Storyteller

Avalon 3.1: Freedom Road, Part 1 of 7

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

After 3146 BC in the Alps. Kairos lifetime 34: Lucas

Recording …

“Who are you talking to?” Elder Stow looked around in the dark but saw no one. “Are you talking to me?”

Major Decker stopped unpacking his things. “The ghost here. Don’t you see him?”

Elder Stow shook his head. “I see nothing. No ghost, certainly.”

“Ghost, you got a name?”

“Carthair,” the ghost said, but he wasn’t paying attention. He was watching the couples who were making up for being in the land without love. “I used to kiss my wife like that. I remember.”

“Never,” Decker said. “Unless we were naked or headed in that direction.” He looked at Elder Stow. “Ours was a relationship of mutual lust, my wife and I.”

The Gott-Druk shook his head again. “I do not understand you homo sapiens.” He went to set up his tent for whatever remained of the night as Lockhart and Katie came over to the clearing.

“Who are you talking to?” Lockhart asked. Lockhart had his arm around Katie and she held on to his waist. It was not uncomfortable, but still a bit awkward letting go. Back home they would probably start dating.

“He has a ghost,” Elder Stow spoke up.

“You don’t see him?” Major Decker was asking to be sure, but he made it a statement because he understood Carthair was not on most people’s radar. Lockhart and Katie shook their heads, took one more look at each other and began to unpack their horses in the dark.

Lincoln and Alexis came next, arm in arm like the old married couple they were. They were made young again, but they still had many of the habits of age which mostly consisted of being very comfortable with each other. Lincoln started to unpack the tent, but Alexis felt something. She squinted at Decker.

“Alexis, surely you can see the ghost. Carthair, this is Alexis.”

“Ghost.” Alexis squinted a bit more.

“Ghost?” Lincoln’s eyes widened. He could not see anything, but thinking about it was worse in his mind.

“Ghost,” Alexis repeated, and with the magic inside of her she was able to perceive the vague outline of a man. “Carthair?”

“Yes,” Carthair said, though Alexis did not hear him.

“Roland!” Alexis called and said an aside to Decker, her husband, and she supposed the ghost. “Those two young lovebirds would be there all night if I didn’t interrupt them.”

“What?” Roland shouted back. He and Boston were standing in a bit of snow, holding tight to each other and not inclined to let go.

“We picked up a ghost.”snowy woods

“What?” Roland and Boston came over and Roland saw the ghost right away. Alexis had to show Boston how to use her magic to see, but when she did, Boston saw the ghost clearly and heard him as well.

“Carthair,” the ghost introduced himself

“Glad to know I’m not crazy,” Decker mumbled.

“I see him,” Boston shrieked. “But what is he doing here?” she asked Roland.

“A fair question,” Roland said.

Carthair looked at his feet where he did not really have any feet. “I died here somewhere on the Alpine path and I haven’t been buried. I think I’m stuck.”

Roland repeated what the ghost said so everyone could hear before he spoke again, “Hasn’t an escort come for you?” Roland asked before he explained for the others. “There are little sprits of the Kairos that are charged with collecting and escorting the spirits of the dead to their resting place.”

Carthair shook his head. I am in an odd place, I think, like on the border the gods argue about. I don’t belong to Hades. I grew up dreaming of entering the halls of Vrya, the great Vanheim goddess of love and war or maybe Valhalla, but now I think I need to go west, like there is a new house I never heard of. All I hear are the Children of Danna.”

“Carthair,” Katie spoke up after Roland repeated the words. “Probably a very early Celtic name. The Celts will move west over the next couple of millennia to fill France, Northern Spain, the low countries and eventually the British Isles. They will belong to the house of the Don.”

“I didn’t know that,” Carthair spoke softly.

“Maybe we can find his body and see that it is properly buried,” Alexis said.

“Cremated,” Lincoln said. “The people of the urn were all about cremation.”

Carthair looked up, and while the ghost face would never quite settle down into a clear picture, those who could see saw hope there. “Only not tonight,” Decker interrupted. “We all need sleep. So tell me, do ghosts sleep?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know,” Carthair said and he flew up into the trees and vanished from sight.

“I won’t sleep,” Lincoln told Alexis who smiled at his words. Of course, Lincoln slept very well.

It was six in the morning, not long before dawn, when a bear wandered into the camp. Decker woke to the sound and looked carefully from his tent door before he rushed out into danger. He saw the bear pick up a log and place it on the fire. He decided to stay where he was and peek out from the dark when he heard the bear talk.

“Little Fire is not doing her job here.”bear in snow

“I think she is doing just fine.” He heard the woman’s voice before the woman appeared, a beauty beyond telling. Decker could not really look at her without trembling with desire. “She snuck out of her tent to be with Roland since he is alone without his father to keep him company.” The woman made the cutest face. “I like sneaky sex.”

‘You like any kind of sex,” the bear said. “And you leave my elect alone.”

“Don’t worry. They haven’t finished cooking.”

“Humph,” the bear said and changed into a woman, also a beauty, but a rugged beauty of the kind that was almost worse for Decker. “These poor people have a long way to go on the Alpine road. I’m concerned that there are so many people up here hunting right now, if you can call it hunting.”

“I don’t know why. We all know Lucas is out of reach,” the first woman said. “Safely in the arms of the Oread on the other side of the mountains. Even Hades can’t go there without an invitation from Asgard. Vrya would kick his butt.”

“Uncle Hades is just stubborn.”

“And you aren’t?”

The two women looked eye to eye before the one that was a bear spoke. “Aphrodite, you wouldn’t dare.”

Aphrodite smiled before she shook her head. “Dear Artemis, keep your bow and arrows, but I am putting Uncle Hades on the list. He needs to loosen up.”

Artemis looked like she was not sure she believed her sister, but she did not press the point. “She better be special.”

Aphrodite simply nodded with a look that suggested she already had someone in mind. She did not say so, but instead turned to the tent door and pointed right at Decker. “And you are on my list, too.” Then she vanished.

Decker stuck his head out of the tent. “No, please.”

Artemis laughed at him and looked up. “Carthair, you can come back now.” And she vanished as well.

************

Avalon 3.1 is what on television would be a two part episode. It will be posted in seven posts, four this week, M, T W & Th, and three next week, M T W. Let me urge you to stick with the story to the end. I believe you will find it an enjoyable read. MGK

Avalon 3.0: part 4 of 4 A New Beginning

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Junior sat down to watch the newly created Niudim eat. He was trying to discern certain more subtle aspects of his making when Lockhart interrupted.

“So where did the imps go?”

Junior nodded and left off his examination to answer. “The Mojave on the other side of the world where the goddess will never find them. The plan might not work, but at least they will be safe.”

“That’s it? You just sent them off?” Lincoln wondered.

“No.” Junior shook his head. “I gave them a lovely thatched roofed house with roses of the desert in their garden and a big pen full of buffalo and big horn sheep and other animals native to that part of the world.”

‘Sounds lovely,” Katie said.

Junior smiled for the first time and it warmed the hearts of everyone present. “Truth is they will eat through that food in a couple of weeks and probably accidentally burn the house down. Then they will be right back to their same old tricks, make a golem out of buffalo hide, and send him into the nearest village to beg, borrow or steal whatever is edible.”

hole in the earth“And what will you and Mister Bacon be doing?” Decker asked.

“We will head down into the underworld this evening at sundown. It would be better if you were not around for that.”

Lincoln shivered. “I can’t imagine not being afraid.”

Junior shook his head. “The Kairos has access to all the underworlds. I have little ones who work down below. I can go down and back up by pledge of all the gods and Hades, Erishkegal and even Hellas have no right or power to prevent me. I also happen to be immune to the food of the dead. A precaution I think, but then I am also immune to ambrosia, the divine nectar, the apples of youth, and of course fairy food.” Junior sighed.

Lockhart looked at Junior for a moment as if trying to figure out something in his own head before he moved. He could not guess, whatever it was, so he spoke. “Okay people, lets pack it up and see how far we can get in daylight.”

Junior and Niudim waved until the travelers were out of sight. The Travelers returned the sentiment, but it was not long before they were beyond of the only source of love in that world. The group moved mostly in silence. When they spoke, it was cordial. They were all trying hard to remember their true feelings, even if they were not feeling that way at the moment.

The sun seemed to take forever to set over that flat land of grass and sand. It was Lincoln who finally came to name the land the desert of Arabia. They were in the Middle East, but a long way from the Tigris and Euphrates. Fortunately, Junior made sure their water skins and canteens were full before they left.

Roland did not have to go far to find a gazelle that appeared to want to be taken for supper. There was also wood in the area for the fire, though no one could imagine where it came from. The animal was cut and cooked, and people ate their fill and drank sparingly from their water. When each person laid down to sleep, Katie started it all.

“Lockhart,” she said. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he responded, and they both turned on their sides, away from each other and not near enough to touch,

“Roland,” Boston spoke up. “I do love you.”

“I know, and I love you too,” Roland responded.

“I know,” Boston said and she took a minute to fluff her makeshift pillow.

Alexis turned to Lincoln and risked touching him. Lincoln faced her and spoke. “I love you too. I followed you to the end of the world, or the beginning of the world as the case may be because I did not want to live without you.”

“I know,” Alexis echoed Boston’s word. “I’m glad, and I love you too.” She turned over and tried to get comfortable on that hot and sweaty night.

The whole group was up in the early light before dawn. “We better move before the day gets too hot horses in the nightagain,” Lockhart said. No one said they agreed. They just went about saddling up and preparing to go.

All that long day was spent in silence, especially when the blazing sun forced them to walk and walk their horses. There was only one brief conversation between Elder Stow and Decker, the two who were unencumbered with immediate concerns about love.

“I do not understand these people,” Elder Stow said. “My people were made to live in just these sorts of small groups. Relationships are encouraged, but so often these appear reluctant, especially among the mother and father of the group.”

“In our tradition relationships are discouraged because they can so easily distract from readiness and from the mission. The brass wouldn’t like this, and people know office romances are generally not a good idea. But in this case, I would like to see these relationships strengthened. It means they will be watching out for each other double hard, and it sets me free to watch the perimeter and deal with whatever may be following us..”

“Exactly, and indeed,” Elder Stow said, and he floated overhead to his place where he could watch the perimeter on the other side of the column.

The travelers walked long into the cool of the night. Though the landscape remained unchanged, full of scrub grass and sand, the night got cold in the wee hours just like a real desert. The travelers had to thicken their fairy weave clothes and bundle up. It was two in the morning when they found the time gate.

Lockhart would have stopped the group by midnight, but Boston kept saying it was just up ahead. No one argued about wanting to stop, and Lockhart thought long about their journey so far. They had been subject to wars, pestilence and diseases unheard of in the twenty-first century. They had been chased by ghouls and demons, trapped and attacked by locals including soldiers, fought aliens, night creatures and a little green man. They twice had their minds and wills taken over by powers in the earth. They once went into a world where the sun never came up, but the group was never so anxious to leave a time zone. A world without love was unbearable.

They broke their informal rule and went through the time gate in the dark. They found themselves in some region of the Alps, as Lincoln reported. There was snow on the fir trees and in windblown piles on the ground, and they appeared to be on a kind of road that wound through the high country. There was a small clearing in that place where they could set a camp.

horse night snowThe travelers dismounted and Roland went straight to Boston. He wrapped her up in his arms and she was eager for his kiss. Lincoln and Alexis hugged first, like old married couples do, but soon they joined the kissing party. Lockhart dismounted and Katie looked at him, but said and did nothing. It was up to him to walk to her and slip his arms around her.

“I’m slow,” he said. “But I will get there.” Katie just nodded as he touched his lips tenderly to hers. She kissed him back, and it wasn’t so tender.

Elder Stow went to hover beside Decker who had yet to dismount when Decker heard a voice.

“Ooo, that is something you don’t see every day.”

Decker looked up. It was a ghost floating just above his and Elder Stows heads. Decker made no sign of surprise. He slipped off his horse and shouted, “Make camp,” though it technically wasn’t his place to say that.

Avalon 3.0: part 3 of 4 Gollum

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Boston and Roland spent most of the night worried about the horses. One or the other was usually about, checking to be sure they were undisturbed. Lincoln hardly slept a wink, being as close as he was to the land of the dead, and Alexis never could get comfortable. Katie worried about Lockhart and wondered if something would ever come of the relationship or if they might just fizzle out. Lockhart spent much of the night watching Decker sleep. The former Navy Seal had mastered the art of sleeping when he could. Elder Stow had his own tent-like shelter that he put up and took down with a click of a button, but even his sleep seemed to be off. At least he did not seem to be snoring as much as usual.

As far as anyone could tell, Junior never slept. He just sat cross legged in front of the fire and hardly ever moved. The hole to the underground closed again at midnight, but to everyone in that place, the night felt exceptionally long and dark. The sun rose wan and pale, and the people hoped it would not be as hot and oppressive as the day before, but then the heat never really went away in the night so they figured it would not take much to get things cooking and sweating again.

The imps slept in a pile where they only complained now and then about a foot in the mouth. They untangled with the sunrise and Magpie set about cooking some morning donkey.

“You know what I need,” Junior said, and Magpie nodded but said nothing. Her sons brought in wood for the fire and the travelers had no idea where they found wood among the sand and scrub grass that ruled the landscape. But the travelers had learned that sometimes it was better not to question things too closely. They found seats around the fire and beside Junior and only Decker made a comment about breakfast.cooking bacon

“This jackass bacon isn’t bad.”

Lincoln and Alexis got elected to clean up the mess from breakfast. The imps certainly knew nothing about cleaning, and besides, they had a job to do. They set about gathering the donkey bones, the skin and the skull and laid them out carefully and in a precise order with Magpie only whacking one son or the other now and then. When everything was in order to Magpie’s satisfaction, Magpie added five stones she collected. She placed them where one could almost imagine hands and feet and one between the legs. Then the imps began to dance and chant and something slowly began to happen.

Snot danced like a man with no bones. He waved his overlong arms, like flags in the wind, and collapsed to the ground now and then, like a piece of rubber, unable to stand, only to get up again and start over. All three imps kept up the chant, but it was not words, just sounds and strange noises no human vocal chords could make.

Puss danced more like a stiff-legged animal, and it looked at first like he was pealing bits of skin off his chest and tossing it on to the donkey skin. The travelers decided it was not what it seemed when they saw, every now and then, all of the imps sprinkled sand and occasionally scrub grass on the skin.

Magpie bounced. She went from foot to foot, flipped her hair back and forth, and worked her way all the way around the skin. Junior later remarked it looked sort of Gangnam Style, but the travelers did not know what that was.

The donkey skin began to move, It jiggled and the bones and stones and donkey skull began to jump and shift positions. Things slowly knitted together and took shape. They could see arms and legs now, and something like a body shape. The donkey skin spread out and covered all of the body shape like human skin and the color changed to a well tanned Middle Eastern color. When Magpie stopped dancing and huffed and puffed to catch her breath, the boys stopped as well. There was a person on the ground, but it looked like a manikin in a shop window with the face and extremities still undefined.

“Good,” Junior said and as he raised a hand, the manikin rose to its feet. Junior took a long walk all the way around before he spoke again. “Now the details.” He touched Magpie on her forehead and she squinted before she shook her head.

“Those are hard details,” she said. “I don’t know if we can do all of that.”

“Do your best,” Junior said and he stepped back to the travelers who were still seated by the fire, watching and fascinated.

Magpie grabbed her son’s hands in a way that reminded the travelers of Boston, Alexis and Roland all grabbing hands to combine their magic. After a moment, the travelers saw something like a ghostly image project from the imps. It covered the manikin and the manikin began to conform to the ghostly form. The manikin grew a smidgen taller as features formed to make a face. The hands and other areas took on definition as the imps swayed and sang off key. To look at the imps, it looked like they were singing campfire songs—kumbaya; but when they were done, there was a man in front of them, and a rather handsome and well built one at that.

The man moved and the travelers tried not to gasp. He opened his eyes and reached up to wiggle his jaw. “Good to have a mouth,” he said. “Got anything to eat?”

“What does he eat?” Alexis asked.

Junior made no response at first. He was walking around the man examining the handiwork. When he returned to face the man, the man followed with his eyes and asked a second question.

“Do I have a name?”

“Niudim,” Junior said. “Niudim Bacon. I was thinking Decker, but Bacon is more appropriate.”

horses-in-desert“Thank you,” Decker mumbled.

“Just one more thing,” Junior said. He raised his hands and showered Niudim with golden sparkles of light. Suddenly Niudim became very attractive to the women who were watching. Junior quickly took a bit of fairy weave from his clothes and covered the man in a blue dress and sandals such as men in that age wore. “And he eats human food. In fact, if done right, he should imitate human behavior very well.”

“Food?” the man said. Alexis got up to fetch whatever was left of breakfast and Boston got up to help, though she wondered if this might be something like cannibalism for the donkey-man.

“But wait.” Lincoln had a question. “Couldn’t you have made the man?”

Junior nodded. “And out of nothing, but he would have had “Made by the gods” stamped on his forehead for all practical purposes. This way I hope Erishkegal will not notice until it is too late.”

“You want the goddess to fall in love with Niudim?” Katie asked.

“I am the goddess of desire’s grandson and the goddess of love’s son. Niudim is as close as I can figure to Erishkegal’s dream lover, but to be sure, I want to break her heart. If she blames love, I hope she will throw Ishtar out of the underworld for good.”

“This is very good,” Niudim said as he ate. “My compliments to the chef.”

“Ahem.” The chef, Magpie was standing with her sons, unnaturally patient for imps.

“Yes.” Junior faced them. “Thank you. I’ll take it from here,” he said, waved his hand, and the three imps vanished from that place.

************

Be sure to visit tomorrow for the conclusion of the first episode of season three

Avalon 3.0:  part 4 0f 4, A New Beginning

Until then … MGK

Avalon 3.0: part 2 of 4, Love by the Fire

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

The travelers and the imps arrived together at the place of the Kairos. The sun was ready to set which gave the travelers hope that they might get a break from the oppressive heat. They found the Kairos, Junior, sitting cross legged by the fire staring at the sand and grass in front of him, or maybe meditating. He had something like a backpack behind him, but no sign of a tent. He also made no indication that he was aware of their presence.

“Make camp,” Lockhart suggested, and everyone turned to tend to the horses first. Magpie and her sons pulled up a seat behind Junior and acted like they were waiting for supper to be ready. Decker came up to Lockhart with a question.campfire

“Should we expect to use the fire that is made or make our own?” Lockhart did not get to answer because Lincoln wandered to the other side of Junior’s fire, before it got dark, to get a look at the land they expected to cross in the morning, and Junior reacted.

“No, no. Lincoln, you don’t want to stand there,” he shouted.

The ground began to shake, but only under Lincoln’s feet. He ran and made it to safety before a perfectly round hole opened up and revealed steps winding their way down into the pit.

“What is it?” Katie asked, having noticed the imps scooted further back from that place and always kept Junior between them and the hole. Junior answered without turning around.

“That is the entrance to the underworld, the land of the dead, where Erishkegal rules and Namtar is her henchman who does all her dirty work.”

“Wow!” Lincoln sounded surprised and impressed, but mostly like he realized what a close call he had.

Junior turned and scooted around without getting up. “Are we all here?” He counted heads as they approached. The imps backed up further to make way for the travelers. “This was probably the worst possible time for you to come.”

“Why?” Alexis asked. “What are you doing here?”

“Alexis,” Roland interjected. “I’m surprised you have forgotten. Father told me the story and I had nightmares for years after.”

Junior squinted at the elf, like maybe Roland did not need to say that much. All the same he opened up. “My mother’s father.” Junior paused to think it through and started again. “My grandfather had a mistress who had my mother. The mistress is gone now, I mean dead, not recently, and by cause unknown, or at least nothing proved. But that was why my mother grew up in Egypt, where she could be safe until she matured sufficiently to handle herself.”

“Your mother?” Boston was the one who asked, but Junior waved off the question.

“When my mother came back, my grandfather’s wife tricked her, actually challenged her to take a trip down into the land of the dead.” Junior paused and shook his head. “She and Erishkegal must have planned this whole thing ages ago.”

“But who is your mother?” Boston wanted to know.

“Ishtar.”

Katie bit her tongue. She did not want to say, “The goddess?” again.

“So your mother is dead?” Alexis asked.

“No. That’s the thing. She knew enough to not eat the food of the dead, but she is a prisoner and can’t come back to the world. The gods have insisted that I figure out some way to set her free, and that is what I want to do, so I’m figuring.”

Now Katie could ask her question. “Why do the gods want her free so badly?”

“Because Ishtar is the goddess of love, love and war, but love is the operative part. As long as she is a prisoner in the underground, there is no love in the world, even among the gods.”

The travelers took a moment to look at each other and Lockhart responded. “We can all vouch for the lack of love since we came into this time zone.”

“But it isn’t so bad right now,” Katie added with a look at Lockhart.

“I am my mother’s son,” Junior said. “But it isn’t so strong in me, and the gods know they won’t have me around but maybe sixty years or so.”

Decker suddenly grasped something. “I bet the ghosts down there are having a real good time.” He grinned.underground party

Lincoln asked a different question. He was suspicious. “Who was your grandfather’s mistress—your real grandmother.”

“Innan,” Junior said. “And I don’t want to talk about it. I wasn’t here when she went over to the other side.”

Lincoln nodded. They met Innan, and liked her, the one the Kairos called the goddess of desire. With Innan gone and her daughter trapped in the land of the dead there truly was no love in the world. Junior sighed in memory of his grandmother, and then changed the subject.

“Decker and Harper,” he called them forward, and they came, but with one short, curious glance at each other. “Captain Decker. I have these for you.” Junior held out two gold leafs. “It was supposed to be Major Decker when you started this assignment, but Colonel Weber, the dipstick withheld the promotion. I’ve held on to these for about ten years. Glad to finally get rid of them.”

“Sir.” Decker said as Junior removed the Captain’s bars and pinned on the leafs.

“Lieutenant Harper,” Junior continued. “Your promotion has been long overdue.” He took her single bar and had Decker pin on her Captain’s bars. He let her keep the lieutenant’s insignia in her hand and stepped back to offer a salute. “Belated congratulations to both of you. I understand Bobbi and my Alice self are leaning on the Pentagon to offer another upgrade, assuming you make it back to the twenty-first century in one piece.”

“Thank you sir,” Katie said and turned first of all to Lockhart who offered a sloppy salute of his own.

“Captain Harper,” Lockhart said and smiled, and Katie returned his smile and spoke sweet words with her eyes.

“Excuse me.” Junior whistled and yelled. “Magpie, Snot and Puss.” The three imps appeared out of thin air, standing in the fire with their feet on the hot coals. They jumped for their life, but away from the hole in the earth. Junior explained. “They were getting ready to go for a horse.”

“What?” Several of the travelers reacted, and it was strong enough to inspire Magpie to answer.

“But we been all day and haven’t had nothing to eat.” That was not a lie, but only the truth in the way little spirits tell the truth. They didn’t have nothing all day. They actually had an overly large breakfast before they snuck off.

donkey down“Here,” Junior said, and a donkey, one with a broken leg appeared. Magpie and the boys started to drool to look at it, and Magpie made a comment.

“Donkey bacon is even better.”

“Yes, but just remember, you go near the horses and you will get a lot worse than singed toes.

“Yes Lord, yes,” they all said as they dragged the beast off to slaughter.

“Sacrifice right over the pit of Hell,” Lockhart quipped.

Katie shook her head and Junior offered a correction. “Hellas’ place is up where the Black Sea and the Aegean meet, but I get your point. Erishkegal thinks all sacrifices belong to her. But I don’t believe that is the way to get to her. I’m thinking about what Decker said. Sometimes even ghosts gotta party.

************

Be sure to check back tomorrow for part 3 of 4,  Gollum

Avalon 3.0: The End of Love, part 1 of 4

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

After 3206 BC south of Mesopotamia. Kairos lifetime 33: (Amun) Junior

Recording …

“A woman wants to hear the word love now and then, you know.” Katie gave Lockhart a hard stare and ignored her horse’s footsteps. There was not anything to see except sand, sparse vegetation and the blazing sun overhead.

“Yeah, well, for a man that is not so easy.” Lockhart wiped the sweat from his brow. “I can tell you I admire and respect you. I think you are the nicest, kindest, most thoughtful and intelligent woman I have ever known. I can tell you that you are beautiful and I would not be lying. In fact, you are the only woman in the whole world—in the whole of history I have ever found who I felt I could be happy with. But I can’t say that other word because I am not feeling it right now, and that’s for sure.”

Katie looked away for a minute before she answered. “Everything you just said, ditto to you, but now that I think of it I don’t feel that word either.” She nudged her horse to move out on the flank with Captain Decker and Lockhart threw the sweat from his hand to the ground.

Lincoln leaned over to whisper in Alexis’ ear. “Children,” he said. “Wait until they really start having an argument.”

Alexis pulled her head away and wiped her ear like she was afraid he got something on it. “You mean like—“

“Now don’t you start.”

“Start what? You have no idea what I was going to say.”

“Start anything. I don’t want to hear it.”

Alexis gave Lincoln a Katie kind of hard look. She spoke between her teeth. “Fine.”

“Fine,” Lincoln answered and ignored her look

“Don’t touch me.” Boston’s voice was loud enough for all to hear.

“Who said I wanted to touch you, Princess Little Fire.” The sarcasm in Roland’s words were evident.

“It’s just, I can’t get any peace.” Boston turned her head and shouted at the group. “There is no escaping you people.” She spoke more softly. “I can’t get any rest.”

Roland said nothing more.

When Katie rode to the flank, Elder Stow hovered over to pace Lockhart. He had something to say, and he spit as he talked.

“My Father.” He turned up his nose. “It is only right to give you fair warning.”

Lockhart looked at the Neanderthal.. He did not entirely trust the Gott-Druk, and thought he might never entirely trust him, but he listened.

“I am not happy traveling in your company and I do not care what happens to your people, all of you homo sapiens who stole our homeland and drove us out into the darkness among the stars. It was difficult, but I was finding my way back home to the future just fine without you. I am thinking I could take the amulet and find my way easily and leave you all here to rot.”

Alexis whipped around from in front. “The gods would break the amulet rather than let you have it, and they would break your equipment, too, so you would be left here to rot with us.”

“We have faced things where your super advanced equipment was no protection. You don’t have to love us. You don’t even have to like us, but there is safety in numbers. We watch out for each other and travel together.”

Elder Stow nodded to common sense, even if he did not like it. “The thing is, right now I do not care about my children whom you killed. I do not care about my own people. As you homo sapiens say, they can all rot in hell.” With that thought on his mind, he floated back out to the perimeter.

“Decker,” Katie started to speak sharply but amended her word and softened her voice to offer more respect. “Captain, is there any way you can look up ahead and see if we are getting anywhere?”

Captain Decker looked at her to judge how upset she might be before he spoke. “I loved my wife once,” he said, like he was drawing on a thought from nowhere. “Right now I cannot imagine it, but it must be true or I would not have married her.”

“Where did that comment come from?”

Captain Decker took a moment to adjust his seat in the saddle. He let his hand slip down to finger the stock on his rifle. “It’s just that after a while we found that it really wasn’t love, it was lust. There was no love, and we both knew it even if she would never admit it. Still, I stayed with her for a number of years, even when she got hot and cranky, and believe me, she was an expert at getting hot and cranky, but some of those days were good.”

Katie glanced at Lockhart. “How did you manage that?”

“Do you love him?”

“I thought I did. I don’t hate him, but right now I don’t feel any love at all.”

“Me neither. But I haven’t felt love for years.” Decker unsnapped the strap on his rifle. “I stayed with my wife as long as I did because I made a promise. I did my duty.” Decker pulled his rifle and startled Katie back to task with the words, “We got company.”

Katie rode back over beside Lockhart and pulled her own rifle even as Roland said, “Visitors.” The procession stopped where they were. “They appear to be imps,” he added.

Three dirty, gray skinned imps came over the scrub grass. They were short legged but had arms nearly long enough to drag their knuckles. The women knew at once, but it took the men a moment to realize the one out front was a female.   They all had the same look about them with big mouths with a few sharp teeth showing, big saucer-like eyes and nostril holes that did not quite support an actual nose. They were clearly not human, and in another time and place they might have claimed to be from the planet Zorton and nobody would have questioned it. They stopped when they were a few feet away.

“Elf.” The female said.

“My name is Roland, and these are my companions.”

“Fancy that,” the female cut him off before he got into the introductions. “An elf forced to drag a bunch of short livers around. Must be a curse of some kind.” The female out front spoke to the younger males that hovered over her shoulders.

“You have a name?” Roland was trying to keep things civil.

“Magpie, and these are my boys, Snot and Puss.” Magpie leaned forward, secretive, but she had no ability to whisper. “I tried to ditch them back a ways, but I cook and they eat, so.” Magpie shrugged. “So now we will be taking one of your horses and be on our way.”.

“The horses are a gift of the Kairos. You dare not so much as touch one.”

Magpie paused for a minute to consider her options. “Kairos is that way.” She pointed back the way she came. “He wanted us to do a job for him, but I don’t care about him. I don’t love him no more than I do my own sons, and I don’t care about them, none at all. Besides, I’ve been dreaming about horse bacon.”

“Now hold it,” Lockhart had dismounted and stepped forward. “No one needs to get hurt.”

Decker put a bullet between Magpie’s feet. Her eyes got very big at the sound of thunder and puff of dust as Decker spoke. “I don’t understand. What is everyone’s problem? So you don’t love the Kairos. So you don’t love her. So you don’t love him.” Decker did not specifically point to a person. “I haven’t felt love in years. But I made a bunch of pledges when I joined the service, and I made promises to this group, and I intend to keep them all. Love doesn’t matter. It doesn’t keep me from being loyal and faithful. Hell, I’m a Marine. I take my orders and I do my duty to the best of my ability, period.” He turned to face the imps. “I understand you are pledged to the Kairos, so if he asked you something, you need to do it to fulfill your pledge, to do your duty. Maybe you don’t love him, but love’s got nothing to do with it.”

Everyone quieted to think. The travelers understood very well what Decker was saying. The imps understood, but they were not really persuaded by it. Loyalty, faithfulness and duty were not strong in the imp character, and keeping promises was laughable. Roland understood this of the imps, so he felt it was important to add one thing.

“Then again, if you cause harm to one of us or one of these horses, the Kairos will know, and he has the power to cast you into the land of eternal torment.”

Magpie rubbed her chin as she admitted, “There is that.”

************

To be continued.  Look for Tomorrows post, Avalon 3.0, part 2 of 4 Love by the Fire

Until then … Happy Reaing

MGK

Can you Imagine?

M G Kizzia 2 Comments

This is a test.Demon_Roller_Coaster

This is only a test.

If this had been a real emergency, you would have heard a loud screeching sound worse than Saint Teresa’s girl scout troop on the Demon roller coaster.  No way the brain can function under such circumstances.

Assuming the test is successful, allow me to introduce Avalon, season 3.

First, the how to:

Written as episodes (like a television show), it is easy to start in the middle (like season 3) and pick right up with what is happening, who the characters are, and how it all works.  However, I encourage you to read the whole episode.  I take no responsibility for anyone who only reads part 3 of 7  of episode 3.1 and come away confused.

For those who insist on starting at the beginning, Avalon the Prequel, the Pilot Episode and Season 1 are available as ebooks on Amazon, Smashwords, B&N, Sony, Apple and other retailers.  Season 2 is being prepared for ebookdom, and all are moderately priced.  Just look for books by M G Kizzia at your favorite retailer.

Episode 3.0 (the first of season three) will be posted in 4 parts, M, T, W, Th, March 30, 31, April 1 & 2.  Yes, that is all in the same week, and if you miss a post, it will still be up here so you can catch up.

Then the enticing blurb:

Brought to the beginning of history on a rescue mission, in order to get home, two elves, two marines, one Gott-Druk (a Neanderthal from the far future) and four Men in Black must follow the amulet of Avalon and move from one time gate to the next. They must travel through time zones that center around the many lives of the Kairos, the Traveler in Time, the Watcher over History, a person who never lives a quiet life. With unlimited vitamins, elf crackers, and bullets, riding mustangs brought back from the old west, wearing fairy weave clothing they can shape and change with a thought in order to blend in, they have to deal with gods and monsters, spirits and creatures, space aliens and the great unknown, and try hard not to disturb history in the process, not an easy task when they have to fight for their lives. All they want is to get home, to the twenty-first century in one piece, but they are not the only ones lost in time, and some of the terrors are now hunting them.

MGK

Weekly Roundup for January 10, 2014

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

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For Friday, 1/10/14

Goal: 2,000 word per day, six days per week or roughly 10,000 to 12,000 words per week

This week:  10,700 word.  woo-hoo.

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            I gave one final review this week to The Hole in the World, a young adult fantasy which is ready to make the rounds.  At the same time, I have begun to track the use of names.  I mean, how many Bobs and Bills or Marys and Sarahs can I honestly write about?  More about the name game in a future post.  Meanwhile, here is  the story of The Hole in the World, and a snippet from chapter 1.  Enjoy …  

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            Duke Gregor and Princess Tanis make a hole between two worlds to escape the encroaching Empire, and in this strange new world, in our world, they find themselves adopted by the good people of Hardway Virginia.  You see, Tanis is pregnant, and it is Christmas Eve, and there just has to be room at the inn.

            Eighteen years later, the Empire sends an army to bring them back.  The Duke and the Princess reluctantly surrender when their eight-year-old son is taken captive, but they say nothing, because what the Empire does not know is there are two older siblings. 

            Now Davi and his sister Kyla need to go to that other earth. They need to rescue their parents and little brother, and more. They need to raise the armies in the East because the Empire is preparing to go to war. To succeed, Davi and Kyla are going to need help.  Fortunately, in eighteen years the family has made plenty of friends.  But what can even the United States military do in a world where magic rules and dragons are real?

            The Hole in the World is ready for print.  Somewhere, deep in the archives of this blog, is the beginning of Chapter 1.  The following is the middle of the first chapter, but I feel it is sufficiently independent to be worth the read …

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            “Put her on the couch.”  Virginia Robinson shouted.

          “No, the bed.  The bed!”  Mary Elizabeth McBain shouted as well.  Darcy Lewis pointed to the bed, but said nothing.  Her hand was on her phone.  Sheriff McBain was lucky to get the woman through the door without banging the woman’s knees or dropping her altogether.

          “Bill Cullen!  You’re a slob!”  “Get it clean.”  “Pull back the covers.”  The women all yelled.

          “Where’s the Doc?”  The Sheriff spoke over the din as he set the woman as gently as possible on the sheets.

          “Ungh.”

          “I’m calling!”  Darcy yelled at the phone.  “Taylor!  Pick up your cell!”

          “Boil water!”  Mary Elizabeth shouted.

          “What for?”  Virginia Robinson asked.  She pulled up a chair and sat beside the bed to hold and pat the woman’s hand.

          “I don’t know.  You’re supposed to.”  Mary Elizabeth looked confused. 

          The woman on the bed mumbled something in a strange language and Sheriff McBain ran back to the garage.

          “Where is this place?”  The man in the garage was dressed in chain mail and sported plenty of sharp weapons.  He looked all around the inside of the garage, but lingered on the electric lights.  He touched his horse, a familiar comfort in a strange land.

          “You.”  The Sheriff pointed at the man as he came out from the house, but he explained to everyone.  “His wife is saying something and we don’t understand.  I think she is calling for him.”

          “Come on.”  Tashi took the man’s arm.  Tom Robinson and the Sheriff followed. The others watched except Mister Beasley who still sat, held tight to his cards and sweated.

          “Ablus!  Ablus!  Gregor, te na pecosta deek nas.  Ablus.”

          “Tres gan dees,” Gregor answered as he came into the room, still looking, still wary of his surroundings.  He was glad to see Tanis being properly cared for.  He imagined there might be a price later, but he could not worry about that at the moment.

          “Gut daimen chee,” the woman said.

          “Yes,” Gregor answered in English.  “I still remember my tongue as well.”

          “This is good,” the woman also answered in English, and she smiled, satisfied.  “Ungh.”  She started another contraction while tires squealed outside and a car door slammed.  Doc Lewis bounded in as Tashi pushed on the medieval man’s chest.  She did not imagine her little self could move the mountain, but the Sheriff and Tom Robinson each took a hand and pulled and the man did not resist.  He knew men were not welcome at the birthing.

          “Bill Cullen.”  Bill met the man at the door with his hand out.

          “Duke Gregor of Galistra.”  The man took the offered hand.

          “Feels human enough.”

          “Hush!”  Tom Robinson pushed his glasses firmly up on his nose before he extended his own hand.  “Tom Robinson.”

          “Pleased to meet you,” the Duke said.  “I have known dark skinned men before.  When I was young we traded in Istallia and all along the Boran coast.  That was before the days of Empire and the rise of Emperor Kzurga.”

          “Well, Mister Duke,” Bill Cullen patted the man’s back in a friendly manner.  “Now that Doc Lewis is here, I’m sure Missus Duke will be just fine.”

          “Sheriff Ian McBain.”  The Sheriff put out his hand.

          Gregor paused and rolled his tongue as if tasting something.  “Law enforcement,” he said as he took the offered hand.  Then he thought to see to his horse.  The saddle and equipment were already removed, and a big man was rubbing the horse with a brush found in one of the satchels.

          “Ugly Bird.”  The man held out his hand.  “Fine animal.  Hard ride?”

          “Uh?”  Gregor became confused again.  He knew the words, but he could not imagine a man bearing the name Ugly Bird.  “Yes, and thanks.”  He patted the horse’s flank once again for reassurance.  “Where is this place?  Where am I?”

          “Cullen’s garage.  That’s me, Bill Cullen.  Hardway Virginia, USA.”

          “Definitely an illegal alien,” Tom mumbled and fiddled again with his spectacles.

          “You didn’t call an ambulance and you explained to Darcy?”  Ugly Bird looked at the Sheriff.

          “No ambulance,” Sheriff McBain confirmed.  “But I’ll be daft if I know what to do with them.”

          “Heart of the Blue Ridge Mountains,” Bill Cullen finished his introduction.  “Stupid slogan.  The Chamber came up with that thirty years ago.  Didn’t matter.  No one comes here.  Skyline drive is thirty miles that way.”  He pointed out into the dark.

          “I still think it was a good idea.”  There was a voice from the table.

          “Oh, yes,” Bill said.  “The old weasel is Mister Beasley, owner of Beasley’s Hardware here on Main Street.”

          “You play poker?”  Mister Beasley asked.   He had nearly crumpled the cards in his hand.

          “Give it up Mister Beasley,” the Sheriff said and Tom and Bill laughed.  “We know you got a winner.  Just take the pot.”  Mister Beasley nodded and started to do that, but Ugly Bird interrupted.

          “Full house.”  Ugly bird turned his cards face up.  “Trays over sevens.”  Mister Beasley set his cards down.  His full house was jacks over nines.  He grinned when he raked in the chips.

          “Christmas cookie Mister Duke?”  Bill held out the plate.

          “Gregor.”  The man insisted and he took one snowman shaped cookie gingerly in his fingers.  Bill picked up a Christmas tree and took a big bite.  Gregor tried his, and did not complain.

          “Eats human food, too,” Bill Cullen pointed out.

          “Where’s Galistra?”  Sheriff McBain figured it was time for some questions as the men began to settle once more around the table.  Gregor sat in the Doc’s chair for the moment, after he took off his various weapons and set them down.  He set them on a stack of old tires and took the seat where they would be near to hand.

          “Tanis?”

          “Don’t worry about her,” Bill said.  “Doc Lewis is the best and Darcy, his wife, is an RN.  And Virginia and Mary Elizabeth are there, too.  They’ll take good care of her.”

          “Virginia takes good care of me whenever I’m sick,” Tom pointed out with a look at the Sheriff.

          “I don’t get sick.”  Sheriff McBain countered.

          “The brown woman.”  Gregor tried to understand.

          “Black or African-American,” Tom said kindly; but Gregor shook his head in wonder.

          “And the one with the strange eyes?”

          “Tashi.”  Three men spoke at once.

          “She’s from Japan, I guess,” Tom said.

          “I thought she was Chinese,” Mister Beasley interrupted.

          Tom shrugged.  “Anyway, it’s a long way from here.”

          “So, where is Galistra?”  The Sheriff asked again to get back to the point.  Gregor imitated Tom’s shrug.

          “A long way,” he said.

          “Just north of the reservation.”  Ugly Bird retook his seat.  “No, really.  It’s the first train stop on the way to El Dorado.”

          “How did you get here?”  Tom ignored the joker and touched Gregor’s hand.  Gregor paused before he answered, but at least this was a question he could answer.

          “The Priest, his Eminence, Marchant of Baria conscripted the monks of Ghosh from the monastery on the island in the sea of Ghosh.  They made a hole in the world, a space, a door between Baria and this place.”  Gregor waved his hands to animate the vision.  “I don’t know how.  I know Anise, the witch of the forest observed from a distance but did not interfere.  Maybe she knows how.”  Gregor shrugged again and closed his eyes to better focus on what he was saying.  “Before we could get through, we were attacked by the Emperor’s minions, though they have a treaty with Baria as with Galistra and most of the eastern lands.  The Empire generally leaves us alone, but I guess our escape was enough to abrogate the treaty.”

          “You were attacked?”  Tom asked in a soft voice.  Everyone leaned forward, even if they did not understand everything about the story.

          “Vergeshim.”  Gregor nodded.  “Man-wolves.”  He wondered if they would understand.

          “Werewolves?”  Ugly Bird asked and Gregor nodded again.

          “Werewolves.  And the monks were not fit to defend against such.  To my shame, we ran.  Three followed before the door closed.  I believe I lost them, though, when we got to the black road and the high light without fire.”

          “I got werewolves running around the countryside?”  Sheriff McBain widened his eyes and began to sweat like Mister Beasley.  “Tell me you’re joking,” he pleaded, but somehow they all knew better.

          Tashi came out and pulled up a chair.  She appeared all bubbly and grinning.  “Mister, um,” She interrupted.

          “Mister Duke,” Bill spoke up.

          “Gregor,” he said and smiled for his nurse.

          “Is your wife a witch?”  Tashi asked.

          Gregor’s face contorted for a moment.  He raised his hand to strike Tashi on the mouth, but stopped his hand just as suddenly.  “I’m sorry.  You don’t know, but no.  Her art is most favorably given by blood of the royal line.  She is the Princess Tanis, heir to the throne of Aven, an island in the eastern sea and one of the few kingdoms still independent of the Emperor’s thumb.”

          “Oh,” Tashi said.  “Because she is floating about two inches off the bed, and glowing.”

          “Tanis.”  Gregor started to get up, but Tashi stopped him again.

          “She’s only four centimeters.  We have time to wait.”

          “Courage,” Ugly Bird said.  “I remember when Two Faces, my daughter was born.”  He laughed at a private thought.  “I thought I would have a bud while I waited.  Labor was eight hours and I was stinking by the time the baby was born.  God is my witness I will never do that again.”  Ugly Bird lost his smile.  “’Course, my mother says that is why Two Faces married a drunk.”

          There was a howl outside.  They all heard it. 

          Gregor whipped out his sword a moment faster than the Sheriff could pull his revolver.  Ugly Bird jumped to grab the horse.  Bill Cullen ran for a tire iron.  A wolf, bigger than any wolf ought to be, crashed through the glass front of the bay door.  A second followed.

          Tom Robinson’s chair slipped as he tried to push it back.  He was lucky not to crack his head on the concrete.  Tashi screamed, and so did Mister Beasley.  One wolf got beheaded in one stroke of Gregor’s sword.  The other got three bullets from Sheriff McBain’s gun and collapsed. 

          “Only two,” Gregor shouted, still crouched, ready for an imminent attack.

          Bill Cullen came back with his tire iron and thought quickly.  “Inside,” he shouted.  “Lights out and go to the windows.  Look for movement when I turn on the outside lights in the lot.”

          “Right!”  Tom got up.  Tashi ran back inside the house.  Gregor and the Sheriff followed her.  Ugly Bird stayed with the horse but managed to pull a wicked looking knife from somewhere.  Bill clicked off the garage lights and waited a minute to give his eyes a chance to adjust before he threw the breaker that turned the lights on all around the building.  He heard the women scream, shots fired, and then silence.

          Tashi ran back into the garage as Bill clicked the inside lights back on.  “Mary Elizabeth got it with a kitchen knife, and then her husband shot it,” she reported.  “Gregor is with Tanis.  Virginia stopped screaming.  Doc Lewis and Darcy are examining the creature.”

          Mary Elizabeth came out as Ugly Bird and Bill dragged the two dead beasts back out of the bay and on to the lot.  She sat down beside Mister Beasley who was wringing his hands like a man in prayer and sweating more than usual.

          Tom and the Sheriff dragged the one out of the house and tried to get as little blood on the carpet as possible.  Gregor wiped his sword clean and returned it to its’ place.  Virginia helped as they loaded all three dead bodies in the back of Bill’s pickup.  Bill got the shovels.  McBain followed in the police car and brought Tom, Tashi and Gregor.  Ugly Bird stayed with the horse, and Virginia stayed with Mary Elizabeth who was terribly traumatized by the whole thing. 

          There was a deep ditch in the woods out behind Mister Beasley’s store.  It had a few old tires, a broken toaster and other odds and ends dumped in it over the years.  It took time to empty the space, not the least because of the cold, but then the bodies went in, a mass grave, and the ditch was finally filled in with dirt and gravel.  It was long, hard work, but when it was over, Bill thought to say a word.

          “And may God have mercy on their souls.”

          “Amen.”  Tashi, Tom and the Sheriff spoke in unison.

          Gregor said nothing, but nodded.  They still looked like wolves, even in death, but no one doubted that they had once been men.

###

          Back in the garage, Bill got the cardboard out and Tom found the duct tape.  Mister Beasley spoke to turn his mind from the wolves.  “One thing you better learn up front if you’re going to stick around here, Mister Duke, duct tape fixes everything.”

          “Amen.”  Tom and Bill spoke together, and Ugly Bird snickered.

          “I should stay here?”  Gregor wondered what they were suggesting.

          “Where else you gonna go?”  Bill asked.

###

            Happy writing …

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Weekly Roundup: December 27, 2013

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            I am so glad I have a couple of practice weeks, and the goals I have set don’t begin until after January 4th.  (January 5th is Sunday, the first day of the week).  Last week, I surpassed 12,000 words of fiction for the week.  This week, I was lucky to reach 4,000 words, and on three different stories.  Christmas, you know; a reasonable excuse – though admittedly an excuse, not a reason.  I guess I have to be prepared for such weeks.  Sunday the 29th I begin with a clean slate, and in case you have forgotten, I am aiming at 2,000 words per day or roughly 10,000 to 12,000 words per week.  So we will see.

            This week I added about 1000 words to my MIB story, 2000 words to Avalon, episode 3.5, and about 1000 words to The Golden Door, a middle grade book that is long overdue to be done.  Avalon, Season Three is something I want to get finished so I can start posting the series in the new year.  Unfortunately, I got nothing done on Forever: On the Road, a continuation of the wanderings of the Storyteller through the Second Heavens, subtitled, “Anatomy of a Storyteller.”  It imitates an exaggerated, third person memoir with all the names and dates and exact places hidden to protect the innocent, if they exist.

            The Golden Door is a magical story for middle grade reading.  Follow: 

            Mom said the big, inexplicable golden door showed up in the middle of the living room the same time Dad mysteriously vanished from his sick bed.  The golden door may be the family’s only hope of finding their Dad, but after a week the unmovable door remained locked.  Now starting summer vacation, the young people have chosen to ignore it.  Until David finds it open.  There is another world through there.

            The following bit sets the story of The Golden Door in motion.  It is a bit over 1500 words.  I hope you enjoy it

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          David paused at the door to his parent’s room.  The bed was empty and made.  Mama said it was the strangest thing when Dad disappeared.  One minute Dad was there, and the next he vanished, like into thin air.  “Like he went invisible?”  David had asked.  Mama could not answer because her back was turned at the time.  She did not actually see him disappear.  She heard scampering like little feet, but then he was gone and all she could do was cry.  In fact, that was about all she could do for the first few days, that and stare at the golden door in the living room which showed up at the same time.

          David turned the corner to the living room – just a step away in their run-down ranch house.  He looked at the golden door, solid gold in a silver frame.  It reached to the ceiling, and stood in the middle of the room with no visible support of any kind.  Chris said it was only a solid gold slab with a handle and ignored it.  David wondered how it stayed upright.  He imagined a good knock would send it falling flat-side to the floor, and what a terrific crash that would be! 

          A scratching sound came from his parent’s room.  James heard something when they got off the school bus for the last time that year.  David turned to Doritos and chocolate and left the scratching sound to his younger brother James.  Chris said he checked when he got home.  He thought Mama went out and accidentally shut Seabass the cat into the windowless, walk-in closet; but when he looked, the closet was empty and Seabass was asleep on Dad’s pillow.  The closet was empty when James looked as well, and no one could figure out how that stuffy walk-in closet could have a breeze to blow coat buttons and zippers and empty hangers against the wall.

          “Mama would never allow the clothes to be hung in a way where they might scratch the paint,” David pointed out.  The boys left the closet with yet another unsolved mystery, but this time David heard the scratching with his own ears.  Since James was busy, and Chris wouldn’t let him use the game stuff, and Beth knew nothing about the scratching in the closet, that left David to try the door.  He hesitated at the handle.  David was not the bravest twelve-year-old, but he thought that maybe this once he might look.  Besides, Seabass the cat was no longer on the bed, though how the cat might have shut itself into the closet was beyond him.

          He opened the door quickly.  The late afternoon sun shot into the space, and he called the cat, but nothing happened.  He did not look any further.  He was afraid to look too close, so he shut the closet door again and returned to the living room where he sat on the couch and stared at the golden door for a long time.

          Seabass came to sit beside him.  Catbird, the big golden retriever yawned and got up from where he had slept against the sliding doors to the back yard.  That spot was no longer attractive once the sun dipped behind the trees and cast the whole back side of the house in shadow.

          David petted Catbird’s contented golden head with one hand while his other hand stroked Seabass’ soft fur.  They stayed that way for a time, until David abruptly stood.  Both animals looked up, startled by the sudden movement and sudden loss of attention.  David clenched his teeth.   The fact that the door had been locked all week did not matter, except in the back of David’s mind where he hoped the door was still locked.

          “Ga!”  It was unlocked.  David peeked and closed the door again with another “Ga!” significantly louder than the first.

          James heard.  He was finished with his letter writing and decided he better find out what Davey was all stirred up about.  He went next door and tapped Chris on the shoulder.  Chris took a couple of taps before he looked up and lowered his headphones.  A piece of sandwich dangled from his mouth.  He honestly wasn’t listening.

          “Come on,” James said.  “Come on.”  He had to say it twice before Chris got up.  Perhaps Chris was still not paying attention, but at least his feet were moving.  Half way to the living room, they heard it again.  “Gaaa!”  It was deliberately shouted down the hallway.

          “The call of the excited Davey.”  James spoke under his breath as they arrived and David shouted something at his brothers that they could all understand.  “It’s unlocked!”

          Chris immediately turned to get Beth and almost bumped into her as she came barreling out of her room.

          “I heard,” Beth said .  “What’s in there?” 

          Chris shrugged.

          “I looked,” David grinned and his eyes were as wide open as they could be.

          “What did you see?”  Beth was miffed that she had to ask twice.

          “Gaa!”  James answered for his brother.  He shrugged as if to say, “What else?”

          Beth looked perturbed, but David giggled.  “Gaa!”  He nodded in agreement with James. He was still grinning as he pointed at the door.

          Beth shoved Chris forward.  Chris put on the brakes.  While they stared each other down, James stepped up and looked for himself.  He opened the door a mere crack.  “He’s right.  It’s Gaa,”

          Beth frowned, swung the door wide open and almost said “Gaa!” herself.

          Green grass stretched out before them in a world that was bright with late afternoon sunshine.  They heard the faint roll of the sea somewhere, but they could not see it through the door.  They smelled the fresh air and the aroma of growing grain which they could barely make out off to their right.  They felt a touch of the cool breeze that wafted through the meadow on a lazy afternoon in late May.  The grass looked freshly cut, or grazed.  Beth judged it was grazed from the dress of the two people who stood some hundred yards off down by the grain.  It was hard to tell exactly because those people had their backs to the door, but they looked medieval in dress and the grain looked like early grain, barely up to their knees after an April planting.

          “Creepy,” Chris breathed.

          “Cool!”  David yelled.  To be sure, yelling was David’s normal volume.  “Look at the castle.”  It was up on a hill, well beyond the people.  There were more towers and spires than any of them could count including some that reached right up into the clouds.  The castle walls looked formidable enough to withstand any army foolish enough to assault them.  A clear stream came from somewhere inside the castle grounds and wound lazily down the hillside, around the occasional clump of trees, until it reached the meadow.  By then it was a very small river which found the sea somewhere behind them.  Beth looked behind, but all she could see was the kitchen.

          The scratching came again, and this time it was definite and pronounced.

          “Did you guys leave Seabass trapped in Mom and Dad’s closet all afternoon?”   Some scorn entered into Beth’s voice, but before the boys could answer, she stepped around the corner.  Chris shook his head.  David pointed, but Seabass was gone from the couch. 

          They found the cat under the couch, shivering and afraid.  With James’ help, David got the cat out and then held the beast securely in his arms as overweight, gregarious, love everyone Catbird, the golden retriever began to growl.  Beth screamed and the boys heard a tremendous crash in their parent’s room.  Beth made it to the bedroom door, slammed it shut, and while she held the door knob she poked her head around the corner to the living room. 

          “Run!” 

          The boys just stood there.

          Catbird began to dance and bark his head off at whatever was behind the door.  Seabass tried to wriggle free to follow Beth’s instructions, but David held the cat tight.  Chris stared with his mouth open.  James had the good sense to step through the door and on to that green meadow.  That movement broke the spell; that and the sudden crash against the bedroom door from the inside which almost made Beth lose her grip and which was punctuated by a loud crack.  The wood door was ready to give way.

          Chris grabbed David to keep him from running down the front hall and out the front door.  He shoved David after James.  Then he grabbed Catbird by the collar, and carefully, because the dog was agitated beyond belief.  He nodded to Beth as he dragged the dog toward the golden door, and only paused when he got to the place where the door and rug met.

          “Come on!”  Chris screamed at his sister and went through, even as there was a second crash against the bedroom door. 

          “There’s more than one!” Beth screamed back.

          “Hurry!”  The golden door was closing of its’ own volition.  A third crash, and the bedroom door came to pieces, but it held together in sharp and ragged edges long enough to keep back whatever growling, snarling, roaring beasts were trying to get at Beth.  Beth managed a good scream as she ran and dove through the doorway.  They heard the roar of the beast echo in the house before the golden door slammed shut and they were no longer in the world.

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Storyteller: Weekly Roundup December 21, 2013

M G Kizzia 2 Comments

            Merry Christmas and all that.  The year is coming to a close and there is much to do – so much to do.  The journey continues. 

            BIG on the list is to get my thoughts in order; plans, goals and priorities so I can make the new year successful as a writer.

            Teachers and students know what I am talking about.  Teachers know all about lesson plans, and the necessary information that must be conveyed in a limited amount of time and in a palatable form.  And students need to grasp that information, at least well enough to pass their exams.  It is pointless for the teacher to decide, instead of American History, she would rather be teaching the History of China, or the student to decide they would rather be studying about China in an American History class, because the course is decided, at least for the semester.  Maybe China can be taught and studied next semester.

            Fiction writers have a bit more flexibility in the ability to make mid-course corrections, but need to exercise enough discipline to say no on a regular basis.  Finish this course before starting the next one.  Like any good teacher or student, I can work on from three to a half-dozen courses (stories) in a given semester, and that can give me options and a variety of things to work on, but they all have to be finished, courses completed, before I move on to the next semester.  Now is the time to decide what to work on in the spring and, generally, for the year – to schedule my classes, you might say.

            Likewise, preachers and journalists know what I am talking about.  There is a thing called a deadline that cannot be ignore.  A preacher needs to have the sermon ready by Sunday morning.  There are no extensions.  The journalist has to have the story ready to go when due or lose the article’s timeliness. 

            Fiction writers, again, have a bit more flexibility in making and reaching deadlines.  A preacher might pull out an old sermon for the day and continue to work on the planned idea for a later time.  A good editor might delay a story so the journalist can fill in information gaps or verify sources.  But the work must be finished at some point.  Delay cannot be forever, lest the writer end up with drawers full of half-finished glop.

            Likewise, business people, both small local business people and great big business people, know all about planning and establishing goals and priorities.  Why is this so hard for fiction writers?  I know.  Some feel they can’t write until they are moved by their muse.  Some people believe they need the inspiration to produce true art: the rose colored clouds, the rainbows, the glorious sunsets.  The stars must be aligned.  I like these people.  It means less competition.

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            Earl Stanley Gardner (the Perry Mason mystery author) had a goal of 5,000 word per day, while he was working full time as a lawyer, no less.  That is prodigious.  My more modest goal is 2,000 words per day, six days per week, or about 10,000 – 12,000 words per week.  That is roughly a book every seven or eight weeks (every two months or so).

            Notice that I  plan on one day per week off.  For me it is Sunday.  No reason why it could not be Wednesday or some other day.  The point is to take a day of rest.  I feel it is vital to recharge my batteries and for my mental health; not to say I will ignore any ideas that come my way.  I am never without paper and pen to jot things down.  Only, I won’t sit and focus and type one day per week, and I won’t fall prey to the impulse to “get it while it is hot.”  Frankly, if the idea is a good one, it will still be good on Monday morning.

            So 2,000 word per day.  I will be reporting here on how I do, starting in the new year, and sharing a bit of work, leaving myself open to whatever internet trolls (or angels) might think to comment. 

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            Speaking of sharing, though the plan does not begin until January 4th, I spent this last week pouring out 12,337 words on my “Men in Black” story which is presently being saved under the heading “Aidan, Jesse and Bankar.”  Here are the first three paragraphs, probably chapter one:

            Aidan Clark saw the light in the night sky when he started his pick-up.    He noticed it was growing, and certainly no airplane.  He sat in the driveway and wondered if it was a meteorite or a piece of a satellite crashing to earth.  Maybe it was a whole satellite  It would have to be a big piece to burn so long.  Curious, he could see the light growing, but he could not hear it.  He felt sure he ought to hear something falling like that, zooming through the atmosphere.  He kept waiting for the meteorite, or whatever it was, to burn up or break up in mid-air.  Probably too big to disintegrate, he thought.  He judged it would hit his cornfield.  He could see the flames.  It was damn big.  Holy shit!

          Aidan gunned the truck and spun out into the road.  There was an explosion behind him, and he found himself down in the embankment.  His face hurt and his nose started to bleed, but he did not exactly remember hitting his face on the steering wheel, or smacking the windshield.  All he could think of was his home and his parents.  He got out, stumbled to the roadway, and dropped his jaw. 

          Scant feet from where he stood, there was a ravine a quarter mile wide.  Whatever it was hit and slid, and cut a deep trench in the ground as it burrowed slowly to where it stopped a mile away, just beyond the main highway.  The thing had to be huge to cut a mile of dirt.  And it took everything with it, including his house and his parents.  Aidan got back into his truck to find a way to get a close-up look.  He felt angry, confused and in shock.  His eyes moistened, but he blamed the cut on his forehead and his bloody nose, though there was not much blood.

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            Feel free to comment.

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Quote of the Week:

“Merry Christmas (Happy Christmas),” said by about a quarter to a third of the human race for roughly the last 2,000 years …

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Storyteller: Weekly Roundup, December 14, 2013

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

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            Time is getting away from me.  It is that time of year.  I have three weeks to get my thoughts in order for 2014, provided I slide over to Saturday the 4th of January before I begin.  I also have three weeks to post on a variety of subjects which will be touched upon in future weekly roundups.  Wish me luck. 

            For the present, I am making plans, goals to work toward, not carved in stone, but with the notion that every step is a step in the right direction, and (this is important), I am allowed to feel good about every step I take even if it is not as much or as good or as complete as planned and wanted – even if I don’t reach the goal (yet).  I feel it is important to give myself permission to feel good about what I have accomplished.  They are all steps on the journey.

            It is something I am trying to teach my boys.  I have three at home at present, 17, 18, ad 20.  Take a step, any step.  It is better than standing still.  Even if it is the wrong step, you can change your mind.  Changing your mind is allowed.  I would say the beginning of any journey starts with the first step, but I really dislike clichés and platitudes and fortune cookies.

            Do you have plans, goals, outlines, thoughts, things you want to accomplish in 2014, stories you want to write in the coming year? 

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            This post is a big step for me.  I am going to share, at the end of each week, how well I am stepping; what I am doing as far as my writing is concerned, the thing that matters most to me.  I will be talking about what I am working on and maybe provide some samples.  I will talk about agents and queries, publishers and editors, short story submissions, Amazon, Smashwords, CreateSpace, and promotion and marketing efforts, the good, the bad, and the ogre ugly.  It is a big step, because I have never shared this sort of information before, I find it all rather personal, and I don’t know if anyone will find it the least bit interesting, maybe even helpful in your own work, or not.

            This all may turn into three weeks of silliness followed by stories without comment.  It may turn into stories followed by a weekly roundup, probably posted on Friday morning because I’ve been told people don’t read many blogs over the weekend.  Who knows?  We shall see as time continues to get away from me …   

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Question of the Week: 

At the end of The Lord of the Rings, when Aragorn married Arwen, do you think he asked Frodo to be his ring bearer? 

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