Posts tagged ‘writing’
OPINIONS ARE LIKE ASSHOLES: AN OBSERVATION
OPINIONS ARE LIKE ASSHOLES: AN OBSERVATION
Did this title grab your attention?
When I was in the air force I had a friend who would say, “Opinions are like assholes. Everyone has one.” And in my opinion (chuckle, chuckle) opinions nowadays are replacing facts with what the public is exposed to.
We live in the age of podcasts and the relatively new addition of Influencers. I am neither participating in either one. Podcasts, I feel, can be harmful or benign depending on the subject. If the subject is something like hobbies or sports what damage can be done? But there are subjects where a great deal of damage could be done especially if the information given is false. With Influencers it could not only be the subject which could cause harm if not approached truthfully. To me an Influencer is practicing a form of mind control. They want you to think the way they do. I find the term Influencer to be sinister. Their object, it seems to me, is to get you to think along their lines.
I fear that some podcasters and the fact that Influencers exist is a sign of how news and opinions are handled in our society. They have taken the road which some news organizations have taken. Today, depending on your views, you can get your news from any organization which strengthens your views. I’m not saying that podcasters and Influencers broadcast lies, but I am fairly sure some do. But do they reveal facts that go against the subject they are dealing with?
Finally, please remember my opening comment concerning opinions. Remember, all podcasts and the words of Influencers are a mixture of opinions, and I hope, facts. Its up to you to set a standard for what ratio you are willing to waste your time listening to.
TO HONOR VETERAN’S DAY I’M REPOSTING THIS STORY
This is my first published story. Published by Enigma in 2003.
REUNION
The June morning was brilliant and clear with just enough of a breeze to keep you cool despite the predicted eighty-degree day. At the age of eighty-two, for Christopher Johnson, getting up in the morning was not an easy chore and had lately not seemed worth the effort. He turned his head and looked at the pillow beside him. “I miss you so much honey,” he said quietly. His wife Peggy had died less than a year ago. One night they went to bed as usual. The last words he had said to her were the words he always said to her before falling asleep, “I love you.” When Chris awoke, Peggy was dead of a heart attack. A few days later he was looking into her grave knowing a large part of his life was now buried in the cold earth. After almost sixty years of marriage, the pain of her loss was intense, almost as intense as the love they had shared all those years.
With Peggy still on his mind, he sat up and began to stretch his arthritic limbs knowing the pain that would follow. Next, he stood up and took a few steps; those first steps were the worst of the day. He winced with every movement, but soon his joints and muscles settled down to the constant pain that accompanied him these days.
He had gotten up earlier than usual, for today, unlike most of his days, he had an appointment, something to do. He opened his closet door, and, in the back, he found what he was looking for: his U.S. Army ranger dress uniform, the one he had worn on his return home after being wounded during World War II. With persistent pain, he maneuvered his body into the uniform that, after sixty years, still fit his slender frame. He looked in the mirror, and the toll of those sixty years stared back at him. The hair on his head and his mustache had gone gray years ago. His eyes, once admired by his fellow soldiers for their ability to spot enemy aircraft or fortifications before anyone else, now watered behind heavy bifocals. He inspected his image, looking over the uniform for signs of moth damage. The area of his uniform he examined first was his chest; there hung the Purple Heart and the Congressional Medal of Honor. He was proud to have served his country, proud of his awards but knew that in combat, a split second could mean the difference between a dead soldier and a hero. Satisfied that his uniform had survived another year, he returned it to the closet and dressed in his usual summer shirt and khakis.
While Chris hung up his uniform, his mind still held the Medal of Honor and the events that led to its award.
The day was D Day, early in the morning of June 6th. Chris was among a group of Army Rangers that would be the first to hit the beach. Their objective was to climb and secure the cliffs overlooking the landing sites. These cliffs held guns that could hazard the ships and soldiers, and the hazard needed to be removed. German soldiers were stationed on the cliffs, ready to rain death on unprotected soldiers landing on the beach below. Chris and his three buddies, Frank Grimes, Larry Schwartz and Duck Dupont were together in the landing craft, along with twenty other rangers heading toward the beach.
Chris had begun basic training knowing no one. Soon he gravitated to three other guys who seemed to be as lost and alone as he was. The four of them gradually became friends and survived the ordeal together. Of the three, he was closest to Duck Dupont. Duck’s real name was Willard; he gained his nickname Duck during a basic training class. The class was walking past the artillery area when a practice round went off. Most of the class flinched, but Duck was on the ground with his head covered by his hands. From then on he was known as Duck.
His thoughts returned to June 6th.
It was still dark and they landed unopposed. The men quickly and quietly disembarked and headed for the base of the two-hundred-foot cliff – it would be quite a climb. When everyone was in position, they fired ropes up the side of the cliff. This brought the response they expected; Germans began firing down the cliff and rangers began to collapse on the beach. Chris and his friends were to stay together and climb along with most of the rangers while the rest provided cover fire. Soon the German fire lessened then ceased as the rangers continued their climb.
The four friends were the first to reach the top of the cliff. What they saw sent a shiver through them all. Before them, set back about fifty yards from the edge of the cliff, stood a series of three bunkers. The first light of dawn streamed through the trees beyond the enemy, and all seemed quiet and peaceful except for the machine guns projecting from behind sandbags. They knew they had to act fast, because if they didn’t, the rangers coming up the cliff would be cut down as soon as they reached the top. They split up into two groups; Chris and Duck went to the left – Frank and Larry to the right. The two flanking bunkers had to be eliminated before the middle position could be attacked. Each group approached the nearest bunker and tossed a grenade inside. The simultaneous explosions sent German soldiers into action. The rangers had missed one. Along with fire from the third remaining bunker, a fourth bunker opened up along with mortar fire from behind the bunker. The fourth bunker surprised the rangers and had a clear shot at them. Duck was literally cut in half by machine gun fire. Larry was attacking the third of the bunkers they had seen, having just pulled the pin from a grenade when he was shot. They never did find Frank. Chris entered the first bunker they had taken out, pushed aside the mangled German bodies and manned the machine gun. He quickly took out the bunker they had overlooked before, creeping up to the last remaining bunker; he destroyed it with grenades. The actions of the four men had saved the lives of the rangers now reaching the summit of the cliff and helped secure the landing site for the invasion.
In the early morning silence, after the heat of battle, Chris collapsed on the ground part from fatigue, part from pain, but mostly from grief – his friends were gone. Chris had shrapnel wounds in his left arm and hip. At some point his helmet had taken a hit and deflected the bullet but the impact gave him a nasty scalp wound. Blood now streamed down the side of his face and soaked his collar.
These are the memories that flooded into Chris’s mind as he put away his uniform and prepared to spend a weekend at the Mid Atlantic Air Museum as a guest of honor, something he had done for the last five years. This would be his first year without Peggy at his side. He knew it would not be the same without her, but he still looked forward to the event.
The museum had organized a weekend devoted to the history of World War II for the last ten years. It was a living history lesson with vintage aircraft flown in from all over the country, and encampments set up with hundreds of reenactors dressed in the World War II uniforms of the United States, England, France and Germany. The museum also invited veterans from the war who would give firsthand accounts of combat. But none of them said what the war was really like because their memories were selective, cleansed by time, and they all carried within them that area of memory they would never enter again.
World War II weekend started Friday morning and, although he wasn’t scheduled to give his presentation until Saturday, Chris always went Friday to wander the hanger and apron crammed with vintage World War II fighters, bombers, trainers and transports. He could remember when the skies were filled with their kind. Now there remained only a few of each. On those warm Friday afternoons, he enjoyed walking through the encampments. At one point he saw three men in ranger combat uniforms. He smiled to himself, glad to see his branch of the army represented. Chris loved strolling through the tents. In his mind, there was nothing like the smell of a real canvas tent; the open flaps were your windows, and the grass was your floor. He had seen the tents his grandchildren used when they camped, it was like camping in a nylon bag, no smell, no character. In one of those old canvass tents, he could stand, close his eyes, and the memories of his days in the army would flood into his brain.
Another reason he enjoyed Fridays was the veterans whose attendance was heavy. The old men and women enjoyed the smaller crowds and slower pace that Fridays afforded. He enjoyed conversations with his contemporaries, reliving the past and recalling the days they were once young and involved in the great adventure they shared.
Saturday morning arrived, the sky again clear and blue. He went through his morning routine, slowly struggling into his uniform and waited for his nine o’clock ride to the museum. Chris looked forward to the day. Although he had never made a big deal about his award, one day bathed in the admiration of people who appreciated the sacrifices made during World War II did not hurt him, not at all.
With his first lecture scheduled for 10:30, he was anxious to get to the museum. He found the tent for his lecture. There were about fifty folding chairs set up. He took a moment and stood there alone, letting his mind recall memories that he usually avoided, memories that he would touch slightly, just slightly today.
As he waited at the speaker’s platform, the tent began to fill up. At the back of the tent, he spied the three young men in ranger uniforms he had seen the day before, standing together apart from the crowd. Maybe today they would learn something about the uniforms they wore.
The chairs were full and people were standing in the back as Chris went into his presentation. He shared with them the events of that early morning on the French coast, sanitized, but with enough action to keep the crowd’s attention. After thirty minutes he was done and ready for questions. Halfway through the questions one of the men dressed as a ranger raised his hand and said, “Sir, I just want you to know we appreciate what you did for your country.”
That brought a smile to Chris’ face, “I appreciate that son,” he answered.
The presentation was over, the tent was cleared, and it was time for a little lunch and a chance to watch the vintage aircraft flying. This was the part he most enjoyed. The drone of the B-17 accompanied the whine of the Merlin powered P-51s. He knew the planes were the big draw, not old men wearing old uniforms, but he was happy to be part of the show.
First to fly were the trainers, SNJs and T-28s. Then the observation aircraft would fly, the L-19s, followed by the transports, the C-47s and a C-54. Before the fighters and bombers took off, the reenactors took the field in front of the crowd. To the left were the men in German uniforms, to the right the U.S. Army.
The uniformed men fired blanks and mock mortars at each other. There were also smoke grenades thrown by both sides. All this action took place in a grassy area between the runway and aircraft taxiway. As usual, the fire department stood ready for the grass fires the smoke grenades always started, and this year was no exception. The grass fires were more of a nuisance than a danger, and they were always rapidly dealt with. In fact, the dense plumes were greater than any of the regular attendees of the show could remember, and the fire company quickly prepared to hose down the grass. Chris stood there with the rest of the crowd as the shroud of smoke drifted over them.
Suddenly, he felt a tap on his shoulder. It was one of the rangers, “Sir, we need your help.”
“Sure son, what can I do for you?” came Chris’ reply.
“Could you join us sir?” the ranger questioned. The ranger started walking towards the smoke set off by the mock battle, flanked by the two other rangers Chris had noticed before, and bewildered, Chris followed.
Soon smoke enveloped the four men. The crowd, watching the firemen putting out the grass fire saw the three reenactors on the field but could not imagine why an old man in uniform was traipsing in after them. They saw the four enter the clouds of smoke and lost sight of them.
Chris walked, not knowing where the three young men were taking him. His arthritis bothered him as he entered the smoke, but a few steps into the haze his pain was reduced and then gone. He noticed something else; he no longer wore his dress uniform but wore the ranger combat uniform, same as the reenactors. All at once he was puzzled and amazed and had no idea what their destination could be.
The three reenactors slowed down, and Chris easily caught up with them. “How in the hell are you, Chris?” asked Duck. Frank and Larry were slapping his back and pounding his shoulders, his young shoulders.
“We’re on a mission and need your help,” said Frank. “We need the squad together,” he continued.
“I’m your man,” said Chris taking off his helmet and running his hand through his thick dark hair. His mind still could not wrap itself around what was happening.
Some of the crowd there to watch the flying saw four figures begin to emerge from the smoke, the figures of four young men. The men entered another cloud of smoke before them and were gone.
Chris and his three buddies came out of the haze. They were on a dirt road surrounded by a forest. They were all holding rifles, but Chris could sense no danger. They were on patrol and Chris felt better than he had ever felt in his life. He was with his best friends, men he had missed all these years and men he loved. The sky was so blue it almost hurt his eyes. The trees and grass were the greenest green he had ever seen. He set out with his three friends, easily matching their stride.
Suddenly, Chris’ eyes filled with tears. He did not know how, did not understand what was happening, but somehow, he knew his young and pretty Peggy was waiting.
The End
HAVEN OF HORROR: A LOVECRAFTIAN STORY
For those who are fans of H.P. Lovecraft you will find a flavor in this story to his horror.
HAVEN OF HORROR
Jeff and Karen were recently married. Shortly after their marriage Jeff was offered a better job than he had at the time with better pay and he accepted. Now they needed to move. With great anticipation they now were on a road trip to explore the area which would be their new home. Jeff loved wandering down roads he had never traveled, and for him this trip was a treat. A new area to be visited ripe for exploration.
As they drove along, not really sure where they were, Karen said, “I’m tired and hungry. Let’s stop at the next town for some rest and food.” They had been on the road for several days driving from California to Pennsylvania. Today, they had been driving for ten hours and they both needed rest and food.
Jeff spied what looked like a seldom used road, “Let’s go down that road. It must lead to somewhere.”
Karen looked at him as if to say, ‘Give me a break’ for it looked like it would lead to nowhere. The newness of marriage had not yet dissolved, but it was getting there.
Karen glanced at the maps they had brought along, “Jeff, this road is not on the map!”
Jeff’s response was, “Great.” Karen just shook her head. And off they went down an unmapped road hoping to find food and perhaps lodging for the night as the sky was steadily darkening the landscape. He looked at Karen and wondered if the stop would lead to ‘cuddling’ – and perhaps more. He wondered how long those episodes would last. He had heard stories.
With Karen constantly complaining about how tired and hungry she was, they approached a small town. Jeff was hungry too, and ready for some nighttime activity. As they entered the town it was as if they were visiting a page out of history. There was not a modern structure. It was like something to a lot for filming an old movie. In the middle of town stood a gas station with only one pump. A hint of days long gone. An old guy in a chair was leaning against the building.
The old man waved and said, “Hi. Don’t see many strangers here.”
The town was Schuylkill Haven.
* * *
Schuylkill Haven, a small town not appearing on any maps, was of little value to visitors who happened upon it. In fact, the town shunned visitors until they were needed. When this occurred, the residents made the heavily rutted road to the town visible and waited for guests. Just as the town was not on maps, so was the road. The entrance to the road was usually heavily concealed for the residents liked, needed their privacy. But the road to the town was now uncovered and the people of the haven waited.
The town of Schuylkill Haven came into existence most unnaturally centuries ago. From a small hill far from any inhabitants, late in the 1600’s the town was born.
One day there was movement of the earth on the side of the hill. The bottom of the hill began to push outward forming a cavity which grew into a cave. The first residents of the town began to arrive from within.
Men, women, and children, all naked, streamed out of the newly formed fissure and studied the surroundings. At first the light nearly blinded them, but eventually they adjusted to the harsh glow of daylight.
The new arrivals were helpless in this new world. With no food or lodging they were certainly doomed. Coming to their rescue was a wandering tribe of Native Americans. With compassion for these new arrivals, they shared food with them, helped them to plant crops, hunt, construct shelters and make clothing. Eventually explores happened upon the town and were amazed to find white men in such a remote location. With the explorers came more modern methods of agriculture and more substantial lodging. Slowly a town took shape, and the residents thrived. But there was a disturbing knowledge revealed to the residents. The elders began to have a greenish tint to their skin and took on strange physical characteristics. Their heads became misshaped and enlarged with mouths wide and menacing. The residents knew they had a secret meant to be kept and concealed. Old age brought unnatural changes to the senior residents.
They wondered for an explanation on the source of this ghastly conversion. No one could mine an answer. There were legends of drawings found in the cave near the town, of beings beyond imagination. Monsters with no place in nature. From this knowledge they speculated that beyond this horrible transformation there existed a third journey to, yet another transformation. But no one could be certain of the changes awaiting the morphed. Before they managed to isolate those transformed some of the residents journeyed deeper into the cave and thought they heard distant waves crashing on some unknown shore. What did the presence of this unknown ocean mean to those transformed? Could these transformed humans be destined for another phase dependent on the ocean? And what had that to do with turning their friends and relatives into strange creatures? Were there cities on the ocean floor awaiting new residents? As if all this wasn’t enough to challenge reality, a horrible event took place. The transformed began attacking the still normal residents. Devouring some of them. The number of mutants was not great and when their threat was realized, it was no problem to repel them to the entrance of the cave. And while a force of guards stood by, a small structure was built covering the entrance with no windows and a solitary door. The residents of the town were now aware of the horror that awaited them in the future.
* * *
While filling the gas tank Jeff asked the attendant if there was any lodging in the town and he replied,
“No hotels in town. But there is a house that will rent out rooms and proceeded
to give them directions.
Tired and hungry, they found the house and were greeted by a kindly woman, who guaranteed a room and dinner. Jeff asked why this town was not on the map.
The woman answered, “Because we are happy the way we are. Don’t want strangers
interfering with our lives. Yet, when strangers do come it’s an event. When
they chose to stay it’s a celebration.” Her remarks seemed strange to Jeff, but he decided not to pursue any more questions, now.
The woman studied the couple and said, “We have a local winery. Would you care for a sample – free?”
Jeff and Karen nodded, and she poured them each a glass.
Sipping, Karen said, “This is excellent wine.” But she soon noticed her vision begin to blur and she slumped to the floor. After a short time, Jeff joined her.
When they first arrived, they noticed a strange structure in the town park. It had uprights maybe seven feet tall and a crossbar of perhaps ten feet. Karen asked Jeff, “What do you think that is for?”
“I have no idea”, he said. “Can’t be for kids. Can’t be for anyone.”
Now they had the answer. They were hung suspended from the structure by the wrists, naked.
Jeff screamed, “What the hell is going on. Where are the police?”
An old man approached them and said, “I’m the police. What seems to be the problem?”
Jeff saw that something about the man wasn’t quite right. It was his face. It appeared a little ‘wrong’.
Jeff yelled, “Are you fucking blind?”
The sheriff, in a garbled voice replied, “Our cloistered friends are about to have a party and you, you could say, will be the guests of honor.”
Jeff, not understanding the sheriff’s response began to scream every curse he knew. While all Karen could do was softly weep.
As the sheriff slowly walked away a siren sounded. All the residents who were outside hurried to their houses. Upon entering the town, Jeff observed a small building, windowless with a single door. The door slowly opened, and Jeff could not believe the spectacle approaching them. Some walked on two, some on four limbs. They were hideous, of human size, but that was where all resemblance to a human ended. They were green with white underbellies. The head resembled that of a frog but with a stark difference, a mouth containing sharp rows of teeth. Above the grotesque mouth was a pair of blunted nostrils. Above the nostrils was a pair of eyes, knowing eyes. Intelligent eyes. Their legs ended in webbed feet. On what appeared to be arms were distorted hands with sharp claws.
The ungodly mass began to make their way to Jeff and Karen, looking predatory and surrounded the naked couple. A hideous scream exited those misshapen mouths. Then they attacked. Horrible screams came from the couple, then suddenly ceased. The beasts were a mad blur of feeding frenzy. Once done with their meal they departed to the enclosure from which they came leaving behind two hanging skeletons.
***
Mark and Candice, along with their three teenage children were on a summer vacation hiking and camping. Mark had been observing the fuel gauge. When he saw a small road off the main, he told the family, “We’re a little low on fuel, and if the road leads to a town it must have a gas station.” He carefully maneuvered his SUV down the rutted, potholed road. After not too long he said, “I told you. there’s a town.” He was proud of himself for his decisions were usually wrong about directions. And when he did decide which way to go, one of the family would chime in, “Remember when you …”
Mark surveyed the town and was right. There was a gas station. But to his surprise it had only one pump, unusual for this day and age. On closer observation, the town looked like something out of a time warp. When he drove into the station, he saw an old man in a rickety chair leaning against the building. Mark waved to the old man, who got out of his chair and slowly drifted over to the SUV.
“How you doin’? the old man asked. “Need some gas?”
Mark answered, “Yes,” and didn’t bother to say what type for obviously there was only one type available.
The man began to pump, and Mark wondered about the quality of the product, but he was low and had no choice.
His family had also been complaining about hunger for some time, so Mark asked the attendant, “Any place to eat around here?”
The old man scratched his chin and said, “No restaurants, but there is a family who do offer meals.” Mark got directions which led to a rustic-looking house which wasn’t a surprise for the entire town appeared rustic.
Mark rang the doorbell and was greeted by a very pleasant woman. Yet there was something about her putting Mark off. But his family was hungry.
Mark said, “The gas station attendant said that you might be able to provide us a meal. We are more than willing to pay and pay we should.”
The woman said, “Of course I can feed you,” and her mind added, And of course you will pay. But before you eat, we have a local wine we offer to tourists with the hope they like it and tell their friends. Let me give you each a sample. I guess your boy and two girls are not old enough to drink, but a taste won’t hurt them.”
The woman poured five glasses of wine, and, as they drank, the look on the faces of the family showed a new weariness.
The End
SPORES FROM SPACE: A SHORT STORY
Here is a story with a possible explanation of the source of the giant mushroom described in the last post.
SPORES FROM SPACE
Will asked Joanie, “What is that big white thing at the far edge of the lawn? Looks like some kind of ball.”
As Joanie approached the object she could see that it was well over twelve inches in diameter. She replied, “It’s not a ball. It looks like some kind of mushroom. Never seen anything like it before.” She took out her cell phone, took a picture, then using the internet began a search for information about the mushroom. The internet could not identify it. Joanie thought this odd for in the past she had often used the internet to identify plant life and it had never failed to come back with an answer. The internet could identify everything. She picked the mushroom up and threw it into the nearby trees.
That was a fatal mistake.
Days later Will tried to contact Joanie with no luck. Her neighbor said he hadn’t seen her for a few days. But the strangest thing. Near the apartment complex was this huge white mushroom. No one could figure out what type of mushroom it was and where it could have come from. No one had seen anything like it before.
* * *
Light years away a planet’s population had grown to such an extent that all could not be fed. And those that did have food available did not have as much as they had in the past. They had to find a food source and find it quickly or starvation on the planet would begin. In back of some of the inhabitant’s minds the fear of cannibalism began to grow. Something needed to be done and fast.
The planet’s scientists had developed a form of space travel using wormholes giving them the ability to travel huge distances in minutes. They had also discovered a great many inhabited planets. The decision was made to use the inhabitants of these planets as a source of food. This decision was voted down by a small fraction of the population, but the prospect of starvation overruled. The only food consumed on the planet was a certain type of fungus. The decision was made to send out huge armies traveling on gigantic spaceships which were now under construction. Along with the soldiers were hundreds upon hundreds of satellites which were going to be used to seed the target planets with spores which would grow into the needed fungus. The spores would transform any animal life they touched into mushrooms.
The attacking planet had also developed two procedures which made this invasion possible to alter the population of the planet and yet remain completely undetected.
One of these methods was the ability to make objects invisible. Invisibility was made possible by shifting light so that light would not bounce off an object rendering it invisible. This method would be used to conceal the invading army and the satellites being dispersed around the planet being attacked. The gigantic spacecraft farther out in space would also be rendered invisible. Of course, invisibility would not hide solid objects from radar. To remedy this problem the had a method of stealthing making them totally undetectable by radar.
The mission to attack planets was set into motion.
* * *
It was a sunny Saturday afternoon and Will decided to mow the lawn. He began his work with the front yard, but before he could get too far he ran across more of those white mushrooms of various sizes on the lawn. He picked them up and threw them into the trees. “Damn things are a pain in the ass,” he muttered.
Will went back to his mower. Glancing across the street he spied his neighbor standing behind his mower. He waved but got no response. He was sure Jeff saw him. He was looking right at Will. But Jeff just stood there like some kind of statue.
Will returned to the mower and started it. He began to feel not quite right. When he felt this way when asked how he felt he said ‘strange’. If his wife noticed he seemed a little off she would ask, “How are you feeling?”
Will would answer, “A little strange.” This never failed to piss her off. What the hell was strange?
But right now, Will felt really strange. Stranger than he has ever felt before. And the strangeness increased and not too slowly. He became confused. Could not remember what he had been doing. It wasn’t long before he could not remember anything. The usual term used for his present state of mind was a vegetative state. But this would not be the term for what Will was experiencing. The proper term would be a fungal state. For what was about to happen next this was beneficial to him. Spared him the distress of being aware of his predicament. Slowly all his limbs began to turn white. Then his torso and finally his head.
Will did not know it but the mushrooms he picked up earlier and threw into the woods had undergone the same change. One mushroom was a squirl mushroom, a small one a mouse mushroom and the largest a ground hog mushroom. Now on the lawn stood a huge Will mushroom.
* * *
The alien invasion to provide a source of food from the planet called by the resident, Earth, appeared to be succeeding. Soon it would be time for the soldiers to begin the harvest. Now to prevent discovery these aliens will be invisible. Good thing for if they were seen by intelligent life on this planet, to use a term the aliens had heard on the planet’s broadcasts, “The sight of the aliens would scare the shit out of them.”
Although the aliens were invisible they were still solid and would occasionally make contact with an intelligent being on Earth, but it would be of little consequence. When the spores began to rain down on Earth they were accompanied by a substance that would erase all memory of what was happening from the time the spores were first introduced until a time after the harvest was completed.
The harvest was extremely successful. Went better than expected. With the spaceships filled to the brim with mushrooms the aliens look forward to, in a few thousand years, returning to Earth. And another harvest would be possible because in ten percent of the spores the activity had been neutralized. With careful calculation of the animal population on the planet only ninety percent of the population would be converted into mushrooms. The remainder would be available to repopulate the planet. And because of memory manipulation, would have no recollection of the harvest. But the fact that something of a peculiar nature did occur eventually became evident.
* * *
Scientists doing population studies of animal life, including humans, were mystified by some of their results. It appears that an event was discovered to have occurred, but could not be explained, thousands of years ago. They began calling the event a near extinction event. Life on the Earth suddenly decreased at an alarming rate. Apparently almost instantaneously. What could possibly explain that decrease?
ELMO’S SOJOURN: CHAPTER 14, THE FUTURE OF ELMO AND MILDRED
ELMO’S SOJOURN
CHAPTER 14
THE FUTURE FOR ELMO AND MILDRED
The three stood in front of Valmid’s house. Elmo admired Mildred’s youthful body and long blond hair. Mildred also admired the feelings of her body and experienced for the first time in years the pleasures of youth that old age had robbed her of. She had not expected to make the same transition that Elmo had made on his first trip to Roth, because he’d been going back and forth so many times since then and had not changed a bit.
“Elmo, I can’t believe it! I’m as young as you.”
“Welcome to Roth my dear.” He reached for her hand. “Let’s take a short walk. Then we will go inside, and you’ll meet Cal, Valmid’s wife.” They walked towards the rise that would afford a view of the ocean. “We’ll have so many adventures, Mildred. We’ve got so much life to live. Once we have something to eat, I’ll show you to our bedroom.”
Mildred noticed a twinkle in Elmo’s eyes that she had not seen for a long time, felt a thrill she had not felt for years. The sky was darkening, the day was ending, and pinpricks of light began to populate the night. Elmo squeezed Mildred’s hand excitedly as they walked hand in hand toward an emerald, green sunset made more beautiful by thoughts of all the tomorrows they would share.
* * *
Elmo and Mildred will ‘Live Happily Ever After’ on Roth. And now, with being young again and Roth’s advanced science, who knows how long that will be?
Valmid gave Elmo a present, a tablet. But the tablet it unlike any Elmo has ever seen. To get an idea of the power of information this device can provide, imagine a tablet available here but now on steroids and that on steroids. With this tablet Elmo can access the entire science of Roth and that of all the inhabited planets known to Roth. Now he can refine his pet project of travel through wormholes and dream up new ones.
Milderd watches Elmo as he uses the device and observes the twinkle in his eyes and the smile starting across his lips which in the past meant the prospect of trouble. A true sign that Elmo’s mind is popping out ideas. Ideas bringing pleasure and excitement to Elmo. Ideas which Mildred anticipates might bring her worry and upset her peaceful life on Roth.
The End
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I hope you enjoyed my novella, Elmo’s Sojourn.
ELMO’S SOJOURN, CHAPTER 13, ELMO’S RETURN TO EARTH
ELMO’S SOJOURN
CHAPTER 13
ELMO RETURNS TO EARTH
Mildred was watching TV when she detected footsteps coming up the cellar stairs. She immediately knew the sight that would soon greet her: a young Elmo and his alien friend. She also knew Elmo had returned because he wanted her to go back to Roth with him. Could she? Could she leave her family and friends to live in an alien world with Elmo? What would Elmo do if she said no? Would he willingly return to the body of an old man and finish their life together in this house? All this ran through her mind as the cellar door slowly opened.
Out stepped young Elmo and the alien. This time Mildred was able to handle their appearance much better. Valmid went upstairs to entertain himself with the computer and Elmo asked Mildred to join him at the kitchen table to discuss their future. They sat there for a long time, going over the pros and cons of staying on Earth or returning to Roth. Elmo finally said, “Mildred, the stay on Roth does not have to be permanent. We could return to Earth any time we wish. The residents of Roth time-travel with the ease of our driving to the store.” This argument pushed her over the edge. She replied, “You know Elmo, during all the years we’ve been together, I’ve done plenty of crazy things with you. This must be the craziest, but I’ll give it a try.”
“Mildred,” Elmo responded, “the last time I was this happy was when you said you would marry me. Let’s go explore the universe!” Elmo headed upstairs to get Valmid. But before returning downstairs he sat at his computer and typed out the following e-mail message.
My name is Elmo Baker. I am a retired scientist formerly employed at Los Alamos. What I have to say is unbelievable but true. I have traveled to the planet Roth. There I found that during the early twentieth century, monsters from the planet Gylex invaded Earth. The purpose of this invasion was to obtain women for the survival of their civilization because a virus had killed most of the females of Gylex. Unfortunately, all the women captured are no longer alive. I have included two attachments. One is a detailed report on how to protect the Earth from further invasions because it’s likely that these monsters may be returning soon. The second attachment is a video of one of the monsters attacking a house on the planet I visited. Please believe me and take action.
Elmo sent the e-mail to The New York Times, The Washington Post and every other major newspaper he could think of. He then shut the computer down and headed downstairs. As he entered the living room, he found Valmid laying out two time-space machines on the floor. Elmo told Valmid, “I’ve alerted some of our major newspapers. I hope to God they heed my warning.” Valmid then had Mildred stand in one of the machines, handed her the control box and told her to push the start button. With a face full of apprehension, she followed his instructions and was gone in a flash. Elmo and Valmid entered the other machine and made their exit from planet Earth.
ELMO’S SOJOURN: CHAPTER 12, ELMO HAS HIS HOMECOMING
ELMO’S SOJOURN
CHAPTER 12
ELMO HAS HIS HOMECOMING
The four stayed up late into the night. Rolack described how she was made pregnant three times, felt the joy of motherhood as a new life stirred within her body and was filled with revulsion at the sight of the tiny, winged monster she delivered. She never met any of the women from Earth but had heard talk of them. They had not she learned, survived for very long on Gylex. Because they were physically so much smaller than the women of Roth and Gylex, they often died during pregnancies in which they carried fetuses much larger than an Earth child. Labor and delivery killed the few that survived to term. All that was left were stories and bones scattered among the trash of the prison.
Valmid and Cal could not take their eyes from their daughter, couldn’t believe she was back, and that the planet was safe from more women suffering her fate. Valmid explained to Rolack how Elmo had traveled to Roth and how his visit led to her freedom and that of her companions.
After a while, Valmid and Elmo decided to take a walk and let Cal and Rolack have some of the mother-daughter time they both desperately needed. Valmid sensed also that something troubled Elmo and thought perhaps a stroll in the early morning air would ease his mind and loosen his thoughts.
They walked for a while, enjoying the peaceful countryside. Then Elmo began, “Valmid, before I arrived on your planet, I was a retired scientist just puttering around in my cellar. Then I hit on the concept that brought me here. Back on earth, I have a wife with whom I have spent most of my life. But that life is over, and I can’t return to it. Now, I’m a young man. I have a future again. I cannot go back to Earth and resume my retirement. There is so much I want to learn from you, from your planet. I want Mildred to journey here. She is my life; we share a history. I need her to share my future on Roth. If I cannot convince Mildred to come here, I don’t know what I will do.”
They walked on a while more before Valmid shared his thoughts. “Elmo, your knowledge has already proved indispensable to Roth. Who knows in what ways my planet could benefit from the knowledge you have of Earth? And if there were a problem on Roth that can only be solved by making a trip to Earth, I would find it difficult to blend into the population. I have discussed all this with the elders of the planet, and we all reached the same conclusion: We want you to stay.”
They continued their walk in silence until Elmo asked the question that he had been nagging him whenever he thought of making Roth his home. “Valmid, if Mildred agrees to come here, could she travel through the wormhole that I first used? If she could, we would both be starting a new life on a new planet.”
Valmid considered this, “If she agrees to come here, I see no problem in granting your request. I think we should return to Earth and try to convince Mildred to spend time on Roth.”
ELMO’S SOJOURN: CHAPTER 11, ELMO’S OFFER IS ACCEPTED
ELMO’S SOJOURN
CHAPTER 11
ELMO’S OFFER IS ACCEPTED
The argument went back and forth between Elmo and Valmid, but Valmid finally succumbed to Elmo’s persistence. “I accept your help my friend. We shall leave when the devices are ready.”
In a few days the six new Freon throwers were ready and tested. Valmid called the five other Rothians to his home. The seven warriors were ready to depart. Elmo noticed that each member of the team carried a pouch in addition to his Freon throwers on their backs. Elmo was also given a pouch.
“We are taking as many time-space machines as we can carry. We have no idea how many women we will be freeing and returning to Roth. I’m afraid there is little hope of rescuing any of the women abducted from Earth, for the abductions ceased there almost sixty years ago, when the Freon level reached intolerable levels for the Gylex monsters.
“Our plan is to journey to Gylex, hopefully arriving at a deserted area. Then we will try to follow the thoughts of the captive women.” All five of the Rothians and Elmo nodded and prepared to leave. Elmo joined Valmid in the center of his machine; the other five occupied two machines facing back-to-back in preparation for a hostile greeting.
In a flash the most dismal landscape imaginable surrounded them, along with four Gylexian monsters. Three were quickly dispatched, surprise being on the side of the Rothians. The fourth began flying away, thanks to the weaker gravity of the planet; Elmo was able to leap high enough to douse the creature and it abruptly fell to the ground.
After the initial excitement, the travelers had a chance to inspect their surroundings. Elmo thought, “If there is a hell, it must look something like this.” The Rothians were unfamiliar with the concept of Elmo’s hell, but they all shuddered at the scene before them. Everything was colored shades of gray and black. The landscape was dotted with miniature volcanoes no more than a few hundred feet high, most in a constant state of eruption that spewed heavy columns of smoke and ash into the air and shed an eerie glow from the magma seeping down their sides. The atmosphere was thick and oppressive. The party had timed their arrival for daytime, but a faint twilight was all that greeted them. The only vegetation visible were huge trees, not unlike those found on Roth. Their trunks disappeared into the unbroken mantle of black clouds that filled the sky; their leaves seeking the life-giving light denied the planet’s surface.
The rescue party could see larger mountains in the distance; their sides honeycombed with openings. Occasionally a winged Gylexian would fly in or out of apertures; these must be their cities.
The six Rothians stood still and quietly concentrated, seeking the thoughts of the women they had come to rescue. It did not take long for them to sense Rothian thoughts and then locate their origin on a distant part of the planet. They set up their time-space machines, again standing back-to-back and ready for an attack. They were sure there must be guards at their destination, and to eliminate them by taking advantage of the element of surprise.
In a flash the seven were standing before a Gylexian hill, somewhat smaller than the hill they first had seen. Perhaps this was the prison where the women were being held. At the same time, they also found themselves standing before five guards armed with weapons resembling crossbows. Before the Rothians could react, one of their parties was shot in the neck and collapsed. Freon spray quickly took care of the guards, but not before they sounded an alarm that brought more guards flying out of the prison, also to fall to the ground as the air filled with Freon. Three of the party, along with Elmo, remained outside to guard against further attacks. Valmid and the remaining member of his group entered the prison to free the women. The sight inside sickened them. Corpses of ten to 15 Rothian women littered the floor of the forbidding structure. As they proceeded farther into the dark, dank hallways they came upon the cells they were seeking. Each cell held two or three women in various stages of pregnancy. As Valmid had anticipated, there were no women from Earth, only women from Roth. Valmid searched wildly from cell to cell looking for his daughter, calling her name, “Rolack, Rolack.” He stopped at the entrance of a cell holding two women, then choked back tears and cried, “Rolack!”
A woman inside stood and cried, “Father!”
Valmid had found his daughter. In short order, the keys to the cells were located and the women released. They made their way out of the prison, the women breathing free air for the first time since their capture. One of the women collapsed by the body of the fallen Rothian, crying for the husband she had not seen for years and who had died trying to rescue her. Valmid ordered everyone to unfurl the time-space machines and, in twos and threes, quickly occupy them. Two Rothians carried the body of their fallen companion to the last machine and gently laid him down. Then Valmid distributed the preset control boxes, and the group disappeared in a series of flashes, bound for Roth.
Once on Roth, the women cried, laughed and even collapsed when united with their families. Those who returned pregnant wanted most to immediately cleanse their bodies of the demon cargo they carried. Valmid, Elmo and Rolack entered their home to find Cal crying out at the sight of her daughter. The three family members hugged and cried while Elmo stood to the side and felt an emptiness he could no longer deny.
ELMO’S SOJOURN: CHAPTER 9, ELMO RETURNS HOME
ELMO’S SOJOURN
CHAPTER 9
ELMO RETURNS HOME
Suddenly, Elmo found himself back in his cellar, standing next to Valmid and near his time-space machine. Valmid made a sound that could only be described as a chuckle as he examined Elmo’s machine.
Upstairs, Elmo could hear Mildred in the kitchen. Even though it had only been a few days’ journey, with all he had learned and seen, Elmo felt he had been gone for a very long time. The two travelers slowly made their way up the stairs.
In the kitchen, Mildred was just cleaning up after dinner, washing a cast-iron skillet when she heard someone coming up the cellar stairs. “Elmo’s back,” she said to herself. She couldn’t wait to hear about his adventures and what it was like to travel in space and time. Then she thought, “Wait a minute. I had to control the machine in order for him to return.” With that thought, she clutched the handle of the skillet with two hands ready to battle whoever had broken into the cellar.
As she watched, the door leading to the cellar slowly swung open. Out stepped a young man she did not recognize. She screamed, “Who are you? If you don’t leave right now, this skillet will make a lasting impression on you. Now get!”
The young man just stood there and said, “Mildred, it’s me, Elmo.”
“Who are you trying to kid?” answered Mildred, now studying the stranger more closely. This young man was younger than Elmo had been when she first met him, yet he was starting to look vaguely familiar.
The stranger then said, “It’s me, Doll.” Elmo was the only one who ever called her that. After nearly forty years of marriage, he still called her Doll when they were alone.
After the stranger uttered her nickname, Mildred studied his face more closely as the skillet slipped from her hand and crashed to the floor. “Elmo, it is you. What on earth happened to you?” As she was finishing her question, Valmid appeared, ducking his head through the doorway behind Elmo. That’s when Mildred crashed to the floor.
* * *
When Mildred came to, she was lying on the couch and the new Elmo was dabbing her face with a wet cloth. He explained how he arrived on planet Roth and found that the creature he had transported to Earth was a pet of one of the inhabitants of the planet. He went on to tell her about Valmid and how she would be able to communicate with her new guest. Next, he explained the complexity of time-space travel and the fact that he survives his trip through the wormhole was just dumb luck. Finally, Elmo described the increasing invasions the planet Gylex was mounting on Roth and the information Valmid required to repel the invaders.
“Now prepare yourself, Mildred, while I properly introduce you to Valmid,” he told her. As Elmo said this, Valmid entered the room. He seemed to be studying Mildred and communicated to Elmo, “Your wife is still very disturbed by my presence. Perhaps we should do some research on your computer and gain the knowledge of chlorofluorocarbons and give her time to digest your youthful appearance – and my countenance.”
Elmo gave Mildred’s hand a pat and told her that they were going to his study. He then led Valmid up the stairs. Soon Elmo was punching away at of his keyboard while Valmid shook his head at how such an archaic device held information that might save his planet.
Locating a web site giving the history of chlorofluorocarbons (CFCs), Elmo began to read. Discovered in 1928, CFCs, a group of chemicals including Freon, had many uses in both industry and the home. The gases were considered harmless. In fact, their inventor, Thomas Midgley, once took in a lungful of one of them to demonstrate its safety and then blew on a candle to show it was nonflammable. After many years of use, CFCs were linked to the destruction of the ozone layer. Their manufacture declined and other gases replaced Freon. Elmo explored further and located the chemical composition of Freon, including the formulation and conditions necessary to produce it.
Valmid was greatly pleased and was sure that the chemists of Roth could manufacture Freon with little trouble, and since he had never had any ill effects before or now from breathing the air, he felt Freon would not harm the inhabitants of Roth. He had accomplished his mission and was anxious to return to his planet and start planning the deterrence of the demons from Gylex. He had other plans to consider, but for now, the welfare of his planet was his prime concern.
Valmid turned to Elmo, and Elmo sensed what he was about to ask, “Now Elmo, what are your plans?” Valmid knew the confusion Elmo was experiencing, torn between his new taste for adventurous space travel and his love for Mildred and the life they had shared for so many years.
Valmid suggested, “Perhaps you and Mildred should spend some time together. I’ll stay here and amuse myself with your computer.”
Elmo made his way down the stairs and found Mildred sitting at the kitchen table. He sat opposite her and extended his hands. They sat there holding hands for a few moments before Mildred spoke. “So many changes, Elmo. I’ve learned to expect the unexpected during my life with you, but never anything like this. You could be my son; you’re so young. And there’s a gray seven-foot alien upstairs waiting to return to his planet. It’s too much to comprehend all at once. Elmo, what are we to do?”
Elmo had given the possibilities a great deal of thought and had formulated a plan. “Dear,” he told her, “I must return with Valmid to see if my theory for repelling the Gylexians is correct. If it is not, he will need my help to investigate the history of Earth and what could generate the mysterious substances needed to return Roth to its former tranquility. The safety of Earth is also at stake. And there is still so much I want to learn about Roth. I may want to stay there for some time. Mildred, once the planet is safe, I want you to travel to Roth with me. For wherever you are, that is where my home is.”
Mildred did not know what to say to this proposition. Elmo seemed so certain, so confident, and her mind was full of so many doubts. They talked for hours, sitting and holding hands at the kitchen table. “Mildred, I left here an old, retired scientist, I returned a young adventurer involved with a planet that needs my help.” Then he told all he knew about Roth. How, even though it was an alien planet, biology and geology were very similar to that of Earth. He struggled to voice his emotions.
“The inhabitants of Roth are different on the outside, but inside they share the same hopes and fears as we, the same love and dreams for the future. Roth is not safe now, but when it is, I’ll be back, and I hope you will return with me to share my adventure.”
“I just don’t know Elmo; I just don’t know.”
Elmo stood, “Think about all I said Mildred. My future is with you, and we can have a future neither one of us had ever dreamed of.”
They could hear Valmid making his way down the stairs. Elmo stood, kissed Mildred, and made his way to the cellar door. Valmid appeared in the kitchen, bowed to Mildred, then made his way down the stairs with Elmo. A few minutes later a blinding flash emanated from the cellar below. Mildred knew she was once again alone.
