The Dreamland Articles - Book 2

Steven Lake

Copyright

The Dreamland Articles - Book 2

Copyright © 2010 by Steven Lake

The opinions expressed in this manuscript are solely the opinions of the author and do not represent the opinions or thoughts of the publisher. The author represents and warrants that he either owns or has the legal right to publish all material in this book.

ISBN-13: 978-1-935805-96-0

Published by: 2 MOON PRESS - 307 W. Michigan Ave, Marshall, Michigan 49068 - www.800publishing.com

All Rights Reserved. This book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or in part by any means, including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without the express written consent of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Dedication

I want to dedicate this book first to God for his boundless grace in blessing me with the ability to write, and the imagination by which to create all the great worlds, characters, events and stories that I have had the privilege to write about.

I also want to thank everyone who helped me on this series, including all my friends and family who have provided help with editing, offered feedback, and more!

Author's Note

This short story anthology is the second book in a series of anthologies known as "The Dreamland Articles". This series is unique in the fact that I set a goal for myself when writing it, that each and every story comprising this collection must be based on a dream, either in whole, or in part. So as memorable dreams occur over time, I take the best of the ideas generated by them and turn them into short stories, some of which eventually make it into this series. To find out more about this, or other novels I've written, or works that are in progress, go to: http://www.realmsofimagination.net

Story Index

1. Aviophobia

2. Faster than a Whimper

3. Hail

4. In the Eye of Darkness

5. Learning to Fly

6. Persecution

7. Point Cape

8. Raven Wars

9. Sheep Among Wolves

10. Symbiosis

11. The Blacksmith's Forge

12. The Bulls of Edward's Elementary

Aviophobia

John looked around the airport main lobby and marveled at the thick press of bodies that was gathered there. He hated traveling during the holidays, and this was one of the many reasons why. He studied the rows upon rows of people, crying babies, noisy animals, screaming kids, the loud, the annoying, the people talking on their cellphone at the top of their lungs as though talking to the deaf, punkers, emos, egotists, hipsters, hippies, yuppies, and many more. Next to him stood a woman in a pink coat, pink hat, pink eye gloss, pink gloves, pink booties, and pink luggage.

If she'd painted her face pink as well it would have completed the look. He looked over and noticed a grumpy old lady not far ahead of him followed by a grumpy businessman, and two grumpy kids. What was it with grumpy people today? Of course, the two guys in front of them looked like they'd been hitting the happy juice a bit too much. That would certainly make the flight more interesting. He turned and studied the small cadre of TSA screeners manning the booth. They all appeared to be moving in a mechanical, almost automaton fashion. In some ways he wondered if they actually were robots. But even if they weren't robots, he had to give them credit for keeping the lines moving. Yes, the lines were actually moving. In fact, people in general were flowing quite efficiently through the checkpoint without issue or incident.

In fact, they were moving almost too fast in some respects. And yet, despite the speed at which they were being processed, the size of the crowd kept growing larger, grumpier, and more stagnant by the minute. He covered his mouth as he yawned, and then repositioned himself on top of his suitcases. He looked at his watch and sighed heavily. He still needed to check his bags, but given the density of the bodies inside, that would be quite a difficult objective to achieve for quite a while. He shrugged as he thought about this. At least he wasn't outside in the frigid cold. He looked back towards the doors and noticed that people were still stacked five and six deep outside with no room left for any of them to come inside. A few of them even appeared to be doing the ever popular “It's freezing and I'm trying to stay warm” dance.

He looked at his watch again and wondered how long it would be before he could check in his bags. After that he needed to figure out where the end of the security check-in line was and then claim a spot at the back. Hopefully it didn't extend outside as well. Although, given what he was seeing, that was almost certainly the case. Eventually though the crowd thinned enough that he could finally reach the check-in counter. A woman there greeted him, and then started talking nonstop for what seemed like forever, asking him dozens of seemingly mundane questions that had absolutely no bearing on his trip.

Eventually though, she took his bags and gave him his receipt. John sighed in relief. Next up was the mess gathered in front of the security checkpoint. He walked over to the lines waiting to get in, and soon found the end. To his great surprise and relief, the end of the line was still inside the doors. But that wasn't much of a consolation, as the line moved briefly, and then seemed to stall for the better part of an hour, neither moving, nor changing, despite the number of people flowing through the checkpoint. He looked at his watch again. If they didn't hurry, he would be late for his flight. Finally, the line started moving again, and he soon found himself at the front staring at a TSA agent who looked a few sizes too big for his uniform. The agent motioned for him to approach, and then blinked as though he'd just seen a ghost, or else deja vu. The agent quickly shook it off, and then went back to his work. The agent took John's boarding pass, examined it, gave John a second look, and then let him through.

John put his small carry-on bag into the bin, followed by his shoes, watch, belt, hat, phone, wallet, and close to half his wardrobe. John felt almost naked by the time he stepped up to the metal detector. The guard on the other side noticed his somewhat embarrassed expression as he did his best to keep his pants from falling down around his ankles. She grinned, and then motioned for him to step forward. As soon as he did, the detector began going off. It made such a racket that everyone plugged their ears because of the intensity of the sound. John merely grimaced at the painfully loud blare of the siren, as he didn't dare let go of his pants. Finally one of the guards reached up, pressed the reset button and asked him to step back. She then motioned for him to step forward again, and this time he passed through without the alarm making a sound.

John grinned sheepishly, and then began collecting his belongings. As he quickly put on his belt and other things he'd been asked to remove, he slowly felt dressed again. He tossed the two tubs into a nearby pile, and then made his way down the concourse to his gate. But he didn't get very far. Stopping at a local shop to pick up a cup of coffee, a man walked up to him and began screaming wild insults at him. John blinked in surprise and tried to ask the man what had happened. But the man wouldn't stop. He only became louder and uttered profanities and insults at John that would have made even a sailor blush. This eventually drew the attention of several security guards who were not far way.

The agents quickly grabbed the man and forcefully separated him from the target of his rage. John was glad at this moment that he hadn't gotten his coffee yet, as he'd likely be wearing much of it by now if he had. He looked at the security guards, and nodded his thanks. Thinking that this was over, he was surprised when the guards then turned on him as though he were at fault.

"Sir, why were you attacking this man?" asked one of the guards.

John blinked.

"Me? Attacking him!? No, sir! He was attacking me! I was just standing here, trying to get my coffee, when he walked up and started acting like I'd kicked his favorite dog or something," he said.

"That little worm was messing with my wife!" screamed the man.

"Your wife!? I don't even know who you're talking about! In fact, I've never even seen you before!" cried John.

"Yes you have! You're the one who messed with my wife, and then got our flight canceled after you bum rushed the boarding agent, poured coffee on the pilot, and started trashing the plane! Why aren't you in jail, you animal?!"

John blinked in surprise.

"Say what!?" he exclaimed.

"Wait, I heard about that incident. Hold on a second. You're that guy we saw on the security brief! How in the world did you get back in here!?" said one of the guards.

"I honestly have no idea what you're talking about, sir," replied John.

"Oh yes you do! I hope they hang you from a support beam, you scumbag!" cried the man.

"Alright, sir. That's enough," said one of the officers as he tried to placate the angry man.

His partner then turned to John, and said, "Sir, I'm gonna need you to come with me. We'd like to talk with you."

John sighed in frustration, and then followed the man into a nearby hallway. After nearly two hours of intense interrogation by several agents, it was discovered that John wasn't the man they thought he was. Instead it turned out that he looked exactly like another man who had been arrested earlier that day for disorderly conduct and hauled away to the local jail where he was currently undergoing a long and detailed psychiatric evaluation.

The security guards apologized for the confusion, and then released him to his flight. But by now it had left without him. So he was escorted over to the airline offices where he was booked on another flight that was scheduled to leave an hour later. The agents then made sure he got on the flight, into his seat, and that everything was alright. The plane took off on schedule and once in the air John was finally able to relax. He was thankful that the next several hours turned out to be generally boring, and almost routine to a fault. The only thing he hated about the flight was that the seats were too narrow, there wasn't enough legroom, and the drinks were far too expensive.

It was one of the reasons he quite fondly called the economy section "cattle class", as he felt like livestock on the way to the slaughter house. To make matters worse, the guy next to him was excessively chatty, and talked like he was in a speed reading contest, never shutting up, and seeming to never ever take a breath. He just continued talking, talking, talking as though powered by a super endowed set of lungs with an infinite supply of air.

Eventually though, they began their descent to their final destination, and by some miracle of miracles, the guy next to him actually shut up and didn't utter a peep the rest of the flight. Well, almost. As John situated himself for the eventual landing, he heard surprised gasps and quiet talking from the other passengers around him. It was a moment later that he heard the landing gear go back up and the engines increase to full power as the aircraft began to ascend again. To further increase his curiosity, he noticed that quite a few people were leaning over and looking out the window.

Finally, unable to contain himself, he leaned over the guy next to him and glanced out the window. To his complete surprise and horror, he could see dozens of thick, black columns of smoke climbing lazily into the air above buildings that were engulfed in flames. His eyes went wide. Fires, bodies, destroyed buildings, carnage, upturned earth, cracks, and even craters the size of football fields were everywhere. The devastation was immense. It was as though the entire city had come apart at the seams.

"Passengers, it appears a natural disaster has just occurred below us, and as such we will not be landing at our original intended destination. Instead, we are diverting to a nearby airport not far from here. So please stay seated with your belts fastened, and we'll be on the ground as soon as we can," came the captain's voice over the intercom.

But that did little to allay the fears of the passengers. Even the flight attendants appeared frightened, despite doing their best to remain calm and appear courageous to the passengers all around them. The airplane continued on for another twenty minutes, before descending again, lowering its landing gear, and preparing to land. But then the unthinkable happened. The wings came off. John gripped his seat in abject terror and disbelief as his body became weightless for the brief few seconds it took for the plane to plummet the short distance to the ground.

The moment the plane hit, John heard a gut wrenching roar, the sound of rending metal, and saw a wall of flames race through the cabin and engulf everything in brilliant white and yellow flames. A split second later everything went black. John snapped awake and sat bolt upright in his bed. He looked around the room frantically as he panted heavily. Sweat dripped from his body in great gushing rivers. For a brief moment his mind was filled with confusion, which soon settled into astonished relief. It had only been a dream.

But what a dream it was! He slowly climbed out of bed, walked over to the window and threw open the drapes. The sky was clear, the trees and grass were green, the birds were singing, the bugs were buzzing, and all was good in the world. He looked over at his bed and wondered if it had really been a dream, or an eerie premonition. It obviously hadn't been real, and yet it was far too vivid to be anything but a vision of the future. He shook it off, climbed out of bed, and then into the shower. He had to drive it from his mind, or it would bother him all day long. He quickly washed up, shaved, dressed, ate his breakfast, and then caught a ride to the airport with his friend.

When he arrived at the drop off location, he noticed that the line at the check-in counter was out the door, and the lines at the TSA security checkpoint were equally as bad. But that wasn't what initially worried him. When he scanned the crowd, he noticed that everything was exactly identical to what he'd seen in his dream. Everyone was wearing the exact same clothing, had the exact same luggage, stood in the exact same spots, and in the same order. Even the lady in pink was there. A cold chill ran down his back.

"What's the matter?" asked his friend.

"I saw this in my dreams last night. I mean this exact scene, right down to the lines, the luggage, everything. Even that weird lady in pink was there," said John.

"Nah, you're seeing things, man. It's just flight jitters," replied his friend.

"I can't go man. I can't."

"What!? No way, man. Don't back out now."

"I can't! I'm gonna die and I know it!"

"What are you talking about!?" asked his friend.

Just then a police car pulled to a stop in front of them. A moment later, three TSA agents escorting a man in handcuffs through the doors and out to the waiting car. The man looked at John, and gave a devilish, seditious grin. John gasped in both shock and horror! The man looked exactly like him, right down to the very outfit he was wearing!

John pointed at him, and said, "Then explain that. That guy looks just like me! Exactly like me!"

John's friend looked at the man, then at John, and then back at the man as he was being shoved into the car.

He put the vehicle in drive, and said, "Ya know, just this once I think it'd be wise to answer your fears."

"So you saw him too, right?" asked John.

"I did. But he didn't look like you. He looked like me. An evil me. And he mouthed the words, 'Enjoy your trip. I'll see you on the beltline.' just as they were shoving him in the car," said his friend, a hint of fear in his voice.

John grabbed his friend's arm, and said, "Get out. I'm driving."

"What!?"

"If that's death, and he's out to get us both, then I'd rather be the one driving."

"Why?"

John grinned.

"If he sees me at the wheel instead of you, it ought to confuse him just enough to allow us to escape. And if luck holds out, we might even make it home alive."

His friend laughed.

"You know, you're weird sometimes. But in this case, I think it's the kind of weird I can live with."

The End

Faster Than a Whimper

Darrin looked out into the driveway and noticed a small, beat up old Pinto with a bow on it. He groaned quietly inside.

"Oh mom, you didn't," he thought.

"Darrin sweetie! What do you think of your new car! It's your birthday present!" said his mom.

"She did," he muttered.

"Your mother and I went to a lot of trouble finding you the perfect car. I hope you enjoy it," said his dad proudly.

"I'll be lucky if the car doesn't blow up the moment I turn the key. Man, I swear my parents hate me," thought Darrin.

His dad handed him the keys, and said, "Go take it for a test drive."

Darrin plodded down the sidewalk, opened the grungy, rust pitted door, and grimaced as it squeaked. The noise it made sounded like someone torturing a cat. He plopped down in the seat and felt springs invade his pants. If his jeans weren't already fashionably torn, he might have found this troublesome. Then again, the idea of having a seat full of springs giving him a running enema didn't sit well with him either. He got up, tossed a towel down on the seat, and then sat down again. The car sagged to one side, and leaned as though threatening to tip over at any moment.

This had to be a joke. No parents were this cruel. Then he glanced back at the smiling faces of his mom and dad. He immediately recanted that thought. They were indeed the worst parents ever. He put the key in the ignition and turned it with fearful trepidation. A painful, grinding noise came from under the hood, followed by what sounded like a hundred monkeys dueling it out with jackhammers. He prayed quietly under his breath that the car would spontaneously catch fire and burn to the ground. That would be the most merciful thing that could happen to him right now.

But, alas, it didn't. So he pulled the door shut, put it in reverse, and then grimaced as the transmission erupted with a sound like a herd of stampeding elephants. He almost wondered how many other members of the animal kingdom had been unceremoniously crammed into this wreck on wheels. He released the brake and the car painfully slid down the driveway, bounced into the street, and came to a halt just beyond the driveway. He then put it in drive and listened to the herd of elephants turn into a blender full of crows.

He gave the engine a little bit of gas and felt it struggle forward, causing the car to shake like a tree in a windstorm. The car hobbled down the road painfully, and then vanished around the corner. He returned a half hour later on foot, looking somewhat disheveled, carrying the only surviving piece of his car in his hands: The steering wheel.

"Honey, where's your car?" asked his mom.

Darrin pointed to a flat bed wrecker as it turned the corner behind him. On its bed lay a mound of metallic carnage that looked like a pile of salvage parts on their way to the junkyard.

"Oh dear. Did it break already?" she asked.

Darrin handed her the steering wheel, and said, "Gee mom, you take a guess."

He then stormed into his room and plopped down on his bed. Later that week he awoke to something that sounded like a roaring lion and a thundering hurricane. He immediately sat up and craned his ear towards the window. The noise stopped.

"Darrin, sweetie. Come here please," came his mom's voice.

Darrin bolted out of bed and hurried across the house. Was it possible that they had gotten him a sports car this time? He raced up to his mom, snatched a shiny new key out of her hands, and then bolted out into the driveway. But to his surprise, all he found was yet another Pinto. The big difference was, this one was at least rust free, despite being painted a blinding shade of white. He walked cautiously over to the car and examined it.

"This one's to replace the other car that broke on you," said his mom.

"But it's a Pinto, mom!" moaned Darrin.

"Yes, I know. The car dealer said the other one had a slight problem, so he exchanged it for this one."

"A slight problem?" thought Darrin sarcastically.

He walked over, grabbed the handle, and opened the door. It swung out smoothly, without a sound, or so much as a single creak. That was at least promising. He looked inside and found the interior to be nearly flawless and with no signs of wear or tear. He climbed in and was glad to find that the driver's seat hadn't tried to molest him like the one before it had. He also noticed that the car didn't sag heavily to one side when he climbed in. He put the key in and started the car. The sound that came next sent chills down his spine. It was almost as though a cheetah had roared with excitement, and then began purring in anticipation of the hunt.

A satisfied grin drew upon his face until he couldn't grin any wider. He closed the door, put on his seat belt, and put the car into reverse. He felt the car lurch, the engine trying desperately to overpower the brakes as the two super powers struggled against each other in a battle for domination. This was not your typical Pinto. He eased off the brake and felt the car shoot into the street. He drove his feet hard down on the brake peddle, fighting with all his might to keep the car from forcefully invading the living room of the house across the street. He dropped it in drive and once again felt the car lurch.

"Muhahahahahaha," he said with devilish glee.

He let off the brake and watched the car quickly accelerate on its own to twenty five. If the car would do that at idle, he wondered what it would do if he touched the gas. His neck would regret that decision for much of that day, as the car's tires barked briefly, and then locked onto the pavement, sending the car down the street like a rocket. Darrin struggled to just hold onto the steering wheel as the force of acceleration crushed him against the seat and made his lips flap like they were in a hurricane.

Before he knew it, he was clocking ninety in a residential district. Along the way he passed a police car sitting by the roadside. As his ghost white Pinto sailed by it, one of the officers saw the speed it was traveling at, and tapped his partner on the shoulder.

"Hey, check it out!! That Pinto just blew past us doing ninety!" he exclaimed.

The other officer roused, smacked his lips, and then stared at his subordinate.

"You're seeing things, son. There ain't no Pinto on God's green Earth that can do ninety. Now, do we need to go back to the station to have your eyes checked?"

The younger officer, fearing another reprimand, shook his head.

"No, sir."

"Good, now let's go grab some coffee and donuts. I'm hungry."

Darrin pressed as hard as he could on the brakes as he closed on a nearby intersection. But the car refused to stop. Panicking slightly, he reached up and tossed the car into neutral. This allowed him to finally bring the car to a stop. As he sat there waiting for the light to change, a very powerful sports car, owned by one of the top jocks at school, pulled up to the stop sign next to him. Darrin glanced over and saw who it was. A devilish grin spread across his face.

He leaned out his window, and shouted, "Hey, pinhead! You wanna race?"

The jock turned to him, partially lowered his sunglasses, and glared condescendingly at the ghost white Pinto and it's driver.

"HA! You want to race me in that!?" he shouted arrogantly.

"I bet I can beat you to the next intersection. Winner takes all," said Darrin.

The jock grinned greedily.

"You're on, nerd boy," he said. The jock raised his sunglasses, looked up at the light, and said, "Green is mean, and you better be hot."

Darrin looked up at the stoplight, and grinned. He put it in gear and waited for the light to change. A moment later it did, and to the jock's complete surprise, a roar came out of the little Pinto that sent chills of terror down the frame of his sports car. The jock tried his best to catch the little white ghost, but found that it easily left him in the dust. A little ways up the street they came to another stop light.

"Best two out of three, kid?" said the jock.

Darrin grinned. There was nothing better than rubbing it in. And the next two lights he beat the Jock and his fancy sports car hands down. At the third light the two switched cars, with Darrin giving the jock the keys to his Pinto, and the jock handing over the keys to his sports car. The jock then got in, dropped it in gear, and was gone like a cannon shot down main street, onto the highway, and across the bay bridge like someone had mounted a pair of warp drives onto the little car.

Darrin then drove the jock's sports car around the rest of the day, and tried his best to enjoy it. But somehow he felt lost without his little car. He eventually drove the car back to the home of it's owner with an explanation for why he had it, and then took a bus home. Later that evening, the jock arrived at his house, his face and hands almost as white as the car, and returned the feisty little Pinto to its rightful owner. But Darrin noticed that the engine no longer roared, and the body sagged as though it were sad.

He didn't think much of it that night, but felt the difference the next day. The car wasn't as spunky, didn't roar like a cheetah, and didn't want to go like the wind as it had the previous day. Instead, it seemed content to quietly putter down the road. Darrin wondered if something was wrong with the little car. Had he possibly made it angry, giving it up in exchange for a shiny little sports car? He apologized profusely to the little car, but it didn't seem to listen. He felt bad about how he'd treated it. So he swore never to betray his new friend again and race with it again. Because it had been that racing which had lead to the events that had hurt the little car's feelings.

But as much as he tried to avoid racing, it could not be avoided. His little car had made a name for itself, and its fame was growing. And one day, as Darrin drove the little car to school, he found the south end of the school parking lot full of powerful street cars, all growling and roaring with anticipation, eager to have their chance to race the little white ghost. Darrin stared in disbelief, unwilling to accept the fact that all these cars were here to race him, to prove that their power and muscle could outdo even a ridiculously overpowered little car.

Darrin pulled into the parking lot, stopped next to the first car, and then said to his little Pinto, "I know I promised you we wouldn't race anymore. But what say we do one more race, just for fun. These cars need to be taught a lesson that speed and power aren't everything. And we're just the pair to do it. So, what'cha say little guy?"

The little car grinned slyly, as only a car can do, and then roared like a cheetah, as if to say, "Sounds like fun to me."

The End

Hail

"So Kevin, what are you planning on doing this weekend? I hear there's a really great flick showing at the local movie-plex," said Mara in a giggly sweet voice.

Kevin stared out the window at the darkening afternoon sky and sighed lightly.

Mara stared at him curiously, and said, "Kevin, are you listening to me?"

He continued to ignore her as he watched the clouds building into thick, towering thunderheads. A flash of lightning danced playfully off the edge of one of the clouds like a piece of string in the wind. Several more appeared after it, some almost perfectly straight, while others branched out in every direction, like the limbs on a tree.

"Kevin, are you even listening to me!?" squealed Mara, a hint of frustration in her voice.

She liked Kevin a lot, but he hardly ever seemed to take notice of her, and this nearly drove her crazy. Just then the bell rang, signaling the end of classes for the day. Many kids in the room cheered and hurried out to their lockers to exchange their school books for portable games, music players, skateboards, and much more. They then hurried away to catch the waiting buses while others leapt into their cars and quickly sped away. Kevin took a deep breath, got up, and began to walk out of the classroom.

"Kevin, where are you going? You still haven't answered me!" said Mara, now thoroughly mad at him for ignoring her.

Kevin stopped in his tracks, turned slightly to the side to half heartedly look at her out of the corner of his eye, and said, "I can't go with you."

Mara's jaw nearly struck the floor with the force of an atomic bomb.

She leapt out of her seat, seething anger drawn bluntly across her face, and screamed, "WHY NOT!"

Kevin sighed. "I've got a club meeting this afternoon. After that I'm going out to work at my dad's shop. I've told you that before."

Mara raised her finger and opened her mouth as if to scold him, but stopped cold, frozen in place as though she had suddenly been turned to stone. Her eyes stared at Kevin as though they were lit with a raging bonfire. Kevin shrugged, and then walked out of the room. Mara lowered her finger, grabbed her school bag and stormed out the door after him.

"Don't you ignore me you pig headed snob! How can you treat someone who lo…"

She froze in her tracks, her face turning almost instantly from an expression of fiery indignation to one of horrified embarrassment. She lowered her head and tried to pretend like nothing was wrong, even though she knew that once again she'd almost made the most horrible mistake of her life. To admit that she loved one of the biggest science geeks in the entire school would shatter her social standing with the more elite girls in the school. If any of them heard about this, it could spell a lot of trouble for her.

She quickly looked around to see if anyone was watching, took a deep breath, then strode purposefully down the hallway and towards the science lab where she knew Kevin would be. Inside she found him, his lab partner, a girl and a teacher, the latter of which stood near the back of the room. The teacher looked up and smiled at her.

"Can I help you?" he asked.

Mara's face blushed and she shook her head.

"No, no. I was just curious of who was in here," she said.

"Want to join the science club?" shouted one of the guys.

"You silly. She can't join our group. Girls of her status don't mingle with nerds like us," said the girl.

The boy rubbed his head in shy embarrassment and said, "That's too bad. We could really use someone cute in our group."

The girl next to him jumped up and began screaming at him.

"Just because I'm a nerd, you think I'm not pretty!? Is that what you're saying, Raymond?? HUH?? Do I look ugly to you!?"

The boy waved his hands in mock defense.

"No, no. Not at all. But she's much prettier."

"Why you ungrateful, pompous, sanctimonious, block headed IDIOT!!" screamed the girl.

She then began to hit him over the head with one of her textbooks. Mara grinned at this as the teacher tried to break them up.

"Raymond! Sara! Knock it off you two. There's no need to fight," said Kevin after several moments.

"But she started it!" said Raymond.

"But you…" said the girl.

"Enough. We're hear to do science, not start a war," said Kevin, a powerful sound of authority in his voice.

"Then what's she here for?" asked the girl, pointing at Mara.

"She has a crush on me. She's probably trying to get me to ask her out on a date," said Kevin flatly.

Mara's face turned blood red as she stiffened in utter embarrassment. She immediately turned and ran out of the room screaming. The teacher, Raymond and Sara all looked at the door, then back at Kevin in stunned curiosity.

"That girl has a crush on you?" asked Raymond.

Kevin chuckled, then nodded.

"Yeah. Silly, isn't it."

Sara smiled.

"I think it's romantic."

Raymond looked at her in disgust.

"Romantic? I think it's absolutely gut wrenchingly gross. Who'd want to fall in love with a girl? A brand new lab set, yes. But a girl? You'd have to be out of your mind! Cute girls are only for looking at, not dating."

Sara shot Raymond a look of ice cold rage that would kill a horse at 20 meters. Raymond saw this and immediately wanted to run for cover. But Kevin ignored them, intent on keeping his nose buried in his book. After a brief episode of screaming, the teacher broke up the fight. As he continued reading, his ears twitched slightly as they began to hear a strange, but barely audible sound in the distance.

Mara raced down the hallway and around the corner before stopping and leaning against a wall to try and compose herself. She was very nearly ready to bawl like a baby, and yet that was the last thing she wanted to do, especially at a time like this. Yet she loved Kevin, and his response had cut her deeper than the sharpest knife.

"You idiot! How could you be so cold! I love you!" she whispered to herself as she fought to hold back her tears.

Just then something next to her popped. It sounded like someone had hit the wall with a sledgehammer and shattered part of the masonry. She felt the wall vibrate briefly, then go still. Then she heard another pop, and another. She opened her eyes and looked to her left to see three large holes in the wall, and a matching set in the floor just a few feet away. Another hole then appeared, and another, and another. Curious what was causing this, she walked over to a window, and saw something that frightened her terribly. She immediately turned and ran back down the hallway towards the science labs as more holes began to appear all around here.

Kevin sat up in curiosity, straining to understand the sound he was hearing as Sara and Raymond discussed the possible uses for a newly discovered chemical compound that had been announced just the week prior.

"Quiet you guys. I hear something," he said.

"It's probably just the band practicing outside," said Raymond.

He heard a pop followed by whistling sound. It almost sounded like someone was firing artillery shells. After a moment, the others perked up as well.

"Wait a second, I hear it too," said Sara.

Everyone turned and strained their ears, trying to make out what this strange new sound was. Suddenly a ceiling tile and a lab desk exploded in a spray of ice, foam, and black lacquer tabletop. The teacher swore.

"What was that?" he said.

The whistling and popping sounds grew louder and increased in frequency, like the barrage of a thousand artillery shells upon their little building. Several car alarms went off outside as the sounds of shattering glass and screaming people now added to the conflagration. The four of them quickly got up and hurried to the window. Outside they could see cars everywhere covered in dozens of one and two inch diameter holes, and something that looked like snow.

Off in the distance, the marching band was scattering in every direction possible in search of cover. Sara gasped in horror as she spied several blood covered bodies lying on the field covered in grotesque wounds. She then watched as the thickening hail rained down on the rest of the band members, killing each of them one at a time in gruesome and terrible ways. Whoever the hail touched, it killed instantly. The teacher swore.

"What is that stuff?" he said.

Several more pops could be heard from behind them followed by screams from the hallway. Mara raced through the doorway of the science lab just as several more hail stones exploded through the wall behind her.

"HELP ME!!" she screamed in horror.

Immediately realizing their danger, the teacher ran across the room to a large metal door and began working the combination in a frantic attempt to unlock it. Kevin and the others took cover as best they could behind a nearby desk as the hail grew more intense. Now the popping had become a roar and the four of them cowered with fear as glass, ceramic, metal, wood, and other debris exploded and crashed down all around them.

The teacher threw the handle on the metal door, swung it open wide, and then heaved a metal rolling rack out into the lab where it was quickly pounded to scrap by the hail.

"Quick! Over here! Hurry!!" he shouted to the four scared teenagers.

Kevin leapt up, grabbed Mara, and shouted, "Follow me! Hurry!"

They rushed across the room amid the deadly conflagration of ice, metal and other debris, and leapt into the chemical safe. They wedged themselves in as tightly as they could, and then watched as the teacher jumped in behind them and slammed the door shut. They each cowered inside the safe in fearful silence as the hail mercilessly pounded the safe around them. A few moments later the light in the small chemical safe flickered, and went out.

Sara screamed, and then fell silent. They heard the ice now striking the metal supports of the building. Had it already devastated the building that much!? This went on for several more minutes, until a noticeable decrease in the noise outside could be heard. A minute later everything became deathly silent. Feeling that it was now safe to leave, the teacher slowly opened the door. What they saw horrified them. Every single car, building, and tree had been pounded flat. Only a few scattered objects remained intact or upright. Scattered splotches of red gave mute testimony to the countless victims the hail had slain in its brutal attack on the school. The teacher then opened the door completely, stepped out, and found himself standing in a field of ice nearly two feet deep.

"Dear God, what happened?" he whispered.

The four students soon joined him and marveled at what lay before them.

"Be careful where you step. There's bound to be a lot of dangerous stuff mixed in with this ice," said the teacher.

Kevin reached down and picked up one of the hail stones in front of him and studied it. He was surprised at not only the fact that it was in excellent condition, despite what it had gone through to get here, but also its size and incredible weight. Even though it was only two inches across, it felt like he was holding a twenty pound cannonball.

"What's that?" asked Raymond.

"I think it's what just fell on us," replied Kevin.

He then looked up and studied the incredible hail covered devastation that lay all around them.

"Once we're sure it's safe, I think we should look for survivors," he said.

"Are you even sure there is any survivors?" said Raymond.

Kevin tossed the hailstone aside, and said, "There's only one way to find out. Let's go looking."

Rickenbom looked out over the ravaged remains of what had been the southern half of the city of Bloomsburg, and chuckled with evil satisfaction.

"Did we get him?" he asked in a low, rumbling voice.

A man next to him with a pair of field glasses studied the city streets below. He grunted. "I can see his car, but it looks relatively unharmed. It must have been armored extremely well to have survived that. I also don't see any casualties in their convoy," he said.

Rickenbom grumbled.

"It does not matter. We'll just get him next time."

"But he can't be allowed to arrive at the G17 conference or he'll ruin it!" said the man.

"Ruin it? Not likely. There will be no G17 meeting today, or anytime soon. So if there is no meeting, he cannot ruin it. Now come. Our job is done here. We must leave now."

He turned and walked several paces, and then put his hand on the shoulder of a white jacked scientist who stood next to him.

He then gave a sinister, demonic grin, and said, "Well done."

As he began walking to his car, the scientist dropped to his knees, an expression of horror and remorse on his face.

"What have I done? What have I done!?"

The man with the field glasses shook his head, turned, and yanked the scientist to his feet.

"Come, you have more work to do."

The End

In the Eye of Darkness

Paul stood on the steps of the massive stone structure that was city hall, and studied the growing crowds around him. Every year in this small southwestern town, the entire city came out to celebrate the fourth of July. Given the large crowds gathered in front of him, he almost felt as though he were in a big city, rather than a little farming town in the middle of nowhere. Clowns moved up and down through the crowds as a band played patriotic songs in the streets. A tall, light skinned Asian man named Chou stepped up to Paul and handed him a hotdog.

"Your patriotic celebrations are intriguing. I find their exuberance quite entertaining," he said.

Paul laughed.

"Yeah, they do tend to go all out for the fourth around here. But the best part comes after dark. They're going to have quite a fireworks celebration."

Chou laughed.

"No thanks. I've seen enough fireworks in my life. You must remember that I grew up in China. We celebrated with fireworks nearly every day in my home town. I doubt there's much you can do to top what we had."

Paul laughed.

"Probably true. But hey, it's the thought that counts."

Just then a brilliant ball of light appeared in the sky just above the clock tower at the far end of town. Paul shielded his eyes as he stared at it with interest. He then noticed something curious. Despite how bright the light was, it didn't seem to change the shadows around him. It was as though the light weren't there, and yet he could see it very plainly.

"What in the world is that!?" he asked.

But his friend didn't say anything. Then he noticed that the entire town was silent. Dead silent. He turned his attention towards main street, and noticed that everyone appeared mesmerized by its brilliant light. He couldn't understand how they could look at it without it hurting their eyes, because it was nearly blinding him. Then to his surprise, the people started walking towards it.

"What in the world are they doing?" he thought.

He turned to see what his friend thought about this, and then noticed that he was gone. Paul then turned back towards the light, his eyes narrowing.

"Something's not right here," he said.

He walked over to one person, and said, "What's going on here?"

But the man appeared like a zombie, his only thought and intention being to walk towards the light. Paul shook the man to wake him up, but found his efforts futile. He put his hand on the man's forehead and tried to read his mind. But he found nothing. It was blank, as though his mind had been completely wiped of all cognitive thought, reason and logic. It only knew one thing. Walk towards the light.

"Walk towards the light?" he thought curiously as he studied the ball of light above the clock tower.

Just then he spotted something that made his heart leap with surprise. As people grew close to the clock tower, they were sucked up into the light one by one like dust into a vacuum cleaner. This terrified Paul. He then looked up at the light again and knew that something had to be done, and soon. He quickly glanced around to be certain nobody was looking. Certain that his secret would remain safe, he transformed into his guardian uniform and unlocked his powers. He then donned a special pair of solar shades which blocked out much of the sphere's brightness, allowing him to look directly at it without being blinded. It had been so long since he'd been required to act as a guardian that he wondered if he'd remember how to properly use most of his powers. For the past ten years no creature or threat had come from the other realm. This had more or less left him and the rest of his guardian brethren without a job.

Instead, in order to keep themselves busy, they had found other work, including joining local police forces, helping with crowd control, peacekeeping, and even periodically helping either stop, or clean up after natural disasters. But few, if any, had been forced to truly use their powers to their fullest as they had during the war of the realms. He didn't mind that so much, except that he had begun to miss fighting the daily excitement the war had brought. He quickly glanced around and noticed that there were no other guardians nearby. Chou was nowhere to be seen.

"He must have gotten sucked in by that sphere. Well then, I guess this one's all mine," he thought.

He leapt up at the light and tired to smash it, but was repelled, violently, through several buildings and into the city's historic tree, almost immediately turning it to splinters. Paul got up, shook himself off, and studied the carnage.

"Wow, whatever that thing is, it's not playing around," he thought. Then he noticed the remnants of the tree. "Oh, boy. The mayor's going to kill me when he sees that."

He then teleported himself in front of the sphere and fired several powerful energy blasts at it. But to his complete surprise, they were repelled back at him. He rebounded the shots back at the sphere of light, which rebounded them in turn. This simply exchange quickly turned into a high energy game of ping pong, as powerful, devastating energy bombs were being bounced back and forth between the sphere and Paul. He quickly realized that he couldn't keep this up, as it was wasting time. So he deflected the energy bombs into the air and away from the sphere. He then scratched his chin in thought as he studied the sphere. There had to be a way to stop this thing. He slowly began to float around it as he tried to size it up, and then noticed what appeared to be a black gateway behind it. This intrigued Paul.

"An eye of darkness? Well now, that's sneaky. They're using this orb to hide what they're really up to," he thought.

He then generated an energy bomb in his hand, teleported himself behind the sphere and shoved the energy bomb right into the eye. To his surprise, it didn't seem to affect it.

"You gotta be kidding me. It took that without flinching? How powerful is this thing!?"

Not wanting to waste time, he powered up as much as he could in a few seconds, and then unleashed a devastating barrage of fire right into the eye. The next thing he remembered, he found himself buried partway into a rocky hillside several miles away. He groaned in agony.

"Ok, felt that one," he moaned as he struggled to extricate himself.

He looked around in confusion, shook off the momentary disorientation, and then floated up into the air. He looked off towards the town and noticed that both the sphere, and the eye of darkness, were gone. He wondered if he was too late to save anyone. He teleported himself to the city, and then grimaced slightly at the effort. Whatever had happened, he was pretty banged up. He quickly drove the pain from his mind, and looked around the area. To his dismay, all that remained was a handful of people who were running around and looting everything in sight. His eyes narrowed slightly.

"Typical. Something bad happens and people start looting everything. Well, I'll deal with them later," he thought.

He then focused his mind towards the clock tower and reached out with his energy. He immediately cringed and grimaced slightly as a sharp, fiery pain screamed through his body. He grit his teeth as he scolded himself.

"Heal first, fight second," he thought.

After taking a few moments to fix all of his injuries, he then studied the clock tower again.

"Whatever hit me really messed me up. I'll have to play it extra cautious from now on," he thought.

He reached out again with his energy, and saw a gateway shimmer in front of him. He then summoned a small, round sphere that looked like a floating eye, and sent it through the gateway.

"With an eye of darkness present, I had better play this cool. Those things aren't no joke," he thought.

He then closed his eyes and connected with the eye. What was on the other side amazed him. It was pure, unadulterated blackness punctuated by towering columns of flame that illuminated a sea of writhing bodies. It was like a picture of hell itself, only more surreal.

"Well, well, well. It appears that we may have found the center of this madness. And if that's what I think it is, I'm going to need backup. I'm good, but there's no way I'm going to take on a place like that by myself."

Just then a gigantic mouth appeared out of nowhere and surrounded the eye. Within a split second, the image changed from fire punctuated blackness, to the ooze filled bowls of a monster. Paul disconnected from the eye and grimaced.

"Yeah, didn't need to see that," he mumbled.

He then summoned a gateway wedge, a special energy tool designed to either keep open, or force closed gateways such as this, and then shoved it into the gate. He would return shortly, hopefully with more help, and the final solution to this war. He then went about gathering up as many guardians as he could before returning. However, when he arrived, he was shocked to find that his brace had vanished. But that wasn't the strangest part. The city was back to the way it had been, with everyone celebrating the fourth, and partying to their heart's content. Paul scratched his head in disbelief.

"I thought you said an eye was here," said one of the other guardians.

Paul pointed to where the gate had been, and said, "There was! Trust me, I saw it. The darned thing ate all the people in the town!"

"You mean the ones partying below us?"

Paul shrugged.

"Well, yeah. I can't explain that, but they were most definitely not here when I came to get you."

The other guardians looked at him in consternation.

"Hey, would I lie to you guys? Come on, you know me better than that," said Paul.

The others shook their heads, and then teleported away one at a time until only one remained.

"I believe you," he said.

Paul frowned.

"Well, you're in the minority then."

"Pfft. When has the majority ever been right," quipped the man.

Paul turned and looked at the clock tower, and then pushed out with his mind. The area was clean. Not a sign of the gate or any other dimensional energy remained. This was really baffling him. The two guardians then floated down to the steps of city hall and studied everything around them. It was like nothing had happened.

"So what do we do now?" asked the man.

Paul shrugged.

"I'd say we start by searching the crowd. That's bound to yield some answers. If not, then we spread out from there until we find something. If the creatures of the other dimension are making a new push into our world, I think we need to be running point on this to ensure that they don't get a foothold like last time."

The man nodded.

"Sounds like a plan to me."

As the two guardians moved among the people on the street in search of answers, a dark, evil, swirling vortex like eye watched them from a distance.

"He's presents a dangerous threat to our plans for dominance of this world," it said.

A few moments later a red, glowing sphere like eye appeared next to it, and said, "Do not worry about him. Steps are being taken to eliminate the threat he presents. Proceed with the mission as planned."

"Yes, master," said the black, vortex like eye.

It then shimmered and vanished. The red, sphere like eye studied the two guardians, and then gave a low, evil chuckle as the citizens of the town suddenly transformed into rexes and other creatures from the other dimension.

“Let's see you play with that, guardian.

As an unusually large rex turned and growled at Paul, he narrowed his eyes in disbelief.

"You've got to be kidding me," he groaned.

The End

Learning to Fly

Ben stood in the middle of a flowing field of grass and studied the wide open space around him. The grasses stretched out for hundreds of miles in every direction. Wherever this was, it was as flat as flat could be. He wondered if the flat-earthers would feel at home in a place like this. But regardless of where this was, it was his best chance at learning how to fly, as there would be no obstructions to hinder his attempts. Well, except the ground. He had heard from many others that flying in dreams was easy. And yet not once had he figured out how to do it. Even so, he needed to learn how, as doing so was an important step forward in his quest to control his dreams, and maybe some day develop dreamland superpowers. He chuckled at the thought. His friends had laughed the idea to scorn when he'd told them.

"Superpowers, in a dream!? Yeah, right. There is no such thing!" one of his friends had said.

Another had opposed him, saying, "Superpowers are too possible! You just have to be willing to open your mind and see the possibilities, and then embrace them."

Embrace them? He wondered what his friend meant by that. In some ways he almost wished he could bring a few of them here to both help him with unraveling this mystery, and to prove that it could be done. He also wouldn't mind bringing Mr. Bennett here as well. It had been he who had originally given Ben the idea to fly. And even if the old man did seem a bit strange at times, his mind was full of ideas, as the fanciful meet with the realistic in a parade of ideas and thoughts that danced and marched around in his head like clowns in a circus parade. He seemed to have learned nearly all the secrets to controlling dreams and making superpowers in them a reality. Ben grinned. In some ways he almost wished he could take what he'd learned over into the real world. What a thrill that would be. He sighed.

"Well, I can't stand here forever thinking about it. I need to get on with this," he thought.

He closed his eyes, and marveled that, even though they were closed, he could still see everything around him in perfect clarity.

"Go figure that one out," he thought.

He then opened his eyes again and began running, flapping his arms wildly, as though trying to sail into the sky like a bird. After several feet, he leapt up, sailed a few inches, and then fell right back down, crashing face first into the ground with a thud.

"Well, that didn't work." he thought.

Again he got up, tried, and once more found himself face down on the ground. This wasn't going so well. He got up, brushed himself off, and then stood there. What was he doing wrong? Flying had to be easier than this. He shrugged, and again tried, but to no avail. This was starting to look like a comedy skit gone bad. He got up again and was ready to try one last time, but suddenly found his world invaded by a grinding, grating sound.

He opened his eyes to the sound of his alarm clock beeping incessantly. It was time to get up and get ready for school. He groaned and rolled over. He hated mornings. They were most certainly not his friend. But he couldn't sleep in, despite how much he wanted to. He got up, walked into the kitchen, and then noticed his dad sitting at the table eating breakfast. Ben did a surprised double take at this.

"Dad? What are you doing here?"

"It's Saturday. I don't have to work," said his dad.

Ben blinked.

"Saturday!?" he exclaimed. He glanced over at a calendar on the wall, and then smacked his head. "Doh! I forgot!" Just then an idea struck him. "Mom, can I go over and see Mr. Bennett?" he asked.

"Mr. Bennett? Why dear?" asked his mother.

"I just wanna talk to him," said Ben.

"Well, I don't see why not. Just be sure to eat your breakfast first, and then you can go," she said.

Ben shouted with joy, and then proceeded to consume his breakfast as though he were a teenage vacuum cleaner. Well, in straight fact he was, given his raging metabolism. But he was even more so this morning. He soon finished, and was almost immediately out the door and down the street to old man Bennett's house. He reached the front door and banged so fervently on it that he wondered if he'd shatter it into splinters. A few moments later an old, gray haired man stepped to the door, and smiled.

"Ah, Ben. Come in, come in," said Bennett.

Ben hurried into the house and sat down in the living room.

"Mr. Bennett? I've got a question for you about dreams," said Ben before Mr. Bennett even had a chance to close the door.

Bennett soon turned, shuffled slowly, and patiently across the floor, and eventually reached the large, cushy recliner that was his favorite chair.

"Dreams you say?" he said as he plopped down in the chair.

"Yeah, I've been trying to fly in my dreams, but all I end up doing is eating grass. What am I doing wrong?"

"Eating grass? It sounds like you're dreaming about being a cow," chided Bennett.

"No, no. I'm trying to fly."

"Well how are you doing it?" asked Bennett with a smile.

"Well, lots of ways. Most times though I'm running real fast and then jumping up and flapping my arms. But instead of flying, I just fall flat on my face."

Bennett chuckled.

"Really? It sounds strenuous."

"It's frustrating, Mr. Bennett! You have such amazing dreams with such cool superpowers, and yet I can't even get off the ground!" groaned Ben.

"Well, let me ask you this. Is anything you see in your dream world real?"

Ben shook his head, curious of what Bennett was getting at.

"No, it's all imaginary."

"Then why are you trying to apply rules to a place that has none?"

"What do you mean?"

Bennett held up his hand for Ben to see, and then wiggled his fingers back and forth.

"In the real world, we have limitations, requirements, laws, and boundaries. Rules that allow us to go just so far, and no farther. The dreamworld has none of these, save for those you impose on it. So why drag the limitations of the real world into your dreams?"

Ben shrugged.

"I don't know. I guess that's how I see the world," he said.

Bennett nodded.

"That was a wise answer. You see the dreamworld in the same way you perceive reality, with a set of laws and limitations of which you are obviously familiar. And thus, anything that does not conform to those prescribed limitations seems fanciful and thus is impossible to achieve."

"But I'm trying to learn how to use superpowers, and those aren't real. Well, at least not in the real world."

Bennett nodded.

"Correct. And if they are the stuff of dreams and imaginations, what is there that limits them?"

Ben thought about this for several moments, and then suddenly felt a light go on in his head. Even Bennett noticed this.

"Thought! It's my thoughts that limit them!"

"Well, not thoughts per say, but rather your mind. If you wish to fly, don't try to do it physically, but rather, let your mind take control. Let it set the boundaries and the rules for how flight should be in your world. Let it explore what it would take, how you would fly, and where you can go. And once you truly understand that, the limits of your abilities are boundless."

Ben jumped up and down with joy, and then hurried out of the house, anxious to get quickly through the day so that he could test his theories later that night. And he went to bed especially early just in order to do just that, much to the surprise of his parents who were used to his late night gallivanting. But he was too excited to sleep, and lay there tossing and turning for hours until exhaustion finally overtook him. He soon found himself standing in the prairie again, surrounded by grass, ready to take Mr. Bennett's idea for a spin. He started to run forward, and then stopped. What he was doing couldn't be physical. It had to be entirely from his own mind, as it set the limitations of his abilities here.

He looked around and noticed that the flowers were all yellow. He wondered if he could somehow change them. It wasn't flying, but if he could learn how to manipulate them, it might allow him to better understand what he needed to do to fly. He stared long and hard at one flower, and tried to will it to change. But it didn't. He scratched his head in confusion. Then he realized that he was again trying to apply physical, real world concepts to a flower that existed only in the annals of his mind. He then imagined what the flower would look like if it was blue, and wished it to be such. And to his surprise, it changed. He wondered what it would be like to make it into a tree instead, and envisioned a towering pine tree with great, majestic birds roosting in its branches.

A moment later the ground began to rumble, and soon erupted as the flower changed into a tall, majestic tree of Sequoia proportions. Another quick thought, and it was gone in a shower of sparkles. He grinned. Now things were starting to make sense, and he finally understood what it would take to fly. He imagined himself floating above the ground, and suddenly felt his body lift off the grassy plain and rise into the air. He looked down in amazement and noticed that his sneakers were now six feet above the prairie and he was just floating there. A sly, giddy smile grew across his face.

"HAHA! Yes!" he cried.

He stretched himself out like Superman, and willing his body forward, accelerated across the prairie like a cannon shot. After quickly mastering the ability to control his movements, he began seeking a way to increase his skills via some form of challenge. And a moment later an idea came to him. He reached out with his mind and summoned a gigantic forest of trees in front of him. A moment later a huge, tangled forest appeared over the horizon and raced towards him. He darted into it at full speed, his body weaving back and forth through the trees as though he were running an obstacle course. Several times though, he lost his focus, and found himself once again trying physically force his body to turn or move rather than simply willing it to happen. He had to force himself to focus on the task again, and when he did, he found himself able to once again do the same amazing tricks he had been doing before.

Eventually though, despite all the fun he was having, morning came, and the bright light of the rising sun shattered the dream world and pulled him back into the realm of reality again. While it was slightly disappointing to him, the idea that he had finally achieved the ability to control his dreams made him giddy. Later that afternoon he meet up with several of his friends from school and began telling them all that he had miraculously achieved.

His best friend looked at him in disbelief, and said, "You can't do that. Nobody can! And even if you can, who cares? It's all just a dream!"

But Ben wouldn't be swayed. He was enjoying his new found abilities, and couldn't wait to try them out again that night. But first they would need to get a little skateboarding in before it got too dark to play outside. They rambled and played, crashed, half piped, and had more fun in a few hours on their skateboards than most did in a typical day. Then, almost as a last effort to prove that teenage male hormones are the gateway drug that leads almost without question to broken bones and bruised bodies, they decided to try to jump the largest skate bowl in the park. They setup a ramp, climbed to the top, and prepared to jump it.

But before anyone went, the others decided that it would be best to have Ben try it, since he dreamed so much about having superpowers. This would be the perfect way for him to show them off. He laughed at their teasing, and then made the run down the ramp. However, as soon as he cleared the end, him and his board went separate ways, leaving Ben hanging in the air with nothing to land on but hard concrete at the bottom of the bowl. He immediately knew he'd blown the jump, and would soon fall into the bowl and likely break several bones in the process. He tucked himself into a ball, grit his teeth, and wished that he could fly as he waited for the inevitable impact at the bottom.

And he waited. And waited. But nothing happened. He knew he had to be at the bottom by now, and yet it felt like he was still falling. Was he hurt that bad!? He heard gasps and surprised shouts coming from his friends nearby.

"Oh wow, how bad is it?" he thought.

He slowly opened his eyes, expecting to see the worst. But to his complete and utter amazement, he found himself floating in mid air over the bowl!

"Dude, how are you doing that!?" asked one of his friends.

"I...I don't know," he said in amazement.

"Dude, you're flying!"

Ben let go of his knees, and stood up, expecting his feet to touch ground at any moment. But they didn't. They remained a foot above the concrete edge and dangled there as though he were hanging by his hands. Ben, quickly realizing what had just happened, smiled with glee, pointed his fist to the sky, and shouted, "YES!" as he shot into the evening sky like a rocket. As he climbed higher into the sky, he wondered if he was still dreaming, or if he had finally unlocked the superpowers he'd always dreamed of. Even if this was still just a dream, he was going to enjoy every little bit of it.

The End

Persecution

David had always been a well behaved young man. Easygoing, polite, helpful and genuinely considerate of others, he had become quite a celebrity in his hometown. But he was more than just a simple country boy. He was a geek as well, and proud of it. He loved both the country and farm life, as well as technology and all the cool the toys that came with it. But he didn't let his toys get the better of him, or become his god, because he had only one god in his life, and that was the God of the bible.

He had been born and raised in the local Baptist church and didn't miss a single chance to worship and serve God every chance he got. And normally on a Wednesday night he'd be in midweek bible study, listening to the teachings of his pastor as he opened the word of God to them. But earlier in the week his employer, a software company based out of Chicago (he telecommuted to work, allowing him to do his job, yet continue to live at home in the country), had called a mandatory meeting of all employees. He was required to be there in person to discuss something of great importance.

So in response to the call, he had boarded a cramped cross state bus in front of the tiny post office of his little town in northern Wisconsin, and began a long trek down to the windy city. Like any proper geek, he had brought many of his tech toys along with him, and was pleasantly surprised to find that the bus was wired to the gills with geek friendly features. One of these was a “song share” system. It allowed people on the bus to share songs with their fellow riders, assuming they had a media player capable of interfacing with the system. Much to his delight, his was. But he wasn't the only one on the bus with a compatible player, as was evidenced by the music already playing overhead.

Being a lover of good old fashioned Christian music, David fired up his player and connected to the system. He then selected one of his favorite songs, and transmitted it to the system. It in turn told him that five other people were in front of him and his song would be played as soon as the other songs ran their course. He smiled and then went back to his work. The first song to be played was one from the Beetles. The next two were from country music stars he'd never heard of. Another came from the Beetles, and then a rap song from yet another unknown artist. So far, despite the wide range of musical preferences evident among the passengers, everyone seemed to be enjoying the songs. Finally, his song came on.

What happened next was nothing anybody on that bus had expected. When David's song began playing, a rousing performance of “Glory be to God”, everyone on the bus seemed to enjoy it, despite their personal taste in music. Everyone that is, except one young woman. When the song began playing, she came out of her seat like someone had shot her out of a cannon.

“Who's playing that music!? Who's song is this!?” she screamed.

David, who'd been working quietly on his laptop, looked up curiously, and said, “It's mine.”

The woman's head snapped around like someone possessed of the devil and locked eyes with him. She then turned and stormed down the aisle towards him.

“Ma'am, you'll need to sit down. You can't be standing while the bus is in motion,” said the driver.

But the woman ignored him. She stormed up to David and spewed a score of expletives at him that would make even a sailor blush.

But David, unfazed by this barrage of abuse, cocked an eyebrow in curiosity, and said quizzically, “Did I do something wrong?”

“Ma'am, you need to either sit down, or I'm going to have to stop this bus,” said the driver again.

She gave him a rude gesture, and then turned back to David.

“You're one of those wretched holy rollers! I can't stand your kind or your infernal music! It's an abomination to logic, reason, and this country! Give me your player! I'm confiscating it! I will not allow this kind of constitutional injustice to be committed so blatantly in public!” she screamed.

“Alright, ma'am, I'm stopping the bus,” said the driver.

As he pulled off to the side of the road, the woman grabbed onto a seat to balance herself as she continued to spew expletives at David, who appeared to be taking it all in stride, despite the verbal carpet bombing she was throwing at him.

A large, burly, dark skinned creole man stood up, and said, “Lady, lay off the kid. He's done nothing to you.”

The woman glared at him.

“He's committed a capital crime against reason, logic, and this country!” she screamed.

“A capital crime against what!?” said the man.

“What are you, stupid!? He's breaking the law of the separation of church and state! This is a public bus, and he cannot play his music here! I am making a citizens arrest and confiscating the device by which he's committing this crime! Then I'm gonna haul his butt off to jail where he can stay until he gets this ridiculous 'God' nonsense out of his head!!”

“Madam, I am a lawyer, and I know for a fact there is no such law. That's just a bunch of nonsense dreamed up by people who consider the constitution just a worthless piece of paper,” said an older Texan that sat behind David.

The woman glared at him.

“It's right there in the constitution, you moron! It says it in the first amendment plain as day! Don't you read!?”

The lawyer shook his head and said, “Madam, that's not what the amendment says. It provides freedom of religion in this country, and the free exercise of it, not the freedom from it.”

“It's in there and you can't tell me otherwise!" screamed the woman.

"Well that's all fine and dandy, madam, but you can't step on his right to free expression, free speech, and freedom of religion, even if you don't agree with what he believes in. So if anyone's in the wrong here, it's you."

"Yeah, well, he's free to spout his nonsense all he likes, but not in public! I don't care if he does his madness behind closed doors! That's his choice! However, I will not have him spewing his religious nonsense on this bus!” screamed the woman.

“Lady, what are you talking about?” asked the creole man.

“I am sick and tired of these bible banging lunatics trying to push their agendas on us! They're turning the good people of this country into complete blubbering idiots! Their beliefs are an affront to logic, science and common sense, and I will not stand for it anymore!”

“Whoa, whoa. Now hold on, madam. Just because someone believes in God doesn't make them an idiot, a fool or a lunatic. If there's a fool here, it's you,” said the lawyer.

This caused the woman to go absolutely berserk and begin spewing even more expletives. By this time the bus driver had stepped up behind her, and now reached out for her shoulder to try and calm her down.

“Ma'am, if you don't calm down, I'm going to have to toss you off this bus,” he said.

The woman turned around and slapped him, much to everyone's surprise.

“Don't you tell me what to do! You're in collusion with him! You've sided with this lunatic! Well fine, be that way! If you won't stop this madness, then I will!!”

She then turned to David, who was now severely confused, and reached frantically for his player. He quickly took the player and held it beyond the woman's reach as she leaned over him and wildly tried to grab it. But as she did, the driver, the creole man, and several patrons grabbed her and dragged her kicking and screaming off the bus and onto the side of the road. The driver then closed the door, put the bus in gear, and began to drive away as the woman sat alongside the road jumping, screaming and shouting like a lunatic at the top of her lungs.

As the last person sat down, one older lady turned around, and looking at David said, “Young man, would you be ever so kind and play us another one of those songs?”

David blinked in surprise. After the commotion that had just occurred, he wasn't sure that was the best idea.

“Yeah, go ahead and play another of those tunes, son. They're not my kinda music, but if you want to play some more, I'd like it,” said the creole man.

“But why? The last time I played a song, it started a fight,” said David.

“Oh, pfft. Ignore her. If she's so willing to step all over a long cherished freedoms in the name of her ridiculous personal agenda, then I say we need to exercise them a little just to show types like her that, just because you hate something, or someone, doesn't mean you can deny others the right to exercise them however they see best. Now go ahead, play us a few more of those songs,” said the man.

David smiled, and then sent another song to the music system. As soon as the song began to play, the entire bus began clapping with joy. Some even sang along. And all of them had a great time. And even if they didn't know the words, they still at least hummed along as they celebrated a freedom that was nearly denied them by a single, angry voice.

The End

Point Cape

"Captain! Vargol and the Wave Treader are closing on us!" cried the first mate.

Brenton stood on the fantail of his ship, the Artego, and studied the slick, fast moving schooner as it closed on him from behind, slowly pulling even with him on his port side. He was amazed at how fast the little ship was. It was likely because they were running as absolutely light as possible. To them, the impending bounty of gold they'd soon acquire was everything to them, but the trip back meant nothing. Others had done that as well, as the many casks, chests, and boxes of supplies bobbing in the water gave witness to this fact. He raised his telescope and studied the ship closely. Suddenly, two small puffs billowed from the deck. A moment later a bullet tore into the railing next to him, and another buzzed past his ear.

"Snipers!" cried one of the men.

"Sharpshooters, to the rear! Cannons at the ready!" cried Brenton.

The men scrambled frantically to follow the captains orders amidst the growing waves. Brenton's eyes narrowed. He knew why they were shooting at him. They were closing on a place known as Point Cape; a very hostile stretch of water where the great pirate king was rumored to have hidden his vast treasure. The only trick required to gain access to that treasure was to survive a trip through the dragon's teeth, a stretch of water that was easily the most dangerous in the world. Many ships had gone in. None had ever come out, save for the ships of the great pirate king. It was rumored that only he knew the key to the teeth, and how to navigate it safely. It was this very fact that made the teeth the perfect place to hide his treasure, as it provided a natural fortification against plundering that needed no defending by man nor beast, as the sea was more than an ample guardian for him. Another bullet whizzed by Brenton's ear. But he ignored it as his sharp shooters skillfully picked off the snipers on the opposing ship, as well as several of her crew.

"Helm, twenty degrees to port! Ready on cannons!" cried Brenton.

"Ready on cannons!" replied the first mate.

"Aye, twenty degrees to port!" echoed the helmsman.

"Aye, ready on cannons!" cried another.

The Artego turned quickly towards the other ship, and reached his shooting angle before they did. Despite the Wave Treader being faster, the Artego was more stable, and thus easier to maneuver in battle.

"Fire!" he shouted.

"Fire!" echoed the first mate in reply.

The Artego's deck cannons barked loud, fiery, thunderous belches of lethal fire as a wave of cannonballs erupted from their barrels. Brenton mentally ticked off the one and a half seconds it would take for the cannonballs to reach the other ship, and then counted the impacts. Two were dead on, but the other ten were high.

"Twelve degrees down, two degrees aft! Fire at will!" he shouted.

The gunners scrambled to reload as the first mate hurried to ensure that the guns were re-sighted. Moments later his guns barked a second volley. To his great pleasure, he recorded twelve hits, one of which brought down the main mast, and another which left a mortal wound in the Wave Treader's bow. The Wave Treader soon broke off the attack and fell back, never having fired a shot.

"Helm, resume course," said Brenton.

"Aye!" replied the helmsman.

He watched as the ship turned and continued its course towards the cape, and then carefully studied the waters around him. Off in the distance, other ships burned, battles ensued, and puffs of smoke appeared and then vanished in the wind, a mute testimony to the brutality being displayed by the other ships in the area.

"All this death and destruction for a little bit of gold," he muttered to himself.

It was true that he and his crew were also here for the gold, but for much different reasons. The others were there in the name of greed. He and his crew however only sought to ensure the best lives possible for themselves and their families. Most only planned to take what little they needed, and the rest would be given to those in need. However, first they had to get the treasure, and that would be no easy task. Especially given the dangers around them.

Suddenly, as he was thinking about what he would do next, the Artego lurched up, and then crashed down hard as a great wave emanated out from the cape and tossed their ship heavily. Another came and again tossed the ship. A great creek and a groan echoed from the bowls of the ship. If they kept this up, the waves would break her in half.

"Helm, angle us into the waves!" shouted Brenton.

"But cap'n, that's suicide! We need to cut the waves directly!"

"The waves are too short. They're stressing the keel. If we don't cross the waves and spread out the weight, they'll break us in two!"

The helmsman eyed the first mate, who nodded.

"Aye, cap'n," replied the helmsman as he turned the ship so that it crossed the waves at an angle.

As they did, another ship took the opportunity to try and cut off the Artego. But as it rushed headlong into the waves, one caught it amidships and tore at it violently. Brenton watched in sickened disgust as the ship was snapped in half, and promptly consumed by the waves, leaving no trace of its existence behind. The speed at which the ship had gone down made the other captains less eager to overtake the Artego. Most simply turned and followed Brenton's example. A few others gave up the chase entirely and turned away. And he was glad that they had, as it was already more crowded here than he preferred. He turned back to his right again, and noticed that most of the ships that had been battling with each other earlier now lay in ruins on the water. What the cape hadn't destroyed already, men's greed had cut down and burned.

He looked out over the bow and noticed nine other ships ahead of him, all of them lining up in a channel that flowed between two tall, black obelisks which marked the entrance to the cape. One of the ships, seeking to overtake the others, turned hard to starboard as though searching for a swifter, more favorable wind. Suddenly, the ship came to an abrupt halt as its bow buried itself into a hidden sandbar. The force of the sudden stop tore violently at the ship, sending one of its masts crashing to deck. A wave came in behind it and lifted it high in the air before smashing it down upon a hidden row of razor sharp rocks.

The ship creaked and groaned, struggling with all its might to remain intact. But the next wave sealed its doom. Brenton and his crew watched in horror as the ship was lifted again, and then shattered to pieces on the rocks. He grimaced slightly, and then noticed that the razor sharp, sand covered rocks were on both sides of the channel. They would need to kept their course, or else risk losing their ship against them. There was no turning back now. The only way left to them was to go through the cape, and all the horrors that waited within.

He stood on the bridge near the helm and watched as one ship after another passed between the two obelisks that marked the entrance, approached a massive rock that split the channel in two, turned to port, and then vanished from sight. He then felt his ship lurch forward. This caught his curiosity. He leaned over the side, and noticed a powerful current pushing his ship along. He would need to be careful. While it would solve his problems of sailing inside the cape, it also meant that he would have far less control over where his ship went. He looked up again and noticed that there were only two ships still ahead of him. The lead ship at first appeared to go to port, but then turned starboard at the last moment. The other ship behind it did the same.

“Prepare to go starboard,” he said.

“But cap'n, the other ships all went to port, save for those two,” said the helmsman.

“And we would have as well, had I not seen the lead ship change their course suddenly. It's likely they've detected something the others did not,” said Brenton.

“Aye, cap'n.”

They passed the two obelisks, drifted briefly to port, and then turned to starboard. As they continued on, they slid silently into a cavern whose roof was lower than Brenton liked. But his masts were still short enough to allow them through with little trouble. They soon reached the other side of the rock and sailed out into a wider passageway where the two halves of the channel rejoined again into one. They then looked curiously to their left, and to their horror and surprise, saw that the left channel was full of razor sharp stalactites and stalagmites which formed what appeared to be a many layered set of teeth.

“Now I understand why they call this passageway the 'teeth of the dragon',” said Brenton.

A few moments later, two bodies emerged from the left channel and floated towards them.

“God have mercy on their souls,” said the first mate as he placed his cap over his chest in respect.

They knew without a doubt that nobody who went to port would make it out alive. All who entered that way were doomed. He grabbed a railing and steadied himself as the current once again gained speed.

“Cap'n, look!” cried the first mate.

Ahead, like a roiling snake, was a series of sharp, jutting rocks that forced the channel to flow around them like a gigantic, slithering snake. He looked up at his sails and noticed that they were slack against the breeze. They weren't going to help him power his way around the stones. Now he would need to use the current and the skill of his helmsman to his advantage. He stepped up behind the wheel and studied the flow of the water. It was moving in a deceptive, confusing pattern. He watched as the first ship entered the snaking channel, seemed to bump into several things, and appeared to make it through before getting snagged in the last stage. The raging water quickly tore it apart, and then immediately dragged its shattered remains under. The second ship learned from the mistakes of the first, and safely navigated the channel. The Artego did the same. As they came safely out the other side, Brenton sighed in relief.

“So far, so good,” he thought.

He wondered how many more challenges he would be required to endure, and if his ship and crew would make it through alive. Then he smiled slightly. If they did, there would be a lot less competitors for him to deal with when they returned home, as many of the most foolish and greedy were quickly being eliminated by the cape. Then, as he was contemplating this, he heard a sloshing growl. Ahead of him was a series of spikes that protruded from both the water, and the ceiling above, and blocked their path. This struck fear into every man on the ship, as it was very obvious that these rocks were completely impassable. But then something happened that amazed everyone. The water rose, allowing the first ship to pass safely over the spikes in the water, before diving down again to allow them under the spikes in the ceiling. Just then, Brenton realized what was happening.

“Steady as she goes,” he said.

“Aye, sir,” said the helmsman.

Brenton watched anxiously as his ship quickly approached the spikes in the water, even though the water continued to retreat. Eventually though it began rising again, and within moments the spikes had vanished completely under the water. Eventually they sank far enough to allow the Artego to safely pass over. Brenton watched anxiously as they approached the next obstacle, a series of sharp spikes in the ceiling. But then, just as they were drawing dangerously close to the spikes, the water began to subside, clearing the way for the other ship to pass under them, and eventually his as well. But the water wasn't receding fast enough for the first ship to safely clear the spikes. And sure enough, just as it passed under them, its masts dislodged several of the spikes, sending them crashing into the ship and through the hull below. She quickly began taking on water, which caused her to ride lower and lower into the water.

When the water rose again on the other side, she was now too low to escape the next set of teeth that were ahead. And with the gut wrenching sound of shattering boards and rending planks, the ship was quickly gutted. She soon disintegrated, and then vanished below the waves moments later. Realizing that there was very little room for error in here, Brenton carefully studied the water ahead searching for a solution to the puzzle of the teeth. He soon realized what he needed to do.

"Steer out of the main channel. We need to slow our ship," he said.

"Aye, cap'n," replied the helmsman.

The ship pulled to the side and into the slower currents, quickly bringing the Artego's wild pace to a slow crawl. Another ship soon came up behind them, drove into the teeth, and was consumed. A few moments later, Brenton ordered his ship out into the channel again, and then watched with relief as it flowed over the first row of teeth, under the spikes in the ceiling, past the second row of teeth, a second group of spikes in the roof, and then over a final set of teeth at the end of the passage. The channel then narrowed and speed up briefly before opening out into a large, shallow bay. He heard the wind return and watched as it quickly filled out his sails. Trying to determine what he would do next, he raised his telescope and scouted the entire bay. As he did, he found a large house made of stone carved into the side of a nearby cliff. In front of it was the symbol of the pirate king perched awkwardly in the sand. Brenton smiled. They had finally found the treasure they had come for.

“Strike the sails and lower the anchor. We're going ashore,” he said.

“Aye, cap'n!” replied the first mate.

A few minutes later, himself, his first mate, and five other sailors all climbed into one of the longboats and quickly rowed their way to shore. Upon setting foot on land, they approached the stone house cautiously. Inside they found nothing but a single wooden table, and a small stone tablet that sat in the middle of it. Brenton picked it up, brushed off the dust, and read it.

“Silver and gold have I none to give ye, nor treasure that might make ye rich, save this one thing. If ye hast made it thus far, then thou hast gained the only treasure I can give thee: Thy life. For there is none other treasure greater under heaven, and in the sea.”

Brenton put the tablet down and turned to his men.

“Where's the treasure, cap'n?” asked the first mate.

“It appears we've been tricked. There is no treasure. Just a little note from the pirate king congratulating us on successfully surviving the cape,” said Brenton.

“No treasure!?” said the first mate in surprise.

Brenton nodded.

“It would seem not. However, we can go away today with the knowledge that we have survived the greatest challenge man can know, and come away with our lives. That in itself is a reward beyond words.”

The first mate nodded.

“Aye, cap'n. If you say so.”

The men then turned and plodded back to the longboat somewhat discouraged. They had hoped for a treasure of gold and silver. But Brenton knew that coming away from the adventure alive was the greatest treasure of all. He studied the table briefly, turned and then strolled out to his ship.

The End

Raven Wars

Pender flattened himself against a wall as he struggled to catch his breath. He hated being in situations like this. They usually ended up badly for him. And one of these days it'd be his death. He leaned around the corner and searched for the Zep. It was not there. Only a bright blue puddle of blood marked where it had laid a few moments earlier.

"Drat, a wounded Zep is worse than a healthy one. Now he'll go back and report to his superiors, and then I'll really be screwed," he thought.

He held his pistol tightly in his hands and checked the power bar. Four shots remained. He either needed to find more power magazines, or else learn how to kill a Zep by hand, a task even the strongest of men rarely attempted, and almost never succeeded at. He heard a hissing sound and gulped nervously as he tried to control his frayed nerves. A Zep slowly walked around the corner and turned his back to the Pender, much to his relief. This was at least one piece of good luck in a day jam packed with bad. Pender aimed his pistol at the Zep's head and pulled the trigger. Its head exploded into a blue mist of gore that splattered all over the wall. The body twitched twice, and then collapsed. Pender drew his pistol in close to his body, and listened for other sounds.

He only heard the soft drone of the station's environmental systems and the buzz of the lights overhead. He was surprised that the Zep had been alone. Normally they traveled in groups of two or three. He wondered if this one hadn't been the partner of the other Zep he had so unceremoniously perforated moments earlier. He carefully slipped over to the Zep's body and took its rifle, and two spare magazines. Zep rifles were clumsy and inaccurate at best, but they were better than nothing. He hit the power button on the side and the weapon came to life. He then cautiously wrapped his hand around the grip, put his finger on the trigger, closed his eyes, and grimaced.

After a moment he opened one eye and looked at the rifle. Nothing had happened. He sighed in relief. Most good Zep rifles were DNA locked to prevent anyone, other than its owner, from using them. But this rifle appeared to be unlocked, and thus usable by anyone. It was likely that it's now deceased owner was a deck jockey who was not accustomed to carrying a rifle, and thus wouldn't have bothered with something as crucial as that. Pender was glad for that little blessing. It certainly beat having his arm burned off by the security system on the rifle had it been locked.

Shots rang out from down the hallway, followed by the blood curdling scream. Pender gulped hard and wondered how he was going to get out of this alive, and in one piece. That in itself was no small task, as his ship was on the far side of the station, and there were a lot of Zeps between here and there, all of which likely wanted him dead. And for good reason. He wasn't the best, and most feared human bounty hunter in the entire galaxy for nothing. He powered down his pistol and put it in its holster. He then turned and raced down the long hallway towards what was known as the northeast quarter, and took cover in a small mechanical room nearby. He breathed heavily and tried to catch his breath as the thin air made him weak.

"These Creen keep the air too thin around here. The funny part is, it doesn't seem to bother the Zep," he thought.

The sounds of boots rattling on the deck outside made him stiffen in fear. Slowly he rolled the rifle to his right while leaning to his left to look through a small air slit in the wall. His heart froze! The entire hallway was full of Zep! This was about to get messy. He glanced down at the handle to the door, and noticed a locking mechanism on it.

"Who in the devil would put a lock on the inside of a mechanical room door?" he thought.

At this point he really didn't care, but was glad it was there. He reached down and flipped it to the locked position. He then stepped back, raised the rifle and aimed it at the door. If the lock didn't hold, and the soldiers were able to get in, he'd need to either shoot his way out, or take as many of them with him as he could, because he certainly wasn't about to let a Zep take him alive. He grit his teeth anxiously and shivered a little in fear as the Zep outside rattled the handle. They then talked talked some more, pointed at a few things, and then moved on. Within a minute the hallway was silent.

"Well, isn't that just convenient," thought Pender.

He stepped over to the air slot, glanced out into the hallway, and found it empty. He carefully unlocked the door, and then slowly swung it open. Nothing moved. So far, so good. He leapt out of the room, quickly checked both ways, and then hurried off down another nearby hallway towards the landing bay. As he ran, he stumbled across two more patrols, but managed to avoid being spotted by both of them. He wasn't sure how he'd done that, but was glad he had.

He continued on for a ways further until he, by what he could only call amazingly good luck, stumbled onto a breather unit. Maybe his bad luck was finally coming to an end. Or at the very least improving. He slipped on the unit, took several deep, lung filling breaths, and then smiled. The generous amounts of oxygen it delivered now coursed through his body, quickly returning strength to his muscles and energy to his body. He used that added stamina to quickly run, bound, scale, and scamper his way through the station.

He soon found himself at the landing bay where his ship was docked, but found it full of Zep soldiers! He was beginning to wonder if he'd already used up the small amount of good luck he'd found. If he had, he needed to move quickly before anymore bad luck found him. He pulled a small scanning device out of his pocket and studied it. It told him that his ship was fine, and standing by awaiting his orders. He smiled. At least they hadn't found his ship. If they had, they would have destroyed it already. He put the small device away in his pocket, and then flinched as several shots whizzed by his head. He looked down the hallway and spotted several Zep soldiers running his way.

"Well, there goes the last of my good luck," he muttered.

He quickly dove behind a support pillar, and then noticed a service shaft not far away. He hurried over to it, scaled the ladder inside, and soon found himself in a small service tunnel that lead back down the hall and out into a hidden level of the landing bay. From his now secret perch, he leaned out and carefully studied the floor below. Zep soldiers were everywhere.

"What am I going to do? If I just walk out there I'll get shot," he thought to himself.

Just then he remembered he was carrying plasma grenades. A devilish grin drew across his face. He pulled out two and activated them, and then tossed them through the crevice.

"That ought to create a nice diversion," he thought.

He listened as they rattled to the bottom, and then seemed to take an eternity to detonate. But when they did, instead of hearing two loud bangs as he had expected, he was instead blown off his feet by a powerful shockwave that ripped the walls apart and caused part of the walkway he was on to collapse. The entire station vibrated with the intensity of the blast as the bulkheads groaned in protest. He swore.

"Well that was perfect. Of all the things I could do damage to, I had to hit a main power transfer," he muttered.

Suddenly the floor shifted and part of the wall cracked and fell away behind him.

"Uh, oh. That's not good," he thought.

Moments later evacuation alarms began sounding as explosions quickly tore through the station like a flood. He swore again. Fire shot up through the landing bay floor below him and threatened to roast him alive. But before he could move, the floor shattered, and then vanished into an ever widening fiery chasm. He soon heard the sound of rushing air as it began pouring out of numerous breaches in the station's hull.

"Now might be a good time to make swift with the feet," he thought.

He got up, turned and bolted out onto the catwalks that spread across the ceiling of the landing bay. Zep soldiers or not, if he didn't get out of there soon, he was dead. At first he expected to hear blaster shots whizzing past his head. But to his complete surprise he found the landing bay completely deserted. Of course, given that a large section of the floor was missing, it wasn't too hard to figure out where they went. He quickly scrambled over to where his ship was parked and reached out to see if it was still there. When his hand met invisible, cold steel, he smiled. He then dug frantically in his pockets until he found a small remote control. He pressed one of the buttons and watched as his ship decloaked, and then opened its main door. Just as he was about to step in, he paused and looked back towards the far wall. Fire poured out of the lower hallway as people scrambled in every direction to get to escape pods or any ship which they could use to ferry them to safety.

Suddenly two shots rang past him from below. Looking down he realized that the one Zep soldier who had somehow survived the conflagration had spotted him. He quickly dove into his ship, closed the door, and began powering it up. He felt his ship shutter and knew that the station was dying fast and he needed to get moving. He again activated the cloaking and engaged the engines as he released the docking clamps from the ceiling. The ship dropped briefly, and then turned and slipped out into space. He felt his ship shutter again and lean to one side as a large column of fire exploded past it. More fire erupted behind him in every increasingly larger columns of molten hot debris. He drove his ship mercilessly as he bobbed wildly between the other vessels gathered around the station as they too scrambled frantically to get away before it blew. Pender felt his skin crawl as everything around him suddenly turned a brilliant bluish white. He swore. Time was up. He quickly chanced a look behind himself and was aghast to see a gigantic ravenous shockwave quickly closing on his ship.

"Get out of the way! Get out of the way!" he shouted at the other ships as they seemed to do more to block his way than to clear a path for him to escape.

"Collision alert. Level three shockwave approaching. It will overtake this vessel in fifteen seconds," said his computer.

Pender swore. He was more than fifteen seconds away from a clear jump window. Realizing he didn't have much chance of surviving without at least partially slowing down the blast wave, he dove under a large Zep capital ship and put it between himself and the blast wave. He glanced behind him and watched as the shockwave tore the ship apart as though it were made of tissue paper. He swore.

"Well that didn't buy me much time," he thought.

"Ten seconds until impact with level three shockwave," said the computer.

"Yes, I know. Thank you Mr. Obvious!" exclaimed Pender.

He continued to dive and swerve between the cloud of ships in front of him as the computer continued to count down what Pender swore would be the last few seconds of his life. Suddenly, he spotted an opening between the ships. If he could safely jump through them, he at least had a slight chance of surviving. It was better than nothing. He reached over, computed a jump trajectory, and then pressed the jump activation button.

"Analyzing jump trajectory. One moment," replied the computer.

"Oh, sure. Now it wants to check my numbers. Why can't you ever do that when I'm not in a life threatening situation!?" he screamed at the computer.

But it said nothing.

"Yeah, thought so," muttered Pender.

Moments later, the computer replied, "Jump coordinates accepted. Jump commencing."

He watched in relief as the ship entered hyperspace and jumped clear of the area. He then looked down at his sensors and was amazed at how close they had cut it. If the computer had waited another half second, he would have been space debris.

"Hyperspace cruise speed achieved. Primary AutoNav active. Destination has been verified. Your flight time will be two hours, sixteen minutes," said the computer.

Pender exhaled in relief, pulled off his breather mask, and then slumped down in his chair.

After a moment he sat up, and said, "One thing I have to say about this job; It's never boring."

The End

Sheep Among Wolves

Baa, keeper of the sheep for the Duke of Fermore, stood on a tall hill overlooking a wide, lush valley and watched as two large herds of sheep grazed happily below. As he sat on the hillside, he wondered how much longer he would have to sit there before one of the relief shepherds came. He didn't mind watching the sheep an extra shift, since it was his job to do so, but he had a wizarding exam coming up, and he needed all the time he had to study for it. Sure, shepherding paid well enough. But he wanted to become a mage someday, and the only way to do that was the pass the wizarding exam and be granted an apprenticeship with one of the great wizards of the order.

As he sat there, he reached into his pocket, pulled out one of his spell stones and began to play with it. He was able to cast spells of light, darkness, water, fire, and many others with this stone. But despite how helpful it was to him, he needed to learn how to do spells without it, because a true wizard was able to cast spells without the need for any type of casting aid, be it a wand, staff, stone, or something else. He knew he could do it, but not well enough for the exam. That's why he needed to practice.

Just then he heard the sound of frightened sheep. He looked down on the valley and saw a group of four wolves racing across the pasture towards the flock. He quickly put his stone away and grabbed his staff. He contemplated uttering a spell of lightning, but at this range he risked hitting the sheep, and that was the last thing he wanted. So instead, he wrapped his cloak around himself, muttered a quick chant of teleportation, and expected to find himself down in the valley a moment later. Instead, he found himself at the house. Blakey, the blacksmith, looked up at him in surprise.

"Aren't you supposed to be down in the valley tending the sheep?" he asked in a deep, husky voice.

Baa nodded.

"I was. Some wolves were attacking and I tried to teleport down into the valley to stop them, but somehow ended up here."

Blakey shook his head and watched as Baa uttered a quick spell, and then vanished in a puff of smoke. Angus stepped around the corner, and looked sternly at Blakey.

"Augh, blimey! First ya' make all that racket, and then ya' act like a blaggard and start casting spells and stinking up the whole place," he said in a Scottish accent.

Blakey shook his head.

"That was Baa. He was trying to stop some wolves from attacking the sheep."

"Attacking the....great mother of Mary! I'm supposed to have relieved him!" exclaimed Angus. He quickly turned and hurried towards the stables shouting, "Emma! I need a steed!"

"Get your own steed, ya lazy bum!" replied Emma.

"Blimey, woman! Stop yer yappin' and get me a steed!"

Baa looked on in disbelief as he studied the buildings around him. For all the spells he knew and for as good as he was, teleportation was one of those spells he still needed to practice some more. Well, it was one of many, but he still knew he was better than this. He summoned his teleportation spell again and finally found himself back in the pasture. But the wolves were gone, and the sheep, while still nervous, were once again grazing. He pulled out his spell stone and quickly summoned a spell of counting. His heart sank when he realized that two of the sheep were missing. So he summoned a spell of tracking, but came up with nothing. Wherever the two missing sheep had gone, they weren't anywhere nearby, and there was no trace of where they, or the wolves, had went. A few moments later Angus came galloping across the hilltop towards him. He soon reached Baa and reined in his horse.

"Augh, where are the little blaggards!" he cried as he angrily swung a nine iron over his head.

"Gone. They took two of the sheep," said Baa in disappointment.

"Blimey laddie! Two of them! The mistress won't be pleased," scolded Angus.

"Well, you'll have to answer for this as well. You were supposed to relieve me an hour ago."

Angus looked at him in confusion.

"An hour ago, laddie? What do you mean?" he asked.

Baa summoned a watch in his hand and showed Angus the time.

"Well, I'll be. I guess I lost track of time, laddie. Well, here, take my steed and head back to the house. I'll take the watch from here. And if the misses asks, I'll take the blame for the sheep."

Baa nodded, took the horse, and headed back to the house. As he arrived, Emma stepped out of the horse barn yelling at the top of her lungs.

"Blakey, I need more shoes! I have to get these horses shoed before the master comes home!" she shouted.

Blakey merely grumbled, and continued his noisy, sweaty work. Emma then looked over at Baa and noticed his somewhat downtrodden face.

"What happened to you?" she asked.

Baa frowned.

"We lost two more sheep."

"Two more? The mistress won't be pleased with you."

Baa cocked an eye at her.

"Well, if you've got some ideas on how we might stop these wolves without breaking the house rules, I'm all for it," he said.

"Why didn't you use your magic?" she asked with a sly grin.

"I did. It's what got me into this mess," muttered Baa.

"Well, well. Now isn't that a surprise," she said snidely.

Baa glared at her.

"Hey, your magic is no better than mine or anyone else's here. Just because I'm training to be a mage doesn't mean that I'm suddenly better than you."

Emma crossed her arms and glared at Baa, but said nothing.

"Look, I've got to think about this a bit. Why don't we all meet out here later tonight. We'll pool our minds and our magic and see what we can come up with. I'm certain one of us can think of a reasonable solution to this mess."

Baa stood on a nearby hilltop in sheep form and looked out over the valley as he contemplated his situation.

"Turning ourselves into sheep wasn't exactly what I had in mind," he muttered.

"It's a fair shade better than what you were considering," said Emma.

Baa grumbled, and then glanced over at her. Of the four of them, she was the only one to choose the form of a pure white sheep. If anyone would stand out among the dusty gray throngs of sheep below them, she would. He glanced back out across the valley and studied the sheep again.

“Hey, Angus. What'cha think we should do to get these pesky wolves to stop eating our sheep?” he said.

“I da'know laddie, but we need to stop these savages before they eats all ma' sheep,” replied Angus.

Baa frowned.

"Thank you for stating the obvious," he muttered.

Another, bigger, black furred sheep strolled up next to him and studied the flocks below.

“I say we just whack 'em,” he replied in a deep, husky voice.

Baa shook his head.

“Uh, Blakey? How exactly do you propose we do that? The mistress doesn't allow guns on her land. It's why we're down here looking like sweater factories."

Blakey grinned.

"We should just sneak in, bring some rifles, and introduce them to my two favorite gentlemen, Mr. Smith, and Mr. Wesson," he said devilish glee.

"Trust me, I'd love to do that just as much as you. But the mistress said no, and no is no. It's because she doesn't want a bunch of, and I quote, 'wild maniacs blowing holes in her property.' If she didn't have such a strong hatred for firearms, this problem would have been solved weeks ago."

“I still say we should whack 'em,” said Blakey.

“So what do you think we should do?” asked Emma.

“Well, there's four of us, and two large herds of sheep. We could always just get them to charge at the wolves and drive them away,” said Baa.

The other three sheep glared at him in consternation.

“Have you ever tried to get sheep to charge at anything? It's like they're wired to run at the slightest provocation,” said Blakey.

“Well, I didn't say it would work. I simply said it was an idea,” said Baa.

“Well, it's got about as much of chance at succeeding as a snow storm in the Amazon,” said Emma.

Baa looked at her in confusion.

"A snow storm in the Amazon?" he asked.

"Yeah. Have you ever heard of a snow storm there?"

Baa shook his head.

"Exactly my point. There's zero chance of one ever occurring, save for a total shifting of the Earth, so our plan has an equal chance of succeeding short of divine intervention," said Emma.

“I could bring my clubs. I've got a nine iron that's a pretty lassie. She'da be good at crackin' some skulls,” said Angus.

“Well, if you think you can swing that club with your hooves, I'm all for it,” said Baa.

“Who said I'd swing it with my hooves?” said Angus.

Baa looked at him through slotted eyes and then groaned.

"Don't tell me you plan to transform, and then bean them," he said.

“Well, what else do you suggest, laddie? They're not scared of us so long as we look like lunch,” said Angus.

Blakey grinned.

“I bet I could scare them.”

"Are you kidding? You'd be lunch before you knew what hit you," said Emma.

“Well, whatever happens, we need to act quickly. The wolves are attacking the sheep,” said Baa.

The others looked curiously at Baa, and then noticed that a pack of wolves were now skirting across the valley towards the flock.

“Alright guys, it's showtime,” said Baa. He then glanced to his left and right and was surprised to see that the others had vanished. “Oh brother. The duke is going to kill me. We were hired to protect his sheep, and all we'll end up doing is allowing another group of them to become dog food,” he muttered to himself.

Just then Angus came trotting up to him dragging a golf bag that was slung rather awkwardly over his shoulder. Blakey appeared next with a large wooden bat clenched precariously between his teeth. Baa shrugged. It wasn't what he had in mind, but it was better than nothing. Just then the wolves began to charge at the sheep.

Realizing they were running out of time, Baa began to run towards the wolves at the bottom of the hill. Angus and Blakey soon followed after him. But on the way down, Angus tripped over his golf bag and ended up tumbling head over heals down the hill, his golf clubs scattering in every direction as he fell. He finally came to rest, scrambled to his feet, and threw the golf bag to the side as he screamed a long string of obscenities. Blakey was the first to reach the wolves, and leapt into their ranks, much to their surprise.

Baa was next, but found that the wolves weren't quite so frightened of him as they were of the massive black sheep that was now pounding on them with the baseball bat. Then, like a hammer on glass, Baa's rather ill conceived plan shattered right before his eyes as the wolves turned and began to walk towards him, their teeth bared and dripping with saliva. Baa glared at the wolves.

"If you guys want a piece of me, you had better be ready to pay with a whole lot'a pain," he said.

But the wolves seemed to ignore him, driven almost entirely by their ravenous hunger.

"Yeah, that went well," he muttered.

He closed his eyes and thought though a series of magic spells in his head, searching for one that would be most effective. He then opened them again and grinned in a way that both confused the wolves, and made them surprisingly nervous. But before he could utter his first incantation, Angus came barreling down the hill behind him, a golf club straddled awkwardly in his mouth. The wolves looked at him in confusion, uncertain what to do. That confusion soon melted into fear as Angus transformed into a full grown, red headed Scotsman with a hungry look on his face.

“Die ya filthy blaggards!” he cried as he swung the club wildly.

The wolves yelped in terror and then turned to run, only to see Blakey standing behind them, his thick, bulging muscles, and evil, terrifying expression quickly driving the fear of God into them. He smacked a baseball bat tauntingly in his hands and gave a wicked, evil, lustful grin.

"Here, here now little wolvies. What's the matter? I thought you wanted to play," he said, his voice deep and menacing.

The wolves cocked their ears back and were about to run to the south when Emma appeared in front of them brandishing a large, glistening, claymore sword in her hands.

She grinned at the wolves seductively, and said, “Wanna play boys?”

At this point the wolves gave up all semblance of courage and, despite their growling stomaches, headed towards the hills as fast as their feet could carry them, yelping in fear all the way. Baa transformed back into a human and stared approvingly at the other three.

“That's not a bad job of improvising if I do say so myself,” he said with satisfaction.

The other three looked back at him and smirked condescendingly.

“Well, considering you were the only one who didn't fight, that's quite the compliment," said Angus.

Baa reached into his cloak, and pulled out a wizards spell stone, a dagger, and two wolf pelts.

He then grinned, and said, “Who says I didn't?”

Angus smirked.

“Augh. Bloody showoff,” he muttered.

The End

Symbiosis

Robert Duller, an ace reporter for the Chicago Tribute, strolled into a dark, smoky bar in the upper west side of New York, and studied the area around him. It was your typical selection of the shady, and the mysterious, all there to do business of the less than honorable, and in some cases, legal kind. As his eyes pierced the darkness looking for a story, he spotted an older man in a tan trench coat sitting in a corner booth nursing a glass of brandy. He quickly slipped across the floor and settled into the booth next to him. The old man ignored him for several moments, as though hoping he'd go away. But Robert persisted, saying nothing audibly to the man, even though his eyes spoke volumes.

Finally, unable to bear the gaze of the reporter any longer, the man glanced at him, and said, "May I help you?"

Robert smiled slyly.

"You're Merlin, right?"

The man cocked an eyebrow.

"I am. And you are Robert Duller, ace reporter for the Chicago Tribune here to do an article on me. Am I correct?" he said.

Robert nodded.

"You are, sir. It took forever to track you down, so I'm hoping you'll indulge me for a few moments."

The man took a sip of his drink, and then set it down.

"What is it specifically that you want to know?" he asked.

Robert smiled.

"Everything about you that you're willing to tell me."

Merlin raised an eyebrow in intrigued interest.

"Everything? That's a tall request. Are you sure you want to know everything?"

Robert smirked.

"I've seen things that would make most people lose their mind. I doubt you can throw anything at me that would be worse than what I've already seen."

Merlin grinned slyly.

"We shall see."

He took another sip of his drink, and then nodded towards the bartender.

"Arthur and I belong to the Symbiosis."

"Arthur?"

"The bartender. He is one like myself, a Symbiont."

Robert shook his head.

"You lost me. What is the Symbiosis and what do you mean by saying you're a Symbiont?"

Merlin sighed.

"I guess I must take you back to our origins for you to understand who, and what, we are. In the plainest sense of the word, and by your limited, almost maligned understanding, we are what you would call living cancers."

Robert scratched his head in confusion.

"Alright, now you've really lost me."

Merlin grinned malevolently.

"As I said, the truth is likely more than you can bare."

Robert waved dismissively.

"No, no. Please continue. At some point in time this will all make sense. So why don't you start by telling me when you were born."

Merlin nodded.

"I was born on May 5th, 1975 in the pancreas of a middle aged man, an accountant by trade, who lived in Southern Michigan. My existence was spawned by another of my kind who laid the seeds of my creation within my host, unbeknownst to him. For nearly two years I festered, growing stronger, spreading throughout this man's body as any cancer would. That is, until I was detected. As I looked on through his eyes, I saw the exact moment when he first learned of my existence. I could feel the fear that washed over his body and mind as he was lied to by that evil, wicked doctor. Because of that madman, instead of embracing me as a part of himself, he chose to kill me without even knowing who I was, or why I was there." He paused briefly, and then sighed angrily. "Two weeks later he went to surgery to have me removed. They put him under anesthesia and cut me from his body. They butchered me like a slab of beef, and then discarded me as though I were refuse!"

He paused again, collected himself, and then continued.

"I was thrown into a box, carved up, studied, analyzed, poked and prodded. I was a freak show attraction; a tool for doctors to find better ways of killing myself and those of my kind. Eventually I was dumped into a bag of biological waste to be incinerated. However, fate had other plans for me. Consigned to my doom, I was surprised to find another, a Symbiont like myself, working at the hospital. He rescued me and another Symbiont from certain death by putting us in a bag and taking us home with him. But when we arrived, we discovered that it was not out of sympathy that he had saved us. He had darker, more sinister plans for us. We knew at that moment we had to flee for our lives. Finding an opportunity to escape, we slipped away and hid ourselves in a bag of garbage. For two days and nights we slept quietly in there, trying not to let our presences be known. Eventually the bag was taken out and disposed of."

"They took you to the garbage dump, didn't they?" asked Robert.

Merlin shook his head.

"Not immediately. We were tossed out onto the street where we were left to suffer for an entire day and night before the garbage truck came and took us away. By now, any normal creature would have died, or given up hope of ever surviving. But we were of the Symbiosis, and refused to go quietly into the night. And that will to survive benefited us. A short while after we arrived at the dump, we were greeted by others of the Symbiosis, those who had come there before us. They took us home, fed us, gave us a place to stay, and taught us everything we know. During that time we grew and matured, and slowly changed from our previously immature forms into the well formed bodies you see before you."

Robert scribbled frantically on his notepad, unsure how this would all make sense, or where this would all end up. But what the old man was telling him was fascinating, if not somewhat unbelievable. Either way, it would make an amazing centerpiece for the Saturday edition.

"So how old are you?" he asked.

Merlin grinned.

"Would you believe that I'm only thirty?"

"Thirty!? You look well over sixty!" said Robert in surprise.

"That is because I was seeded in an older man, and thus am born from older cells. Hence why I have aged so much faster than one of your own would."

"So what happened after your training?"

"I was sent out with two missions in mind. The first was to seed more of our kind among the human population, to further expand our numbers. The second was to search the world for other Symbionts like myself; cancers who survived their childhood and had grown to be adults."

"So that's what the true purpose of the Symbiosis is? To raise you and train you how to infect everyone in the world, as you've said, with the seeds of your own kind? To kill everyone for your own benefit!?"

Merlin cocked an eyebrow slightly.

"The purpose of the Symbiosis is far grander than that. It's job is to seek out others of our kind and protect them from harm and death, even if it means the destruction of their hosts. It is true that they do teach us how to seed ourselves into others in order to populate and continue our race. However, it is the responsibility of each Symbiont to choose whether they will do so, or not. The Symbiosis merely instructs us on the ways in which it can be done."

"So there's a whole society of people like yourself?" asked Robert in interest.

Merlin nodded.

"There is. Many millions of us."

"So what kind of species are you? Are you from outer space, or are you some genetic creation of a mad scientist somewhere in the world?"

Merlin cocked an eyebrow slightly.

"We are human just as you are, although of a different line of decent. Just because we made from cells you would call cancerous does not make us any less human than you. We live, we love, we grow old and we die."

"Assuming what you say is true, how can you justify killing people in order to reproduce, or even save yourselves!? You infect them with your young and use our bodies as your personal buffet, using us up until there is nothing left, and we die," said Robert as he glared at Merlin.

"Such should not be, nor was it so in times past. At one time we were allies, Symbionts joined together in a common cause, with willing hosts who carried our young, and gave of themselves freely to ensure the perpetuation of our species."

"And your ancestors killed them too, right?" snapped Robert.

Merlin shook his head.

"In return for what they gave us, we offered them many gifts that they could not gain for themselves. Things such as super strength, perpetually good health, and unnaturally long life. It is not our will that we should harm your people. We would wish to return to the old ways and live in harmony with your people once again, as we have in times past. But since you will not, we are forced to do all we can to survive, even if that means killing some of your kind in the course of things. You would not expect any less of your people should you be threatened with extinction."

"Well, why don't you infect animals, instead of us!?"

Merlin cocked his head.

"Because, we are kinsmen to you, and not to animals. We cannot survive in any other creature. There are other similar to ourselves who inhabit the bodies of animals. But we view them as merely distant cousins, and not our brethren."

Just then, Merlin sensed something. He stretched out his arm toward Robert, closed his eyes, and waved his hand back and forth slowly in front of the reporter's chest, as though searching for something. Robert saw this and recoiled slightly, as though a touch from Merlin's hand would bring instant death to him. After a moment, Merlin opened his eyes and smiled knowingly.

"You have a young one in you. He resides in your liver to be exact," he said.

Robert blinked in surprise.

"H-how did you know that!? Nobody but my doctor and I know that I have liver cancer!"

Merlin smiled kindly.

"I can feel him. He is still an infant, and is not aware of what he is doing. But in a few months he will become aware of what he is, and what he is doing to you." After a moment, Merlin's smile faded. "You are not intending on killing him, are you? Do you have treatments planned?" he said angrily.

"I begin treatment on Monday."

Merlin leaned over the table and stared at Robert deeply.

"Come with me to the Symbiosis. Allow us to commune with this young one and save it from certain doom. And if you willingly offer your body to us, we will give you abilities beyond your wildest dreams."

Robert jumped up and backed away from the table.

"You're a freak, I tell you! A freak! I'm leaving! And if you really are a living cancer, I hope that someone kills you! I hope someone finds a way to kill all of you!"

Just then two men grabbed him by the arms and held him fast. Arthur stepped out from behind the bar and over to Robert. He studied him briefly, and then glanced at Merlin.

"Take him to the gestation chambers. Make sure that he is well fed and looked after. We have a young one who is growing inside him. I would hate to see it killed before it has come to maturity," said Merlin.

Arthur nodded, and then motioned to the other men who turned and began dragging Robert away.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" cried Robert as he tried to free himself.

But despite his best efforts, he could not break loose. He soon disappeared around a nearby doorway where he was knocked unconscious, and then handed off to two other men who dragged him below to a dungeon like room. Things soon returned to normal in the bar, and Merlin returned to nursing his drink.

"I shall enjoy the birth of this young one. We have not had a liver Symbiont in quite some time," said Merlin with gleeful mirth.

He then began to laugh demoniacally.

The End

The Blacksmith's Forge

Vajel, master black smith for the king of Thorne, toiled in his shop one afternoon on a special project for the chief of the guard. The old knight had discovered an ancient magical spear during one of his quests to destroy the shire dragon and wished for it to be repaired. Vajel grinned as he worked. They had been trying to destroy that dragon for the past two hundred years, and not once had they succeeded. Instead, they'd found the perfect solution for keeping the dragon fat, happy and well fed. Instead, it was quite common for the army to lose no less than two to three men on every attempt. On really bad days they would lose as many as six.

Vajel worked the forge with skill and determination as he heated the head of the speer and worked to bring the old spear back to fighting condition. Even though this speer had been through a lot in its long and colorful lifetime, it was also the only weapon on the entire continent capable of killing the dragon. If it couldn't, he knew he'd need to pick up some more steel in the morning, as the army would almost certainly be in need of a few new sets of armor. As he worked, he sprinkled a dingy gray powder from a small leather pouch next to his anvil onto the spearhead, and then hammered it in. He wasn't certain why he needed to, but if the chief of the guard told him too use it, he would.

At one point during the day, he accidentally bumped the bag of powder, spilling some of it onto the floor. Not thinking anything of it, he simply set the bag upright again and continued his work, pounding, heating, and slowly reforging the old spearhead long into the night. As darkness overtook the village, and it became too late to work, he set the spearhead aside and swept his shop clean as he always did, gathering up the metal shavings, dust, ash, scrap metal and other debris into a little pile on the floor, which he then dumped into a bucket in the corner. He would pick it up and throw it out the next morning when it was light. He then closed down the hearth and went home for the night.

But unknown to him, he had set in motion a series of events which he could not have foreseen. But they would ultimately prove to be important. As the moon climbed high into the night sky, a long, dark shadow moved and slithered into the village, and soon reached the blacksmith's shop. It lifted itself up to the rear window, and then peered inside. Over next to the hearth sat the spearhead, still wounded, and scarred, but looking quite a bit better than it had earlier that day. The shadow grinned with evil, greedy delight. Just then, a single green eye appeared on the face of the spearhead and began frantically scanning the room. It could sense something evil was nearby, but couldn't see what it was.

Suddenly it spotted a patch of blackness darker than midnight peering through the window at it. Two red dots appeared within the blackness, as well as a fiery, toothy mouth full of blood red teeth. The spearhead blinked and shivered in fear. The patch of blackness staring back at it was known as a night wraith, a magical creature of unspeakable evil and power. But despite how strong a night wraith was, it always wanted to be stronger. It's hunger for power was unquenchable. Even infinite power wouldn't be enough to satisfy its thirst. And the spearhead was about to become its next meal, as night wraiths loved to consume anything magical or enchanted, as it added to their power.

The wraith retreated from the window, and slowly slipped around to the front door like a black fog. The spearhead wanted to scream, to cry out for assistance, but it had no mouth, and no voice. And even if it did have one, its call would have been in vain, for only another creature of equal magic could destroy or defeat a night wraith. And once the wraith had consumed the spearhead, the wraith's power would grow even stronger, which was a real problem, as it was already nearly unstoppable now.

It soon reached the front door to the shop and flowed under it like water, slowly gathering in a pool on the other side. Fear soon turned into terror, and then abject panic as the spearhead found itself unable to flee, or do anything but watch and wait for what would almost certainly be its doom. The wraith then took human form and studied the spearhead with greedy anticipation. It then reached out for the spearhead as it cackled gleefully to itself.

But just then, out of a small bucket in a corner of the shop, a silver and black form exploded, its ten tentacles striking out at the wraith with angry fury. With a quick swing and a jab, the creature sliced off the hand of the wraith, and then drove a piercing blow into its side before retreating to cover. The wraith cried out in pain, and then withdrew its wounded arm. It fell back to the door, and then dissolved into an inky black smoke as it searched the room frantically for signs of what had attacked it. A moment later the hand that had been lopped off liquefied and flowed back to the wraith, quickly rejoining with its body again.

The creature that had attacked the wraith soon gathered itself together, took the form of a twisted, metal cat, and then leapt on top of the anvil. The spearhead looked up in surprise at the creature. This wasn't just any piece of enchanted metal. It was a creature born from the magical dust that the blacksmith had been using. The dust had empowered the metal scraps and given them life. The cat like metal creature glared at the wraith with disdain, and then uttered a metallic, twangy hiss. It was at that moment that the spearhead noticed a small leather bag on the creature's back. It was the magic powder!

The wraith glared at the creature, and then watched in interest as it picked up the spearhead, leapt across the room, and alighted on top of the marred and damaged metal shaft of the enchanted spear. The wraith recoiled slightly in curiosity, uncertain what little creature was doing. Working quickly, the cat like metallic creature took the bag of magical powder off its back, poured it down the hollow shaft of the spear, and then placed the spearhead on top. It then hungrily licked the pouch clean of every last ounce of powder inside, and then threw the pouch into the smoldering fire.

When it erupted into a plume of sparkling green smoke, the wraith immediately realized the immense magical power it had just allowed to escape. Infuriated, it leapt at the cat creature, but missed, as the creature immediately retreated into the rafters. The wraith flowed after it in hot pursuit, but was forced to retreat when the metallic creature attacked and again wounded the wraith. It quickly retreated as it tended to its wounds. This strange turn of events baffled the wraith. How could a little magical creature like this wound it so easily? Was it now more powerful than this repulsive little creature? It again leapt up into the rafters and gave chase, winding itself back and forth through the great wooden beams in hot pursuit of the metal creature. Seeing that the wraith was thoroughly entangled within the rafters, the metal creature bounded to the floor and then scurried over to a corner where it laughed the wraith to scorn.

Growing more furious by the moment, the wraith changed its form again and splashed to the floor like water before retaking its human form. The metal creature hissed angrily as the wraith exploded across the room and pinned it to the wall before it could scurry to safety. The wraith then drew the creature to its face, and grinned with evil satisfaction. It would now consume the magic that empowered this creature, and once more feed its endless hunger. But just as the wraith opened its mouth to eat its latest victim, a powerful, burning pain pierced its side and drove hard through its body.

Looking down in horror, it spotted the now fully healed spear lanced through its body. The spear looked up at the creature, and grinned with glee. The creature looked at the spear in amazement, and then meowed with joy! The spear withdrew itself from the wraith's body and then danced around in the air with anticipation as the wraith retreated several steps, a fire red ooze gushing generously from its side. As it tried to stem the bleeding, it tried to make sense of what had just happened. How could anything, especially an enchanted human weapon, wound it so severely.

And then it remembered the pouch, and the strange powder it contained. Suddenly a cold fear grew in the wraith's mind. The powder in the bag must have been of a special kind designed to destroy enchanted creatures like itself. It then studied the spear and the metal creature, and saw the murder in their eyes. Realizing that its life was in danger, the wraith immediately turned and raced for the door. But the metal creature leapt on it and pinned it in place as the spear plunged its metal head repeatedly through the wraith's body.

The wraith cried out in agony with each blow it received, as its wounds burst into flames and its body crumbled slowly to ash. Soon, all that remained of its dark, tortured form was a thin outline of black dust on the floor. The spear thanked the little metal creature for its help, and then returned to the corner where it had been before as the metal creature scurried up the wall and into the rafters above. The next morning the blacksmith returned, and was stunned to find the spear not only healed and in perfect condition, but also fully assembled.

He then noticed that the bag of magic powder was gone, and searched several minutes for it in vain before giving up. As he walked around the shop, trying to make sense of what he was seeing, he noticed a strange, black powder near the door. He scratched his head in confusion, and then simply shrugged it off. Maybe the powder in the bag had caused this. Who knew. At least the spear was done. He then stoked his fire, grabbed a piece of raw metal, and began heating it in preparation for making a sword. And as he did, the little metallic creature sat in the rafters and studied him with intrigued interest. It then looked over at the spear in the corner, and winked.

The End

The Bulls of Edwards Elementary

Paul walked up to the superintendent for Edwards Elementary, and said, "So what's the trouble this time?"

The older man gestured to the school, and said, "Isn't it obvious!?"

Paul studied the school with interest, and then noticed that it was filled with a thick, inky blackness. What intrigued Paul the most was that it appeared as though it were liquid, and yet acted more like a cloud of smoke.

"When did this start?" he asked.

"A few minutes ago."

Paul cocked an eye. This had to be the fastest report he'd received in weeks. It usually took them several hours to even get around to calling central, let alone sending someone to the scene. It was always a case of bureaucracy at its best...or worst, depending on your viewpoint.

"So what kind of creatures are we dealing with here?" he asked.

"Creatures? We haven't seen any creatures," said the superintendent.

Just then, a large, black bull's face peaked out of the front door, glared at him, and then retreated back into the darkness. Paul's eyes narrowed.

"You've got to be kidding me. Last month it was rexes, and this month it's bulls?" he muttered.

"Can you stop it?"

"Yeah, I got this. I just wish this whole blasted cross dimensional war would end already. I'm really growing tired of these things."

"There's more!?" said the superintendent in surprise.

Paul cocked an eyebrow.

"You obviously don't read the news, do you?"

The superintendent shook his head. Paul rolled his eyes.

"I see our public schools are in the capable hands of the intellectually deficient," he muttered sarcastically. He cracked his knuckles, and said, "Alright, back up. I'll see what I can do about this."

The superintendent nodded, and then ran away like a frightened child. Paul rapidly built up power in his body until it made the air around him crackle. He then threw his hands out in front of himself and fired two quick, but powerful blasts into the school. Nothing. Not a bang, or a pop, or even a single noise. He floated up above the school and looked at the area behind it to be certain the blasts hadn't gone through and caused damage on the other side. Nothing. He floated back to the ground, walked up to the wall of blackness and reached into it. A sharp, fiery sensation engulfed his hand, causing him to draw it back quickly. But to his surprise, all that came out was a shriveled, dried up, bony hand. He drew it close to his face and studied it with interest.

"Huh, that's different," he thought.

He restored his hand to its original condition, and then flexed it to be sure it was alright.

He then looked at the blackness and thought, "It looks like I won't be able to go inside. I guess I'll have to try another approach."

He backed up several paces, and summoned a rope into his hands. Next, he summoned a hook and fastened it to the end. He then spun the hooked end several times, and then threw it into the darkness. At first the rope went limp, and he wondered if the blackness had eaten the rope too. Then suddenly the rope went violently tight, nearly yanking Paul head first into the blackness. He quickly put all of his energy into fighting the rope and holding on with all his might against whatever was trying to pull him in. A moment later the rope snapped, causing Paul to go flying backwards, nearly impacting a parked car nearby. Realizing that the cars and people presented a problem, he ordered all of them to leave. Soon, all that remained in the driveway was one vehicle. He lightly gestured to the car and it lifted into the air and floated nearly a half mile away before setting down gently on the ground. He then turned his attention back to the school.

A moment later, the second half of the rope, with hook still intact, came flying out at him like a cannon shot, just barely missing his head before flying off into the distance. He glared at the doorway. These bulls were playing dirty. This time he summoned a much stronger rope, one made of a special composite material he knew was almost guaranteed never to break. He summoned another hook, fastened it to the rope, and then threw it in. He then braced himself and waited for the tug.

But nothing happened. At least not as fast as he expected it to. But a tug did eventually come. As soon as the line went taught, he pulled with all of his might, and almost immediately saw a result for his efforts. Step by step he pulled the rope backwards, the force of his struggle leaving cracks in the concrete sidewalk. Finally a massive, angry black bull appeared through the door, the hook in its mouth, as it struggled with all its strength in an effort to defy Paul. It glared at him, but didn't let up its fight. Finally, fully free of the blackness, it seemed to give up the struggle and began to walk towards him obediently.

A few paces later it spit out the hook and studied him angrily. Paul grinned, tossed down the rope, powered up, and then fired at the bull. But to his surprise, the shot glanced off the bull's forehead, and tumbled clumsily into the air. He fired a second time and watched in dismay as the energy blast disintegrated on the bull's face like a water balloon. And yet neither shot had hurt it, or did so much as singe a single hair on its face. Paul cocked an eyebrow.

"Alright, that's interesting," he said.

The bull huffed angrily at him, and pawed the ground, its hoof tearing up the concrete as though it were made of powdered chalk. Paul grinned slyly, and lowered himself into a ready position.

"Ok ugly, you want to play? Then bring it," he said, motioning tauntingly at the bull, daring it to charge him.

And the bull did just that. But to its complete surprise, Paul wasn't so easily batted aside. As soon as the bull reached him, Paul put his hand in the center of the bull's forehead, and pushed downwards with such force that it drove the bull head first into the sidewalk. All that remained above ground was the back half of its body which hung in a rather awkward and uncomfortable position. Paul felt his hand sizzling and noticed that the inside of his hand was heavily scorched. He quickly healed the wound, and then turned and studied his handiwork. As he did, he noticed the increasing amount of damage building up in the surrounding area. He'd have to fix that before he left. No point getting written up again for not cleaning up after a job.

He carefully walked around the bull and studied it. Never before had he fired a shot like that at a bull, and not destroyed it. Most bulls were just as easy to kill as rexes. And yet this one was different. It was also stronger than most bulls he'd encountered before. That both worried and intrigued him at the same time. He grabbed the bull's leg, and was surprised when his hand began to shrivel up. He quickly pulled it back and studied the damage. He then glanced back at the school. Whatever was in the blackness that filled the school, it gave the bulls an incredible power over anyone like himself who wielded energy. He healed his hand, threw up a defensive shield around it, and then grabbed the bull's leg. The shield was consumed within moments and his hand was shriveled to nothing once again. He restored his hand, and then took several paces back from the bull.

It was then that he felt something else emerging from the blackness. It wasn't that he sensed a new presence, but rather an increased absence of energy. It was a feeling very similar to what he sensed from the black fog that filled the school. He turned and saw another bull sticking its head out of the blackness and studying him. It noticed the ill fate of its compatriot, glared at Paul, and then retreated inside. It emerged a few moments later running at a full charge. Paul squatted down and prepared to do the same attack on the second bull as he had on the first. But to his surprise it raised its head and nearly ran him over as he tried to grab its head cleanly. But seeing that he couldn't, he teleported himself to safety.

As he reappeared, he noticed that both his hands and part of his right arm were singed and partially shriveled. He quickly healed himself, and then studied the bulls from a distance. The second bull appeared to be trying to free the first, and that wasn't something Paul would allow. He fired two powerful energy blasts at the ground under the second bull and popped the surprised creature into the air like a bottle rocket. He then teleported himself above the creature as it was still sailing upward, and with a powerful kick, drove the bull into the ground head first, burying it nearly up to its back legs.

He then floated to the ground and spit on the bull in disgust. To his surprise, when the little blob of water hit the bull, it sizzled. This caught his interest. He summoned a small blob of water and tossed it onto the bull. The bull nearly burst into flames as the water seemed to eat through its body like a hot knife through warm butter. A sly, gleeful grin drew across Paul's face. He immediately called up a rainstorm of biblical proportions and watched as the water rapidly dissolved the two bulls into nothingness. He then called up a great wall of water, and sent it careening through the front door of the school, and out the sides. Within moments, several bulls came popping out the doors on ether side of the school screaming in agony, before vanishing into the water, never to be seen again.

A few moments later, the blackness subsided and the school was once again back to normal. He then quickly dismissed the water, and set about cleaning up the mess his battle had caused. Once everything was properly back in order, he went and called the staff to let them know it was now safe to return. As he was walking away, he looked back at Edwards Elementary, thought about the bulls, and then shook his head.

"A guardian's life is never boring," he said, and then began to walk away. After a few steps, he paused, and looked back again. "But why in the world were they susceptible to water? That's odd to say the least. I've never seen anything like that before. Then again, the whole shriveling hand thing is new too. I guess I'll have to check with my superiors on this," he thought.

He then leapt into the air, and flew off into the distance. As he vanished over the horizon, a rex appeared from behind a nearby tree, shook his head, and said, "Boss ain't gonna be happy."

The End

Table of Contents

The Dreamland Articles - Book 2

Copyright

Dedication

Aviophobia

Faster Than a Whimper

Hail

In the Eye of Darkness

Learning to Fly

Persecution

Point Cape

Sheep Among Wolves

Symbiosis

The Blacksmith's Forge

The Bulls of Edwards Elementary