Mechanical Love

“I love her.  She is Magic.  She turns white things different colors. She’s warm and had the sweetest little red eyes.” Melvin looks at his love interest across the room. 

The Melvo-500 was placed here for a reason.   His programming told him so.   The room of sheltered pieces and older machines was his room.  Always was.  Then people started visiting half hour each day.  Like clockwork, they come and go.   Never talking to him. 

One day, they brought in things.   And new machines.  The first ones were boxy and noisy.   Always cried for attentiom.   Then her petite form showed up.   Shiny and sleek. They called her toaster.

Wrtten as part of a challenge called Photo Challnge,  detsils are at https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2017/05/02/photo-challenge-163/

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Strangers Waiting for the Plane

“My friend, we will be here awhile.”  A voice travels to my ear.

I have no friends here.   I’m in lay-over purgatory.  I turn to see a bright smiling face.   A rather Foriegn face but charming British accent. 

“I’m sorry… I was starting at people and didn’t realize who you were talking to.  They told me four hours ago, this flight is the most timely they run.   Travel is hell.” I try to figure the nice man out.  

We simply don’t act this way at home.  My God, he could be a terrorist, or a religious nut, or run a foreign money scam.   The news of full of these types in other countries. 

“Travel is like a present.   You think you know what will be inside.   Then like a flower it opens… simply amazing what happens.   We seldom believe what we know not.” His hands gesture something popping up out of box.   I hate to fly alone. You seem much better than most here.  Calm to the outside.  At least.”

I turn to catalog his features. Dark eyes,  softly set amongst richly tan skin.   Dark hair well controlled at ear length with a bushy mustache.  His crisp cotton shirt  almost glows white.  He has one small carry on bag.  

“I returning from finding a brother who thinks the world is a grand adventure.  He found simple things aren’t simple in other places. I’ll be the first to tell him how wrong he is…” My voice falters.   Why am I telling a stranger this?

“He is good to have you.  Someone to go when he needs. I have to deliver things to family.   I’m the only one who has the time.” His dark eyes lock into me. “I will find other things.  Make this a real trip for me.”

“Oh.  You been to the States before?” My mind erupts.  A real live terrorist.   There’s a bomb not even five feet away from me.

“No. The place scares me.  Kilometers to travel.  We do not drive like that.   But must see something.  When I deliver this, I am then free. Free to travel.” His smile is truly a master weapon. 

I freeze.   What dies one say you a mad killer. 

“Where are you going?  I have traveled a bit.” I fake friendliness.   My eyes look for security personnel.   

“You are tense all of a sudden.   I will be in Seattle.  We are on the same flight.  I didn’t mean to…. cause you any discomfort.  Strangers sometimes want their space.”  He smiles that damn friendly smile. 

“I’m sorry.   I’m a bit tired.   Didn’t mean to push you away. ”  My lies get deeper.  

He sits foward and speaks  “I’ll return.”

I watch him walk over to a security person bag in tow.  They smile and talk.   The smiles disappear. They both look my way. 

I’m no terrorist! 
Written as part of a challenge called Tale Weaver https://wordpress.com/read/feeds/19271780/posts/1436456071

The Moon –

I run.  A staggered path weaves between rock, trees and cactus.  My enemy is above.  I feel the eyes scanning the landscape. 

“Shadows are my friend.” I whisper to my fellow creatures of the night. “I will sleep on safety beneath your own nose!”

I want to laugh.  But sound travels to easily here.  Its bad enough I see my quarry.  But it’s myself dug in the hole hunted.   He can’t get what he can’t see.   The plan is working so far.

The clouds thin.  Moonbeams stretch out.  Rays of silver like nails in my coffin.  I hide with my back finding an uncomfortable Saguaro.  I watch the light chase the darkness.   Hope is a thin shadow.

My pulse rises to match a deep thumping heart.  If heartbeats slow maybe I can breath.  But for how long?

I turn my head to look.  

His face smiles back.  An oblivious look or game over expression.  If I could hear him.  I hate the distance between us.  Only in moving do I get to find out who wins this night.

“I would stab at you.  You hide too far away.” I look away from him. “There has always been a man within the Moon.  He stalks us all.   He had always been death. He will always be death.  Tonight, better be someone else’s turn.”

I curl into a ball and wait. 

Written as part of a challenge called Tale Weaver, details available  at https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2017/04/20/tale-weaver-116-the-moon/

Tale Weaver #105: The Dark Side 02.02.17 – Our Song

I wake suddenly.   My arms and shoulders stiff.  A pale moon lights a room of familiar but tainted things.  Eyes search for what I know.  I expect you.  But no such luck.  A single thing is there for me.  

Whoosh, whoosh, Whoosh…. the wobbly fan pushes the stale air around.  

Our bed, a twisted mass of tired sheets.  Two flat pillows and a headboard.  If I could turn there would be dresser and a couple of nightstands.  The lights are all gone. They left out the window with the alarm clock. 

My restless ear listen for any trace of you.  The shuffling feet always give you away.  I wait.  I’ll manage to pull on the wires that hold me in place.  I reflect upon the splitting pain from the cocktail last served.  Something special…. you called it.

My dark home… Our dark home filled with divides from our own divides.  Its cold but wasn’t it always..  

I beg my brain to engage in the memory that ended here.   It refuses.  Instead, it amplifies the cracking of the house frame.  The clicking on of a furnace.  Traffic outside.  The branch against the house.  The one, I was supposed to cut..

The thought tatters and falls.  I sense you at the door.  You turned me away from it.   But we know you are there…

“What are you waiting for…. just get it over with! ” I break the silence with a terse stab.

“Baby, we can talk all night… But that ain’t getting us nowhere.” Her deadpan words hang in the darkness. 
*The last line borrowed from…

“Two outta three ain’t bad” preformed by Meatloaf, Written by John Steinman linked here https://youtu.be/k5hWWe-ts2s

Written as part of a challenge Tale weaver, details at https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2017/02/02/tale-weaver-105-the-dark-side-02-02-17/

Dragon’s Liar

“It’s right there.  Come on! Come on look!” Alex yells at Jackie.  His arms thrusting violently toward the tree.

“Alex, there’s nothing there.  It’s an old tree.  You are stupid.  Dragons don’t love here it’s not ugly enough.  My dad says so.  He had one as a kid!” Jackie tugs on his ball cap.  His mind is on throwing a ball around.  Big kid stuff.  

“Your dad was going to build you a tree house.   You said.  I bet he knows the dragon lives here.” Alex kicks the trunk of the tree. “I saw him.  The dragon is green.  Shiny green, kinda dark like.  Sparkly. He is shy dragon.” 

“Did you hear it roar?  Everyone knows a dragon roars to tell you it’s there.  If you scare a dragon they torch you with their breath.  But I told you.  They live in ugly places.  They need mist and something called gloom.  We ain’t got that.”  Jackie throws the ball on the air.  He missing it and it bounces toward the tree.

“The dragon did that.  He wants you to go see him.” Alex flashes a smile at Jackie.  His little heart jumping out of his chest. 

“They can’t do that!”  Jackie stands his ground.

“You are scared!  Jackie is scared! He is so scared.”  Alex spins around telling the world.

“AM not!  I’ll show you.  I’ll show you! ” Jackie doesn’t move.

“Chicken!  Or do they need gloom too!” Alex crosses his arms.  His stiff body  says ‘I dare you’. 

“Ok. I’ll do it…” Jackie slowly walks over to the tree.

The ball rolls closer to the tree.  One green flash comes from the tree.  An eye clear as day blinks twice.

“Little Jackie Paper?”  something in the tree speaks.

Two boys run.

A Place of Healing – Tale Weaver #96

“Ok listen this time! I’m from Erie, Pennsylvania.  We are in Colorado.  I didn’t walk here!” The voice leaves bare lips.

“The where and when are coming from different places.   You will search for why!   But the where simply changes”  The chocolate Buddha speaks. “Hearing and listening aren’t the same.”

“I didn’t  come here by my own free will.   I was thousand miles away.   And boom!  I’m here talking to a statue!  This is where thing.   I like to know where exactly I am now.   And if you don’t mind what day and time is it.  I’m not lulling myself into believing in was beamed here.”  I’m openly hostile.   I point to the ground like it matters.   My heart is full of fear more than rage.

“You  came  here to free yourself of the chaos and chains you have forged.  Everyone does. That’s why we have the farm.  We grow here.  If you open your mind more than your mouth. You will see there’s no fear necessary here.  Walk the paths. Concentrate on where you are attempting to go.”  The Buddha changes arm position so to show the symbol of the message.

“LOOK! I want to go back to my home.   Now, tell me how I got here!”  My reasoning with a statue hats the wall quickly.   My head looks for cameras.  Someone is controlling this thing.   They know.  They have taken the wrong person. 

“Free, you are not bound here.   The only person controlling you being here is you.  Are you experiencing paralysis?  My eyes see no strings on you!   I asked you to take a path of your choosing.  I didn’t force you to move.  Your choice stay here and ask something I do not control.  You found a path here. It is my place to give answers that open your mind and heart.   Do you know your mind well enough to find your way?” The statue returns to original form.  

“So, do the little guys help me too?  I’ll walk a path.   But I’ll be back.   Unless the way opens before me.”  I sink into cyincial territory.

The statue fails to respond.

I stroll toward the gate.   Above the sign reads  “A PLACE OF HEALING”

I am unaware of the wounds that brought me here.   I don’t forsee understanding the purpose of being here.   I could use another pill to control the manic swing grading hold of me.  They must have taken them away from me.
Written as part of a challenge called Tale weaver, details at mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com

Tale Weaver #94 – Alien Fairy Tales

” Great many parsecs away.  A minor civilization rose.  They sent out all kinds of crazy thoughts.  Images of their daily lives. I was probably your age…. maybe  younger.” Delbar pauses to look at his eldest progeny.  Then back at the sinvet. “We must  keep ourselves worthy of visitations.  Never can say who is watching us.”

He turns toward Ixlili her face smiles but the eyes tell another tale.

“You don’t believe others see us!  Really.  We have ten planets we monitor.  But noone can see us, right?”  Delbar smiles and his eyes lie as well. 

“Ok, get on with it.  Really they watch us.   They can’t tell on me, so I don’t understand.” Ixlili pouts as much as a Denebian Solstem can.

“Ixlili, You will be just like the Earth girl Lucy.  Everyone will laugh at everything you do. Really, they are backwards society.  But society is the same everywhere.”  Nrasde chides her young one.

“Ixlili, noone will visit them for the good parts of the galaxy. Do you really want to have the greys come probe one of us?  No you must be respectable to be seen as visit worhy.  Civilization counts on every one of us.  You’re an example to the sinvet!” Delbar tries reason with a brain starting to sense hormones.

Nectar of the God’s – Tale Weaver #94

Written as part of a challenge called Tale weaver details are available at https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2016/11/17/tale-weaver-94-november-17-making-sense-of-nonsense/

“Taz W!  Bearer of formulations.  Extracts, excursions in botanical paradise of extreme definition!!  Parabolic simplicity in lliquid  form!”  His Black tux and flowing black hair are equally out of place in a farmer market. ” I ain’t talking  organic crap. Give me a sad tired mother.  A man whose labor build hard durable goods at the cost of joints and muscles!  Two sips my good people.  My bottles are $25 but you’ll give me $$0 after you have it for a week!”

“You givin’ samples?!  My money stays tight on the purse strings unless it works !”  Jerry wipes his mug of tobacco juice. “I mean you want someone to buy it.   I reckon someone needs a taste..”

“Right you are!   My good man, what endeavors do you invest your time in sir?” Taz W tips his hat in his direction.

“Save it !  or Pour it!”  He looks besmirch by the niceties.

“I like a man who speaks without filters.”   Taz pulls a cork from a vase shaped bottle. He watches dark amber potion chug into a small cup. “Sir, you’re first words will be….. Why oh!” 

Jerry glares harder than broken glass schattered on cold concrete on bare feet..  He lifts the double shot to his lips.  The eyes never leave the source.  Strangers are poison oozes toward Taz W

“Why riteous Jesus!  The burn is alcohol but I feel a freedom in my hips aad back.  You some damn witch! I can feel my toes.  First time… in years.  How do I know that next bottle is this one!” Jerry  funnels belief through a straw.

“Good sir! Allow me to top from what you drank from. My pleasure.  As stated folks… buy it now.  Before someone takes the last one!”  He turns his back to the crowd filling the bottle back up from a flask.

The crowd rushes him.   Jerry files out the side.  Noone sees him before or after.

“Nectar of the God’s!  People orderly line please.  I want to help you all! ”  Taz laughs. The bourbon heals all eventually.

Ransom – Tale Weaver

​

It’s with great horror I open the door.

A note!

Unique characters. Beautifully crafted work.  Such style and grace!  Uhh…

“No! Oh,no!” My eyes bulge from their sockets. “What does it mean?! What did they take? Who are they?  Why do these evil people have such good taste in crafting a note?”

I’m horrified.   Still drawn to the pretty letters.  I’m sad.  I’m feeling a lose.  How could someone just take my most precious thing?

“What’s missing?” My mind crafts pictures

“My Commander Ren and Stimpy action figures!  These are sick people! Twisted! Deplorable!  No, they are still here on fireplace mantel.  Next to Grandfather’s mantel clock from 1896.” The pain of being lost on thought decries my voice.

“Oh snap!  It’s my leather bound set of the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy! Oh these are ruthless sickest.  They probably parked in front of the fire hydrant too.  Or the Handicapped space.” My feet pick up the pace.

“Oh it’s still there!  What the hell did they take?!” Anger surfaces within me “Where’s my wife?  They took Collen! Oh,they’ll return her in about two hours.  Unless she’s bound and gagged.  Then I have the afternoon free.”

“Who are you talking too!” A voice comes through a door.

“Oh, I thought you were kidnapped.  I had this note.  My most precious is gone.  I can’t figure out what it is?  Isn’t this crazy?”  I try to reason with her

“You idiot!  The dog!  They took the dog!”  She reminds me in a very hostile way.

“Oh that’s what’s missing?  Well, they get in touch.  It says so right here on the note.” I’m relieved.

https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2016/10/20/tale-weaver-90-ransom/

Voices – Tale Weaver #87

“ The dasherber ran like a freigers. Horfwers stood and fuxxated. There were coitnty swredtz and koilpy brisheners all over just quopiry to the tuggerry all about the frrummlllop.”

Olphy wakes shaken.  It’s the third time the voices call.  The message is clear.  He nervously consults the globe.  Fingers find their places.  Fingers fall like rain tore free from quopiry skies.  Words tie as ribbons.  Stanza reveal in frrummlllop. 

The voices of the Freigers fluently dictate the song.  Their prose raises and scythe the shammblicals from the Devanwe!   To the faithy, it’s divine.

The fugue lasts for 158,537 characters. The precise number to the Pinnacles of Barratouse.  The form of terrible cataclysmic event.  The Epic struggle between two dark sources.  It’s meant to sell.  The world will see in print the message. 

The higher powers were dissatisfied as it was labeled fiction.   It begins…

The fear coursed through the Creators.  Peasants were hostile and frustrated.  Their leaders were Facist and Deception.  Belief in their differences clouded judgements.  Both would lead to destruction, they convince they were pursuing paradise.