Friday, January 13, 2012

THE NICK OF TIME (and other abrasions): Where The Streets Have No Name

The Nick of Time
(and other abrasions)
Where The Streets Have No Name

(an excerpt for In The Shadow Of His Nemesis)

by
Al Bruno III



She wore a peasant blouse and a loose fitting skirt. Her hair was long and pulled back into a ponytail. There were tiny bells on the silver anklet she wore; they jingled wildly as she ran for her life.

The streets she ran down were empty and unnamed, the buildings and storefronts were vacant. The dust and grime of years covered everything. It caught in her nose and clung to the bottoms of her sandal-clad feet.

Her heart pounded in her chest, her breaths were gasps. She could hear the sound of her pursuers but she wouldn’t dare look back, if she looked back she knew all would be lost.

Benjamin Zachary! she thought. Where the Hell are you?

There was an intersection up ahead- left, right or straight ahead. Where was he? Which way was she supposed to go?

Not that it mattered here in the town of Devsham where every road looped back onto itself again. If I die here… She wondered to herself, If I die in a place that doesn’t exist in maps or memories- will my fravashi find me?

In that moment of fear she almost looked back but stopped herself, wasn’t hearing the mewling buzz of their voices enough? Did she really need to see those dead, segmented eyes a second time?

She cursed herself for agreeing with Benjamin’s plan. Sure split up the party, what could possibly go wrong in an empty town?

Then her sandal caught on the sidewalk and she fell hitting the ground with a gasp and a curse.

“Rio! This way!”

A man called to her to her from a nearby alleyway, jumping up and down and waving his arms. He was short with eyes and hair that were equal parts dark and wild. He wore a thick mustache and a small earring.

“Come on!” Benjamin Zachary urged her, he wore faded jeans and a collared shirt with a tweed blazer “Get up! Hurry.”

But he didn’t come to her rescue; he had long ago warned that her life was expendable to the Cause- his was not. Pushing herself to her feet Rio blundered across the street and into his arms.

“There we go,” he said. “I knew you’d make it. Now let’s get off the street shall we?”

Her pursuers were getting closer, each of them breaking into a run He dragged her into a nearby building and let her slide to the floor while he erected a barricade. It looked like they were in an office of some sort, Rio watched him stack chairs and wondered what kind of work would have been done here- what the Monarchs would possibly need file cabinets and telephones for?

Rubbing her ankle she gave Benjamin a worried glance, “Where were you?”

“I was fine. You’re the one that keeps getting in trouble.”

Rio winced, “That’s not fair.”

“I’m not the one that activated the automated defenses. Luckily I anticipated your mistakes.”

The pounding on the door began; if she closed her eyes she could imagine the legion of tarsal claws striking it. “What do we do now?”

He gave her a wicked grin, “Exploration with a side order of sabotage.”

“We’re gonna get killed,” she said, “or worse.”

“Not me.”

There was a large cracking sound, the turned back to see a blunt beak working its way through the wood of the door, a keening whistle filled the air as a handful of proboscis slithered out testing the air. Benjamin Zachary stared at it in dull confusion, “That’s new.”

“We have to get out of here.”

“Oh yes,” He took her by the hand and led her deeper into the building. “Come along now.”

“Where are we going?”

“Downstairs.”

“Do you know where we’re going?”

“I know what I’m doing,” he said.

Several breathless flights of stairs later Rio let herself be dragged into a wide, vault-like room that smelled of chemicals and brine. Pale lights flickered in as they entered, revealing pale pale floors with silver trim. Covered troughs lined the walls.

Benjamin walked over to one of the troughs; it was three feet deep and set into the wall at waist height. A thick layer of frosted glass covered it. A metal clasp held the lid locked in place. He smiled grimly, “Now are these to keep people out or the contents in?”

“What’s in them?” Rio asked.

“Nothing yet. I’m here early,” Benjamin rapped a knuckle on the wall beside them producing a thick, yet hollow sound.

Rio saw that the entire wall was made from a thick glass-like material but all she could see through it was darkness. Were they underground and was this was some window into the Earth?

Once she pressed her face against the glass and cupped her hands over her eyes she saw there was a room on the other side of this glass, it looked huge and bottomless.

Benjamin led her away, “Quite the nursery isn’t it?”

“What are we doing here?”

“Furthering the Cause at best,” he made a show of waving his empty hands in front of her face, a swish of the fingers and suddenly he was holding a handful of gems- white rubies. “Thumbing our noses at the future at worst.”

“An incantation?” Rio asked, “Here?”

“You thought we were sightseeing?” Benjamin held the largest of the rubies between his thumb and forefinger and sat cross-legged on the floor, “Now go wait by the door, I have to concentrate.”

Rio bristled, how could he be so dismissive of her? Always treating her like she was stupid during the day and then coming to her bed at night with guilty eyes and quiet promises.

Of course none of those promises were for the future.

There was a muffled bang followed by a chorus of insectile screeches.

Benjamin Zachary looked up from staring into the heart of the gemstone, “That will be Zeth now…”

And now the kitten from HELL...

via BUZZFEED

 

Sunday, January 8, 2012

The Creep On The Borderlands part four

Price Breaks and Heartaches

A journal of retail and failed romance

Chapter Nine

The Creep On The Borderlands

part four




Now before we begin the next part I think I should once again go over something for newer readers and just what is a role-playing game?


So, what is a role playing game, or an RPG as it is sometimes called? Well, do you remember when you were kids and you wouldplaying ‘Cops And Robbers’? Or ‘Cowboys And Indians’? Or ‘Lets Bury The Geeky Kids Up To Their Necks In The Dirt’?


Actually, that last game doesn’t really suit our purposes, just forget about it. I know I’ve been trying to since the third grade.


Where were we? Ah yes, what is a role playing game? As I said before I am sure you remember the games of imaginary adventure you had as a child. Inevitably you and one of your playmates would get into an argument over what had happened. Did the Cop shoot the Robber or did he miss? Can the Indian fire a bow while riding his horse? Do we remember where we buried those third graders?


No wait. Scratch that last one again.


Still though, I am sure you can remember how your pretend adventures were derailed by disagreements about what had happened, over who had won and who had lost.


Role playing games are playing pretend for grown ups. A game master creates an imaginary world and all its supporting cast. The other players take on the role of characters and act out stories within the game master’s world. Think of it as collective storytelling if you will, or perhaps interactive fiction. The important thing to remember is that as adults playing a role playing game we remove the childish element of arguing and crying over who did what. Instead we have page after page of rulebooks to site in our ever more heated arguments over whether or not a half orc can wear elven plate mail.


There are several accessories that go hand and hand with a role playing game; maps drawn on graph paper, painted miniatures and gobs of junk food. The player characters have adventures and gain experience points and treasure. The first of these role playing games was Dungeons & Dragons and that was the one Will and I were heading off to play.


*


It was late on a Saturday night when we hit the road, I had just gotten out of work . Since Will knew where we were going I drove and he gave me directions. The house we were going to was on the border between the towns of Colonie and Watervliet.


Watervliet, New York had long been supported by the munitions factory in the heart of the town. A whole community had sprung up around the Watervliet Arsenal, but as fortunes dwindled and jobs moved elsewhere, the once bustling neighborhoods had begun to dwindle into decrepitude. The whole place looked like it was in the middle of a going out of business sale.


Will directed me to a dead end street where all the houses had for sale signs in front of them. Only one of those houses had any lights. “Here we are,” he said, “just park anywhere.”


I parked my rusty Monte Carlo under a streetlight and cut the engine. The neighborhood made me a little nervous, it was so empty.


Will bounded out of the car and waved me on towards the modest two story house. The front door was unlocked but Will did some kind of coded knock before walking inside. The lower level of the house was bare, no furniture, rugs or anything. I asked, “Are you sure this is the right place?”


“Of course,” Will led me upstairs where I found furnishings, light and the guys that would end up being my peer group for the next few years.


“Ah Will. Good to see you. And this must be Al. Intriguing hair,” a tall blond man with tragically large ears shook my hand. He wore primarily black and brown.


Will nodded, “Al this is our Dungeon Master Norm.”


“Good to meet you,” I smiled. He wasn’t letting go of my hand and I didn’t know quite what to do, “Really nice.”


Norm looked me over appraisingly, “Al? Short for Albert?”


“Why uh, yes. Did I say it was nice to meet you? You know you’ve got a very strong grip there.”


“Are you of Dutch descent? Russian?”


“Uh no. I’m Polish and Italian,” I looked to Will for help but he was already mingling with the others.


“That’s OK too,” he released my hand.


“I didn’t realize this was an exclusive club,” I joked but Norm had already sat back down and turned his attention to his rulebooks and notes.


Will was talking to a guy with rat-like features and an unnaturally thick mustache. He waved me over, “Al! This is Curtis.”


“Hi,” I said forgoing the handshake for a wave.


He replied by raising his right hand to shoulder level with the palm facing inward, “Tal.”


“Thanks?” Before I could ask what the Hell he meant by that Will dragged me over to the next player.


“Now this is Buddy,” Will said introducing me to a guy busily mixing drinks.


“Welcome to our merry band. What’s your poison?” He looked up at me, he was bearded with glasses, and so very drunk.


“Hi Buddy. I’m Al,” I said, “and I’ll just have a soda.”


“Scotch and soda got it.”


“No. A coke.”


“Rum and Coke?”


“…just soda.”


“Tea-toddler huh?” he said with a smirk.


“I’m driving.” I said.


He waved me off, “Sure. Whatever. Someone’s got to do it I guess.”


“You got cigarette ashes in my soda.”


“You know in Buffalo they call soda ‘pop’,” a twitchy looking kid said to me from the couch. His eyes kept darting around the room like he was expecting a mafia hit. I offered him my hand, “I’m Al. I’m sure you heard.”


“Eddie,” he said.


“I like your Night Ranger t-shirt. They were a good group.”


“Yeah sure,” a confused look crossed his features. He began to dig through his notes, “It was clean.”


I made a show of checking my watch, “Well, look at the time. I should probably…”


“But...” Will said, “...we just got here.”


“Oh.”





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