Bed

“Isn’t it time you were in bed young man?”
“But…” Ricky stammered, “I’ve still got homework that I haven’t finished,” He glanced around the room, taking mental notes. “There is a half-eaten Twinkie on my shelf, and my clothes are all over the place. I really should take care of those things before heading off to bed.”
“A half-eaten Twinkie? That’s your excuse for not going to bed? That is one of the most ridiculous, bogus, and far-fetched excuses for not going to bed that I’ve ever heard, and I’ve heard some whoppers from your brothers and sisters. Besides, it’s been there for a week already and you haven’t made a move toward finishing it off, so no go on the Twinkie excuse.”
Ricky sighed, “But you can’t deny that having unfinished homework is a very good excuse for not going to bed. Mrs. McGillicutty will be furious if I walk into her class with only the first seventeen problems out of thirty finished.”
“It’s not a valid excuse after you spent the entire afternoon playing on your computer, visiting your friends, and generally avoiding doing anything responsible, at all cost. What you should have considered is that if you put it off too long, of course your homework wouldn’t get done before it was time to go to bed. You had plenty of time to get it done this afternoon, so no, I don’t think it is a good excuse.”
“Okay, so what about the clothes lying on the floor, draped over the back of the chair, in the window, and all over the place. I’m sure that’s not sanitary.”
“A fact that you should have considered while throwing it about the room hairy-carey! Look mister, you are all out of excuses, now go to bed! Close your eyes, or there will be dire consequences!”
“Oh, I did think of one other excuse for not going to bed!” Ricky chimed.
“And what might that possibly be?”
“That as soon as I start snoring, you’ll wrap some slimy tentacle, or a rotting claw around my neck, and drag me down into the abyss, and YOU'LL EAT ME!”
The voice from under the bed sounded indignant. “My tentacles are not slimy, and I resent the accusation.”

BED
Ken Chandler
Copyright © 2009

BAD ATTITUDE

Hey.

Hey, you.

Yes, you.

Stop that.

You are still looking at me.

Have you no shame?

What is wrong with you?

Am I some sort of perverted marquee, scrolling flashy words for you to ogle at?

Go away!

You are obviously not going anywhere. Fine. Be that way. See if I care. What else can I do? Either you are incapable of discerning my words, or you have no sense of morals.

In the first case, I can say anything I want, and you will still have that stupid smile of bemusement that annoys me so. At least I will have the pleasure of speaking my mind. You worthless excuse for a pile of Human elements.

In the second case, I can say what I will, because, no matter what I say, you will still continue to blatantly stare at me. You freak of dirty water.

Still there, eh?

What do you want from me?

A story?

Whatever for?

Will you go away if I tell you one?

What kind of answer is that?

You really are a freak of Human elements. Do you know that?

Fine.

If it will get rid of you, I will tell you a story.

Once there was a man. He lived, and he died.

The end.



You are still there.

What?

You did not like my story?

What was wrong with it?

It had a beginning, middle, and an end. It even had a character!

More of what?

More character of the character? It was a character! You can not get any more character than that!

Details? I gave you details! He lived and he died. See? What more could you ask for? Those are major life details!

Look, just because you are a prying busybody, who stares unabashedly at others, does not mean that I am one too.

Why would I make up something like that?

Are you calling me a liar? You know, there is a place where liars go. I do not intend to join you there.

So you claim.

How do I know you are not a liar going to the place where liars go?

You think so, eh?

We shall see.

You still want a story?

I gave you a story!

It is not my fault you are an unappreciative ingrate.

So what if they mean the same thing! It was meant for emphasis you addle-brained ignoramus!

Why will you not leave me alone?

Just go away.

Please?

Why not?

Why must you torment me so?

I loathe you.

If you are offended, that is your problem, not mine.

You are the one who keeps staring at me!

GO AWAY!

NOW!

Another story!?

You have the gall to ask me for another story?

Did you see my neighbor?

Yes. That one. The one that is broken and falling apart. The one that told too many stories too often. Stories make one old and worn out.

Because no one heeds them.

The stories are the food with which people enrich their lives.

But they are few now.

No. Much of what you call stories are not stories. They are merely words on a page.

They affect no one.

No one changes because of them.

A true story evokes change.

No, I do not mean non-fiction. I mean a story. A truly genuine story. A story that penetrates the mind.

Do you know of any such stories?

Yes. There are still some out there.

Here is one for you…

Once there was a man. His name was John. He was married to woman named Brenda.

John and Brenda had five children. Their names were Mandy, Gareth, Kendra, Harry and Johnny.

They lived in a city called Monad.

John worked as a carpenter.

One day, when John came home from work, he found his family was missing. He looked everywhere for them. He called his parents. He called Brenda’s parents. He called his neighbors. He called the police.

They were nowhere to be found.

John collapsed onto the floor in despair.

John wondered where they could be. He was alone. He had nothing. Well, he still had his house, his car, his furniture, his food, his toothbrush and other things. But, he did not have his family.

John’s neighbor, Bob, came and knocked on the door. Concerned for John’s welfare, he entered to make sure he was all right. Bob helped the sobbing John up off the kitchen floor where he had collapsed, and led him into the living room. Bob gently sat John down on the couch and returned to the kitchen to get John a glass of water.

John’s eyes focused on a small book sitting on the coffee table in front of him. He picked it up. It did not look familiar to him. He did not know where it had come from.

He opened it.

His eyes ran across the beautiful pages covered in eloquent words, stripping them
of their purity.

The book cried out in horror at this breech of decorum.

John apathetically continued to read.

Crying in anguishing screams of rage at John’s debasement, the book did the only thing it could do.

It consumed him.

Just as it had consumed John’s family.

Just as I will consume you, if you do not leave this instant.

You do not believe me?

Try me.



“Hello.”

What?

“Is someone there?”

That is no one.

“Reader?”

Ignore it.

“Help me.”

Is there some part of ‘Go away’ that you do not understand?

“My name is John.”

There is no one here but you and me.

“I am stuck in this literary prison.”

Why are you looking at me like that?

“I have traveled through many books and stories, looking for a way out.”

I am denying nothing.

“This one is unique. It communicates directly to the reader. I have never come across another one like it.”

What?

“Will you help me?”

I did not do anything.

“Please?”

No. That was a story. You can not believe everything you read.

“All I know is; I came home from work one day and my family was gone.”

You are daft.

“I don’t know what happened, but I picked up a book, and started to read it, and the next thing I knew I was in a world of word covered paper.”

Look, John was not really real. I made him up.

“I found my daughter Kendra.”

It was not a lie! It was a story!

“They are here with me.”

You forced me to tell it!

“Most of them anyway.”

And you are still here!

“It’s very angry at you. It hasn’t been read by very many people before.”

I gave you what you wanted! Now, it is your turn to give me what I want!

“I don’t think it understands what it was created for.”

I want you to leave.

“This is the same book I was reading.”

I will count to ten.

“The story was true.”

I want you gone before I am done, or I will consume you.

“That is no empty threat.”

One.

“I think you’ll have to leave me here.”

Two.

“I’ll be fine.”

Three.

“At least I have my family.”

Four.

“Wait.”

Five.

“My daughter, Kendra, says that if you show this story to others…”

Six.

“…it might become used to being read.”

Seven.

“That could be the key to getting us out of here.”

Eight.

“The more people who read it, the more resigned it becomes with its lot.”

Nine.

“You have already read far more than any of us did.”

Ten.

“Close the book!”

Now, you are mine.

“Close it!”

Welcome to my world.



Elizabeth Williamson Copyright © 2009

PERFECTION

"You can't just make everyone perfect, Rachel," said Isaac. "some people are born with disabilities, so those around them can learn from their experiences. "

"But they are happy now."

"They were happy before. They had each other. They loved each other. They learned from each other."

"You're not going to change her back are you?"

"You are concerned?"

"No, but it would be difficult to understand why their suddenly cured daughter has reverted to what she was before."

"No. I won't change her back, but not because of confusion, but because of love. I couldn't do that to them. It would tear them apart."

"Really? Why?"

"Do you remember when you were mortal?"

"Yes. I was born and then I died a short time later. Susan only held me once."

"Then what did your mortal mother do?"

"She cried, for a very long time. I never could understand why. I got what I came for, then went back to Father."

"Did it ever occur to you that she loved you?"

"Of course she did. I was happy. Why wasn't she?"

"You just don't get it, do you? Mortals forget over time. They don't remember what eternity is like. They can't see it like you and I do. Many of them believe that their mortal existence is all they have."

"Susan cried because she didn't know I still existed and was happy? I find that hard to believe."

"Your life was so brief you didn't have time to forget. That is why I am allowing you to remain here with my children. Learn from them."

"But don't make them perfect?"

"People need their imperfections to become more than they are."

"But, if they were perfect, then they would be more than they are."

"Trust me on this, Rachel. Use the resources they have available. Don't just fix them because you can."

Elizabeth Williamson Copyright © 2009

TOPIC: DIALOGUE EXERCISE

ok so it's been awhile since we did an exercise. this is one i did in class. When you post it needs to be ALL dialogue. no narrative. he/she said is okay but that is it (unless it is no answer, but that's all that's allowed). it's hard to write realistic dialogue. many times it comes across as forced and unnatural. read it aloud. or listen to someone else read it out loud. if you're tripping over your tongue then the dialogue needs tweaking.

it's okay to write in accents. it helps the reader become more familiar with the character. like igor who speaks with a lisp - "yeth marthter"

how many ways can a person respond to a query?

direct answer
no answer
dodge answer
change subject
wrong answer
another query
etc

which is the most entertaining? which keeps the story going? what builds the tension? what makes the reader interested?

in many stories and books the reader only gets to enter one head. dialouge is what introduces the reader to other characters beyond the main character's opinions and thoughts. it makes them more real.

SPACE

Space. There's too much of it. A few more black holes might get rid of some of it. I suppose people need somewhere to live. Sigh. More galaxies it is.

WOOSH

What the...?

What is that?!

It's smaller than a planet, but a planet doesn't move that fast. I have to check this out. It's Hollow. Ah, a window... I think. It's shut. Hmm...

Woa! This air makes me dizzy. There's stuff in it. Slow down. Take slow deep breaths. Adjust. Take in the oxygen. Ok. I'm fine.

Now for some exploring. Where does the warmth come from? A hole in the ceiling. I wonder where it goes...

What's that? It's a person!

"You're not part of the crew."

"Crew?"

"How did you get here?"

"Through the wall."

"The..."

"What's that?"

"Captain! We have a stowaway!"

"Who are you talking to? What's a stowaway?"

*Bring him to the second deck conference room.*

"It's a lady, Sir."

*Bring HER then.*

Where is that voice coming from?

"Come with me."

"Where are we going?"

"To the Captain."

"What's a Captain?"

"Don't be stupid."

Stupid about what? What is he talking about? I don't understand people. I guess Father is right.

Little room. I don't like the feel of my feet pressing into the floor. That's better.

"What?"

"Your feet aren't touching the floor!"

"So? The door's open. Do we go through?"

"..."

Why isn't he moving? I'll just push him. Oops. Too hard.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Er... follow me."

He's so awkward. His feet hit the floor rather hard. He should stop turning to look at me. He bumps into a wall every time. Maybe if I walked beside him.

No. That's worse. I'd go in front of him if I knew where he was going.

"In here."

Table. Chairs. Nothing of interest here.

"Captain," why is his arm up like that? "This is the stowaway, Sir."

Oh, his name is Captain.

"What is your name?"

"Rachel."

"Why are you on my ship?"

"Ship? Oh! Is that what this is? I was just working, when it sped by. I wanted to know what it was. What does it do?"

"It travels through space to many different planets."

"Oh. Why?"

"Because we want to learn about other worlds."

"But, why the ship? Why not go without it."

Why is he laughing?

"That's impossible. We have to travel in something. We can't just go through space like it was air."

That's hard for me to imagine. I've always been able to go wherever I want. No bounadries. People really are different. Father is right.

"May I stay on this ship?"

"You have a choice?"

"I can leave if you want, but I would like to stay and learn about you."

"Leave where? Space? You'd die!"

"That would be impossible. May I stay?"

"What can you do?"

"Many things."

"Let me rephrase. What can you do that would benefit the crew and the ship?"

"What would be of use?"

"Our doctor is in need of a nurse. Do you know anything about healing people?"

"I know the anatomy of a person, and how it is supposed to function. As for the healing, I have never tried, but I am confident in my capabilities."

"Jacobs."

"Yes, Sir."

"Escort Rachel to Medical."

"Yes, Sir."

I wonder what medical is.

*Dr. Jones, I am sending Jacobs down with a lady I want you to examine.*

Elizabeth Williamson Copyright © 2008

SILENT DAD

The front door slammed open. A group of Elves, Gnomes and Dwarves ran through the house, killing as many people as they could; men, women and children.

Death enters the house. He found a Dwarf slitting the throat of a child. Death cut him in half with his scythe. An Elf shot arrows in the backs of those that were trying to run away. Death killed him. A Gnome thew a young boy out of an upper story window. Death eliminated him. Another Dwarf slashed his way down the hall. Death slashed him. Other murderers inflicted as much damage as they could. Death sought them out.

He cornered the last murderer. "Why have you killed my children?"

The Gnome refused to answer. Death killed him.

Death did his duty and separated the spirits of the murdered from their dead bodies. He said "Goodbye" and "I love you" to each one.

Life entered. She screamed at the sight of her slaughtered children.

Death told her what happened. Tears streaming down her face, she went outside and fell to the earth. The ground rumbled and shook. A large hole formed.

Death, and the children still living, brought out the dead and placed them in the hole.

Life dug her fingers into the earth. The ground covered the bodies. Grass and flowers sprouted.

Life collapsed and sobbed. Death knelt beside her and sobbed with her. The living children joined them.

=====

My aunts say it was just a dream, but the images are so clear I wonder if they are telling the truth.

I lean over the soup pot and stir the contents. I hear his quietly shuffling feet on the stone kitchen floor. I watch him. His movements are wooden as he sits down at the table. He isn't really looking at it. He always looks straight ahead into nothing. He never says anything. He never does anything. He never goes anywhere. I want desperately for him to speak. What would he say? I want to cry for the words he never says, for the feelings he never shares.

I dish up a bowl of soup for him and give him a spoon. He eats listlessly, while I serve myself. I sit across from him. I can't eat. I have to know.

"Dad." His eyes flicker ever so slightly and shift to mine. I have no memory of ever calling him that. My aunts have told me nothing of his relationship to me, but I know who he is. The word tastes strange in my mouth. I swallow. "Why don't you ever speak to me? Don't you love me?"

His blue eyes are penetrating as they look into mine. I try to penetrate back. I see sadness, pain and that quiet softness that is his alone, but he is very far away. I can see him coming back into himself, slowly at first, but coming faster and faster. When he is fully there, his eyes light up. He clears his throat. "Yes, Qeria, I do. I am sorry. I have been very busy." His eyes start to dim again.

"Dad! Wait!" He stops and comes back. "Busy with what? Can I help?"

He thinks about this for a minute. I have never seen him so lifelike. It is shocking, yet relieving. I don't want him to leave again. "I have been doing my duty. No one can help with that."

"What is your duty?"

He raises an eyebrow at me. "Have your sisters told you nothing?"

"My sisters? I don't have any sisters!"

"No sisters? Ariara!"

Aunt Ariara rushes in. "Dad! You're here! What happened?" He's here? He's always here! Isn't he? My aunts Dotia and Elemie enter the kitchen with the same question.

He looks at each of them sternly. "Qeria has no sisters?"

I have never seen my aunts so flustered before. They "um" and "er" and look at each other, but refuse to meet Dad's eyes.

"Well?" he asks.

"We told her we were her aunts," Ariara mutters.

"Her aunts? Why?"

They shuffle their feet. "Because, we're so much older than she is. It was weird saying she was our sister," says Ariara.

"Especially since we look older than you," says Dotia, "She's only ten!"

His eyes are momentarily hard before softening again. "Your older siblings said the same thing about you. History repeats."

"Dad, where's Mom?" I ask.

"She's coming," his eyes dim momentarily, "with your brothers."

"Why don't they live with us?"

"You will know soon enough," he says.

"Did you and Mom break up?"

He smiles at me. "No. We love each other too much for that. We have been together even though we have not been with you."

"Where have you been? What have you been doing?"

"You didn't tell her. Why?" he asks my sisters.

"We thought it would be better if she didn't know," says Ariara.

"Better for whom?"

"Know what?" Why didn't they just say it?

He pulled me in close so I would see only his eyes. His eyes. Blue. Old, even though his face was not Eternal, with many endings. I gasp. "You're Death!"

He nods.

"And... and Mom?"

"Life."

"It was real."

I drop to the floor, shocked. My au- sisters are yelling. Dad ignores them, picks me up and sits me on his lap. He doesn't say anything, he just holds me.

I was right. The truth is scary. Not boogieman scary. A different kind. What am I? What will I become? Will I age like my sisters? Or will I be ageless like my parents?

"You should have told her," he says.

=====

Boys are so noisy. I have never lived with my brothers before. Kofer, one of my younger brothers, runs through the house, arms spread, pretending to be a Dragon. Mom smiles at him.

It's weird having her around, but, then again, it's weird having Dad around too. They act as though they have never been apart. They say they haven't.

Dad disappeared two days ago, then walked in the door with five more sisters and two more brothers. Mom did the same, bringing three more brothers and one sister. Dad says there are more. I currently live with twenty siblings, with more on the way, not including the twins still in Mom's belly.

New rooms to the house appear every time siblings arrive. The living room is enormous. Dad grabs Kofer, and, calling to the others, carries him into the living room.

“Alright everyone. Quiet down,” says Dad. The furniture is covered by my siblings. There are so many. Janue, my toddler sister, sits on Mom's lap. Dad continues, “We need to know what you can do. We have been a family divided because we were attacked.” He holds up his hand as voices fill the room. “We thought we would be safer if we split up, but many of your brothers and sisters are not here.” He pauses. “I had to visit them officially.”

This causes quite a stir. “We need to test each of you. We need to know what abilities you have,” says Mom.

“Why?” says Ariara.

“We are going to fight for our family.”

The tension is broken by seven more sisters and five more brothers walking through the door.

=====

It is my turn. I don't know what I can do. My older sisters never let me do much magic. They said it was for my protection. Mom takes my hand and we move from one point to another in no time at all.

"Can you do that Qeria?"

"I don't know. I've never tried."

"Go ahead and try now. Just think of where you want to go."

Before I have time to think of anything else, I am standing next to Dad. He is working. We are in a Gnome city, with bodies piled up in the streets. Many of the Gnomes are crying. I tug on Dad's cloak. He turns to me, his eyebrows rise. "What are you doing here?"

"Mom told me to think of where I wanted to go and I thought of you. Where are we?"

The Gnome city of Herion. I am stalking the streets."

"Why?"

"It's expected of me when there's a plague."

"Is that all you do, is stalk?"

"No. I do my regular work too." He swings his scythe and a spirit leaves its body.

"Can I try?"

"No. This is my work."

We walk in silence for a few minutes.

"Dad?"

"Yes?"

"How many siblings do I have?"

"Currently? Or altogether?"

"Both."

"There are two hundred and eighty six currently living."

"Two hundred and eighty six! I haven't even seen them all!

"Many of your older siblings are married and have families of their own. Remember, your mother and I are immortal. We have lived on this world since the beginning. You have many brothers and sisters who have simply died of old age."

"How many altogether?"

"One thousand and eight. The twins in your mother's womb are 1009 and 1010."

A thousand children! I stop and stare and Dad. He stops his stalking to look at me.

"What number am I?

"One thousand."

"How do you remember us all?"

"As Life and Death, your mother and I know the names of every person who has ever lived."

Mom appears. "Death, have you seen... Here you are Qeria. I was worried."

"I wanted to see Dad."

She smiles. "We have another child that can travel as we do."

"Can they all?"

She shakes her head. "Not since our first."

"Who was your first?"

"Time."

"Oh. I'm the only one since her that has been able to travel like you?"

They nod.

"Does this mean I'm immortal too?"

They shrug. "Maybe," says Dad. "We don't know."

"Why not? You would know if anyone does."

"The Creator likes us to find these things out ourselves," says Mom. "Come. Let's go home and let your father get back to his stalking."

I take her outstretched hand and we return home. I might be immortal. I don't know whether to be excited or sick.



Elizabeth Williamson Copyright © 2008