THE COMMUNITY BAR BQ

            Social interaction might be the most forced thing I go through each day.  I don't particularly like "people" in the broadest of strokes, much like the quote from K in Men in Black, "A person is smart.  People are dumb panicky dangerous animals..."  And I really believe that to be the case, so it should come as no surprise I go out of my way to be an entertaining, informative, uplifting, and otherwise pleasant force in social situations.

            It is exhausting.

            And it is from this on-the-outside-looking-in mentality that I approach the social event that is: THE COMMUNITY BAR BQ.  When I was in under-gradute at FGCU I lived in on campus student housing all 4 years, I applied to be an RA for years two and three.  The first time because I wanted to get free rent and pay for doing something I would have done anyway, sit on my ass in the dorms all the time.  The second time because I thought I could get out of my shell, I furthered my goal by going to every stupid housing get together I could and making my name known to the Housing staffers.  I never got to be an RA and by my senior year I had decided to stop giving half a shit.  What I did pick up on was the pattern of lazy event planning which was this: Food and Mingle.

            Since frozen hamburger patties are cheap, and an all but unused grill is standard issue next to all college housing pool areas, so the go to is of course, THE COMMUNITY BAR BQ.  And while the food is terrible, and the guests are all college students with nothing better to do the experience is rarely anything other than miserable, how do I remember this so clearly?  Cause I just went to one today.

            I have aged emotionally and physically since I last went to one of these contrived events, but for whatever reason they remain incredibly awkward and not fun.  For god sake it is still chilly outside, so there isn't even the off chance that women in bikinis will show up to be ogled and made uncomfortable by me.  Though I guess there is the trade off that none of the six-pack-abs brigade will be around to make me lament my poor dieting decisions so I guess that is a wash.

            The only thing these events really bring to mind are those Kim Jong Un photo-ops.  Where everyone there is just incredibly uncomfortable, I guess there is no compulsory service at THE COMMUNITY BAR BQ, but at the same time... Nobody has to be there, so those who show up are all the more awkward because they all know that none of them have anything better to do.  It is kind of pathetic.  And yes, I am pathetic for having gone just to bite into a burn burger on a stale bun (I threw 80% of it in the garbage, as it was garbage).  Maybe I needed a refresher in how none of this stuff is worth my fantastically inexpensive time.

Okay, it isn't this awkward, but it is certainly on the same sliding scale of  "socially uncomfortable situations".

Poem, "In Fear of Defeat"

Would I like to have gone through my life without having known failure?  That whatever I did I did effortlessly well?

No.

That is a path to banality.  A world that glitters but is not really won, just given freely.

But what of failure and defeat?

It seems that they become the motivating factor, rather than the success.

Some-when in the past we stopped wanting success, and started to expect it.  Failure was not a possible outcome, but that thing that happened to lesser people.

If you did not win, you shouldn't have played to begin with.

So people stopped playing, and people stopped trying.

Because the only way to lose, is to play.

The only way to fail, is to try.

Hope was a path to disappointment.

And life was not a series of adventures, but instead a task of prolonging itself.

You avoid confrontation.

You don't think.

But you worry.

You fear.

You hide.

And everything slows down.

Turns gray.

And those who do not fear defeat go to war.

Sadly, those without fear, are stupid.

Intro to Comics: Legion (upgrade)

(This blog appeared on my Facebook nearly 3 years ago, I am transferring some of them over).

            Welcome to the dark side of comics (and not Darkseid god of tyranny and domination, he is awesome) I mean the Dark Age of Comics in which everything became more extreme.  In the late 80's and on through the 90's comics became very much about three things, huge misshapen musculature, weapons of such alien configuration and abnormal size as to baffle all who looked upon them, and the X-Men.  The number 1 all time selling comic is an issue of X-Men from the 90's, which people speculate sold in the realm of 10,000,000 copies to people hoping to eventually cash in on it as a collectors item with the investment genius of a 12 year old who doesn't know what scarcity means.

Also, POUCHES, would be another good word to help describe 90's art.

            The character I wish to point out as a symptom of the impending fever that was the Dark Age is Legion, an invention of Chris Claremont the same year I was born and Doctor Brown discovered time travel, 1985.  Legion actually sounds like a complex little character on paper with some cool ideas inelegantly worked into his design.

            Legion is psychic, having a few different forms of (blank)-kinesis, and mind reading.  He also can mimic mutant powers.  Thing is, his mind reading ability causes him to copy the persona of those he is around, these personalities become whole in his mind and have caused him a bad case of multiple personality disorder, what is worse is that each persona can use his mimic abilities to use their own original super powers in Legion's body.  This means that he can do anything if the right mind is in control of his body.  Time travel, lighting people on fire with his mind, anything.

This is a more modern take on Legion.  It seems to be doing a lot better job with him.  It does still have terrible hair though, and that will forever mark him as part of the 90's.  (Then again, if Prof X, the bald was my father I would grow my hair out while I still had it to grow.)

            What makes him a symptom of the darker edgier age of comics is not only is he crazy powerful, and crazy, but he is also the horrible kept secret of Prof X.  Legion is Charles Xavier's bastard son who had been raised in an institution because of his mental defects.  That is right, the Martin Luther King jr. knock-off of the Marvel universe has a baby mama, and an f'd up crazy baby.  Because illegitimate parenthood, that is something for superheroes to be associated with (keep in mind both Batman and Wolverine have illegitimate children in the comics, and Superman had one in his latest movie, so somewhere out there someone thinks that this is a real common human flaw for popular and competent characters to have).

            Legion needless to say becomes a villain, and using his time travel power attempts to make it so Magneto never becomes the leader of the Brotherhood of Mutants.  Legion fails, and instead ends up killing his dad, causing an unstable time loop resulting in the super villain Apocalypse ruling the world (much like the Darkseid mentioned above, Apocalypse is awesome).  Needless to say the time loop untangled itself and the universe got better... By having Legion never be born to begin with.

            Didn't stop a writer who hadn't done his research from bringing him back for no reason at all, and doing nothing with him, and allowing him to fade into comic book obscurity again.  But yeah who cares.

            Truth is, Legion could have worked as a sort of Borg collective for mutant powers and memories, he could have even worked out as Prof X's greatest failure, but he didn't.  His stories were a cluster of continuity hiccups and bad plotting.  Want to know how I know the character could have worked?  Because a few years ago Marvel started the "Ultimate" line of comics, retelling classic superhero stories with modern sensibilities and art, in it the character of Legion is mixed with a better character called Proteus.   Rather than absorb minds Proteus hops from body to body burning them out to full his reality warping powers, ultimately falling into a trap, being bound inside the mind of a psychic long enough for Colossus (who is awesome) to crush his ass with a car.  All while Prof X debates the ethics of killing Proteus, who is his own son, but also a terrible danger to the world, as he kills hundreds of people just to rub in X's face how Xavier is responsible for having never used his powers to fix Proteus.  That is crazy evil.  Hurray for Colossus saying "sometimes somebody has to die" and having the balls to follow through with it, though this Colossus is a former hitman for the Russian Mob so take from that what you will.

            So overall Legion is a bad character, and one of many that populated the Dark Age of comics.  Poorly conceived, poorly plotted, poorly reused.

Ultimate Proteus, in one of the worst stills I have ever seen for a character.

Hole in a Field, Epilogue

A little while ago I wrote a short story for the L. Ron Hubbard "Writers of the Future Contest".  I did not win, and I know why, my story is really more horror than Science Fiction or Fantasy.  But I decided that I will post each chapter here on my blog.  There are 37 very short chapters (and now this short Epilogue), for a total of a little over 16,000 words, about a fifth of a modern novel.  Here is the first chapter.

Epilogue

            Explanations are always messy, and they always lead to new questions.

            "Max," said the man in the suit, in his typical reassuring tones.  "I am sorry about Wilton, Claire, Allison, and Todd.  Before we continue I would like to tell you that no one thinks you did anything wrong, and from what you told us you reacted as anyone in your position might."

            "What happened?" asked Maxwell.  "I mean, I have an idea, but why did it happen that way?"

            "The house you found in the hole," said the man in the suit.  "We have an idea.  It seems the house fell into a sinkhole sometime in the past, we found the bodies of a middle aged couple crushed under the house.  The body you found in the upstairs bedroom was presumably the couple's child.  She was buried alive in the house, as it started to partially collapse on itself from the weight of the earth, she focused on her toys, and hoped for rescue."

            "Rescue never came," said Maxwell.

            "No," said the man in the suit.  "It never did and we have a likely hypothesis as to why.  Regardless, the girl held out as long as she could in the dark.  Eventually she gave into despair hanging herself with a jump rope."

            "God," said Maxwell.

            "There was a dead flashlight and some paper next to her," continued the man in the suit.  "She wrote something with a marker, we were able to enhance the faded writing."

            "What did it say," asked Maxwell.

            "She wrote, 'I waited so long, but the laughter in the dark is just too much'," the man in the suit said it with a sort of reassuring tone, more wistful and sad then the subject matter would suggest.  "She was alive for a while, she was strong, she was a fighter."

            Maxwell just put his head in his hands.

            "Max," said the man in the suit.  "We--"

            "How do you lose a house?" interrupted Maxwell.

            "I'm sorry?"

            "How do you lose a house?  Why was she not rescued?  How did you lose where we were?"

            "As I was about to say," said the man in the suit.  "We found something under the ruin of the house.  There was a... pillar made of polished black rock, it has script written on it that we have not identified."

            "What?"

            "Any psychic that goes near the thing feels like they are going to puke and die," said the man in the suit.  "It has been there a while, and we think it was the source of the 'laughter in the dark' the girl mentioned, it messes with cell phones, GPS, makes people hallucinate, we shipped it to a radiological institute to put in a shielded box till we figure out what to do with it."

            "So people noticed the house was gone," said Maxwell.  "But this thing scrambled their brains?"

            "That house became a dream to the people who knew of it."

            "Then why weren't people just falling into that hole year after year?" asked Maxwell.  "Why only now?"

            "A section of the ground near it gave way," said the man in the suit.  "Its weird signal spread out, it used the young ladies memories and perceptions as a basis to lure people into the trap.  Her little models of a small town and a carnival with little figurines of clowns everywhere.  It played with your minds."

            "You talk like it is alive," said Maxwell.

            "We aren't sure if alive is the right word," said the man in the suit.  "But we think it might be some kind of device, a computer maybe."

            "So it just kicked on?"

            "No," said the man in the suit.  "And that has us worried.  We think it was turned on.  We think something might be coming."

            "What?" asked Maxwell.  "What is coming?"

            "Something bad for all of us."

To Be Continued.

Hole in a Field, Chap 37

A little while ago I wrote a short story for the L. Ron Hubbard "Writers of the Future Contest".  I did not win, and I know why, my story is really more horror than Science Fiction or Fantasy.  But I decided that I will post each chapter here on my blog.  There are 37 very short chapters, for a total of 15,000 words, about a fifth of a modern novel.  Here is the start.

(This is the last chapter.  If you want an epilogue explaining everything, please comment on here and tell me so.)

Chapter 37:

Maxwell was standing alone in the attic of an abandoned house.  The whole place was dark but for a glow out of the window. There, three cords hung from a hole in a cavern ceiling and down into the darkness of the cavern floor.  As he peered around the room tiny metal figures made themselves clear to him, miniatures of clowns and Ferris Wheels, of a little town… and more clowns.  The room had a bed, fallen in on itself from decades of being in the moist underground, and lying across it was a skeleton, juicy and covered in clothing with a long faded clown motif. Wrapped around the skeleton’s neck was a cord or rope.

Maxwell left the room untouched and wandered down through the house that seemed to fill this hole for the most part.  It was dark and smelled of earth but it was a house, and not some twisted little dimension filled with stairs and undead clowns. It was a place, and Maxwell wanted to leave.  He wandered a stairwell and saw more bodies, mummified with age, in different clothes and with different looks, all ancient and moist from the underground. Maxwell’s reaction was blankly distracted.  He felt something on the edge of his mind, a dizziness, or sickness, like he was sleepy or the world was pressing down on him. He felt like he was breathing through a sheet, stifling and uncomfortable.

Maxwell reached the front door and lying rigid on the threshold was Clair, cold and dead.  A few feet away Wilton’s body was splayed out.  Just outside the circle of light were the bodies of Todd and Allison.  Maxwell climbed out of the hole and into the field where he found the cars they had all rented, alongside another car, which Maxwell saw belonged to the guy he had only been introduced to as Ernie (minus the knife in the eye). All were sitting outside around the hole and the nearest road was on the horizon.

Maxwell popped open his rental car and dug his phone out from inside the central console, dialing out.  “Hat Rack, this is Maxwell," he said.  "Hey Jenna, yeah, I know.  Listen, something weird is happening. I need help.”  He then let the phone drop to his side and looked out at the field a Merry-Go-Round turning slowly. He blinked and focused his eyes, and it was gone.  He pressed the phone to his ear. “Be quick.” 

Hole in a Field, Chap 36

A little while ago I wrote a short story for the L. Ron Hubbard "Writers of the Future Contest".  I did not win, and I know why, my story is really more horror than Science Fiction or Fantasy.  But I decided that I will post each chapter here on my blog.  There are 37 very short chapters, for a total of 15,000 words, about a fifth of a modern novel.  Here is the start.

Chapter 36:

“Max,” a voice moved through the darkness from behind Maxwell and caused him to form rigidly in his position, looking down on the scene of clowns piling over his comrade. The voice was familiar.

“Clair,” Maxwell responded.  He turned and was greeted by his friend, her visage twisted, pale and distended, a funhouse mirror of his coworker.  “You've looked better.”

“Careful Max,” Wilton’s twisted form crept up out of the shadows. His back was hunched and bent at numerous points and angles, his legs seemingly having far too many joints. His face was crushed on one side but still smiling.  “I don’t think you should be kidding my girl so playfully, it is unprofessional to draw attention to how good she looks.”

Maxwell cringed at the sight of them and realized how useless the weight of his gun felt, how cornered he was between his two friends and the unbreakable window. With a ghost by his side and the madness all around, the world was as crooked as the house he stood in.  “Wil, Clair, I want to ask you: do you know how I can get back to the normal world?”

“Why would you want to go back?”  Clair asked back.

“I suppose you don’t get why seeing the world crooked like this is better,” Wilton chimed in. “Everyone smiles, everything shines. It is all as it should be.  Honestly insane.  Rather than secretly, like the rest of the world is.”

“But do you know?” asked Maxwell.

“Max, baby, you’re already there,” said Clair.

“Just try and see it our way.”  At that phrase the world changed briefly for Maxwell. It was darker, less animate, and just for a moment he saw something different.

“See things your way?”  Maxwell squinted and focused his eyes again, and again the world got darker.  He heard Allison say something but it was a whisper. He heard the clowns of his friends say something, but it was distorted.

Crooked House straightened all out… things got a lot easier to see.

Hole in a Field, Chap 35

A little while ago I wrote a short story for the L. Ron Hubbard "Writers of the Future Contest".  I did not win, and I know why, my story is really more horror than Science Fiction or Fantasy.  But I decided that I will post each chapter here on my blog.  There are 37 very short chapters, for a total of 15,000 words, about a fifth of a modern novel.  Here is the start.  (The shortest chapter in the whole story.)

Chapter 35:

Todd fought at them, feeling them tear at him.  His gun clicking as he had fired his last round.  They stomped on him and punched him, he felt like he was falling, then like he was being carried, more like he was being dragged.  He felt kicks and punches landing as he was jerked along the ground by his outstretched arms, he felt several of his teeth were broken and his lips were shredded, his body felt bruised and swollen and soft, and all of it throbbed.  He felt his knee get stomped and it pop and crunch, he stopped feeling really.  He thought of nothing, he blacked out.  Todd was gone.

Hole in a Field, Chap 34

A little while ago I wrote a short story for the L. Ron Hubbard "Writers of the Future Contest".  I did not win, and I know why, my story is really more horror than Science Fiction or Fantasy.  But I decided that I will post each chapter here on my blog.  There are 37 very short chapters, for a total of 15,000 words, about a fifth of a modern novel.  Here is the start.

Chapter 34:

Allison and Maxwell had reached an odd end to their walk, a window through which the carnival outside could be seen in all its glittering and glowing glory.

“I can say that I was definitely not expecting to see a giant carnival,” said Allison.

“That was everybody’s reaction.”  Maxwell cast his eyes to the sky, which he had not really expected to see again, and was underwhelmed as the glow of the freakish hell he was still in blotted out the night sky.  “At least we’re not underground anymore.”

“Yeah, but this isn't where you need to be. Break this and all you’ll be is back out there.  Wait… is that?”  Allison saw a man running and gunning like the action star he always claimed to be when they hung out at motels and in the office.  “Todd…”

Maxwell focused in on the running man with the gun who was dropping with surprising skill one after another in a legion of clowns that wouldn't stay down. More just kept springing out of booths and from rides.  “ We've got to help him.”

Allison watched as Todd approached the Crooked House but she didn't even know if the front door was still open.  “He’s going to die.”

Maxwell began smashing at the glass with his gun butt. Cracks and fractures appeared.  “Fuck!  Damn it!”  Maxwell cursed and smashed, and then stood helpless as Todd was tackled down in front of them. The clowns descended, and he disappeared from sight.

Tears poured down Allison’s face as she whispered, “I’m sorry.”  She then saw one clown that gave her a deep shiver. It was herself.

Hole in a Field, Chap 33

A little while ago I wrote a short story for the L. Ron Hubbard "Writers of the Future Contest".  I did not win, and I know why, my story is really more horror than Science Fiction or Fantasy.  But I decided that I will post each chapter here on my blog.  There are 37 very short chapters, for a total of 15,000 words, about a fifth of a modern novel.  Here is the start.

Chapter 33:

Todd ran through the empty streets of a town which no longer looked like any town.  The store fronts were distending and growing into new shapes. Lights and new signs popped and crunched out from a once innocuous and unassuming town.

“It’s turning into a fucking carnival!”  Todd halted in the park, whose benches had been replaced with signs reading 'You must be this tall to ride' and as he looked on with terrified awe, a massive Ferris Wheel erupted up from the earth, lighting up the sky with a cascade of neon lights flashing in the dull, hypnotic pattern that all rides of their like attempted, but fell short, this was like a dream.

Miniature roller coasters curled up, tearing trenches. A gazebo morphed into a merry-go-round, and as the night turned darker all the stars faded from the sky and the moon vanished as if the whole of creation consisted of this island of scintillating color and light, hollow but for a distant laughter that filled Todd’s ears as it grew near.

He saw them then, moving in the contrasted dark shadows from the booths and the rides. From all around he heard them, the constant giggling, chittering, sometimes uproarious laughter, but one stood out. He turned back to where he had run from and there stood the hideous grin of the clown with Allison’s face.

“So,” said Todd, “Carnival’s come to town.”

Hole in a Field, Chap 32

A little while ago I wrote a short story for the L. Ron Hubbard "Writers of the Future Contest".  I did not win, and I know why, my story is really more horror than Science Fiction or Fantasy.  But I decided that I will post each chapter here on my blog.  There are 37 very short chapters, for a total of 15,000 words, about a fifth of a modern novel.  Here is the start.

Chapter 32:

“The Crooked House has no linear progression,” Allison began.  “You’re like an ant walking around on the surface of a tire swing. You could move around the outside, move forward, back, left and right, but always remain on the tire itself.  What you need to find is the rope that suspends the whole thing, and climb up and away.”  She led Maxwell through archways and along railings, up and down staircases, and ultimately without a clear point of origin among the endless, random architectural pieces they progressed to no avail around her analogical tire.

“How do you know about this place?”  Maxwell was more than a little suspicious of his seemingly friendly company.  “How did you get here?  You said not to worry about it, but how do I know you aren’t some minimalist clown with a boring name leading me around the fun house just until you kill me?”  He stopped and held his ground until she turned to face him.

“I dreamed of this place. And I am not planning on killing you because you’re a White Hat, and so was I.”

“So you are the Allison I knew?”  Maxwell steeled his jaw and eyes

“Hi, Max.”

“And you died?”

“I told you not to worry about that right now.”  Allison turned to start leading them back.

"It's a pretty big thing to worry about," said Maxwell.  "And why do you look like you do?"

"I don't know."

"So your suddenly being a little girl doesn't strike you as odd?"  said Maxwell.

"It's weird," she said.  "But I am dead, so worrying about my own well being isn't really a priority.  You are a priority."

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it, Max."

"Allison," Maxwell was noticing things about her appearance now.  "Your neck has markings."

"What?"

"Come here," Maxwell crouched down and looked at a thin line that ran across the front of her throat, like the indentation left by tight pants on his waist.  "It looks like you had something pulled across your neck.  Do you know what that is?"

"I have a feeling that I am just renting this look," she said.  "This is probably someone else who died in this hole.  Sorry if it is creepy to say, but she probably hung herself to get out."

“God, Allison,”  Maxwell saw another colleague dead in front of him.  "I’m so sorry."

"I told you, Max," she said.  "It isn't about me anymore, you're who I might be able to help, so I'm going to try and do just that."

While it was not grisly, and in fact was distant, seeing this dead little girl was making the events of the day catch up with him and Maxwell's eyes welled up as he continued to follow his guardian angel to what he hoped was a rope for climbing, and not for hanging.

Hole in a Field, Chap 31

A little while ago I wrote a short story for the L. Ron Hubbard "Writers of the Future Contest".  I did not win, and I know why, my story is really more horror than Science Fiction or Fantasy.  But I decided that I will post each chapter here on my blog.  There are 37 very short chapters, for a total of 15,000 words, about a fifth of a modern novel.  Here is the start.

Chapter 31:

Todd flicked open his phone.  “Hi Jenna, I’m kind of in shit creek right now, and I think it’s about to turn into shit rapids before ending at a shit fall onto pointy, shit-covered rocks.”

“Todd, what happened?”  Said Jenna.

“I… You know, I’ll tell you later. Can you give me some advice for what is going on?”  Todd needed backup. Or more guns. Or an airlift out of this nowhere.

“Yeah, is Allison with you?”

“No.”  Todd really did not need this conversation right now.  “She’s dead.”

“What?!“

“Stop!”  Todd felt the scratches on his face and chest burning. He needed a way out, not more of this.  “I am in mortal danger right now. I need an out, I need a rescue, I need something. And anything to improve the situation would be fine.”

“Todd, I… we, can’t help you,” said Jenna sadly.

His heart dropped a little.  “Explain.”

“We can’t find you, at all," said Jenna.  "A few hours ago you dropped off of the GPS. We called the cell phone network and they can’t find your phone on the planet. We can’t even figure out how you got through, we've called a dozen times.”

“You know where I am, you sent me here.”  Then Todd thought back, he remembered the call but not the directions he was given, not even where he had come from to get here. He wasn't anywhere.  "Jenna, I can't remember how I got here.  Where am I?  Why does my compass say everywhere is north, am I at the south pole?  Where am I Jenna?  Help me."

  He was Nowhere.

“We looked for the directions we gave," said Jenna.  "Nobody around here can even remember what state you are in, where you were traveling from, or the name of the place you and Allison rented your car.  We can’t find Maxwell, Wilton, or Clair.  You’re all gone, and we don’t know where you are.”

Todd decided then that he was on his own.  “Well, if I manage to get out of here, I’ll give you a call alright?”

“Todd?  What did you say? You’re breaking up, why are you laughing?  Todd?”

The phone went dead, and Todd snapped it shut.

Hole in a Field, Chap 30

A little while ago I wrote a short story for the L. Ron Hubbard "Writers of the Future Contest".  I did not win, and I know why, my story is really more horror than Science Fiction or Fantasy.  But I decided that I will post each chapter here on my blog.  There are 37 very short chapters, for a total of 15,000 words, about a fifth of a modern novel.  Here is the start.

Chapter 30:

“My name is Allison. Can you help me out here?” said Allison.

“Okay,” said Maxwell started to shake a memory loose in his head, a sticky note he had forgotten about until now, “You know, I know an Allison, she and her partner were supposed to come down here with my friends and me. Guess I forgot to give Wil that message.”

“Don’t worry about that now. I’m going to do my best to get you back on track.  First let’s-"

“Hello again, Maxwell!” the voice was cold, wet, and gargled almost beyond clarity, but the tone was filled with malice that Maxwell remembered. The Clown with a smashed face, bloody and dented from bat impact, wandered forward into the purple haze of the crooked room.  “You didn't play fair that last time.  But to answer your question from before, yes I do believe in God, but here his gaze can’t reach. The shadow of this place is too cold and dark for him to risk coming down for a visit.”

Maxwell positioned himself between the clown and Allison. He wasn't going to let down the first and only friendly face he had met here, (well, unless you count Ernie, but he had been having his own issues at the time).  Maxwell wasn't going to let the clown hurt her.  “Why don’t you go to Hell, you fucking freak?”

The clown smiled, or at least twisted the gurgling mass of the half formed skull into what might have been a smile or a snarl.  It then turned away laughing and wandered off through a doorway, his laughter echoing through the crooked room, then vanished.

“I didn't expect it to be so easy," said Maxwell.  "To think all I had to do was ask.”

“He didn't go far, just off to get some friends.”

“Yeah, well, I've got a lot of bullets for this.”  Maxwell drew his pistol from the back of his waistband.

“Okay," said Allison.  "If that makes you feel better about the whole thing, but we really need to get going.”

Hole in a Field, Chap 29

A little while ago I wrote a short story for the L. Ron Hubbard "Writers of the Future Contest".  I did not win, and I know why, my story is really more horror than Science Fiction or Fantasy.  But I decided that I will post each chapter here on my blog.  There are 37 very short chapters, for a total of 15,000 words, about a fifth of a modern novel.  Here is the start.

Chapter 29:

Todd jumped back and tapped the trigger twice as soon as his sights were aligned on the clown's face.  The glass shattered, and the clowns brains blasted out the back of its skull.  It was at this point that Todd became entirely clear of how dangerous the world he lived in really was, and how he now had fewer and fewer bullets with which to deal with it all.  His body was relaxed but alert. He assumed a staggered stance prepared ready to fire again.

He couldn't remember the name of the town he was in, and realized how nothing in this place had a name he could remember. Aside from the clown he had just killed he remembered no people, the plaques on the commemorative park benches were blank because there wasn't anyone who ever lived here to commemorate.  This place was empty… except for whatever the hell was up with the clowns.  Honestly, Todd didn't know what the hell the clown thing was about, but he knew that this town wasn't a normal town, and that whatever it was he was standing in, he needed to get out.

He fished through his pockets and found the Kit Manual.  He flipped though the index finding sadly that there was no cross section on clowns and possession.  He also couldn't think of how to look up towns without names, he searched selective amnesia and found nothing related to what was going on.  He flipped through each little bit of tips, and then just flipped to the first page.  The catch all page for bad situations, it had three steps.  Step One, keep yourself and your surroundings as safe as possible, and secure the area as best you can.

Upon reading step one Todd mad a dash through the doctor's office kicking open doors and sweeping them with his handgun.  After clearing the whole place drawing every shutter to the outside world, and locking every door he could find, he sat in the only windowless room.   The room with a single door with no name on it.  A desk with no photos.  Walls with no pictures or diplomas.  It just had the sort of junk that looks like a doctor would have, like a fake skeleton, and posters telling the reader about infection and condoms.

Step Two, think about what is happening as carefully as possible and compare to any experience that seems remotely similar.

Todd began flashing through all of his experiences, he had seen a possessed girl, but he was sure she had been crazy; he had been in small haunted towns, but not with clowns; he had been in a place where he didn't know where he was... but that was different, he had known where he had been before getting there, and he knew how he got there, he had only been lost in the traditional, normal sense of the word.

He looked at the compass on the face of his wrist watch, something nobody else wore anymore.  He then spun in place the chair turning.  No matter where he faced the compass said north.  "So I'm at the South Pole now."

Step Three, don't panic, learn; don't panic, think; don't panic, survive.

Then his phone started ringing.

Position Open: Girlfriend

(This is a long and meandering blog about relationships, feel free to dodge it)...

Help Wanted

Position Title: Girlfriend

Potential for Advancement: Wife

Hours: Initially part time, though hours can expand if this collaboration meets or exceeds expectations

            Position available for a smart and well educated woman (those do not always go hand in hand sadly).  Must have a personal world view which is subject to change with experience and credible evidence (I don't care what you believe, so long at you can stop believing it when faced with fact).  Must be accepting of eccentric behavior and introverted habits (this is just to make the working environment amicable, cause really this describes your one and only co-worker to a "T").  Must be (at the very least) curious about fantasy, science fiction, and other broad ranges of fiction and should explore this interest through movies, books, and games (most of the job will consist of discussing these things, or at the very least listening to some fool ramble on about them at great length).

            Must be willing to (occasionally) debate and discuss important life decisions so as to help make informed choices, and must be able to support such choices even if not in total agreement (sorry, this is the advisory role); must also have personal dreams and ambitions to debate and discuss, and ultimately receive support in execution (sorry, this is the feedback role of the job, essentially advice has to be a two way street, no nagging on either parties part).

            Must have her own hobbies, interests, and friends that can exist as a social circle beyond this partnership, and must accept that I have hobbies, interests, and friends beyond them (this is a feature rather than a draw back for both parties, as I have interesting friends who are good to socialize with, and I expected to be provided with a sort of part time social circle of people that I can enjoy from time to time that are not strictly speaking "my" friends).

            Applicant must not be a gossip, holding honesty and forthrightness as high virtues (I do).  Non-smoker preferred but is not a deal breaker (I will buy you gum, binaca, or your preferred method of breath freshening, you just have then use it regularly).  Should have a commitment to personal health, self improvement, and intellectual exploration (that being said, feel free to have personal faults to, honestly if you are too good I will just get suspicious... Oh yes: tolerant of exceptionally rare paranoia).

            This is an at will partnership, but proper performance reviews should be given by both parties and (as the relationship develops) greater levels of termination notice should be expected and opportunities for forgiveness and improvement offered (seriously after a certain grace period I expect some warning signs before being emotionally gutted, just to see if I can right the course or end it before we want to kill one another).

            After full time status has been attained additional (marriage) contracts can be drawn up, and levels of financial and emotional entanglement shall reach intense levels (growing old and delirious together would be the ultimate goal of a successful partnership).

            I am in the later half of my twenties and have regrettably not had a deep and sincere adult relationship.  And really I think I should strike while the proverbial iron is hot.

            I am currently in Law School (and Grad School) surrounded by highly intelligent and educated women with diverse backgrounds and personal aspirations.  And while many are in committed long term relationships and might even have families, many others are much like myself... 20-somethings who have yet to find "the one" (bleh, I hate such cliché sentiments).

            I can't hold out hope that my life will lead me to another situation in which I will again be in such a social situation: surrounded by the ideal demographic to seek out a serious relationship.  I am sharing a life defining professional experience with a group of interesting people and should not let the opportunity to meet them go by.

            I wish I was better at that though.  While I can be funny and engaging, I am also abrasive and often times intimidating.  Not to mention my own introverted habits outside of class, having a hard time asking people if they want to go out, and being unable to tell polite rejection from actual interest that simply can't be followed up on because of competing plans.  (This poor ability to read signals often leads to the comedy of errors in which I might ask out a woman two or three times who has no interest, all while ignoring another woman who I thought did not like me, but is actually interested and merely burdened by a complex schedule).

            There is also the issue of attraction.  Some attractive people can't stand me, while others have a similar sense of humor or persona but have an appearance that in another century would have relegated them to ringing bells in Notre Dame.  I know I am no Christian Bale or Ryan Gosling (for one, I cannot for the life of me get defined abs due to really liking food and only marginally liking exercise) and I cannot fault beautiful women who would dodge me because they find me unattractive.  I know it is bad to be "shallow" but attractiveness is something else to consider and is important for helping with the initial spark of a relationship.

            I don't know.  This is a rather meandering bit of writing, tomorrow I will more than likely revert back to not thinking about the long term effects of my lackluster dating habits.  This is just something that was rattling around in my head.  Probably because such a high percentage of my friends are paired off with someone, jealousy is a poor trait, but I am self aware enough to know that I am jealous of many others.

Hole in a Field, Chap 28

A little while ago I wrote a short story for the L. Ron Hubbard "Writers of the Future Contest".  I did not win, and I know why, my story is really more horror than Science Fiction or Fantasy.  But I decided that I will post each chapter here on my blog.  There are 37 very short chapters, for a total of 15,000 words, about a fifth of a modern novel.  Here is the start.

Chapter 28:

Maxwell fell into darkness, dropping his bat, which floated into the darkness.

He tumbled seemingly forever until he abruptly stopped falling and found himself standing on an Escher stairwell, amid a cavern of halls, doorways, ledges, and steps that mounted the walls, hung suspended in the air. The whole of the twisted room was lit by a vaguely purple glow, like starlight on a clear night.

“Does anyone want to come and tell me where I am, and why clowns are after me?”  Directness seemed the way to go.  “That would be incredibly helpful, because I am approaching the brink of madness, and really, I’m pretty open to any explanation as to what is going on.

“Thing from beyond the universe, psychic girl killed for no reason, aliens, Candid Camera.  I’m not screwing with you, if Candid Camera were to be the ‘it’ of the whole situation, I’d be okay with that, but really I’m not sure how else to approach this whole thing from here on out.

“Where is Clair?  Where’s Wilton?  Where’s—"

“Hello.”  A small voice intruded on Maxwell’s twisted universe.

Maxwell turned with a start and jumped back exclaiming “Holy shit!  Holy shit!  Holy shit!  Where the fuck?!  Where the fuck?! Why?! What?!”

The girl standing in front of him seemed just as startled.  “What?!”

“What?!”

“What?!”

They stared at each other, both of them confused and put off, and considering how much younger and meeker the girl looked than Maxwell, she was really having the overall more mature and balanced reaction to the chance meeting.

Maxwell took a few breaths.  His hands leveled at his sides.  He calmed himself, and straightened out.  “I’m Max.  Who are you?”

Hole in a Field, Chap 27

A little while ago I wrote a short story for the L. Ron Hubbard "Writers of the Future Contest".  I did not win, and I know why, my story is really more horror than Science Fiction or Fantasy.  But I decided that I will post each chapter here on my blog.  There are 37 very short chapters, for a total of 15,000 words, about a fifth of a modern novel.  Here is the start.

Chapter 27:

Todd heard laughter fade from Allison’s body as the blood pooled around it. His chest was clawed and getting sticky with blood and he was shivering, partially just from the sudden noise, mostly from the form of his dead dear friend at his feet.  Todd looked at his phone again. A text was ready to be read. He clicked the open key and from Allison the message was: 'sorry you had to do that; keep strong; I’ll miss you; thanks<3.'

Todd sat back against the wall of the doctor’s office and all the pieces started to come together. He needed more info on the specifics, but he knew—

The laughter from outside seemed distant, but cruel in nature.  Todd crawled to the ground beneath the window and took a quick glance outside, but all he saw were the red and bright eyes of the clown inches away, staring at him from the other side of the glass.

Hole in a Field, Chap 26

A little while ago I wrote a short story for the L. Ron Hubbard "Writers of the Future Contest".  I did not win, and I know why, my story is really more horror than Science Fiction or Fantasy.  But I decided that I will post each chapter here on my blog.  There are 37 very short chapters, for a total of 15,000 words, about a fifth of a modern novel.  Here is the start.

Chapter 26:

The Crooked House attraction was like nothing Maxwell had ever seen or envisioned as being part of a carnival.  A towering manor where nothing seemed to line up straight, the siding alternated between being cocked at negative and positive angles, the pillars were slightly tilted and supporting their burdens miraculously rather than through power of architectural design.  The house had a tower bent so extremely that it looked like a lightning bolt striking up from the ground toward the non-existent sky.

Maxwell had loaded the gun from the Kit and carried it in his right hand, the bat held slung over his shoulder with his left.  He walked with faux confidence, unsure as to how he was supposed to hide or move stealthily into what he guessed was the den of whatever made all of this.

As he approached the house he felt sick, and off-base.  The architecture up close gave him a headache looking at it.  When his foot fell on the first step, the nausea and unbalance were amplified as though the stair was angled a few degrees off level. It felt level to stand on, as if the rest of the world were off tilt compared to the horizon that was Maxwell’s current step.  When he took the next step, the world seemed to reorient to the new angle.  Back and forth the world see-sawed for Maxwell. No matter how sideways he was he always stood as if on level ground and the world hung out, unable to be normal.

He finally stood at the front door. Looking back over his shoulder, the underworld carnival was sideways and far away, somehow whispering to him promises of relative safety.  Maxwell looked back to the door, reaching for the knob, and as he did so the door swung open to absolute darkness and Maxwell fell into the pure shadow, pulled by the twisted gravity of the Crooked House. The door slammed shut behind him.

The Carnival seemed to grow slightly darker as the hollow manic laughter of various clowns echoed through the stands and rides.

Hole in a Field, Chap 25

A little while ago I wrote a short story for the L. Ron Hubbard "Writers of the Future Contest".  I did not win, and I know why, my story is really more horror than Science Fiction or Fantasy.  But I decided that I will post each chapter here on my blog.  There are 37 very short chapters, for a total of 15,000 words, about a fifth of a modern novel.  Here is the start.

Chapter 25:

“You want to know what is going on?”  The Not-Allison was still standing there with the discolored and steadily more hideous face of Todd’s friend, speaking to him in hisses and menace that is reserved for bullies trying to lull false security from a victim before knocking them all the harder when they least suspect.

“If you could fill me in on all of that, I think that would be really helpful.”  Todd was now debating whether or not he had the mental fortitude to shoot what used to be his friend if the threat to his safety dictated him to do so. He acknowledged again that his Kit firearm was at the base of his spine, but decided that he would prefer to not have to find out, and put it out of his mind.

“Okay, here is what is going on:  I, Allison, came to this little bit of nowhere with you, my little crush, Todd.  We were supposed to meet some other people to work with, your friends Wilton and Clair, and some other guy, who are probably all dead at the bottom of this little hole, who evidently didn't get the call to wait for us.

"I then crept into the darkness trying to impress you, and now here I stand before you a changed woman.”  All the color was now gone from her skin but was returning in selective fashion. Her lips were brighter, the skin around them was turning an even brighter red, her eyelids also were turning bright red along with the rest of the areas around her eyes.  She looked menacing and cartoonish.

“Change back.”

“Sorry, can’t step into the same river twice," said Not-Allison.  "I don’t want to go back. I like it now, I like it here.  You’d like it too, Todd.  Just let me help you get there.  Come on Todd, you're the one who said for me to keep trying, you're the one who wanted this.”

"I did not want this."

Not-Allison rubbed her hands in a shaky unnatural pattern across her body and said in a mock seductive voice, "I think you want this."  She grasped and pulled off her gown and stood stark pasty white in front of Todd.  Not-Allison giggled and her body shook with the laughter.

Todd’s phone hummed with a text message. Todd grabbed it and held it up so he could glance between it and keep his eyes on Not-Allison.  The ID said it was from Allison, and it said: 'shoot that thing, its going to try and kill you.'

With that, Todd drew down. Not-Allison leapt at him, her hands like claws, and Todd squeezed the trigger.