Traveler: Storyteller Tales: Happy Hill

April 9, 2010M G Kizzia 2 Comments

Glen sat in the sandbox and pouted. The swings and other playground equipment were full of kids, and though the late September wind was turning too cold to swing, Glen found that when he was in the box the other kids left him alone. He was not necessarily anti-social, but he was not pro-social either. Not yet being four years old, he honestly did not know what he was, except that he was careful about strangers for some reason, and all of the kids at that place were strangers as far as he could tell. He never saw any of them before his first day, a day he spent in tears, and he never did see any of them later in life either. They did not even live in his town. His Mom called this place Murray Hill – “Happy Hill in Murray Hill” she told him when she tried to convince him that nursery school was a wonderful thing. Glen was not so sure it was so wonderful. It certainly did not feel wonderful.

Glen liked to pick up the sand and let it run through his fingers. It was like the sands of time, he told himself. To be sure, he did not yet have much of a concept of time other then the time he got dumped at the school and the time he got picked up; and he certainly could not tell time, but in his mind the sand was like time all the same. The time winds were blowing strong, he told himself, and with that he looked across the road. Over the fence and through the trees there was a huge building complex. Glen would rather be home, away from that building altogether, but as long as he was there he felt it was important to keep an eye on the place, and at three-and-some-years-old, he did not have the presence of mind to ask why.

Glen turned his eyes from the building when a car pulled up on the gravel drive. A man got out and Teacher Nancy went to him as her assistant, Mrs. Waterhouse, corralled the children into the building. Mrs. Waterhouse knew better than to bother with Glen. She let him stay in the sand so as to avoid a fuss.

“Nancy.” The man called the teacher by name as he gave her a kiss on the cheek.

“David. Aren’t you supposed to be at work?” Teacher Nancy asked and the man nodded.

“But you forgot this. I thought you might want it.”

“Oh, blessed coffee,” the teacher said and she took a big sip before giving the man a hug. She took a second sip before speaking again. “So you never finished what you were saying. What is it you are working on these days.”

“All hush-hush stuff you know,” He smiled to tease her with the secret.

“What can the phone company be into that is so hush-hush?” She was not buying it.

“No, really. The Labs has gotten some stuff from the government picked up in some crash out West a few years back. We are supposed to figure out what it is and what it does. Pickard has coined the phrase, reverse engineering. I suppose that sound about right.”

“Russian?” In 1957 it was the first and most obvious assumption; but the man shook his head.

“I don’t think so. No one will say, but the stuff is indescribable, detailed, sophisticated. I don’t know. If it is Russian we might just as well surrender right now.”

“But if it isn’t Russian, whose is it?” Teacher Nancy asked. She looked more curious than doubting, but Mister David just shrugged again before he pointed at Glen

“Mrs. Waterhouse missed one,” he said.

“Oh, that’s Glen.” Teacher Nancy smiled and the two of them came near and squatted down to be friendly. “Sometimes Glen spends all morning in the sandbox, don’t you Glen?” Glen could only shrug.

“Why is that?” Mister David asked. Glen pointed at the building complex in the distance. “What is he pointing at?” Mister David squinted. Teacher Nancy could only shrug. Apparently Glen pointed before when asked the same question, but no one yet figured it out.

“Are you going there?” Glen asked, still pointing. It surprised his teacher who heard very few words escape Glen’s lips, but the man responded, even if it took him a minute to understand that Glen was pointing at the distant building.

“You mean Bell Labs? You mean the building there? Yes I work there.”

“It is bad, wrong, broken, sick.” Glen used every word he could think of to explain, but it was hard for him since he, himself was not clear on what he was sensing.

“Huh!” Teacher Nancy could not help commenting. “You are full of words today, aren’t you, young man?”

“Hush.” Mister David hushed her. “Why is it sick?”

Glen shook his head. He did not have an actual answer for the question. “It has bad things. It is wrong. Very wrong. No! No!” He really could not explain it.

Mister David smiled and began to think that the boy really had nothing to say. Teacher Nancy smiled as well. “Now, how do you know it is bad?” Mister David asked again but this time he spoke with some disbelief in his voice.

“They are not people things. They are Reichgo.” Glen said the word though he had no idea what a Reichgo was. “I can smell them.” He concluded, and he reached out for David’s hand and smelled the hand when David gave it to the boy. “I smell them.” The boy said, and with one brief blue-eyed look into David’s face, he stood, wiped the sand off his hands, and whatever else might be clinging to his hands, and ran inside. Suddenly, there was too much going on inside his wee little head, and Glen needed some space. He needed to be alone, but there were grown-ups speaking inside his head and he could not escape them.

“Huh!” David looked briefly at his own hand with a very curious expression. “Spooky kid.”

“I have never heard Glen say that much since the first day.” Teacher Nancy’s eyes followed the boy to be sure he got back inside.

David shrugged it off and let his smile return as he kissed the teacher again on the cheek. “See you at supper,” he said, and he rose and got back in his car and headed out.

Teacher Nancy watched and sipped on her coffee the whole time, but when David’s Hudson pulled around the corner, she shrugged it off, too, and went back to the children.

Mister David came back three days later, near noon, when school was done for the day and Glen was waiting to be picked up. “David?” In that name, Teacher Nancy expressed all of her curiosity at seeing him in the middle of the day. David hardly glanced at the teacher. He came straight to where Glen was quietly standing. Glen did not move. He did not dare. He saw the expression on Mister David’s face.

“Tell me about the Reichgo.” He demanded. His voice was soft and calm, but to a boy who was not yet four it sounded like a grown-up demand. Glen’s face curled up like he might cry, but he managed to point into the sky even as two things happened. First there was what could only be called an explosion near the back of that distant building. David looked sharply in that direction and mumbled something equally sharp about Rupert and Pickard. Teacher Nancy also looked, but then the second thing that happened, Glen’s mother came and she hustled Glen into the car. Apparently, she had also noticed the fire and she knew it would not be long before the whole area was blocked off by police cars and fire trucks.

Traveler: Storyteller Tales: The Vordan Can Wait

April 2, 2010April 2, 2010M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Bobbi looked at Lockhart, He pulled a bit closer before he locked the wheels on his wheelchair and began. “Glen is a person, a human being just like us only he lived a number of lives in the past and some in the future, and he can remember them, or some of them anyway, more absolutely than anyone else I ever heard of. If you already met Diogenes, you know what I mean. He calls it trading places through time.”

“But I saw him actually become another person.” Alice protested. “He just vanished and this other person was standing right where he was standing, or squatting, actually. Do you know what I mean? How can he do that?”

“It was not another person, exactly.” Lockhart began again, but Bobbi interrupted.

“It was still him. It was another one of his lifetimes. Diogenes was a first cousin of Alexander the Great way back when.” Bobbi noticed the slight reddening of Alice’s face. “He claims he was married to Aphrodite, the love goddess toward the end of his life. I can’t verify that but I think some of her may have rubbed off on him. What do you think?” Bobbi was teasing. It required no great insight to tell what Alice thought.

Alice could not seem to help the smile that came to her face. “Wait! You don’t mean the real goddess.”

“Later.” This time Lockhart interrupted. “For now you will just have to accept that he has access to other lives like no one else does. He says since the genetic pattern is nearly exact, and since time has some small flexibility or relativity if you prefer, he doesn’t disturb the timeline when he borrows a past or future life.”

“Wait.” Alice had another question, or several. “What do you mean disturb the timeline? Isn’t this like reincarnation or something?”

“Absolutely not.” Lockhart answered her. “He says his lives are because some mysterious “Friends” as he calls them, keep forcing him to be reborn every time he tries to die.”

“Sometimes he talks about himself as an experiment in time and genetics, like he is no more than a hamster on a treadmill with no way to get off.” Bobbi added with a touch of sadness in her voice. They all paused for a minute to look at Glen.

One of the men from the table took that moment to bring over a tray of coffee, tea and snacks. They were at cruising altitude, not that any of them ever buckled a seatbelt.

“Wait.” Alice regained the floor even as she accepted a cup of tea. “You said future lives.”

Bobbi and Lockhart looked at each other again before Bobbi took up the explanation. “Yes. You must be a lawyer. And, yes. He remembers the future, too.” She said that much, and then she paused to sip her coffee while she consider something. The others waited patiently, including the three at the table who were neglecting their work to listen in. “Let me just say this… his memory, I mean Glen.” She pointed. “It was toyed with at some point in his early years. Most of the time, he has no idea that he is the Traveler and he just lives a normal, everyday life.”

“Like a grocery clerk?”

“He is a minister if you must know. Mostly, though, he is the Storyteller. That is what his other lives call him, but he claims it is not an honorific, just a job description.”

“Anyway, he mostly lives as normal a life as such a person can live.” Lockhart interjected. “He says even with his memory blocked, the past and future have a tendency to leak into his mind at the most inopportune times, but without the context to understand what is happening, he says it is very strange and makes him feel like he is living as a stranger in a strange land.”

Bobbi put her hand up to stop Lockhart from speaking further. She continued with the explanation. “Anyway, at times of crisis, the block on his memory is designed to come down and he remembers at least some of his past lives and usually one or more future lives as well. And it is like actual memory, too; triggered by events and little things just like real memory. It is a lot to process, though, all at once like that.” Bobbi paused again to sip and reach for a cookie, bad as it was for her waist, but in this way she gave Alice time to process her own thoughts.

“I’ve seen him like this before, some years ago.” Lockhart said to reassure Alice that Glen would be fine after a while. “He just needs time to straighten it all out.” Lockhart tapped his own head and stayed away from the cookies.

“So, he remembers the future?” Alice shook her head. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“It is the only way to understand it.” Bobbi responded. “And another strong reason why his case is not like some kind of reincarnation.”

“I can see that.” Alice understood that much. “But, now, Traveler?”

“Kairos, technically. Event time. An ancient Greek word.” Lockhart did the translation. “We might call him the god of history. The Traveler is just shorthand for the Traveler in Time.”

“Time traveler? Oh, of course, Diogenes.”

Lockhart and Bobbi both nodded and there was a moment of silence before Alice spoke again.

“So now, who is this Princess?”

Lockhart and Bobbi passed another glance, but they were smiling. “She is a lawyer.” Bobbi said again. “She doesn’t miss much.”

Lockhart nodded and pointed at Glen. “He is the Princess.” Before Alice could respond, Glen lifted his head. He was speaking, though it did not seem like he was speaking to any of them.

“What? Sure, that might help.” He said, and he stood and vanished from the airplane, to be replaced by an absolutely stunning young woman who was maybe twenty-something at most. She stood around five-seven, with long golden brown hair that was so light it was nearly blond, and eyes as blue as Glen’s, but her eyes flashed with life, youth and health. Indeed, Alice could not see an ounce of fat on that perfect body. The Princess stood with a smile for Lockhart, and she turned once all of the way around, slowly. She was in a dress that fell halfway to her knees but hid nothing of her figure. Alice wondered where the armor and weapons went, but she held her tongue as the Princess spoke.

“So how do I look?”

“Beautiful, as always.” Bobbi spoke first.

“Gorgeous.” Lockhart confirmed as he matched the Princess’ smile, and then some.

Alice thought the word gorgeous was an understatement, but her mouth said something else as she watched the woman sit in Glen’s chair. The Princess kept her knees locked together as only a real woman would do. “So you are the Princess? Wait a minute.” Alice’s thoughts caught up with what she was seeing. “Do you mean he has lived as a woman?”

The Princess nodded. “Half of my lifetimes.” She confirmed before turning to Bobbi. “There was so much memory coming all at once I was afraid my Storyteller might burn out his little brain. What? Oh, he says his brain is not so little.” The Princess laughed softly, and the laugh was as beautiful as the rest of her.

“But isn’t he still remembering?” Bobbi asked.

“Yes, but this way I get some of the pressure and he doesn’t have the distractions so he can focus better on processing it all. At least I think that is what is happening.” She shrugged.

“All right.” Alice spoke and threw up her hands for emphasis. “I’m getting it, but not really. I think you better start at the beginning.” She looked straight at the Princess. “And I mean you whoever or whatever you are.”

“Me? I was born in 228 BC.” The Princess said. She sound a bit confused, like maybe she was having trouble translating the English into her native Greek.

“Do you mean the Traveler?” Lockhart asked. “That would be around 4500 BC, near as we know.”

“I think she means just Glen’s life.” Bobbi tried, and Alice nodded and pointed at Bobbi.

“Like when did he first realize he lived all of these other lifetimes and when did he first, what did you call it, trade places in time?”

“Oh yes.” The Princess liked the idea. “Talking it out might be the best thing to do.”

“Well.” Bobbi drew out the word as they watched the Princess vanish and Glen return. He was dressed in the jeans and shirt he wore in the market and, Alice noticed, not keeping his knees together at all.

“That would be before my time,” Bobbi said. “Lockhart, you met him at that college in Michigan. What was he, seventeen? Eighteen?”

“Actually.” Glen got their attention. “I was remembering a time when I was four, or actually not quite four. Things don’t usually happen that early in my lifetimes. Normally, I get the chance to develop my own personality and learn some things before time starts to open up, generally sometime during puberty; but this was a special case if I remember it rightly. Let me see…”

Traveler: Storyteller Tales: The Vordan Named

March 27, 2010M G Kizzia Leave a comment

The woman nodded to the word, “lawyer,” but her eyes were darting around. She gave the impression that all of this suddenly caught up to her and she was feeling a bit overwhelmed. “Corporate contracts and such.” She managed to say that much.

“Good. My name’s Glen.”

The African-American woman pulled out a thin billfold. “Roberta Brooks, FBI.” She showed her I. D. but the woman lawyer shook her head.

“The FBI doesn’t have flying saucers.”

“Carlson is with the State Department.” Ms Brooks pointed at the man who was still in the doorway. “Sanchez, here is with the ATF.”

Glen handed Sanchez his car keys. “Glad you didn’t crush my car. It’s that silver Ford. Tell my wife I’ll be late for supper, will you?” Sanchez looked briefly at the black woman. She nodded her head and Sanchez smiled.

“I’m only sorry I’ll miss it,” Sanchez said as he headed toward Glen’s car.

Glen returned the smile as he once again took the pretty blond by the hand. He began to pull her forward as he and Ms Brooks started toward the ramp and the saucer. “So Bobbi, what are the Vordan doing here?” Glen asked.

“Vordan?” Ms Brooks said the word as if tasting it for the first time. “We did not even know who they were. You tell me.”

“Mister Smith not around?”

“No, and that concerns us as well. There are three battleships on the dark side of the moon, and we only found out that much by accident. Normally, Mister Smith shows up with that kind of information, but no one has seen him.”

“Can’t be time for…” Glen stopped walking. Clearly he did not finish his sentence. “Still, this is a Kargill planet by treaty. The Vordan have no business being here.”

The high pitched wail that came from the parking lot caused them all to hold their ears. Apparently there were some Vordan still on the ship and they were taking off for the skies.

“Get them. Can’t you get them?” The woman lawyer asked.

Bobbi shook her head. “We got lucky to find them on the ground. Despite appearances, our vehicle is just a modified stealth bomber with Harrier capabilities. We are not a space corps.” The Vordan vehicle was already out of sight. Glen turned and once again held out his hand, but this time the woman balked like before.

“Do you have a name?” Glen asked.

“No. I’m not getting in that saucer thing,” she protested.

“I need a lawyer. How are you with treaties?”

“I’m a lawyer,” Bobbi protested.

“When was the last time you practiced or dealt with binding contracts?” Glen asked and Bobbi said no more. Glen turned again to the woman. “What do you say we hire you, name your fee. After all, I assume there isn’t time to send this out for bids. By the way, are you any good?”

The woman stood up straight. “I am very good,” she said, proudly. “But wait.”

“Oh, come on,” Bobbi said. “Glen won’t bite.”

“Not hard anyway.” He and Bobbi shared a knowing look.

The woman lawyer still hesitated. “How long?”

Bobbi shrugged, but Glen responded. “One day at a time,” he said. “You can go home anytime you give the word.”

“Promise?”

Glen crossed his heart. “See? On the left just like you said.” That got the woman to smile as they walked up to the ship entrance.

“So who are you people?” She asked.

“Men in black,” Glen answered.

“I am not a man,” Bobbi said.

“But you are black,” Glen countered as they stopped in the doorway. Bobbi slapped Glen in the elbow where the short sleeve of his armor did not quite reach to the long gloves he wore.

“Don’t you ever get tired of that joke?” Bobbi asked.

“It’s always like the first time for me.” A serious expression came and went across Glen’s face, but then his smile returned as he stepped aside to let the women in first. “So what is your name?”

“Alice.”

“Well, Alice. Welcome to wonderland.”

The inside of the saucer looked more like a corporate jet than the inside of an alien craft. While the ship lifted straight up, Bobbi took Alice by the arm and pulled her to the front. Glen fell in behind. “Let me introduce you.” Bobbi pointed to a middle-aged pilot and a co pilot who looked close to Ms Brook’s age of somewhere in the mid sixties. “Captain Stoloyovich is an ex-astronaut who went twice on shuttles to the International Space Station.”

“Fyodor,” the man said. He turned his head briefly and smiled but did not move his hands or take his real attention from his tasks.

“Alice Summers,” Alice responded, kindly.

“Alice is a lawyer the Traveler picked out.”

“Congratulations, I think,” Fyodor said.

“Hi, I’m Glen, I think.” Glen spoke in a strange tone of voice and as he looked at Alice, he added a thought. “Was I someone else back there?” Alice nodded, not knowing what else to do. “Diogenes.” Glen gave the young man a name, but when he looked at Bobbi he added another thought. “I think.” He shook his head. “Too much memory coming back to me too fast. Maybe I need to sit down.”

“Who are you?” Alice finally asked, now that Glen reminded her that he had briefly been a completely different person.

“WhoamI?” Glen ran the words together. “Maybe you should just call me WhoamI for now.”

“Can’t.” The old copilot looked up and turned toward the group. “Jackie Chan already did that one.”

“Lockhart!” Glen yelled. He shook the old man’s hand, vigorously, even as he noticed that the man was in a wheel chair.

“How’s the Princess?” Lockhart asked, and Bobbi had no trouble slapping the old man in the shoulder despite the wheelchair. Lockhart looked appropriately humble for about three seconds.

“We’re not supposed to tell him about lifetimes he does not remember for himself.” Bobbi explained to Alice who nodded but was becoming very confused. Glen, meanwhile, had no trouble answering Lockhart’s question.

“She is great. Good as ever. Still young, too.”

“It isn’t fair, you know,” Lockhart complained, though he looked like he would not mind seeing the Princess again, young as she might be.

“Unfair? Tell me about it.” Glen also complained and rubbed his lower back as he stepped over to a table where a chair seemed to be calling to him. The table was full of papers, and three people, two men and a woman, who were working their way through some rather large files and typing furiously on computer consoles in their off moments.

Glen sat heavily and ignored them all. Bobbi and Alice came over to sit in comfortable chairs where they could watch him. Bobbi only paused briefly to speak to the three at the table. Lockhart followed them after a moment and brought his own chair with him.

“I would say you all have some explaining to do.” Alice spoke again as soon as she had a chance to breathe.

“Actually, we know nothing about the Vordan.” Bobbi responded. “We do not even know if they are hostile.”

“I imagine she is thinking of something else.” Lockhart pointed at Glen.

Alice agreed. “Look, I get the Men in Black bit. I saw the movie. So we got aliens on the moon. So I look good in black, but I am engaged. Actually, all of this sounds like a show my fiancé would like, if only there was some football in it. Anyway, I was talking about him.” She also pointed at Glen.

“That is a little more difficult to explain,” Bobbi said.

“Is he an alien too?” Alice asked.

“No,” Bobbi said emphatically. “He is one of us and that is what makes it so difficult.”

“Not so hard,” Lockhart said as they watched Glen put his head in his hands. Glen appeared to be mumbling to himself but was otherwise in his own little space. They spoke around him.

“I tried Vordan under every possible spelling.” One of the paper shufflers interrupted. “All I can find is a reference that says see Gaian, but when I looked under Gaian it said, mind your own business.”

Neither Bobbi nor Lockhart knew what to make of that, but there was a little chuckle from the cockpit, and Glen paused briefly in his introspection to grin. “Keep looking.” Bobbi decided, and Alice took the stage again.

“Well?” That was all she had to say.

Traveler: Storyteller Tales: The Vordan Arrive

March 19, 2010March 19, 2010M G Kizzia Leave a comment

“Excuse me.”

Glen looked down from his perch. He stood on an upside-down milk crate in order to adjust the butter which would not fit correctly on the top shelf. The girl was blond and very pretty, and about half of Glen’s age which would put her under thirty, but not by much. Glen ran his fingers through his gray and mostly missing hair and felt very old.

“Excuse me.” The woman repeated herself and she attempted a smile though it was a very poor attempt. “I would like one of those.” She pointed. Glen tried not to sigh as he stepped off the crate so she could reach around him. She was still trying to smile when Glen grabbed her. The butter went on the old tile floor, the woman landed on the butter and Glen landed on top of the woman.

She screamed. “What is wrong with you! I am a lawyer…” She did not finish the sentence as the margarine above their head exploded in a flash of blue-white light.

Glen grabbed the woman by the hand and dragged her around the corner, into the bread aisle. She still screamed, but sat and watched as the old man in her face vanished and a well built young man with a terrific smile appeared in front of her. He was dressed in chain armor that looked ancient, like something medieval, if not Roman, and he had the sword to go with it, slanted across his back with the handle sticking above his left shoulder.

“N-no. Ex…” The young man wanted to say “Excuse me” in echo of her words, but his stutter got in the way, and he had other concerns. Keeping low was a big one. The young man peeked around the corner of the aisle and whipped out the long knife that rested across the small of his back. He sent it flying with his left hand. It entered – whatever it was – and the thing shrieked, a thoroughly alien sound, and it collapsed.

“You missed.” The woman leaned over his shoulder. Her curiosity had gotten the better of her. “My fiancé is a doctor. Heart is on the left.”

The man in armor shook his head as he stood. The – whatever it was – was on the ground, its weapon having clattered against the dirty tiles. He pointed at the thing and then at the right side of his chest and smiled a smile that melted the poor woman. Her heart skipped a beat; but then he was gone and the old man came back. Curiously, he kept the armor, and in fact, the armor adjusted in size to fit the shorter man, belly and all. He took her hand to bring them close. The woman gave her hand without hesitation.

“Vordan have their heart on the right side,” Glen said. “But what the Hell is it doing here?” Glen picked up the alien weapon and held it in a way that suggested he knew how to use it.

“Vordan?” The woman looked at the green colored creature on the floor. It looked like it might double as a swamp monster. “Vordan.” She repeated and looked at the old man. “I would guess it is not from around here.” She smiled a genuine smile for the first time.

“Come on.” Glen pulled on her hand to move them to the front of the store, but the woman balked and yanked her hand free. One side of her lip turned up as she spoke. It was not a flattering expression.

“Who the Hell are you? You’re just a grocery clerk.”

“Actually, I work for a national merchandising company,” Glen said. He started to walk.

“But, wait! What is with that chain mail get-up? Who was that other man?”

“Later.” Glen turned to walk backwards. “You coming or not?”

The woman did not hesitate for long. She had on a soft summer dress and Glen imagined jeans would have been a better choice, but she had on tennis shoes instead of flip-flops so it was nothing for her to catch up. “Where are we going?” She asked above the screams that were beginning to echo around the super market.

“To find the rest of them,” Glen said. He thrust his arm out to hold her back while he let loose with a shot from that alien gun. There was one coming in the door, but it got distracted for a second when the door automatically opened. The Vordan collapsed and Glen rushed outside right over the body, keeping low the whole way to stay below the front windows. He scooted up against one of the big columns in the shopping center and the woman stayed right on his heels. He pointed.

There was an alien ship about the size of a tractor trailer in the parking lot, and three more Vordan hovered around the perimeter. One spotted him and fired. Glen turned and held up his cape between the woman and the blue-white energy beam, a cape that the woman had not noticed before. The shot hit the column, and while the façade melted, the steel beam at the center remained solid enough.

As soon as the enemy fire paused, Glen spun and returned fire. He did not appear to do any better than the Vordan. He missed all three and hit the alien ship. “Bad aim,” she said. Glen paused and looked at his gun as if something was wrong with it.

“Communications array,” Glen responded, absentmindedly. “I don’t want them calling in reinforcements.”

“Too late.” The woman tapped Glen’s shoulder and pointed to the sky. A saucer-like vehicle was closing in, fast.

“Cavalry,” Glen said as he clicked something on the Vordan weapon and turned to fire again. The Vordan that had been creeping up close turned on sight of the oncoming ship. They were running back to their ship. Glen shot the mechanism that would delay their ability to open the door, and in a few seconds, the saucer vehicle was overhead, emitting a greenish light that encompassed the Vordan ship and everyone around it for twenty yards. Both humans and Vordan in that section of the parking lot collapsed, and Glen grabbed the woman’s hand once more. “Come on,” he said, and this time she came without hesitation.

It was a few moments before the saucer was able to land, but it had to crush one car to do it. The only thing the woman could do was gasp. The saucer was much bigger than it appeared in the sky. A door opened in the side of the saucer and a ramp shot to the ground. A half-dozen armed people poured out and most headed for the Vordan and their ship, but three headed toward Glen and his lady follower.

“At least these look human.” The woman quipped, but Glen let go of her hand without responding. He reached out and hugged a big, African-American woman and she hugged him right back.

Glen smiled at the greeting but turned his head. “There’s another one by the butter.” He shouted toward the man who was examining the Vordan in an automatic door that kept trying to close, but opened every time it bumped the body. Glen kissed the black woman on the cheek before he let go and turned to the blond. “You’re a lawyer?”

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.

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.

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.

Ghosts part 17-END M/F Story

August 14, 2009M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Series: Strange Tales Story: Ghosts by M Kizzia part 17 END

Mya was the first to arrive back at the scene of the accident. She ran the whole way and was not tired in the least. She never ran in her life before, her foot being the way it was. Now, maybe she was making up for lost time, or at least she never before had such a reason to run, and she grinned at her own thoughts.

She stopped just before she got to the gate and noticed something she had not expected. The young man and the suicide bomber were sitting side by side on the curb, talking quietly. She could not hear what they were saying, and she did not intrude, knowing that would be rude, so she did what she could. She said a little prayer that somehow they might find a way out of the pit they had thrown themselves into – that they might find a solution to the mess they had made of their lives. Her heart went out to them, but she could do no more.

Mya looked down and saw that her high heels had become flats, and she was grateful, knowing that she was going to have to climb up the grassy knoll that held the park bench. She stepped up to the gate and smiled. It was not that long ago she would have had to stand on tip-toes, and even then it would have been hard to open that big, heavy iron gate. Now, she simply reached out, and it was an easy thing to do. As she stepped on to the grass, she was filled with joy and gently closed the gate tight behind her.

She noticed right away that the park bench was taken. The minister was there with his newspaper neatly folded beside him, and she almost clapped to see the burly man beside him. The man’s arm looked fully restored, and most of his face was whole as well. “Thank you, thank you.” She lifted that prayer as well. Clearly, the minister still had some work to do, and just maybe he could add another name to that book of his in heaven. She thought it was good that everyone had someone, and she had Nathan, except right at the moment, she did not have him. She nearly doubled up for want of him, and she cried out.

“Nathan!” When she heard no response she almost collapsed. She screamed, “Nathan!” It was as loud as she could, and then she heard an answering call.

“Mya! Mya!” He had come in the other gate and he was running to her. He was running! Mya jumped and started to run as well, but she did not get far before they were wrapped up in each other’s arms and he was kissing her everywhere on her face, on her forehead, eyelids, cheeks, ears, on the tip of her little nose, and he did not neglect her lips, and she kissed him right back before she finally pressed her head into his chest and shoulder. They were crying, but there were no more sad tears left in them. These were tears of pure joy. They had found each other and they held each other so tight it was almost as if they were trying to absorb each other into the depths of their souls.

“I am so happy. I am so happy.” Mya kept repeating her words into his chest, and he also kept repeating the same phrase.

“I love you. I love you.” He said.

After a while, Nathan took a step back in order to look into Mya’s eyes where there was no hiding that special smile than showed everywhere on her face. Nathan returned her smile as they wrapped up in each other’s arms and kissed for a very, very long time. When the earth began to tremble beneath their feet, they thought it was only a result of what they were feeling. When that trembling increased, though, they thought they had better look. There was a hole opening up on the green between this world and someplace else, and they separated to stand side by side and watch in wonder, though they never quit holding hands.

Neither knew where that other place might be, though they both knew very well. All they could see was a brilliant light, pure and holy so it made them tremble, but warm and inviting so they knew they were welcome. As usual, Mya was the first to speak.

“Perpetual light.” She named it, but it sounded like a question so Nathan responded.

“It is.”

“Do you know how much I love you?” Mya asked.

“I do. And how much I love you?”

“I do.” Mya and Nathan squeezed each other’s hands. “But I was thinking, now that I know what love is, do you know how much I love the one who first loved us?”

“Exactly.” Nathan affirmed her feelings and confirmed his own. “With all your mind and all your heart and all your soul and all your strength.”

“That is the first commandment.” Mya said, looking up at Nathan once more, seeking his assurance, just in case.

He nodded for her and that brought out her most radiant smile, and they turned and walked into that perpetual light, side by side and hand in hand, forever.

Ghosts part 16 M/F Story

August 10, 2009M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Series: Strange Tales Story: Ghosts by M Kizzia part 16

Nathan found himself in a funeral home. He did not have to guess what was going on nor for whom the festivities were. Since Nathan was cremated, there was no need for a graveside ceremony. He listened from the door as the minister up front droned on in the funeral service. The man talked about the love of God, but he hardly understood what he was talking about. Still, he did get one thing right: that God loves us and he is merciful and giving, and right then and there Nathan changed his tune from accusing God of setting him up to thanking God for Mya. He felt he could hardly thank God enough.

This man also talked of perpetual light. Nathan could vouch for the light. He saw the angel and the old woman who knew all about loving God. Nathan knew that love was the key. He remembered the phrase about faith, hope and love, and the greatest of these is love, he thought to himself. And again, he knew that was true.

After the formal service there was a receiving line where everyone who attended, most of whom were church members or childhood friends of Stephen or Susan, could pay their condolences. Nathan got in the back of the line and he thought of everything he wanted to say.

He never knew what love really was until he met Mya. His mother was bitter from her childhood days in the war. His wife found him convenient for a time, and he thought he loved her, but now he realized he really did not. He was just grabbing at what he saw as a kind face that would feed back to him what he needed to hear. When she realized he was never going to be president of the company, she dumped him. But for a minister? Well. He shrugged it off.

He thought he should apologize to Lisa. He never told his daughter about love. He never taught her because it was something he did not understand himself. That was a terribly sad thing both for him and his daughter, but he supposed it could not be helped. Even sadder was watching her perpetuate the cycle of the lack of love. She drove her husband away, scum that he was. Nathan had no doubts about that. And then she proceeded to pass the same dysfunction on to her two children.

Susan was just like her mother, getting harder and crustier every day. Her two perfect children were perfect because they did not dare step out of line. Yet Nathan had learned something about human nature in the last day or two. Human nature was very resilient. God made it so. Nathan imagined in the years to come one or both of those children would become true rebels. He only hoped and sent up a little prayer that it would not be the self-destructive kind of rebellion that lead to everyone’s heartbreak and an early grave. He hoped something good might come out of it, like a new view of life and a real chance at love.

Stephen, on the other hand, had married a wonderful girl. It was too bad he was such a pin head. He was going to lose her, Nathan had no doubt, and with her his great-grand. She was the only child of his issue that maybe had a chance for real life. God, how he wished he could be there to watch her and help her grow along the way. He wished he could be there now since now he knew what love was.

The line shuffled forward slowly and Nathan came to realize there were more people there than he imagined there would be. He had supposed that it would be a very small affair. Most of his old friends were already dead; well, just about all of them, and the few survivors were in far away places, mostly below the Mason Dixon line in retirement communities or nursing homes.

Nathan jumped, just because he could. He was twenty-something years old and he was so glad he would never see the inside of one of those nursing homes. Maybe that suicide bomber did him a favor, and he grinned and thanked God again for yet another thing. He felt the love of God very strongly at that moment, and he loved God right back just as strongly as he could. God is good. He kept thinking that, and he wondered if that was something he could tell Lisa.

Lisa, I am all right. God is good. Don’t worry about me. I have met the most wonderful girl, make that woman, and I am going to be with her, God willing, and happy forever. To be sure, God gave her to me and she is everything I ever dreamed of. She is twenty-something, but so am I now; but you know, even if she were seven, I think I would become seven just so I could be with her.

He paused. With that thought, he watched the last of his reluctance slip away. It did not matter if they were both seven or both eighty-four. He just loved her. He just wanted to be with her, and she wanted to be with him, and that was that.

Lisa, I know I will be very happy; and he did know it. I pray that you will be happy, too. He could only pray for his daughter.

Then Nathan hit on a thought. It was not the goodness of God that was Lisa’s problem. It was her trust. It was her inability to trust God or anyone else for that matter. It was her incessant need to be in control, to never let anything be out of control, to be in charge to be sure things stayed in control, the way that she wanted them to be.

Lisa, he wanted to say, there is so much in life, in this world that we cannot understand when we are in the middle of it. There is so much we cannot control, my own demise being exhibit “A.” You can’t be in charge of death, or the weather, or of the way other people think and feel. At some point you just have to let go and let God, as the Baptists say. At some point you just have to trust in a God that is even greater than I can imagine, and I am standing on the cusp of running into him. At some point, and honestly it is at all points in life, you can only do so much and then you have to trust God to work things out; and, you know? If you will just give God a chance to be in charge, if you will just let God be in control, you may be surprised, like me, when he works things out in a way that is more wonderful and incredible than you can ever dream or imagine. Please, Lisa, just give God a chance.

Nathan thought all of these things and more, but then he came to stand before his daughter. He was flabbergasted when she reached out and shook his hand. She squinted at him for a moment as if trying to place him and even asked, “Do I know you?”

Nathan startled her by kissing her on the cheek. “Just in this.” He said. “That God loves you and wants the best for you if you will let him give it to you, and your father loves you, too, and he will always love you even if he never told you so.” Then he rushed down the line without speaking to anyone else until he came to Stephen’s daughter, little Emily. He kissed her smack on the forehead. “Be good and live a good life.” He told her. “And always remember that God loves you and your great-grandfather loves you too.”

“Grandpa Nathan?” Little Emily looked up at him and he winked and ran out of there as fast as he could. He knew where Mya would be and he did not want to be late.