Ceramic DM - Spring 2005 (Late Bloomer) - We have a winner.

You know, for a screename like Speaker, there sure is a lot of quietude here. We have one competitor struggling to get a story out. I mean, Berandor is practically begging for a Mythago-style smackdown in the middle of the story. But Speaker remains quiet. Either Speaker expresses more wisdom than I ever did and can stay away from refreshing the thread, or Speaker is just a lot more compassionate for Berandor.

Admittedly, there hasn't been much smack between Rangerwickett and reveal either.

I miss the good natured taunting.

BardStephenFox said:

You know, for a screename like Speaker, there sure is a lot of quietude here. We have one competitor struggling to get a story out. I mean, Berandor is practically begging for a Mythago-style smackdown in the middle of the story. But Speaker remains quiet. Either Speaker expresses more wisdom than I ever did and can stay away from refreshing the thread, or Speaker is just a lot more compassionate for Berandor.

Admittedly, there hasn't been much smack between Rangerwickett and reveal either.

I miss the good natured taunting.

Click to expand...

I won. Why speak ill of the defeated?

Plus if I do start talking smack, I will definitely lose. So I keep my mouth shut.

BardStephenFox said:

You know, for a screename like Speaker, there sure is a lot of quietude here. We have one competitor struggling to get a story out. I mean, Berandor is practically begging for a Mythago-style smackdown in the middle of the story.

Click to expand...

Too late! Too frigging late!

I am just now making final changes on this bitchy bastard of a story, and then I'll send it off without farewell or tears. I defeated the beast!

Of course, now I'm really, really tired.

Ceramic DM Spring 2005 (Really, really late bloomer)
Round 2: Speaker vs. Berandor

Cold Fish

Druids don’t steal.

People have strange ideas, often deeply rooted in prejudices and stereotypes. To them, a druid is someone who sleeps in the woods, derives nourishment from berries, roots and creeks, and generally lives in balance with nature.

That’s all well and good, until you factor in the Industrial Revolution. Druids are masters of the wild, and man doesn’t allow woods to grow wild and unchecked anymore. Wild animals are hunted, wild crops uprooted. Cities are the new woods.

Me, I don’t even like nature. It’s hard enough for me to read a human; how am I supposed to know what a squirrel is thinking? When my motorcycle is hungry, the gas meter shows it. When a bear is hungry, it tries to eat me. I know what I prefer – despite the rising gas price.

And that’s only part of it. Try living in the city without paying rent, for example by sleeping in a park. The cops will wake you up in the middle of the night and demand you leave, often after a solid beating. And not a lot of people will give you food for free, either. So a druid does what he has to do. And stealing is just so much fun.

I still shouldn’t have set my sights so high. Of course, it’s a little too late for regrets. I should have listened to my instincts right at the beginning, when that darned cat approached me.

Did I mention I hate animals?


Part 1: The Set-Up

»Dale Shepherd?«

»That’s what it says on the door.«

The woman nodded. Her eyes were hidden behind mirrored sunglasses, and she wore a black suit. A wire connected her ear to a hidden receiver like an electronic umbilical cord. She was, in short, a typical bodyguard. Upon hearing my confirmation, she deliberately scanned the room before putting a short-nailed and manicured finger to her wired ear.

»Clear.«

That’s when I was getting impatient. It seemed like such a ridiculous show of money and power that I wondered whether I was in a bad movie. Still, being somewhat on the lacking side of money and power, I chose to play along, and instead of conjuring a gust of wind to push the woman out of my office I just summoned a flame to my thumb and lit a cigarette. I sat in my chair and looked at the woman. She stared back like a robot, hiding behind those mirrored glasses. I gave her my best poker face in return.

Finally I heard the elevator’s bell ring, and its doors open. I focused my attention on the entrance to my office. In walked the ugliest cat I’ve ever seen. It was almost hairless, its patchy fur only half covering its body. To make matters worse, it wore a grotesque hat, a rose-colored something garnished with gold and a slit for the cat’s left ear.

I was too surprised to comment on this freak show outfit, however. I knew the cat. It was Mr. Meowth. The Mister Meowth. A decade ago, this little kitten – then cute and cuddly, now crude and cranky – had conquered the world of cat food as the model and spokesperson for Whiskeys. Now, thanks to smart stock investments and what some claimed were more than shady business practices, it was one of the three wealthiest animals in the western hemisphere. And with a quick hop, it sat right in front of me on my office desk.

»Pleased to meet you, Mr. Shepherd,« Meowth said. »I am in need of your service.«

I smoked silently for a moment. »Listen,« I finally said, »I don’t know what you’ve heard about me, but I don’t work for animals.«

»And that is precisely why I have need of you, Mr. Shepherd.« I started to speak up, but Meowth interrupted me with a sharp look from its slit-pupilled eyes. »Now why don’t we pretend you protested, I didn’t care, you pointed to your business ethics, I pointed out your ethics are for sale, you said they were expensive, and I agreed to pay five times what you normally ask from a client. Would that be fine?«

For a moment I sat stunned at Meowth’s arrogance. I was of a mind to throw him out right there as I was filled with a dislike I normally only reserve for my ex-wife. But I had to pay my ex, whereas this guy promised real money. And if I had two flaws, they were vindictiveness and greed.

»Five times normal?« Meowth said nothing. I put the cigarette out and smiled. »For that kind of money, I’m your dog, Mr. M.«

Meowth regarded me with cold eyes. “I will keep you on a short leash, Mr. Shepherd.« Its voice was icy, and for a moment I could glimpse behind the mask of social veneer, see how calculating, cruel, and mean Meowth really was, and I almost called the deal off. I remained quiet, though, and then it was too late.


Part 2: Hook, Line, and Sinker

I entered my office and closed the door behind me, slinking against its frame and breathing heavily. Sweat covered me from head to toe, and I was too scared to turn on the lights. I couldn’t stay here, shouldn’t have even returned here. Still, I needed a moment to come to my senses, grab what I needed, and then plot my revenge.

Meowth had set me up. My “job” had been to break into the Whiskeys office and steal some pictures they were keeping on the cat, leverage to keep it from selling the factory. Meowth had provided me with access codes, and the watchdogs were no problem for a druid. But when I entered the CEO’s office – where the pictures were supposedly waiting for me in a safe behind a painting of Meowth itself – I found said CEO lying dead in a pool of his own blood. That’s when the alarm went off.

After two seconds of expletives and five more of rapid thinking, I knew I was screwed. The only chance I had was getting out of the building before the police arrived. I don’t know how, but I made it. I reached my motorcycle just before the police reached the entrance, and got away. All the way home, I saw the security camera point its red eye at me, and I could imagine Meowth sitting in front of the monitor, zooming in on my face and cackling evilly. Could cats cackle? In my imagination, they could.

-

I sat slumped against my office door. After I had calmed down a little, I lit myself a cigarette. Inhaling the smoke helped me clear my thoughts. My best bet was to leave the city and go into hiding. But then the cat would have won. With each pull on the cigarette, I became angrier, as if the cigarette was made of hate and not tobacco. I’d go into hiding, all right, but first I’d get even.

I packed what I needed to take with me and burned what files I didn’t need, and then I made a phone call.

»Seaside Travel,« a husky voice answered.

»Hey Madison, it’s Dale.«

»Dale.« She didn’t sound happy to hear my voice, understandable considering our latest outfall. »What do you want?«

»I need to see you, Maddie.«

»I don’t want to see you, though.«

»Look, Maddie, I’m so-«

»Don’t tell me you’re sorry. We both know you’re not.« She sighed. »How much?«

»Pardon me?«

»How much is in it for me?«

»Twenty just to meet me. We’ll see about the rest then.«

»Fifty.«

I gritted my teeth, close to hanging up on her. Then I thought about Meowth, cackling evilly and languidly licking itself. »Fifty it is.«

»Thirty minutes, the usual place. Don’t be late.«

»Bye,« I said, but she’d hung up already.

-

The usual work for a druid is taking tourists on a hiking trip, finding runaway pets, or smooth-talking angry flowers. The profitable work is smuggling rare fauna (and flora), and if you know whom to ask (me, for example), breaking and entering. However, tourists expect a druid to lead them anywhere they want, and sometimes air travel or the main entrance to a building is just too dangerous. Never having perfected the art of shape-changing myself, I realized early on that I needed help for aquatic endeavors.

Madison was almost perfect for my needs. Being a mermaid, she couldn’t leave the water, so I didn’t have to be afraid of her taking my jobs away from me. She didn’t think much of going topless, either, which always meant extra money from male tourists, even if their wives protested. And most importantly, she didn’t care whether a job was legal or not.

Still, she was a mermaid, and I was neither willing to trust her farther than I could spit, nor did I particularly like working with her. Seeing her – admittedly attractive – female torso reminded me all the more of the fish tail keeping her afloat. I liked her well enough, but I hated her kind, and sometimes I voiced my opinion.

The last time we’d worked together had been a few weeks ago. After the tourists had left, she looked at me with those green eyes of hers and smiled, casting a web of seduction intended to snag me off my feet and into the ocean.

»Let’s go for a midnight swim,« she said.

»Do I look like an eel to you? Do I smell like fish?« I answered, and that was that.

So now I had to give her fifty dollars just to have her show up. But if I wanted to get even with the cat, I had no choice. And I wanted to get even, desperately so.

We met at our usual meeting place, at the end of a breakwater reaching out into the bay like a giant tongue lapping at the water. In the moonlight, Madison’s skin glowed pearly-white, and her eyes sparkled like emeralds. I handed her the money, and she stowed it away in one of those waterproof envelopes of hers.

»All right, here I am. What do you want?«

»You know how you told me there was an underwater entrance to Meowth’s estate?«

»That was six months ago. You didn’t want to hear about it.«

»Like you said, that was six months ago. Things have changed. Did you tell anybody else?«

»No.« She smiled. »I knew you’d come around. So what do you want to steal? The hat? Stocks?«

»Meowth itself.«

She looked at me for a moment, and then broke out laughing.

»Stop it,« I said. »I’m being serious.«

»That’s what I find so funny. And I’m not going to help you.«

»Why not?«

»Because I don’t want to help you kill yourself.«

»You don’t understand,« I said, and then I told her what happened, and of my plan to drug Mr. Meowth while it slept and kidnap it. It felt good telling somebody, and a little bit of my anger faded away during my tale. She was quiet afterwards. I sat on the rough, wet stone, waiting for her to break the silence, listening to the sea and watching the moonlight on her skin.

»It’s not going to work,« she finally said.

»What?«

»Taking him.« Whereas I refused to call animals by their gender, Madison had no such qualms, probably since she was half fish herself. »You’re not going to surprise a cat, asleep or not.«

»You’re probably right,« I admitted. »But setting me up was a mistake, and it needs to understand that.«

»So what about stealing his hat? It’s been all over the news how much it’s worth, how it’s custom made, and so on. They even incorporated it into the company logo. Imagine the uproar if the hat was stolen. The Flipper Estate would pounce on the news as if Meowth had been caught eating tuna.«

I had to give it to her that it sounded good. »I guess it could work,« I said.

»It will work,« she emphasized, and won me over.

»All right. Tell me where the entrance is.«

»I’ll do even more. I’ll give you a waterproof envelope to transport the hat, but I want a fair share. Fifty percent.«

»You know I can’t sell the hat for a long time, maybe never.«

»I can wait,« she said. »Sooner or later you will sell it, even if you sell it back to Meowth.«

I considered her offer. It seemed fair, and I really wanted to pay the feline back. »Done.«

She handed me an envelope. »Enter the old steam tunnels beneath BSU. From there on, you need to dive for about two miles, then past a narrow gate, and you’re in. Meowth’s villa is built on old catacombs. He kept them intact because of the rats. Meowth likes to hunt them. There’s a map in the envelope.«

»Thank you,« I said and turned around to leave.

»Dale?« she called me back.

»Yeah?«

»Don’t try to betray me.«

»Don’t you,« I retorted. Madison just laughed, and disappeared into the dark water. I held the envelope in my hands. I had a plan. I had a map. It was time to pay the cat a visit.


Part 3: The Sting

Ball State was almost right across the river from the mansion, so the swim wasn’t as bad as I had feared. Still, I was glad for my whaleskin clothes keeping the cold water out, and I knew the leathery fabric would dry quickly as soon as I was out of the river. Madison’s map led me to a rusty grate standing partway open, and after swimming for a few more yards, I ended up in a shallow pool in the corner of a big vault.

I climbed out of the murky water and looked around. My night vision spell was still active from the steam tunnels. Black and white forms danced before my eyes, and it took a while before I understood it was just the shadow of a huge fan set into the wall. The vault was empty otherwise, reminding me more of a movie set than an actual place. I could not believe I was beneath the mansion of one of the wealthiest living beings on earth.

A small staircase led up, and I ascended the stairs, stopping in front of a closed and electronically locked steel door. I whispered a spell and my right hand tingled. It was a spell of my own design, and now my index finger was coated with acid, the middle finger was charged with electricity, the ring finger could produce water, and the little finger a tiny welding flame. The thumb held a potent sleep poison, but I wouldn’t need that here. It only took a few moments until I had overridden the security files and unlocked the door.

Behind the door was the milk cellar, where bottles from all around the world were kept in just the right temperature and climate to keep them fresh. Out of spite, I turned the temperature control a few degrees up before taking the stairs to the ground floor. At the top of the stairs, I cast another spell that would clad me in darkness, and then I slipped out the door.

»Did you hear something?«

»Hrm. Probably just a cat.« The guards laughed. Both were female, just like the bodyguard had been, and again I was reminded of the deviousness of Meowth’s plan. I did not work for animals, and it only employed women. Nobody would believe me when I told him or her I had been set up. But I’d show it not to mess with Dale Shepherd.

The guards were sitting in the kitchen, each with a cup of coffee in front of them. The cellar door opened to a small hallway between the kitchen and the living room, so I turned that way. My night vision showed me a luxurious chaise longue with scratch marks on its wooden feet, a warm fireplace with coals still smoldering in it, and a signed “Aristocats” poster on the wall. I crept forward and into the central hallway. A large wooden stairwell led up to the first floor. The cat lift fastened to the railing was waiting for me as I reached the top of the stairs.

Meowth had to be upstairs, as well, but I wasn’t looking for it anymore. I was looking for the bathroom. Much had been made of Meowth refurnishing the bath as a safe, secured by technology and magic. That’s where he would keep his money. That’s where he would keep his hat.

The bathroom was easy to find. Every door had a cat’s door in it, except for one. I searched for the opening mechanism. I had to remind myself to look in a cat’s shoulder height before I found it: a retina scanner. I smiled. I had never really been fascinated with changing my shape into an animal’s; I had been more interested in changing miniscule features of myself. You know, fingerprints, skin color, and the like. Sadly, druids were not capable of imitating human shapes, so most of what I wanted to do was right out. All I managed was animal features, for example giving myself leopard skin. Or cat eyes.

I changed my eyes with a moment's concentration. I saw my surroundings like a cat would. I hated that perspective; it was like looking through a fish bowl. Now, everybody knows cats don’t have fingerprints, but what most people don’t realize is that they also lack unique retinas. They’re all the same. The only way to identify a cat is to analyze its fur. Fortunately, the bathroom/safe door wasn’t secured with a fur scanner, probably because Meowth’s fur was falling out.

After I had transformed my eyes, all I had to do was crouch. I put my right eye directly in front of the scanner, and a moment later the door unlocked. I entered the bathroom and closed the door behind me.

»Phew,« I whistled. Even in night vision, the room in front of me was impressive. A three feet high stone pedestal rose up from the floor. Two stairwells led up to it; one on my side of the room, the other connecting three more doors to it on the opposite side. One of these doors led to Meowth’s bedroom, I surmised, the other two I had no idea. The floor around the pedestal was made from pressure sensitive fabric – obvious from the many pressure points visible even in night vision.

The floor didn’t concern me, as it was easy to circumvent. The guardian monsters were much more frightening. Their backs had been melded into the stone of the pedestal, and their hot breaths had turned the pressure floor around them to polished marble. My heart beat faster in fear, just as my mind reeled at the cost of permanently binding a dozen gorgons to this place. Even now, green fumes started to waft from their noses. I had to work fast.

First, I turned on the lights. The gorgons had to be able to see me. Then, I dropped the darkness spell around me. Finally, I called a small whirlwind around me. It would hopefully protect me from the gorgons’ petrification breath, if push came to shove, but I didn’t want to risk it or their alarm cries.

»Shhh,« I said, holding my hands out in a calming gesture. I stared the closest gorgon in the eyes, hoping they were capable of communicating among themselves. I could not possibly stare down a dozen gorgons simultaneously. »Quiet, friend. Calm and quiet.«

The gorgon held its breath. I could see fumes gathering around its maw, and I knew it was ready to turn me to stone. But it waited. I had its attention.

»I come to free you,« I said. »I will loose your bounds, so you may run again.« Now I had all the gorgons’ attention. I closed my eyes, and then I met my gorgon’s gaze again and smiled. »That’s right. I will free you.«

The fumes disappeared from their noses, and the gorgons pawed the ground restlessly.

»Shh,« I said again, hushing them. »Just be quiet, stand up straight, and let the magic do its work.« The gorgons straightened out. I could see the longing in their eyes, the dreams of an endless steppe that must have tormented them every night. With trembling hands, I pulled a handful of pebbles out of my pocket. I murmured the words to a spell, and the pebbles – twelve in all – turned into little globs of flesh. I could feel the magic rushing out to the gorgons, taking hold in them, changing them as well. Only with them, it was the other way round. I forced myself to look into one gorgon’s eyes as it changed, see the panic as it understood what was happening, happening too quick to punish me for my betrayal. I saw desperation, then hate, and then I looked into the empty eyes of a statue. I had turned the gorgons to stone, but I could not smile at the irony.

I took a few deep breaths, and then I looked around the room for some way to open the safe. I found a simple pressure plate and pushed it. There was a hiss from the pedestal, and then the column in the center of it started to disappear into the ceiling, lifting the lid off the safe.

As the underside of the lid became visible, I started whistling Beethoven’s Ode to Joy. Ever since having seen it in a movie, I just had to accompany opening a safe by it. A lamp was built into the lid, and as it receded upwards, it looked like a normal part of the ceiling. I could not help but admire my work. The gorgons were petrified, the safe was open, and the pressure floor had been turned off easily. I had done it.

With a few steps, I was on top of the pedestal and looked down into the safe. There were a bundle of stocks, a few pieces of jeweled toys like a plastic ball with a golden bell in it, and a black mahogany box. I grabbed the box and carefully pried it open. The inside was laid out in ret satin. Meowth’s hat had been carefully bedded on the satin, but the other item in the box made my heart jump even more. It was a tiny, cat-sized hearing aid. Mr. Meowth was deaf.

I slipped the hat into Madison’s envelope and held the hearing aid in my fingers. My mind told me to just run for it, but my instincts wanted more. They wanted revenge.

I went back and closed the safe again, turned off the lights, and renewed my darkness spell. One of the three doors opposite me led to Meowth’s bedroom, I was sure of it. I couldn’t just walk out now. Not after I had come so far.

I made my way over to the doors and quietly opened the first one. The floor was covered in some sort of grains, and it took a while until I understood I was looking at a room-sized litter box. The next door led to a small room. An old-fashioned film-projector stood close to the door, and a white screen hung from the opposite wall. Glancing at the film roll, I could make out the title written on it. The rumors were true: Meowth had bought the sole copy of the Tom-and-Jerry special, the one where Tom won.

On to the last door. I should have known it would come to the last door; that’s the way things work, isn’t it? I opened the door, and it swung back to reveal a big bedroom. A plush carpet stifled my steps as I made my way over to the double bed dominating the chamber. Right in the middle of it lay a sleeping Mr. Meowth.

I have to admit my heart raced at this moment. I expected the cat to wake up any time, guards to come crashing into the room, even the gorgons to turn to flesh again and attack me. Still, with trembling hands, I cast my favorite spell, reached out to Meowth, and touched it with my thumb. It shook once, and then it lay like dead, comatosely asleep.

I lifted the cat up. It was even lighter than I would have guessed. I studied its face, marveling at its ugliness, and then I stuffed it into the front of my jacket. Now I really had to get out, and quickly so.

I made my way back to the wine cellar without interruption. The guards hadn’t been in the kitchen anymore. I should have been more careful. But I felt the hat in its envelope in my pocket, and I felt the abominable cat slumbering peacefully against my breast. I almost giggled, so giddy was I, and I got careless.

»Halt!« a voice said as I ran the stairs down from the wine cellar. I froze. »Who are you?«

»I…« What was I supposed to say? Standing in front of me, the giant fan backlighting her features, was one of the guards. She was just as surprised to see me here as I was. »I’m the new gardener,« I said, hoping to confuse her even more.

»The-« She blinked, and then went for her stun gun. I started my spell when she was blinking; still, casting a spell is much more time-consuming than drawing a gun and shooting at a harmless thief and kidnapper standing in front of you, and you can’t fumble any words when shooting. What I mean to say is, she was faster than me.

Her gun came up and pointed right at me. She pulled the trigger as I was halfway through my incantation, and two tiny bolts flew towards me, ready to discharge a painful dose of electricity. The bolts lodged themselves deep into Mr. Meowth’s sleeping flesh, and if the cat woke up from the pain, it was sent back into sleep by the shock right afterwards.

The guard stared at me, disbelieving, wondering how I had withstood her weapon – and maybe why I smelled of burned cat. I grabbed opportunity by the horns and finished my spell. The guard resisted, but unsuccessfully. Her body began to contort. She dropped the weapon and shook her head in dizziness and pain. Her hair grew longer – and thornier. Her skin hardened. It took no longer than a breath’s time, and then I stood in front of a guard-sized willow tree.

I rushed past the guardian willow and into the shallow pool of water. Calling upon the whirlwind I had summoned in the bathroom, I asked it to surround me and my feline passenger with air, promising it freedom as soon as we would reach the steam tunnels. It obliged, and contrary to what happened with the gorgons, this time I kept my promise.


Part 4: Aftermath

As soon as I stepped out of the university building, I knew something had gone very, very wrong. It must have been the police cars waiting for me. I held the hat-filled envelope in my hand, my umbrella in the other.

»Hands up, Shepherd!« a policeman shouted. He pointed a gun at me, a real gun, and he was just one out of half a dozen cops to do so.

»You are arrested for the murder of Harry Yeller, CEO of Whiskeys Animal Food, and for breaking into the Meowth mansion. Drop the umbrella and come peacefully with us.«

I smiled and pulled down the zipper on my jacket. Just a little, enough so they could see the cat’s head. »Now what would Mr. Meowth say if you shot me?« I wondered. »I’m sure it’d be stunned.«

»Don’t shoot!« the cop called out to his colleagues immediately. »He’s got the cat!«

Languidly, I opened my umbrella and held it over my head. »I didn’t kill Mr. Yeller,« I said. »The cat set me up.«

I knew they wouldn’t believe a word I was saying, but I had to get it off my chest, anyway. Then I summoned a fresh wind, and after a little leap, it carried me up into the sky. The policemen stared after me, too afraid to shoot, and I thought I had gotten away for good.

I was drifting fifty feet above the river when I realized I still held the envelope in my hands. Before I could put it away, it began to hum and twitch and huff, as if breathing.

»Oh no, she wouldn’t,« I said to myself, when I already knew she would. Just then, the envelope sucked in a mouthful of air and blew itself into a little ball. The sudden change broke my grip on it and, still thrumming, the ball fell down towards the river. Just as it was about to hit the surface, Madison came out of the water, held her hands up, and caught the ball as tenderly as she would catch a soap bubble. Then she was gone again. For a moment, I was terribly angry with her, but it didn’t last long. After all, I still had the cat. The hat was nothing to me. Where I was going, I wouldn’t be able to sell it, anyway.

With a shrug, I turned my umbrella to the west.

-

Of course, they got me. I wouldn’t be talking to you if they hadn’t. Oh, don’t look at me like that. You asked me why I was in here. I know it sounds a little far-fetched, but it’s true.

I’m still a little annoyed the mermaid tricked me. Now I know why cats eat fish – the fish don’t deserve any better. Anyway, they found me hiding in Yellowstone a few weeks ago. I guess the police have their own druids and rangers, of the kind that don’t hate nature like I do. I’ve been waiting for my trial ever since. I’ll plead “not guilty”, of course. Doesn’t everybody?

What happened to Mr. Meowth? They found parts of it when they caught me. I know it was foolish to keep them around, but you know what they say:

A cat that good, you don’t eat all at once.

There you go, and good riddance!

[sblock]By the way, this is the first story I ever wrote (aside from a short 1,000-word character piece) in first person perspective. Maybe that's what gave me the head-aches.

ETA: Of course, I already found some mistakes and inconsistencies. Argh! Now off to bed (it's 2 am). [/sblock]

I am slain.

If I weren't knocked flat by the photos, I'd have hit the floor pretty darn hard by that story.

Looking forward to the rest . . .

I just looked at the second set of pics...

Thank you, BSF, for putting me in the first match. These picctures are all very evocative, but I'm not sure they evoke a consistent narrative. Wow. Great pics, anyhow. I'm looking forward to see what RangerWickett and reveal do with it.

Now, I know Eeralai has asked me about it, and maybe somebody else is interested, so here's what I had in mind for the continuing saga of Cassandra Morgan:
[sblock]Part of the problem of using these ideas, I'm sad to say, resulted from the long time between photos. I had too much time to think about the next story, so I had a narrative pretty firmly in my mind. This left not a lot of wriggle room for the pictures to fit in.

Second Round:Tentative title: Exorcism. The story starts with Cassandra in a mental institution or prison. Her mother visits her and tells her how to get rid of the wind magic. Cassandra doesn't want to be a wind witch anymore, as she blames herself for Sharon's death. (Her mother tells her the trampoline jumps were Sharon's heartbeat, anyway, so all she did was convince Sharon to let go). Cassie mind-travles to a cliff, where she expels the wind from her - all but the most capricious storms, which choose their own welcome and farewell. In the real world, it seems as if Cassie tried to commit suicide. Jump to a few months later. Cassie lives across from a playground, continually watching children jumping on trampolines. She's not well. Strange things start to happen (cue picture use). It turns out that Sharon's spirit has appeared to her husband, and together they have come for revenge. Sharon's spirit is capabale of fire magic, and Cassie hands herself over. She thinks she deserves to die. In the end, though, something (?) happens that rekindles her will to live, and in her suffering she allows the storms inside her to take over. Anger and darkness take over, but Cassie is saved (Sharon's ghost is defeated and her husband dies in the fires). Now she blames the hospital staff for stopping her.

Final Round: Tentative title: The eye of the storm. Written from the perspective of Sharon's doctor. We learn he's had severe problems of coping with the way he acted that morning, fueled in part by his wife's decision to file for divorce, and in part by fear of losing a promotion. He's taken unpaid leave, and has traveled to a small desert motel to get himself sorted out. A storm draws closer, and in its wake, Cassandra Morgan enters the stage. While the storm rages outside, there's a calm and quiet menace in the motel itself, and bad things start to happen (cue photos). Finally, the doctor gets a letter from Cassie's mother, stating that a willing sacrifice might calm the storm inside her and bring balance to Cassie's soul. The doctor decides to be that sacrifice, his life in tatters anyway. He throws himself on a hoe (or similar object), but Cassie calls up wind to keep him afloat. "No!", she cries. "This is not yours to give." Then she pushes the doctor away and propels the hoe into her own body, impaling and killing herself. As the doctor stands over her, he sees she lies peacefully. The storm around the motel calms, and Cassie is lifted on a gentle breeze, and then she dies. A small whirwind escapes her mouth, dancing an arm's length away from the doctor. He understands its her magic, wind magic, and it's offering itself to him. Having just seen the power that would be at his fingertips, the doctor starts to reach out, but draws his hand back. He declines the offer, ending the story for good. End with doctor getting into his dust-covered car and a hopefully inspiring, tear-jerking and extremely powerful closing sentence. [/sblock]

Gift of Life

Ceramic DM Spring 2005 (Really, really late bloomer)
Round 2: Speaker vs. Berandor

Gift of Life

“Micheal. Micheal.” The voice, insistent, insipid, internal, eternal. Strange that the familiar might be made from something so strange, Micheal thought. Stranger still that all the events that had led to this place now seemed to rush back to him, as his consciousness teetered uncertainly, breathlessly, perhaps sometimes fading, sometimes spring back with its full force, the strength of sheer life seeking its own preservation – Micheal couldn’t tell, could barely feel his life pour away, as his memory reached back…

---------------------------------

It begun with the cat, of course. Cats know things. A mantra his friend, a strong rugged soul with a twinkle in his eye and a menagerie of animals to keep him company. Cats know things that we do not, they see beyond and this is what makes them so aloof, because they see those things which we all know are there. The shadow in the corner of the eye that moves of its own. The trick of the light that defies our expectations. And more grimly, the unseen attacks upon our mind that defeat so many and keep puzzled men in white coats, padding down hallways of padded rooms and barred windows, busy so.
And of course Micheal had wanted to know things as well. Perhaps a native want to all – to see things as they really are, not as they seem. No matter the cost, he had thought. No matter the cost, he had bought.
It had happened a lazy afternoon. The exact day didn’t matter, but he still remembered the rain. It had poured, streamed, sputtered the day through, and when Michael had returned home from the tedium of his job, returned home disgruntled, feeling hollow, wishing for more as so many do (except those who do see more, and wish they hadn’t) and that was when she had found him.
There in his bare living room, with its bar framed view of the city – this was the hard part of the town, where good men all lived behind bars in fear of the night – she stood, bending in a wind that did not exist, rooted in the earth that lay far below Micheal’s sorry apartment. A collection of branches jutted from her hair. How long before Micheal believed? It was too good to be true. She offered him the way, the path to see all that he had dreamed of, a gift given to few and offered freely to none. But that was why she was there. To offer him the ability to see things, to know things.

(Lady of Branches)

And finally, hardly waiting, he had said yes. Not listening to the cost, not listening to her as she spoke of duty and commitment and yes protection – none of that mattered, not when his eyes would clear and he would know! Or so he had thought. And the lady, she of many names and named only by the foolish and the careless, had bent her begrowthed head in the faded light of his barred apartment and suddenly the world was open to Micheal. He could see.
He had run out into the rain then, barely pausing for his umbrella. Ran free, down narrow streets and into something greater. Greater, yes, but also more dangerous then he could have imagined. The hook was always well hidden by the bait, lest the harvest be bare.

------------------------------

“Micheal. Micheal. Micheal!”
A rhythmic fading of mind and body, but then a wave of consciousness came to Micheal, and he was more aware then ever that his face was harsh against the cool floor and the blood warm on his side. He knew he should move, and the voice pressed him so, but he could not. Or perhaps he would not, too stubborn to rise, stubborn enough to die. Just to flaunt that voice.
But then the other voice came, stronger, harsher, and full of malice. “Ah. Micheal. We find ourselves at the end, my old friend.” And as Micheal vision finally swam to its fullest, he saw it before him, a collection of shadows, holding in a dark hand an orb, half filled with light and half filled with something that looked like water, but felt like something else. How had he found it, Micheal wondered as his strength and will seemed to slip way. Ah, yes…

-------------------------------

(Man in Rain)

So he had ran through the rain, jumping and leaping, because now that he could see the world was brighter, the sun seemingly stronger even as it fought to penetrate the clouds and bring an end to the storms conquest. And so he leapt and jumped with the joy of knowing. And all about him the world seemed full of strange and wonderful things, as he turned this way and that in his run. Over there something big and powerful swam through the cloudy sky. Here, a beggar was in fact robed in jewels, golden smile flashing in the rain. In a puddle he saw a tiny sylph, who paused in its revels to wave.
And then a harsher voice had broken his celebratory mood. Micheal's old friend of the cats, a strong rugged soul with a twinkle in his eye as he welcomed Micheal to his world. “Ah. Micheal. Cats know things, and I followed them here, Micheal. And now you have followed. Welcome to this world.”
And then he and Micheal embraced, and the man of cats had promised to show Micheal around. The twinkle in his eyes a mask, though Micheal could not have known it then.

----------------------

And now here the Man of Cats sat watching Micheal die. Sat on the floor, catlike, and every once in a while when Micheal was almost dead, when he had just about given up and let the loss of blood do its damage Micheal’s vision once again passed into another world, a third world which he had never seen before. The world of death.

(Cat in Hat)

And in this world the Man of Cats became himself unveiled, a cat with a jaunty hat placed precariously upon its head, and the sight would jerk Micheal unpleasantly back into the real world, horrible on some level not visual but inside, and so the Man of Cats teased Micheal, playing with his prey. But on the inside, a voice continued to beseech: “Micheal. Micheal.”

------------------------

“Micheal!” sang the warm voice, as Micheal wandered through the Museum. Time had now passed, and Micheal had begun to feel the hook. Always she summoned him, always he went. This task needed to be done, always important, always vital, and with time for relief in between, yes, but never enough.

(Stone Fountain)

And so now as Micheal had taken his time walking through the museum, come on her summons, he was unpleasantly reminded of his promise to serve. And there it was. A fountain, carved from stone with bulls all around. From Spain, perhaps. And as Micheal watched his vision meant that he could see the stone animals all straining, straining against the stone as if attempting to lift the fountain out of the floor. And from inside this fountain, the voice came. So Micheal went to it, and climbed the stairs that rose up its side. And he stared into the water, as the lady, herself nameless, now made half from blue water and half from kelp green, rose to greet him. “I have a gift for you, Micheal.” She said.

(Lady in Water)

He groaned inside. A gift? She had already given him a gift, and now it was a curse despite all that it allowed him to do. To see. But still he waited. And she rose from the water and gave to him a glass orb, letting it float above her fingertips, half filled with light and half filled with something that looked like water. And all too often now she would give him an item that he would have to take elsewhere, sometimes just to throw into a lake, or thicket, or to deliver to some fantastic beast or being. Always with the warning to deliver it exactly and never let another have it but the intended recipient.
“The gift of life.” The lady intoned. “A trap, perhaps. You find yourself enmeshed in a solemn burden to do as I desire. So much so that you have forgotten what you have and what you know. So take this, and perhaps later it will give you more. As always, this is your gift alone. Let none have it.”
Micheal took it, of course. But all he felt was relief that she had not sent him on another seemingly useless mission, had not co-opted him as a pawn for some strategy or game. Another delivery. So he took the orb, and walked back into the world.

-------------------------

Months passed. And after one particularly grueling mission, in which Micheal had been required to traverse the sewers in search of a small puck, only to have the trickster being steal his wallet as well as the package the lady had asked Micheal to deliver, the Man of Cats had come to Micheal. They had talked, and Micheal had brought up the orb and how he had been given it. And the Man of Cats asked to hold it.
Micheal, weary, feeling his grip on sanity fade by all the mind-numbing seemingly useless tasks of the Lady, had handed it over.
And then the Man of Cats had smiled, and before Micheal could move he felt himself being flung into a wall, then torn through with claw and blade, as the Man of Cats discarded his guise and prepared to make off with the orb, the Lady’s gift.

-------------------------

But before he left, he waited to watch Micheal die. Toying with his mind, tossing the orb from hand to hand in a carefree manner. And Micheal lay there dying. The lady had been right; he should not have given up his gift. The Man of Cats, Micheal realized now, had waited all along to waylay Micheal on one of his shipments, to steal something of the Lady’s. A power play Micheal was not privy to, but now saw gathering force.
But this was no ordinary package run, Micheal reminded himself. This was a gift, from the lady to him. And then he smiled, because he suddenly realized the nature of the gift. A trap she had said, and Micheal hadn’t heard, or had interpreted it wrong. A trap for her foes, and this Man of Cats was one of them.
And Micheal reached. Up, and up from where he lay, his hand moving faster then even the Man of Cats could imagine, knocking the ball away from its flight even as the deathly Cat tossed it from one hand to another. And it fell, smashing on the ground.
The Man of Cats wailed! For a moment Micheal saw back into the land of death, where a bright light had burst and water that was not water leapt from the broken orb to clasp the Cat in its embrace – the embrace of life in the world of death. And then the Man of Cats was no more. And the remaining life descended on Micheal, knitting his side and thoughts. Bringing him back into the world.

Micheal stood. He looked about him, at the colours his gift painted on a world that he now remembered had been drab before he could see. At the fantastic that surrounded him at every turn. And he walked away. Micheal knew things.

Ach, formating issues, always a pain (groan). But there it is.

I hoipe I do not offend with my silence - my name was a joke, of sorts, as I have lurked about the ENWorld boards for a long time now, saying little - I doubt any would remember the breif, brief time when I was active on the boards. With Ceramic DM, I have always hoped to give back a little bit of the creativity here that inspires me - whether I succeed or not, of course, is up for debate. But I hope ya'll will enjoy - and I am watching.

Cheers.

Ceramic DM Round 2 - RangerWickett versus reveal

"Jeremy, if you don’t hold up the sewing machine, I won’t be able to get the UPS truck in the background."

“Mom, do you have any idea how weird that sounds?” Jeremy asked, smiling and holding the wedding gift up a little higher.

“It’s no weirder then some of the things I’ve heard come out of your mouth, young man.” Jeremy’s mother held the camera up, focusing on her 16 year old son. She couldn’t help but feel proud of him, especially on the day of his big sisters wedding. “Now say cheese!”

That’s when the truck exploded.

-----------------------------------------

“Wake up, boy.”

The inside of Jeremy’s head was pounding so hard, he swore that if he kept track of the pulses his brain would actually be signaling SOS. The first slap had stirred him, but it was the second slap which caused him to open his eyes.

Bright light stung him and he had to open and close his eyes many times to keep from going blind. Two men were crouched in front of him. One man was wearing a top hat and was looking at him with a kind of fixated wonder. The second man had a weird grin on his face and raised his hand to slap Jeremy again. The man put his hand down as Jeremy started to sit up.

“Who-Who are you? Where am I?” Jeremy asked as the blood rushed away from his head. For a second, the two men where in black and white. After a few moments, however, color came back into the world.

The grinning man laughed and said, “I’m Zeke. This here is Geryon. What are you doing out here in the middle of nowhere?”

Jeremy slowly looked around. He was sitting in the middle of a field of grass, with no civilization in site. In the far distance he saw a large forest but, besides that, there was nothing but a sea of grass flowing in the wind.

“I don’t know,” Jeremy said as he slowly stood up. Zeke stuck an arm out and gave Jeremy some support. “The last thing I knew, my mom was taking a picture of me and…”

Jeremy’s eyes widened and his heart began to pump faster, pushing the blood back into his head.

“Mom? MOM?!” Jeremy looked around again and again, turning, trying to find any evidence that his mother still existed. “MOM!!!”

“It’s alright son, there’s no one here but us,” Zeke said softly. “It looks like you have a nasty bump on your head.”

Jeremy put his hand on his head where Zeke had pointed. He winced in pain as he felt a knot the size of a goose egg on the right side of his skull, just above his ear. He franticly continued looking around. He started to walk away from the two men when Zeke grasped him firmly.

“Hold on, son. I think you need to calm down and tell us what happened,” Zeke said quietly.

“I was… I was standing in front of my mom and she was taking a picture. We were at my sisters wedding and I was holding up one of her wedding gifts. There was this big UPS truck behind us-”

“You-Pee-Ess?” Zeke asked with a puzzled look on his face.

“Yeah, UPS. You know? ‘What can brown do for you?’” Jeremy explained. Zeke just shook his head.

“Anyway,” Jeremy continued, “So I’m standing there, getting my picture taken and the next thing I know there’s this loud sound and…”

Jeremy stopped. He now realized what the sound was. He had heard it in a lot of movies. It was an explosion. Somewhere behind them, an explosion had occurred. It was probably the truck. This probably meant that-

Jeremy stopped thinking and looked at Zeke. “Is this Heaven?”

Zeke, the puzzled look still on his face, said “Well, I’ve never heard of this ‘Heaven’ before, but if that’s what you think this place is, you’re wrong. This here is Thorgil. It’s an island right off the coast of Malebolge.”

“Malebolge?” Jeremy asked quizzically.

“Malebolge,” Zeke answered. His grin had come back. “Good thing we found you here. There ain’t many people who come walkin’ through this part of the island. Me and Geryon were doin’ some travelin’ and happened to pick this way to come home. If we hadn’t, the animals would’ve probably eaten you alive. One time, I was in them woods over there and this huge bear comes-”

“I think he wants to go home.”

Zeke stopped and both he and Jeremy looked at Geryon. This was the first time the man in the top hat had spoken.

“Isn’t that right, Jeremy?” Geryon finished this sentence with a sly grin.

Jeremy looked at him blankly, “How do you know my name?”

“I know a lot of things, Jeremy. I know you were born on the night of an eclipse. I know your mother always treated your distantly, even as an infant. I know you never felt like you ‘fit in’ when it came to school or family. And, Jeremy, I know how to get you home.”

Jeremy felt the bile rush up his throat and heard it splatter onto the ground next to him. The vomit steamed as it lay in the grass.

“How the hell do you know so much?” Jeremy asked as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Jeremy, Jeremy, Jeremy,” Geryon said as he put his arm around this young man’s shoulders. “Do you know anything about magic?”

“You mean the card game?” Jeremy asked.

“There’s a card game about magic?!” Geryon rolled his eyes at this silly notion. “No, not the card game; real magic.”

Jeremy shook his head, “I’ve only seen it in movies.”

“Watch then. See the pool of stomach acid you expelled onto the grass?”

Jeremy nodded.

“Look closely. Vocum Jruno!” Geryon waved his arms and Jeremy’s eyes widened to the size of saucers; the puke vanished! It looked like it had never even been there.

“How’d you do that?!” exclaimed Jeremy, forgetting completely about his current predicament and completely enthralled with the man in the top hat.

“Elementary magic, my dear boy. And that is how I know so much. I have studied. I have listened. I have learned everything I can in this place.”

“You mentioned something about getting me home,” Jeremy said as he quickly remembered where he was.

“Ah, yes. My home is just beyond that forest. If you wish, I can take you there. The answers you seek should be in my lab.”

“Let’s go then,” Jeremy said authoritatively and started walking towards the forest.

Zeke and Geryon smiled at one another and started to follow the child.

-----------------------------------------

The forest was like none that Jeremy had ever seen. It was extremely thick and heavily wooded.

“This must be what the States looked like before everything was torn down to make way for suburbs,” Jeremy thought to himself. He had taken a position behind Zeke, figuring that he knew the way through this place.

Jeremy was asking Geryon a lot of questions in rapid succession, scarcely pausing to breath. “So how long have you been studying magic? Was it hard? Did you have to go to school? What’s with the top hat? Is it like a wizards hat? I saw this cartoon once where this wizard used to pull all kinds of things out of his hat. Usually they weren’t useful things, but he would always pull the right thing out at exactly the right moment. Now what was that called? It started with a ‘D.’ Oh well, I’ll figure it out eventually. So how long-”

“Enough!” Geryon whispered harshly. “Jeremy, please, these woods are fraught with danger. We need to be careful or-”

“Or you’ll alert the animals that someone’s coming. Is that what you were going to say, Geryon?”

Everyone stopped and looked up in the direction of the new voice. What they saw surprised the hell out of Jeremy, to say the least; it was a tiny chicken carrying a tiny shotgun.

For a split second, Jeremy just stared at the small fowl. The next thing he knew, he was laughing maniacally at the gun-wielding bird.

“What the hell is that?!” Jeremy breathed between guffaws. “A baby chick with a shotgun?! I’ve heard of birdshot before, but this is ridiculous. What are you gonna do?! You don’t even have fingers?!”

“Why you little-” The sentry didn’t even finish his sentence before he pulled the trigger. A microsecond after he did, Jeremy stopped laughing; he was too busy screaming and holding on to the bloody piece of flesh that used to be his left ear. He dropped to the ground, kicking and screaming.

“Shut him up before I finish the job!” yelled the bird with the smoking gun.

Zeke quickly bent down and put his hand over Jeremy’s mouth. Muffled screeches were all anyone could now hear.

“Now, Geryon, what are you doing in our forest?” the bird asked as he trained his gun on the man in the top hat. “You know you’re not welcome here.”

“We were just passing through. This young man,” Geryon said as he gestured to the still-squirming Jeremy, “was lost in the fields outside of your forest. He does not know where he’s from or who he is. I would have simply skirted around your beautiful home, but this boy needs to find his family immediately. He is lost and frightened, now more than ever I’m sure.”

The bird thought about this for a moment and then lowered his gun.

“Can you help him?” the bird asked. “At the very least, shut him up?”

“Of course. Thank you, sir,” Geryon said as he bowed deeply. He bent down and positioned himself over Jeremy’s flailing body. “Hold still, son. This will only take a moment.”

Geryon waved his hands over the bloody stump of flesh and said the words “Curious Ectos.” Seconds later, the wet nub was replaced by a fully healed, and fully functional, ear. Jeremy stopped screaming immediately and reached up to grasp his newly formed ear. After he verified its existence, he removed Zeke’s hand from his mouth and stood up. He glared at the sentry but, wisely, didn’t say a word.

“Now, Geryon, it is time for the three of you to leave. I will escort you the rest of the way through our forest. But if I ever catch you in here again, I will make your head resemble that boys ear.”

Geryon humbly nodded and waited for the bird to lead the way. Jeremy tried to speak but Geryon just put a finger to his mouth. It was best to wait until they were out of the forest.

-----------------------------------------

Five yards outside of the forest, Jeremy turned around, put out his hand, and extended his middle finger in the direction of the bird that shot him. The sentry cocked his head, looked at him quizzically, and flew off back into the trees. Geryon and Zeke were also puzzled by the gesture.

“What are you doin’?” asked Zeke. He was mimicking Jeremy, trying to figure out what he was missing.

“I’m flipping him off. You know, ‘giving him the bird?’” Jeremy half-heartedly chuckled at the irony and lowered his hand. “It doesn’t matter, let’s get going. How much further?”

“Not far,” said Geryon as Zeke continued to hold out his hand. Zeke was now using other fingers to ‘give him the bird.’ “About an hours walk will take us to the shoreline. We’ll stop there for the night and continue on in the morning. We should be there by noon tomorrow.”

“Do we have to go through any more forests?” Jeremy asked, unconsciously touching his new ear.

“No,” laughed Geryon. “No more forests; only beaches. Zeke, why don’t you practice that later and lead the way.”

Zeke dropped his hand quickly, nodded, and walked in front of Jeremy.

A few minutes later, Jeremy began to speak but quickly closed his mouth. He did this about four times, at which point Geryon asked, “Is there something you want to say, Jeremy?”

“Well,” Jeremy said cautiously, “Yeah. What did that bird mean when he said you weren’t welcome in the woods?”

Geryon let out a long sigh. “Jeremy, would you say that I was ‘different?’ That if someone saw me casting magic, I would be labeled a ‘freak’ and someone to avoid?”

Jeremy nodded.

“That is why I am prohibited from entering the forest, Jeremy. I am different. I cast spells and I make the world work in ways that I determine. I am a ‘freak.’ I am someone to avoid. At least, I am in their eyes.”

Geryon stopped walking and put his hand on Jeremy’s shoulder. He slowly turned Jeremy around to look at the boy’s face. “But do you want to know why they think that way?”

Jeremy looked at ground, trying to scratch at the dirt with his foot. He shook his head slowly.

Geryon put his hand under the boys chin and gently lifted it up, so that he was looking directly into Jeremy’s eyes.

“I am no different than they are, but I have an ability they do not. They do not understand me, Jeremy, and people fear what they do not understand. So rather than try to understand me, they scorn and ridicule me. That is their nature and I do not begrudge them that. Do you understand me, Jeremy?”

Jeremy didn’t say anything for a few moments. Slowly, he whispered, “Only too well” as he fought back the tears.

“Well then,” Geryon said cheerfully as he took his hand away from Jeremy’s face, “When we get back to my home, I shall do as I promised. I will show you how to get home. But I will also help you in other ways. If you are willing, I can teach you a few simple spells to help you if you run across people who don’t understand you. Would that be okay?”

Jeremy smiled and nodded vigorously.

“I’m glad we understand each other, then,” said Geryon as he put his arm around Jeremy’s shoulder and continued to walk towards the coastline.

-----------------------------------------

When they crested the final hill, Jeremy stopped and looked on in awe. Before him was a breathtaking view of the ocean in all it’s glory. Or, at least, he thought it was the ocean. All the oceans he had seen were blue; this one was purple. But it was still beautiful. The waves tumbled to and fro; the water gently caressed the sand like a lover; the sounds and smells were a feast for the senses.

“We will stay here tonight,” said Geryon. “Zeke, prepare camp.”

“Aw, boss,” Zeke whined. “Can’t you have your guy do it?”

“What does he mean ‘your guy?’” asked Jeremy.

Geryon sighed, “If I must; stand back.”

Geryon reached into a pouch on his belt and pulled out a small bit of string and what looked like a toothpick. He help them in his right hand and, with his left, made sweeping gestures.

“Inviso Pajorm,” the spellcaster said strongly. “Prepare camp.”

“Who are you talking to?” Jeremy asked, looking around.

“Just watch,” said Geryon patiently. Suddenly, footprints appeared in the sand in front of them. Jeremy’s eyes widened as rocks seemed to fly in the air and place themselves in a perfect circle on the beach.

“What is that?” Jeremy whispered captivatingly.

“That, my dear boy, is magic; haven’t you learned anything yet?” Geryon laughed and clapped Jeremy on the back. Jeremy smiled and decided not to ask anymore questions; he just sat back and enjoyed the show in which Geryon created firewood, food, water, and three wooden chairs for them to sit on. The bedrolls were supplied by Zeke, who had been carrying them.

As they supped, Jeremy asked questions about the world he was in and even more questions about Geryon. Geryon explained that he lived far away from other humans so that he could study in private. Zeke was a friend that he had known for a long time and enjoyed his company. Zeke did not judge him as many people had done in Geryon’s old home. Jeremy just nodded, attentively taking in all the information. He was fascinated by the man and was loving every minute of this adventure.

When they were finished, the invisible creature cleared away a space for the bedrolls. The creature removed all the dishes used and stacked them in a pile as instructed; Geryon knew they would disappear once the spell duration was over. Rather than put them to waste, Geryon also instructed the creature to place the chairs in the fire.

“The less firewood I have to create, the better I say,” Geryon said as he winked at Jeremy, who just smiled and nodded.

As Jeremy laid his head on the pillow, Geryon said, “Don’t worry Jeremy; we’ll be at my house tomorrow and we’ll start work on getting you home.” Jeremy didn’t say a word; he just closed his eyes and went to sleep. Honestly, he didn’t know if he wanted to go home anymore.

-----------------------------------------

The next morning came quickly for Jeremy. After all the excitement, he slept harder than he had in a long time. It felt as if he had laid down not five minutes ago when he felt a hand on his shoulder gently shaking him and heard Zeke’s familiar voice.

“Wake up, Jeremy. It’s time to go.”

Jeremy stirred, opened his eyes, and blinked a few times to take in the morning light. Initially, he had wondered if it was all a dream, but seeing the purple swells told him otherwise.

He slowly got up as Zeke finished rolling up the bedrolls.

“I trust you slept well,” asked Geryon as he, too, stretched his limbs towards the morning sun.

“Yeah. I slept like a baby,” Jeremy answered. “So how long is it again till we get to your place?”

“Just a few hours. We just follow the coastline until we reach my tower. You’ll see it from a distance shortly.”

“You have a tower?” asked Jeremy smilingly. “That seems quite clichéd, don’t ya think?”

Geryon laughed. “I guess I’m just not that original. Zeke seems to be ready; let’s get going.”

They had been walking for a couple of hours along the beach when Jeremy saw the top of a building off in the distance. “Is that it?” he asked.

“Yes. ‘Home sweet home,’ as they say in your world.” Geryon replied.

Jeremy glanced at Geryon quickly and thought, “How would he know that?” But, just as quickly, he dismissed the question. After all, he was a learned man. He probably knew a lot about a lot of things.

Soon, the tower came into full view. If Jeremy didn’t know any better, he would have sworn he was in one of those shows he watched on the History Channel; it looked like something out of medieval Europe. It was a large, grey stoned tower that extended at least 100 feet straight into the air. The top of the tower was fashioned in such a way that it made the whole building look like a giant rook.

“Rook takes pawn,” laughed Jeremy.

“What did you say?” asked Geryon from behind him.

“Rook takes pawn. It’s a chess term. It means the rook piece, or the ‘castle’ as some folks call it, defeats the pawn piece. It’s a fun game.”

“Oh how right you are,” said Geryon under his breath. Sadly, Jeremy did not hear this.

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When they finally reached the base of the tower, Jeremy could see the front door at its base. When they got closer, however, he noticed that there was no keyhole.

“No keyhole?” asked Jeremy. “How do you get in? Hold on, let me guess: magic.”

Geryon smiled and nodded. He moved towards the door and reached into his belt pouch. He produced a small key, which he held in his hand. “Porto Laso,” he said firmly. The door quickly opened.

“Now then, Jeremy. Let me be the first to welcome you to my home.” Geryon motioned for Jeremy to step inside. When he did, Geryon quickly went through the door, as did Zeke, who locked it behind them.

Jeremy stood in the center of the ground floor, mouth agape, staring at his surroundings. While it may have looked big on the outside, the inside was enormous. He hadn’t been in a place this large since he stood in the middle of the Smithsonian’s Air and Space Museum.

“This place is huge!” exclaimed Jeremy. “It’s got to be a thousand times bigger in here than it looks from the outside.”

“You’re quite right, Jeremy,” said Geryon as Zeke helped him take off his coat and top hat. “It is quite large. It’s an extra-dimensional space. This means it does not exist in any particular world but, rather, in the area between worlds. Come, let’s look around.”

Geryon placed his arm around Jeremy and motioned around the room.

“I have traveled to many places, Jeremy. I have seen many things and I have learned much in my travels. I have learned about space and time; about matter and how to manipulate it; about people and how to manipulate them.”

Jeremy stopped walking and looked at Geryon. “What do you mean?” he asked cautiously.

“Come in here, Jeremy,” said Geryon as he led the child through a door into another, smaller, room. In the room was a long, low table made of some sort made of black rock. On the table were dozens of black candles, all lit. In the center of the room was a tripod which looked like a talon-like hand rising from the floor; it grasped a perfectly round ball made of glass. Jeremy could smell spices in the air and, on the far side of the room behind the black table, he could see a dozen or so knife-like implements hanging on the wall. For the first time since he arrived here, Jeremy was afraid.

“Let me show you something,” Geryon said as he walked Jeremy towards the glass ball. “Look in here as I explain a few things to you.” Geryon let go of Jeremy as the boy gazed into the sphere.

“You see, Jeremy, I know about your world because I have watched it. I have never been there, of course, but I do have slight influence over what happens. For example, that UPS truck you said was behind you when you were getting your picture taken. Do you really think it was there by accident?” Geryon chuckled. “No, son, it was there because I wanted it there. I needed a distraction. Look closely and you’ll see what I mean.”

Jeremy stared into the ball. The picture was distorted, but he was able to make out what was going on. He was looking at the UPS driver from the passenger side of the truck. He saw Geryon bending down, whispering something in the drivers ear. Jeremy looked up from the ball and locked eyes with Geryon.

“He couldn’t see me, if that’s what you are going to ask,” Geryon said and motioned for Jeremy to look back at the orb.

Jeremy looked down and saw the driver stiffen in his seat, accelerating until he had crashed into the side of a small incline. The image in the ball changed, as if the person in the passenger seat turned to look out the front window, and Jeremy realized he was looking at the back of himself.

“Jeremy, if you don’t hold up the sewing machine, I won’t be able to get the UPS truck in the background,” he heard his mom say.

“Mom?” Jeremy croaked. He looked up quickly and started screaming at Geryon. “WHAT DID YOU DO?! WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO?!”

He started to move forward but a pair of hot hands grabbed him from behind. He swiveled his head and looked up to see the most horrific face he had ever laid eyes on. The creature’s skin was red and smoking; its eyes were black and slick; its breath reeked of rancor. Jeremy struggled as the creature easily kept him in its grasp.

“Come now, Jeremy. Is that any way to treat your old friend, Zeke?” the creature asked as its mouth filled up with razor sharp black teeth in a twisted smile.

Jeremy stopped and simply stared. His bowels loosened themselves and a puddle formed at his feet.

“You see, Jeremy, there is no escape. You might as well just make these last few moments less troublesome.”

Jeremy turned his head back towards Geryon, his face a mask of defeat.

“Jeremy, you are special. You are a child of violence born on the night of the crossing of the stars Kelops and Horsus. You are who I waited 17 years for. You are my portal to Earth and I used the distraction to bring you here.” Geryon lectured Jeremy as if he were the teacher and the boy was the student. “Look back into the ball, Jeremy.”

Jeremy looked down and saw a very young, yet very familiar, face in the contorted image. “Mom?” he asked again.

The scene in front of him was of a young woman holding an umbrella, walking in the rain. She was having trouble holding her umbrella as the wind tried to rest control from her. A man approached her and offered to help, which she accepted. He tried to keep her struggling umbrella under control and, once he had tamed it, the man gave it back to the woman and started to walk away. As he turned, he suddenly stiffened, just as the UPS driver had done. He turned again, stalking after the pretty woman as a tiger stalks its prey. As she walked by a dark alley, the predator struck.

Jeremy turned his head, closed his eyes and yelled, “I’ve seen enough you bastard! Stop it!”

Geryon smirked and mockingly comforted Jeremy. “Jeremy, Jeremy… Tsk tsk tsk. I was just trying to explain what was happening. You seem like you were interested in what I was doing. I guess I was wrong.” Geryon face turned cold and he barked, “Take him to the altar.”

Zeke grabbed Jeremy and forcibly moved him to the black table. He lifted Jeremy into the air like a child’s toy and placed him on top.. He held him down with one hand while he strapped him down with the other.

Geryon moved to the wall and picked up an implement from the rack on the wall; it looked like a cross between a knife and a human bone.

Once strapped down, Zeke let go of Jeremy, who started to struggle again immediately.

“Jeremy, shhhhh,” Geryon said as he stroked Jeremy’s hair. “Please, stop struggling. You didn’t really need your eyeballs anyway.”

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Back in the forest, the sentry cocked his head as he heard the screams wafting on the wind.

“Poor kid,” the small bird thought. “I guess I should have finished him off myself.”