7.26.20

The astrologer penned notes on the chart, relaxing in their throne. The room was scattered with little treasures; gifts from the grateful. The astrologer handed the chart back to their client. “You are here, because your Queen does not like me.” The agent smirked. “Is that in my chart?” “You don’t look like my clients.” “Gullible?” “Hopeful.” “You’re a fraud.” The astrologer smiled. “I tell people they are loved and worth loving. Your Queen says they should be frightened and subservient. Which do you believe?” “What’s in my chart?” “Only that after what comes next, I will still love you.”

4.23.20

Branwen, Queen of Spring, emerged from her blossom, fresh and renewed. She was the joy and light of the city. She was every park, every beach, every flower on every window sill. Her wings unfolded, glittering brightly. She prepared herself for the joy she would bring, as she would dance from person to person, bringing love and rainbows and…

Eyes glared down at her. Deep, Dark, and Pitiless. The Mayor frowned at Branwen.

“NOT THIS TIME, YOUNG LADY. GET INDOORS -RIGHT- NOW.”

Branwen, Queen of Spring, clutched her chest breathing rapidly as she hid in the birdhouse by Lincoln Park.

4.19.20

“Soak the herbs with vinegar.  Add dried roses for a pleasant scent.”

She worked on the series of leather masks, the pointed raven beaks filled to the brim. She looked at her elder sisters, all timeless in appearance.

“I don’t get it. We’re immortal. Why are we doing this?”

Each of the women looked at each other, sipping from bags of O positive.

“Since the 14^th century, we’ve discovered that immortality also applies to viruses. We live, it lives in us. Don’t want to poison the stock.”

“The masks? They’re not N95…”

“You haven’t smelled plague with a vampire’s nose.”

8.4.19

“I’m not supposed to talk with you.”

“Well that’s rude,” the Devil said, picking dirt off their immaculate white shoes. “It’s Saturday afternoon, we’re in a church, and I want to partake of the sacrament.”

“But you don’t ever confess. Why are you here?”

“It can work in reverse, father. Most come here, seeking to unburden their souls, to make them light enough to float to heaven. There is freedom, though, in knowing you’re damned, and treasuring the weight that brings you to perdition.”

The priest shook feebly. “I have sinned.”

“And I,” said the devil, “am here to listen.”

7.28.19

She sat in the back of the church, listening to the sermon. The preacher spoke of gays infiltrating bathrooms, of Muslims infiltrating the government. Somehow he never spoke about the children he raped. The fear and shame he enforced filled his congregation.  Each would transfer that suffering  to the weak and helpless. She scratched her arm, waiting for the worship to start. The music began. It was weak, inoffensive. But it triggered what She needed from their souls. Yearnings, pleas, grief and gratitude. Spilling from their hearts into Her Essence.

She stumbled out. A fix was a fix after all.

7.27.19

“Why is it anime for me?

I’ve spent 45 years watching this stuff, locked on to it before I even knew it was from somewhere else, for another audience. Maruki Trading company, Sandy Frank and Carl Macek had me primed for the years of untranslated Betas, the VHS subscription services, and the streaming video of today.

It’s not the color, or the style, or even the storytelling. It’s the emotion. This was always a place where a character’s emotions were present on the screen and the expressing of emotions was the point. Our hearts are as vital as our minds.”

7.26.19

Bruce Wayne sat glumly, looking over the details of the plan.

“Our R&D department is providing free municipal wifi across Gotham. Our chemical divisions are providing storage and recycling services for facilities such as ACE, The Wayne foundation is focusing on mental health, as well as addressing housing and food issues across the city. We’ve teamed up with STAR labs for renewable energy sources. In short, we’re making Gotham the place you always wanted it to be, with Wayne Industries as the engine of change.”

“I know, but…”

“Would it help if we added a bat to the letterhead, sir?”

7.25.19

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

Secrecy

7.24.19

“They’re just taking up space. And we’re running out of room.”

The meeting table was covered in paperwork. Ledgers and diagrams, projections and panels.

“We’re seeing if we can get the overflow to other countries, but no one’s taking us up on it. Even the ones we expected.”

“Even with removing beds and facilities, the space limitations are showing.”

“It’s not like they’re legal entities. Our country doesn’t recognize them.”

“We can’t release them; if they go back, they’ll find another way in.”

“There’s a solution, and it’s got historical precedent.”

The folder for a new facility simply said ‘de-lousing’.

7.23.19

Captain Trall sat in the sandbox, each eyestalk focused on a child.

“You -all- have guns?”

The children nodded eagerly. “We’re gonna battle soon. It’ll be great!”

The stalks recoiled anxiously. “What do your guns fire?”

“Mine squirts water!”

“Mine shoots bubbles!”

“Mine has lights and goes pew pew!”

“And if you’re shot, what happens?”

“We drop down, and we’re dead for a couple of seconds, then we get up and play some more. What does your gun shoot?”

He looked down at his flechette pistol and thought carefully.

“Ah..Nothing.”

“Can you say pew pew?”

“I think so.”

“Let’s play!”

7.22.19

The numbers matched. The tablet, the chalkboard.  She drew a series of rings.

“Each universe near our own is mildly different. The further you go, the more extreme the difference. Pulling an artifact from one universe to ours requires an intense amount of startup energy ;but the return on investment is exponential the further out you draw an artifact.”

The assistant frowned. “So wishes are possible…”

“You’re just pulling the desired result from a universe where it’s already  happened.”

“And that thing inside feeds off the power between the universes…”

The sealed bronze lamp sat on the table patiently. 

7.21.19

“I don’t need the meetings. I’m a social drinker.”

“Even a little is too much, do you see that?”

“But if they’re consenting-“

“They consent because they think you need it to live. We know that’s not true. –You- know that’s not true.”
“I do need it. I’m not –me- without it.”

“We’ve all said that. There’s no excuse you have that hasn’t been said a hundred times.”

“Then what’s the point?”

“The point is, you’re not alone. And together we don’t have to steal life to feel alive.”

“ I just have to take this step…”

“First of twelve.”

7/20.19

I miss breathing.

I thought it would be my hands, or how I see the world, but it’s cool. There’s haptic responses on the gathering tools, so I can feel the dirt, and the sensor array gives me colors I didn’t have in life.

From the speed of light, and the relay bounce, it will be about ten years before you get this, along with the data from the soil and atmosphere. I’m not used to the color of the sky, or the position of the stars, but it’s okay. I’m glad I’m here.

It’s just odd what you miss.

7.19.19

As with many things in the city, it came down to architecture.

The prison was located on a hill, the center of the facility. Each was placed in a vault of marble, Sealed in bronze. Surrounding the prison in ring after ring were the wardens.

In life, they were the worst of the worst. Giancana, Nitti, O’Banion, and the Capones. With them there were the Genna brothers, Hymie Weiss, and their cruel associates. Enemies and rivals, now unified in death, forming concentric rings of power.  

And thus the souls of the Bishops of Chicago can no longer harm the city.

7.18.19

“It’s a simple concept. Four characters. The characters are each recognizable types, and their situations are ordinary; magnified by their personalities.”

“What kind of stories?”

“Well, anything! Rock Bands, Conspiracy Theorists, War Survivors. It can be comedy, drama, mystery. But no matter how outlandish, keep it in the world, the everyday. If it’s aliens, have the aliens sign up for drama club. If it’s war survivors, have them write letters to family. The goal is always to make the audience see themselves and their world. To see the -value- in themselves, and the world they live in. Four by Four.”

7.17.19

Every marine had been issued a container of Pervitin before the assault on the facility. He had been subsisting on them, scavenging the precious amphetamines from the soldiers’ rotting bodies. He wandered the labyrinth, seeing the four spectral forms of his cherished friends at every corner. They blamed him; Their wide accusing eyes chasing him through the halls, threatening to burst his heart with terror. Sometimes he would come up on the body of a medic, and swallow the container of the medic’s pack in one go, chasing the ghosts away in addled fury. “Paku…Paku…” he muttered into the void.

7.16.19

“I came out already.”

“The first time I came out, I was raped. I assumed that it was the wrong decision. I tried to be ‘normal’ for 15 years after that. It was awful. I hurt myself and others. But I got better. I found love, and I came out again.”  

 “I’ve gone through so much. I’ve changed. I’ve grown. I’ve collapsed and rebuilt my life multiple times. I’ve flown the flags. I’ve cared for my kids. At some point, there has to be an end to this.”

The woman in the mirror looked at me compassionately and said. “No.”

7.15.19

The succubus sat by the young man’s bed, looking confused.

“So there’s no…”

“Not really.”

“I could turn into another form! Male, female…Other…species?”

The young man shook his head. “Only if you really want to.”

“I’m good.”

The silence stretched. She stared at the purple and grey flag on his wall. He considered.

“You need passion to live, right? So what do I get?”

“Well, all your desires fulfilled, at the cost of your immortal soul.”

“Does it -have- to be sexual?”

Before his death the next day, the two had binged all three seasons of Firefly and its spinoffs.

7.14.19

Eamon, king of Autumn, walked idly through Rosehill cemetery, his shape barely visible in the light.

“I like the rabbits,” he said, passing by civil war memorials, their soldiers’ names long vanished.  “And the squirrels.  All the trees are filled with chattering birds. Back in the day, deer would wander through the dawn, climbing over the mortuary cellars.” He passed by statues, obelisks, all the great grieving stones, ignoring them.  I thought he’d take me to the necropolis, but he turned, going deeper into the remaining untouched forest. “Now we have joggers and the occasional picnicker. “Look!” he smiled, “Geese!” 

7.13.19

I heard the clack of the Devil’s white shoes over the sounds of my heart monitor.

“Have you come for my soul at last?” I wheezed through the mask.

The Devil walked to my side. “I took your soul years and years ago when we made the contract. It’s long gone, fed to creditors in dimensions where hunger is the only rule. You’ve lived without one nearly all your life. There is no eternity for you.”

“If it’s already gone, then why –“ I coughed my last in agony as The Devil grinned.

“I’m just here to watch you die.”