Chat Log

Hovering in mid thought I leave my fingers above the keyboard. I scan his words on screen, and realise I need to say something to respond and provoke a reaction. He intends to go out and eat now and I need to keep him from doing that. I re-read the message log then start typing but before I press enter he posts -

BIGTEETH22: I have to be going

I delete the few words I have ready and respond.

FreeRanger: Wait... Please let me finish what I was saying.

BIGTEETH22: Hurry have to meet someone for dinner,

FreeRanger: I know. That the problem. I need you to stop and realise you can't go through with this.

BIGTEETH22: Don't see why not.

FreeRanger: Well apart from the fact it's wrong, which I'm sure won't sway you. I want you to realise why it's not right. You claim to be an advanced form of the normal human, something greater than the rest of us.

BIGTEETH22: Yes, you all eat meat from other animals, I just draw the line further up the food chain.

FreeRanger: But humans aren't animals. We're your equals.

BIGTEETH22: I've faced the choice, I opted out of your limitations. The rest of the rat racers are all still too timid to try.

FreeRanger: Still look, you pray on these people like some kind of hunter. You say you faced a choice, what choice do they get. And besides why is the decision you made the right one, when you faced that choice should you have chosen to stay with the rest of us?

BIGTEETH22: I live a freer life, how can that be wrong?

I took a second to reply, again my fingers floating over the keyboard.

FreeRanger: You don't live a life of freedom, there's no more freedom in your choice than there is in the one the rest of us made. Come to the group, listen to the others. We understand you and your needs.

BIGTEETH22: I said I'd think about it, alright, but tonight I have a meal to prepare.

FreeRanger: I'm letting you know that this is our final offer, take us up on the invite or... remember we found you. We will take measures. Your actions endanger all of us.

BIGTEETH22: You shit. You think you can scare me? You cowards don't have the balls. Like any other rat racer you think the rules apply. Well I'm outside your control, just accept that.

BIGTEETH22 has logged off.

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413 Words

The curse

Black clad she shifted through the streets toward the battle damaged ruins of the outer wall. Tightly wrapped linens in the darkest of greys and greens provided her with the camouflage the night required and still gave enough to allow free movement. Over her face a cloth covered her lips keeping her breath from forming a frosty mist in the air. She must not be discovered.

Pothkin had listened carefully to her idea last night and agreed it would provide a decisive victory for the Kings forces. But she made him promise not to tell her husband, Pothkin grumbled and spluttered at this request his first loyalty was to King Phillip but the queen was acting in the interests of the whole kingdom. Keeping secrets from his lord could be seen as treason, and if this went wrong he would be better off with the enemy.

The queen's plan was so simple though. Very little could prevent it from succeeding. But every peasant, craftsman and noble loved and adored Queen Aurora and if her attack on the enemy camp left her captured or worse still killed all moral would be lost. The king would be devastated. She knew all this but hesitated at the wall for only a moment before slipping away across the battle field.

Aurora approached the enemies position and watched, crouching low and hiding from their patrols, stealth was her only defense. Two of the enemies soldiers were near by stamping the cold out of their tired legs. She waited for them to move on before slipping past their perimeter. She needed to get close to the center of the camp in order for this to work, she had spoken with Flora, Fauna and Merryweather asking if the enchantment would still be strong enough and they were concerned but thought it would be. Merryweather explained how she had weakened the curse originally and her husband's kiss had weakened it yet more. By now it would effect a much smaller area.

There was no way to know if the spell would take out the whole camp but if she were able to get close enough maybe she could effect the generals and leaders of the army. She could only hope to cause enough disruption that her husband's men would stand a better chance in the morning.

The glint of a small metal pin on her belt catches the eye of a soldier as she sneaks around a camp fire, four heavily armed men surround her in moments and she drops to the floor cowering. One of the men calls for his captain while the others keep their swords drawn and pointing at her prone form.

The captain orders she be frog marched to a more secure location. All six of them move from her point of capture toward an animal pen. There she is placed in a vacant yet soiled animal cage to be dealt with when the generals awake in the morning. As the captain leaves he misses the wry smile on her face. Her guards ponder what she has to smile about.

As the first light of morning begins to break in the open valley the Queen reaches into her belt and removes a sewing needle. Pulling away her glove she looks around at the already drowsy guards and pricks her finger. A familiar feeling of extreme exhaustion sets into her bones, and her eyelids fall closed as she slouches in the cage then begins to snore as sleep takes her over.

Within a blink of an eye her guards drop their weapons and fall asleep. An invisible ripple flows through the military camp as those at the front of the wave slip away in an enchanted slumber. With one simple needle Aurora, once known as Briar-Rose, has left the way clear for her husband and his forces to defeat their enemies.

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646 Words (Idea slightly stolen)

Love Letter

When I see you happiest it shows from the depths of your eyes. Your face glows and your smile melts my spine. I feel proud to know I have brought this joy into your life. But more than anything I feel the love I have for you blossom filling me like the air in my lungs.

Great artists sing of loves conundrums, that puzzle that is solved when two hearts meet. We are that solution, we bring a completeness to life by being together. Like some unanswered question, one neither of us heard, the answer is also as silent. We provide the answer in our embrace. When you hold me in you arms, and when my arms are around you I know all answers. The truth is that all truths are just as mysterious, even our love cannot provide me with an epiphany and make me all knowing, but the illusion comes from the surety and security we share when we kiss.

You are so precious, a true princess in my eyes. As Arthur pined for the grail, and his knights faced their appointed quests, I seek after you. A treasure brought into my life, one I would face all manner of battles and monsters to secure.

I am no shining knight, nor is my steed majestic. I might not have swept you off your feet, figuratively or physically. What I have I offer to you freely. I only seek the brightness of your eyes when I see you happy.

I know you cry, I see tears flow, I empathise when you have pains and doubts. I am aware of how complex or difficult a relationship can be. That is a truth for every couple who ever felt like we do, people have been falling in love for a very long time, it is natural and it is simple. If they can manage it maybe we can to.

Looking into your eyes when we lie together I see love displayed in a vista of emotional experiences. I feel lucky to be the one who is allowed to see that inside you. You've already honoured me so much. Holding you close in those tender times fills the part of me that knows I am only myself. When I hold you, finally, I can be so much more. Those singers and poets say their lover completes them, but I suspect they have it wrong. You make me more than I ever could have been.

I am in love with you.

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418 Words

What time is it?

Dear Sir,

I am writing to ask you what time it is? My brother Bill says its a different time in your country and I wanted to know if he's right. He's usually a stinking liar. He always fibs, like the time he said I spray painted the cat or when he said we could make Dad new glasses out of bits of plastic bottles and he wouldn't know we'd broke them.

But he was really going on about this. It seems stupid, he's stupid anyway. Do you have a brother? I wish I didn't, you can have Bill. He's 9 years old and he thinks he's the boss in our house. Just cus Dad's not here any more.

My Nan says Dad is overseas. You're overseas too, can you say hello to my dad if you see him. He's very tall and strong and wears glasses. He's really nice, he always brings me a toy when he comes home. My favourite toy is a frog, it goes ribbit when you squeeze it. It makes me laugh. Do you like frogs?

I saw a frog once. But it was dead, I didn't kill it. I think maybe Comet might have bitten it. Comet is our cat. She's normally orange but she was purple once. She brings things into the house and my mum screams. She's a good cat, she lets me pet her when I don't pull on her tail. She doesn't have baths, I watched her clean herself, she uses her tongue. Boys can't do that, my dad said its cus I can't lick my elbow. Did you know you can't lick your elbow? Dad says its the same for everyone.

Do you live near Disney land? That's overseas too. Dad says we can go when he comes home. I have seen in on a DVD. It looks brilliant, even Bill said he thought it was cool. I suppose it will be brilliant enough still even if he comes too.

It is nearly six o'clock now and I have to go and get ready for tea. I can lick my hands clean like Comet does with her paws but mum makes me use the sink. Even though I have to use a step. There's a frog on my soap bottle, but he's a picture not a real frog.

Mum said she'll post my letter while I'm at school tomorrow. And anyway its six o'clock now, what time is it where you are?

Thank you.

Peter. Age 6

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418 Words

Dreams that wont fly

Last night I dreamt I couldn't fly.

It was a complicated dream, that took as it's source material many previous dreams.

Normally when I fly in my dreams I am lying on my back and fly feet first through the air, but sometimes I can float just a little above the ground in an upright standing position. When I float like this a foot or so above ground I can spread my feet out like I would on a surf board, occasionally I'll use a floating platform as a means of propelling myself along streets and through buildings. It is exhilarating.

When flying and floating my dream self travels through high streets that amalgamate locations from the cities and towns I am familiar with. I'll descend a hill from one town toward a shopping centre from another, or glide through the halls of a mall filled with stores from every city I've ever shopped in.

There must be some reason why I associate shopping and flying. But let's not examine that too closely.

Well maybe the credit crunch has got me down, maybe the connection is more concrete than I'd imagine, as last night I dreamt I couldn't fly.

The plot behind the dream was that a reality TV show was being filmed in my local shopping centre and the topic of that show was how some people fool themselves into thinking they can fly. I just stumbled on the show being filmed and saw as a guy with gull wings on his boots failed to take off in front of the crowds gathered around. The presenter explained how common this delusion was and asked if anyone else felt they could fly. I had to step up and show them what I was made of.

I'm sure that up until then I had been floating along as usual. Within the continuity of this dream I knew I could fly, I felt it was common place and I felt sure that I'd be able to set the record straight on the TV show. But when the cameras focused on my I couldn't lift my feet off the ground like normal.

The presenter spoke to camera and they ran footage of me from earlier showing me standing on a poorly maintained polystyrene float. Sliding around on the polished floors convinced I was flying. I felt foolish and disillusioned. The filming ended and the crowd walked away. I sat there feeling low and ruined, the guy with the gull wing boots was there two and seemed equally upset.

I couldn't tell you who he was, the guy with the boots, but I wish him well. When he said good-bye he shook my hand then those winged boots flapped and he just lifted off the floor and flew away.

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465 Words

Dominion

I am running late with my writing tonight, though I haven't slept so its still Saturday no matter what the clock says. We had a few people over seeing as the vampire game didn't happen, and as the night started to wind down I was asked to teach a few of the guests a new game.

Dominion is a fast paced card game, flavoured around establishing a mighty medieval kingdom. The game comes in a box and is simply five hundred plus cards. It is the way those cards work together that builds an interesting and dynamic gaming experience.

The game has been compared to Magic and other trading card games, and there are elements shared with that gaming model. It is mainly a resource accumulating game. From the set of five hundred cards each player starts with a ten card deck, and spends a part of each turn adding more cards to that deck. Each player starts with seven treasure cards with which to purchase those additional cards. The other three cards are victory points. Each turn you have a hand of five cards of which some may be treasure, and you get one opportunity to purchase new cards.

Each game has a selection of ten cards from twenty five different action cards, plus six cards that increase your score and provide for more treasure. The ten actions in the game change how often you can buy cards, or increase your spending power, or swap cards. Each of the twenty five different action cards has its own effect on the game, there are ample permutations available and for the foreseeable future every game promises to be different.

Purchase by purchase you add cards to your own small deck, building a strategy and accumulating victory points. By the time you have a deck together enough to get to your treasure cards its time to buy more of the green victory cards. Then its a race until the game ends.

As each player buys up the cards laid out for the game some of the options dry out. If any three piles run out, or if the highest scoring victory card pile empties then the game ends. Whichever player has the most victory cards in their deck at this point wins the game.

In every instance where this game has been demonstrated I've seen it prove popular. Every house hold that has tried it has followed up with a speedy purchase of the game. So far I have seen it grow from one box a friend brought over to a game our local community has embraced five times over. We are never far from a box of Dominion. It fires our imagination and fulfils our gaming needs.

In short this is a good game and one we'll no doubt keep playing most of the way through 2009.
If I'm wrong you'll probably hear about it here.

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485 words

Fairy Tales

The really good happy ever after stories all contain a lesson or a moral. In general all the popular fairy tales are aimed at girls. At the center of these stories the message is loud and clear – You are a princess and if you only believe in true love your prince charming will come.

I always saw their origins as starting around a camp fire, some old gypsy grandmother telling the wee children a story of magical adventure, of dragons and witches and princes and damsels in distress. The story would entertain the little ones, but just at the edge of the fire light some older girl, probably in her mid teens just in ear shot is hearing the wisdom of the story. Maybe the details are being carefully reshaped to connect in some way with the troubles in her life.

Trouble with controlling maternal figures, longing for the boy of your dreams, worries about your future, wishes that time would stop or simply continue without you; all these plots are investigated in the fairy tales we all know. Each story carries a truth.

Sleeping Beauty shows that no matter how long it takes true love will set you free. In Cinderella we find that no matter how bad things are it could always be worse, and in case you think things can't get better even Cinderella got to go to the ball. Snow White teaches you can count on your friends and that jealousy and envy can make you do wicked things. In the story of Rapunzel the damsel in distress, locked away from the world, finally finds an escape through a man willing to go to extraordinary lengths to be with her.

In short each of our princesses needs to learn patience. As Diana Ross tells us “you can't hurry love” There are other lessons to teach after all the Big Bad Wolf is still out there threatening to gobble up Red Riding hood, though these days it is less likely to be an actual canine in the woods.
All these stories are as important today as ever they were. The Disney studios have taken on the mantle of the fireside storyteller in today's world. Thanks to the Brothers Grimm we have a rich heritage of fantasy and adventure to draw lessons from. Think how attitudes might change if the meanings behind the fairy tales were made more apparent.

Children need to hear the stories but they also need to recognise the lessons.

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417 words

New Years Resolutions

There are so many areas of need, so many projects that require attention and support. We all have so much spare time and how do we use it? As one year passes and another begins we set our selves a challenge, we define new years resolutions and we try to stick with them. Whether we aim to attend a gym, eat more fruit, drink less beer, or write more often, we set our hearts and minds on a noble end.

Yet how noble? We expect these wishes and plans to improve our lives, that they will make a difference in how we live and change things for the better. Most of us fail and give up rather than continue on for the full twelve months, with research showing that only twelve percent of our new years resolutions actually stick till the end of the year.

I know that last year's plan to write four hundred words a day failed, and I don't know how well that goal will be met this year. With these basically selfish goals failing on an annually repeating cycle how can we hope to effect any realistically worthwhile changes.

I suggest that for your next round of resolutions or personal improvement goals you set ones that benefit other people. Suggestions might include – host more gatherings, cook a meal every week for a none family member, once a month give time to a local charity or shelter, help elderly neighbours deal with their recycling each week.

What difference will this make? Well even if you stop doing this part way through the year at least for a short while you improved someone's life a little. If you doing good makes you feel better about yourself, and you even enjoy helping in this way then maybe you'll be able to stick with the plan.

Yes it all sounds like liberal hippy do-gooder nonsense, but this is the human race and we need all the help we can get. Who am I suggesting should go out and do these things? Me, I am just as likely to read this and shrug off my responsibility to help as any of you. So if I sound preachy and in your face I hope you'll realise the face I'm getting into most is my own.

And if you beat me to it; If you were looking for ideas as to what new years resolutions you might try out and picked something like the above; I wish you all the best. Also I wish you a Happy New year.

– – –
427 Words

Sacrifice

There's music in the air, wafting bye from the village green. Minstrels produce fine music for the crowds and all the youngsters dance and play. Their cares and worries are forgotten and they enjoy the mid summer festivities. I sit in my cell rotting away forgotten, only listen to the follies playing out.

The cell is comfortable, the cold stones keeping the chill where the summer sun can not find it. The simple desk and the light from the window, the wooden cot and a tiny locker furnish my room in the monastery. Hearing Gretchen's laughter from somewhere nearby I force myself to ignore the distractions. Blocking the noises from outside I look at the scroll in front of me. The manuscript has to be prepared. With the friar so weak in ill health I must tend to his scribing.

I dab my quill in the pot beside me and continue to transcribe the scribbles penned by Friar Thomas. My ears betray me even in my concentration on the task before me, I still feel the beat of the tune outside. My penmanship is not as fine as the other members of the clergy and I must focus. The tip of the quill hovers over the page as I read over the last sentence again.

The village elders are to sign this document this evening, it forms a settlement for the damages caused by the fire after last years harvest sacrifice. The accident cost one of the farmers dearly and he's been negotiating a payment from the village through winter and spring. Now as we approach the next sacrifice his plea has been heard and retribution is being made. Friar Thomas had promised the document for the end of last month but in his current condition he only recalled the promise this morning and now it falls to me to finish his work.

I press on, the letters coming together one at a time, forming words, that themselves collect into sentences. I puzzle over a clumsy scrawl on the parchment I am copying off. Is that ten or two measures? It looks like ten. Yes I'm sure of it, ten measures of something called composite feed. In exchange for a higher percentage tithe for the next three harvests. The majority of the clauses are of this form, the village provides assistance to the farmer but to redress the balance his share of the levy is increased until the patchwork moon returns over the harvest fields. It's been two and a score years since the last sighting of that blue and green sphere, and the monks are all sure that it is due again in three years time.

The farmer wasn't so certain but couldn't call the church out for lying. Still it is written into the contract that in three years or under the Patchwork moon the debt shall be repaid and the village will no longer hold an interest in his produce.

There is wisdom here, as much as in any of the scriptures and holy books, a kind of common sense yet applied in more general terms, I'm still learning at the feet of the monks and clergy but I feel I understand that while there was a debt to be paid to a man who was wronged the village as a whole should not go without. This way the investment of resources is returned and all can prosper.

These matters of governance intrigue me. The music and chatter no longer entice me to leave this work. I will finish here then study some of the older records, maybe there are more insights to gain in the archives.

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610 Words

Morning Love

I see it there in her eyes, the dark brown melting away like warm chocolate, and I see a spark of mischief and lust in the way she turns her attention to me. I smile and we close the gap between us, Our kisses have always fuelled the moments when we cast off all inhibitions, she's irresistible and arousing. She's like a flame, something chemical, elemental and consuming.

The sleep and dreams of night have passed, and now I hold her in my arms, she rubs noses exchanging Eskimo kisses, I press against her and we cuddle the closeness lends heat from the other body and I realise there's a cold draught in the room I snuggle up and we wrap ourselves in a duvet cocoon.

Its morning and we have all day to ourselves. The room is lit by the rising sun, though I suspect it's already fairly high in the sky beyond those curtains. I kiss her forehead. We tumble around in the bed pinning each other down exchanging tickles and gropes. Communication is pretty simplistic, we exchange plenty of meaning in a look or through the position our hands take on each others bodies.

She looks sleepy and I lean on my elbow just watching as, cat like, she stretches into a yawn. My other hand strokes down into her arm pit and she squeals then finds a pillow in her hands as she slaps it across my head. Play fighting again we eventually tumble into each other's arms and chuckle. Relaxing and lying there till she rolls over in my arms.

I feel a thumping pressure in my heart, a surety of the love I feel for her. Its the precursor of the gut wrench other relationships have ended with, an equal and opposite force that makes the risk of loss worth trying for the reward of success. I frown but chase the doubts away and trace a finger over her shoulders.

I smile again and lay beside her. I hold onto her and rest my head on the pillow. The scent from her hair fills my nostrils, my heart registers it's recognition. I hug her into me.

“You ok, pokie?” she asks.

“I'm great, you make me feel so happy.”

She wriggles around and plants a kiss on my chest. I consider myself lucky to know her. I can only hope she feels the same.
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400 Words

Sharing

New media opportunities opened up to the world with the introduction of the internet. In the forty years since this technology came into the world we’ve become familiar with e-mail, comfortable with e-commerce and reliant on search engines. New technology has shaped the way we access and publish information. The internet has molded how we contact each, pulling us away from many of the older methods. Letters and phone calls from far continents still occur; but often MSN, SKYPE or Outlook provide more reliable methods of keeping in touch, and the people we talk to on these platforms are sometimes in the same building.

Denying the changes wrought by this technology means turning a blind eye on the influence new tools have on the way we work. Closing our eyes to the changes yet to come can seriously impede our ability to develop efficiently. The way we work and share our productivity has changed; mostly those changes are for the better. Those changes were partly planned for; some though simply seeped in from the changes found in society itself.

Within our own field of interest SAT 7 provides a great example of embracing new technology. Fourteen years ago they began to share the message of Christ in a new way. Their message went out into areas of the world with inherent difficulties; they used a new medium for communicating with those who could not be reached on foot.

In the same way the Guttenberg Bible was possible thanks to the new medium of movable type printing. Each new medium can bring with it ways to share information, through new distribution and production methods. In the case of Guttenberg the production of bibles of such reliable quality and in such large numbers made it possible to bring the word of God to the masses, with satellite broadcasting SAT 7 saw new methods available to deliver the good news to newly reachable areas.

New opportunities are opening up to us all the time. Technology available today allows wide access distribution networks for video and audio files. Podcasts and RSS feeds, iTunes and Peer to Peer file sharing provide and enable us to produce and distribute content, messages and even evangelistic resources throughout the world. Whether we use these technologies to allow our remotest workers to contribute to the production of resources or simply receive the projects we build here in house the future of delivery and production are there waiting for us to continually adapt to and embrace.

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416 Words

Now I want to have a bath.

The bath tub is all white porcelain, smooth to the touch and reflective. It gives a glowing suggestion of the one bulb over head. The brass fixtures do not detract from the purity or the form, and while utilitarian in use they still speak of the classic concept everyone has when they think of a luxurious hot bath.

Turning on the water allows a crystal clear stream to jet out of the mixer taps; each tap has been adjusted to achieve a tolerable heat. A small dash of bath oils and liquid soap have already begun to react, creating small floating islands of bubbles each one tugging at the plug chain.

Out of the turmoil where the falling stream strikes the slowly rising water level each new bubble climbs. Larger bubbles drag with them their smaller brethren to the far unknown oceans. Masses of tiny bubbles cling together stacking one on top of another, ever higher with new layers forming under the last, slowly reaching for the sides which bring greater stability. Eventually the entire surface forms into a collection of valleys and hills.

The heat of the water in the cold room has added steam to the tiled surfaces; the shaving mirror also now serves no use but as a place to draw reflective doodles. Ventilation from the extractor fan whisks the humid air away, gaseous escapees fleeing the building to join their nimbus and cumulus cousins.

Condensing on the walls the steam rolls down toward the cork floor, trickling along. Beads of moisture race carefree and follow uncharted tracks, joining forces to gain speed and make headway, the bigger droplets are clearly cheating.

Patiently, and without any agenda the towels sit to one side. They feel the air currents brushing past their soft and warm threads. Waiting for the experience to come and pass their time without hurry or bustle. Like them the book awaits the experience but unlike the calm fearless towels this novel does not embrace the liquid terror that approaches.

One other body of liquid sits nearby, a rich dark red wine, the bottle standing open and proud upon the porcelain, beside it a glass two thirds full. Both containers are dappled in dew like buds. Small puddles form beneath their base, where the steam slowly drains back into the tub rejoining the main body of water.

This is going to be a most enjoyable bath.

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401 Words

Keep running

The silence of the clearing is broken as a rushing noise approaches through the brambles and twigs. Stumbling to her knees a young woman pants and gasps for air, fear evident on her face. Everything she’s wearing shows some sign of damage or dirt, from the mud on her trainers and the splashes up the inside of her shins, the scratches on her thighs and the arms of her jacket. Her blond hair is shapeless and ruffled presumably by the branches she’s been failing to push away from her face.

The look of terror and her twitching show the girl is beyond simple fright. As if in some unending nightmare she has been running none stop from a pursuer, some one just a few foot falls behind her. Now for a brief moment she can hear nothing of the monster behind her. This then is a moment to catch her breath; she’s to terrified to call out, and sits timid and fearful, afraid they might find her.

Her silent breaths, in the darkened twilight of this forest, don’t help to still the loud beating of her heart. Her senses alert and her nerves on edge she pauses for a moment longer then trying to sneak away heads to the other side of the clearing and hurries off into the dense trees.

The clearing falls silent again but only for a moment as the tranquillity left behind soon breaks. A hurried crunching of twigs and rustling through the brambles brings a dishevelled figure. Clearly fatigued from its pursuit and needing rest the ragged body slumps to all fours for a moment. Rapid breaths slow and soon shallow out till the only noise is the pounding of a single adrenaline fuelled heart inside her chest.

She stands on her mud caked trainers, feeling the wet denim around her thighs and the sting on her arms and upper legs where thorns have grazed through her jacket and jeans. She feels haggard and frightened like some small animal being hunted. Furtively she glances around as she moves towards the far side of the clearing ready to flea again. Knowing that somewhere behind her someone is chasing after her.

The clearing falls silent again, but only for a moment, then a young blonde woman stumbles out of the brambles. Dropping to the ground with exhaustion and fear, her mind shattered and confused. Knowing only that she must keep running as whatever it is that’s chasing her is not far behind. She can’t stop, she has to keep running.

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423 Words

Sorrows

I wasn’t paying the singer any attention, and just got down to the business of consuming alcohol and drowning my sorrows. After my third double vodka I got a funny look from the barman but the night was still young and I had much to forget. I turned on my bar stool and looked over the clientele.

One of the booths had an old man, looked like a professor in a corduroy jacket with patched on the sleeves; he even had a pipe on the table in front of him. There was a table with three business jocks, all laughs and back slapping, shirts with loose ties. They were sharing a pitcher of beer and bonding in a way I felt was too fake for comfort.

The stage held a acoustic guitar a stool and one lonely looking blues singer. The face on this guy told you more than any lyric he could ever sing, this was the face of a man who knew pain. Though the joint contained more faces, the rested in the darker places of the bar and as such were beyond my interest. I started to listen to this sorrowful man singing his blues. Maybe my pains would shrink if confronted with larger stronger examples of their species.

His woman had left him, and his heart turned to stone, his lyrics told of his losses but I knew this song was just fluff. His heart what was left of it was not in this story. These were the troubles another man had wrote down. I wondered if he had a song to sing that would spill his own beans. I carried my fourth vodka towards the stage and sat at a vacant table.

My new vantage point brought other faces into focus but not a one of them had anything to distract me from the lonely guy. I let his song come to a close and then heckled up to him “Man you sing it, tell us how it is.” I called as I applauded politely

“That I might” he called back “Here’s one you might not know.”

“Well I wake up every morning

Damned cold and alone

Without you baby

Can’t make a house a home.

You just went up and left me

Left me nothing

Not one thing I was due

Nothing but my name

And these…

...destitute blues

My mama never told me

A woman could do such wrong

She never taught me

Never sang me sad songs

I wait for you to come back

I wait for you to write

I wait for hell to freeze over

Each and every night.

I want to tell you

I forgive you

I want to tell you

I’ll forget

I just want to hold you

But all I hold onto

Are the heartache and regret.

Guess I fell for you stories

The tall tales you did tell

The taller they came

The further I fell.

I got nothing against you baby

Cus’ I got nothing at all

You done led me astray

Yeah, You led me astray

When you got away

And all I got left

Are these…

…destitute blues

Ahh Thank you.”

I returned to bar mid way through and had settled up my tab and was leaving as he struggled to the last line. The car park was slick with the rain that had been falling earlier in the night. I was in no state to drive so I walked further into town and found another bar. I still had sorrows to drown. And in this place they just kept bobbing back up to the surface.

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603 words

Orcs Delay

Five of the Orcs fell back and blocked the mouth of the tunnel cutting us off. The rest of their number disappeared out into the pouring rain; we all knew they were heading to the village. Pursuing them was imperative but first we had to fight our way past the five green skinned warriors.

Arcane words and the sting of power made my skin crawl as Merril’s first spell leapt from her staff toward one of the Orcs, I registered the spells effect as some binding tangle wire that wrestled her target to the ground. My sword rested in my hand, palm flexing on the hilt, as I stepped forward to another of the green skins, I felt my opponent’s blade scrape along my own as we met in combat and my senses began to process the arena we were to tussle in.

The rest of my party had each engaged one of the Orcs. Withan’s mace was pushing his dance partner around with heavy repetitive blows. Tourai’s crossbow was out and I nearly missed one of his best shots as the first bolt homed in on a battle scarred Orc veteran, before he knew what hit him our roguish youngster took out Scar’s good eye. Caitlin was struggling to hold her assailant off with her quarterstaff but every blow was deflected and she kept tripping the Orc with inconvenient low sweeping maneuvers.

My own fight wasn’t too difficult. But with my mind on what we had learned was under the village green down the hill I felt an urgency that made this delay frustrating. Keeping my temper in check I circled with the Orc tasting the moments allowing the field of battle revolve around me. Even in such a small skirmish the feeling is there. I felt the beat of the drum inside my veins and began to press my attack. Feint and slice, whilst ducking under his blade and rising up with my own, clash against the underside of his arm greaves. His curved blade swings towards me and for a second I lose sight of it over my helmet, my sword raises to block any downward slash but I dive to my right as I read his posture and anticipate his incoming swing.

Rolling onto my feat I see the smug look on his face and rejoin. A fierce volley drives him towards the cave mouth, and I feel the cool air even through my armor. The ground turns soft as we step out onto the rain soaked slope. Battering my sword into him, the green skin flails to block and fails to notice my left arm come round to push him over. His feet slide out from under him and I kick his prone body down the hill. Spinning back into the cave to assist the others.

In time to hear Caitlin calling for help I rush behind her Orc and finding a soft area sink my sword between flaps of armor, forcing a squeal of defeat from his scaly lips. I offer my hand and Caitlin rises to her feet. Tourai has dispatched the two Orcs on the ground and Withan dispatched his own.

“It would appear the only one we didn’t kill was mine.” I confess.

“Not to fear, Dof’r” Withan mocks “We’ll pick yours up on the way. And there’s plenty more when we get there.”

---

563 words

Responding to Beatrice

The following is an in character response to Conner's love interest.

--

Maybe we all suffer for the sins of our sires. And the mistakes of our siblings. I know that before the embrace I was no innocent. I certainly qualify as one of Father Mason’s pure and worthy. No minor sins were mine. I wronged my fellow man for business and pleasure. I drove people to their deaths, driving boatloads of them into the rocky shores of foreign lands. I made a career out of bankrupting families and businesses.

So I can’t claim any immunity or a lack of culpability, I deserved this curse and I live on still and swindle more than my mortal fair share. This world should have been rid of me many many years ago. But I still haunt the nights. Truly the greatest part of my curse is where I rest my behind. This throne is not one I would have chosen as a seat. I have done my best, and I hope made some improvements, but I am woefully prepared for the responsibility or the power.

The connection between our pains does not cry loud enough to drown out the city or the country beyond. I know the tower screams in your heart, and I know you have concerns for the city, for me I hold you in my heart, beyond that I simply try to hold on to the reins of power long enough to outlast my brother. He cannot be given the throne, I truly hope the family can find a better choice, and hope our sire can be brought back to the throne, and soon.

I know I can’t stay in power much longer, I don’t have the strength, and I have the enemies. I will see this through as far as I can, my landings have always been my best feature, let us see where this fall takes us. This isn’t over yet, and even if your part has been played in the political arena, if your duties are folding and arranging so that you will be distant, even then the rest of us will play out till our own parts also find completion.

I’m not seeking closure, I do not feel the end has come, I know that in my eyes we are only just beginning. Where ever this decent leads me I want to find you nearby. I cannot warrant losing everything else if I also lose your part in my life. Don’t pull away now. It’s just getting interesting.

---
411 words

Mothership

The mothership hovers above the Human outpost, it’s fleet mind guiding each of its children, sixteen drone fighters in each wing, and six wings in total into the combat arena. Their metal skins bare against the cold vacuum, naked but ready to face the enemy fire. Each weaving one around another, with the sheer joy at waking fresh and ready to do their duty.

Every nerve ending aligned all synapses wired and ready to control the drone's thrusters and artillery, the children mingle with and open fire upon their opposite number. The human fighters, seeming much more clumsy, are piloted by grown men and women fully trained but still detached from the mechanics of their ships. Their reactions control their own bodies which in turn manipulate artificial controls, an interface that costs them every time they make a decision.

Each of the drones hears the fleet minds thoughts, knows the brothers and sisters around it. Like a tiny glowing candle they can see the pinprick of mental activity in every enemy fighter. The drones swoop through the ebon battle field, more manoeuvrable, smaller and harder to target, more in tune with the chaos of war that surrounds them, and more than a match for any two Terran fighters.

The fleet mind watches as four earth fighters close in on a pack of six drones. The drones rotate in formation like the cylinder in a pistol, seemingly unaware as they press on closer to the outpost ahead. The Terran pilots struggle to keep a hold on their chosen targets as three drones spin to face them and both sides open fire. Driving the earth ships apart the remaining three drones pull out of formation and give chase each after one enemy while the first three simply strafe at the other. With a hail of munitions fire the earth fighters are lost. And these drones break apart and hunt down more enemies.

A sting is felt by the fleet as one of the drones is taken down. Each feels the fleet mind’s sorrow and acknowledges the loss of a brother. The fleet commands and the drones comply; each drone closes and completes its assigned task as the last of the enemy’s fighters are destroyed. The mothership recalls her children and dispatches boarding vessels. Another outpost has fallen, and the wasteful humans aboard it will be harvested. Their protein will feed her children.

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400 words

Over view of progress

Surfing the contours of the space time continuum might sound like fun to you, but I’ll tell you it’s fraught with danger. There are dips and peaks, traitorous troughs and mighty apex’s that occur around gravity wells and subspace foam. Navigating these currents and waveforms is a new frontier. So far the mathematicians have plotted five stable paths through this higher portion of space. Three of those lead back into the past, and only two of those are safe times to visit. The other two are 96% confirmed to be alternatives to our own universe.

We are a little more certain about the path discovered two weeks ago, even though it has had the least research the evidence provided seems conclusive. We are fairly certain we’ve located Earth and documented astronomic data to confirm location and age. So we’re pretty sure this new path leads to a copy of our planet and it is the same age as the Earth we stand on. The first difference we found was this is a world with no primates or humans. Further observed evidence points to a large aquatic civilisation spread out across the oceans. Communication with these Atlantean like cities will be undertaken in the new year.

The first alternate that we found is less dramatic. There appears to be a global avoidance of white fabric, something we have yet to truly understand. In preliminary conversation none of the residents of that Earth ever conceive of wearing white, when a member of our own staff has been spotted wearing white it caused no major alarm in the pigment wearers. It’s just one of the local human foibles.

In order of historic precedence the three paths into earths past lead to, firstly the late Hedeon era, the second path drops us off at around 500 BC, and the third is just a mere 150 years in the past. The later two paths do present the potential to interact with primary historical personalities and influence recorded history.

So far we have not had the opportunity to affect any major notable historic events via the three paths to the past. Our presence in the past has yet to cause any impact on the present. This has given rise to many wildly differing theories. But without further study nothing can be claimed concrete on that topic.

With each new path computed we gain more understanding about how we might discover more. And each study group that visits the four paths that are habitable brings with it great insights. We are already learning so much. Given time energy and funding who knows what benefits this research will bring.

We need all the help we can get.

The human race is diminished whenever a decision is made to serve personal benefit rather than to abide by the distinct benefits for all society, as laid out by the best intentions of our moral code.

That is to say, selfish choices keep the human race from achieving grand things.

Imagine a team of writers who work on a fictional character, this character is defined as having the strongest of moral codes. That in no circumstance will the character ever make a choice that benefits them over another person. The team set up many challenging situations where the character’s values are put to test but between them they always examine the situation and write the script such that in the end the saintly character does the right thing.

Each of the writers are aware of just how heroic the character they collaborate on is, but as they finish work each day they go out and live in a way such that their decisions never once match up to the moral certainty found in their work.

When we face day to day dilemmas we live selfishly. Taking what we can to benefit ourselves. Occasionally charity might be shown to those we feel capable of caring for, but as a society made of individuals we constantly fail to maintain an average level of care for one another.

Not every difficulty facing mankind today comes from out inability to see how each of us fails to lift this average, but there are many wrongs in the world that stem from our failure to care for anyone but a certain few. World hunger, war, sickness, racial hatred, intolerance, these problems come from poor decisions and priorities that do not allow for your fellow human beings.

Compassion for your loved ones is not admirable, it is the bare minimum and only the beginning of where you should start. Compassion for the latest heart wrenching target of media attention does not alleviate the responsibility we all have to improve the standing of everyone. Charity may begin at home, but it should go out to the ends of the earth.

I am guilty of picking me first, and letting others deal with their own problems. I’m not looking to be raised higher or receive assistance beyond what we should all have as a basic human right. I am not claiming to be better than any other human being. I am claiming the average human being is a pretty poor example. And again – we need to raise that average.

Think about this next time you have to choice, it should not be about them or us. It should be a choice between me and us. And you should always choose us. We need all the help we can get.

Shadow's Throne

Brother Marcus watched as the gyroscope turned and the various spheres and geometric shapes aligned themselves. Of all the forces ruling over mortal lives destiny was at times one of the simplest. Certain established patterns had bee noted, almost every man woman and child had heard tales that taught the basic fates, and travelling entertainers depended on these recognisable patterns for plays, ballads and stories. But the seers and prophets had a different outlook when it came to the paths men travelled.

Some watched the stars, or paid attention to portents and omens, some read palms, or studied the teachings found in deep meditation. But a few understood the mechanics behind the patterns and could with some calculation project the outcome of the fates before they even had chance to take shape.

The apparatus ground down to a halt and the room grew silent, the candle light was dim and made it difficult to see much of anything, but a new light shone behind Marcus’ eyes. He scurried out of the chamber and rushed towards the Abbots office calling out all the way through each corridor “The Shadow Queen’s Throne returns!”

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“I ask you who am I to hold back the bounties of far Murzurka?” Hassleway called to the crowded market “These rugs and the fine cushions won’t cost you ten stars, I won’t even charge you five stars. Do you know how much you can take these away for today madam?” Appreciative smiles and shakings of heads were all the customers could give as replies. So he continued with his patter

“I’m going let them go for three stars and a quart. And I’ll tell you what why not throw in a second set of cushions. Now that kind of deal is only available here and now. Thank you ma’am, please see my assistant Carla, she will wrap those for you.”

Sales continued until the last two cushions went for a star a piece, Hassleway watched the last customer depart and then sat on the wagon’s flat bed waiting for Carla to return from running deliveries. Counting through the takings he had enough to cover his expenses and live a little too. The market was much quieter and when the lovely Carla came back they hitched the wagon again and rode back to the inn.

“Has, with all the stocks gone are you thinking of going overseas again?”

“Well yes.” He looked to her in the wagon “You’ve been learning well these last few months, what do you think the plan is?”

“You’ve made deals with the mining authorities in Devil Chipping, and arranged passage to the empire. Are you exporting ore to the Mazurkans?”

“That’s the plan, I have orders from three of the Baronies to fulfil. The mines have had a good year. And I’ve bought all the contracts to distribute the merchant guilds take from the region.”

“Not all the ore then?”

“No Carla, after the king takes a cut, and the miners take their shares, the merchant’s guild buy the remaining stoke pile. They then offer the raw materials up for bidding and well I sank most of my savings into securing the trade rights.” He took his time to explain all this to his apprentice “Other merchants would have to buy off the miners themselves, I can just turn up to the local guild house and show my papers.”

“Ok, don’t you want the miner’s ore as well then?”

“No the Merchants share will be enough. We’ll be in Devil Chipping in a little over a week, and then we’ll be delivering to the noble houses of the empire in a few months time.”

“We?” She squealed “Really you’re going to let me go with you?”

“Of course, apprentice, you need to see commerce in action.”