Goblin Soup

GENRE: Maybe horror-comedy

Goblin Soup
By Geoffrey C Porter


     Heather brushed a few errant strands of straight, brown hair out of her eyes. "You know there's a goblin living in the woods…"

     I raised one eyebrow. "Which woods?"

     "That little chunk of woods between Willow and Vine." She pointed in the direction of the woods with her right hand, but then lowered her arm.

     Ben fingered the hole in his pant leg with his thumb. "That's like four trees and two shrubs."

     She shook her head.

     The wind drifted through our playground kicking up little dust storms of dried leaves and dirt. I looked in the direction of Willow and Vine.

     I was distracted when Angie punched me on the arm and then bounced back a step with her fists up. "Chicken!" She stood thin as a rail and had pale skin stretched over boney arms and hands. She wore tan pants and a white, button up shirt.

     "What?" I asked.

     Angie still held up her fists. "You're afraid of the goblin."

     Ben laughed. "There isn't any goblin."

     "I've seen it." Heather nodded. "It said, 'Good morning, my lady,' to me."

     Angie poked me in the chest.

     Ben stopped picking at the hole in his pants. "They want you to go check it out, Jeff."

     My brow furrowed into knots, and my eyes squinted.

     Angie moved in close to me and put a fist within an inch of my face. "The woods, Willow and Vine, after school."

     The bell rang, and we raced back to our classrooms. Math, after lunch, then art, then history, then the four of us were walking towards our homes. Towards Willow and Vine. We stood on the edge of the vacant lot, and I looked from one friend to the other. The lot was overgrown with weeds taller than me, a few shrubs here and there, and this dense little cluster of trees in the center that could easily be hiding an elephant.

     Angie kicked me on the shin. "You're it!"

     "Why can't we go check out this goblin together?" I said.

     Heather threw her hands into the air. "I've seen it."

     I looked at Angie and Ben.

     "You think Angie hits hard…" Ben said.

     "Come on, guys. This isn't right," I said. "We're supposed to be friends."

     Angie pointed at my face with a rigid index finger. "Into the woods! Make the goblin come out!"

     I started walking towards the center of the woods. I pushed past weeds and shrubs on a sort of trail that wound and twisted its way through the property. I walked and walked. Then I stopped. I should have made it to the other end of the lot by now. I turned to look back at my friends. Forest surrounded me and nothing more.

     "Hello!"

     A flock of birds took off from one of the trees. I started to retrace my steps. I walked and walked. Hunger and thirst started to get to me. I came across a stream and smiled. I took a drink of the water. I had to!

     "Aren't you worried about pollution?" A voice asked from behind me.

     I turned to look. A short creature with dense brown hair all over its body looked at me. He seemed humanoid, I guess, but only a foot tall. He held a wooden pipe in his right hand and wore brown pants and a green shirt. His ears were big and pointy, and his eyeballs were huge for the size of his skull. He only had three fingers and a thumb on each hand, and each finger was adorned with a sharp claw. He had a distinct chin and a short nose with flaring nostrils. A backpack was slung over one shoulder, a beltpouch on his waist, and a tiny dagger maybe an inch long. "I said, aren't you worried about pollution?"

     I shook my head. "You haven't had the tap water around here, have you? Are you a goblin?"

     "I'm James Fourtooth," the tiny creature said. "I've been called many things."

     "But some people call you goblin…"

     James shook his little head. Then he turned to leave.

     "Wait! I need to get out of the forest," I said.

     "Why did you come here?"

     "My name is Jeff. My friends sent me to find you. They want to meet you."

     James shrugged.

     I knelt down to be level with the goblin, and he sort of backed away a bit. "At least, show me the way out of the forest."

     "No, see, your friends knew the forest is enchanted, and they just wanted to get rid of you. You'll find you can survive off nuts and berries and fruits. As you grow older, you'll learn to hunt and trap for meat. It'll take months, but you'll learn how to make your own fire."

     My eyes opened wide. "Help me!"

     "You must do me a favor. I will show you the way out of the forest, but you must bring me something in return."

     "Wait, bring you what?"

     "I need two 3 lbs. bags of fresh apples."

     "What?"

     The little creature's eyes narrowed into slits. "There isn't a single apple tree in this forest!"

     "I don't have any money for apples."

     "Then I guess you're doomed," James said.

     "Hey!"

     The goblin winked at me. "You could steal the apples. Just walk into the grocery store, pick out two nice looking bags, and walk out with them."

     I looked from the goblin around to make sure no one overheard.

     "Come on…" The goblin said.

     "I'll do it!"

     The goblin pointed to his left. "Walk straight that way, and you'll reach the edge of my domain. If you don't return within 3 days, I'll come looking for you."

     I started walking in the direction the goblin pointed in. Within a few steps, I turned to go around a bush, and my friends were standing there pointing at me and laughing. I walked up to them.

     "Did you see the goblin?" Ben asked.

     I whimpered.

     "You were in there for like an hour," Heather said.

     Angie stomped on my toes. "I bet he was in there wanking."

     "Oww! I was not!"

     "We better get home," Ben said.

     We all went our separate ways. I went directly into my garage, and hopped on my bike. I pedaled like mad for the corner grocery store. I leaned my bike against a post and walked inside the store. The Granny Smith apples were closest, and I grabbed two bags. I started walking out the door. I made it to my bike. Somebody shouted, "Did you pay for those?"

     I threw the bags in my oversized basket on the bike and took off. I raced all the way to Willow and Vine. My heart thumped in my chest, and my legs burned. I climbed off the bike and walked into the woods with the apples. Within a bit, I found myself at the stream again.

     "Granny Smith?" The goblin asked.

     I smiled. "They're the best apples."

     "They're disgusting. I specifically asked for Red Delicious!"

     "You did not! You said apples. Granny Smith are my favorite!"

     The goblin fingered the dagger on his belt. "Red Delicious!"

     I glared. "Tell me how to get out of the woods."

     "You'll bring me proper apples!" The goblin said.

     "Tell me how to get out of the forest."

     The goblin pointed in a different direction than last time. "If you don't return within three days, with the right apples, I'll come looking for you."

     And I thought to myself, yes, if you come looking for me, I'll punt you across town…

     I started walking in the direction the goblin pointed. Soon enough, the familiar sight of my bike greeted me. I pedaled home. My mom was sitting on the porch waiting for me with a scowl. I sighed.

     "Where have you been?" she asked.

     "Long story."

     "That's not good enough, Jeffrey. I was this close to calling the authorities."

     I looked her in the eyes and whimpered. "Would you prefer the truth or a lie?"

     Her left eye squinted. "Would I believe the truth?"

     "No."

     She waved at the front door. "Get inside. I'll cook us some dinner."

     We ate canned corn, dinner rolls, and black beans & rice. I went to sleep early.

     The next morning on the walk to school, Heather joined me. I mean, she came running up to me. She grabbed my arm and made me stop.

     "What?" I asked.

     She grinned wide. "I slept through the night!"

     "So?"

     "Well, lately I've been having these nightmares…"

     I nodded. She kissed me on the cheek and took off in a run towards school. I shook my head. School passed quickly. In fact, the next couple of days seemed to just fly by. On the third day, I lay down to sleep.

     My mind started to drift as I slipped into my slumber. Then I saw the goblin. He showed me his teeth and drew his tiny blade. Forest surrounded me. The goblin came at me, and I kicked at him. He jumped up real high and cut me on the arm. It hurt bad! I opened my eyes, and I was in bed, safe and sound. I curled up with my pillow, and drifted off. Soon enough, I was in the forest again.

     The goblin came at me, and I ran. He chased after me and stabbed me in the calf. He must have hit a nerve because the pain was worse than last time. I woke up. I stared at the wall. I paced my room. I crawled back into bed. Soon enough, I was in those damn woods, and there was the goblin with his little dagger drawn.

     "What do you want?" I shouted.

     He charged me and jumped up slicing into my face with his knife. The pain woke me. I took a hot shower and waited for dawn. It was Friday, but I didn't even head to school. I pedaled my bike to the grocery store. I went in, and found two nice bags of Red Delicious apples. I looked around, and the coast was clear. I casually walked towards the entrance. A manager stepped in front me. "Are you going to pay for those apples?"

     I moved fast. "I'm hungry, my mom lost her job, and we don't have anything to eat."

     The manager sighed.

     I did my best to look pitiful. I pretended Angie just hit me.

     The man grabbed for one of the bags. "You can have one but don't come back without money!"

     "I need two!"

     The man glared at me. "Put both bags back where you found them."

     I gauged my odds. I kicked the man in the shin and ran. He didn't give chase. He was kind of pudgy to be honest.

     I put the bags in the basket on the bike. I raced to Willow and Vine. I walked into the woods, and soon enough I made my way to the stream. I shouted, "Where are you?"

     "Behind you."

     I turned.

     The goblin did a tiny dance. "Give me the apples."

     I handed over the apples. He sampled one.

     "Which way is out of the forest?" I asked.

     The goblin ignored me and kept on eating the apple.

     "Which way?" I asked.

     "Do you know what whiskey is? Cause I happen to need some," the goblin said.

     I shook my head. "I only seen whiskey in old John Wayne movies."

     "Well, you need to find me some, at least a liter. Bourbon whiskey."

     "You're insane!"

     The goblin laughed. "No, I'm in charge."

     "I want out!"

     The goblin shook his head. "The only way out is for you to send somebody into these woods in your stead. That's how Heather got away from me."

     "What!"

     "Get me the whiskey. Maybe I'll let you go forever then."

     "I don't even know what whiskey looks like!"

     "It comes in bottles. Adults keep it around the house just search for it. The label on the bottle needs to say BOURBON."

     I shivered just a bit.

     The goblin pointed. "That way will get you out of the forest."

     I started walking. I biked home. Then I remembered, school day. I ran all the way to school. On arriving, I was quickly escorted to the principal's office. "It's past lunch, and you're just now getting here? We tried to reach your mother at work, but we couldn't."

     "I'm sorry."

     The principal rubbed on his chin. "Where have you been?"

     I did it. I started to cry. The best solution I could come up with.

     "Oh dear Lord, not another one!" The principal exclaimed.

     I cocked my head to the side.

     "Where were you!" He asked.

     "I didn't sleep last night, and I was on my way to school, and I fell and ripped my pants, so I had to go home. I just lay down on the couch for a moment, but I slept and slept."

     The principal nodded and nodded. I stopped crying.

     "Get to class!" He said.

     I ran to class.

     Heather, Ben, and Angie caught up to me on my walk home. Angie punched me on the arm. "How's Jeff today? Late for school much?"

     I turned to face Heather.

     "I had no choice!" She said.

     I shook my head and started walking. Ben and Angie chased after me. Heather went the other direction.

     "What's going on?" Ben asked.

     I paused. "Oh, nothing."

     "Something's going on," Angie said.

     I looked at Angie and smiled. "You haven't seen the goblin yet…"

     "There's no goblin," Ben said.

     I pointed at Ben's chest. "You haven't seen him either. He's pretty cool."

     Ben shook his head. Angie punched me in the kidney. I started walking. Ben and Angie walked alongside me. Ben turned to go to his house. Angie walked next to me.

     "You want to meet the goblin," I said. "He's so cool."

     Angie smiled. "I'll go into the woods, if you go with me."

     "Ok."

     We walked to Willow and Vine. We pushed our way past shrubs and bushes. Soon enough, we were in a dense forest. The stream babbled, and I took a little drink.

     "Two for the price of one!" The goblin howled.

     Angie and I turned. The goblin stood there with a massive grin.

     "Which way is out, goblin!" I said.

     The goblin shook his head. He pointed at me. "You're in charge of the Bourbon." He pointed at Angie. "You're in charge of the cigarettes."

     "What?" Angie asked.

     My eyes narrowed into tiny beads. "You said if I got somebody else, you'd release me!"

     The goblin started to dance and then stopped. "If she had come in alone, I would have, but now, the rules have changed."

     "What rules? What's going on?" Angie asked.

     I didn't want to answer.

     The goblin pointed at Angie's chest. "You have essentially two choices. Stay in this forest forever, surviving off nuts and berries, or you can bring me a pack of cigarettes. You have three days to return, if you don't return by then I come looking for you."

     "I don't know anybody who smokes!" Angie said.

     "How do we get out of the forest?" I asked.

     "I'll give you three days too, to bring the whiskey." He pointed off in a direction, and I started walking.

     "Wait!" Angie yelled.

     I stopped walking.

     She pointed at the goblin. "You did this to Heather already. We suckered Jeff into coming in here. If we send in somebody else, you'll release both of us?"

     The goblin nodded.

     I started walking again. Angie hurried to catch up to me. We made it out of the forest. She stopped walking, and I stopped. She hit me with a right cross hard enough to knock me on my ass.

     "Angie!" I shouted.

     "What happens in three days!"

     "The goblin will invade your dreams."

     "Ha! I'm not afraid of a dream!"

     I pushed myself off the ground. She took another swing at me, and I dodged!

     I spent the next three days doing my best to find a bottle of bourbon, to no avail. The goblin haunted my dreams, and I simply stayed up. At school the next day, Angie looked like she hadn't slept a wink. Heather, Ben, Angie, and I were eating lunch. Angie gave Ben a curt little smile. "You haven't met the goblin yet."

     Ben shrugged.

     "You're both trapped now?" Heather asked.

     "Hush," Angie whispered.

     Ben stuck his finger in his macaroni and cheese. "I wish they gave us more macaroni and cheese when they served it, and it's not even hot."

     "You want to meet the goblin," I said.

     Ben nodded. "No."

     Angie picked up her tray and stood up. "I've got to go."

     Heather followed her. "See you, guys."

     I gave Ben my best friendly face. "You need to meet the goblin."

     He poked me in the chest. "No, you need to kill the goblin."

     "What?"

     "Get yourself a good-sized rock. Bash his skull in. Heather told me everything. It's up to you."

     "But… I'll be trapped in the forest forever."

     Ben shook his head and whispered, "The goblin is the source of the magic. Finish him, and the forest will return to normal."

     "You don't know that!"

     "Better you than me."

     The school day passed away uneventfully. The four of us were walking home.

     "I'm going to kill the goblin," I said. "Come with me and wait for me to come out of the forest."

     "Yes," Ben said.

     We made it to the edge of the vacant lot, and I found a nice rock just bigger than the palm of my hand. A plan formed in my mind, and I carried the rock behind me as I walked into the forest. After a while of wandering, I came up on the stream where I always met the goblin.

     The goblin stepped out from behind a shrub.

     "I've got something for you, but it's a secret," I said.

     "Oh?"

     "Yes, let me whisper in your ear what it is."

     The goblin pranced about a bit and then cupped his hand over his ear. "What is it?"

     I leaned in close. I swung that rock on his head as hard as I could. Blood flowed.

     "You'll be trapped forever!" The goblin howled.

     I hit over and over. The goblin lay still. I put my hand on his heart. No beat. I tossed the rock aside and started walking back the way I came. Walking and walking, I came upon the stream and the goblin's body. I tried again. I got nowhere.

     Ben's words echoed in my mind. "The goblin is the source of the magic."

     I took the goblin's knife off his belt and hacked off his head. I held the head in my hand and started walking. I stepped past a tree, and Heather, Angie, and Ben all laughed and clapped. I smiled and tossed the head at their feet. "One dead goblin."

     Ben picked up the head and lifted it as if to test its weight. "This is just enough to make soup."

     Heather went, "Ewww…"

October

GENRE: Halloween

October
By Geoffrey C Porter

    The full moon above twisted the shadows into shapes of demons and specters. I clutched at Jessica's hand as we walked through the woods looking for refuge. October is upon us, echoed through my mind, and the beasts and goblins reigned like tyrants this year. First, they overran the big cities conquering humans in a blood rite unseen for countless centuries. What awakened the monsters this October? They advanced through population centers like hordes of flesh crazed maniacs. The metropolises stood devoid of human life soon enough, and the devilish masses started crowding into small towns in the night across the weeks before Halloween. Only in the tiniest of remote rural locations did humans still walk the earth.

    We were in the process of fleeing from their dark carcasses that seemed to bleed pieces of reality. We needed to find a house and quick. The moon lit the trail a bit, and I whispered to Jessica, "Let's run…"

    So, we ran. A light in the distance sparked in the blur of a slick grey fog. A simple house fleshed itself out in our vision the closer we ran. I saw the hell hound on the porch, and I knew the wicked creatures were ahead of us…

    Jessica pulled on my hand, and the canine with jagged contours of solid obsidian wrapped tightly across a skeletal form looked up at us. Well, at me, right in the eyes. It made a deep guttural growl that sounded more like gravel grinding on gravel than a dog's growl.

    I said in the most hushed of tones, "The dog!"

    "He's on a chain! Come on!"

    We ran up to the door and knocked. A humanoid shape answered with hewn rock arms and legs and a fat, plump belly. The entity of deep cut edges laughed a throaty crackle. The abomination's clothes were a shifting, turning array of colors in paisley patterns. The thing's adornments made me stare at the mind-numbing shapes as they morphed between dreams.

    It shouted in a broken, choppy voice, "Look, honey, trick or treaters! And they're dressed as little humans!"

    A second granite like figure stepped down the hallway with a kaleidoscope of colors weaving out tales in the fabric of her dress at a lightning pace.

    Jessica and I held out our bags.

    The female rock thing said, "Did they say 'Trick or Treat' yet?"

    "No. Wait, maybe they did… Get the candy."

    The female promptly returned and dropped two full sized candy bars into each of our bags.

    We ran.

    We pulled to a stop, and Jessica started eating a treat.

    "We can't keep doing this," I said. "It's been almost a week!"

    "Do you have a better plan? No, these creatures think every day is Halloween, we have the perfect costumes, and we have to eat!"

    "I don't even like candy!"

    "Damn you, Lucas, and your diabetes! I give you all the fruit we get, don't I?"

    "We got apples once in six days, and they were covered in caramel!"

    "Come on, we can get three more houses in before dawn."

    * * *

    Part II

    We slept the day away under a willow tree by a rolling stream. Hunger ate away at my insides and my hand shook. I reached in my bag, pulled out a bag of disgusting gourmet chocolate treats with a crunchy candy shell, and ate just enough to quiet my stomach and calm my nerves.

    Darkness fell on us as the sun set, and we were off. We hit house after house that night. With the rising sun, we collapsed in a ditch by the side of the road.

    I slept for a while, but the grip of hunger woke me, and I ate gummi candies until the shakes began to subside.

    A voice shouted, "You kids! Are you alright?"

    I looked. A man in an army uniform, with a machine gun at his side, crouched at the edge of our ditch with one knee bent. His hands were on his knees, and he was smiling wide.

    The most primal of thoughts raced through my mind. This man might have food!

    I nudged Jessica. She rubbed at her eyes and looked around.

    "Are you kids alright?" The soldier man asked.

    "We're ok," Jessica said.

    "We need food!" I said.

    The soldier laughed. "Come along with me, and we'll get some food in you."

    Jessica and I ran at the soldier and hugged his legs tight.

    The man patted our heads. "Come on. Hop in my jeep."

    We climbed into the back of his jeep, and he started driving.

    "You kids are lucky to be alive," he said. "We've been pushing the rock monsters back, but they're heavy in this region."

    We nodded. We rode maybe a mile, maybe two. The encampment didn't have a wall or even barbed wire around it, just a cluster of tents and vehicles in a field of hay.

    "My name is Myers. If you need anything, look for me," the man said.

    He showed us to a tent, and we stepped inside. It had a big rectangular table in the center with four chairs around it.

    "I think we have roast beef or turkey sandwiches today. What do you guys want?"

    "Roast beef!" I said.

    "Turkey!" Jessica exclaimed.

    Myers took off in a run. Jessica and I smiled and in perfect unison started rubbing our hands together like the gleeful man plotting his escape from a tyrannical situation.

    Myers returned with clear plastic packages. At first, I didn't notice anything strange then I more closely examined the package he set in front of me. It looked like food, but there was something strange about it. It had rough contours and looked like it had been made of rock pieces mortared together. I couldn't wait. I took a bite. Imagine biting into a gravel with mortar and sand sandwich. Rocks. Sand. Mortar. Jessica and I spit our bites out back into the plastic containers.

    "What's wrong?" Myers asked.

    I noticed it finally. Myers was all straight lines and painted solids, not like a real person. Jessica stood up, and I followed her lead.

    "Umm, we left something back by the side of the road," Jessica said. "We'll be back in a few minutes."

    "Oh, no, you can't leave," Myers said.

    Jessica yelled, "Hiya!" jumping into the air and throwing her foot at Myers head. He sort of crumpled into a ball of lines and solid colors.

    Jessica and I ran to the flap in the tent and took a look around. The coast was clear, and we walked calmly away from their camp.

    "You kicked Myers in the head!" I exclaimed.

    "Yeah."

    "How?"

    She stopped walking and turned to stare at me. She reached out with her finger and poked me in the chest. "I've been telling you for years that I study Kung-Fu."

    "Yeah, but I…"

    "You never listen to me."

    "I didn't think they'd teach you how to kick somebody in the head," I said.

    "What do you think you learn at Kung-Fu?" She asked.

    "I never thought about it. I thought it was maybe like dance class."

    "Come on, we've got to find our candy bags. Let's run." She pulled at my hand.

    "No! We've got to find real food!"

    She sighed.

    "We have to find real food, or I'm gonna die, Jessica."

    She nodded.

    "What are we going to do?" I asked.

    She looked at me. She spoke softly, in her little I'm perfect we'll do as I bid way, "First, we've got to get our bags. We have to eat something. Then, I have a plan."

    We walked and walked looking for our bags. Finally, just after dusk, we spotted them.

    We ate a little bit then we started looking for a house. We knocked on the door.

    The rock monsters gave us candy, as expected. But we didn't run.

    Jessica used her, please I'm cute voice, "My friend missed dinner. Is there any way you could spare a roast beef sandwich for him?"

    The male rock monster looked to his female companion. Both creatures began to rub their chins.

    "Please?" I whimpered.

    The male smiled a wide toothy grin of razor teeth.

    "We don't have any roast beef," the female said.

    "But we grilled bratwurst an hour ago. We have some left," the male said.

    Jessica looked at me.

    I drooled. "Bratwurst would be great."

    "Mustard? Ketchup? Pickle relish? Fresh onions?" The female asked.

    I smiled. "Mustard and onions!"

    The female wandered into the kitchen.

    The male said, in a choppy, haggard voice, "My name is Johnathon. My wife is Bethany."

    "I'm Jessica."

    "Lucas."

    The woman returned carrying a flat, crystal, square plate hosting not one, but two bratwursts in buns. I grabbed the plate and sat on the floor with the plate resting on my knees.

    Jessica kneeled down and tried to grab one of the brats.

    I twisted out of her reach. "Get your own."

    Jessica looked up at the rock monster pair. Bethany cackled, with a high-pitched voice, "There's another one in the kitchen, deary. What do you want on it?"

    Jessica whispered, "Mustard and relish, please."

    I feasted.

    Bethany returned carrying two of the crystal plates. The first carried a brat, which she held out to Jessica. She took the plate and sat down on the floor. Bethany held the second plate out to us, and it had two forks and four heaping bowls on it, coleslaw, baked beans, potato salad, and macaroni salad.

    "Leftover from dinner," Bethany said and set the plate on the floor between me and Jessica.

    The two rock monsters left us alone in the hallway, and we stuffed ourselves like pigs.

    At the end of the food, I said, "I feel much better."

    "Me, too."

    Jessica lay back on the floor, and stretched her legs out. The food was starting to work on me, and I felt a bit groggy.

    "I'm tired," Jessica said. "We've been running and walking nonstop for ages."

    "Me, too," I said.

    I lay down on my back and stared up at the ceiling.

    "I'm going to close my eyes for a few minutes," Jessica said. "Wake me up in a little while."

    "Ok."

    My eyes closed soon enough. I woke to the rays of the sun and looked around. I lay in a bed, a bunk bed, and I could tell from the pace of her snoring that Jessica was in the bed above me.

    I nudged her mattress.

    She groaned.

    "Wake up, Jessica," I said.

    She poked her head over the side of the bed and looked at me.

    "You didn't wake me," she complained.

    "Yeah, yeah. What are we going to do?"

    She blinked her eyes a few times. "You know what? I bet they're cooking food again."

    "This is our chance to escape! We've got to get out of here!"

    "We're getting breakfast first!"

    I sighed.

    We heard a knock on the door. Johnathon opened the door. "I hope the beds were alright… Bethany has breakfast on."

    We followed Johnathon downstairs. Bethany hummed a wicked tune while she stirred up a small feast of bacon, eggs, hash browns, and toast with jelly.

    Jessica and I ate our fill. Bethany moved to clear the dishes.

    "Bethany, let us get the dishes for you," Jessica said.

    Bethany smiled. "So polite."

    "It'll be our pleasure," I said.

    Jessica and I started clearing the tables. Jessica washed, and I dried.

    "Are you kids going to take off your costumes?" Bethany asked.

    Jessica grabbed my hand with a fiercer grip than I would have imagined possible. In fact, she may have broken a bone or two in my hand.

    "RUN!" She shouted.

    I ran. We both ran.

The Vanguard

GENRE: Epic Fantasy

The Vangaurd
By Geoffrey C Porter

     I kicked my heels into the horse to keep up with the others, and for the first time since the start of this ordeal, I thought to myself, I'm too young to die. The horse galloped forward, and in the distance, the edge of a great field of tall grass lined the horizon.

     The tops of black helmets rose up in the distance climbing up the slope of the other end of the field like a line of obsidian specks. A line of black as far as the eye could see dotted the edge of the horizon. I rode at the front of the vanguard, so far in the front, that I was only two places from High Lord Kirl who led the charge. Kirl drew his blade, and I instinctively drew mine in a flash with the rest of the vanguard. I remembered back to the stories the elders told around the fire about The Throng: stories of hellspawn and demons.

     As the distance closed between us, The Throng's long pikes and shields glimmered in the morning sun. They wore pitch black plated armor from head to toe. A great volley of arrows flew up from the rear ranks of the enemy. Kirl raised his sword high. He grimaced with concentration and shouted out a word from our cryptic ancient tongue. The swarm of thousands of arrows changed paths as they descended, landing harmlessly to the left and right of us.

     Galloping at full speed, we closed the distance to The Throng in a flash. The enemy pointed their pikes down at us and met our charge. A pike caught me in the gut, and I jumped upwards careening high over the first line of footmen. It hurt, but it didn't pierce my chainmail. The smith promised me it would be good for two or three solid blows then no better than common steel.

     It threw my mind into gear with the pulse of adrenalin raging through my heart. I'm going to die, I thought to myself. I plunged my sword into the chest of the closest of my enemies, and in a flash, the high points of his life echoed through my psyche. His first true best friend, his first experience with a woman, and his training with The Throng. It rushed through me, and I pulled my sword free.

     The sword drank up the thin glaze of blood and gleamed clean and shiny in the sun. An enemy tried swinging at me, and my blade moved out of instinct parrying the pike. I pushed the blade through the faceplate of the other soldier, again, another life flashed before my eyes. My anger flared like a tiny burning chunk of charcoal in my chest. These people were the same as we are–why do they attack us?

     In a heartbeat, I thought back to my own life. Three months ago, it changed on a new year's morning with my youngest sister jumping on my bed shouting, "The call-to-arms! The call-to-arms!"

     I growled at her. "Get out of here." Thinking, could it be true so early in the year and just three years after the last invasion?

     I rolled over in bed and went back to sleep. I wasn't about to give up my warm bed over the cries of a six-year-old. Then a few minutes later, a firm knock reverberated on my door, which I knew to be my dad.

     "Yes?" I asked.

     "They've called the conscription, Son. Get up and get breakfast."

     I crawled out of bed, ran my fingers through my hair, and headed to the kitchen for breakfast. I made my decision as I jumped down the last three steps of the stairs. I would fight. Mom set a plate down on the table and poured me a cup of milk.

     "They're expecting everybody to report today, Memnock," Dad said. "You don't need to take anything with you. Just go down to the town center after breakfast."

     "He shouldn't have to go," Mom said. "There are rules. We already lost one son. He doesn't have to go."

     Dad glared. "I faced The Throng three times, Woman! It's not a death sentence."

     Mom reached up and touched her eye like to rub back a tear. "I miss Jericho."

     "We all do. There won't be many this time what with the last conscription being just three years back. He's needed. We'll still have Jacob."

     I spoke quietly between bites, "I'm going to fight."

     Mom and dad simply nodded. I finished the last of my food and went to my room, what used to be mine and my big brother's room. I wanted to at least be wearing my best pants and shirt. I donned my coat and headed to the front door. My little brother eyed me and looked down at his feet.

     I ruffled the little bugger's hair. "Don't worry, Jacob. We'll break their line. We'll send them running back to the ocean."

     Jacob twisted his head out of my reach obviously preferring not to have his hair ruffled. "I want to fight!"

     I thought silently to myself, if I fail you might just get your wish. "You're too young, little brother."

     "I'm too young for everything but chores!"

     I laughed and reached for his head a second time. He dodged out of the way and ran. I headed downstairs.

     My mom, dad, and little sister waited at the door for me. I nodded to them. "Well, I'm off."

     Mom tried to smile. "Just remember, you don't have to do this. You can change your mind."

     Dad sniped, "He's not going to change his mind."

     I smiled. "Goodbye."

     I made it to town and some soldiers directed me to the army's training field. When I made it there, a soldier told me to stand in line. One by one young men would step into a tent, then step back out of the tent through a separate opening wearing a blue bandanna on their arm. When I got to the front of the line, I kept hearing someone cry out right after a person stepped into the tent. It came to be my turn, and I stepped into the twilight. A shirtless, veteran fighter, with rippled muscles and scars, sat behind a low burning fire of embers. He looked me in the eye. Then he whipped his hand out from behind his back and threw something at my face. I caught it. I cursed. It hurt my hand, a chunk of iron, and it would have hit me right in the face!

     "What's your name?" The fighter asked.

     I almost threw the iron pellet back at him. "Memnock."

     He wrote down my name in a book, glanced at me again. "Your brother was Jericho?"

     "Yes."

     "You look like him, and just like Jericho, you've made it into the vanguard. I'm putting you with Lord Patrick." He stepped forward and tied a red bandana on my left arm and pointed towards a flap in the tent. "That way."

     "What do I do?"

     "Find Lord Patrick and tell him you caught the iron."

     I stepped through that tent flap into the troop compound. I went from person to person asking about Lord Patrick until I finally found him with a group of well-dressed men wearing purple tunics with gold borders. I told him I caught the iron pellet. He grabbed me by the shoulder and grinned like a starving carnivore that just grilled a thick steak. I simply stared back at him.

     "Most young men hear about the test, and make a conscious choice. If they want to be in the vanguard, they try and dodge the iron. If they don't want the glory, they let the pellet hit them." He shook his head. "They just close their eyes and hope not to lose a tooth."

     "I never heard of anything like it. What's it mean to catch the iron?"

     "Boy, it means either you got very lucky, but you're actually inept, and you'll be one of the first to die, or it means you were born to fight in the vanguard. You'll ride by my side, and I'll be right next to High Lord Kirl."

     I smiled, hoping for the latter. Lord Patrick turned to face the other lords and seemed to ignore me.

     "What should I do?" I asked.

     Patrick pointed to a pile of rusty old swords. "Take one of those swords, go to one of those trees in the field over there, and hit it."

     "Then what?"

     "Hit it again. Until you can't hit it anymore."

     I nodded. I went over to a stack of swords and picked out one of the less rusty ones. The edge of the blade looked dull and here and there it had nicks in it. I tested the balance. It clearly weighed heavy towards the point and seemed far heavier than it needed to be. I walked back over to Lord Patrick and cleared my throat. "Excuse me, my lord, will I carry this sword into battle?"

     Patrick shook his head. "You surely won't be fighting a tree when the time comes either. We'll forge a blade for you to use."

     The next day, in the chow tent, I gave up trying to count how many young men had a fresh bruise on their face from the test of the iron.

     A few weeks later, I was summoned to the armory tent. I stepped inside, and Lord Patrick waited. He handed me a sword in its scabbard. "There's your fury blade, Memnock. Take it!"

     I took the sword and drew it. I hefted its weight and smiled. The balance was perfect and the edge razor sharp. Suddenly it purred in my hand like a young kitten almost. I looked to Lord Patrick. "It's alive?"

     "Yes, forged with dragon's blood, attuned to you. It has your name on the hilt."

     I looked and indeed carved on the hilt was the word, Memnock. I smiled and sheathed the sword. Months passed as the army trained and trained. On the eve of the battle, I met Kirl for the first time. He had piercing hazel eyes and a tightly trimmed beard. He stood next to a boiling cauldron of red liquid. Patrick waited for me. An ancient hag poured some of the liquid into a silver cup and held it out to me.

     "Drink it, Memnock," Lord Patrick said.

     I took a sip. "Eww, what is it supposed to taste like?"

     "Dragon's blood," Kirl said. "Drink it. It'll prepare you for the battle tomorrow."

     I drank it down. It burned in my stomach. It tasted of ash, soot, copper, and salt. Setting the cup down, I looked to the lords.

     "In the battle tomorrow," Kirl said. "You'll be at Lord Patrick's right, if he should fall, form up with me."

     I pondered the situation. "What if you fall, Lord Kirl?"

     Patrick laughed with some passion. "If he falls, Memnock, all is lost."

     "My boy," Kirl said. "If I fall in combat, you can consider yourself in charge. Advance. The plan is a simple one. We need to punch through the body of The Throng and reach their command pavilion, hopefully killing some or all of their generals. In the past, if we've reached their command pavilion, they'll order a retreat. We'll have to give chase. Understood?"

     I nodded. Both lords seemed to ignore me at that point–I looked to Lord Patrick. "What should I do?"

     "Most men try to sleep, some know they can't and just stay up, play dice, and watch fires burn."

     I knew that meant I could do whatever I wanted, a rare luxury in military life. "Thank you, my lord."

     As I walked towards my tent, my thoughts drifted. The earth below my feet seemed to get swampy and mushy. It felt odd, but I felt strangely at ease. I wanted to get plenty of sleep so I went into my tent and lay down on my mat. I drifted off into endless colored dreams. I dreamed of so many things it felt like an afterlife's worth. Dreams of harvest time played over and over in my mind intermixed with dreams of my family, and then there were the dreams of women, dozens of dreams of women. I woke to the sound of thundering drums. The first time they'd played the drums since the start of my conscription. They thumped so loud, and my head felt so strange that it felt like they vibrated through the very Earth. I donned my chainmail and strapped on my blade. I stepped out of the tent, and a beautiful vixen of a maiden ran towards me carrying another silver cup of red, frothy liquid.

     "Memnock!" She shouted out.

     My first thought was that I dreamed, but that I should play along. "Over here."

     She stepped towards me and held out the silver cup. "From High Lord Kirl."

     I took the cup and drank it down. The sheer acid taste of it burned my throat and woke me to the reality that this wasn't a dream.

     * * *

     As the battle raged around me, I struck down opponent after opponent, trying to fight my way back to the rest of the vanguard. With each enemy I struck down, I seemed to breathe in their life force and grow stronger. My blade stayed clean and sharp the entire time, then I noticed it started to cast off white light and move faster than I could possibly swing it myself. That's when a behemoth of a man struck down Lord Patrick with one swift blow to the neck sending his head flying off.

     He stood a hand and a half taller than me and almost twice as wide with black hair and pale blue eyes. His arms and legs rippled with muscle. Unlike the other enemy warriors, he wore no armor save for a horned helm and leather protecting his groin. His axe blade glistened red with blood in the stark morning light. Blood of my fallen brothers.

     I charged him aiming with all my strength for the point on his neck where it attached to the shoulder. He flashed his teeth at me. Then he moved the axe with a swiftness I couldn't believe and our blades stuck together. We both jerked back at the same time pulling the blades free. He examined the edge of his axe peering intently at the new dent. My blade didn't lose its edge. I redoubled my effort striking over and over at his face and neck. For every strike I made, the axe flashed.

     He flipped his grip on the axe, and I saw it out of the corner of my eye aimed for my neck. I ducked straight under it, and an exposed kneecap presented itself as a golden opportunity. I lashed out with my sword slicing an inch deep cut right through his leg. My enemy screeched in pain and dropped his guard. I didn't have time to revel in it. I spun around, lopping his head off.

     In a circle around me, the fighting had stopped and both sides watched. Then I heard a low roar from my side of the line. A great splattering of lightning crashed down around Kirl. The word 'Rally!' sounded louder than thunder from him. I ran like the wind through the tall grass and over the bodies to where Kirl stood.

     I reached the high lord first. The Throng surrounded us, but more of the vanguard approached. I looked to Kirl. "Why do they attack us? They're no different from us."

     "It's because we use magic, Lord Memnock. Don't you feel the power flowing through you?"

     I paled at the thought. Why not use magic? Magic strengthens the farmer's plow. Magic seals the grain silo. Magic heals wounds. I took note though. Arcane energy flowed through me like never before.

     The vanguard finally formed up around us. Kirl howled. "Advance! Advance!"

     My guts pulled me forward into the hornet's nest of enemy swords and pikes. In the distance, with just a few more ranks of enemies in the way, the honor guard flags of the enemy war generals rustled in the wind.

Snakes & Gypsies

GENRE : Comedy (maybe)

Snakes & Gypsies
By Geoffrey C Porter

This story was written for an Ed Davis writing class.



     My new friend, Jessica, wanted to go to a Gypsy camp and have our fortunes read. I agreed, largely because I wanted Jessica to transform beyond just a friend, so I'd pretty much do anything she'd want us to do, other than genitalia piercings. None of that for me.

     The Gypsy camp was located on a farm just outside of town. Tents, buses, pickup trucks, and minivans littered the fields. Jessica seemed to know where she was going as she led us to a tent with a gold moon painted on it. She stepped inside, and I followed. An ancient woman, with gray hair down to her hips and a toothless grin, sat in a well-worn leather chair. A coal fire burned on a round platform in the center of the tent. Animal skulls hung about strategically. The old hag tossed some sickly-sweet incense into the fire, and a hazy, bluish smoke filled the tent.

     "Our fortunes, please," Jessica said.

     I shrugged.

     The old woman reached behind her and pulled out a copper bowl. "Twenty dollars each."

     "WHAT!?" I howled.

     Jessica rapped her knuckles across my temple real hard. Yes, I've learned more than once how hard Jessica can hit. She claimed she studied Ninjutsu, and it's all about hitting other people's soft spots with your hard spots. All I knew was it worked. Still, she had this brown and blonde hair cut real short, plus the nicest breasts I've ever seen.

     Jessica and I each put $20 in the bowl, and the old hag stashed it in a rusty iron chest.

     "My name is Myra. Let me see the girl's hand first."

     Jessica held out her right hand, and Myra began to caress the lines in her palm. Myra spoke in a soft voice. "You'll live well into your eighties, but your health will start to fail in your sixties. You'll have two children, but not by the man you're with."

     "Drat!" I whispered.

     The Gypsy woman released Jessica's hand and reached out for mine.

     I provided my hand, and Myra traced along the lines of my palms and fingers. It sent a kind of shiver up and down my spine. Myra whispered something, closed my hand, and pushed it away.

     "What?" I asked. And yes, for the record, what is my favorite word.

     She closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair. "Your future forks too many times to be sure of anything."

     "What a waste of $20!" I said.

     Myra's eyes opened wide. "You want me to lie? Do you want me to tell you about every possible fork and where it leads? I could spend a year talking about all the different forks in your future, and there's no telling on any one which way you'll turn."

     "I want my $20 back!"

     Myra glared. "No refunds!"

     "This is a sham."

     Myra smiled. "You really want your money back?"

     "Of course."

     Myra fumbled around in the iron chest. She pulled out a sack of something and the twenty. She dumped the sack onto the fire, and it filled the room with a noxious cloud of yellow smoke. She said a little chant in a language I'd never heard and handed me my twenty.

     Jessica and I ran out of the smoke-filled tent. I drove her home. I leaned over to kiss her.

     She pulled back and whispered, "No, we're done."

     "We're just getting started, baby-doll."

     "No. Myra said we'd never have kids together. Why go any further."

     I tried to nuzzle in close to kiss her and my kiss landed on her shoulder. "Gypsies have been wrong before."

     Jessica opened the door and climbed out. "She put a curse on you, stupid fool."

     She slammed the door shut. I drove home. Curse, my ass.

     A few days passed while I hunted for a new woman. You know, going to parks watching for women with big dogs, going to the grocery store at odd hours not buying anything in particular. I would go to bars, but alcohol is poison. Except Long Island Iced Teas, those are mostly iced tea anyhow.

     I came home from work one day, and in the space separating my screen door and main door, a snake.

     About two to three feet long, brown with tan diamonds running down its back. I ran. Well, in truth, I screamed, then I jumped, then I ran. I made it back to my car and drove to a payphone. One of my friends kept snakes as pets, so I figured I'd call him first. He didn't answer. So, I had to call another friend. He came over with his camera and six-year-old daughter in tow. The snake was gone when he opened the door though.

     "I had to get up from my nap," the child said. "And there's no snake."

     Yeah. A snake. And my friend didn't get any pictures. I'm sure it was the poisonous variety too.

     Another week passed, while I stalked different parks and grocery stores. I was on my way to the kitchen for a nice cold beverage, and the faintest of hissing caught my ear. Another snake, this one well over three feet long and solid black, was just chilling on my countertop. I started to back away. It started to move towards me. I ran out of the house. Brilliantly, I forgot my keys but remembered to lock the door. I didn't even have my wallet on me. Luckily, I'm old friends with a locksmith, and I called him from a neighbor's house. I'm on good terms with my neighbors. Very important.

     My locksmith friend, George, showed up in good time with a toolbox. "There's a snake inside?"

     I nodded.

     "I'll unlock the door," George said. "But the snake is all you, man."

     "What!"

     "Grab a brick, and brain the stupid thing, or are you afraid of a little snake?"

     "Of course, I'm afraid of a snake! Snakes kill to eat!"

     "You said it was black, right?" George pulled a simple little gun-shaped tool out of his toolbox and inserted it into my door lock. He clicked it a couple of times and twisted it. "You're unlocked. The only black snakes we get around these parts are constrictors. It's not poisonous."

     "It's huge!"

     "All the more reason you have to deal with it and not me. Call animal control if you're that much of a pussy," George said.

     "Thanks for unlocking the door. Got any plans on Saturday?"

     "Saturday, hmmm…"

     "There's that new zombie movie. I haven't seen it yet."

     "I've seen it, but I'll see it again, if you want," he said. "Matinee on Saturday?"

     "Yeah, I'll call you."

     George winked at me. "Are you going to kill the snake?"

     "I'm calling animal control."

     "HAHAHA!"

     George left, and I went back to the neighbor's house to call animal control. They arrived pretty quickly.

     Two of them stepped out of the van. One said, "What's the problem?"

     I wondered which one was the comedian. "There's a big-ass snake in my house."

     "How many feet is a big ass snake? What color is it?" The second man said.

     "It's at least eight feet long, a foot around in the middle, and it sits up like a spitting cobra."

     Both men laughed.

     "It's maybe three feet long. It's solid black," I said. "It's in the kitchen. Ignore the pot plants in the back bedroom."

     Both men glared. One hissed out the words, "If we find pot plants, we're calling the sheriff."

     "The stuff is entirely medicinal."

     "It's still illegal in this state."

     "Oh, well, we're real close to the border with Canada."

     Both men glared at me again. I think they practiced that. "Please get the snake. You won't find any pot plants."

     "We had better not."

     They bagged the snake then drove off with it.

     I didn't sleep well that night.

     In the morning, I ate my typical breakfast of Greek yogurt and cereal. I had work, but not for another hour. I poked around on the internet reading the news. A very low hissing sound grated against my ears. I turned. In the doorway to my den, a slender green snake with red eyes perhaps two feet long lay in the entryway.

     I pondered my options while the snake inched its way into the room. I was still barefooted, but I chose flight. As I ran past the snake, it bit me on the foot. I stumbled and fell. The pain was unbelievable. I mean, I could describe it, but you wouldn't believe me. Honestly though, I don't have a very high pain threshold.

     I crawled to the phone and dialed 911. The snake came after me for another nibble, and I bashed on it with the fireplace poker until it stopped moving. It felt good. I put the carcass in a brown paper sack and went outside to wait for the medics. The ambulance came and took me to the hospital. The doctor wanted to know what kind of snake it was, and I said, "The mean kind!"

     "No, what color, did it have any markings."

     I smiled. "I have it with me. It's in this paper sack."

     The doctor looked in the bag. Then he started punching up websites on the internet. "These aren't native to this region. Not even to this continent. It's a Willow Asp, native to India. Relatively poisonous. You could lose your foot or your life, if we don't treat it."

     "So, give me an anti-venom and send me home."

     The doctor shook his head. "We don't stock this anti-venom at this hospital. I'm going to have to start calling other hospitals."

     He started making calls. The pain was bad, so I whimpered a lot.

     The doctor finally said, "Good, Good. We'll fly him to you."

     The doctor turned to me. "Ever ride in a helicopter before?"

     "No."

     "You're going to love it!"

     They wheeled me to the helicopter, and strapped me in. A paramedic rode with me in the back. We took off. "Willow Asp? Native to India?"

     "Apparently."

     "You know India is the ancestral home of Gypsies."

     "What do you know of Gypsies?"

     "I have a little Gypsy blood in me," the paramedic said. "My great grandfather was a Gypsy."

     "What do you know about their curses?"

     The paramedic's face darkened a notch. "You don't want a Gypsy curse on you."

     "Yes, I'm beginning to understand that."

     "Just have it taken off."

     "How?"

     The paramedic pointed at my swollen foot. "It's all so simple. Find a Gypsy camp, find a seer, and pay a modest fee."

     "How much of a fee?"

     "Most will do it for a few hundred bucks."

     "Ha! Screw that. I think I'll pick up snake hunting as a hobby instead."

Long Day, Long Night

GENRE: Comic Super Hero

Long Day, Long Night
By Geoffrey C Porter

I originally wrote this for a writing class with Ed Davis.

     I'm not crazy. The snake was huge. I answered a knock on my door at 10:13 am, and the snake stood there with a malicious grin on its scaly face. It had a laptop belted around its midsection, and it held a club upright in the end of its tail. I answered the creature's questions of debt solvency and promised to make further payments. It claimed it needed a blood sample, and before I could protest, it bit me on the arm. The beast slithered off, and I crawled back into bed.

     I couldn't sleep. I watched the picture of friendly wildflowers on the wall as it seemed to flow in and out with the wind. The colors sparkled in the bright rays of the sun. The wildflowers appeared to grow and bloom and then wither. Slowly, in tiny little clicks, it hit me there was no picture of wildflowers on the wall. Centurian is at it again, slipping hallucinogens into the water. I pushed myself out of bed and started to pace the halls. I thought I killed Centurian last time, but my nemesis must have escaped.

     The hallways seemed infinite, but in truth they simply turned right over and over until I reached the door to my room again. A few open spaces with chairs and TVs, but mostly the hallways were lined with doors. Doors that were either locked or led to private rooms like mine.

     I started watching the news for any clue to what might be happening. Nothing. My eyes started to lose focus as I viewed the television, and I had to avert my gaze. The floor shifted under my weight to the left and right as if I was on a small boat or raft. I tried to ignore the unsafe conditions while making my way through the passageways again, hoping some exit door would be unlocked.

     A spider easily an inch big, crawling up the wall, grabbed my attention. Slowly, as I watched, it began to grow bigger and bigger until it was nearly a foot across. Then it popped like a balloon, and the shattered shell of a corpse dropped to the ground. I went to the phone and placed my palm on the reader. A sign above the phone read, "Federal Asylum #12, ext. 205." A voice chirped, "Good morning, George."

     "Speed dial one," I said.

     The phone dialed, and soon enough my diligent sister appeared in the video.

     "Centurian is at it again!"

     My sister, Bethany, nodded. "Mmmmhmmm."

     "Boot my computer and feed a water sample into the analyzer."

     "Sure, George, sure."

     A man caught up in a swirl of twisting tobacco smoke looked at me and smiled. "Centurian?"

     "Yes!"

     The man, drifting in and out of his cloud of noxious fumes, laughed.

     "Do you want a sub or pizza this Sunday when we visit?" Bethany said on the video phone.

     "Damn it! Are you going to turn the computer on and feed the sample into the analyzer, so that the machine will start crunching on an antidote?"

     "Yes, George, I will. Pizza or sub?"

     I stopped to think. I had a sub last time. "Pizza."

     The lunch bell sounded, and I hung up the phone. I went to the eating area and palmed the dispenser. A tray of food ejected out of a slot. The food was as bland and tasteless as any food could be, but I had a hard time stomaching it as I kept seeing tiny motions out of the corner of my eye when there was nothing there. The fruit punch dripped with sweetness and sugar, and I had to wonder how healthy such a concoction was. A ferret, easily four feet tall with frazzled, wild hair, approached my table. The ferret wore a tight-fitting white lab coat and high heels. It held out a cupful of pills.

     I sighed. "Centurian is loose."

     The ferret smiled. "You know the doors are locked."

     "Yes."

     The ferret pushed the cup of pills under my nose. "Take your medicine."

     I took the offered pills and began pacing the halls plotting my next move. In truth, the doors in this place were locked all the time. Still, there had to be a way out. Something I had forgotten. I paced and paced.

     I noticed a sea turtle, and I knew enough to know he was in charge.

     The sea turtle had a name tag, "Dr. Naples." The beast waved at me with one appendage.

     I shouted, "Centurian is loose!"

     The sea turtle smiled. "Let's sit down, George."

     The turtle's reptilian shell shifted under the fluorescent lighting. The individual pieces of his carapace seemed to move and slide along its back as if it were sorting out some puzzle. I sat on a bench. He pointed at me with what I thought was his arm. "You've been coming along very well over these last few months."

     I howled, "I never should have retired!"

     The turtle nodded.

     "You need to release me," I said with my right fist clenched.

     "Oh, not until your treatment is finished, dear boy. As long as you suffer from delusions, your place is here."

     "They aren't delusions! Centurian is putting hallucinogens in the water supply. I've stopped him before."

     The turtle pulled his head partway back into his shell. "Centurian is a myth."

     I snarled. "He's as real as you or me."

     "Some philosophers would say only one of us is real, young man."

     "I need to get out of this place."

     "In time. I expect over the next few months, if you continue to progress, you'll be a free man."

     "We don't have a few months!"

     The turtle stood up and took a few steps away. "I have other patients and piles of paperwork I must see to. Has talking with me helped?"

     My lips curled into a frown. "No."

     "That's good."

     I began pacing the halls once again.

     William stood in one corner of the room flipping the channels on the television. He lit up a cigarette and smiled at me. He wore red sweatshirt and navy-blue sweatpants. The end of the cigarette seemed to singe the very air with an unholy glow of burning metals.

     "Centurian?" William asked.

     "Bad news always travels fastest."

     "Is your remote working?"

     A streak of brilliance like a wicked thought crossed through my mind, and I spoke aloud in error, "Yes, my remote. I forgot about it altogether."

     I ran for my room. Typing a keycode into my locker, I withdrew my precious remote. I pointed the device at the closed door in my room and pushed play. Nothing happened. I locked the remote back up and lay down drifting off into a rigidly vivid dreamscape plagued by unkillable foes and assassins.

     The dinner bell woke me, and I ate with the patience of a man plotting his escape path. I paced the halls trying every door leading to a new level or outside. All remained perfectly secured. I lay down for a while, sliding in and out of a sleep riddled with tales of viruses and chemical agents.

     I went for yet another walk. This fine-looking young woman who easily resembled a walrus sat at a table reading a book.

     Sitting down across from her, I tried to get her attention. She picked at one of her tusks with her fingernail.

     I shivered the words out slowly, "Centurian is back at it."

     The walrus woman nodded her head.

     "My remote is broken!"

     The walrus shook her head and put her book down.

     "You're one man," the walrus whispered.

     My eyes turned into a steely cold glare, and I whispered, "I'm the best."

     The walrus reached in her pocket and withdrew two AA batteries. Rolling them across the table at me, she grinned wide. Snatching up the batteries, I took off in a run towards my room.

     I made sure the door was closed behind me and punched the keycode into my locker. I pulled the battery cover off my remote and tossed the old batteries into the trash can. Feeding the remote the new batteries, I twitched a little bit. Pushing the play button on the remote resulted in the most beautiful metallic click sound one would ever hear. I locked the remote back up. The door opened.

     Stepping gingerly into the closet, I climbed onto the rungs in the back wall. The floor in there wasn't to be trusted. I typed another keycode into a keypad on the wall, and the floor dropped out. I climbed down, and cool air came from below. I reached a landing and touched around for a light switch. The hallway was narrow and poorly lit, yet I made my best possible time.

     I pushed one final door open, and the outside air hit me in the face. I took off in a run towards my base. My legs pushed against the ground, and my pulse thumped. I reached a large, multi-story house surrounded by a well-groomed lawn complete with shrubs dotted with tiny red berries. The door was locked, and my hand found its way to the buzzer.

     My sister answered, and I stepped inside.

     She held out a bottle of aspirin. "George! Your computer said take two aspirin to counter the effects of the hallucinogen in the water supply. It's been all over the news, too."

     I nodded, walking past her towards the stairs.

     She reached out and grabbed my arm. "Take the aspirin."

     I popped two aspirin in my mouth and pounded up the stairs to the top floor. I reached a simple door and opened it. Linen closet. I started grabbing shelves and removing them, discarding their contents into the hallway. Once the closet was empty, I stepped inside and closed the door. Tiny green lights illuminated the space.

     Speaking quietly, I said, "My name is George."

     White light filled the closet, and the floor started pushing me upwards to my base. I started noticing the distinct lack of hallucinations. Praying a silent thank you, I stepped through the doorway into my lair. I went to the computer and started tapping into the imagery satellites. I looked at every access point for the water supply. Each one looked untouched. I started to wonder. A quick analysis of the operating system onboard the satellite showed a Trojan process. I tried to clean it, but it was quite malignant. I uploaded a newer version of the satellite operating system and waited.

     I had imagery. The computer beeped a warning. Apparently, the Trojan reported activity across the network. My mind snarled as I realized I didn't have much time. I sorted through the imagery until I found Centurian. He had three cronies with him, and they were dumping drums into the water pipeline at a water tower.

     After I donned my fiber armor, my hands instinctively reached for my clubs. The oaken clubs attached at a belt loop and possessed a magnet in the end to keep them steadily attached to my thigh, so I could move freely. I sported four of the 16-inch-long, 42 oz clubs, and my eyes wandered to the stairs leading to my transport. I shook my head and whispered, "I am the one."

     Climbing upwards, I reached the transport on the roof. I twisted the throttle all the way up and turned the wheel in the direction of Centurian. The satellite imagery showed on my console. The cronies waited at the base of the water tower, and Centurian was doing something on top of the tower. I pulled to a stop and jumped out.

     I howled, "Arrroooo!" A club materialized in my hand as if by a will of its own. I charged the first of the cronies. My club worked its magic, and the man went down. The second man pulled a gun, but my armor casually deflected the projectile. I clubbed the shooter good.

     The third man fell to his knees and shed tears. "Please, mister, don't hurt me!"

     The club flashed three times in the night air, and the man crumpled into a ball on the ground.

     Centurian, dressed in royal purple robes and black shoes, smiled at me. "George! I'm ready for you this time!"

     Counting how many steps away he stood, my eyes narrowed.

     He reached in his robes and withdrew a Mark IV Death Ray. "This weapon will cut through your armor and–

     I knew that thing took four seconds to charge, and I whipped my club at the device. The death ray went flying. Centurian's face bent all out of shape. "You win, George, again. I'll go along quietly. Call the authorities."

     I advanced on him and beat him some. Not enough for him to suffer any permanent damage, but enough that he was out cold.

     I pressed the call button in my armor. Within moments, police transports and hospital evac units arrived.

     A Doberman and a German Shepherd approached me from one of the police transports. The Doberman said, "Time to go back, George."

     "No!" I shouted.

     The German Shepherd sighed. "You must go back. You have an extremely violent personality, and society must be protected from you."

     "I do not have a violent personality!"

     "You just beat four men half to death," the Doberman said.

     "They deserved it! I barely injured them."

     A typical housecat with yellow stripes and a white lab coat approached from one of the medical units.

     The Doberman looked at the housecat. "He doesn't want to go back."

     My grip tightened on my club.

     The cat smiled and shook her head. "But, you know, George, they're having biscuits and gravy for breakfast this morning."

     "Biscuits and gravy!" I chirped.

     The Doberman smiled. "With fresh pineapple!"

     I tossed my club to the side and jumped into one of the medical transports. "Come on, let's go, let's go!"

     The cats and dogs smiled. The transport took off, and soon enough we were back at the medical compound. They led me through hallways until we reached the secure double door into my ward. I stepped through the first door, and the walrus, who gave me batteries, stood there smiling. "We're really having biscuits and gravy?"

     The walrus smiled. "Oh, yes, and fresh pineapple."

     I jumped up and clapped my hands. The first security door locked, and the second security door went click. I ran for the kitchen. I put my hand on the tray dispenser. My eyes narrowed as I cataloged the items on my tray. Oatmeal. An orange that had bruises from being kept in a freezer. A plain bagel with no sign of butter or cream cheese. I stuck my finger in the oatmeal: lumpy and lukewarm. I let out a little whimper.

     William approached, and he laughed. "What did they promise you this time? French toast with thick cut, hickory bacon?"

     "No."

     "What then?" He asked.

     "Biscuits and gravy with fresh pineapple."

     William grabbed up his tray. "You know we only have that on Christmas."

     I sat down to eat my food.

     William sat with me. He spoke between bites, "What about your remote?"

     My food fell to my tray as I raced to my room. My locker opened easily enough. I pulled out the remote and tried it. Nothing happened. I opened the remote to look at the batteries. They were gone. I closed my eyes.