Five Years Later

NEW YORK, NY – It was five years ago today when they first appeared in the early morning skies over New York. Three massive, city sized ships, each the shape of a disk. It was like something out of a Hollywood summer blockbuster. And like in those blockbuster’s, people in the city reacted in predictable patterns. Fear, confusion, excitement. The army was called in, and soon the streets of the city were filled with tanks and trucks and men and women in green BDU’s, all shouting and running.

I myself remember being in my office trying to write an article on the Mayor’s latest indiscretion with the local prostitutes, when a co-worker dragged me to the windows to see what was going on. There they were, pushing their way out of the clouds and blocking the sun. They were so big I remember that I couldn’t even see the entirety of the one that was right above us. Just this big, black curve, with the occasional blinking light or protruding piece of equipment.

I remember seeing the military pull up and get situated within minutes of the arrival. I remember thinking at the time that it was a quick response time, but of course, later we learned that the government had been tracking the three ships as soon as they passed Mars orbit. The young soldiers on the street were getting people to go back inside, to clear the streets. It was obvious they weren’t trying to evacuate the city, although they did help ease all the people who were cramming the roads get out of town. I think they were just trying to get people out of their way.

Then came the part that had us all on edge. The waiting. After moving over the city, the just hung there, completely motionless and silent. We began to wonder if they were even manned. Air Force jets could be seen doing flyby’s, but no matter how close they got, nothing could be seen. The waiting lasted for hours, during which time the entire world came to a stop to watch and see what would happen. Stores shut down, schools closed, banks locked their doors and people everywhere looked up to the skies or at their TV monitors, wondering what they wanted, and where their more?

Finally, after hours of quiet, we got the signal. Televisions, radios and even people’s blackberry’s and iPhone’s all started to pick up the signal. Transmissions of greetings and we come in peace. A world wide collective breath was released. Over the next few days, delegations from the UN and the aliens were to meet. We learned their story. A planet killer asteroid had destroyed their world. These three ships held seven million people, the last of their race, called the greck, who had been flying under suspended animation for approximately 100 years until they reached us, their nearest galactic neighbor. They were looking for a new place to live, and they hoped that we would be willing to take them in. Of course, we were. Our governments couldn’t wait to get their hands on their technology, and scientists just wanted to look at the newcomers to our world.

Of course, we all know now that they left their ships after a month. And our world changed. They moved all over the world, and while most of them settled in and around New York, even building their own community upstate, there is practically no country that they are not found now. For the most part, our world is now one large government, in order to fairly parcel out the new technology. Our space program has been given new life. But, we’re not here to discuss these things. We’re here to celebrate the Arrival.

Arrival Day has been a national, indeed a worldwide, holiday since two years after the big event. Today, we celebrate the 5th anniversary of Arrival, and I thought it would be appropriate to interview some eyewitnesses of the big event. I found four individuals that were at the scene that day in New York. We start first with Sergeant Lance Davis, who was part of the soldiers called in to clear out the city. Then, we move onto Mrs. Miranda Hunter, a schoolteacher whose class was interrupted by the arrival. Third up is Father O’Sullivan, a catholic priest who brings us the Church’s view of the events that happened 5 years ago. And finally, we have LaDonna Lawson, CEO and President New York Telegraph, Inc, a cell phone manufacturer whose company has had a big burst of growth thanks to the alien’s arrival.

When I called up the US Army about this article and asked if I could interview a soldier that was at the scene, I expected to get a polished officer, someone that was good at giving just these kinds of interviews. What I got was refreshingly not polished enlisted man, a infantry man who had only been in the military a brief time when the ships appeared in our sky. Sergeant Lance Davis, a muscular African-American man, met me in his dress uniform, but I got the distinct impression that he wasn’t comfortable wearing it. He was a brass tacks, no holds barred kind of guy, who didn’t want to waist time on small talk and got straight into the interview.

“I was only a corporal back then,” he told me. “My unit was getting ready to ship out to the Middle East. I was excited. Hell, it was why I had joined the Army in the first place, to see some action. I thought it was all some big action flick. I guess I was stupid back then. We were based in Fort Drum, and all I kept thinking this would be the last time I saw the place. Last breakfast in that chow hall. Instead, we got an emergency alert. At this point, they hadn’t actually arrived yet, so none of us had any clue what was going on.”

“We reported on the parade ground, where we received our orders. We were moving out in 2 hours. We were heading to New York City. Apparently, something big was happening, or would be happening, it wasn’t real clear. All I knew was that I had to hurry and finish packing, grab my gear and report with the rest of my battalion to the planes that would bring into the Big Apple. I’d never seen anything this big happen this fast before. There was word spreading through the troops that we had been invaded. Enemy troops had landed in New York itself, and we were heading there to hold them back.”

“To be honest?” he said, taking a pause to have some orange juice. “I think I’d rather it had been the Arabs who landed that day. It would have been easier to understand. On the way there, we got a further briefing, detailing exactly what was going on and what our jobs were to be. We were told that there were three city sized alien space ships were on their way to Earth, and that they would arrive in New York within the hour. At first, we all laughed. Then, they showed us the pictures from the satellite tracking.”

“I’ll tell you, it all felt like something out of a sci-fi movie. But, the brass acted as if it were real, so that meant, no matter how stupid it all sounded to me, I had to treat it as real too. We landed, exited the plains, and got our first real glimpse of the ships. When I first saw them, I stopped dead in my tracks, mouth gaping open, and said something I can’t repeat to your readers. Even the officers were gaping at the sky. Finally, our LT shook his head and got us moving again.”

“Our immediate job was to clear the city streets. It was too late for a full evacuation, so it was decided that the best bet was to keep people inside. This isn’t as easy as it sounded. The NYPD had already started this process, but by the time they were in gear, the ships were visible already, and people were rushing out of the city on their own. My unit joined up with the National Guard unit that was already there, and became glorified traffic cops. Except that when the guy directing traffic has an M-16 rifle in his arms, you tend to listen to him. It took two hours to unblock the log jam, but we managed to either get people to go back to their homes, or get them out of the city.”

“After that, it was just like the rest of the country. We waited. We marched through the city streets, keeping things clear as much as we could, bringing food to people trapped in office buildings and moving school kids to be back with their parents. But, mostly, it was long periods of standing there, ‘on watch,’ just staring at the sky. I remember it being quiet. I’d been to NYC a few times before, and it was always noisy, no matter the time. But then, it was quiet. It was almost like the city had been abandoned. We had all held our breath, and were waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“I’ll tell you what the worst part was, and it’s something that people hardly ever talk about regarding Arrival. It started raining. It came down pretty hard, and my unit was one of the ones on the ground. We didn’t get a Duce-and-a-Half, or get assigned to one of the stations at the city. Nope, we mostly stood guard, watching to make sure that there was no one on the streets of our particular slice of the city. So, we stood out there in the pouring rain. We heard later that the rain was a direct result of ‘atmospheric dislocation’ caused by the space ships, but that didn’t make it any more pleasant. It sucked.”

“The good news about that was that it only lasted about an hour. Poured down like you wouldn’t believe during that hour, but then it was done, like it never happened. All this time we spent there, waiting, watching, looking up at the sky, I only had one thought on my mind. Come on, someone do something! By the time the rain ended, I just wanted something to happen. Anything. An attack, a message, giant robots, whatever. Then, our communications equipment squawked to life. And you know this part. The Message. It was a recording, in several languages, espousing peace and a desire for peaceful talks. I heard at least three languages I recognized, including English, of course, and several I never heard before.”

“I remember thinking at the time that he voice sounded… recorded. Fake, somehow. And, of course, later we found out it was. The aliens decided it would be friendlier if the message came from our own voices. Then was the exciting part. A delegate from the aliens was going to land in Central Park, and meet with representatives from the UN. My unit didn’t get to go, though, so I wasn’t one of the first to see them. We stayed behind, and continued with keeping people out of the streets. It was decided that it would be best until we could verify their intentions before letting people swarm them.”

And no doubt a good idea, because as a report, I know that I would have. I thanked the Sergeant for his time, and the story. He grunted and told me to thank the top brass. He just reported where ordered.

Next, I met with Mrs. Miranda Hunter, a grade school teacher from Lincoln Elementary. I drove out to her school in the middle of the after noon, when all the children were playing. I was not surprised to see a mixture of human and alien children there. Lincoln was one of the first schools to integrate the two cultures, and even hired the first greck teacher in the country, who now taught math to 5th graders.

We met in her classroom. It was exactly what you expected from a 2nd grade class room, with chalkboard, books on the shelf, papers on the wall and a few projects the kids had made themselves hanging from the ceiling. Mrs. Hunter was a in her early 40’s, with salt and pepper hair that she wore cut short just under her ears. We had a few minutes of conversation before getting into the heart of the interview, and I found that she was a pleasant woman, but also one that you would not want angry at you. It was difficult to not think of her as a mother figure, even though she was only slightly older than I am.

“School had just started when they arrived. It was supposed to be a sunny day, and I was looking forward to that, but for some reason, it was dark that day. Clouds had rolled in, and I don’t just mean fluffy cotton clouds, I mean some heavy-duty storm clouds, dark and angry looking. Only, there wasn’t any rain coming from it. I was frustrated, because it looked like my sunny day was about to be ruined. Little did I know how right I was.”

“It was Jeremy who noticed them first,” she said, pointing to one of the desks that was located next to the windows. “He’s a bit of a day dreamer, and is usually looking out the window. So, when he raised his hand to ask a question, I went right to him, because he never asks questions.”

“What did he say?” I asked her.

“He asked why there was a city in the clouds. When I asked him what city he was talking about, he pointed out the window. I didn’t even have to walk to the window to see part of the ship. After Jeremy pointed it out, everyone in the class rushed to the windows to look. It was massive, and took up the whole sky. Big and black and circular, there were blinking lights and what looked like towers on the underside. I mean, it had to be the underside, right? That was all we could see. So, from our point of view, it not only looked like Jeremy’s city in the clouds, it was an upside down city.”

“At first, I couldn’t comprehend what it was I was seeing. Then, an announcement came over the loudspeaker. It was the principle, Leonard. He was letting us know that the school had just been contacted by the police, and that we were to begin lock down procedures. He would be coming by to each class room to talk to each teacher.”

I asked her what lockdown was.

“Well, after 9/11, most of the schools in the country came up with emergency procedures to protect the children. They were called lockdown, because basically that’s what we did to the school. We would keep the children in the classes, and call their parents to inform them that we were protecting their kids and that the school was locked down until further notice.”

“It was hard to believe that the thing hanging in the sky was real, but the lockdown order form Leonard solidified it for me. The children all looked at me with fear in their eyes. I told them not to worry, I’m sure it’s just a drill. I followed lockdown procedure and closed down the class, and then had every re-take their seats. I didn’t think that returning to the lesion we never really started would be a good idea, so I decided that we should turn on the TV and find out what was happening.”

“That’s when we learned that these were, indeed, alien space ships that had arrived mere moments ago. The TV news showed footage of the Army clearing out the streets and the traffic clogged roads as people tried to escape. After about a minute of that, I shut the TV off. Several of the children had questions, but I put them off as I saw Leonard at the door. He gave me the list of parents for my classroom and their phone numbers, not that I needed it. I always kept a copy. He also told me that the military had posted guards around the school.”

“I called the parents. I told them in no uncertain terms that we had shut down the school. That we were protecting their children, and that part of how we were doing that was by not letting anyone in or out of the school grounds. I told them that we had military guards to help keep their children out of harms way. All the while, I was wondering what it was we though we were protecting them from. Anything that big that could just float into the sky was not going to be stopped by lockdown.”

“Then we waited. Eventually, more soldiers appeared, with pizza and sandwiches, and we fed all the kids. After a few hours, they told us that they were taking all the kids and returning them with their parents and families. I told the soldiers that came to my room that I wasn’t going to let a single child go until I had spoken with their parents on the phone to make sure it was okay. One by one, most of my kids left. The few that stayed with me watched out the windows, or sat at their desks. I had everyone left draw a picture of the ships when the message broadcast itself all over the place. It hit my phone, and I quickly turned on the TV so the kids could watch it as well. It was history in the making, and I realized at that point that some day, I would be teaching this day to other students. And now I am, to a class that includes 4 children that were born on board those ships.”

At that point, lunchtime was over, and the children started returning to the classroom. I thanked Mrs. Hunter for he time and returned to my office. I left Lincoln Elementary with a different perspective on things. If I had ever had a child, I would want someone like Mrs. Hunter to be watching over it.

Next up was a visit to the Catholic Church. Father Thomas O’Sullivan was a portly man in his early fifties. Not fat by any means, but not in shape either. He had a big, warm smile to greet me when we met at the door. I suppose at this point I should come clean, and let you know that Father O’Sullivan and I have known each other for years now. He’s been my contact at the Church for when I need a quote from a priest, or for interest pieces like this one. This is the first time I’ve used his name, though, and it was done at this request.

We sat in his little office behind the otherwise dominating large church where he preached to his parish. It was a comfortable office, filled with things he had collected as gifts over the years. Crosses of all make and model, a hand-carved mask from a village in Africa he once visited, a paper-machae globe made by a 4th grade class to thank him for helping them raise money for a Disneyland trip. We both sat in comfortable chairs, and he choose one not behind his desk to make this a meeting on more even footing. We drank tea he served us while we talked.

“I supposed you’re not here for the official position of the Church on Arrival,” he said with a laugh. “That’s a position well known to all by now. We’ve accepted our brother’s from space, and announced to the world that greck have souls and are children of God just like we are. No, you want to know my personal story of where I was and what happened to me at Arrival.”

I nodded for him to continue.

“Well, before we begin, I must confess something to you that I’ve never told anyone before. I’m a huge sci-fi geek.” A smile crossed his face, and I had to laugh. I had never heard this from him before, and was intrigued. “Ever since I was a child, the only thing besides a priest I wanted to be was an astronaut. I wanted to be Captain Kirk, exploring the galaxy and finding new life forms, children of God out in the stars.”

“So, when, that morning five years ago, while I was sweeping the steps of the church, I saw t he ships appear in the morning sky, breaking through the clouds, I was a ten year old boy again. They had come at last. God had answered my most secret prayers. But, I knew what would come next. I didn’t waist a second in preparing, and ran inside to get the younger priests into gear. We cleaned up the church and started making coffee and food for the people that were about to flood the church, seeking answers.”

“And, of course, they came. Hundreds of them. The military showed up pretty quickly as well, and were helping direct people into the church. It was standing room only in a matter of an hour. Many were my regular flock, but many more were people I had never seen before. All were welcome. All wanted to know what was happening, were the ships a sign from God, or a sign of the apocalypse. That was a popular thing back then, to see signs of the End Times in everything.”

“After passing out coffee and toast out to everyone, I got up on the pulpit to deliver a speech. I notified everyone that this was not a sign of the End Times. It was, however, a message from God. It was God telling us that we were no longer alone in the universe. Our friends, nay, our brothers and sisters from the stars were coming to welcome us into the bigger family of God. This was a momentous occasion, a turning point in the history of not just our world, but of two worlds. A moment we would tell our children and grandchildren about.”

“It seemed to help calm everyone down, and several people seemed to believe me, but there was still a lot of people in fear. We had been in the church, with a military guard out front, for hours and there was nothing happening. We had the radio hooked up to the speakers so we could all hear the latest on the events. But the big question everyone had was ‘what were they waiting for? War or peace, shouldn’t they have done something by now?’”

“Of course, just when the tensions were threatening to bring people to the verge of madness, we got the message. It broke out over the speakers, interrupting the news announcer. They were messages of peace and co-existence. A great cheer broke out among the people in the church. People started dancing and hugging. Even the soldiers outside joined in. It was truly a momentous day.”

I thanked the Father for his time and the interview, and stayed around after for some more private conversation. I always enjoy my time with Father O’Sullivan. Of all the people I have talked to about their experiences regarding the Arrival over the years, his was perhaps the most hopeful, the most inspiring. He was never afraid of our visitors from the beginning; his faiths guiding him on how to not only greet the strangers to our world, but how to guide his flock in doing the same. Truly, he is an inspiration to me.

My final visit on this whirlwind tour of interviews was the tower office of New York Telegraph, Inc. It wasn’t quite the dominating presence of places like Trump Towers or the offices of the bigger banks in the word, but the fact that this company took the top four floors of this particular sky scrapper was still pretty intimidating, even for me.

LaDonna Lawson was waiting for me in one of the conference rooms, sitting with her laptop open and typing away at the end of a long square table. She motioned for me to sit at one of the chairs next to her, which still kept her at the head of the table. I expected nothing less from the CEO of the fastest growing telecommunications company in the country. She greeted me with a friendly smile and shake of the hand, and then pressed a button on the speaker phone and had her assistant bring coffee and some scones for us to nibble on during the interview. I thanked her for her time.

“It’s no problem, really,” she said. “I love talking to the media about the greck. They’ve been a huge boon to my company, and have advanced telecommunications a hundred years ahead in a matter of a month’s time. I’ve worked with them as employees and friends and have even spent money on greck advocacy groups, making sure they get all the fair treatment as citizens of this nation. It’s a small matter for me to rearrange my schedule to meet with you here now.”

“So, let me get right to the story, shall I?” she said, and I nodded. “As you know, five years ago, my company was working on the latest generation of smart phones. We had just signed a contract with Google to design a new Droid phone, something that could not only access the internet, but would have accessories like Microsoft Office designed for use on the phone, with Voice Recognition Software for ease of use. Advanced stuff at the time.”

“I was in early, because I had a meeting that day with my main programmers, and wanted to get ready and get in some other work done before then. My office back then still had a nice large corner window. I therefore had a fantastic view of the large, black discs breaking through the clouds. They were like huge records or tea saucers. I instantly thought of the old 50’s sci-fi movies my husband loves to watch.”

“I called my assistant to ask her if she knew what was going on, but she hadn’t seen anything yet. She came into my office, looked out the window and shrieked in fear. He quickly went to the break room and turned on the TV I had bought to boost employee morale a few months ago. The news reports were a little confusing at first. No one was sure if they were truly alien space ships, something launched from our own government, or an attack by a previously unknown enemy. All anyone knew was that something momentous was happening.”

“I’ll tell you what I thought, looking at that great, floating disk in the sky. The technology to make something that large just float there in one spot was amazing. And I wanted to get my hands on it. Imagine what they must have for communications. I bet they could send real time messages from the Earth to the Moon, or even Mars. I was drooling thinking about what they could do. I only hoped that they weren’t hostile, though I had a hard time believing that they were. I mean, they traveled how many millions of light years to get here? If they were hostile, why not just attack right away, why wait hours before contacting us?”

“When the message arrived, and it took over every form of communication around, including my own blackberry and my assistant’s iPhone, I knew that I needed to get rights to that technology. This would revolutionize the world in ways no one had ever dreamed off. As soon as the message ended, I called some friends of mine, contacts in the UN that I had done business with in the past, including one old school mate of mine from MIT. I managed to wheel a deal pretty quickly that had me included in the Technological Investigations team the UN was forming. And here we are now, five years later, and my company still is the only ones that have turned greck technology into something useful by humans, the new Google Holo-Droid, a hand held 3D Holographic video phone.”

And with that, she was done. I knew well the Holo-Droid, it was the phone I was carrying in my pocket during that meeting. Her quick thinking managed to land LaDonna Lawson on tech blogs and magazines all over the world, and propelled Google to the top of the smart phone market, creating the first phone to truly beat the iPhone. Of course, we all know that Apple has fought back, with the iGram, it’s own version of the holographic video phone, but the Holo-Droid has held solid at number one for two years now.

And with that, I bring my little excursion of the past to a close. There are as many different views of the Arrival as there are people in this country. I once spoke to a college student that stated he was so afraid that the aliens were here to eat everyone that he hid in the basement of his dorm for three days before coming up to see what had happened. I saw another that had lost complete faith in his religion, that the alien’s very existence belied everything he believed. And still other’s that were excited that the mother ship had finally come home.

So, I end now with these closing words. Five years ago, our world, our very conception of the universe itself, changed. Though we are still not a unified world under a single government, the world is now united in a way that it never was in the past. A truly international space program is in existence now, and a permanent base on the moon now exists, where we plan on sending ships to Mars. Aliens walk among us, and while many are still unhappy about their arrival, they have integrated themselves into our societies and minds fully, even having their own Saturday Morning cartoons about cultural heroes. The world changed that day. And I wonder, how will it continue to change in the days to come?

-Sandra Cameron, staff writer, UN World News Daily

The End

Week 6 story is up!

Another short blog post as it's Valentine's Day, and I want to spend it with my family. So, enjoy the story!

Dad

When you come right down to it, I supposed I’d have to say that my dad is just like most other people’s dads. He wants what’s best for me; he wants me to be happy. He loves me, in his way. He wants me to avoid the mistakes he made in his life. He even wants me to have the best education, and has paid for the best private schools around. It’s really just his job that separates my dad from other dads. I’m sure you’ve heard of my dad. Hell, you probably saw him on CNN last night. My dad is known as Doctor Von Terror, the famed super-villain.

Most super-villains I know would try and tell you that they’re not really villains, that they’re just misunderstood. They say that they really want what’s best for the world, or that they were framed, or that it’s really the super-heroes that are the menace, and they just want to rid the world of them. But not my dad. He’s a died in the world, one hundred percent, bonafied, card-carrying super-villain. He wants to rule the world, and he makes no bones about it.

Why, you might ask, does he want to rule the world? For the simple reason that he believes that he can do it better than the current world leaders. And honestly, when I look around at the current state of the world, I sort of agree. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love my dad and all, but he’s not exactly playing with a full deck, so I’m not sure he’s really cut out for world ruling. But, his point about the current world leaders is kind of true.

One other thing you should know about my dad. He has no super powers. I mean, I know most people are aware that the armor isn’t a power, and that this is how he flies and blasts people, but they are also unaware that the armor is also the source of his super-strength. Personally, I find that strange. You think someone with super-strength needs powered armor? Also, I want to set this record straight. My dad does not have “super-smarts.” Yes, he’s smart. Really smart. He’s been rated as the 3rd smartest man on the planet, right behind two heroes, Incredible Man and Doc Muscle. He invented all the gadgets he and his army of followers use in their battles to take over the world, including his armor, his armored zeppelin base of operations, which he likes to call the Sky Terror, and his minions freeze rays. But, really, all of this just comes from his natural intelligence. His brain is not in any way altered to make him smarter.

As you can imagine, my dad is not too keen on the world figuring out who I am. I mean, can you imagine what would happen if his arch-nemesis, Captain Valliant, found out that Doctor Von Terror had a teenaged son? You always hear stories about villains using loved ones of heroes to get to the masked vigilante, but you never hear stories about the reverse. But, believe me, they happen. Remember from a couple of years ago, that villain Destructinator was on a rampage, destroying the world’s landmarks? He goes through the Eiffel Tower, the Space Needle and a part of the Great Wall of China, and then suddenly up and disappears, and no one knows why. Sure, there were a couple of battles with the Justice Heroes and the Amazing Eight, aired on CNN and all the news networks. But, they never really defeated him or captured him, just stopped him from destroying places. Then, one day, he just stops. Ever wonder why? Turns out, he had a wife. She had no idea her husband was a super-villain, but she’s arrested anyway by Captain Valliant and C.H.E.S.S. on charges of Conspiracy to Commit Terrorist Acts against the United States. So, Destructionator turns himself into C.H.E.S.S. on the condition that she be released. So, yeah, heroes finding out I exist equals bad.

Sadly, one day, that’s exactly what happened.

It started off like most other days. My alarm went off, a blaring siren coming from a speaker across the room, which was also where the off button was. My father invented it because it was the only thing that would get me out of bed. I dragged myself from the wall speaker to the shower, then got dressed and went down stairs for breakfast. My father’s robot butler, Carl, had coffee waiting for me, which I greatly appreciated, as well as my backpack with schoolbooks. Dad came down later himself, in his best business suit. I pointed and laughed. Dad always looked uncomfortable and silly in a tie. Completely relaxed in a suit of powered armor, but like he was headed to a funeral in a suit and tie.

“I’m working today,” he said in response to my laughter.

He meant in his secret identity, of course. Yes, my dad has a secret identity. People think that only heroes have those. But, really, what do you think villains do when they’re not out robbing banks? You think they sit around in their masks and capes twenty-four/seven, watching TV and ordering pizza? Okay, so it’s true that this is what Clarion does, but he’s insane. Just like heroes, most villains have something else they do. Day jobs, or, more likely, like my dad; part time jobs were they make appearances every now and then to keep up appearances. I won’t say what my dad’s job is, because that would give away his identity, but for now, it’s enough to say that on this day, he was working.

I was okay with this, because it meant that he would be taking me to school personally, rather than being driven by the robot butler. We ate, then headed down to the hanger of the Air Terror, got into the flying car, and flew to the ground. Just outside of town, we landed and drove into the city, where Dad dropped me off.

“Remember,” dad was telling me for the third time this morning as we pulled up to the school, “I’m going to be gone most of the day. If you need a ride home before then, call Carl, he’ll come get you.”

“I know, Dad,” is said, letting a little anger slip into my tone. I quickly opened the door and jumped out before he could give me a lecture. He was always going on and on to make sure I was okay. I mean, I love the guy and all, but seriously. So, I waved good bye to him and headed to school as he drove away.

The rest of the day went pretty smoothly. I hooked up with my two best friends and went to homeroom. Later, I ran into little Tommy Dobbs, who still didn’t have my five dollars. My friends and I were forced to stick him head first into the toilet.

What? My dad’s a super-villain, you really expected me to be something other than the school bully?

Anyway, a teacher busted us and I was sent to the principle’s office. Had a pretty normal speech there, too, where he told me I was too smart for this behavior, and what would my dad say. Seriously, my dad would be pissed. Oh, not for dunking Tommy Dobbs into the toilet, but because I got caught. He always said I was smart enough to do whatever I wanted, which included being smart enough to get caught doing it. I always hated getting caught as a result. It made me feel stupid, like I forgot something. Which, of course, I had.

And so, my day went on. lunchtime, which included me picking up trash as punishment for the morning, and then to the rest of my classes. Truth be told, I actually liked taking classes. Even though Dad was right, and I was smarter than most of my teachers, it was fun to learn things. Much as I was a bully, I was also a straight A student. And then came final period, which was my favorite class, PE. See, I was the captain and star center of our school’s basketball team, so PE was actually basketball practice. I loved basketball. No other sport was like it. When I played, there was no crowd, no coach, no on yelling. The world melted away, and it was just the ball, that net, and me. It was my dream to become a professional basketball player, and Dad supported me in this. He always came to my games, paid for new uniforms for the team, and generally did all the supportive things crazy parents do for a high-school sports team.

So, needless to say, I was excited about PE. Sadly, I never made it past the locker room.

I had just changed into my uniform and was about to head out when I noticed that I was alone in the locker room. That was pretty odd, but I figured everyone was just in a hurry because I was in a bad mood. I shrugged it off. I should have listened to Dad’s advice, who always said that your enemy, even when they’re the hero, always plays dirty. No exceptions.

I was grabbed from behind by black suited arms, and had a chloroform patch put over my mouth, all before I even had time to react. Just before passing out, I saw the traditional red and blue costume of Captain Valiant, and I realized why it was that there was no one in the locker room. When I woke up, I was in a dark room, tied to an uncomfortable chair. There were no lights, so I couldn’t see anything. My arms were tied behind me, and my legs were bound to the chair legs. I wasn’t gagged or blindfolded, though, not that it mattered much.

I honestly have no idea how much time I spent in there. Long enough for me to go from panicky to bored. Then, a light went on, right over my head, practically blinding me. A door opened behind me and then closed again. Someone was in the room, but with the lights on, I couldn’t see them. I heard them walk around to the front of me, but whoever it was stayed just outside the light. It was like some bad cop movie.

“Okay, kid, let’s cut to the chase, shall we?” he said. I nodded, but really, I had no idea what he was talking about. ‘Cut to the chase’ was one of those phrases used by adults that never made any sense to me. I just usually nodded and pretended to go along with it.

“We know who you are,” he said, trying to be all mysterious. I could make out his shadow, but all that told me was that he was warring a trench coat.

“A high-school basketball star? Good for you!” I said in the best non-fear laced tone of sarcasm I could muster.

“No,” he said, not taking my bait. “We know who your father is. I mean, who he really is. We know he is really Doctor Von Terror.”

And now the fear really started to take over. How could they, whoever they were, possibly know that! And if they knew that, that meant only one thing.

“I’m bait, then,” I said to him.

“Smart kid, just like your old man.” Was that a compliment? “We figured,” he continued, “that your dad put some kind of tracking device on you. Either on your person sub-dermally, or in your clothing somewhere. We were hoping that the chloroform would have set it off.”

“But obviously your plan isn’t working,” I said smiling. “Or you wouldn’t be in here talking to me.”

He nodded again. Who was this guy? He didn’t seem to ever rise to my taunts, like most rule-enforcer types did. I had assumed at first that he was some kind of cop, or C.H.E.S.S. agent, but now I was starting to be afraid that he worked for one of Dad’s rival villains. Someone trying to take out the competition through me.

“So, now what?” I asked.

“Now,” he said, and he turned and walked out of where I could see him easily, “we talk.”

I heard him drag something metal across the floor, and saw as soon as his shadow returned to my vision that it was a metal chair, presumably a duplicate of mine. He set it down in the circle of light with the back facing me, and then he straddled the chair and faced me. I saw blue and red flash from under his trench coat, and when his face came into view, I gasped. No wonder this guy hadn’t risen to my taunts. This wasn’t just some toady working for another villain, or even a low level C.H.E.S.S. agent. This was the big guy. Captain Valiant himself.

“Wow,” I said, not knowing what else to say. “This must be a real serious problem if you’re here.” I know. I’m captain obvious sometimes.

“Oh, you have no idea,” he said. Then, he was silent. He just sat there, staring at me. And let me tell you, staring into the blue eyes of Captain Valiant, eyes that can burn through solid concrete with laser vision, is not fun. It was taking all my will power just to avoid pissing my pants. After about five minutes, I couldn’t take the silence anymore.

“So,” I tried to make it sound casual, like I wasn’t terrified. Instead, it came out as a squeak. I did a fake throat clearing, as if Captain Valiant would fall for something like that, and started again. “So, you want to talk?”

He only nodded, continuing the silence. I have to tell you that at this point, I felt like a total wuss. I heard stories from some of my dad’s buddies about torture. But all the stuff they talked about was physical. The Captain had yet to actually DO anything, just sat quietly and stared at me, and I was ready to spill my guts.

“Okay,” I said, “what is it you want to talk about?”

“Your dad,” he said simply. I waited again in the silence.

“You know, normally,” I said, trying to hide my discomfort through sarcasm, “people I talk to understand that it’s a two way street.” But, he just nodded his head.

“What is it you want to know?” I asked at last. That seemed to get his attention. He sat back slightly and the intense look in his eyes went away, to be replaced by something more casual.

“I would like to know a lot of things,” he said. “I would like to know why an international terrorist like Doctor Von Terror, has a secret identity. I would like to know how he manages to keep his Sky Terror blimp hidden. It’s a blimp, for God’s sake, how does he do that? I would also like to know how he managed to keep you hidden for so long. But, let’s start with something easier. Like, who your mother is.”

“My mom?” I said, surprised. “I don’t have a mom. She died, back when I like two.”

That seemed to surprise him. Ah, I thought, that means you and C.H.E.S.S. don’t know everything. “Really?” he asked. “You mean to tell me that Doctor Von Terror, one of the worlds most dangerous super villains, is a single father?”

“What, like this is a surprise?” I said. Upon seeing in his eyes that this was, in fact, a surprise, I explained. “It’s not like being a super villain is a safe line of work. I mean, how many super heroes, besides Mister and Misses Amazing, can you name that have successful marriages? I mean, I read in the news that just last week Mr. Mean killed the Tornado Jogger’s 2nd wife. And the Blue Arachnid just got divorced for, what, the fourth time? It happens on the other side of the fence, too.”

He nodded, and seemed to be thinking about what I just said. “So, tell me about your mother,” he said at last. “I mean, what you know.”

I looked at him hard, to make sure he was serious. “I don’t think telling you anything is a good idea,” I said at last.

“And why not?” he replied.

“You’re the enemy,” I said in my best ‘no duh’ voice. “Giving you secrets about my dad isn’t exactly a good idea.”

“You don’t know,” he said. “Your dad never actually told you anything about your mom, did he?”

“Oh, right,” I said, “because dad knew that one day I’d be a security leak and so to protect from that day, he kept information about my mom from me. Of course I know who my mom was.”

He seemed to chew on that. Literally, he was chewing. Finally, I realized he was chewing gum. He saw me looking, reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a packet of gum. “Want one?” he said, offering me a stick.

“Sure,” I replied, wiggling my shoulders around, “I just have this little issue with my arms being tied behind my back.”

He nodded again, but this time more as if he were making a decision rather than in response to my comments. He stood up and moved around behind me. I couldn’t see what he was doing, but suddenly, the zip ties that held my arms to the chair were loose. A simple pull on my part freed me. But, just my arms, I noticed. My legs were still strapped to the chair. He cam back around to the other side and sat back in his backwards chair. He pulled out the packet once more and offered me a stick. I gratefully took one and started to chew it.

“So,” he said after giving me a moment to chew. “Is there anything you can tell me about your mother? You know, without breaching security.”

“Why are you so interested in my dead mother?” I said. I was starting to get angry. “This isn’t exactly a fun and exciting topic of conversation for me, you know.”

“Of course, I’m sorry” he said, seeming genuinely sorry. “That was very rude of me.”

“Yes,” I agreed, “it was.”

“It’s just,” he continued, as if I hadn’t spoken, “I want so very much to understand your father. I thought, maybe if I knew what kind of woman would marry him, or who he would be interested in, I could learn more about him. Understand him better.”

“See, and then we come back to that security breach I mentioned earlier,” I said, punctuating my sentence by jabbing my finger in the air accusingly. “If I help you even with something as innocent sounding as helping you understand my dad better, what I’m really doing is helping you capture him. I’m so much into the dad being sent to prison thing.”

He nodded again. He seemed to be very understanding about everything, and frankly it was pissing me off.

“Okay,” I said after a moments silence. “You want to know about my mom? I’ll tell you something.” He leaned in, an almost eager look on his face.

“My dad blames you for her death,” I said at last, a smile on my face.

“Blames me?” he said taken aback. “I’m a hero. I save people, I don’t kill them. How can he blame me?”

My smile broadened. I’d obviously hit upon a touchy subject. I decided to press my advantage. “This would have been about fifteen years ago, when you and dad were still pretty new to your carriers. It was a battle that took place at the top of a building. My mom was in a crowd of civilians, and apparently actions taken by you resulted in my mother falling off the top of the building to her death. Thankfully, I was back at the Sky Terror, or I might have gone with her.”

I could see the gears working in his brain as he thought about this. Then, he snapped his fingers, and got an excited look on his face. I started to wonder if I hadn’t said too much.

“I think I remember this fight you’re talking about,” he said. “You’re dad was trying to use the Empire State Building as a conductor to brainwash all of New York City into doing his bidding.”

I smiled. That sounded like one of my dad’s schemes.

“But, if that’s the fight he’s talking about,” he continued in a kind of half mutter that was like he was speaking to himself rather than to me. “everyone survived that fight. Everyone except… Oh, my God.”

He looked at me, and I gulped. Yup, I had definitely said too much.

“Brenda Baker,” he said. “Your mother was Brenda Baker. That son of a bitch!”

He stood, real anger visible in his eyes.

”You,” he said, pointing at me. “Yes, I can see it now. You look like her.”

I scooted my chair back. “Woah,” I said, raising my arms up to ward him away. As if that would help. “I never knew my mom’s name. Dad only told me what I told you. I have no idea what this is about.”

He stood and stared at me for a moment. “No,” he said, “of course you wouldn’t. Allow me to explain some.”

He started pacing, which was actually more nerve racking than him sitting. I could at least see him while he sat. Pacing, he walked in and out of the shadows, and I got the impression that was being stalked by a lion.

“Brenda Baker was a famous news anchorwoman 20 years ago,” he was speaking from the shadows, and when he came back into the light, he was staring at me. “She became famous by covering the growing war between your father and I. And your father and I, well… we both wanted her for our selves.”

I stopped trying to follow him. Suddenly, things were beginning to make sense.

“She was amazing, beautiful,” he paused, and stopped walking. He was right behind me, so I couldn’t see him without turning my chair, something I was not about to do. I started sweating.

“She chose your father, apparently. I had no idea, I thought I still had a chance, but looking back, now, I can see that I never had one. She picked him, and that explains the reason she… she…”

Suddenly, the wall behind him exploded inwards. We were both forced to move due to the force. I, with my legs still tied to the chair, fell over and was pushed across the floor. I was covered in dust and rubble, but looking back, I saw why I wasn’t crushed by more debris. The Captain had only moved a single step, out of surprise I’m sure. He had lifted his coat out so that it was covering most of the blast, and I saw chunks of wall hitting his back and falling harmlessly off.

Light came streaming in, and I had to shade my face with my hand from its brightness. I saw that we were up a couple of stories, because there was no ground immediately outside. I also saw what had caused the explosion. A man was just outside, in shiny silver armor with blue trim. He stood in a menacing pose, pointing towards Captain Valiant.

“She sacrificed herself, to prevent you from killing me,” the metallic voice from the armor said. I knew instantly who it was then.

“Dad!” I cried, even though I didn’t want to.

“Don’t worry, kiddo,” he said, “I won’t let this so-called hero hurt you.”

Captain Valliant took offense to that apparently. He tore off his trench coat, revealing his full red and blue costume underneath. His rippling muscles were visible under the spandex, and he presented truly intimidating presence. I could see why most villains didn’t want to fight him.

“Von Terror!” he said, his voice slightly deepened from when we were talking. “I knew you’d come for your son.”

He sounded angry. I mean, really angry, not just upset. I tried to scoot my chair around so I could get a better look.

“Of course I did,” my dad was saying. “Unlike you, I actually care about the people of this world. I may want to rule over them, but I don’t needlessly take lives.”

“I save people from villains like you, Von Terror,” Valliant was saying.

“Like you saved Brenda?” Dad said.

That sent Valliant over the deep end. He flew out the hole towards dad and smashed into him in a football tackle. The two fell down out of site, but I could hear them struggling down there. Then, something struck the building we were in and the whole room shook. Then, Valliant flew back up to where I could see him. He was pointing downwards.

“That was not my fault, Terror,” he was saying. “That was yours for bringing her there in the first place. Trying to give her an exclusive interview with the famed villain? Please!”

A blast of blue energy came up and hit the Captain square in the face then. My dad flew back up and extended his left arm in an elongated uppercut that caught Valliant square in the jaw, pushing the hero back some.

“I didn’t start the fight,” dad said. “I didn’t throw that chunk of roof. And I didn’t just float there as Brenda plummeted to her death. I was pined under that same chunk of roof that you threw. She was trying to push me out of the way when it hit, but you are too good a shot for that. She was pushed off the roof when the debris hit, and I couldn’t do anything to stop it. And you. You just stood there.”

Another blast from dad, this time with both hands, hit Valliant, square in the chest. It pushed the hero back some more, but the hero seemed defeated already. After the blast hit him, he just floated there, staring at my dad, his arms at his side.

“No, I…” he started to say. “You’re a villain. I was trying to stop you. I…”

“You allowed her to die!” dad cried.

Valliant looked at Dad. He looked down. He looked at me. I saw tears in his eyes. He seemed to truly be lost.

“I… I froze,” he said at last. “I loved her. I wanted her to love me. I thought if I could capture you, and she could get that in her story, then… then…”

“Then what?” Dad cried. He was still angry, and for the first time in my life, I understood why he hated the Captain so much. “She would love you? She was my wife, you bastard! She was the mother of my son!”

“I… I didn’t know,” Valliant said. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

Dad stopped advancing. He floated there, just a few feet from Valliant. The two of them stared at each other; the Captain looking dejected and lost, truly defeated for the first time in his career. It was harder to tell what Dad was feeling because of the mask, but I could tell that he was breathing hard. Dad never talked about mom. This had to have been hard for him. I scooted my chair across the room a few feet, trying to get a closer look at the two of them. I suddenly just wanted to be with my dad, back at home, watching a movie on our big screen TV. The both stopped and looked at me.

“I didn’t know,” he said, and I didn’t know who he was saying it too. “I’m a hero, I save people.” It sounded like he was trying to convince himself.

“Go home, Captain,” Dad said. His voice was much softer this time. “Go home to your own wife and son. We can try and kill each other another time.”

The Captain looked at him and then looked back at me. He nodded, and then looked back up, squaring his jaw.

“Next time, Doctor Von Terror,” he said in his best heroic voice, “I won’t be so easy on you.”

“Nor I to you,” Dad said, his villain voice back. I shook my head. Never in a million years will I understand this whole hero/villain thing. It seems like a big display of testosterone. Dad once tried to say that it was like playing a basketball game against a long time rival. Smack talking ensued, he said. I still didn’t get it.

Captain Valliant flew off, leaving dad and I to look after him. Then, Dad turned to look at me. He flew into the damaged room and walked over to me. In silence, he untied me from the chair, and gratefully, I got up, rubbing my legs to get the blood flowing. We stood there for a moment, looking at each other.

Then, dad did something unexpected. He took off his helmet, so I was seeing his eyes. I could see that, like the Captain, he had been crying during their fight. He looked me in the eyes, and for the first time I felt like an equal to Dad. It was a little scary.

“Son,” he said, putting a gauntleted hand on my shoulder. “I want to apologize. I should have told you about your mother before. The whole story, I mean. It’s just, it was too painful. It still is, even after all this time.”

I stared at dad. We looked at each other in silence for a long time. Finally, I gave Dad a hug. It wasn’t easy, wrapping my arms around that armor, but I didn’t care. I just needed to be close to him. Dad hugged me back.

“Come on, Dad,” I said, “lets go back home.”

The End

Story Number 5

No big preamble today, I want to go and make breakfast! So, enjoy number five, my first super-hero/villain fiction. I gotta say, I had fun making up the super names.

Flora's Story

Flora charged forward, her pitchfork up at the ready, a battle cry on her lips. She sized up her target as she ran forward, determining the best point to skewer it with her weapon. She weaved to the right slightly to avoid a rock on the ground, and then she was upon her enemy. Without hesitation, she shot the fork forward hard, and it plunged deep into the pile of hay on the barn floor. With a grunt, she lifted a large amount of hay up with the fork, and then began to spread it out into smaller piles for all the horses and cows to eat.

“There you go, ladies,” she said as she worked. “That mean old hay monster won’t bother you any more!”

She giggled to her self. This was one of her favorite games to play on the farm, pretending to be the heroes of the legends she loved to hear over and over again. She imagined her pitchfork was a magical spear, and she was a brave knight, saving her people, and cows, from certain doom at the hands of a vile monster. It was always fun to imagine it. Then, of course, there was the reality.

“Flora!” came her mother’s voice. “Are you almost done? We need to finish packing for the trip.”

Ever since her father had died, Flora’s mom had taken over the farm. However, she found it difficult to hire help, as most men, even the most desperate, were unwilling to take orders from a woman, and a good number of those that were thought it was an invitation to court her. As a result, a large portion of the manual labor on the farm was done by Flora, her mom and her little brother, Gregory. The result was some stability, but not nearly as much money as they had when Dad was still alive. This year was looking especially bad, Flora knew. Yesterday, her mom had let slip that if today’s trip to market didn’t turn a profit, she didn’t know if they would be able to pay their taxes when the collector came by next week.

“Coming, Mum!” Flora cried back, and planted the pitchfork into the ground next to her, wiping sweat from her brow. It was a lot of hard work, usually in the sun, since Dad died. The truth was, though, that Flora enjoyed it all. It meant a lot of time was spent with her mother Rose talking in the field. It also meant that she got to do things she would normally get yelled at, like riding the horses and pulling the plow. She loved the animals on the farm, and working with them like this was something that she always enjoyed. Not to mention the pitchfork. Flora just loved using that to fling hay around. Her mother once commented that she could take down a full grown man with just her pitchfork, she had become so proficient in its use.

“Flora, now!” came her mom’s voice, shaking her out of her reverie. Quickly, she ran out of the barn and to the wagon, where her mother was packing the last of the crops.

“Where’s Gregory?” her mother asked.

Flora looked around as if expecting to see him sitting behind their mother. “I dunno, I thought he was with you.”

Rose sighed. “You’d better go check out back, make sure he hasn’t tried to sneak through the bushes and into Mr. Wilson’s fields again.”

Flora nodded, and then headed off to the north end of the farm. Mr. Wilson’s field was less than a mile away, and it took her about five minutes to get to the fence by run. When she got there, she could see tracks in the mud leading through a hole in the fence. That was her brother sure enough. She looked around to see if maybe he was still on this side of the fence when she heard growling coming from the other side.

“Gregory?” she called. The growling turned to barking. It was Bull, Mr. Wilson’s big, mean dog.

“Flora? Save me!” her brother whimpered from the other side. She sighed again. The fool was probably stealing Mr. Wilson’s strawberries and got caught by Bull, who no doubt had him trapped.

“I’m coming Gregory,” she said with a tinge of annoyance on her voice. She looked around again, this time with an eye towards a club, and found a nice chunk of the broken fence that would work. She hefted it a couple of times to make sure she had it’s weight, and then crawled through the fence.

Before she got out the other side, she was greeted by a face full of teeth, saliva and bad breath, complete with defining barking. She stumbled backwards in fear, bumping her head on the fence behind her. Bull moved forward, continuing to bark, and Flora could see that Gregory was up in a tree behind the dog. Without hesitation, Flora gripped the wood in both hands and swung it at the dog. Even standing up at full height, Bull came to her chest in height, and so the swing hit him square in the nose, snapping his head to the side. The dog let out a great wine, then turned back to Flora. It bared its fangs, which looked to Flora to be about the size of her fingers, and growled. She gulped, and raised the board once more. She was trapped between the dog and the fence, and had no room to maneuver, and realized that if the dog attacked her, she wouldn’t’ be able to swing at it in time.

So, she swung again. This time, Bull was ready for such a swing, and tried to duck out of the way, but Flora had swung lower, hoping to hit the dog’s legs. However, due to his duck, she ended up hitting his head again, swinging it around in the other direction. This time, the hit had more force behind it, and actually pushed the dog to her right a few steps, allowing her to get out from behind the fence. When she no longer had the fence at her back, she turned to face Bull once more. The massive mutt was regaining its footing and shaking its head.

She took a step forward, hoisting the board above her, and cried “Get out of here, Bull!”

The dog ducked back again, this time with real fear in its eyes, and turned to run with its tail between its legs. Flora dropped the board, panting heavily. Her heart was thumping from fear, and she suddenly felt tired. She wasn’t sure that Bull would actually run away, but she was grateful that it had.

“Thanks, Flora!” Gregory cried from above. She looked up and watched as he climbed back down from the tree. As soon as he got down from the tree, she reached out and smacked him on the back of his head. “Ow!” he cried, rubbing where she had hit. “What was that for?”

“What was that for?” Flora asked, anger evident in her voice. “How many times have Mum and I told you not to come back here. I should have hit you with the board!” she said, pointing toward the discarded club. “Now come on, Mum is waiting for us so we can go into town.”

Grudgingly, he led the way back to the barn and the waiting wagon. With the three family members reunited, Rose piled everyone into the wagon, and the traveled to town. As they arrived, they met with several other farmers coming into town on wagons, many of whom greeted them personally. Regulars, just like they were. Thanks to having to find Gregory, they arrived late, however, and were near the end of the caravan, which meant that they would not get one of the better spots to set up.

It didn’t take long for them to set up. Even when her dad was alive, this was something that they would all participate in. When everything was set up, Rose set Gregory to hawking. It was probably the one thing that Flora would admit he did better than her. After a few hours, things were looking up. They had done very well, and if things kept up like this, they would not only be able to pay taxes, but they would have a little extra for hiring help with.

Just around noontime, Flora could hear a voice near by. It was one she instantly recognized from her many other trips to market, and it sounded like he was gearing up for one of his stories.

“Mum!” she said, turning to face her mother and tell her about the voice.

“Yes, dear,” Rose replied, smiling at her, “I hear him to. Go ahead, you’ve done a wonderful job here so far. Gregory and I can take it for a bit.”

Without any further prompting, Flora ran off.

“Flora, my favorite fan,” the voice called to her as she rounded the corner. He was tall, and though not in the shape that he must have once been, still held a power in his stance that made one think twice about confronting him. He had short cropped black hair and a trimmed beard that mostly hid a scar that ran down his left cheek.

“Albert!” she cried and ran up to him to give him a hug. The big man returned the hug, then set her back down and rubbed the top of her head.

“Sit down, girl, I’m about to start my tale,” he said, pointing to the crowd, mostly of small children, but with a few adults looking on as well. As soon as she was seated, he returned to the bench he was sitting at and looked back out at the crowd, a broad smile on his face.

“Right then,” he said. “So, there I was, marching with 15 other soldiers and our captain, per the kings orders, to the mouth of the cave. We knew it was the layer of the beast even before getting to the front entrance. The stench of death and decay was everywhere, covered by the smell of brimstone. At the mouth of the cave, we could hear it’s rumbling from below the ground. Our captain ordered us into formation, but it was too late.”

He slammed his fist into his hands, startling everyone except Flora, who had heard this story many times before. It was one of her favorites of Albert’s. She was even willing to ignore that the last two times it was 10 other soldiers.

“The dragon was upon us! A massive beast it was, as tall as the king’s castle, and with a wingspan as wide as five men tall. It reared back its head, and I knew that this was were we found out what caused the brimstone smell. Without waiting, I ducked behind some rocks.

The fire was horrendous. It swirled about me, as if it were a great storm at sea and my rocks were my boat. I kept my shied up and my spear ready in case something changed. But all I could hear was the roar of the fire. It seemed to go on forever, and I began to wonder if the dragon would ever run out of breath and need to draw in again. But, sure enough, it did.”

He stood up then, arms out stretched as if they were wings. He took a deep breath then, and the youngest children in the audience cried out. Flora smiled. This was the best part.

“I was about to close my eyes and pray for a quick death,” Albert continued, “when I noticed something. It was a chink in the dragon’s great armor, a place where age and constant rubbing of its belly on the ground to sleep had taken its toll. There, shining as if a bright jewel, was a small hole in its scales, and bare skin could be seen. I couldn’t pass up such an opportunity, so I struck without hesitation.”

Now e was acting as if he had a spear in his hands, and he was thrusting the spear in front of him.

“In the spear went, right through the dragon’s flesh, and I continued to push it in as deep as it would go. The great creature roared in pain, and it started to topple. I ducked back behind the rocks, but the beast fell backwards, my spear sticking out of its belly and a dark, nearly black blood rushed forth. I hesitated at first, but sure enough the creature was dead. I had done it. The dragon was dead.”

He paused a moment while the children, Flora included, cheered their hero. But, Albert wasn’t done. He dipped his head in sadness at the next part of the story, and Flora did the same.

“But it was at a great cost,” he went on, wiping a tear from his face. “All my fellow soldiers were dead, killed by the dragon’s fire. I knelt and said a prayer for each one of them, reciting their names to God, one by one, until I had finished even the Captain. Then, I returned to the King, and I brought this scale as proof of my deed.”

At this point, he reached into his pouch and pulled something out. It was large, about the size of Flora’s head, and tear shaped. It was rough on the edges and a kind of rust brown color. It had the appearance of fish scale, only larger. It had to be a dragon scale. No one had seen a dragon in this area for centuries, and so Albert’s scale was the closest anyone had gotten to one. It was a local treasure, and it was all Albert’s.

“He was so thankful and sad for my loss, that he immediately released me from the army, and granted me my own farm as a reward. How I came to lose the farm to a centaur is a story for another day.”

Everyone cheered and clapped, and Flora smiled. She loved listening to the story of Albert fighting the dragon. He was a local hero, at least as far as Flora was concerned. Several of the adults tossed Albert a few coppers for the entertainment, but before he could thank them, there was a scream in the direction of Flora’s mother’s stand, followed closely by several more. Then came the smell of burning wood, followed by smoke rising above the stands. Flora started running towards her mother’s cart without thinking, but was held back by Albert.

“Wait,” he said, “you could be running into a dangerous situation. Wait here.”

She looked up at him with anger in her eyes. Of course it was dangerous, someone was setting fires, and it could very well be her mother’s booth that was burning right now. She had to go and help. She struggled against his strong arms, but before she could escape, a nightmare broke through some of the carts, knocking them aside and setting them ablaze.

It was a squat gray creature, about the size of Flora, with a crude, serrated edged knife in one hand and a torch in the other. Its mouth was filled with sharp teeth and its red eyes glared at her with pure anger, and on the side of it’s head were lopsided, pointed ears. Goblins. Flora screamed, then she turned towards Albert.

“Do something, Albert!”

He turned to look at her, and she saw upon his face the last thing she ever expected to see. Stark, naked fear. Then, he turned and ran, screaming. Flora would have sighed in frustration except that she heard the goblin growl, and turned her full attention back to him. It looked her directly in the eyes, smiled a wicked smile, and then began to advance on her, its knife extended threateningly.

Flora backed up, right into the bench Albert had been sitting on before, and fell
over backwards on to the ground. The goblin rushed forward, as if afraid that the bench had somehow stolen it’s prize for the evening. When it saw that she was still alive, it smiled again, and raised its knife, obviously trying to kill her. She panicked and reached out for anything she could se as a weapon, settling on a mug, which was still full of liquid based on the weight. Just as the goblin was about to jab downwards with its knife, Flora swung with the mug, hitting the little creature square in the jaw. The mug didn’t though, shattering to a thousand pieces and spilling the amber liquid of the mead that was inside all over the monster.

Flora didn’t wait to see if her actions worked, rolling to her side and planning on pushing herself up to get away. But then she heard the Goblin scream and hiss. She took a moment to turn and look at him, seeing that the mead has burned his face, like it were made of liquid fire. Smoke was still trailing off its face. She didn’t stick around to see how mad it was for her doing that, and instead crawled away. A few feet away, she got up and ran towards her mother’s booth. When she got there, here worst nightmares were confirmed. The booth was on fire, burning to the ground, along with all the fruit they had just harvested. Her mother and brother were right there, trying to put out the fire, but that’s when she saw another goblin, appear right behind them.

“Mother!” Flora cried at the top of her lungs, but it was too late. Her mother turned to look at her, but the goblin came up behind her and sliced into her back with its knife, causing Rose to drop to the ground in agony. Then, it shoved Gregory to the ground and moved up to him, looking him up and down in an almost predatory way. Flora sprang into action. She leaped across the field, tackling the creature and getting it away from Gregory and her mother. After they landed, she got up quickly, and saw that the goblin had dropped its knife. She went to grab it, but the goblin was trying to do the same, and in the struggle, it was pushed further away from them.

It turned to look at her, its eyes burning in anger. She kicked it in the face and quickly got up to try and run away, but it lashed out and grabbed her foot. She screamed again, not sure how she was going to get away. But suddenly, its grip let up, and she fell to the ground. She turned to look and saw a large man, another farmer, pulling a spear out of the creature’s back. He nodded to her, and then moved off with several other men and women carrying weapons, clearing the area of the creatures and trying to put out fires where they could. She looked at the dead creature, and shuddered in revulsion and fear. Then, she saw her mother, laying face down, blood on her back.

She rushed to her side and saw that her mother was still breathing, but unconscious. She looked around and found the tattered remains of a burnt tablecloth. Using that, she made a bandage and carefully wrapped it around her mother’s midsection, covering the wound on her back. With the help of some of the other farmers that were at the market, she managed to get her mother out of the square and into a nearby inn that was offering people from the market square shelter. After making sure her mother was comfortable and the innkeeper’s wife declared her okay, Flora collapsed into a restless sleep.


She awoke the next morning on the hard wood floor of the inn, next to her mother, who was still unconscious, but appearing to be asleep now. Then, she saw the man sitting across from her. It was Albert, eating a roll of some sort. When he saw that she had awoke, he immediately looked down at the ground, having at least the good decency to look ashamed.

“Tell me why I shouldn’t punch all you’re teeth in right now?” she said.

He didn’t look up from the floor. “I can’t… you probably should,” he muttered.

She was shocked. That was not the answer she expected to hear.

“What happened back there?” she said after a few moments of silence. “You’ve fought a dragon before, why would goblins scare you like that?”

“I…” he started, then stopped. She stayed quite, waiting for his answer. Finally, he lifted his head and looked her in the eyes. “I never killed a dragon.”

“What?” she recoiled back, as if punched in the gut. “But, the stories…”

“Made up. I’ve been lying all this time, just to get people to pay me money.”

“But…” she just couldn’t believe it. “But, the scale! And your scar!”

He reached up and touched his face where his scar was. “Yes, the scar is real, and I did get it serving in the army. It was during a march, an accident, a fellow soldier accidentally hit me with his knife during dinner after tripping on a tree branch.”

She could only just stare.

“The scale is real too, but I didn’t win it in combat with a dragon. I won it over a game of dice.” As he spoke, his voice stayed calm, and she could tell from the look of his eyes that he was telling the truth. “I don’t even know where the guy I won it form got it, but I made up the story I’ve been telling not long afterwards. It got me attention and money. I… I’m sorry, Flora. I’m a fraud.”

She closed her mouth with an audible clip. He looked back down at the floor.

“Why did you come here?” she asked at last.

“I…” he hesitated again. “You’re my favorite fan. You’re my only fan, really. Sometimes, I think of you like a little sister. I just… couldn’t stand to think that you’re last though of me was as a coward, even if that is true. I cam here last night and saw you asleep next to your mother. I aided the innkeeper in applying a poultice to your mother, one that I learned about in the army. Her wound should heal just fine.”

“Wait,” she said, his comment about her being like a sister reminding her of something. “Where’s Gregory?”

“I don’t know, he wasn’t here when I arrived. I had assumed that you had sent him on some errand.”

She stood up and looked all around the room, asking other farmers and towns folk, the innkeeper and the maid that worked the inn. None of them had seen Gregory. She asked Albert to look after he mother, and went outside. She searched frantically everywhere, but no one had seen Gregory. Eventually, she ran into the man that had saved her last night.

“I saw a boy matching that description,” he said, but it was with sadness in his tone.

“Really? When?” she asked, desperate for any news.

“After we had run the goblins of town,” he pointed in the direction the creatures had headed, towards the hills south of town. “The goblins were carrying a boy like the one you are looking for, brining him with them.”

Flora’s heart sank. “Why?” she asked, terror filling her brain. “Why would they take my brother?”

“Any number of reasons, none of them good,” he said. When she pressed, he reluctantly answered. “They could simply want him for food. Perhaps they want to use him as slave labor. Worst case is they plan on turning him into one of them. They did lose a few here last night.”

“Turn him into one of them?” she vaguely remembered some story her mother used to tell about bad children being sent to the goblins, who would feed him a potion that would turn him into a goblin himself, never to return home again.

“No,” she said. “Someone needs to go rescue him.”

The older man shook his head sadly. “No one’s going out after goblins. We’re just farmers here, not soldiers or warriors. I’m sorry, little miss, but the chances of you’re brother even being alive still are slim. I’m sorry.”

And with that, he left. Sadness heavy in her heart, Flora slunk back to the inn, where she saw that Albert was still there, sitting with her mother, who was still sleeping. When he saw the look on her face, his fell. “What did you find?” he asked.

“He’s gone,” she said, “they took him. And no one will go and rescue him. The goblins have him now, and no one will risk rescuing him.”

Albert stood then, and reached out to hug her. He pulled her close to him and stroked her hair, an oddly soothing gesture. “I’m so sorry, little one,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”

Something inside her snapped. “No,” she said firmly, and pushed away from Albert.

“No?” he said, obviously confused.

“I’m going to let this happen. We just lost all our crops, any chance of raising the tax money we needed to keep our farm. I’m not about to tell Mum that we lost Gregory as well.”

Albert looked worried. “What do you plan on doing then?”

“If no one else will go get him, I’ll just have to do it myself,” she said, determination in her voice.

“You can’t,” he said, moving towards her as if he were going to restrain her somehow. “It’s too dangerous. Would you want your mother to be told by me that she lost both her children today?”

Flora, expecting this argument, just shook her head. “I’m going, Albert,” she stared him down, and he stepped back. “I’ve got to. Stay here with Mum and watch over her.”

He sat back down and nodded. “How are you going to rescue him?” he asked after a moment of silence.

“I’ll need a weapon,” was her only response, before she moved off. She spoke to several other farmers until finally she ran into one that had was she needed.

“Yeah, you can take my pitchfork” Albert could hear the man say, and he sighed in concern for the little girl.


Flora followed the directions given by the man that had seen the goblins flee with her brother, and she soon found herself in the hills. They were lightly wooded, and muddy, allowing Flora to follow the tracks of the goblins fairly easily. She was now facing the mouth of a cave, her pitchfork in hand, and wondering what her next move should be. She knew she had the right cave for two reasons. One, the smell, of urine and burning meat, was the same she smelled on the goblins last night. Secondly, after watching the entrance for an hour, she saw one goblin come out briefly before going back inside.

She just didn’t know what to do now. A frontal assault was out of the question. Not only did she doubt she could actually do it, she was also sure that there were enough goblins to kill her before she got very far. Plus, she’d never actually kill anything before, and she wasn’t even sure that she could now. Her anger had taken her this far, but now she was only feeling fear. Maybe Albert was right; maybe she shouldn’t have come out here. Then she heard a cry from inside the cave. It was Gregory it had to be. Setting her jaw, she renewed her dedication to rescue him. He may have been a pain, but he was her brother.

She started looking around the hill. Maybe there was another way in? She decided to check around the edge of the hill, and circled around it. She had gone almost completely around and back to the cave mouth when she saw something. It was a rat, coming out from under a bush up against the hill. If she hadn’t been looking right at that spot when it happened, she wouldn’t have even seen it. She crept up as quietly as she could to the bush and pushed it aside. Sure enough, there was a small tunnel on the other side. It was too small for a full grown adult to get through, but she was small enough to squeeze through. At least, she thought so. She hoped that this would be the way in she needed. And that there were no more rats inside.

A few moments later, and covered in dirt and mud, she could see the inside of the cave. It was pretty dark, but a small fire in the middle of the room gave just enough light to see. There were no goblins, at least that she could see, so she climbed out of the tunnel and got on her feet. Before she could look around the room, she heart a muffled sound, which caused her to jump and put her pitchfork at the ready. Then, she saw a figure on the other side of the fire. It seemed to be laying down on the ground. Maybe it was a sleeping goblin? But, it moved and she heard the muffled noise again. She slowly moved forward, and about the time she got to the fire, she could see what it was. It was Gregory, tied up and gagged. Ecstatic at her luck, she ran to his side and started untying him, keeping a look out for goblins. Gregory kept muttering under his gag, and she had to shush him several times.

“We don’t want them to come back in here,” she said at last. Finally, she had him untied, and sitting him up, she took off the gag. Apparently, he hadn’t been listening to her.

“Oh, thank God you’re here!” he cried and gave her a huge hug. But she pushed him back immediately, and, grabbing her pitchfork, stood. She could hear cries from another part of the cave.

“You idiot,” she said, kicking her brother. “They’re on their way. Quick, to the other side of the cave. There’s a hole there, crawl through it. Go!”

Gregory whimpered slightly, but did as she said. She followed, keeping her back to him so she could see when the goblins came into the room. Just as they got to the hole, two goblins came into the room, one with a crude wooden spear and another with one of those wicked knives. The one with the spear threw it, but his aim was off, and it clattered at the floor next to her feat. She felt her heart thumping. She wished she was facing Bull right now.

“Crawl into the hole, Gregory. Go, quickly!” she cried to her brother, who was just standing there, frozen. She gave him a kick to his shins, and this seemed to wake him up. He got down on all fours and started to crawl. It was an easier fit for him, being smaller than her. The goblin with the knife was making his way across the room. At first, it was a slow move, cautious, not sure what Flora would do. But then, it saw that Gregory had gone through the hole. It let out some kind of cry, and charged at her.

Flora panicked. She ducked to the left to avoid the incoming knife, and jabbed out with her pitchfork, but her eyes were closed, so she wasn’t even sure where she was stabbing. The world seemed to slow down. She felt her pitchfork connect to something, and penetrate it slowly. She heard the goblin scream again, this time in an inhuman cry of pain that caused her to drop her weapon. She opened her eyes to see that the pitchfork had punctured and stabbed through the creature’s skinny leg. Blood was spurting from the wound, and the little creature was hopping backwards, clutching the leg. She looked as the other creature was running up towards the first. Then, things returned to normal time.

Without waiting to see what the second goblin was going to do, Flora dropped to the ground and started pushing her way through the tunnel. When she got to the other side, her brother was there, and grabbed her arm to help pull her out. Without saying a word, the two ran back towards town. Flora was sure that the goblins would be following them the whole time, but when they got back, they were alone.

Once in side town, Gregory stopped Flora, and gave her a big hug.

“Thank you Flora,” he said. “I was sure that you were glad I was gone, and that I’d never see you again. They were brewing some kind of potion, I was afraid they were going to turn me into a goblin, just like them.”

Flora looked her brother in the eyes. “Gregory, you’re a huge pain, and sometimes I just want to push you down.” Gregory’s face fell. “But, you’re my brother. As much as I’d never admit it to anyone else, I love you. Of course I was going to save you.”

The hugged again, and then Flora pushed her brother off. “Okay, enough of that. Let’s get back to mom.”

Flora led the two back to the inn. Inside, she saw that most of the people from the night before were up and either milling about or packing up the few belongings they brought with to the inn. She looked around where her mother was sleeping when she left, but she didn’t see her. She panicked at first, but then she saw Albert.

“Albert! Where’s my Mum?”

“Flora!” the big man said, coming up and giving her a hug. “Flora, I’m so glad you made it back. You’re mom…”

“Where is she?” Flora interrupted.

Then, she saw her. Her mom was in an apron, helping the innkeeper with all the people in the room. She seemed to be happy, smiling and laughing at the patrons and other farmers.

“Mum!” Flora cried, and ran across the inn to her mother.

“Flora!” her mother cried, “Gregory!”

Gregory ran after flora, and the three met in a big group hug.

“Oh, I’m so glad that you two are okay,” Rose said. “I was so worried when your friend Albert told me what had happened.”

“I had to go, Mum. I had to save Gregory.” Flora said, crying.

“I know, little one, I know. I’m just glad you’re back, and safe.”

“Me too,” said Albert, coming up behind them.

Flora turned to look at her friend. She knew that he had been lying all this time about fighting dragons, but she just couldn’t bring herself to care. She hugged him, and then looked him in the eyes.

“Now, I have a story to tell you!”

The End

Story, week 4

Well, week 4 is over, and I've got another story for you all. That's four weeks, and four stories, and I have to say, I'm pretty excited. I had a lot of fun writing this one. I think that with some work, I could turn this into a really excellent story. With that, though, I'll just stop rambling here and post the story. Enjoy!

Trouble getting started, but on a roll now

So, I had some trouble getting started with this week's story, but now that I've started, I'm on a roll. I have little doubt that I will have a complete story in time for Sunday. It's interesting how this worked out. I knew how I wanted to story to start, and where I wanted the beginning to go (I've got an actual outline for this story), but for some reason, I just couldn't get a first line. I was stumped on it. Then, I remembered something I learned a while back in a creative writing class I took.

Just write something. Anything. It doesn't matter how horrible or hackneyed it is. Just write it down. The process of writing gets you writing more.

So, I did. I pictured how I wanted the story to start, and simply wrote a description of what I saw in my head. Turns out, not only did it get me past the stall, but it was a good starting line. How about that?