27  sept  2011    >  0/4/13   >   Fool/emperor/death


Do you give yourself the freedom of taking a risk?

What needs your organizing skills?

Can you rid yourself of what you don’t need?


aaaahhh… No pummel of acorns.  No wind to bullet them to my roof.  yipppee.  Sleep was deep.  I wake up with a calm that I haven’t had for awhile.


So… I’m in this flash fiction writing contest.  In 48 hours, I had to write a 1,000 words or less with the three prompts we were given in my group. My genre; Sci-fi.  the place: a bar.  the object that I had to put in the story: a flashlight.  These three thing had to happen.   I share you with you the story I wrote and then I give you a  haiku that I hope pulls the story together in some way.  READY?


                    THE OTHER SIDE OF VOID

  A scientist must get help from a despicable alien race, so he can travel through absolute deathly emptiness to gather ‘Gid’, an antidote for a bio-epidemic that makes all females infertile.

~~~~~   ***

There was no hiding my identity in the cold blackness of Chaos Edge, the last bar before the X12 black hole. A flat grey moon hung above as Rio and I entered.  I could see the searing green blue eyes of the Yaz stare at us. The smell of sulfur spit and skunk ass gagged me. I had put my contact spots on to see in the pitch black, my mini flashlight tucked up the sleeve of my bio-suit. Not that I wanted to look at these aliens with their seeping folds of flesh and faces that were all mouth with teeth like little yellow razors. Not the prettiest race of alien life I had ever seen, and then there were their eyes; pools of Casimer emeralds, a sea, beautiful and dreamy, that pulled you into enchantment if you didn’t watch out.  The Yaz are Black Hole trackers and know the Void like no one else.  To my knowledge the Yaz are the only race of humanoids that can navigate a black hole with out madness being the outcome.  Not to mention death.


The X12 was the most direct route to Ferros Giddian and the only place in the multi-galactic continuum that grew Gid, a fragile fern that floated through the toxic atmosphere of Ferros.  Gid was the only known antidote for the FaxDax bio-epidemic that was neutering all birth-bearing women in five of the Terra16 Galactic region. No children; no future. I was the discovering scientist, and galactic linguist who volunteered to gather this fern with my small team of professionals. The Yaz were a necessary component, and the biggest obstacle to our success.


The fetid breath of one of their females licked up my face, her eyes were a Siren’s sea.  I stared at her gapping mouth as she spoke.


“What brings you here White Blot?  What charms might you desire of us?”


I complimented her dazzling eyes and sniffed her neck, as was her custom.  She reciprocated with a wet nozzle and gasp. I said through a gag,


“I am Salvo, a White of Terra16, here to negotiate our way to Ferros Giddian.”


“Of course you are, all you white blots desire the no-edges of Black-Holeness.  Feel the void float to nothingness.  Find death’s door open.  But why Ferros Giddian?  Despicable place.  Hideous stench.”


Being encapsulated in the putrid air and slim of Chaos Edge brought a smile to my solemn mission; making me wonder what could possibly smell worse then this.  I said loudly,


“Gid, we come for Gid.”


Raising the decibel and expanding twice her size she said,

“Gid? GID?”


My body shuddered with the violence that poured out of her hellhole and her spit of sulfur burnt my face.  I wiped off the sting of it.


I imagined myself a giant Dragoon vomiting hell fire and said 



A slash of silence filled the bar as the deep sea of all the Yaz’s eyes caused me to look to the floor for fear of drowning.  I tried to pull Rio up from his knees, but he was unprepared and melting. It had been the risk he took.  I aimed my flashlight to the ceiling. The spray of white light forced an explosive moan from all their gapping mouths. The tsunami of their eyes went out. The white light danced on the ceiling to the rhythm of their pain.


“Put it out… put out that light you despicable White Blot.  How dare you?  I will swallow you whole and push you out dead.


I flicked the light out to show my willingness to compromise. In the zip of silence, I bellowed,


“Without Gid my planet will die out as will yours.  Gid is the cure for the virus that is neutering our females.  It will invade you soon.  Going through X12 is our chance of survival.”


There was no turning back now.  Rio was dying and I was in the yellow pus of them with my only weapon, a battery life away from extinction.  The rising roar of them throbbed through my protective bodysuit.  Much more and I would implode along with Rio.  There was no giving help to him.


“What do you say then?”  I manage to holler; catching the ear of the female next to me.


A hum fell with the raise of her hands. Their sea closed and I took a breath.   The yellow scum of their curiosity covered me. When their eyes finally opened, her mouth could have swallowed my face whole.  I closed my eyes letting the stink of her cascade through my exposed skin. Receiving her was the only way into her.  I could feel the wave of her roar as she said,


“There is a knowing of the travel of this virulence. The edges of us feel the invasion in far distant galaxies. Too far.  Too far.  Gid is poison. Ferros Giddian makes this darkness seem brilliant to eye as yours. There is no courage in the gathering of this death you seek Salvo White.”


“Death to find life SheWho. Will you take us through the emptiness for the sake of your unborn?  Get us there and we will harvest the Gid.”


“There is nothing in this for us.  We bear our children well. And, we do not like you. Leave us White Boy Salvo. No time for this.  You have made bond with me thus we give you fair pass. He is ours.”


I walked to the body of Rio.  I laid my hands to his final heartbeat, breathed his soul into my body with a quiver, and walked out into the flat grey moon.  I could feel the renegade YazI waiting.


~~~~~     *****     ~~~~~


Travel through the void


feel death’s empty crush gather


Keep your love light on




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21 august 2011  >  15/6  >  Devil/Lovers


What moves you to Love?

What chains you to something you don’t believe in?

HOw will you be a better partner/friend?


I’m consumed with this Flash Fiction Contest.  It’s all I can do to  to sit here and Blog.  I have no internet access unless I drive 10miles into town.   So.. today, when I finally make my way to the little coffee shop with WI-Fi, I will blast this out to ya’ll with what I have written in the last couple of hours.  Here again are my criteria that I must include in under a 1,000 words…

Genre…Historical fiction, place…Ice cream shop, and the object.. a fax machine.   Really.. I have no frickin’ idea how to do this and this is what my first draft is  so far, OH… and I already wrote something different yesterday that I trashed. No poetry today..


Momma King’s Ice Cream and Notions.

 “I don’t know why you’re not the fattest human in the world, what with you eating ice cream everyday.  I’d look like a beached whale if I did that.  It’s bad enough that I’ve scooped the stuff nearly every day of my life for the last six years.  I get chubby by visual assimilation.”

Maria King sipped her ice tea while Nolan polished off his Banana Split.  He grinned his big toothy smile at her and said,

 “Fast metabolism.  Here babe, you want the cherry?  It might remind you of days gone by.”

 He gave her a wink and a nod.  She punched his shoulder, and pulled the cherry from his fingers with her lips.  She tied the stem of it with her tongue and slid it back out to him between her teeth.

 “You have a magic tongue Maria, you do.  I don’t know how in the hell you do that.”

 “Talent my darling, Shear unadulterated talent.”

 Maria gave Nolan a kiss on his cheek and stood up.

 “You hear that?  That’s the sound of my new Fax machine.  I’m expecting some information about my little gold mine here.  Momma King’s Ice Cream n’ Notions has some curious history I want to find out about.  A hundred and fifty years is a long time to be an ice cream shop that never changed its name. Though I’m nobody’s momma, not for lack of trying, it is a King family business and I’m a King.

 “That is interesting Momma King, though I consider you my queen.  Ok, I’ll clean up the rest of the mess here while you get your fax straight.”

 “Aren’t you the clever punster? Thanks babe.”

 Maria gathered the several page of type from the machine and sat down at her desk.  She began to read what Maurice Stout had researched for her.

 “Maria, here’s what I have chronicled about Momma King, aka, Vera King when she opened the shop, in 1861.  She was from a rich white family from Selma, Alabama that was heavily into the slave trade.  When she got pregnant at seventeen back in 1858, she refused to declare the name of the father. Her daddy sent her north to her cousins in Cincinnati to have the baby and hopefully leave the child with them and return home. 

Vera had fallen in love with Henry, the son of her father’s favorite slave;  a classic tale of a desperate love gone wrong.  She kept the baby girl that look more like a white child with hazel eyes and soft black curly hair like her mother.  She called her Vivian, and was determined not to let Vivian’s blackness ever be known, nor who fathered her to protect her. 

 Much to her parents dismay, she stayed in Cincinnati to make a life for herself.  Her Daddy adored her and was devastated by her pregnancy.  When he saw the baby girl, a spitting image of his wife, he fell in love with her.  He secured their financial future with his great wealth.

 Why Vera choose to open an Ice Cream shop was never quite clear, woman didn’t do that back then. It was decades later that beneath what is now your shop, Momma King’s, were tunnels and rooms that connected the south of the city with the north.  Vera King was protecting, and housing slaves; the very slaves that her daddy had bought and sold to feed his coffers. She was able to do this via the father of her child, whom she stayed in touch with through secret letters.  Apparently, Vera’s mother and Henry’s father always knew of the situation between their children, and made sure the letters were sent.   Vera had no idea that her mother knew her secret or that her mother was helping to free the slaves herself.

Vera’s momma was in love with the boy’s father, her husband’s favorite slave; yet another hideous secret to be kept from Papa King.  Henry became a conduit for slave liberation, directing them north to Vera for safe keeping, never escaping himself.

There is a labyrinth down there Maria.  They likely haven’t been seen in decades.  Be careful when you go down there, because I know your curiosity will be burning a hole in you if you don’t.  Your namesake sheltered and saved many Negro’s back then, never able to protect the man she loved. He was beaten and hung for standing up to a white man trying to rape his cousin on the very day of the Emancipation Proclamation, January 1st 1863.

 Maria sat with this information in her lap for a few minutes.  She could hear Nolan washing the dishes.  She, got up and walked to the basement stairs, flipping a switch to light the darkness. The smell of damp and dirt swept away the sweet of ice cream.   A flashlight sat at the base of the stairs.  The dim light of it wove her from one room to the next.  She began tapping on the walls listening for a hollow that told her a room or a tunnel was there.  Her tapping was reward and she gave a push to a wall.  It gave way with a grind and some effort.  She stood in a small room with two ancient mattresses on wood slabs, a table, a kerosene lamp and a small wooden chair.  Dust and cobwebs were everywhere.  On the table sat a black enameled box, with inlaid mother of pearl.  Maria wiped nearly a hundred and fifty years off the beautiful box.  Inside were the letters from Henry to Vera, neatly stacked in order.  Maria choose the last one, dated November 29th 1962.

 “My beloved, soon we will be free….”

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