"I traveled here on my horse," he explained. "Tough it's no ordinary horse. Your world is rich in the mindset known as imagination. I look for adventure, and I have come to ask you to accompany me."
Jack could only stare, mouth open. The coffe in his hand was becoming cold, no matter how hard it had been boiled. "To say I don't understand would be just shy of the truth. I really don't know what you're talking about."
The stranger moved to drop the recliner. Standing, he pointed to the book in Jack's hand. "I want to ride the range," he said. "And I need a guide."
Why in hell would this be happening? Jack thought. Realizing his mouth was still open, he schooled himself to lift his jaw. The sixties hadn't been good to him. Maybe this a flashback to some old acid trip.
He was doubly surprised when the stranger spoke. "It's no flashback and it's not bad acid, whatever that is. I'm real. I can also read some of your stronger thougths and emotions. That is what drew me here. To you." Clearing his throat, he waited for Jack.
"OK. Maybe your a bad trip sneaking up on me. Maybe your just 'a fragment of underdone potato, ablot of mustard'. Whatever you are, I'll go along with the gag. Let me get my gear and I'll be right with you."
Walking lightheaded to the bedroom, Jack opened his closet. Inside was a beaten up Jansport backpack with his bedroll still strapped to it. Blowing and batting dust off it, he decided the freeze-dried food was probably still good. Taking his keys from a pocket, he inserted a barrel-key into his gun safe. Twisting it, he opened the door and removed a Remington 30-30 lever action range rifle. Two boxes of shells went into a side pocket of the pack. Pickign up the rig he also took a pair of Justin Ropers from the floor and returned to the living room.
Still here, he thought. It's either the worst flahback in history, or I'm about to have a hell of a good time. I hope...
Volleyball 2003 - for Writers
Moderator: Ghost
...Meanwhile, far distant in the Future (or mayhap the Past), the being calling himself Chutor prepared to watch the cataclysmic end of one Universe...and the inevitable birthing of another.
Excitement pulsed through his being. Never did he grow weary of the Ending or Beginning of things. Each time was different, unique--you never knew what you might see: especially when it concerned the Continuum of Space/Time Reality. The Possibilities were endless, ever changing, ever the same--anything was possible.
His vision blurred for a moment as he attempted to look upon all possible versions of Reality at the same time. Like looking through a prism, he thought, enjoying the idea very much. All the variagated branching of possibilities, of thoughts, ideas--even consciousness. It was all very interesting and stimulating: an unending Cycle that once begun, time out of mind, would never end--only Change would occur...
Energies, particles, all manners of matter collided in a bright configuration, followed by an intense flare of heat and a silent esplosion erupting forth with impossibe power.
Soon, the Collapse would foment. Reality would collapse in on itself, compacting to a finite level before igniting once more, expanding, growing... The Patterns would shift, form, and re-form, chaos pushing against order in a violent symbiosis, creating, destroying, re-making...
Chutor couldn't wait. The time was rife for Rebirth, Renewal--a new order from the old...
Suddenly, an implosion of matter. The seemingly eternal expansion had reached its critical limit. Bright energies flared and gravity pulled, growing powerful beyond measure, intensifying its normally tentative grasp upon Reality, Matter, and even Time... The contraction was sudden--if you didn't know what to look for, you would have missed it. All of Reality, all its possible possibilites compacting, one upon another, melding together as one, growing impossibly dense...
Chutor smiled. Such a joy to behold... The explosion of the umpteenth "Big Bang" rocked his consciousness, filling him with wonder at the eternal mysteries of the Universe...
Excitement pulsed through his being. Never did he grow weary of the Ending or Beginning of things. Each time was different, unique--you never knew what you might see: especially when it concerned the Continuum of Space/Time Reality. The Possibilities were endless, ever changing, ever the same--anything was possible.
His vision blurred for a moment as he attempted to look upon all possible versions of Reality at the same time. Like looking through a prism, he thought, enjoying the idea very much. All the variagated branching of possibilities, of thoughts, ideas--even consciousness. It was all very interesting and stimulating: an unending Cycle that once begun, time out of mind, would never end--only Change would occur...
Energies, particles, all manners of matter collided in a bright configuration, followed by an intense flare of heat and a silent esplosion erupting forth with impossibe power.
Soon, the Collapse would foment. Reality would collapse in on itself, compacting to a finite level before igniting once more, expanding, growing... The Patterns would shift, form, and re-form, chaos pushing against order in a violent symbiosis, creating, destroying, re-making...
Chutor couldn't wait. The time was rife for Rebirth, Renewal--a new order from the old...
Suddenly, an implosion of matter. The seemingly eternal expansion had reached its critical limit. Bright energies flared and gravity pulled, growing powerful beyond measure, intensifying its normally tentative grasp upon Reality, Matter, and even Time... The contraction was sudden--if you didn't know what to look for, you would have missed it. All of Reality, all its possible possibilites compacting, one upon another, melding together as one, growing impossibly dense...
Chutor smiled. Such a joy to behold... The explosion of the umpteenth "Big Bang" rocked his consciousness, filling him with wonder at the eternal mysteries of the Universe...
"A writer's chosen task is to write well and professionally. If you can't keep doing it, then you're no longer a professional, but a gifted amateur." L. E. Modessit, jr.
Suddenly flaccid after his “big bangâ€
Last edited by Darb on Tue Feb 17, 2004 5:38 pm, edited 1 time in total.
...and dreamt.
Yet, his dreams were not the dreams of mere mortals. Nay, as he slumbered, snoring silently into the vastness of space/time, whole cultures and Realities came and went. Conciousness formed, re-formed, and fell apart: again and again as Chutor's mind wandered...
However, those same cultures, peoples, beings, non-beings--they influenced Chutor's dreams, as he influenced theirs. The collective consciousness pulled at the God's subconcsious, altering his divinity several times, even manipulating his personality, causing terrible, bi-polar shifts. Chutor was discovered, forgotten, derided, replaced...more times than could be counted...
Meanwhile, back at the ranch house...
Yet, his dreams were not the dreams of mere mortals. Nay, as he slumbered, snoring silently into the vastness of space/time, whole cultures and Realities came and went. Conciousness formed, re-formed, and fell apart: again and again as Chutor's mind wandered...
However, those same cultures, peoples, beings, non-beings--they influenced Chutor's dreams, as he influenced theirs. The collective consciousness pulled at the God's subconcsious, altering his divinity several times, even manipulating his personality, causing terrible, bi-polar shifts. Chutor was discovered, forgotten, derided, replaced...more times than could be counted...
Meanwhile, back at the ranch house...
"A writer's chosen task is to write well and professionally. If you can't keep doing it, then you're no longer a professional, but a gifted amateur." L. E. Modessit, jr.
In the living room, jack sat and unlaced his work boots to slide on the ropers. Looking at the being in fornt of him, it looked like any other human. "You got a name?" Jack asked.
"Wiley," it said. "Wiley Canid."
"Wiley," Jack repeated. "Give any thought as to where we're going. Or hosw to get there?"
Wiley looked around the room distractedly. "Horses," was his answer.
"Where are they?" Jack stamped his feet to settle his feet into the boots. "Outside? Or in your pocket?"
"You are a little sarcastic," Wiley's voice holding an edge. "But I like that in a human. Let's go." Turning, he opened the door and Jack looked out on a view of open prairie. No sagebrush, but plenty of yucca. The sun was just rising over a mesa.
"Places out here got names?" he asked, walking through the door and onto rocky ground.
"Lots of names." Wiley slammed the door with a bang.
Turning at the sound, Jack saw the door fade. "Neat trick. Sort of like the cheshire cat."
"You are full of literary allusions today." Wiley whistled and two horses ran up from an arroyo. They stamped their hooves, lively and full of fire. Both wore western saddles and the gear was standard Lamore.
"Which one is mine?"
"The roan," Wiley pointed.
Jack dropped his rifle into the saddle holster, then transferred articles from Jansport to the saddlebags. When he finished, he was surprised to realize everything had fit into the saddlebags. Deciding not to press the issue, he mounted and waited for Wiley.
In the saddle, Wiley spurred the flanks of the black that began it cantering across the rocky ground. Jack followed suit to catch up with Wiley. Once even he looked at Wiley. "Any chance any of this is real?" He hoped for a positive answer but prepared himself for the worst.
"Sort of," was WIley's reply. "Why? Are you worried about it?"
"Yes. I am. Thirty minutes ago I was sitting in my living room in Queens with a cup of coffee. You appear from nowhere and now I'm riding across a desert. You aren't concerned?"
Wiley studied the air before him for a minute before answering. "Not me. I know I'm real. I know you are. If you're worried about the reality of it, then no, this isn't necessarily the true reality."
"Just for the sake of my peace of mind...I'd like to know the reality of it."
Wiley nodded agreement and colors swirled before Jack. Rocks coalesced into pinpoints of stars. Yuccas swirled into constellations. The red mesa before them changed to a red giant. The snds darkened into the emptiness of space.
"Oh sh*t," Jack muttered...
"Wiley," it said. "Wiley Canid."
"Wiley," Jack repeated. "Give any thought as to where we're going. Or hosw to get there?"
Wiley looked around the room distractedly. "Horses," was his answer.
"Where are they?" Jack stamped his feet to settle his feet into the boots. "Outside? Or in your pocket?"
"You are a little sarcastic," Wiley's voice holding an edge. "But I like that in a human. Let's go." Turning, he opened the door and Jack looked out on a view of open prairie. No sagebrush, but plenty of yucca. The sun was just rising over a mesa.
"Places out here got names?" he asked, walking through the door and onto rocky ground.
"Lots of names." Wiley slammed the door with a bang.
Turning at the sound, Jack saw the door fade. "Neat trick. Sort of like the cheshire cat."
"You are full of literary allusions today." Wiley whistled and two horses ran up from an arroyo. They stamped their hooves, lively and full of fire. Both wore western saddles and the gear was standard Lamore.
"Which one is mine?"
"The roan," Wiley pointed.
Jack dropped his rifle into the saddle holster, then transferred articles from Jansport to the saddlebags. When he finished, he was surprised to realize everything had fit into the saddlebags. Deciding not to press the issue, he mounted and waited for Wiley.
In the saddle, Wiley spurred the flanks of the black that began it cantering across the rocky ground. Jack followed suit to catch up with Wiley. Once even he looked at Wiley. "Any chance any of this is real?" He hoped for a positive answer but prepared himself for the worst.
"Sort of," was WIley's reply. "Why? Are you worried about it?"
"Yes. I am. Thirty minutes ago I was sitting in my living room in Queens with a cup of coffee. You appear from nowhere and now I'm riding across a desert. You aren't concerned?"
Wiley studied the air before him for a minute before answering. "Not me. I know I'm real. I know you are. If you're worried about the reality of it, then no, this isn't necessarily the true reality."
"Just for the sake of my peace of mind...I'd like to know the reality of it."
Wiley nodded agreement and colors swirled before Jack. Rocks coalesced into pinpoints of stars. Yuccas swirled into constellations. The red mesa before them changed to a red giant. The snds darkened into the emptiness of space.
"Oh sh*t," Jack muttered...
I'm not really bad. I'm just...drawn that way.
Jessica Rabbit
Jessica Rabbit
"...can this flashback get any worse?" Or was it a flashback?
But Jack had very little time to ponder it as the air was sucked from his lungs. And old Wiley just laughed, happy as can be.
"You humans." His eyes glittered merrily. "So easily influence." Suddenly, reality shifted once more. Again Jack and Wiley stood in the midst of yucca, mesas, sand, desert--it all seemed too real.
"What the hell was that?" Jack weezed, still trying to catch his breath.
Wiley merely shrugged, his eyes yet sparkling with humor. "You tell me..."
But Jack had very little time to ponder it as the air was sucked from his lungs. And old Wiley just laughed, happy as can be.
"You humans." His eyes glittered merrily. "So easily influence." Suddenly, reality shifted once more. Again Jack and Wiley stood in the midst of yucca, mesas, sand, desert--it all seemed too real.
"What the hell was that?" Jack weezed, still trying to catch his breath.
Wiley merely shrugged, his eyes yet sparkling with humor. "You tell me..."
"A writer's chosen task is to write well and professionally. If you can't keep doing it, then you're no longer a professional, but a gifted amateur." L. E. Modessit, jr.
Jack gulped. His glimpse of the cosmos had been so brief it hadn't effected him that much. The shock was still with him but lessening. Turning to his new partner, he glared.
"Thought you needed a human imagination," he spat. "Seems as though you've got plenty.
Wiley frowned. "Not truly. The journey is couched in terms you can understand. My kind found long ago that being 'literal' was a shock on the systems of many other beings. So, we changed the view a bit, that's all."
"What is 'my kind'?" His hands dropped near the butt of the 30-30. It was there if he needed it. Then again, a being that could do such things might be faster or immune to speeding lead, so he didn't grab for it.
"My kind are First Ones. That's all." Wiley's head turned to scout the surrounding view. "Oh, incidentally -- yes, the bullet would kill me. Then all illusion would dissolve and you would face the journey alone. The Epos would carry you, but you might go crazy without me to mask the reality."
Jack's shoulders dropped. It really wasn't a flashback. This was really happening - now - to him. "Oh Mags," he sent a silent prayer to his wife, "what have I gotten myself into?" ...
"Thought you needed a human imagination," he spat. "Seems as though you've got plenty.
Wiley frowned. "Not truly. The journey is couched in terms you can understand. My kind found long ago that being 'literal' was a shock on the systems of many other beings. So, we changed the view a bit, that's all."
"What is 'my kind'?" His hands dropped near the butt of the 30-30. It was there if he needed it. Then again, a being that could do such things might be faster or immune to speeding lead, so he didn't grab for it.
"My kind are First Ones. That's all." Wiley's head turned to scout the surrounding view. "Oh, incidentally -- yes, the bullet would kill me. Then all illusion would dissolve and you would face the journey alone. The Epos would carry you, but you might go crazy without me to mask the reality."
Jack's shoulders dropped. It really wasn't a flashback. This was really happening - now - to him. "Oh Mags," he sent a silent prayer to his wife, "what have I gotten myself into?" ...
I'm not really bad. I'm just...drawn that way.
Jessica Rabbit
Jessica Rabbit
...He didn't know, but he was damned well gonna get himself out of it--one way or another.
"So, where we going?" asked Jack, hoping the answer was home, the ranch house. "Nowhere unpleasant, I hope." He raised his brow in question.
Wiley smiled, seeming terribly amused. "Where ever the whim takes us." Wiley gestured widely, as if attempting to encompass all of reality. "You long for adventure--I can sense the thought welling forth from deep within your subconscious."
"I just want to go home. I'd rather just read about adventure--not actually live it."
"You've nothing to lose, Jack. You're wife is gone, your son, too. Only your daughter remains and from your memories, she can well take care of herself." Wiley's eyes shimmered with excitement. "Now, all you have to do is come with me...Imagine all you could see, all you could do. You're life could be much fuller, more exciting--meaningful..."
Jack shrugged his shoulders, looking down at his boots. Deep down, he sorta wanted to go. But he was scared, afraid of the unknown. Be kinda nice to get away from work for a while...need a new job, anyway.
"All right." They were the hardest words Jack ever had to say--even harder than when he had to tell Margaret her son was dead. Sorrow welled up for a moment. Jack pushed it back down, not wishing to dwell upon the depressing side of life at the moment. An adventure was what he needed. Yes, an adventure.
"Good." Wiley fairly brimmed with excitement. "Let's be going then." He mounted up on his Epos, which still looked like a horse to Jack. And they were off...
"So, where we going?" asked Jack, hoping the answer was home, the ranch house. "Nowhere unpleasant, I hope." He raised his brow in question.
Wiley smiled, seeming terribly amused. "Where ever the whim takes us." Wiley gestured widely, as if attempting to encompass all of reality. "You long for adventure--I can sense the thought welling forth from deep within your subconscious."
"I just want to go home. I'd rather just read about adventure--not actually live it."
"You've nothing to lose, Jack. You're wife is gone, your son, too. Only your daughter remains and from your memories, she can well take care of herself." Wiley's eyes shimmered with excitement. "Now, all you have to do is come with me...Imagine all you could see, all you could do. You're life could be much fuller, more exciting--meaningful..."
Jack shrugged his shoulders, looking down at his boots. Deep down, he sorta wanted to go. But he was scared, afraid of the unknown. Be kinda nice to get away from work for a while...need a new job, anyway.
"All right." They were the hardest words Jack ever had to say--even harder than when he had to tell Margaret her son was dead. Sorrow welled up for a moment. Jack pushed it back down, not wishing to dwell upon the depressing side of life at the moment. An adventure was what he needed. Yes, an adventure.
"Good." Wiley fairly brimmed with excitement. "Let's be going then." He mounted up on his Epos, which still looked like a horse to Jack. And they were off...
"A writer's chosen task is to write well and professionally. If you can't keep doing it, then you're no longer a professional, but a gifted amateur." L. E. Modessit, jr.
The view was still all spectacular ruggedness. But Jack had no illusions. He knew the sands were stars, the mesa...well, he hadn't figured that out. But he idea of Wiley being a "first one..." He was still trying to wrap his mental tongue around that one. The old west was quickly becoming stranger and stranger.
He frowned, thinking about that. "When is lunch?" he asked. His stomach was rumbling. They had been on the raod at least half a day. Thinking it over, he coudn't recall the sun moving across the sky. In fact, there was no sun. Just a brightness that didn't travel through the sky. It just was.
"We can have a meal whenever you like. Are you ready to eat?" Wiley pulled the reins to stop his epons and leaned on his hands on the saddlehorn.
Jack agreed that food was in order and the pair dismounted. "Freeze-dried stew all right with you? That's what came from the pantry first." He jefted a brightly colored foil packet in his hand.
"I brought you along for your imagination, Jack." Wiley stared at hiom over the saddle. "I had hoped for better."
"I see." Jack dropepd the flap of the saddlebag. "Do you expect me to come up with a checkered cloth and stainless cutlery?" He smirked as he said it.
"It does require a certain amount of faith to do so."
"So, if I beleive it hard enough, it could be true."
It was Wiley's turn to smirk. "That's succinct, but accurate. I won't say it's there and I won't say it is. But, if you believe in a certain way, it just could be. So long as you don't start rationalising or analysing, it could be true."
Jack considered this. It really was no stranger than anything he had encountered to this point. While he didn't want to snap the heels of his boots together and say 'there's no place like home,' he thought it could possibly work. Visualising what he expected to be in his saddlebag on the backs of his eyelids, he opened his eyes and told Wiley, "no guts,no glory." Wiley only smiled.
Flipping open the saddlebag, a snow white tablecloth showed in the pouch. Removing it, Jack set it on his saddle. Beneath were two sets of stainless cutlery. Beneath those was a can of vienna sausage. "Damn," he muttered. Just like home...
He frowned, thinking about that. "When is lunch?" he asked. His stomach was rumbling. They had been on the raod at least half a day. Thinking it over, he coudn't recall the sun moving across the sky. In fact, there was no sun. Just a brightness that didn't travel through the sky. It just was.
"We can have a meal whenever you like. Are you ready to eat?" Wiley pulled the reins to stop his epons and leaned on his hands on the saddlehorn.
Jack agreed that food was in order and the pair dismounted. "Freeze-dried stew all right with you? That's what came from the pantry first." He jefted a brightly colored foil packet in his hand.
"I brought you along for your imagination, Jack." Wiley stared at hiom over the saddle. "I had hoped for better."
"I see." Jack dropepd the flap of the saddlebag. "Do you expect me to come up with a checkered cloth and stainless cutlery?" He smirked as he said it.
"It does require a certain amount of faith to do so."
"So, if I beleive it hard enough, it could be true."
It was Wiley's turn to smirk. "That's succinct, but accurate. I won't say it's there and I won't say it is. But, if you believe in a certain way, it just could be. So long as you don't start rationalising or analysing, it could be true."
Jack considered this. It really was no stranger than anything he had encountered to this point. While he didn't want to snap the heels of his boots together and say 'there's no place like home,' he thought it could possibly work. Visualising what he expected to be in his saddlebag on the backs of his eyelids, he opened his eyes and told Wiley, "no guts,no glory." Wiley only smiled.
Flipping open the saddlebag, a snow white tablecloth showed in the pouch. Removing it, Jack set it on his saddle. Beneath were two sets of stainless cutlery. Beneath those was a can of vienna sausage. "Damn," he muttered. Just like home...
I'm not really bad. I'm just...drawn that way.
Jessica Rabbit
Jessica Rabbit
But before they could eat, a great liquid darkness invaded the pristine ruggedness. The western scene shimmered, attempting to remain real and tangible. Fear pumped in Jack's heart. He dropped the can of Vienna sausages, all hunger forgotten.
"What the--?" Jack had no idea what was happening. Wiley seemed disturbed as well.
"An unusual anomaly," replied Wiley, a tremor to his voice. Abruptly, the "first one's" cowboy-form shifted, becoming something greater and more frigtening: a gigantic alien monstrocity much resembling a slime covered green dragon. A putrescent stench emanated forth from Wiley's new form, causing Jack to gag.
"Jesus!" Jack put his hand over his nose, trying to block the horrible smell. "What's going on here?" The darkness expanded, seeming to somehow be joining with the illusionary Western Scene created from the out of the depths of imagination. The darkness pulsed and throbbed, expanding outward. Dark clouds swirled and striated overhead, filling Jack with terrible foreboding. "This is not good," he muttered as a loud din reverberated forth from nowhere and everywhere, expoding painfully into his eardrums.
With a cry, Jack grabbed his head, falling to his knees. Fear, terror bubbled up withiin. He wanted to go home, for this to all be over...
"WHAT DO YOU WANT, UTHJAR?" The voice came from the slime-covered dragon that once had been Wiley. "WHAT DO YOU WANT?"
But the darkness did not respond--at least not in a way Jack could understand. However, the piercing, impossibly loud sound dissipated, drifting to nothing. Within in moments, a terrible, eerie silence reigned.
Jack struggled to his feet, embarrassed by his reaction to the terror of the Darkness. I near wet myself, he thought, his face flushing. And thus standing, he watched the scene unfold with detached horror intermixed with utter fascination. Like watching a train wreck, he thought.
Slowly, ever so slowly, the darkness coalesced into an oddly humanoid form: a vast, shadowy giant bereft of any distinguishing features. And the fiigure spoke: "I HAVE COME TO FEED OFF THE IMAGINATION OF THIS MORTAL."
"YOU WILL NOT," replied the Dragon. Noxious fumes sprayed forth as Wiley talked, swirling about as smoke upon the breeze. "THE MORTAL IS MINE!"
Oh, sh*t, thought Jack, what have I gotten myself into...
"What the--?" Jack had no idea what was happening. Wiley seemed disturbed as well.
"An unusual anomaly," replied Wiley, a tremor to his voice. Abruptly, the "first one's" cowboy-form shifted, becoming something greater and more frigtening: a gigantic alien monstrocity much resembling a slime covered green dragon. A putrescent stench emanated forth from Wiley's new form, causing Jack to gag.
"Jesus!" Jack put his hand over his nose, trying to block the horrible smell. "What's going on here?" The darkness expanded, seeming to somehow be joining with the illusionary Western Scene created from the out of the depths of imagination. The darkness pulsed and throbbed, expanding outward. Dark clouds swirled and striated overhead, filling Jack with terrible foreboding. "This is not good," he muttered as a loud din reverberated forth from nowhere and everywhere, expoding painfully into his eardrums.
With a cry, Jack grabbed his head, falling to his knees. Fear, terror bubbled up withiin. He wanted to go home, for this to all be over...
"WHAT DO YOU WANT, UTHJAR?" The voice came from the slime-covered dragon that once had been Wiley. "WHAT DO YOU WANT?"
But the darkness did not respond--at least not in a way Jack could understand. However, the piercing, impossibly loud sound dissipated, drifting to nothing. Within in moments, a terrible, eerie silence reigned.
Jack struggled to his feet, embarrassed by his reaction to the terror of the Darkness. I near wet myself, he thought, his face flushing. And thus standing, he watched the scene unfold with detached horror intermixed with utter fascination. Like watching a train wreck, he thought.
Slowly, ever so slowly, the darkness coalesced into an oddly humanoid form: a vast, shadowy giant bereft of any distinguishing features. And the fiigure spoke: "I HAVE COME TO FEED OFF THE IMAGINATION OF THIS MORTAL."
"YOU WILL NOT," replied the Dragon. Noxious fumes sprayed forth as Wiley talked, swirling about as smoke upon the breeze. "THE MORTAL IS MINE!"
Oh, sh*t, thought Jack, what have I gotten myself into...
"A writer's chosen task is to write well and professionally. If you can't keep doing it, then you're no longer a professional, but a gifted amateur." L. E. Modessit, jr.
Jack stared in horror as the two beings fought. His throat constricted, his heart pounded. Suddenly, adrenalin kicked in. Cloth and cutlery flew as his epos reared. Gaining control of the creature, he jammed a foot into the stirrup. lifting himself into the saddle. Fighting to hold the epos, he drew his rifle from the saddle holster. He pumped a round into the chamber, taking a rough aim in the direction of Uthjer before firing.
Bellowing in pain now, the form of the giant dissolved quickly, returning to darkness that dissipated. Jack kicked his heels into the Eops's flank. The beast reared and galloped across the immense field of stars that appeared when Wiley's hold had slipped. "I'm too old for this," he screamed. "Way too old."
Within minutes, Jack understood Wiley's previous comment. The epos might get him there, wherever "there" was, but he coudl go insane in the meantime. Reaching into the depths of his mind, Jack visualized the scenery the two had traveled through until the battle. It returned, the red walls of the mesa visble in the distance. He sighed.
Light shimmered in the corner of his eye. Turning, he looked on a creture of light, casting heat waves like a mirage. His hand grabbed for the gun stock. "There is no need for violence," a voice in his had spoke. "You have nothing to fear from me." He still gripped the rifle, half-drawn from the gun scabbard.
"What are you?" he asked, fear rasping his voice.
"A direction giver. A source of information." The voice was female and the tone was soothing, calming. The shimmer hovered above the ground. "You are lost in this place and frightened. Yet you are ripe with potential. Or destruction." Jack considered the words.
"Why is everyone after me?" His voice was demanding, reflecting his fear.
"There is a great deal lacking in the First Ones. Primal beings have none of the sublety of you later ones. Your lives are short, an instant long in comparison. So you were gifted with things greater to compensate. There are few of you in this universe, so you are eagerly, but cautiously, sought out. And now there is a great need for you."
"What need? Is something so wrong with this universe that I'm needed? And, if so, what is the problem?"
He caught a hint of laughter in his mind. "And what is this need?"
"That I cannot be certain of. Only to tell you there is great need. As well, there are others of your kind on this plane. As well as creatures of other worlds. How this ends will depend upon each of you acting in concert, or acting alone. I will not tell you to trust 'Wiley', only that he is the best of his kind."
"Who is Wiley?" Jack frowned. The light shone brighter and he shut his eyes. Pictures appeared, one after another. A jackal wearing an egyptian cowl, a wolf suckling two human infants, a wolf standing beside a one-eyed man with a crooked neck. Some were arcane, others innocent, like a coyote watching a band of Sioux from tall grass.
The images disappeared, and when he opened his eyes, so had the shimmer. Alone again in the desert...
Bellowing in pain now, the form of the giant dissolved quickly, returning to darkness that dissipated. Jack kicked his heels into the Eops's flank. The beast reared and galloped across the immense field of stars that appeared when Wiley's hold had slipped. "I'm too old for this," he screamed. "Way too old."
Within minutes, Jack understood Wiley's previous comment. The epos might get him there, wherever "there" was, but he coudl go insane in the meantime. Reaching into the depths of his mind, Jack visualized the scenery the two had traveled through until the battle. It returned, the red walls of the mesa visble in the distance. He sighed.
Light shimmered in the corner of his eye. Turning, he looked on a creture of light, casting heat waves like a mirage. His hand grabbed for the gun stock. "There is no need for violence," a voice in his had spoke. "You have nothing to fear from me." He still gripped the rifle, half-drawn from the gun scabbard.
"What are you?" he asked, fear rasping his voice.
"A direction giver. A source of information." The voice was female and the tone was soothing, calming. The shimmer hovered above the ground. "You are lost in this place and frightened. Yet you are ripe with potential. Or destruction." Jack considered the words.
"Why is everyone after me?" His voice was demanding, reflecting his fear.
"There is a great deal lacking in the First Ones. Primal beings have none of the sublety of you later ones. Your lives are short, an instant long in comparison. So you were gifted with things greater to compensate. There are few of you in this universe, so you are eagerly, but cautiously, sought out. And now there is a great need for you."
"What need? Is something so wrong with this universe that I'm needed? And, if so, what is the problem?"
He caught a hint of laughter in his mind. "And what is this need?"
"That I cannot be certain of. Only to tell you there is great need. As well, there are others of your kind on this plane. As well as creatures of other worlds. How this ends will depend upon each of you acting in concert, or acting alone. I will not tell you to trust 'Wiley', only that he is the best of his kind."
"Who is Wiley?" Jack frowned. The light shone brighter and he shut his eyes. Pictures appeared, one after another. A jackal wearing an egyptian cowl, a wolf suckling two human infants, a wolf standing beside a one-eyed man with a crooked neck. Some were arcane, others innocent, like a coyote watching a band of Sioux from tall grass.
The images disappeared, and when he opened his eyes, so had the shimmer. Alone again in the desert...
I'm not really bad. I'm just...drawn that way.
Jessica Rabbit
Jessica Rabbit
-
KiltanneN
- Legionnaire
- Posts: 3957
- Joined: Tue Mar 25, 2003 10:47 pm
- Location: A Kiwi Living in the NY Area - No Longer!
Without any warning a band a Indians came riding up from behind - giving war cries and yelling at the top of their lungs.
Jack's Eops reared - it took him a moment to get it under control, and when he had, he found himself facing the chief.
"First ones have touched your life. You are not safe in this location. Do you wish Sanctuary?"
The Chief's words had the sound of a formal ritual. Jack was unsure of his own thoughts but he knew that he felt more alive than he had in years. And anyway - his fool tongue had already run away with him.
"I appreciate the offer, but I'll take what comes. If Sanctury is needed, I'll ask at a later stage"
"Sanctury will be offered three times only. This has been the first. May the Great Spirit smile upon you so that you still live when next Sanctury is available"
With that, the Chief and his party wheeled their horses, and returned in the direction Jack and Wiley had originally come from.
Jack could still taste the dust from their passing in the air when...
Jack's Eops reared - it took him a moment to get it under control, and when he had, he found himself facing the chief.
"First ones have touched your life. You are not safe in this location. Do you wish Sanctuary?"
The Chief's words had the sound of a formal ritual. Jack was unsure of his own thoughts but he knew that he felt more alive than he had in years. And anyway - his fool tongue had already run away with him.
"I appreciate the offer, but I'll take what comes. If Sanctury is needed, I'll ask at a later stage"
"Sanctury will be offered three times only. This has been the first. May the Great Spirit smile upon you so that you still live when next Sanctury is available"
With that, the Chief and his party wheeled their horses, and returned in the direction Jack and Wiley had originally come from.
Jack could still taste the dust from their passing in the air when...
The wonderful thing about not planning
Is that failure comes as a complete surprise
And is not preceded by a period of worry or depression
Is that failure comes as a complete surprise
And is not preceded by a period of worry or depression
...when Wiley reappeared before him. The First One had returned (thankfully) to his cowboy form.
"What in the Hell was that about?" asked Jack angrily before he could bite his tongue. The First One merely shook his head, a sad expression upon his all-too-human face. "And what did you mean by saying 'the mortal is mine?'" Jack was fuming mad. Just when I started liking him...
"Life, is parasitism," replied Wiley softly, which threw Jack for a loop--What the hell was he talking about? "Some parasitism is beneficial and sometimes it is not--and there is an immense middle-ground where neither the host or parasite truly benefits or but one of the grouping benefits." The First One shrugged. Jack, on the other hand, could but stare wide-eyed, not really comprehending Wiley's statement. "Beneficial parasitism is often called symbiosis--a much nicer term..." A hint of a smile crossed Wiley's visage.
"What are you talking about? Tapeworms or something?" Jack had read a lot in his life and had learned a lot in fifty years of life--but he had no clue as to what old Wiley was trying to tell him.
"I'm trying to explain our relationship." Wiley's voice was soft, soothing. "I require the magnificent energies of your imagination so that may enjoy true life--at least for a time." The First One paused, searching his vast thoughts for an explanation. "Well, I suppose you could say I'm like a virus... Without a cell to invade and RNA to hijack--a virus is nothing. The same goes for me, though I try not to harm those I inhabit."
"Inhabit...?" Jack wrinkled his face in confusion. "You trying to say you've hijacked my body--even my mind? That you somehow live within me?" The very thought of it scared Jack half to death. Carefully, his hands clenching upon the Epos' reins, he reached for his gun. He'd had a tapeworm once...He shuddered at the thought. Took it out three feet at a time--very unpleasant...
"You could say that, Jack." Wiley attempted another soothing smile. But Jack wasn't going for it. "I inhabit your thoughts, your dreams, your imagination--so that I can be real, so that I can be...alive.
"I have been known by many names and possessed numerous forms..." But before the First One could finish, Jack pulled his gun from it's sheath, aiming it at Wiley's head.
"You'd better just take me back to my living room." Jack was surprised at the calmness of his tone. "If I don't...I'll kill you here and now." Jack slid his finger over the trigger, desperate to be free of this insane nightmare.
"I cannot allow you to do that." Wiley's eyes abruptly shone with silver light. Jack's body stiffened, becoming imobile. He couldn't even turn his head. Jack could but breath and stare into those shining alien eyes. "We've a mission to accomplish. The very fate of the Multi-Reality depends on it. We must work together--or all is lost." The First One walked closer to Jack and...
"What in the Hell was that about?" asked Jack angrily before he could bite his tongue. The First One merely shook his head, a sad expression upon his all-too-human face. "And what did you mean by saying 'the mortal is mine?'" Jack was fuming mad. Just when I started liking him...
"Life, is parasitism," replied Wiley softly, which threw Jack for a loop--What the hell was he talking about? "Some parasitism is beneficial and sometimes it is not--and there is an immense middle-ground where neither the host or parasite truly benefits or but one of the grouping benefits." The First One shrugged. Jack, on the other hand, could but stare wide-eyed, not really comprehending Wiley's statement. "Beneficial parasitism is often called symbiosis--a much nicer term..." A hint of a smile crossed Wiley's visage.
"What are you talking about? Tapeworms or something?" Jack had read a lot in his life and had learned a lot in fifty years of life--but he had no clue as to what old Wiley was trying to tell him.
"I'm trying to explain our relationship." Wiley's voice was soft, soothing. "I require the magnificent energies of your imagination so that may enjoy true life--at least for a time." The First One paused, searching his vast thoughts for an explanation. "Well, I suppose you could say I'm like a virus... Without a cell to invade and RNA to hijack--a virus is nothing. The same goes for me, though I try not to harm those I inhabit."
"Inhabit...?" Jack wrinkled his face in confusion. "You trying to say you've hijacked my body--even my mind? That you somehow live within me?" The very thought of it scared Jack half to death. Carefully, his hands clenching upon the Epos' reins, he reached for his gun. He'd had a tapeworm once...He shuddered at the thought. Took it out three feet at a time--very unpleasant...
"You could say that, Jack." Wiley attempted another soothing smile. But Jack wasn't going for it. "I inhabit your thoughts, your dreams, your imagination--so that I can be real, so that I can be...alive.
"I have been known by many names and possessed numerous forms..." But before the First One could finish, Jack pulled his gun from it's sheath, aiming it at Wiley's head.
"You'd better just take me back to my living room." Jack was surprised at the calmness of his tone. "If I don't...I'll kill you here and now." Jack slid his finger over the trigger, desperate to be free of this insane nightmare.
"I cannot allow you to do that." Wiley's eyes abruptly shone with silver light. Jack's body stiffened, becoming imobile. He couldn't even turn his head. Jack could but breath and stare into those shining alien eyes. "We've a mission to accomplish. The very fate of the Multi-Reality depends on it. We must work together--or all is lost." The First One walked closer to Jack and...
"A writer's chosen task is to write well and professionally. If you can't keep doing it, then you're no longer a professional, but a gifted amateur." L. E. Modessit, jr.
...he recoiled from Wiley's hand. "I don't know what you are. Or what you want." The rifle pointed to Wiley's chest. "You did say this would kill you, didn't you?" It was more statement than question. Wiley withdrew, putting a man's height between them.
His eyes were the color the midnight sky, as deep as the in-between he had shown Jack earlier. "You've become more adept at adapting," he frowned. "But not enough to go on without me."
"Tell me why I should let you feed on my mind." There, it was out there, a challenge, not a question. Jacks' finger tightened on the trigger and Wiley stepped back once more.
"we are the First Ones. We were here when these worlds began, imperfect spinning balls of plasma and energy. We watched them become worlds. Some few, like your world, continued their own creation and many types of life appeared on them. My kind had no power to create anything. But we had power -- other kinds of power." Licking his lips, he went on.
"The creations of these worlds themselve became sentient and we found we could draw upon that sentience. Before that we were like reptilians on your Earth. We had to claim an influence outside ourselves to jumpstart oursleves, grown sluggish during those aeons. A few, a very few, we outlawed. We outlawed them because they consumed the lifeforces themselves, like gluttons at a feasting board.
"Now, we are faced with the outlaws taking over. They've grown sated and full and are become more powerful than the majority of us. I was a god for millenia on your world. I took what was offered me, not what I could by force."
Considering this, Jack replied. "Are you saying you were responsible for human sacrifice?"
"Yes. I won't lie," Wiley said. "Once I did. But with the lifeforce offered me, I became more than a deity that brought rain or stopped it. With enough offerings, my sentience grew and I turned my back on blood sacrifices. Some ignorant and befuddled ones still offer it, but I will not partake. Only the Outlaws grant that benefice, not me or the others, the majority, of the same mind as me."
Chewing the answers, Jack knew he couldn't handle things alone for the moment. Wiley had offered him no harm, psychic or corporeal. For the mooment -- only for a short time he hoped -- he nneded Wiley more than Wiley needed him...
His eyes were the color the midnight sky, as deep as the in-between he had shown Jack earlier. "You've become more adept at adapting," he frowned. "But not enough to go on without me."
"Tell me why I should let you feed on my mind." There, it was out there, a challenge, not a question. Jacks' finger tightened on the trigger and Wiley stepped back once more.
"we are the First Ones. We were here when these worlds began, imperfect spinning balls of plasma and energy. We watched them become worlds. Some few, like your world, continued their own creation and many types of life appeared on them. My kind had no power to create anything. But we had power -- other kinds of power." Licking his lips, he went on.
"The creations of these worlds themselve became sentient and we found we could draw upon that sentience. Before that we were like reptilians on your Earth. We had to claim an influence outside ourselves to jumpstart oursleves, grown sluggish during those aeons. A few, a very few, we outlawed. We outlawed them because they consumed the lifeforces themselves, like gluttons at a feasting board.
"Now, we are faced with the outlaws taking over. They've grown sated and full and are become more powerful than the majority of us. I was a god for millenia on your world. I took what was offered me, not what I could by force."
Considering this, Jack replied. "Are you saying you were responsible for human sacrifice?"
"Yes. I won't lie," Wiley said. "Once I did. But with the lifeforce offered me, I became more than a deity that brought rain or stopped it. With enough offerings, my sentience grew and I turned my back on blood sacrifices. Some ignorant and befuddled ones still offer it, but I will not partake. Only the Outlaws grant that benefice, not me or the others, the majority, of the same mind as me."
Chewing the answers, Jack knew he couldn't handle things alone for the moment. Wiley had offered him no harm, psychic or corporeal. For the mooment -- only for a short time he hoped -- he nneded Wiley more than Wiley needed him...
I'm not really bad. I'm just...drawn that way.
Jessica Rabbit
Jessica Rabbit
"Yes," replied Wiley as Jack chewed his mouthful of corn muffin, after which he ate a few spoonfuls of chili--nice and Hot. Just the way I like it. Idly, Jack wondered if his body, standing frozen in time, received any sustenance from his ethereal meal. Probably not. Likely starve to death where I stand...
"It is an important mission, which effects every possible possibility of reality, what I term the Multi-reality..." Wiley paused for a moment, gathering his ancient thoughts. Already, his mind was working better due to Jack's considerable imagination, though most of it yet remained subconscious and untried. But Wiley was certain that Jack would come through when it mattered.
"How do you mean?" Jack continued eating, alternating bites of cornmuffin with chili. Wiley savored every bit via the stimuli emanating from the mortal's mind. "How can a threat be so great?"
"Remember, I told you about the Outlaws?" Jack nodded. "Well, the greatest among them, you can call him Barazaul, has returned...from the dead it seems." Though how Thanatos would allow that, Wiley had no inkling--something terrible must have occured... "And he (I'll refer to him as male, though such has no real meaning for our kind) has hijacked a powerful cluster of Spatial Vortexes--black holes, you would call them--through the manipulation of a powerful race of mortals, which think "him" the One and True God."
What...?" Wiley could sense the confusion pulsing forth from Jack's mind. Abruptly, the mortal's ethereal meal dissipated into nothing.
"Barazaul has modified the natural energies of the black holes. Normally, they draw upon all Matter and Energy--even Time in a continuous, unending pattern, ejecting that material into alternating versions of Reality, which are constantly under formation."
Jack stared blankly, barely comprehending the First One's words. He got the gist of it...but... He shook his head. I never knew the Universe was so complicated... "This is all a bit overwhelming, you know?"
Wiley nodded. "But necessary all the same." The First One's impossibly ancient eyes seemed to glitter. "The fate of All Reality, rests upon us, Jack. So, pay attention. What you do not understand will become evident with time."
"All right." Jack was beginning to wonder whether he really wanted to know any more that he had already been told. "Go on."
"Barazaul has focused the immense powers of the black holes, altering them to draw upon Consciousness as a whole. He seeks to suck the Multi-Reality dry, to sate his never ending hunger." Sorrow shone in Wiley's eyes. "However, he has not thought ahead properly, for once he accomplished his goal, there will be naught left but him--and without sentience to feed upon...he will be as nothing..."
"So this Barazaul character wants to Destroy Reality, ending his own existence in the process?" Jack shook his head. "Sounds plumb crazy to me."
"I agree with you, Jack." Wiley shrugged his shoulders--a very human expression he had affected millennia agon. "But Barazaul is an insane glutton..."
"So, he's basically gonna eat himself to death, if we don't stop him that is?" Jack almost felt like laughing--this is insane!
"Yes," replied Wiley simply. "That sums it up quite nicely."
Jack just shook his head: sometimes fact was stranger than fiction...
"It is an important mission, which effects every possible possibility of reality, what I term the Multi-reality..." Wiley paused for a moment, gathering his ancient thoughts. Already, his mind was working better due to Jack's considerable imagination, though most of it yet remained subconscious and untried. But Wiley was certain that Jack would come through when it mattered.
"How do you mean?" Jack continued eating, alternating bites of cornmuffin with chili. Wiley savored every bit via the stimuli emanating from the mortal's mind. "How can a threat be so great?"
"Remember, I told you about the Outlaws?" Jack nodded. "Well, the greatest among them, you can call him Barazaul, has returned...from the dead it seems." Though how Thanatos would allow that, Wiley had no inkling--something terrible must have occured... "And he (I'll refer to him as male, though such has no real meaning for our kind) has hijacked a powerful cluster of Spatial Vortexes--black holes, you would call them--through the manipulation of a powerful race of mortals, which think "him" the One and True God."
What...?" Wiley could sense the confusion pulsing forth from Jack's mind. Abruptly, the mortal's ethereal meal dissipated into nothing.
"Barazaul has modified the natural energies of the black holes. Normally, they draw upon all Matter and Energy--even Time in a continuous, unending pattern, ejecting that material into alternating versions of Reality, which are constantly under formation."
Jack stared blankly, barely comprehending the First One's words. He got the gist of it...but... He shook his head. I never knew the Universe was so complicated... "This is all a bit overwhelming, you know?"
Wiley nodded. "But necessary all the same." The First One's impossibly ancient eyes seemed to glitter. "The fate of All Reality, rests upon us, Jack. So, pay attention. What you do not understand will become evident with time."
"All right." Jack was beginning to wonder whether he really wanted to know any more that he had already been told. "Go on."
"Barazaul has focused the immense powers of the black holes, altering them to draw upon Consciousness as a whole. He seeks to suck the Multi-Reality dry, to sate his never ending hunger." Sorrow shone in Wiley's eyes. "However, he has not thought ahead properly, for once he accomplished his goal, there will be naught left but him--and without sentience to feed upon...he will be as nothing..."
"So this Barazaul character wants to Destroy Reality, ending his own existence in the process?" Jack shook his head. "Sounds plumb crazy to me."
"I agree with you, Jack." Wiley shrugged his shoulders--a very human expression he had affected millennia agon. "But Barazaul is an insane glutton..."
"So, he's basically gonna eat himself to death, if we don't stop him that is?" Jack almost felt like laughing--this is insane!
"Yes," replied Wiley simply. "That sums it up quite nicely."
Jack just shook his head: sometimes fact was stranger than fiction...
"A writer's chosen task is to write well and professionally. If you can't keep doing it, then you're no longer a professional, but a gifted amateur." L. E. Modessit, jr.
...Meanwhile, back at the ranch house, a petite blond opened the front door, "Dad! Hello! Anybody here?" A strange silence pervaded the house. Alice frowned, her eyes flashing with worry, blue eyes that so resembled her mothers. She'd been trying to call her father for the last two days but to no avail. What could possibly be going on?
"Dad, are you here?" Still no answer. Alice decided to enter, closing the front door gently behind her. She then leaned her bookbag against the base of the coatrack behind the door. "Dad?" She walked down the front hall, her fear building with each step. Did he have a heart attack...had something horrible happened...? I hope not. Alice didn't know what she would do were that the case...already lost her mother and brother, one to cancer and the other to a long ago car wreck. Panic welled up at the thought.
"Dad?" She entered the kitchen. All was a chaotic mess as usual--her father had never been a neat freak, a problem that had only grown worse with her mother's death. The smell of scorched coffee filled her nostrils. Alice hurriedly ran over to the coffee pot, flicking the switch off. Lucky the whole house hadn't burned down.
"Now, why would he leave without turning off the pot?" She could not know. A sense of wrongness filled her being. This was not like her father.
Worry welling forth, Alice walked to the living room, and stopped, utterly baffled. Her father stood stock still, as motionless as a statue, a cold cup of coffee clutched in his unmoving grasp. "Dad?" Still no response.
Desperate now, Alice ran to her father. "Dad? What's wrong?" She shook him, slapped him--did all she could think of to provoke a response. Nothing. Her dad just stared straight ahead, a startled expression upon his face, his eyes devoid of all thought and emotion. It was as though he were somewhere else...somewhere very far away...
Not knowing what else to do, Alice ran to the telephone and dialed 911...
"Dad, are you here?" Still no answer. Alice decided to enter, closing the front door gently behind her. She then leaned her bookbag against the base of the coatrack behind the door. "Dad?" She walked down the front hall, her fear building with each step. Did he have a heart attack...had something horrible happened...? I hope not. Alice didn't know what she would do were that the case...already lost her mother and brother, one to cancer and the other to a long ago car wreck. Panic welled up at the thought.
"Dad?" She entered the kitchen. All was a chaotic mess as usual--her father had never been a neat freak, a problem that had only grown worse with her mother's death. The smell of scorched coffee filled her nostrils. Alice hurriedly ran over to the coffee pot, flicking the switch off. Lucky the whole house hadn't burned down.
"Now, why would he leave without turning off the pot?" She could not know. A sense of wrongness filled her being. This was not like her father.
Worry welling forth, Alice walked to the living room, and stopped, utterly baffled. Her father stood stock still, as motionless as a statue, a cold cup of coffee clutched in his unmoving grasp. "Dad?" Still no response.
Desperate now, Alice ran to her father. "Dad? What's wrong?" She shook him, slapped him--did all she could think of to provoke a response. Nothing. Her dad just stared straight ahead, a startled expression upon his face, his eyes devoid of all thought and emotion. It was as though he were somewhere else...somewhere very far away...
Not knowing what else to do, Alice ran to the telephone and dialed 911...
"A writer's chosen task is to write well and professionally. If you can't keep doing it, then you're no longer a professional, but a gifted amateur." L. E. Modessit, jr.
Before she finished dialing, she dropped the phone on its hook. She had to think. Dad was just standing there, cup in hand. She walked over to him again. "Dad," she whispered softly, as if tenderness would bring him out of some reverie or break a spell. Pulling the cup from his hand, she pushed his body down into his favorite chair, where the chair molded to his back and legs like a habit.
His pulse was there. Getting a penlight from the tool drawer in the kitchen, she flashed light in his eyes. She sighed gratefully, seeing his eyes dilate. This was no stroke or other medical malady she had read or heard about. He simply stared into space as if he was watching something only he could see.
Walking up and down with her fingers wrapped around her chin, she considered options. With a hospital he might be brought around. Or he might be consigned to a bed in the Psych Ward to remain comatose for the rest of his days. She only had one other option remaining.
Taking the phone, she punched in a series of numbers. "Hello. Momma 'T'? Hi, this is Alice Walker. Yes, I'm fine. But, I need to talk to about my Dad."
A few minutes later the call ended and she waited another impatient forty-five, watching her father as if looking at him he would waken. The doorbell made her heart skip beats and she ran for the door.
"Momma 'T'," she spoke to the overweight Haitian woman. She was dressed, as always, in riotous primary colors. "Please, come in." Momma 'T' lumbered past her, followed by a man as slender as she was fat. He carried himself fully erect with a dignity that said he knew who he was and what he was about. A black physician's bag was in his hand. His suit was black, his shirt white with an open collar. Where Momma 'T's skin was so black it was luminous, his was mocha. Momma 'T' turned to Alice, her radiant smile giving Alice hope.
"This be Mister Soleir. He a Griot, a man who knows spirits." Alice looked confused. What had she brought on her father? "Now, now, child, you let Momma 'T' and the Griot look at your poppa. What you tell me over the phone, no hospital be able to fix. OK?" Alice shook her head slowly. It was done and couldn't be wished undone now. She just wished Momma 'T' had told her about Mr. Soleir.
She had known Momma 'T' all her life. When the family lived on Bleeker Street, Momma 'T' had spent long afternoons with Alice's mom, drinking tea and talking voudon. Alice simply had to wait to see if they could help...
His pulse was there. Getting a penlight from the tool drawer in the kitchen, she flashed light in his eyes. She sighed gratefully, seeing his eyes dilate. This was no stroke or other medical malady she had read or heard about. He simply stared into space as if he was watching something only he could see.
Walking up and down with her fingers wrapped around her chin, she considered options. With a hospital he might be brought around. Or he might be consigned to a bed in the Psych Ward to remain comatose for the rest of his days. She only had one other option remaining.
Taking the phone, she punched in a series of numbers. "Hello. Momma 'T'? Hi, this is Alice Walker. Yes, I'm fine. But, I need to talk to about my Dad."
A few minutes later the call ended and she waited another impatient forty-five, watching her father as if looking at him he would waken. The doorbell made her heart skip beats and she ran for the door.
"Momma 'T'," she spoke to the overweight Haitian woman. She was dressed, as always, in riotous primary colors. "Please, come in." Momma 'T' lumbered past her, followed by a man as slender as she was fat. He carried himself fully erect with a dignity that said he knew who he was and what he was about. A black physician's bag was in his hand. His suit was black, his shirt white with an open collar. Where Momma 'T's skin was so black it was luminous, his was mocha. Momma 'T' turned to Alice, her radiant smile giving Alice hope.
"This be Mister Soleir. He a Griot, a man who knows spirits." Alice looked confused. What had she brought on her father? "Now, now, child, you let Momma 'T' and the Griot look at your poppa. What you tell me over the phone, no hospital be able to fix. OK?" Alice shook her head slowly. It was done and couldn't be wished undone now. She just wished Momma 'T' had told her about Mr. Soleir.
She had known Momma 'T' all her life. When the family lived on Bleeker Street, Momma 'T' had spent long afternoons with Alice's mom, drinking tea and talking voudon. Alice simply had to wait to see if they could help...
I'm not really bad. I'm just...drawn that way.
Jessica Rabbit
Jessica Rabbit
Bending on one knee, the Griot opened his bag. Alice had no idea what to expect but was surprised when he removed a stethoscope and blood pressure cuff. He deftly pushed Jack's sleeve up to his shoulder, wrapping the bicep with the cuff. Plugging his ears with the stethoscope, he pumped the bulb till the cuff ballooned around her Dad's arm. Releasing the pressure slowly, he listened intently before twisting the valve to deflate the cuff. A physician's eye lamp was flashed in Jack's eyes, flickered back and forth till he seemed satisfied with the results.
Replacing the equipmetn in the bag, his fingers palpated beneath Jack's jaw. Then he placed them at the temples, closing his eyes as if listening. He reached into the case again and removed a white spatula that curled dramatically at its end. A hole in the flatter end had a leather thong laced through it. The thong was tied around her dad's neck and the Griot drew diagrams on the forehead with a finetipped marker.
Listening to Jack's temples again (Alice had no other way to describe it), he mumbled rhythmically under his breath. At the end he seemd satisfied though he showed no more emotion than before. His clinical detachment was complete. Standing, his knees cracked audibly.
He turned to Alice and Momma 'T', speaking in a thick french accent.
"Your father is with an old spirit. It is by his own wish. He is not zombied." He enunciated the "z" as an aspirated "s". "I can return him, but it will be difficult and may be damaging. Please tell me your wishes.
Alice hugged Momma 'T', burying her tears in teh older woman's arms. "What yoo wanna do?" Momma 'T' asked. "Your momma Margaret no here to tell you. You got to decide." ...
Replacing the equipmetn in the bag, his fingers palpated beneath Jack's jaw. Then he placed them at the temples, closing his eyes as if listening. He reached into the case again and removed a white spatula that curled dramatically at its end. A hole in the flatter end had a leather thong laced through it. The thong was tied around her dad's neck and the Griot drew diagrams on the forehead with a finetipped marker.
Listening to Jack's temples again (Alice had no other way to describe it), he mumbled rhythmically under his breath. At the end he seemd satisfied though he showed no more emotion than before. His clinical detachment was complete. Standing, his knees cracked audibly.
He turned to Alice and Momma 'T', speaking in a thick french accent.
"Your father is with an old spirit. It is by his own wish. He is not zombied." He enunciated the "z" as an aspirated "s". "I can return him, but it will be difficult and may be damaging. Please tell me your wishes.
Alice hugged Momma 'T', burying her tears in teh older woman's arms. "What yoo wanna do?" Momma 'T' asked. "Your momma Margaret no here to tell you. You got to decide." ...
I'm not really bad. I'm just...drawn that way.
Jessica Rabbit
Jessica Rabbit
...Meanwhile, faraway from his body within tentative embrace of the Astral Plane, which existed--unseen by science--in the void between worlds and the various versions of Reality, shifting and forming with but a thought, Jack shook his head. He still couldn't believe or comprehend most of what the First One had told him.
Black holes modified to devour the imagination? So-called Spatial Vortexes...And what of this bizarre alien race Wiley had as yet failed to describe in any detail...? What of them?
"Really, they are un-important, Jack," replied Wiley. The First One's habit of answering Jack's thoughts still bothered him...he was certain he would get used to it with time... But Time was of the essence--if what Wiley said was true...and not some fabrication designed to trick him into being Wiley's veritable lunch...
"How are we supposed to prevent this tragedy?" asked Jack finally, exasperation in his tone. "And how am I supposed to truly believe you? This could be but a vivid hallucination...or something."
"I do not know." A sad look came to Wiley's face. "You humans baffle me...You are willing to believe in an unseen God...or Gods, alien abductions, ghosts...but when you are presented with problems in that actual vein..." Wiley sighed, closing his eyes. "...you shy away from the truth--even when it is presented to you in a clear, logical manner.
"But that's the problem with Belief, I suppose. Not everyone is prepared for such--even those who think they are."
Jack nodded his head. Let me chew on that one a bit, he thought. Even if this is a dream, I might learn something...
Black holes modified to devour the imagination? So-called Spatial Vortexes...And what of this bizarre alien race Wiley had as yet failed to describe in any detail...? What of them?
"Really, they are un-important, Jack," replied Wiley. The First One's habit of answering Jack's thoughts still bothered him...he was certain he would get used to it with time... But Time was of the essence--if what Wiley said was true...and not some fabrication designed to trick him into being Wiley's veritable lunch...
"How are we supposed to prevent this tragedy?" asked Jack finally, exasperation in his tone. "And how am I supposed to truly believe you? This could be but a vivid hallucination...or something."
"I do not know." A sad look came to Wiley's face. "You humans baffle me...You are willing to believe in an unseen God...or Gods, alien abductions, ghosts...but when you are presented with problems in that actual vein..." Wiley sighed, closing his eyes. "...you shy away from the truth--even when it is presented to you in a clear, logical manner.
"But that's the problem with Belief, I suppose. Not everyone is prepared for such--even those who think they are."
Jack nodded his head. Let me chew on that one a bit, he thought. Even if this is a dream, I might learn something...
"A writer's chosen task is to write well and professionally. If you can't keep doing it, then you're no longer a professional, but a gifted amateur." L. E. Modessit, jr.
"Let's be going," said Wiley, suddenly overcome with great urgency. If Jack wouldn't believe him, he would make him believe, show him the truth. The First One walked over to his Epos and mounted up.
Reluctantly, Jack followed suit. "Where we going?" asked Jack, looking about at the pristine western scene. It soothed him to his soul: the mesas, cacti, yucca, sand, rock, and the distant shimmering of heat upon the horizon. He hoped the Dark Thing, whatever it was, did not return. Having Wiley feeding upon your consciousness was better than being utterly devoured by some dark monstrosity from the farthest depths of nightmare.
"See that mesa?" Jack nodded as Wiley urged his Epos onward, riding with an expert ease. Jack, on the other hand, rode with all the skill of a sack of carrots. He could manage to stay in the saddle, yet he felt awkward ahorse--or a-Epos: whatever you wanted to call it. "It's not a mesa...rather, it is a symbol for something else entirely: a necessary destination, if you will."
Jack grunted in response. He cleared his throat, longing for a drink of water. Abruptly, a metal canteen filled his free hand, the one not holding the reins. Eagerly, Jack unscrewed the top and took a long swallow. Refreshing coolness assaulted his mouth. He sighed with pleasure before recapping the canteen and hanging it from the saddlehorn.
For long hours did the pair ride, the direction seeming west, though it could have been east, south, or even north. Directions here in this imaginary realm could be quite deceptive--especially since there was no Sun to help Jack get his bearings. It was a strange, diffused sort of brightness, inundating all of this reality for as far as the eye could see--neither too bright or too dim but something in-between.
Gradually, the mesa grew larger in size until it towered high above the twain. Long hours had passed, or so it seemed to Jack. "What time is it?" asked Jack finally. "Seems like we've been riding for all eternity."
"Time is subject to perception," replied Wiley, the first words he'd spoken for a while. "It's whatever "time" you wish it--especially here in the Astral Plane."
"Hmmm..." Jack was stumped. But he didn't wish to reveal his own stupidity, though he knew Wiley could pick such right out of his mind with terrible ease. "Interesting." And that's all the more he said.
They rode on in silence for some time longer until they came upon a narrow, wending roadway of apparently ancient devise. The path (and that's what it really was) was constructed of ancient and broken cobbles worn and pitted with age and use. Wagons had cut twin tracks into the once pristine surface.
"I'll lead and you follow," said Wiley simply. Jack grunted in acknowledgement. The path was far too narrow for them to ride side by side as they had been doing. And Jack didn't relish the idea of leading the way into impossible danger. I'll just let old Wiley take the lead, thought Jack with much relief.
They started their ascent...
Reluctantly, Jack followed suit. "Where we going?" asked Jack, looking about at the pristine western scene. It soothed him to his soul: the mesas, cacti, yucca, sand, rock, and the distant shimmering of heat upon the horizon. He hoped the Dark Thing, whatever it was, did not return. Having Wiley feeding upon your consciousness was better than being utterly devoured by some dark monstrosity from the farthest depths of nightmare.
"See that mesa?" Jack nodded as Wiley urged his Epos onward, riding with an expert ease. Jack, on the other hand, rode with all the skill of a sack of carrots. He could manage to stay in the saddle, yet he felt awkward ahorse--or a-Epos: whatever you wanted to call it. "It's not a mesa...rather, it is a symbol for something else entirely: a necessary destination, if you will."
Jack grunted in response. He cleared his throat, longing for a drink of water. Abruptly, a metal canteen filled his free hand, the one not holding the reins. Eagerly, Jack unscrewed the top and took a long swallow. Refreshing coolness assaulted his mouth. He sighed with pleasure before recapping the canteen and hanging it from the saddlehorn.
For long hours did the pair ride, the direction seeming west, though it could have been east, south, or even north. Directions here in this imaginary realm could be quite deceptive--especially since there was no Sun to help Jack get his bearings. It was a strange, diffused sort of brightness, inundating all of this reality for as far as the eye could see--neither too bright or too dim but something in-between.
Gradually, the mesa grew larger in size until it towered high above the twain. Long hours had passed, or so it seemed to Jack. "What time is it?" asked Jack finally. "Seems like we've been riding for all eternity."
"Time is subject to perception," replied Wiley, the first words he'd spoken for a while. "It's whatever "time" you wish it--especially here in the Astral Plane."
"Hmmm..." Jack was stumped. But he didn't wish to reveal his own stupidity, though he knew Wiley could pick such right out of his mind with terrible ease. "Interesting." And that's all the more he said.
They rode on in silence for some time longer until they came upon a narrow, wending roadway of apparently ancient devise. The path (and that's what it really was) was constructed of ancient and broken cobbles worn and pitted with age and use. Wagons had cut twin tracks into the once pristine surface.
"I'll lead and you follow," said Wiley simply. Jack grunted in acknowledgement. The path was far too narrow for them to ride side by side as they had been doing. And Jack didn't relish the idea of leading the way into impossible danger. I'll just let old Wiley take the lead, thought Jack with much relief.
They started their ascent...
"A writer's chosen task is to write well and professionally. If you can't keep doing it, then you're no longer a professional, but a gifted amateur." L. E. Modessit, jr.
"You cannot pass!" called a loud, monstrous voice as Jack and Wiley made there ascent. The very walls of the mesa vibrated with the force of the tone. Jack clenched his hands tightly at the reins of the Epos and looked around hurriedly, searching for the owner of the voice, as well as looking for any falling rock caused by the intense vocalization.
"Who dares enter my realm?" the voice continued, growing in intensity.
"I do," replied Wiley, seeming to swell and grow, though he did not take on his slim-dripping dragon form. "And who are you to prevent our passage?"
The ground shook. No answer was given, however. Jack held his breath as an immense giant strode purposefully down the path. He was dressed in naught but a leather kilt of sorts--he wore no shoes or even a shirt. The giant held a large knotted club in his gnarly grasp. An unpleasant stench emanated from the giant's disfigured, grotesquely muscled form. Its skin gleamed green-blue and was etched by various scars, warts, and the like.
"I am Halagarth." Jack nearly gagged. The being's breath wafted forth intensely, sticking of things better left unsaid. "And I am the Lord of this mesa."
"Since when?" asked Wiley, growing even larger. His booted feet even now touched upon the ground. The first one stepped free from his Epos as he expanded further, becoming a giant greater than the giant barring the path. "I recall no giants in this realm."
The giant grunted. Jack thought the monster's yellow-green eyes looked worried. He kept waiting for the thing to start saying "fee, fie, foe, fum" or some nonsene. Yet despite the giant's (or maybe it was an ogre) hideous appearance, he seemed well versed in language--if a little fond of shouting.
"I am but recently come." The giant relaxed his stance somewhat. "And after wandering throughout the vast extents of this bedamned wasteland of yucca and sand, I decided this mesa was as good place as any to call my own."
"Ah." Wiley said nothing else for a few moments. "But we really need to get by you, friend." The First One was trying to be nice, Jack could hear it in his tone of voice. "Is there aught we can do to gain passage without unnecessary violence?
"We don't want to overtake "your" mesa, after all. We merely have a Mission to fulfill, and your mesa happens to be on the way."
After a few long moments of silence, Jack's heart in his throat, for he thought the giant was going to try to kill and eat them, the giant said, "Take me with you. Free me from this eternal realm of unending desert. And you may pass."
Wiley relaxed, shrinking back to a more plausable size. "All well and good, though you might want to reconsider."
"Why?"
"Because we go to save the Universal Multi-Reality from an Outlaw of extreme wickedness. You might just want to remain here."
"Sounds like fun," replied the giant simply. And then without another word, the giant turned and trudged back up the pathway, beckoning Wiley and Jack to follow...
"Who dares enter my realm?" the voice continued, growing in intensity.
"I do," replied Wiley, seeming to swell and grow, though he did not take on his slim-dripping dragon form. "And who are you to prevent our passage?"
The ground shook. No answer was given, however. Jack held his breath as an immense giant strode purposefully down the path. He was dressed in naught but a leather kilt of sorts--he wore no shoes or even a shirt. The giant held a large knotted club in his gnarly grasp. An unpleasant stench emanated from the giant's disfigured, grotesquely muscled form. Its skin gleamed green-blue and was etched by various scars, warts, and the like.
"I am Halagarth." Jack nearly gagged. The being's breath wafted forth intensely, sticking of things better left unsaid. "And I am the Lord of this mesa."
"Since when?" asked Wiley, growing even larger. His booted feet even now touched upon the ground. The first one stepped free from his Epos as he expanded further, becoming a giant greater than the giant barring the path. "I recall no giants in this realm."
The giant grunted. Jack thought the monster's yellow-green eyes looked worried. He kept waiting for the thing to start saying "fee, fie, foe, fum" or some nonsene. Yet despite the giant's (or maybe it was an ogre) hideous appearance, he seemed well versed in language--if a little fond of shouting.
"I am but recently come." The giant relaxed his stance somewhat. "And after wandering throughout the vast extents of this bedamned wasteland of yucca and sand, I decided this mesa was as good place as any to call my own."
"Ah." Wiley said nothing else for a few moments. "But we really need to get by you, friend." The First One was trying to be nice, Jack could hear it in his tone of voice. "Is there aught we can do to gain passage without unnecessary violence?
"We don't want to overtake "your" mesa, after all. We merely have a Mission to fulfill, and your mesa happens to be on the way."
After a few long moments of silence, Jack's heart in his throat, for he thought the giant was going to try to kill and eat them, the giant said, "Take me with you. Free me from this eternal realm of unending desert. And you may pass."
Wiley relaxed, shrinking back to a more plausable size. "All well and good, though you might want to reconsider."
"Why?"
"Because we go to save the Universal Multi-Reality from an Outlaw of extreme wickedness. You might just want to remain here."
"Sounds like fun," replied the giant simply. And then without another word, the giant turned and trudged back up the pathway, beckoning Wiley and Jack to follow...
"A writer's chosen task is to write well and professionally. If you can't keep doing it, then you're no longer a professional, but a gifted amateur." L. E. Modessit, jr.
The trio aimed tfor the mesa. The giant easily kept pace with the epos's which Jack thought was odd. Odd in the sense that a creature like this one would spook all the horses Jack had ever known. The epos's didn't mind the giant at all. Curiousity got the best of Jack.
"Do you have a name?" he asked the giant. "Mine is Jack. This," poking a thumb from his fist at Wiley, "is Wiley." The giant watched Jack's eyes. His broad mouth turned to a smile. "Mahg," he announced in a deep voice. "Pleased to meet you, Jack. Wiley and I have met before."
Jacks eyebrows arched and he looked at Wiley. Turning to Mahg, he watched his eyes again. Something familiar looked out at him. He couldn't put hsi finger on what it was, but it was there.
Wiley interrrupted his thoughts. "Maybe another day to the mesa,' venturing an opinion. "Maybe less."
"Let's stop and eat something," Jack said as his stomach rumbled. He and Wiley reined up and dismounted. Unhitching his saddle, Wiley deposited it on the ground before leading the epos to a clump of slat grass to graze. "See, even the horse is hungry."
Picking up his saddlebag, he sat on the ground,leaning easily against his saddle. From the bags, he removed three cans of beans with a can-opener. Three enameled plates followed with an equal number of forks. He handed a can to Wiley and a can to Mahg. Mahg smiled, looking at the can. "San Girgio cannellinni's. Looks good," he added. Jack was certain of the connection.
Jack smiled back. "Couldn't do any less than on our first date."
Mahg glanced up at Jack. "Didn't know this was a date. At least not our first one." The giant's outline shimmered, light flaring out so bright and pure that Jack closed his eyes. When the glare eased, he opened them again. The face and form of a middle-aged woman was there. He had it memorized so long ago.
"Hello, Jack," she whipered. "I love you Mags," he said through tears. "I've missed you."
"I shoudl have known that you would recognize me, even as a giant." She stopped his hands that reached for her. "Listen to me Jack. I still love you, but we can't be lovers here, in this place." Tears fromed wet pools around ehr eyes.
Jack held back the shudders he felt, trying to keep his own eyes dry. "Why are you here then?" he asked in a trembling voice. "Why are you ?"
"To make you the second offer for sanctuary." Her face was earnest. He knew her heart was sincere.
"Is sanctuary with you? If it is, it's so hard to turn it down. I mean it Mags. You were my sanctuary for nearly thirty years. My safety net. But you know that once I commit, I can't turn back."
"I know. But I had to offer it." She smiled and began to fade out. As she did, she spoke. "The thing that's up there,Jack. It's huge. It will seem insurmountable. But you can win. You can prevail." Then she was gone and Jack had to cry...
"Do you have a name?" he asked the giant. "Mine is Jack. This," poking a thumb from his fist at Wiley, "is Wiley." The giant watched Jack's eyes. His broad mouth turned to a smile. "Mahg," he announced in a deep voice. "Pleased to meet you, Jack. Wiley and I have met before."
Jacks eyebrows arched and he looked at Wiley. Turning to Mahg, he watched his eyes again. Something familiar looked out at him. He couldn't put hsi finger on what it was, but it was there.
Wiley interrrupted his thoughts. "Maybe another day to the mesa,' venturing an opinion. "Maybe less."
"Let's stop and eat something," Jack said as his stomach rumbled. He and Wiley reined up and dismounted. Unhitching his saddle, Wiley deposited it on the ground before leading the epos to a clump of slat grass to graze. "See, even the horse is hungry."
Picking up his saddlebag, he sat on the ground,leaning easily against his saddle. From the bags, he removed three cans of beans with a can-opener. Three enameled plates followed with an equal number of forks. He handed a can to Wiley and a can to Mahg. Mahg smiled, looking at the can. "San Girgio cannellinni's. Looks good," he added. Jack was certain of the connection.
Jack smiled back. "Couldn't do any less than on our first date."
Mahg glanced up at Jack. "Didn't know this was a date. At least not our first one." The giant's outline shimmered, light flaring out so bright and pure that Jack closed his eyes. When the glare eased, he opened them again. The face and form of a middle-aged woman was there. He had it memorized so long ago.
"Hello, Jack," she whipered. "I love you Mags," he said through tears. "I've missed you."
"I shoudl have known that you would recognize me, even as a giant." She stopped his hands that reached for her. "Listen to me Jack. I still love you, but we can't be lovers here, in this place." Tears fromed wet pools around ehr eyes.
Jack held back the shudders he felt, trying to keep his own eyes dry. "Why are you here then?" he asked in a trembling voice. "Why are you ?"
"To make you the second offer for sanctuary." Her face was earnest. He knew her heart was sincere.
"Is sanctuary with you? If it is, it's so hard to turn it down. I mean it Mags. You were my sanctuary for nearly thirty years. My safety net. But you know that once I commit, I can't turn back."
"I know. But I had to offer it." She smiled and began to fade out. As she did, she spoke. "The thing that's up there,Jack. It's huge. It will seem insurmountable. But you can win. You can prevail." Then she was gone and Jack had to cry...
I'm not really bad. I'm just...drawn that way.
Jessica Rabbit
Jessica Rabbit
Staring at the can of beans, Jack took a spoonful. Wiley watched him, perched on a rock. Humans had never ceased to amaze him. Perhaps that was why he always returned to eart, to this species. There was a job to be done and he was satisfied he had picked not only hte right species, but the right man.
Swallowing his last bean, Jack fixed the horizon with tired eyes. The sun was setting and gold and violet rays lanced into the sky. Long shadows snaked behind yucca and scrub juniper to leave the sun's imprint on harsh land. A crooked smile caught the corner of Jack's mouth.
"I know," addressing Wiley, "this is all illusion. But I need to rest. This thing that needs doing has to be done as soon as possible. I just can't go on today. Let me rest some, then we'll go do it."
Wiley gave a short nod. The last offer of sanctuary had almost been too much for him to refuse, too dear and too near to Jack's heart. "Yes," he agreed, "let's rest. Too often there are too many quests, too many deeds to be done."
The sun set. Jack pulled the thongs and removed his blanket. Spreadign it on the ground, he rolled himself in it, his head pillowed on the saddle. "Give me some peace for a few hours, Wiley. Just for a few hours..."
Swallowing his last bean, Jack fixed the horizon with tired eyes. The sun was setting and gold and violet rays lanced into the sky. Long shadows snaked behind yucca and scrub juniper to leave the sun's imprint on harsh land. A crooked smile caught the corner of Jack's mouth.
"I know," addressing Wiley, "this is all illusion. But I need to rest. This thing that needs doing has to be done as soon as possible. I just can't go on today. Let me rest some, then we'll go do it."
Wiley gave a short nod. The last offer of sanctuary had almost been too much for him to refuse, too dear and too near to Jack's heart. "Yes," he agreed, "let's rest. Too often there are too many quests, too many deeds to be done."
The sun set. Jack pulled the thongs and removed his blanket. Spreadign it on the ground, he rolled himself in it, his head pillowed on the saddle. "Give me some peace for a few hours, Wiley. Just for a few hours..."
I'm not really bad. I'm just...drawn that way.
Jessica Rabbit
Jessica Rabbit