Posts filed under ‘Walt Trizna's Stories’
MY ATTEMPT AT WRITING POETRY
wrote the following poem in remembrance of my grandmother.
Published by New Worlds Unlimited in 1982 in their anthology, Dreams of the Heroic Muse.
ROSES
Roses were her love,
Great flowing rainbows of pink, red and white.
Her children, small strangers would come
And each take home
A fist full of gaily colored affection.
Roses were her love,
And when rest had finally come from roses
Roses were hers,
Elegant creations of empty colors
Looking out on empty eyes.
Roses were her love,
And now her small garden
Has yet to discover
A rose.
I have a few different series of posts in progress: published and unpublished poems, published and unpublished short stories and views of how life has changed looking back from old age.
You will also come across the occasional essay.
Hope you enjoy these various posts.
MY ATTEMPT AT WRITING POETRY: THE WANDERER
What follows is my first published poem, published by The Shore Publishing Co. in their anthology, Shore Poetry Anthology, in 1973.
THE WANDERER
Hair matted and long
Face overgrown with mustache and beard
He walks down the city streets alone
A broken man,
He stumbles about in the dead of night
With only a ragged coat to keep out the cold
And cheap wine his only refuge.
Perhaps he once dreamt
A dreamer of dreams
And a victim of fate,
For the greatest and lowliest man are of the same stock
Dreamers all,
The only difference being God’s frown
Or smile.
MY ATTEMPT AT WRITING POETRY
This poem was never published. I’m sure the
places where I usually sought publication would
not welcome it.
TWO LOVERS
She fondles the syringe
As she was once fondled
By a lover long ago
For this is her love now.
The product of her first love
Gently moves within,
The product of her new love
Scars arms and thighs.
Her child kicks,
Struggling for life,
She forgets the past
As the child is robbed of a future.
She sends her new love coursing her veins,
The child trembles then is still.
All is quiet as the night begins,
All is quiet,
As the endless night begins.
MY ATTEMPT AT WRITING POETRY
This poem was published in Quality American Poetry, 1975-1976, Book III.
The anthology was published by Valley Publications and edited by William Lloyd Griffin.
SUNDAY PARK BENCH
Alone,
Rumpled newspaper in hand
Sits the old man,
Cold morning air sends a chill
Through a heavy overcoat,
Sunday morning light filtering
Through burnished leaves of autumn
Kindling thoughts of Sundays long gone,
Waking next to his wife,
The sound of children filling the house;
Now children grown – wife gone,
Sunday mornings bring only rumpled papers
On a park bench,
MY ATTEMPT AT WRITING POETRY CLOUDS
Clouds was published in 1974. The title of the anthology was, Quality American Poetry Book II. The title of this anthology, quite a stretch. The publisher was Valley Publications edited by William Lloyd Griffin.
CLOUDS
I reach for clouds
High, ever so high do I soar,
Clutching – grasping – then tumbling back.
Clouds are but wisps of vapor,
Phantoms in the sky,
Who can touch a cloud?
I try – fail – then try again;
At times mind joins clouds – soaring,
While I stay behind exposed to the cold – stumbling.
One day mind and soul shall soar skyward
And beyond;
Leaving behind a shell – falling,
Never again to rise,
And reach for a cloud.
MY ATTEMPT AT WRITING POETRY
MY ATTEPT AT WRITING POETRY
I think, in the remote passages of my brain, I have always wanted to be a writer. There was something about holding a pencil and recording ideas and stories I found appealing.
I eventually chose science as a career. But long before I knew science was the path I would follow, I began writing. My first attempt at writing was poetry and had my first poem published while in high school. I wrote a poem for acceptance in a high school poetry anthology. My friends thought it was a good poem, but my English teacher did not. She changed the end of the poem to something I thought ruined it, but it was published.
While in college and beyond I continued and continue to write poetry. I had quite a few poems published by little-known publishers in even lesser-known publications. One publisher published at least one poem of mine in a yearly anthology for fourteen years. While publishing poetry I adhered to a principle I continue to this day. I will never pay to have something I have written published.
I now write science fiction and horror and have for the last twenty-three years, and still, the occasional poem.
What follows will be a series of published poems.
Hope you find some enjoyment in them.
THE SUPERIOR SPECIES: WHAT DID YOU THINK?
In my most recent post I concluded my unpublished short story, The Superior Species.
Did you enjoy the story?
I ask this because I have a trove of unpublished short stories. Most have been rejected by publishers. The comments I receive about The Superior Species will help me decide whether to write some of these stories on my blog. They failed the publishers test, of course, so did The Superior Species. So let me know your opinion.
On a happy note, I have recently had two short stories accepted for publication.
YELLOW MAMA accepted my short story Revenge and Redemption. The story will appear June 15 in issue 104.
Creepy Podcast accepted Beetle Mania for broadcast. I don’t know when that will occur, but as soon I find out I will let you know.
THE SUPERIOR SPECIES: PART VII, HISTORY IS REPEATED
HISTORY IS REPEATED
When news of the existence of the two Neanderthal children became known to the scientific community, Gold was overwhelmed with requests to study them. The boys were now ten and possessed all the characteristics of the typical Neanderthal physique. They were short and extremely muscular with prominent brows and wide nose associated with their kind. It was their mental abilities that Gold found both interesting and disturbing.
Gold taught the boys to read. Now they devoured books. They were sponges for knowledge. Fielding still visited the boys. On one such visit he told Gold, “You know Carl, physically, the Neanderthals are developing precisely as expected. It is their mental faculties that I find intriguing.”
“I share your amazement,” said Gold. “They have a thirst for knowledge that far surpasses what their human contemporaries demonstrate. It’s almost as if they are making up for thousands of years of extinction.”
* * *
A wild storm raged as Gold drove to the Neanderthal residence. They were fifteen now and had become something beyond human.
Gold entered the living room to find Adam and John reading. They were always reading. Gold stood drenched before them. He reached into his pocket and produced a revolver.
Adam said, “I fully expected this to happen someday. I expected history to repeat itself. You fear us. I have read all that has been written about Neanderthals. I know the conjectures your fellow scientists have about our intelligence. I knew, early on, that you realized how wrong those theories were.
“At the same time, we both realized that you would not accept us as merely different. Because of your human egos, we appear threatening, superior. John and I are ready to accept the only outcome this experiment could produce.”
Gold shot twice with the realization that he was the savage were and the Neanderthals were the superior species.
THE END
THE SUPERIOR SPECIES: PART VI, REALIZATION
REALIZATION
From the time of their births, the babies struck Gold, Fielding, Sanders, and Mark as odd. The infants appeared tense, as if they had an inherent fear of Homo sapiens. The only time they relaxed was when they could see one another.
“Strange,” Gold noted, “it’s as if they know they are alien to us.”
The babies grew into muscular toddlers and were walking at six months. Gold and Fielding closely followed their development. Sanders and Mark occasionally inquired as to the progress of the children, but other projects quickly took them out of the picture. Their major concern was when Gold would go public with the astounding accomplishment. They were eager for the recognition their work would bring. Gold would answer their inquiries by saying, “Soon, very soon.”
Fielding spent hours observing the Neanderthal infants, monitoring how their bodies developed as they matured. They were far more agile than he expected, nothing like the lumbering brutes commonly associated with Neanderthals. As expected, their frames indicated that they would develop into adults of short stature compared to modern man. Their physique began to fill out, becoming more muscular than that of human babies. Gold, however, would uncover the true mysteries of the Neanderthals when he studied their psychological development.
The infants began talking at eighteen months, and not with the fumbling birth of knowledge of speech associated with human children. Gold discovered them talking one day as he entered the room where they slept. He was stunned, for he never heard them parrot sounds as children do to develop speech. The Neanderthals did possess the high nasal voices predicted by the bone structure of their skulls. Gold found the sound of their voices annoying.
Studying their psychological development, Gold thought, these infants are progressing far more rapidly than human toddlers of comparable age. Gold began recording his conversations with the Neanderthals. During one of his sessions with them they both seemed withdrawn. He asked, “What do you boys think about?”
The Neanderthal born first was called Adam, the other John. Adam answered, “Why, he asked, ” are we so different from you and the others we meet?”
* * *
It had been four years since the Neanderthals were cloned and Gold became more and more ill at ease about what the experiment had created. Fielding and Sanders wanted the results of the experiment to be published. Mark preferred to be left out of the picture.
One night Fielding and Sanders visited Gold in his study, site of the initial plans for the project. Fielding asked Gold, “Carl, don’t you think it’s time to publish our Neanderthal results?”
Sanders added, “The boys have shown none of the signs of premature aging that many of the animals clone in the past have exhibited.”
Gold said, “The boys are coming along fine. In fact, their intelligence level, given their age, is remarkable. But I still feel we should wait to publish. There is something strange about the boys. I would prefer to let them develop further before we go public.”
In the end, Fielding and Sanders persevered. A manuscript was prepared and sent to Science.
THE SUPERIOR SPECIES: PART V, THE BIRTH
THE BIRTH
Bill March had three women he had used as surrogate mothers in the past who refused to see the babies for whom they had made life possible. They were ready to perform the function again. All were young, in their mid to late twenties and all were single. They were all paid for their service and all three shared similar feelings about their pregnancy. They wanted to provide a family to couples who needed help.
The three women were each implanted with two of the Neanderthal embryos. They were all told that the fetuses belonged to a very wealthy couple, and that they would be paid well for their services and their confidentiality. When it came time to deliver the babies, the births would take place at the couple’s country estate. All preparations had been taken to equip a room at the estate with the criteria of a delivery room, all the latest equipment necessary to handle whatever emergency might occur.
Two of the women miscarried.
These miscarriages revived the doubts March originally felt about the project.
Pat Meyers carried the last two fetal Neanderthals to term. She knew she was pregnant with twins, but she grew no larger than she had when she carried a single child. This disturbed her. She also knew she carried two boys. Even with her doubts, it made her happy to know she was bringing joy and creating a family. She was making it all possible.
Two weeks before her due date, she was moved to a country estate in northern Connecticut. The house belonged to Gold and had been in his family for many years. Mark told the two nurses who would assist in the delivery, “The babies may seem somewhat peculiar. You will be paid to overlook anything out of the ordinary. After all, we must be sensitive to the parent’s feelings.”
Pat went into labor and had an extremely easy delivery. Although she had carried the babies to term, both were less than four pounds at birth.
Each nurse cared for one of the infants. The boys were covered with a fine down of black hair. One of the nurses whispered to the other, “Look at his head. It’s so misshapen after such an easy delivery.”
Once the babies were settled in the nursery, the nurses left the estate. As they walked to their cars one said to the other, “Those infants were indeed peculiar with their misshapen skulls and covered with hair like an ape. But the one thing I will never forget about them was their eyes. They weren’t the eyes of any baby I’ve ever seen. They had a weird look to them, like intelligence. I felt they were looking right through me.
The other nurse responded, “Did you also get the feeling that they feared our touch. I’ve never seen that in a newborn before.”
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