What If – Encounters

I poke at the fire. Deep red and orange embers spit flames skyward.  As the flames grow thinner, the realization of more wood needs found. 

“Damn it! I should have did this before it got dark.” I see my heat source dwindling before my eyes.  

Dawn is several hours away.  My camp hid well with a pine grove.  I must venture forth to where the wild things roam.  My way guided by the worst flashlight ever and the pale glow of Eris. 

The Moon has long turned in for the night. The false silver light of Moon2 as it was called during its building.  Mankind’s solution to energy build a second Moon.  The crazy light show on its surface was beautiful until they told us it was pieces breaking off and streaming back to Earth.

My third spark has sailed overhead.  They tell us it’s just normal. No one has ever been hit by one of these pieces.  

“Who the hell would know I was hit it here?” I keep eyes open for anything out here.   We used to worry about coyotes and bears.  

This is the last crumb of avoiding civilization. The government will covert this to receiving station for that damn Eris. The greater good.  So we at told.

I leave my little corner for an arm full of wood.  Just enough to keep warm.  Just enough to give me the peace of wilderness. The woods have been cleaned of anything bigger than a twig. 

A light flashes in green behind me. A wave of heat. A sound like an exploding building.  My legs feel the ground shudder.

My vantage point is sparse trees in an island against open darkness.  I can see light from something below a ridge I was unaware of before.  Mechanical sounds whirl.  Static and broke words burst forth. None are clear.  I search for a path to get me closer.

A lonely motor winds.  I hear treads click and blacking. Voices rise but never clear the commotion. 

I walk through scrub oaks. I snap an occasional branch. I was walking by rolling feet to not annouce my presence.  A half mile hike takes less time when you stop breathing from fear of being heard.

“Billy!  The cage.  We need the cage out here now! They’re coming in from North in 130 seconds.” The deep voice crawls through the still night. 

My eyes reach the edge.   A pit that collapsed to reveal gated under ground.  Two cages ten feet tall with twice the length and width gleem in low light.  In one corner, a small grey man tends to something inside. 

A green glow blinds me. Whispers of wind spill on to me.  

“They’re real! Oh shit….They are real!” I try to stay quiet.  The scaly hand on my shoulder tells me I wasn’t quiet enough. 

“Billy! We got a peeper!” The thing attached yells out.

The small grey man looks up suddenly. He walks over to see my body hanging in the air.  His tall friend keeping me off the ground by hanging me like a towel.

“Put him on with the others. We need to get these humans off our planet.  I told you they hid like rats. They know it’s illegal but they still come out here.”

https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2017/05/11/tale-weaver-119-what-if-11-05-17/

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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.

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.

 


Magic Fruit -Tale Weaver #81

Written as part of a challenge called tale weaver. I’m breaking the rule (shock to some of you, I’m sure) but Sleeping Beauty had an easy life.  Make here cast the spell on someone else. Just a thought.  😎

https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2016/08/18/tale-weaver-81-fairy-tale-august-18-magic-fruit/
Madame Curry sat at the local County Fair.  Downwind from the Elephant Ear stand made her apples a little less appealing for some reason.   

Warm red sign with rose colored letters made it clear these were different.  Not your typical apples or oranges thing. The offered love.  Love Apples!  Her old family receipt offered the sure chance at love.  All you had to do is get someone to eat your apple.

Darla pokes her head under the flip top of Mrs Curry’s trailer.  “So do they work really?  I’d pay $10 if it works.”

“Yeah, they work!  You got a hair, piece of clothing, business card, something of that person you want to love you forever?” The old woman stares at her crossword puzzle.  Number 32 Across is killing her.

“Oh, I didn’t know to bring any of that stuff!” Darla drops her shoulders.   She appears like a human banana popsicle.  Pale yellow top and shorts and straight as a board.

“I’m a witch not a miracle worker,  child!  If he’s here. Go to a hair out of his head! He notice you,  and give him the sole to make up for it.   Men are really that stupid. I’ve been married four times I know what gets them to notice you! Damn it any way! Nine letter word “needs sleep”, forth letter is one, eighth letter an a…” She starts talking to herself instead.

“Insomniac! That’s your word! Insomniac!  You really know your stuff!  I’ll rip out a handful of hair! I want him to love me forever! ” Darla spins and runs Brown hair flying as she goes. 

“How the hell should I know that word! I sleep fine. I never got to explain the orange to break the spell is $50. Well see if she comes back.  Let’s see 16 down, he finds glass slipper Prince… , 8 letters begins with c.”  She keeps her diligent work going.