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Thursday, November 25th 2004 - 11:45:53 PM

2wo Hours Till Sunrise

I stood under the microscope of her fluorescent kitchen lights and watched as my friendly conspirators vanished through the threshold from the kitchen to the living room. They said something to each other, giggled and beckoned me to join them where they were. My uncoordinated body numbly followed, as I hesitantly resigned myself to the mysterious potential of what was to transpire. Finding myself near the couch, I plummeted limply to its soft recesses. Still somewhat apprehensive, I tried further relaxing as I puttied myself to her couch and soon thereafter, overwhelming sensations enveloped me.

I felt like an automobile crash dummy quickly approaching its target until ultimately meshing with the cars twisting steel frame, plastic dash and concrete barrier slab. Only, I didn’t feel deceleration or pain on impact, but rather, grossly perverted heightened sensations. I felt as if I had unwittingly walked up to and into a large spider web, breaking its silky elastic threads of entanglement. But there was an added sensation, of after frantically ridding oneself of the saran wrap web, becoming wonderfully swallowed by the warmth and bubbles of a Jacuzzi.

My skin tingled and became warm. My palms moistened and I clinched them into fists several times, feeling them cool as air passed over them. My sense of touch livened and drew forth both curiosity and exhilaration. I explored the back sides of my front teeth and the roof of my mouth with my tongue and marveled in its exquisite texture and smoothness. My pupils dilated to the size of dimes, giving me vision of a nocturnal mammal. I was able to see fine contrasting patterns in the carpet fibers and wood furniture never before noticed. It was like wearing someone else’s nearsighted prescription eyeglasses that are too strong for you. My fascination of my enhanced sensations ebbed to the realization that I was not alone.

My eyesight, however acute, became distorted. I viewed my surroundings and received choppy, strobe-lit, disjointed images of a black and white TV show. I turned my head left to look at her and the TV images followed, until finally I was able to blink it free. I was told later, that my severely dilated pupils allowed extra light to my receptors in the rear of my eyes, which caused light reflections and perceived images in delayed order. She sat on the carpeted floor in front of me irradiated by the luminescent glow of the aquarium behind her. I glanced to my right, past the TV, to see her friend sitting with me on the couch. She leaned toward me and reached out. I felt the soft tendrils of her cool fingertips lightly tracing invisible spindled patterns up and down my right forearm. My hearing became acute with the thunderous pulsating of blood passing in my ear canals. I closed my eye lids but did not see the expected darkness. Instead I saw enhanced visions of her loveliness and felt my ever more acute sensory perceptions continue to grow. The barely audible ballads of familiar trusted voices crept through my ears and hovered in my head composing celestial music of spheres that only I was privy to hear. And so it began—my euphoria, my ecstasy.

As quickly as you can snap your fingers, I lost all my chips to comfort and became its slave. Comfort had not only come to play in this friendly game, it came to win. Cascading over my shoulders, comfort pinned me to the couch in grandeur fashion only to release me to the ring-leading whims of pleasure. Pleasure conspired with imagination and soon both puppeteered my senses. They were now my masters and I was commanded to party. [Note to self: Imagination parties relentlessly hard and likes to smash boundaries. May cause stupidity; take in small doses and in conjunction with logic. Pleasure may be armed and considered dangerous. Pleasure has been featured on People’s Most Wanted.]. Once they had control of my senses, pleasure sent me appreciation martinis and the party started rockin. Pleasure was on the prowl with my mind and body its playpen. This was an invite only party and I was the best dancer there.

My mind sped to first place as I approached the last hairpin curve. The track was an emotional and tricky course and behind me laid numerous scattered crashes. I approached the checkered flag and took 1st Place. My trophy was filled with elevated desires of pleasure. Pleasure pumped through my veins searching for her. Visions of her were reported near my eyes and pleasure arrived soon after. Pleasure voyeuristically observed her as she manicured her toes. I was frozen in puttied state. I was a deer in headlights--fearful of the looming impact of what was to occur.

I allowed myself to continue upon this bread-crumbed trail and explored my hidden thoughts, eyes closed, unshackling the always present bindings on my imagination. Every fabric of my imagination coupled with my senses melded. I sat there unable to move as my floodgates lifted and opened fully, releasing torrent flows of extreme passion and eroticism never before experienced as they washed over me. I floated to the surface, baptized, reborn and emanating my new religion. It humbled and crippled me, dropping me to my mental knees.

There was irony and travesty not to be shared; we weren’t sharing and holding these same sensations together for each other. Guilt approached screaming, “violation”, but acceptance and comfort prevailed. Pleasure skydived in, clad in a maestros outfit and was quickly ushered to center stage of this grand symphony. I watched intently as pleasure conducted my enhanced passion and sensations. I started to enjoy my new freedoms and took pleasure in itself--it was after all, my party.

I perceived sensations of magnetism, of nature’s forces drawing my resistant essence to her as she watched me from her spot on the floor. Feeling drawn to her in this manner was at first unwanted and questionable on my behalf. After years of knowing her, I had suppressed some of my romantic and lustful feelings and fine tuned my open behavior to fit our friendship. I was now uncomfortable because my own vulnerability to my personally imposed boundaries could be exposed and unfairly exploited. I questioned my motives for thinking and feeling as I did. I ensured myself it was just my euphoria and rationalized acceptance. With huge effort, I consciously put aside thoughts of reality and allowed myself relaxation, succumbing and ultimately plummeting to her gravity.

I approached my sensations and thoughts with the excessive indulgence of an addict. I knew that it was fleetingly inspired by consumption of euphoria and my resultant physiological responses. My yearning thoughts grew bolder and unadulterated. They encompassed every possible combination of exploring her body and mind and of what pleasures might be derived between us. The soles on imaginations shoes smoked and sputtered flames as it danced in frenzied anticipation. Sensory riots from my toes to my head erupted upward and outward like a Roman candle, ricocheting wildly inside the cramped prison shell of my body. Unchallenged, imagination grew like rampant vines, weaving it into rich larger-than-life creations, all the while, smothering tangent, rational and non-essential thoughts along the way. All these sensations leapt through me leaving me nearly breathless. There was that saying that if you love something, set it free. If it comes back then it will always be yours. I set my thoughts free, and surely they did return from the joyride on their own.

I compulsively became consumed with the single thought of having a shared experience of touching her, of tasting her, of listening to her heartbeat and breathing, of seeing her in her nudeness unabashed, of smelling her essence and sharing each other in our thoughts. I wanted to feel what she felt and conversely let her feel what I felt.

In this bliss, this fantasy, we experienced only happiness and the wonders of innocence. They manifested themselves in fantastic images and the perceived senses of joining with her on multiple levels. In my thoughts neither one of us spoke. There was no anger or fear, or judging. There was only radiating bliss in our actions and reactions to each other. We thought of the incredulously small and what used to be seemingly insignificant sensations and how they were now monumental pleasures. My desires and pleasures were acknowledged and reciprocated in her eyes. I saw in her facial expressions and body movements, protective mental walls falter and finally fall to rubble—her eyes glistened with peace and content.

My lungs expanded and hers contracted in unison as we exchanged life sustaining air slowly between our tender kisses. I smelt her erotic essence wafting from her hair and neck as I lightly caressed behind her ear with occasional nibbles and flicking of my tongue. Goose bumps speckled the back of her arms as I made long soft strokes using a feather, starting from her jaw line and traversing down to the small of her back. She crinkled her toes as I delicately placed almost unperceivable whispered kisses on her ankles and behind her knees. I felt the electricity created by the small hairs on the back of her neck becoming brisk as her body went limp with pleasure from my lips lightly pecking her ear. I pulled her close to me from behind, using my left arm across her breasts and draping my right hand down the front inside of her thigh. She relinquished pleasure to me and I to her in continuous unselfish flow of attention and titillation. I experienced her soothing touch as her fingers sifted and combed my hair away from my forehead. I knew my body and spirit were blissful to her, because I could feel what she felt through her touch and hear what she thought in her eyes and lips. I slightly bit her neck muscles and suckled the splendid flavor of salty perspiration, savoring it on my taste buds as that of a wine connoisseur that has discovered a rare vintage. She let forth an almost inaudible moan coming deep from her bosom as her eyes searched behind fluttering eyelids for the source of such ecstasy. We made love. It was the slowest of slow lovemaking. I elated in the warmth of her touch and endless pleasure derived between us. Throughout the duration of this fantasy we shared an untainted fusion of our mental and physical senses. We were both in ecstasy.

Time happened and early morning begat early sunrise, evaporating my world as baby-blue light probed gingerly into the house. She and I went to her back porch and watched the new day begin. The earth turned ever so steady, bringing us to face the greetings of the new day’s sun. Trees, buildings and hillsides were silhouetted in our gaze as we looked eastward. For a brief moment, we connected in thoughts as we both commented on how beautiful it was. I thought of what I had experienced earlier and tried to recapture some the faded experience. Unaware of my heavily weighted thoughts, she went inside her house and left me standing against the fence rail—alone.

I continued to stand under the sky, on her back porch as the sun shown brighter and brighter. The sky changed from baby blue to bright yellow and finally bright white where the sun rose. I thought of my fantasy, of how our shared rapture had been indescribably vivid, overflowing with erotic and sensual thoughts and sensations. Sluggishly, I could feel it cheapening and becoming hollow as previously suppressed reality kept poking its roots through my unfettered disposition.

Reality now oozed freely, cresting my imagination and opening its eyes--first one, then the other. Fighting against diminished sight, it blinked for moisture, until finally, peripheral vision returned and the haze that had been my imagined world evaporated. It stared at me with frigid intensity. I looked away, sightless and degraded. Devoid of my illusions, I scoured my surroundings for some semblance of my former wanderings…

Searching, I am searching. What’s that, ah—I found something! It was a box with my name on it. Perhaps a gift, contrived from the Gods. I liked gifts. Today would be a good day…

It scurried to me, for it had movement of its own, and I embraced it. My field of vision narrowed and I entered tunnel-vision pondering the gift contents. Behind me, an unknown woman beckoned for my attention and next to her sat a man with his legs crossed and a scowl on his face. Ominous, dark, foreboding clouds rolled in—I was oblivious to all but my gift. In retrospect, had I known what I do now, I would have tried to smite my gift using all my natural and unnatural strength and fortitude. I would have tried to bury it in the deepest caverns beneath the deepest seas. If that did not work, I would have enlisted NASA’s help to send it to the recesses of unexplored space and after doing so, would've prayed to the heavens above that the gravitational draw of a black hole captured it. I would've prayed that the the hole drew it forth, sending it in a spiraled fashion inward to the confines of its own excessive mass.

If I had been attentive to my surroundings when I found the gift, I would have noticed the man and woman behind me. I would have recognized the woman as Pandora. I would have heard her say, “Heed my words! Do not joust lightly with my possessions nor tread innocently in the muddy aftermath of what would be gained—do not follow in my footsteps.” She had indeed spoken, but I was deaf to her words. She had tried to flag my attention, waving her arms frantically, but I was blind to her movements. She had tried to grab hold of my shoulder, yet I felt not her touch.

I would also have noticed, sitting next to her was not man, rather a Norse god. I would have recognized him as Loki, god of mischief. I’d have seen his scowl crack into a crazed ear-to-ear grin as I opened the gift. I would have felt and heard the thud of him falling to the ground in hysterical, shrilled, high-pitched tenor laughter as he held his stomach tightly with both hands. But I did not, for I was oblivious to all save my gift.

No time for the chastity of caution as I curiously and I quickly opened the gift. To my delight, it contained the sweet solace of memory. I stood there, brazenly basking in its pious glow. I now would remember my experience forever. [Note to Self: Memory does not come with clarity. Clarity sold separately]

With my memory intact, ensuring me of chronicled archives of what I had experienced on this day, I felt like I had become a crusading knight endowed with impenetrable armor, able to take on any dragon that would hold my experience hostage. Halleluiah. Praise be this armor called memory. This was a good day…

My anxiety of the possibility of forgetting my euphoria lessoned and relief nestled in. I recalled my experience over and over remembering all the otherworldly sensations and thoughts accompanying it. I wanted to dissect it to help me understand its meanings and relevance. When I was unable to explain external factors, I turned to self-reflection--and reflect I did.

For those two hours before sunrise, on the early morning after my birthday, I had seen her in my euphoric moment, pure and righteous in her being. Beautiful and pristine! Her every fault and splendors combined, made her perfect.

Hours later, I unearthed one slap-in-your-face question. How would it feel if my fantasy were real? Determined to answer this mystery, I set forth devising a strategy. I would attempt without hindrance, my quest for the Holy Grail. I wanted to know if those feelings and moments I had experienced, where actually a possibility given the right circumstances and timing. Wicked thoughts of rejection lingered and lurked in my shadows.

I devoted the following days trying to spend as much time as possible with her and resolve my questionable dilemma. I looked for hints in her behavior and when I found none, in a moment as awkward and one could have, I candidly proposed the idea of escalating our friendship to something more.

The outcome? Rejection. I felt like and fool and after feeling this way, resented myself to the point of doing and saying things to her that might have blemished her opinions of me or worse, destroyed a very dear and special friendship. I reiterate: a very dear and special friendship. A friendship which had grown over years based on respect and trust.

Damn you Loki…
Friday, May 28th 2004 - 10:14:12 PM

RUN RUN

I run full speed, darting in between discarded hay bales and old farm equipment. I stop and lay on the ground. A brief look around finds a sheet of corrugated iron; I pulled it over my self. I lye there panting, desperately trying to quiet my laboured breath. My assailant creeps ever closer inch-by-inch drawing nearer, I can hear his footsteps.

Where is he?

Footsteps resounded in the old farm shed, making it impossible to tell where he was. Crunch, crunch, I can hear the loosely packed soil crunching under his weight. The sweat beads on my forehead and slowly runs down my nose, landing on the cold soil beneath me. I am getting nervous. I have been lying in the one spot for too long.

Does he know where I am?

I jump up, the tin flies to one side, hitting a long forgotten trowel rusted with age. The noise gets my assailants attention. He quickly jerks his head in my direction. I run as hard and as fast as I can, pushing my physical boundaries. I can feel the adrenaline kicking in, making me even faster. But he is gaining on me, edging ever closer slowly closing the gap. I try to lose him by darting in and out of a few piles of hay, but to no avail. He is now only two odd feet behind me. I have to think quickly.

What do I do?

Running at full speed I place two hands on a tractor I am about to career into and push my self over the top of it. I am now on the other side of the tractor. Now all that separates me from my attacker is a cold hard piece of machinery. At this moment how I love the rusty old tractor. I am looking my attacker in the eyes I swear I can almost smell his pungent breath. We stand there motionless, neither one of us dares to move. He quickly darts to my left I respond by running in the opposite direction. Now he changes direction and darts the other way this lasts a brief moment and we are now back were we started, in a Mexican stand off. Me to scared to run away from the protection of the tractor and him waiting for the prefect chance to pounce. He feints to run to the left but actually goes right. I’ve been around to long to fall for that one and I get away.

Now what is he doing?

He takes a step back, sizes up the tractor and then runs and leaps over it. I react in turn by running around the tractor so we have now swapped sides. I’m feeling game; I decide to make a dash for freedom. I’m running to what seems like a safe spot but before I can reach my safe heaven I feel a strong hand clasp my shoulder. The hand spins me around so I am facing my assailant. He puts his other hand on my shoulder and pushes me over.

“Your it!” screamed James as he runs of into the dark depths of the farmhouse. I turn around and start counting aloud

“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten ready or not here I come!”

Wednesday, May 26th 2004 - 01:09:49 AM

Big City #1 - Avatar pt 2

Charlie hadn’t moved in hours. He hardly noticed the dripping of the IV and the whispered bleeps of the monitors. He just watched Laura breathe, waiting for some sign that she was waking. He didn’t know what time it was. He kept drifting in and out of sleep in the chair. His brief nap was usually cut short by the sound of a cart in the hall.

The scene replayed over and over in his mind: how the creature’s skin was like liquid, what he could have done differently. He should never have tried to tag the thing, but he was tired of everybody else doing all the exciting stuff while he and Laura did all the bookwork. ‘Baby steps’, he thought.

Charlie felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up into the face of the nurse.

“Mr. Pickens? I need to change her dressings.”

Charlie wiped the sleep from his eyes. “Sorry.”

“Mr. Pickens, you’ve had a rough 24 hours. You should really go back to your room and rest.”

“Thanks but I’d rather stay here.”

“Well, I’ll only be a minute.”

Charlie nodded. He hoisted himself out of his chair. The walking cast was bulky and uncomfortable and, worst of all; they cut up his favorite pair of pants. He hobbled into the hall as the nurse pulled the curtain behind him.

Through the hallway windows he could see the Big City afternoon going on like usual. The world hadn’t stopped. Somewhere out there the others were trying to find whoever was behind all this. He wanted to be out there, too. He wanted Laura out there with him. They made a great team, had been through so much already. He couldn’t imagine life without her.

He sat on a couch across from the nurses station and let his head lull back against the wall. As his mind wandered from exhaustion, grief and anger, he became aware that two nurses were talking to each other in the nurses station.

“…they just moved him into OR, but it doesn’t look good.”

“What happened?”

“From what Rita said it looks like something dug out the sides of his stomach.”

“Something?”

“They think maybe one of the prisoners.”

“That’s awful. Who could do that?”

“Rita said it was really strange, because he’d been burned too. Like the guy had cut him open with a blow torch.”

“Really strange.”

“Yeah. I guess his insides are all messed up, I mean what’s left of them.”

Charlie kept his eyes closed. He found one word floating around in his mind.

Freedom.

*

There was a thunderous crash. Wood splintered and part of the lock flew across the room. Reg leapt from his seat with a start. He dove for the cigar box on the end table across the room. His hand reached the gun just as he felt himself lifted up. A moment later he found himself face to face with Needless Action. Needless gripped the elf by his filthy sweat shirt.

“Hi Reg.”

“Oh man! I just replaced the lock! The hell is with you Needless?!”

“We need some information, Reg.” Stack said, striding into the room.

Reg looked over at Stack. “Oh man. Have you tried the phone? I have a website too. Or are you cops not tech-savvy yet?”

Stack sat on the couch. “I’ve seen your website. Not bad. I did have our hacker team change your splash page though. Instead of saying “You’ve entered the den of the Elf Masta” it now says “Hi I’m a felon. Wanna play?”

Reg sighed. Needless pushed him to the recliner and sat on the arm rest.

“Fine. What do you want?” Reg groaned.

“We’re following a stone. Little tiny thing about the size of my finger tip. Kind of amber looking. Seen it?” Stack said.

“I don’t know, maybe. I see a lot of stuff.” Reg looked out the window.

“Reg, this thing is hot with magic. It would require special handling. Now, you are the town’s biggest relic mover. Nothing comes into Big City without you knowing about it. Now I’m going to ask you again and if I don’t get a real answer, Needless is going to eat various parts of you. Starting with your nose.”

Needless cocked his head at Stack in confusion. Stack just shrugged.

“I didn’t see it. About a week ago this guy comes to me, pays in cash for advice. Just advice. I never touched the thing, I never even saw it. Said he had this rock coming in, like you said. Small. Super hot. He just wanted some advice on handling. That’s it. I swear.” Reg sunk further into his chair.

Stack leaned in, “What’d you tell him?”

“Usually a crystal and rock combination to diffuse the magic. Like a geode. You know, two halves of a geode taped together. The crystals diffuse the energy and the rock protects the handler. Playground stuff. Just so I wouldn’t feel guilty, I made up some crap about a velvet pouch. You know, give him his money’s worth. I never saw the rock. I swear. “

“You know this guy?” Needless said, pulling out his notepad.

“I’ve seen him around. He moves some small stuff. Amulets and things. His mag is shit. It’s all nearly tapped out. “

“You got a name?” Needless inquired.

“Flax something. Human kid. His older brother is in the joint. Stamper. That’s it. Flax Stamper.”

Stack stood up. “Rance Stamper’s brother? Hmmm. It gets more interesting by the minute.” He looked at Needless. “How long did we send Stamper up for?”

“Twelve years.” Needless nodded.

Stack moved to leave the room. “That’ll piss a guy off.”

The two moved out into the hallway.

Reg, regaining some confidence, stood up. “Hey! What about my door?!”

Needless chuckled. “You shouldn’t leave it open. There’s a lot of crooks in this neighborhood.”

*

Smiles sat on the hood of his car in the late morning sun smoking a cigarette and watching a group of kids play Square Tee’s. He could hear Welp questioning Wyshok endlessly in the backseat of the car. The events of the past day were spiraling through his mind as he watched the kids throw the box back and forth.

“Hey Smiles!” Came a voice. Smiles turned toward the voice. His gaze fell on the familiar sight of The Java Jalopy and its driver Greta pulling up next to his car. Greta stopped the Jalopy and smiled. “What are you doing on this side of town?”

Smiles hopped off the hood of the car and leaned on the window. “Working a case. How about you? What brings you to this neck of the woods?”

Greta nodded at the kids playing in the street. “You wouldn’t believe how much these kids love iced lattes. Speaking of which, you want one?”

“Sure.” Smiles shrugged. Greta climbed in back and started pulling him a latte.

Stack and Needless exited the building and stepped up next to the truck.

“Hey Greta,” Stack smiled. “Could I get one of those?” Greta nodded.

“So what’d you get?” Smiles said sliding his money to Greta.

“Reg never saw it. Looks like it came through to a small time handler named Flax Stamper. We sent his brother out to Thieves Island on a twelve-year stretch. I’m thinking his brother, Rance, got The Skiv.”

“We’ve got to get out hands on this Flax guy. Find out what happened to the Skiv.” Needless interjected. “Then get out to Thieves Island and talk to Stamper.”

Smiles turned and motioned for Wyshok and Welp.

Greta handed Stack his latte, “Good luck.” They all looked at her confused. “Thieves Island is on lockdown. A prison guard got killed this morning apparently. It’s all over the radio.” Stack and Smiles looked at each other. Greta looked at Needless, “How about you handsome? You want anything?”

Needless, smiled and shook his head ‘no’. He then looked away immediately to keep from staring at her. Wyshok and Welp stepped into the loose circle.

“We’ve got to get out to that island. If Wyshok is right, Stamper has no idea what he’s doing. He’s going to hurt more people.” Smiles said. “Worse yet, they have no idea what they’re dealing with.”

“If he starts casting a spell while we’re there, I should be able to counter on the same frequency.” Wyshok said. “I won’t be able to for long but it could buy us some time.”

“How do we find the Skiv? And when we find it, how do we get it?” Needless asked.

Wyshok thought. “To use something like this, it has to be on his person somewhere. I’ve seen people swallow relics or have them pulverized and tattooed into their skin. It could be anywhere. As for retrieving it,” She reached into the duffel bag she carried and pulled out an old pair of gloves. “Use these.” The gloves were huge canvas things that had yellowed with time. The tips sparkled. “The crystals in the tips should diffuse the magic enough that you can transfer the Skiv to a safe box.”

Welp finally spoke up. “What about the guy?” They all looked at him. “If that much power is ripped away from somebody, who already isn’t in control of it…what will happen?”

Stack looked at Wyshok. She slowly shook her head. “It could kill him.” They stood quietly for a moment.

The Square T’s game stopped when the kids saw Greta and the Java Jalopy. The blocks and balls fell to the ground as the kids rushed her. Greta began pulling iced lattes at a furious pace as a dozen dirty faces peered through the open serving window. Tiny fists launched money into the air. After a few minutes, when all the kids were quietly suckling their coffee drinks, Greta leaned her head out of the window. She had thought of another witty quip that could, maybe, grab the attention of the cute cop they called Needless Action.

But they were all gone.

*

When news reports began to trickle out that a guard had been killed on Thieves Island, journalists scattered like bugs. They pleaded with the police that were blocking their entrance to Big City General Hospital. Through the doors, the journalists could see some more guards. In the distance, a young man with a walking cast pleaded with a nurse behind a pane of glass.

“Please! I have to see the body or talk to the doctor.”

The nurse shook her head. “Unless you have a warrant or some kind of authorization, you cannot and will not be taken to the body. And Dr. Walker is very busy. Plus, I don’t know you from Adam! Now go back to your room before I have security escort you back to your room.”

"Lady, time is running out here. I’m a private investigator. I’ve been working with the police on this.”

“Where’s your badge? A warrant? Something?” She shook her head. “Security!” She bellowed down the hall. Charlie was quickly joined on either side by two guards. “Would you please take this patient back to his room?”

“Lady, please!”

A doctor stepped out of a door behind the nurse. He wore surgical scrubs and was signing some papers on a clipboard. He looked up. “Is there a problem?”

“No, Doctor Walker, there’s no problem. This gentleman was just leaving.”

“No I am not. Doctor! I need to see the body of the Thieves Island guard. It could be a lead in a case. I’m with Big City Eyes Investigations. This could lead us to a very dangerous criminal.”

The Doctor shook his head. “No, I’m afraid you can’t. The family hasn’t even seen him yet. I’m sorry.” Dr. Walker turned and began walking down the hall. The guards began moving Charlie in the opposite direction.

“Fury, Action, Freedom!!” Charlie bellowed over his shoulder.

Dr. Walker stopped in his tracks. He turned slowly back.”Wait!” The guards and Charlie turned around. “What did you say?”

“Three words. Fury, Action and Freedom. Probably found on the body. Burned in somewhere. You found that, didn’t you?”

The Doctor stared at Charlie for a moment. He nodded to the guards who promptly released Charlie. Dr. Walker turned to the nurse. “Buzz him in.”

Charlie smiled to himself. At least his instincts weren’t broken.

*

The sirens had stopped blaring. The prison guards had dusted off their riot gear and were making their way up the hallway to the solitary confinement cell. They had no idea what to expect. This guy had burned holes into Tandy’s gut. They steeled themselves for the worst.

The prisoner could hear them moving in. He tried desperately to control himself. He didn’t want to hurt anybody again. Yes he did. He wanted them all dead, especially those bastards Action and Fury. He really didn’t want to hurt anybody. But it was so easy now. He was in control. He really was. Wasn’t he?

What had the dentist done to him?

He felt the burning in his mouth again. He clenched his teeth to hold back the words he felt coming. He didn’t know what they meant but he knew they would make him feel better. More in control.

What did that damn dentist do to his mouth?

The door to his cell crashed open. He found himself face to face with three-dozen shotguns.

‘Go with them.’ He thought. ‘It’ll be all right. It’ll all be over soon.’

The burning in his mouth grew and he could feel it in his hands again.

*

Welp and Wyshok stared out into the bay at Thieves Island Prison. The water was white-capped in the wind. The island was on lockdown and prison officials, police and the media clogged the dockside. Commissioner Janet Bledsoe and Prison Warden Joe Tierney stood talking to reporters.

“The only details we have currently is that one of our prison guards was killed by a prisoner. We will release the names as soon as the families have been notified. That is all for now.” Janet Bledsoe turned away from the cameras to the usual barrage of questions from reporters. Janet was convinced that they prepared, in advance, the questions they would blurt out but would never have answered. She and Tierney moved back behind the police tape to Captain Breen who stood waiting.

Smiles approached her.

“Hello Janet.”

Bledsoe rolled her eyes. “Johnson, what the hell are you doing here?”

“I think I can help you here, Janet,” Smiles smirked. “But I need to get out to the Island.”

“No.” Bledsoe yelled into the air, “Somebody get him out of here.”

Breen put his hand on Smiles’ shoulder. “C’mon Smiles.”

Smiles pulled away. “Look Janet, there is a prisoner out there that has a relic of incredible power. He is responsible for the lake attacks over the last few nights.”

“There are no relics out there!” Tierney yelled.

“Look, there are going to be a lot more deaths if I don’t get out there. There isn’t a single person out there able to handle this kind of magic.”

Janet laughed, “Oh and you are?”

Smiles pointed at Wyshok, “No. She is. She was a Sweeper 40 years ago. She’s the only person able to help in any of this. She can help contain it.”

“This is stupid.” Bledsoe declared. “What proof do you have that this has anything to do with the lake attacks? You have no right to be here at all. Now gather up your little “mystery club” and get on the other side of that tape.”

Smiles, Wyshok and Welp moved back behind the police tape. Smiles’ eyes pleaded with Breen. Breen just smiled sadly and went about his business.

Breen had known Smiles for years. He had been Smile’s commanding officer when Smiles got bumped up to detective. His mind filled with images from the past. He thought about the Gina debacle and how he had watched Smiles shrivel inside, had watched Stack and Smiles grow apart. Breen’s thoughts were interrupted by the rookie standing next to him.

“Sir, this just arrived for you.” The rookie handed him a manila envelope.

Breen began to open it. “Who’s it from?”

“Some guy at the hospital. Said it’s urgent and to give it to you directly.”

Breen slipped some pictures out of the envelope. A note was attached to the top,

‘Breen,

If they haven’t already, I’m sure Needless, Stack and Smiles will

be there soon. I hope this helps.

Thanks, Charlie’

Underneath the note was a series of pictures of the security guard, Tandy. The last picture was an X-Ray. Appearing on the X-Ray, burned into the breastbone, about where the heart should be, were the words “Fury, Action, Freedom.”

*

The chase ended in an overturned vegetable cart. Needless and Stack were covered with mashed up tomatoes, marshbulbs and various other salad fixings. Flax Stamper laid on the ground under a pile of mushrooms. He hated mushrooms.

Needless tried to catch his breath as he pointed his gun at Flax. “Get up!” Flax stumbled as he tried to stand. Stack grabbed him by the arm and hoisted him to his feet. They cuffed Stamper, read him his rights and began the walk back to the car.

“I really think it’s in your best interests to cooperate, Flax.” Needless said.

“I want to talk to my lawyer.”

“Don’t worry, you will. But before that, we want to know about The Skiv.” Stack said.

Flax went white. “What?”

They stopped him in the middle of the street. Needless spun Flax around to face him. ”The Skiv. We know you moved it. How did you get it? We don’t have time for the usual games here. Several people are dead and the trail starts at you. “

Something in Needless’ eyes burned a hole through Flax. He knew better than to mess with this cop. “I don’t know the guy. He came to me, told me that this thing, the Skiv, was coming into town. Then he paid me 10 grand to hold it and wait for instructions.”

Stack looked at Needless puzzled. “What instructions?”

“Then I get a call from this other guy, again I didn’t know who. He tells me that I am supposed to get the Skiv to my brother and that I’d find another 10g’s in a locker at the bus station. So I slipped it to my brother and lo and behold, money was in the locker.”

“So this guy wanted your brother to have it?” Needless said.

“No my brother doesn’t touch the stuff. He was supposed to deliver it to this guy in jail.”

Stack looked at Needless, “We’re chasing the wrong guy.”

*

Welp watched as the boats hopped across the rolling white caps toward the Island. He hadn’t counted on any of this. As he watched Smiles, Wyshok and their armed escorts move across the water he took out his notebook. He flipped to the last page and began to write. He had to make sure that this was separated from his Manzetti notes. It was a trick he used to try to organize his usually disorganized mind. He wrote some quick notes about the Skiv, trying to recall everything that Wyshok had said to him.

Wyshok seemed like she wanted to spill over. She had thousands of stories and he wanted them all. This was far more interesting than anything that happened with the Manzettis. She was from a time when magic was everywhere. It wasn’t relegated to dark alleys and hidden dens. Magic had been abundant and used for both good and evil. Now it was nothing more than a dim memory to the last generation and a quick high for the next.

He was sure that it was the best intentions that drove the Wizards and the city to ban magic, yet it didn’t seem right to him. Sweepers were shuttled out the door so fast that the people of Big City didn’t have time to react. Wyshok, this brilliant lady, had been put out to pasture. As always it was the people in the middle that got hurt. It wasn’t the city. They benefited. They were able to cut Sweeper programs and the like and save a bundle. The Wizards went off to wherever it is Wizards go.

He jotted the last three words in his notebook, ‘bring back sweepers.’

He looked up again and became vaguely aware of a commotion behind him. He turned to see Needless and Stack’s car screech to a halt. Both leapt from the car and they were met by Breen and Tierney.

Stack took a deep breath. “Okay. The guy in the backseat is Flax Stamper, Rance’s brother. He handled the relic when it came to town. He was taking orders from somebody with money he doesn’t know who. All he knows is that his brother was supposed to hand the relic off to someone inside.”

Tierney gulped “Someone in the prison?”

Needless nodded. “Yeah, it looks that way. Who does Stamper have intimate contact with?”

Tierney thought for a moment, “Stamper is almost a model inmate. He has contact with lots of people. We have him working in the infirmary. He keeps records on all the prisoners who get sick or see the dentist. I can’t believe he’d be involved with this.”

“You have doctors and dentists on staff?” Stack asked.

“No, they’re usually volunteers. They come out once a week. They are all screened and searched. They’re all clean. They don’t do anything major. Shots and fillings and crowns and such.”

Stack and Needless looked at each other.

Needless’ eyes grew wide. “Crowns! The guy has the Skiv in his teeth and he doesn’t even know.”

Stack looked at Breen. “Find the Dentist. And get us out to that island.”

*

“Look at me!” The guard shouted at the prisoner. He punched him in the stomach again. “I said look at me, Vester!”

The prisoner, Michael Vester, dropped to his knees. His hands were cuffed to a searing steam pipe which kept him from collapsing completely. He could feel the burn in his mouth again. This time it was taking the pain away. His hate bubbled in the back of his throat. He could feel the words coming. He tried everything in his power to contain it.

‘Wait,” said the voice.

The guard hit him again and again. “So, Vester, you think you’re big man? I don’t know how you did what you did but you can be sure that you won’t do it again.”

He couldn’t take anymore. He couldn’t wait any longer. It was time to go. Vester stood, Blood dripping from his forehead. He smiled at the guard. It was a smile that curdled the guard’s blood. The last thing the guard heard was Vester mumbling something.

A blast of light burst out of Vester’s mouth. It tore through the guard’s middle and set fire to the wall behind. The other guards leapt back and aimed their guns. Vester pulled apart the cuffs that confined him. Then he picked up the nearest guard and pulled him close as the guards opened fire.

Vester threw the bullet ridden body of the guard to the floor and let loose a stream of energy that moved around the room searing the rest of the guards. They all shrieked and fell to the floor.

Michael Vester raised his arms. “Now” he intoned.

* Smiles’ and Wyshok’s boat was nearing the island. Smiles looked at Wyshok. In the direct light of the bay he noticed just how old she was. His stomach sank because the true nature of the danger beginning to dawn on him.

“Are you sure you’ll be all right?” he asked her.

Wyshok nodded and smiled. “I know what’s going to happen.”

The water ahead of them exploded. The creature rose above the boat and roared.

On shore the media, the police and Welp gasped as they saw the huge creature rise from the water. Stack and Needless sped away from the pier, directly at the creature.

The second boat of armed police capsized, pitching the cops into the water. The creature roared and brought its fist down, smashing the capsized boats. Smiles tried to steady himself on the boat as it rode the ripples the creature created. Behind him Wyshok was chanting and keening. She held out her arms with a cry that Smiles couldn’t understand.

The creature exploded into droplets and rained down on the boat.

Smiles turned to the pilot, “Go!!”

The boat’s pilot gunned the engine and plowed through the white caps toward the prison.

*

Inside the prison, Vester felt the collision of vibrations. He didn’t understand exactly how it happened, and he didn’t really care anymore. He was unstoppable. He roamed the halls past the silent prisoners who stared at him, terrified. He moved to the cell of Rance Stamper.

“Stamper.” Vester wheezed, “ How are you?” Rance Stamper stood in the center of the cell staring back. “Stamper? What did that dentist do to me?”

Stamper shrugged. “I don’t know. He had me get something from my brother. I don’t know what.”

“He put something in my mouth. Something powerful.” Vester smiled. “Thanks.” Vester took a long breath and then exhaled. He could feel them close. He moved swiftly toward them.

*

Wyshok and Smiles had already vanished into the prison when Needless and Stack arrived. They jumped from the boat and ran inside. They stopped at the main courtyard.

“Where now?” Stack asked, looking around.

Needless shrugged. “Smiles?!” he bellowed.

There was a blast of light from the far side of the courtyard. The concussion of the blast knocked Stack and Needless to the ground, and rained debris down on to the courtyard blacktop. When the dust settled they stood up.

“I knew you would come sooner or later,” came the voice. Stack and Needless drew their weapons. “Now who has the upper hand?”

Vester floated to the rubble that littered the courtyard. Stack and Needless stepped back.

“Vester?” Stack said. “Michael Vester? We sent you up on a nickel for burglary. Is it worth all this?”

“Oh yes. Do you know what it it’s like here? What they do to people in here? You two are the cause of all my problems.” Vesper clapped his hands and they became white hot. “Now I have the power to reclaim my life.”

Stack put away his weapon. “Vester, you don’t understand what’s happening. This thing inside your mouth, it’s eating you up. You don’t know how to handle this kind of power.”

“I don’t care anymore.” Vester said, chuckling. “The power is all I care about.”

“It’s going to kill you.” Stack pleaded.

Vester thought for a moment. “I’m sure I’ll have plenty of time to take care of you two.”

Needless finally couldn’t stand it anymore. “Get over it! You were like a year away from getting out of here. It’s not like you don’t deserve what you got.”

“In your mouth, Vester. The dentist put a powerful relic called the Skiv into your mouth!” Stack interjected. “Your body isn’t built for it. Please, Vester, stop all of this before it’s too late.”

Vester’s voice deepened. “It’s already too late, Forray! This power is mine. We’ve talked enough. It’s time to kill you both and get out of here.”

Vester raised his hands and the white-hot glow intensified. He dropped his arms to throw the magic and kill Stack and Needless. As if kicked, he was thrown by a flash of light. Stack and Needless scattered. From the top of the courtyard Smiles and several police opened fire on Vester.

Stack tried to scream over the gunfire. “No, don’t! Don’t kill him! It’s the Skiv!”

No bullets touched Vester. He stood in the courtyard as the bullets were thrown, in all directions, by unseen forces. With a roar, a huge creature burst from the courtyard floor. Clumps of dirt, concrete and metal flew together to create a towering creature that looked up the wall at Smiles and the cops.

As the creature approached the wall, two arms and hands jetted out of the wall and latched on to the creature. They struggled. Each evenly matched.

Confusion drew across Vester’s face. His eyes scanned the courtyard for who it was that dared challenge him. In a darkened window, on the third floor open air walk-way, stood a frail old woman. Her mouth was moving in a furious chant. With one great leap, he stood in the window glaring down at her. Wyshok looked up at him as Vester’s hand clenched her throat.

Outside, the arms that held Vester’s concrete avatar crumbled. Smiles and the cops broke into a run as the creature began to climb the wall again.

Wyshok tried desperately to breathe, to no avail. Vester’s hands were too tight. As he squeezed the life from her she grabbed his face and began to drain his power. Vester began to feel the energy draining from him and his grip on her neck slipped.

Wyshok’s eyes rolled back into her head. The power was too much. Flashes of her life rocketed through her mind. As she felt herself lifted from the floor she thought of Frank Johnson and how strange it was that the end would come helping his son.

Smiles, in his retreat, turned to see Vester fling Wyshok through the window and down to the courtyard below. Stack watched in disbelief as the old woman crashed to the ground. His ears were filled with the angry cries of Needless who was hidden somewhere across the courtyard.

As Needless’ last scream died away, there was silence.

Vester leapt to the ground and nudged Wyshok’s body with his foot. His creature stood motionless facing Smiles and the cops.

“Your witch is dead!” Vester yelled, filling the courtyard up with his voice. "There is nothing you can do to stop me.”

Smiles and the cops again opened fire on the creature. Vester turned and raised his hands to control the avatar. Vester was surprised when he felt the bullets plunge into his back. He turned to see Needless crossing the courtyard, firing into him. The old woman had drained enough power that it took all his concentration to control the creature. He let go of his control on the creature. He closed his eyes and turned all his attention to deflecting the bullets that Needless fired at him. The wounds in his back closed and he attempted to stand to his full height. Despite the fact that the bullets he was firing were missing Vester, Needless continued his march. When his clip was empty he charged Vester and tackled him to the ground.

Over and over Needless hit Vester in the face. Vester desperately tried to regain the upper-hand, but the punches were coming too fast. He had no time to think. He clamped on to Needless’ side and began the burn. Needless ignored the burning hands that he felt igniting his coat. Harder and harder he hit, his elven blood boiling and pushing his human side to work faster.

Then there was a small clink that seemed to echo around the prison.

The creature crumbled to the floor as Smiles and the cops looked on. Vester’s burning hands cooled and fell limp to the ground. Stack rushed forward toward Needless who was still hitting Vester. He pulled his partner off and the two fell back to the ground.

“John! John!” Stack yelled, trying to hold Needless still. “It’s over. It’s over.”

Needless looked over the unconscious body of Vester. There, in the middle of the courtyard, lay a tiny crown and within it, a small amber stone. Needless slipped on the gloves that Wyshok had given him and picked up the Skiv. Even through the gloves it felt warm.

He moved to Wyshok’s limp body and knelt beside her. Her eyes fluttered open and her breath was shallow.

“Is it over?” She wheezed. Needless nodded. “Good. I have seen your future, John. I know great things lay ahead. Protect the Skiv. Keep it safe.” Needless nodded. Wyshok looked across the ground to Vester. She looked up at Needless. “That guy was a real asshole.” Then Wyshok Meen, last of the Big City PD Sweepers, died.

*

The old man with green eyes read a magazine in the waiting room outside ICU. With the exception of some time spent investigating the strange death of the prison guard, Charlie had spent the entire day in Laura’s room. The old man still couldn’t believe how recklessly Charlie had acted. He was angry like a father, but happy that Charlie was all right. He detected a sense of pride in his heart, pride at Charlie’s bravery. He figured Smiles felt the same way. He couldn’t have picked a better father figure for Charlie. Smiles was a good man, just a little rough around the edges.

He glanced up from the magazine. The young man that he was sworn to watch and protect was still out of site. He smiled. Even if Charlie didn’t know, the old man was never far away. He thumbed a few more pages and read his horoscope. The magazine told him that this week would bring change and friendship.

Inside the room Charlie continued his vigil. He watched Laura breathe. He squeezed her hand again and was surprised when her hand squeezed back. His eyes moved to their hands and then rose to greet her gaze.

Laura smiled weakly.

Charlie laughed. He laughed until tears came to his eyes. He laid his head on her stomach and sobbed. Laura’s hand moved to his head and her fingers tangled themselves in his hair.

* Twenty-one Big City police officers fired their rifles into the air as the coffin was lowered into the ground. As the coffin came to rest in the grave, Smiles turned to head back to the car. Stack leaned over to him.

“I guess Breen really read Bledsoe the riot act until she agreed to give Wyshok a policeman’s burial.”

Smiles smiled. “Good.” He stopped and lit a smoke. “Any word on the dentist?”

Stack shook his head. “They found his body in the bay last night. He’d been dead for weeks. I don’t know who went out the prison and put the Skiv in Vester’s jaw, but they’ve disappeared.”

Needless stepped up. He closed his cell phone. “I guess Vester finally came around. He doesn’t remember a thing. The last thing he remembers is Rance Stamper signing him in to see the dentist for a cracked tooth.”

“Well, I guess that’s it.” Stack shrugged. “Everything is wrapped up nicely, for somebody.”

They walked a little further and found Welp leaning against the car.

“So, Welp, got enough material for your book?” Needless inquired.

“Actually I’m putting that on the back burners for a while. I think I’m going to stick around. This whole thing has peaked a lot of interest in Sweepers and their history. I think I might write a book.” He smiled. “I’m hearing rumblings about pressure on the City to reinstate the Sweeper program. Maybe I can do some good.”

Stack shook Welp’s hand. “Take care, Welp.”

Welp said his goodbyes and headed to his car.

The three stood there for a moment and enjoyed the balmy breeze.

“Do you feel it?” Smiles asked, flicking an ash. Stack and Needless looked at him.

“Feel what?” Stack replied.

“Change.” He said, looking skyward. No reply came, though they all felt it. They waited a few more moments. Then, silently, they climbed into the car and followed the other cars out of the cemetery.

*

The light moved outward from the moon and filled the night sky over the flats with descending rings of blue, gray and black. Slith took another drag off his cigarette and threw it to the dark sand. He had been watching the headlights approach from across the flats for 15 minutes. He could finally hear the engines. He straightened his tie and lit another cigarette.

A few minutes latter the dusty truck came to a stop by Slith’s car. A cloud of dirt and black sand hit him. Two figures stepped out of the truck. The truck then turned and headed back into the nighttime Flats.

One of the figures, the one Slith recognized as Manzetti, stepped forward and shook his hand.

“It’s good to see you Slith.” Manzetti said. Slith noticed that he had lost a lot of weight and was tan. He also sported a large beard. Manzetti smiled. “Did the package arrive safely? How did everything go?”

“Exactly as planned sir. Forray and D’yen have been busy for days. It gave us enough time to get everything ready.”

“Good.”

“Things have quieted down considerably, but most of the city council members that you relied on are gone.”

Manzetti smiled. “I don’t need them anymore.” He motioned to his companion who remained silent. “I’ve got some new tricks up my sleeve.” His companion wore a dark hooded cloak, and Slith could only make out a faint glimmer in the eyes. Manzetti moved to Slith’s car. “I’m taking back my town, Slith. And no one is stopping me this time.”

The three climbed into the car and drove back into the mountains toward Big City.

THE END
Friday, May 14th 2004 - 08:18:04 AM

Big City #1 - Avatar pt 1

Something in the lovers said to take their shoes off. Only an hour before he had declared his love for her and she for him. Now, with the lights of Big City looking over the trees like a child watching ants on the pavement, the lovers walked barefoot through the dewy grass of Center Park. As if scripted, the man pulled the woman to him and they kissed. Nearby, an old Elf couple passing on a moonlight carriage ride, stole a glimpse of love just beginning. The lovers kept walking further from the path and the lights.

Near a small lake, in a quiet corner of the park, they made love.

They tried to hold back the world. They wanted to stop time and not have to return home to separate beds. They wanted to stay there forever.

They never heard the splashing. They never saw the thing rise from the lake. The man only opened his eyes in time to see the thing bear down on them and rip them apart. When it was done the thing returned to the lake. It was tired. The next time, it would go further.

The remains of the lovers lay there, their arms still holding one another. Beside them, carved into the ground, the words: FURY – ACTION – FREEDOM.

************** BIG CITY

“AVATAR”

by Eric Schwartz **************

There was a creamer, then a box of blue-tip all-weather matches and a laminated bookmark (as a balancing agent). The capper was a crisscrossed grid of three swizzle sticks at 90 degrees to the three paperclips on top of them. This one had been standing for 7 days, nearly approaching the station record of 13 days. Any files or packages were gently deposited on the other side of the desk. The tiny sculptures and their longevity had become a source of office pride. As shifts came and went most everyone would take a look to make sure the little masterpieces were still standing. Anyone clumsy enough to knock one of the sculptures over had to buy doughnuts for the office. If a perp being booked knocked it over, the responsibility then fell on the arresting officer. Somehow over the years, the nervous habit of one detective had become the totem, the icon, the defining symbol of all his fellow officers. All the officers but one.

Needless was early as usual. He sat at the desk adjacent to his partner’s, glowering at the tiny sculpture that sat proudly on his partner’s desk. He would protect it from anyone…only because he desperately wanted to knock it over himself. He saw the sculpture as a personal threat. It was the physical embodiment of an ordered mind or at the very least, a mind trying to order itself. It stood for days daring him. It taunted the seed of chaos that had given the nickname Needless Action in the first place.

Somehow Needless could never bring himself to smash the little piles of stuff. Little angel vs. little devil – angel wins.

The man that the department knew as Stack sat at his desk. He was meticulously transcribing the taped phone conversation between a suspected arms dealer named Wilsted and a Goblin lawyer named Slith. Wilstead was suspected of selling weapons to street gangs for the remnants of the Manzetti crime family. Slith, it was believed was helping to launder the money. As yet the police had no proof. This tap had been on Wilstead’s phone for weeks. Nothing out of the ordinary was heard. A dozen pizza orders. A few calls to phone lines of ill-repute. Nothing. He transcribed everything. Every last word archived in his computer.

Stack stopped the tape and dropped his headphones on the desk. He looked across at Needless, who was staring at the small pile of objects that had been on Stack’s desk for a week.

“Are you going to do any of this?” Stack said to Needless. Without breaking his stare Needless shook his head slightly. “You really want to knock this down. Don’t you?”

“In the worst way.”

They both became vaguely aware of two people standing next to the desks. Needless shook off his stare and looked up into the always-red face of their Captain, Dennis Breen. Standing with him was a shorter man. The man looked disheveled, like some one had just pulled him out of a coma, made him smoke a half pack of cigarettes and dumped him outside the police station. Stack and Needless stood up.

“Sgt. Forray. Sgt. D’yen. This is Albert Welp,” Breen said sporting a broad smile that indicated to the two that they were about to get the royal – gold plated – jewel encrusted – oiled gently shaft. “Mr. Welp this is Detective Sergeant Adam Forray and his partner Sergeant John D’yen.”

Handshakes were exchanged. After a quiet moment Needless finally chimed in. “What’s going on?”

“Mr. Welp here is writing a book about the Manzetti Family. He’s here to follow you guys for a few weeks. You know, to ask questions about how you broke them up and stuff.” Breen said beaming. “Oh and you guys have been requested down in Center Park.” Breen laughed deep as he left Stack and Needles with Mr. Welp.

“Okay,” Welp said pulling a notepad out of his back pocket, “which one is Stack Fury and which one is Needless Action?” Welp then sat on the edge of Stack’s desk, knocking over the small creamer/matchbook pile that could have gone into the department’s record books.

*

In the quiet dark the rat’s nails clicked along the concrete floor. The rat scampered along the corner of the room. It smelled something. Something it hadn’t smelled before. A hint of static electricity. Sweeter. Harder to define. The rat continued to move in the dark.

In a sliver of light, a black eye followed the rat. A word was mumbled. The room filled with bright light as the rat erupted into flames. As the flames died away and the rat’s carcass sizzled, a hand reached down and snatched it from the floor. Within moments the rat was devoured and its bones picked clean.

*

“Fury, action, freedom.” Stack read as he squatted next to the two lovers bodies. “I suppose it could be us but it’s kind of ambiguous.” He stood up and looked at Needless. “What do you think?”

“Got me?” He scanned the scene. “I mean these two are torn to shreds, there is this huge animal track and then ‘fury, action, freedom’. It’s not adding up to me.”

Stack turned to the patrolman standing near by. “Are they checking the lake?”

“They’ll be sending a robot sub in about an hour.”

“Tell me what they find.” Stack and Needless turned and headed back up to the car.

“You thinking lake monster?” Needless said removing his latex gloves.

“Man, I don’t know. If it is, it’s developed the incredible ability to write.” Stack stopped and looked back at the lake. “I don’t know what to think.”

“You think it has anything to do with us?”

Stack just stared out at the lake and started stacking coins in his pocket.

*

Smiles Johnson pulled the toilet paper off his face where he had nicked himself shaving. He wondered why the girl that drove the Java Jalopy didn’t say anything. He wondered why Maurice at the newsstand didn’t say anything. He wondered how many people had noticed this and no one told him. It was a conspiracy. A conspiracy of silence. The whole world laughing at him and plotting to keep him in the dark. Everybody but Charlie. He could always count on Charlie to tell him everything.

“Is that better?” Smiles said dropping the bloody toilet paper into the trash can.

“Smiles, have you ever considered maybe an electric? You know, with a rotary blade? Something where lotion comes out and leaves your skin nice and smooth?” Charlie flopped down on the forest green vinyl couch that he and Smiles had saved from a flea market 3 years before.

“Charlie, my dear friend, don’t you have something to do?”

“Nope. All our case files are closed. The coffee is made. Laura is at work. I’m free to harass you. How did you get to be the most sought after private investigator in the city when you can’t even tell that there is toilet paper on your face?”

“Advertising. Look, you may not have anything to do but you do have your own office. Why don’t you go play one of those video games all the kids are crazy about.”

Charlie stood up. “See ya later old man.” He left the office chuckling.

“Shoo.” Smiles was already rummaging through cold case files, looking for something to do. Technically he shouldn’t have had these files. He took them when they left the force. He pulled some out whenever he needed something to do. Maybe there was something he missed. Perhaps he would gain a new perspective on an old crime. The only file he never opened anymore…was Gina’s. Even seeing the name on the tab was rough. It was getting better, but the pain was still there. Back in the drawer. He was relieved when there was a knock at the door.

“Yep!” Smiles said jamming the file folders back into the drawer. A moment later Stack and Needless walked in with some guy who looked like he was buried overnight. “Hey guys come on in. Can I get you guys something? Charlie said the coffee is on.” Stack walked to Smiles and shook his hand as Needless and Welp sat down on the couch.

Welp turned to Needless. “Now who’s this guy?”

“That’s Robert Johnson. Everybody calls him Smiles. I haven’t quite figured it out why yet. Him and Stack were partners until 4 years ago.” Welp jotted down a few things in his notebook. Needless watched him. “Why would you want to write a book about Pasketti?”

Welp stopped writing and looked up. “Who?”

“Paske…Manzetti.” Needless chuckled. “Sorry. It’s …a thing.”

“Why would you call him Pasketti?”

“Doodles. Doodles Pasketti. It’s a sign of disrespect. Smiles started it. Apparently Manzetti doodles all the time. Pasketti…is just a thing. So why the book?”

“Because it fascinates me. The inner workings of the mob. How you guys broke up his syndicate. It’s a great story.” Welp went back to writing. “Do you think he’s still alive?”

“Pasketti?” Needless’ face fell. “I hope for his sake he’s not.” Welp stared at him. Needless motioned to Stack and Smiles talking by the desk. “These two…they’d kill him if they ever found him.”

Welp looked back at his notes. “Gina?” Needless nodded silently. “What about you?” Needless turned slowly and looked hard into Welp. “Manzetti killed your brother, right?”

Needless’ looked right through Welp, to the answer he had prepared for years before for this question. He looked at his hands. “What happened between my brother and Pasketti was known only to them.” Needless stood up, “You got a real knack for making people clam up. I’m getting some coffee.”

Needless left the office. Welp sat for a moment thinking about how that could have gone better.

“Lake monster?” Smiles said sitting on the desk.

“That was my first thought but they checked the whole lake. Nothing.” Stack stared out the window.

“So what do you need us for?”

Stack turned back “You know the Department’s attitude toward Sweepers.”

Smiles stood up with a sigh. “Oh boy.”

“Look, Smiles, officially I can’t bring one in. If you do it, it’s all legit.”

Smiles looked at him. “Okay. I’ll let you know what I find. I won’t be able to get to my Sweeper until tonight. I’ll have Charlie stake out the lake until the Sweeper can get in there tomorrow.”

Stack shook Smiles’ hand. “Thanks.”

Smiles smiled weakly. “Sure.”

*

Charlie sat in his office reading the paper. The phone rang. He answered it and smiled. Probably Laura.

The old man with the green eyes lowered his binoculars and shifted in his seat. He breathed a sigh and unwrapped his sandwich. Pastrami would be one of the things he would miss most when his job was done and he had to leave. Pastrami, Elven jazz and Goblin wine. A quarter century here had grown on him. He was a citizen of Big City. Like everyone else.

He wouldn’t however miss endless days of bushes and rooftops watching the child. Protecting him from afar. He had grown to love Charlie like a son, living through everything with him. Every lost tooth, grade school play, kiss and heartache. Wanting to tell him everything he knew but being unable to.

Someday he would be able to. Someday.

The old man lifted his binoculars again. Johnson was now in Charlie’s office. They were talking. Watching closely, as that is what Watchers do, the old man finished his sandwich. Thinking again about how he loved pastrami. *

Laura dropped another strawberry into her mouth. There were worse things than spending a balmy night in the park with the man she loved, watching a lake.

“So do you private eye types do a lot of this lake watching?” She said pulling her hair back into a quick bun. Charlie chuckled as he poured her another cup coffee. “I’m apparently in the wrong business. Who needs city council meetings, deadlines and murder trial stories when I could get into the growing field of water surveillance?” she said as she rested back on her elbows.

“You got a pretty smart mouth. How did it get hooked up with the rest of you?” Charlie smiled. She kissed him. “Anyway, you heard about what happened. Smiles is going to get a Sweeper and just wanted me to make sure nothing and no one showed up to clean the place.”

Laura looked at him and shrugged. “I know I’m just a dumb girl, but… what’s a Sweeper?”

“Uh…” Charlie searched for a way to make this sound less crazy, “..a Sweeper is like a forensic …magician.” Laura let out a laugh. “No, seriously.”

“I am all ears.”

“Smiles explains it this way: every manipulation of energy, like a spell or a curse, leaves behind a trail. A marker. Like a fingerprint. Sweepers come in and sweep the place. Find out what happened.”

“I’m assuming it’s not exactly legal.” Laura said, blowing on her coffee.

“Well no, not really. But Sweepers were once used by the police all the time.”

“Like 40 years ago.”

“Yeah. There’s no reason to think they don’t still have their place. People are still out there using magic, albeit illegally. Everybody knows that.”

As the two talked, the surface of the lake rippled and gurgled.

Laura bit into another strawberry. “You know, during religious ceremonies and the like. It was banned. Self banned. The magic users themselves declared the moratorium on all spells, and secreted the library away. Big City is a magic free zone. It’s a nearly dead art. There hasn’t been a magic related crime in over 40 years.”

“What about that kid they found all magged out on the flats last year? Icons and relics can still be purchased on the streets.” Charlie was fairly proud of his argument and sipped his coffee in approval.

“Charlie, a quick buzz isn’t like conjuring up a murder. Okay, let me amend my statement. All the truly powerful magic is off the streets.” Laura lifted her coffee to her mouth and looked out at the water as the lake exploded with a roar.

*

Smiles checked the address on the yellowed piece of paper again. The address was correct. This rundown tenement was home to one of the last living Sweepers. Smiles stepped over the drunk passed out on the front steps. Sounds of a husband and wife fighting echoed through the hallways as he stepped over bags of garbage and some toys lying on the floor. Finally he reached the door and knocked.

After moment a gravelly voice bellowed from the other side of the door.

“Who is it?” came the voice.

“My name is Robert Johnson. I’m a private investigator. I’m looking for Wyshok Meen. This is the address I was given.”

“You have the wrong address.”

“This is the address I was given. Wyshok knew my father. Do you have another address you could give me?!” There was silence on the other side of the door. “Hello?” Still nothing. Smiles waited for a moment, listening for anything on the other side of the door. There was nothing. Smiles crumpled up the address and shoved it into his coat pocket. “Thanks anyway.” Smiles said as he moved away from the door.

The door opened. Standing in the doorway was an old woman about a head and a half shorter than Smiles. She wore an ancient house coat.

“You must be Frank’s boy.”

Smiles turned back. “Yeah.”

She looked him up and down. “Frank was a hell of a guy. One of the best politicians this city ever had. He was an ass, but a hell of a guy. Come on in.”

Smiles stepped into the apartment.

* “Run!” Charlie yelled as he grabbed Laura’s hand and scrambled away from the water.

“What the hell is it?!” Laura yelled as they ran through the darkness.

“Big!” Charlie shouted.

The giant shadowy hulk stepped on shore and bounded after the two. Trees shattered in its path.

Charlie and Laura burst out of the tree line and arrived at the car. Charlie threw open the door, grabbing his shotgun and a small velvet bag. The creature smashed into the clearing and howled at them.

“Charlie! Get in the car!” Laura yelled .

In the dim parking lot light Charlie could see the thing better. Nearly shapeless, yet defined. Parts of the creature became sharper and then softened as he looked at it. As though it was going in and out of focus. It stood nearly 20 feet. Charlie cocked his shotgun and aimed it.

The Watcher with green eyes bolted out of the trees a ways off just in time to see the Charlie and the creature staring each other down. Then the creature turned and ran into the park away from Charlie.

Charlie threw the shotgun into the back seat leapt onto the hood of the car clutching the velvet bag. “Follow it!!” He shouted to Laura.

“Are you out of your mind?!?”

“Follow it.”

Laura threw the car into gear and drove off into the dark after the beast.

The Watcher ran after the car pleading with them to stop but it was too late. He extracted a small metallic object from his pocket and was no longer there.

*

Stack wasn’t sleeping. He sat with a beer in his hand watching late night reruns. Something wasn’t right with the lake problem. He laid his bottle cap on top of the remote control which was balancing on a small stack of coasters.

The phone rang.

“Hello?” He answered. He heard the voice of one of the third watch cops.

“Sgt. Forray? We just got a call from one of our mounted officers. Something is happening in Center Park.”

“What kind of something?”

“Something is loose.”

Stack hung up the phone. “Charlie,” He murmured to himself as he grabbed his gun and headed for the door.

*

Carriages and late night strollers scrambled for safety as the creature moved swiftly in a straight line across the park.

The creature knew where it was going. It hoped it would make it this time. It could feel the weakness growing. The grip that kept it running was beginning to loosen.

Charlie held tight to the roof of the car as Laura tried desperately to drive across the grassy terrain. They were catching up to the creature. It was obvious it was heading out of the park.

“Pull up on it and try to keep pace next to it!” Charlie bellowed over the wind. He pulled a small piece of electronics out of the velvet bag and put it in his teeth.

Laura would have rolled her eyes at the machismo if she hadn’t been so terrified. Instead she gunned it and gained on the creature. She brought the hood of the car even with the beast.

Charlie pulled a switchblade out of his pocket, flicked it open, swallowed all common sense and took a running leap at the creature. The knife sunk into the surface of the creature as Laura slowed and pulled away. Charlie attempted to use the knife as leverage to get a hold on the creature. Until he realized that, as the creature’s skin shifted, his arm was being sucked in.

“What the hell?!” He screamed as all tension vanished and he fell 12 feet to the ground. The creature continued on without him. Charlie heard a snap and felt pain shoot up his spine as he hit the ground and rolled to a stop.

Laura sped after the creature. Adrenaline slammed her foot to the floor. The creature was yards away from hitting the streets of Big City. A short prayer, which sounded like an expletive but was indeed a plea for help, crossed her lips as she barreled into the shrubs that lined the park. As she crashed through the line of shrubs onto the street, she realized the thing was gone. She slammed on the brakes but found they locked and the car began spinning out of control. As she hit the light post at full force she thought of Charlie. Glass shattered and she tasted blood in her mouth. Laura Medrano slipped into blackness as the streetlight toppled to the ground next to the car and shattered.

*

Stack stood in the center of the aftermath barking orders at city workers and beat cops, telling them to question those people, close off that area of the park. Trying like hell to hold back the wave of fear, sorrow and guilt that were brewing just below the surface. Two friends were on their way to the hospital and it was his fault. He knelt next to the stretcher where Charlie was strapped down, waiting to move.

“Charlie? I’m so sorry.”

Charlie looked at him. “Is Laura all right?”

Stack could only shake his head. “I don’t know, Charlie. I really don’t know.”

Charlie closed his eyes.

Stack rested his hand on Charlie’s shoulder. “Charlie. I have to ask. What was it?”

“I don’t know. It was huge. It walked on two legs, and the skin. It wasn’t solid. It was…huge.” Charlie closed his eyes and thought of Laura. He felt sick and numb as the EMTs lift the stretcher into the ambulance.

Stack watched as the ambulance pulled away. He put his hands in his pockets and sighed. He made his way back to the street where Laura’s car was being towed away, her unconscious body long since rushed to Big City General. He watched everything closely but he heard no sound. Just the mind-hum of concentration and guilt. His thousand yard stare was broken by the appearance of another officer.

“Sgt. Forray? We found something over here that I think you should see.”

Stack followed the uniformed officer back into the shrubs that separated the park and the city street. Stack crouched near the patch of ground indicated by the officer. As the officer shone his light on the patch, the image became clearer to Stack.

The words seemed blasted into the soft ground near the end of the beast’s trail. The words read: “HELP ME.”

*

It had taken the hospital staff almost an hour to tell Charlie what was going on with Laura. When they finally told him they said only that she was in surgery. He didn’t care about his leg. His mind was filled with Laura. He wanted the thing dead. He wanted to get his hands on it. Rage turned to frustration and frustration turned to tears. He stared out of his hospital room window at the lights of the city.

There was a knock at the door. He looked over slowly as Smiles walked in and stood by the bed.

Charlie’s mouth was dry as he spoke. “Laura…”

Smiles didn’t let him finish. “Laura is going to be fine. She’s out of surgery. There was some bleeding but they’ve stopped it. She’ll be in here a while, but she’ll be all right.” Like a fist loosening, Charlie let go a slight yelp as he started crying. Smiles pulled a chair up next to the bed. “You will probably be able to see her in the morning. For now the doctor wants you to relax and get some sleep,” Smiles said, sitting. Charlie wiped his eyes and nodded. Smiles loosened his tie. “I guess my suggestion would be that you get your head checked out.”

Charlie looked his boss in the face, “What?”

“What the hell were you thinking?!” Smiles exclaimed as he stood again. Charlie could only stammer. “Both of you could have been killed. We don’t even know what this thing is!”

“You told me…”

“I told you to stake out the lake. I never told you to go off half-cocked after the thing. It sounds like something Needless would do. I don’t want to lose you, Charlie. I don’t want to lose Laura.” Smiles folded his trench-coat over his arm. He looked at Charlie and knew what he was feeling but only managed to shake his head. Smiles put his hand on Charlie’s shoulder.

Charlie stared at his blanket.

“I don’t know what scares me more: the fact that I could have lost you or the fact that I would have done the exact same thing,” Smiles said in a low voice. Charlie looked up. Smiles patted Charlie’s shoulder and moved toward the door. “I’ll stop by tomorrow when we know more about what that thing was,” he turned back, “and how to kill it.”

Charlie smiled slightly as Smiles turned back to the door and left. Charlie was asleep before Smiles’ footsteps stopped echoing in the hall.

*

A mist hung low to the ground in Center Park as dawn swiftly overtook the sky. Albert Welp made a feeble attempt to lay down the oily cowlick that rose from the back of his head. He hadn’t slept. He had tagged along most of the night with Stack and Needless as they interviewed witnesses to the Center Park incident. Sipping his frothy latte, he read over what he’d written the night before:

Sgt. John D’yen loves being a cop. He oozes machismo from every pore. His reckless steadfastness in the face of adversity and his ability to throw caution to the wind has rightly earned him the nickname Needless Action.

In his car he keeps a box of mix tapes, each one created and labeled for the different types of calls that he could be on. Terry Stop, High Speed Chase, Rolling to Interview and Serving Warrant are but a few that he keeps on hand. He has personally upgraded his standard issue gun with a much larger piece that he has lovingly name Penny.

Underneath the hard-line cop image is something darker. A constant awareness of his mixed human/elven blood and the determination to clear his family name of the taint created by his brother’s corruption. His low simmer hatred of the Manzetti crime family makes him a player in the Manzetti story.

In contrast to D’yen’s open-air, forceful approach is the intensity of his partner, Adam Forray. Forray is the thinker. Known throughout the force by his tongue-in-cheek moniker, Stack Fury, Forray is a man of well thought-out action. Part profiler and part hunter, Stack is a driven man. The kidnap and eventual murder of his Fiancée, Gina Johnson, at the hands of Manzetti, has driven him to work tirelessly to break up Manzetti’s hold on Big City.

The third piece of the puzzle is the late Gina Johnson’s elder brother and Stack’s former partner, Robert Johnson. The Gina fiasco broke Johnson. It drove him from the force and into brief hospitalization. He now makes his living putting his mind to the troubles of paying customers as a private investigator.’

Welp closed his notebook with a fair amount of satisfaction. He took another sip of his coffee and moved closer to the action so he could hear what was happening.

Wyshok Meen crouched near the lake, her hand hovering at the surface. Her eyes were closed tight in concentration. Needless rolled his eyes and turned back to Stack and Smiles.

“You’re killing me here.”

Stack smiled. “I figured you would feel that way.” He turned to Smiles. “How’d you find her.”

Smiles took a drag off a cigarette. “She knew my father. Apparently she worked for the city as a liaison between the City Council and the Magic Users. She did some Sweeper work for the force too.”

“How long has she been dead?” Needless chuckled, “She’s ancient.”

Stack turned to Smiles, “So what exactly was Charlie trying to do last night?”

“He didn’t say,” Smiles shrugged. “If I had to guess, he was trying to get a tracking device on the thing.”

Stack wanted to apologize again but instead just looked out to where Wyshok was Sweeping.

The spell traces were strong on the lake. Wyshok could feel them when she was walking up to it. It wasn’t easy for her to keep her hand near the water. It was hot with magic. She felt something terrible. A vibration she hadn’t felt in years. She shuddered as she came across the main vibration. It was like a scream. It was like a bolt of hate, like an angry child that was stomping its feet. Her blood ran cold as she reached deeper into the web of energy and she could feel the core of the vibration. A steady energy that fueled the hatred. Like a laser it cut through the center of the magic. The source. So pure. Older than anything. A flaw. An emissary. The weaving of destiny’s threads. The future. She withdrew her hand from the surface of the water and looked at Stack, Needless and Smiles. The residue of the magic marked them in her eyes. The path of each laid out before her.

Stack stepped closer to her. “Well?” he said.

“Who the hell did you piss off?” she said.

*

Corrections officer Ben Tandy approached the solitary cell. He hated this part of the job. He wondered quietly why he always got shafted with taking the shmuck in solitary his food. It was bad enough that he worked in a prison but this place was disgusting. It smelled like sweat and urine. He always swallowed his hatred of The Hole and did it for his kids.

He banged on the metal door with his night stick. “I got your food. Step back from the door. “ He heard quiet mumbling inside the hole. He banged again. “Yo! Hey! Step back if you want your chow!” The mumbling stopped. There was silence behind the door. Tandy readied his taser as he unlocked the door.

The door creaked slowly open and Tandy slid the tray across the floor into the dark. He looked into darkness. The prisoner stood still facing him from the back wall, his face obscured in the dark.

“Crap, man! You scared me.” The Prisoner said nothing. Tandy shrugged. Another guy driven crazy in The Hole. He began to shut the door.

The prisoner let out a dusty wheeze of pleasure. Then, like an animal, he leapt at Tandy and buried his hands in Tandy’s sides..

Tandy let out a cry for help and fell back against the wall. He could feel the prisoner’s fingers melting into his sides. The pain was inhuman. The prisoner’s unshaven face was in his, snarling. Tandy tried to gasp but could feel the prisoner’s searing hands squeezing his innards. The prisoner was panting and growling words that Tandy couldn’t understand.

Thinking of his children, Tandy raised the taser to the prisoner’s neck and triggered it.

With the yelp of an animal, the prisoner flew back into the cell. Tandy staggered forward and hit him again with the taser . With his last bit of strength he slammed the door shut, then collapsed to the floor.

His fellow officers found him trying to crawl out of the solitary hallway. He didn’t want to die there. Not down there. Tandy slipped into blackness as he heard the other officers gasp at his wounds.

*

Wyshok raised the glass to her mouth and gulped like she had just stumbled out of the desert. She put down the glass and stared back at the men who sat around her kitchen table. She took a breath.

“I haven’t felt anything like that in years. It was so angry.”

Smiles leaned up. “What do you mean? The magic was angry?”

“No.” Wyshok shook her head. “ Magic itself can’t be angry. By it’s very nature magic is neutral. Spells can be cast in anger, but this was different.”

“So the creature in the lake is being controlled by some kind of spell.” Stack said as he raised his glass of water to his mouth.

“Yes. But the creature isn’t IN the lake. It IS the lake.” There was a long pause as Smiles, Needless, Stack and Welp, who was writing furiously, blinked at Wyshok. She held up her glass. “Do you have any idea the kind of power it takes to turn this into a killer. You are dealing with an avatar. A water golem. This avatar is created through magic and is full of hate for you two.” Wyshok pointed at Stack and Needless.

Needless threw his hands up. “So we find the guy who’s pissed off and we stop the creature? That’s easy.”

“How do we prosecute?” Stack shook his head. “Since the Moratorium took effect, any magic that is used to gather evidence or secure a warrant is thrown out of court.”

Needless smirked. “Who says we have to prosecute?”

Smiles stopped them. “We don’t even know who this is yet.”

“There’s more.” Wyshok’s voice cut across the discussion. They all stopped and looked at her. “There’s more. And I don’t know how to tell you without sounding crazy. Who ever this is isn’t in control. The avatar was projected but not on purpose. This guy has a lot of anger and hatred toward both of you. But he doesn’t know what he’s doing. He has come into possession of something.” She hesitated because this was the crazy part.

Finally Welp’s voice broke the silence. “What?”

Wyshok sighed. “The Skiv.” She waited for the shocked looks. All she got were blank stares and shrugs. “The Skiv? Clear amber-like rock chip? About yay big?” She indicated the size with her finger. She grunted in frustration. “Thirty years ago this was one of the most sought after relics in the world. It was feared, desired, hated, loved. Are you all familiar with the Melk Stone?”

They knew that one.

Needless stood up. “This is stupid. We’re wasting our time here. Smiles, I don’t know what you’re paying her, but she’s trying to give you your moneys worth.”

Smiles flashed an angry look at Wyshok. “You can’t be serious.”

Stack put his face in his hands and Wyshok sat silently.

Welp looked around the table. “What’s the Melk Stone?” he said weakly.

They all looked at Wyshok.

“The Melk Stone is a rock of incredible power…” she began.

“Fictional rock!” Needless interjected, “Fictional! Legendary. Whatever word you need to convey in your notebook that it doesn’t exist.”

Wyshok rolled her eyes. “The Melk Stone is a powerful magic relic. According to legend and the G’luh Mhal holy book, the Melk Stone is the weapon that the last Elf Messiah will use against the Elves’ oppressors and it will open the door to Mhalasia…uh paradise.”

“Welp. I don’t know how versed you are in Elf culture, but no one believes this anymore. In fact most new printings of the G’luh Mhal have taken out the Melk Stone section. It’s an ancient load of hogwash and I’m leaving.” Needless turned to leave.

“Sgt. D’yen!” Wyshok stood up. “Of every one here this should matter to you the most.”

“Look, I like fairy tales as much as the next guy, but this is too much. I will accept that the creature is the result of magic but…the Melk Stone?”

Stack finally spoke, “Needless. Please. We have nothing else to go on. Let’s hear her out before we pass judgment.”

Needless groaned and flopped back into his chair.

Welp looked back at Wyshok, “So, what is The Skiv?”

Wyshok went to her antique roll top desk as she spoke. “According to legend, there are three Elf Messiahs. The first stole the Melk Stone from the forces of darkness, the second protected it during the Goblin wars and the third, which is yet to come, will use the Stone to vanquish the Elves’ enemies once and for all.” Out of the desk she pulled a large, beaten up leather binder and moved back to the table. “According to the legend, during the Goblin Wars…eight hundred years ago, or something…The Second Messiah, in an attempt to protect the Elf King Onrius Skiv, chipped the stone with his own sword and sent it off to the front lines. On the way to the battle, the rider was ambushed by Goblins and the chip passed to them. The Goblins believe it turned the tide of battle. The King was killed and the stone became known as The Skiv Killer, and eventually just the Skiv.”

“What do you think?” Smiles said, finally unfolding his arms.

Wyshok shrugged. “Mr. Johnson, I am a firm believer that behind every legend there is some truth. And Mr. D’yen, for your information I do not believe the stories as told. We know The Skiv exists.” From her binder Wyshok pulled a stack of papers. She slid a black and white photo to Smiles. “This picture was taken 45 years ago at the home of the chief Magic User’s, a wizard named Hogarth, during a political dinner. Mr. Johnson, you might recognize the man in the photo with him.”

Smiles did indeed recognize him.

Needless looked at the picture. “Who is it?”

“It’s my father.” Smiles said, looking deep into the picture.

Wyshok pointed at the photo. “The Skiv is on the table in front of them, in that display box. It was part of Hogarth’s personal collection. When your father and Hogarth brokered the moratorium, it was hidden away with the magic user’s library and several other relics.” She flopped a yellowed stack of papers on to the table. “It’s even inventoried here as a matter of public record.” She sat back down. “All I know is this: The Skiv is a relic of exceptional power. Whether or not it is a chip of the true Melk Stone, I don’t know. I do know that some one has obviously as found the hidden library and the Skiv. Somehow our angry friend has it.”

By the time Wyshok had finished speaking there was a stack consisting of coffee cups, spoons, napkins, a wallet, two sugar cubes and a set of keys on the table and Stack was staring hard into it.
Friday, May 14th 2004 - 08:17:19 AM

More Than Dead

Sunday, March 28th 2004 - 07:49:20 PM

Tales from Pagorah

Tales from Pagorah

Treb and Ty worked as hard and as fast as they could. By the end of the week, they had the space ship ready to go. They packed the supplies they would need to secure the egg. The vortex would speed up their trip. After preparing everything they were on their way, and for a couple of days Ty had extensive training on space flight. Feeling satisfied with what had been learned, they stepped into 'SUSPEND'. Monica, Treb’s girl friend had been seriously hurt and if they could secure a Nomac’s egg it might heal her.

When the computer woke them, they were in viewing distance of Excalray. This trip to Excalray had been Ty's opportunity to learn about space flight and he embraced it with open arms. They circled the planet and looked for sections of flat land with some trees. They knew that Nommacs liked to eat leaves and to graze. There were sections of mountains and great sections of plains. Nommac’s looked similar to a giraffe except it had two long necks with a small head on each neck and only two legs.

Some areas had trees and some had just grasses. They lowered the ship to a plain that had both trees and grasses. There were also small lakes in the area. As they slowly cruised over the plain area, they saw their first Nommac. A little further on--they saw more. The Nommacs were all over the countryside.

They knew little about Nommacs and their habits. The only experience Treb had had was with a domesticated Nommac. They would have to learn about the wild Nommacs as they went along. They landed the ship in an area where they had seen a lot of Nommacs. They put on the illusionary shield that gave the ship the appearance of large rocks. They left the ultra sonic sound waves off as they did not want to scare any animals away. Treb and Ty sat in the ship and observed the Nommacs from the safety of the ship. The only time they had ever seen a Nommac's egg was in their visions. There were many Nommacs around the ship grazing. Some were large and some were small. Many of them came right up to the ship thinking that it was rocks. Some of them used the north side of the ship for shade. They watched the animals for several days. The Nommacs were always on the move. One large Nommac kept pawing the ground with her foot. She dug a good-sized hole.

Ty and Treb watched fascinated by what they were seeing. They watched as the Nommac’s skin began to ripple up both necks. The body of the Nommac got lower and lower as this happened. The Nommac’s legs stood on either side of the hole and the body of the Nommac lowered to the ground. As this happened the Nommac's necks seemed to grow longer. It was only the movement of the skin that was lowering the body down toward the hole. The animal was in that position for a long time.

The skin began to ripple again and the animal resumed its normal shape. They noticed after she stood up that there was a large egg in the hole. The Nommac walked several yards away and grazed. If another Nommac came near the area where the egg was, the Nommac would charge. The egg was about a thousand feet from the ship.

"How do you think we can get the egg without the Nommac seeing us?" Treb asked.

"Why can’t we just use the tractor beam and we will have it in our possession immediately.

“We can’t use the tractor beam until we have the correct coordinates for that type of egg. If it gets damaged it will not be of any use to us.”

“Perhaps we can get the mother preoccupied in a diversion. Also, we have to take the egg back to Pagorah in good shape. Do you want to go out and get the mother’s attention while I try to get the egg?"

"No thanks. I don't think I can run fast enough. I brought some brown beans and Nommacs love brown beans. There must be a way we can perhaps coax the mother away from the egg," said Treb.

"We need something to protect us while we were out there. I wish we had a couple of vehicles we could use."

“There is a way. I saw an egg in a capsule in a vision. That's it Ty—I can use a capsule. It will protect me from the attacks of the Nommac. If we hook an anti-gravity mechanism on the capsule, it will move easily."

"The only way it will move will be if you get out and push."

"That is true. And if the Nommac charges I can get in quickly, the force field will keep me from getting hurt."

“If the animal attacks the capsule with the anti-gravity mechanism on it, it could move the capsule miles away without any difficulty. You might have to walk a long way back."

The two thought for a while.

"I know what I can do. I will hook up a switch inside the capsule that will turn the anti-gravity mechanism off. If the Nommac attacks the capsule, it will be on the ground and hard to move. I will put a bag of brown beans in the capsule. Maybe the Nommac will become gentle if I feed it."

"Okay, that sounds good. Let's give it a try. If you can get close enough to get the egg, you can put it in the capsule. Pushing it back to the ship will be easy."

Treb and Ty went to work installing a switch inside the capsule. Treb got into the capsule after they attached the anti-gravity mechanism. He tried the switch. It worked, but the capsule fell like a rock when the switch was triggered. The force field in the capsule kept Treb from being hurt.

"I’ll take the capsule outside. Ty, if I get in trouble come and save me. Turn up the ultrasonic sound waves so that I can get outside without being attacked. Just turn it up high enough to affect the creatures next to the ship."

They had no idea how long their plan would take, so Treb put food in his capsule just in case. They also put a bag of brown beans and a blanket inside. He would use the blanket to carry the egg back. Feeling prepared, Treb pushed the capsule through the door into the atmosphere of Excalray. The temperature was pleasant, but the odor of the Nommacs was strongly acidic.

Treb pushed the capsule toward the Nommac. One of the Nommac's heads turned and looked directly at Treb pushing the capsule. The Nommac was standing over the egg giving it shade. As Treb moved slowly toward the Nommac, the other head turned and also looked at him.

"Watch your step Treb. You've got both heads staring at you now," said Ty through the speaker in the ship. He was watching everything on the viewing screen. Treb continued walking slowly toward the Nommac. Suddenly, the Nommac darted directly toward Treb.

"Get in the capsule quick!" commanded Ty.

Treb immediately jumped in the capsule and just in time as the Nommac moved quickly. Treb had barely gotten into the capsule when the Nommac attacked and knocked the capsule away. Immediately Treb turned the anti-gravity mechanism off and the capsule fell to the ground with a thud. The Nommac did not hesitate, but stopped just outside the capsule and battered it with its two heads. It even tried to stomp on it with one of its feet.

The necks swung around in a circle. Treb had no idea a Nommac could move its necks like that. The charge against the capsule moved it several feet back towards the ship, but Treb was secure in the force field inside the capsule. Since the capsule was no longer moving, the Nommac returned to her egg.

The Nommac seemed calmed but one head looked constantly at the capsule. Treb pushed the button that activated the anti gravity mechanism and the capsule rose off the ground. The Nommac immediately attacked again but by the time it got to Treb, the capsule was back on the ground again. The Nommac sniffed around the capsule and returned to the area where her egg was. This went on all day. Towards evening, the Nommac was still watching the capsule as it rose from the ground. This time, it did not come to investigate.

At dusk Treb raised the capsule and opened it, there was no movement from the Nommac. Slowly he got out and pushed the capsule about twenty-five feet closer to the Nommac. He wanted to get as close as possible, but the Nommac charged him and he was barely able to get into the capsule this time. He opened the capsule only enough to throw out a hand full of brown beans. He decided to sleep the rest of the night. He told Ty what he planned to do.

First thing in the morning, the Nommac came over to the capsule. Treb made sure the capsule was sitting on the ground and not moving. The Nommac sniffed around the capsule and found the brown beans and ate them. It gradually moved away to some tall trees nearby and ate leaves. While she was at the trees, Treb got out of the capsule. He picked up a long stick from off the ground. The Nommac saw him and charged, but Treb was safe in his capsule. He threw a handful of brown beans on the ground. The Nommac came over and ate them. Then it went to graze on some grass a short distance from the egg. Treb opened the capsule after turning on the anti-gravity mechanism. He sat up in the capsule and slowly, inch-by-inch, pushed the capsule along with the stick like a gondola. Every now and then, he threw some brown beans as far away from the capsule as possible. He noticed another Nommac coming near. It must have smelled the beans as it headed directly towards the area there Treb had thrown them.

The Nommac that had laid the egg charged the other Nommac. While it was distracted, Treb jumped out of the capsule and pushed it right beside the hole near the egg. He was heading for the egg when he heard Ty yell at him to get back to the capsule. He immediately got back into his capsule. He turned the anti-gravity mechanism off and the capsule made a thud as it hit the ground.

This time the Nommac's attacks were really vicious, but Treb was secure. After a while, the tired animal sat down on the egg. Treb was so close to the Nommac that when it sat on the egg, its fur rubbed against the capsule. Evening was again coming. Treb held the blanket hoping for an opportunity to jump out and get the egg. Finally the Nommac got off the egg and began smelling the capsule thinking it was okay. It left and went over into the field where it began to urinate.

Treb jumped out of the capsule into the hole and covered the egg with the blanket. He was just getting a good hold on the egg to lift it out when the Nommac began running back. Treb had no time to get back into the capsule instead he slipped under the blanket that he was planning to use to carrying the egg. The blanket was the same color as the egg. The Nommac checked the capsule, and since it had not moved settled on top of the egg and Treb. Unknown to Treb, the Nommac had a hole between its legs that fit comfortably around the egg keeping it warm.

Treb barely fit in the hole with the egg. The smell was awful and he began to perspire.

Ty saw what had happened so he left the ship and started making a lot of noise. The Nommac charged him even though he was far away. Treb did not move until he saw the Nommac was far enough away. He grabbed the blanket with the egg in it and carefully placed it in the capsule, and then he climbed in.

Ty made it back to the ship barely in time. The Nommac had occupied him so completely he did not know what had happened to Treb. The Nommac returned to the nest, but when it found the egg missing it began to search for it. It checked the capsule first, but Treb had closed it. It could not smell anything coming from the capsule. Its heads looked in every direction but could see nothing. It began making a high whistling sound and ran over to the illusionary rocks---which were the ship. As it got dark the Nommac disappeared into the night.

"Treb, are you all right?" Ty asked.

"I'm fine. I have the egg."

"Great, I’ll scan the immediate area.”

There was no sign of the Nommac.

“You’d better hurry back here. You know how fast that animal can run. I’ll let you know if I see anything."

Treb got out of the capsule and began pushing it. He quickly ran toward the ship as fast as he could. In a few moments, he was safe within the ship's walls.

"Look at the size of this egg," he said, smiling at Ty.

"Yuk, you smell like an old Nommac."

"It will be worth it if this egg will make Monica whole again." They placed the egg in a capsule and turned on suspend. The ship sped away from Excalray to Pagorah.

THE END

By Loreen Hastings

Sunday, November 23rd 2003 - 11:31:32 AM

oh how i love him

I dream about him all the time.who am i talking about?ALAN RICKMAN.He is the one I love and i hope to meet him one day.Maybe Icould get to meet him alone in his house/trailer.But I don't think it will happen because of his stupid girlfriend,Rima Wilson.Until then I must say to myself,and think tomyself "oh how I love him."
Monday, November 10th 2003 - 09:08:29 AM

Short story

(sorry, I don't know how to publish to HTML) SHORT STORY Please excuse the typos. This is a quick, sort of weird story. I hope you like it. If you can get it printed somewhere where I might see it, great, or just pass it around. That’d be fine. Also, I hope you aren’t offended by the bad language, that’s how I talk. Also, if you are an anti-religious person, please don’t let the religious elements stop you from finishing the story, I hope you can enjoy it. Roger woke up at about 5:00 a.m. this Saturday. He usually slept till about 5:30, but he had enough energy so he got up. His bike ride went ok. It was still only early fall, so he was pretty surprise at how cold it was. But that only made it more invigorating. He sang the invitatory song with a little bit of gusto, probably because the cold err was crackling in his lungs. He showered very quickly. Didn’t wash his ears, he never did on Saturday. He always felt so defiant when he affirmatively decided that, since it was the weekend, he could leave this out. He might have to deal with his wife about it later, but here bitching about his ears wasn’t limited to the weekend, so he didn’t really care. He did it during the week out of love for her, but on Saturday and Sunday he was resting, he figured, so why the fuck should he wash his ears, which he hated to do. Anyway, it was nice not to have to rush like he usually did. He continued with his Hours. He had cycled to his favorite poem, Hopkins “Grandeur of God.” The sun was barely coming up and he felt like he could really relate to the Holy Ghost’s bright wings. While he enjoyed the psalm, he sort of rushed through it. He jumped in the car and started driving. Out of habit he sped quite a bit, and listening to some Gypsy fiddle music didn’t really help with that. He arrived at the Planned Parenthood a little bit early, and had nothing to do but mill around with the other folks who’d be praying. He didn’t really know anybody, but said hi to a couple people and shook the priest (who he figured probably had never molested any kids) hand. They started the full Rosary right on time. The full Rosary, if you don’t know what that is, is fifteen sets of prayers which start with the Our Father, go on to ten Hail Mary’s, then a Gloria, and then a prayer called the “Fatima Prayer.” There are a few other prayers, too, but that’s the jist. You think about different aspects of Jesus and Mary’s life during each decade. When you think about the persecution and brutal murder of Jesus, or about Mary, a twelve year old girl, being told that she can accept of reject the life of God in her womb, and you’re standing outside a place where little people are being burnt with acid and torn limb from limb, well, you can probably guess how a pro-life person feels. Aft er the Rosary he held a sign for a few minutes while he prayed Morning Prayer. Luckily one of the big foam signs was available, it’s much easier to hold a bulky book that way. The whole experience, Rosary and prayer, put him in one of those odd good moods that you feel when you are in the presence of a great tragedy but have peace inside. He took a little long on morning prayer, so he had to hustle to schismatic Church. He really poured himself into hearing Mass. Especially at the prayer before the Eucharist he was just drawn so deep into the priest’s prayer of the Trinity. He had to push back the thought “how can any human being reject a religion which teaches that the basis of existence is the complete and perfect unity and equality of separate person? How can any liberal reject it?” He also rushed home after Mass. He lived in nice suburban ranch. While he didn’t really like ranches, any neighborhood with bungalows was just bound to be too iffy. As he rushed along listening to talk radio he kept silently praying “Jesus, please help me to not argue. Please Jesus.” He came in the front door at about 8:50. He was feeling so good that he couldn’t help but smile. “Hey, honey, how’s it going” he said to his wife. “Sammie” (his daughter) “what’s on the tv?” “Well you’re home early!” “Well, no, I get home at this time every week” a sharp stick jabbed him in the sternum, making him wince “but I’m sorry if I get home late.” There was a screw in the side of his head which twisted, and the radiation coming out of his wife burned him. But luckily his happiness lept up like holy water and doused heat. “Whaddaya wanna do? Should we go to the diner? Man, biscuits and gravy sounds good!” “Well, ok, if that’s what you want to do.” “No, do you . . .” the heat started at him a little bit, but he moved out of the way “allrighty, let’s get Sammie and go. Hey Sammie, get dressed, time for Saturday morning breakfast.” Sammie was such a little short happiness. During breakfast, every time a bit of acid dripped down from the ceiling onto his scalp when his wife looked at him or told him what he was doing wrong or about some food on the corner of his mouth, if Sammie smiled salve dripped instead. But then Sammie would just sit there staring at her food. She had more dietary issues than he could imagine in any 9 year old. “So, what should we do now? Do we need to run any errands?” “Well, what do you think we . . .” he felt bad, but knew he should interrupt her “sorry, I’m so sorry for interrupting” the bugs crawled on his scalp with their sharp little feet “but I almost forgot, the balloon race is today. I just wanted to mention that.” “I knew that. Why did you think I didn’t know that? Of course I knew that. Sammie” she gave her a little kiss on the cheek “do you want to go?” “Oh, I guess.” “Hey, wifey,” he leaned over and whispered to her “what about letting Sammie invite Jane?” “What are you guys talking about?” He said “don’t worry about it, you know we’re doing it so we can discuss something you don’t need to worry about.” The little thumb tacks jumped out of his wife’ eyes at his chest. “ Do you really think we need to deal with Jessica? You know Jane can’t come unless Jessica comes.” “Yeah, but I thought it might be fun for them, and I don’t think Sam and Jane have done anything this week, have they?” “I don’t think we should take on the responsiblity.” “Also, do you mind if we mention it to Jack or my sister or Jim?” “Can’t we just do something as a family?” He fell hot oil oozing down his scalp in little drops. “Oh, sure, that’ll be fun,” he said, smiling. They ran errands for a couple of hours, going from store to store. He and Jane had fund playing slow-mo hide and seek at wal mart. They got hot dogs at the hardware store. They got home around 3:00. “Man, I really need to mow. But, gosh, I’m bushed. I think I’ll lie down for ten minutes.” “Sure, take a nap. You won’t be up for an hour.” “Oh, I’ll get some mowing done. It’s really getting long.” He wound up lying down for twenty minutes. He then got up and got Sammie and they went outside. “Hey mom” she yelled. “Mom? Can I ask Jane to go to the balloon race” The flames shot out of wife’s eyes. His hair caught on fire. “Can we go talk for a second?” “Sure.” “When did you tell her to ask?” “I didn’t.” “Oh yes you did. She hasn’t mentioned Jane all day.” The words froze onto this fore arms. He could feel the flesh cracking. “No, honey, I did not.” Just then the phone rang. As he reached for it the burning heat returned, and the frozen skin snapped. “Hello?” “Hey, it’s your sister.” “Hi Molly. What’s up?” “Hey, are you guys going to the balloon race?” “Um, uh,” he saw the Enola Gay flying overhead. There were two doors on it, one said “nukes for if you invite your sister” and the other said “nukes for if you don’t baby your wife right now.” “Yeah, we’re going!” Some happiness at the thought of the balloons healed some of his wounds. “Do you guys want to hook up? I was thinking I’d bring Jim and Jack, too.” “Uh, let me see what Sandy says. Hey, Sandy” an ice-cycle fell off the ceiling overhead and pierced his school, severing his frontal lobe “do you mind if we hook up with my sister.” Sandy did the trick with her eyes where she squinted and two little slits simultaneously opened and shot tiny chinese throwing starts. They embedded themselves in his forehead, still spinning. “Well” he could feel the blood flowing “sure! Tell them to meat us at the top of the hill by city hall at 5:00.” “Sure, you guys come.” He then called down the cone of silence and whispered as he turned to replace the phone “bring a bottle of Old Crowe? How’s about it?” He then spoke up “see you guys there! Love you!” The lawn mowing luckily absorbed the next couple hours. He even got some edging done. Throughout he could feel his muscles surging. and he said mid-afternoon prayer. They arrived at the hill right on time. They had a pretty easy time finding his sister. Sammie and Jane immediately chased off into the crowd. The adults found a spot about halfway over on the Eastern side of the hill. The balloons looked beautiful as they sat down.” “Hey guys,” Molly said, “anybody for a little booze.” Jim and Jack each took a couple of pulls. Roger got out all of the stuff for the sandwiches. It really was a perfect day for the race, just cloudy and cool enough to need flannals, but not cold. “Boy,” Sandy said “it sure is a lot colder this year than it was last year.” The little nails went past him. The bottle came his way “don’t mind if I do, Jack.” Sandy and Molly talked about work. Jim and Jack and Roger talked about music. Roger had a couple more pulls. “Man, that crow must’ve been made of ambrosia.” It was almost time for the race to begin. Sandy and Molly were talking about their siblings. Jim and Jack were telling Roger that there was no way in the world that Bill Monroe was the third most important american musician. “Oh, fuck you guys” Roger said “c’mon, I’m sure that he’s just as important for country musicians as Jimi is for rock musicians.” “Nobody sounds like him, you idiot.” Not mad, just the way you can talk to a good friend when you’re not talking about anything too serious. “Yeah, but they all cut their teeth playing him.” Sandy smiled and clapped at them. “Hey guys, the balloons are starting to go up.” Jane and Sammie were back, and they both stopped what they were doing. Everybody looked out. It was at the moment that Roger, in the heat of the moment, decided again to try throat singing, you know, like the Mongolian herders and Tibetan monks. He felt really far down in his throat. “mmmmmmm” He didn’t really expect what happened to happen. At first, it looked like the balloons were just going up, but then he noticed that they were going up with the fluctuation in his pedal tone. He began his whistling. And what happened wasn’t just how he felt about it, it really happened. The whole earth began to rumble. He started whistling a little pange lingua. The whole earth gave him his pedal tone. That was when the cracks really began to appear. Roger was worried about the crowd falling into one of the cracks in the earth, but the cracks were quite discriminating. Sandy was looking at him and starting to smile. He whistled more intensely. The cracks opened, every fifteen yards or so, spreading. Rainbow beams of light started pouring out. Everyone began floating. Pretty soon they were all floating along with the balloons. The trees and birds were echoing pange lingua with him. They all floated with the balloons to the fairgrounds. When it was over, Sammie said “well, that was great!”
Saturday, September 20th 2003 - 06:22:16 AM

Short story

(sorry, I don't know how to publish to HTML) SHORT STORY Please excuse the typos. This is a quick, sort of weird story. I hope you like it. If you can get it printed somewhere where I might see it, great, or just pass it around. That’d be fine. Also, I hope you aren’t offended by the bad language, that’s how I talk. Also, if you are an anti-religious person, please don’t let the religious elements stop you from finishing the story, I hope you can enjoy it. Roger woke up at about 5:00 a.m. this Saturday. He usually slept till about 5:30, but he had enough energy so he got up. His bike ride went ok. It was still only early fall, so he was pretty surprise at how cold it was. But that only made it more invigorating. He sang the invitatory song with a little bit of gusto, probably because the cold err was crackling in his lungs. He showered very quickly. Didn’t wash his ears, he never did on Saturday. He always felt so defiant when he affirmatively decided that, since it was the weekend, he could leave this out. He might have to deal with his wife about it later, but here bitching about his ears wasn’t limited to the weekend, so he didn’t really care. He did it during the week out of love for her, but on Saturday and Sunday he was resting, he figured, so why the fuck should he wash his ears, which he hated to do. Anyway, it was nice not to have to rush like he usually did. He continued with his Hours. He had cycled to his favorite poem, Hopkins “Grandeur of God.” The sun was barely coming up and he felt like he could really relate to the Holy Ghost’s bright wings. While he enjoyed the psalm, he sort of rushed through it. He jumped in the car and started driving. Out of habit he sped quite a bit, and listening to some Gypsy fiddle music didn’t really help with that. He arrived at the Planned Parenthood a little bit early, and had nothing to do but mill around with the other folks who’d be praying. He didn’t really know anybody, but said hi to a couple people and shook the priest (who he figured probably had never molested any kids) hand. They started the full Rosary right on time. The full Rosary, if you don’t know what that is, is fifteen sets of prayers which start with the Our Father, go on to ten Hail Mary’s, then a Gloria, and then a prayer called the “Fatima Prayer.” There are a few other prayers, too, but that’s the jist. You think about different aspects of Jesus and Mary’s life during each decade. When you think about the persecution and brutal murder of Jesus, or about Mary, a twelve year old girl, being told that she can accept of reject the life of God in her womb, and you’re standing outside a place where little people are being burnt with acid and torn limb from limb, well, you can probably guess how a pro-life person feels. Aft er the Rosary he held a sign for a few minutes while he prayed Morning Prayer. Luckily one of the big foam signs was available, it’s much easier to hold a bulky book that way. The whole experience, Rosary and prayer, put him in one of those odd good moods that you feel when you are in the presence of a great tragedy but have peace inside. He took a little long on morning prayer, so he had to hustle to schismatic Church. He really poured himself into hearing Mass. Especially at the prayer before the Eucharist he was just drawn so de