Monday, March 30, 2015

Night and Day

Gathering up the last remnants of light, Day moved down under the horizon so that Night was only able to barely catch a glimpse of the golden glow of Day's coy smile before it vanished out of sight.

Each evening, Night would rush up to once again try and meet Day's burning dusk light, and every dawn it would struggle to linger as long as it could to witness Day's glorious morning radiance.

Yet, each time, no matter how vehemently it tried, Night would narrowly miss Day as its cloak of darkness would cover the land in a shadowy chill.

During its long hours, Night would listen to poets write sonnets describing Day's unsurpassed beauty, and hear the balladeers sing songs lamenting Night's dark loneliness and solitude.

It was maddening; to be detested and shunned so, as some other wondrous event was praised; never being able to even experience that which is its antithesis.

So Night became bitter and wild with jealousy, and vowed to snuff out the light of Day; forever plunging the world into the murk.

In the cold of the winter months, when Night is at its most powerful, it blew icy winds so hard that the biting snow squalls threatened to blot out the sunlight once and for all, but still, Day would come, and bring its warm light to chase away Night's dark reign.

With each new morn, Night would be beaten back with Day's soft kiss of light, ever illuminating the shadows that crept into the hearts of all those that lived in fear of Night's furious grip.

Dejected and defeated, Night slinked back down under the horizon to fume until it was time for Day to pass once more, and while it sulked, Night took in the vastness of space. There, Night was surprised to notice what it never had before; the brightly shining light of the billions of stars that pierced the darkness with their glow.

And all around them, the black of Night cradled them in its all encompassing arms; the blanket of the universe was a multitude of Day and Night, together, making up all of infinity.

Finally, Night had witnessed the beauty of Day light and Day smiled its coy smile a billion times over, twinkling brightly in Night's loving embrace. 

Sunday, March 22, 2015


The little island travelled along, rolling up and down with the motion of the waves across the vast blue waters of the ocean; the cloudless sky hanging high above with the sun shining down upon the white sands of the island's beach edging.

In the midst of the copse of palm trees that took up the grassy center of the island, Ramon sat leaning against the trunk of one of the thick palms, his straw hat pulled down to hide his eyes as he casually strummed on the little ukulele he had fashioned out of bamboo and coconut husks.

Not everyday was so relaxed and carefree as he travelled the open waters on his tropical island, but when the opportunity to take a break came along, Ramon would take full advantage and just plunk out cherry tune in between long naps in the shade.

He had been adrift on his mysterious little travelling island for so long he often thought of himself as the only person in the world; it was only ever him, his little island, and the never ending ocean stretching out into the infinite.

So it was a shock when he was jolted out of his dozing by the impact of the island bumping into something.

Pushing back the wide brim of his hat, Ramon looked up to see that his little piece of land had hit into another island heading the opposite way.

Leaning his uke against the tree he got up and cautiously moved to the side of the island that was not abutting the other. Trying to peer through the trees to see if there any inhabitants.

In a dry, cracked voice he called hello to whoever was over on the other island, but received no reply. So, moving through the trees, he made his way to the narrow strip of sand that was the bench and stood in his cut-off cargo shorts and tattered white polo, staring apprehensively.

He called out again and was about to step over onto the new island when he heard a woman say hello back as she came through the thicket of leafy bushes and out onto the sand.

They stood in silent shock for a few moments until Roman found his voice again and introduced himself. The curly-haired brunette woman stammered her reply and introduced herself as Brooke.

After a few moments of awkwardness, the two travellers started to tell each other their stories of how they came to be on their islands and the many adventures they had had, laughing at the similar things that had happened to each other.

Each gave the other a tour of one another's island, proudly showing off this or that feature they had come up with to make it their own special place. And as the days went by, they grew quite fond of each other and soon the seeds of romance began to blossom.

Then it was just the two of them in the world, their islands moving along in unison across the waters, until one day, as they were napping in their custom built coconut husk hammock for two, there came the bump of another island colliding with theirs.

They hurried down to the beaches to meet another young couple, their conjoined islands now amalgamating with Roman and Brooke's. All four of the little islands moved in unison until again, they bumped into another a few days later, then another, and another a few days after that.

Every new island bringing with it new people to meet; sometimes couples, sometimes only a single traveller, and sometimes even whole families, but always everyone was welcome and happy to join up with the now expanding continent in the middle of the ocean.

And no matter however many new people came along, everyone got along harmoniously; for at night, everyone would simply go back to their own private little island they called home.

Saturday, March 14, 2015

The Zone

Charles had adjusted to the fact that all the usual multitude of colours had vanished from the spectrum of his vision and had left only black, white, and shades of grey in the world around him.

When he had woken up that morning it had been quite alarming, having thought something terrible had happened to his eye sight, but soon he had realized that it wasn't just his vision; he had awoken inside an old Twilight Zone episode.

He had been watching a marathon of them on television before falling asleep on the couch the night before, and now Charles Houghton was living one; all of them in fact.

And he was having a really good time.

Going about his day, he had encountered very familiar characters, places, and situations; a man who only wanted to go home again on the train into work, an out of place slot machine in the lobby of his office building that always came up a winner, and even a stopwatch he had found on the washroom floor that indeed froze time around him.

It was great.

Anytime a new twist was about to play out in front of him, Charles would excitedly shout out what was going to happen, and then, dejectedly, the strange characters would go through the motions of their now ruined surprise.

Sadly, the players in each situation would then move along, grumbling to themselves that Charles was ruining it for everyone.

Yet, he was thoroughly enjoying being in all of his favourite moments from the classic show.

Each day would bring a few different scenarios and he would laugh and clap with delight when he remembered which one it was.

Often he remarked to the victims of each of the plot twists that he would have seen them coming a ways off and how could they not have.

This only caused more grumbling and glowering looks from them but Charles would laugh gleefully and go about his day until the next event occurred.

Until the day came when he had awoken once again in the black and white world and nothing new happened. He had exhausted all the storylines.

No more tiny alien invaders, no more living mannequins, not even any robot doppelgangers.

People on the street started to stare him as he yelled at some unseen entity to come out now, that it had been a good gag, that he wouldn't make fun anymore, he was sorry, and would just enjoy the experiences without comment.

He pleaded for them to just continue, even with newer, not as good ones; it was fine, just as long as something happened. Anything.

Charles then realized what was happening; he would have to go through his days just as he always had, normal, boring, without twists; a regular, uninteresting life.

And he began to scream.

Sunday, March 8, 2015


The muted lights pulsed through the narrow windows as the elevator sped on its ascension. The strobing light lit half her face with distorted shadows as the other half remained in the dark of the otherwise empty lift.

A focused scowl that darkened her face further matched her mood; had there not been a patch over her right eye, its fiery glare would have burnt a hole in the elevator's door.

Leather creaked as she squeezed her gloved fist at her hip, anger building up inside so that her entire body was flexing as the elevator neared its apex.

An alarm sounded as the roof of the lift irised open and the floor lifted her up the final few meters to come out standing level with the building's rooftop. With no pause, she strode across the roof toward the black metal vehicle that sat waiting amongst the flashing red lights that lined the building's edge.

Wind whipped her auburn hair in the night air as she walked unfazed to mount the hover craft and don her sleek helmet that matched the inky black of her jumpsuit perfectly, so that she blended into darkness like a shadow.

Instinctively, she reached to feel for the rings she had worn around her neck for so long she could not remember a time they hadn't been there. A quick stab of panic gave way to rage once more as she remembered that they were there no longer; stolen in the night.

Her five rings of power were taken from her by that devious little thief.

And now, she thought as she jerked her hand away from her neck to grip the handle of the hover cycle and thumbed the ignition angrily, a heavy, thudding hum was all there was to indicate the machine reacted; now she was going to do what she did best.

A blue glow grew under the cycle's hover pads and the shadowy machine floated up a meter or so off the rooftop.

The display of her helmet visor blinked on and the dull amber lights began to track all the unseen movement of the traffic in the skies above the vast cityscape. A red indicator dot appeared to the west, serpentining across the horizon, growing further away as she watched with malice at the indignant usurper the red dot represented.

Time for her to hunting.

With a movement of her wrist, the hover cycle jumped up into the air and dove down over the roof's edge, disappearing for a moment only to zoom back up into view again and tear off into the night sky; an almost invisible hunter pursuing her prey.

Monday, March 2, 2015

Scroll Search

Rummaging through the piles of scrolls that littered the high-reaching room, he frantically searched the one he knew he had seen only a few months earlier.

Chiding himself for not having a more organized sorting system, he threw the unwanted parchments with the multitude of others on the ground.

After a while he sighed heavily and looked up to survey the shelves that lined the rounded walls that reached up into the vast space of the library that was housed within the old oak tree.

It was one of the many the wizard had hidden throughout the forest, and the last one he had been to over the last few days in search of the missing spell.

As far as spells go, it was a very minor one of very little power, yet his whole world depended on finding it.

A novice wizard fresh out of apprenticeship could cast it, nothing a Grand Sorcerer of the Nth Order as himself could not conjure in his sleep. Yet, he had somehow forgotten the exact wording and was now filled with frustration and desperation to find the blasted spell scroll.

With a harrumph, the cranky wizard levitated himself up to scan the scroll-filled shelves in the loftier levels of the oak tree library.

Each one he thought might be the one he sought built his aggravation as they turned out not to be as he flung them angrily down, fluttering to the ground below.

Soon the whole archive was filled with floating papers of magic that sparked and crackled with energy as they bumped into each other on their journey to the floor.

The wizard's vexing search continued until the shelves were bare and the piles of parchment on the ground had reached the third level of the spiralling tree tower, blocking the lower windows and doorway completely.

Finally there were only two dusty scrolls sitting on the highest of shelves near the intricately carved ceiling which depicted ancient symbols and icons that wove wards of protection over the entire library as well as added to the mysterious beauty of the spire.

Despondently, he floated up to the scrolls, convinced neither were the one he remembered seeing a few months back while he had been working on much grander schemes. They seemed untouched for many centuries, like so many of the spells had been, but he had checked all the rest unfruitful, he might as well be totally disappointed he thought as he reached for the first.

Just before his fingers touched the yellowed and dry roll of paper, the wizard was hit with a thought that caused him to groin loudly. He HAD thought of a filing system some time ago, he had just forgotten about it until now.

He then bypassed the first scroll and snatched up the last.

Unfurling the roll, he snorted at himself with distain. Of course; he had filed each scroll he would need in the last place he would look, thus theoretically, avoiding the entire search for what was needed by simply looking for it there first.

A theory only proven if one remembered to prove it.

A quick scan of the spell jogged the wizard's memory and with a booming, unearthly voice he uttered the mystical enchantment with a flourish of his long, boney hand.

With a flash and a pop the red and irritated blemish that had taken root in the middle of his forehead vanished and his unkempt beard and hair quaffed themselves into perfection.

Creating a reflective surface out of thin air, the now dapper looking wizard regarded himself with smug admiration.

Now, he was ready for his date with mountain sorceress he had been trying court for decades.

Satisfied with his handiwork, he snapped his fingers, causing the piles of papers that polluted the tree to start to reroll themselves up and zip through the air back to their places upon the stacks of shelves while he descended gracefully through the din, whistling a happy tune as he floated right out the door into the forest green to meet his enchantress fair.