MOMENTS
LIQUID TIME
“I don’t think it is possible to contribute to the present moment in any meaningful way while being wholly engulfed by it.” Maria Popova
Z grasps the fringe of Khronos
“Zehara! Nooooooo…”
“The only reason for time is so that everything doesn’t happen at once.” ~ ~ Albert Einstein
COMMENTS ARE ALWAYS WELCOME AND APPRECIATED.
THANK YOU.
“Every second is of infinite value.” ~ ~ Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
(ZV)
Nomad(s) of Infinitum.
Transient(s) of the spatial dimensions
They absorb the Tenth Dimension.
A single point.
All possibilities.
Branches of every potential universe.
(ZV) savors Apeiron
Yet the thought along the line:
Definite or Incomplete?
TRANSITION
Z will enter/has entered/never be in the Float Pod
Valentina refused/refuses/never enters the Lab
Z will take/is taking/remembers IVs of Modifal-70 from 200 mg to the final dosing of 1000 mg.
Five sessions in a row.
Z will undergo/undergoes/will have gone through rounds of gene and body modifications.
Valentina would/will/has regret(s) supervising the procedure(s).
Things lost control.
Things were never in control.
TRANSITION
volcanic eruptions stardust shattered dreams rising falling waves of despair love hatred denial no know known believe belief rituals symbolic pedestal entombed buried airless space time khronos forget forgot lost unclear foggy rain downpour floods levees dams bursting opening hallway echo repeat again again again
TRANSITION
The Lab
Float Pod Conn
Dr. Karen Capri has upper management up her ass. She has been bombarded with questions, demands, threats, quasi-pleading, and distaste. The lab’s repair costs. The dead technician. The disappearance of Subject Z and Dr. Marin. The “Why don’t you have an answer for us, Dr. Capri?” in its non-stop versions.
The last two nights Karen had fallen back on old ways through medical schooling. Adderall to Methamphetamine to blow. Non-stop stimulants, pushing herself to find the answers-any answer-that would relieve the attacks on her competency. There was no way she would allow them to take the yoke of blame on all of this, to become their scapegoat, their sacrificial lamb, the one to crucify.
Three days, high on uppers.
Something had to break.
The console screamed.
Karen raced to shut off the speakers, cursing the entire way from her office.
She did not make it to the Lab.
(ZV) was floating in her way.
OR
The A to Z Epics, More or Less
I started Tale Spinning at the beginning of 2011 as an offshoot of BornStoryteller. The latter went more towards non-fiction, rants, comparisons, and observations. Tale Spinning: an experiment in creative writing was the space I needed.
Since then, I’ve gone through periods of both non-stop writing and those “dry” spells, where nothing inspired or motivated me.
Joining the A to Z Blogging Challenge in April 2011 was one of the smartest moves I’ve ever made. I’ve pushed my own boundaries over the ten years, always looking for that “challenge.” Taking risks is stimulating. A lot of what I write is expressing what is burning within me at the moment.
Which is probably why I have trouble continuing plunging into the worlds and characters I’ve built over the years. The roller-coaster upheaval of my life during these last ten years have jaggedly flowed from euphoric to complete and utter numbness. This isn’t a pity party. Just stating the facts, ma’am.
Many bloggers/writers I have “met along the way have become family. What is “Family is Chosen” for $2,000, Alex?” (Man, I miss Alex Trebek. Right now, I am Team Levar Burton to become the new host. Reading Jeopardy Rainbow!). It’d take me the rest of the day (it’s early here) to point you all out, but my thanks and love are hereby sent. I even met the woman I love writing these blog posts during that first A to Z. Present tense, even though we are not together anymore.
Shit happens.
Anyways.
List Time. In case, you know, want to read past (and present) A to Z attempts. Each set starts with A on April 1st of that year. There might be a few preceding posts/teases over the years as I tried out the new voice I was shooting for.
A TO Z POSTS
Here’s something not A to Z that I’d love to get your feedback/comments. I keep getting drawn back to it on an emotional/mental level, but have not added a thing to it in quite a while. These were written during the summer of 2011.
CONTINUANCE
Liquid Time
“My past is everything I failed to be.” ~ Fernando Pessoa
Z writhed through bouts of slaughter.
An eternal splintering of that moment(s).
Here, the push. The electricized rail. The train.
Here, the backhand. The kick. The stairway. The neck.
Here, the rifle. The scope. The contract. The hit.
Here, the airlock. The depressurizing. The ejections.
Here, the bolt, the honed Bowie, the smile.
The neck. The liver. The heart
The blood. The blood. The bisection.
Trespassing under sea, through the stars, across the multiverse, homes, hovels, a maze of mazes.
Never ending.
There was no end.
Z slayed everywhere.
It was too much.
It was too much.
It was, too much.
TRANSITION
Ad infinitum.
body locked killing blows body locked ejected released hired passion hunted hunter poisoner stalker ripper strangler clown giggling gouger monster butcher mad-man/woman self-defense abuse insanity cold-stone drugged drunk protection protecting pro-active suicidal sadistic black widow peeping tom cowboy vampire torturer exsanguination executioner
Z’s hands dripped red.
Z became another moment.
Z’s eyes closed, teeth clenched, long exhalation.
Z collapsed into Fetal Prime.
This is the day Z doesn’t die
Z was/is/will be
Sunday, April 2, 2021: A list!
Monday, April 5, 2021: D
Comments/feedback are always welcome.
<<<<<<<<<< >>>>>>>>>>
HAPPY HALLOWEEN!
I host a writing group on Saturday mornings: Daydreamers Write! Prompts & Challenges. The above was from the challenge prompt: Strange things happen when the Grandfather Clock speaks. The challenge: Coat your piece in MOOD. Write in First-person & the narrator is not reliable. If you can, use all five (six?) senses. Some wrote prose, some poetry, and then…
The picture is ©Eric Freitas. If you want to see more of his work, the link is attached to the picture. His work is amazing, and Eric works on commissions. Check his website.
Daydreamers Write! Prompt & Challenges is a virtual writers group. We meet every Saturday morning (EST) from 10:00 am to Noon. Two prompts (2nd one holds the challenge), writing, sharing, constructive feedback, all in that two-hour slot. What I love about keeping this virtual is that we have members from both coasts in the US, and one from London.
Click on the link, sign up for a membership, and then find the date you’d like to join in. Please send in the RSVP that is attached to that day’s invite.
Any questions? You can leave me a message on the MeetUp page or direct to organizerdaydreams@gmail.com
Author’s Note:
“Songs of joy and peace” come from Joni Mitchel’s beautiful song, River. I had listened to it only minutes before when I shut off my music app and tuned into that night’s writing group, River River Writer’s Circle. The prompt was “When the weather changes.” The above happened, was shared, and got the suggestion: “Think about expanding this out” (well, “stretching it out”). So, I let it sit, came back to it, and the above is the result.
Thank you, Ms. Mitchel. A sad, but integral song for many. What I wrote is no reflection on her song. The fourth line of the first stanza stayed with me.
The opening stanza from Joni Mitchel’s River is:
It’s coming on Christmas
They’re cutting down trees
They’re putting up reindeer
And singing songs of joy and peace
Oh I wish I had a river I could skate away on
EDIT: Boy, am I dense!
RiverRiver Writer’s Circle.
I just realized it. Not planned at all. Doh! Oy! :::palmface:::
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?
Tale Spinning 