Archive for October, 2007

Stairway to Heaven II

Written by
L. John Ribar
on October 28, 2007 in Issue 1.16. 2 Comments
1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (4 votes, average: 4.25 out of 5)
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I started up the first set of steps, the children behind me still chanting words of encouragement. At the first landing, I was met by a small man, cloaked in robes of deep purple. His face was nearly hidden, and he didn’t look up as he asked, “Up or down?”

I thought for a minute. Of course I was trying to go up. Why would he ask?
“What are my options?”
“Up or down.”
I looked back at the kids, who were all pointing to the top of the steps, gesturing wildly for me to answet correctly.
“Up, I guess.”
“That is correct. Proceed, Mark.”
“How do you know my name?”
“You are expected. Please proceed, and stay on the steps.”
He sat down in the corner of the landing and folded his arms. His head dropped and his breathing slowed.
With no other choices obvious, and with his adminition to continue, I went up the next flights of steps. At the next landing, there was another man. This one was standing tall, dressed in robes of bright orange.
“Hello, Mark. I’m glad you’re here. I am going to answer some of your questions.”
Good, I thought. Now we’re getting somewhere..
“Okay. What’s going on?”
“You died in the bus accident, Mark. I’m sure you knew that already. But these steps are the qualifications you need to enter the eternities. You will be asked questions about your life and feelings at each landing, and your answers, and any discussions, will be used to determine your worthiness to continue.”
“What question are you going to ask?”
“I have two questions. You may not pass if you give the incorrect answers, and I already know the truth, so please answer honestly.”
Continue reading ‘Stairway to Heaven II’

Issue 1.16

Written by
Tom Jordan
on October 28, 2007 in Issue 1.16. 0 Comments

Issue 1.16 (450px)

200 Cars

Written by
Scott Snider
on October 27, 2007 in Issue 1.16. 0 Comments
1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (3 votes, average: 3.67 out of 5)
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John heard the door close, then the footsteps. His grandmother
approached, and he turned his head daring to look upon her face. Her
eyes betrayed what her other features would not. She paused in front
of John, spending a moment in her memories, and despite her efforts,
a single tear formed, and blinked away, rolled down her cheek.

“You can go in. He’ll be so glad you’re here.”

John stood, hugged this wonderful woman, then pulled away. The walk
down this small hall seemed longer now than when he was a child.
Sunlight spilled in unmercifully through each window, when it should
have been raining. How dare cheeriness intrude into this solemn,
final day? The door knob turned, the hinges groaned slightly, and
then John was inside, alone with his Grandfather.

Even under the blankets and sheets, John’s grandfather’s bulk was
visible. Fed a diet of red meat and potatoes for seventy some odd
years will do that. The slow up and down, up and down, of the covers
showed John there wasn’t much time left. The labored breathing, the
fluid gurgle, it all meant somewhere in this room death was waiting
silently ready to claim another victim.

“Hello Grand Pa.” John found it took great courage to grab the man’s
hand. The hand felt cold, stiff, foreign. These were the hands that
helped build so much of America. The local lake was scooped out with
his own tractors, the pit needed to contain the water. These hands
cradled babies, built companies, held lovers. They, he, deserved so
much better.

Continue reading ‘200 Cars’

Is Fire Hot Or Cold?

Written by
Scott Snider
on October 12, 2007 in Issue 1.15. 0 Comments
1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (2 votes, average: 4 out of 5)
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Blue Streak swam under the cover of the large plants, their flat pads bobbing with the water surface. Only the silvery ball pierced the darkness, the larger more powerful orb gone for now. Blue considered pushing through to the air again, but the memory of his prior attempt, made him rethink such an endeavor. The pink things were about, large and clumsy. At this point they were all on shore, sitting around a glowing, changing… thing. It was fire, but Blue did not know such a word. He knew nothing of it, but it intrigued him so much. How did it work? Could he ever know such a glorious site in his world? Was it hot or cold?

Movement below made Blue snap back to his work. With a predilection to gliding high above the layers below, Blue found his work of scouting and patrolling satisfactory. Five times he raised alarm, sending his fellow eels away from their home, just before the enemy descended, massacre and death to follow. Two generations owed their lives to Blue and his diligent surveillance.

Once Blue had tried to communicate they should fight back, yet no one joined him. The evil descended with claw and armor impossible to break or snap open. The bite of Blue and his kin was something feared by most flesh, but the enemy was
not flesh. The enemy was hard, fearless, relentless. The spiked ones scurried over the surface of the dirt, greedily slaughtering, absorbing the resources and young, the food piles and land.

Now using the shadows afforded by the large canopy pads, Blue closed in on the movement. Sure enough it was a crab scout, looking for families to feast upon later. He was close enough to stumble upon the clan. With all his speed, Blue surged downward, silent as a prayer. He looped around the scout, trying to create a swirl and lift it from the seabed. If done, a crab was much less graceful upended. The scout wanted no part of such nonsense and gripped a rock with one claw, and began lashing out with the other.

Continue reading ‘Is Fire Hot Or Cold?’

Fish Story

Written by
Amy Thorpe
on October 12, 2007 in Issue 1.15. 3 Comments
1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (5 votes, average: 3.8 out of 5)
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From the corner of his eye, Tommy caught a flash of red hair as the woman squeezed through the crowd at the stand, vente coffee in hand. While the crowd of tourists watched, enthralled, as Tommy and the other mongers tossed the fish across the bins, she never turned, never paused, intent on reaching her destination. Tommy had finally figured that one out. She worked occasionally at one of the trinket shops in the arcade. Not every day, he thought, or maybe just some days she didn’t cut through the market. His eyes followed her retreating figure as the crowd reluctantly parted and swallowed her up again.

THWACK ! A sharp jolt of a fish tail smacked his face as he bobbled the throw from Seamus. He managed to just hang on to the slippery body. His friends could laugh all they wanted; at least he would not have to pay for the pitcher of beer for everyone tonight after work. He turned back to the crowd, but she was gone. Probably just was well. He had been watching her pass the market for almost a year now, and never had been able to actually to speak to her. Someone like that probably had someone already. Not much a fishmonger/sometimes fisherman could compete with. Shaking his head, he placed the fish in its place in the ice and walked over to Seamus, who was still laughing.

Continue reading ‘Fish Story’

Issue 1.15

Written by
Tom Jordan
on October 12, 2007 in Issue 1.15. 0 Comments

Issue 1.15 (450px)

This week’s photo was provided by Perry Sun. Thanks Perry!

The Trek

Written by
Dion Huel
on October 6, 2007 in Issue 1.14. 5 Comments
1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (2 votes, average: 4.5 out of 5)
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The sight that greeted Jack as he walked out the door of the pizzeria made him stop in his tracks. There, looking totally abandoned, was the front tire of his brand new bike. The bike was his pride and joy. It had taken him two years of delivering pizza to save up the money to pay for it. Jack no longer felt any happiness at the fact he was done work for the day and had no more pizza to deliver. His prize possession was missing.

He studied his surrounds and took in the chaos of the street around him. Busses, packed like sardine cans, whizzed by. Although the pedestrian traffic on this side of the street had been brought to a trickle due to the scaffolding, the sidewalk across the street was jostling with people. Cars full of tired businessmen, ties loosened or women, their hair looking frazzled, slowly wove their way home. His bike was nowhere to be seen.

Jack knew it would likely be dark by the time he made it back to his apartment. He made his way slowly through the scaffolding that had been set up the previous day. As he waited at the corner to cross the street, he breathed in a heavy sigh. The air at this time of day was heavy with the smell of exhaust and today it tasted even more bitter than usual.

He trudged along, block after block, scanning the streets as he walked. He spied the occasional bicycle courier making their final rounds of the day but, after several blocks, his beloved mode of transportation had not yet presented itself. He was almost halfway home now and he was certain he had seen the last of the bike. A flash to his right, however, brought his hopes soaring.

Continue reading ‘The Trek’

Take Your Kid To Work Day

Written by
Scott Snider
on October 6, 2007 in Issue 1.14. 2 Comments
1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (3 votes, average: 3.67 out of 5)
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Neil slathered peanut butter over the white bread. A dollop of jelly completed the masterpiece. Wrapping it in a thin plastic sheet, it was ready to take it’s place with the apple and juice box in his lunch bag. He lifted it, then walked silently into his father’s bedroom.

Using only one finger, Neil started poking his father’s temple. The snoring giant sputtered and coughed. Eventually he awoke.

“What?”

“It’s time to get up.”

“The sun is still up.” Greg rolled over, facing away from his son.

Neil resumed poking, this time on his father’s back.

“Lower.”

“COME ON!” Neil bent at the knees slightly and stood back up straight, shaking his whole body, none of which Greg could see. “I’m supposed to go with you today.”

“That’s today?”

Continue reading ‘Take Your Kid To Work Day’

Issue 1.14

Written by
drew
on October 6, 2007 in Issue 1.14. 0 Comments

Issue 1.14 (450px)