To infinity and beyond!
The final frontier. As a kid, I’ve never acquired the obsession with space travel that so fascinated the prototypical ‘geeks’ of my generation. Before high school, my friends and I began to specialize: the road to anime, the way of the superhero, the path of fantasy, the . . . starport to sci-fi. Most of us would explore other genres as well, adopting one another’s obsessions in time. I introduced Dasad to Tolkien; he led me to comic shops, where I began collecting Batman; our friend, Lloyd, reveled in mecha anime, magical girls, Dragonball and Pokemon. We all loved video games so finding common ground proved easy.
Still amid all the late movie marathons and gaming sessions, their interest in space and future tech never really stuck. The nature of space and its prerequisite vacuum always seemed overwhelming and claustrophobic at the same time, like the paradox of a man trapped within infinity — or Marty always running out of time in Back to the Future.
Space is big. You just won’t believe how vastly, hugely, mind-bogglingly big it is. I mean, you may think it’s a long way down the road to the drug store, but that’s just peanuts to space. — Douglas Adams Continue reading
Occasionally sent to retrieve my lil’ sister (Bree) and cousin (Kathleen) from their private nun-guarded edifice of education, I oft on these occasions send the odd text in order to inform said girls the make and model of my vehicle as well as the when and where to meet me. Because of the now numerous siblings, uncles, cousins, fathers, and well-trained pets capable to carpool, constant cellular communication is crucial, see? Continue reading
“I almost prayed that you wouldn’t ‘ve shown . . .”
“Nothing to be done now,” Paul sighed. “Last time they emerged after only a day. Twenty-four hours. The paste Alice gave me should be wearing off too. They’ll smell me soon enough and the whole area will become an overturned hornet’s nest. Just like last time.” Continue reading
Two weeks, no posts. Sorry about that. I’ve been working on this particular story for some time now, never quite getting it to the point where I felt comfortable publishing it or in this case, sharing it with others. To paraphrase Hamlet, the ending is the thing, one which I haven’t been able to master yet. Honestly, most felt either unoriginal, confusing, or just plain weak, and after sixteen different iterations (sad, isn’t it?) I think I’ve found one that works.
Maybe . . .
Well, you be the judge (i.e. I hope you enjoy it!).
The blood dripped freely from Paul’s arm as he shuffled into the kitchen. The cut had not been deep. Only a mere scratch, but he had tripped coming out from the forest, aggravating it. The bandages – if you could call them that – a few medicinal leaves stuffed into the cut, held in place by a few torn strips from Solomon’s bed, swelled with the reddish-brown hue of dried blood. It was all that could be spared so Paul did not complain. At the least the throbbing had subsided, now only a slow waltz; his fall among the roots and trees had inflamed the pain into a tarantella, making the last league to the house an ordeal.