Lucid Waking

“Not much between despair and ecstasy”

Memories Underfoot

Originally published on March 27, 2006

                She was there. Finally. The broken walls of her mind spilled out story after story until they reached mid-calf. Misty water-colored memories lay in sun-faded frames on the walls. Occasionally a large painting of an important vivid memory stood out on the gray, stone walls, but not very much. She walked on through the cold letters swirling around her boots and turning her jeans black. Finally, she reached the door. Quietly she pulled the key out of her pocket and put it into the keyhole. A bright violet light met her and she closed her eyes immediately throwing her head to the side.
                “Welcome to Utopia, Lilith. It’s so nice to have you back again after all these years. How was it locked in mortality without even a trace of power you had before? I see you’ve figured out how to access your dreams. Psychological magic is a wonderful thing, no?”
                Lilith smiled revealing pointy eyeteeth and faced the light. “I bet you thought it was funny turning me into a cockroach, then a toad. What was after that? A snake? How clichéd and ironic. But you’re frightened that I’ve managed to figure out your secret. You should have known cats are smarter than they seem.”
                “And what do you expect to do now? You have no power here. Go back and go home.”
                “Home? Why, I am home.”
                She stepped into the light and pulled a red rose from a bush near her leg. Petals fell from her hand onto the ground. Small screams came from the bush and moisture seeped out of the broken stem. She dropped the crushed flower and kept walking on through the vegetation. “Oh, yes,” she whispered. “I’m home.”

Arete

Originally published on March 25, 2006

“Tell us a story,” said Alice.
“One with dragons and pirates,” said Dan.
“How about princesses and fairies,” asked Sue.
“Well here goes,” said Bess and began:

There once was a fairy names Arete
Who would go around routes like Queen Mab*
And give men integrity, patience, and hope
And improved the moral of the land.

One day when she was out walking
She spotted Corruption and Greed
They tore apart the souls she affected
And ravaged the land of its peace

She ran to Free Will for suggestions
To stop Corruption’s awful raid
But, Free will could do nothing about it
So, all Arete could do was watch humans waste away

Little tears of pearls rolled down her face
As the world she had worked for burned.
Tiny sobs were muffled by Obsolete
And Despair took hold of the world

Redemption had found her there, crying
And carried her off to his home.
She recalled her story and gave him her gift
Before flying off to help some other town

He shared her story to the people
And slowly started to build the city up
Making the souls as pure as before
And to each Corruption and Greed forgot.

Arete looked on in amazement
At Redemption’s wisdom of rebirth
And came back in to the city, honored
To eternally continue her work.

Next time Corruption and Greed,
Or laziness knocks on your door,
Remember Redemption and Arete
and be the best Human being you are.

*Bess is referring to I.iv.53-93 in Romeo and Juliet. If you wish to read about her, scroll down to where you see a bunch of text under Mercutio’s name and you will find it.

Thank You, Fate

Thank you, Fate for my warm bed
And for the roof over my head
Thank you for the meal I’ll eat
instead of starving in the street.

Thank you, Fate for my friends
People who will quickly make amends
Thank you for a family that loves me
Even when I’m not happy

Thank you, Fate for giving me a chance
To continue on this ungrateful dance
I know it’s been hard, but let me say:
Thank you for this lovely day.

Betelgeuse VII: Answers

            They took a taxi down to the bus station and waited in long lines to pay their fare. Cindy looked at her watch: five o’clock. Aaron seemed nervous, but whenever she would turn to ask him if he was all right, he would just bite his lip and nod.
            “Are you sure we have to do this?” he said, again.
            She gave him an exasperated look, but paused as she watched him following her blindly down to the terminal. He was staring out the windows and she could see he was giving it all his effort not cry. She stopped at put her arm around his shoulders. “Come on, we’re almost there. If she’s going to be anywhere, she’ll be somewhere around Betelgeuse VII. If not, it’s a good place to start looking.”
            “I just,” he started, but stopped as the signal to start boarding blasted on the intercom. The other passengers pushed them onto the bus; Aaron took a seat to the back of the bus as soon as he could.
            “You just…” she prompted him, but he kept his lips shut and stared out the window for the remainder of the ride. Betelgeuse VII was one of the quieter stations, but dark and dimly filled with neon life. Occasionally a dark hole in the wall would appear as the restrooms, telephones, or an exit transporter. Cindy glanced at her watch as she led Aaron towards the taxi terminal: seven thirty.
            “We’d better go to a hotel for the night. I don’t have much cash with me but I’m sure a small motel should be sufficient. We’ll start looking tomorrow. Any ideas where to start?” She turned around at this question to face a multitude of strangers continuing to walk along their paths towards an exit. She glanced around, trying not to be pulled by the traffic, but couldn’t find Aaron anywhere. “Damn,” she swore quietly and tried pushing herself upstream to a wall. The people ignored her as she scrambled to get to a quiet place to think. After noticing a small black hole labeled women’s bathroom, she snuck into the florescent-lit room and stared into the mirror.
            “What are you doing here?” a girl asked. Her hair was dyed a bright fire engine red and she leaned against the sink to look Cindy in the face as she said this. Her eyes were green and glowed softly.
            Cindy looked at the girl nonchalantly. “Going to pee. What do you expect?” To make her point, she started walking towards the stall, but the girl grabbed her elbow and pulled hard.
            “I like you. You’re not one of those stodgy old adults. You’ve got spunk and class. Hi, I’m Trish.”
            Cindy gave her a half smile. “Megan.”
            Trish gave her half a nod and pulled up beside Cindy. “You should really change your name. It seems so…blah. You need something with more attitude. Hey, you want to see something really cool?” she asked suddenly.
            Cindy laughed. “Sure, why not?”
            “Follow me. But whatever you do, don’t talk.” Trish led Cindy into the far bathroom stall and pulled the toilet from the wall like a chair. Underneath the apparatus was a small ring, which Trish pulled and opened a staircase. She ran down the stairs with expert speed, then turned around and put her finger to her lips before continuing down. Cindy looked about her for something to take with, but could find no pipes; at this point Trish was already out of sight. Cindy followed quickly, trying not to touch anything about her into the pitch black.
            Cindy felt like she was in a broken film and the same scene was playing over and over again. She was still in the dark and she continued for what felt like hours down the staircase. The only measure of time she had was the steady decrease in temperature. Finally, she spotted a light at the bottom of the staircase. As she approached, she realized that two people were talking and as she reached the rim of the circle of light, she could hear what they were saying.
            “Well, what do we do about her? We still haven’t come to a consensus.” Though she couldn’t see him, she could tell that Aaron had made it down here before her and she felt a pang of panic as she realized she was to fend for herself.
            “You sure she’s fooled?” a woman said, though from what Cindy could tell it didn’t sound like Trish.
            “I told you, I gave her the video just like planned. And I told her all that BS you had me memorize. I did my end perfectly,” Aaron said, annoyed.
            “Well that’s a change,” the woman responded.
            “Stop,” a man’s voice said. “She’s here.”
            The light turned dramatically on her and she squinted in the sudden change of light. “Welcome to Hell,” the man said. She was bathed in light and the people who were just talking were in the dark.
            “Well if I’m going to die,” Cindy said, “I might as well get some answers before I do. Some closure if you will.” She could hear safeties being clicked off and her skin started to tingle in panicked anticipation.
            The man laughed. “But if you get away, all my secrets get out.”
            Cindy stared down the light. “I won’t get away. You have the obvious upper hand.”
            The man laughed again. “Fair enough.” She heard him stand up in a creak of metal joints. The light on her dimmed and lights around her faded on. The room was a large cavernous business office with a chair bolted to the floor right at the bottom of the stairs. The only cover she noted were the pillars holding the terminal up. Four doors lined the sides of the room, but it was obvious they were locked and the deadbolts and chains would be a pain to get through if she was under fire. The stairs came in at the lower right corner of the square room right next to the wall. Aaron was leaning against it, his arms folded across his chest. The second woman who was talking was dressed in a skin tight black uniform and had an automatic rifle in her hand farthest from Cindy; the hand closest was robotic and the sleeve of her uniform was ripped off to show the entire mechanical arm proudly. The head of this odd group was not a man as she had supposed, but she noted without surprised that he was not in the best condition either way. He had been stripped of synthetic flesh and was a 700 model. The blue chrome glimmered in the light and Cindy sat down on the steps.
            “Well, you don’t seem surprised.”
            “The only thing I find surprising is the curious absence of the girl who led me down here.”
            “I was hoping for a little more discomfort than that.”
            Cindy smiled. “I’m sorry. I work with people who are crazy. I’m a psychologist.”
            “Oh, so that’s what you do,” Aaron said shifting so he was standing up straight, his arms still across his chest.
            “Shut up, Aaron,” the mechanical man said. “She’s looking for answers and we’re going to give them to her. I’ll start by telling you a little bit about my crew. You’ve already met Aaron, who is just a human orphan we found on Alpha Centauri VI. He was found abandoned and dying in the middle of the base under the main terminal. To my left, is Margarita. She is also is human, but in a tragic police accident lost the left half of her upper body and is half 600 robot. The little doll you met coming her is Patricia. And she is a figment of your imagination. She’s a sprite, I believe. A hologram. You see what you want to see in her and when you don’t want to see her, she’s gone. The girl in the video is Sandra, who had a tragic accident and couldn’t be with us tonight. I’m Maxwell 700 and the last of the 700s to date.”
            Cindy nodded. “Fascinating. So where do I come in. What’s your mission?”
            “You already know my mission. Well, I suppose I should tell you how I lost my skin. It was a riot on Betelgeuse III between robots and humans. The whole base is known for their bigotry against robots. Some fight got started because a robot didn’t get down on its knees or it asked for directions of a human, something stupid to that effect. I got caught in the cross fire and ended up being burned with the other robots who didn’t make it. But I didn’t break down; I was a 700 and they didn’t expect there to be a 700. I fled to Betelgeuse VII since I couldn’t leave the bases without proper identification and built a tunnel under various places in the terminal down to the forgotten basements. I knew there had to be a basement, since the building was standing and in some places go quite high off the ground. I set up the supplementary mafia as a sort of bridge between bigoted people and what society thought of them. For obvious reasons, I couldn’t take this mission any farther than where it is now; the government would be after me for even suggesting such drastic measures for equality. And that’s where you come in. I needed someone to reach the people and tell them that equality was a good idea. There are parts of the human brain that I don’t understand and I believe it’s important to take a nonviolent approach to it if we are going to come out of hiding and make it work. I’m not succeeding in my work and I think it would be vastly more appropriate to be nonviolent than a hypocrite.”
            “Ok. Why the guns and show? You could have just asked me.”
            “No, I couldn’t. I told you, if I let you go, my secret gets out.”
            “And if I didn’t come today? I might have let someone else know about the supplementary mafia before you were ready.”
            “And why would you? It didn’t seem to have any significance then.”
            Cindy paused, stuck in logic. “This just seems wrong,” she said honestly. “Hypnotize me if you want or do something to convince yourself that I won’t tell, but I can’t do it. We’re brainwashing a people for equality and while the cause is something I believe in, I don’t think we can take drastic approaches like this. It’ll be impossible to ‘fix’ everyone anyway. Someone down the line will figure out that they’re being brainwashed and resist. People on this end will die and no one will understand because no one will listen based on the approach to change them. People don’t like change and if they want to change, they should do it on their own. Besides, that’s the only permanent way to guarantee the results you want.”
            The robot shook his head. “I can’t let you go.”
            “Then don’t let me go,” Cindy said defiantly, standing up. “But just reassure me that you see my point. I fully support you and if I can leave, I will take a more active role in helping out robots in government certified and appropriate organizations. You just can’t do it this way. Look at history and see, that brainwashing has never worked before.”
            Margarita walked over to the stairs and started walking up. “She’s got a point,” she said turning around after reaching a few steps behind Cindy’s step. “But this isn’t going according to plan.”
            The 700 laughed. “You think?” he sat down in the chair bolted to the floor and looked Cindy in the eye. A shiver ran up her spine as he continued. “I might as well tell you none of our guns are loaded. And I’m going to have to take you to your word and I need you to do something for me to ensure that you’re not going to spill the beans. Are you up for the challenge.”
            Cindy nodded. “Most assuredly.”
            The robot accepted her answer and called over a member of the guard. The black chrome 500 walked over without so much as a move of recognition to Cindy and bent down as the 700 whispered in its ear, pointing to her on the steps occasionally with a smile.
            “You’re going to wish you didn’t say that,” Margarita whispered behind her.
            “What could he possibly do to me with unloaded guns? He’s got no supplies. The doors over there are locked and we’re in an open room, so he’s got nothing hidden away.”
            “You have no idea,” she said walking past Cindy to lean against the wall at the bottom of the steps. “And I wish I didn’t either.”

To be continued (and concluded)…

Betelgeuse VII: Suspicions

            “Twenty four hours ago I was free as a bird,” she said, toting the cliché ball and chain across the concrete floor. “My only offense was that I was too human.” She sat down with a rusty creak on a lone plastic chair and stared into the video camera.
            “As soon as they got the hang of making robots and could make them at low cost, they started perfecting them. That’s what they do with everything don’t they? Once they’ve got the technique down, they try making it better. So, then models of new robots came out for people to buy for only one or two hundred. They made them sensitive to heat and cold and basic emotions. They figured out how to get them to simulate the language process and speak without a programmed speech. Every model was one-upping the other model another company made. But things started getting really bad when emotions came into play. That was the door separating robots from humans and some idiot had to go find the key. Soon, robots had emotions like fear, hatred, love, jealousy, and frustration. They became less and less perfect and more flawed. Eventually, we were making humans from metal scraps and ethics got involved. The simple strive for perfection went up in political flames and people were quoting everything from the Greek mythology to The Terminator to make their point. Physical and intellectual guns went off in all directions and this bloody “coup d’état” lasted for about a decade. Then, without warning, they boxed up robots like me and started from scratch remaking robots from the first models. Some they shut off, others were hired for small jobs: flipping hamburgers, emptying garbage, and so on. Still others were kept in deliberate hiding until the time came to coup them up in jail for imaginary crimes. That’s what happened to me. If you look at my record it’ll say I’m in here for smuggling drugs, but the only way the established that was after a doctor examination. They never mention why you’re really here but deep down inside you know it’s because you’re a robot. You know it’s because you’re different. And that’s just wrong.”
            The tape flickered out to black and then flashed back to static. Dr. Cindy Lawson rewound the tape and ejected it out of the player. She turned to the teenage boy, Aaron, who had brought this to her and handed it back to him. His long black hair was deliberately placed over his eyes and in one fast motion he brushed his hair to one side and grabbed the tape.
            “You realize the evidence you brought to me,” she said sitting down.
            He nodded, but remained silent. She sighed in frustration and stared into his blue eyes like a cat staring down its prey. He looked up.
            “She doesn’t exist. Her records will not be in the computer as dead or alive. She’s an illegal model. I can’t do anything to get your girlfriend out. Besides,” Cindy said putting the file folder back, “if she’s a robot there’s even less I can do. There are no more laws on robots protecting them from the government. For the future, any marriage or relationship is null according to government standards. If you do succeed in having children, you’ll set the whole world in an uproar, again.”
            Aaron looked at her with a greater ferocity and said coldly: “She’s not a robot.”
            Cindy jerked her head back in surprise, but kept her gaze. “What?”
            “I said: she’s not a robot. She only thinks she is. She’s human. I think they brainwashed her in that ‘doctor visit’ and made her think she was a robot. Besides, there’s no proof that the 700’s even know that they aren’t 100% human.”
            “Do you have any proof that she’s human? Right now, it’s your word against theirs.”
            “Are you in? I’m not going to waste my time if you won’t help me.”
            “Right now, I’m a third uninvolved party.”
            He looked at her skeptically, but continued, whisking his head to the side to get his hair out of his eyes. “I have written and oral accounts of her from school and other stuff. I even managed to steal some of her records out of various filing cabinets from the organizations she was involved in. Even medical records and everything says she was human. Then she disappeared and I get this tape in the mail saying that she’s a robot.”
            “Why did you have her records in the first place?”
            “We were planning on running away to Betelgeuse VII,” he said quietly, “and we needed our records to relocate.”
            Cindy sighed and pulled out a pad of yellow paper. “It’s probably much more complicated than that,” she said, “she probably needed help and just so no one would suspect anything, she put clues in the video.”
            “Exactly,” he said pointing his finger at her emphatically and leaning back in the chair.
            “In which case,” Cindy continued, “she is still human and she knows she is human. What we need to figure out is why she sent this cry for help.”
            “We?”
            She ignored him and pulled out a pen from the pencil cup on her desk. “What sort of organizations was she involved in?”
            He paused and stared at his shoes. “Well, she was a big supporter of the Robot Equality Act of 2029. When people signed petitions to get it changed, she signed just about all of them. If it came to politics, she was always talking about how robots should be treated like people and they should relocate them to other planets and do other exploration advances because some of the older new models never age and they don’t die. She was always seeing things that humans could do and what robots could do. I used to tell her that there weren’t enough jobs for all the people in the world, let alone robots, too, but it was like talking to a brick wall. The only thing we truly disagreed on was that subject. Nothing else is worth noting. Except maybe the supplementary mafia.”
            “Supplementary mafia?”
            “Sorry,” he said laughing a little, “it’s an underground organization that gives a time limit on people’s existence. Basically, the person that has not had a job for six years and does nothing but sit in his parents’ basement all day will have a horrible accident in the next few days if he doesn’t change his ways. They consider it cleaning out the gene pool. Trish joined most likely for people who would be racist, bigoted, or generally rude. It would give her the power to anonymously threaten them. She never killed anyone though, she would only use it as a harmless outlet for her anger.”
            Cindy eyed him cautiously and surreptitiously checked her watch. “Well, we had better get going if we’re going to catch an air bus.”
            He stood up quickly and gave her a frightened look. “Where to?”
            “Betelgeuse VII.”

To be continued…

Inner City

Originally published on March 19, 2006

           The sky was a dull blue without stars or a moon. Streetlights flickered on as the bloody sun fell below the dark and weary skyscrapers reaching up towards the clouds for redemption. She pressed her gloved hands against the fogged up window as the taxi driver casually rode through the streets. A tall man with rustled black hair stood at the edge of an alley. He wore a long black coat with his hands in his pockets and a cigarette hanging nonchalantly out of the corner of his mouth. People huddled between doorways of closed shops and behind restaurants. These people needed help and they had been calling for it for years. She watched a pair of street performers with rosy cheeks; the girl looked no older than thirteen and her partner was maybe two or three years older. She was in a pair of baggy black pants and a white tank top with a hat that matched his tan suit combo perfectly. He looked like he came straight off the set of Guys and Dolls as an extra gangster whose clothes were a little big. They had a jar in front of their dance space that had a dollar bill with a couple coins on the bottom. She had the feeling that they were doing it for the sake of dancing as a couple now, since the money would never be enough to balance out their effort. As she went farther into the heart of the city, it started to snow small meager flakes whispering in and out and melting as soon as they landed. A small boy on a bicycle rode in and out of the moving crowd and stopped at the candy shop. He stood there staring in the window, one foot on the pedal, one leg straight and keeping balance as the traffic light turned green and she drove away. Finally, her destination arrived in sight: city hall. The building was strikingly neat compared to everything around it, further confirming her beliefs that the government did nothing but sit and sign papers. She got out and walked up the steps with a dignified air clutching her briefcase and purse close to her side. She opened the large doors and stepped inside. The lobby was a large open space with marble floors and a skylight far above on the ceiling. Lights around the skylight were turned on to make the illusion of daylight streaming in. A spiral staircase was in the center of the room leading to five floors that skirted the edge of the room. Her heels clicked against the floor as she passed several offices and walked up the stairs to the third floor. The door she arrived at had a plaque reading “Conference room” in curly letters. She took a deep breath and walked in.
           The conference room’s walls were white, but the seats had red velvet and the tables were cherry wood. She was the only one in the room. She glanced at her watched nervously to make sure she was on time. Confident that being there at 6:45 for a 7:00 meeting was acceptable enough, she sat down at a chair near the center of the room that was apart from the rest of the press area. She patiently sat for the fifteen minutes as people sprinkled in, going over her speech in her head. At 7:00, a short balding man stood on the podium before the council and cleared his throat.
           “This meeting was adjourned tonight to allow a very special woman to come to speak to us. She was requested by several anonymous members of the council to bring up the issues of the inner city. She has been studying public speaking in the prestigious Athenian Academy in South City, where she is currently seeking her PhD. At the Women’s Festival for five consecutive years, she has spoken on women’s issues at the beginning of the festival. I present to you, ladies and gentlemen, Sarah Carson.”
           Sarah shook the man’s hand heartily and set her notes down on the podium as the council applauded her politely. She glanced at her audience, calculating every expression, before she took a deep breath and started.
           “Ladies and Gentlemen of the Council of Inner City Affairs, I do not believe I’m going to tell you something that none of you have heard before. But, I am going to tell you something that you refuse to listen to.
           “I decided to take a tour around Inner City three days before I was requested to speak. It was a Thursday night. Unrenowned to me, and probably to you, Thursday nights are drug days. While this is common in many cities, what still haunts me now, and even more so now that I am here, are the children. Alexander was his name and he told me he was eight. He walked up to a drug dealer and gave the woman a wad of cash and she gave him a packet of heroine, patted him on the head, and sent him on his way. The boy had no idea the crime of what he was doing and gladly told me who he buys, what he knew as candy, from. He also said he had been eating it for two years and steals money from Sandler’s Shoe Shop to pay for it. Children should not be allowed to buy heroine. Children should not be allowed to steal. And children should not be addicted at the age of eight.
           “If this isn’t enough, I’ll tell you about Megan. She’s sixteen and been in prostitution for five years. Tania tried getting a job but because people have told her she was too stupid to work, has been a prostitute for a while. Melanie never knew any other life but one of a prostitute. Upon interviewing other people on the street, the people who are considered rich are the prostitutes. There are no men, crudely known as pimps, because the women do their own businesses to receive maximum profit. People who live by City Hall have told me that the rich also include politicians, but the people on the edge of town, have no idea who you are.
           “I need not remind any people here of the common crimes that seem to be abundant here: robberies, murders, rape, arson. It has gotten so bad that I saw an eleven-year-old boy walk him and his six-year-old sister to the laundry mat with a pistol. I’m not even sure if he knew how to use it. For twenty dollars you can buy two-dozen grenades on the black market. All you have to do is walk three storefronts down to the grocery store.
           “These are extreme examples, but I assure you if you look outside and take a good look at this city, you will see the poverty, the hopelessness, the fear in every person’s face. And you here, have the power to change it. I sincerely thank every one in the council for listening and especially to the people who have enough sense in the future of their city to request me.”
           People started to clap but Sarah put her hand up and leaned forward into the microphone.
           “Before I leave I would like to mention a little girl. She was brutally murdered in a college dorm after she was raped by all of the roommates living there. The press was pushed out of the way, the police where never given and chance and the whole story was hushed up. That little girl was my sister, Martha. My father sold her to my cousins for money for health care for my mother, and that’s what my cousin did to her: killed her. That’s when we left home for Summerset. I’d like to say I have no personal feelings for Inner City, but I can’t lie. I’ve hated this place all my life and no one will be happier than myself to see a change.”
           Sarah nodded her head and stepped down swallowing tears. She looked out the window into the cloudy sky and saw a single star. She smiled. Her sister was congratulating her.

Treasure

Originally published on February 02, 2006

Catch me a falling star, Put it in your pocket
But, I want all the world to see
my precious, priceless trinket

I’ll catch the moon to see
the twinkle in your eyes
Then we’ll let it go
To see it float back to the skies.

Hand in hand we’ll wonder aimlessly across the plains
But only if the next night
We can share our love again.

Leaving Home

            She put on her coat and stared at the silver sky thoughtfully before slipping on her black pumps and picking up the suitcase she left by the door. The lock clicked sadly open and she stepped a hosed foot out the door.
            “Mommy?” a little girl cried sleepily down the staircase towards the open door. “Don’t leave. Please.”
            She walked into the room again and shut the door against the cold. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll be back soon.”
            The little girl shook her head and nuzzled her face into her teddy bear. “You and Daddy were yelling last night. He said he would kill you if he saw you with Uncle Tim again and you told him to stop drinking. I was scared, Mommy. You said you would leave,” the little girl started crying and looked up at her mother with scared red eyes.
            “Angel I wouldn’t leave you. I’m just going across the river to live with Uncle Tim. I’ll be back to see you at school. If you don’t like it here, you can always come to live with me over there. This isn’t for forever,” she hugged the girl and tried to suppress tears. “Mommy will be back for you, ok?”
            The little girl didn’t answer, but buried her face into her mother’s coat.
            “Mommy has to go now,” she said standing up. The little girl clung to her leg, but as soon as she opened the door, she pried the little girl’s arms away. “I’ll be back tonight, ok?”
            Walking away from the little protests, she silently closed the door. Taking a deep breath, she picked up the suitcase and started walking towards the bridge.

Theater Secrets

Originally published on January 21, 2006

            Friday was one of the busiest times of the year. Everything had to be closed down and hidden for the weekend. The system was closed and new passwords were created. By the time everything was done, the theatre looked untouched. The stage was swept, the seats replaced, not even the curtain ropes moved. Catherine opened the creaky door and looked around. Her heels clicked as she moved around the room to the box seats. Under there, as promised, lay the weeks rent in one hundred dollar bills. She picked it up and walked out the door. Catherine pulled out her keys and locked the door before leaving for the night.

            “How much are you willing to sell for?” he asked. He was extremely proper and spoke with a heavy English accent. He sat up straight in his chair and not a single speck of durst was on his gray jacket. He wore a white shirt under the jacket and pressed blue jeans with stark white sneakers.
            She leaned over and grabbed a pen from her pencil cup. “I’m not going to sell it.”
            He leaned back in his chair, but still kept his back perfectly straight. “I’m willing to buy it off you for much more than your selling price.”
            Catherine looked up. “Mr. Parker, I’m not willing to sell. No offer, regardless of how large, is going to change my mind. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have lots of paper work and responsibility to attend to. Have a nice day.”
            He got up and pushed his chair closer to her desk. He glanced at her hunched over her paperwork before closing the door quietly and leaving the building.

Viola’s Violin

Originally published on January 15, 2006

           It picked up the violin and started to play. A sugary waltz dripped out of the strings and filled the empty space. The sky was turning copper and orange bars of light fell into the room casting frightening shadows behind the piano. A phonograph sat in the corner, its needle poised threateningly on the turntable. A cello on one wall reflected back some of the orange light upon its shiny surface. Purple streaks started to appear at the top of they sky before footsteps could be heard in the hall.
           “Viola!” a woman ran down the staircase into the ballroom. “Don’t do that! What will Jack say? Remember, you’re not here and I don’t play violin.”
           It looked down at the floor and replaced the violin. It walked towards here wringing its flawless hands. Its fingers were long and thin, but muscles could be easily seen under the skin by the joints. Its hands led to thin arms, thin torso, and thin legs. Its feet were barefoot and it stood on the balls of its feet constantly. It was wearing a tea dress belonging to a tiny child, which only covered its upper body, and trousers to cover down to mid calf. Wings were starting to appear in the dying light as ethereal glimmers in the darkening room. Its face was flawless and neither beautiful nor ugly. Its winter-sky blue eyes were tilted up towards its pointed ears. Its nose was small, lips full, and its skin a dark royal blue. Its hair was as black as the night and neatly tied back behind its ears, the rest down to its shoulder blades.
           The woman smiled and her eyes softened. She took the creature’s hand and led it back to the room at the top of the stairs. She tucked it back into bed and kissed it on the cheek.
           “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said blowing out the candle before leaving the room. She shut the door and sighed. Walking gingerly, she managed to get back into her bedroom without disturbing her husband, writing at a desk opposite the door.
           “Good night, dear,” she said getting into bed and turning to face the opposite wall.
           “Good night,” he said and continued his work. When the moon had almost risen to the middle of the sky, he blew out the candle and got ready for sleep.