tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-46027650379370153952024-03-18T22:43:55.781-07:00The False Jim HalseNo rhyme intended.The Hammerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04122222033238458712noreply@blogger.comBlogger16125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4602765037937015395.post-57136383997990124532011-06-04T23:09:00.000-07:002011-06-04T23:09:42.940-07:00SunsetAn exercise with Seanna; write a piece starting with 'We chased autumn across North America.' Here it is, in all its first-draft glory. Wiki the character names if I've been too obtuse.<br />
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<div class="MsoNormal">We chased autumn across North America.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Stepping off the boat in Rhode Island we breathed deep the last rays of summer and caught her, hiding between the salt and spray.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>North she had gone, and north we went along that coast which scrawls along the Atlantic.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The old stones of Boston were already cold to the touch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Late September rain had slicked the streets and cleaned the city, made it fresh for winter’s snows.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We spent days wandering the harbour and between campuses until Perses caught a trace of her outside Fenway and breathed deep of the blended scents, eastern blood in western skies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We hired a car and drove out of town.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Three hours later a freak snowstorm caved in the roof of city hall, collapsing red brick into white ice.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>We let New York be; too many life lines crossed, crosshatched between buildings which held their secrets like lovers in the night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We trusted our instincts and carried on the highways.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perses grinned as we crossed the Washington bridge; he had been before, would return some day.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The plan, Perses told me, was to go to places she would have left.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Streets and stones and rules and laws which chase her away, which drive her as a trade wind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was better, I thought, than having no plan at all.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The trees turned red like dawn on the coast, bleeding through the Chicago suburbs until they were washed in crimson.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the city they were already wearing overcoats and scarves, fortified against Lake Michigan’s promise of chill.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When we stopped they were struck by a heat-wave.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We stayed in the Greek district; the day of the marathon we sat in a cafe and drank iced tea, watching the runners sweat in the surprise weather.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perses laughed and breathed deep the smell of her, which flowed like Dionysian wine from the superstitions of athletes.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Iowa and Nebraska would all have been her lands, once.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Under the yoke, they shone with rippling corn as we tore across the 80 heading west at a hundred miles an hour.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were still driving when the sun set and Psellus accelerated.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was always easier to find by night.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>And then up, up into the Rockies, past Boulder and into Denver where Psellus had to stay in bed for a week, so overcome with the smell of her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I walked the streets by day and breathed the crisp, thin air; ate muesli with hipsters, waved to students doing Yoga in the park.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At night I sat with my friend and asked him how he could hunt his own daughter.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Her time had come, he told me. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>We were holed up so long that the Aspen trees had turned, burning bright yellow across the mountains.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Psellus thought we could catch her in the mountains but we were stopped by a ranger who saw our plates and heard our accents and turned us around.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Two difficult days driving in and out of the snowline followed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We ate rare bison in an empty ski town and afterwards drank ouzo with the staff who told us stories about tourists and the dangers of the coming snows.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After they passed out we raised our glasses to Pan and turned in for the night.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>There is wilderness and there is wilderness; Utah is forever wild and the fortifications built by a lake of salt will someday dissolve into the desert.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was the first week of November when we crossed into Idaho.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Psellus made us stop in Twin Falls.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He stood in the base of the canyon and midnight and called her name, over and over, listening to the echo.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The next morning we went north.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Boise was lost to her; so tamed now that she would never set a foot there but all around were the signs of her; the tall mountains to the east, the morning snow which threatened to white out the landscape and push the people back into her arms.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>A week later we reached the Washington coast.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rain blew in hard from the Pacific and lashed Seattle with the resigned perseverance of a broken workman, determined to see a task through to completion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It nearly washed her away but Psellus dragged us south.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He wept in the car and when I asked him why he told me to mind my own business.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were close, he said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He could taste her in the beer, feel her in the morning mist.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>On a beach in Oregon, beside a sand-dune the size of a house, we found her sitting alone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She had eyes only for a monolith, pushing out from the sea like a seal in a bathtub.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Psellus put a hand on my shoulder and we stopped, only a few steps away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He moved forward and sat beside her, dusted the sand from his hands.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You are a long way from home, Asteria.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“As are you, father.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I see you brought Iapetus with you.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Actually, he brought me with him.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>They said nothing at all for a while.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The wind shook the grass on the dunes and lifted whisps of Asteria’s hair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Psellus put an arm around her and held her tight.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>We had lunch together in a pub, a hundred yards from the ocean.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A storm came in while we ate and blew itself out before we had finished drinking our coffee.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Asteria made her father proud.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She did not beg, didn’t try to bargain with me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know that there were places she could go and as the sun and the sea breezes dried the day I tore at my own heart.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Not many of us left.” I said.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Asteria sighed deep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“No, but my time is done here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There’s no wildness left here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No magic.” She took my hand, smiled at her father.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I was going to keep heading south, to California, but I lost my way there a long time ago.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I want a beer,” Psellus said.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>We stayed until closing time.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>We took her into the woods of Oregon, as she wished.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After it was done, Psellus gave a cry of anguish.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On a hill to the west, a piece of land gave way and the forest collapsed around us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I put a hand on his shoulder and kissed his cheek.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His daughter buried, unmarked in the wilderness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A fitting end, out in the wild.</div>The Hammerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04122222033238458712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4602765037937015395.post-24988222674677890722011-06-02T01:19:00.000-07:002011-06-02T01:19:02.845-07:00Cold<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">You figured that she would say no, but you could never predict her reactions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So you pack the car with a blanket and basket and drive across town to pick her up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A kiss on the cheek which makes your eyes go wide, a hug you cannot escape fast enough.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You drive out of the slouching buildings in their dour suits of soot and mist and into the rolling hills where greens are made grey by the dawn’s false light.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>You’re looking good.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Thanks, so are you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I always liked your hair long.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 36.0pt;">Mm, I know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How’s your mother?</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Fine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She misses dad, you say.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How is your brother going?</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He graduated last month.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He said to thank you for helping him out last year.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Tell him to forget about it, you say and then you say nothing for a while.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>You turn on the radio, which makes an uncomfortable silence uncomfortable and loud.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No more sing-alongs, no more playlists.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She taps her fingers on her lap in time with the rhythm but after a couple of songs you just turn it off again.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>There are no breaks in the highway today; a long, smooth river which runs all the way to the ocean.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The drive is broken only by billboards for upcoming fast-food stops, numbered exits, popular wineries.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The place you spent a weekend together last autumn, almost a year ago now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You think about pointing it out; just drive past it.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>You crest a hill and the ocean and the sun appear at the same moment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For a second the horizon is lit and doused all at once; the road dips and the sky is grey again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By the time you reach the next rise the sun is already high.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You pull down the shade, fumble about the dashboard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She opens the glovebox, pulls out your sunglasses, unfolds the arms and hands them to you.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Thanks, you say.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Don’t worry about it.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>There are a couple of caravans in the parking lot, but no other cars.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You pull in a couple of spaces from the walkway and sit in your car, looking through the spaces in the fence at the tiny waves which break onto the cold, hard sand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She puts her hand on top of yours, perched on the gearstick, and leans her head on your shoulder.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>What are you doing?</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Shut up.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The only smell is her; the only feeling is her weight, her warmth against your arm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You start staring down the clock, daring each minute to pass, trying to spin the feeling out for as long as you can.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>It starts raining, just a few drops which turn to a shower, then a downpour which lashes the car.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The sand turns deep grey and the foliage around the car park snap and spray.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Looks like there won’t be a picnic she says.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She is still leaning on your arm and her eyes are almost closed.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>No, you say.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Looks like there won’t.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>You are still staring at the clock, counting minutes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After three you turn the engine back on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When you shift the car into reverse she sits back up, and the contact is broken.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The windscreen fogs, and you turn on the demister, changing the atmosphere in the car.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>You chat on the way back; about books you have read and movies you have seen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>About mutual friends and their lives and dramas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is still raining when you drop her home, but the passion is gone, leaving a gentle, misting fall in its wake.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She squeezes your hand and you smile at her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She puts her jacket over her head and runs from the car to her gate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And then she is gone.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>You drive home through streets which still echo dawn, waking now to the wet weekend.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You take your shoes off at the door and step into your house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Your wife is sitting at the kitchen table, dressed in gown and slippers, a mug of tea in her hand.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I woke up and you weren’t here, she says.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I planned a picnic, you say.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was going to be a surprise.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But now its raining.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>She smiles, and takes your cold hand with her warm one.</div>The Hammerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04122222033238458712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4602765037937015395.post-31585943490628980772011-06-02T01:17:00.001-07:002011-06-02T01:17:33.672-07:00I've been told I need to work on setting, emotion and characterisation (not that I'm bad at them; that I'm not using them at all). I'm going to use some short exercises to try to get better at using these things. I'll post them here.The Hammerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04122222033238458712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4602765037937015395.post-90547854554280299802011-05-14T00:47:00.000-07:002011-05-14T00:47:56.618-07:00With burning wings(a story I wrote for Seanna as part of a challenge, unedited)<br />
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<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Marie first noticed the man at security.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Neat brown hair, tastefully dressed, just a small duffel to send through the x-ray.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On business, she decided, or a tourist.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not a traveller.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She had checked her large backpack and now had only her daypack with book, iPod and snacks to sustain her through the flight.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>She noticed him again when she stopped at a bar and drank a beer while she waited for her flight to be called.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was sitting by himself at a table in the corner, a forgotten rum and cola by his hand, eyes scanning the people coming and going through the terminal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When he looked her way she turned back to her beer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She felt his eyes stay on her for a moment and slip away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After a taste of her drink she checked over her shoulder, but he was already gone.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>With a seat near the tail, she was called to board the plane first, and found place on the left side, in an aisle seat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Around her bags were stowed in overhead lockers and seats tilted then returned to the locked, upright position.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All the rows around her filled while the window seat beside her remained empty.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Only when the captain came across the intercom, stating that the plane was waiting for luggage to be loaded before takeoff, did the last passenger make his way down the aisles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His neat hair was now pushed up at the front; as he walked he ran a hand over his part again, leaving a trail of strands some of which remained upright.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He scanned the aisles as he went, meeting the eye of the passenger in each seat as he went until he stopped next to Marie.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>She watched him for a moment as he continued to look at each person on the plane in the last few aisles, then turned to her and sucked a breath in through his teeth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A stewardess asked him to take his seat, and he shifted his weight from one foot to another and back again.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Not a good flier?” Marie asked.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>His eyebrows went up at the question.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He looked at his feet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Back into her eyes.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Actually,” he said, “I am a fantastic flier.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I am a touch claustrophobic.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Oh,” she said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Would you like the aisle seat?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I would like that very much.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Marie unclasped her seatbelt and shifted over the arm-rest and settled into the window seat, the stewardess smiling at them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When Marie’s neighbour had stashed his duffle under the seat in front of him she offered her hand.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I’m Marie.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“People call me Zach.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“People call you? What’s your name that they call you Zach?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Ask me later.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Okay,” she said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“How does a guy who’s claustrophobic become a fantastic flier?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“How does a caterpillar become a butterfly? There are some things we’re just born to do.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The hostess called for the passenger’s attention and showed them the exits and how to do their seatbelts.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Where are you from?” Marie said.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Shush, they’re explaining what we need to do in an emergency.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I already know that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Have you ever been on a plane where there was an emergency.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“There’s always a first time.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The plane took off.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As they reached thirty thousand feet, the sound of the engines died away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Marie flicked through the in flight magazine, scrolled through some songs on his iPod, turned to look at Zach again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was reading from a beaten copy of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Steppenwolfe</i>.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“So where are you from?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I’m not French.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Well, I am.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I won’t hold that against you.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“What’s your name?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He closed the paperback and placed it on his lap.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You aren’t going to leave me alone are you?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Sorry,” she said, “conversation’s the easiest way to pass the time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What’s your name?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Zarachay.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Is that a real name?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“What makes a name real?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I once knew a girl named Iona, which isn’t so bad, but her family name was Kyte.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I see.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He sat up in his chair and looked up the aisle.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Who are you looking for?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“What do you mean?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You were looking for someone in the airport too?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Excuse me?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Maire flushed, her cheeks rosy, the tips of her ears bright red.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I saw you, in the airport.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At the bar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Looking for someone.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Was I?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“So who are they?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Zach sucked a long breath in through flared nostrils.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You know what the best thing about this place is?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“What place?” She looked around.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“The plane?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Your world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If I tell you who I am looking for, one of three things will happen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Either you won’t believe me, because you think I am lying or I am crazy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or you will believe me, but you won’t tell anyone because you know they will think you’re lying or crazy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or you will believe me, and you will tell people, but they will think you are lying.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Or crazy.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Or crazy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You really want to know?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Marie nodded, “now I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">have </i>to know.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Zach cleared his throat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“How old do you think I am?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Um, thirty five?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Thank you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am eighty five and a half thousand years old.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Give or take a thousand.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Uh huh.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You’re with me?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“No, I think you’re lying.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Or crazy?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“No, just lying.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Go on.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Do you believe in God?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Marie raised an eyebrow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Do you?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Nope.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know that God exists, and I have no faith in him at all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was created by an angel to serve as a general in the armies of God in the war against the betrayers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I left the host and came to earth, because frankly angels shit me.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Which angel?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“All of them.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“No, which one made you?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Oh,” he said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Michael.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Wow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Is that who you’re looking for?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Goodness, no,” Zach said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“If Michael were here I wouldn’t need to look for him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His presence would blind us in moments, burned into our minds forever.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No I am looking for... well, think of them as truancy officers.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You’re a fugitive?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Of a kind.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“And you’re keeping an eye out for bounty hunters?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“In a way.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“And you’re nervous because in an enclosed space, it’s harder to evade capture?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He gave her a broad smile. “Very well done, Marie.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>She pushed herself up in her seat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“So what do they look like?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Zach pushed her back down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Easy there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To you they just look like... well, like people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But to me, they burn like a torch in the darkness.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>A meal was served, lunch or dinner, Marie could not tell the difference on aeroplanes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After the trays had been collected, the lights were dimmed and people lay their seats back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Marie asked where Zach was going, keeping her voice low between the sleeping passengers.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Nowhere, really.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I find that if I keep moving its harder for other angels to find me.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Why don’t you want to be found?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Ever had a job you didn’t like?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yes, of course.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I used to wash dishes in a cafe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not much fun.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I had a job I didn’t like for eighty thousand years.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Eighty five.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Oh, no,” Zach shook his head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“The last five thousand I’ve been hiding out on earth.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“And you’ve never been caught?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Found, not caught.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not yet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But there’s always tomorrow.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“That must be a terrible thing, always living on the run.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“It’s not so bad,” Zach said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“The middle ages were a lot of fun.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Why are you catching a plane?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I’m sorry, Marie, you’ve lost me again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What was the tangent there?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“If you are an angel, Zach, why are you catching a plane.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Oh,” he pushed his thumbs together and splayed his fingers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Do you know how much force it takes to lift an adult body?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Lots?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Heaps, really a lot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My wings are huge, and my wings are... well, they’re not like in the church windows.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“What are they like?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Different.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The stewardess stopped over them, leaned low.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“We were talking about your condition up front, sir.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do you think it would help to sit in the cockpit for a while? With the claustrophobia?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Zach looked over at Marie, eyebrows raised.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Want to have a look up front?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Sure.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>They undid their seatbelts and followed the stewardess.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At the threshold, Zach ushered Marie inside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Is this normal?” he asked the stewardess.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Not really, but if the captain’s opened it it’s okay.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He smiled at her and stepped through.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Marie was talking to the pilot, asking about some of the dials.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As she looked back over her shoulder the captain stood up, took off his hat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His eyes lit with the fury of a thousand suns.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Hello, Zarachay,” he said.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Jean-Luc hooked the voice recorder up and started scanning the contents.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was a knock at the door, and Karen came in.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Anything strange in your box?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Just hooked it up,” he said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“What’s up?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Mine’s only got fifteen seconds of recording.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Hey?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s been on the bottom of the sea for two years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Checked for corruption?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He tapped away at the console, loading the voice recording.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I’m telling you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fifteen seconds of rapid deceleration then nothing.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Well, let’s see what the crew has to say about- huh.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Karen leaned in over his shoulder.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“What?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Let’s- I’ll just play it.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>They listened to the recording.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Karen sat down, and they listened to it again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And again, holding hands.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Karen stood up and walked to the door.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“What do we say?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Two years on the bottom of the sea,” Jean-Luc said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Anything could have happened to this data.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>She nodded and left the room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He played the recording back one more time:</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Five seconds of static.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>A woman’s voice- “Oh god, they’re so beautiful...”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>A crackle of fire.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He tapped at the console, and erased the recording forever.</span></div>The Hammerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04122222033238458712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4602765037937015395.post-70905257030686081142011-03-15T00:25:00.000-07:002011-03-15T00:25:45.731-07:00Where I'm going<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">We look to distant banks,<br />
measure how far we'll get.<br />
To bridges we give thanks <br />
for feet which are not wet.<br />
In this frame of mind <br />
the past is often lost-<br />
until we are defined<br />
by the bridges we have crossed.</span></span>The Hammerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04122222033238458712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4602765037937015395.post-2192997337717947082011-03-05T16:27:00.001-08:002011-03-05T16:27:56.036-08:00StripesWhen you shave a tiger<br />
his stripes are on the skin.<br />
<br />
How many layers can I strip<br />
before your stripes give in?The Hammerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04122222033238458712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4602765037937015395.post-45326137799176143312011-01-22T01:09:00.000-08:002011-04-14T01:12:10.289-07:00Contiki Knights v1.0<span style="font-family: inherit;">Dance with a girl in a Liverpool bar. <br />
Celery accent, luminous mind, <br />
Eyes so blue they redefine 'blue.' <br />
Dance for a while then sit down alone. <br />
<br />
Dream as a child, muse as a man, <br />
To be Galad, purest of knights. <br />
Incorruptible flesh, soul unswayed, <br />
Beauty can't die, can only be killed. <br />
<br />
Learn as a child, hope as a man, <br />
To be Lancelot, failed and damned.<br />
By flesh led astray, penitent soul, <br />
The perfect knight gone to rot. <br />
<br />
Fear as a child, sigh as a man, <br />
To be Pellanor, chasing his beast. <br />
Riding forever on one final quest, <br />
Once started can never be ceased. <br />
<br />
Ignore as a child, know as a man <br />
To be the beast Pellanor sought. <br />
Hounded to death by an enemy feared, <br />
Scared and alone to the end. <br />
<br />
Dance with a girl in a Liverpool bar, <br />
Walk, though the prospects are good. <br />
Breath steam into hands, brittle and iced; <br />
Go home with somebody else.</span>The Hammerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04122222033238458712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4602765037937015395.post-38117195762503961292010-12-29T01:36:00.000-08:002010-12-29T01:36:29.607-08:00Hard words (v1.0)Two hard words<br />
say them again.<br />
Force their meaning<br />
out from the brain.<br />
<br />
Feel their force<br />
clack across teeth.<br />
Cast their shadows<br />
into the street.<br />
<br />
Watch the face<br />
change. They smack<br />
hard, those words<br />
and never come back.<br />
<br />
Echo which sounds<br />
flat in the rain.<br />
Two hard words<br />
say them again.The Hammerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04122222033238458712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4602765037937015395.post-36013335750429064952010-12-24T05:45:00.000-08:002010-12-24T05:49:39.139-08:00to a football field (v1.0)wounded sun <br />
succumbs. <br />
found friends;<br />
<br />
unusual allies. <br />
those chosen <br />
bleed our cries, <br />
winged clouds <br />
haloed halogen <br />
<br />
peel the sky <br />
off your skin <br />
<br />
crack cans.<br />
let in the night.The Hammerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04122222033238458712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4602765037937015395.post-39247669365196376082010-12-21T00:39:00.000-08:002010-12-21T00:42:13.967-08:00Fisherman (v1.1)Cast your bare line, fisherman <br />
Hope that something happens. <br />
<br />
Dream of days when fishermen <br />
Chased and brawled with kraken. <br />
<br />
Set a bare hook, fisherman <br />
Only bait your breath. <br />
<br />
No longer does a fisherman <br />
Fight the waves to death. <br />
<br />
Beat your bare-chest, fisherman <br />
Seek prey, and pray on high <br />
<br />
For days when simple fishermen <br />
Defied the sea and sky.The Hammerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04122222033238458712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4602765037937015395.post-30557171440655488642010-12-13T02:26:00.000-08:002010-12-13T02:26:35.073-08:00Sausages!Lovely little sausages-<br />
Take you from a pack,<br />
Up the heat a little bit,<br />
See how you react.<br />
<br />
Silly little sausages<br />
Spit your sizzled fat<br />
Make your fuss and hope nobody<br />
Sees you're full of crap.The Hammerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04122222033238458712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4602765037937015395.post-15653585109236499602010-12-09T13:53:00.001-08:002010-12-09T13:53:47.842-08:00Clarity - draft<div class="MsoNormal">Killed by motorcycle; </div><div class="MsoNormal">driving home from </div><div class="MsoNormal">my house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Your wife </div><div class="MsoNormal">slept on my </div><div class="MsoNormal">couch. Your name </div><div class="MsoNormal">still in my phone. </div><div class="MsoNormal">They wouldn't let </div><div class="MsoNormal">us see your face. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">You married my </div><div class="MsoNormal">first love down </div><div class="MsoNormal">by the river. Her </div><div class="MsoNormal">open-back dress </div><div class="MsoNormal">showed <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Ygdrassil</i> between </div><div class="MsoNormal">shoulder-blades.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I suggested </div><div class="MsoNormal">that tattoo. Couldn't </div><div class="MsoNormal">meet eyes that day. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">My couch; refuge </div><div class="MsoNormal">when your teenage </div><div class="MsoNormal">chest emptied. Scotch, cigars, </div><div class="MsoNormal">war movies. Two </div><div class="MsoNormal">weeks, sometimes two </div><div class="MsoNormal">months.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Too wild </div><div class="MsoNormal">for young love. </div><div class="MsoNormal">Her too, I guess.</div>The Hammerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04122222033238458712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4602765037937015395.post-36856593998855848412010-12-08T23:58:00.000-08:002010-12-08T23:58:54.785-08:00Untitled draft<div class="MsoNormal">Does water in the river’s run</div><div class="MsoNormal">Dream of oceans yet to come?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Or does it, in its eddied pools</div><div class="MsoNormal">Laugh at river’s flowing rules,</div><div class="MsoNormal">And think all other waters fools</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">To reach for foreign shores?</div>The Hammerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04122222033238458712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4602765037937015395.post-43166249940817184542010-12-08T01:41:00.000-08:002010-12-08T01:47:30.047-08:00Effort without objective - draftWith buckets and pump, keep us afloat,<br />
Yell at each other from ends of the boat-<br />
<br />
The holes in our hulls are letting in ocean.<br />
Work until passion fades from our motion.<br />
<br />
This ship will stay buoyant if we both keep bailing.<br />
A lost cause, they tell us, but I call it sailing.The Hammerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04122222033238458712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4602765037937015395.post-15451771697682454292010-08-30T14:14:00.000-07:002010-12-24T05:52:50.642-08:00A draft called "Edwin's Fort"And does it fade, her heart of stone?<br />
So warm long through night.<br />
Her swelling dawn. Grey cliffs, titans,<br />
Storm her streets at morning bell.<br />
<br />
And did they know who crowned her?<br />
Who gave her guardians of old,<br />
That every glance, each burst of gunfire<br />
Would put constraint upon the throat?<br />
<br />
And when it fades, is it gone forever?<br />
With tomorrow, flaws which come with age?<br />
How can it when the morning shows<br />
That each new line is more perfect still.<br />
<br />
And let it fade, if fading is to see her<br />
Restored with every breaking day.<br />
Let it fall and die. Let it be buried,<br />
And let it rise for any she would hold.The Hammerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04122222033238458712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4602765037937015395.post-57025678074836758982010-08-10T05:29:00.000-07:002010-12-24T05:53:36.135-08:00Concession fareGreen light. charged to burst <br />
since Thursday last. Run thumb, <br />
soft nail, down a flank made <br />
rough by age, by adventure.<br />
<br />
Hold tight with teeth, slip <br />
between sheets which keep <br />
fingerprints, DNA, promises. <br />
Find flaws with lips and tongue.<br />
<br />
Orange light, yearn for more <br />
zones to explore. Teeth to tips, <br />
stall at the threshold- Red light. <br />
Get off, baby. I'm already touched.The Hammerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04122222033238458712noreply@blogger.com0