Gin

Gin walked through the smoke machine fog, lights flashing in a steady rhythm to interrupt his path with a seemingly solid pillar of light. His suit was for all intents painted on. The magic used to dress him was old and archaic. It was a potion, poured on him then like a living creature it flowed and formed hugging all his parts, painting him smoothing out where instructed and hiding those bits purposely cupped or taped to look like a second flesh that didn't exactly show the parts that people were still ashamed to admit were  there. 

A second layer structured and formed by a Couturisan trained in mystical Couture. He or she, androgyny seeming to be the preference for those who trained in the craft, shaping it to the latest fashion in sport coats. His belt, black and heavy with so many items as to be made unsuitable for it's original purpose. And boots so polished that they looked like glass. They rose to hug his mid calf. 

This was it. This was his chance to shine. The trial had begun and what ever the outcome it would decide the rest of his life. He'd put off the trial so long that he'd been given transmutation orders. He had this one chance to make something of himself and he hoped he was ready. 

First it was a lady in red. She came out and grabbed him the dance steps obvious. This was a tango. He turned and countered by raising his arms and lifted his knees one at a time in an exact counter to her high step march. Left, right, left, right on the third left he kicked out and planted his leg firmly behind hers, stopping the back step that would allow her leverage. He gave a quick twist and dipped her. Upon rising he grabbed a sash she was wearing at her waist and held it out. Her perfect plastic face, no doubt done up with the same magic that made his costume, glaring at him with a terrifying smile.

She pulled back, he mimicked her, connected arms touching, free arms holding parallel to the ground. They smiled manically to nonexistent judges. She came around to face him, he had to follow. He was sure to be losing points for following her, but not too many, and if he did it well enough and could lead her into a trap. 

With her sash he swung, she twisted and grabbed him by the neck. The sequins on this, a gloved hand, began to pierce his flesh. Poison was not allowed but there were other chemicals that didn't kill but could hamper. He put his arm out and wrapped it around her's to break the grip with his weight. He felt the sequins scratch, but he couldn't deal with that now. He used his grip on her arm to pull her down and back. She almost lost her footing, he would have won but she was good and let him lead her into a spin. 

One time around. She was damn good. He couldn't drop her, this was The Tango and he needed to keep her with him at all times unless she broke it off. A second time. What could he do? He could feel her shifting. She was up to something. She had so many options; a blade in her boot? A well planned twist? She seemed to have more power over the dance now. 

Then he remembered the dance was one of passion and he only needed to keep the tension up,. It was daring but he didn't know any other way out of this. They were going into the fourth spin, Too many, this would drop his points so he leaped and let her go. He landed on toes and palms straddling her. A twist and dodged her blow with the knife. 

He spun, rolled, and rose to his feet,in a move that looked planned but he did all he could to avoid three attacks. She was so smooth, he left her confused and stumbling. He hadn't won yet. He took her sash stretched it as she did a cat like crawl up his leg. Her one chance to grab the sash before it changed. He put it in his mouth and it coiled. injecting a powerful toxin into him. But she now had to steal it from him. It was the dance she had to follow the rules.

He felt the toxin pour into his body and she played him, forcing him have to drag her across the floor and absorb more toxin. With a kick he straddled her and flung her up from under her. she now had to take the rose. If she could get him in a spin he'd take the rose back but he could see it wilting. He twisted and they began the classic tango. She tried but he dipped her. The second phase of the rose began. It pumped the antidote in. She screamed and dropped he had to end wisely to get the points back. He went to her took out a scarf from his belt and laid it on her as he watched consciousness ebb from her. 

The trial of body was the easiest of the three he’d have to take. The tango was the hardest. This meant the next two were going to be advanced. He wasn’t ready for this. He’d never wanted this. He just wanted to fade into the background and do a job like food worker — not glamorous but simple. He’d made the mistake of passing the M.A.T.s with high marks. His best score in the Sciences and thinking he’d failed the practical he’d actually just couldn’t fail that day and passed full graduate when he’d only stayed in school to tenth grade. 

His heart slowed enough that he could spread his conscience out, this activated the red spot. It was far. He hadn’t realized that the dance floor lacked a fourth wall. The spot shone in the distance. He had to make it to the spot before it faded. The rocky terrain that surrounded him would have made the journey hard enough but someone decided it would be fun to put a labyrinth in the way. 

The painted suite didn’t protect him from the elements. Instead it just let everything through He had to check twice to be sure he wasn’t naked. The rubbery texture assured him he was clothed but this was nerve wracking. 

Gin opened one of the pockets of his weighty belt and pulled out a tube. Rubbing it on his hands he concentrated on gloves. soon he had red gloves that glowed on the palms. Capping the tube he put it back in the pocket and started toward the maze. 

A light flashed to his left and he dropped and rolled left hoping that the shooter would expect him to go away from the threat. He was right but the shooter adjusted fast and got Gin right in the back. His magic coat flashed super bright white. so white it almost blinded him from the reflection off the cliff face. He ran. The damage wasn’t so bad, the coat might heal itself. It had a few more tricks in it so he didn’t toss it away.

Nothing flashed at him until he’d made it to the maze entrance. This time, however, what flashed was a spell that formed into red glowing gel beasts, about 7” tall. He could hear the ground sizzle where they touched it. One jumped and stuck to his chest. It began to burn. He panicked and fell on another. Several more flashes followed by several more splats turning into 7” acid gels hit the wall of the labyrinth. He noted them but was to busy screaming to care much. He pulled off his coat, sad that he’d not see it in action. Maybe the couturisian could make him another if he survived.

He finally peeled the creature off and threw it aside in time to see another man in a painted suite walk up. He’d obviously ignored the part where he put the cup on before the suite. The suites really did form to everything. 

“yah?” He sniggered.

Gin looked up and saw the man in his white suite with a blue and Magenta lightning design coming from his shoulder to point at the un-cupped area. He had spiky hair pointy nose and a pointed chin that rapidly moved up and down on the gum he seemed to be enjoying as much as the gloating.

Gin, instead of staying to take this man on, test or no, He grabbed on of the acid creatures and threw it at the man’s face. It burned hard but he was protected with the gloves he’d just put on.

Just as he thought, the man didn’t protect himself from the affects of the little creatures. He removed the gloves and began to apply new ones when he thought of something. The top of the maze was protected from just flying to the red light. But did they protect the sides. This maze was built not cared so it had to be worth checking. He moved to the left and saw that is didn't’ go all the way through. so he went to the other. This one was open. Why? A trap?

Onward he went he could see the red spot and as he began to see the stage where the spot shone.  He reached it and as he climbed the stage and the light went out. All the lights. He’d failed. He’d have his magic stripped and he’d be sent out, enslaved most likely. 

“Gin Talawandamuckitymuck?” a dual voice rang out and a bright speck of light bobbed into view.  Gin just shook his head. He was trying not to react to loosing. A well behaved Dulled has a better chance in a rich home. Most of his personality would be wiped, of course, but there is some part of the person still in there and doing well in the fog. 

“We have come to inform you that you have passed.”

“What?” 

You showed restrain, agility and wisdom. Very few think to look at both sides of the the maze. You used Skull’s magic against him. And the contents of that belt were inspected prior to your prep. We see some advanced artificey  in there. You even mimicked the idea of the suite with those gloves. You will study as law enforcement.

Gin was so excited. There wee no limits to what you’d ever be tested as but Law enforcement was the best job in the world. 

He’d never believed he be the good enough. He hoped for something dull but ended up with the the best life ever. 

   

Glaux

You know that moment before opening your eyes first thing in the morning. That point just before you realize that you are still alive and not a part of whatever dream you decided to have the night before? That second when your mind does a quick check to see if everything is functioning well? That is when I felt the pain. Having never been in a washing machine I still feel confident saying that I felt like I made it through both rinse cycles breathing.

I let my awareness of pain be heard with a scream. Last I remember is that MMA dude getting mad at me following him. He called me a fag and the world turned off. There’s vague images of him hitting me and then I woke to this pain.

I try to open my eyes but only one seems to be wanting to and even that it wanted reluctantly. It opens and then Glaux is there staring me in the face. I could swear the little shit was grinning.

“Don’t look at me like that.” I mostly said around a gravelly voice.

Glaux, my gift from Athena greek goddess of pains in my ass hooted the metallic bubble hoot of enchanted metal. It turned it’s head from side to side then leaped to fly to a dark corner of the hospital room.

“Well I see your friend decided you are fine.” Said a very attractive young woman in scrubs and no make up.

“How’d he get in here?” I really wanted to spend a day without this terror.

“He just showed up while we were cleaning you up. couldn’t get him to leave. He attack three orderlies. We stopped chasing him and he stopped attacking. When we were done he landed on your chest and wouldn’t let anyone near you.”

Wow, I thought, better than a guard dog. Wait, no. “I was attacked.”

“not from the looks of it. You are pretty beat up but the other guy will probably never fight again.”

“What?”

“That’s right.” A deep slithery voice sounded as a briefcase landed hard on the table by my head. It belonged to a brown suit filled with a very fleshy ball of pinky-yellow, a smile that warned of hard times to come, and a reservoir of grease, from the smell of it bacon grease.

I looked hard at him with the one eye that reluctantly gave me site, I assume because it lost a bet. “Burt Jones Esquire,” The suite said with his mouth. His smile however said, “Your mine”.

I barely made a “Gnuh” noise before he continued.

“Our boy, Mausasi has agreed to not press charges if you come fight for us.”

“Maus-who? Fight?” I didn’t mean to say anything.

“Boy looks like he took on a truck. You attacking him for no good reason like that.”

The metallic hoot sounded. I agreed. “I didn’t attack.”

“I know you ain’t going to tell the truth boy but lets just say, no one who knows Mausasi, would ever believe he’d get beaten by you in a fair fight.”

“I just went for a jog. It was spooky and he seemed like a safe person to follow.”

“Now Mausasi is a good look’n boy but he don’t need you stalking him. Another charge.” he lifted a yellow notepad and scribbled something on it.

“Stalk?” I started coughing. Every bone hurt.

“Careful you.” I’d forgotten about the pretty nurse. “Those cracked ribs and fractured ulna can’t take too much. We don’t need to cast you but we will.”

“We have witnesses saying you had a weapon, and as soon as we get the footage from the camera we’ll know what kind of weapon you used on an unarmed man.”

“I don’t know what you’ve been talking about. it was all a misunderstanding.” One that made me hurt so bad.

“Where did you learn to fight?”

“Press charges.” I said who’d believe this overweight, salesman could ever fight that high powered ball of muscle.

Glaux nearly screeched.

“What in the hell was that?”  Mr. Jones said looking around.

“It’s my owl.”

He picked up his pad again and scribbled something else down. “You are in a hell lot of trouble. I want you to consider your options; fight for us or go to jail for attempted murder, or at least assault.”

Glaux gave a gentle hoot.

“No. I didn’t do what ever you say I did.” this was followed by another harsh sound from the metal thing up in the corner.

“What,” I said to the corner, “You want me to fight for them.” A soft hoot came in response. “I don’t even know how to fight.”

“From what we’ve seen you know plenty well how to fight.”

Finally with coaxing and a lot of hooting and screeching we signed a deal. Now I have to learn to fight in less than three months even if my bones don’t heal. I thought this damn bird was a symbol of wisdom. Stupid thing is going to get me killed. How is this a gift.

First Steps

Marvin knew that first steps were always the hardest, knew it but for some reason didn't overcome. Today like all the days before he just sat there. the mess around him growing with each feeding, each snack, every change of clothes and every trip to the store. A, when compared to the globe as a whole, microcosm of life existed and grew in on and around this mess.

It bothered him.

Right now it was the fly that bothered him, but it would find some other space to hover around and he’d fall to looking at the amount of trash that surrounded him. This is where he took in a deep breath through the nose and examined it for any trace of embarrassment. The rotted chicken that he threw in the trash, not rotten then of course, the spoiled musk-like reek that would come from some forgotten glass he probably filled and forgot when the stuper filled him. He thought there might be something he’d have to dispose of but on second sniff he figured he’d have at least until tonight before he’d have to make sure he removed it.

With that he grunted and with pops, cracks and pings that belonged to a man much older than he, he stood up, patted his belly, tweaked his right nipple and decided to get ready for the day.

He removed the baggy shorts, target clearance, wiped the sweat from along his crotch and sniffed the hand as it passed his nose on the way to scratching his head. He passed his bedroom and tossed the shorts on the top of a pile of clothes that long since outgrew it’s hampers.

The shower was a refuge. no man, let’s correct that, no person should take twenty minutes to clean themselves, but Marvin was thurogh. Between every toe, the arch. He rubbed and relished the feel of the cloth rubbing on every part of his body. Behind the knee and  all around his groin and crack.

He begins to show attention to the pit of his left arm and a pressure, something like a burning, pushed from behind the eyes. He could let the water out, the shower would hide it. but he couldn’t. First steps are the hardest, he just wouldn’t overcome. The day had started. Sitting didn’t work, any more today than all the other times he did it.

He had to leave the one place he felt, anything. Toweled off and squeezed into the bedroom for phase two. The hair, extra product, he just hadn’t wanted to get his hir trimmed. He’d have to go soon, but he could put it off a few more days. just so long as he did it before he had to put too much product. Then he’d look unprofessional. No he couldn’t do that.

Two days growth, at four he had to trim it, the scruff was harder to maintain than a full beard. Scruff hinted at youth and the small flecks of silver showing up needed to be countered. Chest, the hair had to be just the right length. Pubes, he’d taken care of those yesterday.

Back in his room, In a box, slacks, black, smooth, a knife sharp crease, and darker stripes only seen from inches away. The salesman, thinking he was relating, called them whore stripes, because only the one blowing you would see them, but they gave the illusion of energy. On the rack a custom sewn shirt, darker than royal the single thread silver stripes set to accent an already impressive V shape.

Underwear not chosen for their comfort but for their relatability, socks, shoes. All gathered and assembled with a military tuck and a last glance in the mirror. He looked at the front door, this time there was no running water so he blinked back the pressure, not that he’d ever let it out.

Marvin was back home. Not any happier for making it through the day. The slaps on the butt, the pinching, of the other secretaries. His ass actually hurt. Men don’t complain about those things. He and Wardo, who insists that the Ed part of his name was actually just offencive, were at the gym at lunch with Mr. Caplain and a few other C-levels. If he could just catch one of their eyes. find a way to just be hired away from the hell of women, touching, insinuating, hinting and getting mad because he did or did not reciprocate. His boss one of the worse.

He rubs the offended butt cheek and looks at the canvas in the corner. Pencil lines, and some, a few strokes with the brush. How long since he put those there? Last June? He took a first step, then the sales meeting in Atlanta.

He stripped down to the underwear chosen for relatability rather than comfort, folded everything and put them in the safe boxes, off limits to the rest of the mess, and went to the mirror.  A 38 year old looked back at him. Not bad, good shape; not sure how that happened. The eyes of that man, they accused him. Accused him for leaving Sarah, for not doing his art, for not even trying to get any of it back. They blamed him for the work he wouldn’t leave, couldn’t leave. How could he? He had no skills.

He grabbed some low sugar beef jerky, and a coconut water, the plain kind because of the lower sugar, he didn’t like it. Then with his back to the corner with the canvas that had pencil lines and a few strokes, Marvin sat again. It never worked, they said it would, but it never did. All it did was remind him that first steps were hard. The problem, the thing that none of this helped with was that he realized a long time ago. They are all first steps.

Spill Flame

The Magic of Spill Flame

Nimbus flapped his wings once more and burst into lavender fire. The Spill magic flooded over Miranda, bathing the beautiful princess in energy made only for her. Nimbus was her’s and she his. raised from children they grew to love one another. They would wed. On the day of her Father’s death They would wed and she’d be queen. She would take a concubinus and bare a son as her grandmother did. Many if Nimbus would let her.

She was getting eager for this time to happen. She loved her father. Loved him nearly as much as Nimbus but only nearly as much. After she fed, and was full on her mounts flame she leaped off his back. Using the magic given to her she gathered the glowing purple smoke that clung to her and formed wings like that of a butterfly. She flapped and hung in the air watching the great beast flap and fly. Nimbus flew in a great arch and returned. He was magnificent. His black opalescent scales shone purple, blue and yellow. A glorious vision that flew away, turned and came back towards her.

He closed in and spouted a puff of purple flame that formed into a rather handsome man about her age. It reached out a finger and tapped her on the shoulder before dissipating in a brilliant cloud of light. She laughed and reshaped her wings to large leathery things like his and gave chase.

They played tag, until the sun began to set. Dragon and Maiden no troubles just them and the fire. They had to get back so together they started back toward the Keep.

Midway they could see the smoke rising. Thick and black. Green and yellow light reflected off the smoke. Her father was in battle. Tina’s green power was immense and her father was a powerful fighter. The two were able to defeat any threat. Many had challenged them and only once had there been any doubt as to the out come. Who was making this much trouble?

Nimbus flashed again and she began to feed on the flame. The shape of a sword and staff appeared in the flames. He was never so direct as to speak like this but she agreed. She grabbed her staff and sword and poured flame into them as well. She knew what he wanted and agreed.

Nimbus circled around the keep looking for the center of the fight. There near the inner gate. Two beings fought. One the size of a child a glowing sword in his hand and a Spill Flame shield in the other. The other her father The Duke, Lord Sebastian the Victor dressed in the armored form of his wife and dragon, Tina the Green. Her father spun and slashed but the little yellow man was too fast.

She jumped off Nimbus, turned and waved her arms and fingers in a practiced cast and poured much of her captured flame into him. She turned and landed emitting the last of the flame. A young man, six feet tall, dressed in thick leathers landed next to her. His violet eye’s still held the slits of his former shape.

Lord Sebastian shouted for her to stay back as he poured a scalding green flame at the short yellow man. When he let up the little man attacked. He swung the shield around it released and flew at the Duke. The duke easily blocked it but it exploded on impact.

Miranda ran Staff in hand Nimbus by her side. The yellow man leaped at her father but changed in mid air. Nimbus, in this form far stronger than an average man. able to shake off most any wound, healed in the transformation back to dragon was impaled by the glowing sword.

Miranda screamed. Her father was unconscious on one side and Nimbus was bleeding on the other. He’d bled before but this time the blood was pooling. Instinct and years of training pulled her hand to the side to block the shield of yellow flame from cutting into her. She moved the staff again to block the sword and jumped back as the shield was punched at her again.

Using the stored flame in the staff she fought back trying to get to either her father or Nimbus. She had to save them.

The staff exploded in splinters the magic spent. She swept her foot and knocked him over. It was astonishingly hard to fight someone of this size, and skill. He pushed with magic and threw her up and back.

The arc was high and smooth. Grabbing the sword she twisted and landed on her feet Sword in position and ready to attack again.

Then laughter.

Her father began to rise unnaturally. He floated to an upright position. The yellow man stood up and walked next to him. Her father began to melt and the yellow man began to burn and grow. Green flame turned yellow and yellow to green. The laughter went from the deep round of her father to a higher piercing peal.

“Oh sweet Miranda, you are even better than they say. You fought off Phil there even after he consumed Your father’s Tina.” The yellow man, who had worn the shape of her father jumped on to the back of the man shaped creature as it continued to change to a full sized yellow. The flames of Tina finally turning to a lime green, soon they’d be absorbed and the Yellow more powerful for it.

She ran to Nimbus, her sword clattering to the ground. He had to wake. he had to use his magic to change back. she couldn’t do it. If she was fully charged she could change him but it wouldn’t be his will, it wouldn’t restore him. The power left in the sword was for cutting not for mending. He needed to fix himself. Her father was gone, he couldn’t leave too. Doing what little she could to slow the bleeding she pleaded with him to do something, anything.

Nimbus twitched and burst into violet flame. It consumed him and he was gone.

Exercise 3: DeLoupe-De Loop

Margo DeLoupe stomped across the faux marble tile toward Higgman's office. The short power hungry little bastard wasn’t going to take credit for her hard work.  The DeLoupe deal even had her name on it. It was a thing of beauty and he made it seem like she wasn't even a part of it. 

Her father THE Taylor DeLoupe the primary financier of the DeLoupe project gave her horrific terms that through  brilliant negotiation and resource juggling that bordered on genius, she worked the arrogant ass down to a reasonable deal that mutually benefitted both companies. The combined income was twice the total income than the original lopsided arrangment. She was the one who made it happen not that arrogant dwarf.

The sound of the door hitting the shatter proof glass was like thunder. “What the hell Higgman” She yelled.

“DeLoup, dear, I apologize for my appearance but normally people set an appointment or at least knock.” 

Margo looked toward the regally dressed voice to see a 3 foot 10 inch man, dripping wet, and not clothed at all. 

“What are you doing?”

“Showering, what does it look like? Now if you wouldn't mind turning while I become a tad more presentable.”

She turned and watched him in the reflection of the office window. “Why, can I ask, are you showering from your office bar?”

“If you haven’t noticed, I am smaller than most and it seems like it would be full of disadvantages but being able to convert an office bar into a makeshift shower is not one of them."

She tried to not look too obvious watching him dry off and dress in pants, commando style and a t-shirt.

“I’m a tad more decent now if you care to stop ogling my reflection in the window.” He folded a towel and hung it in a coat closet then used a step stool to get into his chair and then directed her to the seat across from him. “What may I do for you?”

Disarmed by the sight of her team lead showering —oddly not the unpleasant experience she would have thought it would have been— she had to look at the folder she was unconsciously creasing in her hand. _Oh, right._ She set it down and tried to smooth it out as best she could. “The DeLoupe.” She opened the folder containing the plan overview and presentation notes and turned to the credits page. “My name doesn’t appear on it at all.”

“Yes?” he genuinely looked confused.

“It was my deal.”

“It was your deal.” The “And?” was left implied.

“Why wasn’t I even mentioned. This deal means Two Hundred Million for the company.”

“Two hundred seventy six, minimum.” He folded his hands took a breath and with calm force  said, “I, Ms. DeLoupe, hope you are not implying that I am taking credit for work I did not do.”

Well, yes she was, and maybe, looking at the makeshift shower out of the corner of her eye she was sure she could find some power over him. She had to be coy. “Of course not, I am merely wondering why there is no mention of my name here.” Now was not the time to be thinking of the shower. She could play this game. There was something there, something she could use, but how?

He nodded and re-laced his fingers. “I see.” He pushed himself back, the chair rolling and turning, he jumped from the chair and as he walked to the shower. He said, “If I’m not mistaken, you wanted to be mentioned in a report that proved not only that you were duly allied with both sides to your benefit and  could also prove, should things go south to actually leave you in a still better financial place?"

She hadn’t thought of that. Her father the Tycoon had only heard her proposal because she manipulated thanksgiving dinner, and her mother. She had used personal relationship for her gain as a BroKlo Co. employee. She had hoped her association could bring in a new source of revenue that now that she looked at it was beneficial to her regardless. As a BroKlo employee she would gain status and most likely some sort of finical gain. As a family member and heiress of the DeLoupe Fortune she would of course gain their too. She played honestly and created a balance contract for the two companies. A contract when looked at from a specific angle made her the prime beneficiary. 

“How does this deal failing benefit me more if it fails?”

“Perhaps I over estimated you.” He said. He was fiddling with the stand for the base of the shower then pushed it under the  counter so it looked like a drawer. Took the shower head off a hook and replaced it so it looked like the sprayer/faucet she had on her kitchen sink. 

He continued, “The deal itself will make both your father's company and BKC rich but if it fails both will fall into ruin. I can tell by the look in your eyes that you didn’t even realize that’s what was at stake. Yes they would fall into ruin but the trustees of DeLoupe will gain control of the remainder of the fortune and DeLoupe Corp’s sister companies. Something that directly puts money in your pocket. You managed to secure the DeLoupe holdings in such a way that there is no loss for you or your siblings. Weren't you aware of the split of the Hansen holdings from DeLoupe?“

Hansen was a ghost company no one should have known about. Jebadia Hansen was the majority holder of several of DeLoupe Inc.'s less lucrative companies and several other not so well known assets. Jebadia was a corporation to itself held by the more estranged children. How did this little tyrant learn of this? Even she found out only when her father saw they future as she presented it. 

“I didn’t have anything to do with that.”

“No? Who’s going to believe you?”

“Are _you_ planning something?”

“Accusations? Ms. DeLoupe don’t confuse me for a cretin. It is my job to look at all the angles. Do you know how many hours a week I put in here at BKC?” He paused and poured himself a beverage and proffered her a glass. She shook her head no.  “112 to 130. You are here what, 60 or less?”

“I work 20 from home” it sounded desperate even to here.

“I’m sure you do." He closed his eyes and seemed to come to a conclusion. "May I call you Margo?" he didn't wait for a responce, "Margo, I’m, what they refer to as a ‘Little Person’, a demeaning phrase, little person. My size and shape put me at a huge dis-advantage for the more social aspects of life. For years I could see how people pitied me or were nice to me out of self loathing than any real care for me. Friends liked me when I was more Oompa-Loompa than human. And yes I went out on a few dates but the shame of being seen with me. Margo, can you imagine what it must be like to hold hands with someone the height of a child?"

“I’m…” She stopped when he put his hand up. 

“No, I’m not asking for pity. I want you to understand that I wanted what normal people wanted but then I found BroKlo Co. BKC accepted me in a way the world wouldn’t. I learned to give it all I had. I gained respect out of Merritt not looks or height."

I don’t have a home Ms. DeLoupe , did you know that?”

She shook her head, where was this going?

“I said there were some advantages to my…” he spread his arms and ice clinked in the glass, “condition.”

She took a breath. What did he want? What should she say?

“No Ms. DeLoupe. Have a little respect, the evil genius is monologuing, this is his, my moment.” He looked at her and waited until she relaxed. “Now, where was I? Yes, benefits; I am just the right size to fit under my desk. Isn’t that a hoot? I became so involved and accepted by this thing, this evil corporation that I didn’t want to leave. There was too much to stop and too much to do. Having a home I went to once a week was stupid. I rent, “he used air quotes, “ a room for $278.23 from a nice lady who lives too far for a daily commute,  but it’s an address and the amount happens to be the exact amount of my mother’s medication.” 

“Why…”

“Monologuing, Ms. DeLoupe.” he snapped. “This company is a home, a wife. A reason for me to exist. Pathetic, maybe but when I saw a woman, an honest woman, one who was fair beyond anyone I’d ever seen come through this company. Someone who when I checked found no deceit, only a pregnancy scare at 22, and who was willing to deal so drastically and viciously to make a mutually fair deal for both my home and her’s; even risking banishment from her family. A person who is willing to put so much on the line to be fair. I had to see what was really there. I found a dirty trick.”

Margo took another breath but thought better of it.

He looked at her and continued when she didn’t speak, “This was a One Percenter’s trick. Something that only the rich could dream up, and manage. I did a full check and realized this honest woman didn’t even know. So I did the thing that if she were as honest as she presented herself wouldn’t matter. I removed her name from the deal.”

She sat there looking at him. His squat, slightly baby shaped body standing there looking strong, sure. Higgman was known for his dirty deals and evil back handed methods. Maybe he was different.

“Now, Ms DeLoupe if there is nothing else?”

“How do you know it’s not a trick.”

“A good question.” He moved to his file cabinet pulled the step ladder and dug out a folder. 

Folder in hand he returned to her, “First, you Margo DeLoupe, have tensions with your father’s morals but don’t hate him. Second you are a giver, you volunteer and help manage a soupe kitchen completely without notice. Third.” he handed her the folder.

She took it and looked at the title, Lander DeLoupe surveillance. “I like playing a fair game, I bought this from one Mercer Ledwigg, hired to give info to Besdra Intl. He’d been unable to remove the taps so kept them going. I found them when I was researching you. My only copy and It’s yours. And something more powerful than telling on me that I turned my liquor cabinet into a shower.”

He escorted her to the door, two files in her hand. One bent and wrinkled the other ominous and hard to hold. 

He’d actually done her a favor. 

Even a one sided love can keep you young

The following is the result of an exercise from my writing group.  

The rules were as following:

1. Each sentence must be EXACTLY one work longer than the previous sentence (excluding the first sentence, which may be as long as you like).

2. You must tell a complete 3-act story.

- Act One: A problem appears

- Act Two: A problem is approached (a response to the problem)

- Act Three: A problem is resolved (positive or negative or inconclusive)

“Dying?"

Fucking Tumor.

Doug cried Freely.

His fists Clench tightly.

He feels so freaking helpless.

There is nothing he can do

It's been years since his last prayer

He's interrupted by a knock at the door

"Excuse me," says the man in the purple fedora.

---------------------

He followed the map precisely but it must be wrong. The mysterious man told him it was going to be perilous. He however, didn't mention the part where the ground crumbled to nothing. He survived the rabid squirrel, the winged anaconda and various other supernatural "Guardians". Now he's falling to his death never to find The Fountain and save Tiffany.

"I wasn't looking for me," he cries out a second prayer in as many days. Doug's lengthy fall ends with a splash, a breaking of bones and an intake of water.

---------------------

He know's he looks 25 again but that is no reason for this admittance lady's agressive rudeness.

"She was in here with a tumor, they wouldn't have wheeled her out an let her go."

An older woman with the most beautiful eyes walked up, "I'm so sorry young man she's not here."

The rude woman gasped, her face falling from smug to consoling said  "Oh that was Dr. Pasco's , Ahem, special patient."

The older woman dug through some papers and produced an envelope with a familiar thumb drive shaped like the Pokemon Squirtle. It drive had a video of Tiffany and a man who looked much less mysterious with out his fedora or purple suit.

"If you are watching this then our plan failed and I need to tell you I never want to see you ever again. Doug, I really do love you but I felt more like a mother than a girlfriend so much that I just couldn't handle it." 

He wanted to cry but couldn't feel anything for the  gold digging evil murderous bitch who gave up a love that created miracles for HIM. He gave the water from the Fountain of Youth to the kind woman with the beautiful eyes who later picked him up at a Night club.

Tree hugger

Another moonless night. Too many. It was unnatural. When was the last time she even saw the sun? Was there a sun or had she imagined it? The view before her, an inverted nightmare. The trees glowed a ghostly white, like a night filled with a summer moon, and between them a darkness that seemed to be filled with it’s own light. A brilliance the poor ill bred wretches of flesh would never be blessed to see.

The shortest distance between two points is the line between me and you

The song with no source droned on. Magda worked her way through the forest. They were words she memorized with her childhood friend. What was her name? Lillith, Lani, Cheazra? No not Cheazra. They would sing this song. A tale about a princess searching for her beloved and he her. They giggled and sang as they acted out the parts. Sometimes she would be the prince, sometimes the princess.

always living on as the young

Now the woods whispered it to her. Again and again. The song encouraging her deeper and deeper into the dense black. She remembered the two of them putting the pine needles under their noses to make Mustaches and —Lucia, no, Lora, no, Chappy? No not Chappy— her friend would strut around making a show of being a burly man.

In our love we stay strong.

The ground began to rumble and pollen from the cotton wood started to flutter around her like Glow Bugs. Luminescent in this inverted world. Her friend gave the trees a name Populus deltoides So funny they would call them something other than Trees. Her friend said it was something the people of Landgrave did to identify things as different and in doing so keep them separate. Like how the two of them weren't supposed to play because they were different. Trees, people, what made them different? They grew and they woke and slept. Like all Living things.

There is no space between a bond so true

There, again, the warmth. It had been days, no weeks. The warmth had left. A cold befitting the eternal dark crept in filling all the places the warm should have been. And then a howl. The sound of an animal in so much pain. The pain of the soul rending asunder. She ran. Hoping to help. The noise surrounded her giving her no guide but she followed her heart followed knowing this cry was for her.

The cry chased the song away. It is now silent except for a small beat, more felt than heard.

She finds a clearing. In it, a young man. She pauses to watch. His hair is white, glowing like a moon. In his hands a small stone. Black. Evil. A massless malignant chunk of the world around her. The soul of this dark world. Tears of crystal fall from his eyes to feed the stone. It created the warmth, kept forest alive. Should she make him stop? Would set her free?

She tried to say something but she had no speech. He leaned back opened his mouth and the cry, the one she chased to find this spot, rang out coming from every tree and rock, from the starless sky itself. She needed to end this torture. Her's, his and it was becoming clear the pain of the forest itself. With caution she moves to the man and puts her hand on his shoulder. He tenses but does not move. Gaining a little more resolve she kneels to meet his eyes.

He looks up, eyes slowly focusing on her face. Marks, deep cuts and burns marred a face once soft and fair. Brilliant eyes she knew were of the deepest green shown grey in this land. He looked so much like Lulu, no Chandler…

Magda the wind speaks a name. He lookes so much like her childhood friend. He lifts the rock to her. It was a piece of time. A solid beat. She couldn’t bare the solid chunk of nothing. She put her hand on his to cover the stone. A beat. And for a moment the forest returned to life then was back. She remembered him Luchan. He was her friend. The one that played with her.

They laughed. They grew. They… Loved.

Another beat. Only one more. She knew. She knew how they were forbidden to love. She a creature of the forest. He a creature of blood, a human. Then she saw him fighting to save her. The flames surrounding her. His people attacked him held him down, made him watch.

Again, and the final beat. The stone fades to grey. Her time is up.

She looks at him. Her heart stone, the time keeper of her life. That which makes rhythm is still. His wounds have fed it and now she must go. Leave the stone, it will be the seed.

She wants to tell him that she is gone. That she must return to the flow of the forest. She no longer has voice and the forest begins to fade. The ghostly light of life fading, consumed by the dark of eternity.

Luchan She speaks the name and it's carried on the wind.

His eyes seem to focus. He looks at her, blinks back tears and buries the stone.

From the ground as the last ghost light fades a song emerges

The shortest distance between two points is the line between you and me