Dusting

Howdy, howdy y'all!
Long time no post, but I'm back and I'm changing things up yet again! Basically, the choose your own story didn't seem to catch on as much as I would have liked; now if someone wants to hear a tale, feel free to comment me here or on Facebook. I will not be doing them weekly anymore, but I will still do them for you. The latest overhaul is for a few reasons:
1) Some characters and/or stories introduced were alot of fun and I'd like to mess around with them later (thus breaking my number one rule of story time :D)
B) I seem to get more views/hits when I post my own stories and thus I will start posting tales I've been thinking about wanting to write.
III) As much fun as the blog is, I don't want to operate it under a schedule or guidlines. If I want to rant; I will rant. If I want to tell a tale, I will tell a tale. If I want to open up a discussion and or debate, I will open up a discussion and or debate.
So, there's a couple excuses for everyone. Today's post will be a rant. It's something I wrote awhile ago and have discussed with some people, but haven't posted anywhere. Take a look and tell me your opinions on the matter! Fyi; I wrote this before November 2010 and was going to allow it to fade into obscurity, however, nobody else seemed to realize the points I was trying to make; so let's try this again.

qwerty



    Alright folks, we stand on the cusp of a cultural movement, one that can shift our entire way of life; this revolution I speak of is a technological forked road; pad or cellphone? Holiday season this year will yield the first real market competitor against the ipad; the Samsung galaxy pad, and not only is it set to be a competitor but it is, going by the stats, superior to the ipad; it’s a clearer picture, bears adobe flash player (a perk not privy to any pad nor cellphone), lighter, yields a longer charge and runs on the android 2.2os (called froyo) with upgrades to the system planned clear on through to their next product which is set to be better than this galaxy (called honeycomb). Why is this a cusp, you may ask? After all, we already have laptops and cellphones, the pad is just another piece of tech we don’t need. This was my first inclination toward the product, anyway. However, the launch of the product made me evaluate the number of technical garabage that has soddered itself to my persons. The most useful piece of tech I have acquired is the laptop: it’s a portable computer, gateway to the internet, personal assistant, task managing, gaming, program, treasure trove and being I don’t have a desktop, the most important piece of tech I can have. Next comes the ipod (the second one I have purchased; the first one had a destroyed screen and worked for a good year and a half with the damage before being stolen), currently not in commission as it has mysteriously decided to stop working; the nice folks at apple inform me that the current display means my ipod was dropped, I do admit to this but note that it was dropped nearly 4 months prior to one day deciding it was unhappy; apple then informs me that is odd, but because it was dropped it is not covered by the warranty; the internet tells me to smack it to make it work, yet this only yields an angry grinding noise (which i'm told is normal and means its fixed) followed by the same out of commission message.
    Following the ipod is my cellphone, or as I like to call it, my more practical ipod. I am a droid user, recently converted from blackberry, and I must admit the droid really does; don’t assume that means there is nothing the droid is incapable of, because in reality there is a great deal the droid is incapable of; but even in this respect the droid does, it is extremely easy (once affluent in the droid os) to rule something out as incapable by the droid in under 1minute (and even someone not affluent, but willing to try can do it in under 10 (I a lot 10 incase of a refusal to admit defeat)). The droid is my practical ipod because it media storage space and apps elicit the same features to me that my ipod did (and in many cases more options). Beyond that it has text messaging, phone use, and even skype! (yes I can use my phone to talk on the phone on the internet!). All these wonderful things my phone yields me all come at a price, its not as efficient as my laptop! Its slower, more compact, doesn’t multi task as well….but for a portable glimpse into the world wide web it gets the job done.
    Portable game systems have latched on to me as well, however there place in this argument is more eronious as, their primary function is entertainment, and Im here to discuss practicality (rememeber cultural cusp). So, my main frustration came from these three electronic devices that all did similar things, and were applicable to specific situations; I found myself wondering why the hell they couldn’t just make one damn thing to do all this? I am a huge fan of douglas adams and this question made me cry out for my real life hitchhiker’s guide to the galaxy. While crying, my thoughts drifted to the ipad and I realized they were on their way. Suddenly I wasn’t looking at a device that was just another piece of tech garbage, I was looking at the possibility of my real life hitchhiker’s guide. Here was a device, that has all the benefits of my ipod as a base program, has the apple equivalents of all the wonderful things my cellphone does sans making calls (could be a problem), and is more portable (albeit more pretentious) to carry around than my laptop. If only it could make calls, well with skype it kind of can; suddenly this piece of tech garbage has fufliled the duties of my lesser electronics and while it may not be a full scale computer the tech can only get better until it may be.
    I ask you now to remember a time before computers, a time of typewriters; a time that necessitated, what we call today, qwerty. You see, type writers suffer from a flaw; they carry each symbol on an individual arm that slams into the paper in the machine, then lunges away leaving the imprint of the symbol corresponding to the button pushed. The original typewriters had a keyboard organized in typical a-z format, this elicited an unfortunate problem, as typers increased their speeds, they began to cross and jam the slamming arms; this required a re-tooling, a way to slow typers down and spread out key strokes to avoid jams and voila qwerty is born. Now come back to today and look at your keyboard or qwerty pad on your phone; you may notice when you use it there are no arms slamming forward to imprint your symbol, rather there is a stream of binary that is sent through your system and processed into pixels, which appear as any choosen symbol. The nice thing about a binary code linked to a key stroke, is that it wont cross other binary codes. This means qwerty is shown for its true colors; non efficient. Ha! You may say to me, my argument can only be waged against those who have experienced this. Remember a time, not so far back, when most cellphones didn’t have qwerty keyboards, but mearly 10key. Now, if you remember 10key cellphones, then surely your remember our predictive friend, t9. I ask you to remember, did you text with t9? Did you learn to text faster with t9 than you could type on a keyboard? Did you learn t9 to the point where you could text with t9 while the phone was in a desk, pocket, purse or bag? If you can answer yes to any of these, I have a seceret to tell you: it’s because t9 and even simple base 10key, is more efficient than qwerty. You are welcome for the history lesson, but I assure you it has a point, you see, cellphones, laptops, ipods, those are qwerty, we are familiar with them, its what we know so why change it. The pads, are t9; they are a more effective solution. I don’t take my laptop with me everywhere I go, its impractical. However, I assure you 50% of the time I don’t have it, a situation will arise where my phone or ipod wont cut it. The perfect solution would be a pad. It’s almost a laptop and can do everything my phone or ipod can, but do I really want another monthly fee for another product? No I don’t. But, I could drop my cellphone fee if I switched to a coverage plan on a pad, with skype I’m still in communication with the world. It may be scary to think of laying down the cellphone but I implore you too! We don’t need to be at the beck and call of everyone at any given moment. Sure you can turn the phone off, but do you? Just think, with a pad you still have the convience of a portable multimedia device, but you also gain the larger size and easier ability to set it down and gain some distance. It’s a breath of fresh air to me, but I fear unless we can lay down the cellphone, the wind will be knocked out of me. As it stands, the main competitior against the ipad will only be available through a wireless provideror (where as the Ipad comes in a plan and nonplan version); we saw a product like this recently, the mini laptops, if you were one of the ten people to get that, im sorry. However, it yielded this fantastic opportunity of the pad! Let’s not let the pad go the way of the mini lap top and t9, let embrace this cultural change, lets carry our sketch pad, notebook, anybook, tv, video phone, gps, portal to the internet! Come with me my friends, lay your cellphones, ipod and laptops down and walk away from qwerty.

The Intergalactic Exploits of Nah Lonely Part 2

Welcome to installment two of the The Intergalactic Exploits of Nah Lonely! Will this be the last we see of Nah? Will there be a part 3? You can read part 2 and then tell me!
Never, has a story time entry been revamped and redesigned soooooooo many times before its post. Originally planned as a three part miniseries to occur over the weekend, the Exploits of Nah Lonely were forced to undergo a number of revisions. Why so much revising you ask? Well, being away from my portal to the Sub-Etha net for a few days made it difficult to post. Unable to get online I was left to reread Nah's exploits and ultimately molded two stories into one, to show appreciation for your patience reader. Will there be another story or follow up for Nah Lonely? You tell me!

This weeks submissions were:
Setting: Deep Space
Genre: Steam punk
Characters: Space Bears
Teenage Martian monkeys
Protagonist: Nah Lonely: Space pirate/privateer
Antagonist: Galactic Federation Ship Capt. Jimmy Timbuk Perk
　
　

　

The Intergalactic Exploits of Nah Lonely

Part 2

After getting back to the Raven, it didn’t take long to see that wryly old grizzly had been completely serious. The semi polished girders and flooring of the engine room, were now a mess of wires and pipes; all culminating into some sort of phallic protrusion, imbedded just above the opening of my combustidium burner.
I feel violated and angry; but I can’t. If this prototype engine can really do what its suppose to and the Federation knows it exists, I’ve gotta run before I get tagged with it. I pick up a pail of combustidium and shovel three scoopfuls into the burner; that should be more than enough fuel to get me into the Sol system.
Leaving the engine room, I make my way through the worn but maintained corridors of my precious ship. She may not be the latest model or the most retro fitted, but she has saved my life more times than I can count. The reassuring thrum of her inner machinery at work starts to spread forward from the engine room; with the fresh batch of fuel, she’s waking up and powering on.
Inside the cockpit I find another unexpected addition; a large red button has been installed amongst the levers that control my astro train. Leave it to Space Bears to harness the greatest travel advancement in a giant cliché.
Whether or not I’m going to do this mission is irrelevant, one way or another I gotta start moving. I grasp the drive rod and shift it to locomotion, before releasing the wheel lock. With a slight turn of the stack valve, steam begins to escape the exterior towers and the Raven begins to exit the landing bay and approach the launch pad.
I flip the three switches on my transistor and rotate the dial to the planet’s traffic control station. The speakers crackle while the frequencies located. I take the microphone from its housing on the transistor, depress the on button and make contact.
“This is Centennial Raven, requesting launch clearance on pad 1138.”
“Centennial Raven, this is Krrrrylk traffic control, you are clear for launch on pad 1138.”
“Thank you control.”
Once the ship is settled nicely on the landing pad, I reset the wheel lock and shift the drive rod to the take off position. The engine quits creating forward motion and focuses solely upon pushing all steam out of the smoke stacks and into the helinium canopy. I turn the stack valve until its fully open, feeding more steam out of the towers. Slowly, she begins to lift. The climb starts fairly slow, like a newly filled dirigible. With the ground receding below, I need but wait to achieve necessary altitude.
As she advances to the necessary height, I tighten the stack valve, until her ascension stops and we are only hovering. With take off achieved, I shift the drive rod to the flight position; the mechanisms in the canopy and smoke stack shift; with no further steam being pumped that direction the canopy separates and folds out; giving the Raven her wings. The redirected steam finds its way to the main propulsion drive and begins to power the system. The conical engine protruding from the rear of the ship, begins to spin and while she slowly starts to fall, forward motion is achieved. While the speed increases until the ship reaches a necessary velocity to perpetually orbit the planet; then with a final loosening of the stack valve, the Centennial Raven achieves just enough force to break the orbit of the planet, and uses the celestial bodies own gravity, to sling shot the ship into space.
Now, to the nearest worm hole gate; with any luck I can jump from this system, before this sublimation drive, gets me into any trouble. The biggest problem is the nearest gate, the Centari Gate will provide me with a direct shot to the Sol gate; too bad both of them are federation controlled and operated. Technically, I can use it. I have all necessary licenses and credentials, to operate within the federation as a privateer; and unless my old buddy Perk is on guard duty at either of them I shouldn’t run into any problems. But do I really want to do this mission? I suppose I should make my decision quick; the sooner I act the less chance of anyone catching wind of it. Ah, what the hell; I haven’t been to earth in a while.
I fly the Raven into line behind the other warp travelers. A single Pan Galactical dreadnaught guards the entrance; momentarily detaining every passer by, long enough to check their credentials. It seems like a good sign; no ones being rerouted or captured.
Moment of truth; before I have a chance to rotate the transistors dial to the necessary frequency, the federation auto tunes it for me.
The speakers crackle, “Centennial Raven, Please transfer operating licenses and credentials now.”
“Transfer pending,” I respond; before flipping the transmitter switch, sending digitized forms of my operating parameters across the sub-etha net.
There’s a pause.
“Nah Lonely, during our routine, pre warp travel, scan of your vessel; you have been found harboring, stolen Federation property! You are ordered to power down your ship and await boarding!”
“You scanned my ship? On what grounds! This is illegal!”
“Negative Nah Lonely. The Federation has recently passed new addendums, decreeing that any vessels intending to navigate Pan Galactical Controlled regions, forfeit any and all rights to privacy in said vessel. Again, you are ordered to power down your ship, Nah Lonely!”
Well ain’t that a bitch; you avoid Federation space for awhile and the bastards go all megalomaniac. And I love how, they call the drive, “federation property” that reeks of a treason charge.
“Nah Lonely! Your continued ignoring of our Federation orders, will not be tolerated. The PNGSS Headhunter, is preparing to fire tractor beams at you; resist and be…”
CLICK
“DI-DI-DI-DI-Dum-Dum-Dum-Da-Da-Da-DI-DI,” I really don’t care what the Federation has to say to me; and for what I’m about to pull I need some relaxing tunes.
Opening the steam valve to max, I slam the accelerator forward and pull back on the stabilizer. The Raven, easily shoots out of the tractor beam lock and barrels into the worm hole gate.
Safe from pursuit at the moment, because of the physics in worm hole travel, I know the security won’t last. The federation will be waiting for me at the other gate and I’d hate to stand them up, but you don’t fly through unsanctioned worm holes without picking up a few tricks. I will pop out of this light tunnel, long before its intended exit, and then as long as I keep a low profile, I should make it to earth undetected.

“Da-Da-Da-DI-DI-DI…”

CLICK
“WAH-WAW-WAH-WAW-WAH!” Now there’s a fancy trick, even the transitors bulbs are flashing red.
“WAW! CENTENNIAL RAVEN! YOU ARE OPERATING INSIDE OF FEDERATION CONTROLLED SUB-SPACE WITHOUT PERMISSION AND WITH STOLEN CONTRABAND! YOU ARE UNDER ARREST BY THE PAN GALACTICAL FEDERATION AND OUR ORDERED TO SURRENDER UPON REENTRY TO REGULAR SPACE! WAH-WAW-WAH-WAW-WAH-WAW!”
I try to rotate the dial, to a less annoying station. No luck; don’t know how they did it, but seems the Federations learned how to jam communications within sub-space. Well that’s a shame.
Pulling free my Zap-Tess-4000, I aim it at my radio and fire a blast of electrical plasma at it. The federation can’t jam something that’s a smoldering heap. It’s really such a shame.
Now I just wait; I light my self a cigarette to enjoy the solace. I push the ash tray compartment, located just south of the new red button, and to my dismay nothing happens.
Again I poke, and again nothing happens.
I punch, continued nothing.
I kick and I quit.
I hate space bears.
The molten pile of my radio will have to make do as my butt can, for now.
After a few, fuel conserving adjustments to the controls I return to the task at hand of watching for my exit. The problem most people have with wormholes is the assumption they have but one exit; wherever they end. For someone looking for exact transport this is true, but to someone familiar with the stars, some one who knows their way around the galaxy, wormholes can provide a less exact means of transport any where in the universe. Simply ride out on one of the light rays that composes the fabric of sub-space and find yourself anywhere between your two connecting worm hole gates.
Sure it’s dangerous ‘cuz you could always smash into a planet, or star, or asteroid, or ship, or any number of other debris, but there is certainly a reason why its not common practice. I’m gonna find me one of these light rays that will deposit me right inside the earth atmosphere, or at least close to earth…
These green ones are looking promising. Pressing the stabilizer down, I jam the accelerator to a stop. I cross my fingers as I embark on the most important step of prematurely exiting a worm hole; getting lucky.
For moment, there is nothing but verdant. As the emerald radiance begins to waver, darkness and streaking lights begin to define. As I renter the real space, I pull back on the stabilizer with all of my might; hoping to avoid the screen of asteroids directly ahead of me. Though the ship is no where near the speed of light anymore, its velocity is still far beyond an acceptable level to be controlled by a human. The ship continues to arc, but not drastically enough. Her left wing slams against an asteroid, shattering the stabilizing fin, and making the task of landing very difficult. Still her arc continues, liberating her from the impending doom of asteroids, and careening directly for Mars.
I battle with the controls, trying to slow my damaged ship down. The effort pays off; control is returned, speed is reduced, and now I can avoid Mars and head to earth. The worm hole didn’t put me exactly where I would have liked, but I’m not dead so that’s good.
While passing by Deimos, another problem presents itself. A group of space marauders, launch from the moons surface, in single person steam pods. Under normal circumstances this wouldn’t be a problem, but as it stands I’ve got diminished maneuvering capabilities. Before I can even power up the first chain gun, they reveal their intentions; the six pods hit me with magnetic toe lines and break back toward the moon, with my damage ship intow.
I gun the accelerator but its too late; they’ve already shorted it out with one of their toe lines. Well, this is great; once I get stuck on that planet, I can’t get off until I fix the broken wing.
They disengaged their lines about ten feet from the surface, dropping my astro train rather hard. With their cargo safely deposited; my abductors land their pods and make their way for my entry door. Their banana yellow space suits, tell me exactly who I’m dealing with; another example of humanities ignorance at work; it’s a gang of teenage Martian monkeys.
Not to say all Martian monkeys are teenagers, but this particular gang looks young and hijacking injured ships is a common practice for adolescent Martian monkeys.
How do I even want to handle this? I can’t waste my time here; I’m wanted by the federation and I’m right inside their hometurff. But does that really give me a right to waste a bunch of angry kids? No, I can’t.
Navigating my way from the cockpit, I make the journey to the ships entrance hatch; pausing briefly to mount a Breath-O-rator over my face, before opening the hatch and preparing to handle the situation out side.
The door grinds open to reveal all six disgruntle youths facing my entry way with their hands behind their backs.
I step forward and start to speak; “All right you kids! You’ve had your fun, no go on and get out of here.”
Their response is to reveal what they were hiding behind their backs’.
When the last handful of monkey feces pelts my face, the poo flingers erupt in laughter, hoping up and down, while pointing and laughing. After they finished their hysterics, the ring leader shouted, “cowabunga!” before leading his posse back to their pods and stranding me.
As I continued to stand in my entry, covered in Martian monkey doo, looking over the barren surface of Demios; I made the mistake of wondering how things could get worse.
The thought had barely materialized when a response made itself known. The ridiculous discus bridge, with its stupid giant engines, entered the atmosphere and loomed above my Raven.
A powerful PA system on the frigate, erupted with sound to address me specifically.
“Nah…Lonely…” the irritatingly brazen, buffoon spoke, “THIS IS….Captain……Jimmy…Timbuk………….Perk.”
I hate him so much.
“Of the…Pan….Galactical…….Federation.”
If only I could shoot out his PA the way I shot my radio; then I wouldn’t have to listen to him anymore.
“I AM…placing YOU…under arrest…for….smuggling and…piracy….and….treason. YOU MUST…Surrender…your….SELF….Immediately.”
Screw this. I’m not hanging around to listen to this imbecile. I close my entry hatch and throw my shit covered Breath-O-rator to the ground. I can still hear that annoying voice as I make my way to the cockpit.
“I………..will USE….any……force…….that’s….necessary…..to…..detain….you…..if I………….mUST!”
I look at the intrusive red cliché in my cockpit and light myself a new smoke.
“Well….anything is better than listening to that idiot….into the breach!” I yell; while pressing the red button.
Instantly, the entirety of the Centennial Raven became gaseous and vanished in a puff of steam, leaving the Captain of the Cumulus, rather confused about what to do next.


***To be concluded?***

By: Michael Wilshire

The Intergalactic Exploits of Nah Lonely

This weeks submissions were:
Setting: Deep Space
Genre: Steam punk
Characters: Space Bears
                  Teenage Martian monkeys
Protagonist: Nah Lonely: Space pirate/privateer
Antagonist: Galactic Federation Ship Capt. Jimmy Timbuk Perk
　
So, I know what I said about not revisiting characters and stories with this story time experiment. Well, I’m adding an addendum to that, because I found myself having a lot of fun with this particular story; and decided to make it a miniseries! Don’t worry, you won’t have to wait a week for the next part, I’m simply posting the first part now and the next part over Friday and Saturday respectively: think of it like a short running cereal! The reason for this being I have learned a lesson; I will stop trying to bend universal rules to my whim and I accept that the chaos of Thursdays can not be harnessed; as such from now on story time entries are guaranteed for Fridays and no longer Thursdays; not to say they might not make it up on Thursday, but no more guarantee of it. Immediately following this weeks entry submissions for next weeks entry will be open, but be sure to check back on Friday and Saturday to find out what’s become of our Marauding Space Privateer, Nah Lonely!

The Intergalactic Exploits of Nah Lonely

The Dive was solid, but aged. The castilium iron of its construction seemed to have finally began to succumb under the unyielding barrage of moisture provided by the climate, its own broken pressure valves and even its clientele. The evidence was apparent everywhere, like a spreading batch of leprosy across the establishment: rust. I mean hell, even the booth I’m sittin’ in’s covered with rust. But what are you gonna do? The universe is a hard place. You either turn yourself into a well polished cog, and jump into the ever grinding machine that is the oppression of the Pan Galactical Federation: or you spin free, and try to create your own perpetual motion; the only problem is, its pretty dirty being free. Or at least that’s what I keep telling myself. That’s what keeps me sitting in this booth; drinking this liquid that’s got way too much shit floating in it to just be whiskey, while giving it my best damn effort to keep this cigarette lit in this awful humidity.
The client will show. And when he does, it’ll be worth it. If the cargo is half as valuable as he says it is, this little cog will be able to have his very own, secluded self, clean, freedom.
As I look around at the various patrons littering the establishment, I grow slightly uneasy. There are faces I recognize and faces I don’t. There’s fellow free spinning cogs I’ve had altercations with in the past, and number I hope to avoid in the future. I give up on this sorry excuse for a drink, and reach my hand under my duster and into my lapels pocket, freeing the watch I carried in there. it’s a relic of an antique; originally constructed on earth, its not what one would consider the most efficient interstellar time keeper, but it reminds me of home. Besides, it’s not that hard to translate different species measure of time, into something equivalent to what this does. Unfortunately, according to this my clients about twenty minutes late. Then again, maybe he’s here and I just don’t know it. I don’t have a name, a species, or any description of what to go off, except location, right down to this booth, and time, which had already passed.
I slip my watch back into its pocket, and slowly brush my hand against my Zap-Tess-4000, in its shoulder holster; reaffirming its ease of access. With that confidence, I can wait a little longer.


hiiissssssss.
GONK!

I look to the entrance, toward the sound of the latest ruckus to enter the bar.


Hiiiissssss.
GONK!

Now this is interesting, here we have something you don’t see everyday. A patron upwards of eight hundred pounds; wearing some form of white insulated space suit, with a matching bowl of a helmet, completely obscuring its contents; and piston driven prosthetic left leg.

Hiiiiissss.
GONK!

Never seen him before

HiiiiSSS.
GONK!!

Probably the client.

HIIISSSS.
GONK!!!

HIIIISSSS!
CLANK!
pssssssssssssshhhhh.

“Nah Lonely?” a muffled rasp of a voice, asked me from beneath the indiscernible bowl.
I tip down the tip of my hat, obscuring my face before I respond,“Well, you see; that really depends on whose asking?”

HIIISSS.
GONK!
pppsssssshhhhh.klang.pssssssssss.

It sat down opposite of me at the table.
“I’m here to discuss a business deal with Mr. Lonely.”
“I’m listening,” I told him, while discarding the failed remains of my cigarrette into my supposed whiskey.
“You see, Mr. Lonely, my associates and I have a very sensitive package that must be delivered with the utmost of care and discretion.”
“Define discretion.”
“We would like to avoid any Federation interference.”
“Uh-huh; and why’s that?”
“Let’s just say, for the sake of existence, this package can’t fall into their hands.”
“Now, see; it’s the whole cloak and dagger debacle about this operation that makes me wonder, why the hell was I contacted?”
“My associates and I have heard you have no love loss for the Federation, and you have experience with the planet the package is intended for.”
“It’s true, I’m not a fan of the Federation; there a bunch of ignorant tyrants, but that doesn’t mean I’m looking for a fight with them.”
“Your reputation precedes you Mr. Lonely; this is another, reason we choose you; the Pan Galactical Federation, must be avoided at all costs for this operation.”
“You finally said the magic “C” word my friend; exactly, how much are you and your associates looking to spend on this little operation?”
“We can offer you eight hundred thousand somollions, for your service.”
The intel was right, I could definitely buy my own corner of freedom with that.
“That’s a hefty sum, my friend. Where exactly is the package going? You said I’m familiar with it’s destination?”
“Yes, your destination is the planet, earth; more specifically the village of Kodiak in Alaska.”
And there’s the damn catch, “Earth? You want me to avoid confrontation with Federation, and fly right into one of there most heavily guarded territories? Are you high? I told you I’m not looking for a fight with them; I don’t give slug of Ganellia about and freedom causes; I’m just trying to make a buck my friend.”
“That’s all we are offering you Mr. Lonely; the opportunity to make a lot of bucks as it were.”
They’ve always gotta hit ya were it hurts the pocket book. I can’t do this job; I don’t even know what I’m hauling. Captain Perk of P.G.F.S.S. Cumulus already despises me; imagine if he caught me sneaking a bomb or something onto earth! There’s no way, I’d walk away from it.
“Look Mr. Piston Leg; I appreciate that you and your colleagues thought of me, but the fact of the matter is I’m not going to be able to accept the job,” as I finish declining his offer, I begin to rise: only to be pushed back into my seat by the giant, powerful hand of my companion sitting opposite of me.
“Listen Mr. Lonely, this is not exactly an offer you can refuse. Tell me what you know of space travel.”
“Excuse me?”
“What is the fastest way to travel?”
“Worm hole gates.”
“Exactly! Such things are naturally occurring in the universe; they can accelerate you to the speed of light and deposit you anywhere, they naturally are; but what if there was an even more accurate and faster way to travel? What if a ship or vehicle, could be transported anywhere within the universe?”
Now, this coot has got my attention again. Talking about a means of travel all life has lusted for sense first inventing the wheel.
“I’d say it could be one of the greatest discovery’s in all of history.”
“Exactly Mr. Lonely! But only if it was developed correctly. I want you to imagine if the Federation developed or had access to such technology, do you still think it would be so great?”
“Well, probably not. It could give them the strategic advantage over any civilization outside of their jurisdiction.”
“You are completely correct Mr. Lonely. Now tell me, are you familiar with the Alaskan Village of Kodiak?”
“No I am not; but I assume that it’s cold.”
“HAHAHA! Indeed it is Mr. Lonely, indeed it is. Now, you must understand that the Village of Kodiak is not acknowledged by the Pan Galactical Federation as having membership, nor representation in the Federation; rather it is a sovereign nation within a Federation controlled planet.”
Oh boy. I don’t remember any sovereign nations on earth with eight hundred pound humans; I have a feeling I know where this is going and there’s gonna be know way to refuse.
“And what exactly inhabits this nation?”
My guest moved his massive, gloved paws to the front visor of his fish bowl helmet and raised the visor, to reveal his face. A face that looked as native to earth has my own; as I stared into large monocle which had clearly been installed to replace a lost left eye, I couldn’t help but find myself disgusted at the atrocities against nature my kind had committed before space travel. Terrified of exploring the unknown for themselves, experimenting on creatures which had no business to make that evolutionary bound when they did, strapping them in on the earliest astro trains, and firing them into the dark abyss of space.
Space Bears. Why did it have to be Space Bears.
“You see Mr. Lonely; it is my fellow Conscious brothers and sisters in that village; those whom have never been allowed to fulfill their only mission in life and explore the stars.”
“Your gonna appeal to that deep seeded guilt I harbor for being human, aren’t you?”
“No Mr. Lonely; I simply plan to appeal to you as one sentient being to another. Tell me, do you know what sublimation is?”
“What does the act of a solid transitioning directly to gas have to do with anything?”
“It has to do with everything! The package you will be delivering to my earth locked brethren, is a prototype sublimation drive!”
“A what?”
The bear leaned in very close to me and began to speak very softly, “It’s an engine that can instantly sublimates the ship and all of its occupants; while maintain their general molecular form; this is where it gets tricky; while everything is in a gaseous state, but still maintaining a semi familiar molecular structure, the entire vehicle can slip through abnormalities of space and time to reappear at a location which contains a similar mass to the ship while in its gaseous forms, in accordance with the transitive properties of existence.”
“It turns you into a gas and then it switches you with other gases anywhere in the universe?”
“Essentially yes.”
“Then why don’t you use it reach your friends?”
“Ah, well you see; the engine is a prototype, and as such we can’t really utilize it yet.”
“That doesn’t make sense? Your sending an untested engine to your people as their salvation?”
“Alas, it is our only choice. The Pan Galactical Federation, has received intel of the technology we have developed and are currently actively pursuing any and all known space bears. Hence the discretion of my attire,” he told me; while lowering his visor again.
“What if it doesn’t work? What if I take it to your people and you’ve got something wrong and then the federation gets a hold of it?”
“They will have to go through much more bureaucracy to invade a sovereign territory; those of us not on our home planet are being pursued as deserters.”
“I still don’t understand why you just don’t use the drive to pop in and snag your brethren and then pop out with them. Why this whole big to do?”
“Again, all of my kind currently not on earth are wanted for treason; it would be suicide for us to attempt any such rescue; you’re a disenfranchised privateer; you won’t be expected. And besides if you wish to try out the engine you may.”
“Sorry papa bear; I’m not gonna take my time to install this hot commodity on my ship, then have to uninstall it upon delivery.”
“You won’t have to take time for anything; my associates have been installing the engine on your ship while we’ve discussed the details; think of it as our collateral. However you arrive at earth, be it conventional combustidium steam power, or by sublimation, you will simply turn over your ships to the inhabitants of Kodiak Village; they will then transfer you your eight hundred thousand soma lions as well as a new astro train.”
“Are you kidding me? That’s ridiculous! I’m not doing any of that! I need at least half my fee upfront and I will never give up the Centennial Raven!”
“I’m afraid this is not up for negotiation, Nah Lonely; the modifications are already done. Refuse and be responsible for the down fall of free space as we know it.”
Why did it have to be space bears?

***

To Be Continued

***

By: Michael Wilshire

Chapter 6 (of ITCOMVGROWP)

It's another Thursday here at Story Time! I've decided to do things a little differently this week. Again I only recieved one suggestion for a story; so I asked myself, what gives? Are people not enjoying the short stories as much as they enjoyed the chapters of the book? Well I'm giving you the chance to make the decisions readers! Instead of writing another short story this week, I decided to give you another chapter of In the Case of Mathematics vs. Gods, Religions and Other Worldly Philosophies. That's right folks, this is the opening of the second act in the book and its an exclusive just for you! This does not mean I will be going back to posting a chapter a week again; I simply wanted to give the audience a sneek peek of what lays ahead. Tell me what you think in the comment section, here or on facebook and be sure to follow the blog if you're not already.
What I'm really looking for this week is an idea where to go from here; if y'all want more short stories, I'm giving you the ultimatum of breaking our previous records for suggestions; that means I need at least two (or one request each from two seperate people). Until the previous record is broken, you can expect rants, thoughts and tangents to start occupying these Thursday posts. Maybe that's what you want; maybe it isnt; maybe you should tell me your opinion on the matter? Anyway, I will quit wasting time.

Act ii

Chapter 6

(Chorus)

With players gathered and die cast

The time has come for our pawns to advance

Rio remembered a time (about a week ago), when Achilles little performance would have summoned nearly every available unit of the Las Vegas police department; however, the new sheriff’s of Las Vegas (deputized by the no longer hiding mob running the town) didn’t really care about a guy who cut up some monsters. The crowd which witnessed the act still maintained interest in the Greek, and expressed it by continuing to follow him.
They had waited patiently, as Achilles rinsed the fury blood off his body in the nearest of the casino’s fountains; obediently following him without any command, when he remained silent and began to walk down the road, toward the nearest “Come Back Soon” sign.
The tailing entourage made up for their hosts’ muteness; talking about what they witnessed, watching it again on their cell phones, flagging other people down and reenacting the events for them. They maintained a distance from the armored man; for their fear of Achilles was only surmounted by their interest in him. Occasionally a new comer who hadn’t witnessed the events themselves, would shout, “Kill something else!” only to find their request met with continued hush.
They were nearly out of the city, coming up on the final casino near the outskirts when Rio realized how unpromising the prospect of this quest would be, if it were done in silence; naturally he decided to rectify the situation.
“Aaaaaaaaah man, am I parched! Are you parched? Cuz I’m pretty damn parched. How bout we stop for a drink?”
Achilles continued walking.
“Come on man! Just oooooone drink! My treat!” he added trying to sweeten the deal.
The crowd cheered, but Achilles was unfazed.
Rio turned to face the audience, “Well I ugh…actually meant for him…ah but what the hell! Somewhere’s gotta have a happy hour right now!”
The crowd cheered louder.
Rio ran to catch up to Achilles, “What do you say hero? The people have spoken!”
“No.”
The crowd’s noise digressed to booing at the prospect of no free alcohol; the protest was quickly silenced by a glance shot from Achilles, capable of freezing a gorgon.
“Awe come on! Your fans were so excited! Just one drink, then questing, yeah?” he smiled his most charming smile.
An unseen voice in the crowd spoke in Achilles silence, “What are you questing for?”
Rio turned around, more than willing to talk to anyone who wanted to listen; “You know I’m not sure on all the details. All I know is we’re looking for some fr…” was the extent of his sentence before Achilles hand clasped over his mouth.
“Don’t tell people what we are doing, you idiot!” he said, removing his hand from Rio’s face.
“Why not?”
Achilles looked from the walking herd of inebriation, back toward the demigod he accompanied; responding, “Safety issues.”
“What do you mean?”
“Look can we discuss this later?”
“Hell no! If I’m in mortal danger I damn well want to know about it!”
“At the present moment you are not…however…” Achilles glance shifted back toward their audience, “ugh…look, how about we get that drink.”
The crowd’s excitement erupted.

***

The line said to separate fear and paranoia, is a fine one: Pan was neither sure what signified the line, nor where the difference between the sides lay; but she felt certain she had become a resident on the paranoid side. Nearly a week had passed sense the events at the courthouse, and she still refused to step from the sanctuary of her home.
She was convinced, if her boss had been disintegrated for defending her mathematical proof, a fate much worse was waiting for her, being the actual discoverer. This fear, diluted her into believing she was safe at home; mostly because nothing had happened to her there and largely because of her newly developed astraphobia (which stemmed not from a fear of the “good” lightning, which struck ill advised golfers, but the “bad” boss killing lighting, she knew the gods had waiting for her).
Reality was threatening to challenge Pan’s fears, for her food supply was running low. Faced with the choice to stay home and starve or go outside and be vaporized, Pan began to consider the pros and cons: If she stayed home, her life would last until starving to death; if she left her home, she may be able to get food, but would probably be atomized by divine light, dying quickly. Both choices shared morbid ends; yet if the end must be morbid, she decided it should be quick. The decision, in no way, made the actual task of leaving any easier.
Fear is fear, and the feeling rooting her home was not that. Pan felt as if there was something she must know before she ventured forth; a piece of information she must have that could resolve any of her uncertainties. The feeling consumed her; perhaps if she turned on the news she could find this elusive factoid.
Locally, things were running as smoothly as possible. The only excitement for the day, coming from a riot some centaurs caused. Her city was having a relatively quiet day with the living, breathing myths of yore. World news revealed, no one from earth had defeated any of the Olympian generals yet, but polling showed Odysseus to be the most challenged. The top story belonged to National news and occurred in Las Vegas. Sources (confirmed by video) had reported a man, single handedly slewing four furies.
Pan found the images brutal, but none the less impressive.
“And who would be there to congratulate this impressive gladiator?” pressed the anchorwoman, “none other than near-do-well Hollywood bad boy, Rio Dythrab,” the video switched to the notorious partier, emerging from the crowd, applauding the hero.
The images on Pan’s television caused the muscles in her face to fail for the second time in a week. She paused the channel to take a closer look at the man on screen. He had Rio’s hair, his smile, he even had the flask she’d given him on their one year anniversary, just visible in his left pocket, under a gaudy horn hanging from his belt (that only he could successfully make look attractive). It was definitely her ex; she resumed the news.
“And what is the son of the famous Dareia Dythrab doing with this warrior? Sources indicate the duo is on some sort of quest. What they’re after and where they are going is still unknown, but more details to come when we receive them.”

The information Pan had witnessed was still attempting to process in her mind, when two men and a horse came barreling through her wall and into her television. Screaming, she snatched her can of mace from the coffee table and began to unload with reckless abandon toward the commotion. As the can’s stream began to spittle; Pan reexamined her target and noticed, rather than it being two men and a horse as originally thought, there was actually one man (with a swollen red face, coughing uncontrollably) who received the brunt of her attack and a completely unscathed centaur. The centaur used the distraction the non lethal deterrent provided, to forcefully kick the mace victim through another of Pan’s walls.

The creature smiled and winked at her, saying, “Thanks sweets,” before galloping through its newly created exit.

Pan stared after the beast for a moment, and began to truly appreciate her disdain for feelings.

***

Back in Las Vegas, Rio and Achilles’ party had just arrived at a bar.
“BARKEEP! A round for everyone! And put it on my tab!”
The bartender, all too familiar with Rio, was happy to oblige.
Achilles led the boisterous youth to the bar, in an effort to distance their conversation from wandering ears.
“You are currently not in mortal danger; however, the more people you tell about the quest the more arduous it will become. There are forces that will kill you, simply to prevent the rise of a new Olympian.”
“I see…I didn’t know that; Athena never mentioned it.”
“Of course she didn’t! Athena assumed you would be bright enough to figure that much out on your own. I know better. I understand you have to be force fed information to understand basic principles; and that’s why I am here, to hold your hand and make sure you don’t get yourself killed, being a moron.”
“Hey…”
“Look, it’s still not safe to elaborate anymore here. We need to slip away from this crowd and leave on our own.”
“Alright, let me cause a distraction.”
“That’s not what I meant…” Achilles attempted to protest, but was cut short by Rio’s climbing onto the bar.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” he bellowed, clinking a beer bottle against the minotaur horn on his belt, “Three rounds of jelloshots for my loyal followers!!!”
Rio decided, cheering meant consent and dropped behind the bar next to the bartender, “After these rounds of shots, go ahead and close my tab; but be sure to tip yourself its total.”
“Yes Sir!”
Shifting his attention back to his guide, “How’s that? Once those start getting served we can slip out the side exit,” his grin saying he’d implored similar ruses before.
Rather than pass the time in silence with Achilles; Rio advanced on the waitress loading a tray with shots. They parted ways when her tray was full, but not before she handed him a napkin with her phone number on it.
The lady killer, made his way out from behind the bar and back to his companion, “Drinks are heading out; now’s our chance.”
By the time the second round was being served Rio and Achilles were nearly out of the casino; and with the coming of the third round, came the realization the duo was absent and the groups’ acceptance of lacking motivation to find them.
With the number of journeyers reduced back to two, Achilles was still remaining silent.
“Soooooooooo….” pressed Rio, “Who would want me dead? Another god?”
Feeling comfortable to speak, but still uninterested in small talk, Achilles responded, “No, all of the Olympians agreed with your ascension. The dangers lie with the children of earth.”
“The monsters and stuff? But why?”
“Let’s just say they aren’t particularly fond of the gods right now and will try to take a shot at Olympus whenever possible.”
“Um…okay…”
Achilles felt the conversation had ended and chose not to respond to Rio’s directionless thought.
Realizing the ancient hero had no further interest in the previous topic, the god-to-be tried a new direction, “What’s the deal with you Achilles? What brings you back and why to my aid?”
“I’ve ‘been back,’ as you put it, for centuries. I was chosen, along with five other heroes to be generals of the Olympian army. As for the fortune of helping you, the gods asked me and I accepted.”
“Why? You don’t really seem excited about it.”
“Why? You know who I am; even though I fought in a war, centuries before your society began to rise. My legend has transcended centuries, civilizations and gods! My name is immortal and I have accepted this quest to ensure its longevity. Trust me, I would much rather be in the coliseum, battling your modern warriors; but I have the opportunity to raise a god. That is what will be remembered. The details of our journey are erroneous; but with its success, my name will live on.”
“I still don’t see the point. Those people back there, they didn’t believe you were you; so why care about the fame?”
“It doesn’t matter if they know me personally; but even they knew my name and my story. When I finally pass on my name will remain, and I will do all I can to assure it sees the end of time.”
“That seems really pessimistic.”
“I say it’s realistic. I know how society works; what we do in life has little effect on anything, but if done right, it will be remembered throughout history.”
“I guess…I never really thought of it like that.”
The conversation ended and silence remained until they were outside the city. Achilles stopped and looked at Rio; unsure of what he should be doing, he took the opportunity to light a cigarette.
“What are you waiting for?”
“I don’t know…what am I waiting for?”
“Do you plan to walk through miles of desert?”
“Honestly, I’d prefer not to.”
“Then use your horn!”
“That just summons that Custard thing.”
“His name is Custo and he’s a griffin, not a dessert!”
“Okay Custo…I still don’t see a point? I’ve got you for protection right now.”
“You really are completely clueless. We can use him for transportation!”
“huh?”
“We sit on its back and it will fly us to a destination!”
“Oh no, that doesn’t sound like a good idea at all. Can’t we just steal a car or something?”
“Steal a car? Do you see many cars on the road? And what do we do after we find one; take the highway to the fruit of ambrosia?”
“That sounds good to me.”
“They grow on an island!”
“Ah. Well, we could rent a helicopter.”
“We cannot tell people about the quest!”
“Come on, I doubt that anyone renting helicopters is going to run and tell a satyr what we are doing.”

Its just so happens, a satyr had found Las Vegas rather entertaining and thus decided to make the city its home. This same satyr had recognized Achilles during his little show, and had decided to follow the hero, in hopes of learning what mischief Olympus was up too. The creature had been successful in remaining hidden and following, even after the massive crowd was abandoned; sniggering to itself over Rio’s particular diction in this argument.

“Just call the griffin.”

“But I don’t want to ride on a creepy cat-bird!”

“It’s our best option: Call the damn griffin!”

Rio removed the horn from his belt and looked at it suspiciously; after a long drag of his cigarette he said to Achilles, “I get this sneaking feeling you don’t like me much.”

“I simply want this quest done.”

“I think, things will run a lot smoother if we get along, so let’s figure out the issue and address it.”

“The ‘issue’ is simple; I am Achilles, the greatest hero ever and I’m stuck babysitting an imbecile god want to be!”

“Well, I definitely see how that could suck.”

Achilles was surprised to find a chuckle escape, “Yes, yes it certainly does.”

“And a laugh! We are making progress! Well, here’s my deal; I don’t know what the hell’s going on. It seems there’s an awful lot I’m not being told, but I’m just going with it. That said, if you feel I’m being a pain in the ass about something, just let me know.”

“Rio, you are being a pain in the ass about the griffin.”

Rio appreciated the candid statement, and expressed his feelings by laughter. Achilles, who spoke the sentence, was pleased with the honesty of the situation and decided to partake in a laugh as well.

The son of Dionysus, composed himself through deep pull of smoke, “Alright, alright I will call the damn bird; but if it keeps giving me that freaky eye…we may have to discuss a new deal,” pressing the horn against his lips, he blew with all of his might, for which the horn expressed no response.

Looking to the sky, Rio could see his efforts were not in vain, because the griffin sailed through the air and landed beside its master; making some form of purring or cooing only capable by a griffin. The bird was still unnerving with its stare.

“Damnit. You wanna drive?” he asked Achilles.

In a single fluid motion, the warrior leaped from the ground and rested on the back of the griffin. In a much less graceful attempt, Rio scrambled up the creatures side and unsteadily onto its back, directly behind Achilles.

“Um….what do I hold onto?”

“The loose skin with fur on it. Never grab the feathers.”

Rio grabbed two large tufts, turning his knuckles white. In an attempt to settle the greenhorn’s fear, Achilles turned to him and said, “Just so you know; Custo will never let you fall.”

“Oh…”was as far Rio was able to articulate a coherent sentence, before transitioning to screaming profanities as Custo launched off the ground and through the air.

At this point the satyr tag along, realized he could pursue no farther and was forced to make a decision on how to proceed with the information he gathered. His comprehension of the situation was limited, but he knew if Olympus was involved, there would be plenty of mischief to be had. A tribe of minotaur who had claimed the Nevada desert as home, would be the ideal recipients of his data. Minotaur were brash and aggressive, but they were still higher on the children of earth food chain then satyrs; if he gave them the information, they would definitely spread the word and start the gears of war. Mischief would be had and the satyr would safely watch.

By: Michael Wilshire

Cudda the Annihilator

Welcome to another enthralling installment of Story Time. This weeks submission was over facebook and asked for a yarn about a cat named Cudda, whom brings upon the zombie apocalypse! Now I'd like to remind readers that immediately following this post submissions for next weeks story will be open. Be sure to post your suggestions here or on my facebook (the link on the far right of your screen). Don't forget that multiple submissions are encouraged as I will attempt to mold them into one! I'm going to go ahead and keep the intro short this week so, be sure to follow the blog if you enjoy it!

Cudda the Annihilator

"MEEEEEEEEEEEEOOYYYYYYYYAAAAAAWWWWWNNNNNN," the nest of golden tufts rang out from the window sill of the bathroom, just as the earliest rays of sun began to rise through the eastern horizon. Pointed ears, which framed a whiskered face, emerged from the heap of fur; followed, slowly by legs and a tail, which a moment before had been a single, unidentifiable mass. As its gaping maw released another, "meeeeeeeeeeeooooyaaaaaaawn," the feline looked out the window at the world out side.

Soon, yes very soon, she thought, while leaping from the sill and into the empty bath basin below.

Her ears perked toward the doorway connecting her fortress to the hallway, the male primate approaches.

As he hurriedly entered the restroom his eyes caught sight of its current occupant.

"In or out cat?"

Ignorant humanoid; you dare issue commands to me?

HEr eyes' remained trained upon the intruder.

"Alright then," he replied while shutting the door, then proceeding to sit on the toilet.

What? What are you doing?

The rhetorical question was quickly answered as a vile smell penetrated the room.

Oh, you heathen!

The cat continued to stand in the tub, eyes glaring at the human whom shared it abode; indignation emanating from every fiber of its being.

"Well, I warned ya'."

Once the human had finished their business he opened the door to the rest of the house. A golden streak shot forth from the tub and towards the escape, pausing only to bite the heel of its captor.

"OW! Damn cat!"

Foolish monkey! Soon you will learn the might of Cudda! Now, for the next stage of my plan.

She made her way through the animal door in the kitchen, leading to the backyard of the property. The harvest moon approaches, if it is to rise red, I must move my plans forward with post haste. A right turn past the garage, quick hop onto the dumpster, followed by a bound to the woodpile. Taking a moment, to lay down and lick her hind legs for a moment, the ever clever Cudda surveyed the area, to assure no spectators were around to witness where else she was going. Confident she was alone, the tangle of gold fur slowly made her way down the open spaces of timber, until locating the rodent burrow at the bottom which had been long vacant of its original tenants.

The feline coursed its way through the subterranean lattices of its acquired fortress, until the tunnel deposited her in a much larger cavern located below the dwelling of its humanoids. The bones of its fallen sacrifices littered the floor of its secret cave; skulls of reptiles, birds, rodents and even small canines were systematically lined around the edge of her fortress.

Yes, the time is nigh; with the sacrifice of a young frightened rodent tonight, I shall assure the crimson nature of the harvest moon, which is necessary for my plan to work.

A soulless purr escaped the beast, wallowing in the remains of its victims.

"SQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWEEEEEEEEEE!!"

The high pitched shriek rang through living room of the house.

"What the hell?" a surprised human exclaimed, stumbling their way from the bedroom to locate the source of the disturbance.

"SQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQWWWWWWWWWWWWWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

A crippled bunny was located within the treacherous claws of Cudda.

"Your not even gonna bring in a dead one? Damn cat!"

No human, you shall witness the moment your race was rendered obsolete.

"SQQQWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWE...."

The cry cut short as Cudda bit down upon the neck of its victim.

"Well that's just great! Your getting blood all over the floor!"

"ppuuuuuuuuuurrrrr," the herald of the end, responded to the humans protest.

"Gimme that damn thing," the human said, reaching for the slain mammal.

"HIIIIIIISSSSSS!" the cat responded, with the rabbits neck still in his mouth. Before the human could be offended by the cat's response, Cudda lept from the ground and onto his neck, driving her claws deep into his shoulder and neck.

"AAAGGGH!!!!" he screamed flailing about, but the effort was in vain, for the feline had already fled its perch and shot outside, while the bleeding man continued to thrash in consternation.

"I'm gonna kill your god damn satan cat!"

"No your not! Quit being mean to her!" responded a female from behind closed doors.

"Mean? I'm mean? She just attacked me for no reason!"

"Clearly your lying!"

Meanwhile, in its cadaverous cavern, the sinister Cudda was busy peeling the flesh from its fallen victim.

With the blood of the human under my claws, I now have the final offerings to bring about the crimson harvest! And with its coming I shall release a plague upon the twofeets' and prepare the world for the arrival of my lord and master Beelzekitty! HAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHA!

"Well look who decided to come home tonight," the man spat as the cat entered the home.

"Oh my god really? She's been gone all day and as soon as she comes home your gonna start in on her! No wonder she hates you!" the female retorted for the four legged beast, incapable of verbal articulation.

Foolish primates. I hate both of you equally, however...the cat paused the thought while leaping upon the females lap and snuggling up...there are benefits to gaining the trust of sum.

"I don't wonder why she hates me! That cat is evil!"

"It's a cat! It can't be evil!"

"Oh what a load of horse crap! That damn things probably the reason the moons red tonight! Everything its killed!"

"The cat is the reason the moons red? ARe you serious right now? Do you realize how delusional you sound?"

"puuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuurrrrrrr," went an amused Cudda.

The following morning began quite chaotic.

"A pigeon! You brought a damn pigeon into the house!"

Under the claws of the golden harbinger, was a pigeon in the height of panic.

"Your damn devil cat brought a pigeon into the house!" he bellowed to the female of the home.

"Ewwwwww!" she responded from an unseen corner, "is it dead?"

"I don't..." his response cut short as the mighty Cudda raised a blood splattered paw, and brought it down in a crushing blow upon the birds neck.

"Um....yeah I think it is!"

"Well get it out of the house!"

"Of course..." as he reached down to procure the felled avian, the sinister Cudda struck like lighting, swiping its right paw across the face of its foe.

Surprised, the man fell back, at a loss of words.

Victory is mine! The cat thought to itself as it bound across the sprawled human, claws claiming flesh with every step, before shooting out the door.

In a muffled string of profanities and curses the man rose, and picked up the dead pigeon from his living room floor. Carrying the corpse outside, he deposited it in the trash can and determined to himself to kill that cat the next time they met. But the sly Cudda remained in its subterranean base for the remainder of the day, waiting for the plague to begin.

Dinner came and went, but there was still no sign of the cat.

"What did you do to Cudda?"

"Nothing! That damn thing attacked me again and I haven't seen it sense."

"Quit scaring my cat!"

"Look, I haven't done anything mean to that damn cat! It just wants to kill me!"

"Seriously? Your still on this? I'm gonna call the psych ward on you if you keep prattling such nonsense."

"It's not nonsense!"

"Yes it is! Now take out the trash and go find my cat!"

As he made his way outside, with trash bag in hand the male human of the home, heard an odd rumbling in the garbage receptacle.

"OH I see! You went after that dead pigeon and got stuck in the trash can didn't you, you stupid cat?"

Upon opening the lid of the trash bin, he found his assumption had been grossly wrong; for no sooner was the seal removed, than a dead pigeon came hurling from the discarded contents of the basket; beak and feet tearing into the face of the unsuspecting man.

"OH GOD OH GOD! GET IT OFF GET IT OFF!!!!!" he screamed as the bird tore at his head.

Falling to the ground the avian finally relented its attack. Laying in a subtly growing puddle of his own blood the human male recognized a familiar golden blur which seemed to appear from nowhere. His breaths were fleeting, as the cat approached. When the two were staring eye to eye, the man's life finally escaped him; but then his change began. His incisors began to sharpen, his ears became pointed, his five O'clock shadow grew into some semblance of whiskers and his flesh seemed must more decayed than a mere moment before.

"Bbbbbbbbbrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrraaaaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnssssssssssssss"

"Did you find my cat?" came a muffled voice from the house.

By: Michael Wilshire

Alright folks submissions are open!

Timeless Love

Happy Thursday readers! Alas, an entire week has already passed since we last gathered round our vessels' of the internet; which means, you are expecting a story. I'm happy to say we had tied our record from last week again with this little experiment; a record one submissions have been received!!! Therefore, I am happy to announce this weeks story will be a tweeny romance, featuring Vampire-Nazi-Cyborg-Cavemen (or as I like to think of 'em, the VNCC) from the future-past!! ...
So yeah, this is happening.
Now, I'd like to clarify for anyone who may be a little fuzzy on the submission process, I'm happy to take more than one suggestion; in fact, I am more than willing to fuse suggestions! Let's say you were really excited about seeing this whole VNCC thing play out, and didn't want to risk it not happening; you should still throw in your two cents. I mean, this is a fairly general description and gives me a lot of toy around room. What I mean is, did anyone want to see how this tale would play out if it was set on the moon? Or how about in feudal japan?  Maybe the romantic leads should have been bunnies in the midst of this chaos! To clarify, I took it in a different direction because I didn't receive these kinds of comments, but if I had I would have loved to play around with it all. That being said, immediately following this story, I am open for next weeks suggestions! Leave a comment at the end of this post telling me what you want to see next week. "But Wilshire, I don't have a gmail, what ever shall I do???" Have no fear reader; now you can follow the blog on facebook and post your suggestions their as well!!! "But Wilshire, what if I don't have a facebook?" Well reader, I very much appreciate your devotion, and I would be more than happy to hear your suggestions over email. "But Wilshire, what if I don't have email?" ...Um...thank you for finding my little corner of the internet!!! Anyway, submissions will be open until Sunday-ish, so be sure to tell me what you want to hear!
Okay, no more talking. I give you...

Timeless Love

"Golly Steve, that Jane Rogers sure is the bee's knees!"
"Wow Bill! You really are fond of her, aren't ya!"
Unable to contain his boyish youth, a beaming smile comes across Bill's face, "She's just so swell!"
"Well what are you waiting for? Quit going on to me about her, and go talk to her!" Steve said, trying to encourage his friend.
"Gosh, I don't know about that Steve," Bill suddenly felt very uncomfortable about the situation, "I just don't think a girl like that would want anything to do with a guy like me?"
"Ah, what are you going on about! Jane's liked you sense her and her parents moved here at the beginning of the school year."
"Oh I don't know about that. I just think she appreciated a friendly person."
"Oh you! Look, our school's putting on the Summertime Social this weekend! After the seniors graduate, they open up the carnival for everyone; why don't you ask her to that?"
"I don't know Steve..."
"What's not to know? If she say's no, you won't have to spend your whole summer vacation wondering about this same silly doll!"
"Don't talk about Jane like that!"
"Oh you've got it bad my friend. Just ask her to join you at the other end of the bar; buy her a malt and ask her!"
"Well..."
Before Bill could argue, Steve pushed him off his stool and toward Jane's table across the diner. It took most of his coordination to prevent a fall, but it wasn't enough to save him from fumbling around a bit. As his eye's shot toward the direction of Jane, to see if she had witnessed the debacle, his worst fears were confirmed.
He could walk away. He wanted to walk away. But her eye's. She kept staring at him. Mustering up his greatest reserves of courage, Bill made his way toward the table.
"Hi'ya Jane," he blurted through an awkward grin and wave.
"Hi Billy," she replied, batting her eyes.
"Hi," he said to her again.
The gathering of Jane's friends, began to snicker at the pair.
Bill realized how ridiculous he must look at the moment and quickly tried to rectify the situation, "Jane! I was wondering if I could buy you a malt and talk to you, over there!" he said, pointing to the far end of the bar.
"Why sure Billy!"
"Golly!"
Steve tried to muffle his laughter through his float, while he watched his friend.

Bill met Jane at the gates of the Summertime Social, Saturday afternoon. The event was decorated with all types of banners and streamers congratulating the class of '53; but Bill didn't care about the class of '53, he had another three years of school left himself, and he was determined to spend that time going steady with the love of his life.
"Wow Billy! There's just so much to do! Where do we even begin?"
"Well Jane, my personal favorite is the ferris wheel; but if you don't want to..."
"I'd love to ride the ferris wheel with you Billy!"
So they did.
"Wow, Billy! That was so much fun! What's should we do next! Oh, what's that tent?"
"That's where they have the petting zoo. Would you want to..." but before Billy could finish his idea, a terrible rumble erupted from the bowels of the earth. Suddenly, the very ground beneath the circus top erupted; and through the flurry came sinister beasts. Riding on the backs of dinosaurs, the evil metal monstrosities road.
"Golly Billy what's happening!" Jane shrieked, while clutching at his arm.
"I don't know," he confessed in fear, "but if I'm not mistaken, those club wielding robots are wearing Nazi uniforms!"
He was not mistaken. The pillagers riding super lizards, were in fact wearing uniforms of the SS. Their simmering skin reflected the summer sun as they went about their plundering. Humans scattered and screamed all around. They tried to flee as giant prehistoric jaws nabbed them up; they attempted to escape the primitive clubs, the riders bashed them with; and they even shrieked as a metal tongue lashed from the
mouths of the beasts masters', and plunged into the groveling humans, draining them of their precious blood.
The ferris wheel flew off of it's mount as a renegade triceratops, burst through it. The joyous circle, now a crushing death trap for all those in its carts.
"We gotta get outta here, Jane!" Bill yelled, as he pulled the girl he loved.
The duo ran blindly through the wreckage, trying to escape the chaos. A pteradon swooped from the heavens and plucked a random civilian fleeing, just ahead of them.
"Golly! Not that way!" he said, pulling Jane in a different direction, "We gotta find some place to hide!" As Bill frantically surveyed the area he noticed a possible base of salvation.
"Come on Jane, this way!"
As they ran, a tyrannosaurs stepped over their path and toward a thralling mass. Its master's tongue, grappling randomly for any in the throng.
"Gee wilikers! This is terrible! But we are almost there!"
Bill led Jane to the entrance of the haunted house ride; though all carts had been abandoned the ride it self had yet to suffer any damage.
"We will just follow the tracks and hide in here!" he told the frightened girl.
Reluctantly, she entered the ride and as Bill turned to make sure nothing was following them, he was forced to dive through the entrance after her and a massive stegosaurus brought its tail crashing down upon the entrance.
"We are not safe yet!" he said, picking himself up and running deeper into the ride.
They hid in behind a sarcophagus, which housed an automated mummy, intended to pop out and scare passengers in the ride.
"I'm so scared Billy."
"I know Jane me too."
"Hold me," she whimpered snuggling close to him.
Taken off guard, Bill did his best to not seem rigid. As, he looked down at the beautiful girl trembling in his arms, the words seemed to just escape his mouth, "I love you."
Jane stopped shuddering and looked at the face which had just confessed its feelings' for her.
"Oh Bill," she replied softly, before leaning up and softly kissing his lips.
They remained behind the sarcophagus, awaiting the chaos to pass.

It was near dusk before Bill and Jane ventured from their sanctuary. The chaos at the carnival had passed some hours before, but their trepidation had kept them rooted.
"We gotta get home Jane and make sure our families are okay!"
As they left the carnival and ran towards their suburbia, it was clear the destruction had traveled a similar course. Tears streamed down Bill's face as he turned the corner onto Roosevelt street and saw the steaming shambles of his home.
"MOM! DAD!" he yelled while running to the pile of home. No one responded. His home and family had been reduced to shambles and dino droppings.
"I'm so sorry Billy," Jane whispered.
"Those darn monsters! Why are they doing this?" he wept.
"I don't know; maybe this was Hitler's master plan?"
Bill wiped the tears from his face, "We've gotta check on your family Jane! Maybe we can save them!"
The couple ran over to Jefferson Lane; the carnage was less on these streets and it inspired hope.
"Father! Mother!" Jane had hardly opened the front door of her home before calling her parents.
"Jane! Your alive!" her dad's concern lifting to joy, "When those beasts came we were so worried!"
She wrapped her arm's around her dad, "Billy kept me safe papa!"
As he stepped away from his daughter, Jane's father approached Bill, "Why I believe a thank you is in order young man."
"No need Mr. Rogers."
"Well, you still have it son. Now, why don't we get you home? Your parents must be worried sick about you!"
The uncontrollable sobs returned. Jane broke away from her mother's embrace and strolled to her father, "Billy's parents didn't make it dad."
"Oh my; I'm so sorry lad. Why don't you stay with us for now?"
Vainly attempting to wipe the tears away, Billy asked, "Really Mr?"
"It would be our pleasure. Now why don't you kids run along to bed and we will figure out what to do in the morning."
"Can I stay in the spare room with Billy dad?"
Clearly uncomfortable with the proposal, her father reluctantly replied, "Well, there are two beds and the boy has proven himself noble....if it will make you feel better."
"Thanks dad!" she exclaimed, jumping up and giving him a peck on the cheek.
Jane showed Bill the spare room, and took a seat on the bed opposite of him. The tears still wouldn't stop.
"I'm sorry about your folks and your home Billy."
"I just can't believe this is happening."
"At least we still have each other," she offered, moving from her bed and sitting next to him.
He continued to sob. Placing her arms around him, she spoke softly, "I love you Billy; with all my heart I do. I always have, ever sense we first met."
His sobbing began to waver, "Really?"
"Really," she replied and with a complete disregard to proper and acceptable behavior, she kissed him again.

The next morning, the world was woken up simultaneously by a disembodied broadcast riding the air waves.
"Mein inferiors!" the voice rang through the subconscious.
"Mein name is Vladimir Heinz; I am zee commanding officer of his fuhrers secret services. Though mein fuhrer has alveady vallen in your time, ve transcend vhat you simple mortals perceive as existence. You see, ve are immortals! The virst time our leader rose to power, he took complete control. Through the brilliancez and evilz of Nazi science his dying commission was  a battalion of unstoppable cyborgs be built! And ve vere. Are fuel is your blood! It powers us, makes us strong, makes us immortal! Ve reigned supreme in the furhers image for eons! But vhen zee universe ended, ve still remained! And vhen zee universe restarted, ve still remained! Ve vaited, as our energy depleted, vaited until life returned. Zee beasts ve ride did not provide zee fuel ve need to survive, so ve imprisoned zhem to use as our steeds! Vhen finally you primates began to return, ve feasted; but it vas still not enough to satisfy. In order to survive, ve decided to vait, imprisoning ourselves vith our steeds; vaiting for zee fuhrer to return; vaiting for your kind to spread. Ve vaited, and our fuhrer fell. BUT HIS DEATH VAS NOT IN VAIN! Ve have returned from your future and your past and ve shall feed on you as ve have always!"
The transmission had only just ended when Mr. Rogers burst into the spare room, "We have to leave now!" he exclaimed.
As the children followed the man down the stairs, they found his wife standing by the door, waiting.
"What's happening!" Jane inquired through a panic.
Before an answer could be offered, a woolly mammoth paraded through the front wall. Mrs. Rogers shrieked as its rider disembarked, "ZILENCE FRAULEIN!" spoke the VNCC as it clobbered her in the head with a primitive club.
"RUN!" bellowed Mr. Rogers; and though he had the foresight of the idea, he himself was incapable of performing the task, as the metal creatures tongue drove into him.
"Come on!" Bill yelled, pulling Jane away from the frekus and out the back door.
"Where are we going?"
"We will hide in the woods!"
So they ran; the legs of young lovers, pushing away from the nightmare of the world behind.

The forest had been largely unperturbed; with most of the homo-sapiens being in towns and cities, the VNCC had left it alone in search of sustenance. The young couple found their way into a secluded cave and waited.
"Oh Billy...what are we going to do."
"We are going to hide Jane. Our guns and bombs are worthless against their amazing future-past technology."
"But does that means the world will be destroyed?"
"I don't Jane, but I do know the rest of the world isn't worth a pulp to me, as long as I have you."
"Oh Billy..."
Again, the young lovers lips' locked in a forbidden and taboo way. They held each other, only concerned with their love; remaining in their cave until happily ever after for them and violent brutal destruction for the rest of the world.

The End

There you have it! Now, get on with those submissions folks!

A Bildungsroman, Abridged

The first ever choose your own story received a record breaking ONE suggestion! Yes readers that is right, one of you rose from the circle and shouted out a yarn they were ready to have spun! And I shall appease; or at least make an effort. That being said, at the conclusion of this post, be sure to leave comments with your suggestions! Not a follower on the blog? That's okay! It only takes a gmail account to join! Also, this week's suggestion came via facebook; that means, if we are friendsies on fb, you can submit requests there as well! But, I'd like to add, I would very much appreciate if you'd at least consider joining the blog, because I just want to know you care :)
NOW, without any more shameless plugging, I present A Bildungsroman, Abridged



It's truly amazing looking back on one's life and deciphering the paths which led to your current destination. Doubt was my constant companion through the journey. As far back as I can remember it's always been present; perhaps not active, but at least presiding.

As a child, I distinctly recall always being confused; and now through reflection, I realize that what I mistook for perplexity was only a need for sense. It was the worlds fault. Nothing seemed right, nothing seemed the way I expected or wanted it to be. My mother would regale me with stories of the past.
"Well you see, my love," she'd say to me, "when your father and I, were neigh but children ourselves, a great evil was committed. There was a man, who terrorized London; the bobbies where calling him Jack the Ripper, because of the vile ways he would ravage his female victims. The entire city was terrified by the man from his earliest mutilations. But despite curfews and patrols the the deaths were unyielding. At the time no one knew there was any type of scheme happening; simply the evils of a lunatic. With his ninety-ninth victim, the seceret behind the atrocities were revealed; the murders had all been committed in accordance to a heathen blood ritual. It was through these sacrifices that darkness was given a physical presence, not just here in England, but across the world. Evils' which plagued the human mind were no longer metaphysical fears, but tangible beings. Death was everywhere the night it happened, and still is; but now we have learned how to avoid it. Darkness comes with the night and flees with the day. We need but avoid the night, and keep the fire of our village always burning and we shall be spared."

"But why do we live in darkness to avoid it mother?"

"That's simple child. The world above belongs to these evils. We remain under the ground to avoid there wrath, for they take offense to all whom roam in the day."

"But father is on the surface during the day!" I'd respond, overcome with fear for him.

"Yes he is; but your father provides a duty which must be done. Do not be scared for he is safe. You need but lead a life of righteousness, do what the village requires, and banish all evils away from your heart."

"But..."

But no matter what I followed with, the answers were always the same, "You will begin to understand when your older."

My age never clarified the questions I asked her; it only led to more uncertainty.

At the ripe age of seven it was finally time for my apprenticeship with my father. My seventh birthday; a milestone toward adulthood, and the my first encounter with the surface.

" 'cited about your first visit up top?" he asked me while I handed him the pitchfork through the man hole.

"Oh yes father! I've always wanted to see the surface!"

" 'aha!" he laughed, "bet you'll be singin' a diff'rnt tune by the end of the day!"

He took the reins of his cart, much like the one we had in the sewer, and led me through the derelict streets of above. I don't know why I expected the surface to be vibrant and beautiful. The tales of the streets were always foreboding and eerie. Regardless,I found myself deeply saddened by the sight when I first experienced it. Beautiful feats of architecture and engineering, which seemed to die once abandoned. Though it wasn't what one might consider razed, it was clear that any attempts to preserver, maintain or advance aesthetics had fled with the former residents.

" 'ere's the first stiff. Why don't you 'andle it? I's about your size?" his question pulled diverted my attention from one sorrow to a greater one. The first body I ever encountered, to which it was my father's duty to collect, was a young girl; not a day over five, yet still brutally slaughtered.

"Well? W'at are you waitin' for? Pick 'er up and throw 'er in the cart!"

A numb went through me as I adhered to a code driven into my being, "always do what the village needs of you." Her cold rigid body, frightened me as I lifted it with all of my might. Rigomortis made walking the most difficult task I had ever performed. Her unmoving legs, colliding into mine, while I tried to carry her. When I was near the cart, my strength and dexterity abandoned me and gravity finally prevailed over the duel between our legs. With balance lost I fell to the ground and landed upon the cold, wet corpse I'd been carrying. As I lifted myself, found blood was not the only liquid on my face, tears were pouring down my face.

My father laughed. And through his hysterics he drove the pitchfork into her chest and hurled the body onto the corpse.

" C'mon, there's still plenty more."

He didn't ask me retrieve anymore of the bodies that day; I simply followed and observed. As the cadavers piled upon the cart, I found myself still questioning the young girl.

"Father?" I asked, "Mother said the darkness only prey's upon evil people."

"And it's so."

"But that little girl; how could she have been evil?"

"Is that w'as been bot'ering you then? Well, i's simple; she's was a surface dweller. The world above, belongs to darkness."

"But, then why are we up here collecting people whom are evil?"

"Now tha's a silly question. If we don't collect the bodies and burn 'em they will rise up and bring darkness upon us. Our ever burin' fire repels the physical darkness, but it won't do much to a reanimated corpse."

"I still don't understa..."

I never was able to elaborate because he grabbed my wrist and started yelling, "Look, you don't 'ave to understand everything. And you better get that! Your refusal to accept the order of thing's breeds evil and discontent. And no child of mine is going to ruin life for our village! Got it?"

I didn't; but at that moment the only thing I feared more than the darkness was his wrath, so I nodded my head in compliance.

When we returned to our subteranean abode before dusk, and loaded our haul onto the fire, I resolved to stop bothering my family with my doubt. I felt if I just accepted what they said, then perhaps I could aquire there solace.

Years of silence yielded no solitude. As I debated internally I found I understood less and less. When I was thirteen I encountered an epiphany so startling, I didn't know if I could truly believe it. I was still apprenticing as a corpse collector with my father. The day had seemed routine enough. With pitchfork in hand, I gathered the remains of people while he towed the vessel of their conveyance.

" Oy! Loo' at the lil' workers' roun'ing up their masters trophies!" The statement came from a living corpse. It was the first time I had ever come into contact with living person from the surface; in the last six years I had been given no reason to believe people actually lived above, aside from what seemed to be a never ending supply of bodies.

"Why don't you jus' shut the 'ell up lady! You chose damnation!"

"Oh, your so self righteous in fron' of the lil' one aren't you!"

"Bah! Ignore her my child; this is the world of sin the surface breeds."

"If i's a sin to be 'uman an' not just 'onor evil, I will always be a sinner."

My father dropped the reins and wretched the pitchfork from my hands, before accosting the woman.

"Quie' you lyin' w'ore! If you don't go back in your 'ovel I will stick you an' add you to my cart!"

She smiled at us and turned away. My father gave me back the pitchfork and began to draw the cart.

"Father?" I began.

"No! Don't you dare ask me about anything that evil woman said! She's an evil surface dweller!"

I chose not to press the matter upon him, but now my doubt began to flourish. I couldn't shake the words she had spoken. It seemed to me as if we were accused of being the evil ones. As if our civilization was the affront to humanity.

After dinner that night, when I was able to gain a moment alone with my mother, I recounted the story of the day too her. Her reaction to my questions affirmed that my answers would have to wait two more years; for no sooner had I finished than she brought her hand across my lips and yelled, "Do not ever speak of such hersay again!"

I was distraught. It seemed the more I yearned for enlightenment, the more hostility I faced. I couldn't understand what I was doing wrong by wanting to understand. When I was fifteen, answers came in a way I had never prepared for.

While out on a routine collection with my father, the day had remained overcast. The clouds had choosen to set a dreary background for the dilapated city. A storm was forming and the clouds were becoming darker; without realizing the time we hadn't even begun the trek home until dusk was setting.

That's when I saw it. A shadow, which seemed to stretch from no where. Its form indisinguishable as it turned to vapor and some manner of form.

"Hello my servants."

It spoke to us and though it had no features with which to identify its target, it was clear we were the intended recipients of its orration.

" 'Ello darkone," My father responded, while words failed me.

"Awfully late for you to be out collecting for us isn't it?"

" T'is because of the storms sir; we di'nt know what time 'twas."

"Is that so? Are you certain, you weren't plotting with the top dwellers?"

"Never sir! These fool's 'ave chosen their fates. We were simply honoring your wishes."

The words pierced my very core. My doubt was qualified. It was clear to me the dangers behind my questions.

"Ah, but our wishes are for you to remain underground when we walk."

"I know sir."

"Do you? Then you have chosen your fate as well."

"But..."

I never knew what my father's rebutle was intended to say; before he had the chance to articulate, the wraith had lanced through his chest.

I ran. I knew not where too, nor why even but I ran. Away from the cart. Away from the darkness. Away from my dying father. Away from the sewer. As my feet carried me I heard the sounds of his body being shredded. The wet plops of severed meat falling to the ground. Shadows were stirring. Everywhere around me, the darkness was moving. I was crying. It was raining. I still don't know which happened first.

Ducking into the first open door I saw, I continued to run. There was a light at the end of the hallway. Pausing to breathe I looked to the direction I had come from. A formless mass was advancing. With renewed vigor from fear, I pushed toward the light shinning from below the door jam. My hands pouned against the wooden frame. My voice shrieked for sanctuary.

The door opened and golden candlelight poured out. As I fell into the room, I was caught by a set of arms; arms that pulled me into the light, and slammed the door behind me. They were the arms of an elderly man. The arms that lay me on the floor, as exhaustion pressed  me to sleep.

When I awoke I found I had crashed into a completely differnet form of living. The populace of the topworld. An entire civilization of people refusing to be driven underground. A society unwilling to be bullied.

I rarely spoke. I never explained my origins. They accepted me none the less, but it was I who couldn't accept them.

Any trade I knew wasn't applicable to there shell of existence. They did not gather the dead. They did not burn their  dead. They simply lived.

I spent many days and nights listening to the stories told over drinks. Hearing about the other above world communities all over the world. Learning about those whom had parlayed with the darkness, and ultimatly served it, in order to be spared of it.

More doubt. Serving the darkness had not spared my father and blatatlntly disrespecting it, as living on the surface did, merely prolonged its conquest over one's self. Life was wrong. It was not what it was meant to be.

My refusal to conform to the choices before me, ultimately left me osterized. My inability to contribute, my total silence, resulted with the top society which had accepted me to begin and resent me.

I had to leave but I couldn't return underground. I needed currency and I needed to find other's and expierence there perspective.

It was nearly six months after I had become a burden when I found my opportunitiy. The resident carpenter had lost himself in tumblers of brandy, while regailing listeners with his tales. When the audiences' attention waned, the speaker took the opportunity to fall asleep upon the nearest table. My chance. Casually I strode next to the sleeping orator and removed a sactchel of coins from his belt. Hiding the prize inside my garmnets I retreaded to the bed I had been given and waited until moring, when I immediatley left the community to find another.

This was my life. For six years I performed this. Finding a new assembly. Staying with it, while never joining. Stealing from it's inhabitants so I could one day abadon them as the others before. It's sad to think about it, but I feel its was good for me. It affirmed my doubt. No longer was my quest for understanding shunned; I could gain information and I had no one to justify my actions too.

Until my doubt redirected inward. I was on my way through Wales when I encoutnered a father and son performing the same duty I had aheared to with my own father. During my time on the surface I had never witnessed a corpse rise. The very reason I was told our job must be done was something I never expierenced. I approached the duo.

"Excuse me sir," I said.

"We seek no trouble from you top dweller," the father said to me.

"Nor I with you sir. I simply would like to know why you gather these bodies?"

The son fielded the response to my surprise. "We gather them to burn. The smoke of their corpses is our sacrifice to the darkness, so it will not steal us away."

I was amazed. This child understood more about its culture than I did until I abandoned mine.

"I see..."

"Now before you try an' convert us to living uptop," the father spoke before I could continue, "we know the evils of either choice, but we simply want to live rather than stir the pot."

"This may be brash of me, but could I perhaps return to your village with you?"

"No. I'm sorry, but we'd be banished ourselves for such an act."

I nodded in acceptance, "I understand. Thank you for your time and good luck to you."

This encounter made me understand. The people uptop were no different from those below. People just wanted to survive; as I had just wanted to survive. The lines distinguishing right and wrong had been skewed by humanities will to continue. The cultures, the societies, the lives that I had refused to accept, were the same as me. For the first time doubt had led me to certainty. I knew what I had to do.

Every culture shared a legend. There was a physical tether which bound darkness to the world. A tangible object which had come into existence through the blood sacrifices. I had to steal this tailsman, in order for society to set down its differences and unite to live, I would have to strike against the darkness.

I proposed my plan to the abover's in Wales. They gaffed at me, but more importantly they doubted me. I was not detered. I spent the entire next day looking for the local corpse collectors; the father and son whom had been pivotal to my decision. They disregarded me, becasue they too doubted me.

According to legend, the anchor to the physical realm existed within all darkness at once. The task seemed simple; I needed but find a wraith and use my nimble skills of theft to remove the tether

When night fell my opportunity came. A shadowy smoke was meandering through the streets. My hiding place behind a heap of barrels seemed sound; for I wasn't noticed. Slyly I left my vantage and skulked behind my foe. Inching closer, until I could lightly waft my hand through it.

Inside the smoke my fingers wrapped around some manner of precious stone. Carefully, I removed the object from the creature. It was as if the very blood which corses through our veins had solidifed into this mass. The legend was true. My doubt had ultimatly led me to hope.

The shadow was not pleased to find it had been robbed. From somewhere within its for a scythe lashed out and into my chest.

I feel the crimsion life force draining from my body but still my hand clutches the gem.

"Give it back to me!!" the beast screams.

Still I am silent. It shakes me off and onto the ground.

"RETURN IT TO ME!!!"

Doubt is with me again, but this time its comforting; for it is not mine. I understand my fate. I will die, with this rock in my hands. Perhaps, the darkness can't retrieve the tailisman themselves. Even if they can my body will stay where it has fallen. Either the corpse collectors or the top dwellers will find me; their doubt in me confirmed, will hopefully breed new doubts within them; doubts that will lead them to find hope and reclaim life, as it did for me.

"RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHH!!" the shadow screams while lashing a claw toward my face.