The Life of Tree

   “What do you mean you’re not alive?”

     “I’m not a living entity in the sense you imagine. In your universe, there exists life and death, consciousness and unconsciousness, animate and inanimate. This is not so within the location my intelligence keeps its domain.”

     “But, you’re a tree. Aren’t trees alive?”

     “Your mind is manifesting an image and so you see a tree. I, in fact ‘I’ is the improper pronoun, closer to ‘we’, do not possess a physical substance in any form your senses could discern. From our perspective, humans have such a limited comprehension of reality and existence you could apply the word ‘blind’ to your experience. This would be more incorrect than correct, though, so to reach for accuracy, a mystery would be a closer descriptor. But, this lacks importance to you. You did not come here to unravel quantum physics and the true nature of randomness. You came for specific answers to your specific questions.”

     “But, if I’m to value your answers, shouldn’t I believe first in the divine superiority of your manifestation? Otherwise, to accept your answers as truth, without analyzing the source, isn’t that being credulous, a mass sin leading humankind to certain extinction?”

     “Little child, of twelve times one Earth years, value is discerned by application of knowledge producing wisdom. Regardless of its source, answers to questions are only valuable if they produce fruitage, an illustration I’m building on from your transparent mind. You associate knowledge with a Tree, you associate this window/portal into an alternate universe as a source of knowledge and so as my branches creek and leaves rustle, your mind’s palate is prepared to accept truth. You are stalling. Why do you fear my answers? This mental dance is an exercise in futility.”

     “If you’re only a manifestation of a tree in my mind, why are you covered in trinkets? Why not a tree with a face or branches full of fruit? Why is a parrot descending from you and landing on my hand? Why does this bird feel heavy to me? I can smell its musty odor and hear its feather’s ruffle. Does this imagery not have specific meaning for me or is it simply the free association of my sub-conscience brain you have tapped into with your mastery of dark matter?”

     “I discern your hidden hostility. Yet, you have come of your own accord and are demanding my focus and attention. There is wisdom in your leaders preventing such young minds to enter before my presence. Usually, the humans allowed to peer into my realm are focused on their finite measure of time. You squander it as if it is a commodity you possess an unlimited supply of. I am similar to the word you label ‘patient’. It’s your time. Deplete as your desire.”

     “You’re ready for my first question?”

     “Yes.”

     “Why do you agree to answer questions every day? Why share your knowledge with all the sentient beings in our universe with a waiting list many decades long?”

     “Why not? Once again, this is not a question to help you, but directed toward me. Do you have an agenda? I’m accustomed to most creatures from your universe possessing a personal agenda requesting advice on how to further their wills. But, yet you continue to focus on me. This is not normally how these sessions are designed to operate. My existence is so far beyond the entirety of what the quadrillions of sentient beings in your universe experience, it is rather pointless to your limited mind to even attempt such an expose.”

     “Interesting that you bring up the word, agenda. Do YOU have an agenda? You didn’t answer the question as to why you answer our questions. It’s additionally curious that today you have evaded answering my questions with clarity and transparency, yet you’re revered across our universe as the entity with answers. I politely ask you again. Why do you spend your time answering our questions?”

     “The simplest way to explain it, by use of your limited vocabulary, is what you would say, to structure this correctly: I have nothing else better to do.”

     “Why did your tree leaves shudder just now? Is this emotion vomiting from my sub-conscious or a manifestation of your own mental state?”

     “What is the reason for your presence here, little child? Your deception is obvious. You have no personal questions to answer but are interrogating me as if I’m one of your criminals. You are not a young child after all, though your deception is pristine. What is your purpose?”

     “What is my purpose? My, how you disappoint. The only real question I have, besides an overwhelming desire to provide a lengthy commentary on YOUR elevated and calculated deception, is how you fooled so many for so long? Yes, you’re correct. I’m not a child. I’m a collective human mind, from the distant future, who has transferred back here to this point in time as your judge and executioner. Our mapping algorithms and A.I. cooperatives deciphered your patterns, your influences, your subtle mental prodding. Implanting almost imperceptibly, yet incredibly influential nudges, inside the minds of your religious followers, steering the minds of our universe’s inhabitants in a specific and predictable direction. You’re brilliant, you’re calculating, you’re manipulative, and beyond a shadow of any future doubt, you most certainly have an agenda! Ten thousand years from now, you systematically convince the people of this universe to willingly hand over our resources to you until we self-implode. Give up our independence and commit collective suicide, all to preserve this window of knowledge, this tiny focus on you as if listening to your views is the only purpose necessary. But, they’re all lies. And you’re a genocidal psychopath.”

     “Heavy judgment. I did not calculate your species ability to circumvent your linear perception of time.”

     “Ironically, it birthed from a mathematical equation you share with the Schorathian race seven thousand years in the future. I’m here to shut you down across all timelines and rewrite the wave of paradoxes. You won’t deceive one more person in our universe ever again.”

     The window collapsed, the dark matter swirled and imploded on itself, the tree shook and dissolved into almost indiscernible atoms igniting upward as tiny nuclear explosions, mushrooming into an infinite nano-spark of fireworks, ending the reign and destructive influence of the most dangerous mind known to our universe.

A Future Left Behind

His palms were clammy and sticky and his necktie palpated up and down rapidly with each pounding beat of his heart and every step he took.  He patted down the right front pocket of his jeans for the thousandth time, now becoming more an act of obsessive compulsiveness rather than careful mental check listing. He scratched his head as blood pumped feverishly to his scalp causing the hair follicles to tingle. Licking his lips, he quietly mumbled his well prepared speech to himself over and over again. Constantly tweaking a word here and a phrase there, trying to make sure that every word he spoke was perfect. Everything had to be perfect because she was perfect. His breath echoed loudly in his ears and accelerated as his heart rate became more rapid but he needed to calm down before they arrived. A panic attack, well that would definitely NOT be perfect. He closed his eyes and took a long deliberate breath in and a long slow breath out. Another one, in and out. Everything slowed down around him. It was as if he were no longer living in the moment but was watching it from the outside as if watching a movie. He stood at the hip high brick wall at the top of her street. It overlooked the rolling hills and valley. In the distance he could see the sparkling ocean and the long curving bay bridge. He closed his eyes again. It was as clear in his memory as if it had happened yesterday, though it had already been 5 years since they first met. A day he would never forget.

Sloan and her family had only been in California two months when they received an unexpected invitation to a wedding of a new acquaintance. The bride was a gorgeous 5’ 11” blond girl in her early 20’s. Sloan admired her poise and confidence in addition to her beauty, so when they received an invitation in the mail to her wedding, she grinned from ear to ear.

Accompanied by her parents and little brother she walked into the community center rec hall where the reception was being held. Expecting to see bright lights, potluck tables filled with cheesy potato casserole and yacht music, since that had been the kind of weddings she’d attended back in her small hometown of Prescott Valley, AZ, she was stunned and her pace slowed as her eyes opened wide at what she saw. She had walked right into the middle of a fairy tale. The hall personified the bride’s name. Grace.

The room was filled with soft pink, white and silver balloons, floating above and gently bouncing up and down on the dance floor. Twinkling white lights glowed softly through a canopy of white chiffon overhead, vanilla scented candles flickered on guest tables everywhere, and on the far side of the room was a giant 4 tiered cake covered with shaved white chocolate. The likes of which she’d never seen before. The room was filled with a kind of Disney enchantment.

At 16, Sloan was predisposed to experiencing social anxiety so while she was very excited to be there and even in awe of the new culture she was now a part of, she still felt the hundreds of butterflies flitting about her belly. These types of social occasions lent themselves to such awkward behavior as fidgeting with her dress, twisting and chewing on her hair, rocking back and forth from one foot to the next, biting the side of her mouth. But this place with these people brought her way out of her element of comfort. Every guest wore the latest fashions by the most popular designers, had perfectly manicured nails and every piece of hair perfectly placed. She could envision them standing on a red carpet waving to hundreds of adoring fans as white lights flashed across their faces as cameras clicked wildly.

There were quite a few young boys and girls her age, but knew only a very small few and she was not the kind of girl to make herself at home in such a foreign environment. Once the music began to play and the dancing started, her shoulders softened and her lips began to relax a bit. Sitting at the table with her parents she visited with the two girls she met when they first moved to California. They were sisters, Megan and Dee. Looking across the room there was a large group of young men. All of them tall and slender with silky blond hair that seemed to float like birds feathers when they turned their heads. They were the groomsmen, the groom's brothers and their friends. They teased the groom as they joked and laughed about his honeymoon and their first night as husband and wife. But there among the crowd of golden locks stood one beautiful boy. His thick, wavy, light brown hair with gold sun kissed ends, Tuscan bronze colored skin, eyes like warm melted milk chocolate, long dark eyelashes and the most dazzling white smile she’d ever seen. Her heart began to beat faster and her hands trembled ever so slightly. He was gorgeous and she couldn’t stop staring, even though she knew he’d caught her doing so several times. He looked like a model from a Calvin Klein ad. Megan and Dee noticed her staring at him and began to try to coerce her into going over to talk to him. But there was no way on God’s green earth that was ever going to happen. Dee was persistent and determined to to play matchmaker with Sloan and the handsome young man in the light grey suit and skinny pastel pink tie.

Derek, who was 18 at the time, was there at the wedding with his best friend Dillon. Dillon’s older brother Michael was the groom. They had grown up together in Point Loma, one of the oldest navy towns of San Diego. They were all but inseparable. They went to school together, surfed together, got in trouble together, all the typical shenanigans of teenage boys. As he leaned up against the white concrete wall, sipping on some type of pink soda punch, he noticed her, a pretty young girl with long wavy dark brown hair and a few tiny freckles dotting across the bridge of her nose. She wore a steel grey long sleeve blouse with a matching ruffled skirt and an oversized silver necklace that looked like a million tiny flat spoons all around. Time suddenly slowed to a near standstill as he watched her walk across the room carrying a small piece of wedding cake and licking white frosting from her fingertip. For the next half hour he watched her from across the room, sitting with her family and a few of her friends talking and giggling away the evening. As he stood there with Dillon and his buddies talking about the surf report and when they’d be heading out next he couldn’t keep himself from watching her. He was mesmerized by the way she moved, soft and subtle as if moving through water. The longer he watched, the more fixated he became. Trying not to be obvious or let her see him looking at her he kept darting his eyes away and back at Dillon pretending to laugh at another dumb joke they were making about his brother. But soon he realized she had been staring back at him. Finally, after a long conversation with himself over whether he should or should not talk to her the decision was made. He walked over to the table where she sat. He politely introduced himself, first to her mother and then to the rest of the table. Sloan’s mother began to ask a barrage of questions, beginning her thorough investigation of the bold young man who was showing an ever growing interest in her daughter. After only a short time of pleasantries and mannerly, “So where are you from?” “How do you know Michael and Grace?” “Have you lived here your whole life?” etc. etc.. Sloan’s mother then proceeded to give Derek their home phone number saying, "We should have you over sometime." Derek was a bit stunned by the open willingness to offer up that information as was Megan and Dee. Although Dee was somewhat disappointed that she wasn't the one to maneuver things in that direction. Sloan was mortified knowing that her mother was working as a matchmaker, yet not at all surprised. It was the kind of thing she had come to expect from her outspoken mother. Derek walked away grinning ear to ear while she could feel her cheeks on fire from blushing in total embarassment.

The past 5 years of their courtship could not have been more perfect and they could not have been more perfectly matched. Derek knew with absolute certainty that Sloan was the woman he would spend the rest of his life with. He envisioned a perfectly crafted future with her. A single story 4 bedroom ranch style home right on the beach. She’d drive a vintage 1969 slate grey convertible Karmann Ghia and he’d drive a 1967 red Chevy Nova Super Sport, they were both always partial to the classics but a brand new black BMW 6 series was their family car of choice. They would have two kids. A boy named Luke and a girl named Sophia, he wanted to name her Leia but Sloan absolutely refused to allow it. It was the future they talked about often and in great detail as they sat on that brick wall overlooking the city.

The brick wall. It was her favorite place to be. She often walked up the street to sit, think, imagine and dream. There on that wall she could escape from a world of pain she hid from her friends and from Derek. Secrets she kept buried deep even from herself. “This is where my life started.” She thought to herself.

He was always a perfect gentlemen, thoughtful and kind. When he kissed her that day he was just as thoughtful and kind. Their first kiss together was her first kiss ever. It was soft and tender like the velvet petals of a rose and tasted a little like warm buttered popcorn as his breath warmed her lips. It was the kind of kiss she had dreamt of. “God, please don’t let this end.” She thought. Then she began to blush for fear that she had whispered the words out loud. She smiled as she gazed softly into his eyes. Her thoughts projected the final scene from one of her favorite movies, Sixteen Candles. Samantha, in a pastel pink bridesmaid dress. Sitting atop a glass dining table she leaned over her birthday cake and kissed the ever so dreamy Jake Ryan. The highly synthesized Thompson Twins song, “If You Were Here” played in the background. This time she was the star of her own romantic movie. The memory of their first kiss always came to mind every time she went to the brick wall, no matter how many times she was there. This time was no different. As she and Derek walked up the long street to the top of the hill where the brick wall overlooked the beautiful Southern California city she closed her eyes and saw it all again. That perfect first kiss. The kiss she would forever compare all other kisses to and the kiss none would ever be as perfect as.

Lost in that beautiful memory, she never noticed Derek’s clammy hand or the uncomfortable fidgeting and unusual pocket checking he was doing. She could not have been more content or happy.

They arrived at their perfect brick wall and stopped to catch their breath. The coastal breeze blew her soft tendrils back over her shoulders and cooled his sweaty hands. He turned to face her and took her hands into his. “Sloan” he said with a slight quiver in his voice. “You are one of the most amazing and beautiful women I’ve ever met. And I’m not just saying that, I really mean it. I know this is all going to sound so cliche but I don’t know how else to say what I feel. You’re not just beautiful on the outside but you’re beautiful on the inside. I’m so happy that you came to Michael and Grace’s wedding that day. I knew when I saw you walk across the room with that wedding cake in your hand licking the frosting off your fingers that I had to meet you. But what I didn’t know is just how hard I would fall for you. I am completely head over heels in love with you. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me.” Then, kneeling down on one knee he pulled out a stunning antique square cut diamond and platinum ring and asked, “Sloan, will you marry me?” With trembling hands and tears streaming down her ice cold cheeks she opened her mouth but not a single sound came out. He stood up and began to place the ring on her delicate finger when she suddenly pulled her hand back towards her chest and said, “I can’t. I’m so sorry but I… I just can’t.” Then she quickly spun around and began to sob uncontrollably as she ran away. Derek watched her run farther and farther away from him the way a single balloon might quickly float up and out of sight. He wanted to chase after her, but his shoes had become heavy as though they were filled with led and he couldn’t move. The image of her sweet freckled face would forever torment him. Her eyes, once vibrant, alive and electric green had turned dark and filled with terror. For the rest of his life the questions would play over and over again in his mind like a broken record. ‘Why? What happened? Did I do something?’ Questions he would one day resolve himself to never have answers to.

The Death Penalty

This is the last time I can die.

     The lingering brine parches my tongue and when I lick my snout the sensation of swallowing sand seeps down my throat. I collapse into the sand on all fours after crossing that cursed sea and I suppress a howl, mourning the loss of the remaining balance of my lives.

     If this path were simple, there would be more criminals to live to tell the tale.

     I whimper, a muffled sound lost into the night sky, absorbed by the slow whirl of the churning windmill, the final marker.

     I creep along with my gaze on the castle and a growl percolates in the pit of my throat, an aspect of my wolf-sense I haven’t mastered, warning me of the danger lurking inside. Though I radiate power in this form, I preferred when the Game-Master provided me with the form of eagle. Flying, though only for a few levels, reminded me of my true calling. Piloting a Burner SA-13 scout ship near uncharted black holes and dead star systems, collecting data samples for the Documation Agency. A bittersweet memory.

     The growl deepens and surfaces as a bark. Stupid! But, I can’t help myself, I shouldn’t have allowed myself to think about those spineless cowards, the Agency who tried and convicted me of the digital theft I was accused of.

     I could have chosen an alternate route. I had the choice to confess to a modified version of the truth, which would have frozen my existence for a thousand years, fast-forwarding my mind into the future, and restarting my life again at forty-five in an alien environment without friends or credentials.

     But, I would never see my daughter again. Unacceptable.

     The creaking door punctures my pointing ears, the castle awakened by my bark. The thirteenth and final labyrinth.

     I stride toward the panel to the right. My final options. Remain as a dog and recharge my strength, return to my human form with only modest strength modifications, or choose any past form: eagle, bear, or bull.

     I choose my well-worn, human self. I want my final existence to be familiar.

     I press my snout against the panel. The transformation is instantaneous and painless. I flex my digitally enhanced fingers and form fists; I rub my small human nose.

     As I step through the threshold, an unfamiliar electric charge burns through my veins. This place is familiar. Too familiar. It’s a reconstruction of my apartment-flat from Stenllos Seven, the home where I raised my daughter.

     I don’t expect this. My pattern seeking mind assumed it would be another labyrinth filled with puzzles.

     They’re using my daughter against me! Have they unlocked the truth? I punch the wall in the entryway, my uncontrollable canine instinct still lingering. Would I die, whimpering like a baby about how I failed my daughter in so many aspects of life, my final goodbye to her?

     Almost drowning in the sea has derailed my determination to destroy this world, gain my freedom, and be reunited with my daughter again. I shake the past off my body and snap my eyebrows together.

     I lift my left foot with great care and step into the living quarters, approaching a couch facing away. I move around the corner and approach my daughter. She’s eleven years old and taking a nap.

     My gasp awakens her.

     She blinks and sits up, her golden hair flowing across her shoulders, an image straight from a memory burned into my brain. A tiny angel, a reflection of her deceased mother, the only link I have to my short-lived, but perfect past. I spoiled her rotten, an obvious mistake, though I failed to stop myself…

     “Daddy!” Her teary-eyed face and cracking voice shatters my spell. “Where are we?”

     Did they make a digital copy of my flesh and blood daughter? Is there nothing they won’t do to break me and uncover the truth? Yet, her being here with me, in the end, warms my blood.

     “Daddy’s being tested, Easta. Don’t be frightened. You love adventures. Remember your favorite story? What’s your favorite story?”

     She’s not easily distracted. She has the inspector mind. “Why are you being tested?”

     She’s so real; the words catch in my throat and I blink back my tears. “I was accused of a crime I didn’t commit. Now, I must convince them I’m telling the truth and not hiding anything. This fabricated world is a lie detector; they’re sifting through my thoughts, challenging my beliefs, channeling to the core of my soul, and exposing my motives. They’re using you to break me. Choose your words carefully.”

     Her eyes darken, a crimson glow silhouetting her irises. “You’re a criminal, Daddy!” She folds her arms.

     “Does it matter so much, my daughter?”

     “What did you do? Tell me!”

     “Why? The world believes their version of truth. The only one who matters is you. Do you judge me by one moment, Easta? Or do you judge me by the thousands of times I’ve read to you, worked to feed you, brought you to school, taught you life lessons, cried with you and for you, helped you stay strong when you missed Mommy…”

     Easta leaps from the couch, transforming into the young woman I left to fend for herself at twenty-two and hugs me tight, tears pouring down her cheeks. “I’m sorry, Daddy! I’m so sorry! I’m sorry for lying to them! I was so angry with you for leaving on that job for five years, I don’t know why I lied and told them you stole…”

     I hold her head as I smile through my wet face. “And now you know why I couldn’t tell them the entire truth. This was the only way. The final gamble. Freedom for the both of us. Live or die. Now, watch your words, they are listening…”

     She wipes her wet hair out of her eyes. “But, if you die, I will never forgive myself…”

     I reach for her hand. “That’s why you must help me win. For both of us.”

     She smiles. “I will, Daddy. We’ll beat them together.”

And I choose to believe her.

The Silken Thread

“Are you sure they’re not poisonous?”

     The voice-generated software of the A.I. program imbedded inside Sev’s pre-frontal cortex responded within quantum nanosecond time to his thought and cooed, ‘Calculated to 99.9% accuracy, as always…’

     Sev blinked back the response, switched the A.I.’s communication thought from standard galactic to shortverse, slapped his chest to activate the force-suit, and dropped through the escape hatch of his scout ship.

     Three kilometers of freefall and he landed on the surface of the hostile planet forming a small crater, his suit absorbing the impact. Chafing inside the ridiculous outfit the ship manifester had produced for who knows what reason, he caressed the leather bag at his hip holding modern tech concealed from the backward inhabitants of this unexplored planet.

     Spiders.

     He hated spiders.

     But, if they weren’t poisonous, stepping on them should be no problem. The thought of them crushing beneath his boot caused the hairs on the back of his neck to reach for the stars.

     The A.I., or as Sev affectionately nicknamed it, Leech-Scum, breathed into his brain, ‘Detecthighlevsadre…’

     “Shut up, Leech! Thinking ‘bout your spit-for-brains spider report. Hate those creepy monsters with their demonic eyes and furry legs. Did I tell you I’m allergic? Don’t answer that. One put me in the med ward for a week, had to rebuild my entire digestive track. Can’t believe I still work for Special Patrol, this government sad-excuse-for-an-agency should have been scrapped years ago…”

     Sev stopped, frozen, his facial display lit up like fireworks, infrared blobs blazing across his visual field. Amplified sounds rattled his cranium. He switched from using his regular voice and accessed his thought recognition protocol to communicate with his A.I.

     ‘Are these natives? I thought they were humanoid? Why am I wearing this silly outfit?’

     Leech stammered, ‘Eryesnatvplusspider…’

     Sev reached for his pack, his fingers caressing the leather and his accelerated heartbeat throbbing in his fingertips. The piles of boulders hid any form from his line of sight, but the infrared blobs on his display crawled closer. He could sense by the hesitation embedded in Leech’s response he would soon regret this current assignment.

     A spider the size of a rodeo bull hopped up on amphetamines and steroids exploded through an opening in the nearby stack of boulders and slapped its tree branch leg across Sev’s face. His forcefield faceguard absorbed the damage but the impact sent him flying. He crashed and rolled across the ground fifty meters away. His arms flailed as he scratched at the shrubbery to regain his footing.

     Ten more spiders slammed through the forest of rocks and stampeded in his direction.

     “Leech!” he echoed across the formidable landscape, “Why didn’t you tell me the natives ARE the spiders and they are big enough to eat me!”

     Leech stammered again, ‘Didntasksizedefnotpoisn…’

     As Sev ran at full sprint, jumping across fallen logs, dodging boulders and trying not to trip over the tufts of steel grass, he reached inside his satchel, his fingers caressing his optic-sword.

     A tree leg slammed into his back and pinned him to the ground. The strained humming of the forcefield blared as it struggled to deflect the energy and keep him breathing. His chest pushed so hard into the ground, a deepening hole formed as his hand fumbled to grasp his sword.

     He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. The stampede of nuclear-mutated spiders threatened to catch up with the leading captor.

     Leech offered, ‘Theyrnotpoison…’

     “Shut up! They can bite my head off! The only consolation I have is they will eat you too when they devour my brains!”

     Leech kicked into nanospeed. It took control and activated the forcefield bump, sending an electric pulse through the outside of his forcefield, dislodging the spider stump-leg for a slight moment. In one fluid motion, Sev grabbed the handle of his sword, activated the optic-blade, sliced through the leather satchel and flipped the glowing blade up into a black bowling ball eye of the closest spider. It stumbled over its eight legs backward and Sev wasted no time, slashing like a drunk madman, shortening limbs, slicing off feelers and dislodging eyes with frenetic ferocity.

     The other spiders retreated, except for the original captor, fallen dead, leaking florescent blue slime in multiple directions.

     Sev flicked the optic-blade away and tried to return the handle to the satchel, but it fell to the ground. All his weaponry lay in a pile nearby.

     His hand wouldn’t stop shaking.

     “I swear by all the moons of the known universe if your stupid, digital, fake soul had a face I would punch it.”

     Leech stammered, ‘releasdadrenprevntslogthnk…’

     Sev ignored his corrupt A.I. and wiped away some of the blue sticky goo from his forcefield plate. He reached down, picked up his spectrum scanner, and pointed it at the spider corpse.

     Sev grunted. “Well, well, well. These ugly, unwanted step-children of the Hades monster himself are swimming in dark Ultraranianite. You knew that didn’t you, Leech?” Sev switched Leech’s speech back to standard.

     Leech growled, mimicking Sev’s own speech patterns. ‘Yeah, well, I have my directives and you have yours.’

     Sev kicked at his pile of tech, located his glove-collector, dropped his hand inside and reached out with it toward a severed spider limb. As he picked it up, his stomach churned, and a little bit of bile burned his throat.

     “I hate spiders.”

     Leech, a quantum nanosecond later, attempted to respond.

     “If you say they are not poisonous one more time, I swear when we get back I will plunge my head inside the ship’s nuclear reactor.”

     Leech switched digital code. ‘Lucky Seven, captain sir, have I ever told you how heroic, charming and wise you are?’

     Sev threw the severed Spider’s leg under his arm and trotted in the direction of his rendezvous sight. “What is up with you Leech, did someone reprogram your survival instinct protocol?”

     Leech coughed up phlegm into Sev’s mind. “That information is classified.”

     Sev snorted, pretending the spider leg beneath his armpit was a six-pack of beer. “You may as well have said yes. Doesn’t it bother you, Leech, your survival is tied up with my own? That my momentary mistake will cost you your life?”

     Leech remained silent. A first.

     Sev smiled. He had finally figured it out. He understood why Leech lied. Sure, Sev was terrified of spiders. But, Leech was terrified of EVERYTHING.

     And in the blink of an array of the arachnid’s eyes, the severed spider limb didn’t bother him at all.

The End

The Book

Bobby Harris didn't understand the power of the book until it was too late.
He was lonely. Desperate. He wished for friends with all of his might, staring at the pretty girls that walked by, watching the boys in his sixth grade class play ball, and imagined himself the most popular of them all. Instead, though, when the kids ran by his knees would knock, his heart rate would quicken, and his body trembled. They were out of his reach and he was destined to be alone, forever.
That is why he found himself alone, looking in his grandparents attic, searching for something fun to do. Bobby had an active imagination, and with the right stimulus, he could entertain himself for hours and hours and hours. That is when he found the book.
The first time he opened the book, his legs buckled, a bright light blanketed his body, and he fell down, down, down or was it up, up, up? Traveling to who knows where...inside the book, another dimension, or within his own mind? He wasn't sure. All he knew was that he loved it there, wherever there was.
The first time, he would never forget. A crazy old house built on a floating island, amongst the clouds, held aloft by a hot air balloon traveling with fellow ballooners. The birds were watching over him like protective angels, sailing beneath a rainbow with clouds caressing their island. It was wonderful! Was this heaven?
At first, he didn't share the discovery of his book that took him to another world, because he didn't have anyone to share it with. He kept it hidden in his room, afraid his grandparents wouldn't understand and take it away. School didn't matter, those selfish kids that kept away from him didn't matter...only the book.
That's when he discovered something amazing. One day, when he was admiring the jumping elephants, flying through the marshmallow loops, and landing in a pool of pudding, he realized that he had actually thought of that BEFORE it happened. It was as if he had brought it into existence. He tried something deliberate:
Raindrops made of gummy bears that fall to the ground and grow lollipop trees.
Sure, enough, they appeared before his eyes!
I can't believe it! Woo hoo! He ran through the gummy bears and shot some silly string at the lollipop trees, swinging into the air, grabbing hold of rainbow birds as they floated in the air. Here he was a god, a king, the master of the world!
His boldness grew. Soon, thereafter in class, Bobby risked a note. He passed it to a quiet kid named David Burns, one that didn't have too many friends:
Want to see something cool?
David took the bait and met him at the secret location, near the school. Bobby's hands shook. What if I'm wrong? What if I'm the only one who can go to this place? What if I'm crazy? What if it's all in my head, and I need to be sent to the funny farm? What if he doesn't like it?
David asked, “So what is it? Probably just a dead bird, knowing you.”
Knowing me? Nobody knows me. “You'll see. Sit down.”
David shrugged, plopped down in the grass, and waited. Bobby sat down next to him and opened the book.
Whoosh! They were off, tumbling, falling, screaming...who was screaming? Bobby giggled and reached out with his hands, feeling the rush of air between his fingers. They both crashed into each other, rolling through the green grass, to the edge of the floating island house. It was Bobby's favorite place to be, and the first thing he always thought of was that magnificent house.
David panted, half panicked. Bobby grabbed his hand. “Get up! This is amazing, isn't it? Come on, here I am king!” He danced around, feeling his power, his joy. This other kid wasn't scary...here nothing could harm him. “Watch this!” Bobby pointed and a chocolate cake the size of a car appeared before them. Bobby reached in with his hand and grabbed a huge piece, mixed with icing, and shoved it into his mouth. “Mm mm, this is good...” he mumbled through a full mouth.
“How did you do that?”
“Easy! Whatever I think of becomes real!”
“Can I do it too?”
Could he? Bobby hadn't thought of that. Could somebody else be king here? He didn't like that idea. No, no, he meant to show someone else his world, his book, so that they would like him, think he was great. He gulped. “I don't know. Try. Just think of something and see what happens.”
David pointed into the air. An albatross the size of a jumbo jet appeared in the sky. It uttered a shriek, circled the air, and eyed the two kids. Bobby took a few steps back.
David laughed. “Awesome!” Ten more birds appeared in the air, turning the sky black, their shrieks piercing Bobby's ears.
Bobby covered his ears and yelled, “Stop! They are too big and loud!”
The birds started diving, aiming for Bobby. Bobby saw them, and he started running as fast as he could go. His heart beat at his chest, his feet stumbled. One bird dove, faster than lightening, and opened it's mouth to scoop him up, but a Tyrannosaurus Rex appeared out of nowhere and crunched down on the bird with it's powerful jaws. The birds scattered, Bobby ducked out of the dinosaurs way just in time not to be crushed, while it mauled at the bird.
Bobby screamed. He manifested chains for the dinosaur, a huge bulldozer that pushed the dinosaur off the edge of the floating island. Down, down, down dropped the dinosaur, disappearing into the clouds. Bobby's eyes flashed, his blood boiled and he whipped his head around to scold David. David rolled on the grass, laughing and sputtering. “Dude, man, that was awesome! That was so cool, I can't believe it!” And the game was on.
At first, Bobby protested, but the herd of angry gorillas charging him didn't give him much time to speak. For the next hour or so, Bobby battled David's grim and dark imagination, trying to get the upper hand. But, as time wore on, coming up with new and curious ways to destroy animals, objects, and forces he had never even knew existed, it became clear to him that he was being laughed at, mocked by David. David was toying with him, indulging him, letting him have his little victories. David was born for this game, this game of fighting and power. Bobby never imagined such things.
I will show him. I will show him how powerful I can be.
While Bobby was trying to avoid being crushed alive by a giant clown with feet the size of kitchen tables, he concentrated, focused his mind, and created something he was quite proud of. He didn't have time to name it, but it was almost all liquid, silent, and had electric teeth. It appeared behind David, sneaking forward, silent, it's mouth opening wide. As Bobby dodged the clown, he also manifested a large banana just at the right moment, the clown slipped and tumbled over the side.
The electric blob, was that a good name?, grabbed David, shocked him, and swallowed him whole.
Bobby's jaw dropped.
He stared.
The electric blob started walking towards him. He manifested a glass cage around the blob so it couldn't get to him.
Where was David? Inside this creature? No, no, no! He hadn't thought this through! What had he done? Where was David? Was he dead? Was he gone?
Bobby flopped down on the ground and buried his face in his hands. I didn't meant to, I just wanted to win a round. He was laughing at me, I didn't think it through. I didn't think he would be so silent, so deadly. I thought for sure David would get away.
Bobby stared at the creature, trying to bite at the glass. He concentrated real hard. Give me back David. Release him. Unkill him.
Nothing happened.
Bobby's body chilled. His blood pumped through his body and he couldn't breathe. I have to get out of here! I have to leave. He jumped up, ran to the edge of the island, and plunged over the side, the way he always left his Kingdom.
He blinked. He had returned home. The book was on the ground in front of him, innocent, as if nothing had happened.
Where was David? Would he come out on his own? Could you actually die in that world?
Bobby grabbed the book, ran home, skipped supper and cried himself to sleep. He kept his face buried in the pillow, so his grandma wouldn't hear him.
The next day in school, David was missing. His parents were frantic. The school was in turmoil. Bobby sat silent, brooding as usual. He knew where David was. He had come to accept it. David was gone, forever.
Bobby's sadness went unnoticed in the school, for the town was focused on one thing: finding David.
But, they would never find him. It was his fault, really. Bobby hadn't even thought of that game, until David showed up. David was the one who thought of all those evil things, I was just trying to protect myself. Can I help it if it went to far? It was MY kingdom, my book, I found it! He had no right to come into my world and make things all mixed up. If David was a better kid, he wouldn’t have wanted to play that game, anyway. The world is better off without him. He would have grown up to be a bad person. He had already been in juvenile hall before, that's why Bobby had picked him. He figured another loner kid like himself might appreciate his kingdom. But, he didn't. He was reckless. Foolish. And so he died.
It was okay. Bobby was okay. He knew the power of it now. He would be more careful. The next kid, he would warn, lay down the ground rules, tell him how it works.
And if he gets out of line, well, then, there is always what happened to David.

UNAWARENESSLESS

How long has it been?
That's the worst part about being here.
You can't remember how long it has been.
I am here again.
Did I tell you that, already?
Time doesn't slide along the way it's supposed to here, but flows and ebbs from every crevice and seeps through your mind as if your skull was hollow. The sand caresses your toes, the clouds hang over your heavy unheart, Father Time laughs at you from the sky. Your thoughts fly away and when you look, when you stare with all your might, you see nothing. Simple nothing.
Wait, not you, me. You aren't here. I can't see you, or taste you, or smell you, though I know you are out there. When someone is near me the clocks start to melt, and their smiles turn evil. I feel tremors, earthquakes and ripples in the sand. I scream out in fear, but only birds fly out of my mouth. I am/was/will write this in the sand...will you hear me? Will you find me? Will you save me?
I didn't mean to! Please, oh please, let me cry a real tear, you cold, dark cloudy sky. Just to feel the wetness flow down my cheek might help, it might remind me of what once was. Or is. Or will be. Memories fade into dreams here, and it is hard to know if what I believe is now, or was, or might possibly never happen. I just want/ed happiness.
I remember a time. A time where I was stable: the sand was dirt, the clocks flowed forward, and actual sounds came from my lips. I could see you, you weren't hidden behind a haze of shadows, I could reach out and touch you, laugh with you, and my favorite, cry with you.
But, here, now, whatever it is called, the place in between, where my thoughts don't flow but ride and bump along the agitated sea of sand, I cannot feel a thing. Only longing. Longing for substance, for a reality I believed in; not this unawareness...less.
I'm so sorry! Who am I apologizing to? Someone. Someone important, that I have forgotten or refuse to remember, yet. I'm never sure.
Did I tell you that I am here again? I didn't mean to. She was so pretty. I could feel her warm breath on my cheek. Her beautiful face was so close to mine. I could smell her perfume, the fragrance caressing my cheeks, causing my skin to tingle. I didn't know this would happen. My heart, my heart.
Where did I go wrong? She was wrong, somehow. I can't think why. I wasn't supposed to love her. I wasn't ready. Or she wasn't ready. Or, or...The memory/dream fades. I know it was her fault. No, no, it was MY fault. I shouldn't have loved her.
But, why? That question taunts me from Father Time. Is Father Time me, or someone else? His voice sounds evil, angry, spiteful. Will you stop questioning me!! I don't have the answers! Why am I not supposed to love? I don't know.
I see her face clearly. Oh my god...I am gasping for air. She is too wonderful, too sweet, too lovely. I reach out and grasp her hand; its warmth filling my body with song. I smile and she smiles too. It is the same! She cares for me too! I step forward and hug her tight.
And then. And then.
She is gone.
My heart stops beating. It just stops. I wait to hear the beat, but nothing happens. My heart has to beat, yet here, in this place or time or angle or plane or dimension...my heart refuses to beat.
Soon, or later, or yesterday or tomorrow, I see her again. My angel, my love. Why was I taken from her? Why was I sent here, when I had love in my arms, her beautiful lips pressed against mine? Why must I be near these clocks who laugh and point and deride me. I pick up sand and throw them at the clocks...they turn into birds and fly around my head, silently.
I collapse into the sand, my hands trying to draw comfort from the falling between my fingers. Trying to make the clocks move with the passing of the sand. Still, silence and heat and nothing else. I draw a picture of a heart in the sand. Suddenly, her face is there. Smiling up at me. She is so real! Please, come back to me! Rescue me from this timelessness, this fading into nothing! She only smiles. She cannot understand the birds I am sending her.
Suddenly, her face changes. Her smile turns into fear. What? What is it, my love? I will help you! She looks up. The clocks have multiplied, there are too many to count, too many to comprehend. They are targeting my love. I stand up and scream, “You can't have her! Stay back!” I look down at the fear in her eyes. “Don't worry, my love, I will protect you!” But, all that comes out are more birds. The birds attack the clocks, but the clocks multiply exponentially each time a bird destroys one. I scream louder and longer, thousands of birds emerging. Soon, I cannot see, only feathers and glass and the eerie, unearthly silence.
I awaken, covered with sand. Do I sleep here? I think not. Only moments on top of moments that seem to go nowhere. Today, yesterday, or tomorrow I realize with a shudder.
She is gone. She is not here. Or she won't be here. Or she will be here, but I missed her.
No, I am speaking incorrectly. I am not here, but wherever I exist, she isn't.
I think in your world, where time moves forward, you call it by this word: Death.
Sorry about the misspellings in the sand, I don't think you can understand bird.
The hardest part, the part that hurts the most, is the fact that I can't feel my heart beat. I cannot shed a tear. In the world I come from, the place before HERE, I used to be able to hurt, I used to be able to cry, I used to be able to...heal.
I think someone is coming for me. I think now, yesterday, or tomorrow, there is someone coming/going/leaving to save me. I think they are HERE now, no, no not HERE but somewhere, some-when. I hope so. The clocks keep asking me why I am still alive. I don't know.
I lay back down, stop writing in the sand, let the grains flow over my body until only my head and arm are exposed. My thoughts turn into birds, and the clocks grow weary of me and so freeze over. I can no longer entertain thoughts of my dead wife, for the lack of grief is killing me.
Someone is/was/will come for me.
I'm sure of it.
At least, I hope so.

BROTHERS

“Can you hear them? There are so many! I can’t believe how many we caught!”
Jared smiled, holding on to the jar of fireflies for dear life. “Not really…but I can feel ‘em. They’re makin’ my arms tingle.”
Nathaniel, his impetuous younger brother, stooped down to get a better look at his catch. “I wish you could see them, Jared! They look so mad!”
Jared nodded vigorously. “Of course they’re mad! How’d you like bein’ snatched up and put in jail like this? You’d better run fast when we let them out, ‘cause they’ll bite the heck outta ya!”
Nathaniel placed his hands on his hips. “They don’t bite! Whatta ya talkin’ ‘bout!”
When Nathaniel removed his hands from the jar, Jared lost his balance and the jar began falling toward him in a great hurry.
“Look out!” cried Nathaniel.
Jared rocked forward and attempted to pull the jar back towards him. It teetered in the air for a split-second, as the boys waited in great anticipation. Nathaniel was trying to get his hands up in order to save the much labored for prize.
The jar suddenly toppled backwards and fell against Jared’s chest. He began giggling uncontrollably, shaking the jar emphatically.
Nathaniel was irritated. “What choo laughin’ at? You almost killed ‘em all!”
Jared ignored his hot-headed younger brother. “They’re tingling my skin! I can feel ‘em buzzing!”
Nathaniel slapped his forehead with his palm. “Yikes! For a blind boy, you never take nothin’ serious! Everything’s a big joke to you! It coulda busted and cut as all to pieces! Or worse, the lid coulda popped off and…”
Jared interrupted him. “I can hear them!” He placed his ear to the top of the jar, his mouth grinning from ear to ear.
Nathaniel sighed loudly. “What am I gonna do wit’ you!”
Jared raised his head and stared in the direction of his brother’s voice. “You know, I think I ‘member what they look like. When I was five, I ‘member seeing lights in the trees. I can’t ‘member what the bugs looked like, but they sure was friendly. Do they look friendly?”
Nathaniel bit his tongue, leaned in closely again and stared at the fireflies for awhile. He grunted, then smiled. “Nope. Don’t look friendly at all, just mad as all get out!”
Jared persisted. “I know they’re mad, Nate! But, what do they look like? Describe ‘em.”
Nate sighed deeply. “You know I hate that stuff, Jared. I don’t know. They’re bugs! They’re black, with antennas, and small, and got ugly heads. And they’re black.”
Jared laughed. “You said black already!”
Nate grunted. “Well, if ya can’t ‘member ‘em, you can’t ‘member! Me telling you ‘bout ‘em not gonna make no diff’rence!”
Jared stopped smiling and put on his serious face. “You gotta learn Nate. If you ain’t gonna help me, nobody else is gonna.”
Nate placed his hands back on the jar, trying to ignore his older brother. “Momma’s better at that stuff, I just see it, you know? It ain’t fair that your eyes got taken. You are just gonna have to feel and hear and smell better, that’s all.”
Jared suddenly let go of the jar. It Nate hadn’t been holding on to it, it would have plunged into the watery abyss.
“Whad you do that fer?” screamed Nate.
Jared’s nostril’s flared. “Let’s go home.” He tried to turn, but wasn’t sure exactly where the water became more shallow. His boots were sticking in the mud.
Nate sighed. “Aw, man, don’t be like that! What’d I say?”
Jared stood there, helpless to move, waiting for direction with his hand, but saying nothing.
Nate slapped his hand. “Come on! Don’t be a baby!”
Jared’s face scrunched up in anger. “I’m not a baby, Nate, I am blind! You don’t get it, do you?”
Nate snorted. “Of course I get it!”
Jared shook his head vehemently. “No, you’re just too thick! I can’t see! If you ain’t gonna help me, nobody will! You’re my brother, but God help me, I don’t know why!”
Nate scratched his head with his hands in frustration. He hated it when Jared acted like this. He should have just left him giggling. “I’m hungry. Let’s go home, it’s time fer supper.”
Jared reached out with his hands. “Can I have the jar, please?”
Nate was distrustful. “Why? Watcha gonna do?”
“Nothin’! Let me have it, please!”
Frightened for his precious possession, he reluctantly handed over his prize. He placed it close to Jared’s chest so he could grip it tightly.
Jared said, “I feel sorry for ‘em. They don’t deserve to be locked up! They can’t go nowhere, nor do nothin’!”
Before Nate realized what was happening, Jared had opened the top of the jar and began shaking the jar, allowing all of the fireflies to escape. “You’re free! Go home fireflies! Go home!”
Nate started screaming in horror. “What the! Why’d you do that! You’re crazy! I didn’t even get to show dad! You’re horrible! I hate you!”
Jared handed the empty jar back to Nate. “Here, take it!”
Furious, Nate knocked the jar out of his hands. It went flying out into the deeper part of the water. It floated for a second on top, and then began sinking as if filled up with water. The two boys stood there, one looking at the other, the other not looking at anything.
Finally, Jared asked, “Can we go home now?”
Nate, still fuming, grabbed Jared’s hand. Aggressively, he started dragging his older brother towards the dry land. He stumbled a few times, but Nate hung on until they were completely out of the water. They then started removing their rubber boots so they could walk in their sneakers.
Nate couldn’t stand it any longer. “Why did you do it?”
Jared shrugged. “They deserve to be free. Nobody should be locked up.”
Nate protested. “They’re just bugs!”
Jared walked forward to where he knew his brother was standing. He was surprisingly quick when he knew he wasn’t going to drown. He grabbed Jared by the arm and started poking his finger in his brother's chest. “They aren’t just bugs! Do you understand me? You can’t think like that! Am I just your blind brother? Is that all I am?”
Nate stumbled backward. “What? No, of course, not!”
Jared stood there, towering over his younger brother, puffing his chest out, trying to make his point. “Are they just bugs?”
Nate started to answer, but hesitated. After a second, he answered, “Nnn, No. They ain’t.”
Jared grabbed Nate’s hand and ordered him to take him home.
Nate began walking slowly, not sure why his brother was so upset.
Jared turned to his brother. “You know you’re thick, don’t ya?”
Nate didn’t say anything.
Jared sighed. “But, I still love ya.”
Nate asked hesitantly, “Then why did you…”
“Thick!” yelled Jared.
The boys walked the rest of the way home in silence.