Category Archives: Parents

TALES OF TALE SPINNING

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©Edward Gorey

TALES OF TALE SPINNING

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.

The Kitsune-Mochi and Fox Saga

The Vagabond Queen: A Tall Tale

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Read the rest of this entry

One – Thirteen – Eight

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Thirteen years

Separated by a day

Tear apart Autumn.

 

Leaves die,

Their true colors surfacing

Until they fall.

 

It all happened too fast

As slow as it went

Eight years the aftermath. 

 

Two held out

Eyelids close for the last time

Left much unanswered with regrets

 

Stick it out, alone

As ideation throws itself

Against membrane walls.

 

Silence instead of screams

Close lips, open eyes

The yelling of the past is past.

 

There is a disconnect

Rejections, Turned backs

As the darkness of the night

Seeps into the coming day

Hiding is opportune

When one day is like the next.

 

 

Holding On

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a night window

HOLDING ON

by Stuart Nager©

 

 

“Wendy. Close the window. It is freezing in here.”

John was flat on his back, under his sheets and quilt. He had his right arm draped over his eyes. Truth be told, it was his nightshirt that did the draping. John’s arm was across his brow. He had to remind himself to relax, for he was leaving an indent in the lower forehead.

Wendy sat on the padded window bench; knees tucked up tight against her chest. Her arms encircled her legs. The window was ajar, allowing the night winds free entry into the bedroom. Wendy searched the clouds, looking. Praying. Hoping.

The wind whipped up, bursting past the lead paned glass. It sends Wendy’s nightshirt fluttering. Her shoulders lifted, her immaculate posture in place. Wendy tilted her head just so. She knew what he liked.

As did she.

“Arrrrrr, matey!” John used his pirate voice, doing his best to make her laugh. Wendy did not laugh nor smile. Jumping out of bed, John had to untangle himself from the bedsheets. All of the bed coverings wound up on the floor.

“Wendy, it is freezing in here. Shut the window, please.” He looked over at Michael, deep in slumber. His consistent snoring was the proof he was asleep. He could never duplicate that sound when he was faking to stay in bed. Mother saw right through him.

Wendy shushed him.

“You know he won’t wake up. He’s dead to the world right now.”

She shushed him again. John grabbed his quilt from the floor, whipping it over his head and onto his shoulders. So encased, John approached his sister. Wendy was still eyeing the night sky.

John plopped down on the other side of the bench, pulling the blanket even tighter around him. Just as his teeth started to chatter, he realized Wendy was only in her night clothing. Reversing the quilt, he laid one end over his sister.

“Thank you, John,” she whispered, far away from the room. John followed where she was looking. She’d change an angle; he would mirror it. “Darling bookends,” Liza would say if the housemaid was in the room. He smiled at that thought. Wendy noticed him as his smile slowly crept back inside him.

“Wendy. He’s not coming back. He isn’t. Shh. Please hear me out. We’ve had this…this…talk far too often. Fourteen months have passed. No pirates. No Indians. No Tink. No Pe…”

Reaching over, Wendy placed the four fingers of her left hand gently over his mouth.

“Enough, John. Please. I know. I still hope. I still have hope. Every blessed night I have hope. It just,” Wendy stopped, turning her head back to gazing the now unclouded sparkling heavens. “It just hurts, John.”

He nodded his head. What was left to say? They had had this conversation far too many times. It always ended in tears. There were many nights where John tried his best to distract her. The successful evenings were spent making up stories of what battle or mischief he would be embroiled in, smack in the center of it all. She’d laugh at many of his tales. The more outlandish he made them, the more Wendy relaxed. And she’d stop looking out the window.

The less beneficial nights would come, ones where John felt powerless. Wendy, questioning, always the same. “Why doesn’t he return?” John knew there were two unspoken words to that query: “For her.”

Wendy did turn her head back to John. “No stories tonight, please. My insides are so knotted, so heavy. Not tonight, dear John. Not tonight.”

He nodded his head, and the two sat quietly by the window. No one spoke. Michael snored. They both yawned, Wendy insisting John started it. John, naturally, accused Wendy.

“We better get to bed. I don’t wish Mother to be cross with us in the morning.” She stood up, patting her nightwear down into a proper shape. John noticed Wendy’s hesitation before she reached over and closed the window. The sound of the latch fitting in place brought a feathery gasp from her lips. Her arms, as always, crossed over her heart.

John returned to bed. He tossed all the linen quilt back on the bed, diving under it all for warmth. John’s face was warm. He felt an unpleasant tightening in his chest. He should have hugged her, said he’ll always be there for her, that she was the best sister anyone ever had. John only said: “Good night, Wendy,” as she closed the door, tiptoeing down the hallway to her room.

As Wendy made it to her bed, her thoughts swallowed her whole. She thought of the unfairness of growing up. How much Wendy wanted to share the same bedroom with her brothers again. How much she wished she had stayed and not returned home. All swept away by the burning question she held tight: “Why hasn’t Peter returned for me?”

It was just over a month that Wendy overheard “The” conversation. Wendy, supposedly in bed, was walking by Mother’s bedroom. The door was partially open. Peeking in, Mother was sitting at her vanity, Liza behind her, counting out the number of times she ran the brush through Mother’s hair.

Wendy was not pleased that Mother was now calling her “a proper young lady.” She had experienced her first flow, a most embarrassing event. Her bones were achy almost all the time. She started maturing. Wendy’s new clothing, the changes in her body, all of it left her feeling embarrassed and humiliated. Wendy’s deep sadness permeated throughout her.

She knew why Peter did not come for her.

Why he would not come for her, ever again.

Wendy wished she had never eavesdropped.

“100,” Lisa stated, putting the hairbrush down on the table. “Miss Wendy is starting to fill out, mum. She’ll be as beautiful as you. Not that she isn’t a pretty young thing now.”

Mother was silent, staring into the mirror. Wendy was sure Mother would not answer Liza. Just as she began to walk away, Wendy heard Mother say, “I know it is the right thing to do, Liza. It is time that Wendy a room to herself. She is blossoming. It is time for her to grow into being a proper young lady. But.” Mother left that word dangling on its own.

“Yes, but,” Liza agreed. “It will be for the best.”

Mother nodded. “I do pray that this will ease the burden she carries. Wendy needs to let this fantastical story of flying, pirates, faeries…” Mother sighed. “She needs to let it go.”

Wendy moved away from the door.

The next day Wendy was given her room. She sulked alone for the next two days, only leaving her confines for meals that she picked at. The third night, though, she had had enough.

Wendy immediately ran to the bedroom she had shared with her brothers. She threw the door wide open. Her feet glided across the nursery floor until she got up on the window. Kneeling, Wendy opened the windows. She crept to the window frame, her eyes fixated on the dark, laden clouds above. No stars were visible.  Rain, though: rain fell ferociously. Wendy became a soaking wet sponge instantly. She kneeled on the pane for a long while.

A noise coming from the doorway startled Wendy out of her fugue. Wendy slightly turned and saw Liza standing in the hallway.

“Wendy Darling,” Liza trumpeted. She stamped her feet as she approached the window seat, not thinking of the boys at all. Upon arrival, Liza shooed Wendy to move away.  “Young lady, what has gotten into you? You were not in your room. I knew you would be here. You, young lady, are heading straight to your room: a hot bath and fresh nightshirt. Go on. I’ll be right behind you.”

Wendy, shivering, glanced at her brothers, warmly tucked in. She smiled although her heart was shattering.

When she heard the latch fall into place, she sat on the floor and cried.

 

 

Yakshinis Offering: Nightmares from and Unbleached Soul, AtoZ Blog Challenge

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Y2020

NIGHTMARES FROM AN UNBLEACHED SOUL

YAKSHINIS OFFERING

What is desired most?
Yakshinis need to know
Love, greed, or spirits raised
Yakshinis endure inside the Ashoka Tree

Avni ran in a frenzy desperation
From the news that came her way
Avni cried deep without cessation
Nitesh, her love, passed this very day

With mudded feet, a soaked saree
Avni's heart battering, at a rapid rate
Finally she stood at the bole of the tree
A branch held her up as she rued Nitesh's fate

What is desired most?
Yakshinis need to know
Love, greed, or spirits raised
Yakshinis endure inside the Ashoka Tree

Offering up the tributes, of camphor and ghee
Avni sang the mantras, performed the rituals
Vichitra, the lovely one, emerged from the tree
"O, my dear Avni, what desire did you choose?

"Please, oh please, bring Nitesh back to me"
Vichitra fades away as Shankhini takes her place
"Avni is this truly desired? He was taken by the sea."
A softly spoken "yes," said with reverent grace.

What is desired most?
Yakshinis need to know
Love, greed, or spirits raised
Yakshinis endure inside the Ashoka Tree

Thirty-six Yakshini materialized, facing Avni
Each gesturing above her body's sacred space
Glowing fronds from all alighting successfully
Vichitra glided to her, placed a hand on her face.

"Avni, with remorse we could not honor your plea
Yama, God of Death, commands Nitesh stay. Yet,
Nitesh beseeches for his essence returned to thee
Which we have done for the child the heavens sent.

What is desired most?
Yakshinis need to know
Love, greed, or spirits raised
Yakshinis endure inside the Ashoka Tree

"She will be balanced, the desires we bestowed
Nitesh loves you, and forever more
His essence runs through her, his energies flow
For this child, who is Bimala, One who is Pure."

Foliage keeps dying, cycle of life renews
The Ashoka Tree, green throughout the years
Avni passes on, her time was overdue
Sharing Nitesh's inner core with her mother dear.

Yama escorted Avni to Nitesh
One held the other; one breath they achieved
For she was always his earth
And he her heartbeat

For she was forever his earth
He her heartbeat, Eternally. 

**************************************************************

X, Y, Z are usually the tough ones on the AtoZ Blog Challenge. This year’s Y almost broke me. It took a long time to put this idea into life. More could be said, but less is more. Most of the time.

My theme for this year’s AtoZ Blog Challenge is: Nightmares from an Unbleached Soul. 26 lyrical poems during the month of April (no Sundays). It started on April 1st and ends this Thursday on April 30th. After that, a week or two later you’ll be able to find Reflections on the experience. I hope you found new blogs to like and follow. If you still wish to, go to The Master List.

I’ve asked a few questions along the way: what genre of music you think suits the lyrics best? Who or what style of music was in my head when I wrote these? My last one for the week:

  1. Why Nightmares From An Unbleached Soul?  
  2. I’m curious.: How do you interpret it
    1. for yourself?
    2. why do you think I chose that as my theme title?

    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, I know that. Many will need some tweaking if I take this further. I would just love to hear some, or all of these, put to music. Anyone knows, please email me.

Comments are always welcome.

KIND NESSIE: Nightmares from an Unbleached Soul, AtoZ Blog Challenge

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K2020

NIGHTMARES FROM AN UNBLEACHED SOUL

KIND NESSIE

Kind Nessie came from the sea
A blooded cutlass in her hand
If she came your way you would flee
A hellion on the main land

Hey Ho Nessie
Raise a glass for she
Hey Ho Nessie
Her strength made her free

Every battle landed gold and more
Success came from her bravery
From the bridge Kind Nessie soared
Captaining her ship Destiny

Hey Ho Nessie
Raise a glass for she
Hey Ho Nessie
Her passion made her free

She took no gruff, not prone to boast
Our trust in Kind Nessie always held 
In foray she was feared the most
Of seafaring folk she was unparalleled.
Hey Ho Nessie
Raise a glass for she
Hey Ho Nessie
Intelligence made her free

All her crew cheered Nessie
They treated her like a queen
Even though her quarters were messy        [Hey!]
They loved that she would never preen

Hey Ho Nessie 
Raise a glass for she
Hey Ho Nessie 
Her passion made her free 
                                            [yawnnnnnn]

Ah,Kind Nessie, 
I think it is time for bed             [not yet!?]
Ah, Kind Nessie,
You've earned this kiss on the head

                                              [Hey Ho Nessie...]
Shhhh
Goodnight
Love you
"click"
 
                                             [hey ho Nessie
                                                raise a 'yawnnn" me
                                                hey ho
                                                hey ho
                                                hey ho
                                                hey....]

April is Coming

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#AtoZChallenge 2020 badge

Yes, I have signed up for the A to Z Blog Challenge for this year. I started my blog in 2011 a few months before April sprang on me. I went for it, and it was one of the best things I had done. Happy to have joined.

Except for a couple of skip years, it’s been fun and agony to write (almost) daily through the month. 26 posts, Sundays off.

It’s a challenge (the title says so) but, in my opinion, well worth it. Fiction, Non-Fiction, Poetry, Essays, photos, recipes, critiques, How To…, etc. Whatever your blog is about, join in. Great way to discover other blogs, make friends (I have), and for others to find your blog. I’ve gained many followers through this.

Here’s the link: http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/

Not sure what I’ll write about yet. I’ll figure it out.

If you join, please leave me a comment below with your blog link attached. You might gain some followers before the whole thing starts.

Theme Reveal #AtoZChallenge 2020 badge

#AtoZChallenge 2020 badge

Jump At The Son

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sunset_sky_sun_boys_sunshine_silhouette_dark_fun-945255

JUMP AT THE SON

 

He was usually by my side. In his early days, we walked hand in hand. As our walks increased in step by step increments, he’d hold his arms way up high. Of course, I picked him up, carrying and mini snuggles. Other times he rode on my shoulders, clutching my hair. We became a Two-Headed Monster. We shared a gnarly growl; it always announced the monster’s arrival.

Always.

Yet, years pass as they dispassionately are prone to. From my side, hand-holding, carry snuggles, becoming a Monster were abandoned. We went on chases instead; more me chasing him. Then he’d chase after me, laughing so hard his head popped off his neck when I turned the table back to chasing him. When I was his prey, he always caught me. Once in a while, I would catch him.

We morphed into One less and less. We lost the “carry me,” and hand-holding didn’t exist.  By this point in our lives, we also lost the Monster.

He never said “Goodbye” to either of us.

Things change.

Things changed.

We ran the gauntlet most parents know. As he slalomed around me, his looking up to me would change to “I hate you!” to apologies and understandings, and back to volatile disagreements. In those cases, the slamming of his bedroom door was the coda that generally ended in “Arrrrggghhh!” from both sides of the door. There began the push away/pull me back times. From a protected, cared for son, a new monster, singular, appeared. He was striving to grow up, to be self-reliant. Independent.

Moments blipped passed us. We talked. We gave each other the Silent Treatment. Doing something fun together could quickly flip into parent shunning. I was waiting.

Waiting for things to even out, for our varying personalities to allow each other to breathe again when we were together. It happened with no rush to make it real. We had been on a strained thin rope, correcting our balances, expecting the other to fall.

I know there were times he did not like me. It might have bordered on hatred, but that remains in his secrets stash. It’s hard to say, but there were times I did not like him. Love, yes. I’ve always loved him.

Things change.

Things changed.

Marriage happenings took over our lives. He committed himself to his bride, his mate, his best friend; my commitment dissolved around me, shredding into strips and then pieces. What was left was a tattered life. It all turned to ashes.

I’m proud of the man he has built for himself. He holds his strengths, his humor, his intelligence, and his weaknesses.

We are no longer a combined Two-Headed Monster, physically. There are those moments that sneak up on us, where our inner gnarly growling meshes. It may happen across the many miles that separate up. Face to face, the growl surfaces.

In those times I can shout out: “Beware. Beware! The Two-Headed Monster has arrived.”

It’s still alive.

In some ways, things stay the same.

Unintended Consequences

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castle consequence

UNINTENDED CONSEQUENCES

7c293f567878d204f3613fb0926af1b4--illuminated-letters-illuminated-manuscriptnce upon a time there was a household in turmoil. One sister, one brother, and a widow who had lost the will to keep her children proper. Her husband left her with the debt of the home and the banes of her life.

illustrated Every day the siblings fought, cursed, threw fragile items at each other, stole what they could and sold those items. They wound up at the village pub drinking until oblivion took them both.

illustrated But one day the widow unexpectedly left, never to return. By the end of the first week they tore through the makings of their home. What they couldn’t sell, they bartered. They ate, drank, and took care of their baser needs.

illustrated Because of that they soon ran out of money. The sister and brother had to vacate, unable to pay the house debt. With little more than a bag of clothing each, they set off in opposite directions. The sister vowed to never to see her brother again. He felt the same.

illustrated Because of that as they traveled, taking whatever work they could find. Without the sense to save what they could, the sister and brother would find themselves penniless soon after receiving pay. What wasn’t spent on food and alcohol went to gambling. Outside of the comfort and safety of the village they grew up left them adrift. Often robbed, both suffered beatings, and sometimes worse.

illiustrated Until finally, many months later, each sibling took root in a haven. Broken to their cores by this time, they each had the chance to rebuild their lives. Both found themselves welcomed and absorbed into the communities they now called home.

illustrated E coloredver since then each found acceptance, and love, in their ways. They kept their vows: they never saw each other ever again. As to the widow, she moved in with her sister and her family in a completely different direction from her children’s wanderings. She never heard from, or saw, them again. She lived out her life in bliss.

*********************     ****************     *************************

Author’s Notes:

  1. The above was from #FlashFiction Prompt from my friends over at Fiction Can Be Fun. This time, the prompt was just this: A case of the law of unintended consequences. Rules are simple:
  • Word count: 500 – 1,500 (ish)
    Deadline: 2pm GMT on Friday 11th October 2019
  • Post your story on your site and link to it here in the comments below, or drop us a line via the contact us page and we’ll post it for you.

The proprietors of Fiction Can Be Fun, Debs and David, are working on a shared novel that I can’t wait to read (yes, I still would love to be a Beta reader for the two of you). I met them during the AtoZ Blog Challenge in April of 2018, and I’m glad we have remained in contact. Visit their page. Lots of great stories, challenges, and essays to sink your teeth into.

2) The words in italics after the illuminated letters is from an Improv technique I’ve used for years in warmups and in my workshops and school residencies. I recently found out that the style is credited to Kenn Adams, author, educator, teaching artist, and performer. He is the Artistic Director of Synergy Theater based in Islip, New York (but they do travel across the country).

The pattern for Improv, and what I used above, is:

  • Once upon a time
  • Every Day
  • But one day
  • Because of that
  • Because of that
  • Until finally
  • Ever since then

If running this in a warm-up or as a rehearsal exercise, the amount of Because of that would increase due to how many were in attendance.

And…sorry, Debs & David, the word count is only 321.

Wild In The Woods: #AtoZ Blog Challenge

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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.