cups, a black teapot. He doused the utensils in hot water and began laying them out for the ceremony.
“What are you doing?” growled the young man. “Did you not hear? We are at war!”
“Yes,” said the old man. He did not look up as he lit the fire. “And you have already lost the first battle.”
The old man turned and opened a bamboo cabinet. He removed a laquered tray, two cups, a black teapot. He doused the utensils in hot water and began laying them out for the ceremony.
“What are you doing?” growled the young man. “Did you not hear? We are at war!”
“Yes,” said the old man. He did not look up as he lit the fire. “And you have already lost the first battle.”
Sunday, November 29, 2009
See Manuel for Instructions
I make no apologies.
Well, except for missing yesterday. This is another travel weekend, so I'll get caught up when I can, 'k?
---
The ship groaned and rumbled again, great shudders passing through it. Carrie dragged Traci forward.
“The bridge is through here,” she said, pressing the button in forlorn hope. The door didn’t move.
“Hey,” said Traci. She pointed to a small, red lever labeled “Manuel Override.”
“Ha!” cried Carrie. She pulled the lever.
There was a blur of motion and a man stood before them. He had golden brown skin, black hair, closely cropped, and a small red toolbox. “Si, miss?” he said. He glanced at the door as the ship trembled again. “Ai. This will be time-and-a-half. And hazard pay.”
Well, except for missing yesterday. This is another travel weekend, so I'll get caught up when I can, 'k?
---
The ship groaned and rumbled again, great shudders passing through it. Carrie dragged Traci forward.
“The bridge is through here,” she said, pressing the button in forlorn hope. The door didn’t move.
“Hey,” said Traci. She pointed to a small, red lever labeled “Manuel Override.”
“Ha!” cried Carrie. She pulled the lever.
There was a blur of motion and a man stood before them. He had golden brown skin, black hair, closely cropped, and a small red toolbox. “Si, miss?” he said. He glanced at the door as the ship trembled again. “Ai. This will be time-and-a-half. And hazard pay.”
Friday, November 27, 2009
Uncoil
Another flash, and a fallen leaf exploded into terrible radiance, throwing June to the side. She didn’t move.
“Don’t you see?” said Rae, taking another step forward. His foot crackled when it touched the ground. “You live in a house of springs, wound tight enough to squeal. It takes so little, so very little, to push those springs out of alignment, and then…” He gestured, and a pebble detonated, leaving an irradiated crater.
“It’s so hard, June,” he said. “It’s like walking on eggshells. I feel it, inside. I just want to jump up and land with both feet, hard…”
“Don’t you see?” said Rae, taking another step forward. His foot crackled when it touched the ground. “You live in a house of springs, wound tight enough to squeal. It takes so little, so very little, to push those springs out of alignment, and then…” He gestured, and a pebble detonated, leaving an irradiated crater.
“It’s so hard, June,” he said. “It’s like walking on eggshells. I feel it, inside. I just want to jump up and land with both feet, hard…”
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Thanksgiving
“I’m thankful for flowers and ponies and all the pretty things in the world,” said Becky. “What are you thankful for, Dad?”
Dad smiled. “I’m just thankful for my family. What time I have with them, anyway,” he added wryly. “Dear?”
“I’m thankful to still have a job,” said Mom. “What are you thankful for, Robby?”
“I’m thankful that school’s out!” said Bobby. “What are you thankful for, Kra-Zar?”
Kra-Zar inclined his shining head with a whir of servos. “Why are you human weaklings not bowing before me? We will crush this puny planet!”
“Good enough,” said Dad. “Let’s eat!”
Dad smiled. “I’m just thankful for my family. What time I have with them, anyway,” he added wryly. “Dear?”
“I’m thankful to still have a job,” said Mom. “What are you thankful for, Robby?”
“I’m thankful that school’s out!” said Bobby. “What are you thankful for, Kra-Zar?”
Kra-Zar inclined his shining head with a whir of servos. “Why are you human weaklings not bowing before me? We will crush this puny planet!”
“Good enough,” said Dad. “Let’s eat!”
Etiquette
The wooden surface stretched off into darkness on either side. There was a metallic clank from one side, then another. Silver rods, larger than tree trunks, settled into place.
Overhead, the shadows shifted and retreated, revealing a red-tinted face, larger than the side of a skyscraper.
“Are you shellfish or salad?” rumbled a deep voice, felt more than heard. Crimson hands lifted the silver rods, revealing wicked prongs at the ends.
“Neither!” cried Dortmund frantically.
“Hmm.” The oversized features wrinkled in thought. The left hand retreated and came back with a daintier utensil, still taller than a man. “Dessert, then?”
Overhead, the shadows shifted and retreated, revealing a red-tinted face, larger than the side of a skyscraper.
“Are you shellfish or salad?” rumbled a deep voice, felt more than heard. Crimson hands lifted the silver rods, revealing wicked prongs at the ends.
“Neither!” cried Dortmund frantically.
“Hmm.” The oversized features wrinkled in thought. The left hand retreated and came back with a daintier utensil, still taller than a man. “Dessert, then?”
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Of Both Worlds and Neither
I think I'll just do eating-themed stories for the rest of the week, in honor of the somewhat silly holiday which approaches here in the States.
---
“Your tine is nearly up!” cried Dartmoor, swinging his silver-handled spoon.
Pitch ducked neatly. “You’ll find me more than a mouthful,” he retorted. “Taste your just desserts!” His return swipe nearly speared his opponent’s hat upon his middle prong.
“I’ll serve you on a platter!” Dartmoor snarled.
They leapt and swung, but their blows impacted not upon their respective foes. Instead, with a solid clang, each was intercepted by tines blunt, short, and softly curved, wielded with consummate skill.
“Why do you battle, brethren?” asked the soft voice. “Come, let us put aside our quarrels.”
“Lord Runcible!” they cried simultaneously.
---
“Your tine is nearly up!” cried Dartmoor, swinging his silver-handled spoon.
Pitch ducked neatly. “You’ll find me more than a mouthful,” he retorted. “Taste your just desserts!” His return swipe nearly speared his opponent’s hat upon his middle prong.
“I’ll serve you on a platter!” Dartmoor snarled.
They leapt and swung, but their blows impacted not upon their respective foes. Instead, with a solid clang, each was intercepted by tines blunt, short, and softly curved, wielded with consummate skill.
“Why do you battle, brethren?” asked the soft voice. “Come, let us put aside our quarrels.”
“Lord Runcible!” they cried simultaneously.
Monday, November 23, 2009
The Way Downstairs
The stairwell stretched down. After three flights, the light from the door gave way, and only the faint gleam of gaslight on polished wood delineated the lower levels.
“How deep do they go?” asked Timothy.
“No one knows,” said Roweena. “The most successful team made it to the four-hundredth landing, establishing several base camps. The bones of less cautious men litter the stairs below.”
“Wow,” said Timothy. He fell silent for a time.
“Are you reconsidering, now that you have seen the Stairwell itself?”
“What? No! Here, help me up.” Timothy scrambled for the banister. “This is gonna be sweet.”
“How deep do they go?” asked Timothy.
“No one knows,” said Roweena. “The most successful team made it to the four-hundredth landing, establishing several base camps. The bones of less cautious men litter the stairs below.”
“Wow,” said Timothy. He fell silent for a time.
“Are you reconsidering, now that you have seen the Stairwell itself?”
“What? No! Here, help me up.” Timothy scrambled for the banister. “This is gonna be sweet.”
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Topiary
It wasn’t that the sculptures were bad. Far from it, really. Visitors to the gardens remarked with awe and envy at the artistry of the carefully-pruned plants. Lord Trevor had had several offers for his gardener, in money, land, and… favors, to put it bluntly. He’d thus far resisted, but the plants were unnerving.
Trevor was taking a constitutional, somewhat nervously, when he came across the gardener, digging beside the topiary lion.
“Working already?” said Trevor.
“Got unruly last night,” the man grunted.
Trevor hesitated. He spotted what looked like a skull in the man’s hands. “Oh. Er. Carry on.”
Trevor was taking a constitutional, somewhat nervously, when he came across the gardener, digging beside the topiary lion.
“Working already?” said Trevor.
“Got unruly last night,” the man grunted.
Trevor hesitated. He spotted what looked like a skull in the man’s hands. “Oh. Er. Carry on.”
Friday, November 20, 2009
Murderess
The blinds were closed. Outside, the crowd rustled and murmured and flapped, jostling for places on the windowsill and gutters. Less fortunate individuals clung to the telephone wires, waiting for their chance.
They never raised their voices. Anything above a whisper would set off the whole lot of them, cawing and croaking. She cringed when she heard the scuffling in the chimney. A sooty lump of a bird fell into the grate, crawled out, coughed. It struggled to the old woman’s feet and collapsed by the couch. Far overhead, rheumy eyes opened.
“Welcome back, Grandmother,” Shona said from the table.
They never raised their voices. Anything above a whisper would set off the whole lot of them, cawing and croaking. She cringed when she heard the scuffling in the chimney. A sooty lump of a bird fell into the grate, crawled out, coughed. It struggled to the old woman’s feet and collapsed by the couch. Far overhead, rheumy eyes opened.
“Welcome back, Grandmother,” Shona said from the table.
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Reaping
It was harvest time. Torvald hated harvest time. It wasn’t bad with animals, but...
He mounted his tractor and sat for a long moment before turning the keys. The engine rumbled to life. The blades in the back glinted as he drove to the north field, which as usual was filled with song.
The corn was first to spot him, being the tallest. “Farmer Tor!” said the nearest stalk, and the cry spread down the field.
“Have you come to water us? It’s still so early,” said a pea pod.
Torvald shook his head. “Afraid not,” he said. “Not today.”
He mounted his tractor and sat for a long moment before turning the keys. The engine rumbled to life. The blades in the back glinted as he drove to the north field, which as usual was filled with song.
The corn was first to spot him, being the tallest. “Farmer Tor!” said the nearest stalk, and the cry spread down the field.
“Have you come to water us? It’s still so early,” said a pea pod.
Torvald shook his head. “Afraid not,” he said. “Not today.”
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Invasive Species
It sat on the kitchen table, a speck of dark light, shifting through an array of geometric shapes.
“I don’t know,” said Adie. “When I woke up, it was in my hand.”
“Were you dreaming?” asked Teri.
Adie blinked. “Yeah. There were… trees… or curtains… and I had to push through to get… somewhere.”
“Cockle-burr.”
“What?”
“Plant that puts its seeds in a shell with hooks. They catch on animals’ fur, and the animals spread them to new locations.”
Adie watched the thing morph into a pyramid, then slowly elongate. “Will it grow a dream?”
Teri shrugged. “Or a nightmare.”
“I don’t know,” said Adie. “When I woke up, it was in my hand.”
“Were you dreaming?” asked Teri.
Adie blinked. “Yeah. There were… trees… or curtains… and I had to push through to get… somewhere.”
“Cockle-burr.”
“What?”
“Plant that puts its seeds in a shell with hooks. They catch on animals’ fur, and the animals spread them to new locations.”
Adie watched the thing morph into a pyramid, then slowly elongate. “Will it grow a dream?”
Teri shrugged. “Or a nightmare.”
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Diagnosis
“Why do I let you talk me into this stuff? First the whole foods, then the yoga, and now this.”
“Be quiet,” Sunbeam hissed. “He’s an actual god. He’s got to be way better than just some human doctor.”
They fell silent as the shimmering nude form of the god walked through the door. He didn’t bother to open it first.
“So,” said Patten, “am I dying, doc?”
Glowing white eyes fixed on him. “Yes.”
Patten paled.
“You are always dying.” The god shrugged and picked up a stethoscope. “I’d try not to worry about it if I were you.”
“Be quiet,” Sunbeam hissed. “He’s an actual god. He’s got to be way better than just some human doctor.”
They fell silent as the shimmering nude form of the god walked through the door. He didn’t bother to open it first.
“So,” said Patten, “am I dying, doc?”
Glowing white eyes fixed on him. “Yes.”
Patten paled.
“You are always dying.” The god shrugged and picked up a stethoscope. “I’d try not to worry about it if I were you.”
Monday, November 16, 2009
Alchemical
Double-post today, to make up for yesterday's Travel Holiday.
---
“Eureka!” he cried, trailing papers behind him. He held a scorched alembic in one hand. His beard still smoked, his hair a matted birds-nest atop his head. He grasped my arm, his palms sweaty. “Listen! The secret! I’ve found the secret! You don’t have to turn anything into gold. It’s already gold! All of it! It’s all made of gold!”
I shook him off, hurried away. He shrieked away, down the street.
My skin itched where his dirty hands had touched. I scratched at the spot, felt it peel away in thin strips, saw the metallic sheen glinting from beneath…
---
“Eureka!” he cried, trailing papers behind him. He held a scorched alembic in one hand. His beard still smoked, his hair a matted birds-nest atop his head. He grasped my arm, his palms sweaty. “Listen! The secret! I’ve found the secret! You don’t have to turn anything into gold. It’s already gold! All of it! It’s all made of gold!”
I shook him off, hurried away. He shrieked away, down the street.
My skin itched where his dirty hands had touched. I scratched at the spot, felt it peel away in thin strips, saw the metallic sheen glinting from beneath…
Grasping-Tree Hill
“I see you’ve been on Grasping-Tree Hill,” said old Darby. “There’s a tale to that place. They say old Porter – this being Porterston, you follow – he went down there at the last and sealed himself away in his tomb, all surrounded by his gold and jewels. They say all that treasure is still there. Porter sleeps now, unless someone is foolish enough to take something from his hoard.”
Clem swallowed, the gold coin in his pocket suddenly burning cold. Atop the hill, the thin white branches of the tree crackled, then curled gently in on themselves to form a fist…
Clem swallowed, the gold coin in his pocket suddenly burning cold. Atop the hill, the thin white branches of the tree crackled, then curled gently in on themselves to form a fist…
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Drowning
He was born so full of sustaining air his cheeks bulged. In the early moments of his youth, he played with other youngsters, swimming in tight circles, even blowing small bubbles at each other. They would regret the waste later, of course, but the young are always foolish.
When his lungful grew stale, he sought love. One of his childhood playmates, a button-nosed brunette, was amenable to his initiating gestures. They came together, clung to one another. He breathed his air into her, saw her swell with the stirrings of new life.
His lungs ached. He sank, holding his breath.
When his lungful grew stale, he sought love. One of his childhood playmates, a button-nosed brunette, was amenable to his initiating gestures. They came together, clung to one another. He breathed his air into her, saw her swell with the stirrings of new life.
His lungs ached. He sank, holding his breath.
Believe Your Eyes
Yesterday's, up late. Sorry! Went to sleep right after work and drove all night.
---
The doors slid open with a whoosh and a ding. E119 darted out. “Sir! Report from eye level!”
The Colonel snatched the sheaf of papers. His expression fell. “This… what is this nonsense?”
“Sir, I don’t know, sir! I’m only a Junior Floaty Bit, first class!”
The Colonel bent his speaking tube forward. “Get me the bowels. This has to be a figment. If they’ve been mucking around again…”
E119 laughed dutifully. The Colonel glared.
“Sorry, sir! Thought you were making a joke. Bowels, muck…”
“This is Logic, son. We don’t do humor,” said the Colonel. “That’s two floor down.”
---
The doors slid open with a whoosh and a ding. E119 darted out. “Sir! Report from eye level!”
The Colonel snatched the sheaf of papers. His expression fell. “This… what is this nonsense?”
“Sir, I don’t know, sir! I’m only a Junior Floaty Bit, first class!”
The Colonel bent his speaking tube forward. “Get me the bowels. This has to be a figment. If they’ve been mucking around again…”
E119 laughed dutifully. The Colonel glared.
“Sorry, sir! Thought you were making a joke. Bowels, muck…”
“This is Logic, son. We don’t do humor,” said the Colonel. “That’s two floor down.”
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Bloom
Like a green tower, the stalk grew into th esky. Asphalt and paving stones lay scattered at its base, remnants of the tremendous speed of its growth. It pulsed with verdant life
At the top, nodding gently in the violent winds a half-mile up, a bud the size of a freight-liner gradually softened in the growing light. The sun broke the horizon, and the petals opened in a glory of colors. The people in the stopped cars and lopsided houses below gasped in wonder as the scent wafted down.
Then they heard the first ominous hum of a bee's wings...
At the top, nodding gently in the violent winds a half-mile up, a bud the size of a freight-liner gradually softened in the growing light. The sun broke the horizon, and the petals opened in a glory of colors. The people in the stopped cars and lopsided houses below gasped in wonder as the scent wafted down.
Then they heard the first ominous hum of a bee's wings...
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Housecat
For reference
---
As Leon settled in front of the television, the house rocked from a heavy impact. Leon turned to regard the luminous eye at the window.
“Good night, Zither,” he said. He stood and reached out to scratch behind one enormous ear.
“Mrrrudnite,” said Zither, crawling into his garage.
On the television screen, a talking head was spouting opinions. “...driving the other day and some maniac on a chihuahua comes barreling up behind me, barking like mad. My car was up a tree for hours until he calmed down. They shouldn't let Mexicans on American highways, I say...”
---
As Leon settled in front of the television, the house rocked from a heavy impact. Leon turned to regard the luminous eye at the window.
“Good night, Zither,” he said. He stood and reached out to scratch behind one enormous ear.
“Mrrrudnite,” said Zither, crawling into his garage.
On the television screen, a talking head was spouting opinions. “...driving the other day and some maniac on a chihuahua comes barreling up behind me, barking like mad. My car was up a tree for hours until he calmed down. They shouldn't let Mexicans on American highways, I say...”
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Sea Monkey
“You have to relax,” said Sydney, “or you can't see it.”
“I can't see it anyway,” Pat grumbled.
“Just sit on the deck-chair and sip your drink and let your mind... wander.”
There was a silence. “Holy crap,” said Pat. He turned his head. “Hey!”
“Don't look directly at it!” said Sydney.
“A monkey...”
“Yes.”
“It was blue.” Pat looked down. “What's in these drinks?”
“I don't think it's the drinks,” said Sydney, pointing. At the buffet table, a bowl of oranges stealthily hovered, lifted by invisible paws...
“I can't see it anyway,” Pat grumbled.
“Just sit on the deck-chair and sip your drink and let your mind... wander.”
There was a silence. “Holy crap,” said Pat. He turned his head. “Hey!”
“Don't look directly at it!” said Sydney.
“A monkey...”
“Yes.”
“It was blue.” Pat looked down. “What's in these drinks?”
“I don't think it's the drinks,” said Sydney, pointing. At the buffet table, a bowl of oranges stealthily hovered, lifted by invisible paws...
Monday, November 9, 2009
Man and Pack
Another corner. Another dark hallway. The glimmering gems in the floor no longer tempt me; my pack is full to bursting. They'll do me little good if I never escape this maze. Their luster dissipates quickly at a touch. At least I can tell where I have been already, so that I rarely backtrack.
I grow weak with hunger. Visions of succulent fruit dance before my eyes. I dare not stop. These caves are haunted by ghouls. Only the light of the stones holds them at bay, and that fades with every breath.
There must be an end, mustn't there?
I grow weak with hunger. Visions of succulent fruit dance before my eyes. I dare not stop. These caves are haunted by ghouls. Only the light of the stones holds them at bay, and that fades with every breath.
There must be an end, mustn't there?
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Hide and Seek
Izzie slipped through the dangling shirts and giggled to herself. Beside her, someone moved.
“Oh!” said Izzie. “Are you hiding, too?”
“Yes. I must hide from Mother. She will be frightfully cross with me if she finds me,” said a small voice.
Something sounded strange to Izzie. She peered down. There was a shoe visible, polished black with a buckle.
“How long have you been hiding?” asked Izzie.
“I know not. A long, long time, I think.” There was a cold breeze.
Izzie looked out again. Suddenly, the department store seemed very far away indeed.
“Oh!” said Izzie. “Are you hiding, too?”
“Yes. I must hide from Mother. She will be frightfully cross with me if she finds me,” said a small voice.
Something sounded strange to Izzie. She peered down. There was a shoe visible, polished black with a buckle.
“How long have you been hiding?” asked Izzie.
“I know not. A long, long time, I think.” There was a cold breeze.
Izzie looked out again. Suddenly, the department store seemed very far away indeed.
Saturday, November 7, 2009
A Smell Like a Fungus
In the northern United States, there is a fungus. It is miles across, the largest single organism in existence. Dig into the ground anywhere and you'll find it, or a part of it. Remember this.
There is a smell to hotels, a hotel-motel smell, an old-carpet-cheap-cleanser smell. The air thickens with it. Open any hotel door anywhere in the world and you'll smell the same acrid scent in all of them. It is like a fungus.
Whatever you do, wherever you go, please, never go down into the basement of the hotel. It's important. Promise me. Promise me you won't...
There is a smell to hotels, a hotel-motel smell, an old-carpet-cheap-cleanser smell. The air thickens with it. Open any hotel door anywhere in the world and you'll smell the same acrid scent in all of them. It is like a fungus.
Whatever you do, wherever you go, please, never go down into the basement of the hotel. It's important. Promise me. Promise me you won't...
Friday, November 6, 2009
Familiarity Breeds Contempt
“The exits aren't even numbered anymore,” said Shannon. “I think it's the same one every time.”
“So what happens if we take it?” asked Dan.
“Find out,” Shannon ordered. “I'm getting sleepy.”
The road rapidly petered out to mere dirt tracks. Only the lights through the trees kept them moving forward. The sign declared it the “Furnall Inn.”
Behind the counter, a gaunt man turned to regard them as they lugged in their bags. “Stay a while,” he intoned. “Stay... foreve-”
“Screw this,” said Shannon. “I'm sleeping in the car.”
“So what happens if we take it?” asked Dan.
“Find out,” Shannon ordered. “I'm getting sleepy.”
The road rapidly petered out to mere dirt tracks. Only the lights through the trees kept them moving forward. The sign declared it the “Furnall Inn.”
Behind the counter, a gaunt man turned to regard them as they lugged in their bags. “Stay a while,” he intoned. “Stay... foreve-”
“Screw this,” said Shannon. “I'm sleeping in the car.”
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Gifts of the Fae
“She'll be here any minute,” Mom said. “Just put it on!”
George sighed and pulled it over his head. The cheerful reindeer began to dance and frolic on his stomach. “Hooray!” they cried in tinny voices.
“There. You know how she loves to see you wearing her gifts,” said Mom. The doorbell rang. She ran to answer it.
“Helllloooo, dearies!”
“Tania, darling!”
George waited through the interminable greetings.
“And I've got a little present for Georgie-porgie!”
George opened the little bag. “Rocks?” he said.
“Gravel, dearie. Magic gravel.”
“Say thank you, George.”
“Thank you, godmother,” George managed.
George sighed and pulled it over his head. The cheerful reindeer began to dance and frolic on his stomach. “Hooray!” they cried in tinny voices.
“There. You know how she loves to see you wearing her gifts,” said Mom. The doorbell rang. She ran to answer it.
“Helllloooo, dearies!”
“Tania, darling!”
George waited through the interminable greetings.
“And I've got a little present for Georgie-porgie!”
George opened the little bag. “Rocks?” he said.
“Gravel, dearie. Magic gravel.”
“Say thank you, George.”
“Thank you, godmother,” George managed.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
The Life and Times of Otto von Maark and His Prodigious Beard
In honor of my one-year anniversary, here is a not-quite-a-short-story which I wrote in pretty much one sitting a month ago. I hope you all enjoy it. Feel free to spread it around; it's under Creative Commons like everything else here.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Inflamed
“I shouldn't go,” said Errol. “I've got that thing that's going around.”
“Pfft,” Dean chided. “Everyone's had that. No one cares anymore. It'll burn out in a few more weeks.”
“They say it's a pandemic,” said Errol. “I'm trying to be responsible. It's really contagious. I caught it from less than a minute with Kathy.”
“That was last week. Just don't cough on anyone.”
“I don't think coughing is really the problem,” said Errol, shifting the phone to his other hand. He looked at the flames, flickering steadily up past his elbow...
“Pfft,” Dean chided. “Everyone's had that. No one cares anymore. It'll burn out in a few more weeks.”
“They say it's a pandemic,” said Errol. “I'm trying to be responsible. It's really contagious. I caught it from less than a minute with Kathy.”
“That was last week. Just don't cough on anyone.”
“I don't think coughing is really the problem,” said Errol, shifting the phone to his other hand. He looked at the flames, flickering steadily up past his elbow...
Monday, November 2, 2009
The VCR in Heaven
“Home movie time!” cried God. He was lugging the old cardboard box of VHS cassettes up from the basement.
The cherubim and seraphim on the couch nodded, their grins fixed.
God knelt by the television. “Has someone tampered with this?” He asked. “It’s blinking twelve again.”
“We had that power outage,” volunteered a cherubim. “It probably reset.”
“Hmph,” said God. “It better not eat my tapes. I lost the one of the birth, you know.”
The angelic crowd knew. None of them would admit it. It was perhaps the only decent thing the Lightbringer had done for his fellow angels.
The cherubim and seraphim on the couch nodded, their grins fixed.
God knelt by the television. “Has someone tampered with this?” He asked. “It’s blinking twelve again.”
“We had that power outage,” volunteered a cherubim. “It probably reset.”
“Hmph,” said God. “It better not eat my tapes. I lost the one of the birth, you know.”
The angelic crowd knew. None of them would admit it. It was perhaps the only decent thing the Lightbringer had done for his fellow angels.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Foundations
It's November 1st! Time for our monthly dose of the Wisest Stone's very best advice. This is the one-year anniversary, roughly, of Mirrorshards and my daily writing exercise. My audience is small, but apparently loyal, and even includes several members not related to me. I'm glad you're all here, and I look forward to another year of strange fragments and odd windows into other worlds.
It's also NaNoWriMo, which I will be sort of participating in. (I've got over fifty thousand words already; I'm aiming for another fifty thousand and an actual finished novel instead of one that cuts out halfway.) Happy November!
---
“It is the problem of all buildings,” said the Wisest Stone, as Taku worked to dig him out of the soft sand.
“I think it is a problem of sand,” Taku said.
“The sand cannot be blamed. The trouble comes in the weight of the thing.”
“You should not land upon the beach,” Taku pointed out. “We have spoken of this before.”
“It is best,” the Wisest Stone went on, as if he had not heard, “to build upon a foundation of rock. But even piling rock upon rock, at some point you will still be building upon the sand.”
It's also NaNoWriMo, which I will be sort of participating in. (I've got over fifty thousand words already; I'm aiming for another fifty thousand and an actual finished novel instead of one that cuts out halfway.) Happy November!
---
“It is the problem of all buildings,” said the Wisest Stone, as Taku worked to dig him out of the soft sand.
“I think it is a problem of sand,” Taku said.
“The sand cannot be blamed. The trouble comes in the weight of the thing.”
“You should not land upon the beach,” Taku pointed out. “We have spoken of this before.”
“It is best,” the Wisest Stone went on, as if he had not heard, “to build upon a foundation of rock. But even piling rock upon rock, at some point you will still be building upon the sand.”
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Morning Breath
He’d fallen asleep in his car. Sleep came hard, especially on the edges of the forest, but driving into town after last night would have been tantamount to suicide.
He woke in the early morning darkness. His breath had fogged all the windows, cocooning him in his own white-walled world. For a moment he could not tell what had awakened him, other than the pain in his neck and back.
Then, ever so gently, a soft scraping. Something sharp against the outside of the car.
It couldn’t see in. It didn’t know he was here. He tried not to breathe.
He woke in the early morning darkness. His breath had fogged all the windows, cocooning him in his own white-walled world. For a moment he could not tell what had awakened him, other than the pain in his neck and back.
Then, ever so gently, a soft scraping. Something sharp against the outside of the car.
It couldn’t see in. It didn’t know he was here. He tried not to breathe.
Friday, October 30, 2009
Prayer Upon Crossing the Highway
Though I walk now among the Thin Branches, drawing near to the Shadow That Roars, I shall not fear, for You, Lord, are with me. Be thou a tail to my soul, O Gatherer, who caches the hoard that never empties. I scent the hot and sticky sweetness of the Shadow, baking black and yellow beneath the heat of the sun. The bones of my brothers lie at the edges. One sad corpse lies, headless and disfigured, upon the yellow lines.
The air chokes me. The surface is hot beneath my feet. I must cross now.
O Gatherer! Preserve me!
The air chokes me. The surface is hot beneath my feet. I must cross now.
O Gatherer! Preserve me!
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Our Monster
Engines filled the city with noise and heat, choked it with diesel fumes. Tanks rumbled to themselves. Teams of soldiers with rocket launchers and artillery sweated in the heat of the sun. Great banks of anti-vehicular missiles stood ready.
On the shore, the water slowly washed away the man-deep footprints sunk in the sand. The ocean sat quiet, unruffled, its surface stirred only by wind. No vast bulk rose from the depths. No reptilian behemoth surged toward land.
In the city, they waited. Everything was in readiness for his arrival. Where was he? When would he come back to them?
On the shore, the water slowly washed away the man-deep footprints sunk in the sand. The ocean sat quiet, unruffled, its surface stirred only by wind. No vast bulk rose from the depths. No reptilian behemoth surged toward land.
In the city, they waited. Everything was in readiness for his arrival. Where was he? When would he come back to them?
Source of Capital
“This is the way it works,” said Mr. Bark. “You louts do whatever I say, and I don’t throw your worthless monkey asses out onto the street.”
“But-“
“No buts!”
“You can’t-“
“I can. I just did.” Mr. Bark rustled his leaves, a sure sign of growing irritation; he didn’t move if he could help it. He’d never held with this new-fangled locomotion business. “Get moving.”
Fred and Claude trudged outside, shovels over their shoulders.
“This sucks,” said Claude. “I wish I could quit.”
“What are you going to do?” asked Fred. “It’s not like money doesn’t grow on trees.”
“But-“
“No buts!”
“You can’t-“
“I can. I just did.” Mr. Bark rustled his leaves, a sure sign of growing irritation; he didn’t move if he could help it. He’d never held with this new-fangled locomotion business. “Get moving.”
Fred and Claude trudged outside, shovels over their shoulders.
“This sucks,” said Claude. “I wish I could quit.”
“What are you going to do?” asked Fred. “It’s not like money doesn’t grow on trees.”
Money Tree
“Another late night?”
“Well, the seedlings need to be repotted, and that late fertilizer shipment just arrived yesterday, so we’re still dealing with that, and…”
“This is ridiculous. He works you too hard.” Somehow, it didn’t sound like Fred’s welfare was really the first thing in Fran’s mind.
“I don’t really think so,” Fred hedged. “It’s literally a matter of life and death for him. Once he manages to flower…”
“He’s been promising that payout for years now,” said Fran. “Face it: you’ve been duped. He’s not really a money tree. I always said he looked more like an oak.”
“Well, the seedlings need to be repotted, and that late fertilizer shipment just arrived yesterday, so we’re still dealing with that, and…”
“This is ridiculous. He works you too hard.” Somehow, it didn’t sound like Fred’s welfare was really the first thing in Fran’s mind.
“I don’t really think so,” Fred hedged. “It’s literally a matter of life and death for him. Once he manages to flower…”
“He’s been promising that payout for years now,” said Fran. “Face it: you’ve been duped. He’s not really a money tree. I always said he looked more like an oak.”
Monday, October 26, 2009
In the Back Seat
“I feel awful,” said Beta. “A couple of millennia ago I almost threw up.”
“Maybe you should,” said Alpha, faintly red-tinged. “It might help. Get whatever’s bothering you out of the system.”
“But I’m feeling better now. I’m less queasy.” Beta flared his arms for emphasis.
“I bet it’s all those Type Ones you keep around,” said Alpha.
“I like them,” Beta said. “They’re pretty.”
“They’re not very stable. They’ll all burn out in a dozen epochs.”
“Shut up!”
“You shut up.”
“Both of you be quiet,” snapped Prime, turning around, “or so help me I’ll turn this universe around.”
“Maybe you should,” said Alpha, faintly red-tinged. “It might help. Get whatever’s bothering you out of the system.”
“But I’m feeling better now. I’m less queasy.” Beta flared his arms for emphasis.
“I bet it’s all those Type Ones you keep around,” said Alpha.
“I like them,” Beta said. “They’re pretty.”
“They’re not very stable. They’ll all burn out in a dozen epochs.”
“Shut up!”
“You shut up.”
“Both of you be quiet,” snapped Prime, turning around, “or so help me I’ll turn this universe around.”
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Apples Awaiting Their Day
“I wish I was a maple,” sighed Kreti. “That looks like a lot of fun.”
“Pfft,” said Gonju. “Have you seen the written tests they have to take to get the flying license? And even so, without practical experience, they end up crashing into stuff early on half the time anyway.”
“Or pines. Those things are rad, with the armored scales and all.”
“Pain in the butt to clean. No, this here is the life.” Gonju leaned back and sighed. “Warm, soft, sweet-smelling; nothing to do but get fat and then drop.”
“The hard part comes after,” said Kreti darkly.
“Pfft,” said Gonju. “Have you seen the written tests they have to take to get the flying license? And even so, without practical experience, they end up crashing into stuff early on half the time anyway.”
“Or pines. Those things are rad, with the armored scales and all.”
“Pain in the butt to clean. No, this here is the life.” Gonju leaned back and sighed. “Warm, soft, sweet-smelling; nothing to do but get fat and then drop.”
“The hard part comes after,” said Kreti darkly.
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Costume
“And what are you supposed to be?”
“I am the End,” said the little boy. “I am young now, fresh-faced and innocent. But sooner or later I will grow up. I will gain knowledge and wisdom, but also cynicism and bitterness. I will grow old. I will gather wrinkles with each disappointment, each failure. One day, I will look out at my world and see only broken dreams. At that moment, I will truly die, though my body may live on for months or years.”
There was an appalled silence.
“Okay, I’m a cowboy. Can I have some candy now?”
“I am the End,” said the little boy. “I am young now, fresh-faced and innocent. But sooner or later I will grow up. I will gain knowledge and wisdom, but also cynicism and bitterness. I will grow old. I will gather wrinkles with each disappointment, each failure. One day, I will look out at my world and see only broken dreams. At that moment, I will truly die, though my body may live on for months or years.”
There was an appalled silence.
“Okay, I’m a cowboy. Can I have some candy now?”
Friday, October 23, 2009
Irresistable
“It’s reverse psychology,” said Dalton.
The big red button flashed softly, safe beneath its domed plastic cover. It had a large yellow-and-black label reading, “DO NOT TOUCH.”
“Obviously you’re not supposed to push this button,” said Carlie. “I bet it sets off the self-destruct. We push this and we win!”
“No,” said Dalton. “They know how we think. No human could resist a big red button with a warning on it. They want us to push it.”
“Well, sitting here won’t solve anything,” said Carlie. He pushed the button.
Deep in the bowels of the ship, something began to move…
The big red button flashed softly, safe beneath its domed plastic cover. It had a large yellow-and-black label reading, “DO NOT TOUCH.”
“Obviously you’re not supposed to push this button,” said Carlie. “I bet it sets off the self-destruct. We push this and we win!”
“No,” said Dalton. “They know how we think. No human could resist a big red button with a warning on it. They want us to push it.”
“Well, sitting here won’t solve anything,” said Carlie. He pushed the button.
Deep in the bowels of the ship, something began to move…
Thursday, October 22, 2009
And the Sound of Waves
It was not easy. Santa Claus had reindeer and a sleigh. Witches had magic flying broomsticks. But the Sandman had no options but walking. There was a long, slow slog to each house that needed his attention and a longer return trip.
And now this. Always this.
The Sandman ignored them for the time being and pushed inside his little bungalow. He dropped his empty sack on the pile and went to fetch the wheelbarrow.
"Beachfront property," he mumbled, trundling out to the comatose sunbathers, "is more trouble than it's worth." Gentle snores emanated from the rolling dunes of sand.
And now this. Always this.
The Sandman ignored them for the time being and pushed inside his little bungalow. He dropped his empty sack on the pile and went to fetch the wheelbarrow.
"Beachfront property," he mumbled, trundling out to the comatose sunbathers, "is more trouble than it's worth." Gentle snores emanated from the rolling dunes of sand.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Final Round
For reference. Again, I don't do continuity much, but sometimes things just stick in my mind.
---
"This is it," said Stiletto. His left eye was swollen shut and his tunic shredded. Even his deadly electric lute had a broken string.
"I don't have anything left," said Big Gunderson. "I'm running on empty."
Crashbang didn't say anything, but he was nearly as badly beaten as his drum kit.
"We can do this," said Stiletto. "We out-bassed the trolls. We out-sang the Sirens. We're the best. We can win this."
The stage door flared with sudden light. Firelight.
"He's killing out there," said Big Gunderson. "We can't top that."
"He may be killing, but we're going to slay."
---
"This is it," said Stiletto. His left eye was swollen shut and his tunic shredded. Even his deadly electric lute had a broken string.
"I don't have anything left," said Big Gunderson. "I'm running on empty."
Crashbang didn't say anything, but he was nearly as badly beaten as his drum kit.
"We can do this," said Stiletto. "We out-bassed the trolls. We out-sang the Sirens. We're the best. We can win this."
The stage door flared with sudden light. Firelight.
"He's killing out there," said Big Gunderson. "We can't top that."
"He may be killing, but we're going to slay."
Highway Robbery
“This is a troll bridge,” said the troll. It scratched under its loincloth. “You gotta pay the troll to cross it.”
Hawthorne clutched at his briefcase. The cars were backing up behind him. “This is extortion! Robbery!”
“It is what it is.” The troll extended a gnarled hand.
“Villains! Criminals!” Hawthorne cried. He fumbled in a pocket and came out with a small spray can. “Back off, troll! I’ve got MAFE1 Spray!”
The troll grinned, displaying its fangs. It rummaged at its belt and came up with a laminated badge. “Tsk. Assaultin’ a city employee. The toll just doubled, chump.”
1 – Metallic Anti-Faerie Emergency Spray
Hawthorne clutched at his briefcase. The cars were backing up behind him. “This is extortion! Robbery!”
“It is what it is.” The troll extended a gnarled hand.
“Villains! Criminals!” Hawthorne cried. He fumbled in a pocket and came out with a small spray can. “Back off, troll! I’ve got MAFE1 Spray!”
The troll grinned, displaying its fangs. It rummaged at its belt and came up with a laminated badge. “Tsk. Assaultin’ a city employee. The toll just doubled, chump.”
1 – Metallic Anti-Faerie Emergency Spray
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
The Fundamental Equivalence of Pixie Dust, an Electrical Socket, and the New Baco-Splosion Deluxe
Larry watched the elf blithely hand over a twenty-dollar bill. He didn’t even wait for change, but sashayed into the food court, plunking his tray down on a spindly-legged table. Larry followed more slowly.
“How did you do that?” he asked, sitting down as the elf bit into his Baco-Splosion Deluxe.
“Do what?” the elf mumbled, tiny mouth full.
“Pay for the food. You don’t have pockets. You don’t even have pants!”
“Oh, that,” the elf waved a thin-fingered hand. “It’s all the same. Magic is money, money is potential, potential is energy. I just manipulate the rates of exchange.”
“How did you do that?” he asked, sitting down as the elf bit into his Baco-Splosion Deluxe.
“Do what?” the elf mumbled, tiny mouth full.
“Pay for the food. You don’t have pockets. You don’t even have pants!”
“Oh, that,” the elf waved a thin-fingered hand. “It’s all the same. Magic is money, money is potential, potential is energy. I just manipulate the rates of exchange.”
Monday, October 19, 2009
One Night Only
Eric blinked in the spotlights. There was a crowd out there, somewhere in the darkness behind the blinding glare.
A dream? The wooden boards beneath his feet felt real. And he sure felt like he’d just been woken up. He yawned, which triggered a burst of laughter. Eric became conscious of his shirtlessness. He tugged at his pajama bottom. The laughter increased. Eric tried to leave the stage, but helmeted men with sharp prods warded him off. Growing increasingly frantic, Eric finally ran for the front and dove out into the darkness. The crowd surged.
---
Paula blinked in the spotlights…
A dream? The wooden boards beneath his feet felt real. And he sure felt like he’d just been woken up. He yawned, which triggered a burst of laughter. Eric became conscious of his shirtlessness. He tugged at his pajama bottom. The laughter increased. Eric tried to leave the stage, but helmeted men with sharp prods warded him off. Growing increasingly frantic, Eric finally ran for the front and dove out into the darkness. The crowd surged.
---
Paula blinked in the spotlights…
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Take Me Out
The batter kept his eyes on the pitcher and ignored the barely-audible stream of muttering.
“…oh-please-no-oh-here-it-comes-here-it-comes-no-please-no-no…”
The ball screamed toward the plate. There was a sharp crack and two piercing shrieks as the batter swung and connected. A dopplering cry trailed off to left field.
The outfielder gauged his distance, shifted, and raised his glove. The ball was done screaming by the time it landed, but it whimpered in his hands.
”…let-it-end-let-it-end-oh-please-no-more…”
He grasped the ball and threw it to the infield. It went wild. He stood there, arms and legs shaking.
Most rookies didn’t last out a full season.
“…oh-please-no-oh-here-it-comes-here-it-comes-no-please-no-no…”
The ball screamed toward the plate. There was a sharp crack and two piercing shrieks as the batter swung and connected. A dopplering cry trailed off to left field.
The outfielder gauged his distance, shifted, and raised his glove. The ball was done screaming by the time it landed, but it whimpered in his hands.
”…let-it-end-let-it-end-oh-please-no-more…”
He grasped the ball and threw it to the infield. It went wild. He stood there, arms and legs shaking.
Most rookies didn’t last out a full season.
Friday, October 16, 2009
A New Plague
“It’s a recurrent theme in horror movies,” Shannon pointed out. “’The Birds’ is the most famous one, but they’ve done frogs, worms, cats…”
“Cats?”
“That Stephen King one. I mean, the cats were there to kill the monsters, but it still kind of counts, I think.”
“Okay, fine,” said Dan. “So a bunch of scary movies had plots about animals gathering and staring at people. They’re right. It’s really creepy.”
“I think they’re cute,” said Shannon, picking up the nearest one. It turned its lambent eyes slowly back to Dan.
“But koala bears? We’re not even in the same hemisphere!”
“Cats?”
“That Stephen King one. I mean, the cats were there to kill the monsters, but it still kind of counts, I think.”
“Okay, fine,” said Dan. “So a bunch of scary movies had plots about animals gathering and staring at people. They’re right. It’s really creepy.”
“I think they’re cute,” said Shannon, picking up the nearest one. It turned its lambent eyes slowly back to Dan.
“But koala bears? We’re not even in the same hemisphere!”
The Herd Stock is Nearly Impossible to Feed Properly
“And this,” said Jabrik, “is one of our most popular models. The couch
is covered with real Brontosaurus leather.”
Kim nodded. “When are you bringing it out?”
“Ah,” said Jabrik. “That is its particular virtue.”
“I don’t understand,” said James.
“Do you know the color of Brontosaurus skin?” said Jabrik.
“Er, no,” said Kim.
“Nor does anyone else,” Jabrik announced, pleased with himself.
“Because they’ve never seen one. They’re extinct.”
“Partly true, and yet not wholly,” said Jabrik. “Things which used to be and are no more are rare and precious, but the true sybarite gathers things which never were.”
is covered with real Brontosaurus leather.”
Kim nodded. “When are you bringing it out?”
“Ah,” said Jabrik. “That is its particular virtue.”
“I don’t understand,” said James.
“Do you know the color of Brontosaurus skin?” said Jabrik.
“Er, no,” said Kim.
“Nor does anyone else,” Jabrik announced, pleased with himself.
“Because they’ve never seen one. They’re extinct.”
“Partly true, and yet not wholly,” said Jabrik. “Things which used to be and are no more are rare and precious, but the true sybarite gathers things which never were.”
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Ground Pounder
The heavy treads displace enormous amounts of the soft mud, even wide as they are. The sheer bulk of the mining robots threatens to stretch the earth to its breaking point.
Yesterday, there was a great deal of excitement. One of the robots veered off course. It broke the perimeter, heading for the spaceport and the landing strip. It left devastation in its wake. The damages totaled over ten million dollars.
Today, the robot was repaired and returned to work. Even now, its treads gather mud and filth as it turns its optics skyward, where shuttles soar into endless night.
Yesterday, there was a great deal of excitement. One of the robots veered off course. It broke the perimeter, heading for the spaceport and the landing strip. It left devastation in its wake. The damages totaled over ten million dollars.
Today, the robot was repaired and returned to work. Even now, its treads gather mud and filth as it turns its optics skyward, where shuttles soar into endless night.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Can Humanity Survive?
There was a scratching at the window. Lilah ignored it. A pathetic yowl soon followed.
“No!” she said aloud. “No more food for you. You’ve ruined your last flowers. Get your handouts somewhere else, you pests!”
A series of meows distracted her from her work. She resolutely kept her gaze on the dishes. Then the tapping started. It was regular, almost patterned, like Morse Code. At last, Lilah gave in and looked up.
She met the startling blue eyes of an enormous Siamese. It lifted a single paw and placed it flat on the window, displaying the tiny, perfect thumb.
“No!” she said aloud. “No more food for you. You’ve ruined your last flowers. Get your handouts somewhere else, you pests!”
A series of meows distracted her from her work. She resolutely kept her gaze on the dishes. Then the tapping started. It was regular, almost patterned, like Morse Code. At last, Lilah gave in and looked up.
She met the startling blue eyes of an enormous Siamese. It lifted a single paw and placed it flat on the window, displaying the tiny, perfect thumb.
Roadcat
We had a couple of missed days in there, so I'm playing catch-up. Here's the one from last Thursday or thereabouts.
---
Leon reined in at the rest area and dismounted, wincing at the pain in his thighs.
“Prrrrirrow?” said Zither. “Tuuuna?”
“Sorry, pal,” said Leon, reaching for the spigot and a bowl. “I don’t have enough money for premium. It’s going to have to be the generic meat blend.”
“Pfeh.” Zither dropped his enormous head to his paws. They fed the new tabby models well at the breeding factory.
“Tell you what,” Leon said. “I’ll spring for a sprig of catnip.”
Zither perked up.
“But not till we get home. I can’t have you flopping over sideways on the highway.”
“Mreow."
---
Leon reined in at the rest area and dismounted, wincing at the pain in his thighs.
“Prrrrirrow?” said Zither. “Tuuuna?”
“Sorry, pal,” said Leon, reaching for the spigot and a bowl. “I don’t have enough money for premium. It’s going to have to be the generic meat blend.”
“Pfeh.” Zither dropped his enormous head to his paws. They fed the new tabby models well at the breeding factory.
“Tell you what,” Leon said. “I’ll spring for a sprig of catnip.”
Zither perked up.
“But not till we get home. I can’t have you flopping over sideways on the highway.”
“Mreow."
Voices on the Wind
She walked in darkness, her white dress rustling in the directionless wind. “I have come,” she said.
“Yes,” said the wind.
“Each time before, you have prevented me and sought to devour me. I have always escaped.”
“Yes.” There was a shifting in the darkness, a hint of form, black on black.
“Now my people are in danger. I must succeed.” She stepped forward, her back proud and straight.
“You may pass without harm.”
She hesitated. “Why?”
The shadows looked on her without a face. “We consumed a saint, once. We understand virtue, even if we do not practice it.”
“Yes,” said the wind.
“Each time before, you have prevented me and sought to devour me. I have always escaped.”
“Yes.” There was a shifting in the darkness, a hint of form, black on black.
“Now my people are in danger. I must succeed.” She stepped forward, her back proud and straight.
“You may pass without harm.”
She hesitated. “Why?”
The shadows looked on her without a face. “We consumed a saint, once. We understand virtue, even if we do not practice it.”
Monday, October 12, 2009
Slayer
“Jim has fallen!” Slim cried, waving his bloodied knife. “He will trouble you no more! Now I am the King of 42nd Street!”
“It really is amazing,” said the bartender, “how strong that man was.”
“It’s true!” added a bar floozy. “I once saw him lift three people on a park bench right over his head.”
The drunk in the corner mumbled unintelligibly. The bartender nodded sagely. “That’s right, Sham. He was a legend.”
Slim shook his fist. “Don’t you understand? He’s gone. Defeated. I defeated him.”
The bartender shrugged. “That’s as may be, but his story is still his.”
“It really is amazing,” said the bartender, “how strong that man was.”
“It’s true!” added a bar floozy. “I once saw him lift three people on a park bench right over his head.”
The drunk in the corner mumbled unintelligibly. The bartender nodded sagely. “That’s right, Sham. He was a legend.”
Slim shook his fist. “Don’t you understand? He’s gone. Defeated. I defeated him.”
The bartender shrugged. “That’s as may be, but his story is still his.”
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