Storytelling,

Fantasy, Science Fiction, Fiction,

Unofficial Writer of the Month Club

M G Kizzia 2 Comments

Once upon a time I was considering National Novel Writer’s Month as an option.  I had a great idea for a young adult novel, a great rationale for the fantasy foundation, the location selected and even a few names to develop.  It was early September, and I felt I had plenty of time to work on my characters and draw up the storyline, but then I made a mistake.

I talked about the idea with my sons, 15 and 18. 

September 17th after work I sat down to begin outlining or shaping “The Chosen.”  I started Writing instead.

 

            “So, what’s his name?”  Emily was curious, but not really interested.

            “Thomas.”  Jessica looked back at the library table where the young man looked up and waved.  She smiled. 

            “And he is in Freshman English?”  Emily picked her book-bag up from the ground for the tenth time and tried once again to make the strap stay on her chair.  The thought crossed her mind that one definition of insanity was doing the same thing over and over, expecting a different outcome.

            “No,”  Jessica sat up but made no effort to open her book.  “He’s a Sophomore, and on the football team.”

            Emily looked up briefly.  Apparently Jessica went for football players.  “I thought you had a boyfriend at home.”

            “But I’m not at home,” Jessica said with a straight, albeit blond face.  “Besides, I want to enjoy the full college experience.”  She tossed her hair back and snuck another look at Thomas.

            Emily nodded and ran a hand through her short, black locks.  It was a boy’s cut left over from ROTC summer camp.  If she did not have a Mohawk red streak she figured her hair would have no character at all.  “But it has only been five days,” she said, and she thought living a whole year with this roommate was not going to be easy.

            Jessica looked at her long French nails before she slammed her hand down on her book.  “First day of classes and we already have homework.  It’s unnatural.”

            Emily looked at the girl’s hand on the book and thought at least that was something.  Then she examined her own short, black painted nails and shook her head, sadly.  “I’m going back,” she said and picked her book-bag up from the floor.  She slid her English book into the bag and stood, and Jessica mirrored her but with a glance to be sure Thomas watched her leave.  Emily noticed and spoke quietly, “grumble, grumble.”  She was not sure how to put her feelings into words, exactly.

 

25 days later (October 11) I reached 50,000 words.  12 days later (for a total of 37 days for those of you who may be math challenged) I was done at 79,000 words.  I suspect next spring when I edit and tighten it, “The Young and the Strong” may end up closer to 75,000 words, but that was on October 23rd.  So now what do I do?

 

            The library door closed quietly behind them with the sound of a shush.  The university campus spread out before them like a gray world punctuated by lamps here and there along the paths.  Emily looked up once, but there were no stars to be seen because of the library glare.  Perhaps she was a foolish freshman to walk across campus in the dark, but she had Jessica for company, such as it was, and the dorm was not far.  She knew Trenton was not the safest city in America, but Jersey State University had a great safety reputation, as far as she knew.

            “Coffee?”  Jessica made the suggestion while she tugged on her too short skirt.  Emily put her hand in the pocket of her black slacks, found the two dollars she needed for laundry and shook her head.

            “I need to rest.”  She honestly felt it was important to keep herself on a good schedule, at least at first.

            “Well, I can use some,” Jessica insisted.

            Emily hesitated before she spoke.  “Can’t.  I’ll see you back at the room.”

            Jessica also looked ready to say something, but declined.  She turned without a word and headed toward the student center.  Emily watched for a moment, then turned to her path.  She took two whole steps before she heard a stifled scream come from Jessica’s direction.  She did not hesitate.  She ran toward the sound.

 

Hopefully one day you will be able to read the whole book for yourselves.

Good luck to all who are participating.

–Michael

Avalon 1.6: Freedom

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After 4320 BC in the Mountains of Southern China.  Kairos:  Xiang

Recording…

            The rain was hard and pelted them like a flood.  The travelers had to stop and take time to adjust their fairy weave clothing to make slickers with hoods and boots to resist the water.  Then they trudged forward only to have Lockhart drag them to the nearby cliffs.  It was close enough to sundown that he felt it was not worth forcing them through that downpour.  In fact, he decided the sooner they found some shelter, the better.

            Lockhart was thrilled to find that there was a cave in the side of the cliffs as he had hoped.  An overhang would not have served nearly as well the way the wind was whipping around.  What made him pause, and made them all pause was the fact that there was already a campfire burning in the cave.  They could see the light and smell the meat that was cooking.

            “Our path is this way.”  Doctor Procter pointed away from the cave.

            “Forget that,” Boston said, and she walked boldly into the light.  The others followed and were only a bit surprised to find a single man sitting there.  A whole deer was roasting away and it smelled delicious.

            “Come in.  Come in.”  The man said, and they all thought he was a very young man.  “Get yourselves dry and warm by the fire.

            “Thank you.”  Lockhart said it before Alexis could.  “It is pretty rough out there.”

            “Well,” the man grinned at some internal thought.  “The rain was overdue and there is a place of soft dirt some five days march from here.  With luck it may come loose and slide to the bottom, and maybe bring some boulders with it.”

            “That’s an odd thought,” Lieutenant Harper noted while she checked her rifle.

            “When can we expect the rest of your group?”  Captain Decker wondered.

            “Just me,” the young man said.  “This deer is for you.  We were expecting you, and when you came through I rushed here.  I hope you don’t mind.”

            “No.  Not at all.  Great.”  They said.

            “Thank you very much.”  Alexis got to say it after all.  “I’m Alexis.”

            “I know who you are,” the young man interrupted.  “I am Shengi, god of the mountain or I should say mountains.”

            They all paused at various points in disrobing and did not know what to say until Boston spoke.  “You’re not a hundred yet, are you?”

            Shengi looked up at her.  He could have easily been offended, but instead he smiled.  “Is it that obvious young Mary Riley but everyone calls me Boston?”

            “No.”  Boston shook her head and returned his smile.  Then she turned to the others and explained.  “A god isn’t considered fully mature until he is at least a hundred.”

            “Oh.”  People went back to taking off their wet things and inching toward the fire.  It was not only raining torrents, it was a cold rain on the mountain.  Then Lincoln had a thought.

            “What did you mean when you said “we” were expecting you?”

            Shengi stood and invited Lockhart and Lieutenant Harper to take his place.  “Xiang,” he said.  “She said you had not come in her whole life and had to come soon.”

            “The Kairos,” Boston said.

            Shengi nodded.  “But not official for several more lifetimes.”

            “Why soon?”  Lincoln was still suspicious.

            “Because she is dying,”  Shengi turned his back on them, but it took no insight to know he was fighting tears at the thought.  When he turned back, he had a word for Alexis.  “And you are not permitted to heal her.”

            Alexis looked down at the fire.

            “And why is she dying?”  Lockhart thought to ask.

            “Because I screwed up,” Shengi said and Roland gasped at the thought.  “Do not be surprised, good elf.  It is more common than you think.  But here, I am responsible for events.”  He knelt by the fire and began to cut pieces of the deer and passed them out.  There were vegetables as well, roasted, but not burnt, and Alexis quickly made some bread to complete the meal while Shengi explained.

            “My cousin and I devised a plan to advance the people in civilization.  Her land is good land by the river, the one Xiang calls the Yangtze.  We started by devising a competition between the people.  It escalated to a struggle.  We helped our own far more than we should.  At last, we became the ones in competition and I would not lose to her.”  Shengi clearly stiffened his upper lip before he finished.  “Xiang is leading two thirds of her people to safety over the mountain.  They will enter the safe lands of the Whirlwind that she calls Laos.  One third of the people are demon possessed and hungry for blood, to steal, kill and destroy.”

            “That is what demons do,” Alexis said.  She went to church regularly since becoming human.

            Shengi sighed.  “I am responsible for the infestation of demons, and once the matter with Xiang is settled I will spend the next several hundred years cleaning up my mess.”

            “We are responsible.”  They heard another voice, and a woman stepped out of the dark.  She was beautiful beyond word and because of that they all knew she was a goddess.  “I am not going to let you take all the fallout from this.”  Shengi looked up at the woman with gratitude.  She bent down and kissed him gently, smack on the lips.  “We have to stick together, we do.”  Shengi just nodded, and then Lockhart, Lincoln and Roland all spoke at more or less the same time.

            “Nagi.”  They had met the woman back in the days of Keng.

            Nagi looked around for the first time and then turned her back on them all, the way Shengi had.  “What is this feeling?”  She asked.  Everyone stayed quiet as Nagi let out a little gasp.  “It is shame.  I feel ashamed of what I did.  I have never felt that feeling before.”  She spun around, but instead of the anger they feared, she also sported a look of gratitude as Shengi had shown just moments before.

            “You have done nothing to be ashamed of,” Shengi said.

            “But you don’t know all I have done,” Nagi responded.  “These people do not know the details, but I feel ashamed in any case.”  She paused and lowered her eyes.  “I would say I am sorry, but the gods are not supposed to say that, if you follow me.”

            “If I thought it was safe I would give you a hug,” Boston said, and Nagi gladly stepped over and hugged her. 

            “But now, Shengi and I must go.”

            “I think you make a fine couple.” Alexis said, having read the look Nagi gave to the young man.  “Don’t you think so, father?”

            “Lovely,” Mingus said.

            Nagi returned a knowing smile to Alexis.  “But then, you are older than I am.  You should know about such things.”

            “Wait,” Captain Decker got their attention since he was sure their interview was over.  “This looks more like a tunnel than a cave.  May I ask what is back there?”

            “Trolls,” Shengi admitted.  “But I have set a hedge for the night.  They will not bother you.”

            “Great.”  Lincoln said, but he said no more as Shengi and Nagi vanished before their eyes.

            “What is great about trolls?”  Roland asked.  Clearly he did not like having trolls around.

            “I was being sarcastic,” Lincoln admitted.  “With trolls behind us and demon possessed people ahead of us I doubt I’ll get much sleep.”

            “Poor baby,” Alexis slipped her arm around Lincoln’s waist.  “I’ll protect you.”

            Doctor Procter chose that moment to come in out of the rain and dark.  “It is really coming down out there and no sign of a let-up,” he said as he took off his wet things.

            The others just stared at him since none of them realized he was not in the cave.  Mingus was the one who finally spoke.

            “And you were where?”

            “Just checking the distance and direction for the morning.  I wasn’t getting a good reading inside the cave for some reason.”

            “But you just got over being sick,” Alexis worried.

            “But I am over,”  Doctor Procter said as he came up to the fire.  “Dead animal.  Good, I’m starving.”  No one said a word in response.

BLOGS OF THE FUTURE: Things I look forward to sharing…

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FROM STORYTELLER TO STORY WRITER

One of the things I want to look at in the coming weeks and months is my struggle to move from a teller of tales – a public speaker with an audience –to a writer of tales where the words alone have to do everything.  I have discovered, and I am still discovering that there are big differences between the two in terms of time and talent and a completely different set of skill involved, despite the superficial look of both as simply telling a tale…

CLASSIC STORYLINES

Another thing I look forward to delving into are the classic tales and story lines (plots) and how they can be used effectively in our own storytelling.  Several friends recently shared with me about how they believe there are no new stories, just new storytellers.  I agree in the sense that every person will take a story line (and I believe every person can take a plot) and tell it in a different way. 

I also believe, though, that it helps to be clear about what plot you are working with.  Too many authors don’t recognize this truth and as a result they ramble, follow extraneous trails for some distance, and end up throwing out whole chapters in the process.  Understanding the classic plots can go a long way in keeping a story on track.

WRITING ELEMENTS

I hope to be able to continue to share writing tips as I have found them and continue to find them.  This line will extend the work I began under the heading “Writing Secrets,” but I intend the ideas at this point to be more topical and open to discussion.  Some of those topics might include the selection (care and feeding) of character names, the “happily ever after” syndrome, where background information belongs in a story (and how important it is to the story and character development), what research is really good for, and so on.

MY UNIVERSE

Lastly, I want to share some thoughts on creating and building a viable world in which a story may live and breathe.  I hope to do so by showing some aspects of my own universe, as conceived.  I hope you will find the discussions helpful in your work, though I expect you will develop things differently and in your own way.  With that said, let me share some general thoughts about creating a writing universe.

Writers of science fiction and fantasy in particular, and all genres including mainstream/literary writers to some greater or lesser extent will speak of creating their own world or universe within which their story or series of stories take place.  Some might simply call it the setting for the story, but really it is more than that.  It includes houses, buildings, sometimes woods or bridges or countryside that does not actually exist in our reality; and people, of course, that are invented (after a fashion) for story purposes. 

For any author who steps outside of our present reality – that which we experience every day, whether Wal-mart or Nordstrom’s – building a world that is consistent and plausible is imperative.  This is true, not only for the obvious world builders like science fiction and fantasy (and horror) authors, but for anyone who travels on the road, or visits a shack, or happens to be married to a time traveler.  The author needs to know what is and what isn’t, what is possible and what is not, and to some extent, how it works.  In short, they need to build a viable universe.  

Now, I plan immediately to go out on a limb and make my very next post on showing the development of my system of magic (as used in my fantasy stories and novels, as well as my time travel fantasy).   Yours will undoubtedly differ, and so it should.

One Writer’s mid-week Writing Secrets 4: Read

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             OK.  So I am off Twain for a while and I have moved on to Dickens with some great heaping teaspoons of Madeleine L’Engle.  At the beginning of the summer I was determined that this summer I was going to do reading-lite (great taste, less filling), and so it was all Eric Flint (& co.) and Harry Turtledove. 

            Then I promptly devoured Susan Wise Bauer’s The History of the Ancient World – a text with which my naturally argumentative mind could find very little fault.  (So much for reading-lite). 

            Then before Twain, I began to peruse C. S. Lewis, wondering when Dawntreader, the third movie might come out, and I hit on rereading some Charles Williams.  Williams (if you don’t know) was the one that Lewis and Tolkien and Sayers and the other inklings (generally) believed was the best writer among them… and good luck finding his works!

            So, what are you reading???

 

Writing Tip 4:

If you want to write, and especially if you want to write well, read.  Some have said that this is the single most important thing a writer can do.  I would not go that far, but near enough, and I would add that the library is fine but it is better if you buy the books the same way you hope people will buy yours!  (For God’s sake, don’t steal them off the internet).  So, read, and read the stuff that you know darn well is the good stuff too if you want to write good stuff.  We are what we eat after all.

Series: Tales of the Other Earth Tale: Halloween Story part 10 M/F Story

M G Kizzia 2 Comments

            The Queen sent a few soldiers down the east hall alongside the auditorium while she and her troops and prisoners walked down the west hall, toward the front door.  She paused when they came to the back-stage entrance, which was open.  She started out on to the stage to look, but the lights were off.

            “And how does one bring light into this place?”  She asked.

            Tom Deal frowned, but stepped over to the backstage bank of switches.  He lit up the stage, but kept the auditorium lights dimmed low.

            “Excellent.”  The Queen clapped her hands.  “By the door and with just the right atmosphere.”  The stage was set for a Middle School production of Romeo and Juliet.  The scenery had a medieval flavor to it all. 

            “But not suitable for prisoners.”  Captain Tor pointed out.

            “To be sure.”  The Queen nodded and they went back toward the front door where there were lights on in a different room.  It was the front office.  Someone, possibly Mary the secretary, alias the Wicked Witch, had been in and out the office earlier.  They unlocked the door, and Captain Tor took the key.  “Will this do?”  The Queen asked.

            The Captain looked around and nodded as he assigned six soldiers to the room; two by the door to the hall, two by the door to the outside, and two, one being a sergeant, to simply watch the adults and make sure they made no trouble.

            “I believe Barten-Cur may be persuaded to tell us what we wish to know, or if not, one of the others.”  Count Severas made the suggestion without exactly spelling out what he had in mind.

            “If it comes to that.”  The Queen did not dismiss the idea.  “Bring the servant and this one.”  She pointed to Gloria Finster.  “The woman appears to be a reasonable sort.”  She trooped out with the Wizard and Count Severas, the Count’s men escorting the prisoners, while Captain Tor began to assign men to guard the outside of the building against any attempted escapes.

            As they walked back to the stage, Barten-Cur looked around carefully, dragging his feet a little to get to the back of the line.  When they reached the stage door, he decided to take his chances.  He let the last bit of magic float off down the hall.  It was a light violet bubble, which soon picked up speed and burst into a hundred little bubbles.  These shot off in every direction as the Wizard came running back from the stage, still holding his box with the crystal.

            “What was that?”  He asked, as the last few mini-bubbles zoomed by above his head.

            “The on button.”   Barten-Cur said, and he hoped he was doing the right thing.

                                                            ————

            Lila dropped the microphone and it clattered loudly against the gym floor.  She couldn’t help it.  She was suddenly nine inches tall and hovering, thanks to her fairy wings, four feet above the ground.  It happened to her all at once, perhaps because she had the magic in her to resonate with the spell; but for everyone else, the change came more gradually.  Almost without thinking, Lila flew up to a height where she could see what was going on.  She saw the tiny purple bubbles of magic slow down and float around the room as if looking for someone to touch.  As they touched, she saw what happened.

            Jennifer actually got a few inches shorter, but her ears became real, and her face aged to a more grow-up look, and changed a bit to give real credence to her status as an elf and woman warrior.  Ginger fell to her hands, and her arms lengthened, or her legs shortened as her nose began to extend and her whiskers moved to her puffy upper lip.  It looked like a difficult transformation, and Ginger opened her mouth to try and say something, but her voice choked on the words and they turned into something of a roar.  That gave Lila a good look at Ginger’s teeth, and that made her look away, except that as she did, she saw Ginger’s danskin fall away, and a great, black tail push it’s way out from behind.  The tail immediately began to twitch to indicate that the newly formed panther was agitated, but Ginger lay down on the floor and licked a paw as if she was seeking to calm herself.

            Chris grew up into a handsome, blond knight.  Peter, the Ninja, hardly changed a bit, except his eyes took on an Asian shape and his movements no longer contained any eighth grade awkwardness.  Mary and Eddie became Red Rayder and Princess Ashanti, and luckily, they changed to real persons and not flat cartoons from a video screen.  Then Lila saw a very grown-up pirate Jordan with a real eye-patch staring at a grown-up pirate Morgan with a real scar on her cheek.  She watched Jordan catch Morgan up in an embrace and plant his lips against hers in a real grown-up kiss, which Morgan willingly returned.

            “Ew!”  Lila said in her new fairy voice.  “No need to get all kissy-face.”  Then she wondered why she said that.

            “Listen up.”  The Scarecrow had picked up the microphone.  “Pay attention.” 

            Lila fluttered down to Ginger and looked the cat in the eye.  The cat had the most perfect cat-like expression about her face, so Lila was not sure.  “Are you still Ginger in there?”  Lila asked.  The cat said nothing.  “I would be very sorry if you weren’t Ginger anymore.  Please nod your head if you are still Ginger.”  The cat nodded slightly, and then licked her forearm.  “Oh, I’m glad.  I’m going to believe in you now.”  Lila said, and she came forward to hug the cat, but the cat was too big.  Then Lila had a thought.  “Can I ride on your back?”  The cat shook her head.  That was a definite no.

            “I am going to believe what has happened to us has been for us to do something about this predicament.  We cannot leave the others in the hands of enemy soldiers, and we have to get free from this place, if we can.”  The Scarecrow had readily grasped what had happened to them all, and he knew that it was especially important to contain this invasion to the school.  The worst thing would be letting these soldiers loose on an unsuspecting community.  “Now, I am going to let the music start again so they think we have gone back to the party.  Some of you will be no help to us, but some will.  First, however, I think we need to guard the door.  You there!  Space Gladiator!”

            “Adam, I think.”  Jennifer said.  She was squinting with her elf eyes as if seeing something no human eyes could perceive.  It was the young man the Coach wanted on the football team, and he would want him even more now if he saw the size of the man with his head sticking up above all the others. 

            “Yes, Spaceman.”  The Scarecrow got his attention, and with that, several people backed away to give the Space Gladiator plenty of room.  “Watch the door and keep the Truscans out of here until we get straight what we are doing.”

            “Do you speak for the Emperor of the known worlds?”  The Gladiator asked.  “I take orders from no man, least of all a man of straw.”

            Lila was back by then, and she knew that the Space Gladiator was disparaging her Grandfather.  As a fairy, she no longer had the presence of mind to wonder how a scarecrow could be her Grandfather, but he was, and the Gladiator was not helping, even if he was the hero of the movie.  She zoomed up to the man’s face with a determined look scrunched up on her own face and her little fists planted firmly on her hips.  “Want to argue about it?”  She shouted.

            The Gladiator paused.  He seemed mesmerized for a minute.  His hand came up, but he did not touch.  It was more like a frozen man warming himself for a moment by a roaring flame.  He bowed his head.  “For the embodiment of life, I will do as requested.”  He turned with a flare of his cape and marched to the door, followed by Tasha, his own, personal cheerleader.

            “We’ll keep the music going.”  Owen, the gangster came up, his moll, Terry, clinging to his arm and chewing her gum to death.  Rapper Bob was with him, and Celeste, who most recognized as a great Rock Star.  Indeed, Celeste had to push behind the equipment table and seek the protection of the gangster and the big rapper to keep from being mobbed by the crowd.

            At that point, Queen Jessica came up and wanted the microphone.  “My subjects.”  She tried to speak, but Sir Chris and the two pirates held her back for the moment.

            “But these are my subjects.”  Jessica insisted, sincerely believing this to be the truth.  “They should be doing what I say, not what this straw man says.”

            “Aye, your majesty.”  Jordan said with a bow.  “But there are events this evening which may upset your delicate sensibilities.  By your grace, let us deal with these unpleasant necessities.”

            “Back off.”  Morgan said with a snicker, and Jessica backed into the protective circle of her ladies in waiting.

            “Pirates.”  She almost spat.  “Are all of my subjects in rebellion?”

            Before Jessica got any further, the scarecrow quickly turned back to the assembly.  “I want the color guard, you football players and any superheroes that might be about, oh, and the medical people in the back, there.  You better come along as well, though I hope you will not be needed.  Lila, bring your friends; but I want the rest of you to have fun, for now.  Make them think there is a real party going on in here.  To the cafeteria.”  He barely got that last word out before Rapper Bob took over.

            “Oh, there is a real party going on.”  The Rapper said, and he turned up the volume, loud.

            “But they should be listening to me!  The people should be doing what I say!”  Queen Jessica was miffed.  The witches, Brittany, Nichole and Molly, all hag ugly, came up making the most sympathetic noises.

            “Majesty, not all are in rebellion.”  Brittany said while all three witches bowed regally.  “But your nerves must be shot by the turn of events.  Do let us serve you as you ought to be served, my Queen.  Allow us this small thing, to make a tonic for you that it may fortify you and calm your stresses, so you may take up the responsibility of ruling this great kingdom with renewed strength.”

            “Yes.”  Queen Jessica responded slowly.  “I could use a tonic at this time.  I thank you for your devotion to my person.  You may do this thing.”  Brittany bowed again, turned, and smiled to her sister witches in a way which was not at all nice, and they led the Queen and her ladies toward the cafeteria where they could find what they needed to work on the tonic.

Series: Tales of the Other Earth Tale: Halloween Story part 9 M/F Story

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             “Here’s the one.”  The Wizard suddenly announced.  He was standing in front of Barten-Cur.  “But, oh.”  The Wizard looked up from his crystal.  “It isn’t the girl or the Princess Arosa.”

            The Queen stepped forward.  “Well?  Explain yourself.”

            “Barten-Cur, Majesty.”  Barten-Cur said with a genuine bow.  “Family retainer to the house of Nova for many generations.”

            “Barten-Cur.”  The Wizard said with some surprise, a life coming into his eyes which had not previously been present.  He stroked his beard.  “I have heard of you.”

            “And where is Lila?  Where is Arosa?”  The Queen came straight to the point.

            Barten-Cur shrugged.  “Alas, her highness is not present at this time.  As for the young girl, I cannot say.”

            The Queen looked around the room.  She was sure Lila was there among the children, but there was no way of singling her out by sight, even if there were no masks and make-up in the way.  “Wizard?”  She asked.

            The Wizard simply shook his head.  “There is too much lingering magic in the air, and with the interference in this world, I could not guarantee to find her even if each young girl presented themselves for personal examination, and that would take all night.”

            “Some wizard.”  The Count scoffed.

            “Quiet.”  The Queen was thinking.

            “If I may suggest.”  Barten-Cur raised his voice, humbly.  “My Lady has promised to come before the party is over.  That would be in a mere two hours.  Perhaps you would care to wait?”  He knew enough to want the soldiers away from the children, or at least settled in to wait, but after that he would have to think of what to do.

            The Queen nodded.  “Captain Tor.  I want all doors guarded.  No one must leave this building, and to be sure we have the cooperation of the children, we will be taking some hostages.”

            “Now wait a minute.”  Principal Barlow stepped forward.  “The children are innocent here.  Who are you to come barging in here threatening children.  I have never heard of anything so despicable.”

            Count Severas winced at the words, and the Wizard ducked a little expecting the Queen’s explosion.  They were genuinely surprised at her response.  “Quite right.”  She said.  “We did not come here to frighten children or to hurt them.”  She turned to her people.  “Take the adults hostage, and Captain Tor, be sure none of the children leave the building.  When Princess Arosa arrives, I want her brought to me.”  She turned and looked around the crowd.  “Children.  You may have your masquerade ball, only for your own safety, please do not try to leave the building or my soldiers may have to hurt you after all.”  The curious way she smiled as she said those words made even the least among them understand that she was not joking.  She spun around and headed back toward the door by which she had entered.  The Wizard and Barten-Cur followed.  The teachers were less inclined.

            “Now wait a minute.”  Principal Barlow began again, but Count Severas stepped up and slapped the man with enough strength to knock him to the ground.  Even as swords came out to force the issue, Coach Beemer wanted to punch the Count’s lights out; but with a look at old Ms Finster and young Ms Addams, he kept his fist to himself.  The teachers got escorted out between soldiers, and when the door closed there was a moment of panic among some of the children.

            “Lila?”

            “Grandpa!”  Lila shouted and threw her arms around the man.  Wendel Carter straightened up as well as he could.  He had gotten stiff standing still for some time.

            “I hid in the corner with the other scarecrow.”  He said.  “It will be all right.”

            “I’m scared.”  Lila admitted.  “They are here for me and Mama.”

            Wendel understood and could not help nodding.  “But everything will be fine.”  He insisted.

            “But what can we do, sir?”  Chris, the knight asked.

            “Ninja.”  Peter suggested, but it was not funny.  What could a bunch of twelve and thirteen year olds do against trained soldiers?

            “First we do this.”  Wendel Carter said, and he led his granddaughter to the microphone, and all of her friends followed.  He told Lila what to say, but he let her speak to the crowd, imagining that his adult voice might be picked up by the Queen or her troops.

            “Attention please.  Gather round.”  Lila spoke, and most of the kids readily responded; glad that someone was taking charge.  Lila saw Brittany and her witches to one side.  Jessica and her ladies in waiting were on the far other side, and she briefly wondered what Jessica would say if she knew that Lila was a real Princess.  Tyler Hamm and his football players took up the middle.  To their right, beside Brittany’s witches, the ROTC crowd was dressed in marine and navy uniforms except for Aaron, who came dressed like an old sea captain, and the seventh graders, Warren and Kate, who were dressed like black belt karate champions.  On the other side of the football team, beside Jessica and her ladies in waiting, there were the Gangstas, the enemies of ROTC.  Owen was actually dressed like a gangster and Terry was dressed like his moll.  There was Rapper Bob, and Celeste, dressed like a rock star.  There was also Kyle, the sex fiend, dressed appropriately as a pimp.  Far in the back, and last of all, there were the eighth grade geeks.  George was a doctor and Shirley a nurse.  Ethan looked to be dressed like a dentist, though perhaps a mad one.  And Lucy, the class clown was with them, dressed most appropriately of all, as a clown.  Beyond that, there were a few more eighth graders and a whole host of seventh graders, most of whom Lila did not know by name.

            Once they were gathered and quiet, though the whispers in the little groups never really stopped, Lila began.  “The question has been asked.  What can we do in this crisis?  Is there anything we can do to warn Mrs. Carter or help the teachers?”  Lila deliberately did not say, “warn my mom.”

            “Who wants to help teachers?”  Someone asked as a joke.  Only a few people thought it was funny.

            “Or would it be best for us to just stay here and do as we are told.  I don’t want, I mean, the superintendent doesn’t want anyone to get hurt.”

            “I can’t see how these poor kids won’t be changed by this experience, though.”  Wendel Carter mumbled to himself and then the most remarkable thing happened.

One Writer’s Writing Secrets 3: Something to Say

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

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

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

NOTICE

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

BY ORDER OF THE AUTHOR

Per G. G., Chief of Ordnance.

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

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

 

Writing Tip 3:

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

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

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                                            ————

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

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

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

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

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

                                                            ————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                                            ————                                                                                

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                                            ————        

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

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

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

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

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

            “Long walk.”  Tom the vampire responded.

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

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

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

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

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

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

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

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

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

            A tear came to Arosa’s eye.

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

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

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

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

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

            “Are you all right?”  David asked kindly.

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

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

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

                                                ————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

            “Dead white men.”  Mister Johnson complained.

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

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

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

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

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

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

            “I don’t know.”  He hedged.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                                ————

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

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

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