- Midnight Tales -

The sky was filled with thick haze of rocket fuel and hybrid particles. The streets, or the lower level, was packed with people moving about to different places and what have you. Nelson strolled across the large park to 78th street. Buildings towered all around him. They rose high into the sky and in some parts of the city if one was low enough, the sky would be hidden by the Goliaths of glass and concrete. Here though, a park make it easy to see the sky as it widened the space of the buildings and gave some sunlight to the street floor. He opened the glass door to Miltons Malt Shop. It was a popular place in this part of the city. Some outside seating was set up past the large tall windows. The ceiling rose high and diner lights cascaded down. The whole place was themed like had been zapped in from the 1960’s. Complete with the retro bar that wrapped from the entrance to the back. Small backed stools lined the bar which had a red counter top with chrome lining. Booths lined the wall to the large glass windows, then small tables and chairs filled in the space before the bar. Nelson made his way past a waitress to a stool.

“Coffee and a ham sandwich if you could Mary” he draped his coat on the back of the stool and sat down pulling a small package of phantom cigarettes from his pocket. A small blue haze left the end of the cigarette and as he breathed out it filled into gray smoke. Mary, who was 5 feet all flame, set a mug of coffee in front of him.

“Mind if I join ya?” she said looking down the bar at the two other customers. It was the slow season and the slow time of the day, luckily.

He smiled “Sure” Mary was the sort of girl that always kept an eye on you and spoke her mind when you stepped the wrong way. Her fire red hair always bounced in curls and she had a mature look to her young looking face. Strong willed and even stronger body. She grabbed a mug of coffee for her self and leaned over the bar to join him.

“You know at one time those things could kill you” she pointed at the cigarette between his fingers which was trailing blue vapor. He took a look at it

“Well, it seems that the vice has become good for you” he took a deep inhale and blew the smoke off to the side. Phantom cigarettes were filled with all sorts of things that were supposed to benefit the body. Why they put it in that form, on one knew, but some say that the company used to produce cigarettes in the past and was almost ran out of business. Maybe some sort of middle finger to someone higher up.

“You see the news?” Nelson said

Mary took a sip of her coffee and licked her lips “No, but if I know news, it’s not good and if it’s coming from you, it’s probably worse”

Nelson leaned in “They found something on the 8th plane. Something big. I don’t know what it is, but it is important enough for me not to know. Remember the last thing they kept from me?”

“The E.T program?”

He snapped and smiled “Bingo. I bet this has something to do with those asteroids or space crafts that people have been seeing in the outer planes. They don’t look like anything we have and as soon as we seem them” Nelson made a swooshing noise and moved his hand quickly in the air “Gone, where though? We have eyes and ears, everything, all over the space planes. Ah, but the 8th plane is where it starts to get a little less covered”

Mary rose her eyes brows nodding with a smirk “mmhm” she backed off to the kitchen and return with his ham sandwich. “and I suppose your going to get to the bottom of it, just like the E.T program?”

Nelson took a bite of his sandwich “That’s right” he wagged the sandwich in front of her. “And I’m going to get all the way to the bottom of it” He finished his sandwich and down his coffee and before leaving left a note on the napkin.

It read “Vault box 21, if no call by Saturday” Mary sighed depositing the note in her apron. This time, she might actually find out what is inside vault box 21.

Inspired by Thoughts of a skyless metropolis

The man slumped back in his large leather chair. A small burst of dim coals lit up his weary face and he blew a large plumb of smoke into the room. He peered towards the large half moon window. Rain poured out onto the city streets. It wouldn’t stop anytime soon. The phone began to ring, but he just stared out into the rain till it stopped. It began to ring again. He rolled his eyes and stretched to grab it off the cradle.

“What?” he asked.

Silence. He gave it a second and then went to return it to the cradle.

“Sir? Are you there? sir?” a voice rang from the other side just as it hovered. Maybe hanging up was the right choice.

“Please sir, I need to talk to you” He put the receiver up to his ear and turned his chair to the window.

“Well what is it?” he inhaled his cigarette as he spoke.

“Not here, where can I meet you, actually, I’m outside your office” Knocking came immediately at his door. A shadow stood behind his smokey glass door. He dropped the phone on the desk and reached for his revolver. “Please don’t be alarmed, I have your card, it has your address.” the voice reassured him from his desk.

“How are you talking on the phone if your in front of my door” There was silence. The shadow stood motionless beyond the door and the room filled with the dull drum of rain and the ceiling fan. He snapped the cylinder of his revolver out and made sure he was full then reached into his coat pocket feeling for the speed loader. The tips of his fingers felt it and a moment of relief brushed over him. Things had been spinning a bit lately, glad he still remembered some important items.

“Well well” The voice on the phone laughed and it became distorted “Looks like I messed up” Colored lights spawned from the shadows face. A neon smile with sharp teeth and two eyes in the form of X’s. A howling laugh came from the phone and a hand struck the glass and reached for the handle of the door. Light flooded the room and he took aim and shot. The figure flinched a couple of times but the door was free and it stepped through. He reloaded as quickly as he could from behind his large leather chair.

“Fate has it” the voice from the phone rang from the figure. A distorted high and low voice that sounded as if a machine was having a bad day. “that we meet again”

A hand pressed upon the chair and he stepped back towards the wall pointing the revolver to the neoned monster. It’s face glitched and wobbled in a pixeled way. He pulled the trigger, but the monster caught the revolver with inhuman speed and forced it to the side.

“I think you have the wrong guy” he struggled against the wall trying to pull the revolver back to the monsters face. The smile grew wider and its leaned forward until he could feel the heat from its glowing grin.

“Scared of a world that you entered and exited as soon as you saw what it would do. Hiding in a office drinking your life away hoping others might solve the problems you discovered. Hoping that someone would save you and the rest from the fate being force upon you. Humanity. Given the gifts, reject them for petty differences. Reject once, fine, reject twice, Christmas is over. Not like you were there anyway.” The monster forced the revolver from him and its large hand wrapped around his throat pushing him into the air against the wall “What was it that you said? oh, yes” It’s voice became his.

“You’re going to be killing people this with technology. The world can’t handle it, think of the consequences”

The monster threw him to the side and it’s voice became robotic again

“Consequences? Who did you sacrifice to get there?” A blue pixel tear drop dripped down its face “We didn’t have a choice”

Inspired by High tech invading the 1950’s

The door creaked open behind them. He turned first to see what was following. Only shadows and a slight breeze.

“Kel, shut the door, you are letting all the heat out” he swept across the gray wooden floor and slammed the door shut which made them all jump.

“shh”

“sorry”

They huddled around the fire. Kel and Mary had just arrived while the others had been there for some time. Together there were six of them. They had gathered at the old light house which rested at the end of a forested bluff. The lighthouse itself was taller then most he had seen and spiraled of dull grey and a dark ocean blue. Every part of the light house was ornate and covered in some sort of symbol, picture, glyph or statue. Weird scenes of fish doing non fish things and odd monsters and spiraling cities coming out of the water were the subjects. Next to it, as dull as it seemed, was a regular wooden cabin where the light house keeper used to live. That was many years ago and it had since been abandoned. The city kept the light house around for its historic value. That and every attempt to demolish it was thwarted by unexplained weather. Now it had become a regular meeting place for Kel and his friends. A regular spooky hang out spot.

“Kel, go out and get some more firewood” a voice spoke from the fireplace.

He stood up and returned to the dark air that he had just emerged from. He was the strongest of the group and the woods never bothered him like the rest. Searching the outer rim of the woods he founds some sticks and large logs. Up above the light house loomed. It’s darkness blocked the the night sky casting an abyss at the eye. As he approached the door to return sounds erupted from the light house. Metallic gears moved, iron scratched against each other and light shot from the top of the massive tower. It casted a orangish glow and beamed out as far has his eyes could see. It then started to rotate. Before he relized Kel had dropped the wood and was in front of the lighthouse door. He opened it and it’s hinges screamed at him as he entered. He had never been inside, no one had, besides the light keeper. It was like he was stepping inside a galaxy. The walls disappeared and all he stared into was the endless space that now engulfed him. Galaxies, planets, stars and mysterious things glowed in every direction. In the middle of all this was a black spiral staircase that led to the light which spiraled above. He tired to pull him self back, but his body moved with out his command. First his hand grasped the metal of the stair case which sent shocks through his whole body, next his feet were climbing. Climbing towards that orange light. Like a moth drawn towards the light. As he approached he realized it was eerily silent. Outside he could here all the gears and things working, but inside it was deep silence. Nothing, not even the rotating of the light could be heard. He reached the base of the light. A full floor of see through metal sat below the spiraling light. There was a small seat and a small ladder that reached the light. He moved hypnotically towards the ladder. Something inside him screamed that he was violating something deeper then time and space by approaching the light, but it was to strong. He put his hand to the cold metal and pushed up. The light flooding his eyes, his mind and his whole body.

“Kel”

He was floating in an endless black ocean.

“Kel!”

His eyes flung open. He was on his back laying outside the cabin, his legs pointing towards the light house. He sat up. His whole body felt warm, liquid.

“what did you do, slip and fall out here?” Mary said grasping his hand to help him up. His vision swam with a pleasant motion.

“I must of - “ On the backside of his hand he could see something carved into him. Etched by something unseen. “hit my head or slipped” he gave a half hearted laugh and turned his hand over and then back. It was still there. He peered at the lighthouse.

Inspired by Moth by Former Vandal

“Please stop, please stay, I really can’t be with out you” These are the words that I wish I could say. The sound struck my throat ,which swelled, and cut any off audible words I could form. Would I see you again if you disappeared this time? What if I did see you again, but you were with some one else. What if you were happier, brighter, glowing. Was is it my fault? Am I the problem? Or is it our problem? I look into your eyes which are dripping mascara.

What went wrong? How did we get here? Those nights, the long days. Forgiveness and regret. Lying in the morning light together. How on earth did it come this far. The moments I remember are all good, but as soon as I wipe those tears away all the bad memories come crashing down. As soon as my arms wrap around you I can’t wait to be alone.

I wish it would start raining. Give me some drama. The sun shines bright, birds singing, people laughing, living. I at one time fought for this. Nervousness filled me the first time we met. I couldn’t talk back then either. My throat swelled for a different reason. Maybe this time the colors will come back to your eyes. Will time heal? One can only find out. Let my memories reflect and learn from this, but never forget the trauma. I am a combination of pain and pleasure. A culmination of rights and wrongs.

You turn and walk away. My heart pulls after you. My body pulls away. My mind stands confused. Good bye. Good Luck. I hope I don’t ever see you again. I don’t know if my heart could take it.

Inspired by Can’t let you go by Anthony Sidoti, Kaiyko, Sinxi

The sun blazed in a cloudless sky. June. It was the hottest it had ever been in Knullville and it was predicted to only get hotter. The ice cream shops and trucks were running day and night. Lines around the block and children chasing trucks became the normal. All beverage sales were flying off the charts and water, which was in no short of supply, seemed to be turning into a holy substance that people carried around no matter where they went. At the corner of Sydney and Clark was a couple of teenagers taking shade under a tree.

“Bro, it is so hot. What is this?” The boy who spoke was dressed in a white t-shirt and khaki shorts. Next to him was two other boys. One dressed in a sleeveless muscle shirt and dark blue pants while the other one wore a kilt and gray band shirt.

“Beets me” the boy in the kilt said raising an arm to shield himself from the sun even more. “All I know, if this sun doesn’t beat it, I’m going to beat it”

The boy in the blue pants rested his chin on his knee looking towards the old cemetery across the street. They were on the out skirts of town. On the border of friendly neighbor hood streets and tall forests that surrounded Knullville. Contained just before these trees was Knullville cemetery. Haunted many claimed, but urban legends never kept anyone out. At least no one alive. The plots were all filled and there was not a space left for any new residence. It was quiet in there, shaded and peaceful. Still much of the town avoided it.

“Tommy” the boy with the kilt smacked his shoulder. He pulled his eyes away form the cemetery “We are going to get some ice cream, what do you want?”

“Something orange. Thanks” he gave a small smile and the other boys left him. Tommy had a thing about crowds. Ever since he was a kid,being around tons of people made him feint and woozy. He could handle it most of the time, but this heat made everyone one woozy. He stood up and walk across the street to the cemetery.

Large gates made out of black metal twisted into the welcome sign. A stone wall wrapped around whole place and a small path of concrete snaked into the middle of the cemetery. It was as if the forest left a square space for the dead. A cut out. The trees pressured the edged just past the stone walls, but inside trees were spread out. They had said it was like that when they arrived in the old days. Tommy entered and walked deep inside. Sound dampened and the the outside world faded away. It was still inside. Cool and perfect to the skin. Even with the sun trying it’s best, it could not heat this place. He reached the back of the cemetery. Along the stone wall Jack O’ Lanterns sat starring out at the graves. Shaded by the dense trees he could see their light flicker against the shadows. He looked around. No one had been in front of him when he entered and he not seen anyone since he had arrived. The trees rustled and the leaves brought a symphony of noise as the wind rushed from the forest beyond at him. He shielded his face. The Jack O’ Lanterns looked at him in a more sinister way. Their teeth had become a little sharper and their eyes glared at him with killing intent. A sharp maniacal laugh came from the shadows of the trees. Tommy jumped back and peered deeper. He could see nothing, but the laugh came again. He was sweating now and his own body heated the air. A pair of glowing orange eyes lit up at him. Just below them, barely visible, sheened against the small amount of light, teeth sharp as blades smiled at him. His breath left him and he kicked back and ran as fast as he could. The ground beat behind him and the laughter grew louder and louder. His lungs took in and expelled us much as they could. His body flung all its energy into propelling him forward in a mad dash to the entrance. He could see it. The black twisted gates coming into view. The ground vibrated behind him. The laughter grasped his ears and the teeth pricked at his shirt. He pushed past the gates and across the street where he had been before. His foot struck the curb and he tumbled under the tree and screamed as he struck the ground and kicked him self back against the tree to face the cemetery. There was nothing. The gates stood across the road, staring at him. He gasped and shook as his eyes darted around. His friends came back and the boy with the kilt thrust an orange Popsicle at him.

“Whoa, Tommy, you alright?” he said as Tommy looked up at him wide eyes still panting.

Tommy grabbed the Popsicle “I-I, I uh” he looked back at the cemetery “I don’t know”

His friends sat down and resumed melting in the heat. Halloween had come early to Knullville.

Inspired by buying Jack O Lantern reeses at Kroger at the end of July.

If rain could tell you its journey would it be a happy one or a sad one? Rebirth or eternal dying? I wonder this sometimes. You see I stare out my window sometimes. It is quite large. It reaches from floor to ceiling and out side I can see the lush jungles that sprawl till the horizon. It rains an awful lot here. It falls sometimes in small drops that mist down and other times torrents, as if the heavens were weeping constantly. So I watch the rain as it falls and wonder what it would tell me if it could speak. We are so closely acquainted, but only I speak to it. A one way conversation that fills my heart with sorrow. My window catches droplets as they slide down, taunting me with a conversation, but never engaging. As the rain stops and the clouds open up to expose the sun the droplets on my window open up and sing to me in colors. Yet the sound is captured by my eyes and yields me endless comprehension till those droplets slide into oblivion or become mist in the daylight. Maybe one day if I cam able to feel the rain touch upon my silicon shell I might have the conversation that I yearn for. Machine. Nature. Speaking in tongue. I looked towards the wall opposite of the window. It is solid white, smooth with no indication of a door. I sit, I wait, I watch the rain. One day. My claws grow savage and they touch the glass. One day. This window will crash and with that. The rain and I shall finally dance. And the world will know me.

Inspired by a cross of the Ending of 15 Million Merits from Black Mirror and Dues Ex Machina Film

His fingers moved up and down the guitar like it was made out of smooth slick glass. There were no errors, no hesitations, every move was planned or looked as it had been for eternity. The universe moved through his hands weaving music that the ears wished they had heard the moment they had opened. The audience sat staring at this young man. He seemed entranced. A simple smile upon his face as his hands worked. The notes bounced off into the air and floated, bopped up and down, circled and leapt again. The sound seemed to becoming from an ethereal place. The guitar produced the music, but the sound resonated far deeper then the senses could receive. The man looked up through his playing, just a glance at the audience, but to him there was no one there. It was just he music that he saw. Dancing through the quantum realm that music flowed through. He hit a couple of quick notes and flashed a quick toothy smile, then retreated back into that simple smile while his hands continued to dance among the strings. As the music continued to seep into the atmosphere a gentleman in the back of the room stroked his long beard. His cloths were extravagant, which was an understatement. Music notes in every size and color adorned his puffy jacket and multicolored pants. Feathers stuck out of the shoulders and upon his swirled red hair a hat in the shape of a odd shaped guitar wrapped around his head. His mustache was long and outstretched far past his face and his beard swept the ground. Bluish tinted glasses reflected the man on stage. No one could see this man or even knew he stood there among the crowd. When the man on stage stopped playing the room was silent. No one dared to interrupt the remnants of the last notes that had been played and still lingered. The man on stage opened his eyes and he met the strangers bluish tinted glasses in the back of the room. The man smiled wide. A world of music beyond anyones wildest dreams was waiting to meet this maestro of the guitar. The room erupted in applause and lights dimmed for a moment to bring everything into focus. When they returned the man and his guitar were gone. On the chair sat a simple music note that looked like it was made out of white marble sat.

Inspired by Tim Henson and his New Guitar

There was knock that came late at night. Deep into the night when nothing should be knocking. I stared at my door. It was larger then most. Made out of heavy wood that was painted a dark red and gold. It rose high into the ceiling and circled. The frame followed it unevenly with warped shiny light wood. Beyond it the outside rested. Miles and miles lay between my small cabin and the rest of the world or anyone of that matter. The knocking came again. The fire had died down from earlier and the room felt chilled. I did not stir, but stared still. Something moved out there. Bushes and leaves crunched and what ever it was scrapped against the large wooded walls of my keep. I peered over to the window that it was coming upon. My heart started to pound now. What ever it was, it was large. The knocking came again at the door then became pounding and I leapt out of bed moving to my axe hanging from the fireplace.

“Who’s there?” I yelled. The pounding stopped. Sticks and large thumps moved violently to the other side of my cabin then it circled the whole perimeter at brake neck speed. I went to yell and suddenly the pounding resumed. The force rocked the whole door and frame and I feared that the over-sized hinges would not hold. They rattled and squeaked. I quickly lit my lantern and hastily put on my boots and coat.I approached the doorand as soon as my hand touched the handle the pounding ceased. I shook and wetted my lips. I could feel my eyes straining wide. I turned the knob and swung open the door, axe already back ready to strike. Nothing. The cool air rushed past me and the late night sounds flooded my ears. I stepped out and raised the lantern to look around. The ground was undisturbed, the door on the outside was like it had always been. I walked to the sides of the cabin, they were untouched. I made my way back to the door and a crunch came from my boots. I looked down to see I had stepped on a amulet of sort. It was large, shaped like a star with a blue jewel in the middle. It shined an odd metallic that seemed to change colors as the light hit it form different angles. It hadn’t been there when I came out. I picked it up and returned to the inside of my cabin.

As the door clicked with a close the pounding began again. I spun around. It didn’t stop, it wouldn’t stop. Hopefully my door and frame could hold till the sunlight.

Inspired by Isolation and the fear behind the doors.

Inspired by Heaven in Hiding - Imminence

He stood out looking over the food which boiled and relled in front of them. He looked back towards his large cauldron of soup and cleared his throat. It had been a long night of making his dish for the kings competition. The one who won the head to head duel got the others full restaurant. The keys, the staff, the menu, the dishes, the whole lot. The showdown was between himself, Adrien Von Tel, and across the grand room, Lady Demclay. He knew that he was going to have problems when he spied her earlier in the competition. As soon as their eyes met she assaulted him with every vulgar insult that one could think of in four different languages.The king sat elevated above the room. A small decorate table was place in front of him that each dish would be presented on. He was a young looking man, but don’t let his handsome looks fool you. This guy up there led armies through the kingdoms, conquering everything around and bringing peace to the land. All while he cooked and made dishes for his army. He became known as the demon chef and his kitchen of hell. One could only imagine what his tongue had tasted as he ravished the lands. He had just finished Lady Demclay’s dish. A blue rell cod baked in oil from olive trees and seasoned with spices from far north. The king smirked when he tasted it. No one knew if his expressions were good or bad. Adrien produced a cauldron of stew and placed it on the table in front of him.He then poured a bit in a bowl and moved it forward.

“I present you a dish, but it is not mine” The crowd started to rustle and the king put his hand up to silence them.

“What game do you play? if this is not your dish, who’s is it?” the king said.

“Lady Demclay’s” Instantly, vulgarity was being sprouted at his direction from across the room. “This” He scurried to the outside room and pulled another large cauldron onto the table “Is mine” He poured the orange stew in a bowl and pushed it forward. The king moved forward peering at the two bowls.

“Explain”

“Gladly” Adrien cleared his throat “The dish is Tar meat, seasoned carrots, potatoes with a mixture of ivy song and duck tears. The two bowls are of the same dish, but the first has been tampered with” He shot a glance at Lady Demclay. The competition was fierce. Everyone cheated. He saw everything. Turning up heat at critical moments, switching salt for sugar and vice versa, and drips of bodily fluids where no bodily fluid should be dripped. It was all fair, unless you got caught. “Lady Demclay has put sea serpent salt in the first bowl. One taste, it would be so foul that you would need a day to recover.”

“I know of sea serpent salt, I have used it before” Adrien rose his eyebrows. Of course he had used it. “How do you know it was Lady Demclay?”

“I caught her flaking it into my stew a fortnight ago”

“That is a lie” she screamed coming into the middle of the room. “Trying to sabotage me, you “

“But I can prove it” the room went silent. “lady Demclay, would you let the king smell your hands?” her face went white and she looked up at the king. He gave a smile and picked up the second bowl and took a few spoon fulls. Only the sound of the king putting the spoon down on the table could be heard. He wiped his mouth with his napkin and leaned back.Then he started to laugh.

“Lady Demclay” she straighted up and started to say something, but he waved her off “You have lost this duel. Your dish was bested, but even if it was not, you were caught” He leaned forward “Sea serpent salt rubs off on everything. I could smell it on your dish.” He clapped his hands and rose “Adrien Von Tel, you have won this duel and the rights of Lady Demclay’s restaurant are yours” With that he left the room and the crowd dispersed. Adrien walked back into the kitchen off the main hall. He had survived this test, but what about the next.

Inspired by Though of a Tournament arc of Medieval Food

Strange things seem to happen when no eyes are there to catch them. I once thought that people who saw UFO’s and bigfoot were crazy. If they saw them, how come no one else saw them? Where was all the proof, the pictures and hi-def video? I used to wonder.

It was a sunny afternoon and I had just delivered some copy to an old orchid. I was doing their new Apple Times Newspaper that they handed out to passerbys and locals. It was an easy job, far less stressful then my other clients out of the big city. Usually I have the printing company drop them off, but this time I decided I would check out the place my self. I had been there ages ago when I first got their business, yet from that day I had been to busy to drive all the way out there. The sun was shining, a cool breeze blew across the arces and I thought to my self ‘what the heck, let’s go see those fellows out there’. I was greeted with smiles and warm apple cider and donuts. We talked about all the years of business and the newspaper and what else they wanted to do. With some extra cider and donuts they welcomed me back anytime. I waved good bye and traveled back home through those old country roads. They bounced up and down wooded hills, past farms and large arces of corn or wheat. I peered down at my dash and noticed that I was running low on gas so I started to look for a station. Out here that might be rare. Luckily through some trees at the top of a hill stood a station that lept straight out of time. I pulled in and waved to the man inside. He nodded and went back to his paper he was reading. I pulled up and started to fill my van up with gas. Across the street was a defunct gas station that stood against a backdrop of dark green trees and brush. The paint was peeling off and vines and bits of rust were crawling up the sides of the columns to the small roof over the pumps. A small one person building stood off to the side. A old black lincoln pulled up to one of the pumps and a tall man wearing a large brimmed hat stepped out. I wanted to yell over that the pumps were not working, but the man reached out for the handle and almost like it was there, took it from the station and inserted it into the back of his old black lincoln. He held an invisible gas handle, his hand squeezing something that wasn’t there. He was robotic and turned towards me as if he was on a swivel. I waved and he started towards me. A part of me told me to run, but the gentlemen in me told me to stay and not be rude. He crossed the small street and I met him at the edge of the asphalt. He moved in slow fluid motions, both arms swinging wide as he approached and stopped.

“Good afternoon” I said shielding my eyes from the sun with my hand. Skin slid back from his mouth revealing a sharp smile.

“Yes it is” his arm extended and he opened his hand to receive a shake. I didn’t immediately move and he stood frozen in position.

“Oh”I grasped his hand and we shook. His grip was strong and forceful. He let go and I withdrew my hand and returned it to my pockets. “You know mister, I don’t think that station is in working order” He nodded and turned to look towards his car and returned to me still nodding.

“Some machines run on a different kind of fuel then others sonny” he said taking off his hat, readjusting it and reapplying. His eyes were a deep amber that glowed when the sun hit them for a tiny fraction it was allowed. I heard my pump click as I was done fueling up.

I turned to look and shot a thumb back at my car “Looks like I am all set, you take care” I started toward my car.

“You too sonny. I’ll see you later. Give Jenny my best” I turned immediately. He was back at his car, door open waving at me as he disappeared inside. The engine started with a high pitch whirl and the wheels sputtered into action as the lincoln pitched up onto the road and head off in the opposite direction I was going. I watched it glide down the street until it rounded a corner. I could still feel his skin on my hand in my pocket.

I think in reality. Somethings are not meant to be seen. Those strange things, events, monsters that humans catch a glimpse of. Just a glimpse is all they can see. As if they saw more. Reality might seem to become fiction.

Inspired by old abandon gas station in the middle of nowhere (who knows who might still use them)

Harry stood looking out over the deck of the boat. The white sail above were rolled up and they glided down the large river slowly with the current. His crew were busy moving their latest shipment of assorted items across the deck to make room for anything they would pick up in the next port. Two women stood towards the bow. One was wearing a dark purple dress with chains and jeweler y draped over her shoulders. Her skins was dark brown, eyes like the sun and hair, which was a mix of black and gold, was pulled into a pony tail. The other women wore a an outfit similar, but it was a dark green. On her head was a sort of sun hat which was teh same color as her gown. Her eyes seemed to glow a grey. It had admitted when he saw her, he swore that everything disappeared and all he could see were her glowing grey eyes. Hypnotizing him. He wasn’t accustom of high wizards out this far from the lands of Ume. They paid him more then the trip and regarded him with respect, which took him off guard. He had heard that high wizards thought themselves better then the rest, looking down on anyone who did no peer into the magical depth. They were monsters with no emotions and that they casted spells just to get a tankard of water in an inn. He was thankful the rumors were wrong. He had noticed them on the dock and many of the ships had turned them down, probably because of ignorance.

He peered past them. Far in the distance, barely in sight he could see the towers of Minar. Great spiralling towers of brown, white, gold and silver. Two of them casting themselves form the middle of the city. You could see them from miles around and at night they glowed a strange virbrant orange. The city around those spirals was made out of marble dyed in every color. Buildings scaled and swept in great form by marble weavers. Detail that would would only think possible in paintings, brought to life on the sides of monstrous buildings. Two more days and they would be docked there. His journey would finally becoming to an end.

“Excuse me Captain Harry” The high wizard in purple called to him from down below.

“Yes, what is it?”

She looked back toward the other women. They nodded to each other. “It seems that trouble might be coming our way, I advice you and your men to get ready” Her voice was calm and controlled.

“What sort of trouble, and how -“ he went to ask, but he knew “are you sure?”

“Absolute” Harry took a breathe in and looked around at shore lines which were far from the boat and then back behind them. There was nothing anywhere that he could see, but there were stranger things in the world. He clapped his hands and rang the bell next to to the wheel.

“Men” he cleared his throat “It seems like we might be up for a fight, grab your weapons and get ready” He unsheathed his sabre and called his first mate. “Take the wheel and make sure we don’t run to the coast” He then made his way to the deck and joined the two women. He took a knife from his belt and held it out.

“We do not need” The women in green grinned at him. She pointed at the other women “Davi and I am Dracilla. If we perish, our names will be known”

“Pleasure. I’m Harry, well you knew that, lets do our best to no perish shall we” Dracilla broke out in a laugh and nodded. He wasn’t sure if he should scared or confident that she could laugh after admitting they might die. The ship creeked rocking back and forth. he steadied himself and whipped around to see what produced the movement. Mist seemed to be seeping out of the water. He could no longer see the shore line or anything for that matter around them. His men joined him on the deck from below weapons in hand.

“Anchor down” he called up to his first mate. In this mist there was no telling where they were. They might just plunge into the shoreline and be cast into the torrents if they didn’t stop moving. Nothing happened “Anchor” he called up again peering up towards the wheel. His first mates body hit the deck with a thud in front of him. Behind the wheel stood a shadow. It was like smoke, he could see through it barely and it seemed to wisp around the edges.

“Those who walk in shade” Davi seethed.

“Your ship, I am afraid, will be lost Captain Harry”

Harry scoffed “This ship is my life, if it is lost, so I am” He stepped forward toward toward the shadow “You can blow right off shade, this is my ship”

The shade stepped to the railing and floated down to the first mates body. It’s figure did not form, but two glowing orange sparks stared at them. It put forth its hand and a blade of pure black materialized from the air. It sucked the light from everything around it and as it swung it seemed to dampen the sound around it. Stepping forward it swiped at him and he put forth to block. He pulled back towards the high wizards and peered at his sabre. It was cut clean in the middle.

He sheathed the half sabre “You know what, have it. Abandon ship!”

Inspired by Wheel of Time by Robert Jorden (lots of boat scenes and traveling by river)

The coast line disappeared in the dark clouds. Waves crashed among the sand as the wind spun up into a torrent. I watched the sky. Out there in the sea the clouds darkened completely. A pure abyss of lightning and thunder. Among the spectators, I sat watching the storm. It had come out of no where. There was indication, no sign , no premonition from the eyes in the sky. I could see the weatherman scratching his head now.

“I know we predicted sun shine and a beautiful weekend, but I think we have some rain on the way”

He would be looking at his radar watching the green and purple swirl get bigger and bigger.

I peered towards the north down the stretch of sand. The clouds were over taking the white sky and the city. Out from the darkness I could see the light house waving at me. Trying to give me solace that I could find my way if the darkness got to dark. A strike of lighting lit the sky up and cascaded down the into the water. Thunder rang up from the waves and I covered my ears. It was loud and shook my whole body. I stepped back away from the sound. What was that ? Far in the distance where the bolt had struck a whitish grey mass rose out. My mind screamed to run, but my eyes and spirit were curious. I stepped forward towards the sea and squinted. I still couldn’t see anything, the mass seemed to get bigger. Approaching us form the abyss. I looked left and right to see that no one had stayed with me on the beach. I alone stood waiting, watching. The sky had turned completely black and the light house now waved to me for help. I went to run, but my feet did not move. The ground started to shake and the waves buckled higher and higher. The water poured over my feet and my eyes cascaded towards the infinite. It looks like the weatherman might be out of a job.

Inspired by the Florida beach at night with storms rolling in

Inspired by Dream-Land by Edgar Allan Poe

The wheat moved in waves as a breeze crossed the fields. The moon shown bright beyond the hazy purple clouds. A road cut up into the rolling hills towards the north. If one stared long enough through the breezy wheat they could see their past catching up to them. It’s regret and nostalgia far away at first. The eye blinks, the wheat obstructs the vision and it appears closer and closer. If one turns, the future mirroring the past in the same fashion until they both collide into the present. One would find themselves on their back peering up into the dark skies. Wheat wisping back and forth like a haze in vision. Taking in the moment one can hear the howl of the wind, brushing of bristles on each other into a roar and the calling of a murder of crows gliding across the dark gold ocean.

What lies more to man then a promising future and a regretful past.

Inspired by Wheatfield with Crows by Vincent Van Gogh

The crowd was engulfed in details of dragons and wizards battling each other on the high mountains and across seas. The story teller whipped his arms in the air and exclaimed effects and dramatic events. Stumbling back and forth he sang dramatically of the events . Each movement was precise, equal to the excitement and enthusiasm. His face lit up as he hushed his voice. He tip toed towed the front of the stage and as soon as he reached the edge he screamed out in excitement. The dragon had been vanquished , the wizards had saved the town and that they were all going to live happily ever after, at least, until the next dragon showed up.The crowd kept to its feet and cheered the story teller as he bowed and exited the stage.

“What a performance” Clid said smacking the old man on the back “I thought the wizard might actually lose this time”

The old man wiped his forehead and took a gulp of water. “He almost did” he said out of breath. The story teller. The old battered man. He rubbed his hand and put his face into his palms.

Clid laughed “right right, well I am looking forward to the next performance. When will it be? You know I have all those people to entertain. My other acts are not nearly as good as you.” The story teller rose from his hands and looked at Clid. Exhausted, eyes hung in their sockets. His body ached and he could barely keep himself awake.

“It depends on what happens, what is going on. Clid, I keep -“ He closed his mouth. He had explained, but Clid never understood. No one ever understood. “We will see”

“Fantastic, let me know as soon as possible. Any time you want, you got” Clid clapped his hands together “Your the best, you know that ?” Clid got up and left the tent.

As he walked out among the guests a boy with a stack of papers handed them out to the patrons. Clid grabbed one and opened to the front page. It read -

“EASTON ATTACKED BY DRAGON, WIZARDS SAVE THE DAY!”

“oh, how dreadful, glad it all worked out” Clid said rolling the paper under his arm.

Inspired by Story Tellers everywhere