One Writer’s Writing Secrets 3: Something to Say

September 16, 2009M G Kizzia Leave a comment

I am still enjoying Mark Twain. Love him or hate him, the man could write, and more importantly, in the American tradition, he could tell a good story: Tom Sawyer at home and abroad with the Tramp and the Innocents (roughing it or otherwise on the equator), Life on the Mississippi, The Prince and the Pauper, Pudd’nhead Wilson, and the great Connecticut Yankee which I believe he named just to see how many times he could find Connecticut misspelled in the reviews.

Motive for writing in the first place is as difficult as trying to pin down a motive for murder (a close kin in some cases). I think, though, Twain was on to something with the notice he gave at the beginning of Huckleberry Finn:

NOTICE

Persons attempting to find a motive in this narrative will be prosecuted; persons attempting to find a moral in it will be banished; persons attempting to find a plot in it will be shot.

BY ORDER OF THE AUTHOR

Per G. G., Chief of Ordnance.

Writers want to say something – at least most have something to say. Some do write mainstream drivel in a sort of stream of consciousness (Zzzz); but I believe most want their views about life, liberty and the pursuit to be heard. (Unlike the Blues Brothers, they may not be on a mission from God, but still… And whether or not what is said is worth listening to is another debate). But whenever a writer focuses in on what they are trying to say instead of on the story, the writing is lost, abandon ship!

Mark Twain was first of all a storyteller. All the great writers were. Even a socially conscious writer like Dickens first told a good story.

Writing Tip 3:

I cannot speak for the plot because that might be a handy thing for a story to have; but as for motive and moral, I recommend not thinking about them at all. Yes, I believe every piece of writing should have something to say, but while in the writing process, I recommend just focusing on telling a good story, and I believe the motive/moral will shine through without help, thank you very much, and maybe some other things not intended will shine through as well, things which may turn out to be pretty good! (I hadn’t thought of that). We can call it stream of unconsciousness writing.

Series: Tales of the Other Earth Tale: Halloween Story part 8 M/F Story

September 15, 2009M G Kizzia Leave a comment

“In here, your majesty.” The grizzled old man said, holding his box with the crystal close to his face and staring hard as if seeing something in the glittering stone that no other eyes could perceive. “There was much magic present for a moment, and then all at once it was over, like the undoing of a half-woven spell.”

The Queen nodded and turned to her troops. “Be on your guard, Captain Tor.” She said. “We stumbled innocently into that hedge of warning, so at least someone knows we are coming. And Count Severas.” She turned to the man who was dressed like a sixteenth century dandy complete with gold-hilted saber at his side. “We are not here to fight these people. We only want the girl.”

The Count nodded, as if giving a slight bow to his Queen, but his eyes betrayed other thoughts in his mind.

“Wizard!” The Queen called and the grizzled old man came to her, showing far more respect in his bow than the Count had shown. “Are you sure?” This woman was demanding.

The Wizard looked around at the Count, Captain Tor and several of the soldiers, but he saw no support in any of them. “Majesty.” He hedged. “I was told there was no magic in this world, but there is much interference in the atmosphere. The Princess and her daughter should have been easy to locate, sticking out in the midst of the crowd like a goat among sheep, but it has not been so.” The Queen’s look hardened. The Wizard winced a little. “I am reasonably sure there is magic active in this place, but of the source and person, I cannot honestly say.”

“Are there no other sources?” The Queen clearly wanted some assurance.

The Wizard shook his head, slowly. “I have picked up something, but it is some distance from here, and I am not certain. There is much interference in the atmosphere, but of this place, I am certain, though who or what may be responsible, I cannot say.”

The Queen nodded. She signaled the soldiers and motioned for Captain Tor to precede her while she and the Count and her Wizard brought up the rear.

————

Mister Deal finally got the music turned down. “Fire Alarm?” He asked above many voices which were asking the same thing.

“Hold on. Hold on.” The baby Principal was saying. He stepped over to the music riser. “Hold on.” He said to the squeal of feedback as he turned on the microphone. Mister Deal quickly adjusted the volume. “That’s not the fire alarm or any other bell I know.” The class bell in the school was really a loud buzzer. “Don’t panic. I am sure it is nothing to be concerned about and there is a simple explanation.”

With that, the explanation for the bell entered the room. They were soldiers, dressed in late medieval garb, and they spread themselves around the gym, surrounding the middle school students. Clearly, the soldiers were surprised to find so many children and even more surprised to find them dressed up in costumes, though they hardly recognized most of the characters they were pretending to be. An old man with a limp and a young one with gold braid and a swagger entered next, and then came the woman. She was dressed in a gown that fitted her shapely figure, but her hair was gray, indicating the fact that she was a good bit older than she might have wanted to appear. The woman had deep-set, but very active eyes. She was clearly a woman of power, used to being obeyed without question, and she was presently speaking to the soldiers in a tongue that she assumed no one knew. But Barten-Cur knew the words, and so did Wendel Carter. Wendel slid up to the scarecrow in the corner and did his best to blend into the decorations.

Finally, the woman, who was evidently in charge, turned to the slack-jawed crowd and spoke in English. “All right. Where is she?”

Principal Barlow paused a minute before he responded into the microphone. “Where is who?”

————

Arosa sipped her coffee and looked at David. David still hardly knew what to say. He had accepted her story. He could not reasonably do otherwise; but it was not every day a person had undeniable evidence that there were not only other worlds filled with other, intelligent life in the universe, but your girlfriend, to say the least, was one of those other… People?

“After the rebellion failed, my Mother-in-law made overtures of peace with the Empire. I do not blame her. It was what she had to do in the lost cause, and I suppose it was wise, after all, that she stayed away from any hint of rebellion from the beginning. The Emperor was willing to allow for that, because he was so preoccupied in the North and West. That much was true.”

“Politics.” David said. “Bad as the school system.”

“Oh, not that bad.” Arosa said with a smile. “But bad enough.”

“But it was not safe for you and your baby.” David understood.

Arosa confirmed and shook her head. “Who knows if we will ever be able to go home again?” She looked sad for a moment before she shouted. “Ouch!”

“Umph.” The fat man grunted at her as he got off her wing and headed back to his seat.

A tear came to Arosa’s eye as she reached back and pulled her wing forward. It was completely resilient and flexible and not easily broken, but the foot and shoe of the clumsy fat man was painful. A few more tears came as Arosa stroked her wing like a wounded bird.

“Hey!” David shouted at the man. “At least apologize you klutz.” He was angry, partly because he knew the wings were real, and partly because he was really feeling for the unfairness of Arosa, and Lila’s exile.

The fat man looked at his little wife and pulled out a wad of money. “Here.” He said, throwing a five-dollar bill in David’s direction. “Buy your woman a new costume.” He laughed, thinking he was funny. David hardly clenched his fist before striking the fat man in the jaw, knocking him right out of the chair.

The man got up screaming mad, but he was a stranger in town while David was the High School Principal and Arosa was the Middle School Librarian. There were three farmers and two merchants from town who grabbed the fat man and showed him the door. The man’s poor wife got up and she did lean over to Arosa to quietly apologize.

“I’ll be all right.” Arosa said, and since no one else was looking, their eyes all being focused on the struggle at the front door, she spread her wing and fluttered it a minute. “He didn’t break anything.”

The woman’s eyes got big. She screamed and ran after her husband.

Series: Tales of the Other Earth Tale: Halloween Story part 7 M/F Story

September 11, 2009M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Lila and her friends sat at MacDonald’s and talked about nothing in particular, but with hardly a breath between them. They were all feeling a little curious and somewhat self-conscious. Apart from the occasional private parties, there were not many chances in Middle School for these kinds of social interactions between boys and girls. It was all still new enough to embarrass, intrigue, and touch a sense of secret desire, which for the most part was still deeply hidden inside. Of course, they were all too cool to admit that they did not know everything about it all.

Jennifer, who was dressed like an elf from Lord of the Rings or some on-line video game, pointed ears and all, nodded toward the door. Bobby and Donna actually came together to the restaurant, though they got out of separate cars. Bobby even asked if he could sit at Donna’s table before he sat. Ginger, who was dressed like a cat which she claimed was a panther, shook her head and pointed in the opposite direction where Tom and Rachel, a couple of vampires, were sitting touching hands.

“Where are the boys?” Morgan the pirate wondered, but even as she spoke, Mary and Eddie, alias Red and the Princess, came in and got in line. Red Rayder got a number one, but the Princess only wanted a few french fries. And the rest of the boys were not far behind. Chris was dressed like a medieval knight. Peter was dressed like a ninja, and just like in the library, they came over and sat near Jennifer and Lila, but not too near. Nelson came in his Max Man costume, a little rubber Maxamillian in his hands, and Jordan came also as a pirate and sat beside Morgan the pirate with a smile. Things were heating up there nicely, Lila thought, with a smile of her own.

Chris and Peter were all eyes as Lila shifted to cross her legs in the other direction. She had chosen the fairy costume in part because it allowed her to show off her nice, long legs by wearing a skirt that was normally much too short for school.

“I don’t know what it is, but ever since I got dressed, all I can think about is food.” Nelson joked as he sat with two orders of nuggets. “Isn’t that right, Max?”

“Indubitably!” Nelson finished, giving voice to his rubberized sidekick.

Everyone enjoyed the show, even if no one laughed. Then every one was quiet, especially the girls, curiously enough. Perhaps they had already talked themselves out earlier. More likely, they were watching, wondering, considering things to which the boys were oblivious. Chris finally spoke up.

“We better get going.” Peter stood up with him and this prompted everyone to move. They were going to the dance together, not like dating couples, but sort of all in a group. It was safer that way.

————

When Barten-Cur got back to the school, he walked the whole perimeter, around the playground, the football field, the back of the baseball diamond and to the front door. He set a simple magical hedge the whole way around so that anyone with a weapon, a sword, a knife or a real bow, would set off a bell inside the school loud enough to be heard, wherever he was. Then he returned to the gym to find it decorated and deserted. It was no trouble adding his potion to the punch bowl, but a little harder to stir it in without disturbing the slices of orange that floated on top. He felt he was as ready as he could be. If they came, he could act. If they did not come, no one would be the wiser.

While he waited, Barten had another thought. Some of these children would come as all sorts of devils, evil creatures, monsters and even dead people. He would have to siphon them off at the start. They would not do at all. He would have to be careful, he thought, imagining that Arosa still might yell at him even if he was following the rules, so he set a spell by the entrance designed like a spider’s web to catch any such evil arrivals. He wondered briefly why any parents would allow their children to dress in such a manner – representing evil things; but then he never had a wife or children so he really did not know.

The teachers began to arrive by quarter of six. Principal Barlow was dressed as a baby and his secretary, like the Wicked Witch. Tom Deal said he was Mozart, and Ms Gloria Finster came as a sixties hippie child. She had a flower painted on her aged cheek. Coach Beemer trotted to the door in red tights, a red mask and a red cape. “The Masked Marvel,” he called himself. He was supposed to be a professional wrestler, and Barten-Cur at least knew what that was. He watched wrestling when he could, but he did not recall any Masked Marvel.

The children started arriving after that, but Barten-Cur stayed up front with his eyes open, in case his spider web missed anyone. To be sure, he did not understand what some of the costumes were supposed to be and so he could not be sure he got all that he should. But then, he could undo the magic easily enough if needed. Still, he took the obvious ones so it would not be needed for them.

Ms Addams came in a long dress and claimed she was Jane Austin, whoever that was, and Mister Johnson came in a suit. “I’m dressed as a social studies teacher.” He told the custodian. “That is scary enough for these kids.” Barten-Cur shrugged.

Lila and her gang came together. Barten was afraid, with so many at once, one might slip passed his net. He looked carefully, but he did not see anything worth catching. Lila said, “Hi.” And then she got whispers from a cat and a girl with pointed ears and a fake bow and arrows.

Ms Ramirez came as a flamenco dancer, her seventh graders trailing after her like so many baby ducks. Mister Gross in a white suit and Ms Duncan in her dancing dress were the last teachers to arrive. They were the disco couple, whatever disco was. Barten-Cur did not even know they were a couple, but that was what they said.

When it looked like nearly everyone had arrived, it was about six-thirty by then, Barten-Cur went up to room 204. There were two ghosts, one skeleton, a couple of movie monstrosities that he did not recognize well enough to name, a Grim Reaper, a thing that called itself “Scream,” a Devil boy and a Devil girl and two Zombies, one with an axe in his head and the other in a suit with an arrow through his head who claimed he was a dead lawyer. They believed there was going to be a contest and prizes for the scariest costume. They were arguing about who might win when Barten-Cur locked them in.

————

The music was just loud enough to prevent talking without shouting. There was not much dancing going on for a dance. Lila and her friends sat on some chairs beside a table while the boys walked around the room, presumably looking at the decorations. They all had punch. Ms Finster was very good about making sure that everyone, absolutely everyone, got some. It was really very good, and for most it was also something to do.

Lila’s Grandpa came over, but only to say hi and then leave them alone. He was the Scarecrow, and Jennifer the elf complimented the outfit, and Ginger the panther agreed that it was very well done.

“I should have had more time to work on the make-up.” Wendel Carter mused, but he thanked the girls for the kind words and moved on, pausing only to examine the real scarecrow set up in the corner of the gym.

Coach Beemer was getting another tray of cookies from the cafeteria when he heard a knock on the cafeteria window. There were two students outside. He reluctantly opened the door for them.

“You should have come in the front.” Coach Beemer said.

“Long walk.” Tom the vampire responded.

“Thanks.” Rachel the vampire thought some gratitude was appropriate,

The Masked Marvel frowned beneath his mask, but he went for the cookies. Tom and Rachel went for some of the last of the punch. It was not much after that when the bell went off and Barten-Cur gasped. “God help us. They’re here.” In a moment, a soft violet light filled the gym and beyond, seeping out like a mist beneath the doors and through the walls. It filled the cafeteria behind the gym and the auditorium in the front of the school, swept around the books in the library and the files in the office. It even filled room 204, though it would have no effect in that place for lack of punch, and when it was done, it disappeared as if it had never been.

One Writer’s Writing Secrets 2: Finding your Voice

September 9, 2009M G Kizzia 2 Comments

I just finished rereading Huckleberry Finn, so if I break out in a twang, please bear with me. (I ain’t agwyne do’t if I can hep it). Dialect is a bear, and not recommended – unless it is who you are, and you know the dialect like the proverbial back of your hand (and your spelling is consistent).

Allow me to share a bit of family folklore that floated down to me from my writer brother in Alaska. It concerns a person named Tom (not Sawyer, but of the same type as I hear tell), though how true the story is, I cannot say.

Tom went to the University of Michigan for one semester where he had a Freshman English professor who said something like this:

“Tom. You have a wonderful voice when you speak. It is lively and very different from the dry papers you have been turning in. You know, I believe you have the potential to be a good writer, but you have to stop trying to write the way you think it is supposed to be written. Instead, I want you to try writing in a way that is most natural to you. That is the secret to good writing. Try writing the way you talk and it will be much better.”

Now, Tom decided that was good advice; but if his best writing was simply writing the way he talked, and since he already knew how to talk, he also decided there was no more to be learned from that institution; so he dropped out and wandered his way up to Alaska where he took a job hosting a national radio show for NPR and writing just the way he talked, and though I don’t want to give everything away, the end of the story is if you ever go traveling across this country, I am sure he will “leave a light on for ya.”

Writing Tip 2:

For most of us our talk can get pretty sloppy and might not be a good guide, but on principle, don’t worry about the way good writing is supposed to be writ! Write the way that is most natural and comfortable for you. That is your voice, and it will invariably be much better than imitating someone else.

God’s Health Care Plan: Healing the World

September 9, 2009September 9, 2009M G Kizzia Leave a comment

It was 2000 years ago a man named Jesus came out of Galilee saying, The Kingdom of heaven is at hand. It is near, or as some rude person in our day might say, “It is in your face.” Curious…

The people in that time and place were under the thumb of the Romans and many were not happy with that reality. The society was fragmented. Pharisees and Sadducees were like Democrats and Republicans: in charge of things more or less, but fighting each other and even fighting among themselves. Many people had dropped out altogether, to form communes or live as hermits in the wilderness. Zealots, what the Romans described as terrorists, were committing great acts of rebellion or great crimes of murder depending on who was describing those acts. And the common people were looking for a way out: they wanted a leader, they wanted hope. And there were plenty of men and some women no doubt who were glad to step in and be that leader. The countryside was littered with teachers, preachers, prophets, healers, miracle workers, the wise and the foolish, the sincere and the charlatans. Many people were wary.

That fellow John gathered quite a few followers at one time, but then he had the stupidity to insult one of the Roman Provincial Executives and he got himself arrested and eventually got the death penalty. People might not have thought that was fair. There were plenty of worse offenders, mass murderers and the like, sitting on death row filing appeal after appeal; but you know, when such things are decided for political reasons, they aren’t always fair.

So now this fellow named Jesus has come saying Repent (like John said), and adding The Kingdom of heaven is at hand. That was the new part, sort of. Some scholars asked him once, “Is this a new teaching?” It was not. Not really. Back then, the people basically understood what this “Kingdom of Heaven” or “Kingdom of God” was all about:

They understood that God did not approve of any sickness, trouble, hardship, social collapse, disease or death; but then they also understood that God did not break the world. We did. God did not sin. We did. God didn’t start the trouble. We are the ones who rebelled. We turned our backs, and some are still turning their backs on God and we began all the trouble by our rebellion. Now, this broken (sin filled) world plagues us and our brokenness has come back to haunt us in the form of struggle, disease and death. That isn’t God’s fault. Everyone understood that.

And they also understood that this broken condition was not supposed to be the end of the story. Clearly, it was not God’s intention that we be stuck in this brokenness forever. The prophets made that clear, for example in Isaiah (35:1-10):

The desert and parched land will be glad; the wilderness will rejoice and blossom…

…Then will the eyes of the blind be opened and the ears of the deaf unstopped.

Then will the lame leap like a deer and the mute tongue shout for joy…

…and the ransomed of the Lord will return.

They will enter Zion with singing; everlasting joy will crown their heads.

Gladness and joy will overtake them, and sorrow and sighing will flee away.

The Kingdom was the place (and time) when all of the brokenness in this world would be fixed, which included every disease being healed. It was the place of no more tears. But this Kingdom; it was like a nebulous thing, a promise for some far off future that had nothing to do with present day living. People had to deal with their troubles, today’s being enough for today, and not live in some La-la land. So here comes this Jesus fellow saying the Kingdom is near and you can be sure many scoffed. “Yeah, right! What Kingdom?”

I imagine Jesus smiled and responded something like, “This Kingdom,” and someone got healed.

The deaf dumb and blind could hear, speak and see. Skin conditions, paralytics all got healed. Some, so they claimed, even got raised from the dead and restored to life. No wonder he gathered such crowds. Yet he took the most curious position on it all. “Don’t tell anyone.” He would say. Of course, they did tell, and the crowds reached the thousands where he had to borrow some fish and bread to feed them all. But why would he say don’t tell? How curious?

Well, it seems to me he did not want to be lumped in with all of the charlatan miracle workers and so-called healers already gallivanting around the countryside. Obviously, he did not want to be seen as just another mumbo-jumbo magician.

Peter was perhaps the first to understand when Jesus asked, “Who do you say I am?” I always imagined Peter stuttering a bit as he was inspired to respond. “You are the K-K-King.”

Repent, for the Kingdom of Heaven is at hand. And Peter understood that Jesus was the King of God’s Kingdom, which of course meant that Jesus was God. Who else would be King of God’s Kingdom?

Enough people understood this on Palm Sunday to lay palms at his feet. The Sanhedrin understood this in the last week, enough to accuse him to each other: “The man makes himself equal with God!” They told Pilate: “We shall have no King but Caesar!”

But what they did not grasp was: He did not come to heal and restore God’s rule over the earth right then and there. NOT YET. God! That HAD to be a disappointment to a lot of people. But instead, he came to tell us about the time (the Kingdom) that was coming – still in some nebulous future – but also to demonstrate it in his life so we would know it was a REAL promise, no matter how far in the future it might be, and then he came to offer himself up on the cross as the Lamb of Sacrifice so that when the time DID come we could receive mercy, not condemnation for our rebellion.

Now he is gone. He has ascended into heaven, as the confession says, and we are left to carry on. We are to “Walk in His Steps,” to live with the question “What would Jesus do?” We are the disciples now. We are the Peters of the world, and it is now in our hands to demonstrate God’s Kingdom to the world.

Consider where Jesus, in his ministry, showed the power and the presence of God’s creative, loving Spirit and brought healing to our spiritual, mental, emotional, and physical lives.

Where there was evil, he brought goodness.
Where there was condemnation, he brought forgiveness and mercy.
Where there was darkness, he brought light.
Where there was prejudice and hatred, he brought Love and justice.
Where there was emptiness, he brought fullness and meaning.
Where there was war, he brought peace.
Where there was sickness, he brought health.

All of this is healing in the broadest and best sense. The gospel of Mark begins with the words, “The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.” The Good News is news about the reign of God in the whole of our lives.

Now, I cannot speak for non-Christians, and might not be able to speak for all Christians, but for those who are followers of Christ, here is what I see:

We are to pray for those who need wholeness of every kind and as we pray for the physical, spiritual, mental and emotional well being of others, we can do so with the sure and certain knowledge that these prayers flow from the heart Christ himself. And sometimes, even in our broken, rebellious day, God heals. The details of where, when and how the healing of persons takes place is totally in the hands of God; but the faith and trust that this is the will of God is in our hands. (Thy Kingdom come, thy will be done on Earth as it is in Heaven).

After that, we are to heal in every way we can; healing “even the least of these” without regard for what people can pay.

We need to NOT heal the left hand while destroying the right as in healing the body while throwing the family into bankruptcy.

We need to heal without regard to “pre-existing conditions,” without exclusions by insurance companies (in employer monopolies) or limits by “cost benefit analysis” (as in the proposed government monopoly).

No one should ever be put in the position where they are made helpless and hopeless and are encouraged to die and as Scrooge said, “Decrease the surplus population.”

We need to reward those who have dedicated their lives to the healing professions and find a way to protect those who do their HUMAN best from being sued.

We need to encourage the drug companies and hospitals, through the use of profit and fair competition or by some other EFFECTIVE means to develop new and better drugs and therapies in order to stay on the cutting edge of what we humans can do to heal.

We need to each do our part to bring wholeness to this broken, troubled world. This is what Jesus did, and it is what we should do as well.

That is what I think. What do you think?

–Michael “Word & Spirit: The testimony of two.”

Series: Tales of the Other Earth Tale: Halloween Story part 6 M/F Story

September 7, 2009M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Arosa sat still for the long ride to Wallace’s Fish Camp. David seemed speechless, but that was fine for the moment. Arosa had her own thoughts to contend with, and they were quite enough. Apparently, the theme for the day had not yet finished.

Presently, Arosa was remembering the plots and plans they had made.

“With the Emperor so preoccupied in Gwarhor and in the West, now is the time to strike for freedom.” That was Arosa’s own father who said that. Her mother was quiet, but in full accord. Her Great Uncle Festus, as Captain-General of the ships of Nova, Admiral as Arosa translated in her mind, he shouted “Here! Here!” or the equivalent in the tongue of Nova. Dunovan was more thoughtful.

“With our combined fleets we can rule in the Southern Sea.” He said. “But on land, we must all hang together or we will surely all hang separately.”

Arosa shook her head. That was from the American Revolution, but the sentiment was the same. Poor, brave, sweet, senseless Dunovan.

A tear came to Arosa’s eye.

She remembered that last time she saw Dunovan, all dressed for war in glittering chain and shining bronze. Such a glorious knight he was, and what devotion he had from every man who followed him to their doom. She cried for days when word came. Poor Lila was almost neglected, and would have been if not for the nurse and the faithful, loving servants that surrounded her. Arosa tried to turn her mind from her memory of Dunovan, thinking that her serious thoughts about David was bringing it all to the surface; but apparently the vision-like moment was not done.

She remembered the messenger, every speck of dirt on the man’s clothes, every drop of sweat on the man’s broad forehead; how he had ridden all night with the news and run up the great castle steps with tears in his own eyes. Her Mother and Father were poisoned. Her great uncle was ruined at sea and would not be coming back. The Empire was in Nova and her unremarkable second cousin Verko, a sixteen-year-old boy with no ambition whatsoever, had been installed on the throne. The boy would do as he was told and he was closest to the throne, after her. Apparently, the Emperor Kzurga had no intention of having her return to Nova, and she dared not stay in Truscas. It would be her death, certain.

She remembered all of the hints her mother-in-law Callista dropped into everyday conversation. She should go away. She was not of the right blood to rule in Truscas, even if her daughter was. She should find another home to spend her days. Of course, none of it was said in so many words, but it was the sentiment. Arosa would have to have been an ignorant fool not to know this.

But it was not for Callista’s sake that she found this world and came to this place of exile. It was for the people. Arosa was part of the rebellion, even if only a little part. The Emperor might have forgiven her for her part in the conspiracy, but she could not count on that. Truscas was in danger of invasion as long as she stayed the Queen. Barten-Cur came from the house of Nova, sought her out, and together, they ran. She said nothing, though, because Callista would have certainly tried to kidnap Lila and keep her in hiding.

They arrived at the fish camp and Arosa stepped out of the car almost before David turned off the engine. She did not want him to see her cry. Not just yet.

“Are you all right?” David asked kindly.

“David.” Arosa hesitated for one last moment, and then she made up her mind. Before we go any further in this relationship, there is something you need to know.” He was about to say something stupid so she spoke first. “I’m not from this world.”

David paused. He looked at her closely. “From the way you are dressed.” He started to make a joke, but then he pulled himself up as tall as he could stand. “I think I can almost believe you. You are much too beautiful for a small Georgia town.”

Arosa smiled. That was not exactly true, but she did not mind hearing it. Still, she felt she had to tell him and that feeling came with an urgency she did not understand. She took his hand and walked him to the side of the parking lot where no one would go. She stopped there and raised her hands, the magic flowing from her fingers. A bubble-like structure surrounded them, which would muffle any sounds they made and make them all but invisible to any eyes that were not on top of them. Then she turned to David and let her wings out, pushing them slowly against the air until she was hovering about three feet from the ground. David looked scared for a moment, but he calmed a little when she spoke. “I have a story to tell you, over dinner if you don’t mind. I’m starving.” She landed, burst the bubble with a thought, took David’s arm and led him to the door before he could raise a protest.

————

Barten-Cur imagined there was a kind of orchestrated madness going on in the gym. It had been used during the day, of course, so it could not be decorated for the dance until after school. Jessica and her eighth grade “in-crowd,” Mindy, Savannah and Shakira were putting up streamers. The wannabes, Brittany, Nichole and Molly were plastering the walls with Halloween motifs. Coach Beemer had the four prime members of the eighth grade football team setting up chairs and a few tables. There was Tyler Hamm, the quarterback, Alex the center, Brad the linebacker, and Colin the defensive end. They were in practice uniforms, and Barten-Cur guessed those uniforms would be doubling for their Halloween costumes at the dance.

Barten-Cur held his ears for a minute. “Sorry. Sorry.” Mister Deal, the music teacher was setting the volume for the music and testing the equipment.

“I should think so!” Ms Gloria Finster, the art teacher, shouted from the refreshment table. “I almost dropped the punch.” She was emptying orange soda and fruit punch into a big bowl. It was supposed to end up pumpkin color, but in truth it was more the color of Georgia red clay-mud.

Ms Addams, Language Arts and Mister Johnson, Social Studies, chose that moment to enter from the Cafeteria side, carrying trays of cookies.

“I don’t dress.” Mister Johnson was saying.

Barten stared for a minute at Ms Addams. She was maybe twenty-five, and by far the prettiest woman at the school, after the Princess, to be sure.

“But you have so many good choices to choose from.” She was arguing with the older man.

“Dead white men.” Mister Johnson complained.

“All right, then. Fredrick Douglass, Martin Luther King. Someone!”

“I don’t do Halloween. I don’t dress.” Mister Johnson insisted.

“Bob and Emily are coming as a disco couple.” Ms Finster spoke up from the punch bowl. She was talking about the math and science teachers. “Isn’t that cute?”

“I don’t do cute, either.” Mister Johnson said, but he almost smiled by accident as he said it.

“Excuse me.” Barten-Cur heard a voice behind him and he had to step aside. He had been blocking the door and Ms Ramirez the Spanish teacher wanted in. She was followed by a half-dozen seventh graders, Nate and Karen, fat Brian, and Maria who could hardly speak any English. Coach Beemer had his eyes open, though, and he immediately came up to Adam, a rather large young man for the seventh grade.

“So Adam.” The coach said. “Thought any more about football?” He was a direct kind of person. Adam was not in the mood.

“I don’t know.” He hedged.

Shakira came up looking for her cousin. “Where’s Tasha?” She asked. Tasha had it bad for big Adam.

“I don’t know.” Adam repeated himself.

Ms Finster shouted out from the refreshment table. “Come to help?”

“No.” Adam answered for them all. “We’re just passing through.” He tried to hide among his fellow seventh graders, but his head towered over the others, as they all waited on Ms Ramirez.

“We’re about done anyway.” Ms Finster admitted.

“Who let the peons in here?” Jessica asked in a superior tone, referring to the seventh graders in general. She was halfway up a ladder and turned for a good look.

“Don’t touch them.” Mindy said. “You might catch something.”

“No telling where they’ve been.” Savannah added.

The seventh graders looked at each other, but that just made the girls laugh. Brittany stepped forward from the window, however, and just had to say something.

“Come on, Jessica. Get off your high horse.”

“Is pickle face talking to me?” Jessica responded. Brittany’s mom had the bad sense to dress her daughter as a pickle in the first grade. It was a cute costume at the time; but now that Brittany was of an age where things were beginning to break out on her face for real, Jessica thought it was a good time to remind everyone of that costume. Brittany fumed, but she said nothing knowing that it would have only made matters worse. She left, red angry, and Nichole and Molly followed.

“See you at six.” Ms Finster shouted after them, hoping to turn everyone’s thoughts from Jessica’s cruel words, but it did not really help. Jessica laughed and climbed the rest of the ladder.

“Tyler!” Jessica called sweetly to the quarterback. “Hand me the streamer.” Barten-Cur noticed the streamer extended to the foot of the ladder, but Tyler was not paying attention. He moved when Ms Ramirez left with the seventh graders in her train. He reached the streamer and handed it up. Jessica took one look down at that ugly, wart-face and screamed. She kept on screaming, too, until everyone came and Barten-Cur finally put down the streamer and walked away. Of course, Jessica claimed that she had merely been startled by the custodian’s face, but if that was true, one scream would have been enough.

“Sorry Mister Cur.” Tom Deal, the music teacher, took in on himself to speak for everyone; but then they all had to focus on Jessica, which was all Jessica really wanted.

————

Barten-Cur went over to the window, not giving the attitude of the girl a second thought. Because of his appearance, he had been treated that way his whole life; even back in the old world. Then, he remembered! He rushed out of the gym and shot for his pick-up. The drive was short, but by the time he arrived at the house, everyone was gone.

Barten locked the front door, Lila having forgotten again, and he stood on the front porch for a long time pondering what to do. All he could envision was Truscan soldiers invading the school, and people getting hurt. Seventh and Eighth graders were in no position to defend themselves, he thought. To be sure, there were only a dozen places in town to eat out, and half of them were fast food restaurants. Barten-Cur could have found his Princess easily enough, but he did not think of that. He was worried about Lila, if the soldiers came. He guessed they would be looking for her, and Arosa, but Lila especially had no one else to look after her. He made up his mind.

He went to his apartment and retrieved a potion he had made some time ago. “To keep in practice.” He told himself. He had intended it for the Wallabys’ dogs, thinking they would do less damage to the property as squirrels, but he never used it. Lady Arosa said he was not to do magic except in extreme emergency, like if Lila’s life was in danger. Well, this counted, but he would have to be careful about it so as not to get in trouble.

Series: Tales of the Other Earth Tale: Halloween Story part 5 M/F Story

September 4, 2009M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Barten-Cur came up to the Middle School in a hurry. He tried to make it before the school busses started, but failed, and so he was delayed in traffic for a long time. By the time he arrived, the library was already closed up and Arosa had gone home. Lila was also nowhere to be found. He was about to turn and rush to the house, but the Middle School Principal caught him.

“Barten.” The Principal called. “I appreciate you coming over from the High School for this dance. Wilson has little ones to trick or treat, you know.” He said. “I’m a little concerned, though, that all of the decorations are up to code. We can’t have the Fire Marshall coming in and shutting down the whole event.”

“Yes sir.” Barten said. He would need to check on that, but later, he thought.

Mary, Principal Barlow’s secretary stuck her head out of the office door on hearing the voices in the hall. “Ah. Mister Cur.” She said. “I was hoping you would come early. I have several instructions to go over with you and I want to ask you some questions.”

Barten-Cur swallowed. “Yes mam.” He said, hoping it would not take too long. He looked to the side as Morgan and Mary went by.

“I hear Secretary Mary, the school witch is coming as the Wicked Witch of the West.” Morgan whispered.

“Perfect.” Mary said with a smile and shrug as they hurried off.

Later, when Barten-Cur came out of the office, he looked very confused. The school secretary was very good at doing that to people, even the bright ones. Barten-Cur walked down the hall that ran along the side of the auditorium, and headed for the gym. He had to be sure the decorations were not in violation of the fire codes. By the time he remembered the soldier and his need to tell Arosa, it was too late.

————

Lila left Jennifer and Ginger at the front walk and came in by the picket fence gate, waving as she walked up the porch steps. Of course, Jennifer and Ginger had to go home to get in their costumes; but they would be back. “One hour!” Jennifer had shouted from the distance, though Lila suspected it would take a bit longer than that.

Grandpa drove up as Lila reached the door, so she waited, and then decided to go to the car to meet him. She hugged him. “You are coming to the dance?” She had not had a chance to ask earlier what with chemistry tests and such.

“I wouldn’t miss it.” Wendel said, putting his arm around Lila’s shoulder for a real hug. “Your mother inside?”

“I guess.” Lila said. “She left school right away. What takes so long to get ready for a crumby date, anyway?” She asked.

“Ah, yes.” Grandpa Carter said in an all-knowing tone of voice. “But I think you had better let your mother explain that. I’m not much good on the ways of women and their dates.”

“Oh, Grandpa.” Lila said, happily, hugging him just a little more.

Wendel Carter smiled. He was genuinely happy.

Upstairs, Arosa fretted in front of the mirror. The white gown would suit well. It fit nicely and had a solid Greco-Roman look to it as would be expected for an angel; but she was not sure if she should really do the wings or just suggest them with the strap-ons. She straightened the golden circle around her hair, which was there to suggest the halo. She was not about to wear one with a stick attached. She picked up her brush and began brushing her bangs. Her hair was short now, at least by her standards, falling only to the middle of her back; though it was still much longer than the boy haircuts so popular among the women around her. “Definitely do the wings.” She decided, and she focused, waved her hands slightly, producing a soft, swirling white light, which rose over her shoulder and touched her back. The magic would do the work.

Vents appeared in two places in the back of her gown, well edged so as not to fray, but large enough to let out the wings. She felt the magic when it touched her back, and was uncomfortable for a moment as her back muscles became much stronger, multiplied and rearranged themselves. Then the wings began to grow. She could feel the tips extending, and felt the feathers like one felt one’s hair; yet there was life in the wings, and she could play with them, though she did hope she would not molt too much over the course of the evening. The wings, when contracted, soon rose as high as her head, and the tip feathers touched the ground so she had to let them out just a little to keep them from dragging. She considered their shape. They were spaced perfectly so she would have no trouble sitting in a chair. She would have to tell David no booths, though, wherever he was taking her.

Arosa sighed. “Why not?” She asked herself. She let the wings all of the way out and allowed one gentle flap, putting her hands above her head just in case she ran into the ceiling. She lifted gently off the ground, about a foot, and then settled slowly back to her feet. Lila came to the door just in time to see.

“Mom!” Lila nearly shouted.

“What do you think?” Arosa asked.

“Oh, Mom.” Lila came close for a hug. “I always knew you were an angel.”

“But.” Arosa had a sudden thought. She broke the embrace and turned around. “How do I look?”

Lila took a moment to look closely at the wings. She saw them flex, like a wave beginning in her mother’s back and continuing to gently flow all of the way to the tips. “Fine.” She said, not knowing what she was supposed to be looking at.

“My back isn’t too big?” Arosa asked.

Lila looked more closely. “No.” She said. “Bigger than it was, I think, but not too big. Still nice.”

Arosa turned again with relief on her face. “I was afraid the muscles needed to carry my wings might turn my back into some monstrous size.”

Lila shook her head. “They are angel wings, right? Wouldn’t they have some magic in them to prevent that?”

Arosa smiled. “I know we haven’t practiced magic much.” She said. “We have to work on that, but you should at least remember the lessons you have had. Even with magic, things…”

“Still work by natural means.” Lila finished the sentence. “OK. Now you can help me with my fairy wings. Oh, wait. Let me get in costume first.”

“No Lila.” Arosa spoke in her firm voice.

“What? But Mom!”

“First of all, fairies are only about six or nine inches tall, and you are not allowed to go to the dance nine inches tall.”

Lila interrupted. “And second of all, we are not supposed to practice magic in public. That’s your rule. But you are.” Lila was glad to point that out.

“And second of all, you left the front door unlocked this morning. No real fairy wings!” Arosa shook her finger.

“Not fair!” Lila complained and went off to her room, closing the door with some volume. Arosa sighed and went downstairs, letting her wings float her down.

“Dad?” She saw him rummaging through his briefcase.

“I have to go back to the office.” He said.

“You better dress first.” She suggested.

“Richard the Lionhearted goes to school.” He winked.

“Dad.” She knew he did not have such a costume.

“All right. I’m really dressing as the Scarecrow from the Wizard of Oz, you know, if I only had a brain.”

Arosa laughed softly and kissed him as the front doorbell rang and Wendel hustled upstairs. Arosa answered the door, and David was dressed as Richard the Lionhearted. She turned and shot a hard look up the stairs. It was a good costume, too, almost good enough to give Arosa a feeling of home. “You look very nice.”

“You look.” David had to pause for the right words. “Very lovely.” That was where he finally settled, though it was not what he was thinking. Arosa saw much more in his eyes. She smiled and looked down as she stepped out and took his arm. They walked to the car, and as an afterthought, Arosa sent a bit of special magic, secretly, to let her sit comfortably in the front passenger seat, and still wear her seatbelt, despite the wings. She had not thought of sitting in the car.

“You do look lovely.” David repeated himself as they got in and buckled up. He really was a nice man, Arosa thought.

In the house, Wendel Carter got his things and headed for the door, shouting back at Lila. “I have to go back to the office. I’ll see you at the school. Your mother left supper on the stove for you. Are you there, Lila?”

Lila opened her door. “I’m here. Grandpa.” She shouted. “I’ll lock the door when I go.” She finished dressing and heard Grandpa’s car start and leave. Lila let her magic out, but the wings would not attach and she could not grow any from scratch. She felt useless. Her magic was more yellow, like sunlight, and not the pure white of her mother’s magic. She wondered briefly if that might have something to do with her difficulties, but she remembered when her mother explained that it should make no difference. Barten-Cur’s magic tended to come with a light purple light, and he was a very powerful magician.

“Someday.” Lila said to herself, and she went downstairs and turned her nose up at the dinner her mother left. She checked her resources and decided on the McDonalds, which was just a block from the school.

One Writer’s mid-week Writing Secrets 1: Tell a Story.

September 1, 2009September 2, 2009M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Sorry, I don’t have a link but I would recommend reading the Wall Street Journal, Saturday/Sunday, August 29-30, page W3 in the culture section. The article is by Lev Grossman, and it is titled: Storytelling. Good Books Don’t Have to Be Hard. And it is subtitled: A novelist on the pleasure of reading stories that don’t bore… My response is: Amen. Whether you are writing fiction or embarked on some journalistic enterprise (or writing journalistic-fiction which is all too common these days) it helps to have a story!

Grossman blames our view of what constitutes “great writing” (literature) on the modernists in the 1920s who objected to the Victorian novels that tied everything up in a nice, neat ending. Faced with all of the changes that came with modern life, these authors said, (recognized) that life did not work out in nice and neat ways, and so they produced such works as “Lady Chatterley’s Lover,” “The Age of Innocence,” “Ulysses,” “A Passage to India,” “The Sun Also Rises,” “A Farewell to Arms,” “The Sound and the Fury,” and so on. These all may be great books in their way, but the truth is (and Grossman says it well) they are too hard on the reader. As he points out, “imagine what it felt like the first time somebody opened up “The Waste Land” and saw that it came with footnotes.”

To be sure, all of these great works by great writers have produced in us a sense that quality writing must be like theirs: “Mainstream” or “Literary;” yet, like the impressionist painters that revolutionized the art world, they have had their day. The day of the “Mainstream” or “Literary” novel (so-called) is over. To put it more succinctly: modern literature had its time and place, but we are now living in a post modern age.

Thank goodness story is making a comeback. Clearly, story is what readers want. As Grossman points out, “Sales of young adult books (where the unblushing embrace of storytelling is allowed) are up 30.7% so far this year (through June)… while adult hardcovers are down 17.8%. Nam Lee’s “The Boat,” one of the best reviewed books of fiction in 2008 has sold 16,000 copies in hardcover and trade paperback according to Nielsen Bookscan… (while) the author of the “Twilight” series, Stephanie Meyer, sold eight million.”

My point would be that it pays to have a story to tell. Readers want this. Writers – Serious Writers are discovering this. Agents and Publishers are a little slower, but I believe they will follow the money. My hope is that someday maybe even the reviewers will catch up.

You remember story: Beginning, middle and End. Yes, I said end. True, these days we might not wrap everything up in a neat Victorian ribbon. (The lessons of the modernists were valid to some extent). In our day, Scrooge might have a relapse. (We would call that a sequel). But still, a story ought to have some resolution, some conclusion; it needs to reach a point where one can honestly type: THE END. It should no longer be acceptable to end a story, “because my fingers got tired of typing so I went to bed.”

“But what of Great Literature and true Stream of Consciousness writing, and etc.?” As Jessica would say, with a snap of her gum, a click of her tongue and a roll of her eyes, “That is so last century!”

Writing Tip 1:

Tell a story. Tell a good story. Grab the reader. Take them through whatever twists or turns exist, and when you are done, let them go. This can still be great literature, and I believe it will be how the future sees literature. You can say all you want to say about life, liberty and the pursuit in a story. You can make great points, Dickens did, but first of all make it a good read, because if it is good enough, along with lasting beyond the lifetime of a blog, someone just might pay you for it.

— Michael

Series: Tales of the Other Earth Tale: Halloween Story part 4 M/F Story

September 1, 2009M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Lila was in the Library last period for study hall, where no one ever studied. Presently, she was staring out the window. There was a war was going on. The school color guard, the ones who would do ROTC in High School were struggling to practice, lifting heavy white-washed wooden guns with sweaty hands and marching in step to music which was considerably better than the High School band. Lila was sure Aaron and Missy were set on the Navy. Aaron was the captain of the team, though, and Lila felt that Missy might just be following him around. Ricky and Tamika, on the other hand, were both clearly interested in the Marines. Curiously, both would have to lose some weight, she thought.

There were also two seventh graders. Lila had to think for a minute before coming up with the names Kate and Warren. She shrugged. They were seventh graders, and they looked it.

Aaron broke off the drill to go to the parking lot. Bob was in the lot, ignoring whatever class he was supposed to be in, blasting gangsta rap, and Celeste was laughing at something. Owen was there with Terry clinging to him like a leech, and Kyle, poor hormone crazy, sex maniac Kyle was right with them. God help the eighth grade.

Lila tried to listen, but since she could not hear through the glass, she had to imagine Aaron was yelling at Bob to turn it down. The hip-hop music was seriously crimping the drill, but Bob and Celeste just laughed. God, how Lila hated the middle school games!

There was an interruption in the war. The three primo seventh graders, Anna, Lisa and Elizabeth were walking by, ignoring everything and everyone, except Kyle was not about to let them pass without making a pass. Lila saw Anna turn toward the other two, and she looked red-faced because of whatever Kyle said. It looked like Lisa responded while Elizabeth stuck her nose up and wanted nothing to do with the eighth grader. Who would? The boy was running amok, Lila decided.

“Ahem!” Lila’s mom was shelving something and Lila snapped to attention, looking at her textbook, though not really focusing. She would recognize that “Ahem!” anywhere. It was not a good thing having your mother as school librarian, at least not very often.

“Kyle is a weirdo.” Ginger whispered.

“What?” Morgan missed it.

“He said something to the seventh grade wannabes.” Lila explained. “Probably something stupid.” She added, though it was unnecessary. Morgan’s mouth was already forming an understanding “O,” when Mary pointed.

“Tom and Rachel.” Mary said, and all heads turned. Mary and Eddie were on again – off again. Donna and Bobby were also a couple, though they were never much together, like they were still checking things out about being a boy and a girl together. Tom and Rachel, on the other hand, seemed to have settled things nicely. They were not holding hands, exactly, but they might as well have been. Morgan sighed. She was interested in Jordan, admitting it one day and denying it the next; but Lila had learned, under strict confidence, that both Morgan and Jordan were coming to the Halloween dance as pirates.

“No place to hide there.” Lila said, half out loud, which solicited another “Ahem!” from the peanut gallery.

“This is study time, not window time.” Lila’s mom reminded the girls, and they got quiet for a minute, though none of them so much as glanced at their books.

“Got it.” Jennifer spoke almost too loud as she came over and sat at the table, a big book in her hand. “The gang at the geek table said this book has everything we need for our project.”

“Great.” Ginger sighed, and Morgan nodded in agreement, but Lila craned her neck to look at the geek table. She trusted George well enough, and Shirley, she supposed. Shirley had been a friend since kindergarten. Ethan was a bit on the crazy side. Maybe he was hormoning, too, just expressing it differently from Kyle. But then there was Lucy. Lucy was the class clown, and not technically one of the geeks. Lila looked at the book and wondered if maybe Lucy had really picked it out. It was not that Lucy was untrustworthy, but she would do anything for a laugh, and that might include making Lila and her friends spend hours in a book which had nothing they needed at all. Lila decided to check it out with her mom, and she snatched up the book and went to the desk. That was OK, because no one was looking at the book just yet. There was too much going on outside the window.

Mary spoke up while Lila was with her mom. “Eddie and I broke up again.” She said.

“Is that good?” Morgan asked. She always asked while Jennifer and Ginger made their usual comments. “Too bad,” and, “Good for you.”

“No, it’s not good.” Mary said. “I got my Princess costume all ready. Eddie was coming as Red Rayder.” They were characters from a video game

“Wear it anyway.” Jennifer insisted.

“Yeah.” Ginger agreed. “Let Red Rayder worry about it.”

“I heard Bobby and Donna broke up, too.” Morgan said.

“Were they ever a couple?” Mary wondered.

Jennifer shrugged while Morgan added a note. “Low class trailer bums.”

“Speaking of low class.” Ginger interrupted and pointed.

Shannah and Kylie came in talking up a storm on their cell phones. The seventh graders, Vanessa and Lori followed, in awe of the older rich girls who modeled new outfits every day and acted like they owned the world. In fact, Lila said so to her mother, but with one addition.

“They act like they own everything but have no idea what to do with it.”

“Hush.” Arosa scolded her daughter, softly, and came out from behind the desk, her hand open. Shannah and Kylie acted all put out, but they handed over the cells to be picked up when the day ended. They were not permitted in school, after all. The eighth graders went one direction, and the seventh graders went another, but sat where they could keep an eye on their eighth grade models.

*****

Arosa slipped the phones in a drawer while her daughter went back to her table. Arosa looked at the clock. The day was nearly over, and she had her date with David on her mind. Was she doing the right thing? He was the first man she had been able to get close to, after her adopted dad, of course, but there were things about her that David did not know. Then again, did she want to get close to him? It would mean roots that might be hard to break; but then, she reminded herself for the millionth time that she would probably never be able to go home.

She closed the drawer with the phones in it and had another thought. How might things have turned out differently if she had such devices in her own world? She looked at Lila and was struck with the notion that Lila might never know the world in which she was born. It was sad to think it. She remembered the day Lila came into the world. Those had been happy days.

“And what shall we call this marvel?” Dunovan had asked. He was so proud of her, and she was so happy for him.

“Lila, sweet.” Arosa said.

“Is that one word or two?” Dunovan asked as if serious. They had already discussed names and Lila had already been decided for a girl, but Arosa gladly played along.

“One word.” She said with a serious expression on her face, and he laughed, and that made her laugh, too. She so seldom heard him laugh, and he had such a wonderful, take your breath away, full of joy kind of laughter that she longed to hear again and again. She sighed. While those were happy days, they were short lived. The Empire was bearing down too hard.

Arosa remembered the poverty in the streets of Enteras, the port city and capitol of the land. It was worse outside the city, and no better up the coast in her home of Nova. The Emperor Kzurga was taking every man, weapon and speck of grain he could for wars in the North and West. The poor people were all but killing themselves in the fields and hills only to go hungry in winter. Though they lived far enough in the south to plant winter wheat as well as summer rye and barley, the climate being more like Florida, though not too different from Georgia, it was never enough for either the Emperor’s collectors or the people. They had to do something. Arosa understood that, even if it left her in a self-imposed exile. She knew they had to try.

She recalled Dunovan’s mother, Callista the cold as Arosa had come to think of her. The woman wanted nothing to do with rebellion. The others ignored her. Arosa found that odd because it was not that they distrusted the woman. When Arosa confronted her Mother-in-law, it was because of her lack of understanding. She tried to get the woman to explain herself on three separate occasions, but it was not until they found themselves unexpectedly alone, a condition that both of them had previously tried hard to avoid, that the woman opened up for the first and only time.

“I will do nothing against you all. Technically, I have no power here. It is all vested in the King, my son, your husband. But someone must be free of taint just in case this rebellion of yours should not succeed. I will not see my land under the thumb of some governor appointed by that madman, Kzurga. So tell me nothing of your plans. Tell me nothing at all. Officially, I know nothing, and what I know I must speak against. If we succeed, my words will not matter. If we fail, I may be the only hope for peace in this place. Now I must leave before we are compromised.” And she left, Arosa feeling very uncomfortable about it all.

*****

The Bell rang.

In seconds, the seventh grade geeks came in, loudly, and headed straight for the geek table. Then the boys arrived, and Lila and her friends hurried to pack their books away.

Chris and Peter sat down by Lila and Jennifer. It was a mutually acceptable arrangement of indecisiveness, partly because Lila, and especially Jennifer were both taller than the boys for the present. Nelson sat across from Ginger who ignored him very readily. “I’m coming as Max Man, with my stuffed dog Maxamillian.” Nelson was saying. They were cartoon characters.

“Figures.” Jordan said, nudging his friend as he sat, but neither he nor Morgan would look at each other. It was another unspoken, temporary agreement. At least they never looked at each other when the others were around. Meanwhile, Eddie, alias Red Rayder, sat next to Mary, alias Princess Ashanti. They spoke quietly for a minute and the others had the good sense not to interrupt, though they all listened. The result was, Eddie and Mary became a couple again. Then Lila’s mom came and shooed them out. They were supposed to go home for supper. The Halloween dance was not scheduled until six, and besides, Arosa had plans of her own.

Series: The Other Earth. Tale: Halloween Story part 3. M/F Story

August 28, 2009M G Kizzia Leave a comment

“Morning Dad.” Arosa said as she set a bowl of oatmeal in front of Wendel Carter and kissed his balding head. She walked to the stairs. “Lila, hurry up! You’ll be late for school.”

“I don’t like oatmeal.” Wendel complained, grumpily.

“High cholesterol gets you oatmeal for breakfast.” Arosa said as she stepped back to the refrigerator to pour Lila a glass of orange juice. She paused when she realized the man was staring at her. “What?”

“Best thing I ever did, adopting you and Lila. Even if you treat me like a doddering old fool.” He smiled. Arosa thought that deserved another kiss and she planted one on his forehead this time as she set down the orange juice for Lila. She stuck her head out the back door.

“Barten!” She shouted at the apartment above the garage. She did not see Barten’s pick-up. “Dad?” She asked, turning.

Wendel was in mid bite. “Mmm.” He swallowed quickly. “Barten said he had to get some things done at the High School so he could be free to act as custodian for the Middle School party this evening. He left extra early.”

Arosa nodded, but her mind had already moved on to the next issue. She was back at the foot of the stairs. “Lila!”

“I’ll be right down, Mom.” Lila shouted back. “Sheesh!” She said to herself. She took off the blue top for the second time and put on the lavender one. Mom didn’t like the lavender one. She said it was too revealing, but Lila was thirteen and she decided she could make her own decisions. She looked at herself in the mirror, and then slipped on a sweater. Sometimes it got cool the last day in October, even in Browning, Georgia; so she justified the sweater and skipped down the stairs.

“Thirteen, going on thirty.” Arosa breathed while her daughter smiled as if she did not have a care in the world.

“All posh.” Wendel said.

“Morning Grandpa.” Lila kissed his balding spot. In many ways, including her beauty, Lila was very much like her mother, though neither would admit it. Lila sat and sipped her juice.

“The purple top?” Arosa noticed despite the sweater. Lila ignored her.

“You going out with Mister Correll tonight?” Lila asked, changing the subject.

Arosa frowned but said no more about the top. “Yes. But I’ll be back at the school before the dance is over.” She promised.

Lila looked at her Grandfather who looked back at her and grinned. “Oh, I don’t know about that guy.” Lila and her Grandfather more or less spoke together. It was the phrase Arosa was using lately whenever Lila appeared to show interest in a young man, not that Lila was really interested in anyone, yet.

Arosa looked at them with steel in her eyes. “David Correll is a nice gentleman.” She said. “Besides, I’m thirty-two, not thirteen.” She tweaked her daughter’s nose. “And I’m not exactly the young girl, lost and alone in a strange land anymore.” She added that for Wendel.

“What do I know?” Wendel stood, his oatmeal unfinished. “I just live here.” He went for his briefcase, which he had left in the living room.

“And you, young lady. Ride to school?” Arosa asked while she emptied Wendel’s dish and set it in the dishwasher.

Lila shook her head. “Ginger and Jennifer will be by any minute. We’re walking”

“All right.” Arosa said as she picked up her own briefcase and followed Wendel out the front door. “Don’t forget to lock up.” She shouted back as Lila waved and watched the two cars leave the driveway. Ginger and Jennifer came moments later, and Morgan was with them.

“Did your mom give you any answers for the science test?” Morgan asked.

“She’s the school librarian.” Lila responded with a touch of sarcasm in her voice. “Not the science guy.”

“Only Mister Gross would have a test on Halloween.” Jennifer complained.

Morgan was shrugging. “It was worth a try.”

“How about your Grandpa?” Ginger asked hopefully, but Lila just did the eye roll and shake of the head for an answer.

“Where’s Mary?” Lila asked, as if she didn’t know.

“Walking with Eddie.” Jennifer grinned and someone giggled, and they left, all talking at once so anyone would wonder how they ever heard each other. Lila forgot to lock the door, but it was a small town in the middle of Georgia.

*****

Arosa pulled up to the light with her mind in another world. Perhaps it was her comment about no longer being a stranger in this strange land that triggered it. That and her date that evening, she told herself. She was remembering her first husband, Lila’s father, not that she had any such ideas about David. She furrowed her brow as the light changed.

Prince Dunovan had been a great man. She remembered how she felt at seventeen when they stood before the Priest on her wedding day. Dunovan looked so tall so strong, and so intimidatingly handsome. She remembered turning to her mother and father, the King and Queen of Nova, but all she saw in her father’s eyes was joy and pride, and her mother was crying. Arosa imagined she might cry if Lila married.

She looked again at the Prince. “I promise my fidelity and devotion.” He said. Could she ask for more? She looked to the Queen Mother, Callista, but the woman was stoic, as always. Would Callista like her? It was important to Arosa that Callista like her, but she did not expect it given the cool way the woman had treated her up to that point. And Dunovan’s father? He had died some five years earlier. Dunovan was formally King of Truscas. Would she manage as Queen?

“Arosa.” Dunovan spoke to her softly. She did manage to look into his eyes, and she found welcome there.

“And I will respect you, my husband.” She said, but in her heart she hoped, nay, begged to be able to love him, and be loved by him. That was the one thing she wanted. But thus it had been for ages; that the noble Lord and Lady should wed in a political union, bringing all of the lands and cities of the Bellican Coast closer for a generation. Nova and Truscas would be united, now, in mutual support and succor, as the Priest called it. And she would play her part.

Arosa sniffed as she got out of her car and headed for the Middle School library. She had loved Dunovan indeed, even if it had only been for such a short time.

*****

Barten-Cur was in his pick-up, headed for the hardware store. Stall three in the first floor girl’s room needed some real work. Lady Arosa and Mister Carter had been reluctant to let him get a driver’s license at first, but he showed them. He was a better driver and more respectful of the law than half of the natives on the roads, and that was a fact.

Something came from the woods beside the road and Barten-Cur screeched to a halt. It was a man. While that would have gone by without notice under other circumstances, this one was different. Barten-Cur could not exactly place the uniform, though he guessed it was Truscan, but this man was definitely a soldier. There was no doubt about that. And the man was staring at him.

There was a honk! Someone was behind him, and the soldier turned and trotted back into the woods Barten-Cur started driving again, but he hardly knew what to think. If they were Truscan, that might be bad enough, but if they came on behalf of the Empire, there could be real trouble. Princess Arosa had to be told at once, he thought, but he shouldn’t bother her at work. He had been reprimanded for that over and over. And she had a date tonight with Mister Correll, the High School Principal, as well. It would not do to interrupt her date. No, no, Barten thought. He would have to try and catch her in between work and going out. He hoped he would remember to get to her in time. If not, what could he do? He had to look out for Lila, above all.