I'm a 46 year old man and as I write that out I'm like whoa, how did that happen. But old man or not every night after everyone has gone to bed I go outside, turn on the hose, and water the plants. I water the ones up front by the window until I see the water cascade from the basket. When I can see all the leaves on the ground glisten and reflect light off the streetlights, I bring the hose round back and do those. Same thing. But I water the hanging plants at an angle so they spin; all the way until they have to spin back. 46? I'm barely 17.
(The Chenille plant is always withered at the end of the day, but by tomorrow morning it will have transformed.)
I trudge up to the deck on the garage and water those. I have to be careful not to drag the hose across the solar lights down below because then I have to find the tops in the dark. I water the plants on the ground from up above because I like to think they think it's rain and that I am a god. Also, it's easier. On the garage deck I have one of those upside down tomato planters. It's in its own stand. The yield has been terrible, but once or twice a week I pull off a red cherry and damn if in that moment I don't recognize it as a fruit. I deadhead the marigolds I think are dead, but it's hard to tell because it's dark. Once I'm done I pull up enough slack so I can put the sprayer on the ground before throwing down the rest of the hose. I've broken too many sprayers to know this is the only way. But before I go inside I listen to the whirring drone of air conditioners all around me and the jet that flies overhead. It is not a quiet time, but there is no one and that's nice. The song that goes through my head is just the chorus. 'Gardening at night, gardening at night, gardening at night'.
Friday, August 23, 2013
Tuesday, May 14, 2013
A Funny Thing Happened On The Way To Work
Temporally speaking...
I had to bring the car in to get serviced today. Mid-town Subaru. Nothing wrong. Just maintenance.
I put my bike on the back. The plan was to ride to work, and then ride back at the end of the day to pick it up.
The highway was going nowhere slowly. (It seems when the weather is really nice or really bad in Chicago, people tend to drive poorly.) So I got off on Diversey and headed north. Well, once I passed the Com Ed headquarters and turned left on Irving Park, I started to hit all the K streets. Keeler, Kildare, etc. And that's when I had my epiphany.
Maybe I had bitten off more that I could ride.
But I'm all about a challenge, and I was committed to make it to the lake.
As I neared what I thought was Medieval Times...
...which was actually Lane stadium,
...I saw a person who looked A LOT like Arun. But it couldn't possibly be Arun. I mean, what are the chances?
Well, turns out it WAS Arun.
S: Arun?
A: Steve?
S: Arun!
A: Hi, Steve. Do you live around here?
S: Nope, not at all.
I explained about my car, and Arun explained about dropping off his son at the day care.
S: Ok, man. I'll see you at work.
A: You'll probably beat me. I have to take a bus to a train, so...
I went on my way and Arun on his. Mine was a circuitous route as I went down Avondale (just off the highway) with its beautiful suburban pockets of tranquility. And then over one and down another until I found myself on Addison
and then down to Belmont
and finally the lake.
I used to bike LSD all the time when I lived on Montrose. Man, I loved biking along the lake.
So. Damn. Beautiful.
I locked up my bike and went into work. Who should be getting on the elevator at the EXACT SAME TIME?
S: Arun?
A: Steve?
S: Arun!
A: Hi Steve!
S: How is this even possible?
A: Well, my train caught on fire.
S: C'mon, man. Let's not make excuses.
A: No, seriously. It caught on fire. Everyone had to get off.
S: Seriously?
A: Seriously.
Chicago Tribune
Anyway, that's it. I thought it was weird it timed out SO PERFECTLY.
Epilogue:
At the end of the day I took a more direct line to pick up the car. I took Milwaukee all the way up. And here's the thing. Once you get past Wicker Park, it's like a whole other world. Specifically, Poland.
I had to bring the car in to get serviced today. Mid-town Subaru. Nothing wrong. Just maintenance.
I put my bike on the back. The plan was to ride to work, and then ride back at the end of the day to pick it up.
The highway was going nowhere slowly. (It seems when the weather is really nice or really bad in Chicago, people tend to drive poorly.) So I got off on Diversey and headed north. Well, once I passed the Com Ed headquarters and turned left on Irving Park, I started to hit all the K streets. Keeler, Kildare, etc. And that's when I had my epiphany.
Maybe I had bitten off more that I could ride.
But I'm all about a challenge, and I was committed to make it to the lake.
As I neared what I thought was Medieval Times...
...which was actually Lane stadium,
...I saw a person who looked A LOT like Arun. But it couldn't possibly be Arun. I mean, what are the chances?
Well, turns out it WAS Arun.
S: Arun?
A: Steve?
S: Arun!
A: Hi, Steve. Do you live around here?
S: Nope, not at all.
I explained about my car, and Arun explained about dropping off his son at the day care.
S: Ok, man. I'll see you at work.
A: You'll probably beat me. I have to take a bus to a train, so...
I went on my way and Arun on his. Mine was a circuitous route as I went down Avondale (just off the highway) with its beautiful suburban pockets of tranquility. And then over one and down another until I found myself on Addison
and then down to Belmont
and finally the lake.
I used to bike LSD all the time when I lived on Montrose. Man, I loved biking along the lake.
So. Damn. Beautiful.
I locked up my bike and went into work. Who should be getting on the elevator at the EXACT SAME TIME?
S: Arun?
A: Steve?
S: Arun!
A: Hi Steve!
S: How is this even possible?
A: Well, my train caught on fire.
S: C'mon, man. Let's not make excuses.
A: No, seriously. It caught on fire. Everyone had to get off.
S: Seriously?
A: Seriously.
Chicago Tribune
Anyway, that's it. I thought it was weird it timed out SO PERFECTLY.
Epilogue:
At the end of the day I took a more direct line to pick up the car. I took Milwaukee all the way up. And here's the thing. Once you get past Wicker Park, it's like a whole other world. Specifically, Poland.
Thursday, April 18, 2013
Caspin6
I do a short story challenge every now and then. This is the one I do.
NYC Midnight
I was in the top 5 of my group in Round 1, so I moved on to Round 2, Group 4.
Genre: Sci-Fi
Subject: The Olympics
Character: A physical trainer
(Not more than 2000 words - I only used 1102.)
Caspin6
Caspin6 was once an Olympic hero, but fell from grace. Now is the chance to redeem himself.
Like a goose. Your head is up, proud. Strong. Yes, like that. Never side to side. Never! Stay focused.
Caspin6 loved the boy as if he was his own son. The boy was smart, he was funny, and he had a strong jaw. And the boy loved Caspin6 like a father. Caspin6 remembered the moment when the boy’s mother first approached him at an amateur level event.
“Are you Caspin6?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said.
She pushed the boy in front. “He’s a prodigy,” she said.
HE is not your opponent. SHE is not your opponent. THIS is your opponent. THIS is your enemy. You must consume your enemy.
The boy was eight maybe nine. He was all blonde hair and ketchup stains.
“What’s he, eight?” asked Caspin6.
“He’s six,” said his mother. “Just turned.”
“And I’m a hundred and six.”
“Please,” pleaded his mother. “Or he’ll be sent to the mines and his life will be a waste.”
Always break your enemy. Break them in half. Always. Break them in thirds if you can.
Caspin6 looked into the eyes of the boy’s mother. They were steadfast and unblinking. In fact they were almost lifeless save the tears streaming out the sides and rolling down her cheeks.
“I’m sorry,” said Caspin6. “He’s too old. You should have come to me when he was four. By the time he’s ready, he’ll be fifteen. Today’s champions are ten, maybe eleven. There’s just not enough time.”
"He’s only six,” the boy’s mother cried. “I swear.”
But that was years ago. And more than two decades since competitive Hot Dog eating had become an Olympic sport, which was when the world belonged to Caspin6…
Caspin6 had been a prodigy as well. By the time he was six he was able to swallow half-pound burgers in a single gulp. He could drink 4 liters of SuperCoke in under a minute. He had set 7 world records by the time he was nine. He saw his first Olympics when he was eleven. He went gold in solids, liquids, and oils – the first time someone had won the Triple Trache since Kalel18.
Caspin6 was a legend, and at 15 he went to the Olympics again. He went gold in liquids and oils. Men wanted to be like him, women swooned in front of him. Caspin6 was driven. But during the Hot Dog competition, he lost focus. He became distracted by the crowd cheering his name; and dipped his hot dog bun for a millisecond too long thus rupturing his esophagus and his chance for gorged glory.
When you dip, dip quick. Never let the bun soak. NEVER! You move your wrist like lightning!
Caspin6 hid from the world after his Olympic folly. He kept to the shadows, but with years of esophageal training, he made it back to the fringes of competitive eating. He’d always have the hunger. He would often place and sometimes win. But he was never the same…
The boy was his redemption. The boy was going to make it right again.
Remember when you swallow, swallow hard! Nothing gets left behind. You want to feel it in your chest, you want it to echo in your glutes, and you want it to land at your feet.
The boy had been to the best doctors, the best dentists, the best larynx men, the best esophagus men. The boy had been checked out by everyone. His mother had been right. The boy was a prodigy.
Breathe in! Deeper! Now hold it. Hold it. Hold. Stretch your cheeks. Stretch them! Feel the burn! There was was a trumpet player – I can’t remember his name - but his cheeks were as big as oranges. I want yours as big as grapefruits!
The boy had perfected the water training. He was able to keep 6 liters of carbonated water down in his belly no problem. There was no room for improvement. The GulletXspander6 was certainly controversial, but everyone at that level was using it. And it wasn’t all the pharynx drills. The boy could do those upwards and backwards. But perhaps the JowlsX9000Pro had been too much.
Yes, perhaps the JowlsX9000Pro had just been too much. Had they flown too close to the sun?
Hunger is not in your belly. It’s in your heart! And it’s in your mind.
Caspin6 had taken the boy all the way to the Olympics. They were heroes. The crowds threw breading at their feet. As the games began, the boy easily won the liquids. He also won the oils. And now he was favored to win the Hot Dog competition 10 -1. He would complete Caspin6’s legacy. Presidents, emperors, and dictators gathered to watch the Windpipe Wizard and the Boy who would be King. The world drew a breath and watched…
But ‘twas not to be.
Caspin6 could hardly remember all that happened. He could see flashes of light. He could hear screams. There were sirens. There was shouting. Someone pushed him down…
Caspin6 closed the door and sat at his desk. He leaned back in his chair, rubbed his eyes, and took a deep breath. He brought up the hologram of the Hot Dog competition from the night before. The blue light shimmered in front of him and the boy appeared. His technique was flawless. Every bite was masterful. Each chew had such economy and power. The way he lifted his head, like a goose, was all with a rhythm and sense of divine purpose. The way his fingers pushed and caught and pushed, the way he kept his elbows in. A tear rolled down Caspin6’s cheek. It was so beautiful. Such beauty. He stopped the hologram, and took a slow breath in and out. Caspin6 looked through the dark. And then he let it continue.
The boy had quickly ripped the hot dog into thirds. He dipped them into a shallow bowl of water before shoving them in his mouth and filling his cheeks like parachutes. Chew, release, chew, release. Grace, such grace. And then on the down bite, there it was. His left cheek. The boy was going to need stitches, perhaps even reconstructive surgery. Caspin6 stopped the hologram again and looked away. He stopped the hologram again and looked away.
Caspin6 was tired. His hands were tired. His mind was tired. He felt dead. He grabbed a handful of SuperFritos sitting on the desk, threw them to the back of his mouth and swallowed. Within seconds he could feel his arteries open wide and the stream of blood rush into the waiting valves of his heart. The familiar ka-pound ka-pound ka-pound in his chest sent back a current of electricity throughout his body. He could see his fingertips pulse. He was hungry.
Fin.
BONUS: If you're interested in the creative proces, what's below is how the story went until about 6pm on Sunday. I was worried about the suckitude. So I read it to my wife who confirmed the suckitude. So I pretty much scrapped it and started over. I got it done, and uploaded with two minutes to spare - 10:58pm (CST)...
Caspin6
Caspin6 was tired. His hands were tired. His mind was tired. He felt dead. He grabbed a handful of Zestulon sitting on his desk, threw them to the back of his mouth and swallowed. Within seconds he could feel his arteries open wide and the stream of blood rush into the waiting valves of his heart. The familiar ka-pound ka-pound ka-pound in his chest sent back a current of electricity throughout his body. He could see his fingertips pulse. He was alive again.
Caspin6 leaned back in his chair and raised his calendar. The blue light shimmered in front of him. He waved it three weeks prior and stared into the screen. He gestured to the left, flicked past three windows, and pulled up the hologram of Caspin9 singing Happy Birthday in Zoran. Caspin9 looked just like Caspin8 except for his chin. No dimple.
Such a sweet voice, thought Caspin6.
Hearing footsteps he waved his calendar back to the day. A brilliant blue flag with a bright yellow star hovered over his desk, and next to it a picture of Caspin12, the youngest male three generations removed. The door opened. Kalel18 was dressed in a suit the same color as the flag. A bright yellow pin shined from his chest.
“I see you’re set,” said Kalel18 in his booming voice looking through the screen.
“Yes,” said Caspin6, the flag floating between them.
“How is he today?”
“He’s good,” said Caspin6. “He’s good, still asleep. It’s going to be a good race.”
Kalel18 stared down at Caspin6.
“There’s something different about you today.”
“No, I’m the same. Always the same.”
Kalel18 reached into his pocket and pulled out a small silver sheet. He held it out to Caspin6.
“Is this necessary?” asked Caspin6.
“No.” But the silver sheet remained.
Caspin6 touched the silver sheet with his fingertip, removed it, and looked away. Kalel18 tapped the sheet twice on the side and once on top.
“Zestulon?” he asked. “Almost thirty? How are you not bouncing off the walls?”
“I’m 119 years old.”
“I’m 130 and I would be in orbit.”
Caspin6 shrugged his shoulders.
“You shouldn’t be taking Zestulon,” continued Kalel18. “It’s only for athletes. Or possibly children. Do you have enough for Caspin12? Please tell me you didn’t take all the Zestulon. Caspin12 is racing in less than three hours.
“There’s plenty of Zestulon. Not to worry.”
“I don’t need to tell you how important this race is.”
“No.”
Kalel18 cleared his throat and put his hand on his chest.
“In 3106 contact was made, in 3108 the games were played, in 3110 Earth was betrayed, in 3112 the Zorons were slay-“
“I know how it goes,” said Caspin6. “I was there.”
“This is the 3162 games. This is historical. The worlds are watching.”
“I know.”
Kalel18 raised his arm in a salute. Caspin6 mirrored him.
“I’ll be on the top deck,” said Kalel18 before clicking his heels and disappearing down the hall.
Caspin6 rubbed his eyes, took a deep breath. He opened the bottom drawer of his desk and removed the false bottom. He pulled out a flag. On one side it was Earth’s flag, a bright yellow star set against a brilliant blue background. But on the other side it was a deep red with six green dots – the Zoronian flag.
NYC Midnight
I was in the top 5 of my group in Round 1, so I moved on to Round 2, Group 4.
Genre: Sci-Fi
Subject: The Olympics
Character: A physical trainer
(Not more than 2000 words - I only used 1102.)
Caspin6
Caspin6 was once an Olympic hero, but fell from grace. Now is the chance to redeem himself.
Like a goose. Your head is up, proud. Strong. Yes, like that. Never side to side. Never! Stay focused.
Caspin6 loved the boy as if he was his own son. The boy was smart, he was funny, and he had a strong jaw. And the boy loved Caspin6 like a father. Caspin6 remembered the moment when the boy’s mother first approached him at an amateur level event.
“Are you Caspin6?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said.
She pushed the boy in front. “He’s a prodigy,” she said.
HE is not your opponent. SHE is not your opponent. THIS is your opponent. THIS is your enemy. You must consume your enemy.
The boy was eight maybe nine. He was all blonde hair and ketchup stains.
“What’s he, eight?” asked Caspin6.
“He’s six,” said his mother. “Just turned.”
“And I’m a hundred and six.”
“Please,” pleaded his mother. “Or he’ll be sent to the mines and his life will be a waste.”
Always break your enemy. Break them in half. Always. Break them in thirds if you can.
Caspin6 looked into the eyes of the boy’s mother. They were steadfast and unblinking. In fact they were almost lifeless save the tears streaming out the sides and rolling down her cheeks.
“I’m sorry,” said Caspin6. “He’s too old. You should have come to me when he was four. By the time he’s ready, he’ll be fifteen. Today’s champions are ten, maybe eleven. There’s just not enough time.”
"He’s only six,” the boy’s mother cried. “I swear.”
But that was years ago. And more than two decades since competitive Hot Dog eating had become an Olympic sport, which was when the world belonged to Caspin6…
Caspin6 had been a prodigy as well. By the time he was six he was able to swallow half-pound burgers in a single gulp. He could drink 4 liters of SuperCoke in under a minute. He had set 7 world records by the time he was nine. He saw his first Olympics when he was eleven. He went gold in solids, liquids, and oils – the first time someone had won the Triple Trache since Kalel18.
Caspin6 was a legend, and at 15 he went to the Olympics again. He went gold in liquids and oils. Men wanted to be like him, women swooned in front of him. Caspin6 was driven. But during the Hot Dog competition, he lost focus. He became distracted by the crowd cheering his name; and dipped his hot dog bun for a millisecond too long thus rupturing his esophagus and his chance for gorged glory.
When you dip, dip quick. Never let the bun soak. NEVER! You move your wrist like lightning!
Caspin6 hid from the world after his Olympic folly. He kept to the shadows, but with years of esophageal training, he made it back to the fringes of competitive eating. He’d always have the hunger. He would often place and sometimes win. But he was never the same…
The boy was his redemption. The boy was going to make it right again.
Remember when you swallow, swallow hard! Nothing gets left behind. You want to feel it in your chest, you want it to echo in your glutes, and you want it to land at your feet.
The boy had been to the best doctors, the best dentists, the best larynx men, the best esophagus men. The boy had been checked out by everyone. His mother had been right. The boy was a prodigy.
Breathe in! Deeper! Now hold it. Hold it. Hold. Stretch your cheeks. Stretch them! Feel the burn! There was was a trumpet player – I can’t remember his name - but his cheeks were as big as oranges. I want yours as big as grapefruits!
The boy had perfected the water training. He was able to keep 6 liters of carbonated water down in his belly no problem. There was no room for improvement. The GulletXspander6 was certainly controversial, but everyone at that level was using it. And it wasn’t all the pharynx drills. The boy could do those upwards and backwards. But perhaps the JowlsX9000Pro had been too much.
Yes, perhaps the JowlsX9000Pro had just been too much. Had they flown too close to the sun?
Hunger is not in your belly. It’s in your heart! And it’s in your mind.
Caspin6 had taken the boy all the way to the Olympics. They were heroes. The crowds threw breading at their feet. As the games began, the boy easily won the liquids. He also won the oils. And now he was favored to win the Hot Dog competition 10 -1. He would complete Caspin6’s legacy. Presidents, emperors, and dictators gathered to watch the Windpipe Wizard and the Boy who would be King. The world drew a breath and watched…
But ‘twas not to be.
Caspin6 could hardly remember all that happened. He could see flashes of light. He could hear screams. There were sirens. There was shouting. Someone pushed him down…
Caspin6 closed the door and sat at his desk. He leaned back in his chair, rubbed his eyes, and took a deep breath. He brought up the hologram of the Hot Dog competition from the night before. The blue light shimmered in front of him and the boy appeared. His technique was flawless. Every bite was masterful. Each chew had such economy and power. The way he lifted his head, like a goose, was all with a rhythm and sense of divine purpose. The way his fingers pushed and caught and pushed, the way he kept his elbows in. A tear rolled down Caspin6’s cheek. It was so beautiful. Such beauty. He stopped the hologram, and took a slow breath in and out. Caspin6 looked through the dark. And then he let it continue.
The boy had quickly ripped the hot dog into thirds. He dipped them into a shallow bowl of water before shoving them in his mouth and filling his cheeks like parachutes. Chew, release, chew, release. Grace, such grace. And then on the down bite, there it was. His left cheek. The boy was going to need stitches, perhaps even reconstructive surgery. Caspin6 stopped the hologram again and looked away. He stopped the hologram again and looked away.
Caspin6 was tired. His hands were tired. His mind was tired. He felt dead. He grabbed a handful of SuperFritos sitting on the desk, threw them to the back of his mouth and swallowed. Within seconds he could feel his arteries open wide and the stream of blood rush into the waiting valves of his heart. The familiar ka-pound ka-pound ka-pound in his chest sent back a current of electricity throughout his body. He could see his fingertips pulse. He was hungry.
Fin.
BONUS: If you're interested in the creative proces, what's below is how the story went until about 6pm on Sunday. I was worried about the suckitude. So I read it to my wife who confirmed the suckitude. So I pretty much scrapped it and started over. I got it done, and uploaded with two minutes to spare - 10:58pm (CST)...
Caspin6
Caspin6 was tired. His hands were tired. His mind was tired. He felt dead. He grabbed a handful of Zestulon sitting on his desk, threw them to the back of his mouth and swallowed. Within seconds he could feel his arteries open wide and the stream of blood rush into the waiting valves of his heart. The familiar ka-pound ka-pound ka-pound in his chest sent back a current of electricity throughout his body. He could see his fingertips pulse. He was alive again.
Caspin6 leaned back in his chair and raised his calendar. The blue light shimmered in front of him. He waved it three weeks prior and stared into the screen. He gestured to the left, flicked past three windows, and pulled up the hologram of Caspin9 singing Happy Birthday in Zoran. Caspin9 looked just like Caspin8 except for his chin. No dimple.
Such a sweet voice, thought Caspin6.
Hearing footsteps he waved his calendar back to the day. A brilliant blue flag with a bright yellow star hovered over his desk, and next to it a picture of Caspin12, the youngest male three generations removed. The door opened. Kalel18 was dressed in a suit the same color as the flag. A bright yellow pin shined from his chest.
“I see you’re set,” said Kalel18 in his booming voice looking through the screen.
“Yes,” said Caspin6, the flag floating between them.
“How is he today?”
“He’s good,” said Caspin6. “He’s good, still asleep. It’s going to be a good race.”
Kalel18 stared down at Caspin6.
“There’s something different about you today.”
“No, I’m the same. Always the same.”
Kalel18 reached into his pocket and pulled out a small silver sheet. He held it out to Caspin6.
“Is this necessary?” asked Caspin6.
“No.” But the silver sheet remained.
Caspin6 touched the silver sheet with his fingertip, removed it, and looked away. Kalel18 tapped the sheet twice on the side and once on top.
“Zestulon?” he asked. “Almost thirty? How are you not bouncing off the walls?”
“I’m 119 years old.”
“I’m 130 and I would be in orbit.”
Caspin6 shrugged his shoulders.
“You shouldn’t be taking Zestulon,” continued Kalel18. “It’s only for athletes. Or possibly children. Do you have enough for Caspin12? Please tell me you didn’t take all the Zestulon. Caspin12 is racing in less than three hours.
“There’s plenty of Zestulon. Not to worry.”
“I don’t need to tell you how important this race is.”
“No.”
Kalel18 cleared his throat and put his hand on his chest.
“In 3106 contact was made, in 3108 the games were played, in 3110 Earth was betrayed, in 3112 the Zorons were slay-“
“I know how it goes,” said Caspin6. “I was there.”
“This is the 3162 games. This is historical. The worlds are watching.”
“I know.”
Kalel18 raised his arm in a salute. Caspin6 mirrored him.
“I’ll be on the top deck,” said Kalel18 before clicking his heels and disappearing down the hall.
Caspin6 rubbed his eyes, took a deep breath. He opened the bottom drawer of his desk and removed the false bottom. He pulled out a flag. On one side it was Earth’s flag, a bright yellow star set against a brilliant blue background. But on the other side it was a deep red with six green dots – the Zoronian flag.
Monday, April 8, 2013
Open Letter To Kris Collins
Dude,
Your decim8 app is GR8!
Not sure when/where I first became aware of it, but your description on iTunes says it all - FILM IS DEAD.
Testify!
I love that where ALL OTHER apps make your pictures look like they're from the turn of the century, your app makes them look like they're from the turn of THIS century.
BRILL!
I dig how you make my mundane photos look like art (see below). I dig how you've made mobile photography relevant (there are only so many shots of buildings and food you can take). And I dig all the random quotes that pop up.
I usually w8 to get an app when it becomes free, but when I saw you had a new app - satur8 - I downloaded it immediately. It's cool. I haven't spent enough time with it, but it's definitely cool. I dig the UI.
I look forward to:
coll8 - a blending app
pred8 - a supercool app that makes an image look old
anim8 - an app that turns an image cartoon-like, or an app that cre8s gifs
collabor8 - some sort of app that allows people to easily edit an image together
degener8 - an app that turns an image into 8 bit
reticul8 - some sort of app that cre8s an analog destruction of an image
masturb8 - an app that adds boobs ;-)
I have two suggestions for decim8: 1) to crop an image before you start 2) to rot8 an image before you apply an effect again.
I have one suggestion for satur8: 1) to have a randomize button.
Please keep up the awesome work!
(Full Disclosure: Not sure why the open letter and not just an email, but I got a like on the above photo from movax this past weekend which made me happy and I guess inspired a web shout out.)
Wednesday, March 6, 2013
The Wellspring
I do a short story challenge every now and then. This is the one I do.
NYC Midnight
I was in Group 10.
Group 10
Genre: Fantasy
Subject: A fishing trip
Character: An Astronaut
(Not more than 2500 words)
The Wellspring
An astronaut is knocked out of orbit into another world that does not resemble his own. And he finds a fox that fancies fish.
The ship was hurtling through space out of control. Stars shot past in a blur.
“I can’t understand these coordinates!” shouted Pilar. “They don’t make any sense. We’re going too fast! Too fast!”
Lozen held the control column with both hands. It bucked and twitched.
“Reverse thrust,” he yelled. “Reverse thrust, Pilar!”
Pilar punched at the controls.
“It’s not working! Nothing’s working! We’re too low! We’re going to crash!”
“Just hold tight!”
“I can’t! I can’t!”
Lozen watched his co-pilot reach for her eject button.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“NO!”
A simple popping sound, like opening a can of peanuts - and Pilar was sucked out from her seat. Her body flew up and was gone. In seconds she would be nothing more than a handful of ash. Lozen was alone now; the nose of his ship dipping down and the roar of reentry in his ears...
When Lozen first opened his eyes, he felt surprise. Not at the cool bed of leaves he was resting on, but the fact that he seemed to be alive. In high school he once blacked out from drinking too much. And one time in a flight simulation unit, he blacked out from pulling too many Gs, but no one had ever pulled that many Gs before. It remained an Academy record as far as he knew.
Lozen looked up at the blue sky. It was clear and calm, some scattered clouds. He breathed in through his nose. The air was sweet, but slightly bitter. He thought about his toes. He moved them. Then he moved his fingers and clutched at the ground beneath him. It was wet, cool. Sensing nothing was broken or missing, Lozen slowly leaned up on his elbow. He was in a thicket of trees, but the trees were enormous. They were skyscrapers; 50 stories tall and 5 stories wide. He saw his smoldering ship overhead caught high in a web of branches.
Lozen layed back down and closed his eyes.
"Hello?" said a voice.
Lozen turned his head slowly from one side, and then to the other. There was no one.
"Hello?" said the voice again.
Lozen lifted his head. At his feet was a fox with bright green eyes in a thick red coat. It was staring at him. Also it was wearing waders and carrying a fishing pole.
"Are you alright," asked the fox. "It seems you took quite a tumble."
"Are you talking to me?" asked Lozen.
The fox nodded its head.
"Wait, what? Are you talk-? Am I dead?"
"Oh, you're very much alive,” said the fox. “But we need to get going. I have to catch us some fish. And it will be dark soon and then the Gracks will be out."
"Gracks?"
"Soldiers of the dark lord Grack."
"Wait, why would I leave where I am right now?"
"I told you. Gracks."
"You're a talking fox!"
"Yes, well, be that as it may, you’re welcome to stay here, but I must be going."
The fox turned on its paws and started on its way.
Lozen looked up at the smoking wreckage of his ship caught in the swirl of towering trees above him.
"Wait!” he yelled. "What's your name?"
The fox turned around and smiled. "Felix," he said.
The sun was beginning to go down by the time they came to the pond. The clouds were turning pink and gray.
"There isn't much time," said Felix.
The fox threw his line into the water and sat on the bank next to Lozen. It was quiet.
Lozen pulled at his side pocket zipper and stared at the bobber in the water. He accepted the fox could talk. He accepted that he survived the crash, the miles of branches slowing his descent. Well, the talking fox was still hard to swallow. Lozen pulled the zipper up and down and up and down and stared at the bobber in the water.
"Seriously," said Felix. "Can you stop that please?"
“Sorry.”
The bobber dipped below for a moment and came to rest on the surface.
"Why are we fishing,” asked Lozen.
"I'm hungry,” said Felix. “And I assumed you are also hungry.”
“Yes, but why-“
A low moan rose up behind them. It sounded wet.
“Oh, dear,” said Felix.
“Oh dear what?” said Lozen.
“Did that sound wet to you?”
“A little.”
“We should run.”
Felix darted up along the bank leaving his pole behind. Lozen followed close behind.
“Is it a Grack?” shouted Lozen.
“No!” said Felix.
“What is it?”
“A loon!”
“A loon?”
“They’re worse than Gracks.”
Lozen stopped running. A loon? What’s so terrible about a loon? He turned around and looked at the bank where they had just been. The fishing pole was lying on the ground. Was the bobber gone? Had it gone underwater?
GRAAAAWRRR!
A loon the size of a jet plane sprang out onto the bank. It was magnificent with its enormous black head and huge red eyes. It craned its neck skyward and spread its wings. The pink and gray sky disappeared. And then the great bird snapped its beak at the air.
Are those fangs, thought Lozen. Loons don’t have fangs.
GRAAAAWRRR!
Lozen turned and ran. His eyes searched for Felix, but Felix was gone.
“Felix! Felix!”
GRAAAAWRRR!
Lozen heard thundering steps behind him, which disappeared into a whoosh of air. He sensed the loon right at his back. He sprinted for the trees. A heavy shadow zeroed in on him. There was darkness, a rush of air. Lozen imagined himself being bit in half, his legs falling to the ground and the rest of him being carried away by the loon.
“Now!” shouted a voice.
A large rock sailed over Lozen’s head.
GRAAAAWRRRK!
“Again!”
It was Felix!
An even bigger rock sailed by.
GRAAAAWRRRKK!
“Again!” shouted Felix.
The shadow began to lift and Lozen could feel his adrenaline levels begin to normalize.
But then Lozen heared another voice.
“Whoops!”
Lozen’s head was throbbing when he woke. He felt something cool and wet on his face. He opened his eyes slowly. It was dim, but he could make out a figure next to him, which seemed dark and light at the same time. It looked like a small bear.
“How’s it going?” said the figure.
“My head is pounding.”
“Yeah, my bad on that. I was trying to get the loon.”
“What is this?” asked Lozen reaching for his face. “It smells terrible.”
“It’s a healing pack. It’s got a bunch of leaves and herbs and stuff. You shouldn’t touch it. It needs to do its thing. I got you pretty good.”
“Who are you? What are you?”
The figure stepped into the light. Its head was white like snow, but its eyes black and hard like charred embers.
“I’m Gary,” said the figure. “I’m a Panda.”
“Do you know Felix?”
“Yeah, he’ll be back soon. You should rest.”
“What’s in this pack? That smell. I think it’s making me sleepy. I need.. to. Pilar…”
Lozen opened his eyes. He reached up and touched his face. It was tender, but not throbbing like before. The healing pack was gone. He looked around. He was lying on a bed of leaves in a room with wooden walls and a wooden ceiling and a wooden floor. He was in a tree. The wood was all very smooth, like glass. But it wasn’t straight. Everything sort of curved and glided about. From around one of the curves came Felix, followed by Gary, who in fact was clearly a Panda. Felix wore a smart green vest and held a tiny teacup. Gary was in an old blue sweater. He was chewing on a root.
“Ah, you’re awake,” said Felix. “How’s that head of yours?”
“Tender, but not bad.”
“Some tea?”
Lozen nodded and took the cup from Felix. He sipped the tea. It was warm and bitter.
“This tastes terrible,” said Lozen making a face.
“Yes, well, be that as it may, it’s good for you. Drink up.”
Lozen did as he was told.
“When you’re done,” continued Felix, “we’re going to go back to the pond to finish what we started.”
“Fishing?”
“Yes.”
“What’s with you and fishing?”
“I’m a fox that fancies fish.”
After Lozen finished the tea, Felix grabbed his fishing pole, his waders, and a kettle.
“Let’s go,” he said.
The three of them sat on the bank of the pond and watched the bobber. It floated on the surface.
Braaaaaaaap, burped Gary.
Felix shot him a look.
“Doesn’t seem like they’re biting today,” said Gary.
“It’s early still.”
Gary rolled on his side and scratched himself, burped again.
Braaaaaaaaaaaaaaaap!
Felix shook his head. Gary looked at Lozen.
“What’s Pilar?”
“Pilar?”
“You said it last night in your sleep.”
“I did?”
Gary nodded. Felix, too.
“Pilar is my co-pilot,” said Lozen. “I lost her.”
“I didn’t realize,” said Felix. “Once we’re done, we can go find her.”
“No,” said Lozen. “I misspoke. She was my co-pilot.”
They continued to fish along the bank for hours, but nothing. Not even a nibble. The sun went gold and then red. Soon the sky would be pink and gray. And then it would be dark.
“I don’t understand,” said Felix. “Where are all the fish?”
“Don’t know,” said Gary. “But we need to wrap this up. Loons, Gracks, I don’t want any of that again.”
“No loons,” said Lozen.
“Fine,” said Felix. “Just a little bit longer.”
But right then the Gracks appeared. They came out of the brush, a dozen of them. They looked like apes with their long hairy arms. But they had the heads of dogs with long snouts, sharp teeth, and pointed ears.
“You are trespassing,” said the first Grack. “You have been warned before. And now you must die.”
“Wait, wait, whoa,” said Lozen. “Trespassing? First off, there’s no sign. And second, this is my first warning. I don’t even know where I am. In fact I’m sure I shouldn’t be here at all.”
“Exactly,” said the Grack. “This is all belong to Lord Grack. The fox and the bear have been warned before. They will die. You will be brought before Lord Grack himself.”
“Ok, listen, it’s Felix and Gary and they are my friends, although really we just met, but we’ve been through some stuff together with the loon. So, we’re friends. No one needs to die, ok? We just wanted some fish.”
“Lozen?” said a voice behind the Gracks.
Lozen’s face went white. And he started to tremble.
“Lozen?” said the voice again.
“Pilar?”
The Gracks moved aside. In a cage behind them was Pilar.
“Pilar!”
Lozen ran toward the Gracks. They lowered their swords.
“Halt!” shouted the Grack. “How do you know the prisoner?”
Lozen looked at Pilar. Her hair was mussed, her cheek was bruised, but considering the deadly vacuum of space, she looked good.
“She’s my wife.”
Felix looked at Gary.
“You were right,” he said. “You have such good intuition. I don’t know why I don’t trust you more. You’re always right.”
“I’d like to see you embroider that on a pillow.”
“Silence!” yelled the Grack.
“Let her out!” shouted Lozen.
The Gracks laughed.
“Who are you to tell us anything?” said the Grack which made all the Gracks laugh even harder.
“I’m a wizard and I command you.”
The Gracks stopped laughing. Even Felix and Gary stopped what they were doing.
“Blasphemous,” said the first Grack. “There is no wizard but the Lord Grack.”
“I AM a wizard,” said Lozen.
“Then prove it!”
In addition to the legend of his alcohol black out in high school, Lozen was a 9th level dungeon master. If there was ever a time to pull the wizard card, this was it.
Lozen looked at Felix and Gary.
“Hand me the kettle,” said Lozen.
They both shrugged their shoulders.
“The fish bucket,” said Lozen pointing.
“Oh, right,” said Gary. He brought the empty kettle to Lozen. Lozen pointed to the first Grack. “Fill this with water.”
“You will order me to do no such thing.”
“No worries,” said Gary. “I got it.”
Gary filled the bucket with water from the pond.
“Everything is bitter here,” said Lozen. “I don’t know why. I don’t know how. But for some reason everything tastes bitter. Am I right?”
The Gracks all nodded.
“Yes,” said the Grack. “Tis true. And?”
“I will make this water sweet by adding a secret powder.”
“Ha! It cannot be done. This is a sulfur pond.”
The Gracks all laughed.
“Is that why there are no fish?”
The Grack nodded with a grunt.
“Really, Felix?” said Lozen turning to the fox. “You didn’t know that?”
“You know what,” said Felix, “that actually makes a lot of sense.”
Gary shook his head.
“How can you not know that?” asked Gary. “We come out here almost every other day and it’s always the same thing. Nothing.”
“That’s what fishing is,” said Felix. “It’s a mystery.”
“Well, mystery solved.”
“It doesn’t matter,” said Lozen interrupting. “If I make this water sweet and refreshing, will you let us all go?”
“Yes,” said the first Grack.
“How do I know you’ll keep your word?”
“You don’t.”
“You’re not giving me a lot to work with,” said Lozen. He looked at Felix and Gary.
“The oath,” said Felix. “Ask him to give the oath.”
The Grack rolled his eyes.
“Fine,” he said. He lifted his sword over his head before tapping the end on the toe of his right boot three times and then placing it above his left eye. “I swear upon the soul of Lord Grack and all that is belongs to Lord Grack, I will keep my word or I will stab my eyes out with mine own sword.”
“So we’re cool?” asked Lozen.
Felix and Gary nodded. The Grack grunted.
Lozen reached down and unzipped his side pocket. He took out two silver packets - imprinted on their sides were the words Government Use Only – Tang, Orange. He tore them open and poured the contents in the kettle. He swished it around.
“Ok,” he said. “Taste.”
The Grack lifted the kettle to his snout and lapped at the water. He lapped again.
“Release the prisoner,” he said. “Let her go.”
Pilar ran into the open arms of Lozen.
“Why did you eject?” cried Lozen holding Pilar tight. “Why did you go?”
“I don’t know,” said Pilar. “I didn’t think I was strong enough.”
“Never give up,” said Lozen. “You must never give up. Ever.”
“My thoughts exactly,” said Felix. “Now help me cast this line.”
NYC Midnight
I was in Group 10.
Group 10
Genre: Fantasy
Subject: A fishing trip
Character: An Astronaut
(Not more than 2500 words)
The Wellspring
An astronaut is knocked out of orbit into another world that does not resemble his own. And he finds a fox that fancies fish.
The ship was hurtling through space out of control. Stars shot past in a blur.
“I can’t understand these coordinates!” shouted Pilar. “They don’t make any sense. We’re going too fast! Too fast!”
Lozen held the control column with both hands. It bucked and twitched.
“Reverse thrust,” he yelled. “Reverse thrust, Pilar!”
Pilar punched at the controls.
“It’s not working! Nothing’s working! We’re too low! We’re going to crash!”
“Just hold tight!”
“I can’t! I can’t!”
Lozen watched his co-pilot reach for her eject button.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“NO!”
A simple popping sound, like opening a can of peanuts - and Pilar was sucked out from her seat. Her body flew up and was gone. In seconds she would be nothing more than a handful of ash. Lozen was alone now; the nose of his ship dipping down and the roar of reentry in his ears...
When Lozen first opened his eyes, he felt surprise. Not at the cool bed of leaves he was resting on, but the fact that he seemed to be alive. In high school he once blacked out from drinking too much. And one time in a flight simulation unit, he blacked out from pulling too many Gs, but no one had ever pulled that many Gs before. It remained an Academy record as far as he knew.
Lozen looked up at the blue sky. It was clear and calm, some scattered clouds. He breathed in through his nose. The air was sweet, but slightly bitter. He thought about his toes. He moved them. Then he moved his fingers and clutched at the ground beneath him. It was wet, cool. Sensing nothing was broken or missing, Lozen slowly leaned up on his elbow. He was in a thicket of trees, but the trees were enormous. They were skyscrapers; 50 stories tall and 5 stories wide. He saw his smoldering ship overhead caught high in a web of branches.
Lozen layed back down and closed his eyes.
"Hello?" said a voice.
Lozen turned his head slowly from one side, and then to the other. There was no one.
"Hello?" said the voice again.
Lozen lifted his head. At his feet was a fox with bright green eyes in a thick red coat. It was staring at him. Also it was wearing waders and carrying a fishing pole.
"Are you alright," asked the fox. "It seems you took quite a tumble."
"Are you talking to me?" asked Lozen.
The fox nodded its head.
"Wait, what? Are you talk-? Am I dead?"
"Oh, you're very much alive,” said the fox. “But we need to get going. I have to catch us some fish. And it will be dark soon and then the Gracks will be out."
"Gracks?"
"Soldiers of the dark lord Grack."
"Wait, why would I leave where I am right now?"
"I told you. Gracks."
"You're a talking fox!"
"Yes, well, be that as it may, you’re welcome to stay here, but I must be going."
The fox turned on its paws and started on its way.
Lozen looked up at the smoking wreckage of his ship caught in the swirl of towering trees above him.
"Wait!” he yelled. "What's your name?"
The fox turned around and smiled. "Felix," he said.
The sun was beginning to go down by the time they came to the pond. The clouds were turning pink and gray.
"There isn't much time," said Felix.
The fox threw his line into the water and sat on the bank next to Lozen. It was quiet.
Lozen pulled at his side pocket zipper and stared at the bobber in the water. He accepted the fox could talk. He accepted that he survived the crash, the miles of branches slowing his descent. Well, the talking fox was still hard to swallow. Lozen pulled the zipper up and down and up and down and stared at the bobber in the water.
"Seriously," said Felix. "Can you stop that please?"
“Sorry.”
The bobber dipped below for a moment and came to rest on the surface.
"Why are we fishing,” asked Lozen.
"I'm hungry,” said Felix. “And I assumed you are also hungry.”
“Yes, but why-“
A low moan rose up behind them. It sounded wet.
“Oh, dear,” said Felix.
“Oh dear what?” said Lozen.
“Did that sound wet to you?”
“A little.”
“We should run.”
Felix darted up along the bank leaving his pole behind. Lozen followed close behind.
“Is it a Grack?” shouted Lozen.
“No!” said Felix.
“What is it?”
“A loon!”
“A loon?”
“They’re worse than Gracks.”
Lozen stopped running. A loon? What’s so terrible about a loon? He turned around and looked at the bank where they had just been. The fishing pole was lying on the ground. Was the bobber gone? Had it gone underwater?
GRAAAAWRRR!
A loon the size of a jet plane sprang out onto the bank. It was magnificent with its enormous black head and huge red eyes. It craned its neck skyward and spread its wings. The pink and gray sky disappeared. And then the great bird snapped its beak at the air.
Are those fangs, thought Lozen. Loons don’t have fangs.
GRAAAAWRRR!
Lozen turned and ran. His eyes searched for Felix, but Felix was gone.
“Felix! Felix!”
GRAAAAWRRR!
Lozen heard thundering steps behind him, which disappeared into a whoosh of air. He sensed the loon right at his back. He sprinted for the trees. A heavy shadow zeroed in on him. There was darkness, a rush of air. Lozen imagined himself being bit in half, his legs falling to the ground and the rest of him being carried away by the loon.
“Now!” shouted a voice.
A large rock sailed over Lozen’s head.
GRAAAAWRRRK!
“Again!”
It was Felix!
An even bigger rock sailed by.
GRAAAAWRRRKK!
“Again!” shouted Felix.
The shadow began to lift and Lozen could feel his adrenaline levels begin to normalize.
But then Lozen heared another voice.
“Whoops!”
Lozen’s head was throbbing when he woke. He felt something cool and wet on his face. He opened his eyes slowly. It was dim, but he could make out a figure next to him, which seemed dark and light at the same time. It looked like a small bear.
“How’s it going?” said the figure.
“My head is pounding.”
“Yeah, my bad on that. I was trying to get the loon.”
“What is this?” asked Lozen reaching for his face. “It smells terrible.”
“It’s a healing pack. It’s got a bunch of leaves and herbs and stuff. You shouldn’t touch it. It needs to do its thing. I got you pretty good.”
“Who are you? What are you?”
The figure stepped into the light. Its head was white like snow, but its eyes black and hard like charred embers.
“I’m Gary,” said the figure. “I’m a Panda.”
“Do you know Felix?”
“Yeah, he’ll be back soon. You should rest.”
“What’s in this pack? That smell. I think it’s making me sleepy. I need.. to. Pilar…”
Lozen opened his eyes. He reached up and touched his face. It was tender, but not throbbing like before. The healing pack was gone. He looked around. He was lying on a bed of leaves in a room with wooden walls and a wooden ceiling and a wooden floor. He was in a tree. The wood was all very smooth, like glass. But it wasn’t straight. Everything sort of curved and glided about. From around one of the curves came Felix, followed by Gary, who in fact was clearly a Panda. Felix wore a smart green vest and held a tiny teacup. Gary was in an old blue sweater. He was chewing on a root.
“Ah, you’re awake,” said Felix. “How’s that head of yours?”
“Tender, but not bad.”
“Some tea?”
Lozen nodded and took the cup from Felix. He sipped the tea. It was warm and bitter.
“This tastes terrible,” said Lozen making a face.
“Yes, well, be that as it may, it’s good for you. Drink up.”
Lozen did as he was told.
“When you’re done,” continued Felix, “we’re going to go back to the pond to finish what we started.”
“Fishing?”
“Yes.”
“What’s with you and fishing?”
“I’m a fox that fancies fish.”
After Lozen finished the tea, Felix grabbed his fishing pole, his waders, and a kettle.
“Let’s go,” he said.
The three of them sat on the bank of the pond and watched the bobber. It floated on the surface.
Braaaaaaaap, burped Gary.
Felix shot him a look.
“Doesn’t seem like they’re biting today,” said Gary.
“It’s early still.”
Gary rolled on his side and scratched himself, burped again.
Braaaaaaaaaaaaaaaap!
Felix shook his head. Gary looked at Lozen.
“What’s Pilar?”
“Pilar?”
“You said it last night in your sleep.”
“I did?”
Gary nodded. Felix, too.
“Pilar is my co-pilot,” said Lozen. “I lost her.”
“I didn’t realize,” said Felix. “Once we’re done, we can go find her.”
“No,” said Lozen. “I misspoke. She was my co-pilot.”
They continued to fish along the bank for hours, but nothing. Not even a nibble. The sun went gold and then red. Soon the sky would be pink and gray. And then it would be dark.
“I don’t understand,” said Felix. “Where are all the fish?”
“Don’t know,” said Gary. “But we need to wrap this up. Loons, Gracks, I don’t want any of that again.”
“No loons,” said Lozen.
“Fine,” said Felix. “Just a little bit longer.”
But right then the Gracks appeared. They came out of the brush, a dozen of them. They looked like apes with their long hairy arms. But they had the heads of dogs with long snouts, sharp teeth, and pointed ears.
“You are trespassing,” said the first Grack. “You have been warned before. And now you must die.”
“Wait, wait, whoa,” said Lozen. “Trespassing? First off, there’s no sign. And second, this is my first warning. I don’t even know where I am. In fact I’m sure I shouldn’t be here at all.”
“Exactly,” said the Grack. “This is all belong to Lord Grack. The fox and the bear have been warned before. They will die. You will be brought before Lord Grack himself.”
“Ok, listen, it’s Felix and Gary and they are my friends, although really we just met, but we’ve been through some stuff together with the loon. So, we’re friends. No one needs to die, ok? We just wanted some fish.”
“Lozen?” said a voice behind the Gracks.
Lozen’s face went white. And he started to tremble.
“Lozen?” said the voice again.
“Pilar?”
The Gracks moved aside. In a cage behind them was Pilar.
“Pilar!”
Lozen ran toward the Gracks. They lowered their swords.
“Halt!” shouted the Grack. “How do you know the prisoner?”
Lozen looked at Pilar. Her hair was mussed, her cheek was bruised, but considering the deadly vacuum of space, she looked good.
“She’s my wife.”
Felix looked at Gary.
“You were right,” he said. “You have such good intuition. I don’t know why I don’t trust you more. You’re always right.”
“I’d like to see you embroider that on a pillow.”
“Silence!” yelled the Grack.
“Let her out!” shouted Lozen.
The Gracks laughed.
“Who are you to tell us anything?” said the Grack which made all the Gracks laugh even harder.
“I’m a wizard and I command you.”
The Gracks stopped laughing. Even Felix and Gary stopped what they were doing.
“Blasphemous,” said the first Grack. “There is no wizard but the Lord Grack.”
“I AM a wizard,” said Lozen.
“Then prove it!”
In addition to the legend of his alcohol black out in high school, Lozen was a 9th level dungeon master. If there was ever a time to pull the wizard card, this was it.
Lozen looked at Felix and Gary.
“Hand me the kettle,” said Lozen.
They both shrugged their shoulders.
“The fish bucket,” said Lozen pointing.
“Oh, right,” said Gary. He brought the empty kettle to Lozen. Lozen pointed to the first Grack. “Fill this with water.”
“You will order me to do no such thing.”
“No worries,” said Gary. “I got it.”
Gary filled the bucket with water from the pond.
“Everything is bitter here,” said Lozen. “I don’t know why. I don’t know how. But for some reason everything tastes bitter. Am I right?”
The Gracks all nodded.
“Yes,” said the Grack. “Tis true. And?”
“I will make this water sweet by adding a secret powder.”
“Ha! It cannot be done. This is a sulfur pond.”
The Gracks all laughed.
“Is that why there are no fish?”
The Grack nodded with a grunt.
“Really, Felix?” said Lozen turning to the fox. “You didn’t know that?”
“You know what,” said Felix, “that actually makes a lot of sense.”
Gary shook his head.
“How can you not know that?” asked Gary. “We come out here almost every other day and it’s always the same thing. Nothing.”
“That’s what fishing is,” said Felix. “It’s a mystery.”
“Well, mystery solved.”
“It doesn’t matter,” said Lozen interrupting. “If I make this water sweet and refreshing, will you let us all go?”
“Yes,” said the first Grack.
“How do I know you’ll keep your word?”
“You don’t.”
“You’re not giving me a lot to work with,” said Lozen. He looked at Felix and Gary.
“The oath,” said Felix. “Ask him to give the oath.”
The Grack rolled his eyes.
“Fine,” he said. He lifted his sword over his head before tapping the end on the toe of his right boot three times and then placing it above his left eye. “I swear upon the soul of Lord Grack and all that is belongs to Lord Grack, I will keep my word or I will stab my eyes out with mine own sword.”
“So we’re cool?” asked Lozen.
Felix and Gary nodded. The Grack grunted.
Lozen reached down and unzipped his side pocket. He took out two silver packets - imprinted on their sides were the words Government Use Only – Tang, Orange. He tore them open and poured the contents in the kettle. He swished it around.
“Ok,” he said. “Taste.”
The Grack lifted the kettle to his snout and lapped at the water. He lapped again.
“Release the prisoner,” he said. “Let her go.”
Pilar ran into the open arms of Lozen.
“Why did you eject?” cried Lozen holding Pilar tight. “Why did you go?”
“I don’t know,” said Pilar. “I didn’t think I was strong enough.”
“Never give up,” said Lozen. “You must never give up. Ever.”
“My thoughts exactly,” said Felix. “Now help me cast this line.”
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