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Restored Republic via a GCR: Update as of Nov. 19, 2017

Restored Republic via a GCR Update as of Nov. 19 2017 Compiled 1:40 am EDT 19 Nov. 2017 by Judy Byington, MSW, LCSW, ret, CEO, Child Abuse...

Wednesday, June 28, 2017

"Couple Short Stories Break?" by Dezerro - 6.28.17

Entry Submitted by Dezerro at 2:37 AM EDT on June 28, 2017

The Vacuum

It had been time to go for too long. So when I left I mentioned nothing, and suddenly with a wave to high, dark mountains I was gone.

My sudden departure had left behind a vacuum, and I was sure that forever after I would wonder what filled it.

I chose a direction at random and within a week I tromped along a dry, hard packed trail with walls of high evergreens towering left and right.

The trail opened, at its eventual end, into a wide low valley covered in green swaying waves of growth spotted here and there with trees full and vibrant.

Small animals leaping at random appeared now and then over the green waves, and a chittering of their small voices reached my ears in bursts.

I crossed the valley and negotiated a deep pass where on either side vertical tan faces of hard rock peered down on my ant-like progress.

Dark tunnel entrances branching from my path and entering the mountains bid me welcome, yet my chills made me stay my course ahead.

The pass, at its end, opened wide and bell-like to a vista of ocean of blue-green turbulent fluidity, and the small boat I found there at the water’s edge was strong.

The winds pushed me along at a clip until, noticing an island, I steered for shore.

Beyond the sandy beach, visible through growths of varying heights, was a shimmer, and when I arrived there it was a nothing, the shimmer gone.

In the center of this I sat and contemplated for a long time, and at long last realized it was the vacuum I had left so long ago.

It had grown so very large, and so thought by careful thought I planned how I would fill it.

~~~~~~~~

The Story

Matt Wayne finished filling his old battered fountain pen with a fresh supply of heavy black ink. Time to write, time to crow, for he had done it. He craned his neck over the back of his black leather executive chair to the small wire bird cage suspended in mid-air about four feet above the cool hardwood throw rug covered floor, and grinned.

If suspending gravity in such a small area as a two foot by two foot square near the center of his study was so grueling an effort, then what would it take to do the same for an entire city block, or even continent for that matter. He thought of an enemy force flying off into space screaming, and smiled.

Upon successful completion of his experimenting, and with the cage stable at long last, he had immediately become severely ill and had lain in bed feeling near death for a week. And then just as suddenly he had recovered and now sat ready to record his success.

But then he frowned, and suddenly realized that despite evidence floating directly in front of their eyes, that nearly everyone would peg him a lunatic and fraud or a new and unknown magician in search of celebrity.

He realized then that he would need to make the idea of truly suspending gravity without the use of mechanism a plausible reality. He would have to make the idea more or less popular; something which seemed achievable in fact.

So with pen poised and recalling in small threads of thought that a cousin held an important position at a medium sized publishing firm, and that yes they did produce a fair percentage of fiction, he set his mind to the task of the first in a series of stories.

He would make the idea popular among many and thereby create a more receptive audience for his announcement of such a strange and unprecedented achievement.

His character for the series would be Peter Pennard. Sounded pretty good and rolled off the tongue well. He thought for a while of a probable story line, and then returning his cup of strong, white, sweet coffee to it's small porcelain saucer, proceeded with the first story lines:

"Peter Pennard watched the small wooden blocks floating above the workbench and smiled. It was time for an announcement to the press and he knew just who to call first.”

~~

Dalon Turvanev peered into the three dimensional incept zone at his creation, Matt Wayne, bent over the desk scribbling away a story in earnest, the cage floating nearby.

They won't feel he's really alive or real at all, Dalon thought, they'll consider me a piker. They'll call me an amateur. He thought for a time and decided he would have to wait. He'd have to make his work appear more professional, find some similar but less perfect examples to point out.

~~

Raddo Sturm sat watching his HoloMagic mini-projector reel off his latest idea for a full blown production to all the planets. His main character Dalon was thinking over his frustrating situation. So far so good, thought Raddo, but maybe an additional character right at the start would be better...

~~

Peter Pennard put the phone back on its cradle. No calls now, he thought, he needed a break and could make the floating wooden blocks public announcement later. He picked up the worn paperback and turned to the page where he'd earlier left off and began reading:

"Raddo Sturm sat watching his HoloMagic mini-projector reel off his latest idea for a full blown production to all the planets. His main Character Dalon Turvanev..."

Yeah, he thought, great story to escape things for awhile. I'll call tomorrow.

~~~

- Dezerro

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