The scent of jasmine wafted through the open window. He breathed deep. Truly, this was a different place. As he continued to climb the stairs, he looked out the window to his right and gasped. The grey sky from down below was gone. Now there was only blue sky as far as his eye could see, even to the horizon. Below him green foliage waved cheerfully. The tops of trees, he realized. From above it was difficult to identify the types of trees, but they were large, that he knew. Yet it seemed as if he looked out upon a carpet of living green tendrils, welcoming and inviting.
The sky glowed an even deeper blue. The sun was nowhere to be seen and if he had to guess, it was surely not far past noon. Yet the breeze floating through the window was cool and crisp and he breathed in the scent of jasmine once more. He came to himself and found that he was standing still at the window, captured by the glories of the day, enraptured by the true found stories. He had heard tell of this, but even now, he didn’t know how it was possible. This was a dead world. Or so he had been told. Where did this life come from? Was it a dimensional pocket extrusion or a fancy holographic illusion? He doubted it. Even the finest light tech couldn’t replicate such beauty as lay before him. Maybe it was a different universe. Indeed, he thought his own incapable of this. Maybe in Old Earth. Not here. Not now.
And now he understood why some would come to pilgrimage here. Now he knew why some would come to live a half-remembered dream. Even if he didn’t truly understand where or how or why he was, he did not doubt that he was. He breathed in deep. Again the jasmine. Again the light of the heavens startled him with its brilliance. Surely it was not possible for something to be so blue.
He supposed he should keep climbing. He had been standing at the window for what could have been either hours or days. He knew not. With a sigh, he turned and stepped upwards. He knew he dare not linger, even though he felt as if he may never see such a glorious sight with his own eyes again.
As he continued up the stairs, it seemed that the staircase started to spiral in a tighter circle, that possibly the stairs began to narrow. He wasn’t sure, so gradual was the change. The deep mahogany of the handrail felt warm beneath the skin of his hand as he ascended. His legs now seemed incapable of stopping. Upward and onward.
Every few steps he would pass another window of blue radiance and he would smell jasmine and honeysuckle and he would feel the wind caress his cheek. Yet he did not stop for he knew that what he sought was nigh. What he sought! But he sought for nothing, that’s what he had told the old man down below, so long ago now. The old man in his violently violet robes, welcoming him in a voice that had seemed overly pretentious and full of joy at the time. Now the man wondered. Was everything coming true?
He wasn’t a pilgrim, he had told the old man. Pilgrims are fools, blinded by the whispered glories of a dead past. Why was he here? Well, it was simple – he had superiors who had superiors who in a most superior fashion had declaimed desires of revealing what lay beneath the pernicious rumours. And he was the least threatening of his kind, so of course he would be the one sent. To discover and learn and seek the truth. To expose, as he thought of it. To rip the curtain back from the hallowed temple of the weak-minded.
And so he had entered the squat building earlier this morning (week? Month? Year?) and despite the cheap ceramic-overlaid interior décor, he had smiled as he heard strains of Rachmaninoff’s 2nd faintly echoing, as if from a far-off room. And then the old man had ruined everything with his ridiculous grand entrance and pretentious posturing and vain attempts to justify the existence of the Tower.
Despite the old man’s pleas, he had ignored all the scribblings and carvings. He had seen the same such artifacts countless times before. Forward to the main attraction, forward to the staircase. At least he knew of the staircase now, after his…encounter of the night before. Gooseflesh rose. He would not recall those memories.
But now he climbed. And at the bottom he was a man who believed nothing and ventured everything because what was there to lose? Now as his hand gripped the rail tightly, he shuddered. Did he believe? Could he believe?
A doorway loomed ahead. There were no more stairs. The door was small, barely taller than his own height. It was of oaken appearance, inlaid with finely wrought metallic elements. Light glowed and pulsed amongst the metal engravings. Warming, welcoming light. His hand left the railing and he grasped at the doorknob. It was cool and smooth under his touch, and it seemed to melt into his hand as if his hand was the only key that could unlock the door.
He shuddered again. In fear? In bliss? He did not know. What had they done to him?
What were they doing to him?
He could not resist any longer.
He ever so slightly turned the doorknob.
And the door swung open.
Tag: short-story
New Autumn
The last thing she wanted to do was flip that switch.
The warning siren warbled at an even higher intensity and the cockpit lights dimmed ominously.
Jasmine raked her hands through her hair and glared daggers at the navigation panel and refused to believe it would all end like this. No more time for hesitation though. She reached over to the awkwardly positioned and boldly lettered ejection lever and caressed it for a brief second before giving it a firm flick. The restraining belts snapped into place as her head was slammed backwards. There was a song of screeching metal and gasping wind and flashes of lights across the sky in purest symphony of calamitous fate. And then her eyes rolled back in her head and she only had the time for briefest thought. Home sweet home. Blackness.
******
Why was it so light outside? Had she missed her alarm? And why was there a giant tree root jabbing her insistently? Wait, tree roots were in her bed?
Hazy waking up thoughts fled as Jasmine bolted upright. Coughing violently, she looked around wildly. Grass stains on her jumpsuit and the taste of blood in her mouth. Yet, it was beautiful. The sun – the sun! – shone down on her like a mother’s smile. The trees swayed magnanimously around the meadow she had apparently ended up in. Leaves of red and orange and yellow fluttered down as the wind sighed around her. Jasmine supposed she could have landed somewhere worse. And it appeared all her limbs were functional. Mostly. She pushed up against the soft grass and lurched to her feet. Wavering, she looked up. Blue sky. Never, never had sky looked so beautiful. She took a few steps across the meadow, limping as she went. Everything hurt. She didn’t even want to see the bruises she’d ended up with. But she was alive. Alive.
Her ejection pod was still slightly smoking a few meters away. It had done its job and delivered her safely down. She should probably retrieve her survival gear and weapons, but for now…
Jasmine wobbled around the grass like a toddler learning to walk and marveled in the feel of the sun upon her skin. It was so warm. So real. Her pale skin soaked in the heat and Jasmine sighed in joy. What a wonderful planet. What a wonderful world. She should probably scout out the area and set up camp, but…
A piercing cry echoed across the sky. Jasmine’s head jerked up. They were here. No more time to rest. She walked towards the pod, determination in her limp. There was work to do. Her destiny was at hand. There were enemies to slay.
Soliloquy
I haven’t written here in a few days, partly because I wanted to make sure this entry was reserved for something special. Because, believe it or not, this is the 500th entry of this livejournal. And I had thought on waxing grandiosely on the history of my writing career or maybe discussing the merits of inscribing portions of our lives on such a public forum as this…but no. No ponderous essay for this beautiful Friday night! As the sun goes down…before I dive into my dinner of leftover spaghetti, I shall just write a little of my heart. Enjoy or not, but either way – just know that I love y’all so.
He opened the door and the thrumming music met the curtain of raindrops draped around his head. As he stepped over the pale metal threshold into warmth and light, he shook the water off his boots and closed the door firmly behind him. Leave the rain outside where it belongs. He took off his hat and shook it as well. It would still be wet, but at least it wouldn’t be dripping in his face. As he lifted his head, his eyes darted around the cozy confines of the cantina. It was a wet and dreary night and so predictably, Brother K’s was packed solid. Two huge men in plastic overcoats sitting at the bar. Table in the corner full of chattering girls, each with different colored hair – red and blue and yellow and purple. Red Hair met his eyes as they swept across her and raised her eyebrows in silent greeting. Table next to the girls had a lone couple, each with a drink in front of them and an electromag at their side. They’d be playing tonight. Table to his right was full of men just off from the refinery. They’d changed their clothes but the stink of chemoflume couldn’t be erased so easily. Table in the corner by the plasteen slots had a few musicians sitting around it, hands protective of their hardware. Table. People. Table. Music. Table. People. All thinking their own thoughts and lost in their own music.
He hit his hat against his side again to shake the last of the damp from it and smiled to himself. More than twenty people, and not a one matched the description.
As he finally stepped away from the door and toward the bar, he heard his name through the swirling tonal storm.
He waved towards the girl at the bar and stepped up to it. “Mittens, how’s things?”
She smiled wryly, “Situation normal. Nothing yet. And you’re late.”
He smiled back. “Hey, I had to make sure the perimeter was secure. Where’s Aeryn? And nice outfit.”
Mittens crinkled her nose at him, “It’s cute. And it blends in!” She did a little spin, showing off her pink shorts and brown corduroy jacket. The jacket did complement her hair and flared off her hips per the fashion du jour.
He shook his head, grinning, and said, “Duty, Mittens.”
She sighed, “You’re no fun, Jim.” As she opened her mouth to speak again, she shut it. Frowned. “Where’s Aeryn going?”
Jim looked past her shoulder to see Aeryn slipping out the door, fedora firmly planted over her flowing locks. “Must have seen something. Don’t worry. She can take care of herself.”
Mittens nodded. “She’s got heat. Still…it’s not protocol.”
Jim laughed. “She’ll be fine. Anyway, aren’t you going to play? We could use a distraction.”
Mittens grinned. “Yeah. It’s one of your favs. Watch my back.”
Jim smiled, nodding. He watched Mittens walk to the back of the bar and haul out her wooden monstrosity. He bet half the people here hadn’t ever seen an actual stringed instrument in real life. As she stepped up to the stage – in actuality only the one space of floor that didn’t have a table latched to it – the music dimmed, then shut off entirely. The barmaid had seen Mittens apparently. Brother K’s was known for good live music, and that reputation attracted those that cared for music of a higher caliber than synth nonsense.
The crowded cantina hushed and Mittens strummed the strings of her guitar and Jim smiled. He turned to the barmaid, “Hey – a Cola with cherry?”
She smiled at him – he was a regular, after all – and said, “And chocolate? You know it’s better that way!”
He nodded assent and watched as she poured a decadent amount of chocolate into his Cola. He took it and passed her his plasteen. She slapped it with her palmreader and handed it back. “Thanks, Mars.”
He turned back to see Mittens still tuning her instrument. He looked to his left and saw a man popping corn kernels into his mouth. Where had he gotten corn? It wasn’t even close to corn season. Jim’s mouth watered. He could use a snack to go with his sweet Cola, but he couldn’t let hunger distract him. Duty, Jim.
He turned back to the stage. And Mittens began to play. Music swelled beautifully and her voice rose to heights triumphant. It was one of his favorites, although he wasn’t sure if anyone else in here had heard it before. “And can it be…that I should gain…”
Jim sighed. Bliss. And then snapped. He had a job to do, and that job didn’t involve being as entranced by the music as everyone else appeared to be.
His eyes swept back around the room. Nothing.
And again.
And then, as he turned back to watch Mittens, he felt the cold touch of steel at his neck. Ever so slowly, his eyes slid to the knife and the man that was holding it. How had he gotten inside without being noticed? That was beside the point. Jim swallowed once. The man’s face was hidden in a cowl, but Jim heard the chuckle. The music was still playing. “…amazing love! How can it be, that Thou, my God, shouldst die for me?!” As Mittens’ voice soared to the next verse, he felt the steel dig a fraction deeper into his neck.
Aeryn, now would be a good time.
And then, he heard the whine. Finally. A flash of light. A scream. The hooded man slumped to the floor and Jim smiled in relief. “Thanks, sis.”
Aeryn doffed her fedora, “You got it, bro.”
Mars and Corn Man were hovering over the cloaked man. He wouldn’t be waking up anytime soon. The rest of the cantina’s patrons were starting to notice something was amiss. Mittens was still playing. “Bold I approach the eternal throne…and claim the crown, through Christ my own!”
Jim sighed, the tension finally bleeding away. Aeryn put her head on his shoulder as he put his arm around her. Mittens put down her guitar and came over, her blue eyes sparkling. Jim grinned and pulled her into a hug. They stood and they swayed in the music of the night. Soon it would be time to get back to work. But not this moment. This moment, victory. This moment, light. This moment, love.
Traveler
And through the daffodil-sprinkled field did the man slowly trudge. Onward. Forward. His left foot matched what his right foot offered. His calves throbbed, but what was that? Progress towards the goal. At least the the grass was soft and the sky was blue. There could have been rain. Or worse, darkness. The days of sunlight seemed fewer and fewer in these latter times. But for now, the sun shone bright and breeze sang sweet. It was a good day for walking. And he lifted up his head.
Before him, the field stretched on, but not quite as far as it did before. It could be said that the field stretched smaller and colored brighter. Of course, the field did not change. But the man’s blue eyes perhaps saw with more clarity than before. He was older now, after all.
Past the field and beyond the horizon reached mountains. Not that the man could actually see them, but they were there. They were there. The map was very precise about the mountains. And quite ebullient on what they contained. Mountains were what he walked toward. Yet they were not what he longed for. And though his feet marched on diligently, his heart offered faint betrayal. He sighed. And slowly, oh so slowly, he stopped his walk.
He squinted. No mountains. But maybe, just maybe that smudge against the merry blue of the sky…no, no mountains. Slowly, oh so slowly, he started walking once more.
And as he walked and thought and prayed, he felt the sun warmth slowly fade. Sundown was upon the land. Although he did not like the dark, at least this was a natural dark. A night with stars and moon to dazzle was not so bad. And he slowly adjusted his gait into the saunter of dusk’s music. It was time to stop, he knew. Walking in the dark only led to trouble, yes.
And so he stopped and set down his pack upon the grass. No stream this night to rest by. No stone to lay his head. The grass was soft though. It would do. And sitting down upon the meadow, he lay back to count the stars. He thought he heard the faint sound of music on the evening wind. Could the star song reach so far? All things were possible. Maybe the ones from beyond the mountains sang his name. His name was known, after all.
Songs of hope and light of stars. Drifting into sleep would be easy tonight. He would reach the mountains someday. But now, he dreamed.
August 1st, 2010
Wanted to do a quick update, but my dinner awaits! Thus, I will be a terrible tease and give you a brief glimpse at something I’ve been working on this afternoon. This may not stay online long, just as long as it takes to eat dinner and for me to write up a proper update. We’ll see:
Flash.
Jas jerked upright again. The fire had not died down yet, sparks still sailing the wind in front of his eyes. The night was not that cold, the fire not hot enough.
Flash.
Jas laughed aloud, pounding his thigh in open admiration. “Aliya, I’d swear to the stars that your dancing was beautiful, if not that you’d know it for a lie. A lovely face does cover a multitude of missteps, if I may be so bold.” Eyes wide in indignation, Aliya smacked his shoulder and cried, “You may NOT! And besides,” mischief returning to her voice, “You wouldn’t want to go home with a broken arm to add to your broken feet, now would you?” Jas threw her a look of mock horror before breaking down in laughter once again. Aliya ran her fingers through her long dark hair before reaching to her neck to adjust her fine woolen scarf. The blue-streaked green of the scarf did set her eyes off so. Jas told her that and earned enough punch to the arm. “Do you want me too bruised to take your arm, then, my love?” She smiled slyly in return and pulled him to his feet. “No, my Jas, I think it’s time for me to bruise your feet, instead.” Jas groaned, but his feet were already moving in time with the fiddler’s tune. “Right then, my star-blessed lady. We dance tonight!”
Flash.
Jas blinked to see the fiercely burning flames lick towards him. The fire was still burning. That was good. He reached out his hands to warm them. They shook. He would never be warm again.
Flash.
The sun shone dazzlingly high in the perfectly blue sky. Clouds accented the heavens only slightly, not enough to mar the beauty of the morning. Jas lay his head back in the grass and grinned to himself. There was never enough sky for him, never enough blue. The sky called his name like a sailor to the sea. Only, a sea-cursed man could find his dream of a sea and ship to sail, if he so desired. If only the days of old were born anew, Jas could fly the skies like an eagle, like a hawk climbing the ladder of heaven. If the stories were to believed, it was not considered a great thing to fly, then. Jas longed for the chance. Yet the grass under his back was soft enough, and the lowing of cattle soothed his longing heart. “You cannot cry over what you cannot change,” his dad would say. Jas smiled. The sky was beautiful enough. If he drifted off to sleep lost in the blue, it would seem he drifted on a cloud.
Flash.
Jas started awake. The coals at his feet feebly glowed in protest at the damp chill of night. Jas sighed and struggled to his feet. His legs barely held him. He peered up at the sky, hoping to see the stars. Only an oily sheen of clouds returned his gaze. The stars had been gone too long. Too long.
Flash.
And now that my appetite is satisfied, I find that I don’t quite have the desire to write a long update anymore! But as a gift(ENJOY IT!), I decided to leave my above randomness on this post, instead of deleting it like I planned. So appreciate the glimpse into the mind of a madman.
And while I said I wouldn’t write a full update, I do have to say that this past week has been quite intense! What with Deanna being in town(seeing her for the first time in over a year!!) and trying desperately to fight off the clutching hands of sickness, I’ve been on a roller-coaster ride this past week. I feel as if I’ve been wrung dry and burnished to a fine shine and broken and forged anew and pulled bare of the sheath in all my faded glory… But despite the fire and despite the pain, despite the glory and despite the rain, I stand. I stand. God be praised, I stand!
And for real, y’all, I’m off. Pardon my weirdness(or don’t – it’s all the same to me). Time for me to sleep the sleep of the sleepy. And maybe I’ll dream.
