Lucid Waking

Archive for August, 2006

The Man Who Will Never Die

           “Do you know what you will be doing in the next 30 years?”
            She looked at him searching for an answer, but his lifeless gray eyes didn’t tell her anything.
            “I can’t predict that far into the future. You know that.”
            He looked out of the window at the people below bustling too and fro on the streets. A subtle blue light lit the city and housed the noises of honking cars and accelerator pedals.
            “No one can know for sure, Tessa. But do you know where you’re going enough to say where you’ll be in 2165?”
            “I can’t predict that far into the future. I wasn’t made for that.”
            He sighed and waved his hand. She stood up, her chrome making a hideous scrape against the metal chair and left, the wheels on her feet whirring as she passed. He pressed a button on his phone before shoving it to another corner of his desk. He leaned over to get another clean form from his filing cabinet and smoothed it on the surface before grabbing for a pen. The door opened and closed with a click and shoe soles squeaked on the spotless tile floor.
            A man about six feet sat down in the chair opposite the desk. His hair was so black it was blue and his eyes had an unusual shade of gold. His long hands folded in his lap and he leaned back his lanky frame.
            “I’m sorry, sir. I’ve been interviewing robots all day and you’ll have to make an appointment to see me another day.”
            The man nodded. “I am a robot. But I understand your misconception.”
            He looked at him again, shaking his head. “What model?”
            “The newest; BX 2137. Two years ahead of its time. By the way,” he said leaning forward. “Dr. Henson says hello.”
            The older man nodded his head and leaned back in his chair. “Did she give you a common name?”
            “Adonis.”
            “Well, I’m Dr. Johnson. I suppose you’re here to go through with the interview, so at your word we shall continue.”
            “As you will.”
            “What color is the sky?”
            “Now? I suppose black with all of the pollution. Two hundred years ago it was azure in summer, white in winter, and gray in spring.”
            “Do you know what you will be doing in the next 30 years?”
            Adonis stopped and looked out the window. “I don’t suppose I’ll be here in the next 30 years. It’s sad isn’t it; I’ll be obsolete, where as now I’m ahead of my time. I won’t die, will I? Just keep going until something inside me stops working, placed in a museum until another century passes and someone may fix me and I’ll live again. All these fake emotions and memories to just make me more of an outcast. They used to have freak shows for people like me—look at the man who will never die! He never knew love or sadness, he never saw the sky or felt the fur of an animal companion. He can’t taste, can’t feel, he’s only known the run of machines and corruption. Look at him and laugh.”
            Then he made a strange noise and his shoulders bobbed up and down like a supposed buoy. Dr Johnson leaned forward over the desk and saw tears run through Adonis’ parted fingers. He sat back down and closed his eyes. Silence is best. Looking out the windows again he saw the neon lights turn on as the artificial sky turn off into total dark. He never once did see the moon or the stars and, now that he thought about it, didn’t really know what a tree was. He admired felines, but never saw a real one. And although he was a doctor, he had no idea of disease. The world of discovery and mystery were gone and replaced with a molded artificial… hell.
            “I’m—I’m so sorry,” Dr. Johnson said, tears welling up in his eyes. “But I don’t know either. And the worst part is, there’s nowhere to go. The whole world is covered in this…plastic.”
            “I had planned,” Adonis said rubbing his tears away with his sleeve, “to run away in a space ship, but I can’t get a license for it if I want to fly non-commercial. Please don’t tell Dr. Henson I ran away. I just needed to get all of this out of my head. It’s odd.”
            “No,” Dr. Johnson said with a smile, “it’s normal.” He pulled out a pink sheet from his filing cabinet and smoothed it out on the desk. “Don’t loose this, because if anyone superfluous sees that it has my signature on it, I can lose my license.”
            Carefully and neatly, he filled it out, ignoring the tension of the other being until it was unbearable. “Just sign here,” he said pointing his finger at a line at the bottom. The scrawny young man reach for the pen and wrote his name as perfect computer font in a few seconds. He grabbed the paper and bowed deeply before leaving the room. Dr. Johnson looked out the window for the last time and shook his head. Poor kid, he thought before picking up his log sheet for Adonis and ripping it up into lop-sided strips. Clapping his hands twice, he left the office. The lights dimmed to black behind him.

The Opportunist

Originally published on October 30, 2005

55-fiction is a short story written in exactly 55 words. The trick is, too, that there’s a catch at the end. This was what I did for a class assignment on 55-fiction. And if you would really like, you can count the words. I assure you, there are fifty-five.

Moonlight streamed through the hospital window, bright enough so she could see his frightened face. Oh, well. She started to draw blood. He flinched from the sharp pain. His knees buckled and he fell, unconscious or dead. She needed to do it. Fresh blood dribbled from her chin. It’s what she does in the night.

The Sneaker

Originally published on October 25, 2005

In a dark coat in the darkness making no sound
That’s the way he wanted it as he snuck around
Under a bridge, into a ditch
The night was so black, as black as pitch
He silently slid into the abyss
It was so silent there was hardly amiss
The darkness engrossed him even as he stood
He wouldn’t go back even if he could
He stood there gazing until dawn
When the sun finally awoke, from the hill…

…he was gone.

Lily

New picture up: pencil on paper. I finished it during my health class after we took the final, so I didn’t have reference. The background was going to be a stained glass window, but after I started planning it out, I thought it would look too busy. Right now, it’s at its simplest and quite charming.

Go here for a larger view and here to order a print.

The Spider

Originally published on October 08, 2005

She’s crawling in the corner
She’s spinning in the house
Once she was a human
Now that’s forgotten and long lost
All the animals despise her
All the insects are afraid
She’s only now a widow dressed in black and red.

Drive Away

            The coffee maker wheezed as it squeezed out the rich coffee one drop at a time in sync with the shower producing an even rapping rhythm like a thunderstorm. The radio digital clock in the bedroom hit seven o’clock and the radio switched on blasting eighty’s music from the speakers as the shower turned off. She hastily wrapped a towel around her and ran out of the bathroom to turn the music down, running back into the steamy bathroom after feeling the nipping air in the room.
           After finishing her morning routine, she ran down the stairs to the kitchen. Once there she stopped and took a deep breath of the exotic coffee filled air. She took out the cereal and milk and poured herself a bowl and sat down at the kitchen table with her cup of coffee. The phone rang, but she was too engrossed in her cup of coffee to notice.
           Beep. “Hi, Alison? Becky, here. Good morning sleepy head! I really need you to pick up the phone. Listen, I’ve got a problem with my car and I need a lift to work today. Todd said he would drive me back, so you don’t need to worry about that. I already called the boss to say I would be late, but if you could pick up the phone, that would be even better. The sooner I’m there, the better. Um…well, can’t stall any longer but please call me—and soon! Bye.”
           Alison finished off the milk in her cereal and brought the bowl to her sink. Becky only calls me when she needs something, she thought glancing at the blinking light on her answering machine. How much will this inconvenience my day?
           She slipped on shoes and stepped outside taking a deep breath of the honey summer air and pressed the button on the garage door opener.
           “Good morning, car,” she said getting into the drivers side. “It’s a beautiful day, lets drive off and see where we end up. I’ve got a feeling of adventure; are you ready?”

These Haunted Woods?

Originally published on October 07, 2005

            The world was concealed in silent darkness wrapping around it like a cocoon. The moon shown through the laced tree branches and laid a web-like pattern on the ground. The ground was covered with thousands of nondescript crisp leaves that had fallen from trees far above their resting place. Wind rustled the dead branches so they moved as agitatedly as a butterfly’s wings. Time seemed to move as a slowly caterpillar until midnight arrived.
            The world was lifeless in the split second before midnight. But as the witching hour approached, hundreds of woodland animals retreated quickly into their homes. The moon slowly ticked away the seconds until the clearing was void of life.
            A person cloaked in black moved slowly around the forest in a circle. There was not a sound where she walked, not even the leaves crackled. As she went, she touched every tree, which withered and hardened, dropping leaf by leaf to the ground. After she had gone around once, she moved into the center of the clearing and sat down enveloping herself into her cloak and lay lifeless until midnight arrived again.

Bye!

I updated with a flashback today because I’m going on vacation for the next few days and I couldn’t update on Thursday. Unfortunately, it’s crucial that I update flashbacks three times a week. As it is, I will have everything transferred by March 8, 2007 and if I skip an update, that will become even longer. If things get tough I’ll update everyday in August. I hope it won’t come to that. Other than that, keep checking in. I’m in the middle of finishing the unfinished posts and that won’t come up for a while. The comments has not been updated because I want to make sure people know why we had an unusual post. It shall be gone soon, but the numbers at the top are up to date. Sorry about the inconvenience; I will be back soon.

Canasta

Originally published on October 02, 2005

            “So,” she said, hands firmly on her hips, “you’ve decided to join.”
            He looked up at her. “Yeah. You got a problem with that?”
            It was a spat war and they were at it again. There was nowhere to turn and no one there. His bright green uniform far outshone her navy blue one, but he had her cornered.
            She turned her head and spat. “Fine, Tell you what,” she walked up to him and tried to knee him. He jumped back and spread his arms out so she couldn’t get away.
            “I’ll let you join,” she stepped lightly to the side and he followed her moves face forward, “if- and only if- you do something for me.” His back was toe the wall now and she was free. She ran down the streets as fast as she could go calling to him over her shoulder “Get a life!

The Wishing Stones

Originally published on October 01, 2005

            The sun shone brightly down upon the guards’ armor, glinting its rays into the unlucky visitors eyes. The guards couldn’t have cared less. The acres of orchards were still covered with dew and the pink flowers that covered the trees were starting to open again. They could hear above them the queen moving about for the day, but the two guards at the gate were more interested in the cart coming down the road to the castle. It obviously wasn’t one of the locals because the top was covered in canvas. The funeral-black horses were restless as a young man got out from the wagon and approached the gate.
            “What is your business here?” one of the guards asked.
            “Let’s just say I need to see the queen for an important matter.” the visitor shoved ten pence into the guard’s hand. “Let me in.”
            The visitor and two other people, a woman and a small child, from the wagon entered into the central throne room. The queen’s face looked grave and worried as she confronted the visitors.
            “What do you want?”
            “Just a little present and caution from you,” the man said
            “I have nothing of importance.”
            “Are you married?”
            “No.”
            “Do you have an heir?”
            The queen hesitated.
            “Speak! Do you have an heir?”
            “No,” the queen said at last.
            The young boy flinched slightly. He knew she was lying, just the way she was reluctant to say that she didn’t, gave her away beyond his gift.
            “She lying, papa…”
            “Shut up, boy,” the woman said fingering her knife under her cloak, “let your father speak”
            “I need that jewel; that one thing!”
            The queen smiled. “I haven’t got it.”
            “But you know exactly where it is! You even have a map! Just tell us!” a sharp blow across the boy’s mouth made him fly backwards, unconscious.
            “Fine you don’t have to tell us, but you can take that secret to the grave. We’ll search the castle, tonight.”
            The man unsheathed his sword and brought it at lightning speed to the queen’s neck. “I’m giving you one last chance to tell me. And I think that’s damn nice of me, don’t you think?”
            The queen hesitated in the awkward silence. “I hope your son, is a better man then you will ever dream of being.”
            The second woman screamed and lay writhing on the floor.
            “What have you done to my wife?” the man dropped his sword and ran to his wife’s side trying to calm her down.
            A blinding silver falcon soared in through the window and delivered a parchment scroll into the queen’s lap. She had scarcely any time to read it before the man’s sword was at her neck, again. The last thing the queen did was to fling the parchment to the side of her throne and look out of the window to see the spring day just awakening. A single tear rolled down her cheek, before it was stopped by the biting blow of the sword cutting clean through her neck.
            There were no witnesses to the queen’s death, save one. The queen’s most trusted servant girl, only sixteen at the time, stood at the crack of the servant’s door with the queen’s own child in her arms. She watched the whole thing in horror. She saw the spell flying into the window and hitting the new woman in the chest with full force. She saw the falcon fly into the window and the queen’s pained smile as she read the note it had. She walked forward after the man had left and picked up the parchment the queen had thrown to the side. On it lay and intricate map of the castle and on the back were the words: Don’t let this get into the wrong hands. -Marcumus