Category Archives: Hunting

Demise On Old Blackwash Road

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Candle

Julie and Steve
In teenage lust angst
Lantern lit, hidden nook
Atrocities attacked ere consummation
Sending them heedlessly running along
On Old Blackwash Road

Julie was screaming
Until her voice decayed
Steve pulled ahead
No thought of her pumping away
Julie tried to catch up
Down Old Blackwash Road

If words could take aim
Steve would have heard her pleas
Curses tossed through him
Voiceless, running still
Left alone under moonlight
Fever pitch dashing on Old Blackwash Road

Steve's mind was blanker
Except for grinding terror
Pushing himself faster on
It was primal, fierce 
As his lungs began to seize
Slowing on Old Blackwash Road

Julie haven found above
Crawling up an ancient oak
She saw Steve plunge to the ground
Closed her eyes ridigidly shut
Prayed, then dug her nails into the wood
Surrounding Old Blackwash Road

Steve's wails turned raw
Before they abruptly terminated
Julie clung for more than her worth
Tree sap glued her to her spot
Unaware of it till morning light
Dawn awakening Old Blackwash Road

Time moved through Julie
Frozen to the spot
Heat of the day came fiercely 
Freeing her from tree secretion
Setting her down upon
Empty Old Blackwash Road

She fled the scene half naked
The ground was bare of Steve
Her throat hurt as she sobbed aloud
No tears were left inside her
As she stumbled upon Route 40
Connected to Old Blackwash Road

Julie withdrew and hid inside
While the Sheriff did his best
Steve was never found, even a tiny bit
"It's happened before," they all knew for true
Julie shrugged. What could she say or do
About Old Blackwash Road?







In the night

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spilled red

IN THE NIGHT

Mark convulsed in the mudded pit and dissolved. Spasms had wracked his form as he wormed his way along the rain-drenched ground. He did not sense the sharp drop that brought him to his end. Yes, I watched his final journey. I stood at the lip of the pit, watched his death, and walked home.
 
Why did I watch? Why didn’t I do anything? I had done something. His ending began with me.
 
You look startled. Why? You know Mark and I were never friendly towards the other. He stabbed me in the back as many times I stabbed him. Staying away from each other was the prudent thing to do, we both knew that. We even laughed together one evening over that thought, sipping our glasses of red. The bar was thriving that night.
 
Some weren’t after we finished with them. Yes, I know, Mark and I, rivals, blah blah blah. The hunt drew us together now and then, generally by sheer coincidence. At least, that is what I had always thought.
 
It turned out that Mark had planned every encounter. I have to give him his due: his skill in lying far surpassed mine. When I found the truth, I was a tad humbled. Mark’s lying was at mastery level. I worked hard to take mine to his level.
 
Why did he do it? Why did he hate me that severely? Old story. It was always a game of one-upmanship between us. Always. Mark would not accept that I could exceed him in any way. It was no more than a game of egos, until, it wasn’t.
 
It all started with Claire. He wanted her. She chose me. Once her bloodied body was discovered, nothing between us would ever be the same game again. I’d take from him. He’d indulge in returning the favor. We were living in a harsh cycle. The drawn blood between us had been notorious.
 
Yes, yes. That was centuries ago. So?
 
Why now, you ask? What brought our mutual loathing to an end now?
 
Mark and I have always been scrutinizing each other. Weaknesses praised and used to our advantage. This became our goal: seeking knowledge to use to the other’s detriment. Who won or lost these challenges was of no concern, then.
 
It came to my attention that Mark had studied me far deeper all along. It came to me in whispers along the way. Sycophants whose loyalties drifted between Mark and me. I ignored most of them as pure gossip. I knew I spun my tales to unsettle Mark.
 
Until most recently, I believed we were on even ground.
 
What? Of course, I was wrong! Yes, yes, always headstrong, blah blah.
 
Mark’s planning had reached a summit. It was due to begin this very evening. Ha! He had rallied many to his side. I thought we were equally loathed. Again, I was wrong, but…there will be a reckoning.
 
His plan: attack and obliterate everything, and everyone, that I possess. Every single element that is mine. I may not have a heart, but Marks’s scheme was that threat one step too far. I confronted him on this.
 
Of course, he denied it all. What else would one expect?
 
No matter: he would never take what was mine again. 
 
That night’s storm was tearing up the sky. That was pure coincidence, convenient on my part.
 
I had reached out to him. He responded, and met me that night outside of a long-standing bar we both favored. Accusations and denials tore into the night sky. Sharp words turned to sharper claws.
We did grave damage to each other, of course.
 
On a muddied slope, Mark lost his balance. Miniscule, but I took my advantage. I was getting the best of Mark. Deep in the forest at this point, Mark went down to the earth, glaring my way. I imagine that he felt this was our usual. Spar, hurt the other to that point, He hadn’t prepared for me to take this to a true Endinig.
 
I did. I fought dirtier than usual, slashing his in violence I had not known I was capable of. Panting, Mark began to sidle away. I pulled out a weapon we had both sworn would never enter our conflicts. Embedded with Elder rune, I weighed the silver blessed dagger in my left hand. Mark screamed as the dagger plunged through his hide with ease. 
 
Yes, more than once. Many more times.
 
You would have laughed at the look on Mark’s face as he passed on.
 
I did. It was exquisite.
 
No? You’d instead it was my face, my death?
 
Ah, friend, I’m not sure I believe your poo-pooing. That will be another discussion between us. Yes?
 
On your central question of “Why?” Really? After all these years we have left behind us, you feel the need to ask, “Why?”
 
Claire. It was still about Claire. For me, always, it has always been about Claire.
 
Drink up. Your glass of red is cooling off.
 
Good. Good. Now, let us discuss one last thing.
 
Why did you join Mark’s plot against me?
 
Hmmm?

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

Looking for a new online writer’s group to satisfy your passion?

I am the organizer and host of two separate groups:

  1. RevitalWriters: Critique. Done. Write.
    1. For the more serious writers needs support on their WIP and honing their craft.
    2. RevitalWriters will be a weekly cohort.
    3. Visit MeetUp to RSVP RevitalWriters. (click the link)
    4. Fridays at 7:00 pm to 9:00 pm. EST
  2. Daydreamers Writing Club
      1. Your weekend retreat for writing and join others like you: a passion to write.
      2. Sessions run Saturday mornings, 10:00 am to Noon, EST
      3. Visit our MeetUp page to join this community: Daydreamers Writing Club

     

Both groups welcome writers of any genre or style.

We hope to see you.

City Song, My

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Fuck the city

Overblown, hyperactive concrete and stone

Greasy street food; greasier people

Racing around, step on or over

Searching for the bright lights

Eclipsed by the shadows




To hell with the city

Nearly everyone’s oppressed

In some misguided way

Bend your neck, never knees,

As the fight to make it

Truth ends in buckets of the kill.




Screw the city

As it screws with you

Power, status, held in slimy claws

There’s heartache in the streets

Trod upon with running shoes.

You deserve what you get




Obliterate the city

Turn off the lights

You can’t see the stars shine

Blinded eyes obfuscate

Nothing to see here; move along

Dwindle yourself; something is wrong.




Fuck the city

Obsessiveness and greed

Hatred and fear

Isolated in ignorance

Shriek your outrage

Bellow your unscripted song.

 

Viruñas: Nightmares from an Unbleached Soul, AtoZ Blog Challenge

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V2020

NIGHTMARES FROM AN UNBLEACHED SOUL

Viruñas

Oye. Usted. Look at that handsome guy
Attractive and sexy, he almost makes you cry
That hombre guapo stirs up your pulse
You tramp around, a gata in heat
One look and you shiver everywhere.

You didn't really think this through
The look in his eyes a devilish glare
His smile is crooked, he licks his lips
Drawing you closer, he puts hands on your hips

Your scent is in the air, enticing
As he comes for you with stealth
You're taken by false charm
Insincere compliments as well

Flattered by his lying words
Flattered by his leer
Everything about him screams
"Sal de aquí! Get Out Of Here!"

Then he takes you, holds your arms
From crooked to enticing, enchanted by his smile
How beautiful a smile, enticed by his charm
But hidden underneath is something vile. 

As he leads you into a slow street dance
Notice no one's giving you a glance
You lean into him as you twirl around
Ask him his name as you give him yours.

A howl erupts from him, laughter you can't hear
The slow spins accelerates to rapido gyrates
He draws you tighter, chest to chest
"Viruñas," he says as he grabs your breast.

You want to fight him, you want to flee
But his mouth is on yours; it wobbles your knees
You can't stop kissing, you close your eyes
Tasting blood on tip of your tongue

Feeling something in you is pulling away
Thoughts you have start to decay
Nothing makes sense; a chaotic mess
You give up your last then tossed away

Viruñas is pleased; she had a tasty soul
Feeding the inferno within; it cries out for more
Putting on another handsome face, natty clothes
The good looking Diablo stalks his next prey 


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In Columbian mythology,  Viruñas  (the Evil One), is considered a representation of Satan and appears as a handsome man who steals the souls of the people. He is a nightmare? Should I have included more Columbian language or leave it out entirely? Please let me know your thoughts in the comments below.

MUSICIANS, or people who know musicians, hear my call
I would love to find someone to collaborate with. Not every one of the 26 Lyrical Poems are winners, and most will need some tweaking. I would just love to hear some, or all of these, put to music.

My theme for this year’s AtoZ Blog Challenge is Nightmare from an Unbleached Soul. 26 Lyrical Poems throughout April, using the letters of the alphabet as our daily jumping-off point. If you want to find blogs that match your interests, check out the Master List.

Comments are always welcome. Why you like the work or don’t, helps me in honing what I love to do.

Thanks for stopping by.

Dirty Nails: Nightmares from an Unbleached Soul, the AtoZ Challenge

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D2020

NIGHTMARES FROM AN UNBLEACHED MIND

DIRTY NAILS

His face was sallow; extremely lean

No matter how you looked at him

He came across as mean.

Muscles taut, the clutch of his hands

Meanness radiated off him like a demand.

 

He walked down Main, looking right then left

Taking his time, walking as possessed.

Eye contact happened, then he moved on

The shivers hit quick, pulses soared

Bile rose up, many heaved

His looks felt evil

As if his soul was unclean.

 

Three blocks down, he stopped.

He looked around, saw he had a crowd

He stood at the crossroads

He began to smile.

 

Both arms rose, held out on either side,

Unclenching his fists

His hands opened wide

Gasps were drawn, by the sight,

The dirtiest of nails. They were a fright.

All eleven, long and deformed,

Broken, cracked, tips came to a point,

From each nail, black drippings fell

He cracked each finger, one at a time

The sound ran through everyone’s spine

 

Slowly, he brought them to his lips

First, he licked the tops

Then gave them all a kiss.

Having their attention, quaking where they stood

All their fear and disgust bled his way.

 

He looked around; smile fell away

Reversing his actions, first his fists shut tight

Both arms descended, taking their time

He laughed just once

Shook his head, commenced his walk.

He began to slither on.

Everyone scattered each and every way.

 

‘Devil walking’ many whispered, still to this day.

He just kept walking away

He’d look left, then to his right

He kept on walking, into the night

He kept on stalking

Till he was out of sight.

 

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For those just joining in:

Hi. I’m taking part in the 2020 AtoZ Blog Challenge. 26 posts during the month of April, with a reprieve on Sundays. If you’d like to check out the many varied blogs that are participating this year, click HERE. You’ll never know what you may find.

Also: I’d like to put the entirety of this month’s output to music. I’m looking for a musician who is up to the challenge. We’ll see where it goes. If interested, my email address can be found on the side. 

Thanks

Yes, I Am

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NaNo_2019_-_Poster_Design_1024x1024 To order this beautiful poster print, use this link: NaNoWriMo Poster

Yes, I am taking part in this year’s NaNoWriMo event. It is kicking my buttocks and taking names.

For those who don’t know:

NaNoWriMo is a month-long writing challenge to get out the Great Novel you swear is in you.

  • Start a brand new Novel on November first;
  • write EVERY day during that same month;
  • Match, or surpass, the daily word goal they have set, just a teeny tiny bit under 1,700 words a day;
  • Ultimate Goal: 50,000 words that will hopefully lead to a brand spanking new novel.
    • Yes, 50K does not a novel make. Start it, write more, boom! Novel.

As of 11/10/2019, I have scribed 16,684 words of my “novel” idea, one that has been percolating since 2010. Yes, I know, not “brand new” 100%, but I’ve discarded so many ideas over the years of how to approach this. New start, new path. New. Don’t mention all the first chapter first drafts that I wrote, and deleted.

Don’t. Mention. Them.

I joined a Buddy Group. I signed up on the main site. Posted my daily achievements on the site and on FB. Procrastinated a bit (why do you think I’m writing this post?). And thought and thought, researched and thought, finally actually sitting in front of my WIP and adding more and more as the days pass.

Check it all out if you like. I am not discussing exactly what I am writing, but, sad to say, it is not The Abysmal Dollhouse. That is a major editing re-write that I’m taking a few steps back from. It’s a bigger job than I initially thought: to take the individual pieces and novelize them.

UGH!

If you enjoyed AD, I think you’ll enjoy the new WIP.

I’ll be silent here for the rest of November. For those who celebrate Thanksgiving, go celebrate.

Celebrate anything that warms the cockles of your heart. Fight for your right…to PARTAY!

Don’t drink and drive.

Reflections In A Car Mirror: #AtoZ Blog Challenge 2019

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#AtoZChallenge 2019 Tenth Anniversary Reflections badge

26 Posts

A total of 36,061 Words

A Car In The Woods

Six years of participation. Six years surviving. Six years.

This year kicked my ass.

I’m not someone who outlines these things. Titles, maybe (i.e. the Road Signs year). I get the basic idea, like it enough, think I’ll get some mileage out of it, and go with it, peddle to the metal.

I originally planned to just do individual stories. The only through line connector would be the Narrator (the Present Day voice). My take on The Twilight Zone.But then…

Commenters got invested in the mystery. The clicking sounds. Then the Thunderbird. Finally, Patricia, Debra, and Tim. What started out as a Horror/Mystery series of lightly connecting pieces began to form a larger story. So, commenters, you may take credit for leading me in this direction.

I also began to care and think about the family.

Zeno the mutated frog was planned before I started. This is a real African frog known as the Clawed Foot. It does not have a tongue and makes a clicking sound instead of croaking. It can’t make the usual frog noise. AND: it was (is being?) used in many Biochemical labs as a test subject for a variety of reasons. I had my X post planned out, and the Z post.

Which changed drastically by the time I reached Z.

The Narrator was originally going to remain a mysterious “voice” in the woods, with Z being a more philosophical/paranormal pondering. Once I introduced Eddie, it felt right for him to take on that role. By the very end, and the reason why Monday the 29th’s post was delayed, I was having an intense inner struggle: let Eddie live to fulfill the role I was planning, or let him die and have someone else become the narrator.

Tim was a bit fragile, with all the trauma he went through. Patricia needed, I felt, a happier life. That left Debra, the smart mouthed, arm punching, take no shit Sister.

Eddie vs. Debra. A full day was spent with inner debates, and then a well thought out feedback email came along. Thanks, Melanie. If you are not familiar with Atherton’s Magic Vapour, you really should check it out.

I didn’t want to be predictable, but in the end I guess I was, based on the few comments I had at the end.

The posts were much longer than I should have written. The story took me where the story took me. Blog hoppers don’t always want to invest in long posts. Pop in. Hit the like button. Leave a comment here and there. Not this puppy. The lowest word count of the main story was 887 words (I on April 10th). The longest was the Y post, with 2,936 words. In case you’re wondering, I wrote the Z post’s 1,491 words the same day I wrote Y.

4,427 words. One day. I think I used up all the words in my head. The night was for vegging out.

The Saturday posts were hint drops for things as yet unexplained. Some were straight forward, most needed your thinking cap on to make the connections. I felt I didn’t have to hit the readers on the head with explaining every last detail. Sometimes solving things, or allowing your own mind to wonder, can be a great experience.

As for TB, there are clues scattered here and there about the T-bird. Red Thunderbird-4 was described by one reader as just gobbledygook. It’s the least straight forward of the Saturday posts, but read between the lines and look at the graphic inserts. Add that to the last week of stories and TB’s role.

I want to thank every single person who read, liked, and commented on the day-to-day posts. This is what stirred me on, made me think, and really boosted a confidence that needed a lot of boosting. Congrats to everyone who completed, or attempted, this years Blog Challenge.

Big thanks to all the hosts of 2019’s AtoZ Blog Challenge:

Arlee Bird (founder) @ Tossing it Out
J Lenni Dorner (captain) @ Blog of Author J Lenni Dorner
Zalka Csenge Virág @ The Multicolored Diary

John Holton @ The Sound of One Hand Typing

Jayden R Vincente @ J R Vincente Erotica Writer

Jeremy Hawkins (graphics) @ Hollywood Nuts

Final Words:

Is this story done? Are there questions you still have, threads you feel I didn’t tie together?  Why did I choose the titles for each piece? Thoughts, comments, Agents who you think should read this? I’d love to hear from you.

There’s a car in the woods.

Link To AtoZ Reflections Sheet

And to finish this out, the following are 10 Reasons Why I Hate You

10 Questions To Answer:

  1. What did you love about the challenge this year?
    1. As always, getting my creative juices flowing & finding new blogs to read/follow
  2. What would you change about it?
    1. Group the Master List by categories, as we’re asked to choose where our blog fits in.
  3. What was the best moment for you during this year’s challenge?
    1. The comments of those who really followed my complicated story line.
  4. What is the best comment your blog got during the challenge, and who left the comment?
        1. First Post: “Excellent start, Stu. Almost David Baldacci meets Stephen King. Expertly narrated.” by Varad
        2. Last Post: “Fantastic story. Had me riveted to my seat on every entry. Well done.” by Harvey

       

  5. Will you do the challenge again?
    1. Most likely. Depends where my head is at next April
  6. Was it well organized and were the hosts helpful? (Did you fill out the after survey?)
    1. Survey Says: It’s done. This year, the main AtoZ page was a little hard to navigate. Took too many tries to find things. i.e. Master List
  7. How did you and your blog grow, change, or improve as a result of this challenge? Did you find new blogs out there to enjoy?
    1. The more I write, the better I feel my storytelling gets. Each year has its fans, but I really pushed myself this year, and I think it shows.
  8. Were you on the Master List? (If you did the challenge last year, was it better this time without the daily lists?)
    1. Yep I was. I do with we saw the deletions as previous years. Winnows down searches.
  9. Any suggestions for our future?
    1. Throw us a curve-ball: Start the month with Z, work out way to A. Something.
  10. Any notes to the co-host team? A word of thanks to Jeremy for all his hard work on the graphics?
    1. As always, thank you. The graphics were excellent. Thanks.

 

 

That’s All Folks. Comments are always appreciated. Did you like my April output? Are there things I left open that still leave you puzzled? Who wrote the book of love? Just want to say “Hi Stu!”?

Enjoy

Zeitgeist Auch Weiterhin:#AtoZ Blog Challenge

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A Car In The Woods: Chapter Twenty-One and an Epilogue

2019 AtoZ Blog Challenge

New? This is a serialized work. Please start on A: A Car In The Woods

AtoZ2019Z  ZEITGEIST AUCH WEITERHIN

1970

TB raced down the corridor when we hit bottom. She raced to what I called the Star Trek Med Bay. Just no Bones there to help. Dad directed us to medical beds, which buttons to press, he clicked a few different patterns, and we stood back and watched as the Med Bay took over. Dad made sure Tim’s “pod” was secure before he let his own close and do its own mojo. I still call it Med Bay.

Schatzi had her own chamber. We stopped there before moving on. Dad clicked whatever command he had to give. Schatzi came over for hugs and scratches, and when the door swooshed behind her-Star Trek, again-TB continued.

Just before he went under, Dad told me to look for his journal, giving me explicit directions and making me repeat them back to him and the secondary code I’d need. I don’t click, so that code was important for me. Plan ahead. Another training lesson he drilled into us.

Mom and Will were comforting each other until got the wanderlust. Mom gave him a kiss and asked him just to check back every half hour or so, in case either of them came out of their shiny chrysalis crypts. I called them that before I left to find Dad’s journal. She gave me The Look. I was out of the room pronto.

It was exactly where he told me it would be, and the code worked. Easy-peasy lemon squeezy. I laughed at this Britism that I picked up the previous summer I spent in London. I brought the Journal and all the loose papers it sat on back to Med Bay. Mom was crying, and after a big hug I let her be and sat down on the floor just beside the swoosh door.

I read. I double checked what I had read. The papers were a mish-mosh of memos, letters, orders, and notes all with REDACTED stamps over names, dates, and exact locations. Very frustrating, but I got the picture. Took a bit, but I got it.

Wish I had never read the damn thing.

All the horrible things that were done to their “specimens.” They were looking for that next best weapon, animals first, then dolphins and other sea life, then birds and reptiles. That’s where Zeno emerged from. Damn nuisance is still out there. All the 25 labs worked with different creatures, testing different drugs on them.

But control was an issue. That’s when they went electronic, morphing the surviving into monsters. Schatzi…

Then humans. Super Soldiers. Dad wrote that some of the lab workers called him and the others their Captain America project, but never in hearing distance of their superiors. No sense of humor, he said.

Drugs came first, and relentless. Next body modifications, all starting with what he called The Insert. It got implanted in their chests, a bypass channeled to an arterial vein, and perpetually run by the heart. The clicking sound originally was a sick joke by one of the techs who knew the noise from Zeno bugged the shit out of most of the heads of the lab. That it worked on other levels for the Taken was an added bonus for the BGE-WD. They insisted that all Inserts would be modified to include the feature.

A number of those who already had the implant didn’t make it. Dad never found conclusive numbers.

The revolt that was begun by the Aggressors and finished by Dad and other Taken survivors was brutal. No prisoners. Dad and another Taken tapped into communications with the other labs. Specific clicks were sent out, coded in a way that only other augmented could process them. BGE never had a full translation vocabulary. They thought they did and they died being wrong about that. About a lot of things.

Each Lab’s Taken first took down the lab rats, the scientists, and any military personnel they found. The next mission was to eliminate the Aggressor units. They were a danger to the people above and had been boasting, in each and every lab, what fun they would have topside.

Lab #4 ended up as a bloody mortuary. Both sides died trying to eliminate the other. Four of that labs’ Aggressor’s survived and made it out. TBG-that bastard Gary-thought he had killed my dad, but he didn’t do the job thoroughly.  They all had a healing factor, but they could die. One of Dad’s paper packs talked about Nanoscience. I’m still trying to wrap my head around that. Star Trek thingy again.

When he could, he made it to Medical, hoisted himself in, and, according to the machine’s records, five weeks later he was released. He rummaged all sections of the lab, finding files and more in different places. A lot was missing. He found a shit load of shredded paper in a room full of computers. Most of them were broken during the revolt. The few that worked didn’t offer enough information, and no two of them shared the same data.

Dad went on the hunt for the Aggressors. According to one of Dad’s journal entries, they were compelled to stay within a certain distance from the lab. They did. He got two of them early on, bringing their bodies back to the lab with the help of TB and Schatzi. Doris, the only surviving female Aggressor, took much longer to find. Schatzi took care of her.

TBG came looking for Dad. His mistake. End of his story.

Dad lasted another year. Tim and I got in all the time we could with him, taking turns for our alone time with him. His injuries were too many and too severe. He needed more help than the Med Beds could supply. Mom had visited with him throughout the year, but she always left crying on the lift with TB. TB recorded it, as she recorded everything she was involved in. I found them stored in a side room with thousands of tapes and cassettes. Dad told me where to look.

When he finally passed.

When he finally passed, we buried him in the middle of the lift tunnel. TB had her own codes we knew nothing about. The lift stopped, a couple of clicks, and a side in the wall opened: just the right amount of room for a body. It was coated in some sort of metal, and there was an airflow that Tim found. We all agreed this was best. No random finding. We’d know. That was enough.

I stayed home, almost finishing my degree at a state university. Tim comes down and plays with Schatzi and goes running around with her. They both chase Zeno. Schatzi almost caught that frog a couple of times. Tim swears it looked like they were just playing a game with each other.

He started seeing someone. He won’t tell me or Mom who, yet. We’ll get it out of him, the brat.

Mom and Will are happy together, which is important. She started a training program with Will. He loves it. I join in as much as possible.

At this point, I really don’t know why I’m in school. No subject is catching me. I’m not seeing anyone. I have a few of the old friends who stuck around, but…eh. I’ve reread Dad’s journal so many times I have most of it memorized. Tim and I found some more loose papers around the lab as we explored while Dad slept. I added them to the pile.

I don’t even know why I’m writing all this down in Dad’s journal. He wrote a lot, but it’s a big journal. I knew he wouldn’t mind my scribbling thoughts.

Future me, if you’re reading this someday, maybe you can find a way to let me know something.

What the hell am I supposed to do?

Debs

Epilogue

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Present Day

Hadn’t read the journal in years. Didn’t think I needed to.

Guess I did.

Old me, things were only going to get worse. Still are doing that.

The other Taken? They got their Aggressors one and all.

I know. I checked.

This land is not anywhere near where we were in 1970.

Many of the Taken got angry. Angrier.

Some were caught and made “wards” of the military states.

Others still roam free. Lots of death and destruction.

Around the world.

Tim’s married with kids. Mom and Will are retired. All happy as can be today.

I hunt the Taken. I’ve killed a lot of them.

More need to go.

Almost all of them offered useful intel.

That’s what the hell you were meant to do, past me.

Me behind the wheel of TB, Schatzi hogging the back seat.

We hunt.

There are still cars in the woods.

 

The End

 

Xenopus Laevis: #AtoZ Blog Challenge

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A Car In The Woods:  Final Interlude

2019 AtoZ Blog Challenge

New? This is a serialized work. Please start on A: A Car In The Woods

AtoZ2019X XENOPUS LAEVIS

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TRANSCRIPTION: OVERSIGHT COMMITTEE

On REDACTED, Bio-genetic Exploratory: Weapon Division Oversight Committee 1 listened to testimony from lead scientist, Doctor REDACTED, of Project: REDACTED.  Administration edited scientific reports; claims of misleading additional reports noted. Determination to follow.

TESTIMONIES

Chairman:           Good afternoon, Doctor. The Oversight Committee has requested your presence today to answer some charges brought up by your superiors. You will answer the questions posed to you succinctly. And deviation from a direct answer, obfuscation, or refusal to answer will not be in your best interests. Do you understand?

Chairman:           For the records, we need a verbal assent. Nodding your head is not acceptable. Again, Doctor, do you understand?

Doctor:                 Yes. I fully understand.

Chairman:           Good. Let us proceed. Can you give the committee, in your own words, a brief, and I mean brief, history of Project: REDACTED?

Doctor:                                 Sir, it is all in the report in front of you.

Chairman:           The gentleman will answer the question. In your own words.

Doctor:                 (sound of clearing throat) Um, In July of 1953, my colleagues and I had published our theories on advanced genetic manipulation, an extension of previous experimentation dating back to 1910. We were soon approached by REDACTED and given funding to make our theories concrete. Um, we set up four labs initially in four equidistant facilities across the country. Variations of climate, geographic settings, and, um, other considerations would give us baselines as we went on.

The first success was in Lab #4 located in Upstate REDACTED. This lab worked initially only on amphibian subjects. Lab numbers 1-3’s subjects were, respectfully, um, Mammal, Avian, and Reptilian. I mention Lab #4 specifically as it was here we had our first breakthrough.

We had limited success with local animals. In February of 1954, um, we acquired a shipment of Xenopus Laevis:  the African Clawed Frog.

Chairman:           What was its significance?

Doctor:                 (sound of clearing throat) We realized these were purer specimens. They had no latent toxicity in their systems. Their environment was nowhere near as chemically polluted as ours. There was little to no resistance to our serums. Um. Reactions were extraordinary.

General:               Such as? In laymen terms.

Doctor:                 Um, General. Uh, well, Subject X-1428 grew, sir. General. Where previous subjects did the same, X-1428 surpassed them. She grew at a controlled rate at first, achieving first the size of an adult German shepherd or Labrador.

General:               (after a few moments of silence) And?

Doctor:                 Um, and in the next three months she tripled in size. Its bone structure was solid; vitals were still in an acceptable range. We then, um, started implementing some work from other labs that we wanted to try out. Zeno was the strongest of our subjects, so…

Chairman:           Zeno?

Doctor:                 Sorry, sir. One of our technicians started calling X-1428 by a shortened version of its genus. It stuck.

Chairman:           Go on, please.

Doctor:                 By this time, there were 18 other labs placed around the country. Various subjects. A wide range of testable theories that complimented our beginning theory and expanding on the discoveries. Lab #21 had success with mental manipulations. Lab #14 succeeded in augmentation. And so on. As Zeno was enhanced, the reports stirred the building of the last three Labs.

Um, uh, Lab #25, when it was operational, requested Zeno for additional testing. That’s where it went wrong.

General:               Explain.

Doctor:                 The sedation used for transportation did not work. The dose was too low, it seemed. What was fine for stationary in-lab work fell far short of the jostling of the transport. From reports, the truck used only got 6.7 miles from our Lab. Zeno woke, broke free of her restraints, and destroyed the vehicle.  REDACTED had been thrown from the cab. He witnessed what happened. Too many bones were shattered; the only thing he could do from the hollow he landed in was watch. Um, and later report.

According to REDACTED’s report, Zeno leaped up and down, capsizing and collapsing the frame of her transport. Her clawed front legs had been augmented, um, if you remember, and she ripped through the rest. Um, uh, then…and, um, well, she ate all on board, except for REDACTED. Afterward, she lapped up all the blood. That is why there weren’t any traces. Of blood. Or bodies.

General:               And the noise he reported?

Doctor:                 Um, this species of frog has no tongue. Hence the claws. They grabbed their prey with extremely strong clawed appendages. No long, curling tongue. Oh. Um, they also don’t croak. No tongue. The noise they make is a very annoying clicking sound. Uh, It was the one thing we didn’t miss when Zeno left.

So, um, she escaped. She made a home at the lake in the woods. When she was hungry or disturbed, she hunted.

Chairman:           This is all very disturbing. Were no controls set in place?

Doctor:                 That was why Lab #25 requested her, sir. They were having success with control and further augmentation models. Their goal was to…

General:               (sound of slamming on committee dais) Fine! Enough. We get it. Tell me, Doctor, why in the hell did all of the labs start using humans as test subjects? That was not in any of your mandates. (Pause for answer). Answer me, dammit!

CIC:                       Enough, General. This was a Need To Know situation. Not in your bailiwick. Understood?

General:              Yes, sir. Loud and clear.

Chairman:           (long pause of silence) Doctor. Please continue your original statement. (pause) Now, Doctor.

End:::::::::

Determination: Doctor REDACTED refused to say anything else on this occasion. He was remanded into custody. Further questioning to resume after Oversight Committee members reconvene.

 

Wild In The Woods: #AtoZ Blog Challenge

Standard

A Car In The Woods: Chapter Nineteen

2019 AtoZ Blog Challenge

New? This is a serialized work. Please start on A: A Car In The Woods

AtoZ2019W WILD IN THE WOODS

1963

Eddie was too far away, arriving at the tail end of the incident when there was nothing he could do. Concealing himself behind a thick trunk, he saw Schatzi in TB, her head nodding off. TB activated the knockout gas, having automatically switched off the pheromones. The wind storm created to obscure the descent of the Thunderbird blew out of the bottom of the car as the platform smoothly lowered its cargo. The top plate closed immediately once the clearance was reached. Schatzi was gone. Eddie could only hang his head.

Looking over at the kids, he found Debra consoling Timmy, even though he was mad as spit and crying. He lashed out at her for holding him back. Eddie was amazed: Debra held back. She took it. He had been waiting for his daughter to fight back, bicker with him as they did, and end it with a punch in the arm. Nothing. She did nothing.

Timmy finally wound down. Cried out, he walked around and around, looking for anything that would give him a clue where his dog went. He’d find nothing. Eddie knew that. He felt proud that Timmy wouldn’t just give up without a real try. Deb walked with him, keeping an eye on the position of the sun. She elbowed Timmy and got him to look. A small argument followed. Debra won.

Eddie heard it all. Her points were on target. It was already cold, and the temperature would keep on dropping. The only place she knew out of the wind with some protection was their car. He was reluctant, dragging his feet, looking back as they walked away. He yelled out one last “Schatzi!” before they blended into the woods.

Eddie raced ahead of them. On the way, he looked for and found wood dry enough to light for a fire. Once he got to the ravine, Eddie made a bed of slightly damp wood and then placed the makeshift dry cord near enough to the car, sure one of them would find it.

Going through all the nooks and crannies of the station wagon, Eddie found and strategically placed items the kids would need: three of Schatzi’s thick blankets were shoved behind some of the junk the kids left lying in the back. The biggest one he placed by the back of the rear seats, an easy find. The second one he put under the front seat, with enough sticking out from the back. There was no water in the car. He left his canteen under the second blanket, filling it with the cleanest snow he could find. It wasn’t much, but a full container of water would be needed until help arrived.

In the junk pile, he found some candy bars, bags of nuts, dog treats. Eddie smiled. They knew they weren’t supposed to be eating this in the wagon, but he and Pat were aware that they snuck it aboard when they could. In this case, it was a good thing: it would help them now. Eddie added two food bars he took from the lab before his mission. They never offered anything. It was up to the Taken to get what they thought they needed.

The last thing he left was a small box of long matches. A plain, ordinary box held the matches, nothing to note from where it came from, or when. The glove compartment was crammed full of maps, sunglasses, and other cast-off items. He put the matchbox in there; a few maps placed so it wasn’t easily seen.

Eddie did what he could. He left the ravine, taking the third blanket with him. Scaling a tree near enough to keep an eye, Eddie watched Timmy and Debra come back. They did exactly what he had drilled into their heads: secure the area, search the area, take full stock of things they would need, and improvise the rest. They found the food, the blankets, and the matches. That led to the hunt for wood. Debra found it quickly, and the two of them got a good fire going, using the maps as tinder. They argued a bit. They cried quietly over the loss of Schatzi. Night fell hard with the winds picking up. They both climbed in the back of the station wagon, wrapped themselves in the blankets, and fell asleep with Deb holding Tim, sharing their body heat.

Like him, Debra also generated a lot of body heat. Patricia called her the mini boiler along with her daddy being The Furnace. He smiled at the memory.

During the night, Eddie would creep over. He had stashed more dry wood and added that to keep the fire going. Towards dawn, he came back with green wood and adding a healthy pile on top. The smoke rose high. It was as good an SOS flag he could make.

Leaving the kids, feeling they’d be fine if they were found soon enough, Eddie made his way back to the clearing. The noise filtering through the woods corresponded with his hope: the town was out in full force looking for Timmy and Deb. Climbing up for a better view, he saw a Deputy he didn’t know in the general area. He just wasn’t looking in the right direction.

Duck walking over the thick branch Eddie waited for the Deputy to come within range. As he did, Eddie stood and shook the branch above him, the snow falling in large clumps. The Deputy swung his head around as more snow fell, one large pile hitting him squarely. Eddie wanted to laugh, but he needed the guy to look in the right direction.

He did. Seeing the smoke rising he took out a walkie-talkie and called in what he saw while he ran in the right direction. Eddie stayed long enough to see that the kids were found, and for Patricia run to them and hug them near to death.

It was time to head back into the lab. Hurrying, Eddie hoped he would be in time to put a roadblock in the lab drones doing anything to Schatzi.

He arrived too late.

~~~~~    ~~~~~    ~~~~~

1967

Eddie had left the carnage behind him. He had long ago found a way to control the platform lift without the help of the deceased lab bastard. Waiting for the control system to acknowledge them, Eddie turned to give Girl a scratch on her head. She filled the back seat of TB best with the convertible’s top down. He was revved up, TB purred as she idled, and Girl was jumpy. Eddie had let her smell the old uniform before they got in the car. It was enough to start her off.

Once moving, Eddie began to look forward to the encounter above. Doris needed to be terminated. She was a big part of helping to overthrow their fearless “leaders.” He killed who he had to for survival. Some of the Taken were too far gone, their drug testing and operations going into overdrive: too aggressive; too uncontrollable. The operation for freedom released all the taken.

That’s when things went sideways. Everyone was set free. Everyone. Whoever let the Aggressives out most likely didn’t get very far. The slaughter began with the lab minions. It then moved onto anyone who got in their way. Taken taking out their own.  Doris was part of that group. While the others went about with stone faces, Doris laughed through it all. They ripped through doors, stormed hallways and locked rooms, and a number of them made it to the outside. Including Doris. They scattered, taking up different places in the woods. The controls were still working in many regards. There was just no one left to work the controls.

They had a fifty-mile radius they could roam. One compliance that they did not beat, or maybe even knew, was the limitation on how far they could move about. Lab 4 was the center. A dead center that still held subconscious sway.

That made it easy in some ways to find them and terminate. Too many deaths hit the fifty-mile radius; Eddie felt he was just as guilty at setting them free as the one who did it.

It was his plan to break free of the control. It just got out of hand too fast.

Doris was the last of the Aggressors. Her mind was always slippery. She was a bad choice from day one. The lab wanted more women subjects. They got her. They paid for getting her. Once she was on the outside, she became difficult to find. Eddie almost had her twice, but others got hurt in her wake. She’d escape and hide deeper, in plain sight.

In whatever state she was in at present, Doris acted like Lab 4 was running, and she was still part of it. She transmitted that she had a new one. Female. Smart. Her tone made it clear that she hated that woman. There were no more Taken left down in the Lab except for Eddie and Girl. It was his chance to take her out. She came to him.

It took a little bit of scrounging, but Eddie found the old uniform in the back quarters. Her name and number were all the way under the large pile in the room. Bringing it to Girl, and the growling that followed, sealed the deal.

As they got closer to top, Eddie went into the camera network to see what was there to greet him. He saw the VW Microbus. In front of it, Doris slapped the bound woman, hard. There was no sound in the car system, but Eddie already had enough. They were very close to the ground cover. It started making a slight noise a year ago, and he couldn’t fix it. He was hoping for a total surprise.

Plans change.

Eddie gave Girl the uniform. She was chomping and tearing at it as they got within feet. Girl had always had a hate on for Doris. Something happened between them on one mission. When they came back, Doris found ways to avoid Girl.

As the wind machine clicked on and the rooftop slid away, Eddie leaped out of the Thunderbird. The whirlwind threw up enough to hide him. He raced to the tree line and disappeared, cutting through quickly to come close to the van.

Doris was walking towards the opening at the platform sealed, and the windstorm died down. She had let the woman fall, seemingly forgotten. While Doris approached and called to Girl, Eddie drew out his knife and made his way to the van. Going to knee, he cut the binding on her feet. She had trouble moving them at first but got them kicking for circulation. By the time he cut through the ties around her wrists and was lifting her help, the ruckus behind him grew.

He knew what was going on. Doris came looking for them. He saw the assault rifle she pulled out of the van at the last moment, hiding it behind the woman’s back. It was all a ruse. She hoped to take him by surprise. Having Girl with him changed all that.

A soft voice spoke into the woman’s ear: “Shhh, sweetie. Relax, relax. You’ll be safe now.” She was crying; Eddie rubbed her hands and forearms, helping the circulation move along. Over the growing screaming and fierce barking, Eddie said: “Sweetie, listen. The keys to the VW are on the driver’s seat. Give yourself a few minutes. Your feet and hands will thank you. Leave here. Don’t look back.”

She nodded, and not saying a word she tottered around the van, got in, and drove off.

By this point, Girl was howling, and Doris was a bloody mess by the front of TB. The car’s engine revved a few times and settled down to a chorus of barks and honking.

Eddie walked over and crouched over her body.

“Hi, Doris.”

“You…you…damn, I ought…” she began, then coughed, an expulsion of blood following.

“You aren’t going to be doing much of anything in a moment or so. Yeah, if looks could kill. I get it. I do have one question. Hope you’re up for one.”

She tried to spit at him. She only got dribble.

“What did you do that got Girl hating you so much? Hmm?”

Doris couldn’t lift her arm. She just had enough to give him the bird. Eddie noticed and chuckled. By the time he stood up, she was gone.

Girl was rubbing her face in the grass next to the body, trying to get rid of any blood stains.

TB raced her engine, nice and loud.

“C’mon, Girl. Hop in. We have to go. C’mon. Zeon will be here any second.”

The platform began to lower as the deep clicking sound came from the woods. As the top closed over them, Eddie heard the heavy thump land, clicking away like a bell tower.

~~~~~    ~~~~~    ~~~~~

1968

Eddie followed Gary’s trail. He had to save his son. His left hand was a mess. It was taking its time in healing. Time he did not have.

Debra explained everything she could to her mom and Will. She was still trying to process everything that went down.

Will had brought his gun and a shotgun from the car.

Patricia scouted in front, looking for any trail marks. She found blood droplets that led them on. She was terrified for Timmy, but the anger towards his kidnapper outshone almost anything else.

She’d deal with the idea of Eddie and Schatzi when the time came.

Debra came behind Will, who had been very quiet. She hadn’t told either of them that she had Tim’s gun.

They sped on.

Present Day

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

 

There was a car in the woods.