#VisDare 5 – Obscure

Prompt: http://anonymouslegacy.blogspot.com/2013/01/visdare-5-obscure.html?m=1

Simon was getting frustrated. He’d spent just enough time in 2008 to have gained an appreciation for the amount of information people had at their fingertips, but in 1951, there was no such luxury. He’d spent most every afternoon for the last month at the library, poring over phone books from all the cities he could get his hands on, and reading the limited selection of newspapers the library had, hoping against hope to find some indication of where Emily was. He didn’t see much of Marcus these days, which was probably for the best. After some initial resistance, Marcus had really taken to this time period. He didn’t talk about what he was doing, but it obviously involved making money, as one day soon after they’d arrived, he announced that he’d be paying for their expenses, and soon, five and ten dollar bills had started appearing on Simon’s dresser. Whatever he was doing also involved a gun, a fact he’d been awfully proud about, telling Simon all about his new toy one night at the corner restaurant. Simon knew the gun and the money were all about Marcus reasserting some sense of power in their relationship after what had happened with the umbrella, but there really wasn’t anything to be done about it.

Besides, it freed him up to waste his time trying to find Emily.

They’d been here long enough that the leaves had turned, and his walks to and from the library had gotten not just depressing, but downright uncomfortable. More and more, he’d been using the umbrella for its more prosaic purpose, and he really was starting to dread spending the winter here.

On a particularly unpleasant Saturday evening, he found himself walking through a spitting rain to meet Marcus for dinner in Little Italy. Simon didn’t particularly enjoy these meals, but it kept Marcus civil and it gave him a chance to explore some of the city. He passed the Hull House and some of the homes for single women that had sprung up around it, and once again thought about knocking on their doors to see if anyone had heard of Emily. He shook his head and laughed – he could just imagine how well that would be received – a strange man inquiring about a woman on her own, especially given that many of them women were probably on the run from someone.

The restaurant was warm, and the food smelled wonderful. Marcus might be overbearing and obnoxious, but he knew his food, and Chicago had more than its share of good places to eat. A half-empty bottle of wine sat on the table in front of him, and Simon could tell that Marcus was in a particularly ebullient mood. He sat down, ignoring the stares that they still got – a black man and a white man eating together attracted more attention in this era than it probably would have back in his time.

“Simon. Glad you could make it.” Marcus’ speech was slightly slurred, and Simon steeled himself for a possible confrontation. It had been so long since that last night in Japan that it almost seemed like another life, but the tension came back more quickly than he would have expected. But there was no explosion – just more smiles.

“Marcus, what is it? I’ve never seen you like this!”

“I know. It’s wonderful. Goddamn wonderful. Simon – I’m in love.” Hearing Marcus’ excitement about a woman brought back his sadness at his inability to find Emily, and he had to fight to keep a neutral look on his face.

“Well, that’s wonderful, Marcus. Who’s the lucky girl? Tell me about her.”

“She’s beautiful, Simon. Fuckin smart. She works in a bank just down the street from here, too.”

“How wonderful for you. Is…is she coming here tonight?”

“Yes. Or at least I hope so.” Marcus paused. “To tell you the truth, I haven’t actually met her. She doesn’t look like the kind of girl I could just put my Marcus moves on, Y’know? I mean, well, she’s a white chick. And I don’t want some cracker shooting me for talking to her. But she eats here every Saturday night, and tonight’s her lucky night. You’ll help me, won’t you?”

Marcus looked plaintive, an emotion Simon had never expected to see on his usually belligerent face, and his heart softened a bit at the sight of this big man, brought down by a woman he was afraid to talk to.

“Of course, Marcus. If I can help, I will.”

“That’s great. That’s great, Simon. I know we had some rough moments there, back in the past, but it’s better now, don’t you think – oh, there she is!”

Simon turned to face the door, but all he could see was a rustling behind the curtain that separated the coat room from the main restaurant. He didn’t want to stare, but he just had to see this woman that had gotten so far under Marcus’ skin. A slim arm pushed the curtain aside, and she stepped out.

Simon recognized her instantly.

Come read more about Emily, Simon, and the Time Travelling Umbrella here: https://projectgemini12.wordpress.com/tag/time-travelling-umbrella/.

A longer version of Monday Mixer, week 9

Emily slipped the lanyard over her neck and sighed, feeling the weight of the keys on her chest. She’d been a vice president of a very large company before she’d Flickered, and now the best she could do was working as a part-time bank teller. Walking up the tree-lined street, past the room she rented at Mrs. Blasingame’s Boarding House for Wayward Women, she thought again of how, in their own way, the people she saw every day would be doing the reverse of what she had done, albeit more slowly. She wondered how someone coming of age in 1951 really felt when they saw a 24 year old woman handing them a resume with the phrase “salary expectations commensurate with experience,” meaning “pay me six figures or I walk.”

Simon probably would love it here, she thought as she turned south on Halsted. She was sure she’d see him again, although it had been four years, and the memories weren’t as sharp as they once had been. Still, she was determined to have as many stories to tell him as she could. Tonight, it was a concert at the Chicago Amphitheater.

Come read more about Emily, Simon, and the Time Travelling Umbrella here: https://projectgemini12.wordpress.com/tag/time-travelling-umbrella/.

Monday Mixer, week 9

Prompt: http://www.jeffreyhollar.com/p/monday-mixer.html

Emily slipped the lanyard over her neck and sighed. A vice president before she’d Flickered, and now the best she could do was a bank teller. She thought again of how the people she saw every day would, in their own ways, do the reverse of what she had done, albeit more slowly. She wondered how someone coming of age in 1951 really felt when they saw a 24 year old woman handing them a resume with the phrase “salary expectations commensurate with experience,” meaning “pay me six figures or I walk.”

Simon probably would love it here, she thought, turning south on Halsted. She was sure she’d see him again, although it had been four years, and the memories weren’t as sharp as they’d been. Still, she was determined to have as many stories to tell him as she could. Tonight, it was a concert at the Chicago Amphitheater.

For more on Simon, Emily, and their travels, come read about the Time Travelling Umbrella here.

#ThursThreads – week 55

Prompt: http://siobhanmuir.blogspot.com/2013/01/thursthreads-challenge-that-ties-tales_24.html

The walkway opened into a largish room, lit by electric lights of a sort neither Simon nor Emily had seen in all of their travels. Walter was in the back of the room, adjusting the controls on a generator. The center of the room was dominated by a large table covered in books and papers, stacked in very neat piles. Walter didn’t turn around, but his voice sounded stronger than it had back in the cabin.

“I haven’t been down here in a long time. There’s not much point, really, not anymore. When I first came here, I believed that I’d find something – a cure, a solution – something, and then go back. But it wasn’t that simple. I hadn’t done it by myself, and I didn’t know enough to reverse it.” He walked over to the table and picked up a book, idly flipping through the pages, pausing here and there to read something, and then flipping some more. “So I let the umbrella go, and set about the task of being the last man on Earth.

“But it isn’t enough for me to rot or repent here where none can see. Not now, now that it’s back and you’re here.” Walter looked up, a gentle smile on his face. “Simon, do you ever feel like the umbrella knows what it’s doing? I think it does. I think that’s why you’re here, both of you, and I think it’s time to do what it wants me to do.”

#VisDare 4 – Steps

Prompt: http://anonymouslegacy.blogspot.com/2013/01/visdare-4-steps.html

Simon talked late into the evening, telling what he could remember about his adventures with the umbrella. There seemed to be no end to Walter’s questions – he seemed to want to know everything, especially about what he and Emily and Marcus had been doing just at the moment of each Flicker. When they got to the story of Marcus’ murder, Walter’s face fell, and he sat back in his chair, staring silently at his drink. The pause grew, until finally Walter spoke in a flat, emotionless voice. “I think you should come with me. I have something you need to see.”

He led them out of the cabin and around to the back. The cold night air was bracing after sitting near a warm fire for so long, and Simon’s heart began to race. He suddenly couldn’t shake the idea that the umbrella had brought them here for a reason, and that reason was something awful. Behind the cabin was a small hill, a heavy wooden door set into the side facing the cabin, surrounded by an archway made of rough stone blocks. Walter opened the door, grunting with the effort, and stepped inside. He disappeared into blackness, and Simon hesitated, unsure of whether he wanted to follow. There was a rumbling noise, and then a faint glow began coming from within the darkness, gradually becoming bright enough to guide their way. Walter had disappeared down a set of hand-chiseled granite steps, leading to a dirt walkway. Simon turned to Emily, his concern clearly expressed on his face. She was calm in a way he didn’t quite understand, and took his hand, gently leading him through the arch and down the stairs.

Five Sentence Fiction – Ringing

Prompt: http://lilliemcferrin.com/five-sentence-fiction-ringing/

The crowd flowed down the street towards the temple, the din of cheering and laughter layering over the backbeat of the ringing of the ceremonial bells to envelop Simon in a cocoon of vibrations which drowned out all other sensation. He was way too drunk, out of his time, out of his place, surrounded by strangers speaking a language he didn’t understand, and accompanied not by the woman he had fallen hard for, but by a vulgar and angry man who wanted to take from him his talisman, his reason for being here. Someone bumped into him, and Simon stumbled, unable to catch his balance. The only thing that kept him from falling to the ground and getting trampled was Marcus, who saw his opportunity at last, catching Simon with one arm and grabbing the umbrella with the other. Marcus grinned and tried to move backwards, anger twisting his grin into something horrible as he raised the umbrella to strike Simon.

Monday Mixer, week 8

Prompt: http://www.jeffreyhollar.com/p/monday-mixer.html?m=1

“Under your cloche, you’ll find today’s theme ingredient species…” It was a rerun, so I turned off the 5D viewer and returned to my fretting. I’d arranged for her to moor at the Chairman’s Dock, even though it had cost quite a bit more than I should have spent. This visit just had to go well, or it would probably be her last. I hoped she’d understand the meaning of the gesture, and wouldn’t let her outdated egalitarian tendencies get in the way of enjoying everything the station had to offer to those with the resources to spend. Of course, when it came right down to it, I didn’t have the resources. I’d had to be at my loquacious best just to get the loan, and if I didn’t repay it – fast, I’d be ending her visit in the mortuary.

Well, they had to get the theme ingredient species somewhere.

Overachiever status!

#WIPFlash week 2

Prompt: http://www.caramichaels.com/defiantlyliterate/2013/01/18/wipflash-week-2/

Simon was on his ninth sake. Or was it his tenth? Maybe eleventh. He hadn’t quite realized how hard it was going to be to drink Marcus into some sense of forgetfulness about his desire to be in charge of the umbrella. On the contrary – the more they drank, the more Marcus talked about what he would do if only Simon would give into what was only natural. His voice kept getting louder and more strident, and Simon was grateful that the New Year’s Eve festivities were loud enough that they didn’t stand out in the throng.

“You know I’m right. You know it! And that’s the crappy part – you won’t fuckin’ admit it to yourself, much less me. Okay, so you found it. Great! But I know so much more than you – a hundred years more! There’s a whole shitload of stuff you don’t understand about the way the world works…”

It had been going on like this for hours. A rough, rough night. Simon tuned out Marcus’ arguments for a bit and took some more time to look around the bar. Giant TV screens covered the walls, showing the world celebrating the changing of a number. Parties, riots, kissing, and the odd shots of the war in Nigeria – he thought it was Nigeria – which was threatening to spill over into much of the rest of West Africa. It was sometimes strange to know so much about places which were barely rumors to him most of his life. Focusing again on Marcus, he could tell that nothing had changed since he’d last been paying attention.

“…you think that it’s somehow a plan, all part of the plan, or some shit, that you found this umbrella. Whose plan? God? Why the fuck would God be making umbrellas that travel in time? It was some whacko, and that means anyone could have found it. What makes you so special?”

“I don’t know, Marcus. But…”

“You’re damned right you don’t know. Because you’re not. I mean, you’re not a total fuckup, you haven’t…”

Simon tuned out again, drinking some more sake. Tomorrow was going to be a tough day, but maybe he needed to drink himself into unconsciousness, if Marcus wasn’t going to cooperate.

As was often the case when his mind wandered, he started thinking about Emily. He’d thought about looking her up when they’d gotten here, but there’s no way she’d still be around – not eighty years later. And he figured she was furious with him for stranding her in a time that wasn’t her own. He hoped she’d found a way to be happy.

Ah, now he was getting maudlin. More of this, and he’d start crying, and maybe give Marcus the umbrella out of self-pity.

VisDare 3: Third Eye

Prompt: http://anonymouslegacy.blogspot.com/2013/01/visdare-3-third-eye.html

Lightning flashed as the trio Flickered, and they were struck by a hard, cold rain. The street ahead was dim in the grey of an afternoon storm, and they looked around for shelter. None of the buildings were lit up, but some had awnings, which provided at least partial cover from the rain. As they got closer, they realized that not only were the businesses dark, but many of the windows were boarded over, and the ones that weren’t had been broken. The sheets of plywood had been nailed up haphazardly, and looked like they’d been clawed at by something tall and strong.

“Something’s very wrong here. And I don’t think we should be out here once the sun goes down – I don’t want to meet whatever did that to those buildings.” Emily’s voice was unsteady as she looked around for someplace safe.

“You might be scared, baby, but you just let ol’ Marcus protect you. I ain’t met a motherfucker yet who can take me in a fight.” Marcus pulled the gun he kept tucked in his pants and made a show of cocking it. “Not like Mister Simon here, Simon who no one can trust.”

“Not now, Marcus. Please. Let’s just get inside.” Emily knew the time was coming soon where Marcus and Simon would fight – over her, over the umbrella, heck, over anything – and she was genuinely worried about what would happen if Marcus won.

Lightning flashed again, striking a tree no more than a block away, splitting the wood and setting the limbs afire. The thunder was intense enough that it rocked them where they stood. It was in that strike that the stranger appeared in front of them. In the glow of the burning tree, Simon saw what at first glance appeared to be a large man in a dingy overcoat. He opened his mouth to say something in greeting, but the words died in his throat. As the figure stepped closer, Simon noticed that it couldn’t be a man – not walking towards them on four legs. And where the man/creature’s stomach lay under the overcoat was a writhing bulge, pushing the fabric taut in twitches and fits.

Simon backed up involuntarily, and moaned as his back struck the storefront behind him. Emily grabbed his hand, shivering from more than the cold rain, but Marcus saw his chance. He pointed his gun at the newcomer. “That’s close enough, asshole. Stay away from her, or I’ll make some holes in your nice coat.”

The man took a queer half-step/jump forward, stopping mere inches from Marcus. He had a vicious grin on his face, and he hissed, spraying flecks of thick mucus over Marcus’ face. Marcus screamed, dropping the gun, which hit the ground and fired, launching the bullet harmlessly into the storm. The man’s hands pulled at the waist of his coat, and Simon saw a dull red head emerge from the man’s stomach. It turned to face him, one lidless eye centered over a mouth filled with fangs. Faster than Simon would have imagined possible, the head thrust towards Marcus and tore a huge chunk out of his abdomen. His wild scream ripped through the night, and Emily and Simon fled. As they ran down the street, Simon took one look back to see three other creatures joining the first. Marcus’ screams rose again, and then ceased.

Five Sentence Fiction – Forgotten

Prompt: http://lilliemcferrin.com/five-sentence-fiction-forgotten/

The city they’d each grown up in had the same name, but was a very different place in their minds’ eyes. Simon looked out at the scene before him and thought of horses pulling him and his friends through the streets, surrounded by a patina of soot from ten thousand coal furnaces, and the chatter of a hundred thousand immigrants, still trying to hold on to their faraway homelands. Emily’s city had done away with the horses (except for the romantics in Central Park), but had added even more chaos, dirt, and lives in transition from one world to another, and sometimes back again. Neither of them was quite prepared, then, for the sight of a city half-underwater, the great buildings fallen into ruin, coated in algae and gulls’ nests, and half primeval forest, hiding once-brightly lit thoroughfares behind branch, leaf, and vine. The megalopolis was nothing but a memory on the verge of being forgotten, and they both wondered the same things – what had happened, and just how far into the future had they come?