Series: Tales of the Other Earth Tale: Halloween Story part 15 M/F Story

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

“If you start in with that bubble, bubble business, you will be driven from my kitchen.” Chef Brian was serious.

“Never fear, great Lord.” Brittany, the witch spoke for the three. “We are just making a tonic for our majesty, Queen Jessica. Her nerves, you know. All of these events are quite beyond her. Her subjects are in rebellion.”

“Ha! Nothing of the kind.” Chef Brian responded. “I say, though, I am a bit put off about the idea of you finding everything you need for your witches’ brew in my kitchen.”

“Alas, not everything, great Lord.” Brittany said, sadly. “But some. Indeed some.” She looked back to where Nichole and Molly were dancing around the biggest pot they could find, adding whatever they could to the water, which was boiling, it must be said, without the benefit of a fire beneath it.

People were coming regularly now in and out of the cafeteria. The dancing was great, but one did get hot and tired, and Chef Brian’s reputation was growing. Maria, the waitress would have been overwhelmed with customers if the stewardess had not volunteered to pitch in. Then also, some came to have their fortunes told. Colonel Nate was presently hovering over a seated Karen who was trying hard to keep her hoops from shooting up into the gypsy’s face and upsetting the fortune. And, of course, the geisha had her hands full with those who preferred tea. Truscan soldiers were mingling freely with the rest, though to be sure, the karate champions and the officers of the law were keeping their watchful eyes open.

“Doctor. Doctor George, come quick.” Snow White was yelling from the kitchen door. Doctor George and Nurse Shirley got up slowly. Ethan the Dentist came along, too, just in case there was trouble.

“What is it, Ms White?” The Doctor asked. Snow White hushed him and brought him to a storage room by the back door of the kitchen while Chef Brian complained. “There are too many improper persons in here, contaminating the food! How can an artist create with so many interruptions!”

There was a nun hiding in the closet and she was holding her belly and moaning.

“So she’s pregnant.” Doctor George said without the least emotion. Nurse Shirley smiled.

“But it hurts.” The nun said. “I feel like something is kicking me right here.” Nurse Shirley hid her smile while the Doctor got his stethoscope and checked.

“Yes.” The doctor said. “That would be the baby.” He put the nun’s hand to feel for herself. Then the Doctor had a thought. “Elizabeth, isn’t it?” The Doctor asked and the nun nodded.

————

In the hall between the cafeteria and the gym, Bobby and Donna the homeless hobos were collecting a crowd as well. It was all “This Land is Your Land,” and “Blowing in the Wind,” but people loved it as a change of pace. Donna was on the guitar and Bobby was on his harmonica. Everybody sang, but even with all of those off key voices, it was a relatively quiet break from the music in the gym.

————

“Are you prepared for the onslaught?” The Space Gladiator asked. Everyone nodded.

“Piece of cake.” Quarterback Tyler said. He and his three football players were each as big as the Gladiator, who was no small person. Captain Aaron nodded for his crew, the ones that used to be the eighth grade color guard. They walked to the hall that ran down the west side of the auditorium and waited while Aaron checked his watch. The marines, Ricky and Tamika, were in the back checking on their rifles. They were making jokes.

“Captain looks like Captain Ahab.” Ricky insisted.

“More like the Gorton fisherman.” Tamika disagreed.

“Quiet.” Captain Aaron hushed them.

“Aye-aye, Skipper.” Missy said with a salute.

Aaron frowned. “So now you’re Gilligan?” Missy looked momentarily surprised and appeared flustered by the question. Ricky and Tamika tried not to laugh. “Ready.” Captain Aaron said, and at once, they got serious. Four things were going to happen at more or less the same time.

————

The Queen was becoming frustrated. These adults appeared to be confused about who they were, not to mention who the children were. None of them could help her find the girl. It was as if they never heard of Lila. She had left the dark skinned man alone, and berated Count Severas for drawing blood when the man merely tried to escape. Surely he could have been stopped without having to be cut.

“Barten-Cur!” The Queen yelled in a tone of voice to make everyone in the room duck. She was out of patience. She struck the custodian with a surge of power, but Barten-Cur resisted. He was not going to talk. “Wizard!” The Queen commanded, and the wizard stepped up to hold the Queen’s hand. With the first touch, the force being exerted on Barten-Cur doubled. The Queen’s green stream of magic turned a muddy green color with the addition of the wizard’s cherry colored magic. Barten-Cur began to mumble.

“Muba-muba-muba.”

“Count. Count Severas!” The Queen commanded in a sharp, quick voice as if she hated to expend the energy needed to mouth the words. Count Severas took her other hand, and again, the magic redoubled, now turning an oak brown color as the Count’s deep brown, almost black magic was added on.

“MUBA-MUBA-MUBA.” Barten-Cur merely increased in volume.

“Oh!” The Queen yelled and threw both hands away at once. The magic immediately ceased. Magic was generally good for manipulating matter and energy, but it had limits against the mind and heart.

“I could make a potion of truth if I had the ingredients.” The wizard suggested. It would have been more effective than trying to force the issue, but, unfortunately, the ingredients were not available.

In the balcony, Tom kept Rachel in her seat that whole time. There was far too much magic down below for a couple of mere vampires to deal with. Rachel complained all the same.

“But I am really, really hungry.” She said. Tom was too.

————

Lila drew the layout of the offices in mid air. The Wicked Witch of the West wasn’t there. They had just missed her. The Queen had been one step ahead of them and came to fetch her and take her off to the auditorium; but the other teachers were all still there, such as they were.

“Jane Austin has the Principal baby in her arms over here, next to Mister Johnson with the bandage on his arm. Ms Duncan and Mister Gross are in the back getting all kissy-face.” Lila turned up her nose at the thought.

“I thought they were married.” Sir Chris said, checking his broadsword for the tenth time.

“They are.” The scarecrow nodded. “Unfortunately, not to each other.”

“Eww.” Lila said, and she almost wiggled enough to disrupt the mid-air map she was carefully trying to draw out of fairy dust. Ginger let out a low growl and licked her paw.

“Anyone seen Max and Maxamillian?” Jordan the pirate interrupted.

Red Rayder and the Princess nodded. “They fell off the roof back near the cafeteria door.” Red said. Jennifer rolled her elfin eyes, but the ninja and the pirates all snickered.

“Quiet!” Lila stomped her foot again. Snap! It sounded like a cap pistol even if she was only stomping on air. “Be quiet, before I forget. The rest, that’s the flamenco dancer, Ms. Finster the beautiful young flower child, Coach Beemer, alias the Masked Marvel, and Mozart are all in this area by the coke machine.”

“They got a coke machine in the office?” Sir Chris did not know this.

Lila ignored the interruption. “There are six guards. Two by the inside door, two by the outside door and two between the two groups of teachers.” There. She got through it all. Now it was time to act.

“Away we go.” Red Rayder said, and before anyone could stop him, he ran and jumped through the access door, falling right through the ceiling tile below. The others were obliged to follow, with Lila complaining.

“Why did I bother to scout and make a map?”

By the time she and her scarecrow got to the room below, everything was settled. Sir Chris and Red had the two by the outside door at sword point. The pirates Morgan and Jordan had the two in the center surrendered, with their hands high in the air. The growling jaguar helped convince the soldiers to keep their hands up. The two by the inside door were stuck to the walls, one having wet himself.

“Only counts as one.” Peter the ninja said while elf Jennifer stuck her tongue out at the man. She retrieved her four arrows that had pinned her man at the shoulders and collar a foot off the ground. Not a drop of blood was spilled, but the man would not be fighting again for a time. He fell to the floor, shivering. Meanwhile, Peter retrieved his ninja stars. His man was not a foot off the ground like the other man, but he was just as effectively pinned to the wall. There was a little blood in one shoulder and that got a razz from the elf.

“Finished already?” Lila protested with another snap! of her foot. She missed it all!

One Writer’s Writing Secrets 6: Blogging or Writing?

October 7, 2009M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Blogging is not the same as writing. I am sorry. I know what you have been told, but I don’t care about that. Writing is writing. Blogging is blogging and that is that.

I remember an article in the New York Times. It was so many years ago, I can’t remember who wrote it, but apparently he was thrilled that he had gotten his first word processor and would not have to painstakingly type his stories anymore (I said it was a long time ago).

So I don’t remember who wrote it (though it may come to me), but I remember the gist of the article to this day because it was about processing words rather than writing them, and the author discovered that with no great effort on his part, he could process words to his heart’s content and never have to come up for air again; which is to say, he could just write and write and never have to bother with all of those petty annoyances like punctuation or spelling, which were all taken care of automatically by this new marvel, and he was thrilled except that after a while it got to be a bit like the sorcerer’s apprentice where the sentence just went on and on with no end in sight; like the never ending song that went round and round in his head but never managed to get to the end, and so now he was stuck processing and processing and he no longer knew if it was day or night because he could not lift his head from the screen long enough to so much as look out the window since the words kept coming at a furious pace and he dared not stop but had to put them down while they were fresh and inspired because the last person who neglected his muse… You get the idea.

Blogging is a lot like that. True, since those heady days, most of us have learned how to write on a word processor. It may be that in the future, some may learn to write on a blog. (Obviously, I am not referring to stories posted on the blog as I do myself, but actually blogging stories in the true sense of the word). It isn’t writing. It is transitory, once down and done, momentary feelings posted for all the world to see. There is little effort involved (in some cases very little), and while some may be good at it, funny or entertaining or informative, it is like a breath of air – once breathed and it is gone forever.

Now, I am not against blogging. I blog myself. (I blog, therefore I am)? I am just saying that writing, at least good writing, is the result of effort, work, rewriting, honing, sweat, toil, blood and tears (thank you Winston). It is craft, even art, and designed to have some permanence that blogging, by its very nature, cannot have.

Writing is like the Mona Lisa. (OK, my writing is at times more like dogs playing poker, but still)! Blogging is more like photography. Everyone has a camera. Even phones have cameras. And some photos are great, but eventually they are lost on some memory card and buried, perhaps forever. Writing gets hung on the wall, maybe only the living room and not in the Louvre, but all the same, writing has a kind of permanence that can bring a reader back again and again.

Writing Tip 6:

So, are you a writer or a blogger or both? I believe DaVinci would have loved a camera, and probably a blog, but we would all have to learn to read in a mirror.

Series: Tales of the Other Earth Tale: Halloween Story part 14 M/F Story

October 5, 2009M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Chef Brian was making some great food despite the fact that his ingredients were school supplies. His mystery meat a l’orange was to die for.

“So what’ll it be?” Waitress Maria asked between blowing and popping a big bubble with her bubblegum.

“Two fresh grilled cheese ala Brian.” Warren said. “And water.” He turned to Kate. “I always get so hungry after a competition.” He confessed.

“Just a salad.” Kate said. “Me too, but I have to watch my figure.”

“To drink?” Maria asked, trying one more bubblegum bubble.

“Water.” She said, and she frowned at the Police Officer and Sheriff guarding the prisoners who only looked interested in the doughnuts and coffee. Sadly, the doughnuts did look good to her and it took some strong will power to resist.

“You did great out there, by the way.” Warren said.

“Huh?” Kate turned to him and smiled, and almost turned a little red. She had hoped Warren would think she did well. Indeed, she did not mind the look Warren gave her when she took off her black belt to tie up the soldiers; not at all. She wanted Warren to look at as much as he wanted; but then, she supposed he was talking about the fight. “Who is the new one?” She asked, distracting Warren by pointing with her head.

A Truscan soldier had his face to the window, spying on them. Warren was inclined to go and get the man, but another Truscan told Warren keep his seat.

“I’ll fetch him.” The big soldier said, standing stiffly and walking to the window in flip flops. He waved vigorously to the man outside, indicating that he should come in and he pointed to the door. The man outside hesitated, but eventually came to open the door though he did not come all the way in.

“Sergeant?” The man wanted to be sure what he was seeing.

“Come in. Come in.” The big Sergeant reached out and grabbed the man by the wrist. He had to yank him into the cafeteria.

“But the Queen Regent sent me around the building to see if there are any more doors. I have to report back.”

“Later, later.” The Sergeant said, nodding to the two karate masters. “I want you to meet someone first.”

“But.” The man hardly got that out before the Sergeant forced him to the floor, to sit on the cushions.

“Welcome.” A woman dressed all in silk with a pure white face and the reddest lips imaginable came and took off the soldier’s boots. She massaged his feet, and the soldier moaned from the pleasure while his Sergeant laughed. Then she washed the soldier’s feet with water and dried them with her long black hair.

“She doesn’t speak the local language very well. They say she speaks Japanese, whatever that is. I call her Geisha, though I think that is what she is, not her name.” Geisha smiled for her Sergeant and poured the newcomer some tea.

“She has the longest black lashes on the most remarkable eyes I have ever seen.” The soldier admitted his astonishment.

“Ladyfinger?” Geisha held out a tray.

“Try one.” The Sergeant encouraged. “Chef Brian made those with cookies and something called Peanut But and Chocolate syrup, or something like that.”

The soldier would have responded if his mouth was not busy tasting the luxury. His eyes rolled up and he became speechless.

“God, they’re good.” The Sergeant agreed, taking another one for himself.

————

“Well, Shirley. Not much for us to do.” Doctor George sipped his coffee.

“Let’s hope it stays that way.” The Sheriff said, sipping his coffee as well.

“Where’s Ethan?” Shirley was concerned about the dentist. He was quite mad and everyone knew it.

“I’m watching.” Officer Lindsey pointed. Ethan was with the gypsy woman.

“So what is my fortune?” Ethan was nearly begging.

“Ah!” The gypsy woman said, peering more deeply into her plastic ball. Crystal was hard to come by in the school cafeteria. “I see. I see.”

“What? What!” Ethan leaned forward as if trying to see with his own eyes. “I’m going to die? Someone is going to die? Please tell me someone is going to be injured really, really badly and suffer.”

“Quiet!” The gypsy said sharply. “I see you pulling your weight in the current crisis, but that is all.” The gypsy looked at Ethan as if she did not like Ethan very much, but Ethan was not repulsed.

“That’s all right.” He said with some glee. “I like pulling things. Preferably without anesthesia!”

————

Scarecrow-Grandpa climbed up the ladder to the hole near the gym ceiling. It was his idea, so he said he had to be first. True, he slipped about ten feet up and splattered on the gym floor, and this did not embolden everyone’s confidence; but Grandpa was no worse for wear, only needing to be restuffed in a few places.

“Carefully Grampy.” Lila said with a seriously concerned look in her little eyes. She was getting cuter all of the time and Morgan the pirate even commented that she now understood why Captain Hook got so easily taken in.

The scarecrow made it on the second try and Chris, the knight followed. The ninja and elf made it in record time. They seemed to be competing. Then Lila tried her magic on Maxamillian first. He was heavy, but she could levitate him easily enough while Max Man climbed. Then she levitated Ginger the Jaguar, as everyone was calling her. Ginger did not like feeling helpless and let out a few roars of protest. The two pirates came next and Red Rayder and the Princess brought up the rear.

“Think, thinky think.” Lila said to herself, tapping her temple with her face all scrunched up. It was getting hard to remember some of their real names. Red and Ashanti seemed to always have been Red and Ashanti. “Mary and Eddie.” She said proudly to herself as she settled on the scarecrow’s shoulder at the front of the column. “I think.” She added in all honesty.

It was narrow going in the small room by the hole. They had to crawl on their hands and knees for a short way before it would open up again. They tried not to get tangled in the electric chords, or stick their feet through a hole to the balcony, and they tried to keep quiet, though they were a large enough crowd. A few yards in and their path turned to the right where they would find an access door to the roof of the art and music rooms. That was the roof that would lead them to the roof above the offices. The scarecrow was not sure, but he believed there was another access door there that would let them into the ceiling area above the actual offices.

Lila and the scarecrow stopped and looked out into the room where the stage lighting was done. They had to let Chris the knight and some of the firmer hands pass by for them to get the access door open. “My hands are too flimsy and yours are too small.” The scarecrow told her. Lila nodded. She did have the smallest hands she had ever seen, and, in fact, everything about her was small. She was just thinking about the implications of that when her scarecrow suddenly lurched forward.

“It doesn’t have any blood in it.” Rachel said as she removed her fangs from the straw neck.

“But the others do.” Tom encouraged, pointing to the crew crossing behind the straw man.

Lila screamed and lit up like a miniature sun. Perhaps it was fairy instinct, or some other, more innate magic, but both Tom and Rachel hissed, threw their arms up to cover their eyes and backed away to hide in the shadows.

“Hurry.” The scarecrow shouted behind to the others. He only had to say it once. They all knew the vampires for what they were.

“Shamey shame!” Lila said, shaking her finger at the two cowering in the corner, trying to escape the light. She would have flown up into their faces if the scarecrow had not pinched her leg. “Grandpa!” Lila protested, but the scarecrow was already backing toward the door. Ginger had just gone through and Jennifer, the elf, was last before Lila and her scarecrow. Meanwhile, Link and Peter the ninja had somehow managed to rig the roof access door. Once the scarecrow was through, the door was slammed shut and it was effectively locked from their side so the vampires could not get at them. One fist hammered enormously from the other side, bending the metal slats in the door ever so slightly, but the vampires would not be able to get at them that way.

“I wonder what other nasties may be running around.” Sir Chris said, and everyone shuddered as they crossed the open roof. Halloween was not known for its’ angels.

————

At that moment there was a knock on the door of room 204. The children looked up. The knock became desperate, and the two dressed as ghosts came tumbling out of the closet. They were mostly still dressed.

“The door’s locked.” The devil girl and the skeleton girl got up and went to the door window. The dead lawyer and zombie opted to keep their seats.

“The dance is half over!” The Grim Reaper complained, scattering the cards across the room.

“Hey!” The demon protested. He thought he had a winning hand.

With a little hand waving, they convinced the person outside to turn the handle. A woman came pushing into the room and she slammed the door before anyone could stop her. The devil girl threw her hands up and looked at the ceiling, but the skeleton girl gasped. “It’s Cleopatra!” And for all practical purposes, it was.

“Hush.” Cleopatra said, hiding against the wall by the door. “You have to hide me. I’m being chased by a man.” Her English was heavily accented, like it was a foreign language and she was having trouble remembering.

The boys were staring and the ghoul suggested, “I could chase you.”

Cleopatra frowned at the joke. She paused to make sure she was remembering the right words. “No. I mean a man.” She repeated, and lowered her voice an octave on the word “man.”

“I’m in love.” Scream whispered.

“Hey! Aren’t you dead or something?” The devil girl asked in all seriousness.

“Silly girl.” Cleopatra said stroking the girl’s cheek with her hand in a very motherly act. “I’m right here.” And she added something in a language that could only have been Egyptian.

“Cleopaateera!” They heard the voice in the hall. “Cleo, babe!”

Cleopatra quickly switched off the light, but the man in the hall noticed and came to the door. He opened it slowly. The light came back on and the children shouted. Pimp Kyle came in, confused by all the sudden noise. He came all of the way into the room before he realized where Cleopatra was. Cleopatra screamed and scooted out the door and ran down the hall while the devil girl and the skeleton got between the pimp and the hallway. The pimp merely smiled at the children, spun on his heels and shoved the girls out of the way with the word, “Move.” He shut the door behind him. The demon immediately tried stabbing his rubbery-plastic knife into his facemask, but this time the devil girl and the skeleton were outside. They only teased the others a little before letting them out.

————

Miraz came shooting down the curved slide for the tenth time before he found Opas, swinging on the bars. “We better not tell Captain Tor about this stuff.” Miraz said.

“What?” Opas was hanging upside down.

“He’ll turn it into training equipment and take all of the fun out of it.” Miraz concluded.

“Ah, yes.” Opas agreed. “See. This is a very interesting position, swinging upside down like this. I can feel my brains rushing to my head.”

“Didn’t know you had any.” Miraz said.

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.

Tales of the Other Earth: Halloween Story 2 M/F Story

August 21, 2009M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Wendel Carter stepped out in the early morning light, his briefcase and laptop securely in one hand and a travel mug of blessed coffee in the other. Not a week ago it was still dark in the morning when he left the house, but the spring was on, and another school year would be over before he knew it. He made for the car, but some motion down by the brook caught his eye. At first he thought the Wallabys let their dogs loose again. Browning was a small town, but there were leash laws in the town limits, even if the Wallabys did not like it. Then he heard the arguing. A man and woman were into it. He did not understand a word of what they were saying. It did not sound like English or Spanish, but he knew an argument when he heard one. “Sounds like the school board.” He mumbled to himself. He paused when he got a good look, and the man and woman paused as well when they saw him. Then Wendel nearly dropped his coffee.

The woman was dressed in a long gown of green, which set off her brilliant green eyes and rich earth colored hair that fell from the hood of her open, scarlet cloak. The hood surrounded a very young and pretty face and her hair fell almost to her waist, which was much longer than he was used to seeing. She hardly looked twenty to judge by her face and hands, but she seemed much older since she was not dressed in the kind of skanky clothes so typical of most twenty-year-old girls. She also looked older, he decided, because she had a firm grasp on the hand of what looked like a three or four-year-old; a girl who was also dressed in a gown of sorts. Indeed, they looked like they were on their way to church, and Wendel settled on some such though before he took a closer look at the man.

The man was about Wendel’s age, but like the girl, he also looked much older in certain ways. His face was ugly, to put it mildly, with a big wart on his nose and beady little eyes under very bushy, almost Neanderthal brows. He was not terribly tall, not nearly as tall as the woman, and, in Wendel’s estimation, this made him look more like a dwarf or troll, rather than a man. The man pulled a long blade, something like a Roman style short sword. Wendel took a step back while the man waved it at him and let loose some equally sharp words from his thick lips and near toothless mouth.

The young woman frowned and with her free hand she forced the blade down. She placed the little girl in the ogre’s hands to keep him occupied, which was a very brave thing to do in Wendel’s estimation, given the man’s appearance, and she stepped forward, speaking soothing words in some unknown tongue. She held out her hand, and Wendel automatically set down his briefcase and laptop and raised his own hand to shake; but she grabbed the hand, and there was a white flash of light, and Wendel got very, very dizzy. He needed to sit down to avoid falling down. The woman also needed to sit down, and she did so, facing him.

“Master of Library Science.” The woman said. “Most wonderful, Superintendent of Schools.” It was like she was testing the words to see how they fit in her mouth and on her tongue and lips.

“What hit me?” Wendel asked, sipping his coffee, which he had miraculously kept upright in his hand. The miracle liquid helped a little.

“I am sorry.” The woman said. “But I have encountered many strange things in your world. Ordinarily, I would have only exchanged my language and yours, but in this place I felt I needed some real knowledge of life – in America.” She sounded so apologetic; Wendel was speechless. Then he understood something incredible.

“You mean you picked up English just by touching my hand? Good God!” He was speechless again.

“I am sorry.” The woman repeated her apology. “I should not have invaded the privacy of your mind, but Library Science was there, seemingly unused, and I believe it may be enough to help me adjust in short order.”

Wendel checked quickly. Library Science was still in his mind as well, so she duplicated the knowledge and did not simply take it. He had a Masters in Library Science, and it was where he was headed to get out of the classroom before he had an opportunity for School Administration. He had been Principal of the Middle School while he worked on his Doctorate in Administration. Then the opportunity came up for the Superintendent’s position, and he jumped at it, fool that he was. “Quite all right.” He said at last and he held out his hand a second time. “Wendel Carter.”

The young woman nodded as if she already knew this; but she shook his hand properly this time. “Arosa. Princess of Nova and Queen of Truscas.”

Wendel paused in mid shake. He knew who she was as well, and he also knew something of her story. Apparently she had willingly shared some of herself with him. So she isn’t a thief or a whack-o, he assured himself. But then, he knew that, and he knew one more thing which maybe Arosa did not yet realize. “We need to get you inside.” He said firmly, looking at the three strangers with new eyes. “You must be exhausted.”

“But you will be late for work.” Arosa protested a little as if ready to apologize for a third time.

“Nonsense.” Wendel countered. “I’m the boss. I’ll yell at myself later.” They stood and Arosa turned to Barten-Cur and Lila.

“Come.” She said. “Now is the time to trust in good fortune.” It was spoken in a language Wendel Carter never learned, but he understood every word.

“Remarkable.” He said in the same language as he helped the young woman up the porch steps. The old retainer and the little girl followed.

Reflections: The Four Rules of Great Writing

August 20, 2009August 20, 2009M G Kizzia Leave a comment

1. Write

2. Start at the beginning of the Story and End at the End.

Don’t start with prologues, introductions or background details. That isn’t the beginning of the story.

At the end, characters may have more to say and more to do, but leave that to the reader. Readers like that. If there is a lot more to be said and done, perhaps there is a second story; but for the first story: Start at the beginning of the Story and End at the End.

3. Great writing is not determined by what you put into it, but by knowing what to leave out.

4. Write your own rules. What works for you?

— Michael

Tales of the Other Earth: Halloween Story 1 M/F Story

August 17, 2009M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Wendel Carter loved puttering around the garden in the spring, setting down the mulch, planting flowers out front and vegetables in the back, fertilizing and trimming and setting out stones to keep the grass at bay; not that he grew much grass in the middle of nowhere, Georgia. Still, it was therapy. It kept him from thinking. He knew school politics were bad from his years of teaching, but he never imagined how bad they could get until he accepted the position of Superintendent of Schools for the Browning School System, sadly referred to locally as the BS Schools. That thought made him dig a little deeper.

Gardening was therapy for another reason as well. He paused long enough to wipe the sweat from his graying brow and take a long look at the empty house beside the brook. He tried not to think about it, either. He noticed that the white picket fence out front needed painting, as did the porch on the side of the house. He turned his eyes to consider the little apartment above the garage where his mother used to live before she passed. It needed work as well, but then none of that mattered. It was the emptiness of the house and the emptiness he felt inside that claimed him and drove him to seek solace among the shrubs and flowers. Sandra had been a good wife. He could not have complained on that score, and Missy, his sixteen-year-old daughter had been the beat of his heart. It still choked his throat and made tears well up into his eyes to think that the drunk, driving on the wrong side of the interstate, not only survived the wreck, but only got slapped on the wrist for killing a family – for destroying Wendel’s life and surely shredding his heart. Wendel Carter shook his head and drove his spade into the hard red clay that pretended to be soil. “That was four years ago.” He told himself. “Let it go, man.” He tried to let it go, but he still had a few tears left.

*****

Arosa stepped through the little shimmering hole in the air, holding tight to the sleeping three-year-old whose head snuggled into her shoulder The little scamp was mumbling, but not squirming too badly which was good because Arosa had to hold on to her baby with one hand while her other hand grasped the hand of her faithful retainer, Barten-Cur. The old man’s eyes were wide; fascinated with the prospect of the completely new and unknown world they were entering. He noticed it was three hours before dawn in both places and Arosa knew there was not much to be seen in the dark, but she could not help smiling for the child-like innocence and wonder shown on the face of her retainer; because Barten-Cur’s fascination was truly that of a child, and in that respect he was much like Lila, her sleeping baby. Her father used to say that the man was as loyal as a hunting dog, and almost as smart. Still, he was a powerful man of magic. It had taken both of them and some considerable sweat to open the hole between the worlds.

“My Lady.” Barten-Cur spoke softly as if afraid to disturb the child, or perhaps afraid to make their presence known in this new world of wonder. “You must let me look around first. There is no telling what may be lurking in the shadows. There may be dragons or wolves or mandibar, or even dragons!”

Arosa smiled again. “Look here,” she said, letting go of his hand to place hers on Lila’s back, to comfort the sleeping, dreaming child. They watched the hole they had made slowly close. Soon, it was hardly bigger than a child’s ball, and then a woman’s ring and at last it completely disappeared. “We go together.” Arosa told her manservant. “But you may keep your blade ready just in case.”

Barten-Cur grinned with what teeth he had. He was not usually permitted to carry sharp weapons. Arosa, meanwhile, was straining her other senses as well as she could. To be sure, she was very tired from the ordeal of opening the hole between the worlds, but she was fairly sure she could smell manure, and it smelled like ordinary enough cows. There was a stream nearby, and she imagined they might do worse than following it.

“This is farm country, my Lady.” Barten-Cur confirmed; but Arosa was not sure if that was a good thing. On the one hand, the closeness of people spoke against the nearness of wolves or other predators, but then men could be the worst predators of all when they wanted to be. She imagined they would find out soon enough if these people were friendly to strangers, or not.