tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-270992578618907952024-03-13T09:54:23.905-07:00Aroumba ToumbaFiction, Essays, Musical Commentary in short easily digestible posts. Some viewpoints may not be for everyone. Some posts may contain Mature Content. "SCUTTLE"Peter A. Pileggihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09132715383701062985noreply@blogger.comBlogger41125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27099257861890795.post-56096281185673427692012-02-13T14:42:00.000-08:002012-02-13T14:44:15.091-08:00SCUTTLE ( XI )<br />
“What can we do?” asked Jim
disturbed to the point of hopelessness.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“This weapon I hold was
specifically designed for the destruction of the Riachen Mothers. It will not
operate through the wall of this shield. I am going to give you the other shield
device. We will move back a ways into the tunnel that has been made in the
Riachen fluid so that there is open space before us where I can stand and
breathe without the dome. You will disengage the shield and I will move forward
and then you must reactivate the dome if you are to stay alive. I will activate
the weapon. Once the Mother is destroyed you must deactivate the dome and move
to form it around both of us once again.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
The gravity of the moment weighed
down on Jim, but he took a deep breath, sighed, and said, “OK. How do I operate
this thing?” He strapped the rifle to his back.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Lay’tog handed him the second
device. “You rub the middle section that is lighted. You must do it with a
precise amount of pressure while holding them upright. Always hold them upright
the way they are now. I suggest you use your thumb to rub it, and press down
with most of your strength, since I am a good deal stronger then you. Are you
ready?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Yes.” Jim tried to sound
confident. It really didn’t matter whether he was ready or not, he knew they
were running out of time and that they had to do this now. If Clarissa hadn’t
already been plucked, she would surely be soon. Succeed or fail, they had to
act now. They moved back through the hollowed out goo about ten feet. Lay’tog nodded at him. He held the strange
devices upright, their thin metal pieces spiraling every which way into the air
from the straight metal rods with the glowing centers, and rubbed the middle
sections vigorously with his thumbs. The dome dissipated and Lay’tog moved
instantly about six feet forward. Jim quickly began rubbing the sections again
as tendrils fiercely shot in at him. The dome reformed and cut the tendrils off
in mid-flight, the pieces of alien flesh, their ends charred, fell to the
ground around him. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Lay’tog had positioned his weapon
with the barrel pointed forward, the tibiae and tarsi of his larger upper legs
finding their perspective holds within the grooves and hooks of the box-like
section. The Riachen had already wrapped tendrils around his prothorax and a
bottom leg. He fought back against their pull, rubbed the activation section
and braced himself as another tendril wrapped itself around his neck. The
weapon hummed and the box-like section brightened with a soft violet glow that
abruptly shot forth a burst of violet energy with a resounding squeal. The
energy sustained a connection to the weapon as it burned through the fluid and
infiltrated the orifice of the mother just as it was about to drop another
child into it. Lay’tog held the weapon steady as it vibrated with increasing
power, pummeling into the Riachen Mother as it screamed in agony, which it relayed
through a psionic blast that infiltrated the minds of every living creature in
its vicinity. Jim buckled under the magnitude of its cry and fell to his knees,
using his remaining strength to keep the dome devices upright and fighting back
the urge to bring his hands to his head as some sort of comfort. Lay’tog simply
increased the concentration on his mental block so that her scream barely
entered his mind. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
The mother’s tendrils lashed out at
its attacker and Lay’tog was overcome with tendrils from both the Riachen horde
and their mother. They wrapped around many of his legs, his abdomen and thoraxes,
and he fought with all his strength to keep the weapon upright and its aim
direct upon the orifice. The mother began to wither, its color faded, its
tendrils recoiled, but not without taking one of his smaller legs with it. The
pain was excruciating, but he persevered until he saw the burly black tendrils
stiffen, hardening as the Mother died until their weight was too heavy for the
monstrosity and they broke off and floated out into the fluid. The Mother’s
flesh had become white and the surrounding Riachen released their hold on
Lay’tog and rushed to the side of their progenitor in vain, panicked attempts
to help her. When he saw the Mother begin to eat its brood, he knew that he had
won. They willingly entered her orifice and sacrificed themselves in an attempt
to restore nutrients and energy to their ailing mother. But Lay’tog kept the
beam steady, cancelling out any restoration progress that had been made until
every last Riachen had been devoured and the Mother had become an atrocious
immense flab of pale white flesh. He
knew from past experiences that it was beyond healing now and would steadily
die as time past. He deactivated the weapon; the violet beam receded back
within the barrel and into the box which held its origin, protected and
secluded. He strapped the weapon to his back.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Remove the energy dome. We have
some time before the fluid enters this tunnel.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Jim did as he was told. “What about
the children? How do save them?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“They are alive within those sacs.
They will sustain for a short time longer. I have the power to eliminate this
fluid with an energy burst from the dome, but the sacs would also be
eliminated. We must retreat to the outside of the fluid wall and allow the dome
to re-energize and then try and rescue the children a few at a time by using the
dome to create tunnels through the ooze and protect us as we carry them outside
the fluid wall.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Jim nodded and moved in close to
Lay’tog before reactivating the dome. Together they made their way through the
gelatinous mass until they were again outside the ooze. Jim disengaged the
energy dome and handed the devices back to Lay’tog. They shared a few moments
of uncomfortable silence as they waited for the devices to fully recharge,
Lay’tog bandaging the hole in his flesh where his arm used to be. Jim suddenly remembered Agent E.I.S. and that
the local authorities would soon be swarming upon this area, most likely
without and open mind toward the presence of Lay’tog. He proceeded to inform
his new friend, but before he could open his mouth the alien spoke.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“I know, Jim, thank you. They are
still a ways away, but are indeed closing in. You are right, I must not be
discovered. I believe there is time for me to help you rescue a few children
and then I must go. It is unfortunate that the Riachen will be discovered, we
had hoped to avoid that. Perhaps it will lead to your kind being better
prepared for when they return.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Return?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Yes, they are a relentless scourge
upon the cosmos. They require the offspring of other living things of flesh and
intelligence for sustenance and procreation, as you have witnessed. They do so
without regard for sustainability and would easily wipe out whole races of
beings if allowed to continue unchecked, much like they have already done
within the solar system of their home world. They are as intelligent as they
are monstrous, although they are one minded and devoid of individual thought.
They know this planet contains bountiful prey and they will return with greater
numbers to harvest your kind. It is our sworn duty as a race to prevent the
spread of the Riachen, and we could use allies. I will leave the energy dome
devices with you, so that you can rescue all the children. But come, it is time
to begin.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Jim could barely process this
information before Lay’tog had moved near him and reactivated the energy dome.
He could sense the alien’s need for haste and ran to keep up with its swift
movements as they burned through the fluid to the nearest sacs hanging from the
wall. Using the dome they made a tunnel in front of about five sacs and then
disengaged it so they could disconnect them from their perches, which required
using Lay’tog’s energy swords to cut through the slimy tendrils that attached
them to the wall. Jim could carry two,
although they were very heavy, and Lay’tog could handle three along with the
dome devices. They reactivated the dome and made their way to the outside of
the fluid once more. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“This sac is very thick,” spoke
Lay’tog as he glided a tarsus along its slimy surface. “You will have to cut
into it very carefully so that you do not harm the children. They will need
immediate medical attention once they are released. I would wait until the
authorities arrive before you do so. I must go now. Here are the dome operating
devices, and an energy blade to cut down the sacs. Simply rub the box to activate
the blade, be very careful.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Jim studied this strange creature
as it spoke, so completely alien from human kind yet full of compassion and
nobility. He admired him greatly and clasped his tibia with his hand as
Lay’tog’s tarsus clasped his arm and they shook in mutual appreciation. “Thank
you, friend,” said Jim. “I hope we will meet again under better circumstances.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Yes,” spoke Lay’tog with clicks
and clucks. “I will speak of our contact to my Queen and perhaps we will send
an envoy to your leaders soon in hopes of gaining an ally against the Riachen.
Good luck, Jim, and farewell.” With that the alien withdrew his leg from the
human’s grasp and hurriedly scuttled off, the four long stalk-like legs of his
metathorax switching back and forth at a blurring speed as he ascended the
rising floor on his way out of the Riachen den. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Jim began the long task of rescuing
the remaining children. No long after Lay’tog’s departure, a mass of armed
authority ascended on the den followed by medical personnel with their
equipment and vehicles. They overwhelmed him with questions, and Jim tried to
keep his answers focused solely on the important task of saving the children.
He assured them that the children that were imprisoned in the sacs were still
alive and relayed the details for rescuing them that he had learned from
Lay’tog. When they questioned the validity of his information, he assured them
that he had a reliable source that he would later reveal, when they had more
time. And yes, he would explain the origin of the strange alien technology that
he now possessed. With their help he managed to acquire all of the remaining
sacs. They began then to carefully cut the sacs open, revealing children
immersed in thick goo with thin cable-like veins attached to them from the inner
walls of the sacs. As they cut the veins and pulled them from the goo, the
children would become conscious and attempt to breathe, sucking in the goo that
covered them instead of air. They had to wipe the goo from them quickly and
resuscitate them with the help of trained medical personal and their machines.
They managed to save most of the children, but sadly not all of them. One of
the children saved was indeed Clarissa, Jim recognizing her from pictures Elizabeth had shown him.
For this he would be eternally grateful to Lay’tog, and would tell him so when
they met again years later.<br />
<br />
THE END </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>Peter A. Pileggihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09132715383701062985noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27099257861890795.post-61594303230652498982011-12-08T13:02:00.001-08:002011-12-08T13:18:03.846-08:00SCUTTLE ( X )<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
They didn’t seem to take notice of
him and he quietly moved in behind the shield of the strange hominine insect as it
moved forward with measured deliberate movements. It began unstrapping a long wooden
rifle-like weapon from its back and readying it before its person. The insect
was seemingly unfazed by the attack of the creatures as many more then he could
count were swarming upon it. There was something very large before them, in the
distance, obscured by the numerous creatures wiggling through the goo. The
insect turned its head back to him, suddenly, and took a long examining look at
Jim with its large black compound eyes. Something slimy wrapped about his right
arm then, and jerked it up, forcing him to lose his grasp on the rifle. It
dropped down, but his left hand had a tight grip on the forestock and prevented
it from hitting the floor. He simultaneously looked up and pulled his arm back
in vain. An orifice of layered flesh flaps and tiny fangs stared down at him, a
purple tendril dropping down from the side of the orifice and tugging at his arm with tremendous strength. One of the hump
shaped things was above him in the goo, a second purple tendril shot out from
it and wrapped immediately around his neck, tightening. The tendril was rubbing
and burning into his skin like coarse ship rope. Within seconds his breathing
was cut off, and it felt as if it could squeeze his head off. The pain of not
breathing overcame him and caused him to panic. He dropped the rifle and tried
to pull at the tendril around his neck with his left hand, while trying not to have
his right arm yanked off by pulling it back against the thing’s grotesque
strength. He would be choking but all his air flow had been cut off, spit was
drooling from his lips and he felt as though he were falling into a deep fog. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
He could see that the human was
dying. He was compelled to help him, but at the risk of completing the mission?
One for many, or many for one? To him the choice was obvious; sacrifice one for
the many every time. But he hated the Riachen, and he couldn’t stand by and
watch them take life. Anger filled him and he disengaged the shield, drew and elongated
an energy blade while holding the wooden weapon with his other leg and slashed
the tendrils with a single swipe. The Riachen reeled back a bit from the pain
and he moved expeditiously to stand over the human, engaging the shield once
again, burning through tendrils and Riachen that had moved in to attack him at
the sight of the breach in his defense. He turned the blade off and pouched it,
and then pried at the still tight tendril with his tarsus until, eventually, it
was removed from around the human’s neck, whose face had developed a bluish hue
from the lack of air. He hoped he hadn’t been too late and was relieved to see
him take in a sudden, and deep, gasp of air, open his eyes and sit up choking
and spitting. The human’s eyes were wide with shock to see his alien physique
positioned over him, and he hastily got to his feet making short, high cries of
surprise and aversion, frantically looking around until he spotted his rifle. There
was enough room for the two of them to stand and move within the field,
although it was a very tight space. The alien motioned for the human to take
one of the shield devices. He nervously eyed it but kept darting his eyes
toward the rifle. However he shortly acquiesced and took the device. The alien
then reached into a pouch and drew a small disc shaped object and rubbed it
until it glowed. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“This allows you to understand what
I am saying”, he said showing the human the device. His mandibles were chawing around the labrum,
the red maxilla peeking out and the labium moving up from the bottom as the
palps jutted in from the sides. This made clicking and chomping noises in
different tones that seemed to be translated through the device into English
within the presence of his mind. The antennae rotated and repositioned about
the alien’s green triangular head as its black compound eyes were seeing him in
ways that Jim could only imagine. It was truly astounding to witness such a
creature, and it was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">talking</i> to him.
He was overwhelmed with wonder. “You have nothing to fear, I just saved your
life. I am Lay’tog. You are born like me, not made like them.” He motioned to
the hump worm-like things that were crashing feverishly into the shield causing
an array of sparks to flash moment to moment all around them. “They are called
Riachen. That device you hold, and this one, keeps the energy dome full. Pick
up your weapon and follow close to me. We don’t have much time.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
He turned away from the human, readying the wooden master weapon before
him. The Mother Riachen was very near. They moved forward under the protection
of the energy dome, Lay’tog knew that it didn’t have much power left. He
couldn’t move too fast or he would out pace the human, but he was able to
convince Jim to jog a little in time with his long four legged strides. The horde
of Riachen was dissipating as their numbers burned into charred bits. They had
thrown themselves foolishly at the shield in abundance the moment he had gotten
close to the Mother in a panicked attempt to try and curb his advancement. With
their numbers thinning they could now make out the Mother’s lair. An immense animation
of vibrating beige flesh, crowded with long burly black tendrils that extended
out from her, floated before them in what appeared to be a thinner solution of
the syrupy fluid. A large orifice exactly like those of her brood, was located
in its center, surrounded by smaller purple tendrils that whipped about, a few
extending out to the walls of the den. There, countless translucent sacs were
attached to the walls. Inside were the unmistakable forms of small human
children and babies.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Oh my god!” Jim was deeply
disturbed, horrified at what he saw. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Yes, it is a gruesome sight. You
must stay strong in the wake of this abomination and the repugnance of its
acts. Stay focused human, we must rid the cosmos of this existence above all
else.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
The smaller purple tendrils were
plucking the sacs off the wall and moving them through the goo and into the
gaping orifice. It was obvious they were being eaten. Once it had placed four
within its maw, the larger black tendrils swelled at their stem and a bulbous
mass pushed through them to their ends. Out of each one oozed a dark grey sac
of hideous organic material pockmarked with calluses and sore-like abrasions,
which hung in the ooze and began to glow from within. Mere moments later the
sacs reached a burning brightness and the skin cracked and separated, revealing
coiled fully formed Riachen that released themselves from the tendril and
floated into the goo, uncoiling and immediately joining the attack on the
energy dome. The Mother was in a constant state of reaching to pluck sacs of
sustenance from off the den’s wall. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>Peter A. Pileggihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09132715383701062985noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27099257861890795.post-55646667294576281922011-10-27T15:54:00.001-07:002011-11-06T12:51:16.244-08:00SCUTTLE ( IX )<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
He swung the rifle strap around his
shoulder, shut the cargo hold door, and faced the direction of the deepest part
of the forest. Where were these things? In which direction? He closed his eyes
and meditated, trying to get some sort of feeling for where he should journey.
He took some deep breaths, cleared his thoughts, and his mind calmed. The air
smelled so good out here, the rain seemed to only bring out more of its
freshness. The cries of the local animals could be heard from moment to moment
as they went along their daily routines, and the buzz of insects was a
consistent cacophony. He could sense this forest life evolving, moving, and
flourishing all around him. He could see it in his minds eye in an array of
bountiful colors flowing and mixing in nature’s grand design, except for a
particular point directly before him, a ways off. A place devoid of color,
bereft of sound, emitting a deep noxious feeling and a fetid aroma. That is
where it must be; he swung the rifle around and took it from his shoulder.
He placed the butt under his right arm and his right hand around the trigger
guard with his finger on the trigger, his left hand gripped the forestock.
Feeling as ready as he would ever feel, he moved swiftly and cautiously into
the forest, noticing that someone else, somewhat bigger then he, had taken this
path not too long ago. Whatever it was, it wasn’t human. It had four legs; he
could see its marks in the mud. It was probably a part of whatever was
kidnapping the children. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
He felt confident he was on the
right path and increased the pace of his movements to a steady trot. His boots
splashed into the strange muddy tracks of whatever creature had already passed
this way as the leaves of bushes and tree branches slapped his red rain coat. After
a time, Jim noticed that dark gunk was building up on his coat and pants and
starting to decorate his gun. He stopped abruptly and held the rifle with his
right hand and hastily began brushing the gunk off his jacket with his left. It
was wet decayed foliage and boscage. Looking up he could see that all around
him the forest was dead and decomposing, and must have been like this for the
last twenty feet or so. He had been too caught up in the urgency of the situation to notice earlier. The bark of the trees was black and the branches
drooped and sagged. The leaves that were once green were now brown, yellow and
deep purple, quaggy and mushy. The forest was rotting before his eyes and the
vile smell assaulted his senses and his stomach lurched vomit into his mouth. He
spit it out and took some deep breaths, trying to ignore the smell and regain
his focus. He readied his rifle once again and carefully trudged through the
slimy muck. It was now dead silent, nothing stirred in what he had previously found to be
a forest constantly vibrating with life. It chilled him. What were these
things? From whence had they come? They weren’t here when he had explored this
landscape a year or so ago.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Eventually he noticed a clearing
ahead and slowed his movements. Stepping slowly and discreetly, he bent his
knees and bowed his head, pointing the rifle forward as he approached the
clearing line. Once there, he took a knee and examined the blunt glassy walled
structure. The rain was coming down in heavy cascading sheets and it pounded
into him. He noticed that raindrops seemed to become part of the structure as
they hit it, instead of being repelled off. It gave the impression that the
rainfall was flowing into it. Jim found the structure very surreal; it was if
it were hard rain, like waterfall walls. It mesmerized him for a spell and he
had to shake his head and remember why he was there. He didn’t know if he was
ready for this, but he got to his feet and quickly ran to the left of the
structure’s opening, putting his back against the wall so he could lean over
and peer into it. Empty. The twilight came in through the glassy walls with a
diffused smokiness, but enough of it shone through to make it clear that
nothing living was scurrying around in the immediate area. Jim entered with his
rifle pointed before him and made his way in the only direction available,
forward along the floor as it slanted downward, underground. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
The floor was made of the same
substance as the ceiling and walls, it was very slick and Jim’s boots could
find no hold as he found himself waving his arms and trying not to fall.
Eventually he figured out that if he slid his feet as he walked, as if on a wet
floor, he could continue onward without falling, although he had to move rather
slowly. The area was devoid of obstruction and before too long he realized that
he was going to be underground and lose his light source. He hadn’t wanted to
use his light box and attract any attention, but he would soon have no other
choice. He found it very bizarre that he hadn’t encountered any of the
creatures that Agent E.I.S. had picked up in the infrared, and he hoped that he
had somehow lucked out rather then it being some trick to lure him into an
ambush. He decided it was time to turn on some light and he took a small clear
box out of his jacket pocket and shook it. Light filled it and illuminated the
area in a thirty foot radius in all directions from its origin. The other
property of this tool was that it adhered to metal surfaces, and he placed it
upon the metal rail in front of the scope on the rifle. He resumed his journey
forward and was soon amazed to see that the fortifications of this enclosure
oozed into a clear syrup like embodiment of fluid some thirty feet ahead. He
stopped bewildered as to what he could do now. How could he enter that and
breathe? What a defense. If Clarissa was here that would mean that she was in
there. And if she was in there then how could she still be alive? Despair began
to overtake him, but he shook it off. He couldn’t just give up at the first
sign of adversity. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
With deliberate sliding movements
he eased toward the liquid wall. As he neared the gelatinous mass he noticed
that there was a large fissure in it, slowly closing as the liquid oozed in
upon itself. Still it was large enough for him to enter. The question was: did
he dare? This was it, a choice that could cost him his life. If he didn’t go,
it could mean the end of Clarissa’s. But how was he to know if she was even
still alive? He was wracking his mind in the span of seconds trying to come to
a clear resolution that he could feel sure about, feel good about. There was no
way it could be that easy, and no thought entered his mind that would make him
feel like he was making the right judgment. And judgment is what it was, to
condemn or be condemned to death. Time was running out, the fissure was
closing, although gradually. What is it to live without the will to sacrifice
yourself for others? He didn’t want to know, to know that kind of apathy, of
resignation. To die for a cause would always be the better choice for him, then
to live with contrition. He took a deep breath, pointed his rifle before him
and went into the syrupy mass. It was indeed a haphazard, meandering tunnel
through this strange substance that seemed to get larger the further he
traveled. Before long he beheld the miner: an insect of great stature and girth
surrounded by some sort of energy shield that was burning through the liquid,
creating this passage. Large beige hump shaped, worm like, things were shooting
purple tendrils at it from their horrid bodies, which were being burned as they
met the shield, causing sparks to shine. This didn’t seem to deter them and
they began to attach themselves to the shield, even though they were instantly
charred into fleshy black carcasses. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>Peter A. Pileggihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09132715383701062985noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27099257861890795.post-86049363447879859722011-10-20T10:42:00.000-07:002011-10-20T10:43:49.476-07:00SCUTTLE ( VIII )<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Listen, it looks bad but we really
don’t know what we are looking at,” said Steven, attempting to reassure the
couple. “We can’t have E.I.S. turn on his light or they will locate his
position. We’re thinking that we need to contact the authorities before we do
anything else.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
As Elizabeth sunk into his chest and sobbed, Jim
turned his head back towards them. “Do you have the exact location pinpointed?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Yes. It is a few miles within Timber Park,
close to the northeast entrance. Why?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Jim stood up slowly, bringing Elizabeth up with him. He
whispered into her ear and she began to walk with him toward the stairs,
leaning heavily upon him. “Look, you guys do what you think you have to do,” he
turned and shouted back to the news guys, “but we can’t wait around any more.
If there is any chance that Clarissa is alive we have to go now.” He began
moving up the stairs with Elizabeth.
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“You’re fucking crazy.” Ron was
flabbergasted. “Did you see how many of them there are? You’re dead meat you
walk in there.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“We don’t have any choice, there
isn’t enough time. I’m going to put Elizabeth
to bed and then I’m heading out.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Ron turned to Steven. “Crazy
bastard.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
The images assaulted him in waves.
Dead infants of both his and the human’s race encased in pods and fed into the
orifice of the Riachen Mother, sounds of the infants’ cries as they were
devoured. Riachen tendrils wrapping about his neck and legs, pulling at them
until they are ripped off, white fluid spurting out. His mental barriers kept
them at bay, exposing them for what they were and failing to fool him into
believing that they were really happening. The Riachen surrounded him, squirming
across the floor, writhing along the wet, translucent walls, wiggling along the
ceiling overhead. He activated the devices within the grasp of his smaller
legs. A multitude of tendrils exploded toward him from all angles. They shot
through the air and met a dome of electrical current surrounding the intruder;
each tendril burned and was violently forced back with bolts of current. He
fired his pistols, targeting the fleshy humps in rapid succession. He knew this
would only deter their advancements for a few moments. He activated another
component of the devices. The dome surrounding him became solidly visible and
bursting with energy. As moments passed it became brighter and brighter into
blinding white light until it shot out a solid current of explosive energy in
every direction, burning the Riachen as it contacted them until they were
charred black pieces of dried meat. This lasted mere seconds and then the dome
flashed out, devoid of energy. It would need some time to recharge. This was a
dangerous time when he would be without his shield and would have to rely
solely on his abilities as a warrior. He put the devices back into their
pouches on his belt and dropped the pistols from his large legs to his now
empty smaller ones. His two larger tarsi reached to the side of his belt and
each drew a small square box with an indented area that was lighter in hue. He
rubbed these areas simultaneously and a thin triangular energy beam spread out
from each box, the bottom was wide and the beam thinned out to a sharp point at
the top. He held these out to his sides as he slowly moved deeper into the den.
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
The den slanted down beneath the
planet’s surface, which was where the Mother sat, feeding. It was dark down
there; no light was able to enter from the outside world. Immediately his
antenna picked up the presence of Riachen moving toward him, about thirty or so.
They would soon be close enough to shoot their tendrils at him, and he prepared
himself for the coming battle. As soon as they were within firing range, he
began to blast them with his pistols. He was able to target about half of them,
successfully keeping them from shooting the purple rope-like tendrils inlaid
with red branching vessels, but the others did not hesitate. The grotesque
rope-like extensions shot toward him again, and with deft slashes he cut them
out of the air with his energy blades. He could hear the Riachen cry out in
pain, a combined sound that overloaded and assaulted his antenna, as they
swiftly drew their tendrils back. He had never stopped firing blasts from his
pistol during this assault and soon he had this wave stunned and immobile. He
then targeted them one at a time and shot blast after blast into their fleshy
hides, taking huge chunks out of them as purple and green fluids spurted into
the air and ran upon the ground. When he felt sure that one was dead he would
repeat the process on the next one. When he got close enough he began slashing
the bodies with his energy blades, cutting them in half and assuring that they
would never move again. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
He was close now. The slick
translucent walls, ceiling and floor began to run together into some clear
thick syrupy fluid that made up the entire inner sanctum of the den. He paused
here. A hundred or more Riachen slithered about within the fluid and he knew
from experience that the Mother was right behind them, along with any babies
still alive and encased in pods. He holstered his pistols and drew the two
devices he had previously been holding. They had fully recharged by now. He
activated the energy dome and strode into the fluid. The energy burned and
forced the fluid to push out and around it, unable to penetrate the protective
dome. The Riachen seemed to know not to shoot their tendrils and instead hit him
with a psychic blast that stunned him and froze him in place. He was reluctant
to use the energy blast; he needed the energy dome to last as long as possible.
He withstood the psychic blast as it nearly caused him to lose consciousness.
But he fought through it and pressed on. A Riachen got brave and approached the
dome looking for a weakness. A bit of it brushed up against the energy and it
was instantly burned. It hastily retreated by wriggling violently through the
fluid. He knew that he could keep pushing foreword until he reached the Mother,
the Riachen would keep their distance knowing that attacking him would prove
futile.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Jim parked his car nearby the only
other car in the lot. He had driven to this part of Timber Park
purely on guesswork and feeling. The presence of this other vehicle seemed to
substantiate the likelihood that he was close to where Clarissa was being held,
but that wasn’t exactly a sound conclusion. It was probably a hiker. He got out
of his car, his boots pushing into the small wet stones, the rain washing over
him like heavy mist. After adjusting his ball cap, he lifted the hood of his
rain jacket over it and tied it securely. He then walked around to the cargo
hold and opened it. Inside was a high-powered pulse rifle complete with scope
and Bull energy amplification unit. He had carried it with him during his days
of exploring the park. He picked it up and toggled a sensor located over the
small of the stock. It clicked, whirred, and then settled down to a low vibrant
hum. He picked up the amplification unit and locked it into the accumulator
located behind the firing chamber. The humming got louder; it could now knock
over a large animal with one blast, where as before it would have taken two. Unfortunately,
it will also deplete the energy supply twice as fast, and then will take
several minutes to recharge once it is powered down. He didn’t know how many of
these things there were, probably more then he had energy blasts for, but he
had to risk everything and try and save as many children as possible. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>Peter A. Pileggihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09132715383701062985noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27099257861890795.post-37854330856826278562011-10-14T15:24:00.001-07:002011-10-20T10:17:37.158-07:00SCUTTLE ( VII )<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Eventually he arrived at the park
and stored his car in one of many open stalls in a vacant lot. He exited the
car and immediately disengaged the disguise and returned comfortably to his own
natural form, his antennae twitching alertly. He opened the cargo hold door and
took out various devices and inserted them into his belt. He then opened the
door to his vehicle and reached into the back seat and brought out a larger
device with a long, thin barrel about four feet in length. It was built out of
a substance that resembled wood with a smooth finish; it had little grooves and
hooks on a box-like part where the barrel jutted out from, designed for his
tibiae and tarsi to take hold and operate. He slung this so its strap rested
against his neck, just below his head, and the device settled upon his
prothorax as he bent it forward about fifteen degrees, it protruded out to
either side of his body a good length. He stood a moment facing the wood in the
direction of the den, crossed his large upper legs and bowed his head to draw
strength and to focus. His senses were acute and he could feel the dark spot. Devoid
of light and warmth, it sucked at its surroundings and drew in the energy of
the neighboring life, whether it be animal or plant. He pictured its vile form
of moist rounded walls built from Riachen fluid secretions that had solidified
and became shelter, as it sat under the covering branches of surrounding woodland
trees. His mind journeyed within the moist rounded walled den, to the thick syrupy
fluid center where the Riachen mother bathed and fed. He saw her clearly in his
minds eye and he imagined her pain and saw her screams bubble through the
syrupy goo, screams that he would draw from her as he took her life.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
He raised his head and the four
legs attached at his metathorax moved back and forth along the ground as he
scuttled through the bush under the trees. The nearer he got, the darker the wood
became and where there were the myriad sounds of birds and animals earlier, silence
deepened as the surroundings became bereft of life. The flora sagged and faded
in color, browning and decaying the closer he got to the den. Then it was
before him, mere yards away, slick and glassy translucent walls made from the
fluids of Riachen workers. It was not a large structure, merely twenty or so
feet wide, about ten or so feet high, mostly built underground. The Riachen
were a burrowing horde, the rains keeping the ground soft and easily minable. The
prey that had hung from the trees earlier had been plucked, most likely for the
immediate suscitation of the Mother. Pausing here, his antennae alert to the
number of Riachen directly within their structure, he began to prepare himself
for the first assault. This was always a physic one, designed to cause despair
and hamper motivation and focus. He was not prepared before and they were able
to crush his will enough to cause him to retreat. Part of the reason they were
able to do so was the revelation that a Riachen Mother was present. This
unhinged his nerve, he had not prepared for her and confrontation would have
resulted in his demise. Now he was ready and he concentrated, building up
mental barriers that would shield him from their physic attack. With the larger
legs of his prothorax he drew two pistols from his belt; his smaller legs each
drew a different device. With long slow strides from the legs of his
metathorax, two at a time on each side, he walked into the opening of the den.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Agent E.I.S. relayed information
back to Steven’s metallic book and he shared, “Well boys it looks as though the
end’s in sight. Seems that E.I.S has registered an opening in the tunnel about eighty
or so feet ahead. He is also registering movement in front of the opening,
although it is very vague at the moment.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Oh, finally!” exclaimed a weary
Ron. “Now let’s hope it’s news worthy.” He looked around to make sure Elizabeth wasn’t present
or coming down the stairs.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Jim noticed and leaned in close to
him. “I’m going to go get her now, so you might want to watch your insensitive
career minded notions from here on out.” He patted him on the back, turned and
jaunted up the stairs. He had great news and he couldn’t wait to see the
excitement on Elizabeth’s
face when he told her. He opened the door to her room and was surprised to find
her sitting on the side of the bed, wide awake and starring into middle
distance. She did not look up as he entered and made his way to her side. He
sat down next to her putting his arm around her shoulder. “You alright baby?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
She turned into him, drawing his
warmth in closer, “I was just thinking. The possibilities of what we might find
are running through my head. I couldn’t really sleep, I’m so afraid that we
won’t find her well.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“I’m sorry.” He drew her in
tighter. “You have to prepare for that possibility. We just don’t know what we
are going to find at the end of the tunnel. It might not even be human. Keep
hopeful baby, but you have to prepare for the worst.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
She sat up, pulling herself away
from his embrace but putting a hand upon his chest. “Why? Why do I have to
prepare for the death of my little girl? She’s alive, Jim. I know she is.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Look, no one is saying she isn’t,
but the circumstances lead us to conclude the worst. You just need to prepare
yourself emotionally for what could potentially be devastating.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Well I’m not going to, because
that works against the positive energy of my belief. I won’t allow that to seep
in, ever.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“OK, ok. Listen, the E.I.S. is
close to an exit in the tunnel, and there is movement. We should go down
there.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Elizabeth’s eyes widened and she stood up
briskly. “Let’s go!” She pulled Jim up by his arms and they quickly left the
bedroom and headed down the hall to the basement door. They were half way down
the basement stairs by the time Steven and Ron noticed, so enthralled were they
by whatever was on the metallic book’s screen. Steven rushed up to them while
Ron blocked the screen. “Look, I don’t think you guys want to see this. And I’m
thinking that we should have had the authorities here. It’s just awful.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Elizabeth pushed at his chest; Jim had her by
the shoulders. “What?!” she said with some alarm. “I don’t care what it is, I
have to know!” She tried to push past Steven, but Jim held her tightly and her
upper body was pulled back as a leg kicked out. “Let go of me Jim! You can’t
keep me from the truth. I need to know!” Jim released her as she pushed up
against him again; she stumbled down the stairs in haste and crossed the dusty floor
to where Ron stood blocking the screen with arms crossed. She forcibly moved him
out of the way and he was easily pushed aside. What she saw upon that screen couldn’t
be fully comprehended, at first. It was an infrared view showing countless
orange wormlike shapes moving around on a purple background. Perceptibly it began
to dawn on her. What she was looking at was what had come for her young child;
this was a nest of creatures that are a part of the insectas class. These creatures’
existence was previously unknown to humans, and was only encountered because
they settled this distant planet. Creatures of the insectas class operate
solely for the benefit of their kind, without mercy or compassion for other
life forms. The horror of it was sinking in, they gather for the nourishment of
their hive, for the reproduction of their kind. There is no want of ransom, there
is no desire to capture and release. Tears welled up in her eyes and eventually
escaped and rolled down her cheeks. Her baby was dead. There was no other
conclusion, and she fell down upon her knees and wept openly. Jim rushed to her
side and put his arm around her, while Steven and Ron watched, powerless as to
what to do, from the stairs behind them. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
</div>Peter A. Pileggihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09132715383701062985noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27099257861890795.post-55411825608938065312011-10-05T16:39:00.000-07:002011-10-11T06:03:44.522-07:00SCUTTLE ( VI )<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Perfect,” said Steven as he placed
the metallic book on the table, opening it so the top half faced the hole. On
the top half was a screen and on the bottom was an array of buttons and digital
sensory controls. He turned it on and the screen came alive with the murkiness
of the cellar; the dirt floor stretched out with Jim’s legs in the background.
“There is a digital camera within the Agent’s sphere that picks up images in
great detail twenty feet away, and at lesser detail between twenty and a
hundred or so feet away, and at a three foot radius in any direction. The neck
that the camera is on can pivot or move in any direction in order to pinpoint
an image better. There is a small but powerful light built into its front under
the neck. It can also view and record in infra-red.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Wow,” said Jim, marveling at the
little bot as its neck rotated and moved about. “You’re not operating any
controls; can it operate on its own?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Yes, it has an artificial
intelligence that is pretty simplistic. It is basically always searching for imagery.
Now, it can be searching for unusual footage that it constantly checks against
a database of imagery stored at the network, which it accesses via satellite,
or it can be programmed to search for specific imagery. That can either be done
through pinpoint description, say from a picture of a known fugitive for
example, or in more general terms using a broader descriptive category like
children, or wallets.” Steven chuckled at his little joke. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Jim smiled politely. “What do you
do in this case? We don’t have any idea what we are looking for.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“We are probably just going to have
it pick up every image that it finds in that tunnel. We can always adjust it if
it enters a wider area with more details. We should get started.” Steven
carefully and gently picked up Agent E.I.S. and placed it at the beginning of
the tunnel. Its appendages immediately began moving and pressing against the
dirt as it seemed to be analyzing its footing. The claws gripped in and out of
the dirt and it walked forward a foot and then back again as its neck moved and
the sphere rotated. Then it popped the light on and it beamed into the tunnel showing
that it stretched out about forty feet or so before ending at a dirt wall.
“Hmmm.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Jim furrowed his brow, that
couldn’t be the end? He was glad Elizabeth
wasn’t here. She wasn’t going to handle any disappointments in this search very
well. “Is that it?” he asked.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Maybe. It’s hard to say. Let’s
hope not, it could be that the tunnel goes downward there. Anyway, we will soon
find out.” Steven pressed a couple buttons and slid his fingers across a couple
sensors and Agent E.I.S. began to claw its way forward with brisk but precise
mechanical movements, its appendages moving forward two at a time on each side.
Jim positioned himself behind Steven so that he could see the screen on the operating
console. Just the reddish brown walls of the tunnel, made up of Taneria’s
strange soil and radiated by the Agent’s light, was all he could see for now.
Within three minutes or so it was approaching the wall, about a foot and a half
from this dirt end it paused. The sphere rotated downward and it switched
itself into infra-red; the tunnel did indeed continue. It sloped downward and
then forward and angled out of the viewing range of the E.I.S.. Again Steven
slid his fingers across a couple sensors and the cam bot moved forward,
following the tunnel’s meandering path. After about ten minutes of watching the
same visual display of darkness and dirt, Jim realized that this may go on for
quite some time. “The tunnel has dropped to about a foot or so below where we
are standing and seems to be heading toward Timber Park
on the outskirts of the city.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Jim was very familiar with that
park. He would explore it often after first arriving in Galendein, a solution
to his pioneering nature and the acute boredom he suffered from the, then, lack
of nightlife present in the city. Before the city began booming it was
literally vacant most nights of the week. The park was littered with trails
from foresters and survey crews that stretched deeply into its rugged
woodlands. Even though the forests of this planet were very similar to Earth’s,
they still beheld plant and animal life that was fantastically alien, it was
highly suggested that residents explore with extreme caution and carry some
sort of shooting weapon. Those were good times before the partying began. Hours
alone, out in the woods with his thoughts and his ambitions, every turn
offering enchantment and wonder. A time of reflection and exploration, he
realized then that he could only hope to find himself experiencing such
rewarding moments again. If the tunnel did indeed lead to Timber Park,
and even though the cam bot moved expeditiously, it would still be an extended
time before it reached it.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
He took his time to transverse the puddle
laden streets, saturated by the unending torrent that assaulted the city. The
Riachen brought the rains with them, through a combined psychic link that could
draw water to them, an ability they had honed from thousands of years of existence.
The rain provided the environment that they needed to exist in; it softened the
ground and kept their den damp and their flesh moist. It also kept their prey
secluded to their lairs, where it was easier to obtain the soft and fragile
shells of their children. When a Riachen Mother was present the pull on the
rains was stronger and kept present with ferocity, for she was much larger then
her brood and needed more water to keep herself properly moistened to
reproduce. With a Mother present it was also more difficult to exterminate the
horde, which is why he took his time. Any further moment was used to rebuild
strength, and heal, before the battle. It would go far in ensuring his victory.
Usually the Riachen harvested the fragile shells of a species without the
Mother present, encasing them in a sticky slick pod of sugary secretion that
they produced in abundance through orifices located at the back of their grotesque
bodies. This was done with the help of copious amounts of water. This encasing
preserved the meat of their prey for what was usually a long journey home to
where their Mothers awaited the quarry with lustful craving; having long ago
harvested the planets in their proximity to extinction. In doing so the pod
acts as a life preserving encasement as well, effectively placing the youngling
into a state of suspended animation. Every so often a Mother would join the
horde, unwilling to await the delivery of her food, most likely swollen with
life giving secretion and lacking in the necessary sustenance, starving for
immediate fulfillment. This presents the opportunity to not only eradicate a
Riachen horde and its Mother, but also thousands of potential Riachen progeny.
This thought brought him joy and his human disguise smiled, although his real face
never could.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
Peter A. Pileggihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09132715383701062985noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27099257861890795.post-17589597675335728822011-09-20T16:58:00.001-07:002011-09-20T17:20:57.823-07:00SCUTTLE ( V )<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
The next morning, after enjoying a
blissful night together, Jim and Elizabeth began making phone calls to
different media outlets and science agencies in hopes of borrowing a robot cam
that could navigate the confining tunnel in search of baby Clarissa. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
After being turned down a number of
times, they finally found a willing donor. Adroit Broadcasting Channel 32 said
they would lend their cam if they received full broadcast rights to Elizabeth’s story, as
well as full ownership of any electronic images that the sensor stored in its
memory. Of course they would agree. For the station it meant an inside scoop on
a story that has plagued the community of Galendein for months, and this was
possibly a chance to garner fame for helping to capture the kidnappers. They
would send a reporter and a camera operator over this afternoon. Momentarily
relieved, they relaxed with a couple of beers and tuna sandwiches on the couch
in front of the tele-screen. The 12 o’clock news spewed forth from the screen
within the wall. It began with the story that had the community and planet
frozen in fear. A story so unusual and mysterious that it was news on every
colonized planet and even Earth, though the amount of each communities own
trouble and turmoil tended to over-shadow this bizarre curiosity. The
anchor-woman continued over the now familiar lines of the story as she had done
for the last two months, except now there appeared to be a twist.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“For the first night since the
kidnappings began over two months ago, no babies are missing as of this
afternoon. All children have been accounted for today, and none have been
reported missing. Police believe they know of the location where the kidnapper,
or kidnappers, had attempted the sixty third kidnapping. It is believed that
the father, having been awakened by his child’s crying, scared the kidnapper
away. However, the kidnapper was not identified, nor seen, and the only
evidence is a device of some sort found in the baby’s room. Police will not
issue any information on what that devise is, but the father has said that he
has never seen anything like it before.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Jim turned off the television,
“That’s good news.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Elizabeth put her arms around him and curled
up her legs on the couch. “Yes, I suppose so, but I just want my baby back.
Even if the kidnapper stopped all together now, I wouldn’t feel whole again
without Clarissa in my arms.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
About one thirty p.m. the robot cam
from channel 32 came, escorted by two men; Ron Dancruff the reporter, and
Steven Handlbeir the operator. They listened to Elizabeth’s story in detail while Ron took
notes, and then they were shown the tunnel in the basement.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Steve sighed and showing some
discomfort said, “You have no idea where this leads?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Nope,” Jim simply put.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Well, I can’t say I like risking
such a valuable piece of equipment. I mean, that tunnel could collapse, or drop
off, or whatever. I’m going to have to check in with my supervisor.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
While Steve went upstairs to make
the call via the small communicator in his ear, the others stood nervously in
the cellar awaiting the word. Ron began to pace, “You know I wouldn’t worry.
I’m sure we’re going to get the go ahead. The robot cam can move slowly and
this story is really important to the network.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
He was trying to assure Elizabeth,
who had become visibly distraught, but it wasn’t working. She was realizing
more and more that no one really cared about the lives in danger, just whether
or not it was important to them. “You guys do realize that there are lives in
danger here. They may not be related to you, but they are human beings who have
been stolen from the ones who love them. There is a chance that they are still
alive and we have to try and save them! Don’t you care?” There was an uneasy
silence. “Huh?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Ron was stunned, he couldn’t find
any words and she was right, he didn’t think he did care. He had never thought
about it before, he wasn’t personally involved so he just tried to ignore it,
except for the purpose of bagging a first rate story. “I’m sorry.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Jim began to console Elizabeth. Steven
returned with the word. “Well it’s a go! They’ve decided the story is worth the
risk. We’ll just go slow.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Elizabeth burst into tears. “The story is
worth the risk! The story! What about my baby? Do they give a shit about the
babies!?!”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Steven stepped back and took a long
look at Ron. Jim knew better then to try and quiet Elizabeth down, besides he
fully agreed with her attitude, so he merely held her close and let her cry
into his chest. A long tense silence overcame the news men, they could find no
words except the ones used to apologize and they knew that would mean nothing
to Elizabeth.
She saw right through their false sentimentality, they had been nailed. Jim
realized that it was up to him to keep things moving along, despite Elizabeth’s ethical
challenge. Even if she was critical of the men’s motives now, she needed them
to help her find Clarissa. If she chased these guys off she would regret it
later, and he wanted to save her from that.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Look…,” he begun, still holding
the sobbing woman close to his chest, “…regardless of how we all feel we must
continue. If not for the lives of the babies that have already been endangered,
then for the ones that will be. This is the only lead we have to the
whereabouts of not only the victims, but the perpetrators as well.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
The newsmen nodded. “I’m going to
go get Agent E.I.S. out of the van.” Steven took the cellar stairs two at a
time as he bounded on his way to retrieve his equipment. Ron began writing some
things down as Jim attempted to get Elizabeth
to go upstairs with him. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“You need to lie down for a little
bit, until you feel better. I’ll watch these guys and make sure we get going on
this. K?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
She nodded and put her arm around
his shoulders and he held her around her waist as they slowly walked up the stairs.
Once there, Jim guided her to her bedroom and helped her lay down. “If you feel
better come back down, other wise I’ll come check on you in an hour.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Alright.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
He shut her door as he saw Steven
walking slowly into the house, his two muscular arms carrying a couple of large
heavy metal cases. “Can I help you with that?” Steven put the cases down,
brushed his pony tail from resting on his chest, swinging it around to his
back, and pushed his large framed glasses back against his face.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Yes please. Go ahead and pick one.
Just be careful not to bang it into anything.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Jim picked one up and the two men
made their way downstairs, slowly. Once they were before the hole, Steven laid
both cases down and opened them. Each case held half of Agent E.I.S. The front
half of it consisted of a small round tinted sphere attached to a metal neck
that appeared to have the ability to elongate, bend up or down, and rotate 360
degrees. The neck was attached to a rectangular “body” with two rubber and
metal appendages that craned out to either side. The back of this half ended in
a cube shaped piece that appeared to lock into a section of the front part of
the second half. This piece also had two rubber and metal appendages that
craned off a rectangular metal body that concaved into a thin line at its end. Each appendage had claw-like feet that could
either scrape across cement or dig into dirt to propel itself along. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Steven attached the sections, they
connected together seamlessly. He pulled out a thin metallic book from his
backpack and looked around for a place to set it down. “Can you bring a table
down here with a clean, flat surface?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Sure, sure.” Jim hurried upstairs.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“What did you say to that woman,
Ron?” Steven inquired. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“I don’t know. I guess I wasn’t
being sensitive enough. Her child <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">is</i>
missing. I’ll make sure my tone is right and I am saying the right things when
she comes back.” He motioned toward the hole. “What do you think?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Well, it’s a long shot. I mean, a
human didn’t burrow through here, I’m quite sure of that. We are on a planet
that we don’t know a whole lot about yet, so I guess it could be that something
did. We have to check out this lead, I mean there really isn’t anything else to
go on.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“There’s that device they found.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“True, but that doesn’t lead us
anywhere and as far as a story goes the authorities are going to sit tight on
that, we aren’t going to get any word on what that is until after they solve
the case. It would seem that a humanoid would be the owner of that and not
something with a three foot diameter. But this is all we got. The producer
thinks this could be something big, we got to check it out.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“I’ll just stand around crossing my
fingers.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Yeah, Agent E.I.S is going to do
all the hard work.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
The cellar stairs creaked and Jim
was bounding down them with a wooden end table. He stopped a few feet from the
hole and put it down. “Will this do?”<br />
<br /></div>
Peter A. Pileggihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09132715383701062985noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27099257861890795.post-36878370392630165442011-09-04T12:52:00.001-07:002011-10-05T16:08:58.264-07:00SCUTTLE ( IV )<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Why? Why is he going over to some
strange woman’s house to look at her cellar? Why is he getting involved in the
tragic disappearance of her daughter?” These questions assaulted Jim as he
drove over to Elizabeth’s
house. “Hell, he knew why. She’s a beautiful woman, and he’s an interested
single guy. Still, why get involved with her trauma?” He was never one to get
involved with women who had heavy issues. If they were stressed out neurotics, emotionally
bankrupt due to being abused and battered, or on some moral crusade against the
crimes of humanity, he stayed away from women that had more problems then he
did. This was simply because he had a hard enough time dealing with his own
issues, and besides he was trying to have fun.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Elizabeth. Elizabeth was different. His attraction to
her wasn’t just about her beauty. This woman is dealing with extreme turmoil in
her life, and yet she continued to hold on to her humor and her reason. She’s
strong and resilient, traits that are so rare in people, and what he has found
to be sorely lacking in most women, or at least the ones he had been seeing. He
should probably face it, he had been dating weak minded individuals, and that
had never mattered before. Yeah, she had lost it, and at that moment she opened
up and showed that she was also vulnerable. She let him soothe and comfort her,
and no woman had ever let him do that without having to prove himself first, of
course most of his relationships with women to this point had been based solely
on sexual attraction. There was much more to her then her beauty and sexuality
and he was very interested in what that might be. There was also something
changing in him, his perspective altering, growing, and he damn well needed to
see where that was leading.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
As usual, rain fell in great
buckets along the metal streets, wood houses and manicured Earth-like lawns.
The soil and seed were imported from Earth, computerized machines were
installed underneath to control the amount of heat, chemicals, and water needed
to keep the vegetation alive. If there wasn’t enough from Taneria’s climate,
naturally, then it was produced. Likewise if there was too much, it was
diluted, dried or cooled by the machines and the science of chemistry to obtain
the needed balance for sustainability. Jim’s car stopped automatically at the
coordinates that Elizabeth
had provided, which he had punched into its computer earlier. Before he had
reached the porch step, she had opened the door and was beckoning him inside
her county style two story home with gabled roof and wrap around porch. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
He entered quickly, and without
even saying hello she had him follow her across the wide plank heart pine wood
floors through beautifully decorated high ceilinged rooms to the cellar door. Opened,
its stairs descended into pitch darkness, and the smell of mildew and the aroma
of Taneria’s odd soil filled the cement stairwell.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Where’s the light?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
She looked innocently up into his
eyes, “I’ve been having electrical problems for awhile now. We have to go down
and screw in the bulbs.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
His face screwed up a little and he
gave a worried grin, his eyes rapidly moving about in search of a safe way down.
“Don’t worry, I know the way. The cellar is pretty empty and worn down. This
house has been here for at least fifty years, built by early settlers, so it’s
a bit run down in parts. Steven was going to remodel it, but he never got
around to it before he left.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
She took his hand and led him down
into the cellar. It was not long before they stopped and Elizabeth screwed in a light bulb that had
been resting in its socket. It lit up about a thirty foot radius within the
fairly large cellar. The cement walls were cracking and crumbling and there
were wooden beams with metal brackets placed in key positions to reinforce the
floor above. In separate heaps scattered about the floor were piles of Taneria
soil. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Everything here remained
relatively the same after Clarissa vanished except for this.” She walked
between some beams to a part of the wall where the cement had fallen, exposing a hole in the soil about the size of a very large gopher.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“What is it?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“It’s a tunnel stupid,” she said
jokingly, and smiled. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“A tunnel?” Jim raised his eyebrows
and took a step back. “To where?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“That I don’t know, but I was
hoping you could help me with that.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“What do you mean?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Well, it’s obviously how the
kidnapper entered my home. I told the police but they didn’t buy it because
they couldn’t imagine how a human could fit through that opening. But a small
human could. If we find out where the tunnel leads, we will find out more then
we know now.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“OK. In theory that all makes
sense, although I’m not sure even a small human could navigate that, but you
don’t have any proof. Even if you did, how can we explore it without risking
our lives in doing so?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Elizabeth bowed her head a little and sadly
said, “I don’t know, but it’s the only lead I have. I just want to find my
baby.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Jim softened like a piece of warmed
cheese and put his hand upon her elbow. She immediately put her arms around him
and drew him in tightly. They held each other there. “It will be ok Elizabeth, we’ll figure
something out. Maybe we can acquire a robot cam and have it investigate where
the tunnel leads.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Her head felt good against his
shoulder. In his arms she felt secure and far from worry. “That sounds good,”
she lifted her head and looked into his eyes. It looked as though she wanted
the same thing and he bent his head down toward her to prove it. Their lips met
and their tongues parted them. Whatever they were going to do, it was going to
have to wait. Awhile.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Signals channeled the airwaves,
sharp and direct. Sliced easily through softness, and drove through dense
matter. Emanating from a strong and vibrant power source they transmitted forth
from a planet far out in space. Their receiver stood motionless in his
apartment, his appendages wrapped about him as his antennae pulsated alertly.
His wings spread out fan-like to help draw in the clicks and clatter of the
message. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
It came from the Queen of his kind,
three times him in size and power. She is insistent and wants to know why he
has taken so long to exterminate the Riachen. Does he need assistance? To
accept the help she offers would damage his credibility as the foremost
indomitable warrior in her entourage. Concentrating all his strength he
attempted to respond. It will cost him all his energy for the time being and he
will have to rest for hours before he can return to the hunt. He communicates,
through his antennae, a polite decline to her offer and a reassurance that the
Riachen horde burrowed here will be exterminated within a couple days. Also, he
has located the entrance to their burrow and sensed the presence of a Riachen
Mother within. In fact it was her power that had stopped him from exterminating
the horde upon discovery. Now he is building and storing the needed energy to
fight her. “Do not worry, my Queen. Your best and brightest charge will rid one
more planet of this scourge that threatens the born!”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
The communication complete, he
returned to human disguise and stood before his patio. Bowing his head one
final time before the coming battle, he fell into the meditative slumber needed
to rebuild his energy.</div>
Peter A. Pileggihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09132715383701062985noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27099257861890795.post-43760092947616354322011-08-18T15:07:00.000-07:002011-08-19T14:29:29.361-07:00SCUTTLE ( III )<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">Hurriedly he left his apartment and entered his car, his senses still in tune with the creature. It was getting closer to its prey, he needed to hurry but his car is controlled by the electro-magnetic track it rides upon. It will not allow him to exceed the maximum speed regulated by the city’s Safety Commission. The sky thundered and the rain poured. He was just blocks away, but it had already entered the house. Not wanting to drop his disguise, he no longer had any choice.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Positioning his right hand before the control box within the car’s dashboard he removed the restricting illusion of a human hand and arm, <!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--><span style=" Times New Roman";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >dispersing it into the ether in tiny ultraviolet lights. </span><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--><span style="font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-Times New Roman";mso-ansi-language:EN-US;mso-fareast-language: EN-US;mso-bidi-language:AR-SAfont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;" ><span style="font-size:100%;">As it dissipated it revealed</span> </span>a dark green insect-like appendage with a shelled spiked femur, a spiked tibia jointed at the end, and a thin tarsus jutting out from the tibia. The tarsus radiated; aglow with some sort of self emanating energy and he fused it into the box. Letting go of the mental lock he had upon his foe, he concentrated on hacking into the car’s mechanics. There was a strained look upon his face for a few moments, and then relief as the speed of the car increased. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">Seconds later he arrived at the house. Defusing his arm from the control box, he attempted to lock back in on the creature. It was in the child’s room, on the wall above the crib. Now there is sudden urgency and no time for secrecy. He completely removed the illusion of his human disguise,<span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--><span style="font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-Times New Roman";mso-ansi-language:EN-US;mso-fareast-language: EN-US;mso-bidi-language:AR-SAfont-family:";font-size:100%;" >a million pieces of light swirling in the air and then vanishing.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span>He was still as tall as the human illusion, about seven feet, but instead of two legs he had four segmented ones that supported a dark green metathorax with a lined white pulpous abdomen protruding out behind him. His prothorax extended up and erect from his metathorax at a ninety degree angle, at that point of connection two leathery wings sat folded upon his metathorax and a black belt with buttoned consoles, pouches, and gun holsters was fastened there as well. At the end of his prothorax was a neck-like segment supporting a triangular head with large shiny black compound eyes that encompassed much of the area upon it. Two small antennae jutted out from the area between the eyes and swirled about in the air, searching and detecting. Four legs reached out from the prothorax, arm-like, two on either side. The top two were large and as been described, the lower two were smaller versions and somewhat dainty. One of the larger ones held a small electronic device and the two smaller ones each held a small laser pistol within the grasp of the tarsus. He was dark green from the metathorax down, and his legs and antennae were as well, but his head and prothorax were a dark scarlet stenciled with a winding elaborate alien and somewhat tribal pattern in black lines. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">Going to the back door, he placed the device’s sensor against the electronic door lock and punched in commands with the tarsus of his free upper-leg. The door clicked and opened with a swoosh, and he swiftly scuttled through the house, up the stairs, and into the child’s room. Its flesh was beige and it was hump shaped and moist with no visible appendages, eyes, or mouth. It was just a moving flesh hump about six feet long and nearly upon the crib. The pistol blast was swift and silent, aimed for the top front part of the hump, the brain. Stopping all forward movement, the creature slung two long purple rope-like tendrils, red branching vessels running through them, from somewhere underneath it.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>One wrapped about his neck, it was incredibly strong and was attempting to squeeze off his head. The other wrapped about a tarsus holding a pistol, forcing him to drop it. His mandibles gnawed about nervously and his wings extended up in instinctual alarm, but he stayed focused and fired two quick blasts into the creature’s brain with the second pistol. It emitted some sort of high pitched cry that overloaded his sensory waves, released the hold of its tendrils, and fell from the wall. It reeled in its tendrils in an abrupt moment, withered and twisted as its cry hit a climatic fever pitch and then instantly laid still and silent. The baby had awoken and was crying.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">Cautiously he approached his still foe. Experience had taught him to kick them over to assure their death. Someone was coming down the hall, he must leave unseen and with the creature. The humans must not know of their existence. The baby was very upset and crying loudly. He kicked over the hump. Not dead. Tendrils shot out in a circular pattern from around an open orifice with fleshy flaps and tiny sharp fangs that guarded its entrance. The tendrils wrapped themselves swiftly about his body and it pulled itself up onto him, attaching and biting into his prothorax. The door knob turned. With advanced speed he opened the window and squeezed out onto the side of the house, his bottom legs digging into it in an attempt to find purchase. His wings spread and began flapping at an extreme rate of speed creating a loud humming sound, milliseconds later he flew from the house with the creature biting into him.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>He landed in a grove of trees close by. The ground was muddy with puddles of water from the days of constant rain, and his four bottom legs had a difficult time finding hold as he wrestled with the creature. It pulled its sucking maw deeper into his chest. He clasped the creature between the femur and tibia of his large upper legs, sinking the spikes into its flesh, and began cutting and chewing through the creature’s thick skin with his mandibles, feeding. His palps tore into it and he devoured sections of its body in an attempt to kill it as fast as possible. Within seconds the creature died and it fell from his body as its tendrils went limp. Wounded, thick white juice running from a sizable hole in him, he carried the hump to his car. He was not too worried about being seen now; the city died after dark, not a soul on the street as the humans cowed in their homes stricken with fear. He put the creature in the cargo hold of his car. Then he pressed a series of buttons on a console in his belt and a long line of ultraviolet light appeared directly before him. It opened up to form a large box of the same light and millions of tiny pieces of radiance flew out of it, swirling about in the air before him until they began to attach to each other and form the enormous, slightly pudgy, man disguise he had donned earlier. His natural body seemed to contort and bend into that interdimensional box and then it closed and phased out of sight. He was now this stubbly faced and thinning haired humongous man, clothed in plain slacks, a light sweater and rain jacket, with red blood spilling from a hole in his chest. He grabbed some rags from the cargo hold and pressed them into the wound, got into the car and raced toward his apartment building. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">Once within the sanctity of his apartment, he bandaged the wound and changed his clothes. He relaxed into a leather recliner positioned before the patio door, and as he calmed he realized horribly that he had left a gun on the floor of the baby’s room. He must assume now that the police will use that as evidence in the babies’ kidnappings. If he were human he would curse aloud. His mind merely began to logically deduce how he would handle this latest misfortune. He will devour the creature’s remains at his next feeding cycle.</p>
<br />Peter A. Pileggihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09132715383701062985noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27099257861890795.post-41611450759756782462011-08-04T12:39:00.000-07:002011-08-06T13:14:17.002-07:00SCUTTLE ( II )<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><object classid="clsid:38481807-CA0E-42D2-BF39-B33AF135CC4D" id="ieooui"></object> <style> st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } </style> <![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">The rain cascaded off the awning like a waterfall. Underneath it, at a table on the patio of Café Calliope, Jim sipped from his cup of coffee and attempted a smile. Elizabeth, he had asked her name in the car, sat across from him with Chamomile tea. She did not return his grace. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">“It had happened about five weeks ago. I put her to bed and gave her a kiss on the forehead. The next morning she was gone.”<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>She had spoken with strength and without emotion.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">“How old was she?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">“Two,” and suddenly a tear could not be forced back, and it rolled down her cheek.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">Jim was trying to determine how much he actually cared about this woman and her trauma; after all he had just met her. Yes, she was attractive, but that didn’t mean he cared for her. He couldn’t decide, but somewhere in his chest a stirring occurred and he concluded that he would find out.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">He reached across the table and softly smoothed the tear into her cheek with his fingers. “Hey, there’s nothing you can do.” It was an attempt to comfort from a person with no experience in such matters, and it didn’t work.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">“Damn it! That’s what I’m trying to say. That I don’t buy that excuse, there is something I can do. I can find my baby!”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">Jim tried to change the subject a little, “What’s her name?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">“Clarissa”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">“Her father?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">“He’s on Earth, and he doesn’t know.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">“How can he not know? Surely this is making the news feeds on Earth?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">“Because he is an ignorant asshole.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">“Oh I see,” Jim sat back in his chair.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">Elizabeth thought she better elaborate. “We came here a month after we were married. Steven was a carpenter and, as you know, there was plenty of work here on Taneria once the settlements started mining the precious metals and ores. I mean, you know, the planet boomed. Towns grew into cities with businesses moving here needing factories and offices built, as well as restaurants and clubs. I mean, what, the population quadrupled in a matter of months?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">“Yeah, it’s been great. My business is making record sales as people build and remodel homes, and the night life was great here for awhile.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">“Well not long after we moved here our marriage began turning ugly. I found out he was cheating on me, and had been since we were dating. I tried to work it out with him, mainly because I was a couple months pregnant, but he couldn’t do it. Somehow knowing that I knew about his affairs collapsed his ego and hurt his pride so much that not only did he want to end the marriage; he also wanted to return to Earth. I could see it in his eyes, he was deeply ashamed. Not of what he had done, but that he had gotten caught. Our marriage, our baby, meant nothing to him. He left me for his wanton life and I have neither spoken to, nor heard from him, in over two and half years.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">“I see. Well, how do you suppose we find your daughter?” He scarcely believed his own words. He guessed that he was beginning to care for this woman, at least enough to help.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">Elizabeth’s face lit up with excitement, “You’ll help? Oh that’s fantastic! Everybody else I have asked thought I was crazy for even suggesting such a thing.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">Jim smiled. “Hey, I didn’t say you weren’t crazy. Hell, you most likely are. What I am saying is that I must be also. I want to help you if I can. So what’s your plan?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Sipping from her tea, Elizabeth closed her eyes as she gathered her thoughts. “The night Clarissa was stolen the house was locked shut, every window, every door. The next morning there was one door unlocked. That is where we’ll begin, the cellar.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">“The cellar?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">“Yes, the door leading from the cellar to the kitchen. There is no door leading from the cellar to the outside.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">Jim was confused, “That makes no sense. How the hell did the abductor get into and out of your cellar without breaking the lock on the door, or even leaving the cellar windows unlocked?” </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">“Precisely my point, that gap in reason and logic is a clue. The police didn’t believe me; they assumed I must have forgotten to lock it. I didn’t forget, it was locked!” She didn’t shout that last statement, just sternly stressed it as factual. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">“OK…” Jim was intrigued and allowed his mind to explore the possible reasons that would explain such an odd set of circumstances. He was, frankly, perplexed. He glanced at his watch and instantly stood up when he realized the time. “I have to get back to work; can I get in touch with you tonight to discuss this further?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“Yes, why don’t you come over for dinner. That way I can show you the cellar.”</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in"> The grey night suffocated the last rays of sunlight, that only moments before had broken through the clouds. He raised his head from its resting place on his chest, were it had remained throughout the day. The city lights spoke to him, and he listened, cocking an ear in their direction. They buzz and click as electricity pushes into them, the flowing of energy pulsating as it travels throughout the grid. Opening the patio door, he stepped through and walked to stand at the far railing. He closed his eyes, concentrating on his senses. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">The hum of electricity running through wires. The crash and clang of satellite signals crossing in the air and bouncing off buildings. Lethal gases and smoke blowing in the wind from engines cranking and contorting. The cars whining on their tracks as they transverse the rain soaked streets. Mouths munching nightly meals of beef, vegetable and bread. Throats gulping beer, wine, milk and juice. The smack of a fist hitting soft skin, shouts of physical and mental pain. Laughter, deep and hearty, rumbling with pleasure. Moans and grunts, slurpings and soft touches. The hum of human life came through loud and clear, but it wasn’t what he was looking for. He concentrated harder, trying to get through the surface, deeper into the bowels of the city. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Beneath the dirt; inside the soil, the clatter of tiny insects busy at work. The vibrations of snake and worm as they wind through their tunnels. And there, not too far down, buried not but a foot or two, it moved. He could feel it now, his senses locked on. It was as large as a monitor lizard, hungry with purpose, in search of its prey. He knows where it is, and has a good idea where it is going.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in"><br /></p>Peter A. Pileggihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09132715383701062985noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27099257861890795.post-260046518278056392011-07-28T16:20:00.000-07:002011-08-04T12:43:20.413-07:00SCUTTLE ( I )<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">Long shards of glass shattered upon the roof. Echoing. Resounding through the halls of his thoughts. Long thin streams of water splashed upon the windshield as the vehicle glided smoothly along the pathway, passing lighted dwellings seated on vacant streets. Inside a man, tall and thick, his skin rough and his back straight, maneuvered his way to the city park, unafraid. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">It is the era of the fallen sky, and it has the people of Galendein locked scared behind their doors. He remained unafraid, always. Courage motivating his body, fear feeding his soul, and strength holding his mind together. But he hears the glass break, the rain splashes in his vision, and the vehicle slides along the track in the street. He has located the dark spot. The place is deep within the woods of the park, and he raced through the empty night with frantic urgency. They challenged his accession with faint illusion of sight and sound, it was insignificant to him now, and they were not close enough yet. But every moment brought him nearer until the city lights faded and the dwellings were few and far between. Beautiful green trees and bush lined the road, he was in the park now and shards of glass crashed into his vehicle with tremendous force. Concentrating through the facade the glass splashed and became water. Leaving the car in a lot, he trudged through the mud and the bush underneath the large sheltering trees. He stopped before it; darkness rested upon its entrance and filled its belly. Pushing through the bushes and into the unholy den, sinister colorless energy moved though his hair, licked at his skin. It filled him, took his soul and crushed it, emptying its essence into the void, stealing his warmth. Dead babies hung from the trees.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">He left with eyes burning cold. Back within his vehicle, he steered it along the winding track built within the pavement. The rain does not hinder his driving; he is well connected to the road. The vehicle is short and bulbous with tiny fins built into the back and front. He parked it in front of his apartment complex and went inside. He lived alone, the apartment sparsely furnished. It smelled of stale wood and mildew. Standing before the glass door to the balcony he looked out upon the quiet city below, the sun rising behind the clouds, and bowed his head.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">Jim Hanlen didn’t like his job, but he didn’t hate it either. It was just so boring sometimes, waiting for customers to come in with their desires to remodel and build. There were a few hundred different kinds of tile, hundreds of shapes and sizes, and hundreds of colors and designs to choose from. Not a big time tile outlet, just a small department of a department store. When the customers did come in, they usually didn’t want his help. Most had already paid an interior decorator to come up with the exact size, shape and color. Yeah, he was bored out of his stinking mind. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It paid well though, and at his young age of twenty-seven it was easy to spend it and have lots of fun. At least that was the case before the rains came, bringing gloom and depression to the people of Galendein, city of the province Alentone. The rains came fierce and unexpected to this usually sunny land. The endless rains, and with them the stalkers who stole babies and young children. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">On the night of the first day of the rains, someone was believed to have entered through an open window in the living room. The Steltons first newborn was missing from her crib the next morning, not a sign of her anywhere. Baby Stelton was only the first. Every night from that day to this one, over two months later, a young child has been stolen. Each one as mysteriously as the first, no trace or sign of any sort ever left behind. Panic and fear had seized the people’s minds of this city, life went on naturally during the day, but at night the city died. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">“Damn police, what are they good for?” Jim had his head resting upon his hand and his eyes had been staring into middle distance when he heard the young woman’s voice. He straightened up and focused, and saw her standing to his right at the end of the counter. Brown hair flowed over and around a fragile face. Violet lipstick colored flowery soft lips and a fading tan brightened smooth ambrosia skin. Her frame was thin and small, but her body was strong with round hips, soft robust thighs and ample breasts that had a charm all their own. She was wearing a light, beige rain jacket and tight blue slacks. Under her right arm was a folded umbrella and in her hands was a net pad, her brown eyes fixed squarely upon the screen, her brow wrinkled.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">“She’s attractive…sexy,” thought Jim, “but…”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">“I mean,” she said looking up in his direction, “what do we pay them for?” She did not expect the question to be answered, nor was it. “These abductions happen every night, without occurrence. It’s like these people can just walk into those houses and do whatever.” Her face had reddened and she had been angrily gesturing with her right hand. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">“Well,” said Jim coolly, he had been thinking on this subject for quite some time, “that’s exactly why the police can’t stop it. No witnesses, fingerprints, signs of any kind. These children go to sleep at night and the next morning their gone, vanished. In a couple cases the parents were sleeping in the same room, or bed, with the children. They neither heard nor saw a thing. You can’t blame the police, this case is something supernatural, and they are merely human. You, nor I, could do any better.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Brushing her long hair back with her hand, she looked Jim directly in his blue eyes, “I bet we could.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">The wild statement took Jim quite by surprise. Still he retorted, “Don’t you understand? There’s nothing to go on, no trail, no clues, not even a ransom, just missing children and fear. If you concentrate real hard you can even smell the stink of death that those children surely met.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">He had gotten to her. She stared through him with wide open eyes and was sucking on her lower lip. Jim slicked his medium length black hair back and folded his hands behind his head, sighing. Why had he become so bothered by this woman’s suggestions? Was it the tension and fear of this whole phenomenon pressing down on him, or was his pride bruised by the helplessness of the situation this whole city was in?</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">“I’m sorry,” she said after a moment. “It’s just that there has to be something someone can do to end these horrible crimes.” Tears welled in her eyes, and Jim sighed and came from behind the counter and put his arms around her shoulders in an attempt to console her. She relaxed, easing into him, and put her arms around his waist and her face into his chest and shoulder. She started crying and he knew that this wasn’t just something she was reading on the net pad or watching on the news, it had happened to someone she knew, maybe even to her. Sniffling, she raised her head from his shoulder and pulled away, “I’m sorry.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“It’s alright; this must be a trying time for you.” She opened her mouth to speak, but he pressed a finger to her lips. “Listen. I get a break in ten minutes. Why don’t I buy you lunch to make up for my insensitive remarks, and we can talk about it.”</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in"><br /></p>Peter A. Pileggihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09132715383701062985noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27099257861890795.post-11013577804466370032011-05-02T13:33:00.000-07:002011-05-02T13:37:57.381-07:00The Tea Party Movement, the GOP and the Suburban Doughnut Eaters<o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="country-region"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="place"></o:smarttagtype><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><object classid="clsid:38481807-CA0E-42D2-BF39-B33AF135CC4D" id="ieooui"></object> <style> st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } </style> <![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Every weekend there is a line around the block, from 7 am to 3 am, for the local black magic doughnut explosion. People, most of whom drive into the city from the suburbs, waiting in line for doughnuts that are really no better then the ones at the Fred Meyer bakery. Save the gas, money, and time; there’s a Freddy’s in your neighborhood, and the doughnuts are a lot cheaper. Just buy a box of Coco Pebbles (or whatever sugar cereal floats your boat) and sprinkle some on top. Fry up some bacon and lay a couple slices on top of a maple bar; do it yourself and you can enjoy it fresh and hot. Yummers! Ah Americans and their bloated, self-indulgent, frivolous ways. The privileged elite, entitled to all the world has to offer no matter what the cost, and more. Always more.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">The election of 2010, the house turned by the Tea Party Movement; overpaid white folks concerned that our government’s ‘out of control’ spending and resulting budget deficit increase will mean higher taxes for them and their privileged children in the future, and one less car in their garage. Oh the humanity! A deficit hole deepened already by an unnecessary invasion that further destabilized a region already upset with us for meddling in their affairs (to which I say to them: welcome to the cost of big business). A war, let’s face it, fought for the sake of our economy. Oil is the fuel of the economic engine, for us and the world. We had to protect our interest and guard against the possibility of losing some access to the substance that feeds our insatiable appetite for power and money. <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">Saudi Arabia</st1:place></st1:country-region>, our staunchest Islamic ally, even warned us not to go through with the invasion. Not because we would enrage the Arab Street but for concern of what it would do to the struggling economy just shaken by 911. But we ignored such warnings and against the opinions of most of the world we sent a bunch of trained kids from poor families (trying to come up with a way to pay for higher education so that they can obtain a better life) across the world to kill some poor Arabs pissed off at us for invading their land.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Was this enough for the Wall Street Fat Cats? They sold stocks for equity that didn’t exist, loaned people money to buy houses with high mortgage rates that they would never be able to fully pay, and they defaulted. The market collapsed. But hey, this is a capitalist system, that’s how it goes. They failed, cheated and lied, made bad investments, fair enough, let them fall. Oh no, we can’t do that, all these over-paid middle class white people will suddenly be poor and have to rely on government subsidies and welfare programs to eat and function in American society. The very programs they abhor. The horror! The government has to do something, the government has to bail them out with money it doesn’t have. Whew! That was close! But that’s not enough to stop companies from laying off lower middle class workers. Unemployment rate rises. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">What are we going to do? What a mess. Who has a plan? Not a critique of a plan, but a plan! Along comes a man in a position to present a plan that everyone will hear. He obtains the highest elected office and is in a position to put forth a series of ideas that will promote jobs, education, innovation, and progression. Is it a quick fix? Nothing worth doing, that will last, can be done quickly with immediate results, nothing done on such a grand scale anyway. Especially not when you go up against old money and old ways of thinking. It will take years to see results, but when they come they will be worth the wait. The country will be better, cleaner, brighter and a new less destructive age will be at hand. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">It is not fast enough for wealthy, entitled Americans worried that they will be asked to help with the cost of sustaining growth and funding programs that help their fellow citizen, that grow their country. After all, that second car, third tv, surround sound system, yearly vacation, country club membership, new suit, new shoes don’t pay for themselves you know. It’s not fast enough for bitter working class people stuck in dark corners and looking to blame anyone they can except themselves. Blinding themselves to the events of the recent past it’s easy blame the current leaders in power, even if they have been in power for only a short time. Worried that they may be asked to be true patriots, and just tighten their belts and push on through for a better America tomorrow. We have to stem the tide now! Something must be done now! With results we can see today! We must elect politicians that will cut ‘costly’ programs that fund and protect education, clean air and water, fair trade and communication, welfare, health, oh and yeah, some of our excessive defense spending. Cutting domestic programs that account for only 1% of federal budget spending, that help keep the disenfranchised poor from rising up and protesting in the streets against the self-important, overpaid and self-entitled wealthy. Whoops. Oh and we cut police funding as well, so now there won’t be enough of them to protect you when the people that had funded heat, shelter and food suddenly don’t and take to rioting. Meanwhile our education suffers, our air and water become more polluted, our weather gets worse, and our ecosystem dissolves. Whoops, no funds for emergency programs. So instead of building for a better tomorrow, while sustaining a sense of equilibrium today, and eventually being able to reduce the deficit by growing our economy and raising some taxes for the overpaid, we dissolve into further, deeper, decay.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Oh yeah, the GOP? The GOP will do anything that is pro-wealthy, anti-liberal, against the opposing party, without compromise, just to be contrary, no matter whether it is logical or not. They will publicly and privately promote dissidence that is borderline traitorous as long as their party does not hold the presidency, capitalizing on any and every mistake made, pushing their agenda whether it destroys the fabric of our country or not.<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><o:p> </o:p></p>Peter A. Pileggihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09132715383701062985noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27099257861890795.post-26288102798947725452011-04-18T11:51:00.000-07:002011-04-25T10:07:59.123-07:00BLOOD OF THE SPRINGTIDE (PART VII)<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Steadily, feeling their way along, they lowered themselves from the tunnel into the oddly warmer water of the pool. They descended and their feet touched the ground, the water coming up to Rafael’s shoulders and to David’s chest.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“It’s warmer, why?” asked David.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Rafael didn’t answer the question because he could not, but noticed faint light coming down through another tunnel ahead.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“Look! Light!” He grabbed David by the shoulders and positioned him so that his friend was looking ahead. David smiled and felt hopeful for a moment, but that began to fade as the water became even warmer and a soft bluish green glow began to emanate within the liquid all around them. The chime ended abruptly, and a dry aching silence pushed into the room. A foul presence, heavy and thick, entered with it, quaking and pounding, thudding and cracking the concrete walls causing wispy gray clouds of dust to float into the air. The cyan glow within the water brightened as seconds passed, and the boys headed for the tunnel with a combination of swimming and flailing. By the time they had reached the tunnel’s lip, the glow was approaching a blinding magnitude and had become a rich teal. It lit up the entire room, and the walls and ceiling appeared as if covered in seaweed and phosphorescent slime.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">The water had become hot, causing the boys to sweat, and steam rose into the air. In the center of the pool it began to bubble and then boil. They felt it, dark and ubiquitous, like claws scratching at their guts, but they could not move, to escape the pool. It began to rise through the boiling center and they were physically drawn to it like electrons to the nucleus of an atom. Mentally they knew they must leave, their conscious minds screaming within their skulls for them to flee, to pull themselves into the tunnel and escape. Physically they were trapped, their bodies bound to the force rising from the water, pulling at them. And they turned to face its rising form, tears streaming from their eyes.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">The familiar rainbow feathered plumage matted together with straw and mud and sewn into a tan cloth, arose slowly from the churning center drawing the surrounding water into it. The tinted ocular lens now reflecting the color of deep teal, its right eye half opened behind the long knotted hair that did not appear to be wet. The lower half of its malformed face now clearly visible, scarred with healed incisions and scabs, its mouth agape, every tooth a fang. The black robes billowing about its monstrous frame as if caught in some phantom wind, crisp and dry, the inscriptions lightly aglow in a pitch-dark complexion unknown. Eventually it towered above them and stretched out its arms to either side. It seemingly floated there, the bottom of its robes caressing the churning water below. Its arms then fell to its sides and the gloved hands reached underneath the robes, when they were revealed again each held a glinting machete. It raised them high to its sides and formed a dominating pose. The churning water increased in intensity, boiling viciously. The temperature of the water rose almost to the point of burning the boys’ skin. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">The teal light magnified, causing the boys to squint, and it appeared to climb up from the water and saturate the thing’s black robes. Eventually the robes were no longer black, except for the scriptures and delineations which remained that unknown sable, like the deepest, darkest hole in the ether. Once the teal had penetrated every fiber, an assortment of pigments pulsated in a myriad of shapes and lines throughout the area of the fabric, moving and flashing brilliantly. The boys’ eyes grew wide and then dilated as an euphoria consumed them; a thick dull joy that numbed them to their predicament. They had become mesmerized by the colored light display. The water boiled all around them now, so hot it burned their skin and yet they could not feel the pain. Their eyes were wide and their minds far away, riding comets through aqua marine landscapes of colored coral, fauna and flora. The miscreation looked down upon them; a rainbow beam of light surged forth from its ocular lens and bathed them in humid warmth, like the inside of a moist flesh walled oven. With ease it brought the machetes down upon them and cleaved the heads from their necks as if they were dolls, which tilted to the side, pulled on the skin and clinging viens, and then rolled off splashing into the frothing water. The headless bodies convulsed violently but remained upright, blood spouting from the open necks and spilling into the water where it was instantly drawn to the robes. As copious amounts of blood spurted forth, from the subclavian and jugular veins, and ran into the water, the robes absorbed every bit until they were exclusively sanguinary and the water clear as mountain dew. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Eventually it seemed as if every bit of blood had been drained from the bodies, now pale, the boiling water having caused the skin to peel and blister. The symbols unknown and unrecognizable throbbed and brightened and filled with white and red cell and platelet, until the robes were black once again. The sanguine symbols streaked through limitless ether, moving beyond stone, water or earth, showing brightly to unseen eyes. Where planets were like molecules, rotating existences in pulsing fluid clear and thick, receiving the fresh essence burning with power, new and unfettered. To saturate and enhance, formulating within a living spectrum unheard and unseen.<span style=""> </span>That deep at its core is needing, yearning, the fluid thinning. It taketh for plentiful nutrition, to heal, weave and grow. It taketh intrepidly without mercy, without concern for consequence. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">The transfusion complete, the coil fabric enriched, the miscreant lowered into the ferment until no sight of it was present above the pool’s surface. The water calmed and became cool and still, the bodies, less of skin and flesh and showing bone and organ in place and point, slipped into it. The light bulbs lit again and the water resumed its slow, steady current down the concrete aqueduct on its way to the reservoir.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"> THE END</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></p>Peter A. Pileggihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09132715383701062985noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27099257861890795.post-74310604007131041052011-04-06T19:44:00.001-07:002011-04-07T18:54:52.721-07:00BLOOD OF THE SPRINGTIDE (PART VI)<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">David didn’t need to look behind him; he knew his friend was gone. There was no mistaking the horrid sounds of his friend choking as he gasped for air, they had echoed throughout the tunnel. He couldn’t bring himself to look behind him, to see Tim’s crumpled body lying in the tunnel, or worse, the frightening sight of that ghastly killer on his tail. Ahead, the dim light in the next room brightened as he neared. He was moving as fast as he could, but each step sunk into moving water, making it very difficult for him to build up any momentum. Regardless, foreboding and distress compelled him to power on, and eventually he made it to the next room.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">His first instinct was to scan the room for signs of his friends, but alas there were none. He feverishly spun around to see if he was being pursued and was relieved to see that the tunnel lay vacant all the way back to the faded light of the last room. He calmed a bit and took some time to examine the tunnel; it was a smooth and seamless stream throughout its length. If Tim’s body was still there; it was completely covered by the water. Turning his attention back to the room, he realized that this tunnel was the only one from the last room that connected here. This area was very much like the last two, with the exception that there was no steel door and only one tunnel that exited upward. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">He was sobbing again, and had been for a short time before he realized it. He began telling himself that he needed to calm down and try and figure out how he was going to get out of here. He took deep breaths and said; “OK. OK,” aloud, fighting back his uneven breathing and trying to soothe his rapidly beating heart. Eventually he was able to even out his breathing and the sobbing subsided and he found that he could focus. All this time he had kept his eyes trained down the tunnel, sensitive to even the slightest abnormal movement. It was obvious that he had to keep traveling up through this aqueduct system, into the hills. The water was entering the tunnels from somewhere up there, and that was likely where he would find some sort of exit. It was rational to discern that there were other steel doors as well, and maybe, just maybe, one was unlocked.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Now that he had calmed down some, he became fully aware of how cold he had become. The water was freezing, the heat of the sun had long left him, and goose pimples covered his skin. The further up hill he traveled, the colder it would get, but he had no other choice and dove into the pool, swimming to the opposite tunnel. He entered it and began moving toward the distant light of the next pool room. Quick, but thorough, glances down the tunnel assured him he was not being followed. Again, this room was much like the others, and exactly like the last one except there was a steel door on the right hand wall. David was about to swim toward it when a final look back renewed his panic. The light in the room behind him was out and a deep darkness had filled the tunnel. Although it was not distinct, he could hear a strange melodic ringing, distantly echoing. When he tried to focus in on it and pinpoint the source, he could no longer hear it. The steel door’s knob twisted and that became too much for him and he frantically began swimming for the exiting tunnel. He arrived at its lip and pulled himself onto the waterway.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“David!”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">The voice was familiar but fear drove him to duck into the cover of the tunnel.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“Dios!! David! It’s me Rafael!” He heard a splash and recognizing that this was indeed his friend, popped his head out of the opening as Rafael arrived. David reached down and helped him out of the pool.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“Where’s Aaron?” David asked as he leaned out to see if he might be behind him.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“You don’t want to know, my friend.” Rafael choked back a sudden sob. “Tim?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“Gone.” Tears stung his eyes. “It was horrible. What is it? Is it human?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“I don’t know. La fantasma, posible. No se. Whatever it is, it is very close by. Can you hear the ringing?” Rafael was surveying the room feverishly, acute to the slightest stirring. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“Yeah, some sort of distant crazy melody being made with bells?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“Yes, it’s very strange. We better go. There has to be someway out of here up ahead.” Rafael tried to sound confident, but his emotions betrayed him and his voice cracked. “Somewhere?” he said under his breath.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">They turned in unison and began moving quickly up the tunnel, looking back constantly as they went. The haunting chime increased in volume with their every step and, as they neared the next pool and looked back, both the lights from the previous room and the room ahead went out. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“What d’ we do!? What d’ we do!?” David was fully panic stricken and was crying uncontrollably, clutching at Rafael’s shoulders.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“Dios! Calm down, mi amigo! I think that he is behind us,” Rafael didn’t believe this necessarily but he needed to make a confident decision so as not to further alarm his friend. “Let’s find the next tunnel up, OK?” Rafael removed his friends hands from clutching him, and held them a moment. “Take a deep breath and try and stop crying. You need to be strong and stay focused if we are going to get out of here.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">David found courage in his friend’s sturdiness and took a couple deep breaths and found himself calming. “OK. OK. I’m OK.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Rafael let his hands go. “Alright, let’s climb down into the pool. It’s too dark to see so let’s do it slowly.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“OK.”</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></p>Peter A. Pileggihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09132715383701062985noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27099257861890795.post-84222400353597828532011-03-22T12:18:00.000-07:002011-03-26T17:22:10.283-07:00BLOOD OF THE SPRINGTIDE (PART V)<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Its enormous form blocked the tunnel a few yards down, the light from the room barely illuminating its appearance. A robust plumage constructed of an assortment of contrasting feathers patched with straw and mud crowned its mammoth shape. Long, matted blonde hair sprouted from under its headdress and framed its irregularly shaped head. The left side of which was wrapped with a stitched piece of tan cloth; a large ocular lens fastened into it over the left eye. The rest of its face was obscured from David by shadow and aversion. Large black robes (embroidered with unidentifiable language and delineations stitched in a strand of an inconceivably darker color) flowed about its massive physique. It breathed heavily in raspy tones and raised its arms up, reaching out with torn, ragged gloved hands. David backed away hurriedly, opening his mouth in an attempt to shout, to warn his friends, but found he could only make high pitched squeaking noises. All his air escaped him, he couldn’t breathe and he began flailing wildly in the water until he forcefully backed into Tim.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“What the hell, David?!?” An annoyed Tim turned quickly, eyes fixated on his friend. “If you want to go ho…holy shit!” He took hold of David, who was having trouble keeping himself upright, and pulled him around through the water so that he was behind him. “Let’s get out of here guys!”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“What?” Rafael took a look over his shoulder and instantly beheld the array of colorful feathers atop the deep stygian darkness sliding from the tunnel and into the pool. It moved smoothly, preposterously slithering over the concrete and through the water. Rafael turned his head away, back toward Aaron, and placed his hand firmly into the middle of his back. “Don’t look back, just hurry toward the tunnel, fast!”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Aaron didn’t need to look, he could feel the fear engulf the room and he dove into the water and swam swiftly in the direction of the far right tunnel, Rafael trailing closely behind. David was trying to run through the water toward the middle tunnel, all sense having left him. He was in a state of extreme panic, and he splashed about in an attempt to row himself along faster. His chest heaved with heavy breaths that broke into sobs every other moment, his eyes watery, tears staining his face. Tim swooshed around in the water to follow his friend, and just before his eyes left the sight of that horrifying thing he noticed that it had submerged half as much more of its height under the water, its robes sinking with its form instead of billowing about. Of course this was implausible; the water just wasn’t that deep. As he faced the back of David he saw that Rafael and Aaron had reached the right tunnel and were scurrying up its passage, out of sight. David was having a hard time moving through the water and Tim could tell that all was not right with his friend. He moved to his side, grabbed him about his shoulders and began to pull him toward the tunnel opening. David had begun sobbing uncontrollably and was having a hard time finding his breath. Just as they reached the concrete flooring of the tunnel, Tim looked behind him, relieved for a moment to see that the figure had vanished. He readily surmised that it had either completely submerged beneath the water, or it had turned and went back down the tunnel. None the less he was taking no chances and, helping David gain his footing inside the passage, began to push/pull his apprehensive friend away from the pool and up the tunnel. There was dim light penetrating the pitch from what was most likely another pool room up ahead.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“Come on David, get it together! We’ve got to get out of here!” Tim shouted, the despair of their plight starting to sink in. He was pushing David forcibly toward the room, angry at his friend for breaking down into a state of inertness. A dark shadow rose up behind him, blocking the light from the previous room. Tim tried grabbing David to lunge him forward, but his head suddenly jerked back as his feet progressed. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“Ahhhh!” he cried out in pain. “David! Run, ru…” His hair was being pulled from his scalp and he wanted to take hold of the hand that had his hair and unclench it. He barely raised his arms from his waist when he felt the unnatural feeling of cold sharp steel at his neck. He felt the sharp bite as it pierced his flesh and carved its way within, a numb throbbing pain pounding into his head. He cried out in horror when he realized the steel was easily continuing to slice into him. Warm liquid began to run down his naked chest and although he could not look down he knew it was his blood. He cried out violently, a reaction to the appalling realization of what was happening to him. His cries turned to chokes as he slowly lost the ability to breath, the steel now slicing through his trachea with awful potency. A murky cloudiness engulfed him; his last vision was of David scurrying franticly up the waterway.<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></p>Peter A. Pileggihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09132715383701062985noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27099257861890795.post-7561582176311144182011-03-15T07:44:00.000-07:002011-03-15T08:07:58.255-07:00BLOOD OF THE SPRINGTIDE (PART IV)<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">David’s lips stretched about his teeth as he remembered his discovery. “No, I found it this way. The lock and chain were just gone.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“Hey, hey, alright!” Rafael buoyed in the water with excitement. “Hey Aaron!” he shouted back.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“What?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“The lock and chain are off the door! We can go into the tunnel now!”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“What? Really? Sweet!” He dove into the water and swam briskly toward his friends.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">David opened the door and began wading through the clean, shallow, run-off. The aqueduct slanted slightly upward, and the water flowed down in a mellow current about a foot or so deep. A dim light could be seen about a quarter mile up ahead, creating a shadowy visibility in the otherwise pitch black air. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“You guys coming?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“Hell yeah,” said Tim, following behind his friend. The other two were right behind him and the boys began to journey together up the tunnel. After a short time it opened up into a large cement room with a pool much like the one that they had just left, except this one was only about two feet deep. There were a couple of light fixtures fixed into the wall, one of either side. A cement ledge surrounded the pool, with a depression along the opening of the outgoing tunnel to allow the water to flow down at a tempered pace. Another tunnel opened into the room in front of them, built about a foot over the ledge. There was a metal door built into the left-hand wall. Rafael went along the ledge toward it and tried the metal door knob, it was locked.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“Locked,” he informed his friends. They began to explore the tunnel leading further into the hills. It was dark and shadowy with dim light coming again from about a quarter mile ahead.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“Another room?” asked Aaron.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“Must be,” said Tim. “What do you guys think?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“It’s getting colder,” stated David, shivering a bit. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“Well this is run-off,” proclaimed Tim. “There’s no sun in here to heat it up. Come on David, when are we going to have this chance again? Someone from the city is going lock that gate up tomorrow.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“You know it,” Rafael agreed. “One more pool and then we’ll turn around.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“Yeah, one more David,” quipped Aaron. “You can take the cold just a bit longer. I mean we’re kinda used to it now and it ain’t that bad.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“OK. OK, let’s check it out.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">They were half way up the tunnel when it suddenly rumbled with the sound of a large amount of water rushing nearby, as if a valve had been opened. Then there was the whoosh of air being sucked out of a room, a thunderous clap, followed by the choke and cry of a man sobbing, fading away into the distance. The boys stood frozen. It was impossible to tell where the actions creating the sounds had originated from, and the boys looked up and down the tunnel and saw nothing out of the ordinary.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“What the hell was that?” Aaron asked without expecting a reply, and he received none. They waited a few minutes in silence, wide eyed and attentive. Nothing stirred, and maybe it wasn’t anything to be too concerned about.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“Come on, let’s just check this last pool out and then we’ll go,” Tim urged his younger friends.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“What if that was some city worker in here and he locked the gate on the way out?” asked David.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“Nah, he would have seen our bikes and yelled up here. It probably came from further up. We’re only going a little ways more.” Somehow Tim’s logic made sense to them and they proceeded on their way, although quieter and with more caution. When they came to the lit opening they found that it was indeed another open room with ledge, door and pool. Except this time the room was larger and there were three tunnel archways along the opposite wall through which water flowed in. The pool here was about a foot deeper and the boys, except for David, waded out into it to splash around.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“Wow, this just keeps getting more interesting,” said Aaron. “Kinda want to keep exploring.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">David wasn’t having any of that. “No, let’s go,” he requested. He turned to head back down the tunnel and fear shot through him like winter wind whipping through a city street.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></p>Peter A. Pileggihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09132715383701062985noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27099257861890795.post-41691356312396463622011-03-08T13:07:00.000-08:002011-03-08T13:59:55.702-08:00BLOOD OF THE SPRINGTIDE (PART III)<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">David shifted down gear, pushed the handlebars forward and let the seat slide under his butt as he turned into the uphill stretch. His lean tanned arms stretched forward as his hands gripped the bottom angle of the drop handlebars and, bending his head forward, his eyes focused on the road directly before him. He climbed, sweating, his legs churning the pedals. He smiled, imagining his poor BMX buddies trying to climb this hill on their inadequate bikes. Finally he made it to the cul-de-sac that ended any further paved roadway into the hills. He dismounted, breathing a bit heavily, and began walking his bike onto the lawn of a house situated at its far end. There never seemed to be anyone home when the boys came through here. They could be out, or reclusive, it was hard to say. Never a car, drapes always drawn, eerie silence. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">He walked hurriedly through the gateless yard, as he passed the house he could not help but feel he was being watched. Looking up at the house immediately he could have sworn that a drape moved. He quickened his pace past the shed that marked the end of the home’s property: one could tell by the line separating where the grass was kept low from where it sprouted wildly in an abrupt manner. An odd feeling of deep apprehension overcame him, and he almost turned around to go home but decided it was his imagination and continued on. About thirty yards further, through the pine and fir trees, to where the cement lined “stream” slowly cascaded downhill toward the nearby reservoir. The man-made waterway was sunken into the hill, flowing on a cement pathway where the water ran only, at most, about two feet deep. He walked his bike along its grass lined edge a good distance uphill until he came to the broad archway built into its side. Sweat poured down his face as the sun beat on his skin. He let his bike drop to the soft grass, took off his shirt and used it to wipe the sweat from his face before laying it out upon his handlebars. Flicked off his sneakers, took off his socks and draped them on his bike, put his Keds back on, pulled up his shorts, and then jumped down into the “stream”.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">From the vantage point of the waterway he could see within the archway to the pool underneath. There, the water was made to collect as it poured out of the underground tunnel beneath the hills, through a slightly rusted gate, into a walled area about four feet deep. About three and a half feet up on the front wall was a ledge about two feet wide that allowed the water to slowly spill out onto the small canal. There it went upon its journey toward the reservoir. David ran up toward the wall and leaped over, using his hands and arms upon the dam to brace his jump, into the pool. Cool, wet, relief literally washed over him. He dunked his head beneath the water and swam a moment underneath it, holding his breath. He surfaced feeling refreshed and splashed around for a time. Eventually he noticed something odd about the gate and swam over to investigate. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">The gate, covering the entry to a tunnel that was built above the pool upon a concrete ledge, had an access door built on hinges so that maintenance crews could enter the aqueduct.<span style=""> </span>It usually had a chain with an enormous padlock on it that kept it sealed off from intruders. He knew this because he and the boys had wanted to go investigating within the “cavern” the last time they were here. Today, the lock and chain were missing, nowhere to be seen. David climbed up upon the ledge and searched in the water around the door and found no sign of it, then he stood up, took a bar of the gate door within his grip and began to pull it open.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“Boo!”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">David spun around in startled confusion, his back crashing into the gate and feet slipping off the ledge, to see Tim laughing at him from a few feet over. Rafael and Aaron were a further ways out standing on the outer ledge of the pool, laughing hysterically at their frightened friend. <span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“Did you see him jump?” Tim shouted back.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“Yeah, like a frightened little jackrabbit.” Aaron answered between guffaws.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“That’s what you get, ese.” Rafael tucked his longish black hair behind his ears. “You shoulda stayed with the gang.” He laughed some more and then dove underwater, surfaced and began swimming toward the gate. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">David straightened himself. “Nice Tim. Thank you, guys.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“Ah, just having a little fun at your expense.” Tim smiled and patted David on the back. His eyes widened then as he noticed that the lock and chain were no longer binding the door. “Wow, son, did you get the lock off the door?”</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></p>Peter A. Pileggihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09132715383701062985noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27099257861890795.post-53248677949682876102011-02-28T08:29:00.000-08:002011-02-28T08:32:02.382-08:00BLOOD OF THE SPRINGTIDE (PART II)<o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="address"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="Street"></o:smarttagtype><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><object classid="clsid:38481807-CA0E-42D2-BF39-B33AF135CC4D" id="ieooui"></object> <style> st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } </style> <![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“It’s something. Hey, you know, I got a ball, so does Rafael I’m sure.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“I do indeed,” concurred a shorter brown skinned boy with black hair and a confident disposition.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“I know, but the teams are uneven now and it’s super hot. Let’s do something else.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“Like what?” asked the greasy haired boy, annoyed at not being able to play some more.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“Well Aaron,” Tim raised his eyebrows and leaned his head in his direction, teasingly. “Let’s go take a dip in that waterway at the end of <st1:address st="on"><st1:street st="on">Exigency Lane</st1:street></st1:address>.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Aaron took off his cap and wiped his greasy hair away from covering his pimply face, tucking it behind his ears. He let out a deep sigh, paused and then said, “Yeah, you know what, that sounds good. Let’s do it.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">By now the rest of the boys had gathered around Tim. They were dirty and sweaty and a bit worn out from the tense competition in the hot sun. Tim raised his head to address them. “Who’s up for some swimming? We’ll get together here again tomorrow around ten o’clock for some more baseball, but how ‘bout some swimming right now?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“Sounds refreshing!” said David with exaggerated enthusiasm and a sheepish smile.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“Si! I am also interested,” spoke Rafael. “Esta muy caliente.” </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“I can’t,” said a red haired boy, pale and freckly. “I don’t have a swimsuit with me.”<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Tim laughed a bit. “You don’t need a swimsuit. Come on, you’re clothes are already covered in dirt, what does it matter if they get wet?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“My dad would kill me if I went anywhere near that water,” said a boy whose skin was the color of cocoa and his short hair the color of coal. A bunch of other boys nodded in agreement and started walking off the field, some shouting back. “See you tomorrow!” and “Nah, you guys are crazy, we’re going home!” Tim, Aaron, Rafael and David were suddenly standing together, alone, in the middle of the field.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Tim lifted his cap, took the bottom of his Iron Maiden Powerslave t-shirt and lifted it up to wipe the sweat from his face. “You guys have your bikes?” he asked.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">They nodded and began heading toward their respective rides. Tim, Aaron, and Rafael all rode BMX bikes, while David had a department store brand junior ten-speed. It was a cheap bike, especially next to Tim’s Mongoose, but he loved it just the same. He could ride much faster then the others, for longer distances, and still do a few jumps and tricks. Not tricks like he had seen in the film “Quicksilver”, but he could balance on his back wheel and ride for a bit and spin around a couple times. He wasn’t trying to compete with his BMX buddies, after all there are things that only a BMX can do.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">But for this endeavor, a long distance ride, some of which uphill, he had the perfect bike. He still had a bunch of energy; the game hadn’t really exhausted him in any way. That slide for second was the only action he had gotten the whole contest, and that ended up being it for the day. So, as the others bunny-hoped and did curb endos and foot plants, laughed and made fun of each other, David slowly turned his crank and began pacing out a nice even rhythm. For a time he paced out with his buddies, gyrating in the background while they did their BMX tricks. Once his rhythm found a groove he began out pacing the other boys.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“Hey you guys!” I’ll meet you there!” He didn’t wait for a response, but flew off down the blue spruce and cottonwood lined suburban street, the fresh summer breeze blowing through his blonde curls. It felt good. This is what he liked about having a ten-speed, cheap or not. He clicked into the highest gear, stood up and powered his way down the flat stretch toward the outer lying hills where the waterway was located. The cement lined “stream” flowed out of an archway built into the side of a forest covered hill, which was only the foot of an extensive terrain of rising hills surrounding a snow covered mountain that ascended into the sky. The water was very clean and cool, composed of rain water and snow run-off from the distant mountain, and they had swum there on three different occasions already this late spring. The most secluded part of the “stream” was up at the white cement archway, at the base of the hill, allowing the boys to swim in their underpants without being seen.<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></p>Peter A. Pileggihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09132715383701062985noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27099257861890795.post-64823871640266693232011-02-18T11:52:00.000-08:002011-02-18T20:13:20.806-08:00BLOOD OF THE SPRINGTIDE (PART I)<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“You’re out! I tagged you David!” The ten-year-old held the dirty baseball against his friend’s side, imploring him to accept the outcome.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“No I’m not, dude! I had my hand on the base when you tagged me. You were too late!” David shook the blonde curls about his head emphatically. “I slid and touched the bag before you tagged me. I swear!”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“I don’t know. I’m pretty sure I got you before you tagged!” The taller, more muscular, boy with unkempt dark hair threw his shoulders back and stuck out his chest, as if that would sway the argument in his favor. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“I’m telling you the truth, Rich!” shouted back David, not intimidated by his friend’s bullish stance. He was shorter and skinny, but he had been raised by a no nonsense father who had taught his boys to work hard and to stick up for themselves. “You were too late.” He said the last sentence slower, enunciating every word, since it seemed to him that his friend was having trouble understanding him. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">The other boys began to walk over to second base, seeing that the argument may need some intervention and also a little annoyed that the game was being held up. They had been playing for a couple hours now on an unusually hot spring day, and they were sweaty, dirty, and tired. The game was in the seventh inning and the score was tied, it had been a seriously competitive game, each side desiring the win badly.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“What’s going on? Is Dave out or not?” asked Tim as he approached from the dugout. He was a couple years older then the other boys and often acted as mediator over disputes, as well as counselor and guide when the need arose.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Rich relaxed his shoulders and turned toward Tim. “I tagged him ‘fore he touched the bag!” he said certainly. “That’s all I know. I’m pretty sure that means he’s out.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“You did not!” David was still shouting. “I swear Tim; I slid and had my hand on the bag before he tagged me.” David was covered in dirt; his jeans, Allenville Body Shop T-shirt, neck and face. Sweat was sliding down from his curly blonde hair, making snail trails through the brown crud on his face. He was wide eyed and earnest, whereas the dark features of Rich’s face were tense and scowling. Tim studied them a bit longer, after a thoughtful moment he reached his open glove out for the ball and Rich handed it to him.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“He’s safe.” He turned and headed back toward the dugout. He really didn’t know who was telling the truth, and they probably both were, but he wanted to get on with the game and he liked the look on David’s face better. <span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Rich was mortified. “What?! Bullshit! He’s on your team! Bad call! Bad call!!”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“You couldn’t see whether he touched the base or not from where you made the tag, Rich. I believe he’s being honest,” Tim shouted back over his shoulder.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“Bad call!” Rich raised his mitt above his head and threw it down in disgust. “That’s it! Game called!”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“No, come on Rich!” implored a lanky but sinewy boy with straight greasy brown hair that glissaded out from under a beat-up baseball cap, who was standing a few feet behind second. He pulled down his cap a bit and punched into his glove a couple times. “I want to play some more. He’s safe, so what? We’ll get the next out.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Rich’s face was red, he was hot, sweaty and irritated. He picked up his glove and walked very quickly toward Tim until he had caught up with him. “Give me my ball!!”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“What?” Tim turned around. <span style=""> </span>He had the ball clasped in his glove, with his free hand he took off his cap and wiped his brow with his forearm. “Really?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“Yeah! Really!” Rich was in full pout mode. He crossed his arms and stared intently at Tim with a snotty justification. “Come on!” He reached out his glove and opened it.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Tim let out a sigh of disgust, extended his gloved arm and dropped the ball into Rich’s glove. He then threw his arms up into the air and called out to the other boys, “Game called due to crybaby selfishness!”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“Fuck you Tim!” shouted Rich as he hurriedly walked away from him, on his way off the field. The boys that heard Rich were shocked, none of them really cursed that much, and he never did.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">David walked up to Tim. “He sure got mad.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“What else is new?” replied Tim a bit peeved. Then he relaxed and said, “He did get more upset then usual, maybe it’s the heat.”</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></p>Peter A. Pileggihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09132715383701062985noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27099257861890795.post-73539951784559892152011-01-06T12:04:00.000-08:002011-02-28T18:34:21.174-08:00LOCAL SONANCE<o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="City"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="place"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="State"></o:smarttagtype><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><object classid="clsid:38481807-CA0E-42D2-BF39-B33AF135CC4D" id="ieooui"></object> <style> st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } </style> <![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="City"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="place"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="State"></o:smarttagtype><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><object classid="clsid:38481807-CA0E-42D2-BF39-B33AF135CC4D" id="ieooui"></object> <style> st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } </style> <![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">I am beginning a new music column that ventures down the dirt covered side road of the musical main highway. It is primarily being written to share insight and info about our flowering local music scene. It will not be wholly based in the <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">Portland</st1:place></st1:city> sphere, but encompass all of the Northwest. To prove this my first article will showcase <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">Seattle</st1:place></st1:city>’s Night Beats. I have seen them live a couple times recently and feel they are an up and coming band to take notice of. They are a psychedelic three-piece consisting of guitarist (Lee Blackwell), bassist (Tarek Wegner) and drummer (James Traeger); the guitarist and drummer having relocated to <st1:city st="on">Seattle</st1:city> in 2009, from <st1:place st="on"><st1:city st="on">Austin</st1:city>, <st1:state st="on">Texas,</st1:state></st1:place> where they met groove artist Tarek. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Their brand of psychedelia is based more in the late sixties pop rock style, then in any of the more recent innovative realms, much like MGMT have done recently with “Congratulations”, except where that is more Syd Barrett era Floyd, Night Beats has more surf rock elements involved in the musical styling. Each musician is really very talented but, as with most rock bands that yearn to stand apart from the multitudes of artists in the genre; it is in the guitarist hands to carry the bands ability to convey the critical elements of their composition to the audience. An up and coming guitar great, Lee Blackwell intertwines surf guitar with psychedelia flawlessly, injecting it with his own brand of cowboy zeal that carries a dessert rose-like atmosphere throughout the venue. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">It was hard to find a video that represented their talent. Although you will find many YouTube vids posted, few do their sound justice. However, I was able to find one that I think did. It is a live recording, most new bands that start recording early find it difficult to capture their sound in the studio at first, there are only a few bands that are able to do this successfully from the onset. There is plenty of time for them to work out their studio bugs. Live is the best way to check out new musical endeavors and live is where these boys excel. They tour relentlessly, so check them out if you can.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></p><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O3WGRg_G6pE&feature=related">Night Beats Live</a><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></p>Peter A. Pileggihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09132715383701062985noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27099257861890795.post-13769146740215065382010-12-15T13:02:00.000-08:002010-12-15T13:05:32.010-08:00GOOD LOOKER<o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="place"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="State"></o:smarttagtype><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><object classid="clsid:38481807-CA0E-42D2-BF39-B33AF135CC4D" id="ieooui"></object> <style> st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } </style> <![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="place"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="State"></o:smarttagtype><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><object classid="clsid:38481807-CA0E-42D2-BF39-B33AF135CC4D" id="ieooui"></object> <style> st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } </style> <![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">I’m a good looker. When I see an attractive young woman in some sort of <st1:state st="on"><st1:place st="on">New York</st1:place></st1:state> fashion top adorned with a thrift store bought scarf and tight, dark blue, jeans around the hips; I take a good look. I get a look at the face and the legs, the over-all disposition of her body and her attitude, and then I get a good long look at the shape of her ass as she walks by. Size isn’t the issue; shape is where the aesthetic should be judged. But I digress.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">I am a good looker. I walk it, I talk it, and I carry the flavor. I judge it and am judged by it. Never by how <i style="">I</i> look or by what<i style=""> I </i>wear, but by how I perceive and what I observe. Such great talents of mine should be extolled and shared; thereby I am judged by my ability to express my acute perceptions to an ally in such deeds. In order for this communiqué to be successful I would have had to ascertain my ally’s flavor correctly. For it is only then that they can appreciate my candid eye. For if I have diagnosed their flavor incorrectly, even once, then they may never trust my good look ever again. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Too many times an attractive young lady misses the flattering speculation of the good looker giving them the good look. Too many times their eyes are buried in their text machines, their minds existing in the world of; “Ah jeez mom, I don’t want to see Aunt Carla this Saturday night, my favorite band is playing.” or; “No Dan, the box of chocolate does not make up for the drunken head you allowed to happen from my best friend.” If only they could live in the now, and take in the random activity occurring around them. Then they would see the eyes of the good looker looking them over, appreciating all the trouble they go through to <i style="">look good</i>. Then they could smile, and maybe laugh, and have a better day. <span style=""> </span><span style=""><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style=""><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>Peter A. Pileggihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09132715383701062985noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27099257861890795.post-36018335775525320332010-11-13T10:10:00.000-08:002010-11-13T11:00:25.426-08:00DEVIL BIKE<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">The yellow hot, orange glow of the sun rules the day. Its heat ignites the molecules in the air and its fervent light illuminates clarity, yet blinds with its intensity. The pavement smokes with its heat, searing through the protective green leaves of the trees, causing them to sag and droop in defeat. Mechanized metal parts churn in seething rotation on rubber wheels that melt upon the pavement and fill the air with the smell of cord fabrics, bead wire, carbon black and process oils burning. There are sounds of aluminum and iron grinding. They roar and growl and roar again with the occasional high-pitched whine of self-pity as they compete for positioning upon the black-top. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Along the street sides, lean steel, aluminum alloy, titanium, and carbon fiber skeletons glide upon thin rubber tires. They are bullied by the bigger, more powerful mechanized steel murder boxes. They keep to the side, careful not to draw the ire of the larger machines, fearful that in one fell swoop they will be struck forcefully, sending their flesh and bone operators careening onto the side of the rode, severely damaging their fragile skeletons. There are those of their kind, however, that are not easily intimidated. Some battle back with speed, fiercely attempting to match the acceleration of their intimidators and boldly taking their position in the road lane, blocking the mechanized monsters forward momentum. They are forced to slow down, but never slow enough to perturb them beyond slight discomfort. There are those that battle with strategic aggression. They brazenly take position away from the monsters, unconcerned with pace, or whether they anger the flesh hungry machines or not. Battling back with insults and hand gestures, fully willing to take on the brain washed flesh operator mono y mono. U-bolt lock always at the ready.<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">And then there is the Devil Bike!</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">The bright blood red paint of its coat shines in the intense light of the day sun as it speeds along the blistering pavement. Each rotation of its tires is a thunderous roar at contact, the smoke from the burning rubber rises and rushes with the wind along with the smell of fire and melting. The tint of its silver horn-like bar ends gleam as the machine is churned on by its beast master (drooling and growling with pain and determination). Its presence is so great that the monsters are aware of its approach a block before they intersect, even though they might not know exactly what comes. They only sense its dark presence, powerful and unforgiving in might and aggression and are fearful to approach or converge with such incidental catastrophe. They are right to be apprehensive; the Devil Bike is an instrument of great exasperation, born of eternal oppression. It is vengeful and vindictive if crossed, never willing to bend or to break under the force of the physically dominant motorized murder boxes.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Despite all this, there are some flesh operators of the murder boxes that test its resolve, push its ability to tolerate. Some dare to race pass and scream insults at the beast for merely being in the road. With such provocation the Devil Bike responds, its beast master churning it faster until it is upon the infringer. The bike eases up along the side, and with terrific violence the beast master pummels the windows until the glass breaks, shards of which embed into the driver, whom cries out in horror. The bike is gone; its beast master has inflicted the necessary punishment and is off, on its way. Murder box monsters that dare to cut off the Devil Bike are in far greater danger. They are instantly pursued and once they are overtaken, the beast master is a seething mass of fury. He pulls up the front of the Devil Bike, and it rises above the street to land upon the back end of the murder box, crushing it in with its might. Another hop and it is upon the street once again, and then it is off, leaving behind crumpled steel and carbon fiber speckled with broken glass. Fates forbid that a monster driver makes the mistake of turning their vehicle into this vindictive entity, for with one fell hop it will again take to the air. With supreme agility and dreadful competency it comes down upon the monster’s hood, smashing it into the engine's block, causing pistons to grind and halt in smoke and fire. It is in the air again and then upon the ground and off, retribution paid in full. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Reality bends and folds to the presence of the Devil Bike, forever upon the path of righteous defiance, against the dominant laws and rights made for the motorized vehicle. Created by the injustice of the gas hog, the excessive ozone reducer, the speeder, the impatient commuter: the <b style=""><i style="">steel murder box</i></b>.<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></p>Peter A. Pileggihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09132715383701062985noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27099257861890795.post-45242360122759021742010-10-30T11:15:00.000-07:002010-10-30T11:19:02.640-07:00TO DESTROY IS HUMAN<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Throughout the annuls of time there have been those that seek to aggregate the human being into an enlightened, pristine, flawless creation, an almost perfect living specimen of life. I’ve noticed that these scholars and analysts seem to almost entirely dismiss the naturally destructive side of the human animal. And I want to stress that last descriptive word; <i style="">animal</i>. Now I’m not even including killing and war in what I have observed as the naturally destructive aspects of human kind. Just in simple living habits, needs and wants, do we operate destructively. Little things, like building shelters that kill areas of plant, wild life and resources under and around them in their creation. We kill bugs to grow food, or animals to eat meat. This becomes all the more destructive the longer it goes on and the more humans that exist in mass upon the Earth. Now I know there are those that will argue that organic veganism solves that, or eco-friendly sustainable housing solves the other. I would put forth, without going into detail, that those methods of coexistence are only a slowed down, more sustainable form of destruction that propagates the selfish desire to live with a lesser amount of guilt.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Reality is that very, very, little of our mass population actually practices those less damaging forms of living in part, and certainly even less practice it in whole. Since this seems to be the case as the world expands, and even though more and more work towards a less harmful way of living progresses as we journey into the Tomorrow World, more and more are born into just the plain need to survive and stay alive at any cost. How can we be this wonderful creation (or evolutionary achievement) of life when we are so completely toxic to the natural world that sustains us? Our waste, our actions and reactions are almost totally self-serving in the general since, even to the disregard of our own destruction. I will not begin to discuss the ramifications of our mental degradation; the deep ugliness that exists inside each and every human mind is a book on its own.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">So where is this utopia that is coming? Where is it seen and in what form? When did it ever exist? Why is it even considered as possible? Or dreamed up as existing in form or conscious?</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">The Intellectual and Spiritual community does humanity a great disservice by propagating such perfection within a perfectly flawed reality. As Science advances, we hear constantly that humans can live longer, healthier lives, that we can be safer, that we can even avoid death. Why is death looked upon with such fear and disdain? Death is a necessary function of the beauty that is a finite life. If no one dies, then eventually no one can be born; and if humans live longer lives then certainly fewer can be born.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">If we cure all diseases, if we make everything out of rubber so that we bounce around inside a cocoon that keeps us free of harm, does that solve our fear? Death is a doorway, an evolutionary necessity, a need to be obtained for all living things.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">To teach children that death is terrible, that we are constantly exquisite and wonderful, is to severely misguide them. To pamper and spoil them, to act as if they should never have to work, never have to fight, is to blind your children to the realities of their environment that you want them to excel in.<span style=""> </span>There is a side to living that is considered dark and painful, and we fear it. There is beauty in the honesty of accepting it as a part of the whole truth. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Teach your children to work; just as well as you teach them to have fun. Teach your children to fight; just as well as you teach them to love. Otherwise you blind them to the reality of a truly honest and beautiful living existence.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></p>Peter A. Pileggihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09132715383701062985noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27099257861890795.post-6715588494255511702010-10-19T15:43:00.000-07:002010-10-25T18:43:17.683-07:00MUSIC IN MOTION III<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--><span style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /></span><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">Interested in some deep space jam music, orchestrated through the crunch of heavy metal thudding? The band <b style="">Mastodon</b> has mastered this sound along with lyrics that bestow cosmic significance and anomalies. This video from their most recent album; <b style=""><i style="">Crack The Skye </i></b>is complete with rock band flailing in space/time motion, prehistoric tribal sacrifice and earthly monstrosity. The song is called <b style=""><i style="">Divinations </i></b>and its video is highly entertaining, but mostly I am using it to introduce their music to you. <b style="">Mastodon’s </b>best songs are too long for video and are original composed pieces that are conducted by musicians that have mastered their craft. The intensity that they exude can be considered mind-blowing. They are heavy and dark but not depressing and gloomy, or even satanic. They merely suggest that there is a vast and complicated multi-verse built of age and wonder that tugs at the human soul and imagination. They easily express these notions with their great writing talent. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><b style=""><i style="">Divinations </i></b>is very entertaining with its comic book expression and portrayal of rock guitar power. As with all the “Music In Motion” posts; smoke it if you got it (or can) and watch it in ‘full screen’ splendor. Click the link and enjoy:<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uxelXPg961M&feature=av2e"><br /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uxelXPg961M&feature=av2e"><br /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uxelXPg961M&feature=av2e">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uxelXPg961M&feature=av2e</a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uxelXPg961M&feature=av2e"><br /></a></p>Peter A. Pileggihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09132715383701062985noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27099257861890795.post-10511710588578944552010-10-02T10:44:00.000-07:002010-10-19T10:38:04.637-07:00The Instance Is Relevant (The Transmogrification Continuous) Part VII<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; 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mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--><span style=";font-family:";font-size:12pt;" ><span style=""><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></span><span style=""></span></span><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; 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mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} p.MsoListBullet, li.MsoListBullet, div.MsoListBullet {margin-top:0in; margin-right:0in; margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:.25in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; text-indent:-.25in; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; mso-list:l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops:list .25in; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} /* List Definitions */ @list l0 {mso-list-id:-119; mso-list-type:simple; mso-list-template-ids:-1251574934;} @list l0:level1 {mso-level-number-format:bullet; mso-level-style-link:"List Bullet"; mso-level-text:; mso-level-tab-stop:.25in; mso-level-number-position:left; margin-left:.25in; text-indent:-.25in; font-family:Symbol;} ol {margin-bottom:0in;} ul {margin-bottom:0in;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">“How can Humanity abruptly metamorphose from ingrained ignorance to battling a foe the likes of those bizarre creatures? They are formidable on extreme mental and physical levels.”</p> <p class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">“You underestimate the great strength of the human will and its ability to adapt, to grow and learn quickly. We will…”</p> <p class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">The lights in the room go out as a fog horn like siren begins to wail. Flashing white lights blink rapidly and the many screens go dark and then red in unison. </p> <p class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Warning! A breach in Mehalus Nucleus. Restriction has been trespassed,” repeated throughout the hall by a monotone female voice.</p> <p class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">Ottymer moves closely to the side of the Ladies as they form a standing meditative posture and shut their eyes. There is an intense energy and a soft glow that emanates from them. Lendal and Tanner can feel it deep inside them; it is euphoric and fluttery, warm and soothing. As Lendal generates appreciation for this strange experience, something else stirs inside him. A slight but sharp pain and then a growing nausea that starts to intercede with the euphoria. His stomach muscles tighten up and cause him to lurch forward at the waist. He places his hand on his stomach as another sharp pain flashes in his head right above his eyes. The euphoria generated from the ladies powerful meditative state is all but dissipated as a heavier feeling of desolation and gloom takes over his being. His back aches and the muscles in his neck and shoulders tighten; he has become dizzy with nausea and has trouble keeping his balance. An intense surge of pain wracks his body and Lendal lurches forth once more, vomit spewing from his mouth onto the floor before the Ladies. Ottymer quickly steps to shield them from the disturbance. However, it appears to pass unnoticed by their congregation, failing to interrupt their immersion. </p> <p class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Take hold of your friend, blond one,” Ottymer bellows. “He must not interrupt the Ladies communication!”</p> <p class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">Tanner hurries to his friend’s side, wrapping his arms around his waist, and pulls him back a bit from Ottymer. Sweat is now pouring from Lendal as this powerful feeling overtakes him and vomit once again spews violently from his mouth. </p> <p class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Are you alright, buddy?” Tanner asks, deep concern marking his brow. </p> <p class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style=""> </span>Lendal cannot answer; he can feel his consciousness being devoured by desolation and gloom. Something sentient is stirring within this feeling. Something wresting control of his body filling him with an extraordinary sensation of power and strength. The nausea and dizziness are gone, and Lendal stands erect pulling himself violently from his friend’s embrace. His eyes become black and he focuses in on Ottymer bringing his hands together, prayer like, before him. An intense surge of power wells up within him and pushes forth through his arms into his hands. The inertia of this force moves him forward, arms out. The air about him waivers and rolls as he moves quickly to stand before Ottymer. Instantly he pushes his hands and arms into a stunned Ottymer’s chest, with remarkable smoothness and incredible metamorphosis he is buried up to the forearms without ever breaking the skin. Ottymer cries out in pain and horror as Lendal pushes his arms outward, pulling them apart. The skin of Ottymer’s chest stretches and bleeds and then rips apart and cracks open. The sound of bone breaking sickens the surrounding people as they watch in shock and terror. Ottymer cries out in agony, grasping his attacker’s arms in a vain attempt to dislodge them. The Ladies eyes snap open in horror, in time to witness Lendal pull Ottymer’s chest apart with a last sudden triumphant shout, blood and bone splattering upon his face and clothes.</p> <p class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">Tanner is stunned and backs away from his roommate and the gory mess that is Ottymer upon the floor. Lendal is breathing heavy and fast, drool frothing at his lips as grunts and growls escape his mouth. His arms are rigidly out to his sides slanted at an angle, the hands chiseled into claw-like forms. His black eyes fix gravely upon the Ladies and he hunches down before them.</p> <p class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">“What thing is this that now stands before us?” ask the Ladies, moving their arms before them and placing the palms of their hands together. The crystals around their necks increase in luminosity and they focus in on Lendal’s aggressive stance. “You are no longer the young man whom was helping us earlier, what are you?”</p> <p class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Warning! Defenses for Mehalus Nucleus have been overpowered. Destruction of Mehalus Nucleus eminent!” The warning blares from the speakers around the hall. The Ladies concentration breaks; visible concern illustrates their body language, and Lendal leaps to attack. He is flying in the air, above the Ladies with inhuman agility, and coming down upon them. The Ladies crystals grow blindingly bright and then release a force of multifarious energy flashing with colors that envelops him, slowing his decent for a few seconds. However, it is not strong enough to stop him and he is upon them. His left hand grasps the top of the skull of the Lady on the left and his other clawed hand swipes through the face of the Lady on the right, sending her reeling back from the blow. He pulls down the Lady within his grasp by her head to her knees, with strength he should not possess. He then moves his grasp to clench her hair and violently yanks her off her knees and to her belly. She screams in pain and grips his wrist with her hands, vainly attempting to remove his iron grip. The other Lady is upon her feet, large bloody holes in her cheek from where his fingers entered her. She places her palms together again, drawing various forms of energy from her crystal into a solid potential force of shifting colored light encompassing her hands. </p> <p class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Release her!” she speaks alone, her voice harsh and course, weaker. Lendal is a snarling animal of ferocious nature, most likely having lost his intellectual ability to comprehend speech. He sinks his right clawed hand into his captives face. “No!” The standing Lady releases a cannonade of might and momentum that bombards into him throwing him back off his feet and onto his back, a large clump of black hair in his left hand and skin and blood upon his right. Blood pours from the Lady’s face as she manages to rise up upon her knees. A matt of blood and hair sits upon her head and the skin has been removed from the left side of her face along with some flesh, exposing the muscle and the sclera of the eyeball. She is dazed and half conscious, moaning softly in pain. Lendal bounces off his back to his feet instantly, and leaps into the air toward the Lady that attacked him. She is drawing energy from the crystal as quickly as she can, but he is on top of her before she can complete the transference. He sinks the fingers of his hands into the sides of her face and his black eyes lock into hers.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">She is not as strong without her sister and the power of this fiend overtakes her and her mind is now under its control. The profound but beastly face of the creature that had accosted Lendal, consumes her mind’s eye. Its leathery lips move to form the strange words of its language, moving eloquently over its fangs in a deep resonating mellifluous voice. Its white hot eyes hypnotize her being with their depth, she is witness to mass in dimension and time, twisting and turning through form and consequence. She can understand its speech in some way. </p> <p class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">“As you have discovered, our world has come under grave danger and it is time to transport once again. You have brought us here. When you activated the Mehalus Nucleus, as you call it, of this world and it reverberated throughout the entity. The instance is relevant. This world can be what we desire for existence. It is pure and can be subjugated, formed and fashioned to become as we need, much as your race has already begun. We will manipulate and construct at a faster rate for we are one in goal and direction and we have done as much many times before. Your race will aid in its construction and reformation, although most will be eliminated. Once our world is completed we will decide whether to begin the extinction of the Human race or allow your existence to continue on another hospitable world. We knew from the beginning how the spaces would move and where the beings would transverse. We now control the Mehalus Nucleus, your power is ours. You will now be deconstructed to energy form and sent to rejoin the essence of the entity to be reformed elsewhere. We know that you understand, whereas much of your race will not.”</p> <p class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">The creature releases her from its mental clutch. Tears come to her eyes and stream down her face. Lendal has his fingers still deep within her flesh, his black eyes blank and hollow. “We have failed. With our finest hour at the precipice, we have failed.” It is hard for her to form the words with the boy’s fingertips rubbing against her jawbones, but the desire to vocalize her despair overwhelms her. The Lady cries out as Lendal pulls his fingers from her, and blood flows from the open wounds. She gasps for air and collapses to her hands and bends her head down, breathing heavily and sobbing. He then places his thumb upon her temples and fingertips along the sides of her cranium and slowly pushes his fingers into her skull until he can feel the squishy gelatinous matter of her brain. As she sobs in sorrow and pain, he pushes his fingers in through her brain until his fingers meet and then with a fierce triumphant cry, Lendal’s possessed person pulls her head apart as blood, flesh, bone and brain matter splatter upon his face and chest. Her empty husk falls to the floor.</p><p class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"> <!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--><span style=";font-family:";font-size:12pt;" >He immediately turns and walks with direct purpose to the half conscious and dazed form of her sister, whom is losing copious amounts of blood at a velocious rate. He pulls her head back to expose her neck, sinks the fingers of his other hand into the skin and grips her trachea and esophagus, easily yanking them out. As her body heaves and convulses in vain attempts to draw oxygen, </span>Lendal is quickly returned to repossess his body. Horrified at what he sees, and somehow knowing that he is responsible in some way, he falls to the floor and begins to sob. He stares at the fresh blood on his hands.</p><p class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size:100%;">"What have I done?"</span></p><p class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></p> <span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:12pt;" ><span style=""> </span><span style=""> </span><span style=""> </span></span>Peter A. Pileggihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09132715383701062985noreply@blogger.com0