Somewhere Among The Stars |
You “adults” call us lazy, and narcissistic. You call us the ME generation. You’re angry because our generation is all about selfies, and snapchats, and tweets. Yes, we are the ones so self-obsessed and it is upsetting because your generation, the baby boomers, are typically the ones used to being self-absorbed. It was YOUR thing. YOU were the original ME generation, almost fifty years now you have been the selfish generation. You took all the money, you soaked up all the government services, and you’ve deep fried a third of the ocean. You know what’s left for us? Unpaid internships, and Monday to Tuesday mail delivery. Thanks to you and global warming, going to the beach will soon mean sailing the coast of Ohio. Even now you’re making it about you, telling my generation to get off the phones and pretending we owe you something. The truth is we don’t owe the previous generation anything; we owe it to the Chinese. So the next time you want to point out the sins of another generation, look at your own.
0 Comments
“A dog?” he asked skeptically looking in disgust.
“A dog.” He said reassuringly “His name is Oogly according to his tag.” “Yes, very ugly. I’ll call the pound to pick it up, though I doubt it’ll get adopted.” Richman was probably right; no self-respecting person would ever adopt the dirty mop with legs. Luckily Sam had very little self-respect. “There’s no need for that if you’d let me take him. Just a little cleaning up and he’ll look fine. Isn’t that right little guy?” he asked holding it up in the air. He had apparently been holding it upside down and soon realized he had been talking to its hind quarters upon seeing the wagging tail. He walked back to the truck and placed it on the passenger seat. He noticed the air was chillier than when he arrived “Ok Mr. Richman I think I’m done here, unless you would like the scanner installations?” Mr. Richman nodded his head slowly. “I’ll take the installations, just to be safe.” Sam went to the back of the truck and pulled out a box labelled DETECTION and placed it on the ground. He walked back inside and plugged a few detectors into the walls explaining if they found anything they would notify the Paranormal Exorcism and Extermination Corporation directly. With that Sam wrote up a short report sending it in through the iPad to his boss. A message responded saying “Thank you for your service, Have a nice night.” And he drove home with the little dog fast asleep in his lap. He opened the door to an old room, barren only containing a few boxes and found the open vent which the sound was loudest. He slammed his wrench on the metal creating an echo down the vent.
A scatter of solid feet was the next sound he heard which eventually came to a stop somewhere else. He slammed the wrench on the vent again. Not long after came the little pitter patter of animal feet, not big enough to be a raccoon but not small enough to be the typical house rat. This time he decided to whistle down the vent. Sure enough there was a running of feet and not a moment later he was tackled aggressively by a tiny shaky dog with scraggly hair. Its collar was ensnared in its tangles but he managed to find the tag soon enough. Oogly, it said on it, and it couldn’t have been more true to its name. This was possibly the ugliest dog Sam had ever seen with wild hair that resembled a shower drain nightmare. It was very oily and for some reason, sticky. Gross. “Some ghosts you are.” Sam said half joking half disappointed. He scooped up the… dog with one arm and walked back down the stairs. Mr. Richman seemed less than relieved at the sight of the little dog. “My god. What an ugly rat! Aren’t you going to kill it? Surely that’s not the cause of all the noise.” He said spitefully. “Nope it’s just a little dog, your father must have had him around before his death. He’s seemed to have been in there a long time.” “You live here?” Sam asked examining the layer of dust with his finger.
“I do now, you see my father passed away in this very house almost a month ago, this is the inheritance he left me and I plan on keeping it.” “You don’t seem to be grieving much over his death.” He tested steadily. He noticed the small array of cobwebs on the ceiling. “Didn’t know him well enough to, he left my mother and I when I was only five.” Richman seemed slightly unnerved about the scenario. “Hmm.” Sam started with a pause arriving at the staircase. “And now you believe he’s haunting you out of grief or something right?” “Day and night.” He responded affirmatively. A loud banging happened as well as a shatter coming from the upstairs; eagerly Sam brought out his scanner and ran his way up the stairs only stopping to listen. Richman he noticed did not follow him remaining as white as a ghost on the first floor. Silent and listening Sam focused his attentions between the sounds and his scanner, which had picked up no readings. A howl vocalized through the house that was quite ghastly, but defiantly not like a human spirit in theory would. He noticed how much louder it was in e vents than anywhere else, explaining how it could seem everywhere at once. In apartment 21 on Walker Street the ghost busters themed played in a constant repeat as the movie kept rolling hours on end. A popcorn bowl had spilled over onto the floor where it had scattered in random patterns. The setting sun struggled to poke out form the dusty molding curtains, succeeding only a thin beam that ran along the room. It was ten PM when the alarm went off in frequent consistent beeps. Among the clutter of empty pizza boxes arose a porky man of about twenty who was less than ready for his night job. Last night this same man had received a notification retaining a brief description about mysterious clattering in the upstairs room of an old house and the address. Unable to find the source of the sound Mr. Proffit, if that was his real name, had called him suspecting the presence of a supernatural being giving the description of a possible poltergeist. The one called for the job was none other than Sam, the county loser and ghostbuster enthusiast. Sam, an investigator of the organization Paranormal Exorcisms and Extermination, was a huge hit on conspiracy sites as he strives day after day to prove the existence of the paranormal. Without realizing it he on a daily basis did the opposite, his only findings being the rats and shadows which roamed the walls of old buildings and spooked the locals but was little more than superstition. This particular call happened to be exactly that. He arrived at the house which was larger than the entire complex he lived in. Richard waited for him with darkened sockets for eyes, a scowl that could make demons whimper, and an irritated tapping of his foot. Despite his proud posture and fancy clothing he seemed less than gentlemanly. “Finally!” he said exasperated. “How do you do?” Sam asked in a polite manner tipping his hat. Something about the place made him want to seem as professional as possible, for Mr. Proffit, not so much. “Not an ounce of sleep! Not a wink!” he continued to say sternly. His left eye twitched a little as he spoke. “Day and night there’s a ghostly howling and the banging, what awful horrible sounds. No matter where I go in the house the awful banging follows me around everywhere! I swear if it’s my old man you send him to hell for the hell he gave me! You got me?” Sam took off his hat to scratch his head and placed it back on considering the scenario. Mr. Proffit looked between the acronym on his vest and truck. “Pee?” he asked with a confused face. Sam hung his head low knowing full well what was written in bright bold yellow. There goes being professional. “I didn’t make it up…” he said defensively. It was a stupid name for a company acronym, he was sure it was done on purpose as a joke. “Never mind then,” Proffit continued “Just kill whatever it is and be done with it. I’m exhausted on a daily basis because of some stupid noise.” “Can I have a look about then?” Sam asked remaining uninvited to the house. The thought seemed to have struck exhausted Mr. Proffit only then. “Yes, of course.” He answered meekly. The inside of the house was just as big as it seemed on the outside. There had been no evidence of major aging other than the large amount of dust covering the walls and floor. After his encounter with the tribal people and recruiting Claydle, the boy seeks out the Nest, possibly the birth place of Zephyr and her kind. And so he heads further Westwards carrying Claydle in his satchel all snug in its own pocket.
Zephyr who really admires her shiny harness was starting to tire from flying more often because frankly gold is heavy. Little did they know because of the bright reflective surface of the harness they drew the attention of greedy captain by the name of Black. Seeing something moving slowly and glinting brightly in the distance Black takes his ship and crew to investigate possible loot. Jaydin, Claydle, and Zephyr are captured by the airship The JackSaw. Captain black determines him to be a prince because of how loaded in jewels and gold he is, plus his bird with its gold harness. And so Jax being the idiot he is, doesn't kill Jaydin, instead planning on keeping him as hostage until he can ransom someone for his safe release. Jaydin plays along with it and convinces him that Zephyr was worth a large amount of money too hoping to save Zephyr. Both are tied down at the hull of the airship for several hours wondering if they would keep Zephyr safe. Knowing they would eventually discover the coordinates to the fake kingdom is just a jungle territory and he desperately tried thinking of a way to escape with Zephyr. He found none, not only that he lost hope of being able to escape Captain Jax's airship. Just as he did so an alarm sounds, blasting his ears and causing the ships crew to run wildly up and down halls. Red smoke filled the sky outside the window, and just barely out of it he could see some sort of balloon. Things go from seeming bad, to worse, as the floor began to shake with a horrible metal screech. During their time in the jungle, Jaydin wakes up on a bright foggy morning with his bird, Zephyr missing. Alarmed he follows her footstep impressions in the moss. He finds her pecking at a stone statue that was a very strange shape. He climbs on her and soothes her with petting, and out of the corner of his eye he sees something small move. Examining the statue more carefully he sees its a stone giant of some sort. at the center of its chest, laid a small mound of mud that moved as if breathing. Curiously he poked it, and jumped back seeing its head turn switfly towards him. In its... almost head, laid two large orbs that reminded him of the marbles his grandfather used to collect. The small creature clung tightly to the inside of the cavity, one again hiding its face.
Opening his satchel, Jaydin brought out a small amount of bread and offered it to the little mud person. Not knowing what bread apparently was the little one only stared intimidatedly. Jaydin smiles at him reassuringly and takes a bite holding the rest out for the little monster to try. The mud golem takes the bit of bread and adsorbs it in an odd fashion, apparently enjoying the treat. Deciding to leave the little thing alone he walks back to camp with Zephyr, only to find it had followed him from the safety of its stone. Deciding hes befriended it he starts taking care of it and gives it the name of Claydle. So there's this story on my mind about a boy and his giant hawk-like bird named Zephyr who explore a strange world by sky. Leaving to find more of Zephyr's kind, the boy embarks on a quest retracing the steps of his grandfather who originally took care of her. First he leaves a comfortable small home and heads off to the jungle where his grandfather found the chick and raised it. From there he encounters strange tribal people who get really excited and treat the two to a feast for no apparent reason. But things go from good to bad when they prepare the boy as a delicious sacrifice for his own bird. Zephyr shows a higher thinking intelligence that's not human, more similar to a crow's ability to problem solve. Zephyr frightens the tribal people who attempt to appease again with shiny bits of gold and jewels. Both the boy and bird are from then on pampered and the boy learns there is a connection between Zephyr and the tribal people through the hieroglyphics and images on the wall but doesn't understand what it means. The tribal people and himself speaking completely different languages is a difficult language barrier but eventually the chieftain describes a place similar to the nest, where they believe is the rest of her kind. With this and some very general directions north west, the boy heads off again declining most of the treasures except a small bag of jewels and Zephyr's gold harness she refused to give up.
authors note: I know this is a longer post but i really enjoy thinking about the story of Zephyr. A blank new world that can include just about anything, all discovered by back of a giant hawk. I love stories about mythical beasts and i think some of the story was inspired by the titles of Flight. Flight is a series of short comics having almost nothing to do with this story, but the covers are inspiring depicting a messenger on a giant bird. Yet the world is small, I found this fascinating. I just want to get it straight right now, this particular animation made me cry a little out of the bitter sweetness of its story. I won't spoil anything, but the story depicts my own fears and joys of being a writer or an artist. It shows the beauty of sharing reality and make believe alike as well as the significance of story telling through pictures or writings. Written, Directed, Animation, musical composition, and orchestra, all by Josiah Brooks, was fantastically done. If your interested I will post the link to his animation below. ↓
HERE |
AuthorFiction and science fiction short stories written by Alanna Shae. Reveiws and random writings also by Alanna Shae. Also inspirational works not done by Alanna Shae. Archives
April 2017
Categories |