"Now that I have accepted the reality of your existence, will you show yourself?" David asked. It had been nearly three months since his 'visitor' had taken to keeping him company.
"I still don't think you are ready," she laughed.
"What if I promise not to freak out or anything, not that I think that anything could freak me out now."
"If you behave yourself, then maybe."
David was still not one hundred percent certain that he wasn't crazy, but he was fairly sure."
She sighed, "remember how I told you that I had been wanting to touch you for a long time?"
David remembered back to that day when she had touched him, how it had brought back so many memories, and feelings. "Yes," he said hesitantly.
"Well that was not strictly true."
David waited for her to continue.
"It was true that I had wanted to touch you for a long time, but I didn't tell you how much I had missed touching you."
"Missed touching..." David began with a puzzled expression.
"David," the voice said hesitantly, as if afraid.
David suddenly recognized the intonation of his name, and everything clicked into place. The teasing, the smack to the back of the head, the way that he felt when she ran her fingers through his hair.
"Ari?" He asked, half in shock, half in hope.
The voice didn't say anything.
"Please Ari, if that's you, please, please, show yourself to me," David said frantically as he looked around for the source of her voice, now certain that it was her.
David sat stunned as his love appeared before his eyes; there but not really there. She was biting her lip in the way he knew all to well, "Hey Dave," she whispered.
David jumped up and ran towards her with his arms outstretched, "Ari!"
Ariana shook her head, "I can only touch you at certain times," she said as he passed through her.
David turned to look at her, his heart in his eyes, "why? Why did you have to leave me?" he asked brokenly, longing to touch the woman he loved, his had outstretched to caress her face.
"I never left you. Never," she said, "but you needed protection. You have a great work to do in life. You still need to do that, and I will be here with you to the end."
"Will we be together when it's all over?" David asked.
"I promise."
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Friday, January 15, 2010
Not Forbidden
"You know, you are starting to creep me out," David said. He knew no one was there, but he knew that she could hear him; that she was there. He had finally decided that the spirit, or whatever it was, was a woman.
"Why is that?" the voice asked after a moment of silence.
"You know me too well, as if you have always been watching me."
"Maybe I have."
"No. I remember. You said that you had been watching me for years, not from the beginning."
David caught a sigh coming from the spirit. "Can you show yourself?" David asked.
"I can. But I won't," the spirit said.
"Why not?"
"You're not ready for that."
"But you can smack me around?"
"Of course I can. Physical contact is not forbidden."
David nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt ghostly fingers being run through his hair, felt them on his neck at the collar of his shirt. He felt one finger tracing a line across his cheekbone, and another cupping his face. David felt his breath hitch in his throat and tears start in his eyes, the touch bringing back sensations and long suppressed memories.
David quickly stepped away for the contact, not sure if that would help. "Please," he whispered, "don't do that."
"But I have wanted to for a long time," the spirit whispered
"Who are you?" David asked.
"Now that is forbidden," the spirit said wistfully, "you'll have to discover that one on your own."
"How am I to do that?"
"Look to the stars...."
(not sure if these are really convoluted or if you are following where I am leading. ;))
"Why is that?" the voice asked after a moment of silence.
"You know me too well, as if you have always been watching me."
"Maybe I have."
"No. I remember. You said that you had been watching me for years, not from the beginning."
David caught a sigh coming from the spirit. "Can you show yourself?" David asked.
"I can. But I won't," the spirit said.
"Why not?"
"You're not ready for that."
"But you can smack me around?"
"Of course I can. Physical contact is not forbidden."
David nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt ghostly fingers being run through his hair, felt them on his neck at the collar of his shirt. He felt one finger tracing a line across his cheekbone, and another cupping his face. David felt his breath hitch in his throat and tears start in his eyes, the touch bringing back sensations and long suppressed memories.
David quickly stepped away for the contact, not sure if that would help. "Please," he whispered, "don't do that."
"But I have wanted to for a long time," the spirit whispered
"Who are you?" David asked.
"Now that is forbidden," the spirit said wistfully, "you'll have to discover that one on your own."
"How am I to do that?"
"Look to the stars...."
(not sure if these are really convoluted or if you are following where I am leading. ;))
The Choir
Cody wasn’t sure what to think of Kyle, who had somehow become the voice of Gabriel. Gabriel meant warrior of God and was, according to Bible tradition, the general of the heavenly host that had driven Lucifer and the fallen out of Heaven. When Cody first heard that Gabriel had a singer, he’d imagined that the legendary Kyle was some tall, blond, all-American handsome boy next door who played football but likely looked ridiculously good in medieval armor.
Kyle was none of those things. He was tall and child-slender with narrow shoulders and sharp cheekbones. In fact, he looked like a male version of Snow White, all pale skin and dark hair and what Elise called (either admiringly or derisively, Cody could never tell) a “pretty red mouth.”
Most of the Seraph-voiced (‘singers’ according to the Angels, ‘companions’ according to the clergy, ‘choirboys’ on the street) managed to stay hidden in the general population, passing off their skills as quirks, mental illness, or dramatic pretension. Even though Kyle didn’t looked much like a warrior, he wielded Gabriel like a warhammer, and wherever Kyle deigned to stay, vigilantism followed. Cody honestly couldn’t figure out how the police hadn’t cottoned on to the crime rate patterns that hailed Gabriel and Kyle’s arrival, but then the police had gotten lazy once the government stumbled across the Listeners.
Elise drove into the heart of the city, navigating the maze of one-way streets like a pro. Cody’s mother, who worked at a law firm downtown, still cursed and got confused by the one-way streets. Elise parked her car outside a nondescript little Lutheran church and then got out, beckoned for the boys to follow her. She didn’t bother to put any coins in the meter. Marsh followed her up the stairs to the church. Cody sighed and put some quarters into the meter, then brought up the rear.
Elise eased open the door and slipped inside, and the boys followed her example.
Marsh paused, stuck out one foot, and Cody almost tripped over it. He caught himself on the back of a pew and straightened up, scowled.
And then he stared. What had looked like a little Lutheran church on the outside was actually an abandoned gothic cathedral on the inside. Pigeons fluttered between the buttresses and beams, and rats scurried through the debris scattered across the floor. After a moment, Cody could sense the buzzing of power, see the Hebrew letters sketched into the walls and floors.
So this was why Gabriel answered to Kyle. Kyle had mastered the Alphabet.
“I found them,” Elise called toward the rafters. “None too soon - the Feds had a Listener posted at the school.”
“Listeners are the least of our problems,” someone said, and Cody saw Kyle shimmer into being on one of the upper balconies.
Gabriel stood behind him, radiant in silver armor.
“Welcome to the Choir,” Kyle said.
(487 words)
Kyle was none of those things. He was tall and child-slender with narrow shoulders and sharp cheekbones. In fact, he looked like a male version of Snow White, all pale skin and dark hair and what Elise called (either admiringly or derisively, Cody could never tell) a “pretty red mouth.”
Most of the Seraph-voiced (‘singers’ according to the Angels, ‘companions’ according to the clergy, ‘choirboys’ on the street) managed to stay hidden in the general population, passing off their skills as quirks, mental illness, or dramatic pretension. Even though Kyle didn’t looked much like a warrior, he wielded Gabriel like a warhammer, and wherever Kyle deigned to stay, vigilantism followed. Cody honestly couldn’t figure out how the police hadn’t cottoned on to the crime rate patterns that hailed Gabriel and Kyle’s arrival, but then the police had gotten lazy once the government stumbled across the Listeners.
Elise drove into the heart of the city, navigating the maze of one-way streets like a pro. Cody’s mother, who worked at a law firm downtown, still cursed and got confused by the one-way streets. Elise parked her car outside a nondescript little Lutheran church and then got out, beckoned for the boys to follow her. She didn’t bother to put any coins in the meter. Marsh followed her up the stairs to the church. Cody sighed and put some quarters into the meter, then brought up the rear.
Elise eased open the door and slipped inside, and the boys followed her example.
Marsh paused, stuck out one foot, and Cody almost tripped over it. He caught himself on the back of a pew and straightened up, scowled.
And then he stared. What had looked like a little Lutheran church on the outside was actually an abandoned gothic cathedral on the inside. Pigeons fluttered between the buttresses and beams, and rats scurried through the debris scattered across the floor. After a moment, Cody could sense the buzzing of power, see the Hebrew letters sketched into the walls and floors.
So this was why Gabriel answered to Kyle. Kyle had mastered the Alphabet.
“I found them,” Elise called toward the rafters. “None too soon - the Feds had a Listener posted at the school.”
“Listeners are the least of our problems,” someone said, and Cody saw Kyle shimmer into being on one of the upper balconies.
Gabriel stood behind him, radiant in silver armor.
“Welcome to the Choir,” Kyle said.
(487 words)
Thursday, January 14, 2010
The Listeners
No one liked to acknowledged the fact that Angels existed. When the first stirrings had crept across the Internet, on underground radio stations, the atheists and agnostics had rallied, insisting that it was some sort of Fundamentalist Christian propaganda, backlash as a result of the big Supreme Court decision construing the Establishment Clause of the First Amendment once and for all.
The first generation of Seraph-voiced hadn’t been able to handle their gifts, and the world discovered that, no matter what religions held sway, Angels were real, and their power was formidable. When the government had to intervene, round up the mad men and women whose power had broken their sanity, society was forced to admit, through gritted teeth, that Angels existed, and there were some mere mortals who could talk to them - and use them. Control them, no. Use them, yes.
While the government scrambled quietly to find a way to deal with the Angel issue, society did what it did best - turned its nose up and pretended not to notice that anything was different.
And then they appeared - the Listeners. Ones who could hear angels but not see them, not talk to them or use them. They lingered in the corners of offices and police stations, in court rooms and restaurants, keeping an ear out to help maintain law and order. It was a little harder to walk in oblivion when the Listeners were there, a constant buzz in the background, seeking out Seraph-voiced and their angelic companions.
When a Listener stepped into Cody and Marsh’s ninth grade English classroom, the cheerful, pre-bell din died. Everyone stared as the Listener - a small, nondescript woman with mousy brown hair - perched on a stool in the corner and smiled benignly. Mrs. Larson cleared her throat and did her best to keep the students’ attention on her, but they kept looking at the Listener, wondering who among them was Seraph-voiced.
Cody and Marsh kept their heads down and their Angels silent while they pondered the overrated tragedy that was Romeo & Juliet.
They supposed they shouldn’t have been surprised when Elise was waiting for them after school, sitting on the hood of her car, guitar across her knee.
“What’s going on?” Cody asked.
“Get in the car,” Elise said. “Kyle’s waiting for us.”
Marsh’s heart leapt into his throat. Kyle was Gabriel’s companion.
(395 words)
The first generation of Seraph-voiced hadn’t been able to handle their gifts, and the world discovered that, no matter what religions held sway, Angels were real, and their power was formidable. When the government had to intervene, round up the mad men and women whose power had broken their sanity, society was forced to admit, through gritted teeth, that Angels existed, and there were some mere mortals who could talk to them - and use them. Control them, no. Use them, yes.
While the government scrambled quietly to find a way to deal with the Angel issue, society did what it did best - turned its nose up and pretended not to notice that anything was different.
And then they appeared - the Listeners. Ones who could hear angels but not see them, not talk to them or use them. They lingered in the corners of offices and police stations, in court rooms and restaurants, keeping an ear out to help maintain law and order. It was a little harder to walk in oblivion when the Listeners were there, a constant buzz in the background, seeking out Seraph-voiced and their angelic companions.
When a Listener stepped into Cody and Marsh’s ninth grade English classroom, the cheerful, pre-bell din died. Everyone stared as the Listener - a small, nondescript woman with mousy brown hair - perched on a stool in the corner and smiled benignly. Mrs. Larson cleared her throat and did her best to keep the students’ attention on her, but they kept looking at the Listener, wondering who among them was Seraph-voiced.
Cody and Marsh kept their heads down and their Angels silent while they pondered the overrated tragedy that was Romeo & Juliet.
They supposed they shouldn’t have been surprised when Elise was waiting for them after school, sitting on the hood of her car, guitar across her knee.
“What’s going on?” Cody asked.
“Get in the car,” Elise said. “Kyle’s waiting for us.”
Marsh’s heart leapt into his throat. Kyle was Gabriel’s companion.
(395 words)
What Do You Want?
"Alright!" David said in exasperation, "what is it you want and why do you keep kitting me in the back of the head?" David backed up against a wall, "I mean thanks for saving my life and all, but really, you need to just tell me what you want. Why won't you leave me alone?"
"Because you're not listening!" an exasperated voice whispered in his ear.
"What am I not listening to?" David asked, not sure if he should be talking to himself.
"You're not listening to me. I've been trying to get your attention for years. I've been protecting you for years. You just never knew it."
"Well I'm certainly listening now. What is it you want?"
"I want you to be safe and happy."
David sighed, "neither is possible for me. My work precludes the first, and events in the past eliminate the second."
David felt another tap to the back of his head.
"Will you knock it off!"
"No," the voice said as it faded into the night.
"Because you're not listening!" an exasperated voice whispered in his ear.
"What am I not listening to?" David asked, not sure if he should be talking to himself.
"You're not listening to me. I've been trying to get your attention for years. I've been protecting you for years. You just never knew it."
"Well I'm certainly listening now. What is it you want?"
"I want you to be safe and happy."
David sighed, "neither is possible for me. My work precludes the first, and events in the past eliminate the second."
David felt another tap to the back of his head.
"Will you knock it off!"
"No," the voice said as it faded into the night.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Going Crazy
"Steve, I'm worried I'm going crazy," David said as he stopped in his friends room.
Steve looked up from the report he was typing; green eyes staring thoughtfully at his commander through a pair of silver frames glasses, his slightly shaggy blond hair falling across his brow.
Steve slowly closed his laptop and turned his full attention to his friend. "What makes you say that?" he asked as he gestured at the bed, inviting David to sit down.
"I don't know. I suppose a lot of little things that have been happening lately. Like during the last skirmish, I felt hands on my head pull me out of the way of a bullet, but no one was around. I felt a hand on my arm, making me pause just as a car came careening around the corner. And just now, I was thinking on the past, and I felt someone smack me on the back of the head," David said.
Steve slowly removed his glasses and examined them. David recognized this gesture. Steve was deep in thought.
Steve eventually replaced his glasses on his nose and looked at David, "perhaps someone is trying to get your attention."
"Oh Steve, not you too. Don't tell me you believe in all that spirit stuff," David said as he rolled his eyes.
Steve shrugged, "it's just a suggestion."
David sighed in exasperation, but jerked forward when he felt a solid whack to his head. David reached up and massaged the spot and looked around.
"Steve, do you see anyone in here besides the two of us?"
"No sir."
"But..."
"Maybe you just need to be open to the idea of something you can't explain, and then an answer will find you sir."
"Open to the idea. I guess I could give it a try if it will restore my sanity."
Steve looked up from the report he was typing; green eyes staring thoughtfully at his commander through a pair of silver frames glasses, his slightly shaggy blond hair falling across his brow.
Steve slowly closed his laptop and turned his full attention to his friend. "What makes you say that?" he asked as he gestured at the bed, inviting David to sit down.
"I don't know. I suppose a lot of little things that have been happening lately. Like during the last skirmish, I felt hands on my head pull me out of the way of a bullet, but no one was around. I felt a hand on my arm, making me pause just as a car came careening around the corner. And just now, I was thinking on the past, and I felt someone smack me on the back of the head," David said.
Steve slowly removed his glasses and examined them. David recognized this gesture. Steve was deep in thought.
Steve eventually replaced his glasses on his nose and looked at David, "perhaps someone is trying to get your attention."
"Oh Steve, not you too. Don't tell me you believe in all that spirit stuff," David said as he rolled his eyes.
Steve shrugged, "it's just a suggestion."
David sighed in exasperation, but jerked forward when he felt a solid whack to his head. David reached up and massaged the spot and looked around.
"Steve, do you see anyone in here besides the two of us?"
"No sir."
"But..."
"Maybe you just need to be open to the idea of something you can't explain, and then an answer will find you sir."
"Open to the idea. I guess I could give it a try if it will restore my sanity."
Marsh and Tabris
Marsh tipped his fedora back and winked at the pretty blonde girl leaning on the railing of the front steps.
“Hey pretty lady, wanna take a chance, make a few bucks?” He reached into his jacket pocket and drew out a deck of cards, a pair of dice. “We could do three card monty, five card draw, or maybe a little --” he rattled the dice -- “Vegas?”
She laughed, the sound musical and delicate. “What, you peddle gambling? In the middle of the school yard?”
Marsh slid closer, eased an arm around her shoulders. “If you’re looking for something a little more long-term, I can peddle you some medieval fantasy, or, if you’re into the Twilight thing, vampires.” He opened one hand with a flourish and offered up a sparkly ten-sided die.
“You’re a funny kid, Marshall Harris,” she said. “If you weren’t such a freak, I might even ask you out sometime. But you know what everyone says about you, don’t you?”
Marsh knew exactly what they said, but he smiled at her innocently, widened his eyes. “No, I don’t. What do they say?”
“They say you talk to yourself, that you’re crazy, and also, that you’re a cheat at those games.” The girl pulled away.
Marsh threw his head back and laughed. “I don’t cheat, but I don’t really have to.” He tossed the dice up, caught them midair.
“But you win obscene amounts of money from the older boys.” The girl arched an eyebrow. “No one’s that lucky.”
Marsh tipped his fedora back down and winked again. “Maybe I’m just touched by an angel.”
The girl huffed, disbelieving. “A devil, more like it.”
Marsh licked his fingertips, traced the back of one of his trick cards. The girl turned away and headed up the stairs toward the other cheerleaders, and she didn’t see a pair of wings unfurl from behind Marsh, didn’t see the slender redhead who leaned his chin on Marsh’s shoulder and sighed.
“One day you’re going to have to do something useful with your talent,” Tabris said.
“Has that day come yet?”
“Would I tell you if it had?”
“The odds are pretty good, I think.” Marsh cut the deck with one hand, fanned them neatly. “Hey Tabris, pick a card, any card.” He ignored the students who streamed past him and stared, aghast, at the boy who looked like he was talking to himself.
(402 words)
“Hey pretty lady, wanna take a chance, make a few bucks?” He reached into his jacket pocket and drew out a deck of cards, a pair of dice. “We could do three card monty, five card draw, or maybe a little --” he rattled the dice -- “Vegas?”
She laughed, the sound musical and delicate. “What, you peddle gambling? In the middle of the school yard?”
Marsh slid closer, eased an arm around her shoulders. “If you’re looking for something a little more long-term, I can peddle you some medieval fantasy, or, if you’re into the Twilight thing, vampires.” He opened one hand with a flourish and offered up a sparkly ten-sided die.
“You’re a funny kid, Marshall Harris,” she said. “If you weren’t such a freak, I might even ask you out sometime. But you know what everyone says about you, don’t you?”
Marsh knew exactly what they said, but he smiled at her innocently, widened his eyes. “No, I don’t. What do they say?”
“They say you talk to yourself, that you’re crazy, and also, that you’re a cheat at those games.” The girl pulled away.
Marsh threw his head back and laughed. “I don’t cheat, but I don’t really have to.” He tossed the dice up, caught them midair.
“But you win obscene amounts of money from the older boys.” The girl arched an eyebrow. “No one’s that lucky.”
Marsh tipped his fedora back down and winked again. “Maybe I’m just touched by an angel.”
The girl huffed, disbelieving. “A devil, more like it.”
Marsh licked his fingertips, traced the back of one of his trick cards. The girl turned away and headed up the stairs toward the other cheerleaders, and she didn’t see a pair of wings unfurl from behind Marsh, didn’t see the slender redhead who leaned his chin on Marsh’s shoulder and sighed.
“One day you’re going to have to do something useful with your talent,” Tabris said.
“Has that day come yet?”
“Would I tell you if it had?”
“The odds are pretty good, I think.” Marsh cut the deck with one hand, fanned them neatly. “Hey Tabris, pick a card, any card.” He ignored the students who streamed past him and stared, aghast, at the boy who looked like he was talking to himself.
(402 words)
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Elise and Israfel
“So you got it.” Elise nodded at the receipt crumpled in Cody’s fist. It bore the date, time stamp, and address of a convenience store on 24th and Lake. If the news was anything to go by, someone got shot outside of that store at least once a week.
Cody pushed his glasses up his nose and nodded, jammed the receipt into his pocket. “Yeah. They’ll leave me alone now.”
“You probably should’ve made a better attempt at going incognito, you know,” Elise said. She lit a cigarette, took a deep drag.
Cody pawed at his bruised cheekbone, abashed. He’d made it almost all the way back to Dodge without incident before he’d hit an unexpected patch of light and Asrael’s protection had vanished. A couple of boys from Central High had rolled him for some of his lunch money. Too bad Cody spent more on lunch in one day than those boys spent in a week.
“I hope you know you’re a walking cliché,” he said. He eyed Elise up and down where she was perched on a tombstone, smoking a cigarette, a guitar dangling from her other hand.
“What kind of cliché?”
“The Courtney Love kind.”
Elise snorted indelicately and tossed her head. “Oh please. Are you even old enough to really know who she is?”
“I keep company with the Angel of Death,” Cody said flatly. “Wanna know what Kurt Cobain sounded like after he died?”
“You’re just bitter you didn’t get the fun angel.” Elise stubbed out her cigarette and spit on her fingertips, traced a few idle Hebrew letters on the granite of her tombstone perch, and then angel on the tombstone behind her stirred, came to life.
It unfurled its wings and stretched, tossed its head, and when it lifted its head, parted the curtain of platinum blond hair, Cody saw that it was male. Most likely. Angels were distressingly androgynous.
“Hey, Israfel,” he said.
Israfel lifted one languid hand and pushed his hair out of his face. “Hello, Nicodemus.” He stepped off the grave and crossed the grass, his feet not quite touching the ground. He stood behind Elise. “What did you need?”
“How about a little heavenly harmony?” Elise asked.
Israfel sighed and lifted his hands, and a guitar materialized from the twilight shadows. “Someday you’ll have to find a non-frivolous use for your gift.”
“One day I’m sure you’ll tell me about one,” Elise said, and drop-tuned her guitar.
Cody huffed and cast Israfel a sympathetic look. “I’m sure if you read your Bible, you’d remember how the walls of Jericho came down.”
(434 words)
Cody pushed his glasses up his nose and nodded, jammed the receipt into his pocket. “Yeah. They’ll leave me alone now.”
“You probably should’ve made a better attempt at going incognito, you know,” Elise said. She lit a cigarette, took a deep drag.
Cody pawed at his bruised cheekbone, abashed. He’d made it almost all the way back to Dodge without incident before he’d hit an unexpected patch of light and Asrael’s protection had vanished. A couple of boys from Central High had rolled him for some of his lunch money. Too bad Cody spent more on lunch in one day than those boys spent in a week.
“I hope you know you’re a walking cliché,” he said. He eyed Elise up and down where she was perched on a tombstone, smoking a cigarette, a guitar dangling from her other hand.
“What kind of cliché?”
“The Courtney Love kind.”
Elise snorted indelicately and tossed her head. “Oh please. Are you even old enough to really know who she is?”
“I keep company with the Angel of Death,” Cody said flatly. “Wanna know what Kurt Cobain sounded like after he died?”
“You’re just bitter you didn’t get the fun angel.” Elise stubbed out her cigarette and spit on her fingertips, traced a few idle Hebrew letters on the granite of her tombstone perch, and then angel on the tombstone behind her stirred, came to life.
It unfurled its wings and stretched, tossed its head, and when it lifted its head, parted the curtain of platinum blond hair, Cody saw that it was male. Most likely. Angels were distressingly androgynous.
“Hey, Israfel,” he said.
Israfel lifted one languid hand and pushed his hair out of his face. “Hello, Nicodemus.” He stepped off the grave and crossed the grass, his feet not quite touching the ground. He stood behind Elise. “What did you need?”
“How about a little heavenly harmony?” Elise asked.
Israfel sighed and lifted his hands, and a guitar materialized from the twilight shadows. “Someday you’ll have to find a non-frivolous use for your gift.”
“One day I’m sure you’ll tell me about one,” Elise said, and drop-tuned her guitar.
Cody huffed and cast Israfel a sympathetic look. “I’m sure if you read your Bible, you’d remember how the walls of Jericho came down.”
(434 words)
Over Tired
David felt his head being jerked back, as if two hands had grasped the sides of his head and pulled, bare seconds before a bullet passed through the same space his head had been occupying. A slight shift brought his gun to bear on the figure to his right and he pulled the trigger with precision accuracy, felling the last enemy soldier.
In the silence that followed the brief but intense battle, David checked in on his men. All reported clear of danger and all enemies eliminated.
David looked around but didn't see any friendlies in his area, only the corpses of the enemy and a few fallen comrades.
Confused at the sensation he had felt, David rubbed his eyes in exhaustion.
"I must be over tired," he thought to himself as he went to find his men in the labyrinth of rooms and corridors.
In the silence that followed the brief but intense battle, David checked in on his men. All reported clear of danger and all enemies eliminated.
David looked around but didn't see any friendlies in his area, only the corpses of the enemy and a few fallen comrades.
Confused at the sensation he had felt, David rubbed his eyes in exhaustion.
"I must be over tired," he thought to himself as he went to find his men in the labyrinth of rooms and corridors.
Monday, January 11, 2010
Cody and Asrael
Cody had heard things about the North side of Omaha, but a dare was a dare, and he could make it from Dodge to Lake without getting hurt. He was sure of it. He wouldn’t tell the others how he was sure, but he was, and when he showed up at school the next day with proof of his victory, they would have to stop harassing him in the locker room and giving him swirlies.
He pushed his glasses higher on his nose, tucked his hands into his jacket pockets, and started walking.
He was just passing Burt Street when he sensed it, two people on his tail. He did just like in the movies and paused to check his reflection in a shop window, and he saw them, two teenagers dressed in heavy parkas, beanies pulled low over their brows. In retrospect, Cody probably shouldn’t have been wearing his school uniform, because he looked decidedly out of place and an obvious target to boot, but he wasn’t afraid. Not yet, anyway.
He could still see shadows crawling along the edges of the pavement, places where people had died. A little girl in the crossfire of a gang shoot. An old man mowed down by a drunk driver. A middle-aged woman who had a heart attack for no reason. These streets were riddled with death, no better or worse than the streets where Cody lived out west, but there was more energy here.
Just when Cody sensed the two boys getting too close, he knelt and made like he was tying his shoelaces. He sketched a few letters in Hebrew in the snow, spat on his fingertips for life-ink. Any moment now, the boys would be upon them.
Just in time to see a shadow clad in red unfurl its wings and wield its flaming sword.
“Don’t you think this is a bit overdone, Nicodemus?” Asrael asked.
“You don’t have to take their souls,” Cody said. “Just keep them off my back until I get what I need.”
“You know, Seraph-voiced are rare and precious souls. Most don’t use their gift for such petty pursuits.” Asrael swung the sword a few times anyway, and the two thugs scattered.
No one else on the street saw what they saw.
“Yes, well, you refuse to stop the bullies at school, so I’m taking matters into my own hands,” Cody said matter-of-factly. He pushed his glasses up his nose and watched his would-be attackers beat a hasty retreat.
“They’ll be back, possibly with more friends,” Asrael said.
Cody nodded. “I know. Until then, I’ll just keep walking.”
Asrael sighed and melted into the shadows, but not without a faint, “I’ll be here if you need me.”
(459 words)
He pushed his glasses higher on his nose, tucked his hands into his jacket pockets, and started walking.
He was just passing Burt Street when he sensed it, two people on his tail. He did just like in the movies and paused to check his reflection in a shop window, and he saw them, two teenagers dressed in heavy parkas, beanies pulled low over their brows. In retrospect, Cody probably shouldn’t have been wearing his school uniform, because he looked decidedly out of place and an obvious target to boot, but he wasn’t afraid. Not yet, anyway.
He could still see shadows crawling along the edges of the pavement, places where people had died. A little girl in the crossfire of a gang shoot. An old man mowed down by a drunk driver. A middle-aged woman who had a heart attack for no reason. These streets were riddled with death, no better or worse than the streets where Cody lived out west, but there was more energy here.
Just when Cody sensed the two boys getting too close, he knelt and made like he was tying his shoelaces. He sketched a few letters in Hebrew in the snow, spat on his fingertips for life-ink. Any moment now, the boys would be upon them.
Just in time to see a shadow clad in red unfurl its wings and wield its flaming sword.
“Don’t you think this is a bit overdone, Nicodemus?” Asrael asked.
“You don’t have to take their souls,” Cody said. “Just keep them off my back until I get what I need.”
“You know, Seraph-voiced are rare and precious souls. Most don’t use their gift for such petty pursuits.” Asrael swung the sword a few times anyway, and the two thugs scattered.
No one else on the street saw what they saw.
“Yes, well, you refuse to stop the bullies at school, so I’m taking matters into my own hands,” Cody said matter-of-factly. He pushed his glasses up his nose and watched his would-be attackers beat a hasty retreat.
“They’ll be back, possibly with more friends,” Asrael said.
Cody nodded. “I know. Until then, I’ll just keep walking.”
Asrael sighed and melted into the shadows, but not without a faint, “I’ll be here if you need me.”
(459 words)
Stopped Believing
"So what you're telling me is that everyone has a guardian spirit? A magic being that looks out for you? Protects you?" David asked with sarcasm.
John didn't bat an eyelash at the younger mans scorn, "yes. That's what I'm saying."
David snorted in derision as he continued to clean his M16, "so why is it that nobody seems to know of these spirits? Whey is there no evidence that they exist."
"Believe what you want," John said, "but it's true."
"Then where was her spirit?" David spat out in anger, "where was this great being when she was being killed? HUH?" David's voice was rising, "Where was this all powerful spirit and why didn't it save her?"
John looked at David calmly, "those that have eyes to see," he said quietly. "You can't see God, but people still believe he is there.
David looked away, almost in shame, "I stopped believing in him a long time ago too. Just like your fairies and spirits, unicorns and pots of gold at the rainbows end."
"Those days are long dead," David said as he turned to go.
(okay, so this week will be non cannon and it will probably encompass David's realization that there is in fact magic in the world.)
John didn't bat an eyelash at the younger mans scorn, "yes. That's what I'm saying."
David snorted in derision as he continued to clean his M16, "so why is it that nobody seems to know of these spirits? Whey is there no evidence that they exist."
"Believe what you want," John said, "but it's true."
"Then where was her spirit?" David spat out in anger, "where was this great being when she was being killed? HUH?" David's voice was rising, "Where was this all powerful spirit and why didn't it save her?"
John looked at David calmly, "those that have eyes to see," he said quietly. "You can't see God, but people still believe he is there.
David looked away, almost in shame, "I stopped believing in him a long time ago too. Just like your fairies and spirits, unicorns and pots of gold at the rainbows end."
"Those days are long dead," David said as he turned to go.
(okay, so this week will be non cannon and it will probably encompass David's realization that there is in fact magic in the world.)
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Project #55: Urban Fantasy
I like genre challenges and I think there should be more of them. If you could sketch an urban fantasy world in six days, what would it be like? Would there be fairies who run the computers? Or shadow knights who stalk the sewers? Who would be normal and mundane, and what would set the fantastical people apart? What city would have unspoken secrets that open with a smear of blood or the whisper of a rune? Give it a shot. 100-500 words. Good luck in the new semester!
Overview #54: Dancing
So I totally slacked off on all kinds of writing over the holidays. Nevertheless, it was fun to write about dancing, especially so I could get back into touch with who danced and what kind of dancing they did. Also, I just love dancing, so it was fun to picture happy scenes with people dancing. It was interesting to learn that, even though all of the boys in Sector Five are capable of dancing, not all of them even like to dance. I don't know that what I wrote was always substantive toward plot or character, but I enjoy finding new ways to explore characters. Here's to more steady writing in the coming semester!
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