Game Friday: Your Most Precious Gift

Has it been kind of cold where you are? A couple of weeks ago, we had summer come way early, but man, it skipped right back out again. Brrrr! Are you interested in sitting down for a cup of tea or coffee?

Cool.

Here's the group question for today.

**What do you feel is your greatest gift that you personally have to give another person?**

It might seem like an odd question, like the answers will be generic and obvious, but if you really drill down on it, I think our answers will be very different. They'll be as unique as we are. And of course, as with all gifts, just because we want to give a certain gift doesn't mean a particular person will want to receive it. A gift needs the right kind of receiver.

Here's mine: To delve deep into a person, even if you're not entirely sure you're ready to go there yourself. To deliver understanding and release.

Kind of a strange gift, yes. I even put it to the test with strangers in my brief and defunct tangent blog, Night Conversations.

But despite its strangeness, I like it. In fact, you often see me applying it to myself right here.

Anyway, let's hear your gift in comments!

Forest in a Raindrop

one day in May
I was carried by rain
and swirled into one
shimmery raindrop
I visited the cows
that live in the clouds
and led them to pastures
the fog had made

but the curse of rain
is never to stay
so I darkened
the mood of Nimbus
I tickled his temper
of lightning tongues
and hurried to join
the pattering day

but wind's breathless play
is to gush what to say
and I blew past the boot
teeming with tadpoles
so I'm on this branch
all topsy-turvy
growing my forest
the backwards way

The Run

(The Earth's north magnetic pole, stable for tens of thousands of years, breaks from its slow drift and violently races south. Some can sense the chaos brewing deep within the planet. For others, it's already too late.)


By a small, freshwater stream, the father gave the fishing rod back to his little girl. She was impatient, but cute.

Tropical sun pressed on their skin like physical weight. They shared zinc oxide noses and floppy white hats. The nearby resort and the Mexican Pacific hid behind tropical trees and spiky underbrush. But they could hear the bustle. The laughing and hollow whack of tennis balls.

The hotel staff provided the rod and generic bait. The little girl begged and begged. She wanted to hold one of the beautiful rainbow fish in her hand.

Unfortunately, she only caught snags and badly knotted the powder-pink fishing reel. The father re-spooled the reel and added a new piece of bait. Definitely not the kind of fishing he'd choose to be doing.

Flip-flops and painted toenails edged up to the water again.

She smiled back at her father. Nervous.

He had told her to watch out for piranha.

"Go ahead," he said. "Give it a good throw."

She pressed the button and stiffened herself for the big toss. With a chop, she slammed the rig down into the middle of the stream with a gurgling splash. Any remaining fish would be scattered.

"Excellent, honey!" he said. "Excellent!"

The girl hopped a little giddy dance.

Birds played in the bushes and glided over the riffles to snatch bugs. The girl couldn't stop mending and pulling the line. Sandpipers pierced sand with thin, curved beaks.

The fishing line snapped up from the water. Tight.

Rainbow spray drifted through the sunlight.

"Daddy!"

"Are you hung up on something?" he said.

But the line wiggled and zipped upstream.

"Fish, Daddy!"

A heavy splash rained drops. The thing was BIG.

Her excitement turned to fear. "W, what do I--"

The line wrenched her off balance.

He reached, and for a second, he snagged her wrist, but it slipped through.
Another tug partially spun her around, and she careened into the water.

He jumped in, groping, pulling out her choking face.

She still had the rod. It slashed wildly in her hand.

"Stand up!" he said. "Stand up!"

Her feet skated on the slimy rocks and couldn't get them to stick. He scooped her with his arm and grabbed the pole. The force fighting on the other end shocked him.

The rod snapped in two.

He hauled back on the reel, and line stripped off the spool.

Twenty yards upstream, a huge fish broke water and sailed in a cloud of water diamonds.

It landed on the bank and flopped, big and heavy.

The father couldn't believe what he was seeing.

"Is that a salmon?" he said. But he knew it was.

It didn't make sense. Salmon stayed in cold water. They never ventured south of California. Alaska, Washington, Oregon. Not tropical. Never tropical.

Cries arose from downstream. Shouting. Words he couldn't make out.

Then, something thumped him in the foot.

His daughter, up to her knees, yelped.

Another wriggly hit.

Then another.

"What on Earth?" he said.

Then, he saw the wave.

Hundreds of salmon. Thousands. They swam frantically, some leapfrogging others, some bouncing off rocks and leaving smears of blood. Some slapped into the forest.

He twisted and carried his daughter toward shore, but an airborne fish plowed into his elbows at the last moment and made him drop her too roughly on the bank. She landed hard on her butt.

As her face contorted and she began to cry, slippery weight divided his legs and another leaping salmon crashed into his chest. He was knocked down.

Tossed in the writhing mass, he was tumbled and pushed upstream.

There didn't seem to be water anymore. Just fish.

When he felt ground, he crawled and spit slime and scales. He finally broke out and scrambled up onto dry ground. Panting, he watched the creek, boiling and clogging with gasping mouths and flesh.

Desperate and confused, the fish were already dying. An entire population driven to where they should never be, and overcome by the vicious heat.


(This chapter is a selection from my novel Earthtide. Scenes like this one serve as a backdrop as Ulrich and Nami battle an ancient force about to spark the next great wave of evolution and depose the reign of humans.)

Undressed

naked
and unbound
nothing to contain
not a watch
not sleeve
not even a sock
remembering a shoe
remembering a walk
remembering an appointment
on time
just naked
and soundless lips parted
and the slow dance
and the muscles lifting
with the desperate desire
to whimper every sensation
you ever wished
you could say

For Emily, Wherever I May Find Her

What a dream I had
pressed in organdy
clothed in crinoline
of smoky burgundy
softer than the rain
--Simon & Garfunkel, For Emily, Wherever I May Find Her*

She turned the blossom in her fingers. The petals, so soft.

She thought about the old child's poem.

Loves me.

Love me not.

Loves me.

But she tucked the flower back on the branch un-plucked. No one could tell it had been picked. At least not until it withered.

She was unsettled by her dreams. The ones that left her soaked in the experience. Dreams are not so different from memories, she thought. Not when you look back on them. Not how you feel when you remember. But she knew that if dreams are one thing more than any other, they are unfair.

The blossom mixed in with the others as she stepped back. Even she didn't know the difference.

They fluttered in the breeze as she left the tree behind.


(*For me, one of the most beautiful songs, ever.)

Comments Link

Mud and Grey

skin pruned from cold
or squeezed wet
from an earthen womb
snow rain sparkles
on spider web branches
reluctant to un-shroud
our winter tomb

Game Friday--Word Gourmet

I haven't done a Game Friday in a long time! Clearly, I got a whole lot less fun for a while there. Let's remedy that, shall we??

I want to excite your taste buds. I want you to share some delectable, scrumptious words for a linguistic feast.

Here's the deal. In comments, give us the first word that jumps into your mind as simply delicious on the tongue. Just a pleasure to say or communicate.

As usual, I'll go first. (Samples the aromas. What I'm in the mood for today.)

Okay, I got it.

lavender

Ooo, and one more.

shivery

Your turn. Bon appetit!

Beer Philosophers 6--Your Prescription is Ready

(Dude 1 has just bummed some antacids off of Dude 2. Apparently, the jalapeno poppers are not agreeing with Dude 1's stomach and four cans of Yuengling.)


"Would you date a girl from a drug store?"

"You mean one who works there? Like a pharmacist?"

"No. Just some girl you met there."

"Sure. Actually, I'd date a girl I met anywhere."

"How about the one you met outside of the herpes clinic?"

"Okay. Maybe not that one."

"Which interestingly enough brings me to my point. Girls in drug stores are kind of down. More vulnerable. Feeling under the weather."

"Their defenses are down?"

"Yes. But on the other hand, they're in a drug store. What are they buying? What kind of maladies are brewing? There could be all sorts of things that you don't necessarily want to exchange fluids with."

"Or things that you'd rather not even see."

"Exactly. In fact, I still don't forgive you for those pictures you made me look at on that website."

"Parasites are nasty business, my friend. It's just the way of the world. I don't make the rules."

"You're a sick man."

"No arguments there."

"So, you can cruise the Rite Aid and look for prime opportunities, but you can really get burned."

"Is it worth the risk?"

"That's the question."

"Is this like your grand plan to pick up chicks at the library?"

"Let's not bring that up, okay."

"Hey, you're the one talking about staking the anti-fungal aisle."

"See. That's what I'm talking about. Why do you go there?"

"So you don't have to. So you don't have to."

SEED, Parts 11 & 12, Final

(Serial fiction, sci-fi)

Just joining us? Go back to Part 1.




The Mala understood human hands even better than humans. They fundamentally modified the controls of their interceptor spacecraft so humans could fly them. One hundred and fifty broke into three spearhead formations behind the leader, who was the great, great grandson of Eve.

Enemy long range cruisers orbited Earth in front of them.

But not many. It was probably the last force of any real size they had left.

Their orbital bombers had deployed and orange sparkles glowed over the land masses on the planet. Anti-matter fires burned, pillaring blue smoke into the atmosphere. Typical. The enemy had vaporized the population down to manageable numbers, then invaded their key objectives.

The Mala battle squadron divided into smaller vanguards.

The leader could sense the panic in the enemy fleet. But it was too late for them. Always too late.

Cutting beams activated. One hundred and fifty ships marked targets. They dismembered the enemy force in one pass. The remnants of human empathy tingled in the leader, but the emotion was easily suppressed. The force swept through chunks of imploding ships and sizzling plasma fires. Mala transports followed from the rear.

Earth would be denied to the enemy. The Mala had exploited SEED, and they required no more human assets. The enemy could not be permitted access to them. Even though they would fail to develop human weaponry fast enough, they could not be allowed to try.

The leader communicated radiation trail coordinates for the transports to follow. He imagined the dread of the enemy invaders on the surface. Their paltry fleet rained into the atmosphere and burned. The Mala would hunt them. No use trying to run.

On the transports, the human forces buckled into their landing vehicles.


* * *

A thud knocked loose a semi-circle of wall. The cut doorway fell with a crash. Dust billowed past Jax into the room.

Black-clad soldiers fanned in formation. They covered the room with the aim of strange weapons.

A soldier in the center held out some sort of device. He seemed to be scanning, trying to locate something.

He hummed and clicked low, guttural sounds in his throat. The soldiers trained their weapons on the doorway where Mikale lay dead.

Beams combed streaks of fire across the wall.

A shriek erupted in the room beyond.

Something thrashed and fell partway into the light. The beams ceased, and a sound like tinkling crystals filled the silence.

Thankful, Jax wanted to weep in hysterical relief. But he was still paralyzed. The soldiers pulled flayed pieces of some kind of body and arranged them on the floor. They shoved Mikale aside with their feet. The man with the scanner seemed satisfied. He motioned the others toward Jax.

Crystalline knives cut through the straps. Bronze hands pulled him to his feet.

Jax gasped when he met them face to face.

Their eyes. Not natural.

Not really human.

They reflected facets of light like cut glass.

Someone behind him ripped down his pants, and cold metal engulfed his genitals. The sensation was immediate and explosive. If not for his rigidity, his knees would have buckled from the pleasure of it. Waves of an unlikely orgasm rocked through him.

Then the device was gone.

Jax blinked. Maybe the first sign that the drug was fading.

The leader nodded and the two holding his elbows stepped outward and pulled his arms taught like a cross. Those glittering eyes aimed the weapon at Jax's head.

"Wait," Jax said whispered, his jaw finally loosening.

A pinprick of blue clove Jax in the forehead. His world curtained to nothingness.

All over the planet, the Mala army claimed merciless victory in their millennia of civil war. After the enemy was cut down, human samples were taken, mostly sperm, but some eggs and surrogates too.

Diversity was strength, and the human ranks would grow.

In orbit, the Mala launched heavy radiation bombs when their forces withdrew, and the dying world sizzled with energy. Not even microbes would survive long as Jax's body still smoldered.

-The End-


Back to Part 10.

The Under-Sky

green clings
to once-november
hardy
and last
as the sun
slides low
and fast
over days
and
over days

but once
an under-sky
glowed
with an under-sunset
in orange
caught in orange
tangled among
fallen leaves

and I saw
the blood
beneath the
happy light
unafraid of evening
and now
in the leaves
and over-sky
I can't
make myself
forget

Dust Covers Aside

|centripetal force|
*gyroscopic precession*
[camber thrust]

the physics of motion
turned flesh
and throttle

freedom deeper
than spring

SEED, Part 10

(Serial fiction, sci-fi)

Just joining us? Go back to Part 1.




The thing that had been Mikale spoke. "The SEED program must be terminated."

"My God, what did they do to you?" Jax said, wondering if the pulsing he perceived in the man's exposed brain was real.

"This human has been processed for retrieval," Mikale said. "The procedure failed. But mechanical control has been achieved. We speak through this control."

"Mikale?"

"The human is failing. He will soon cease to function."

The cable from Mikale's head disappeared behind his back and snaked from his feet deeper into the other room. Dark blood oozed down his neck. Jax couldn't see where the cable ended.

"Our knowledge is improved. This is our third retrieval. We may succeed with you."

Jax swallowed. Saving the most valuable victim for last? That was logical.

Mikale raised the syringe. "We will attempt to retrieve the information we need."

"Wait! No!" Jax tried desperately to stand. He couldn't let them cut into his skull. "I'll help you! I want to tell you what you want!"

"We would prefer to avoid the risk of failure," Mikale said.

Jax could barely breathe. "What do you want to know? Tell me!"

"The SEED program. Thousands of humans are in interstellar transport."

"Yes."

"They must be killed."

"But they're everywhere!" Jax said. "They're scattered all over space!"

"Humans are a tactical species."

"I don't know what that means!"

"In one generation of our life span, humans have ten. For every birth we achieve to tactical maturity, humans have 600. You outbreed us 600 to 1."

Jax shook his head, overloaded. He felt faint.

"Humans are a tactical swarm. Our enemies have exploited this weapon. We cannot prevail. We are reduced. We will be defeated."

"But we haven't--"

"Humans have been weaponized. But we have found the home world before our enemies. You will terminate the SEED program to deny our enemy. We will exploit our tactical position."

"Us? You mean you will exploit us?"

"We require the code to destroy to the SEED vehicles."

"Who are you?"

"We require the code."

"There is no code!" Jax said.

"We require the code."

"I don't know those computers in that level of detail! I don't know how to hack them!"

Mikale raised the syringe. "You will not disclose the information?"

"I'm trying to think!"

Mikale punctured the lead into the IV.

"No!"

But Jax's heart already shivered between beats. His toes felt hot. He wiggled them in his shoes, but the heat was strange. It poured over him, encasing him. He began to move slower.

A boom shuddered in the walls. Mikale's hand spasmed, and the syringe fell.

The building rocked, and a blinding, red beam slashed through the room. Jax was frozen. He couldn't blink. The beam swept a burning arc in the air and hit Mikale in the neck. A sizzling puff of smoke decapitated him. Jax had to watch Mikale's head fall with the body and manage three flopping rolls across the floor.


(Note: Next Monday I will post parts 11 & 12 together, and that will conclude this series!)


On to Parts 11 & 12.
Back to Part 9.

What If, Would You?

"What if you stole a truck, would you give it back?"

"No."

"Would you park it next to that one?"

"No."

"Do geese have feelings?"

"No."

"Have you ever looked a goose in the face to see if it had feelings?"

"Yes."

"Have you ever driven a truck?"

"No."

"Have you ever driven a goose?"

"No."

"What's the first thing that comes to your head?"

"Cement mixer."

"Would you rather drive a cement mixer?"

"No."

"Do you have any idea why I can't get geese out of my head?"

"No."

"So your mother's name is...."

"Beatrice."

"No it isn't. What if the truck smelled really bad. Would you give it back then?"

"No."

"Would you let the goose ride shotgun?"

"Yes."

"Awesome. I like the way you think."