The night air swept the trash in swirls of echoing quietness down the empty back street, passed the little shop. Rotted wood creaked hello as it went by. The front window was filthy with neglect. Not even the slightest passerby was curious enough to peek through. The door to the shop, locked long ago, couldn’t even beckon thieves. A ‘Closed’ sign hung there without moving for years. Another gust of wind gently patted the sign above the door.
The dust in the shop had settled long ago, though some still floated through the air caught in the little bit of moonlight that shown through the grimy window. The shelves still held the love of the owner’s heart, though he’d long since gone. Red headed dolls in yellow dresses, blonde headed dolls in pink gowns, little boy dolls in school uniforms and sailor outfits. All kinds of dolls huddled together covered with the layers of dust, no one around to see their beauty anymore. They just sat there staring into the darkened shop.
The wax of a candle splayed out over the work bench almost holding his hand, the poor little boy doll that couldn’t join his friends. Brown hair and two blue eyes, his little nose and half a painted smile decorated his face. A knitted little sweater and some blue jean pants were marked by the line from the paint brush. There was nothing he could do that night he watched his father never wake up again. The curses he would have yelled at letting the brush slip as he fell into an endless sleep. Instead, his newest son would forever stare at his rotting corpse as he sat there in the little shop that was trapped in time.
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Friday, November 5, 2010
Viral n - Before the Hunt
The two guards stiffened when they saw the five Condors walking towards them. The Street Vultures were vicious and cruel, the guards in particular had to be really rotten to watch over the King Vultures Roost. But no one in the Cloud dared to ever provoke one of the Condors.
Condors were a small roost of the Street Vultures that consisted of the most elite. The tests included finding and marking of egg-layers, feathering younglings, and defeating a King Vulture. But their final test was the toughest of all, at least for the Street Vultures, they had to fly.
Flying consisted of making it to the top a large building chosen by the King Vultures. This task could take over a month to complete, especially if the building was still online. They sent in the top Condors to evaluate the number of a certain object and the candidate would have to acquire every single one. After showing their fearlessness to fly they were allowed into the Condor’s Roost. There was only one rule to being a Condor, the women could not be an egg layer.
The Guard on the right slammed a giant fist, covered with a bent sheet of steel, into the door. It slid up slowly, when it was high enough he slammed a metal rod into place to keep it open. The five of them were greeted in the lobby of the Squatter Apartment, known as the King Vulture Roost, by a mangled female. The lead Condor, known as Ash followed closely by her twin brother Blood, handed her signal over to the girl. She was so dead inside from the horrendous tortures that she didn’t flinch at their site. She shuffled off to hand the Kings the emblem to announce their arrival.
Moments later the girl came back, returning Ashes signal and stepping out of the way. This showed they were clear to enter. Blood took his place beside Ash and they lead the group into what use to be a meeting room. They stood side by side facing each of the five Death Kings.
Death King Vultures were in charge of the Condors. They were previous Condors that succeeded every mission during their younger days.They relayed all Condor missions and punishments, if needed.
Death King Veridan spoke “One of the Egg-layers escaped with an unfeathered. Go to the Nesting Roost and find out all the info you can to bring them back.” He looked over at Condor Shield, making it very clear “You are NOT to feather the child.” Shield had a twinge of disappointment on his face.
Condor Shield’s training showed just how dubious this Cloud was. He was a member of the Night Shield Cloud that was sent to infiltrate the Street Vultures. It wasn’t too long before he was discovered, but instead of killing him they made him go through the Condor training. His talents far exceeded their expectations. He didn’t hesitate the marking, he easily beat the King Vulture, and his flight almost beat the record time. The one test he refused was the one that turned him, feathering. At first they bound and forced the children on him for a week. It twisted his soul and he started to enjoy it. Now it was all he wanted, but he was kept on a very tight leash.
They left without another word. Waiting just outside, the guard removed the metal pole and let the door slam down. Ash and Blood led the way, followed by Shield and Sword. The newest member of their team, Record, was probably the brightest person in all the Street Vultures. But he was no less twisted.
Over an hour later they reached the Nesting Roost. As they stepped up to the guard the dying cry of a young boy snapped Shield out of his depressed shuffle. He started to turn for the Feathering House but was stopped cold by Swords stair. The guard tried his best not to look at them as he took his plated fist and smashed it against the door.
They stepped inside and were greeted by the Matron Cow. Most of the Roosts had a slave that would announce the arrival of guests to the master. The Matron Cow was known for killing her slaves and finally gave up on trying to train new ones. Without a word the Condors followed her to the conference room.
A long table with at least twenty seats decorated the center of the room. Four windows, all on one side of the room, fed them light. Almost every building that the Street Vultures had were the same. Squatter Apartments littered the lower parts of almost every state. Used mostly, in the old days, by those who could not afford apartments or those that travelled a lot.
Record stepped to the front of the group and began his questioning. “We’ve been sent to get retrieve your escaped Egg-layer. What is her name and how many marks does she have?”
The Matron knew every detail of every Egg-layer and she answered without hesitation “Her name is Amaya and she was only marked once. The unfeathered she escaped with was her own daughter.”
Record interrupted her “We’ll get to that in a minute. Who marked Amaya?”
Matron, again, did not hesitate “Vulture Raze was her mate.” She expected some twinge of surprise in his face, but it did not change. Though it did cause Ash and Blood to glance for an expression also.
Record replied “Missing left ear, clean cut?”
The Matron just nodded.
His voice held no emotion “Father never changes.” He was silent for a moment, possibly trying to remember if his father ever spoke of her. “Wasn’t she a captured about six years back during a flight?”
The Matron wasn’t shocked by his memory, he was just like his father “Yes, Condor Aethelthryth found her. I believe it was her home before.”
Record needed no more info, he remembered what building and room she was found in. There was little in his life that he didn’t recall. He turned to Ash “Ready to head to the Feathering House”
Shield perked up again at those words, Sword did not dissuade him this time. But he was smart enough to know that she wouldn’t allow him any fun.
The Feathering House was one of the only places in all of the Street Vultures territory that most of the Cloud avoided. From a young age they are taught to be cruel and vicious, but such a place can be too much, even for some of the King Vultures.
They stepped into the guarded building just as a group of unfeathered ran by, a three year old girl ran into Sword, falling backwards. Sword unsheathed her homemade dagger and stabbed the child in the foot. She promptly pulled the blade out, wiped the blood off on the child’s shirt, and sheathed the dagger. The others ignored the horrid squealing from the child as they continued following the servant to the conference room. Shield delighted in the scream the whole way, only wishing he could have been the cause.
The Master of the unfeathered was staring out the window as the Condors came through the door. He was one of the oldest in the Cloud, long gray hair and a tattered old suit. Ash could see that his attention was fixed on two small boys fighting over a ball.
The old man felt her watching too and turned. Instead of catching her eye, he looked at Blood “Your son shows promise even at this age.” His crooked smile pleased to see the smirk on Blood’s face.
Blood spoke “Don’t act too shocked, he’ll be a Condor too.” With that Record stepped to the front and began asking about the missing child.
It took less that ten minutes for them to gather the info. It took another four hours to reach the Western edge of Street Vulture territory. They would start their hunt in the morning and it would not end until they had their prey.
Condors were a small roost of the Street Vultures that consisted of the most elite. The tests included finding and marking of egg-layers, feathering younglings, and defeating a King Vulture. But their final test was the toughest of all, at least for the Street Vultures, they had to fly.
Flying consisted of making it to the top a large building chosen by the King Vultures. This task could take over a month to complete, especially if the building was still online. They sent in the top Condors to evaluate the number of a certain object and the candidate would have to acquire every single one. After showing their fearlessness to fly they were allowed into the Condor’s Roost. There was only one rule to being a Condor, the women could not be an egg layer.
The Guard on the right slammed a giant fist, covered with a bent sheet of steel, into the door. It slid up slowly, when it was high enough he slammed a metal rod into place to keep it open. The five of them were greeted in the lobby of the Squatter Apartment, known as the King Vulture Roost, by a mangled female. The lead Condor, known as Ash followed closely by her twin brother Blood, handed her signal over to the girl. She was so dead inside from the horrendous tortures that she didn’t flinch at their site. She shuffled off to hand the Kings the emblem to announce their arrival.
Moments later the girl came back, returning Ashes signal and stepping out of the way. This showed they were clear to enter. Blood took his place beside Ash and they lead the group into what use to be a meeting room. They stood side by side facing each of the five Death Kings.
Death King Vultures were in charge of the Condors. They were previous Condors that succeeded every mission during their younger days.They relayed all Condor missions and punishments, if needed.
Death King Veridan spoke “One of the Egg-layers escaped with an unfeathered. Go to the Nesting Roost and find out all the info you can to bring them back.” He looked over at Condor Shield, making it very clear “You are NOT to feather the child.” Shield had a twinge of disappointment on his face.
Condor Shield’s training showed just how dubious this Cloud was. He was a member of the Night Shield Cloud that was sent to infiltrate the Street Vultures. It wasn’t too long before he was discovered, but instead of killing him they made him go through the Condor training. His talents far exceeded their expectations. He didn’t hesitate the marking, he easily beat the King Vulture, and his flight almost beat the record time. The one test he refused was the one that turned him, feathering. At first they bound and forced the children on him for a week. It twisted his soul and he started to enjoy it. Now it was all he wanted, but he was kept on a very tight leash.
They left without another word. Waiting just outside, the guard removed the metal pole and let the door slam down. Ash and Blood led the way, followed by Shield and Sword. The newest member of their team, Record, was probably the brightest person in all the Street Vultures. But he was no less twisted.
Over an hour later they reached the Nesting Roost. As they stepped up to the guard the dying cry of a young boy snapped Shield out of his depressed shuffle. He started to turn for the Feathering House but was stopped cold by Swords stair. The guard tried his best not to look at them as he took his plated fist and smashed it against the door.
They stepped inside and were greeted by the Matron Cow. Most of the Roosts had a slave that would announce the arrival of guests to the master. The Matron Cow was known for killing her slaves and finally gave up on trying to train new ones. Without a word the Condors followed her to the conference room.
A long table with at least twenty seats decorated the center of the room. Four windows, all on one side of the room, fed them light. Almost every building that the Street Vultures had were the same. Squatter Apartments littered the lower parts of almost every state. Used mostly, in the old days, by those who could not afford apartments or those that travelled a lot.
Record stepped to the front of the group and began his questioning. “We’ve been sent to get retrieve your escaped Egg-layer. What is her name and how many marks does she have?”
The Matron knew every detail of every Egg-layer and she answered without hesitation “Her name is Amaya and she was only marked once. The unfeathered she escaped with was her own daughter.”
Record interrupted her “We’ll get to that in a minute. Who marked Amaya?”
Matron, again, did not hesitate “Vulture Raze was her mate.” She expected some twinge of surprise in his face, but it did not change. Though it did cause Ash and Blood to glance for an expression also.
Record replied “Missing left ear, clean cut?”
The Matron just nodded.
His voice held no emotion “Father never changes.” He was silent for a moment, possibly trying to remember if his father ever spoke of her. “Wasn’t she a captured about six years back during a flight?”
The Matron wasn’t shocked by his memory, he was just like his father “Yes, Condor Aethelthryth found her. I believe it was her home before.”
Record needed no more info, he remembered what building and room she was found in. There was little in his life that he didn’t recall. He turned to Ash “Ready to head to the Feathering House”
Shield perked up again at those words, Sword did not dissuade him this time. But he was smart enough to know that she wouldn’t allow him any fun.
The Feathering House was one of the only places in all of the Street Vultures territory that most of the Cloud avoided. From a young age they are taught to be cruel and vicious, but such a place can be too much, even for some of the King Vultures.
They stepped into the guarded building just as a group of unfeathered ran by, a three year old girl ran into Sword, falling backwards. Sword unsheathed her homemade dagger and stabbed the child in the foot. She promptly pulled the blade out, wiped the blood off on the child’s shirt, and sheathed the dagger. The others ignored the horrid squealing from the child as they continued following the servant to the conference room. Shield delighted in the scream the whole way, only wishing he could have been the cause.
The Master of the unfeathered was staring out the window as the Condors came through the door. He was one of the oldest in the Cloud, long gray hair and a tattered old suit. Ash could see that his attention was fixed on two small boys fighting over a ball.
The old man felt her watching too and turned. Instead of catching her eye, he looked at Blood “Your son shows promise even at this age.” His crooked smile pleased to see the smirk on Blood’s face.
Blood spoke “Don’t act too shocked, he’ll be a Condor too.” With that Record stepped to the front and began asking about the missing child.
It took less that ten minutes for them to gather the info. It took another four hours to reach the Western edge of Street Vulture territory. They would start their hunt in the morning and it would not end until they had their prey.
Friday, October 29, 2010
Happy Halloween
Mary huddled in the corner shaking, barely able to control her fear. Her husband crawled over to the window to peek through the blinds. He could see them everywhere outside, going from house to house. He tried to keep his fear in check, but it was tough. He was shaking as he crawled back to his wife and put his arms around her.
A knock came at the front door making both of them jump. Adam put his hand over her mouth to keep her from screaming, she didn’t resist. The knocking got louder and louder, and soon there was scratching. He cursed himself for not smuggling a gun into town. He hugged his wife tighter ready to die with her.
He’d seen all the movies thinking that he’d be able to stand against them. He’d take down hundreds or thousands of them. Sadly, reality is a lot different. The banging was louder now. He knew they only had moments left to live.
A loud crash came from the foyer. Adam was thankful that he had his hand over her mouth because Mary’s “RRRMMMPH” would have been a full scream giving them away. They sat there and prayed as they heard the shuffling getting closer and closer. “This is it” though Adam. Hysteria was getting closer to snapping him in his final moments, but he held strong.
The pounding was now at their bedroom door and he could barely contain his own screams. He should have never taken this promotion. He thought all the screenings and tests were just jokes cooked up by management. Who would have thought some place like this really existed? Him and his wife joked about them until they moved here. It had only been two weeks, the worst two weeks of their lives.
The bedroom door splintered and this time his wife let out a scream that was ear piercing. They both now needed a change of pants, not that they thought that would matter shortly. The three figures lumbered into the bedroom, coming straight for the couple with out stretched arms. Almost in unison they said “braaaiiiinsss” and just stood there. Adam, finally getting up a little nerve for a last ditch attempt that teetered more on hysteria “it’s...it’s against our religion to celebrate Ha...halloweeen...” he said as he hugged his wife closer. The tallest of the three tilted his head and said “braaiins?” Adam exclaimed one more time “We...we don’t haa..have any...sor..sorry”, he was on the verge of tears.
The three zombie children, dressed as living children, lowered their bags disappointed. They shuffled out of the house and on to the next in hopes of getting their bags filled before the night was over.
A knock came at the front door making both of them jump. Adam put his hand over her mouth to keep her from screaming, she didn’t resist. The knocking got louder and louder, and soon there was scratching. He cursed himself for not smuggling a gun into town. He hugged his wife tighter ready to die with her.
He’d seen all the movies thinking that he’d be able to stand against them. He’d take down hundreds or thousands of them. Sadly, reality is a lot different. The banging was louder now. He knew they only had moments left to live.
A loud crash came from the foyer. Adam was thankful that he had his hand over her mouth because Mary’s “RRRMMMPH” would have been a full scream giving them away. They sat there and prayed as they heard the shuffling getting closer and closer. “This is it” though Adam. Hysteria was getting closer to snapping him in his final moments, but he held strong.
The pounding was now at their bedroom door and he could barely contain his own screams. He should have never taken this promotion. He thought all the screenings and tests were just jokes cooked up by management. Who would have thought some place like this really existed? Him and his wife joked about them until they moved here. It had only been two weeks, the worst two weeks of their lives.
The bedroom door splintered and this time his wife let out a scream that was ear piercing. They both now needed a change of pants, not that they thought that would matter shortly. The three figures lumbered into the bedroom, coming straight for the couple with out stretched arms. Almost in unison they said “braaaiiiinsss” and just stood there. Adam, finally getting up a little nerve for a last ditch attempt that teetered more on hysteria “it’s...it’s against our religion to celebrate Ha...halloweeen...” he said as he hugged his wife closer. The tallest of the three tilted his head and said “braaiins?” Adam exclaimed one more time “We...we don’t haa..have any...sor..sorry”, he was on the verge of tears.
The three zombie children, dressed as living children, lowered their bags disappointed. They shuffled out of the house and on to the next in hopes of getting their bags filled before the night was over.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Viral n - The End of Another Life
He awoke to a distant moaning, pain and the stench of bile. After a few minutes of trying to ignore it all and go back to the dream he decided to open his eyes. Sight gave way to sound as he found that it was he was moaning. He noticed the lantern off to his side. It had landed upright and was still burning. He tried to lift himself off the wet floor. A wave of pain dizzied him as he found he couldn’t move his arm. He plopped his head back down with a splash, that’s when he remembered the headache.
Moments later he was being prodded in the back with something really hard. It didn’t help the pain at all. The prodding apparently came with a voice “Will you stop moaning, I’m trying to sleep. And you’re being loud enough to wake the Street Vultures.” said the annoyed female voice.
“Sure...just knock me out again.” He responded, instantly regretting his poor choice of words. One thing to remember, get to know a person before you make snide remarks. She granted his request with a hard thump to the back of the head.
If there was a dream this time, he didn’t remember. There was no way he could remember a dream through that kind of pain. It felt like being yanked awake by a tiger mauling his shoulder. He could barely hear his scream over his battered and hungover headache. He began opening his eyes slowly, fearing that any light would cause his head to explode.
His eyes began to focus on the opened doorway to the bedroom. There was a small head poking around the corner, watching him. As soon as it noticed him staring it disappeared.
While he was trying to figure out if it was just his imagination the female from earlier spoke “What Cloud are you with? You’re too high up for the Street Vultures, not the Wired either….”
He paused before answering. Clouds, or factions, were all over the place. They claimed territory from the underground to tops of the highest buildings. Some, like the Street Vultures, were to be feared. Others, like the Wired, were just a nuisance that were too far gone to do matter. Then there were others, like the Night Shields, that helped protect smaller Clouds from the more dangerous ones.
He glanced toward the voice. The butchered jet black hair would have been all he needed to see to bolt for the door. But it was the missing ear that caught his eye long enough for him to speak.
Surprised, he asked “How’d you get out alive?” Then a realization hit him. “SHIT! Are they still chasing you?” He winced at the pain as he jerked forward ready to run.
“How do you know about that? Who the fuck are you?” Before he could act she was upon him, knife out, holding him roughly by the hair. Regardless, it didn’t take much strength to keep him in place.
He hesitated a moment, then answered “I’m with the IAP.” She eased up a little, but kept her knife drawn, demanding “Show me your signal”.
The Independent Antique Providers weren’t large enough to be a Cloud. They were a small group of individuals that worked for all the other Clouds, collecting odd items that were hard to find. The items that were sought weren’t allowed to be taken from other factions. That trust kept them from the dangers of any group. There were known IAP officers that broke the rules, but everyone finds out. That would usually end badly.
He pulled out the small metal chip chiseled with his with his code and colors. The signal was etched, grayish and purple, it read ‘io9’.
“Independent Officer 9, I’ve heard that number before. You’ve done work with the Street Vultures, right?” She clenched the knife a bit harder.
“I’ve worked for many Clouds. But it’s kind of a moot point, isn’t it? You know I couldn’t take the job collecting you, I’d be going against the Shields.” She started to pull the knife away. “Besides, you know how much they enjoy hunting, even if it does involve flying.” He saw the fear overwhelm that ‘I’m in charge’ look in her eye as his words threw the truth, she refused to face, right at her.
She got up, putting the blade away, knowing her problems didn’t lie with him. “Since you can’t tell them where we are I’d like you to get the hell out now.” The shock of her own words rang through her head and she looked away.
He didn’t miss it “Who is we? Shit! You mean that’s why they marked you?” He shook his head “Fuck Science! I thought I was just imagining the kid...” He was going to leave her to figure out her own problems, but kids were the easiest way to corner his conscience. Sure, none of the other Clouds liked the Street Vultures, but if an IAP crossed anyone then what was to stop them from crossing everyone? He was going to become a Zombid. His only chance was the Night Shields.
“Thanks for ruining my life, you got a name?” He was pissed but he knew there wasn’t a way for him to walk away now. He couldn’t leave a child to those creatures.
She looked at him as if trying to apologize. She realized what he was talking about and was truly sorry he was getting involved. “My name’s Amaya, and you?”
He offered his hand “I’m Reavyn, thanks for the help.” He winced as he rolled his shoulder. Not knowing if it was too soon to ask “Is it yours?”
Her smile was gentle and thankful “Hina, come here.” As if the child had been waiting just outside the doorway, she blasted into the room jumping into Amaya’s lap.
She couldn’t have been more than four years old. Her hair was brown and curled everywhere. She looked too happy to be in a world like this. Staring at him, she backed farther into her the woman’s arms. The small whimper that came broke Reavyn’s heart. It was the sound of a child that knew to be scared of certain things.
He looked from the child to Amaya “She hasn’t....”
The woman shook her head fast. Thinking it a game, the child shook her head and looked to Amaya for approval. She patted the child on the head and nodded. Amaya looked up at him, “No, she hasn’t been feathered. And, yes, she is my daughter.” With a look of ‘Please don’t ask it’, she turned away. He seemed to take the hint.
Looking from mother to daughter, he offered the little girl his hand “Hello, I’m Reavyn. What’s your name?”
The little girl looked up as if asking for approval from her mother. Amaya smiled causing the girl to turn and take two of his fingers in her hand, shaking them “I’m Hina, nice to meet you mister.”
Moments later he was being prodded in the back with something really hard. It didn’t help the pain at all. The prodding apparently came with a voice “Will you stop moaning, I’m trying to sleep. And you’re being loud enough to wake the Street Vultures.” said the annoyed female voice.
“Sure...just knock me out again.” He responded, instantly regretting his poor choice of words. One thing to remember, get to know a person before you make snide remarks. She granted his request with a hard thump to the back of the head.
If there was a dream this time, he didn’t remember. There was no way he could remember a dream through that kind of pain. It felt like being yanked awake by a tiger mauling his shoulder. He could barely hear his scream over his battered and hungover headache. He began opening his eyes slowly, fearing that any light would cause his head to explode.
His eyes began to focus on the opened doorway to the bedroom. There was a small head poking around the corner, watching him. As soon as it noticed him staring it disappeared.
While he was trying to figure out if it was just his imagination the female from earlier spoke “What Cloud are you with? You’re too high up for the Street Vultures, not the Wired either….”
He paused before answering. Clouds, or factions, were all over the place. They claimed territory from the underground to tops of the highest buildings. Some, like the Street Vultures, were to be feared. Others, like the Wired, were just a nuisance that were too far gone to do matter. Then there were others, like the Night Shields, that helped protect smaller Clouds from the more dangerous ones.
He glanced toward the voice. The butchered jet black hair would have been all he needed to see to bolt for the door. But it was the missing ear that caught his eye long enough for him to speak.
Surprised, he asked “How’d you get out alive?” Then a realization hit him. “SHIT! Are they still chasing you?” He winced at the pain as he jerked forward ready to run.
“How do you know about that? Who the fuck are you?” Before he could act she was upon him, knife out, holding him roughly by the hair. Regardless, it didn’t take much strength to keep him in place.
He hesitated a moment, then answered “I’m with the IAP.” She eased up a little, but kept her knife drawn, demanding “Show me your signal”.
The Independent Antique Providers weren’t large enough to be a Cloud. They were a small group of individuals that worked for all the other Clouds, collecting odd items that were hard to find. The items that were sought weren’t allowed to be taken from other factions. That trust kept them from the dangers of any group. There were known IAP officers that broke the rules, but everyone finds out. That would usually end badly.
He pulled out the small metal chip chiseled with his with his code and colors. The signal was etched, grayish and purple, it read ‘io9’.
“Independent Officer 9, I’ve heard that number before. You’ve done work with the Street Vultures, right?” She clenched the knife a bit harder.
“I’ve worked for many Clouds. But it’s kind of a moot point, isn’t it? You know I couldn’t take the job collecting you, I’d be going against the Shields.” She started to pull the knife away. “Besides, you know how much they enjoy hunting, even if it does involve flying.” He saw the fear overwhelm that ‘I’m in charge’ look in her eye as his words threw the truth, she refused to face, right at her.
She got up, putting the blade away, knowing her problems didn’t lie with him. “Since you can’t tell them where we are I’d like you to get the hell out now.” The shock of her own words rang through her head and she looked away.
He didn’t miss it “Who is we? Shit! You mean that’s why they marked you?” He shook his head “Fuck Science! I thought I was just imagining the kid...” He was going to leave her to figure out her own problems, but kids were the easiest way to corner his conscience. Sure, none of the other Clouds liked the Street Vultures, but if an IAP crossed anyone then what was to stop them from crossing everyone? He was going to become a Zombid. His only chance was the Night Shields.
“Thanks for ruining my life, you got a name?” He was pissed but he knew there wasn’t a way for him to walk away now. He couldn’t leave a child to those creatures.
She looked at him as if trying to apologize. She realized what he was talking about and was truly sorry he was getting involved. “My name’s Amaya, and you?”
He offered his hand “I’m Reavyn, thanks for the help.” He winced as he rolled his shoulder. Not knowing if it was too soon to ask “Is it yours?”
Her smile was gentle and thankful “Hina, come here.” As if the child had been waiting just outside the doorway, she blasted into the room jumping into Amaya’s lap.
She couldn’t have been more than four years old. Her hair was brown and curled everywhere. She looked too happy to be in a world like this. Staring at him, she backed farther into her the woman’s arms. The small whimper that came broke Reavyn’s heart. It was the sound of a child that knew to be scared of certain things.
He looked from the child to Amaya “She hasn’t....”
The woman shook her head fast. Thinking it a game, the child shook her head and looked to Amaya for approval. She patted the child on the head and nodded. Amaya looked up at him, “No, she hasn’t been feathered. And, yes, she is my daughter.” With a look of ‘Please don’t ask it’, she turned away. He seemed to take the hint.
Looking from mother to daughter, he offered the little girl his hand “Hello, I’m Reavyn. What’s your name?”
The little girl looked up as if asking for approval from her mother. Amaya smiled causing the girl to turn and take two of his fingers in her hand, shaking them “I’m Hina, nice to meet you mister.”
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Time for Zombie Killing!
“Reporting live from downtown Savannah, our own Sarah Treble has the newest update on the Zombie scene, Sarah?”
The TV cut to the young lady holding a microphone. “Thank you Fred. As you can see here are a few zombies. Many of the local residents have shown up to make sure this menace is taken care of fast.”
The camera panned to the gun happy crowd, firing shots everywhere, zombies just moving slowly in circles. Bullets ripped through the zombies hitting the living. They’d drop to the ground, dying and the zombies fell on them eating. All of the sudden blood splattered the camera and we heard the camera man “SHIT! Sarah! Sarah, are you okay?” as the camera fell to the ground pointing at the small hoard of zombie shambling towards the downed reporter.
I looked over to the others watching “Why am I not surprised.” They shrugged almost in unison as I got up to turn on the 360 “Who wants to play some Left 4 Dead 2?”
Sure, between a Gamestop and a Target in the mall, we had plenty of games to choose from, but why not play a zombie game during the zombie apocalypse? Yes, we are pretty screwed up in the head.
Two of us joined a group in the lobby and began killing the undead when one of the people of there headphones had said he’d be right back.
We heard a loud gunshot in the background just before he rejoined the game “Sorry guys, neighbor shot her husband while trying to kill a zombie. He wandered into my yard.”
Steven and I looked at each other and shrugged. I chimed in “So, what do you think the death toll from shooting is up to?”
One of the others replied through his mic “Why can’t those fucking idiots see the zombies are just scavengers?”
Steven looked at me “I say let them kill each other, gives us more zombies to shoot at and less people shooting at us.” I toasted my bottle of wine to him with a “hear hear!” as we left the safe room and started shooting pixelated zombies.
The TV cut to the young lady holding a microphone. “Thank you Fred. As you can see here are a few zombies. Many of the local residents have shown up to make sure this menace is taken care of fast.”
The camera panned to the gun happy crowd, firing shots everywhere, zombies just moving slowly in circles. Bullets ripped through the zombies hitting the living. They’d drop to the ground, dying and the zombies fell on them eating. All of the sudden blood splattered the camera and we heard the camera man “SHIT! Sarah! Sarah, are you okay?” as the camera fell to the ground pointing at the small hoard of zombie shambling towards the downed reporter.
I looked over to the others watching “Why am I not surprised.” They shrugged almost in unison as I got up to turn on the 360 “Who wants to play some Left 4 Dead 2?”
Sure, between a Gamestop and a Target in the mall, we had plenty of games to choose from, but why not play a zombie game during the zombie apocalypse? Yes, we are pretty screwed up in the head.
Two of us joined a group in the lobby and began killing the undead when one of the people of there headphones had said he’d be right back.
We heard a loud gunshot in the background just before he rejoined the game “Sorry guys, neighbor shot her husband while trying to kill a zombie. He wandered into my yard.”
Steven and I looked at each other and shrugged. I chimed in “So, what do you think the death toll from shooting is up to?”
One of the others replied through his mic “Why can’t those fucking idiots see the zombies are just scavengers?”
Steven looked at me “I say let them kill each other, gives us more zombies to shoot at and less people shooting at us.” I toasted my bottle of wine to him with a “hear hear!” as we left the safe room and started shooting pixelated zombies.
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Puddle Breakers
They walked down the street hand in hand, her umbrella doing nothing to keep the rain from pinking off his little yellow rain coat. It took all her luck to get him to wear the hat with it, she had to bribe him with candy.Her ankles became soaked without warning several times. It’s really impossible to get a kid his age not to jump in puddle of water.
She stopped at the edge of the sidewalk to make sure there wasn’t any traffic coming. His hand bolted out of hers. Startled, thinking he was about to run out into the traffic, she yelled “BRYAN!” She turned relieved to see him, face and hands, plastered against the toy store window.
He was staring at the new G.I. Joe action figures for sale. The sound of the splash and gasp didn’t even register to him. Bryan turned “Mom! Mom! Mom! I...Mom?” Looking at him was a little girl about his age in a pink rain coat and hat like his. “Have you seen my mommy?” he asked her.
She looked at him like she didn’t know what he was talking about. “No, but there’s a puddle over there. Wanna splash it?” He nodded his excitement, as if that would be the funnest thing in the world. He ran over to it jumping as high as he could. Having his eyes closed, for the inevitable water that would go everywhere, he didn’t see the screaming reflection banging as hard as she could against the puddle. He landed with a giant splash, sending red water everywhere.
He turned back around to give the girl a huge grin showing her his great accomplishment, but she was gone. He turned again to call out for his mother. Her body lay there, bloodied and broken, against the curb. He fell down at her, shaking the corpse “Mommy! Mommy! Wake up! MOMMY!” he began to cry.
*drip*
*drip.....drip*
*drip...drip...drip*
The sound echoed in the dank apartment. Bryan had tried to find one on the ground floor or somewhere on the second or third floor, but his landlord only had one place open and it had a leaky roof. The clock on the nightstand was blinking 12:00 A.M. from the brown out earlier. The wind could be heard whipping through the alley way just outside his window. But it was the sounds of rain that had him cowering under his pillow and sheets.
He’d tried Psychiatrists, Psychologists, drugs, everything to forget that horrid night his mother had died. Sure, he could still get by, but doing anything having to deal with water was tough. As a kid it was practically impossible to bathe. He finally managed to get over that aspect, but the rain still made him revert to that little child trying to wake his mother.
He tossed and turned trying to block out the sounds of the drips with the cotton pillow, tears streaming down his face. He couldn’t take it anymore, he turned and sat up. Placing his feet on the floor his eyes widened and he could not move at all, fear petrified him as the water dampened his socks.
The sound of a familiar voice broke through the silence, a voice that should have frightened him, but instead comforted him. “Do you want to leave this fear behind, never have to worry about the water again?”
She stood there, unchanged by the decade that had passed since the accident, pink raincoat and hat just as he remembered it. None of this clicked as it should have, he just wanted to get rid of that which ailed him. All he could do was nod.
She grabbed his hands and they sank into the puddle. A darkness where there would be no more fear. Just the prey above.
She stopped at the edge of the sidewalk to make sure there wasn’t any traffic coming. His hand bolted out of hers. Startled, thinking he was about to run out into the traffic, she yelled “BRYAN!” She turned relieved to see him, face and hands, plastered against the toy store window.
He was staring at the new G.I. Joe action figures for sale. The sound of the splash and gasp didn’t even register to him. Bryan turned “Mom! Mom! Mom! I...Mom?” Looking at him was a little girl about his age in a pink rain coat and hat like his. “Have you seen my mommy?” he asked her.
She looked at him like she didn’t know what he was talking about. “No, but there’s a puddle over there. Wanna splash it?” He nodded his excitement, as if that would be the funnest thing in the world. He ran over to it jumping as high as he could. Having his eyes closed, for the inevitable water that would go everywhere, he didn’t see the screaming reflection banging as hard as she could against the puddle. He landed with a giant splash, sending red water everywhere.
He turned back around to give the girl a huge grin showing her his great accomplishment, but she was gone. He turned again to call out for his mother. Her body lay there, bloodied and broken, against the curb. He fell down at her, shaking the corpse “Mommy! Mommy! Wake up! MOMMY!” he began to cry.
*drip*
*drip.....drip*
*drip...drip...drip*
The sound echoed in the dank apartment. Bryan had tried to find one on the ground floor or somewhere on the second or third floor, but his landlord only had one place open and it had a leaky roof. The clock on the nightstand was blinking 12:00 A.M. from the brown out earlier. The wind could be heard whipping through the alley way just outside his window. But it was the sounds of rain that had him cowering under his pillow and sheets.
He’d tried Psychiatrists, Psychologists, drugs, everything to forget that horrid night his mother had died. Sure, he could still get by, but doing anything having to deal with water was tough. As a kid it was practically impossible to bathe. He finally managed to get over that aspect, but the rain still made him revert to that little child trying to wake his mother.
He tossed and turned trying to block out the sounds of the drips with the cotton pillow, tears streaming down his face. He couldn’t take it anymore, he turned and sat up. Placing his feet on the floor his eyes widened and he could not move at all, fear petrified him as the water dampened his socks.
The sound of a familiar voice broke through the silence, a voice that should have frightened him, but instead comforted him. “Do you want to leave this fear behind, never have to worry about the water again?”
She stood there, unchanged by the decade that had passed since the accident, pink raincoat and hat just as he remembered it. None of this clicked as it should have, he just wanted to get rid of that which ailed him. All he could do was nod.
She grabbed his hands and they sank into the puddle. A darkness where there would be no more fear. Just the prey above.
Viral n - Dreams of a Better Time
The little blond haired boy jumped out of bed. He scanned the clock, it read March 18, 2212 8:02 A.M. His eyes brightened as he ran into the bathroom, threw his clothes into the sanitizer and hopped in the shower. He placed his hand on the tile in the center of the wall under the faucet. The door closed with a hiss and the shower started pouring out the water at the temperature he liked. He was so excited, and the shower couldn’t be over fast enough. The water finally shut off and the ceiling and back wall dryers turned on, dried him for a full minute to get all the water back into the drain, and then the door opened again. He ran over to the sink popped a Colgate pill in his mouth and swished a mouth full of water. Turning around, he placed a hand on the screen. The temperature for the day was displayed along with a number of outfits. He picked his favorite one and waited for it to come out of the processor.
A few minutes later he bolted down to the kitchen where his mother was waiting with his favorite breakfast. The omelette was completely artificial. Every thing now was made without killing animals. The ham tasted great, the eggs were soft, and the cheese…the cheese tasted amazing.
“Keith, slow down or you’ll choke to death before you get your presents” his mom chided.
His eyes went really wide and he slowed down. He took a drink of juice and almost choked on it.
His mom chuckled, “wrong pipe?”
He nodded while coughing. The juice was a pineapple flavor today. Finally finishing, he placed his plate, cup, and utensils in the dissolver. Seconds later the materials they were made of were transferred to the dish rack where they reformed perfectly clean. He put them away in the cupboard and ran to the living area of the apartment.
Sitting on the floor beside a large trunk, the boy’s father had the biggest grin on his face. “You’re ten seconds slower that last year, Keith” his father laughed.
The child wasn’t listening he was already trying to open the trunk. “What is it? What did you get me? Is it something from Greatest Grandad’s collection?”
His father bopped him on the head “slow down a minute.” Keith straightened up and sat back against the couch. “Now, what do you say?”
The boy looked at his father with the most serious look a ten year old boy could “I promise to take care of these items for as long as I live. I cross my heart and hope to die if I let any harm come to them.”
His father patted him on the head and smiled to his wife. The boy could tell that his father was just as excited about this as he was. “So, what do you think it is this year?”
The boy sat there for a moment thinking about everything he knew of his greatest granddad. He looked up quickly “Is it books?”
His father smirked and placed a finger on the front pad of the trunk. He opened it slowly and couldn’t believe his eyes. The look on his face could have lit the entire city of Georgia.
Scanning the pile inside the trunk “there’s at least thirty books!” He hopped up almost tackling his father in a hug. “Thank you father!” He hopped up and ran and gave his mother a huge hug as well. “Thank you mother!”
He got up and started dragging the chest to his room to unload his presents. He back into the two Sers that had come to help him. “No, leave, I’ve got it” he griped while waving one hand and trying straining to hold the trunk up with the other.
He finally made it back to his room and immediately started placing the books in stacks according to genre. He wasn’t at all surprised when he got finished and found that all but one book were either science Fiction or fantasy. All of the science fiction and fantasy books seemed to be regularly published books for that time. He looked over at the lone book that seemed handwritten. Flipping through it he found it to be a book that listed names. Each section had the title of a book before it. He looked down at the title he stopped on and read “A Terrible Tragedy and New Beginnings.” The first name under the title caught his attention “Reavyn – A troubled Paladin seeking to avenge his parent’s deaths.” He’d read about Paladins and loved everything he could get his hands on about them. He grabbed the antique wooden sword he had gotten for his last birthday and jumped on the bed. “I’ll avenge you my parents!” He said while pointing the sword at the ceiling. He quickly slid off the bed and searched through the books until he came upon the book with the same title. Half an hour later the words became bleary and he started nodding off to sleep.
A few minutes later he bolted down to the kitchen where his mother was waiting with his favorite breakfast. The omelette was completely artificial. Every thing now was made without killing animals. The ham tasted great, the eggs were soft, and the cheese…the cheese tasted amazing.
“Keith, slow down or you’ll choke to death before you get your presents” his mom chided.
His eyes went really wide and he slowed down. He took a drink of juice and almost choked on it.
His mom chuckled, “wrong pipe?”
He nodded while coughing. The juice was a pineapple flavor today. Finally finishing, he placed his plate, cup, and utensils in the dissolver. Seconds later the materials they were made of were transferred to the dish rack where they reformed perfectly clean. He put them away in the cupboard and ran to the living area of the apartment.
Sitting on the floor beside a large trunk, the boy’s father had the biggest grin on his face. “You’re ten seconds slower that last year, Keith” his father laughed.
The child wasn’t listening he was already trying to open the trunk. “What is it? What did you get me? Is it something from Greatest Grandad’s collection?”
His father bopped him on the head “slow down a minute.” Keith straightened up and sat back against the couch. “Now, what do you say?”
The boy looked at his father with the most serious look a ten year old boy could “I promise to take care of these items for as long as I live. I cross my heart and hope to die if I let any harm come to them.”
His father patted him on the head and smiled to his wife. The boy could tell that his father was just as excited about this as he was. “So, what do you think it is this year?”
The boy sat there for a moment thinking about everything he knew of his greatest granddad. He looked up quickly “Is it books?”
His father smirked and placed a finger on the front pad of the trunk. He opened it slowly and couldn’t believe his eyes. The look on his face could have lit the entire city of Georgia.
Scanning the pile inside the trunk “there’s at least thirty books!” He hopped up almost tackling his father in a hug. “Thank you father!” He hopped up and ran and gave his mother a huge hug as well. “Thank you mother!”
He got up and started dragging the chest to his room to unload his presents. He back into the two Sers that had come to help him. “No, leave, I’ve got it” he griped while waving one hand and trying straining to hold the trunk up with the other.
He finally made it back to his room and immediately started placing the books in stacks according to genre. He wasn’t at all surprised when he got finished and found that all but one book were either science Fiction or fantasy. All of the science fiction and fantasy books seemed to be regularly published books for that time. He looked over at the lone book that seemed handwritten. Flipping through it he found it to be a book that listed names. Each section had the title of a book before it. He looked down at the title he stopped on and read “A Terrible Tragedy and New Beginnings.” The first name under the title caught his attention “Reavyn – A troubled Paladin seeking to avenge his parent’s deaths.” He’d read about Paladins and loved everything he could get his hands on about them. He grabbed the antique wooden sword he had gotten for his last birthday and jumped on the bed. “I’ll avenge you my parents!” He said while pointing the sword at the ceiling. He quickly slid off the bed and searched through the books until he came upon the book with the same title. Half an hour later the words became bleary and he started nodding off to sleep.
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