The Composting Passages of Star Wars

Woah! Chuck has us twisting things around this week! Okay... think of a famous scene in Star Wars of Lord of the Rings or Die Hard and twist it around in a different way, but have it play out the same. Yep, it's same, same - but different! I put two into mine: LOTR's and Star Wars. Dunno if it worked... but it turned out funny I think.

enjoy!

He stood before the massive iron dragon as it was welded by the giant and more of the mountains were removed. The mage shouted above the thundering sounds of everything collapsing around the group of them, “You shall not pass!” has he raised his crooked staff high and struck the only piece of solid ground before him.

“I don’t think they will listen.” Mondo touched his wing gently, “Come, there must be another way.”

The mage half-turned, “No, Mondo, you are our only chance. With that ring, you must make sure it arrives at Mount Doomsdale and destroy it!” he pointed to the piece of foil wrapped tightly around the blue termite’s neck, “You are our only hope.”

He reached up to the foil with two of his feet and stroked it gently, “Yes, it’s my precious… um… yes of course, I must get rid of it.” He turned and regarded his oldest friend – Fargo – the only other blue termite who he’s known since they were larva in the nursery in the older part of The Shire. However, they can no longer go back there because the Old Shire has been destroyed and by the Almighty Humans and replaced with the New Shire – this will take many years to settle again, “Are you with me Fargo?”

“I shall go where you go, Mondo, as far as our feet take us.”

The cavern around them shuddered yet again as the huge iron dragon destroyed yet another section of the Passages of Composting Moira – which weren’t as old as many first thought.

The mage turned back to his task, as the stone in the top of his staff shone brightly at his incantation: “You shall not…” and the huge iron dragon came down and ended his life in a split second!

Mondo and Fargo turned in the other direction as more of the Passages of Composting Moira were destroyed in that last fatal blow by that sweating giant above them all!

It was the last time Mondo or Fargo saw the Mage alive.

Months passed as Mondo and Fargo hid in the pipe next to the large garden ornaments the Sweating Giant had placed around the New Surrounding Middle Earth.

Mondo unrolled the map Fargo brought with him in the moonlight, “I have never seen any of this.”

“Neither have I.”

They looked at each other and realised they may either be charting new territory or … they may be lost!

“Let’s keep on walking and see where it leads us.” Mondo suggested.

It wasn’t long before they came across The Desert Paved. It was named this on the map because from a distance, it looked like flagstones all set up side by side – but up close, it seemed to go on forever.

“Anyone who has attempted to cross this desert has never come back, Mondo.” Fargo touched his friend’s shoulder.

“I know, but I must be rid of this horrid ring before it destroys me forever… please be by my side and help me through this.” Mondo said.

“Of course, why else are we on this quest?”

They set across The Desert Paved side by side.

Soon, they Fargo glanced up and found the thin lines of webs lining the skies. Mondo whispered, “Don’t look up.”

“But the webs…”

“I know.”

“The webs aren’t your only problem.” A dark voice said behind them. Turning, the two termites found two large, black Green Ants had been following them, “You two are not supposed to be here.”

“We just wish to cross The Desert Paved and be on our way.” Mondo said.

“This is our territory and Saucer wants to see you. Guards!”

Mondo and Fargo were soon surrounded by other Green Ants with nowhere to go, but with them as their prisoners.

The small dark room wasn’t underground. The two termites were taken along – forced to walk at a swift pace – to a fence post and pushed to travel up to the top where there was a Green Ants’ Nest in the branches of a tree.

So, the room wasn’t comfortable, as Mondo and Fargo sat on a leaf together in a tiny room awaiting their punishment quietly. The foil ring had been removed from Mondo’s neck and handed to the Queen of this colony - also known as Saucer - and they could hear whispers that she had wanted to see the two immediately.

The door was pulled opened and the large guard grabbed them roughly, shoving them out the door, down the hall and into the Queen’s throne room, where she sat inspecting the ring, “Exactly where do you have to take this?”

“Mount Doomsdale… from what I understand it’s not far from here… a large deep ravine where two mountains meet in a corner, Your Grace.” Mondo said, “So, if I could have that back, we’ll be out of your way.”

“Very well.” She stood and walked to him smiling, “You do look familiar. Have our families met?”

“I believe not.” He shook his head.

“Oh well… never mind.” She looked over at the guard, “Allow them safe passage to Mount Doomsdale, then leave them alone. They may be termites, but they mean no harm.”

“Yes, Your Grace.” The guard bowed.

Soon Mondo and Fargo were outside again with a couple of Green Ants and the Queen’s Guard walking them to the edge of the property line. Mondo had the foil ring about his neck again and Fargo hadn’t said anything since their capture – too terrified to speak in case these ants were hungry for termites (a delicacy to them).

The Queen’s Guard turned as they were about to cross the property line, “I do believe I have visited your Old Shire once – before it was destroyed by The Almighty Humans.” He grinned, “I had me some fun there – you know, in the way of the female termites?” he looked at them both with the blue hue, “It’s the only way a white termite would have blue colour – to be cross-bred with a Green Ant. But then, you wouldn’t know who your father is would you?”

“No. None of us do.” Mondo shook his head.

“How about we walk you most of the way to Mount Doomsdale – just to keep you two safe?” the Queen’s Guard offered.

“Okay.” Fargo whispered.

The group of five had almost arrived at the huge first wall when the Queen’s Guard attacked his own people – killing them in cold blood, mercilessly – and then turned on Mondo and Fargo. As he turned, he found the two termites had armed themselves with Bindi’s – these were prickly and not the nicest things to be shoved with. But the Guard ripped the green prickles from their hands, attacking Fargo, ripping him to shreds in front of Mondo!

“NO!” the blue termite screamed as he found purchase up the vertical surface of the first mountain and started climbing.

The Green Ant guard was faster than him by far, reaching the top by a few seconds and grabbing his first two hands, pulling him up by them… throwing him across the plateau!

“You thought you were going to get away, Mondo! You thought you were special and you could do this without me knowing!” he thundered as rain began to fall through the tree branches above, landing in large spots around them.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I mean getting rid of the ring.” He leaned into his face has he reached for the ring, and yet didn’t touch it, whispering softly – almost personally – to it, “The precious.” It was then that Mondo realised that this guard had touched the ring and it was time to get rid of it. He moved back a little, scrambled a little, but the guard pinned him by his hand hard, “And just where do you think you’re going?”

“Away from you.” He said.

“I want that ring.”

“I’d rather die first before you go anywhere near it.”

At that the Guard winced and backed off, allowing Mondo up, “No. I don’t wish that.”

“Why not? You killed my best friend…”

“Because, Mondo… he wasn’t just your friend… he was your brother.”

This made what the guard did worse, “My God… who are you?”

“I am your father, Mondo.”

“No.”

“Join me… help me overthrow the Queen. We will rule that colony together! I will never be a lowly guard ever again.”

“Never!”

“Son…”

“Don’t call me that! You are not my father. My father is dead!”

“…come to the dark side with me…”

Shared Accommodation?

I got this cool idea from FB where there's a funny quote: 'What if the spider you just killed has been living in your house thinking you're flatmates?' It took me a little while to get in and write this very short piece, and I don't know if it'll work, but it's worth a try. 

enjoy!

I didn’t mean for her to find me, but it was really late and I didn’t know she was awake.

Yet the lights were on.

That should have been my first guess. She never leaves lights on late at night.

I’d been living here for my whole life and she never noticed me around. I mean, I’ve been in her office reading the books on her shelves and enjoying reading her FB page over her shoulder without her knowing it for about three months now and still, all I wanted to do is go downstairs and take off out of the place.

You see, there’s no real food here.

Sheena has gotten rid of all the silverfish, cockroaches and ants from the house… yep, being a typical female human being, she doesn’t like anything with more legs than herself.

So, after I got a little too big, I thought to see myself out the door without bothering her.

But her life has been anything but quiet lately. With her next door neighbours splitting up – and ex-boyfriend not wanting to leave quietly – she’s been the supportive friend for the woman next door. It’s been good but also very stressful for her as she’s not really into this kind of thing; but it’s good she wants to help her neighbour so much.

Anyway, it’s been long enough that her life is just getting back to anything looking like normal again. Nobody’s knocking her door at oddly early hours of the morning and she’s changed her settings back to normal on her FB page (after she blocked and unfriended the ex-boyfriend)… she’s only thankful Sheena didn’t give him her mobile number; then he’d never leave her alone!

Anyway, she’s been busily pulling together some art stuff lately, and she didn’t really notice me in the corner of her lovely little home office enjoying my latest read (which I knocked off the shelf really late the other night and she didn’t wake up to the horrible noise – I know because I ventured into her room and checked! Man! Her room stunk of mothballs and the walls – exactly what had she done to the walls? – burned my feet!). But it was well worth checking if she was awake. I really wanted to finish the book… but how could I if it was on the floor all closed up and I had opened it up on the shelf up here on the top only moments before?

So, it was time for me to leave.

I knew this and – well – she didn’t know I existed.

But then, as she was coming up the stairs, and I was going down them, our paths crossed… and she took off her slip-!

The Source

Chuck has us having fun with all kinds of links and this week is no different. This link is great! I was given 'My character is a fucking: modest tiefling wizard from a pompous wizard school who parties hard, way too hard.'

Now it went in a totally different direction than I expected.

enjoy!

“Wake up, Zoltar!”

His head throbbed as his world spun, “Oh… crap in a Fire Drakes dungeon, what in Orhan’s name happened?”

“Phew! You stink! And to think you attend the best Wizard School around… if your parents were alive today, they’d – I don’t know what they’d do, but it wouldn’t be good.” Rake groaned, “Come now. I would not be your best friend if I didn’t pull you back onto your feet and take you home.”

“Where am I?”

“Prison.” He threw his cloak at him and turned, “Come now, Largos the Great commands your attendance  in the Great Hall. This time it’s going to be a public humiliation.”

“It’s not going to be that bad is it?”

Rake turned and showed him the guards from the Royal Baltic Wizard Scholarship standing in wait outside the cell, “Yes it is.”

The whole class of the R.B.W.S. was in attendance for this special assembly. Nobody was permitted to their classes until Zoltar was dealt with – and yes, he was being treated as an example to the rest of the class.

Rake stood by his best friend in front of Largos the Great – the owner, Dean and Head Wizard of the Royal Baltic Wizard Scholarship – and the guards were at attention around the two. Zoltar wondered what he was in for, because he had never had this kind of treatment before, normally he was taken into the office and reprimanded then sent away to ‘think about what he had done’ with a few of his powers reduced for two weeks or so.

Somehow, he thought, this was going to be different.

“Zoltar, son of Fouad the Miner of the Coal and of Gretle of the Princess of the Lands Across the Horizon – which I’ve never heard of – brother to Stormester, the greatest Witch this side of the Western Junction of the Darkness Ranges, I understand you have been out for the last three nights without permission.” Largos’ voice thundered around the Great Hall, echoing around the place, causing him to feel alone, even though it was full of students, staff and guards.

“Three nights? Has it been that long?” he asked, “Um… it seems so.”

“You came to this wizard school on a recommendation by your friend, Rake, who told me you were a natural wizard – just as your sister has her powers from the Gods.” Largos said, “You didn’t buy them, you didn’t barter with the Devil, nor did you make a deal with anyone of Power to obtain them… they were naturally instilled within you.”

“Yes, Great Wizard.” He answered.

“Seeing you cannot control your … urges… I have no other choice but to take your powers from you until you can control yourself.”

Zoltar’s gut turned into a knot, “No!” then he remembered where he was, “If that is your wish.” Tears blurred his vision as he glanced at Rake, whose expression was the same as his – shock – then he was led away into the back chamber where he would be relinquished of his powers.

He woke in his bed with Rake laying a cool cloth over his head and horns. Pain racked his body as he shook, “Why am I in so much pain?”

“It’s the withdrawal of having your powers stripped of you.” Rake said, “You’re being suspended from this place. I have been placed as your carer and you must leave; so I have packed all of your things and your wagon is waiting outside. Once you’re healthy enough to leave, we will.”

“I don’t know any other home than here.”

“Not so far.” Rake said, “This is a test… let’s see how far you can go.”

One of the guards handed Rake a map and a pouch of money, “My old house is a few miles from here. You can have it as I live here now. It should be in good shape for you both to live in. It’s near a stream and it’s around good hunting grounds.”

“Thank you, Fouad.” He pushed the map and money into his vest and climbed into the driver’s seat, then urged the horses on.

The first month wasn’t easy.

Zoltar was sick all the time. He caught a cold, which turned nasty and he almost died. But Rake promised Largos not to use magic unless it was absolutely necessary. And in the end, he went outside and found herbs in the forest to make a tea to help Zoltar with his illness. It took a while, but his friend drank a large mug of it every night and he kept him warm by the fireplace, cooked all the right foods and made sure he ate more than once a day. Eventually, Zoltar got better, just as the first leaves were turning amber for Autumn; and this caused Rake some doubts, thinking that his friend’s illness might come back.

Instead, he found Zoltar looking around outside working on talking to nature. He caught him moving rocks from one side of the path to their cabin to the other.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes I am. I am stronger than I ever have been.” Zoltar smiled, “This is good.” He dipped his bread into the pheasant stew and ate it, “Really good, Rake.”

“Thank you. Glad you like it.” He watched him, “But I watched you today moving rocks.”

“Yes… I know Largos took my Powers from me. But you see, my Powers aren’t his to take. They are mine – deep down inside – and always have been. The pain I felt was from him trying to take them. I was weak from the fighting.” Zoltar smiled.

“Fighting?”

“Yes. When I was out the back of the Great Hall, Largos tried to take my Powers from me. But as he said, they are natural. I didn’t buy them, make a deal or bargain with anyone to have them… they were with me when I was born. Nobody can take them from me.”

“So, why did you party so hard?”

Zoltar grinned, “Because he expected me to. That place was too…” he rubbed his fingertips of his left hand together, trying to find the right word, “…pompous and rich for me, just as it is for you. We need to use nature like it is now, out here to make our Powers work properly.” He looked around the cabin, “I still don’t know how you found this place.”

“One of the guards gave it to us.”

“Which one?”

“Fouad.”

“Oh… my father’s name was Frouad.”

Fire Starter

Chuck gave this great link to a wonderful and weird site of odd idioms gone nuts. Well, we got to pick one out of many, many great ones. I picked out 'Great Minds Can Start A Great Fire'. And boy! Did I start a great fire!!! 

enjoy!

With her hands out hovering over the kindling, Steph opened her mind, “This has to work!” she shivered as the night’s cold air chilled through her clothes, “Come on!”

Her hands shook as a glow emitted from them – but it wasn’t enough to make the fire ignite; and she swore as the tiniest puff of smoke filtered between the twigs and vanished with the next breeze, “Oh, fuck it!” she pulled out a box of matches from her pocket and struck the side of the box, grumbling, “I used to be able to do this fuckin’ shit.”

“Hey Steph… how’s tricks?” Owen sat next to her as she blew on the small flame and added to it until she had a nice fire going.

Pocketing the matches, she sniffed, “I still can’t get the damned thing going without matches… I used to do this with my hands and my mind.”

“I know.” He reached out to sooth her shoulder with his hand, but thought better of it. She could still give out a fairly solid jolt to anyone standing nearby without touching them if she was pissed off enough – but lighting a fire? – that was something completely different, “Wish I could help you with that… but like the Professor said, it’ll happen you least expect it.”

She looked over her shoulder at him, “He also said to keep practicing, but no matter what happens, no matter how much I do, I find that I just can’t get in and light a basic camp fire.” Holding out her right hand, she made a gesture at the flames as though she was grabbing a handful of it, and some of it separated from the blaze itself and moved – crackling – into the palm of her hand, “This? This I can do without thinking.”

Owen’s eyes widened, “Woah! That’s too cool! Freaky as shit, but too cool!” he hesitated, “Wait…” he shuffled around to her side, holding his hands around the flames and – before her eyes – turned the flames, as they were licking the air, into a solid sculpture of ice, “How’s that for fun!” taking it from her possession, he held it in his hands; knowing she’d never touch it.

“Good show, Owen.” The Professor’s voice said behind him, “Great signs of control and Stephanie, you’ve worked well with Owen for once. But don’t worry about your inability to start a fire with your mind – it’ll come. You’re not the first student in my care to stumble; nor will you be the last.” He smiled, “Now, it’s time to come in, it’s almost curfew.”

Weeks passed by and all the students studied hard, worked on their special skills and Steph still found lighting a fire difficult. She wished she could figure out why it was so hard for her; and yet so easy for everyone else.

Even Owen was adapting to his abilities and she barely saw him anymore.

She walked into her room one afternoon and found she had a new room-mate looking through her things. Slamming the door closed, she watched with glee as the new person turned, starting at the noise, “Hi. So nice to know that I can trust another strange weirdo to go through my things.”

“I’m sorry, I thought to figure out who you were before you came back… I find it easier.” The young girl said; she couldn’t have been ten years old.

“Put my things down.” She fumed.

The girl dropped a book she was holding as though it burned her, it was smoking as it hit the floor. With tears filling her eyes, the pushed past Steph, “I’m sorry… I won’t do it again.”

Steph barely heard her as she knelt down and picked up the cooling book, opened it and found all the pages had turned to ashes, “I did it… I started a fire… but not quite.”

A week later, Steph went back out into her private place where she liked to be alone in the woods and tried to light another fire. She took the new roommate with her, “Okay, I found that when you handled my things, I became very angry with you… but I think it’s because we both think alike. I also like to go through people’s things to find out more about them… but I didn’t realise this until I looked at the book and found that it wasn’t my book.”

“Who’s book was it?” her companion asked.

She looked down at the girl, “Owen’s. He didn’t even know I took it until I told him yesterday. He was so mad at me that it burst into flames; and he normally freezes things.”

“Was it a personal book?”

“Yes, it was his journal, he thought he’d lost it.” Steph laughed, “I only took it because he’d come to me to see if I’d seen it.”

The little girl smiled, “Funny.”

“It is…”

“Stephanie?” the Professor’s voice said behind her, “Who are you talking to?”

She turned, “My new roommate…”

“You don’t have a roommate.” He walked up to her, “You were placed alone because your mind can join with another – you did that with Owen, but he had to leave.”

She smiled, “You connect other minds.”

“Yes.”

“Many other minds…” she looked at him, “But you never connect with mine.”

“No.”

“Why is that Professor?” she walked to him as he took a step backwards, “Why not connect with me – so we can connect with other great minds like ours – and we can…”

“No, please, don’t…”

“…start a great fire.”

She took his hand and … 

...the fire started in the surrounding forest...

…then it spread.

Rock'n'Roll Is The Devil's Music

Last week, Chuck had us making up sentences which were 15 words long. This week, we had to pick 3 of those sentences - our own choices - and make a flash fiction of 2,000 of any theme. I picked out:

'I said, drop the ukulele and put your hands on your head.' - Eric Goelbelbecker

'The smoke he exhaled curled to the ceiling and took the form of a naked woman.' - Susan K. Swords

'He limped up the stairs and leaned on her doorbell.' - Donald

Thank you all for your wonderful sentences... they were great! 

enjoy!

“I said, drop the ukulele and put your hands on your head.”  Lights flashed around against the darkened alley as he cornered the strange little offender at the end of it. Ray Boltano had been looking for a man who fitted this description for three weeks now; and yes, he had a ukulele, “On your knees now!”

“Please don’t hurt me, I’ll do anything you want.” His voice begged, “Just don’t lose my instrument; it’s all I have in the world.”

Ray pulled on a leather glove and picked the tiny guitar up by the neck, placed it into a clear evidence bag and zipped it up. He didn’t want to touch the damned thing because it was too damned clean… he’d never seen a guitar without marks of use on it; but this one had not a single one, “Come on, boys, head back to the precinct and check out this guy’s story."

The captain sighed as he turned the tiny guitar in the bag over in his hands, “Are you sure you have the right guy, Ray?”

“Jeez Louise, I hope so.” He sighed, “We’ve pulled in every person who owns one of these stupid things and none of them are as strangely-dressed as this one.

They looked through the two-way mirror at the man who was dressed in a dark green velvet suit. He was hand-cuffed to the table, and was quietly looking around the room, making sure he was alone. Then, he looked at the cuffs, pointed at them with his right index finger and they unlocked!

“Holy shit, we have the right guy!” Ray raced from the adjoining room, grabbing the engraved cuffs from his pocket as he did. He burst in to the room, jumped on the table and – quicker than the man could react – recuffed him to the table again. He removed the other normal handcuffs and put them in the bin, then kept his distance.

“Do you really think another set of cuffs will keep me?” his strong Irish accent mocked Ray as he pointed to the new set and found they stayed closed around his wrists, “What the Hell! What are…” he took a closer look at them and found they were engraved with symbols to keep him right where he was wanted, “You bastard! I have no magic with these on!”

Ray smiled, “I know. And now, I can interview you properly.” He opened the door a little, was handed the ukulele in the bag and showed it to him has he pulled the chair from across the table closer to the door and sat down on it, “And I’d rather sit over here so you don’t do some weird-ass mojo on me. Now, how long have you been alive?”

“Leprechauns live a long time.” He snorted.

“I know… I need to know your age, so I know your magic status.” He opened a folder with a thick collection of information inside and leaned it on his knee, “Age please … and a name would be good.”

“Aaww, shite. Okay, me name’s Shamus. I’m three hundred and fifty years old and have been using my ukulele for magicks for one hundred and fifty of those years.” He sighed, “I can’t believe I got caught.”

“It’s the twenty-first century, of course you got caught.” He muttered, “So, what do you do with your magicks?”

He pulled out an e-cigarette from his inside jacket and pulled on it, “You don’t mind if I vapor do you?”

“No, it’s not illegal in police stations yet; and it’s less messy.”

Shamus pulled on the device and the scent of lavender filled the room, as did the vapor. The smoke he exhaled curled up the ceiling and took the form of a naked woman – this was something Ray had to do a double-take at because he’d never seen somebody do this before, and it only stayed a moment or two before it dissipated, “I make women think they’re men are cheating on them in such a way, they end up killing them.” he chuckled, “I end up disappearing just as they come to their senses and you guys show up… and who would believe some woman yappin’ about a Leprechaun?”

It was then Ray realised who he had in custody. So many women had gone to prison because they had violently murdered their husbands, boyfriends and fiancés – and they had all mentioned a man in a green suit who was there the whole time, telling them their nearest and dearest was being unfaithful, “I see. So, how does the ukulele come into play?”

“I have it playing over the phone when we start talking… but they barely hear it; so they don’t really notice it’s a spell I’m casting.” He said.

Ray glanced at the tiny instrument he had leaned up against the wall next to him in the bag, “So, if I was to play it, I could cast a spell?”

“No… yes… kind of.” He shrugged, “You have to have the gift of the gab.”

Dumping the file folder on the floor to his right, Ray picked up the evidence bag and looked at it. He didn’t know if Shamus was talking him into touching this thing by being negative about it – or he seriously was being honest about how it all worked, “Why doesn’t it show any age or use marks?”

“It’s magical… I cast spells with it.” He answered, “Just like these cuffs are magical and I can’t get out of them.”

“If I was to break or burn this ukulele, what would happen to you?”

“It’s not me you should be concerned about, Detective, it’s your own safety.” Shamus said.

“Why?”

“Well, seeing you’re handling the bag without gloves, you’ve already touched the instrument – even though it’s in a bag – and seeing it’s not destroyed you already, it shows it wants to connect with you.” The man in green said, “This means it’s finished with me and wants to work with you… if you’d notice what colour your suit is now, you’d understand.”

Ray looked down at his suit and found his dark grey, off-the-rack suit he’d worn that morning, had turned into the same green suit as Shamus’, “Oh my God!” Glaring up at the man, he growled, “What have you done to me!”

“Nothing, honest, I would never do something to you, because you are only doing your job, Detective. It’s the tiny instrument you have in your hands… and trust me, once it’s made its mind up, you cannot escape it.”

“But your suit is the same … it hasn’t changed… so it means I’m working for you.” Ray said.

From the two-way mirror, the Captain watched Ray as he began yelling at the empty chair in the room, “What’s wrong with Ray?”

The precinct psychiatrist watched on, “Who is he talking to?”

“We better get in there.”

They opened the door to find one of their finest, about to destroy a ukulele. But then, he stopped himself in mid-swing and looked at it, looked at the chair, “You’re asking me to take over your job?”

Shamus glanced at the two intruders, and back at him, “And be careful of these two – they can’t understand what a goldmine you’re onto; because if they find out how precious that little guitar is, they’ll want it too.”

Ray held the guitar close to his chest, “You can’t have it!”

“We don’t want it… and who are you talking to in here?”

“Shamus… he’s right there.” He pointed to the chair, “Can’t you see him?”

The Captain and the shrink looked at each other and back at him, “We let Shamus go over two hours ago. I don’t know who you’re talking to Ray, but your shift finished five hours ago, you should be at home sleeping.” The Captain said, “Take the little guitar home if you want to, it doesn’t bother us in the least. Shamus said he didn’t want it anymore anyway… he wanted to buy a new one.”

“It’s magical.” Ray said as he was led from the room and outside to a squad car where he was driven home.

There you go, Detective Boltano, “Now, sir, get some sleep, you’ll feel better tomorrow morning.”

“Yeah, better.” He walked up to the apartment building, let himself in and started up the stairs towards the third floor (the lifts still weren’t working).

“So, you’re out!” Shamus showed up at the end of the second corridor, “Wonderful! Your training starts now… play the song that’s been going around in your head since you left the station – don’t tell me you haven’t heard one; it's there.”

As he pulled the ukulele from the evidence bag, the music he’d heard whispering from it became louder. His fingers twitched and he started strumming the strings of the instrument as he walked along the corridor. One of the doors began to glow a bright yellow/gold colour in time with the music as he approached it, and with half-closed lids, he watched it as heard a fight behind it escalate. Ringing the doorbell, Ray heard it stop suddenly and the door open, “I heard noise, are you okay Ma’am?”

His voice sounded so even and ordinary compared to how he thought it would.

“She’s fine… bugger off!” the man shoved him, but Ray didn’t move. Instead, he pulled his piece and shot the man.

The woman screamed as her husband dropped to the floor, dead, “You murdered my husband, you monster!”

He smiled as he turned and walked away, “Just doing my job, Ma’am.”

Ray played the little guitar and worked over a few people in his building – by-passing his own place. Then he arrived to the tenth floor, where he was splattered in blood and limping because his football injury was giving him hell. The last one was a prostitute – a woman of the night – and it was wrong to have her in the building, “Just simply wrong.” He muttered as he limped up the stairs and leaned on her doorbell.

“Freeze! Put down the ukulele and put your hands on your head!”

“I’m just doing my job.” He turned and looked to find his old partner, Bill Richardson standing there.
“Ray, don’t make me do this, man. I said, drop the ukulele and put your hands on your head.”

“Come on, you’re not…”

"Last warning, Ray. I don't want to, but I will."
"We're partners, for God's sake." Ray begged.
"Correction: we were partners until you started killing people."
Ray took a few steps towards Bill, pulling his piece. Bill took no chances.

A shot rang out and Ray dropped the ukulele as he fell to the floor dead.

Bill knelt to the pick up the little guitar to find, a man in a green suit by his side, “It’s nice little instrument. Such a pity he thought it was magical.”

“Uh… yes.”

“Bill, just bag it and label it.” The Captain ordered as he tried to keep back the residents, “Jeez, we didn’t know it was Ray doing all this.” He turned and walked away, leaving Bill with the instrument in his hands.

Shamus showed up by his side again, “Now, we have work to do.”

The Ring

Chuck has us mashing up a list of 20 prompts. We have to pick 2 from it and write a story in 2,000 words. I picked out 'Time Travel' and 'Parallel Universe'... 

enjoy!


“Where did you come from?” his voice was clean, educated and right in front of me in the darkness of the lane, “I repeat, dear heart, where did you come from? One moment, you were not there and the next, you were.”

I looked down at the plain gold ring on my finger, inset with a garnet quickly, “Um, I passed out, and just awoke.”

He stepped up closer and, after hearing a match lighting, I saw his face, “Oh I am so sorry, I didn’t know. Are you all right?” he offered me his other hand – gloved against the cold – to help me up.

“Yes, I think so.” I muttered taking his hand as he blew out the match.

“Step gingerly, dear heart, the cobbles aren’t even here.” His arm moved around my shoulder, my waist, making me feel safe and assured I wasn’t going to fall over, “You are wearing strange attire.”  

Looking around, I barely recognised the city I was in, that was until I saw the large copper hand and flame, “I’m in New York.” I muttered as his warm cloak was wrapped around me, “I’m okay, really.”

“I do not doubt you’re warm. However, it’s your clothing which will attract unwanted attention to your… um… your.” He gestured to my body and I looked down, “Do you understand?”

Pulling the long dark cloak around me, I nodded, “Yes, fully.”

“Now, please allow me to take you back to my house.” He offered his arm, which I laid my hand on it and we walked to his carriage across the road.

“How did you see me from all the way over here?” I asked.

“I didn’t. My dog jumped from the carriage and raced to you. He smelled you. He’s a hunting dog, but he’s also a protector.” He smiled.

At the carriage door, I hesitated. I was going home with a man who I didn’t know the name of in a strange city I had never been to, in a time I knew wasn’t mine, “Wait. I do not know your name, and I’m going home with you? A little bit too trusting of me, isn’t it?”

“Forgive me, please. In my haste, I forgot myself. My name is Franklin Joseph Ellison, from the Ellison’s of Maine. We are in the newspapers and railways here in New York City; having expanded from Maine to the south… but I doubt you’d be interested seeing we’re only a small company thus far.” He paused, “Your name, dear heart… I cannot keep calling you that.”

“Oh… Megan May Thompson. I’m sorry I don’t know my family history as much as you do.” I blushed, “I’m not from America.”

“Obviously, from your accent, you must be English.”

“No. I’m Australian.”

He hesitated, “Australian. I see. You must have had some money to travel here.”

“Some, but not enough to return home.” I said, “This doesn’t change anything, does it?”

“No, Miss Thompson, of course not.” His driver opened the door and Franklin climbed in, offered out his hand and I climbed in after him.

Over the next week, I learned so much about Franklin and his family. Even though he knew my story was a farce, he lied for me to his friends and even to his mother – who seemed to eat up whatever he told them. We attended dances and he permitted me to go shopping.

I loved this life!

However, I knew I had to return to my life in 2016. I was missing my computer, my television… everything I was so used to two centuries into the future. I looked my hands over at the ink all over them, rubbing at it as I had tried to use the ink well and pen that day.

“I’m not going to survive here.” I whispered as snow coated the roofs and footpaths surrounding our building, “I have to go home.”

“Megan?” Franklin’s voice whispered at the door of my room, “Are you all right, dear heart?” I loved it when he called me that. It was becoming so that I developing feelings for this wonderful man. In the semi-darkness, tears came to me quickly as I fidgeted with the ring on my finger, the ring I knew that if I took it off, I’d vanish from his life – just as I had vanished from 2016 a week ago. He hurried in, placing down his lamp on the nearby table and sat with me in his long, mahogany-coloured dressing gown, his hair messed up from sleeping, his features aware I needed to talk to somebody, “What is wrong?”

“Franklin, I don’t belong here. You know this… I know this.” I looked down at the ring, “It is the ring I wear which brought me here. I am homesick; and I’m in a time where there is no technology at all. There is no radio… no television… no computers…” I looked at him as I spoke and he gave me blank expression; an expression of not knowing any of those polyglot words, which were old, yet new, “I need to go home, back to my time.”

“I have an idea.” He smiled, his thumb moving away the tears from my left cheek, “In Philadelphia, there is a World’s Fair coming next week. I bought tickets to it and was going to surprise you with them.”

“World’s Fair? I’d love to go… see all those inventors.” I smiled, “It’ll be just the thing for me.”

“Right.” He kissed my hands, both my closed eyes then my wet cheeks, “We shall go in two days. It will take time to travel to New Jersey.” He rose and walked to the lamp.

“I have no papers for the border.” I said.

“Worry not of that.” He smiled, “I shall tell them you are my wife.”

The following week was so difficult. I couldn’t sleep, could barely eat and still felt as though I was in some kind of dream – that I had found a wonderful man in my life. Why was it that I had to jump time – centuries – to meet the man of my dreams, only to have to leave him? I often sat in the library with a book in my hands thinking about how I was going to tell him about this. He knew how unhappy I was, however I think he felt dreadful that I didn’t exactly know my way back home. After all, Franklin had given me everything I had ever wanted in my life. He bought me lovely dresses, shoes, hats and books (Oh! Did he buy books of all kinds!). he loved it that I was so educated and we could talk for hours on a subject without my mind wondering onto what he called ‘womanly things’ too much.

He also knew I needed to meet like-minded people.

We arrived in Philadelphia, staying in a gorgeous hotel and attended the World’s Fair. There were so many things on display with just as many inventors standing by them. The very first typewriter was there – as was its successor – which nobody knew how to use. I sat down at it and typed up a few lines to everyone’s amazement. It clacked so loudly and the audience cringed right up until the sound of the bell; at which point I looked up to find the inventor staring at me. Franklin was simply beaming – he knew that I knew things nobody else did. He knew I wasn’t from his time; as I had never lied to him about anything of my life from the very time he had found me in that lane.

“How did you know how to do that, Miss?” the man asked as Franklin assisted me from the very uncomfortable chair, “I have been trying to teach my daughter to use this thing and she hates it.”

I blushed, “I guess it’s just instinct. I felt the keys and knew what I wanted to type.”

Franklin smiled, “Can you make one? I shall buy it.”

The man grinned, “Yes! An original or a Qwerty?”

At this question, Franklin looked to me for the answer, “A Qwerty please… they are so much easier to use.”

Our time at the World’s Fair was wonderful! I felt as though I had a connection with every inventor there as we walked around perusing the place and enjoying each invention – which was the first time for Franklin, but was the birth of my technology in the future for me. It was wonderful to see this all on display at such a time when it was all still very new to the public – and Franklin bought as much of the new inventions for me as possible. There was the typewriter (which he wanted to learn to write on), the fountain pen, the wonderful and new vacuum cleaner, three large boxes of Hershey’s Chocolate Bars (which we nearly made ourselves sick on) and a movie projector (and yet we didn’t have anything to show on it).

On the way home, we passed the lane where he found me and I stopped the carriage, turned to him, “I want to show you some of my world – just for a minute.”

“If you feel it’s wrong, will you come back with me?” Franklin asked.

“Yes.” I smiled.

We stood in the lane with the carriage nearby. His arms were around me as I took the ring off and we were transported back to 2016 – back to my house – where I had put the ring on in the first place. Nothing had changed.

“Oh my god, what is that smell!” he pulled handkerchief from his pocket.

“My world.” I said, “Look outside.”

He walked to the window and saw how bad this world had become. Turning back to me, he shook his head, “How can you stay here? Why would you want to?”

“I was born in 1973 and I am past 40 years of age. Why would you wish to be with somebody who can no longer give you children?” I asked.

He walked to me, took my hands and kissed my forehead, “I do not care if you cannot give me children. All I care of is if you are in my life. Megan, please stay with me, this time please be my legal wife.”

“Oh, yes.” I smiled.

He took the ring from my hands and placed it on the third finger of my left hand as he held me close; and we found ourselves in the lane again. The carriage was waiting for us with the driver smoking his pipe, “Sir, you have been gone for hours. Thought you were not coming back.”

“I had to view Megan’s world.” He said, “We have made a decision.”

When we arrived back to the house, I sat down immediately and wrote a letter with my new fountain pen. I posted it off to Australia the next day.

‘25^th, May, 1895

Dear Gabriel,

I am writing this to you because you will be the only one who will understand and believe me. Do you remember that strange ring our late Uncle left me with a note that it was a time-traveling ring? It has a garnet set in gold – it doesn’t look like much.

I put it on a few weeks ago and ended up in 1895.

I met somebody here and spent a few weeks here enjoying his company. We attended the World’s Fair in Philadelphia and he bought me so many grand things to use! I saw the first typewriter ever! So very cool! I wish I could speak to you again… we would have so much to talk of.

Let Mum and Dad know I’m doing well – very well – as Franklin is from a good family and said he will care for me. We are marrying in three weeks from this date (look it up on Google and you’ll find me).

Love to you all.

Megan

25^th, May, 2016 – There was a knock at the door of Megan’s brother, who lived at Brighton in Brisbane, Australia. He answered it and there was a lawyer standing there with a box, a key and a typewriter in its container. The lawyer introduced himself with identification and asked to come in. After sitting down at the table with the family, he pulled a letter out of his briefcase.

“Megan penned another letter to you, Gabe.” He said, “This one was longer and is more detailed.”

“What’s the rest of this stuff?” he asked.

“Well, Megan passed away just after the Great Depression. She and Franklin had no children to speak of and so in her Will, she said she’d like to leave her most prized belongings to her brother and his family.” He pushed the box across the table, “There’s about five unpublished books in there. The key is to a storage place in New York City where her book collection is kept. And this typewriter was the first commissioned typewriter from the inventor of the very thing. Franklin ordered it at the World’s Fair for her to use for her books – along with other things on the day they went.”

“My god, she really did go back there.” He said.

“And she wanted to give her ring to you and your wife as well.” He said, “She claims in her Will it doesn’t make one travel through time anymore; but be careful – it just might.” He placed a metal ring box on the table, “If I was you, I wouldn’t even try it.”

Gabe picked up the box, looked at it, then opened it to find it gone! Looking up at his wife, he whispered, "Where's Riley?" 
Riley stood in her bedroom gazing down at her Aunt Megan's ring, glanced up at her dresser mirror and smiled, "Aunt Megan, here I come!"