"Arran lived on a small farm on the outskirts of a small village. It was a boring and degrading existence for Arran, but it was the only life he knew. Once in a while a traveling company of some kind would blow in. These meager offerings of an outside world would set Arran to thinking. He often wondered if there was some great adventure meant just for him.
Then one day, an oracle came to town. Her name was Acain. She was as old as time, as beautiful as the heavens, and as kind as a dragon. Though she was known for caring only for the gold she was paid for her efforts, she was a true and honest oracle.
When Arran heard of her presence at the town, he immediately headed off to meet her. He was certain that the oracle would send him on important quest.
Acain had her tent set up in the center of the town square. It was old, plain, and simple enough to pack up in a hurry. But Arran's impression was completely changed as he stepped through the flap. Inside, the tent was full of plush, velvety cushions. It was lined with long, colored drapes of silk. Along the far wall was a tall shelf. The shelf was filled with bottles of various liquids, powders, and mixtures, assorted metallic tokens, and leather bound books. In the middle was a small, low table. Seated behind the table was none other than Acain herself. She looked up at him and spoke.
"So, farm boy, you want to know where your path may lead you."
"Yes." Arran continued "I want you to tell me what quest I must take on. Am I to vanquish some horrible dragon, slay the terror of the East Woods, or am I to rid a great kingdom of its only enemy."
"First, what will be my payment?" Questioned Acain.
"I have seven silver pieces. Will that do?" Arran said in a worried voice.
"It is good enough. Now tell me what is your name?" she said as she reached out her hand and took the silver pieces from him.
"Arran"
Acain dropped her payment into a pouch, drew out a dagger from another one, and motioned to Arran to hold out his hand. Tentatively he stretched out his hand. He was slightly afraid that she would hurt him badly. She looked at him reassuringly, then deftly pricked his palm. A few drops of blood welled up, which acain quickly wiped up with snow-white cloth. She sat for a while, studying the pattern his blood had made on the cloth.
10.31.2006
10.27.2006
Work in progress
Part two, we pick up right where we left off.
"So Professor Shawn," Tonya replied sarcastically, "just how do you know all this, and why should we worry if this is part of the volcano. Its not like the volcano has been showing any activity recently."
"Well, the park ranger told me what might happen if we left the trail. If this place was carved out of lava from the volcano, it would have to be connected to the pipe."
"Whoa," said Alex in a bewildered voice, "do you mean that if this puppy wakes up this cavern could be filled with lava!"
"I’m afraid so."
Tonya, who had been rummaging through the rock pile, stood tall, holding all the packs.
"Calm down boys. We have radios and transmitters, all we have to do is send a signal. ‘Sides, Ruth‘s expecting us, she‘ll definitely call up the rangers if we‘re there in three hours ."
"B, b, but what will we do ‘til we're rescued?" stammered Alex.
"We could try to find a way out." offered Shawn.
"I think it might be better if we just stayed here. You two find something to occupy yourself while I try the radio waves." With that Tonya moved away from the shaft of light trickling from above them. She found a spot far enough form the boys that their talk did not disturb her work.
Shawn stepped onto the short pile of dirt directly below the opening of the cavern. There he stood for a long while, simply gazing up at the sky.
"Alex."
"What do you want, Shawn?"
"Tell me a story to get my mind off this."
"Umm, ok." Alex stood for a while thinking. He could tell that Shawn was blaming himself for what happened.
"I think I have just the thing for you old boy."
"I have good and bad news,” said Tonya when she came back from trying the radio. "Bad news-the radios are smashed, but I was able to send a distress signal with the transmitter, at the least Ruth should pick it up."
"Since it seems we may have a long wait ahead of us, I'll follow up on Shawn's idea. Now gather around children," said Alex in a fatherly tone, "I have a story to tell you. My story is about a young man who lived in a time of magic and dragons. His name was Arran." Alex and the others sat on the ground, made themselves comfortable, and basically prepared for a long day.
"So Professor Shawn," Tonya replied sarcastically, "just how do you know all this, and why should we worry if this is part of the volcano. Its not like the volcano has been showing any activity recently."
"Well, the park ranger told me what might happen if we left the trail. If this place was carved out of lava from the volcano, it would have to be connected to the pipe."
"Whoa," said Alex in a bewildered voice, "do you mean that if this puppy wakes up this cavern could be filled with lava!"
"I’m afraid so."
Tonya, who had been rummaging through the rock pile, stood tall, holding all the packs.
"Calm down boys. We have radios and transmitters, all we have to do is send a signal. ‘Sides, Ruth‘s expecting us, she‘ll definitely call up the rangers if we‘re there in three hours ."
"B, b, but what will we do ‘til we're rescued?" stammered Alex.
"We could try to find a way out." offered Shawn.
"I think it might be better if we just stayed here. You two find something to occupy yourself while I try the radio waves." With that Tonya moved away from the shaft of light trickling from above them. She found a spot far enough form the boys that their talk did not disturb her work.
Shawn stepped onto the short pile of dirt directly below the opening of the cavern. There he stood for a long while, simply gazing up at the sky.
"Alex."
"What do you want, Shawn?"
"Tell me a story to get my mind off this."
"Umm, ok." Alex stood for a while thinking. He could tell that Shawn was blaming himself for what happened.
"I think I have just the thing for you old boy."
"I have good and bad news,” said Tonya when she came back from trying the radio. "Bad news-the radios are smashed, but I was able to send a distress signal with the transmitter, at the least Ruth should pick it up."
"Since it seems we may have a long wait ahead of us, I'll follow up on Shawn's idea. Now gather around children," said Alex in a fatherly tone, "I have a story to tell you. My story is about a young man who lived in a time of magic and dragons. His name was Arran." Alex and the others sat on the ground, made themselves comfortable, and basically prepared for a long day.
10.25.2006
A work in progress
This piece doesn't have a working title, and this is only the 1st part.
Shawn, Tonya, and Alex arrived at their destination, the Galapagos Islands, early in the morning. They left their things at Alex’s cousin’s house, and then headed for the lush forests of the islands. Alex’s fiancé, Ruth, had arrived the day before and had already set up a base camp. The four friends had been looking forward to the trip for more than a year. Eagerly they trekked up thin trails, spying rare and beautiful creatures at every turn. On they marched, going deeper into the heart of wilderness, and higher up the side of power.
"Hey Shawn!" Alex called from the rear, "Is it just me, or is the ground sloping upwards?
"We’re going up the side of a volcano. What did you expect, the ground going downward? Shawn replied, chuckling.
"Step by step, we attempt to scale a volcano. We, the equivalent of ants on a mound, dare to step on ground that has the power to blast us off the face of the earth." Intoned Tonya, with a look of awe, as she gazed up at the volcano, still far ahead.
"The drama queen, how oft' she does scream, of death and destruction, and all kinds of corruption, now stop your screechin’, and stop your preachin'!" The two boys bellowed in unison.
Tonya removed her mask of awe and replaced it with one of anger. After a few moments she broke into laughter and continued up the spindly trail. The boys, having no more antics to dispose of, simply shrugged their shoulders, and followed Tonya.
After an hour of easy hiking, the threesome left the trail. But as soon as they pushed through a few feet of foliage, the ground beneath them crumbled away. At first, they all thought that they were slipping down a steep embankment, however, it soon became clear that the ground was collapsing. Dirt, rocks, and plants came thundering down around them as they slipped farther and farther away from the surface. Tonya, Shawn, then Alex thudded heavily, yet soundlessly, amid the chaos. Rocks and dirt piled onto them for a few seconds, and then all was still. Alex, being the top most, picked himself up gingerly, wary of broken bones. He checked himself for injury, found only minor cuts and scrapes, and then began to help the Tonya. Shawn, no longer weighed down by the other two, gazed up at the hole that marked their passage into the earth. The bright blue sky pierced through the darkness that now surrounded them.
"What on earth just happened." said Tonya, genuinely perturbed.
"Umm, I think the ground just caved in, and we are in a pit." Alex answered.
"I don't think we are in a pit, Alex. I think we were above a cavern that had a thin roof. When our combined weight was over a particularly weak spot, it could no longer support us. Let’s just hope that this cavern is not a product of the volcano."
Shawn, Tonya, and Alex arrived at their destination, the Galapagos Islands, early in the morning. They left their things at Alex’s cousin’s house, and then headed for the lush forests of the islands. Alex’s fiancé, Ruth, had arrived the day before and had already set up a base camp. The four friends had been looking forward to the trip for more than a year. Eagerly they trekked up thin trails, spying rare and beautiful creatures at every turn. On they marched, going deeper into the heart of wilderness, and higher up the side of power.
"Hey Shawn!" Alex called from the rear, "Is it just me, or is the ground sloping upwards?
"We’re going up the side of a volcano. What did you expect, the ground going downward? Shawn replied, chuckling.
"Step by step, we attempt to scale a volcano. We, the equivalent of ants on a mound, dare to step on ground that has the power to blast us off the face of the earth." Intoned Tonya, with a look of awe, as she gazed up at the volcano, still far ahead.
"The drama queen, how oft' she does scream, of death and destruction, and all kinds of corruption, now stop your screechin’, and stop your preachin'!" The two boys bellowed in unison.
Tonya removed her mask of awe and replaced it with one of anger. After a few moments she broke into laughter and continued up the spindly trail. The boys, having no more antics to dispose of, simply shrugged their shoulders, and followed Tonya.
After an hour of easy hiking, the threesome left the trail. But as soon as they pushed through a few feet of foliage, the ground beneath them crumbled away. At first, they all thought that they were slipping down a steep embankment, however, it soon became clear that the ground was collapsing. Dirt, rocks, and plants came thundering down around them as they slipped farther and farther away from the surface. Tonya, Shawn, then Alex thudded heavily, yet soundlessly, amid the chaos. Rocks and dirt piled onto them for a few seconds, and then all was still. Alex, being the top most, picked himself up gingerly, wary of broken bones. He checked himself for injury, found only minor cuts and scrapes, and then began to help the Tonya. Shawn, no longer weighed down by the other two, gazed up at the hole that marked their passage into the earth. The bright blue sky pierced through the darkness that now surrounded them.
"What on earth just happened." said Tonya, genuinely perturbed.
"Umm, I think the ground just caved in, and we are in a pit." Alex answered.
"I don't think we are in a pit, Alex. I think we were above a cavern that had a thin roof. When our combined weight was over a particularly weak spot, it could no longer support us. Let’s just hope that this cavern is not a product of the volcano."
10.24.2006
This one is not for the faint of heart.
One Night
I woke up alone in the cold, dark room. I got out of bed, slipped a robe around my sore shoulders, and opened the door to the bathroom. He wasn't in there, nor was he anywhere in our one bedroom apartment. Harold was never around in the mornings, but I always checked. I went back to the bathroom and looked into the mirror. I had wanted to wear my old grey shirt (it was a gift from my college roommate), but the bruises on my arms and neck were too offensive to the eyes. I went back to the bedroom, crossed over to the closet, and opened the door. I had a choice of a moth eaten scarf (to go with a long-sleeve shirt) or a turtle-neck. I pulled the turtle-neck over my head and continued to dress. While I went through my morning routine I thought of what I would do today. First, I would go to the office and collect my last check. Being a mailroom attendant in an office building was a meager living, but part of a life I was through with. I would miss the people in the office building, they had thrown me a farewell party, but I had to leave. Leave my job, home, and Harold, especially Harold.
I had big plans for today, for Harold, for me. After collecting my check I'd go to the gun shop in the warehouse district just a few blocks from where I had worked. I passed it every day, but never went in. Two weeks ago I did walk in. I had to. I had to make sure that when I left, Harold would not follow me. The man behind the counter was nice, understanding. I stayed for a long time filling out forms and giving him information about myself.
It was late when I got home that night. As I stepped through the door of our apartment, cigarette smoke assailed me. Harold was home, had been home, hadn't had dinner yet, and was propably drunk. I stepped over the threshold, closed the door, and prayed fervidly that he didn't hear me. I crept silently down the hall to the kitchen. As I stepped into the kitchen a beer bottle crashed into my back, between my shoulder blades. Though my memory of that night's events are dim, I remember the pain of the morning.
That night the man behind the counter had said the background check would be done in a few days and I could get my gun after that. It was small, could fire six bullets before you had to reload it, and seemed to suit me well. After I got my gun from the shop I'd go to the bank and get all my money. Since Harold and I were not married, I didn't have to worry that the bank would tell him of my actions. Then I'd go and buy me some suitcases, good ones that would last.
They would have to last, I didn't remember where my old roommate Elizabeth lived. But after today I'd have time to do as I please.
When I left the apartment the morning was grey and bleak. But the farther I walked away, the more beautiful the day became.
I went through my day as planed. The suitcase I bought were aligator skin. Expensive, but after so many years couldn't I have a little pleasure? Back at the apartment I packed away all my clothes, put money and assorted trinkets away, and sat at the kitchen table. The gun, loaded, with the safety off, was snug in my pocket. I hoped I wouldn't have long to wait for Harold.
I sat at the table thinking of the the years past. When I first met Harold, he was sweet, smart, and in control of his life. He was also lonesome. He had everything he wanted, everything except for someone to share his life with. Harold wanted me to be that person. So I said good-bye to my old roommate Elixabeth, and moved in with Harold. Elizabeth was worried, but I told her it would be o.k., Harold would take care of me.
That night , instead of taking me to his place, Harold took me to the airport, then to New York. A cousin of his was supposed to get him a job with the company he worked for. Everything was going great, Harold had his big job, we had the apartment, and I had my little job (so that I had a little extra money for myself).
Then Harold started drinking. He was fired from his well-paid job, and left unemployed. His drinking worsened, along with his treatment of me. I wanted to leave, but couldn't, I was too afraid. Harold had completly changed, now he was a monster. A hell hound bent on my destruction. If I left, he would find me. I had to do this, I couldn't leave him alive. Alive to find me, and bring me back to this torture, this hell.
I sat at the table, wishing that he'd come home so wasted that he'd go straight to bed. That way I could shoot him in his sleep. There would be no fight, and no problems.
The front door opened and closed. The steps I heard were heavy, but not dragging. Harold reached the doorway of the kitchen with a case of beer under his arm, and a bottle in his hand. I could tell by the way his shoulder slumped that the case was full.
"Where's dinner?"
"I didn't make any."
"Is this a joke?" he barked at me. "I work hard all day. I would like to have dinner when I come home."
It's real hard work chasing shots of Vodka one after another. He had been on unemployment for years, but I kept remarks to myself.
"Well get up and make dinner!" He shouted. When I didn't move, he threw his bottle at the space between my hands on the table top. The movement was so quick, I didn't have time to cover my face. Glass shards bit into my flesh, blood streamed down my face and mixed with alcohol. In a flash he was by my side. He picked me up, threw me to the ground, and continued to beat me. I was afraid that he'd notice the bulge that was my gun, but my bulky sweater made it unnoticeable. He grabbed my hair, yanked me up, and threw me against the stove. While I stood there yelping in pain, with tears streaming down my face, he went to the door way to get another beer. While he knelt to the case, I bent over to get some breath. As I stood over, I reached into my pocket, and pulled out the gun.
He stood before me with another bottle.
"Stand up straight." He commanded. As I stood I leveled the gun at his chest. He looked at me, laughed, and raised his beer to strike me. I pulled the trigger.
He didn't fall, or even stumble. So I fired again, and again. I continued until he lay on the floor in his own blood. Now he knew what it was like to be on that floor, with blood every where.
Unlike me, he would never get off the floor and crawl to bed.
My knees gave out, and I sank to the floor. I needed to get up, to get out. It was all over, but I couldn't. Finally a deep darkness washed over me, and I was grateful, for it held no pain.
When I woke up, I was not in the bedroom of the apartment that I always woke up in, but the room that I was in was vaguely familiar. I got out of bed and found myself dressed in comfortable jeans and a new grey shirt. I walked to one of the doors that lead out of the room and opened it. I stepped through the doorway into the bathroom and stood staring at the mirror. The face in the mirror image was untouched by time or scars. I stood there gaping, and wondering what happened.
Someone entered the bedroom, crossed over to the bathroom, and stood in the door way. She seemed very happy to see me.
"El, Elizabeth?" I stuttered.
"Jane, we need to talk. It's about Harold. Now, I know that you think that if you run off with him your life will be set. I know I'm just your roommate, but listen to me. He is not the guy for you. He's not even planning on marrying you. I can't explain it, but I know you will regret it if you decide to move in with him. In fact I think you would be better off if you just forgot about him."
I stood there thinking about the past few years with Harold. But they weren't years, it was all a dream.
"You know what?" I said, "I think you're right." And for the first time, in what seemed like years, I smiled.
I woke up alone in the cold, dark room. I got out of bed, slipped a robe around my sore shoulders, and opened the door to the bathroom. He wasn't in there, nor was he anywhere in our one bedroom apartment. Harold was never around in the mornings, but I always checked. I went back to the bathroom and looked into the mirror. I had wanted to wear my old grey shirt (it was a gift from my college roommate), but the bruises on my arms and neck were too offensive to the eyes. I went back to the bedroom, crossed over to the closet, and opened the door. I had a choice of a moth eaten scarf (to go with a long-sleeve shirt) or a turtle-neck. I pulled the turtle-neck over my head and continued to dress. While I went through my morning routine I thought of what I would do today. First, I would go to the office and collect my last check. Being a mailroom attendant in an office building was a meager living, but part of a life I was through with. I would miss the people in the office building, they had thrown me a farewell party, but I had to leave. Leave my job, home, and Harold, especially Harold.
I had big plans for today, for Harold, for me. After collecting my check I'd go to the gun shop in the warehouse district just a few blocks from where I had worked. I passed it every day, but never went in. Two weeks ago I did walk in. I had to. I had to make sure that when I left, Harold would not follow me. The man behind the counter was nice, understanding. I stayed for a long time filling out forms and giving him information about myself.
It was late when I got home that night. As I stepped through the door of our apartment, cigarette smoke assailed me. Harold was home, had been home, hadn't had dinner yet, and was propably drunk. I stepped over the threshold, closed the door, and prayed fervidly that he didn't hear me. I crept silently down the hall to the kitchen. As I stepped into the kitchen a beer bottle crashed into my back, between my shoulder blades. Though my memory of that night's events are dim, I remember the pain of the morning.
That night the man behind the counter had said the background check would be done in a few days and I could get my gun after that. It was small, could fire six bullets before you had to reload it, and seemed to suit me well. After I got my gun from the shop I'd go to the bank and get all my money. Since Harold and I were not married, I didn't have to worry that the bank would tell him of my actions. Then I'd go and buy me some suitcases, good ones that would last.
They would have to last, I didn't remember where my old roommate Elizabeth lived. But after today I'd have time to do as I please.
When I left the apartment the morning was grey and bleak. But the farther I walked away, the more beautiful the day became.
I went through my day as planed. The suitcase I bought were aligator skin. Expensive, but after so many years couldn't I have a little pleasure? Back at the apartment I packed away all my clothes, put money and assorted trinkets away, and sat at the kitchen table. The gun, loaded, with the safety off, was snug in my pocket. I hoped I wouldn't have long to wait for Harold.
I sat at the table thinking of the the years past. When I first met Harold, he was sweet, smart, and in control of his life. He was also lonesome. He had everything he wanted, everything except for someone to share his life with. Harold wanted me to be that person. So I said good-bye to my old roommate Elixabeth, and moved in with Harold. Elizabeth was worried, but I told her it would be o.k., Harold would take care of me.
That night , instead of taking me to his place, Harold took me to the airport, then to New York. A cousin of his was supposed to get him a job with the company he worked for. Everything was going great, Harold had his big job, we had the apartment, and I had my little job (so that I had a little extra money for myself).
Then Harold started drinking. He was fired from his well-paid job, and left unemployed. His drinking worsened, along with his treatment of me. I wanted to leave, but couldn't, I was too afraid. Harold had completly changed, now he was a monster. A hell hound bent on my destruction. If I left, he would find me. I had to do this, I couldn't leave him alive. Alive to find me, and bring me back to this torture, this hell.
I sat at the table, wishing that he'd come home so wasted that he'd go straight to bed. That way I could shoot him in his sleep. There would be no fight, and no problems.
The front door opened and closed. The steps I heard were heavy, but not dragging. Harold reached the doorway of the kitchen with a case of beer under his arm, and a bottle in his hand. I could tell by the way his shoulder slumped that the case was full.
"Where's dinner?"
"I didn't make any."
"Is this a joke?" he barked at me. "I work hard all day. I would like to have dinner when I come home."
It's real hard work chasing shots of Vodka one after another. He had been on unemployment for years, but I kept remarks to myself.
"Well get up and make dinner!" He shouted. When I didn't move, he threw his bottle at the space between my hands on the table top. The movement was so quick, I didn't have time to cover my face. Glass shards bit into my flesh, blood streamed down my face and mixed with alcohol. In a flash he was by my side. He picked me up, threw me to the ground, and continued to beat me. I was afraid that he'd notice the bulge that was my gun, but my bulky sweater made it unnoticeable. He grabbed my hair, yanked me up, and threw me against the stove. While I stood there yelping in pain, with tears streaming down my face, he went to the door way to get another beer. While he knelt to the case, I bent over to get some breath. As I stood over, I reached into my pocket, and pulled out the gun.
He stood before me with another bottle.
"Stand up straight." He commanded. As I stood I leveled the gun at his chest. He looked at me, laughed, and raised his beer to strike me. I pulled the trigger.
He didn't fall, or even stumble. So I fired again, and again. I continued until he lay on the floor in his own blood. Now he knew what it was like to be on that floor, with blood every where.
Unlike me, he would never get off the floor and crawl to bed.
My knees gave out, and I sank to the floor. I needed to get up, to get out. It was all over, but I couldn't. Finally a deep darkness washed over me, and I was grateful, for it held no pain.
When I woke up, I was not in the bedroom of the apartment that I always woke up in, but the room that I was in was vaguely familiar. I got out of bed and found myself dressed in comfortable jeans and a new grey shirt. I walked to one of the doors that lead out of the room and opened it. I stepped through the doorway into the bathroom and stood staring at the mirror. The face in the mirror image was untouched by time or scars. I stood there gaping, and wondering what happened.
Someone entered the bedroom, crossed over to the bathroom, and stood in the door way. She seemed very happy to see me.
"El, Elizabeth?" I stuttered.
"Jane, we need to talk. It's about Harold. Now, I know that you think that if you run off with him your life will be set. I know I'm just your roommate, but listen to me. He is not the guy for you. He's not even planning on marrying you. I can't explain it, but I know you will regret it if you decide to move in with him. In fact I think you would be better off if you just forgot about him."
I stood there thinking about the past few years with Harold. But they weren't years, it was all a dream.
"You know what?" I said, "I think you're right." And for the first time, in what seemed like years, I smiled.
10.23.2006
Lovely Lullaby.
When I was a little girl, my mother started a new job at night and could no longer sing me to sleep.
“maMa!” I wailed I always put more emphasis on the last ma; “I can’t go to sleep without hearing you sing to me!”
“Mija” my mother would say, “you are growing up into a big girl, and I need my new job. I know it is hard for you to change so I will arrange for the stars to sing you to sleep tonight. They will start very quietly as the sun goes down, and then one by one they will lift their voices to the song of the night.”
Just the same way they come out at night, I thought to myself.
“I will also ask that the grasshoppers chirp in time to help the stars. They need help with rhythm sometimes.” My mother continued, “I wondered if the fireflies would put on a light show to ease your tired eyes. I could also ask the tulips in my garden to send a sweet perfume to relax your sleepy mind.”
“But who will kiss me good night?”
“I will ask the wind to blow a soft gentle breeze through your window. To tussle your hair and carry my kisses from me to your cheeks. For though I will be working in a building far away, I will sing to the stars, so that they will know the words. This I do for my little one because I love her so.”
“maMa!” I wailed I always put more emphasis on the last ma; “I can’t go to sleep without hearing you sing to me!”
“Mija” my mother would say, “you are growing up into a big girl, and I need my new job. I know it is hard for you to change so I will arrange for the stars to sing you to sleep tonight. They will start very quietly as the sun goes down, and then one by one they will lift their voices to the song of the night.”
Just the same way they come out at night, I thought to myself.
“I will also ask that the grasshoppers chirp in time to help the stars. They need help with rhythm sometimes.” My mother continued, “I wondered if the fireflies would put on a light show to ease your tired eyes. I could also ask the tulips in my garden to send a sweet perfume to relax your sleepy mind.”
“But who will kiss me good night?”
“I will ask the wind to blow a soft gentle breeze through your window. To tussle your hair and carry my kisses from me to your cheeks. For though I will be working in a building far away, I will sing to the stars, so that they will know the words. This I do for my little one because I love her so.”
10.20.2006
Just the Begginning
Just wanted to post something real quick before I start putting up stories. Just so you know, they are very juvenile, and unpolished. These are all things I wrote while in High School or earlier.
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