600 Words pt. 2 for 03/25/18

“If this smells like what I think it smells like, we’re gonna wish we were running up on a wild elephant,” Piccolo said.  I could tell just how concerned Piccolo was about whatever was coming out way.  There wasn’t an ounce of lightheartedness in his voice like there would be any other time.  All of the grey hairs on his back and tail made him look almost like a hedgehog, standing at full attention ready for a general’s command.  In an instant, sky blue flames erupted from Piccolo’s body, consuming him into a cocoon of swirling fire.  The fireball exploded outward in all directions, engulfing everything in its path, including me.  The fire wasn’t hot though, it wasn’t any temperature as weird as it may seem.  These flames were byproducts of what I would call Piccolo’s spiritual pressure; it’s what would be called ki or chi in the Far East back home. 

After several seconds, blinded and confused, the raging blue vortex shattered like a rock through a glass window pane.  The remnants lit the tree trunks, brush, and vines it touched, burning like a candle.  Before me stood a transformed Piccolo, a new form I had just seen for the first time three days ago during one of our training exercises.  He had been reborn as an ice blue crystalline lion, with his mane and paws made of the same flames that once spun around us.  He was bigger than a normal lion would be, about three times as much, and steam spout forth from his nostril with every breath.  In that moment, and to this day, I am still rendered speechless anytime I have the privilege of witnessing one of my friend’s most majestic forms.

My awe was broken much like the trees in front of us had started to bend and snap by the force that was approaching us.  It sounded like a bulldozer was trying to make its way through the forest when suddenly everything fell hushed.  Both Piccolo and I darted our eyes from floor to canopy and all around trying to figure out where this force might pop out at.  Just then, we heard a tiniest bell jingle and one of the most high pitched meows I’ve ever heard.  We looked down to the path ahead and there to our surprise stood a baby kitten, no bigger than the palm of my hand.  It was all white, with a pink nose, black tipped ears, and stone cold blue eyes that I felt like could read my soul.  It let out another one of its high pitched whining meows and I felt at peace all at once.

“Aww, it’s just a baby kitten!  It’s not going to hurt us,” I said.  Without even thinking about it, I started my way toward the little adorable fluff ball, arms outstretched like a mummy straight out of an Egyptian crypt.

“No, Adam! Don’t fall for it, it’s not real!” Piccolo shouted, this time not in telepathy.

I don’t know what happened, and it’s hard for me to explain it, but when I started moving towards that little kitten was not my doing.  I was “compelled,” as I would later find out, by this thing.  With Piccolo’s words I paused in my tracks, like a gear getting stuck in a machine.  At that same time, the little kitten let out another meow, but this time it was much deeper and distorted.  It’s eyes had become a full on black and this black vapor looked like it was spilling out of where the cat stood. 

I started backtracking, slowly taking one step after the other trying not to disturb the cat when it exploded in a cloud of black vapors, much like what Piccolo had just gone through with the blue fire. 

600 Words Short Story 03/25/18

The path laid out before us was like one I had seen in the comic books I used to read, far more often back in those younger years.  The jungle had a damp heat at all times, and there was sharpness to the air that took me the longest to put my finger on.  The air felt like when a dog is busy panting away in your face, their breath all musty and excited.  With every step we took the air always backhanding us along our way.  Ducking and dodging all the underbrush, I understood then why Piccolo had reverted back to a smaller form.  We stumbled our way onto a somewhat worn path through the belly of the jungle, a clear indication that someone, or better yet, something, had made its way through here a few times before.  In all my years of comic book reading, adventures that have foreshadowing like this usually never disappoint.

            “Maybe we should turn back.  It looks like whatever cleared out this path was at least the size of an elephant,” I said, trying not to let my nervousness crack through my voice.

            “How do you know how big an elephant is?  Have you ever actually stood next to one?” Piccolo chimed telepathically.  Whenever Piccolo was in his house cat form he always used telepathy even though he could very well use his vocal cords like any other human in that state.  I’ve only heard him talk that way a few times, stories for another day, but trust me, it can be done.

            “Yes, I have as a matter of fact.  When I was in first grade we took a field trip to the zoo and they had elephants there.  I remember feeling like they were somehow taller than the building that we were inside of.  They were gigantic,” I replied.

            “Well, I guess this time around the cat didn’t get your tongue,” Piccolo chuckled.  His laugh and voice in general whenever he was that size were higher pitched than normal.  It was always funny to hear.

The trees around us shot up from the dirt like they were in defiance of the Earth, refusing to ever go back to being held prisoner in their tiny shell seed casings for another day of their lives.  Their branches, long and darting, protruded out in all sorts of broken angles and directions.  It was as if these branches were trying to elude the trunks that bore them the same way the trees seemed to be denying the dirt their roots were home to.  Draped from the wooden bones above our heads was a thick moss, the kind you’d imagine a soldier cloak himself with as he’s moving through the swamp on a reconnaissance mission.  The sunlight broke through the gaps of the treetop canopy, scattering across the forest floor like tiny stars twinkling.  It was a gift from the skies above for not being able to see the twilight of the night sky. 

We had just stepped onto the semi-cleared path when we felt a strong jolt from the ground beneath us, and then another one followed by yet another.  Like a bass drum in a marching band, each thunderous pound of the mallet commanding attention and respect from all those listening around it.  The fourth jolt without a doubt confirmed these were loud stomps, as it rattled the trees, scaring all the birds, or what could best be described as such, out of their nests into flight.  To me, they looked more like frogs that had evolved to have a bat’s wings.  No Prince Charming hiding here though.

600 Words Short Story 03/18

Before I knew it, the rays of the two morning suns danced across my face, bringing me back from whatever half dream state world I had just inhabited.

                “How are you feeling this morning? You haven’t talked much these last couple of days,” Piccolo said.

                “I’d feel a lot better if I wasn’t being kept in the dark about what’s really going on,” I replied.

                “I know it’s hard and your head is spinning right now Adam, but you have just got to trust me on this.  Everything is going to make sense very soon.”  I could see the sincerity in his eyes.  One might imagine the eyes of a lion man would always burn with a fierce intensity and dangerous sharpness.  Piccolo’s eyes always had a quality of peace about them.  In this form, to be well over eight feet tall in my estimation, such a towering giant would send panic down the streets back on Earth.  People wouldn’t take the chance to even see the tranquil seas that would stare back at them.  Knowing this, I still proceeded to give my old friend a hard time.

                “For all I know you could be leading me out here somewhere to kill me.  This could be revenge for the times I didn’t change your litter box out every day,” I said jumping down from the tree-side mound I had been resting on.

                “Ya know, that really isn’t a half bad idea.  You humans have no idea the hell it is to smell a three day old litter box with a cat’s nose,” Piccolo said as the gem in his fiery belt started to glow.  Like fireflies, tiny white dots started dancing around Piccolo as he began to glow a bluish white himself.  He glowed brighter and brighter for the next few seconds until a blinding pulse shot out from him in all directions.  I did my best to shield my eyes, throwing up my arms in front of my face, but my eyes were still left feeling how they always did after picture day at school.  As my off tinted vision started to normalize, I saw before me the familiar friend I had known for the past eleven years.  Piccolo had returned to his normal house cat form.  Well, as normal as a talking telepathic magical transforming house cat can be anyway.

                Piccolo’s coat was always shining, much like a little sun itself.  The ash grey of his fur was sectioned by rows of darker grey, but not quite black, stripes down his back, much like a tiger.  His eyes always lit up bright like two jade stones, full of life and wisdom. We got Piccolo when I was six years old.  It was Christmas morning, me and my sisters flew down the steps, leaping into the living as fast as we could.  It was just the three of us then, my little brother hadn’t been born yet.  We turned the corner and to our delight there was the most adorable, tiny kitten sleeping on the couch with the brightest red bow on the back of its little collar.  We probably scared him half to death, shocking him awake as we burst out in cheers and celebration over our first pet.  Crowding him for space and smothering him with tiny hands, we welcomed Piccolo into the Carter family and little did I know he would save my life all these years later.  Returning from my stroll down memory lane, I talked with Piccolo about how far we needed to trek that day.

                “We need to make it to the Watcher's house today. We need to go there first before we make our way to the Sentinel.  We need her help before we make our way to the Sentinel." Piccolo informed me.  This wasn't the first time I had heard of the Watcher in these past few days, and a small, nervous excitement grew in me once I knew I was finally about to have a face to put with such a mysterious name.

Readings for 03/11/18

Richard Ford's "Rock Springs" was a really great story that I enjoyed reading. Earl, Edna, and all the other characters were very well developed and portrayed. I loved the way Ford worded the story, it really put you in the mind of Earl seeing his thoughts and hearing his emotions and take on things.  I feel like Ford especially did a good job on Edna's character.  The story about her and accidentally killing the monkey was such a fantastic development moment for the character.  Her sharing of the story and subsequent looks to Earl tell me that she was judging herself and seemingly wanted Earl to judge her too.  I say this because his response, trying to make her feel better and sympathize with her about the matter, evoked a negative response out of Edna, as if she was disappointed in his support.  I also like how she sometimes competed for attention from Earl with his daughter, Cheryl, and was seemingly jealous with catty comments like, "I suppose my questions come last here today," and things like that.  But then at other times, we see Edna being tender to Cheryl, and we as readers get an even deeper look into Edna and she becomes a more complex character.  The same for Earl and his situation.  He is on the run for writing bad checks, yet he loves Edna and his daughter and just wants to take care of them and spend his days with them.  He's devastated by the fact that Edna is going back to Montana but doesn't want to show it.  He robs at times but doesn't rob when he easily could have when the older black lady let him in her house to use the phone.  We have a lead character who is full of flaws but also many redeemable qualities and many traits which we all can related to. 

300 Words Creative 03/11

I laid there awake, mind too rapid in thought to fall asleep.  The stars from this planet’s perspective are a lot different from those back home.  They are much brighter, like they are burning with the purpose to outshine the other and steal all the attention in the night sky.  I suppose it’s from the lack of artificial lighting here, no humans or human-like beings to come along and clear things out, tear things down, and light things up through the dead of night.  No, this planet has thus far been spared from such an experience, but what lied in the destiny’s path for the planet is something I’ll have to fill you in on at another time. 

                It had been five days since we arrived on that beach, the beach I will never forget.  And how could you forget something like that, pink sand shimmering in greenish sunlight, yellow waves crashing and foaming at the shore.  The coastline makes me think about cotton candy every time I think back to it.  Man how I would kill for some of that right now.  Instead I’m just here in the midst of giant alien trees, contemplating the unbelievable things that I’ve been told. 

                Piccolo said he couldn’t tell me everything just yet.  He said that we had to make it to the Sentinel so I could get acclimated to my latent abilities and simultaneous lives first before I wore the full weight of the truth.  I’m still stumbling a bit over the simultaneous lives part and apparently that’s just the tip of the iceberg.  It was another four day trek through this dense, exotic alien rainforest before we would arrive to the entrance of the Sentinel, but that was just the beginning.  The entrance was a gateway to the inside of the planet, this planet being Marduke.  It was a doorway down into the catacombs of the steam pod layers, about fifty Earth miles of internal hot geysers pretty much.  Then we’d reach this mysterious Sentinel I was purposely being told nothing about.   

300 Words Creative 03/04

Allow me to take you back on a trip that spans time and space.  It was the night of Christmas Eve 1998.  I had just turned eleven years young six days prior, and in my usual last-minute Christmas prep, I was busy cleaning away in my room.  I have to make sure I get the best presents right!? After finishing up in my room around midnight I went to go see what everyone else was up to.  My grandmother was in her bedroom, winding down for the night. The only sister I had at the time was fast asleep in her crib, and my mom was finishing up her Christmas Day cooking in the kitchen.  Being the amazing son I am, I decided that I would give her a hand in finishing up.  Now, it is very important for you all to realize that I had decided a couple years prior that Santa Clause wasn’t real.  What spoiled it for me you ask?  That particular Christmas I woke up in the middle of the night for some reason and could hear my parents in the living room talking about where to place things.  Needless to say, my little nine year old heart was shattered.  But once I saw my amazing presents that morning, I picked up my little ruby shards, put them back together, and marched forward.  So, on this particular Christmas Eve I already knew what to expect.  At some point after I fell asleep my mom was going to get up and set the presents out.  At least that’s what I expected.

            While helping my mom frost the last cake, I noticed the strangest sound coming from outside.  At first I could not tell what it was and I asked my mom if she heard anything too.  We stood there quietly, ears slowly leaning towards the window when suddenly it was clear. Sleigh bells! We were hearing sleigh bells!  I could not believe it!  I went into the den, flung open the sliding glass-door and we stepped out onto the deck.  And sure enough, sleigh bells could be heard!  We walked around the yard to try and figure out if the noise was coming from a neighbor’s house, or if something was playing audio outside of our house, but we found nothing.  The sleigh bell sound stayed true no matter where we walked, always sounding like it was coming from the sky.  I kept asking my mom, “Are you pranking me?! Did you guys hide a tape recorder with these sounds?”  She swore up and down she had not.  Needless to say, my little heart was racing with excitement and highly perplexed.  I ran back in to get my grandmother, and she heard the sleigh bells just like we did.  That was all the proof I needed.  I raced back inside to start getting ready for bed because I was not about to miss my presents being dropped off by Santa because I was still awake!  As I drifted off to sleep, smile plastered on my face, the sound of distant jingles escorted me into the ethers of the dream world, and the next morning I woke up to one of the most exciting Christmases ever.