Contraband Photos

Elismarc flicked through the photos on her display. They were flat things, two dimensional images from long ago when 3-D photos and Holograms were new or just wild-ideas. Some of the photos had been taken using old digital cameras; others were scans of actual physical photos. Elismarc wondered what it would have been like to use one of the really ancient cameras that had required film. The photos they produced had such a dreamlike quality it was hard to believe they were of real people and places.

                She had stumbled across the cache of photos completely by accident. She had been combing the dark-net for hours researching forbidden knowledge when one of the links had brought her here. There were thousands upon thousands of photos of people and places.

                There were happy people, sad people, and people whose emotions she couldn’t quite describe. There were also pictures of animals. Some of them she knew, but several she had no idea what creatures they were of. The pictures of places were her favorite though. Those pictures showed bright and shiny buildings and exotic cities. They showed a world in the prime of existence. Not the world she faced every day, a world of darkness and ruin.

                No one took pictures anymore, unless you were a government bot. They took pictures of criminals and rebels so they could broadcast them for all to see. Having your picture taken was not a good thing.

                Elismarc input a few commands and downloaded the entire cache of photos. She could be arrested for having them, but she didn’t care. She needed something to get her through the dark times ahead.

Untitled Sci-Fi Story (2)

-zzzt-Suit containment compromised-zzzt-

-zzzt-Suit power at ten percent-zzzt-

**static**

-zzzt-Suit containment compromised-zzzt-

-zzzt-Suit power at ten percent-zzzt-

**static**

 

                Kesoka groaned and coughed. She opened her eyes slowly. Her suit’s view-screen was a mess of cobweb-cracks and the HUD display flickered in and out.  Her suit’s AI kept repeating the same lines over and over, occasionally interrupted by static.

                She could just barely make out the stone floor she was lying on through her cracked view-screen. She tried to get her hands under her to push herself into a sitting position but intense pain lanced up her left arm. Oh, right. That’s the arm you landed on. She thought to herself. It’s probably broken, or at least dislocated.

                She managed to slowly roll herself onto her back. She groaned in pain as she did and another coughing fit shook her. The planet’s atmosphere was deadly to humans. Her suit’s containment had been breached and she was now breathing the acidic atmosphere in.  Hopefully it’s only a small breach.

                -zzzt-“Kesoka,-” -zzzt-“-there?” her suit’s com crackled as a voice sounded around her. -zzzt-“Kesoka, come-” -zzzt-

                “Jet?” she croaked

                -zzzt-“Kesoka, where-” -zzzt-“you?” Jet’s voice sounded worried.

                “”You’re breaking up, Jet.” She coughed as she finished. She needed to get back to the shuttle.

                -zzzt-“What?” -zzzzzt-“-can’t-” -zzzt-

                “Jet?” she coughed again, “Jet, can you hear me?”

                All she heard was static and the suit’s AI.

-zzzt-Suit containment compromised-zzzt-

-zzzt-Suit power at five percent-zzzt-

**static**

     She needed to go. She managed to roll herself onto her knees, and stayed that way for a moment, coughing and cradling her arm. It hung limply across her lap. She glanced around her and saw a tunnel that led away into darkness. Might as well go that way. She mused.

                As she struggled to her feet, she noticed her pistol lying in the dirt. She managed to pick it up without falling over and gripped it tightly in her hand. Who knows what I’ll run into.

 

                A blast sounded and suddenly one of the men in front of them pitched over. Jet and Aleryus used the distraction to take care of the other two. The skirmish was over in seconds they both glanced in the direction of the shot that had saved their lives. They looked in time just to see a suited figure pitch forward into the sand.

                “Kesoka!” Jet yelled and dashed toward her. Aleryus followed close behind. They could see her suit’s damage before they even reached her. Her helmet was dented and its view-screen was shattered. Pieces of the screen lay in the sand. There was a long gash in the suit’s plaiting exposing it to the atmosphere and the left shoulder section was very obviously popped out of place.

                “Roll her onto her back.” Aleryus told Jet. The ridged plate along her spine showed no dents so he felt safe in his request. “We need to get her helmet off.”

                His friend rolled her over and gently removed her helmet. Her eyes were closed and her skin was pale and clammy. Aleryus felt her neck for a pulse and was rewarded with a weak throb.  Next he pushed his hair to the side and put an ear to her face. There was no noise.

                “She’s not breathing.” He said to Jet without looking up. “She’s been breathing the atmosphere for too long.”

                In response, Jet ripped off the breathing mask he had been wearing. This planet’s atmosphere was uncomfortable for his species, but it wasn’t deadly.  He set the mask’s canister to oxygen and placed it over Kesoka’s head.

                A few seconds later they were rewarded with a weak cough, followed by a weaker gasp, and more coughing. They waited as her breathing stabilized to weak, but consistent, gasps. Her eyelids fluttered, but didn’t open.

                “Let’s get her to the shuttle.” Aleryus said and he helped Jet gently pick her up and place her on the floor in the shuttle. Minutes later they docked in the ship’s hanger.

>>>>> 

Captain Dazok stared absentmindedly at the figure floating in a bright green liquid.  A mask covered her face, and tubes and wires were attached to various parts of her body. A readout on the tank’s glass showed a steady heartbeat and brainwaves. He was so engrossed in watching the readouts and his inner thoughts that he didn’t hear Dr. Chidren come to stand beside him. He inhaled sharply and shook his head as the medic addressed him.

“Chidren.” he said, acknowledging the medic’s presence. “How is she?”

The medic’s bluish-purple skin became a greyish blue. “Not very good.” was the raspy response. “Her left shoulder was dislocated and the collarbone was cracked. She also suffered a deep gash to the side which caused her suit’s containment to be compromised.  Because of that, she’s suffered severe damage to her lungs.”

“Can the solution heal her lungs?” the captain asked.

The medic shook her head. “If she was able to breathe it, probably; but as you know the solution only works for humans on what it can touch. We injected some into the muscle around her shoulder, but we do not have a way to make the solution breathable and still effective. Her lungs will have to heal on their own. If they do, it’s highly likely that they will never return to normal parameters.”

Dazok was silent. He and Kesoka were the only two humans in a crew of thirty people. He had been the only human for over a decade and her addition to the crew a few years ago had filled a void he hadn’t known existed. Their age difference meant he saw her as daughter rather than anything else, but he still didn’t relish the thought of her being gone.

 

 

Six Months Later…..

                Kesoka inhaled and immediately knew something was wrong. Her breath hitched and pain flared in her chest. She dropped to her knees, hands pushing into the stone floor. She had been breathing hard the entire match, but this was different. She coughed and tried to inhale again, which only made the pain worse and her to cough more. She felt a presence beside her and a hand on her back. So much for keeping this a secret.

                She coughed again and this time she spat blood onto the stone. Her lungs felt like they were on fire. She barely registered her name being called as she gasped for air and more coughing wracked her body. Dark spots swam before her eyes and she felt her body being lifted as someone carried her away.

>>>>> 

                “What happened?” Captain Dazok asked Aleryus as he walked into the room. Kesoka was curled on her side on a cot, a mask over her face, eyes closed. Her breathing was ragged breaths accompanied by coughs.

                “She’s been lying about her lungs.” Aleryus answered him. “She‘s been insisting her lungs were fine, so we let her be talked into a short sparring match. She was doing rather well when she collapsed and started coughing. Some of those coughs brought up blood.”

                Dazok sighed and mumbled “I never should have let her come.” as he rubbed a hand over his face. “What did Dr. Chidren say?”

                “We can’t reach him.” was the quite reply.

                “Excuse me.” a nervous voice behind them said.

                Dazok and Aleryus turned to see a small figure behind them. It was one of the locals. The people here closely resembled small humans; the tallest among them barely reached five feet. The only visible sign that separated them was their jewel toned hair and skin markings.

                The figure continued, “I was told the young girl was sick. I am a healer. I thought I may be able to help.”

                “Please.” Dazok said and the moved aside to let the healer move closer to Kesoka. As the small figure looked her over, he explained what had happened to Kesoka.

                “These symptoms sound similar to stiotine gas poisoning. It usually happens to miners.”

                “Is there a cure?” Aleryus asked.

                The healer nodded his head. “There is. I can’t say how effective it will be on an outsider, but if you’re willing to let me, I’d like to try it.”

                Dazok and Aleryus looked at each other.

                “We don’t have much of a choice, Captain.” Aleryus said quietly. “She’s dying already.”

                “I know.” Dazok replied. He thought quietly for a moment, listening to Kesoka’s ragged breathing. Finally, he addressed the healer, “We would be grateful for anything you believe would help.”

 “I will do my best.” The local said. “I will return in a moment.” Then he bowed and left the room.

A few minutes later, the healer returned with a stone jar in his hand. “I need her to be lying on her back. This ointment goes on her upper chest. If this works, the vapors should open her lungs as well as begin to heal them.”

Dazok moved to Kesoka’s side and gently rolled her onto her back. She groaned softly as he did, which made her cough more.  He sat on the cot and held her arms to prevent her from rolling back onto her side.

The healer took the breathing mask off of Kesoka and set it on a table beside the cot unzipped the top of her shirt just enough to pull it open, exposing her collarbone. He then opened the stone pot and rubbed a blueish ointment on her chest. When he was done he closed the pot and placed it beside the mask. He rubbed the excess ointment on a cloth looped to his belt.

“How long will until we know if it works?” Aleryus asked from behind Dazok.

“We should know in a few seconds. Her breathing should become less ragged and her coughing should be less severe.” The healer replied.

They listened in silence, waiting for the change. Moments later, Kesoka breathed deeply, but the cough that followed was significantly weaker. The next breath was shallow, but calm. Dazok hung his head in relief, and let out the breath he had subconsciously been holding.

She was going to be alright.

To the Forgotten

     Hey, I know you’re busy, but I just wanted to let you know, that no matter what, I will always remember you. I know you don’t think you are very important, and to most people you probably aren’t; but you’re important to me. You are one of the reasons I get up in the morning. You are one of the reasons I can keep on going, no matter how bad it gets. Your smile, your passion, your  love for life, the crazy way you “freak out” about the things you love- these are all precious to me. You may think you’ll never amount to anything, and the world probably thinks so too. I don’t. I know that I would not be where I am today without you. You have inspired me to become what I am.

     Unfortunately, as the years pass, you will probably be forgotten by most. Your name will never be in lights or flashed in the credits; but it will always be a name that is burned into my soul. It is a name that will be followed by “Who’s that?” and then I will have the amazing chance to tell the world about you. Rest assured that I will tell them, even though I know they will forget in the next five minutes. I will tell them your name and your story because you are important to me, and you always will be. Just as you pass on my name, I will pass on yours.

     Below is a poem I found for you, whenever you are feeling down and forgotten, read it. It will remind you that not everyone who is important makes it into the history books. Sometimes, the most important people are those who no one remembers.

The Death of an Unknown

There was a man who died today,

I do not know his name.

I know he was born,

He lived, he died,

And that he died today.

I probably never saw him,

On TV or in the news,

And he was probably not the most popular,

In high school or at work.

He was probably only well known,

By his children and his wife,

And might even have a friend or two,

Who will miss him because he's gone.

There was also a woman who died today,

Her story is much the same;

But possibly the only thing they share,

Is that they died,

The death of an unknown.

Yet being unknown is not so bad,

For it is a fate that most share.

So few are known,

Some by design,

But many just by chance.

The unknown are those

Who make the known,

Who pass along their name.

Just as a house is not a house,

Without its boards and nails,

Fame cannot be obtained,

Without those who have none.

So if fame is what you seek,

I wish you the best of luck;

But for those who at the end of the day

Are no more known than before,

Don't be depressed,

And don't be sad,

For you help the world to spin.

Someone succeeded,

Because someone failed.

There cannot  be the death of a known,

Without,

The death of an unknown.

-Tiffiny Hagan

Sincerely,

Someone who will always remember.

 

The Last Story

 Well, the only true story anyway. I've told a lot of untrue stories (I'm really good at those); but this story, this is the one and only true story I'll ever tell. It's not because I don't like the truth or anything, I've just never felt the need. Why tell the truth when a lie is so much more fun? The challenge that comes with building and building on it. The rush you get when you know someone has fallen for your lie. It's a kind of drug. This time however, the truth is important. Lives are at stake. Not mine, mine is already lost; but the lives of those who need this truth. Those who are unaware of what hides not only in the dark, but also in the light. So, I tell this last, true story for them in the hopes that they can do what I could not.

100 Sentences- Third Person POV

1. He grabbed the bag and ran out the door.
2. She walked like an angel
3. The dog sat at the door, waiting on it's master.
4. She cried until the tears no longer came.
5. The pizza delivery man was a vampire.
6. No one ever came to her house. 
7. She sat quietly in the corner.
8. The monster was smaller than they had expected.
9. The cat spoke.
10. He stared at the paper in shock.
11.  The man smiled at her.
12. They landed lightly on the roof.
13. The child looked at her with sad eyes and began to cry.
14. All of a sudden, the panther attacked.
15. The ship attached itself and set the air-lock.
16. A warning bell sounded.
17. The soldier saluted the lowering flag.
18. People came from far and wide.
19. She loved cheesecake.
20. The wolf had dissolved into a man.
21. He picked up the artifact gently, as if it might shatter at the slightest touch.
22. The mirror was fogged from the smoke and heat.
23. The computer buzzed, beeped, and died.
24. Her hands shook at the sight of it.
25. He took off down the lane.
26. "Good morning," it said.
27. The dog growled and showed its teeth.
28. He mounted the horse and rode off.
29. A body lay in a pool of blood.
30. The diamond sparkled in the sunlight.
31. The cat flicked its tail.
32. He grabbed the gun and started shooting.
33. The paper was crisp and white.
34. The shop was filled with sweets.
35. The plane took a sharp dive and leveled out.
36. She hugged the child with all her strength.
37. They looked at each other and burst into laughter.
38. The engines were on fire.
39. The man dropped to his knees, clutching his side.
40. In his hands, he held his grandfather's sword.
41. The floor writhed with snakes.
42. Pigs started flying.
43. The apple was red and looked delicious.
44. As she looked at the music, she stated humming.
45. Her work was almost done.
46. He glanced at his friend, grateful that he was there.
47. The phone rang, shattering the silence.
48. He wrote faster than the eye could follow.
49. The baby started crying immediately.
50. The song was sad and wistful.
51. The rain and hail pelted the windshield.
52. The journal pages were spattered with blood.
53. The glass shattered when it hit the floor.
54. Arms out, she stepped onto the ledge.
55. The horse bucked and whinnied, then bolted.
56. The car exploded and he was pushed to the ground.
57. The knife drew blood.
58. Her smile lit up the room. 
59. Her mother looked at her with disapproving eyes.
60. The peace was shattered by a scream.
61. Her dress sparkled and shone as it caught the light.
62. The town was deserted.
63. The contents of her purse spilled across the tile.
64. The sound of steps echoed down the corridor.
65. Strong hands gripped him and pinned his arms to his sides.
66. The dog cocked it's head in an expression of curiosity. 
67. The cat curled in his lap and began to purr.
68. Leaves littered the walkway.
69. He read the letter and his heart shattered.
70. He was covered in mud from head to toe.
71. The child giggled and dashed off.
72. He caught her as she fell.
73. The alley smelled of garbage and urine.
74. Her eyes started to droop.
75. He tried to move, but only succeeded in increasing his pain. 
76. They were not the results she had expected.
77. Her hand was cold in his.
78. The apartment had been ransacked.
79. The girl was dressed in rags.
80. Adrenaline flooded his system.
81. the gasoline soaked car burst into flames.
82. The boy smiled at her and she blushed.
83. The game was hard, but she learned quickly.
84. The teacher looked up when she heard the snickering. 
85. The man in the coat grabbed her arm and whispered, "Run."
86. She fondled te pendant absentmindedly.
87. The song touched her soul and echoed in her heart.
88. The paramedics started CPR.
89. The sword cut through the silk like water.
90. Loud music asulted her ears.
91. The silence of the empty house was oppressive and depressing.
92. She screamed when she saw the carnage inside.
93. The tea was hot and refreshing.
94. He slipped into the next pose effortlessly. 
95. He grabbed her and hugged her tight.
96. She had tried to find sleep, but got lost on the way.
97. Th field was filled with flowers in full bloom.
98. The stone was cool and damp beneath her feet.
99. The bag ripped and her groceries spilled to the ground.
100. He closed the book and returned it to the shelf.

Untitled Vamp Story (scene-shot 1)

"There's nowhere else to run, girlie" he said as he stared at he two figures in front of him. A girl, short, maybe twenty-one, and a boy- tall and pale, obviously a vampire and obviously injured. The girl was injured too, a gash in her side; but she didn't seem to care, even though she was backed into a alley and the only way out was through vampires.

She was supporting the boy, as much as she could anyway, with the height difference. As Viktor and his people approached she pushed him behind her to lean on the wall and took a defensive position in front of him. She drew the knives that had been fasted at her back and assumed a ready stance.

"You're not going to take him. He's not one of you." she replied defiantly.

"Yes, he is." Viktor replied. "Besides, we don't want to 'take" him. We are here to offer him, and you, sanctuary with us. If we really wanted to take him we could. All we would have to do is wait a few more minutes for you to pass out from blood loss."

At the mention of her passing out, the girl paled a little, but stood straighter and gripped her knives a little tighter. She spoke, "How do I know you won't let your people eat me if I go with you?"

"You have my word." He help up a hand as she started to reply, "I know, I know, "word of a vampire" and all that; but that's all I can give you." he added. He stared at her quietly for a moment. "Honestly, I'm rather surprised your friend there hasn't already tried."

A flicker of worry crossed her face as she processed the statement, only to be replaced by her earlier determined look. She obviously trusted this boy, vampire or not. That was interesting.

 She looked back at the boy standing behind her, not turning her back on Viktor, but not directly facing him either. He look back at her, pain and hunger on his face. An unspoken conversation took place between them, and then the girl turned back to Viktor. "Fine. We'll go with you; but so help me, if anything 'non-healthy' happens to either of us, you won't like the repercussions."

"Fair enough." Viktor made a motion with his hand and two of his companions stepped past the girl, giving her a wide berth, and assisted the boy, on one each side. As they helped him past her, the girl took a few steps and stumbled. Viktor used his supernatural speed and caught her before she hit the ground. Then he lifted her into his arms and carried her out of the alley.

Thanks and a Plot

Hi all. I hope all is well with your lives. I want to say thanks to all of you for reading.

If this is your first time here, I hope you enjoy your stay and that you will return. I try to update every week day (Mon-Fri) so feel free to check back in.

If you are returning, I am glad to know that you have enjoyed yourself here enough to return. Thanks for your continued interest.

Today, I am deviating from my usual "stories" to bring you a plot. At work today, I was trying write 9/18/15 I wrote down 9/18/25. So, after discussing the random ten year jump with my co-worker, we came up with this plot:

     A person is gifted through "lightning strikey" magical means the ability to travel through time. He/She does this by writing down the date that they wish to travel to. (Maybe they should find a book that lets them do this? anyway...) The catch- he/she can only travel to a particular date once. They cannot write down, for example, 5/4/1945 then 6/15/1999 and then 5/4/1945 again. There is the ability to travel to the "future" (defined as any date before the ability was discovered or any date beyond that that the character has not lived through), but because the future is not written, it carries great risk. Also, the more he/she travels to the past, the harder it will be for them to return to "their time" without someone noticing gaps in their memory (because they can only return to the "current date" once).

Sound fun?

The Message Van

He stared at the writing on the vehicle's roof. The van had sat abandoned in the woods all summer. No one knew where it had come from, it had just appeared. It would probably be towed soon. It was nicknamed the "Message Van". Sometime during those warm months, someone had gotten the "brilliant" idea of writing messages all over the roof, which was now covered in them. Most of it was cutesy stuff- "so-and-so loves so-and-so",  "so-and-so was here". There were also hearts, stars, and other various doodles. Some were dark and hateful. There were also a good amount phone numbers with the words, "call me" written beside them. Some had names, some didn't. He looked at his watch, he'd been reading the markings for almost an hour. It was time to leave. He picked up a marker, there were plenty scattered on the floor. He found an empty spot and wrote, "...but I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep..." He then capped the marker and crawled out of the van.

The Dragon

 He stared at the dragon crouching before him. He should not have gone out on his own. No one would know what had happened to him. His mother would spend the rest of her days expecting him to come home, like she did for his father. He couldn't climb the rocks, they were too step and smooth. Besides, dragons could fly. He would just be making himself an easier target. He couldn't dash to the side and try to run around either. The dragon's reptilian eyes tracked his every movement and it moved it's body to block his every time he tried. There wasn't anything to do but fight and hope for a miracle.

The Letter-Spectrum

"Hey, I can't find... Oh, wait.... Sorry, I was looking at the wrong end of the letter-spectrum."

"The letter-spectrum? Why can't you just say 'the alphabet' like everyone else?"

"Because that would be boring. Boring and ordinary. Why be like everyone else when you can be unparagoned."

"Is that even a word?"

"Yes it is. It means, 'having no equal, superior'."

"Whatever."

"Don't be jealous just because my cerebral lexicon is larger than yours."

"Right. I'll try to work on it."

The Orphans

Mikhal shushed the children behind him. Then, he cautiously peeked around the corner. They were still there. They had been chasing them for three blocks. All because Jered had punched that rich kid a few days ago. Now, by order of the mayor, all the homeless kids in this area were being rounded up and placed in orphanages or workhouses.  They wouldn't last long there. Ari would be sent back to her abusive father, once they figured out that he was a nobleman. Tym, who was sickly, would probably be worked to death. Jered would last the longest. He was a fighter. He would probably manage to run away again. Mikhal would never make it to an orphanage or workhouse. He was too old, he'd be conscripted into the army. The only reason he hadn't left after the order was passed was Jered. His little brother was such a hothead. He didn't blame Jered for punching the mayor's son, the brat had deserved it. He just wished Jered would show restraint once in awhile. Tym and Ari needed him too. They didn't have older siblings, and other groups didn't want the burden of a sick kid and a girl. He couldn't leave. He had hoped to hoard enough supplies to move them to another city, but now they would have to start over.



Art by: John Foster

Pink

Pink. Just the word made her cringe. It made her think of cheerleaders, ballerinas, and all things "girly girl." Wearing it was worse. It made her feel all delicate and proper. She'd read the words "courtly fluffcake" somewhere and that was how she felt wearing pink. Black was better, or even a dark grey. Her mother always said that black was a depressing color, the color of sadness. That wasn't how she felt. She was happy, in her quiet way. Black made her happy, pink did not. She could hide from unwanted attention in black. Girls in pink stood out. People watched their every move. They were expected to behave a certain way, all proper and poised and...... bubbly. Girls in black, well, they could be a little more...unpredictable when they wanted. Girls in black could be proper, but they could also be improper and no one would think twice about it. They could quietly disappear and no one would notice.

To Lie or Not to Lie

“Wait….what?!”

“I said, normally I’d-”

“I know what you said!”

“Then what’s wrong?”

“You would lie to me?”

“Uhh…yes….”

“Why?”

“Is this really when you want to have this conversation?”

“Yes! I want to know before we crash and die.”

“Well, because I love you.”

…..“Okay, I know you didn’t grow-up in a ‘normal’ of environments, but that is not how you show someone that you love them.”

“Even if the lie is better than the truth?”

“A lie is never better!”

“What if telling you the truth would get you killed?”

“Then tell me that; but don’t lie to me.”

“I’ll try to remember that.”

“Good” …. “Do you really love me?”

“More than anything.”

“Then you won’t get upset when I tell you that we’re going the wrong way.”

“What?!”

An Inconvenient Body

inconvenient. Yes, that was the word for the body lying on the floor. Inconvenient. It had a nice ring to it. Not panicky, but not completely lacking in concern either. It simply meant that a day full of convenience would have to wait. Life was like that sometimes. Well, most of the time really. Stuff always happened when you really wished it wouldn’t. Babies came before they were due, multi-car pile-ups occurred when you were running late to an important business meeting, dead bodies appeared unannounced and uninvited on your living room floor, the list could go on and on. It wouldn’t do any good to get frustrated over a little inconvenience. At least there wasn’t two.