tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29483927010726180012024-03-13T23:22:13.001-07:00Lesbian Zombies Are Taking Over The World: BOOK TWO!BOOK ONE will be available soon on Kindle!
After Rachel woke up to realize she wasn't a waitress, but instead was the Queen of the Army of Lesbian Zombies, she was swept up into an interdimensional battle for the fate of the Universes! (73 of them, total!) (That's Book ONE.) Book TWO is told by Rachel's clone, "The Me," ...
Brianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01616494058636881575noreply@blogger.comBlogger116125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2948392701072618001.post-30077472790725603132013-02-22T04:42:00.000-08:002013-02-22T04:44:24.765-08:00Part 22H: The Chase, in Limbo!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.clublez.com/movies/a_world_of_girls_kissing/usa/usa_girls_kissing_602.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="259" src="http://www.clublez.com/movies/a_world_of_girls_kissing/usa/usa_girls_kissing_602.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
OK, so nobody, not even a big tattooed crazy monster Valkyrie trapped in Limbo forever, is going to steal my left arm.<br />
<br />
<i>Plus I am not Rachel!</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
I mean, not really.<br />
<br />
So I take off after her, or I try to, because I try to run but I can't because it's Limbo and in Limbo I can only move via my mind. So I calm myself down because in Limbo you've got to be calm. You'd <i>think</i> you would be calm there because there's really nothing <i>in</i> Limbo... Limbo is sort of defined by it being <i>nothing</i> but that's not the case. Especially when you've just had your left arm cut off.<br />
<br />
"COME BACK!" I yell at Rionya, but she doesn't, of course, and she's rapidly getting away. I take a few deep breaths and I bring my heart rate down and I begin to run.<br />
<br />
Only I don't. I still don't move.<br />
<br />
"<i>What the ..."</i> I say to myself, and go through it again.<br />
<br />
CALM CALM CALM<br />
<br />
Breathe...<br />
<br />
<i>Run</i>.<br />
<br />
And I don't.<br />
<br />
Rionya is almost invisible, a speck off in the blackness, holding my left arm.<br />
<br />
"I can do this," I tell myself.<br />
<br />
CALM CALM CALM<br />
<br />
And Rionya is there in front of me, or rather, I am in front of her, and she is running directly at me, her pupil-less eyes glaring over her shoulder until she turns and sees...? ... me just in time to realize what's going to happen but not to stop herself from barreling into me, and she hits me <i>hard</i>, the kind of hard that would knock the wind out of me but I've got no <i>wind</i>, really, in Limbo, even all those breathing exercises were merely mental, but she does tumble into me and we're tangled up, and I can see my left arm but it's in her right hand, so as I try to grab at it I'm using just my <i>stump</i> to grab it, and <i>that</i> doesn't work, plus she's got these giant breasts and they're all in my face which, yeah, exciting, but not right now<br />
<br />
And then she's past me, scrambling up again, her centuries-maybe-or-how-long she's been living here giving her quite an edge, and she's off.<br />
<br />
I'm laying there, and I have to start this all over. How'd I do it just now?<br />
<br />
CALM CALM CALM<br />
<br />
And I'm in front of her again.<br />
<br />
"RIONYA!" I yell.<br />
<br />
She tumbles into me again and I this time grab the arm, using my <i>only remaining </i>hand, and she starts clawing at it trying to get it from me.<br />
<br />
Her garbledy voice snarls at me, more growl than words, and her hair is all tangled up in my hands. I still can't move, really, I haven't figured that out, but I have an idea.<br />
<br />
I mentally picture...<br />
<br />
AND YES, I am now about a hundred feet away. Rionya is pummeling the emtpy Limbo-stuff where I was laying. I'm standing way off to her right, and I keep quiet until she notices where I am and gets up and comes running at me.<br />
<br />
"Rionya, I'm not Rachel! I'm not!" but she's on me, so I have to focus, and <i>bammo</i> I'm somewhere else, a <i>lot</i> farther away, and this time I'm behind her, too. I see her pause, far away, and stop and drop to her knees.<br />
<br />
I hear something then, something that's not the garbled angry squawl she's been giving out. So I listen.<br />
<br />
Aw, crap, I realize: <i>she's crying</i>.<br />
<br />
She's sobbing, on her knees, this giant deranged beautiful monster, off in the distance, and as I listen to her crying and calm down a little more I begin to get a picture.<br />
<br />
Valkyries are telepaths, after all, and so am I because I grew up on Valhalla.<br />
<br />
So I get this picture and this is what I see:<br />
<br />
A woman in a chair, standing in front of a Revenant and a man in a trench coat. They are looking into some sort of Plasma Globe, a device I recognize but haven't ever seen before. There's only like, <i>three</i> in existence and that's because they require practically an entire universe's worth of power to run, but they can do <i>a lot</i>, including suck the power out of a universe, which is how they work, after all.<br />
<br />
And on a view screen by the side of the woman and her cohort is Rionya, staring at them.<br />
<br />
"Get me the hand," the woman says, "And I will free you from Limbo."<br />
<br />
Aw, crap.<br />
<br />
Rionya has turned around and seen me now. But she doesn't move.<br />
<br />
"Look," I say. I try to broadcast it telepathically, too, in case she's too mad to understand words anymore.<br />
<br />
"I'm not Rachel," I tell her.<br />
<br />
But I have an idea.<br />
<br />
"So my hand isn't the one she wants," I add, and Rionya starts sobbing again until I say:<br />
<br />
"But whoever that was won't know that until it's too late."<br />
<br />
Rionya looks up at me, and I realize, crazy insane or not, she's got the gist of this.Brianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01616494058636881575noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2948392701072618001.post-63153218082654189442012-11-08T04:37:00.000-08:002013-02-22T04:43:50.065-08:00Part 22G: The Me Has Company In Limbo.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://t2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRw3U6N7j5mx6OROx5pIvIe3qUK3AGQzVdHhXtuyKuIdaKYQ73gk5NaOdBrBA" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://t2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRw3U6N7j5mx6OROx5pIvIe3qUK3AGQzVdHhXtuyKuIdaKYQ73gk5NaOdBrBA" /></a></div>
That Valkyrie, the one who explored Limbo, was named Rionya, and she served as a cautionary tale that parents told their children, and scientists told their clones, as they grew up on Valhalla, a warning that straying from the Valkyrie way could lead to madness and worse.<br />
<br />
"<i>Worse?</i>" we would ask, as children, when the older folk would tell us Rionya's story. "<i>Worse than madness?</i>"<br />
<br />
OH YES, they would tell us. <i>There is much worse than madness</i>, they would say, but would never elaborate.<br />
<br />
Most people ended up assuming that Rionya was a myth, a folk tale, one of those things that parents tell their kids to keep them in line, not real like Hell or the Lattice World.<br />
<br />
I say all this because it would be only natural to think of Rionya if you are from Valhalla and suddenly end up in Limbo.<br />
<br />
And also because Rionya is standing over me as I wake up.<br />
<br />
And she is <i>mad</i> -- in both senses of the word.<br />
<br />
I can tell she is mad, crazy, insane, and also mad, <i>angry</i>, because she is literally frothing at the mouth, and because her eyes are wild -- wide and bloodshot and lacking any pupils whatsoever-- and her hair, which would have been down to her waist if not longer if combed stuck out in all directions, a bizarre hairscape of three, maybe four dimensions. She is naked, and covered in strange tattoos that seem like words but aren't in any language I can understand.<br />
<br />
She's standing there, probably eight feet tall, pointing a finger down at me.<br />
<br />
And speaking in some sort of garbled voice.<br />
<br />
I can't understand a word she was saying.<br />
<br />
"What?" I say, as quietly and as nonethreatingly as I can. I can't <i>move</i> -- all the stories about Limbo are true, that it is hard to move there, that <i>physical</i> effort won't move you -- and I am too shocked to be able to gather my thoughts.<br />
<br />
Rionya garbles something back at me and sneers.<br />
<br />
"I don't..." I say, a little louder, but she roars and interrupts me, leaning down and grabbing my left arm and lifting me up over her head.<br />
<br />
I dangled there, held up off whatever passed for ground here, staring at her crazy face with little wordlike tattoos on it, those insane eyes looking into mine, for no more than a second before I manage to squeak out:<br />
<br />
"<i>Don't hurt me, please</i>"<br />
<br />
but if she understands it doesn't show. She looks at me with one eye, then the other, and then with both again. I can't imagine how she can see without pupils.<br />
<br />
Then she puts me down in front of her, and I am <i>standing</i>, somehow, in the middle of a big blank empty nothingness.<br />
<br />
She doesn't let go of my arm, though, and looks at me again, more closely, staring right into my eyes from less than an inch away.<br />
<br />
Her breath is minty.<br />
<br />
She would be quite pretty, actually, if she wasn't so scary and deranged and messy and tattoo-y.<br />
<br />
We stand like that for a long time and then she backs up just an inch.<br />
<br />
"<i>Rachel</i>" she says, and before I can say anything she pulls out a knife, slashes it down, cuts off my left hand, turns, and takes off running.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://lesbianzombies.blogspot.com/2013/02/part-22f-chase-in-limbo.html">Click here to go on to the next part.</a>Brianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01616494058636881575noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2948392701072618001.post-83790553057885166612012-11-07T04:22:00.000-08:002012-11-07T04:22:46.249-08:00Shopping becomes more exciting (and you don't even need to have your own crickets.)Let's face it: Shopping online needs to be jazzed up and made a LOT more exciting.<br />
<br />
Everything you do online, including this blog -- especially including this blog, right? -- is exciting, EXCEPT shopping.<br />
<br />
Here is my impression of someone shopping online:<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>*looks at tiny thumbnail photo of a laptop.* </i><br />
<br />
<i>*crickets chirp*</i></blockquote>
<br />
You should be impressed: I had to <i>import</i> those crickets. They're from England. Adds a touch of class, having crickets chirp <i>with British accents</i>.<br />
<br />
Anyway, the point is, shopping online sucks and is boring and stupid, because all you do is page through stuff and click on stuff and spend more money than you want to.<br />
<br />
But now, there's a way to fix that problem. A way to make shopping more exciting. And that way is...<br />
<br />
DEALDASH!<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>*crickets rise up and cheer, applauding madly.*</i></blockquote>
See, even the crickets are excited. But there are those among you who may not get it, yet, and who may be saying, <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O7AVPUEo0h8&feature=relmfu">What is DealDash?</a> <br />
<br />
Don't fret: I will tell you.<br />
<br />
DealDash is an auction site, but one with a twist, in that it's both fun and RISK FREE. <br />
<br />
DealDash works like this: You sign up (for free) and begin bidding by buying some bids. Bids go for as low as $0.60, and DealDash is always offering discounts and sales on the bids.<br />
<br />
Then you pick out some stuff you want to bid on. Right now, as I write this, you can bid on things like Gift Cards, Xbox 360 games, handbags, and more.<br />
<br />
And the deals people get on these things are incredible. A 7" Android tablet just sold, just now, for $9.08. A woman's 26" bike sold for about <i>four bucks</i>.<br />
<br />
So you can see how it's like a game. Let's say you want to get an iPad for someone. Say, a <i>blogger</i>. Someone <i>whose blog you are reading right now</i>.<br />
<br />
Me.<br />
<br />
Let's pretend you want to get <i>me</i> a present, okay? I mean, I am here <i>slaving away</i>, typing up new stories all the time for you, posting pictures of hot women, coming up with phenomenal plot twists, <i>importing crickets</i><br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>*crickets cheer again*</i></blockquote>
<br />
<i>and you never even thank me</i>, do you? So the LEAST you can do is buy a hypothetical gift for the purposes of this post.<br />
<i> </i><br />
<i>Anyway</i>, now that you have decided to get me that gift, you want to save money, so you go register, buy your pack of bids, and find the iPad you want on DealDash and begin bidding. That's where the fun begins: each bid costs you about $0.60 (or less) and you get to compete with others to get the goods you want for the lowest price. You might get that iPad for as low as <i>$6.76,</i> the sale price of one on DealDash recently.<br />
<br />
And, it's RISK FREE, because if you don't win your first auction, you get your bids back, so there's no risk for being new to the game. Plus, if you don't get the item you bid on, you can go buy it for the price on the site anyway, and if you do THAT you'll get your bids back, too.<br />
<br />
It's like you can't lose. Isn't that great? Let's hear it for DealDash.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
*<i>crickets begin clapping, and a few do the wave before realizing nobody's into it and sitting back down*</i></blockquote>
<br />
<i> </i>DealDash is for real: just check out this <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ynh6_aS3l6A&feature=relmfu">DealDash Customer Review</a> to get another viewpoint on it.<br />
<br />
OH! I should've said <i>DealDash is for RealDash</i>. Dang it. Missed an opportunity.<br />
<br />
Anyway, I love DealDash. Love it. You should go check it out, too, and you will love it, as much as I do. More, maybe.<br />
<br />
That's all for now. I got to go find a place for all these crickets to crash for a while. Sweetie is <i>not</i> going to be happy if she comes home and they're lounging all over the house, watching soccer on ESPN2 and eating our Lucky Charms.Brianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01616494058636881575noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2948392701072618001.post-20560417021809554252012-10-11T05:03:00.002-07:002012-10-11T05:03:24.213-07:00Part 22F: Harper's back, and some backstory on Limbo!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.clublez.com/movies/a_world_of_girls_kissing/australia/aus_girls_kissing_0046.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="205" src="http://www.clublez.com/movies/a_world_of_girls_kissing/australia/aus_girls_kissing_0046.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
I spin back around, and see Harper staring at me from behind some kind of mechanical apparatus that she is also aiming at me.<br />
<br />
"Um... no," I say, and Harper looks around quickly, taking in me, Target A, Simon the Horse, and the impending collision of Hell and Earth before looking back at me.<br />
<br />
"So you're one of the clones," she says, and I nod.<br />
<br />
"I'm... " but she moves a hand a little bit, hits some sort of button or trigger and the machine blasts a burst of energy at me, all greenish-yellow, and I black out...<br />
<br />
...and wake up, what seems like immediately but I'm not sure it it. Who can tell how much time has passed when you've been unconscious? Not me, not when I wake up in Limbo.<br />
<br />
I know about Limbo. Lots of people know about Limbo. Limbo is what keeps the dimensions separate, and it's kind of a dimension on its own and kind of not. It's the space between all the dimensions and some people, like the Valkyries, think that Limbo is to be avoided at all costs, that once you go into Limbo you cannot ever truly leave it, that part of your soul will always be anchored to Limbo and you will be stuck there forever, not again being able to fully participate in life on any other dimension.<br />
<br />
The Valkyries even have a legend, about a Valkyrie who wanted to explore Limbo, who as a little girl listened to the stories of the haunted souls who went to Limbo and came back with vacant eyes and dessicated minds, women who had lost their legendary love of battle and sex and honor and instead took to sitting in the forests of Valhalla, keening in sorrow over what they had lost -- a piece of themselves, people said -- a vital one. People talk about that Valkyrie and how she set out to determine what Limbo <i>was</i>, really, and why it did that to Valkyries, whether Limbo could be conquered and if so how.<br />
<br />
That Valkyrie, they said, wasn't like the others. She was different from the rest of them, a Valkyrie more in name than in spirit. She'd never had a horse, never really had a lover, and when the Valkyrie would ride to battle, that one would hang back, avoiding the bloodlust of the battlefield, the carnage that made other Valkyrie feel alive.<br />
<br />
At home, on Valhalla, the woman who'd wanted to explore Limbo hadn't spent her time furthering scientific research, the chosen hobby for most of the residents of that dimension. She hadn't been interested in the forests, with their peaceful quiet solitude under the mile-high trees. She had spent her time alone, in her rooms, staring up at the sky, as if she could look into Limbo from her bedroom window itself.<br />
<br />
And then, they say, one day, she <i>did</i> -- she had announced excitedly at dinner that she had found a way to see into Limbo and her parents, leery of this development in their strange little girl had said to her that she should show them.<br />
<br />
So they went to the window. Valkyrie can travel the dimensions, but the young are not allowed to do it, and the parents suspected that this girl had simply, precociously, opened a portal between the dimensions without knowing it. When the Valkyrie do that, they know how to tunnel through Limbo so they never touch its ether, but the girl may not have done that.<br />
<br />
So they thought.<br />
<br />
They got to her room and saw no portals, saw no dimensional rifts. <br />
<br />
"<i>Show us</i>," they told their daughter -- the two women holding hands as they watched their little girl go to the window and stare, intently, up at the sky.<br />
<br />
"<i>Look</i>," the girl had whispered.<br />
<br />
Her mothers walked to the window and looked into the sky, and saw Limbo -- a great gash in their own beautiful, blue sky over Valhalla where Limbo was clearly visible, its eerie blackness dangerously close to them even up in the sky, and they shuddered.<br />
<br />
"<i>How did you do that?</i>" the mothers had asked.<br />
<br />
The girl had shrugged.<br />
<br />
"<i>I just looked</i>," she said.<br />
<br />
The mothers were afraid, though, because this wasn't <i>looking</i> at Limbo: this was an opening into Limbo, and a large one, into the dimension the Valkyrie feared most of all.<br />
<br />
<br />Brianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01616494058636881575noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2948392701072618001.post-63892989105034279252012-08-27T04:55:00.000-07:002012-08-27T04:55:02.792-07:00Part 22E: Worlds Collide!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.clublez.com/movies/a_world_of_girls_kissing/finland/fin_girls_kissing_0040.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="275" src="http://www.clublez.com/movies/a_world_of_girls_kissing/finland/fin_girls_kissing_0040.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
So I rush outside, elbowing Target A out of the way, his smelly, saggy belly giving to my arm, and the horse backs up as I head up the stairs from this basement hellhole.<br />
<br />
The air outside isn't very much nicer than it was down in the parts room. The street is grimy and dark and the buildings are tall and gloomy. Raised on Valhalla -- clean, forested Valhalla with its few sparse towers that gleam like pearls made of platinum -- I'm pretty hard on every other place, but there's not many places that would suffer by comparison to New York City. I felt bad for Rachel having to live here, but only for a moment because I remembered that she'd only lived her for about a day before Target A had taken her body, dismembered it, reassembling her with bits and pieces of others and trying to animate her.<br />
<br />
Then I felt bad for Rachel for all different reasons.<br />
<br />
The horse points up into the sky. <br />
<br />
There are flying saucers all over the sky, and the sky itself is <i>ugly</i> in a way that I don't like to describe. It's... <i>boiling</i>, is possibly the only word I can use. As these flying saucers are spreading over the sky, their cool, dull gray undersides lit by tiny blue running lights, the atmosphere above them is turning liquid and gurgling and churning, like molten lava which in a second was what I realized it was.<br />
<br />
"Hell..." I said.<br />
<br />
"What?" Target A next to me is barely holding it together.<br />
<br />
"It's Hell," I say to him. "The dimensions must be coming together."<br />
<br />
We watch for a second the broiling of the atmosphere. I wonder if the flying saucers are related to the sky or not.<br />
<br />
"<i>We should go</i>," the horse says.<br />
<br />
"Go where?" I ask.<br />
<br />
We all stare again for a second. The red glow from the sky is illuminating the street now, but not in a <i>good </i>way. It's making it uglier, if anything, like everything has a thin sheen of blood on it. But people have started noticing. I'm not sure what time it is or whether people in a neighborhood like this care much about <i>business hours</i> but whether they do or not, the commotion and light are starting to rouse people, who lean out of windows looking up or walk down the front steps of their tenements.<br />
<br />
I hear a sound I'm unfamiliar with, a kind of <i>snurffling</i> followed by a <i>whooosh</i> and then a high-pitched whine that gets higher and higher until it can't be heard, falling right out of the top of the scale.<br />
<br />
Above us, tiny missiles appear: someone is fighting the saucers, which are spread in (so far as I can tell) an even pattern above the city. As the missiles near them, the saucers change their stance a little: I can see one drop below the others, and that one shoots out multiple blue beams, beams that freeze the missiles in their tracks.<br />
<br />
The other saucers, above that one, are starting to glow on top, a blue light that is emanating outwards from the domes we can barely see.<br />
<br />
"We should get under cover," I say to the horse.<br />
<br />
"<i>I'd rather leave</i>."<br />
<br />
"We can't cross the dimensions on our own."<br />
<br />
"You need to cross dimensions?" Target A says.<br />
<br />
I eye him distastefully. He's important to the plans, in some way -- I was never told what -- but that doesn't change the fact that he's dirty, and out of shape, and that he spent his life cutting up women to make them into slaves.<br />
<br />
He's also crying.<br />
<br />
<i>Dammit</i>. Can't the bad guys just be bad?<br />
<br />
"Yes," I tell him.<br />
<br />
"I know someone who can do that," he says.<br />
<br />
"Of course you do. The people you work for."<br />
<br />
He shook his head. "I don't want to work for them anymore."<br />
<br />
A pause.<br />
<br />
"It's someone else."<br />
<br />
There is more <i>whooshing</i> and high-pitched whines. I look up at the sky again. The red, boiling pestilence of Hell's atmosphere is closer, and it's getting hotter, in fact. Everything around us including us has a red tinge to it. I can smell sulfur. From the tops of the saucers, the blue glows are getting bigger and brighter, pressing back against the Hell-sky, almost, like holding the blanket up over your head.<br />
<br />
"Who is it?" I ask Target A.<br />
<br />
He rubs his hands together. "I don't know..."<br />
<br />
I sigh in exasperation. "Horse, can you take us someplace more safe than this? Fly low?"<br />
<br />
The man interrupts as the Horse says his name is <i>Simon</i> and <i>yes he can</i>: The man says: "<i>I don't know if we should call her</i>."<br />
<br />
"Her <i>who</i>?" I say. Now, in the sky, there are more missiles bursting against blue force shields. I can see bits of shrapnel raining down. The blue saucers are holding steady but the red sky of Hell is looming even closer. I can hear now a distant hissing sound that I know is a roar that is too far away to register as such. Hell is crashing onto Earth and I am arguing with a fat vivisectionist in a dark alley.<br />
<br />
"I don't know her name." Target A says. "But I don't think she's very nice."<br />
<br />
The protecting flying saucer takes a hit and explodes. The sky is full of missiles now and I can hear, from farther away, some rumbling that sounds militaryish. There are darkening circles in the Hell Sky that do not bode well. We are caught in a battle that is forming in the intersection between two dimensions and one of those dimensions happens to be the one that every other dimension uses as a place of punishment and prison.<br />
<br />
"Call her," I say.<br />
<br />
The man gets wide-eyed and says "<i>Don't say I didn't warn you</i>," and pulls out a little pennywhistle, which he blows into.<br />
<br />
I don't hear anything from that.<br />
<br />
The sky is starting to <i>fall:</i> there are large blobs of actual magma, fist-sized, dropping down onto buildings and another flying saucer has been exploded and people are starting to run and scream now. We stand there, motionless for a second, staring at the man, who is blowing with all his might into the tiny whistle.<br />
<br />
"Let's go," I whisper to Simon the Horse.<br />
<br />
"<i>Mom?!</i>" I hear behind me.Brianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01616494058636881575noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2948392701072618001.post-9899033682505972902012-07-29T06:02:00.002-07:002012-07-29T06:02:58.154-07:00Part 22D: You know what this story needs? ANOTHER RACHEL.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.clublez.com/movies/a_world_of_girls_kissing/brazil/bra_girls_kissing_0025.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://www.clublez.com/movies/a_world_of_girls_kissing/brazil/bra_girls_kissing_0025.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Things like <i>is Rachel okay</i> and <i>let's get the hell outta here and back to Valhalla</i> go right out of my mind and I stare at the Mosaic, as do the Valkyries and Target A, who has this gray, pale look about him but I don't notice much because seriously, <i>this Mosaic thing talked.</i><br />
<br />
<i>"</i>Free me,<i>" </i>it says now, and we all look at each other, Czaranya and me and the other Valkyrie, but Target A is just shaking and drooling and Rachel is lying there woozily.<br />
<br />
"From... um... from what?" I ask, taking the lead.<br />
<br />
There is a shimmer in the golden squares that make up the Mosaic and it sort of ripples and shudders a little.<br />
<br />
"From this wall," it says.<br />
<br />
I have been looking more closely at it and I've realized it's made up of little squares and that the squares are chips, like the kind that are put in people. Not even <i>like</i> the kind that are put in people. They <i>are</i> the kind that are put in people, on Earth, to let them Share, which is sort of like telepathy but not, as I understand it.<br />
<br />
"Who are you?" I ask the Mosaic.<br />
<br />
"I'm Rachel," it says.<br />
<br />
I look down at Rachel, and think <i>another one?</i> That's kind of a natural thought, maybe, when you are one of perhaps thousands of clones of one woman, and your whole life has been geared towards proving you are the best of those thousands and then the one that you are the clone of shows up suddenly and not only do you not mind that she's there and you might just have become totally irrelevant but you also fall in love with her.<br />
<br />
There's <i>a lot</i> of Rachel's, is my point.<br />
<br />
"You are not," Czaranya says, and her frown tells me she's been trying to communicate with the thing telepathically but had to speak. Valkyries <i>hate</i> talking. Czaranya points to the Rachel on the ground, the one I'm kneeling over. "That is Rachel."<br />
<br />
"I am Rachel," the Mosaic says. Then a shimmery thing happens and it says "I am Sonja." The shimmer, again, and "I am Darlene." Shimmer: "Angela." Shimmer: "Doris."<br />
<br />
Now I'm backing away a little as the shimmers get faster and the names get faster, each one said in a different voice, each one clearly a different person: "<i>LisaJenniferRebeccaAlisonBreeAshleyKellyGretchenAlyssaKaren" </i>it is going on and then there is a flash of light from all of them and it says<br />
<br />
"I am Rachel" and things seem to calm down.<br />
<br />
For the moment.<br />
<br />
"What <i>are </i>you?" I ask.<br />
<br />
"I am Rachel," it says.<br />
<br />
Target A suddenly wails "<i>It's true! They were all trapped and it's true!</i>" and he goes even more pale and makes a gurgle sound and lunges at the cabinet, trying to I think close it up but Czaranya elbows into him and he falls to the side, clutching at the cabinet door. The cabinet itself starts to fall forward towards Czaranya and she pulls back but it falls down onto her, trapping her halfway underneath it. It's nothing for her, I'm not worried about her because the cabinet is really light and the fact that it fell on Czaranya means that it didn't fall directly on Rachel, who was just starting to sit up.<br />
<br />
Then a bunch of things happen. Czaranya starts to lift the cabinet off of her, but Target A is trying to get at it, too, and there's a glow of light from underneath it as Czaranya lifts it up and as I start to try to see if Rachel is okay, she's rolling away from the cabinet and towards Czaranya. Before I realize what's happened, Rachel has grabbed Czaranya's spear and has pulled it towards her, the spear crackling with the energy that's supposed to kill anyone who's not a Valkyrie but dares to touch it, and the energy is dancing all over Rachel's body and making this fierce acrid smoke. <br />
<br />
"Rachel!" I yell. "Let it go!"<br />
<br />
But she doesn't, and she turns the spear head towards the Mosaic, touches it, and the energy leaps through the gridwork pattern and crackles around it and there is an explosion. The cabinet is gone, and standing before us is an identical copy of Rachel, only instead of <i>Rachel</i>, or even <i>me</i>, she's basically this woman that looks like us, exactly, only she's made entirely of gold, and her skin is patterned in a tiny grid of golden squares, all over, making her look like a golden mirror ball that has been stretched into a beautiful woman's shape, and her eyes are dark and hollow, and her hair, somehow, is both golden and flowing and slinky and also made of tiny little squares, too.<br />
<br />
"I am Rachel," she says again.<br />
<br />
We're all just sort of staring there, and Rachel's still holding the spear, which is going <i>nuts</i>, there are blue and gold bolts of energy just arcing around the entire room, and Target A has to duck for it and crawl away, and the horse is backing out and Czaranya, I see, reaches for the spear but then Rachel-Mosaic raises her hands and says<br />
<br />
"ENOUGH!"<br />
<br />
and they are gone:<br />
<br />
Her,<br />
<br />
Rachel,<br />
<br />
the spear,<br />
<br />
and Czaranya, and the other Valkyrie who I didn't even know her name.<br />
<br />
It's just me and Target A.<br />
<br />
We stare at each other in the dim light of the workshop for a second, the stench of dead bodies and energy and fighting clouding our senses.<br />
<br />
Then, the horse sticks his head in the door and says "<i>I think you better see this</i>."Brianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01616494058636881575noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2948392701072618001.post-17704147944714032102010-02-24T06:26:00.001-08:002013-02-22T04:44:54.547-08:00TABLE OF CONTENTS:<br />
<br />
<i>THIS IS TECHNICALLY BOOK TWO of the hit series </i>Lesbian Zombies Are Taking Over The World!<br />
<br />
Book One, parts of which are still up on this blog if you hunt around, is being prepped for publication and will be available as an ebook and hard copy soon.<br />
<br />
In the meantime, as a recap: Rachel woke up one day wondering who or what she was; she wandered out of the diner where she was a waitress, and on the advice of her Octopus walked south. There, she met Brigitte and realized that she was a "Lesbian Zombie," a construct made by a man working for a shadowy organization that is holding God hostage in Tampa as part of a plan to rule the 73 dimensions. With the help of revenants, a fuzzy bird, her clones, and her own daughter, Rachel worked her way through Valhalla, the Bubble world, and several other dimensions before being kidnapped by Bubble.<br />
<br />
Now, Book Two is being told by "The Me," a clone of Rachel made by the Valkyries, who with the help of Target A -- the man who made Rachel and <i>all</i> the lesbian zombies -- has to find Rachel and bring her back before all the dimensions collapse.<br />
<br />
Exciting! You bet!<br />
<br />
Part 22: The Me Starts Telling The Story:<br />
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_820450333"><br /></a>
<a href="http://lesbianzombies.blogspot.com/2012/07/part-22d-you-know-what-this-story-needs.html">22D: You know what this story needs? ANOTHER RACHEL</a>.<br />
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_820450337"><br /></a>
<a href="http://lesbianzombies.blogspot.com/2012/08/part-22e-worlds-collide.html">22E: Worlds Collide!</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://lesbianzombies.blogspot.com/2012/10/part-22f-harpers-back-and-some.html">22F: Some backstory on Limbo. </a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://lesbianzombies.blogspot.com/2012/11/part-22g-me-has-company-in-limbo.html">22G: The Me has some company in Limbo</a>.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://lesbianzombies.blogspot.com/2013/02/part-22f-chase-in-limbo.html">22H: The Chase, in Limbo.</a><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_CJiMltRI5UQ/S4U2xkdp0RI/AAAAAAAASXw/vkBCL4Y6WBw/s1600-h/cowboy.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441815949976654098" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_CJiMltRI5UQ/S4U2xkdp0RI/AAAAAAAASXw/vkBCL4Y6WBw/s320/cowboy.jpg" style="float: right; height: 148px; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 115px;" /></a>Josh and Presley wander in the desert, alone with just their horses and those specks on the horizon. Josh is slowly going crazy, and Presley's not talking. That's <span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Buzzards Loop</span></span>, one of the brilliant stories you'll find in <a href="http://stores.lulu.com/troublewithroy"><span style="color: #3333ff; font-family: lucida grande; font-size: 180%; font-weight: bold;">Just Exactly How Life Looks</span></a>, the new collection of short stories I've published:<br />
<br />
<object height="344" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/37Dm6RUvgOQ&hl=en_US&fs=1&"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/37Dm6RUvgOQ&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br />
<br />
You can read Buzzards Loop for free on Scribd (<a href="http://www.scribd.com/doc/27052858/Just-Exactly-Scribd-Preview">click here</a>). Purchase <a href="http://stores.lulu.com/troublewithroy"><span style="color: #3333ff; font-size: 180%;"><span style="font-family: lucida grande; font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Just Exactly How Life Looks</span></span></span></a> on Lulu.com (<a href="http://stores.lulu.com/troublewithroy">click here</a>) or on your Kindle, starting at 99 cents.Brianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01616494058636881575noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2948392701072618001.post-41758229995630244312009-08-16T07:34:00.001-07:002009-08-16T07:34:58.710-07:00Meanwhile, In Tampa... War Breaks Out Part 3!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_CJiMltRI5UQ/SogZDVRlEgI/AAAAAAAAPPw/2OSAku5bbuI/s1600-h/giant+hand.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 249px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_CJiMltRI5UQ/SogZDVRlEgI/AAAAAAAAPPw/2OSAku5bbuI/s320/giant+hand.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370570100680495618" border="0" /></a><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“Where did you lose her?” God asked.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“Lose <i style="">who?</i>” Samson said, but he’d already guessed by the time he said it.<span style=""> </span><i style="">Who else, </i>he thought to himself, and then had to focus on the now-rising Valkyrie that had been knocked down by Fuzzy Bird’s arrival.<span style=""> </span>He held up his ray gun, but the redhead was faster than he’d thought.<span style=""> </span>He’d assumed she’d been stunned but it seemed she hadn’t, judging by how quickly she got up and had the spear up and was slashing it towards Fuzzy Bird.<span style=""> </span>Samson head a yell and in his mind he felt her say:<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><i style=""><span style="">You stole her from us after we’d finally found her!</span></i><span style=""> And in his mind he saw, as he’d surmised, Rachel, this time being lifted out of a hole in the tower on </span><st1:place><span style="">Valhalla</span></st1:place><span style="">, in the clutches of this… <i style="">bird-thing</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">Fuzzy Bird spun his head and saw the spear coming and even as Samson saw the spear end glow with a flash of energy, he was being lifted up and so was God, each of them clutched in one of Fuzzy Bird’s talon-paws and rising higher and faster than Samson would have thought possible.<span style=""> </span><i style="">Definitely</i>, he thought <i style="">faster than anything I’ve ever been in and I’ve been in rockets and battle saucers.</i><span style=""> </span>The battle was already tiny below them, flashed of color from spears mixed with bursts of flame where ray guns hit their marks.<span style=""> </span>Horses lay on their side around the perimeter, many of them dead.<span style=""> </span>Samson knew that wouldn’t especially bother the Valkyries or the horses.<span style=""> </span>That was the horse’s role in life, after all, and Samson knew that the Valkyries were advanced enough to this point that they just kept cloning the horses and then imprinting their prior self’s memories on the new horse using the telepathy they were famed for; Samson was aware of all that because the military had tried it, two wars ago, in an effort to avoid the cost of retraining soldiers.<span style=""> </span>But the humans had minded remembering their deaths, minded it <i style="">terribly</i>, which was when that project had been scrapped, as so many others had been scrapped by the military simply because of <i style="">ethical</i> considerations.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><i style=""><span style="">Speaking of which, </span></i><span style="">he thought now and began looking for the man he’d brought with him.<span style=""> </span>They were too high up to spot; the entire compound was just a tiny dot now and Samson tried calling up to the bird-thing.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“Hey,” he yelled.<span style=""> </span>“We’ve got to go back.”<span style=""> </span>He looked down again.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">Fuzzy Bird kept climbing higher.<span style=""> </span>It appeared not to have heard. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“HEY!” Samson tried again, a little louder.<span style=""> </span>A hand reached over and touched his shoulder.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><i style=""><span style="">Try thinking it</span></i><span style="">, God told him through Sharing, and Samson wondered again how it was that this incarnation of God had come equipped with a chip.<span style=""> </span>He must have known, which only made sense, Samson supposed, but when creating an earthly human body for himself, why bother to include the chip and the nerve-wiring that went with it?<span style=""> </span>Wouldn’t He have been able to communicate with all His charges anyway, even absent the chip?<span style=""> </span><i style="">Or had He known, suspected, that He was going to be locked out.</i><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“What?” God thought at him and said, aloud, too, and His hand pulled away, sharply as Samson realized that he’d been thinking those things while God had been touching him.<span style=""> </span>He wondered how much had come across, but that was a stupid thing to ponder; the whole point of Sharing was that <i style="">all </i>of it came across.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">All of it.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">He thought for a moment and tried to decide what to say.<span style=""> </span>He looked over at God, who looked stricken and confused and angry, all at once.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">He was spared answering immediately because Fuzzy Bird stopped, and stopped so abruptly that it made Samson’s stomach lurch.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“How does he do that, so quickly”” Samson wondered aloud.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">Then he looked around.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“Why’d we stop?” <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">They weren’t motionless, entirely.<span style=""> </span>Fuzzy Bird’s wings were a blur as he hovered and Samson imagined he could see the strain on the animal-thing’s face as it worked and worked to hold position.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><i style=""><span style="">We are near the edge of the atmosphere</span></i><span style="">, He felt the Bird think to him.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“You can share!” Samson said, like most people forgetting to think it out of his surprise.<span style=""> </span>Even two generations in, Sharing didn’t come naturally to many, so new of an innovation it was in human communication.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><i style=""><span style="">Of course I can</span></i><span style="">, Fuzzy Bird said, and then aloud said ***<i style="">And I can talk, too.***</i><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“We have to go back,” Samson said.<span style=""> </span>He pictured the Compound, and the man, and tried to send a sense of peril, of helping this man.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">***<i style="">You don’t want to help him</i>*** Fuzzy Bird said.<span style=""> </span>His wings were buzzing and whirring.<span style=""> </span>God was still glaring at Samson.<span style=""> </span>***<i style="">You just need him***<o:p></o:p></i></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><i style=""><span style="">Yes, that’s true, </span></i><span style="">Samson Shared.<span style=""> </span><i style="">But I want to help him because of that, and we DO need him.</i><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“Tell me what you meant,” God said, suddenly.<span style=""> </span>“About Me.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">Samson looked over at him.<span style=""> </span>He couldn’t think what to say and just kept his mouth shut.<span style=""> </span>All the times he and The General had talked about this, and he couldn’t for the life of him think of what they’d strategized about the moment God found out what was going on and who He really was.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">Samson suddenly realized that God was reaching out to him and tried to block his thoughts.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“Don’t, Sir, please,” he said, and tried to have his voice echo with the authority of all his commands in all the past situations.<span style=""> </span>If he could urge 3,000 men to charge across a field of molten lava simply for the greater glory of a petroleum company, he should be able to slow down the Hand of God.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">As he watched, God pulled his hand back.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><i style=""><span style="">I can’t believe that worked</span></i><span style="">, Samson thought, a feeling of immense pride and power flooding into him.<span style=""> </span><i style="">I commanded God</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">But God was looking over Samson’s shoulder, not at him, and so Samson looked over his shoulder, too, where he saw what God was looking at.. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">There was a hole in the air, a gaping wide hole that seemed at first to be looking into nothing, and then seemed to be glowing red.<span style=""> </span>As they watched, the hole widened up, and a finger poked through.<span style=""> </span>Then two. Then a whole hand, which reached out for them<span style=""> </span>“We’re going to Hell,” Samson said, with a sigh of relief.<span style=""> </span>“It’s the Grabber!”<span style=""> </span>The troops had won!<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">He watched as the hand approached and thought to himself that as soon as they landed, he’d have them grab the man, too, to help get to the bottom of things about why God had ordered Rachel and this whole deal about the left hand, which was <i style="">not </i>supposed to have been on there. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <span style="">But the hand got to them, and somehow bypassed Samson entirely.<span style=""> </span>It grabbed God, pulling him away from Fuzzy Bird’s clawpaw, and God and the hand disappeared.</span>Brianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01616494058636881575noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2948392701072618001.post-35719420527955050042009-08-14T05:06:00.001-07:002009-08-14T07:14:37.478-07:00Meanwhile, In Tampa... War Breaks Out Part 2<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_CJiMltRI5UQ/SoVxQcQAZ6I/AAAAAAAAPNQ/76tHGaflWTo/s1600-h/valkyrie.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 245px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_CJiMltRI5UQ/SoVxQcQAZ6I/AAAAAAAAPNQ/76tHGaflWTo/s320/valkyrie.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369822657984358306" border="0" /></a>
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mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">Samson didn’t hesitate.<span style=""> </span>He hadn’t been hiding because he was a coward.<span style=""> </span>He’d hid because he was a veteran of four different wars, counting this one that the world didn’t even know was going on yet (or most of the world, which was the same thing as far as he was concerned, but, then, the last two previous wars hadn’t been general public knowledge, either.<span style=""> </span>The fact that a war was secret, or that it now involved probably 16 different dimensions, didn’t make it any less fatal.)<span style=""> </span>He’d hid because he had to assess the situation, and now, having assessed it with a combative intelligence that had been honed through those three prior wars and the early skirmishes here in Armageddon (<i style="">for we might as well call it that, </i>he thought to himself as he ran faster and faster towards the Valkyrie) he acted to save God by running directly at the giant naked woman whose sword was plunging directly towards God’s face.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">Samson plowed into her with all the force he could muster, holding his ray gun in his right hand.<span style=""> </span>He wasn’t particularly large but had unexpected amounts of strength that he attributed to the time he’d spent in Hell, time that was supposed to have been only a couple of weeks, at most, but the way time differed between the dimensions, he couldn’t tell <i style="">how</i> long, anymore, he’d been there.<span style=""> </span>Decades, maybe, most of it still haunting the back of his mind no matter what else he thought about.<span style=""> </span>He drove into the Valkyrie with all of that pent up might and rage, and… it did nothing.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">Or almost nothing.<span style=""> </span>He shook her enough that the sword missed its mark, didn’t slash through God’s face but narrowly avoided it. <span style=""> </span>Samson didn’t fall back or drop off the Valkyrie, who at first did not seem to have noticed him. <span style=""> </span>He pushed into her and wrapped his arms around her – grabbing around the slim-but-strong waist and pushing more, his right hand still clutching the ray gun. <span style=""> </span>The Valkyrie faltered a little then and looked down at him, still holding God in the air with her other hand.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">Samson fired, his right hand swiveling to shoot the ray gun up towards the woman, regretting even as he did it that it would damage her beauty. <span style=""> </span>His finger pulled the trigger down and held it down and he heard the familiar sizzling sound, saw the results as the Valkyrie’s face and hair became burnt, the hair bursting into flame and her face scorching and twisting in agony. <span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">She dropped God as in his mind he felt a burst of images and horrific pain. <span style=""> </span><i style="">He was still in contact with her</i> and tried to pull away before Sharing killed <i style="">him</i>, too. <span style=""> </span>That was one of the first things one learned about hand-to-hand combat:<span style=""> </span><i style="">let go before they die</i>. <span style=""> </span>He jumped up, still firing at her with the ray gun, the close range making it all the more effective, as God dropped to his hands and knees nearby. <span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">Samson’s mind whirled with the brief blast of agonizing pain and torture he’d felt and he struggled to regain his composure, but only for a second. <span style=""> </span>He leaned down and put his hand on God’s shoulder.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“Let’s go,” he said.<span style=""> </span>God looked up at him.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“Did you have to do that?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“She was going to kill you.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“But…”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">Samson helped hoist him up to his feet. <span style=""> </span>“We <i style="">have to go</i>,” he said, and he heard that sound again, the bird-thing, coming down, the buzz of its wings like a giant hummingbird, or maybe a helicopter (<i style="">who’d seen one of </i>those<i style=""> for centuries</i>, he thought, absurdly) and he looked around for the source of the sound. <span style=""> </span>His mind clouded, too, with more images and words as the Valkyries’ telepathy grew more dominant. <span style=""> </span>He realized they were regrouping, forming up a defensive front against the bird and the compound’s guards.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">Right around him, he realized with a chagrined feeling. <span style=""> </span>They were enclosing him in a circle where he stood next to the Valkyrie he’d just <i style="">killed</i> with his ray gun, with God at his side. <span style=""> </span>Words and yells and strategies flitted through his mind, a montage almost too fast and blurry to follow as the squawing sound got louder. <span style=""> </span>He could <i style="">feel</i> the sound waves pummeling him and he braced himself, as he saw the Valkyries doing.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">The squawing, the buzzing, grew louder, overwhelming the sound of the rest of the battle. <span style=""> </span>A Valkyrie backed up, staggering before it, and bumped into him. <span style=""> </span>She turned around.<span style=""> </span>He looked into eyes that were impossibly large, and soft, and bright, surrounded by curly reddish hair underneath a battle helmet.<span style=""> </span>This Valkyrie was only about 3 inches taller than him but still stronger-looking. <span style=""> </span>She had her spear and she looked down at the dead, burnt woman at his feet, then scowled.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">He lifted his ray gun as she whirled her spear around to point at him but they were both flattened and pushed back as Fuzzy Bird suddenly landed between them, the squawing stopping, as Fuzzy Bird looked at God.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“Fuzzy Bird!” God said.<span style=""> </span>“You came back!”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“I found her,” Fuzzy Bird said. <span style=""> </span>“But then I lost her.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
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<br />Brianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01616494058636881575noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2948392701072618001.post-74373796918791421992009-08-07T12:45:00.000-07:002009-08-07T12:53:45.865-07:00Meanwhile, In Tampa...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CJiMltRI5UQ/SnyFuvRJRMI/AAAAAAAAPCo/BRWn4_jzwrM/s1600-h/valkyrie2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 186px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CJiMltRI5UQ/SnyFuvRJRMI/AAAAAAAAPCo/BRWn4_jzwrM/s320/valkyrie2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367311893927642306" border="0" /></a>
<br /><meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 10"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 10"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CBriane%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="place"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="City"></o:smarttagtype><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:usefelayout/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><object classid="clsid:38481807-CA0E-42D2-BF39-B33AF135CC4D" id="ieooui"></object> <style> st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } </style> <![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:SimSun; panose-1:2 1 6 0 3 1 1 1 1 1; mso-font-alt:宋体; mso-font-charset:134; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:3 135135232 16 0 262145 0;} @font-face {font-family:"\@SimSun"; panose-1:2 1 6 0 3 1 1 1 1 1; mso-font-charset:134; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:3 135135232 16 0 262145 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language:EN-US;} p.MsoFooter, li.MsoFooter, div.MsoFooter {margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; tab-stops:center 3.0in right 6.0in; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language:EN-US;} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><b style=""><u><span style="">Meanwhile, In </span></u></b><st1:city><st1:place><b style=""><u><span style="">Tampa</span></u></b></st1:place></st1:city><b style=""><u><span style="">:</span></u></b><span style=""><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="">Samson rolled down and over and came up with water pouring down on him and something heavy and squealing falling on his shoulders.<span style=""> </span>Sputtering and gasping, he clawed at his face and gasped for breath, smelling oily fish scales and hearing nothing but roars and screams.<span style=""> </span>It took a second for him to realize, as his vision cleared, that he’d been right next to the aquarium-wall and that the explosion, whatever it was, must have shattered that.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""><span style=""> </span>He stayed down, though, and pulled at the eel-like thing that had fallen on his head and flapped around, squawking and honking as it tried to get back into the water.<span style=""> </span>He was soaked and breathless and needed to get this thing off of his head.<span style=""> </span>In front of him, as the eel flapped, he saw:<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">Eel:<span style=""> </span>red and yellow and finny and scalyh.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">Then the man from the deli looking around blankly, his shoulder on fire.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">Then more eel, as a fin drooped over his face and he continued pulling at it, thinking <i style="">this thing must weigh 300 pounds.<span style=""> </span></i>He was hampered in moving it because his other hand was digging in his coat.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">As the fin lifted he saw one of the armed guards shoving the deli man out of the way and holding a rifle up only to have his head explode and the fin dropped down again.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">Samson had grabbed what he needed and now pulled the small ray gun out of his coat where it had been hidden away.<span style=""> </span>He also had shoved the eel off enough that he could try to sit up, only to have the fins flap up and block his view again, just as he’d seen what he thought was a horse flying down.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“Shit,” he said, as he processed that, and, thinking quickly, he ducked back down behind the eel, which continued to squeak and honk and flap, sliming him and blocking his view much of the time.<span style=""> </span><i style="">But if it was what he thought it was…</i> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">It was.<span style=""> </span>In between flipper-flaps, he saw the horse land and more horses land, with the Valkyries forming a protective circle, horses and spears facing outwards, shooting blasts of energy from their spears at the guards who were coming up the drive and across the forest and out of the house.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><i style=""><span style="">But where was God</span></i><span style="">?<i style=""><o:p></o:p></i></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><i style=""><span style="">And how did they get here?</span></i><span style=""><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">Samson sat below the eel and thought those things.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">Two valkyries took shots from ray guns and went down, their horses moving forwards to cover them.<span style=""> </span>Samson tried to blank his mind out.<span style=""> </span>They would not be able to talk, here, he knew, and so would be using nothing but telepathy.<span style=""> </span>And if they were looking for hostile thoughts, he would not be mask his mind from them.<span style=""> </span>He doughted he could block his thoughts at all, anyway.<span style=""> </span>Not with that many, and not with how his mind was racing. And not with his chip and wiring making it easy for them.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><i style=""><span style="">Where is God?</span></i><span style=""><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">He watched from behind the now-slowing eel’s fins, the fluttering thick leathery substance more weakly moving up and down now as the eel suffocated, and he saw the Valkyries reorienting to take on the bulk of the guards.<span style=""> </span>He saw the deli man come over to him, crawling.<span style=""> </span>His shoulder was still on fire.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“Don’t you <i style="">feel</i> anything?” Samson hissed as the man got close enough for Samson to reach out and grab his collar.<span style=""> </span>He pulled him closer and beat out the fire, which the man for the first time seemed to notice.<span style=""> </span>“Where’s God?” Samson said, as the man was about to speak.<span style=""> </span>Samson said it and <i style="">shared</i> it, the question coursing through the tiny filaments that doubled as nerve fibers, his chip picking it up and communicating it to the man’s chip.<span style=""> </span>The image of God, in his sandals and sporty shirt, was transmitted, too.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">The man didn’t respond but his mind was a blank and Samson got that.<span style=""> </span>He also got a mixture of emotions back, a blast of confusion and fear and adrenaline and also, he noted, some anger and fear that was hidden in the background – a different kind of anger and fear than the other anger and fear, like tasting the pineapple in a pineapple-orange daiquiri.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">It was aimed <i style="">at him</i>, he realized, and he looked at the man.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“No time for that,” he said, and sent shared some reassurance.<span style=""> </span>“Trust me,” he said, and sent some more reassurance.<span style=""> </span>At least he hoped he’d sent reassurance.<span style=""> </span>It’d been a while since he’d had to do this. He looked out again at the Valkyrie-Guard battle and noticed that some of the women (and beautiful women they were, sexy and large-breasted and bare-chested in some cases and flowing hair and one of them had no <i style="">pants </i>on, either.<span style=""> </span>Even in the midst of the battle Samson felt his cock harden a little at that and he tried to focus) some of the women were pointing up.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">He looked up.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“What the fuck is that?” he asked.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">The eel fin flapped once more and Samson missed the first glimpse.<span style=""> </span>The fin lifted and he saw the second glimpse, a giant curly-haired sheepbird thing diving down at a screamingly fast speed, and screamingly was the right word for it, because the bird-thing was shrieking, squawing, so loud that the sound was like a force itself.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">It <i style="">was</i>, in fact, a force, he saw in a moment, as the bird dove and the squaw got louder and the Valkyries were flattened by the sound – almost literally, as they and their horses were knocked over, falling to the ground and scrambling.<span style=""> </span>The bird-sheep thing swooped low over them and through the area, drawing some ray-gun shots from the guards, too, who were uncertain whose side this <i style="">thing</i> was on and decided that if they didn’t recognize it, it wasn’t on <i style="">their</i> side even though it had just helped them.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">With the Valkyries momentarily down, about ten of the guards swarmed in and began wrestling hand-to-hand with the Valkyries, who were themselves quick to get to their feet.<span style=""> </span>The horses were slower but in seconds there was a battle between armored guards with electrified billy clubs and horses and six-and-a-half foot tall beautiful women holding short swords.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">As Samson laid there, looking at the battle and for God, he saw one of the taller Valkyries square off against two armored guards.<span style=""> </span>This was the one that had no pants – she was naked, entirely, her skin an almost-ivory, creamy white color that contrasted with the jet-black ebony flowing hair that was pulled into a ponytail but which hung to nearly her firm, round, buttocks, which Samson found almost hypnotic as they flexed and readied themselves to attack.<span style=""> </span>The guards both held up their clubs, glowing blue with power, and the Valkyrie crouched, all three motionless for a split-second before she dove at them.<span style=""> </span>Her sword jabbed towards the guard on her left, missing him, and missing him badly.<span style=""> </span>Samson wondered how she could have been so far off but then saw:<span style=""> </span>She’d jabbed but started her sword to the right, deliberately missing the blow, which had been a feint to the guard on the left in order to entice the guard on the right to attack her even as she leaped.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">Which he did:<span style=""> </span>the guard on the right, no coward, jumped forward himself as he saw the blade stab away from him.<span style=""> </span>But he was himself a jillionth of a second too late, and the Valkyrie had already plunged her magnificent body forward enough that he missed her entirely with his down-sweeping club blow, hitting the club hard against the ground where a hair-breadth before, the Valkyrie had stood.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">She, meanwhile, had moved forward while her sword arm swung back on the seemingly missed blow, and the sword arced around behind her, her right arm guiding it without the Valkyrie watching it at all.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">Samson had heard stories of Valkyrie battles and he knew that they, through their telepathy, could link minds so that each Valkyrie saw the entire battlefield from the perspective of every other Valkyrie in the battle.<span style=""> </span>They were impossible to sneak up on, impossible to surprise, impossible to outwit, he’d heard, and he saw why, now, as the Valkyrie’s sword, without being watched by its owner, swept around and sliced through the armor of the right-most guard, nearly cutting him in half.<span style=""> </span>Samson heard the guard moan and cry out as the sword bit into him.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">The left-guard, meanwhile, had only a brief moment to react, and his reaction had been one of relief as the sword-jab had missed him.<span style=""> </span>His relief lasted not at all as the Valkyrie’s instantaneous, simultaneous leap had driven her into him – his body relaxed in that moment because he thought he’d been spared the sword-blow that was even now cutting his compatriot in half.<span style=""> </span>His relief ended as the beautiful, sexy, deadly warrior drove into him and knocked him down underneath her powerful legs (and, Samson thought, <i style="">if I was going to be stabbed in the face by a Valkyrie sword, I’d at least like it be while I had her legs wrapped around my head…</i>).<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">The Valkyrie knelt there, pulling her sword up, and was about to stab down on the man’s face when the bird thing drew her attention, as it came swooping back through on another superfast, superloud pass, its squaw blowing the Valkyrie off the guard entirely and sending her sprawling again.<span style=""> </span>Again, the Valkyries were knocked prone by the wave of sound as the bird thing<span style=""> </span>made its run, and this time the guards were driven down, too.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">Samson watched that, too, and saw, among the bodies struggling to stand and begin fighting again, one man already up, seemingly unaffected by this all but confused.<span style=""> </span>God stood amidst the battle with a puzzled look on his face, staring at the receding shape of Fuzzy Bird as the bird-thing rose up to begin another turn and dive again.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">Samson saw God’s mouth working, mumbling to himself, and he knew he had to act. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“Wait here,” he told the deli man, and shoved aside the fin to stand up again, hoping he could get to the middle of the scrum and back before that bird thing came back and before the Valkyries and guards began fighting again.<span style=""> </span>Hoping, but certain that he couldn’t.<span style=""> </span>“Don’t move a muscle,” he said.<span style=""> </span>“I’m going to get God out of here.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">With that, he ran towards the middle of the battle, but was not quick enough, as two guards got up first, to be knocked down by a horse who had made it to his feet and was neighing madly.<span style=""> </span>Before Samson could get there, before any more guards could get there, the naked, black-haired Valkyrie made it to her feet and grabbed God by the throat with one hand, lifting him off the ground and holding him in the air with her left hand.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">With her right, she aimed her sword at God’s face.<o:p></o:p></span></p> Brianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01616494058636881575noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2948392701072618001.post-1686533676388186032009-08-05T08:18:00.001-07:002009-08-05T08:32:00.354-07:00Cross-Pollinization<span style="font-style: italic;">My weekly reminder of what I'm writing and what I'm reading...</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:180%;" >What I'm Writing:</span><br /><br /></div><span style="font-weight: bold;">The pause button</span> lets me take a moment, as I recall my honeymoon, to explain <span style="font-style: italic;">why</span> I chose those particular songs for my Honeymoon Mixtape. (<a href="http://www.thinkingthelions.com/2009/08/pause-button-why-these-songs-from_03.html">Thinking The Lions</a>)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_CJiMltRI5UQ/SnmkbcSIspI/AAAAAAAAPA4/H2ZMDlLn3uc/s1600-h/flying_saucers.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 236px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_CJiMltRI5UQ/SnmkbcSIspI/AAAAAAAAPA4/H2ZMDlLn3uc/s320/flying_saucers.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366501222344340114" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">Maybe gettin</span><span style="font-weight: bold;">g dumped isn't all bad?</span> It's certainly not if you're a character in a movie -- then you almost <span style="font-style: italic;">want</span> to get dumped, don't you? (<a href="http://www.troublewithroy.com/2009/08/five-best-female-movie-characters-to.html">The Best of Everything</a>.)<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">2012? It'll come a lot earlier</span> thanks to Joe The Magician, whose first show went off without a hitch. Except for the part about hastening the end of the world. That's a <span style="font-style: italic;">small</span> flaw. (<a href="http://www.whathappensafterdark.com/2009/06/end-of-light-table-of-contents.html">AfterDark</a>.)<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Desperate for love,</span> or sleep? In my novel <span style="font-style: italic;">Up So Floating Many Bells Down </span>Sarah roams around her house in the middle of the night, thinking about her trip to San Diego with Peyton, her fight with Jane, and why photographs no longer seem real. (<a href="http://www.nonsportsman.com/">5 Pages</a>)<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">School's almost back</span>, so it's time for a landlord-tenant law pop quiz! (<a href="http://www.familyandconsumerlaw.com/">Family and Consumer Law: The Blog</a>)<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Zounds!</span> I've figured out how to use midichlorians to boost my writing career. Take <span style="font-style: italic;">that</span>, Darth Sidious! (<a href="http://babiespets.blogspot.com/2009/08/zounds-or-ill-use-star-wars-reference.html">Aaaugh!!</a>)<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">It's literature's first pregnant ex-lover/sexy Valkyrie/mysterious clone/lesbian zombie love quadrangle!</span> In the latest installment of her story, Rachel is almost shot down by a fleet of flying saucers, but is rescued by a revived Ivanka -- who's as sexy as ever. (<a href="http://lesbianzombies.blogspot.com/">Lesbian Zombies Are Taking Over The World!</a>)<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">What I'm Reading:</span></span><br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_CJiMltRI5UQ/Snml153yYxI/AAAAAAAAPBA/zFXKE14JitM/s1600-h/garage+sale.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_CJiMltRI5UQ/Snml153yYxI/AAAAAAAAPBA/zFXKE14JitM/s320/garage+sale.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366502776475116306" border="0" /></a>Want to get published? Write good query letters -- with help from <a href="http://queryshark.blogspot.com/">QueryShark</a>.<br /><br />The Boy is blogging? It's true -- and he's picked five movie sequels better than the originals. (Note: He's wrong about <span style="font-style: italic;">The Empire Strikes Back</span>, and he'll be grounded for that.) (<a href="http://meantruethings.blogspot.com/2009/08/sequels-better-than-originals.html">Mean True Things</a>)<br /><br />I never know how I find these sites, but I do -- which is good, because otherwise I'd never know how to get to the Electric Pony Sale. (<a href="http://www.worstsignever.com/">Worst Sign Ever.</a>)Brianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01616494058636881575noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2948392701072618001.post-80778460296201407092009-07-30T06:55:00.001-07:002009-07-30T06:55:35.749-07:00Part 14D: Invasion!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CJiMltRI5UQ/SnGmDFMIKwI/AAAAAAAAO4E/8EasP3C7gQs/s1600-h/flying_saucers.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 236px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CJiMltRI5UQ/SnGmDFMIKwI/AAAAAAAAO4E/8EasP3C7gQs/s320/flying_saucers.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364251203037833986" border="0" /></a>
<br /><meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 10"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 10"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CBriane%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:usefelayout/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:SimSun; panose-1:2 1 6 0 3 1 1 1 1 1; mso-font-alt:宋体; mso-font-charset:134; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:3 135135232 16 0 262145 0;} @font-face {font-family:"\@SimSun"; panose-1:2 1 6 0 3 1 1 1 1 1; mso-font-charset:134; 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mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="">I could hear the crackling and fizzling as the trees burst into flame and then into nothingness, and I watched as the cone-shaped beams flared left and right, wiping the trees down to nothing.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""><span style=""> </span><i style="">Rachel!<span style=""> </span>Get out of there!</i> I felt the Me say in my mind, and I thought back:<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""><span style=""> </span><i style="">HOW!</i> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""><span style=""> </span>Or maybe I yelled it.<span style=""> </span>I don’t know.<span style=""> </span>I was panicking and those beams were getting lower and lower and I could smell the heat or something like that.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""><span style=""> </span>The ME thought back:<span style=""> </span><i style="">Fall!</i><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""><span style=""> </span>I thought <i style="">But I just climbed back up here and I don’t want to leave you!</i><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""><span style=""> </span><i style="">I’ll be okay!</i><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""><span style=""> </span><i style="">No!<span style=""> </span>I can’t keep</i>… but the rays were just above my head, sweeping back and forth still and the sound was loud and I looked up as a flash of blue spun just over my eyes and the tree above my left hand disappeared, leaving a flat smooth expanse above which I could see the glorious blue air of Valhalla, the sky that I had only glimpsed through branches for the last day or two.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""><span style=""> </span>“<i style="">No!</i>” I screamed, and pulled my hand down as the beam flashed back.<span style=""> </span>I had no choice.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""><span style=""> </span>I let go, and dropped down and down and down, covering in seconds what had taken me what felt like days climbing up.<span style=""> </span>As I fell, in my mind, I could see images of what the Me was seeing.<span style=""> </span>She was looking at Brigitte, who was looking out the window with a shocked expression on her face.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""><span style=""> </span>I fell, and saw Brigitte staring down out the windscreen of the flying saucer with her mouth open in a cute <i style="">O</i> of surprise, and her hands pressed up against the glass.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""><span style=""> </span>I fell, and saw myself falling from above as the Me must have looked down at the ground below me.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""><span style=""> </span>I fell, and I saw below me a crowd gathering, a group of people that could barely be seen below the tree branches that I fell through in mere seconds.<span style=""> </span>I saw all that and then I was almost to the ground and I dropped into a large cloth held out for just that purpose by a group of silent naked lesbian zombies all gathered around the tree.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""><span style=""> </span>I had flipped around in my fall and landed on my back in the blanket, which gave way a little and then was pulled tight by the people holding it, so that I actually popped up in the air just a little bit, and then I landed on my butt and sat up, disoriented.<span style=""> </span>I’d expected to hit the ground, hit it <i style="">hard </i>and maybe die or go to Hell or something, but that hadn’t happened at all.<span style=""> </span>I caught my breath and my wits and looked around, recognizing some of the faces of the lesbian zombie army, including Naked Girl, who held the blanket.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""><span style=""> </span><i style="">Rachel!</i> A new thought came into my mind and I looked over my shoulder.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""><span style=""> </span>“Ivanka!”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""><span style=""> </span><i style="">Rachel!</i> Was all she thought again.<span style=""> </span>I could see injuries on her and her left arm hung a little weird and she looked pale but she had a huge, beautiful smile on her face and her eyes were clouded over with tears.<span style=""> </span>In my mind, I kept seeing <i style="">me</i>, images of me, coming from Ivanka, I guess:<span style=""> </span>me on the blanket, me on the tree, me in Hell, me clinging to her back as she rode her horse out of Hell past the waterspout, me standing on the ground in the tank battle, me and her kissing…<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""><span style=""> </span>And through it all she just kept thinking <i style="">Rachel Rachel Rachel</i><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""><span style=""> </span>Then she thought this:<span style=""> </span><i style="">I love you!</i><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""><span style=""> </span>Oh, man.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""><span style=""> </span>I looked up.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""><span style=""> </span>“Ivanka!” I said, my disorientation and fear and everything that was happening getting in the way of thinking it.<span style=""> </span>“The Me, um, Me, um, Rachel.<span style=""> </span>She’s up there.<span style=""> </span>And Brigitte.”<span style=""> </span>I pointed and didn’t make any sense.<span style=""> </span>“They’re up there.<span style=""> </span>They’re shooting down the forest.<span style=""> </span>Help.<span style=""> </span>I mean, we’ve got to help them.”<span style=""> </span>I was scrambling to get off the blanket-thing they’d stretched out.<span style=""> </span>As I talked, Ivanka’s thoughts flooded my mind:<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""><span style=""> </span><i style="">I love you.<span style=""> </span>I almost lost you.<span style=""> </span>I can’t believe you were falling.<span style=""> </span>We almost didn’t find you but then I searched for you with my mind and I felt you, a powerful pull.<span style=""> </span>It must be love.<span style=""> </span>I bet you love me too</i><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""><span style=""> </span>While she thought that, I kept saying:<span style=""> </span>“Ivanka, we’ve got to help them,” and pointing up, and I looked up, too, and realized that the flying saucer was a lot lower down than I’d thought, and the trees all around were fizzling and disintegrating and were down to only about 50 feet tall, and the destruction was spreading, rapidly.<span style=""> </span>The Me was hanging above me, still held by the saucer that Brigitte flew.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""><span style=""> </span>“Ivanka!” I yelled, trying to break her train of thought.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""><span style=""> </span>Who’d had imagined a valkyrie would turn out to be a bit of a ditz?<span style=""> </span>She finally looked up and saw what I saw, which was not just Brigitte’s flying saucer, but about 30 others, all over the forest and beginning to disintegrate it. <o:p></o:p></span></p> Brianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01616494058636881575noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2948392701072618001.post-19419612342891202502009-07-20T05:02:00.000-07:002009-07-20T13:33:03.066-07:00Part 14C: Brigitte talks to me!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_CJiMltRI5UQ/SmTRkcjzv8I/AAAAAAAAOxk/ECpNnEl5cUQ/s1600-h/flying+saucer.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_CJiMltRI5UQ/SmTRkcjzv8I/AAAAAAAAOxk/ECpNnEl5cUQ/s320/flying+saucer.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360639880549613506" border="0" /></a><br />It was Brigitte.<br /><br />I nearly let go of the tree in spite of myself.<br /><br />I clung there, fingers clutching the cracks in the bark and my face pressed against it, and then slowly looked up. All I could see was the silvery underside to the flying saucer.<br /><br />Are you sure? I asked. I said it, quietly, but tried to think it, too. In response I got a picture, again, of Brigitte, staring at the Me, intently.<br /><br />It was the same Brigitte and I felt my heart flutter involuntarily. She was leaning forward, I thought, and then realized that she wasn’t leaning forward as much as I’d imagined, or seen, at first, but instead, she was very pregnant. She must have been… I don’t know. I don’t know how people look at various parts of pregnancies but she was really really pregnant, and I was surprised at that and couldn’t stop looking through the Me’s eyes at Brigitte’s round, full belly, until I looked up a little more and saw her breasts, just above it, and they were bigger than ever. I stared at those for what felt like a long time –<br /><br />-- still looking through the Me’s eyes, while I tried to keep climbing up the tree, feeling like I was going slower than ever, inch by inch up the hundreds of feet to where the Me was dangling upside down in front of Brigitte in the saucer.--<br /><br />And I was going so slowly, now, because of those breasts, which I remembered so well I could almost feel them in my mind.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Hey!</span> Came a thought, blasting at me.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Sorry,</span> I said… thought. Both. I kept climbing. <span style="font-style: italic;"> It’s Brigitte.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"> I know Brigitte</span>, the Me thought back at me. <span style="font-style: italic;">It’s not that. You’re USING MY EYES.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">What?</span> I thought, and stopped climbing. I concentrated and realized that, yes, this wasn’t looking at an image of Brigitte, it was looking through her eyes.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Stop it! </span>The Me yelled in my mind.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I don’t know how I’m doing it</span>, I said back to her. <span style="font-style: italic;"> I want to stop it… </span>and then there was a blank, somehow. Like a door had closed, I couldn’t see Brigitte anymore or the saucer, not that way. All I saw was the inside of my eyelids, which I opened up and looked up. I was closer, but still hundreds of feet below them, and not going to make it there anytime soon at that rate. I kept climbing up. Like the time in Hell, I had nothing else to do and nowhere else to go. I kept my eyes on the Me, and on the saucer, and tried to focus on climbing faster while still trying to talk to the Me.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Me?</span> I said, over and over. <span style="font-style: italic;"> Rachel? Me? </span>But there was nothing. After a minute of that, and 15 feet more of climbing, I finally grabbed on tight to the tree and yelled, at the top of my lungs:<br />“I DON’T KNOW HOW I DID THAT BUT I’M SORRY AND WILL YOU LET ME BACK IN?”<br /><br />I hung there, on the side of the tree, looking up at the Me hanging upside down and tears in my eyes, tears of frustration and fear. I stared at her and tried to see her face.<br /><br />I didn’t get anything back. She didn’t call or wave or anything, and I was still blocked out by that wall. “Please!” I said, not yelling it. I just tried to beg her, in my mind and in my words.<br />Then I thought of something: I switched over and instead of trying to talk to the Me, I tried to talk to Brigitte.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Brigitte!</span> I thought. I pictured her face, her hair, her… lips, and then tried to focus again on her face. I tried to imagine myself picking up a phone and talking to her. Whatever might help make a connection. I pictured her stomach, bulging out with the baby below it, and said again, outloud and in my mind: <span style="font-style: italic;">Brigitte!</span><br /><br />Nothing.<br /><br />I’d kept climbing but I was still far away. I was getting tired, too, although I’ve found I don’t get as tired as other people do. Whatever keeps me running doesn’t let me wear out as quickly as I would expect it to.<br /><br />I thought for a second. I looked at the Me and she was still hanging there, unable or unwilling to move because she wasn’t. I hoped she was okay. I looked at the saucer and wondered how Brigitte had gotten here. I tried to remember all the stuff the Me had said about how to communicate through telepathy.<br /><br />Then, I scrapped all that and hollered at the top of my lungs:<br /><br />“BRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIITTE!”<br /><br />That did something. There was a flash of lights around the saucer and it moved up a little, then back. The Me still hung there, in the air, motionless, but I saw that she’d looked a little more down towards where I was. As I watched, the saucer hovered up a little higher.<br />There was a crackling buzz and then a voice, amplified and mechanical a little but still very obviously Brigitte, just Brigitte-through-a-loudspeaker, came out:<br /><br />“Who said that?” the Brigitte-voice said.<br /><br />“ME!” I shouted again. “DOWN HERE!”<br /><br />In my mind I tried to picture her again, tried to picture her eyes. The eyes are a good focus, the Me had said. If you’re looking into someone’s eyes, even in my your mind, it’s easier to really communicate with them. I pictured Brigitte’s eyes, long lashes and deep blue and wide and bright and always a little wet, like she always had just really smiled big or had just finished crying, or both. <span style="font-style: italic;"><br /><br />It’s me, Brigitte.</span> My mind felt confused, too, because the last time I’d seen her, I had been so betrayed, but there was so much emotion there that I had to try to focus, to calm down, to just picture her eyes and think that over and over: <span style="font-style: italic;"> It’s me, Brigitte it’s me Brigitte.</span><br /><br />The flying saucer went up a little higher.<br /><br />“Who is that?” came over the loudspeaker again, this time even a little louder. I saw, as I clung to the side of the tree, that the Me had been pulled higher, too, so that both were clearly above the treetops.<br /><br />“IT’S ME! DAMMIT, BRIGITTE! IT’S ME!” I shrieked it at the top of my lungs, my mind exploding in a vision of making love to Brigitte and the hallway where Samson, that damned soul, had told me she’d betrayed me, to her eyes after Church that morning that we’d first been attacked by the revenants to her hand clinging to mine in Hell. In my mind I almost started to cry and a sobbing shrug heaved out of me, making it hard to hang on to the tree. If my thoughts had words, they’d have been something like: <span style="font-style: italic;"> It’s me, Brigitte, and how could you do this to me, how could you tell me you love me and tell me you’re pregnant and obviously you are pregnant but is it mine and what am I supposed to do about it because it was all fake wasn’t it, it was all a trap, it was just something that was set up but I really did love you so why are you being like this?</span><br /><br />My thoughts were shooting out like that, and I hung onto the tree and looked up and saw the saucer start to lower slowly down.<br /><br />Then, in my mind, I saw an image of Brigitte again: Her eyes had that wide, almost-cried look, and she was smiling. She was beautiful.<br /><br />Then, in my mind, I felt<span style="font-style: italic;">: Look out!</span><br /><br />Then I saw Doc! It was Doc! Hovering there, and it took me a second to realize that he really was there, right by me! Doc!<br /><br />I said it: “Doc!” But he didn’t do anything, not right away, and then he shot straight up into the air, up to the saucer again. I lost track of him about a hundred feet up. “Doc!” I yelled again.<br /><br />I was about to start climbing when I saw a ray shoot out of the bottom of the saucer, a bluish ray that began at the top of the trees. Wherever it hit the trees, there was a fizzle sound, and crackling and electrical smells began to fill the air. The blue ray was disintegrating the trees, right above me, sweeping lower and lower and lower.<br /><br />Towards me.Brianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01616494058636881575noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2948392701072618001.post-46037025772422153392009-07-05T06:28:00.000-07:002009-07-05T06:34:34.248-07:00Riddle me this: How can you smoke in a place where smoking is not allowed?As the war on regular cigarettes continues, have you considered switching to <a href="http://www.electroniccigarettesource.com/">smokeless cigarettes</a>? Smokeless cigarettes, or "E Cigarettes" can be taken to restaurants and bars and other places where smoking has been banned, and they light up blue to show that they're not really lit at all.<br /><br />Visit the Electronic Cigarette Source to find out more about how to buy -- or distribute - -these new products that can make smoking socially acceptable again. <br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Sponsored post. Please Visit my sponsor:</span><br /><a href="http://www.electroniccigarettesource.com/">Electroniccigarettesource.com</a>Brianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01616494058636881575noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2948392701072618001.post-20390123534043474592009-07-05T06:24:00.000-07:002009-07-05T06:27:20.494-07:00Part 14B: A surprise above the trees!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_CJiMltRI5UQ/SlCqG_fNKRI/AAAAAAAAOlE/0eVoENY4A9A/s1600-h/saucer.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 258px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_CJiMltRI5UQ/SlCqG_fNKRI/AAAAAAAAOlE/0eVoENY4A9A/s320/saucer.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5354966994041776402" border="0" /></a>
<br /><meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 10"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 10"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CBriane%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="State"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="place"></o:smarttagtype><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:usefelayout/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><object classid="clsid:38481807-CA0E-42D2-BF39-B33AF135CC4D" id="ieooui"></object> <style> st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } </style> <![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:SimSun; panose-1:2 1 6 0 3 1 1 1 1 1; mso-font-alt:宋体; mso-font-charset:134; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:3 135135232 16 0 262145 0;} @font-face {font-family:"\@SimSun"; panose-1:2 1 6 0 3 1 1 1 1 1; mso-font-charset:134; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:3 135135232 16 0 262145 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language:EN-US;} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman";} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">She shot up faster and faster, and I heard in my mind:<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><i style=""><span style="">What are you doing?<span style=""> </span>Stop it?<span style=""> </span>Help!</span></i><span style=""><span style=""> </span>But it was growing fainter as she went up and up.<span style=""> </span>I shouted and tried to think back:<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“I’m not doing anything!<span style=""> </span>Fight!<span style=""> </span>Or something!” <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">She stopped, about 200 feet up, looking down at me, just a speck above me in the branches and speckles of light and leaves that looked small but which I knew (from falling through them) were as big as me, almost.<span style=""> </span>I could barely see her.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">And I could barely hear her.<span style=""> </span>Or think her.<span style=""> </span>Whatever.<span style=""> </span>But in my mind, I heard, or felt…<span style=""> </span>look, it’s easier to say heard, okay?<span style=""> </span>That’s what I’m used to saying.<span style=""> </span>In my mind I heard:<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><i style=""><span style="">Rachel, you’ve got to help me.<span style=""> </span>I don’t… stop that!</span></i><span style=""><span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">That last part wasn’t directed at me.<span style=""> </span>I looked up.<span style=""> </span>The Me was fighting or struggling, somehow.<span style=""> </span>She was hunched over, it looked like, and throwing elbows.<span style=""> </span>Her feet kicked back at something and she was writhing a little.<span style=""> </span>In my mind, I heard no words at all, just <i style="">feelings</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">They weren’t good, they weren’t bad. They were <i style="">scared</i>, which I guess is bad.<span style=""> </span>I didn’t know that you <i style="">could</i> project feelings, or maybe I did, because when we’d been making love, there’d been an extra <i style="">oomph!</i> to it, especially during <i style="">certain</i> parts.<span style=""> </span>But I hadn’t thought those were, you know, <i style="">emotions</i>.<span style=""> </span>Now I knew that you could, because the Me was sending me <i style="">scared</i> and <i style="">fright</i> and <i style="">wonder</i>… I don’t know how I knew that last one but it wasn’t one that was like fear, only it was, kind of.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">I looked around, on the ground, for something to do.<span style=""> </span>My mind kept being overwhelmed, buffeted by the feelings that the Me was sending:<span style=""> </span><i style="">wonder… fear… wonder… thrill…fear...</i>then it began being more<i style=""> fear fear fear</i>, kind of the way a shower in your CleanZone might be set to begin with hot, then go a little colder, then get hot again, if you like to mix things up.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">I couldn’t find anything that seemed helpful.<span style=""> </span>There was a rock nearby, about the size of my fist.<span style=""> </span>I picked it up, hefted it, and looked up again.<span style=""> </span>The Me was dangling, now, upside down, apparently by one foot.<span style=""> </span>I still couldn’t see what was holding her in there but it was <i style="">something</i> because she was really fighting around, trying her best to get free.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><i style=""><span style="">Don’t try to get free</span></i><span style="">, I thought at her.<span style=""> </span>Then, in case my thinking didn’t work, I yelled it, too.<span style=""> </span>She looked down at me – I saw her face turning towards me – and I said and thought:<span style=""> </span>“I’ll help you!”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">Then, not knowing what else to do, I hurled the rock, as hard as I could, up at her, trying to hit whatever was holding her up.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">It fell way, way, <i style="">way</i> short.<span style=""> </span>It went up maybe fifty feet and then fell straight down, in fact almost hitting <i style="">me</i> – I had to sidestep it.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><i style=""><span style="">Help!</span></i><span style=""> A thought got through.<span style=""> </span>I wondered if something was blocking her, or if there was a limit to how far telepathy could travel.<span style=""> </span>I wondered if they’d take her farther and I wouldn’t know what to do.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">The emotions kept coming, and I knew I had to do something.<span style=""> </span>There was more fear than anything else and I could see the Me fighting and fighting.<span style=""> </span>I looked around again, helplessly, and then heard another scream and felt a <i style="">blast</i> of emotion.<span style=""> </span>I looked up.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">The Me was going <i style="">higher</i>, still.<span style=""> </span>She shot up a little more, now almost completely out of sight among the leaves and branches.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">I looked at the tree in front of me.<span style=""> </span>I remembered when I woke up in Hell, that first time.<span style=""> </span>I looked at my hands.<span style=""> </span>I sighed.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“I’m coming to get you,” I said.<span style=""> </span>Then I thought it:<span style=""> </span><i style="">I’m coming to get you!<span style=""> </span>Hang on!</i><span style=""> </span>I thought it as hard as I could, then I reached out and grabbed the tree, as high up as I could.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">I pulled up and tried to find a footrest.<span style=""> </span>Belatedly, I kicked off my shoes and dug my toes into the grooves in the bark.<span style=""> </span>I pushed up with my toes and grabbed higher up, then felt around more, getting a knot in the tree where I could rest my left foot.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">I began inching up that tree, watching with as much of my attention as I could, watching the Me dangling there, so high up, upside down and fighting and twisting and wrestling whenever she could, pausing now and then.<span style=""> </span>I kept feeling her emotions in my mind but I couldn’t concentrate on anything, really, except climbing, so I tried to, in the back of my mind, just think reassuring things to her and hoped she picked them up.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">It was tiring.<span style=""> </span>It was <i style="">exhausting</i>, pulling myself up that tree inch by inch.<span style=""> </span>It didn’t seem like I was making any progress, at all.<span style=""> </span>A foot here, a few inches there.<span style=""> </span>I had to move around the tree, too, trying to find good places to climb.<span style=""> </span>There were little twiggy branches here and there but nothing for another hundred feet or so to really help me climb.<span style=""> </span>I kept going, though, fingers getting torn and raw and bloody, knees pushing against the tree, arms aching, sweat pouring down my forehead.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><i style=""><span style="">I’m not going to let you get away, too</span></i><span style="">, I thought at the </span><st1:state><st1:place><span style="">Me.</span></st1:place></st1:state><span style=""><span style=""> </span><i style="">I’m going to save you</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">I felt a wave of fear and gratitude come over me.<span style=""> </span>When I saw the Me now, on those times I was on her side of the tree, she mostly hung there, motionless and tired.<span style=""> </span>I felt, coming from her, mostly tiredness, now.<span style=""> </span>I kept my mind on her, kept picturing her smiling and trying to make that a pleasant thought, a hopeful thought.<span style=""> </span>I tried to climb on that side, so that she could see me.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">Once, I looked down.<span style=""> </span>I was higher up than I’d thought, maybe fifty feet up already.<span style=""> </span>It felt like I’d been climbing for days.<span style=""> </span>But I was closer to the Me:<span style=""> </span>The emotions were stronger and I could pick up more words in her thoughts.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><i style=""><span style="">Let me go</span></i><span style=""> she thought a lot.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">And <i style="">What are you doing?</i><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">And <i style="">What is this thing?</i><span style=""> </span>When she thought that, I wondered what she was looking at.<span style=""> </span>I looked up, wanting to wipe sweat out of my eyes, but I was clinging to the side of a giant tree 75 or more feet off the ground and couldn’t spare the effort.<span style=""> </span>My hands were needed.<span style=""> </span>I locked my legs and tried to take deep breaths.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><i style=""><span style="">What is it?</span></i><span style=""> I thought at the </span><st1:state><st1:place><span style="">Me.</span></st1:place></st1:state><span style=""><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">Nothing in return.<span style=""> </span>I couldn’t hardly see her.<span style=""> </span>I started to climb again when I got an image, thrown back in my mind, strong and solid, almost.<span style=""> </span>It startled me, how strong it was, and how shiny it was, but that wasn’t all.<span style=""> </span>It startled me so bad, in fact, that I almost lost my grip.<span style=""> </span>I grabbed onto the tree, my heart racing and my pulse in my ears, sweat dripping down into my eyes and mouth.<span style=""> </span>I gasped for breath.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“Hang on, Rachel, hang on,” I told myself.<span style=""> </span>“You’ve done harder things than this.”<span style=""> </span>I tried not to fall.<span style=""> </span>My mind felt like a tornado.<span style=""> </span>I felt more than ever that I had to climb up, but I also wondered if I wasn’t just making it up.<span style=""> </span>Maybe my own mind had filled that in.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">I pressed my face against the bark of the tree, feeling its rough scrape on my cheek.<span style=""> </span>It was cool compared to me and I hung there, eyes closed and chest heaving.<span style=""> </span>I got my breath and I got my bearings.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">I looked down.<span style=""> </span>About a hundred feet up, maybe.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">I looked up.<span style=""> </span>Maybe one-third of the way to the </span><st1:state><st1:place><span style="">Me.</span></st1:place></st1:state><span style=""><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">I shifted my right hand to get a better grip.<span style=""> </span>I was desperate to just start climbing up again but I had to be calm. <span style=""> </span>I had to make sure I didn’t fall, and that I didn’t give anything away.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">Assuming there was anything to give away.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">I kept my face against the tree, my eyes closed now.<span style=""> </span>I pictured the Me, up there, upside down, in mid-air.<span style=""> </span><i style="">Can you hear me?</i> I thought.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><i style=""><span style="">I can</span></i><span style="">.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">I thought this, then:<span style=""> </span><i style="">Was that what you see?</i><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">A pause.<span style=""> </span>Then the thing again.<span style=""> </span>Instead of an answer, the Me simply sent me what she saw:<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">Hanging above her, way above her, above the tree, too, above all the trees, was something shiny and silver and round and kind of flat, with little points and lights and gadgets and stuff on it.<span style=""> </span>It had spots, here and there, that must have been windows or something, and things, too, that looked like weapons.<span style=""> </span>(Weapons always look like weapons, don’t they?)<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><i style=""><span style="">So it is really there</span></i><span style="">, I thought.<span style=""> </span>I kept the tree pressed tight to me, hugging it.<span style=""> </span>I kept willing myself to hang on, to be calm, not to fall.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><i style=""><span style="">It is</span></i><span style="">, the Me thought back.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">Then, the Me sent: <i style="">Why are you so upset?</i><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">I took a deep breath.<span style=""> </span>I dug my fingers into the bark and grabbed on for all I was worth.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><i style=""><span style="">What else did you see?</span></i><span style=""> I asked her.<span style=""> </span>I pictured in my mind the flying saucer that was hovering over the trees, holding the Me somehow up in the air.<span style=""> </span>But I didn’t fill it in.<span style=""> </span>I just waited for the Me, who sent back:<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><i style=""><span style="">I saw someone flying it</span></i><span style="">, and then she sent me the image of who was in the flying saucer.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">It was Brigitte.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">I nearly let go of the tree in spite of myself.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> Brianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01616494058636881575noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2948392701072618001.post-80260451216321088922009-06-22T04:55:00.001-07:002009-06-22T06:43:45.557-07:00Part 14A: I learn some mind tricks.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CJiMltRI5UQ/Sj-KfPv0d_I/AAAAAAAAOW4/ZfPwWJHPKxk/s1600-h/flying.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 243px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CJiMltRI5UQ/Sj-KfPv0d_I/AAAAAAAAOW4/ZfPwWJHPKxk/s320/flying.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350147151747119090" border="0" /></a>
<br /><meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 10"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 10"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CBriane%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="place"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="State"></o:smarttagtype><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:usefelayout/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><object classid="clsid:38481807-CA0E-42D2-BF39-B33AF135CC4D" id="ieooui"></object> <style> st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } </style> <![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:SimSun; panose-1:2 1 6 0 3 1 1 1 1 1; mso-font-alt:宋体; mso-font-charset:134; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:3 135135232 16 0 262145 0;} @font-face {font-family:"\@SimSun"; panose-1:2 1 6 0 3 1 1 1 1 1; mso-font-charset:134; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:3 135135232 16 0 262145 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language:EN-US;} p.MsoFooter, li.MsoFooter, div.MsoFooter {margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; tab-stops:center 3.0in right 6.0in; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language:EN-US;} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><i style=""><span style="">It’s been two days</span></i><span style="">, the Me told me, speaking into my head.<span style=""> </span>I’d become more accustomed to her using telepathy on me, and I liked it.<span style=""> </span>It was <i style="">better </i>than talking – especially for some things.<span style=""> </span>As she said this, I got in my mind a flicker of days moving on a digital calendar, and the sun rising and setting quickly like in a sped-up movie, and also a feeling of time passing.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">I tried to talk back that way:<span style=""> </span><i style="">I know.<span style=""> </span>And I don’t think we’re very close to those towers</i>.<span style=""> </span>I tried, as I thought it, to send pictures of the towers we were trying to get to, the once that Fuzzy Bird had pulled us from in his mad dash to freedom, the one that nearly every Valkyrie in the world had poured out of trying to get to us.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">The Me went back to one of the two things we’d discussed, really, for those two days:<span style=""> </span><i style="">Shouldn’t they be out looking for us?</i><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">I looked up at the canopy of trees above us. <i style="">Way</i> above us.<span style=""> </span><i style="">Way way</i> above us.<span style=""> </span>I still couldn’t believe we’d lived through the fall.<span style=""> </span>Then again, Naked Girl had lived through a similar fall.<span style=""> </span>So I <i style="">couldn’t</i> be killed?<span style=""> </span>Or I <i style="">could</i>, but not by falling?<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><i style=""><span style="">Maybe not by anything</span></i><span style="">, the Me said. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">I stopped walking and turned around.<span style=""> </span>“I forgot you can see my thoughts.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><i style=""><span style="">Only if you want me to</span></i><span style="">,<i style=""> </i>she said.<span style=""> </span><i style="">Only when you let me</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">She’d said that was how it worked, that first night when we’d made love after falling through the trees and narrowly surviving.<span style=""> </span>After we’d been laying there for a while, sweaty and exhausted and frightened and exhilarated (and, for myself, a little weirded out that I’d been having sex with myself, essentially, although not like <i style="">that</i>) the Me had asked about the weird blank space that she’d seen in my mind.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">She’d been careful to explain that she wasn’t <i style="">reading</i> my mind.<span style=""> </span>Apparently, that <i style="">could</i> be done, at least here in </span><st1:place><span style="">Valhalla</span></st1:place><span style="">, but nobody tried to do it because it was a horrible invasion of privacy.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“We just automatically make sure that we don’t look at what people are thinking, and you grow up learning how to control it, to have your mind open or closed or kind of screened off, or however you want it.<span style=""> </span>As you get better at it, you can have it open to certain people and not to others, and like that.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">I hadn’t been able to figure it out.<span style=""> </span>She’d worked with me over the past two days, little exercises like the Valkyries had taught her.<span style=""> </span>I’d gotten frustrated with one, once, and balled up my fists.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><i style=""><span style="">God, I’ll never get it</span></i><span style="">, I thought, and she’d patted my arm, then held her hand there.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><i style=""><span style="">It takes years and years and years,</span></i><span style=""> she’d said. <i style="">When Valkyries, or Clones, or Horses, are little, they broadcast everything.<span style=""> </span>Or nothing.<span style=""> </span>It’s just like learning to talk.<span style=""> </span></i><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">As we’d been walking through the forest, eating fruit off some bushes that the Me found for us and drinking water here and there from streams or pools, she’d continued drilling me on telepathy while trying to talk me through the blankness, too, and she started up on that now, also:<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><i style=""><span style="">We can practice some more</span></i><span style="">, she thought, and images of us practicing before flashed into my head, too, along with, this time, some music.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“How’d you do that?” I asked, forgetting to try to think it.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><i style=""><span style="">The music?</span></i><span style=""> She asked me back. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">I concentrated:<span style=""> </span><i style="">Yes</i>, I thought at her, and tried to replay it in my mind for her.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><i style=""><span style="">I heard it, as I thought to you.<span style=""> </span>But I heard it in your thoughts, not mine.<span style=""> </span>I didn’t think it to you, </span></i><span style="">she said.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">I opened my eyes and looked around.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><i style=""><span style="">Then who did?</span></i><span style=""> I carefully thought at her, the skin on my neck prickling.<span style=""> </span><i style="">Two days</i>, I thought, and got sad.<span style=""> </span>For two wonderful days the Me and I had walked through this peaceful woods and nobody had shot me or kidnapped me or dropped me off something or tried to grab me with tentacles and demons and I’d thought very little, during that time, of all the rest of the troubles – I hadn’t thought much of Brigitte’s betrayal and of Mr Damned Soul and all the rest.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">I had sometimes thought about Doc and felt bad, but the Me had been a great companion and kept me from feeling too lonely.<span style=""> </span>I tried, those times I thought about Doc, to remember that he wasn’t alive.<span style=""> </span>It would be like missing a Read-Or unit or a dirigible.<span style=""> </span>Except that dirigibles didn’t keep people company when they were walking from </span><st1:state><st1:place><span style="">New York</span></st1:place></st1:state><span style=""> to…<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">I closed that thought off.<span style=""> </span>I concentrated on the music and hoped that it wasn’t the start of new troubles.<span style=""> </span></span><st1:place><span style="">Valhalla</span></st1:place><span style=""> had been like a vacation, almost, if you didn’t count the exploding left hand and the dropping out of the sky and the whole being-grabbed-by-Fuzzy-Bird thing.<span style=""> </span>I didn’t want, I <i style="">desperately</i> didn’t want, there to be new trouble.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><i style=""><span style="">Relax your mind</span></i><span style="">, the Me said.<span style=""> </span>I felt her hand take mine and squeeze it.<span style=""> </span>We were facing each other in a little clearing in the forest, the trees around us stretching nearly a mile up, I figured, but their branches allowing a tiny opening at the top that created a 20-foot-wide splash of sunlight for us at the bottom, warm and yellow and calm.<span style=""> </span>There were ferns and a fruit bush near us and not far away I could hear a stream, the stream we’d been sticking close to as we’d walked back to the towers.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><i style=""><span style="">Relax</span></i><span style="">, the Me sent me again.<span style=""> </span>I’d tensed up when I’d thought about the Valkyries towers.<span style=""> </span><i style="">Where were they?</i><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><i style=""><span style="">Relax</span></i><span style="">, the Me sent me again.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">I relaxed. Or tried to.<span style=""> </span>I let my shoulders loosen and my mind focus on the one thing that almost always worked:<span style=""> </span>sex.<span style=""> </span>I pictured the Me holding me.<span style=""> </span>I pictured her letting go of my hand and moving a step closer to me, until we were almost chest-to-chest and hip-to-hip.<span style=""> </span>I pictured her, then, shrugging her shoulders in that way she… <i style="">I</i>… had, and I pictured her doing that and pulling her shirt off, the little light cotton-y thing that barely covered her breasts anyway and pulled up at her … <i style="">my</i>…waist, a little, to show just a little tummy.<span style=""> </span>I pictured her standing there, bare-breasted in front of me and I felt myself relax.<span style=""> </span>I pictured her, then, lifting up my shirt and pulling it over my head until I, too, was bare-chested and then I thought, as I relaxed, about her pulling me to her and me leaning into her and wrapping my arms around her…<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><i style=""><span style="">Hey!</span></i><span style=""><span style=""> </span>I heard, felt, got whacked with a, shout in my mind.<span style=""> </span>It was like getting slapped in the brain and I opened my eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">The Me was standing in front of me, her shirt off and her arms out and my arms were reaching out to her.<span style=""> </span>She didn’t look sexy or nice or sweet, thought.<span style=""> </span>She looked shocked, and angry.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><i style=""><span style="">What are you DOING?</span></i><span style=""> She yelled in my mind again, causing me to wince.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“I didn’t do <i style="">anything</i>,” I said.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">Images flashed through my mind, though, and she looked exactly like the last of them.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><i style=""><span style="">You’re CONTROLLING me</span></i><span style="">, the Me said.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">She backed a few steps away from me.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“Don’t,” I said.<span style=""> </span>“I didn’t…. I don’t… I was just trying to relax.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">She was about ten feet away now, at the edge of the clearing.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><i style=""><span style="">Nobody should control someone else’s mind</span></i><span style="">, she said.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“I didn’t try to,” I protested.<span style=""> </span>I took a step towards her.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">She took a step back:<span style=""> </span><i style="">Nobody’s ever been able to do that.<o:p></o:p></i></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“I don’t know how I <i style="">did</i> it,” I said.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><i style=""><span style="">Don’t come any nearer</span></i><span style="">, she said.<span style=""> </span>I didn’t listen.<span style=""> </span>I stepped closer to her and said:<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“Don’t do this!”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">She turned to run from me but before she could move an inch she screamed and was lifted into the air, flying up and up and up, still screaming, while I stood on the ground below her and felt helpless.<o:p></o:p></span></p> Brianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01616494058636881575noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2948392701072618001.post-17180852208206496152009-06-22T04:54:00.000-07:002009-08-16T07:35:28.212-07:00Part 14: In the Forests of Valhalla.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CJiMltRI5UQ/Sj-KI7QBQXI/AAAAAAAAOWw/fDr6kDvK0vU/s1600-h/forest.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CJiMltRI5UQ/Sj-KI7QBQXI/AAAAAAAAOWw/fDr6kDvK0vU/s320/forest.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350146768287908210" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://lesbianzombies.blogspot.com/2009/06/part-14a-i-learn-some-mind-tricks.html">Part A: I Learn Some Mind Tricks.</a><br /><a href="http://lesbianzombies.blogspot.com/2009/07/part-14b-surprise-above-trees.html"><br />Part B: A surprise above the trees</a>.<br /><br /><a href="http://lesbianzombies.blogspot.com/2009/07/part-14c-brigitte-talks-to-me.html">Part C: Brigitte Talks To Me!</a><br /><a href="http://lesbianzombies.blogspot.com/2009/07/part-14d-invasion_30.html"><br />Part D: Invasion!</a><br /><br /><a href="http://lesbianzombies.blogspot.com/2009/08/meanwhile-in-tampa.html">Meanwhile, In Tampa</a><br /><br /><a href="http://lesbianzombies.blogspot.com/2009/08/meanwhile-in-tampa-war-breaks-out-part.html">Meanwhile in Tampa, War Breaks out Part 2</a><br /><br /><a href="http://lesbianzombies.blogspot.com/2009/08/meanwhile-in-tampa-war-breaks-out-part_16.html">War Breaks Out Part 3</a>Brianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01616494058636881575noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2948392701072618001.post-78804776153867043772009-06-11T05:04:00.000-07:002009-06-11T07:53:19.444-07:00Meanwhile, In Tampa (Again)<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_CJiMltRI5UQ/SjEZVxG-R_I/AAAAAAAAON4/gzxvI-s9FW4/s1600-h/mansion.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 202px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_CJiMltRI5UQ/SjEZVxG-R_I/AAAAAAAAON4/gzxvI-s9FW4/s320/mansion.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346082094416021490" border="0" /></a>
<br />
<br /><meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 10"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 10"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CBriane%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="City"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="place"></o:smarttagtype><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:usefelayout/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><object classid="clsid:38481807-CA0E-42D2-BF39-B33AF135CC4D" id="ieooui"></object> <style> st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } </style> <![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:SimSun; panose-1:2 1 6 0 3 1 1 1 1 1; mso-font-alt:宋体; mso-font-charset:134; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:3 135135232 16 0 262145 0;} @font-face {font-family:"\@SimSun"; panose-1:2 1 6 0 3 1 1 1 1 1; mso-font-charset:134; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:3 135135232 16 0 262145 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language:EN-US;} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><b style=""><span style="">Meanwhile, In </span></b><st1:city><st1:place><b style=""><span style="">Tampa</span></b></st1:place></st1:city><b style=""><span style="">:</span></b><u><span style=""><o:p></o:p></span></u></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“I told you, don’t ask that,” Samson said to the man.<span style=""> </span>They stood there, awkwardly silent, for a moment as the man chewed his tongue and Samson watched him, hoping that the man would keep his silence, or at least mostly keep his silence.<span style=""> </span>He gestured towards the aquariums.<span style=""> </span>“Nice, huh?” he said, to try to distract the man.<span style=""> </span>He knew the man could be distracted by things like that.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">But the man didn’t look at the tanks set into the rock wall, with waterfalls and giant globes of water to look at.<span style=""> </span>He kept mulling things over, very obviously doing so:<span style=""> </span>he had his tongue between his teeth and was biting it, and he scratched his head, and he screwed up his face, and he had one hand on one meaty hip.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“Do you <i style="">know</i> where the souls go?” the man asked.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">Samson nodded, then regretted it.<span style=""> </span>“I do,” he said, slowly, “But we’ll talk about this later.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">The man looked upset.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“You told me…” he said.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">Samson held up a hand.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“I know what I told you,” he whispered.<span style=""> </span>A door opened not far away.<span style=""> </span>“I know what I said and I didn’t lie to you.<span style=""> </span>You <i style="">do</i> send those souls to Heaven.<span style=""> </span>And you’re doing a good job of it.”<span style=""> </span>He thought back to the Display, all those chips.<span style=""> </span><i style="">A VERY good job</i>.<span style=""> </span>Samson himself was almost horrified at how prolific the man had been, and he had to remind himself, as he pictured the sheer number of women the man must have killed to have that many chips, that it was all for the greater good.<span style=""> </span><i style="">They would have been dead, anyway, ultimately,</i> he told himself.<span style=""> </span>To the man he said “A <i style="">very</i> good job.<span style=""> </span>But we cannot talk about this now.<span style=""> </span>Not in front of God.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“He knows, though, right?<span style=""> </span>God <i style="">knows everything</i>.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“Not this, he doesn’t.<span style=""> </span>Not right now.”<span style=""> </span>Samson suddenly stood and saluted as two heavily-armored and heavily-armed guards came into view.<span style=""> </span>They wore military battle armor that was rarely used anymore outside of God, Inc, and only used inside of the corporation as a show of force.<span style=""> </span>There were equally effective but less cumbersome ways of protecting soldiers, but the heavy battle armor was impressive and sometimes you wanted to impress people.<span style=""> </span>A soldier carrying a giant Heater/Concussion Cannon, wearing bulky, spiky, shiny armor with heavy boots and GripGloves and a See-Ray visor does not need to fight as often as one would think; his very appearance intimidates many into <i style="">not</i> fighting.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">The two soldiers stood at attention and a slim, middle-aged man walked into view, squinting a little in the sunlight.<span style=""> </span>He wore a pair of khaki pants and some sandals and a button-up shirt with tiny golf clubs on it.<span style=""> </span>He held up his hand and shaded his eyes as he looked at Samson saluting.<span style=""> </span>The logo above the pocket of his shirt said <i style="">God, Inc.</i> and had a tiny halo above the “o” in God.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">Samson continued saluting as God came over.<span style=""> </span>The man, belatedly, saluted, too, as Samson looked at him pointedly.<span style=""> </span>God laughed.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“Is this our week to be in charge?” he asked.<span style=""> </span>“I can’t keep track of that.<span style=""> </span>I suppose I should get an assistant or maybe one of those old-fashioned retro calendars.<span style=""> </span>I could mark the days that we run the world and know when you’re supposed to be saluting and when we’re just another corporation.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">Samson still stood, and God said “Come on, Samson.<span style=""> </span>Don’t salute.<span style=""> </span>No formalities are necessary.<span style=""> </span>I’ve told you that before.”<span style=""> </span>Only then did Samson relax. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“It’s important for me, sir.”<span style=""> </span>Samson wanted to remind the guards, the man, who they were dealing with.<span style=""> </span>It was easy to forget that this was the man, the creature, the Being that had created all 73 dimensions, unless one observed the formalities.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“Well, fine, then, but at ease.”<span style=""> </span>God sat down and motioned to the guards.<span style=""> </span>“I don’t have a communicator.<span style=""> </span>Would one of you radio to get some drinks?” God looked at the man and then at Samson.<span style=""> </span>“Who is this?” he said, not unkindly.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“An associate,” Samson said.<span style=""> </span>“He works for us.<span style=""> </span>In Special Ops.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“Oh.”<span style=""> </span>God motioned to a chair.<span style=""> </span>“Sit down.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“How’s the weather been?” Samson asked.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“Very nice.<span style=""> </span>I can’t complain.<span style=""> </span>No rain, no wind, no storms.<span style=""> </span>In fact, the weather’s been perfect for as long as I’ve been here,”<span style=""> </span>God said.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“And business?” Samson asked as a drink was set in front of him.<span style=""> </span>He sipped at it.<span style=""> </span>Lemonade, and quite delicious.<span style=""> </span>A tiny bit frosty and icy, just the way he liked it.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“Things are going well.<span style=""> </span>Profits are up, costs are down, we’ve not had any trouble rotating in and out of power, and I myself have been out on the tennis courts five times in the past week because it’s all running so smoothly.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">Samson asked: “The battlefront?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">God frowned a little.<span style=""> </span>“Still quiet, here.<span style=""> </span>But there’s been an attack.”
<br /><span style=""> </span>“Where?”
<br /><span style=""> </span>“Hell.”<span style=""> </span>God looked to the guards and then back at Samson.<span style=""> </span>“And not by who you’d think.<span style=""> </span>It’s not the Blockers.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">Behind God, a strange looking animal ambled into view.<span style=""> </span>It was about the size of a dog but appeared to be more caterpillar than dog, if a caterpillar moved more quickly and had only two legs which is used to hop, kangaroo style.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">God saw Samson looking at it and said “Do you like it?”
<br /><span style=""> </span>Samson wondered what to say.<span style=""> </span>He didn’t, not entirely, but he’d also never seen something like it.<span style=""> </span>Still, it was clear that God liked it.<span style=""> </span>“I guess,” Samson said.<span style=""> </span>“Which dimension is it from?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“None,” God said.<span style=""> </span>“I made it.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">Samson just looked at him.<span style=""> </span>“You <i style="">made</i> it?” He said, finally.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“I discovered about two weeks ago that I can <i style="">make</i> things.<span style=""> </span>Just right out of thin air.<span style=""> </span>I couldn’t believe it.<span style=""> </span>I made this thing, I was sitting around, and I suddenly had a thought about a kind of bird that I sort of half-pictured, a tall bird with hands instead of wings, only they were like wings, too,” God was getting excited, leaning in.<span style=""> </span>The caterpillar-thing hopped over and he scratched it on the head.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“And I suddenly knew I could <i style="">make</i> it, and I just stood up and started sort of sketching in the air and pulling stuff out of the ether and picking up fuzz off the carpet and all, and suddenly there was this bird, that I’d just <i style="">created</i>, a giant fuzzy bird.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">Before Samson could say anything about that, three things happened.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">A woman came outside and said “Jerry!<span style=""> </span>Why didn’t you tell me we had guests?” and God spun around and looked a little surprised.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">And the man stood up suddenly and said “Do the souls go to <i style="">Hell?</i>” and his chair fell over.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">And there was an explosion right behind Samson that shattered the aquariums and the patio and sent them all flying. <o:p></o:p></span></p> Brianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01616494058636881575noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2948392701072618001.post-36100121030021707632009-06-02T05:02:00.000-07:002009-06-02T10:43:32.487-07:00Part 13I: Falling For The Me...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CJiMltRI5UQ/SiVj8vqcCaI/AAAAAAAAOEw/4BjGNlUxfxw/s1600-h/treetops.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CJiMltRI5UQ/SiVj8vqcCaI/AAAAAAAAOEw/4BjGNlUxfxw/s320/treetops.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342786428182727074" border="0" /></a>
<br /><meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 10"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 10"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CBriane%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:usefelayout/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:SimSun; panose-1:2 1 6 0 3 1 1 1 1 1; mso-font-alt:宋体; mso-font-charset:134; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:3 135135232 16 0 262145 0;} @font-face {font-family:"\@SimSun"; panose-1:2 1 6 0 3 1 1 1 1 1; mso-font-charset:134; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:3 135135232 16 0 262145 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language:EN-US;} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><i style=""><span style="">What are we going to do now?</span></i><span style=""> The Me asked, in my mind.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“Let me think,” I said.<span style=""> </span>But I couldn’t.<span style=""> </span>We remained spreadeagled, the Me clinging to my front.<span style=""> </span>I had my arms spread out and continued to kick my legs and wave my arms to keep us moving forward as we moved down.<span style=""> </span>The wind absolutely howled past my ears.<span style=""> </span>I shouted:<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“Can you see any of them?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">In my mind: <i style="">What?</i><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">I tried thinking it: <i style="">Can you see them, anywhere?<span style=""> </span>Anything?</i><span style=""> </span>The Me poked her head up over my shoulder.<span style=""> </span>Her hair (my hair!) whipped into my face as she did that.<span style=""> </span>I kept paddling.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><i style=""><span style="">No</span></i><span style="">, came back.<span style=""> </span>The image: empty sky, blue and cold and devoid of sexy Valkyries coming to help us.<span style=""> </span>No weird Fuzzy Bird squawing and flapping.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><i style=""><span style="">Geez geez geez</span></i><span style=""> the Me thought, then, or maybe it was my own thought.<span style=""> </span>The tree branches were closer than ever, only a foot or two below us and I felt leaves, leaves that were as big as my stomach, brushing past us.<span style=""> </span>Whisk whisk whisk whisk and then flutter flutter than flapping slapping leaves like the sound of tiny hands clapping as we soared through them, one after the other <i style="">plapplap plapplap</i> <i style="">plapplap</i> <i style="">plapplap</i> <i style="">plapplap</i> <i style="">plapplap</i> <i style="">plapplap</i> <i style=""><span style=""> </span></i>and then we were in the tree tops.<span style=""> </span>A twig or branch or something caught my foot and stopped our forward momentum entirely and we swung forward.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><i style=""><span style="">Help</span></i><span style=""> the Me thought and clung to me even tighter.<span style=""> </span>I wrapped my arms around her as we dropped like a stone through ever-thicker branches, snapping and popping at us.<span style=""> </span>Then I had a thought: <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><i style=""><span style="">Hang on tight</span></i><span style=""> I told her in our minds, and let go.<span style=""> </span>She clutched to me and let out a little squeak.<span style=""> </span>My leg hurt where it had hit a branch but I didn’t think about that.<span style=""> </span>Instead, as we fell into the space between the leaves, the emptiness inside the tree, I reached out and tried to grab at leaves and sticks, tried to grab something to stop us, to slow us down.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">Those trees were <i style="">big!</i><span style=""> </span>Once we were through the canopy at the top, which happened pretty fast, there was a <i style="">lot</i> of space between the branches.<span style=""> </span>We were dropping and tumbling and I tried to reach out, tried to grab <i style="">anything</i>, but nothing was near enough.<span style=""> </span>I got a handful of giant leaf, but it just tore and we spun in the opposite direction, causing me to look up at the treetop we’d just come through.<span style=""> </span><i style="">Dammit</i> I thought.<span style=""> </span>I tried to look over my shoulder.<span style=""> </span>I must have told the Me something in our minds because suddenly she squealed, a little, and I got a picture in my mind:<span style=""> </span>A giant branch, right below us.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">We hit it, square on my back. <i style="">“Oooof”</i> I gasped as the wind got knocked out of me.<span style=""> </span>We bounced off the branch and tumbled to my left, still wrapped together, and falling on an angle now.<span style=""> </span>I struggled to catch my breath and thought of something:<span style=""> </span><i style="">Naked girl jumped out that window</i>.<span style=""> </span>In my mind, I saw it again, her falling down, hitting the ground, and getting up.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">Could I do that?<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><i style=""><span style="">Don’t try it</span></i><span style="">, the Me told me.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><i style=""><span style="">I don’t think we’ve got a choice</span></i><span style="">, I said back.<span style=""> </span>I hoped I could protect my head.<span style=""> </span>We were falling, still, rolling over and over and there were more branches coming up.<span style=""> </span>I caught my breath and tried to reach out as we got near another one.<span style=""> </span>I hit it with my hand; it was smooth and tough to grip and polished-feeling and I couldn’t get a hold of it.<span style=""> </span>We spun off and twisted in the air, faster now, rolling over and over as we fell another couple hundred feet.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">Another branch, another grab… <i style="">almost</i> I thought and we swung a little, pausing, almost, but then falling again and I thought <i style="">I can do this</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><i style=""><span style="">You can</span></i><span style=""> came the thought back.<span style=""> </span>The Me was looking, too, and we fell a little slower.<span style=""> </span>We hit another branch with our sides, and she cringed but didn’t say anything.<span style=""> </span>I tried to grab it with both hands but couldn’t.<span style=""> </span>We fell to another one, my leg catching it and swinging us upside down before we started falling again, headfirst.<span style=""> </span>I kicked my legs and we spun around again and brushed another branch, wildly flailing now, and I couldn’t see anything clearly.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">Then, empty air.<span style=""> </span>We were below the level of the branches and I was facing down, the Me below me.<span style=""> </span>We fell and turned.<span style=""> </span><i style="">Watch it</i>, I said, and that was all I had time to do as we twisted a final little bit so that I was on the bottom and she was on top.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">We hit <i style="">hard</i>.<span style=""> </span>I saw the ground coming, saw the twisting, felt the impact, then:<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">Empty.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">I was alone.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">My head was clear.<span style=""> </span>I stood alone, in an empty space.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">Black and kind of chilly and weird.<span style=""> </span>I was definitely standing.<span style=""> </span>I was definitely upright.<span style=""> </span>I was definitely okay.<span style=""> </span>But I was alone.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><i style=""><span style="">What is this?</span></i><span style=""> I thought. I looked around.<span style=""> </span>Nothing, as far as I could see.<span style=""> </span>Just black and kind of chilly and weird, like I said. It was like the whole universe was made of velvet sheets that I could see through and kind of feel but they were there anyway.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">I took a step.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">Then I opened my eyes and the Me was looking at me.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><i style=""><span style="">You saved me</span></i><span style="">, she told me in my mind.<span style=""> </span>I saw again our flipping final turn to have me land on the ground and not her.<span style=""> </span>She was breathing heavy and had some scratches but for all that wasn’t any worse for the wear.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><i style=""><span style="">Where am I?</span></i><span style=""> I thought, still with the black-space in my mind, but before I could get an answer the Me pressed her lips down onto mine and began kissing me, as hard as she could.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><i style=""><span style="">You saved me.<span style=""> </span>You saved my life.<span style=""> </span>I love you</span></i><span style="">, she kept thinking in my mind, and I felt her—my—lips pressed firmly against my – her – lips.<span style=""> </span>They, our, lips, were smooth and soft and plump.<span style=""> </span>I’d chewed on my own lip before but I’d never known what it would be like to kiss myself.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">The Me’s lips pushed into mine, hard and ferocious.<span style=""> </span>I’m a tough kisser, maybe.<span style=""> </span>She pressed them into mine and I felt hot breath whispering out between them and into mine.<span style=""> </span>Then she began to move them, slightly, moving the kiss over my mouth, up, a little.<span style=""> </span>Then down, a little.<span style=""> </span>Then to the right and the left.<span style=""> </span>It was as though she was talking to me in a language only lovers could use, a lip-to-lip language made up of caresses and rubbing.<span style=""> </span>Her breath got hotter and thicker and pushed into my mouth, my breath escaping and me living on hers, sweet and tough.<span style=""> </span>As my lips opened more to let her breath into my mouth, she followed them with her own, so that our lips perfectly pantomimed each other.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">At the same time as she was doing that, images were flashing through my mind, in no particular order:<span style=""> </span>us falling, the trees, my arrival at Valhalla, her getting up and getting dressed that morning, us falling again, her putting on lipstick, a slowly-panning view of my legs up to my hips and past my torn, burnt clothing to rest on my breasts and see my nipples poking out, just slightly, my eyes, her eyes, our eyes close together—<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">… I opened my eyes then and saw her looking them…<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">And amidst those images even more: colors flickered by, and flowers, and bedsheets and musical notes drawn by hand and starry skies and a river and then a skyline and then more colors, all interspersed with her images of me and her images of herself and my images of her and my images of myself.<span style=""> </span>And, then, in with those, began appearing more thoughts and words:<span style=""> </span>us naked, standing in front of each other.<span style=""> </span><i style="">Kiss you</i> flickered through my mind.<span style=""> </span>Us hugging, holding hands, rolling around<i style=""> make love to you</i> I felt her say.<span style=""> </span>Or I said it.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">The kiss was still going on and I almost had lost track of it.<span style=""> </span>This kiss and the thoughts in my head were like seeing a flat-paper drawing suddenly spring up into three or more dimensions and begin talking.<span style=""> </span>It wasn’t just seeing things differently; it was a whole new thing, alive and suddenly doing <i style="">things.</i><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">Her tongue was pressed against mine.<span style=""> </span>She put it into my mouth, lightly, and touched it to the tip of my tongue, held it there, like she was trying to see if they would conduct electricity.<span style=""> </span>Then her tongue began swirling and spiraling around mine and at the same time I saw us, in my mind, lying there on the floor of the forest, amidst leaves and brush, clothes in disarray, hair messy, two identically beautiful copies kissing each other for all they were worth.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><i style=""><span style="">Kiss me back love me hold me kiss me fuck me</span></i><span style=""> came a thought and then I did, I kissed her back as hard as I could.<span style=""> </span>I flung my arms around the Me and pulled her to me and tilted my head and wrapped my mouth onto hers.<span style=""> </span>Our tongues met in the middle and I rubbed my tongue against hers and then around her teeth and gums and then pulled it back to flick it against her lips before pushing it back into her mouth.<span style=""> </span>I rolled her over and sat up, arms on either side of her as she gasped for air. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">In that pause, while our bodies were touching only where I sat on her waist, my mind exploded with images and words and colors: yellow <i style="">touch me</i> a giant star exploding <i style="">fuck me</i> us kissing her brushing her hair <i style="">please make love to me</i> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">I joined her in our minds, thinking how surprised I was and how beautiful she had been when I saw her, and my subconscious threw in thoughts of her pressing her body up against mine and I bent down again and pulled her shirt up, touching my mouth to her breasts lightly, pulling her nipples in between my lips and sucking on them, gently at first and then harshly, tugging at them with each inhale, while my hands ran down her sides.<span style=""> </span>I crouched up over her and pulled her skirt down and ran my hands back up over her flat, beautiful stomach while she watched me and bit her lip, then closed her eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">In my mind I felt <i style="">Oh god that feels good</i> and there were red flowers and the moon coming up over the horizon joined by another moon shortly after it and a mountain top filled with snow and rainy days and music flooded in, something I’d heard before. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">I bent down and kissed her on the stomach, on the waist… and looked up at her.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><i style=""><span style="">Are you ready for this?</span></i><span style=""> I thought at her.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">She looked up at me.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><i style=""><span style="">Ready</span></i><span style="">… she thought, and everything paused and then I leaned down and touched my tongue to her and began to lick and our minds exploded</span><link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CBriane%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:usefelayout/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:SimSun; 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mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} </style> <![endif]--><span style=""> and for just an instant, I was in the black-space again…<o:p></o:p></span> </p> Brianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01616494058636881575noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2948392701072618001.post-76526071877814951202009-03-22T06:04:00.000-07:002009-03-22T06:08:09.662-07:0012.b: The Battle For Hell Is Underway!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CJiMltRI5UQ/ScY4J3MOWUI/AAAAAAAAM1k/Ay3FZrrYPSc/s1600-h/battle.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 330px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CJiMltRI5UQ/ScY4J3MOWUI/AAAAAAAAM1k/Ay3FZrrYPSc/s400/battle.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315998152242649410" border="0" /></a>
<br /><meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 10"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 10"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CBriane%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:usefelayout/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:SimSun; panose-1:2 1 6 0 3 1 1 1 1 1; mso-font-alt:宋体; mso-font-charset:134; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:3 135135232 16 0 262145 0;} @font-face {font-family:"\@SimSun"; panose-1:2 1 6 0 3 1 1 1 1 1; mso-font-charset:134; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:3 135135232 16 0 262145 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language:EN-US;} p.MsoFooter, li.MsoFooter, div.MsoFooter {margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; tab-stops:center 3.0in right 6.0in; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language:EN-US;} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">It was Reverend Tommy’s voice. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">It had that same stilted, booming quality that sounds both fake and super-real, the kind of voice that draws you in and compels you to keep listening.<span style=""> </span>I paused, for just a second, as he yelled it, although to be fair I would have probably paused anyway because of the scene that was unveiling.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">I saw Reverend Tommy on a winged horse, diving down underneath the mountain, which was being held up in the air by those two giants.<span style=""> </span>There was a whole horde of Valkyries behind him, in what I assumed must be battle formation, while others spread out around and to the sides of us.<span style=""> </span>There were probably, I don’t know, like 200 of them.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">Then, on the ground, was a crowd of people that might have been two or three thousand thick, people like the ones I’d seen from time to time: bedraggled, torn up, half-eaten, scarred, horrifying and horrified souls, rushing forwards as Reverend Tommy yelled at them.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“Spare nobody,” he said.<span style=""> </span>“All of the Blockers must be sent to their destinations,” and though he wasn’t yelling his voice carried somehow over the din that was the sound of six thousand dead feet rushing forward, of 600 wings flapping and carrying spear-wielding beautiful naked women, of demons growling.<span style=""> </span>Reverend Tommy was carrying nothing himself; he simply held the reins of his horse and waved his arms, directing people.<span style=""> </span>There were ray guns popping and crackling all over and I could smell the electric feeling in the air.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“Come on!” Steve gasped at me and tugged on my arm.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“Let her go,” Brigitte’s father said.<span style=""> </span>“You’re time has ended.<span style=""> </span>Can’t you see that?’<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“It’s you who ended, piecemeal old man,” Steve snarled, and shoved Brigitte’s dad, who stumbled back.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“Do you want me to take care of him?” one of the guards said.<span style=""> </span>Steve shook his head.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“He may still be of use.<span style=""> </span>We need the Reacher, though.<span style=""> </span>Hurry.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">He grabbed my hand and pulled me along with him.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“I’m not sure…”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“You’d better be sure.<span style=""> </span>Do you think they’ll spare you?” He pointed back.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“<i style="">Kill them all!”</i> yelled Reverend Tommy and I saw him pointing towards the still-idle group of zombies that Steve had assembled.<span style=""> </span>I recalled his sermons before.<span style=""> </span>I looked at the crowd of people rushing towards the motionless ranks of… all the girls that were like me.<span style=""> </span>The horses swooped down and ducked towards them.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">Steve said to me:<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“Tell them to fight.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“What?” I asked.<span style=""> </span>He was tugging me towards them, and towards a rocky box that stood near them.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“<i style="">Tell them to fight.</i><span style=""> </span>They are your army.<span style=""> </span>They will do what you say.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“Why?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">Steve put his hand on his head and continued forward.<span style=""> </span>Men in polo shirts shooting ray guns rushed past the other way, all under the shadow of the still-upheld mountain.<span style=""> </span>I wondered by Reverend Tommy didn’t have the two giant demons simply throw it back down and crush us all.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">Then I got nervous that he’d think of that and I moved faster.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“They will listen to you.<span style=""> </span>That’s what I’ve explained.<span style=""> </span><i style="">You are their queen</i>, the one who can command the lesbian zombies that have been created throughout history.<span style=""> </span>Recent history, anyway.<span style=""> </span>Or older. <span style=""> </span>I don’t know.<span style=""> </span>But you are it.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“Why me?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“<i style="">I don’t know.<span style=""> </span>Tell them to fight!”</i><span style=""> </span>I looked where he was pointing and saw the crowd of people had reached the lesbian zombie army and was knocking them down, beating them up.<span style=""> </span>The zombies… my people?... didn’t react.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“<i style="">NOW!”</i> Steve yelled.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“FIGHT THEM!” I yelled as loud as I could.<span style=""> </span>“FIGHT BACK AND WIN!”<span style=""> </span>I didn’t know what to say.<span style=""> </span>Given what you know of my life, so far, I suppose it goes without saying that I’d never commanded an army of put-together dead naked women before.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">The zombie army jumped to life.<span style=""> </span>The women turned and began fighting and yelling and howling and pushing and shoving.<span style=""> </span>It was hand-to-hand combat, punching and kicking and screaming and the sounds of body after body clashing into each other as the two crowds of people… the two <i style="">armies</i>, I guess, rumbled into each other.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">Steve kept tugging me forward and I tried to watch them fight as I was following him.<span style=""> </span>I wasn’t sure that I wanted to go with him wherever he was going, but I knew I had no hope going with Reverend Tommy.<span style=""> </span>I heard rock creaking and looked up.<span style=""> </span>The two giant demons were shuffling off to the side, holding the mountain, and I felt a little better about that.<span style=""> </span>We were almost to the little rock cage.<span style=""> </span>A ray gun beam passed really near me and I looked back, wondering why Steve’s guys were shooting at us.<span style=""> </span>But they weren’t:<span style=""> </span>some of the people in Reverend Tommy’s army had picked up the ray guns of people who’d they beaten up or killed and were shooting them towards us.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“They need better directions,” Steve said.<span style=""> </span>“Give them more goals. They’re simply fighting anyone they see, anyone who’s not a lesbian zombie.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“What?!” I said.<span style=""> </span>“This is crazy!<span style=""> </span>I’m not a general or something.<span style=""> </span>I don’t know what to do.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">Steve pulled up alongside the little rock cage thing we’d been heading for.<span style=""> </span>We flattened ourselves against it and I looked back.<span style=""> </span>I could see the remnants of the Blockers’ headquarters, beds and desks and computers and the Map, still all standing but without the carved-out mountain around them.<span style=""> </span>The polo shirted guys were outnumbered by Reverend Tommy’s army, but they had better weapons and were more disciplined than the damned souls that Reverend Tommy was commanding and would have won but the Valkyries were obviously, even to me, the difference.<span style=""> </span>They were in formation and swooping down and stabbing guys and grabbing ray guns and tossing them to the dead people and hemming people in.<span style=""> </span>I watched as one horse got in the way of a ray gun and dropped, and even as it did, two other Valkyries swooped in:<span style=""> </span>one caught the falling woman and the other stabbed the shooter in the head with her spear.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“Tell them to move towards the left and flank the dead people around the back.<span style=""> </span>Tell them to start picking up the ray guns that they find and shooting them.<span style=""> </span>Tell them to watch what the others are doing and learn from them.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“I…”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“<i style="">Do it!</i>” Steve said, and I did it, repeating his words as much as I could and as loudly.<span style=""> </span>I saw the lesbian zombies spread their naked line of fighters off to my left, the ones behind who hadn’t yet been able to fight moving around and cornering the damned souls in between them.<span style=""> </span>Some of them, nearer to us, I saw wrestle away ray guns and begin shooting at the damned souls.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“Tell them to target the Valkyries,” Steve said.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“Now, wait,” I said.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“Just do it!<span style=""> </span>Those women are killing my men.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“I’m not <i style="">mad</i> at the…”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“Do it!<span style=""> </span>Do it or I’ll..”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">I turned towards Steve and said “Or you’ll <i style="">what?</i>” but I was distracted as I did that because I caught a glimpse of what was in the cage that we’d taken refuge in front of.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">It was hard to catch <i style="">more</i> than a glimpse of, really, because it was… weird.<span style=""> </span>That’s the best word I can use to describe it.<span style=""> </span>It looked like a demon crossed with a monkey, a short little thing that had really long arms and really short legs and a squat, demon head with fangs all over the place, and its hands were even larger than that, but that’s only an approximation because as I looked at it, it seemed to suddenly be huge – like, it was <i style="">bigger than the whole world we were in</i>, which can’t be, right? Then it was tiny, then it was <i style="">long</i> and <i style="">short</i> all at the same time:<span style=""> </span>somehow stretching for miles and then tiny, then it was a speck, and then it was like a mountain, and this was all at the same time.<span style=""> </span>I couldn’t, I decided, look right at it.<span style=""> </span>Looking at it was the seeing equivalent of standing on super-slippery ice:<span style=""> </span>the same way your feet never get a hold on the ice, the same way you never trust where you’re standing, the same way you don’t want to move but you don’t want to stay there – that’s what my eyes did when I looked at that thing:<span style=""> </span>they didn’t want to look away but as I looked my eyes started watering and I couldn’t focus and it was just everything and nothing.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">It was, I realized, moving and doing things, and there were two men in there with it, one who was holding a little gadget and the other who was feeding it little pretzel sticks, one at a time.<span style=""> </span>He would stick them into the side of the thing’s mouth and it would chew it slowly into its mouth while the other man pushed buttons on a gadget and talked into a little microphone at his mouth.<span style=""> </span>I saw the thing move its arm, which seemed to grow long and short at the same time and then it pulled it back and suddenly <i style="">whom</i>! There was a giant tank next to us, this great big giant machine that was easily three stories tall and was shooting at the Valkyries, shooting bolts of light kind of like coalesced ray gun beams at them, and the pretzel-feeding man said <i style="">“Good boy!</i>” and gave him another pretzel.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">The tank-shooting thing started to rumble forward and a crew of Valkyries dove down.<span style=""> </span>It fired at them: <i style="">fshoom fshoom fshoom</i> and the horses started on fire and one of the Valkyries went hurtling over her horse’s head and fell at my feet.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">You guessed it:<span style=""> </span>It was Ivanka.<o:p></o:p></span></p> Brianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01616494058636881575noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2948392701072618001.post-41625291253814973852009-03-18T05:02:00.001-07:002009-03-18T05:03:01.710-07:0012: A: Steve Tries To Prove Some Things.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_CJiMltRI5UQ/ScDi3-JHB8I/AAAAAAAAMyU/Jvfe1CwEPrU/s1600-h/volcano.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 224px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_CJiMltRI5UQ/ScDi3-JHB8I/AAAAAAAAMyU/Jvfe1CwEPrU/s320/volcano.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314497011499075522" border="0" /></a>
<br /><meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 10"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 10"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CBriane%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:usefelayout/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:SimSun; panose-1:2 1 6 0 3 1 1 1 1 1; mso-font-alt:宋体; mso-font-charset:134; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:3 135135232 16 0 262145 0;} @font-face {font-family:"\@SimSun"; panose-1:2 1 6 0 3 1 1 1 1 1; mso-font-charset:134; mso-generic-font-family:auto; 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mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><b style=""><span style="">Part Twelve:</span></b><u><span style=""><o:p></o:p></span></u></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">As we sat down around the little table, I heard even more rumbling and pounding.<span style=""> </span>Steve leaned back in his chair and seemed oblivious to it.<span style=""> </span>Brigitte’s dad looked up every time there was a thump or grumble, though, and it made me nervous. <span style=""> </span>The whole thing should have made me nervous, I suppose, but everything’s relative, right?<span style=""> </span>So once I got used to the fact that my <i style="">whole body</i> was in Hell, captured by revenants trying to stop the end of the world, and working with the reanimated corpse of my girlfriend… <i style="">Brigitte!</i>... then it took something even more to make me nervous, and the mountain or whatever we were in, shaking and rumbling, was that something even more.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“Is that normal?” I asked when a particularly loud thump boomed over us.<span style=""> </span>I heard talking and running from out in the map room and as I thought of the map room, it made me want to go look at it again.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">Steve was looking at his Read-Or unit and didn’t answer me right away.<span style=""> </span>Then he looked up at me.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“You <i style="">really</i> miss her, don’t you?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“Quit reading my mind.<span style=""> </span>I’m serious.<span style=""> </span>Turn that thing off or I won’t help you,” I snapped back at him.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“I think you’ll help us.<span style=""> </span>Because I can tell you a few things, and I will if you promise to help me.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“Things like what?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“Things like <i style="">is Brigitte really pregnant?</i> And <i style="">does she really love you?</i><span style=""> </span>Those are your two questions, aren’t they?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“Leave my daughter out of this!” shouted Brigitte’s dad, suddenly, and Steve stood up and waved the Read-Or unit furiously at him.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“You <i style="">be quiet!<span style=""> </span>You be quiet and shut up!<span style=""> </span></i>Fat old man!<span style=""> </span>You do not understand just how <i style="">little</i> power you have here, do you?<span style=""> </span>You’re not very necessary to our plans, at all.<span style=""> </span>You’re a nice tidbit to have.<span style=""> </span>Having you here will help us command the octopi and use them as you have, and will convince <i style="">your</i> soldiers and corporate executives to work for us – but if they don’t, well, then, we’ve gotten this far without octopi and clerks, and we’ll get farther, still.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“I will not help you.” Brigitte’s dad said.<span style=""> </span>I suppose I should have felt kinship with him, that we were both resisting Steve and his demands, but I didn’t.<span style=""> </span>All I could remember was that he’d <i style="">kidnapped</i> me – that naked and spreadeagled time—and I hated him for it.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">Plus, I thought maybe I hated him because I thought maybe Brigitte had been tricking me and if she was tricking me then she was doing it because of her dad, right? So I hated him for that, so when he said <i style="">he’d</i> never help Steve, I instantly wanted to do the opposite and thought <i style="">maybe I will help them.</i><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">I didn’t say anything, though.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">Steve paused after he talked to Brigitte’s dad, standing, and pointing at him, and then said, with more dramatic flair than he’d had yet: “So you <i style="">shut up</i>, or I”ll have you taken back apart.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">Brigitte’s dad went sort of pale, and quieted down.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“Now, then,” Steve said.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">There was a larger THUDDING sound, and then three quick louder pounding-kind of things, and I swear everything shook.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">Steve looked down at his Read-Or unit.<span style=""> </span>He went over to the wall and picked up a little cord with a tiny headphone on it.<span style=""> </span>He put it in.<span style=""> </span>“What was that?” he asked.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">There was a pause as he listened.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“Keep me informed,” he said.<span style=""> </span>Pause.<span style=""> </span>“No, via Read-Or.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">Then he put the cord back and fiddled with the Read-Or unit and then sat down again.<span style=""> </span>The pounding continued, louder.<span style=""> </span>There was a genuine buzz of activity behind us, and I could feel the tension rise in the room.<span style=""> </span>The guys holding Brigitte’s dad at ray gun-point were all keyed up.<span style=""> </span>I could tell.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“So, as I was saying, I want your help, and I can trade you information.<span style=""> </span><i style="">Good</i> information.<span style=""> </span>I can tell you if Brigitte is really pregnant, and if it is truly yours, and whether she really loves you, and I can prove my answers. But I need your promise, first.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">He stopped, looked at the Read-Or, and pressed something on it.<span style=""> </span>“Double the energy, then,” he said.<span style=""> </span>He turned back to me.<span style=""> </span>“It appears that something has roused some local demons and they’re attacking the mountain.<span style=""> </span>Nothing we cannot fend off, but it is curious.<span style=""> </span>I know you had a run-in with similar demons when you were last here.<span style=""> </span>I wonder, can they sense <i style="">you</i>?<span style=""> </span>No mind.<span style=""> </span>We’ll get it under control”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">The battering was louder and louder now.<span style=""> </span>He glanced again at the Read-Or and frowned but then turned back to me.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“I will trust your word.<span style=""> </span>If you promise me that you will help, that you will command the lesbian zombies to help fight off Armageddon, then we will in turn provide you with answers.<span style=""> </span>And when it is over, when the end of the world no longer looms, you will be free to go.<span style=""> </span>You have my word on that.”<span style=""> </span>Pause again, while he looked right at my eyes.<span style=""> </span>I was fascinated and couldn’t look away – I’d never seen such sincerity behind a pair of ragged, torn-up, half-sewn revenant eyelids.<span style=""> </span>“And you can trust me.” He finished.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“How can you prove it?” I asked.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“With this.<span style=""> </span>With other information.<span style=""> </span>I can <i style="">show you</i> what happened.<span style=""> </span>I can either prove that the love of your life is carrying your child and pining away for you, or prove the opposite.<span style=""> </span>You’ll see.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">I thought about that.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">I pictured the rows of … <i style="">lesbian zombies</i>… waiting for me to command them.<span style=""> </span>What would we have to do?<span style=""> </span>Where would we go?<span style=""> </span>I had a million questions.<span style=""> </span><i style="">Who would we be fighting, and how?</i><span style=""> </span>Demons, Samson, missiles, tentacles… I shivered a little.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">But I wanted to know.<span style=""> </span>I wanted to know.<span style=""> </span>I wanted to know if Brigitte had ever told me the truth.<span style=""> </span>About anything.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">The mountain was shaking good and hard now, and I felt dust crumbling a little onto my hair.<span style=""> </span>I looked up and watched the rock-ceiling of the room move back and forth, vibrating.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">I looked back at Samson.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“Prove one of them to me before I decide,” I said.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“What?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“How do I know you can prove it?<span style=""> </span>How do I know I can believe you?<span style=""> </span>Prove one to me before I decide, then I’ll see if you can really do it.<span style=""> </span>I’m not going to promise you anything and then find out you lied to me.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“You could always then renege on your own promise,” Steve said.<span style=""> </span>There was a loud crash and he paused to look at the Read-Or.<span style=""> </span>“The gate is holding well,” he said.<span style=""> </span>Then he tried smiling.<span style=""> </span>It was hideous.<span style=""> </span>“As you’d expect,” he said.<span style=""> </span>“We know what we’re doing.<span style=""> </span>But I may have to go attend to this, so get on with it.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“First prove one of them to me,” I insisted.<span style=""> </span>“Or I don’t help.<span style=""> </span>I’ll refuse.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“We could kill you, then.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“You won’t,” I bluffed.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“I might.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“Then go ahead.<span style=""> </span>How do you know they won’t simply make another one of me and then <i style="">they’ll</i> have me?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">Inside, as I said that, I felt a little sick.<span style=""> </span>That was the first time I’d ever <i style="">used</i> my… whatever I am… to my advantage.<span style=""> </span>Up until then, I didn’t want to really <i style="">admit</i> what I knew I was and that I was so different.<span style=""> </span>But when pushed to it, I guess, I had to acknowledge that I <i style="">am</i> what I <i style="">am</i>, and that I’d better accept it and take whatever advantages I can.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">Whatever I’d said, it scared Steve, I could tell.<span style=""> </span>He straightened up and put a hand to his lips, lips which were gray and parched and peeling and rotten and gross, and said: “There is that.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">He thought a moment more.<span style=""> </span>There was another large sound, and he glanced at the Read-Or, then said: “Very well.<span style=""> </span>I will show you the truth of Brigitte’s pregnancy.”<span style=""> </span>He fiddled with the Read-Or unit, punched some buttons, spun the flywheel, and turned it towards me.<span style=""> </span>“Look at this,” he said.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">It showed me Brigitte, in her apartment, and I saw <i style="">myself</i> lying in her bed, too, next to her.<span style=""> </span>I was naked, and Brigitte was almost naked.<span style=""> </span>She had only a t-shirt on, and I remembered that t-shirt, a little tank-top that she’d been wearing when I woke up that morning.<span style=""> </span>This was our first night together.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">I was asleep.<span style=""> </span>I could tell that because I didn’t move when Brigitte got up. <span style=""> </span>As I watched, my eyes twitched and turned and my hands scrambled and my legs moved.<span style=""> </span>I was surprised by how much I moved during my sleep, and I remembered what Brigitte had said about how I slept.<span style=""> </span>But I didn’t watch me, much, as I was distracted by Brigitte, who stood up, and looked at what I realized was the mirror in her bedroom– she looked directly at the Read-Or unit, and I thought <i style="">that must be how it does it, looking through mirrors or something</i>—and she took a deep breath.<span style=""> </span>Through the t-shirt I could see her breasts, the nipples poking out the fabric, and the t-shirt lifted up so that I could see where her legs ended, smooth and clean, and then she turned around and looked at the bed, again.<span style=""> </span>Her shirt didn’t cover her backside, and I saw the perfect, soft curves of her butt, where I’d so many times already run my hand over and rested my face sometimes.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">She climbed onto the bed and I continued, in the Read-Or, twitching and tossing and turning.<span style=""> </span>She slowly and gently moved me so that I was lying on my back, and then she carefully laid herself down along the length of me, her legs matching up perfectly with mine, her groin pressed against mine, her breasts mashed down onto mine, and her face staring into mine.<span style=""> </span>We were very close to the same height, she was a little taller, and somehow she made us match up.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">In the Read-Or, I stopped moving.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">Brigitte laid her face alongside mine for a moment, then began moving, a little, rubbing against me, slowly, and put her hands alongside my arms, then pulled me against her so that as much of our bodies as possible were touching.<span style=""> </span>She then gently, while still moving subtly and keeping our bodies pressed together, pushed her lips against mine, and when she did that, her eyes open, my eyes closed, there was a glowing flash of bluish light that electrified both our bodies – hers fully, and mine dimly – and then she pressed her lips hard up against mine and moved her body more sensuously, in the glow, rubbing and touching me and pulling me to her and then finally she threw her head back and gasped and rolled off of me and lay there on the bed, rubbing her lower belly and smiling.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">Her smile, I thought, was a nice one.<span style=""> </span>A happy one.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">Then the mountain got lifted up off of us, and we all looked up to see two giant demons holding the mountain over our heads, moving it off to the side while all around us Steve’s men in polo shirts shot at demons and Valkyries with ray guns and yelled and other demons and people fought them.<span style=""> </span>I heard someone yell:<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“Dear God, There Are Thousands Of Them!”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">It was Reverend Tommy’s voice. <o:p></o:p></span></p> Brianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01616494058636881575noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2948392701072618001.post-53525615992363963492009-03-18T05:01:00.000-07:002009-04-02T04:58:55.452-07:00Part 12: The Mountain Under Attack.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_CJiMltRI5UQ/ScY4aDQ-imI/AAAAAAAAM1s/WnmmdYjeZDY/s1600-h/battle.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 165px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_CJiMltRI5UQ/ScY4aDQ-imI/AAAAAAAAM1s/WnmmdYjeZDY/s200/battle.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315998430361717346" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://lesbianzombies.blogspot.com/2009/03/12-steve-tries-to-prove-some-things.html">A. Steve Tries To Prove Some Things.</a><br /><br /><a href="http://lesbianzombies.blogspot.com/2009/03/12b-battle-for-hell-is-underway.html">B. The Battle For Hell Is Underway.</a><br /><br /><a href="http://lesbianzombies.blogspot.com/2009/03/12c-i-change-sides.html">C. I Change Sides.</a><br /><br />D. <a href="http://lesbianzombies.blogspot.com/2009/04/meanwhile-in-new-yo-no-tampa-meanwhile.html">Meanwhile, In New Yo... I mean, Tampa. Meanwhile, In Tampa.</a>Brianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01616494058636881575noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2948392701072618001.post-8143812154493912362009-03-06T04:52:00.000-08:002009-03-06T06:43:12.526-08:00Meanwhile, In New York.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CJiMltRI5UQ/SbE16ZOvzAI/AAAAAAAAMlw/5xdIhfLTDjo/s1600-h/statue6.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CJiMltRI5UQ/SbE16ZOvzAI/AAAAAAAAMlw/5xdIhfLTDjo/s400/statue6.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310084712967949314" border="0" /></a>
<br /><meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 10"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 10"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CBriane%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="time"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="place"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="City"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="State"></o:smarttagtype><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:usefelayout/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><object classid="clsid:38481807-CA0E-42D2-BF39-B33AF135CC4D" id="ieooui"></object> <style> st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } </style> <![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:SimSun; 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mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><b style=""><span style="">Meanwhile, In </span></b><st1:state><st1:place><b style=""><span style="">New York</span></b></st1:place></st1:state><b style=""><span style="">:</span></b><u><span style=""><o:p></o:p></span></u></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">The man slumped against the desk where he kept his monitor and looked around the room.<span style=""> </span>It was a mess, and he had to do something about it.<span style=""> </span>He could not leave it that way.<span style=""> </span>Not for lots of reasons.<span style=""> </span>What would customers think, if they came in and saw a messy shop?<span style=""> </span>That he was one of those grab-and-hack purveyors, that’s what they’d think, and would not pay top dollar.<span style=""> </span>What was the point of staying up all night cutting and sewing pieces of bodies together and then reanimating them for a few dollars?<span style=""> </span><i style="">No point</i>, that’s what.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">Plus government officials might come in.<span style=""> </span>He’d thought the revenant and his men were government officials in the first place.<span style=""> </span>They drove gasoline powered vehicles, for one thing.<span style=""> </span>That was something only soldiers or government officials did, anymore.<span style=""> </span>IF government officials came in here and saw the scattered parts of the men he’d used to try to reassemble the old guy, the blood, the ray gun scorch marks, they’d start investigating and he didn’t need that.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">Plus it wasn’t right to have this mess in front of the Display.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">But he couldn’t clean it up now.<span style=""> </span>He had to get upstairs and open the diner for the day.<span style=""> </span>It was nearly </span><st1:time minute="0" hour="7"><span style="">7 a.m.</span></st1:time><span style=""> and people would be expecting their breakfasts.<span style=""> </span>He sighed and stood up, walked over to the Display’s cabinet and looked at it, glittering and sparkling and seeming almost alive the way the light played along the thousands of little chips sculpted into the shape of a beautiful woman, reaching up, reaching towards Heaven, where the man sent the souls of the women he’d taken and turned …<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">… turned.<span style=""> </span>That was where he left it.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">He reached out a hand, held it just alongside the face of the Display, almost as though he was about to caress its cheek.<span style=""> </span>But he didn’t touch it.<span style=""> </span>He knew he was not worthy enough to touch the Display.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">He wondered where she had gone, the one that looked like this.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“You’re quite an artist,” a voice said behind him.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">The man jumped, startled, and turned around.<span style=""> </span>He had been surprised, but was not scared by the voice because he recognized it.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“Lieutenant,” he said, and put his tired hand up in a salute.<span style=""> </span>There was blood on his arm and he was exhausted.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“At ease.<span style=""> </span>We’re not in the service anymore, are we?”<span style=""> </span>Samson stepped to one side, gently pushed the man to the other so that he could see the Display.<span style=""> </span>“Did you do this?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“Yes,” the man said.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“Chips?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“Yes.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">Samson reached out a hand, but he, too, did not touch the chips.<span style=""> </span>He wiggled his fingers a few inches from it.<span style=""> </span>“Looks 3-D but it’s not, is it?<span style=""> </span>That’s excellent work.”<span style=""> </span>He turned back to the man.<span style=""> </span>“I knew you had it in you way back when, didn’t I?<span style=""> </span>I told you you could do this and you did it.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“You were right,” the man said.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“Making you a lot of money?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“Yes, sir.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“And you use the diner for cover?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“Yes.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“Good.<span style=""> </span>Nobody’s suspicious? Nobody’s found you?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">The man wondered if he should tell Lieutenant Samson about the revenant.<span style=""> </span>The revenant had sworn that he would know if the man talked about him at all, that he’d find out instantly, had said <i style="">I can read your thoughts, you know</i>, and the man wondered if that could be done, could be done from far away, that is.<span style=""> </span>He worried that it could.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“Nobody,” he told Samson.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“Nobody except the revenant.<span style=""> </span>Steve.<span style=""> </span>Is that right?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">The man bit his lip.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“I’m not reading your mind.<span style=""> </span>I know he’s found you, though.<span style=""> </span>I know what he had you do.<span style=""> </span>Did it work?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">The man tried desperately not to think about anything the revenant would be able to read and nodded his head once.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“So you can do it with men, too?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“Yes.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">Samson considered.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“Who’s this modeled after?” he asked, pointing towards the Display.<span style=""> </span>“When did you make this?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“I began that with the first one, years ago.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“You did.”<span style=""> </span>It wasn’t a question.<span style=""> </span>Samson was thinking, the man realized.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“Yes.<span style=""> </span>I began making it and sculpted it over the years.<span style=""> </span>It’s a mosaic.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“Yes.<span style=""> </span>I see.<span style=""> </span>It is.”<span style=""> </span>Samson turned back to him, then.<span style=""> </span>“It looks like someone, doesn’t it?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“Yes.<span style=""> </span>It looks like…”<span style=""> </span>The man thought for a moment.<span style=""> </span>He was bad with names.<span style=""> </span>“Rachel.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“Why’d you name her Rachel?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">The man shrugged.<span style=""> </span>“I just go with what pops into my head.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“Did you recognize her when you made her?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“Recognize?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“From this?”<span style=""> </span>Samson pointed at the Display.<span style=""> </span>“It looks exactly like her.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“I didn’t realize that until later.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“And you didn’t recognize her from anything else?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">The man shook his head.<span style=""> </span><i style="">Should I have?</i> He wondered.<span style=""> </span>He was nervous about thinking, though, and so he tried to stop again.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">Samson pondered a moment and said “How’d you make her the boss?”<span style=""> </span>The man just looked at him. Samson waited, then said “You know she’s the boss, don’t you?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“What do you mean?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“She commands them.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“She does?”
<br /><span style=""> </span>“You didn’t know that?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“No.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“You didn’t know she was the head zombie?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“No.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“You didn’t do anything special to her when you made her?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“No.” <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><i style=""><span style="">The hand</span></i><span style="">, the man thought, a little guiltily.<span style=""> </span>Samson was not touching him and so he wouldn’t have picked that up, right? <i style="">The left hand.</i><span style=""> </span>He could see it in its velvet-lined box.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“Who ordered her?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">The man panicked.<span style=""> </span>“I’m not… I don’t…”
<br /><span style=""> </span>Samson looked at him and his eyes were smiling and kind, just like in the old days.<span style=""> </span>“Hey, bud.” Samson said.<span style=""> </span>“Hey.<span style=""> </span>Remember, sitting there in the treefort in the jungles of </span><st1:city><st1:place><span style="">London</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="">?<span style=""> </span>Ray beams flashing all around us?<span style=""> </span>Leaves pilfering into nothingness, firebombs falling to strip away foliage, it’s just you and me there on the platform, and you got hit?<span style=""> </span>Remember what I did?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“You saved my life.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“I did that for a reason,” Samson said.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“You did?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“Yeah.<span style=""> </span>I did.<span style=""> </span>I knew you had talent, and I knew we needed your talent.<span style=""> </span>There’s another war on, buddy.<span style=""> </span>Another war, and you’re helping me fight it again.<span style=""> </span>I saved you for a purpose and your purpose has been to create these zombies, so that they can become an army for us, an army helping us fight the greatest of all wars.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">The man got tears in his eyes. “My life has a purpose?”
<br /><span style=""> </span>Samson said “It sure does.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“A <i style="">good</i> purpose?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">Samson said “You bet.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">The man started crying, and smiling.<span style=""> </span>“I don’t even know what to say.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“Say the name of the person who ordered Rachel, who gave you the specifications.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">The man said, “I wish I could.” He sniffled and shook his head and wanted to hug the Lieutenant.<span style=""> </span><i style="">All those years mucking about in blood and sewing things and working in the diner and now I find out my life has a purpose!<span style=""> </span>My life is worth something!</i><span style=""> </span>He wanted to help Samson.<span style=""> </span>But he said, now, “But he never gave me a name.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“How were you going to deliver it?” Samson asked.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“I was supposed to knock her out and ship her via lizardline,” the man said.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“To what address?” Samson asked.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">The man walked over to his computer screen, waved a hand.<span style=""> </span>A few thoughts, a wave of the hand, and the address came on the screen.<span style=""> </span>Samson walked over and saw it.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">“Damn,” he said.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><span style="">He recognized the address:<span style=""> </span>It was God’s vacation home.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
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<br />Are you Afraid of Public Speaking?
<br /></a>Brianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01616494058636881575noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2948392701072618001.post-87319786602936568352009-02-26T04:57:00.001-08:002009-02-26T06:35:19.040-08:00Mr. Lockhart: Master of the Octopi<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_CJiMltRI5UQ/SaaoZfbFp6I/AAAAAAAAMZQ/HJo-4Q_n0Wc/s1600-h/brigitte%27s+dad.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_CJiMltRI5UQ/SaaoZfbFp6I/AAAAAAAAMZQ/HJo-4Q_n0Wc/s400/brigitte%27s+dad.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307114366788020130" border="0" /></a>
<br /><meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 10"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 10"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CBriane%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:usefelayout/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:SimSun; panose-1:2 1 6 0 3 1 1 1 1 1; mso-font-alt:宋体; mso-font-charset:134; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:3 135135232 16 0 262145 0;} @font-face {font-family:"\@SimSun"; panose-1:2 1 6 0 3 1 1 1 1 1; mso-font-charset:134; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:3 135135232 16 0 262145 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language:EN-US;} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman";} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""><span style=""> </span>The other was Brigitte’s dad.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""><span style=""> </span>“You,” he said, and tried to push the guards off of him, but they piled on top of him and held him down.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""><span style=""> </span>I backed away a little from him, but there wasn’t much of anyplace to go, there on that ledge.<span style=""> </span>Naked Girl’s head was only a few feet from my hand, I realized; the ledge was about six or seven feet up and she was standing below me.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""><span style=""> </span>“What’s he doing here?” I asked.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""><span style=""> </span>“He’s our <i style="">coup de grace</i>,” Steve said.<span style=""> </span>“We own him, now.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""><span style=""> </span>Brigitte’s dad was sitting up now, held by three guys on the ground.<span style=""> </span>He looked horrible:<span style=""> </span>he was all mismatched and I could see scars on him stitching almost.<span style=""> </span>His left leg was shorter than his right leg and his arms were different lengths, too.<span style=""> </span>He was barefoot and one foot was a different color than the other.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""><span style=""> </span>“Oh, no,” I said.<span style=""> </span>I looked down at my own hands and feet.<span style=""> </span>I looked up at Steve.<span style=""> </span>“He’s not…”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""><span style=""> </span>“He is.<span style=""> </span>He died.<span style=""> </span>As you know.<span style=""> </span>But we needed him.<span style=""> </span>Not past tense, even.<span style=""> </span>We <i style="">need</i> him.<span style=""> </span>Because of the octopi.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""><span style=""> </span>“What?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""><span style=""> </span>You have no idea what it’s like to almost never have anything make sense to you, to have about every other sentence that you hear be complete gibberish.<span style=""> </span>Imagine that, and then imagine, too, that someone’s always shooting ray guns at you, and also that you keep getting dragged places or going to Hell, and you’ll have an idea what my life was like for a long time there.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""><span style=""> </span>“The octopi.<span style=""> </span>Like your own octopus.<span style=""> </span>He controls them.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""><span style=""> </span>“He <i style="">what?</i>”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""><span style=""> </span>I know I sounded dumb, but that’s about all I could muster.<span style=""> </span>I looked at Brigitte’s dad, who was trying to pull free.<span style=""> </span>His head was a little crooked, too.<span style=""> </span>I looked down at myself again.<span style=""> </span><i style="">Is that how other people see me?</i><span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""><span style=""> </span>“Mr. Lockhart invented Octopi.<span style=""> </span>Didn’t you, Mr. Lockhart.”<span style=""> </span>Brigitte’s dad glared at him.<span style=""> </span>I tried to remember if I knew Brigitte’s last name was Lockhart.<span style=""> </span><i style="">Had she told me?<span style=""> </span></i>“They’ve even got his symbol on them.<span style=""> </span>If you look down on the bottom of the octopus, there’s a little heart-shaped padlock.<span style=""> </span>That’s the Lockhart Industries symbol.<span style=""> </span>He invented them and he secretly controls them all, something all the people buying octopi don’t know.<span style=""> </span>He invented Read-Or units, too, and people don’t know what <i style="">they</i> can do, either.”<span style=""> </span>He held up the little Read-Or unit he had and pointed to a little flywheel on it.<span style=""> </span>“Want to see what Mr. Lockhart is thinking now?<span style=""> </span>I bet it’s something about me.<span style=""> </span>Or maybe something about you.<span style=""> </span>But we can find out.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""><span style=""> </span>Brigitte’s dad glared at him but kept his mouth shut.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""><span style=""> </span>“It was a shame when he died, but not as big a shame as it could have been because word never got out that he died.<span style=""> </span>Our revenants were there and got his body to me and nobody has yet heard of the death of wealthy industrialist and CEO of one of the Three Powers.<span style=""> </span>And nobody will.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""><span style=""> </span>Steve really should have paused before that last sentence.<span style=""> </span>Or at least laughed maniacally or something.<span style=""> </span>But he didn’t.<span style=""> </span>He wasn’t even talking dramatically.<span style=""> </span>He had no flair whatsoever.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""><span style=""> </span>“Because we have him,” Steve was going on.<span style=""> </span>He looked now at Mr. Lockhart.<span style=""> </span>“We have <i style="">both</i> of you.<span style=""> </span>This is her, as you know.<span style=""> </span>You knew it when you and Reverend Tommy first grabbed her, didn’t you? Ironic, isn’t it?<span style=""> </span>If only you’d known her career would end up like this.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""><span style=""> </span>There it was again.<span style=""> </span>Gibberish.<span style=""> </span>But before I could ask what that meant, another guy came running down the tunnel and burst out, nearly tripping over Mr. Lockhart and panting.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""><span style=""> </span>“Sir.<span style=""> </span>Steve!<span style=""> </span>Sir.<span style=""> </span>We’re under attack.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""><span style=""> </span>“What?” Steve asked.<span style=""> </span>He was calm, though.<span style=""> </span>“Details.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""><span style=""> </span>“There’s a hundred-foot-tall demon pounding at the gate at the front door.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""><span style=""> </span>“Oh.”<span style=""> </span>Steve turned back to me.<span style=""> </span>“Now, we should continue.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""><span style=""> </span>“Sir?” the man said.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""><span style=""> </span>Steve turned back to him.<span style=""> </span>“Yes?” <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""><span style=""> </span>“What should we do?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""><span style=""> </span>“Is the Gate turned on?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""><span style=""> </span>“Yes.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""><span style=""> </span>“Then do nothing.<span style=""> </span>One demon won’t be able to get through that at all.<span style=""> </span>This wasn’t unexpected, you know.<span style=""> </span>Sometimes they find us.<span style=""> </span>It’ll get bored and go away after a while.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""><span style=""> </span>There was a booming sound somewhere.<span style=""> </span>Steve looked up at the ceiling.<span style=""> </span>“So he’s punching it.<span style=""> </span>Well, it’ll be fine.”<span style=""> </span>He motioned with his hand and the man left.<span style=""> </span>“Keep me posted,” Steve called after him.<span style=""> </span>He turned back to me.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""><span style=""> </span>“There’s much more to tell you but we may not have much time.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""><span style=""> </span>I looked down the hallway after the man.<span style=""> </span>“Because we’re under attack?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""><span style=""> </span>“No.<span style=""> </span>Not that.<span style=""> </span>That doesn’t worry me at all.<span style=""> </span>What worries me is your old friend Samson.<span style=""> </span>He’s desperate and might be desperate enough to try to make God remember who He is.” <o:p></o:p></span></p> Brianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01616494058636881575noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2948392701072618001.post-31624573729623023442009-02-21T13:41:00.000-08:002009-02-21T14:20:42.403-08:00It might have been more polite if it had been called "web design for people who don't know much about designing" but that's not very catchy."Why you should dunk your splash page."<br /><br />That's the first thing that caught my eye when I clicked over to a site called "Web Design for Idiots," a site I clicked to for two reasons: First, I want to know more about web design, and second, I'm kind of an idiot when it comes to these things. Everything I know about web design so far I've had to teach myself, and here is what I learned since I first started a blog back in 2005:<br /><br />Um.<br /><br />Typing.<br /><br />I can type things into my blog.<br /><br />So when I found out about<br /><a href="http://socialspark.com/metrics/click/post?slot_id=32569&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.webdesignforidiots.net%2Fso-why-am-i-doing-this%2F" rel="nofollow">About Web Design for Idiots </a> and begin reading through there, I was expecting a lot of technical jargon and HTML and OSC and XIRLRDKR (I made that up typing randomly. That's another thing I can do, web-design-wise.)<br /><br />But it's not that, not at all. True, there are technical terms, but it's pretty hard, I guess, to talk about web design and NOT use technical terms. And around all the technical terms are blog entries and articles and pages that give actual good advice on web design.<br /><br />Like the article on "dunking your splash page," which caught my eye because, well, I had no idea what it might be about. I didn't know if "dunking" was a web design term, and what a "splash page" might be. So I read the article, and learned that a "splash page" is that annoying first page of a website where you have to sit through a bunch of animated garbage before you get to enter a website -- and I learned, too, why it's not a good thing to have a splash page (which is good, because I was thinking I would have to have one even though I hate them, and now I know I don't need one and it's better if I don't.)<br /><br />What I liked most of all, though, was that the article was written not for idiots -- catchy as the title of the site is -- but written instead for people like me, who are smart, and all, but who don't know the first thing about websites and web design. In a few quick paragraphs, the author set me straight on what a splash page is and why it's a bad thing and also threw in a bunch of other information, like how search engines work and why splash pages mess you up for them.<br /><br />You can look right on the <a href="http://socialspark.com/metrics/click/post?slot_id=32569&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwebdesignforidiots.net" rel="nofollow">web design for idiots main page website tutorials</a> to find the topics you're interested in, or click around to <a href="http://socialspark.com/metrics/click/post?slot_id=32569&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.webdesignforidiots.net%2Fhave-a-question-contact-me%2F" rel="nofollow">get your web design questions answered by web design for idiots</a>, or just browse through the site to find well-written, interesting, and informative articles that'll get you going on web designing and make you more informed about what you're doing on the Internet.<br /><br />The site can can even teach you to <a href="http://socialspark.com/metrics/click/post?slot_id=32569&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.webdesignforidiots.net%2F2009%2F02%2Froadmap-to-oscommerce-file-structure-for-newbies%2F" rel="nofollow">teach yourself oscommerce for newbies oscommerce file structure</a> -- whatever that is; I began browsing it and bookmarked it for future reference. I plan on going back to that site more and more.<br /><br /><br /><img alt="Webdesignad" src="http://socialspark.com/uploads/socialspark/public/assets/615/webdesignad.png" /><br /><map name="map2302"><area href="http://socialspark.com/metrics/click/disclosure?slot_id=32569&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.webdesignforidiots.net%2Fso-why-am-i-doing-this%2F" shape="rect" coords="0,0,206,45" rel="nofollow"><area href="http://socialspark.com/code_of_ethics" shape="rect" coords="207,0,225,45" rel="nofollow"></map><img alt="Post?slot_id=32569&url=http%3a%2f%2fsocialspark" src="http://socialspark.com/metrics/view/post?slot_id=32569&url=http%3A%2F%2Fsocialspark.com%2Fimages%2Fdisclosure_badges%2Fdisclosure_badge_grey.png" style="border: 0pt none ;" usemap="#map2302" border="0" />Brianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01616494058636881575noreply@blogger.com0