Self-Indulgent Story

I travel the city; slow, indulgent window shopping and switchbacks. I am outside of it watching. To work, to live, to explore, I see myself. I am outside of myself; watching. Every place has a past. Artifacts surround me, support me. There is a hunger for more, escape. I haunt the city.
Places have two meanings. There is a secret lens through which to see the second and it enshrouds us; two in a bubble. At this strip of green there is Hungarian wine, below the swing set are tracks in the snow made by red shoes,

Cloud Mine (Samantha)

A fog of pain and pleasure. A desire for belonging, family acceptance. "If they knew I was the best they would have to accept me." Desperate ranking substituting respect. A door opens, or was it always open, letting in light and smoke.
"How's Sam?" the voice cuts through the darkness followed by a strong hand caressing her bare curves. "You wandered off. We missed you."
The world fades to deafening white.

***

We exchange something we have for something we want more. If it is your free choice could this ever be wrong? Are there choices you can't come back from?

The car had a rind of frost, like a barrier. The cold of the seat, stirring wheel, was sobering. Sam felt the brutal contrast, still smiling, but there was an immeasurable distance from this world and the one she just left.

Lord of Myself: Part 1 The Rat-Thing

The rat-thing hunched and bent in the darkness as black as its skin, its soul. It screamed and spit whilst ravaging the rock and occasional ponds of mud. Searching and searching, crying and searching, and in a moment of pure frustration the rat-thing shouted, "my precious!"
Out of breath, shaking with exhaustion and self-loathing, the rat-thing remembered its relationship with its precious. The precious was closest to its heart, whispers in the night, a shining jewel that outshone the sun. With the precious the rat-thing forgot about all others, but was also forgotten. "They never loved me, not like my precious," it wimpered whilst idly scratching rock. It had fought for the precious, being around friends and family only reminded the rat-thing of what it had given up and what it was like to not be loved completely. Being with the precious was an insurmountable shield between the rat-thing and its failures and loneliness. "I need the precious, the precious and I need to be together." But the precious had fallen away. "Someone took my precious, a thief!" It was so clear now, the precious and rat-thing have an immutable and eternal relationship, it was a thief that has caused all this pain. But there was no thief to be found, and the precious had not returned.
*     *     *
The rat-thing lay many mornings talking as though the precious was still there, but only loss filled the air. No more whispers in the night, no more shine greater than the sun. The rat-thing was alone. It had forgotten friends and family, hidden from an unloving sun in a place meant only for two, but the rat-thing was just one. It thought of friends and family and how they hid from him as he from they. But they didn't love him like the precious! They offered him familial and Platonic relationships and he wasn't strong enough to appreciate.
But the precious loved the rat-thing! Yes, and the rat-thing loved the precious. And yes, the precious left the rat-thing, too. When the rat-thing was born it had its parents, and after its family it had friends, and after friends it had the precious, so after the precious it has the darkness. The final gift of the precious was finding the rat-thing for the rat-thing; practicing for the loneliness of death is finding the strength to truly live.

Princess of Rose and Mandrake

There once was a princess married to a handsome warrior prince with two children, all living in a keep by a river. Although her home was beautiful, the princess did not want to spend time with the prince, enchanted more by what her garden could grow. During the day she raised her children, and at night she tended the garden which was split in two beds; one side grew roses, the other mandrake.
The princess wanted both rose and mandrake, but was not happy with the yield of roses saying, "it is mostly thorns." By moonlight and starlight she visited both garden beds, though the scratches and pricks of the roses kept her dance ridged and her smile slight. From a high tower, the prince watched her.
Time passed and the garden grew and the children grew. One night the princess stood in the garden regarding the cuts and scrapes that dotted her limbs. "The more I stay with mandrake the more I want rose, but look what I get." A man named Jack had spied the princess and hoped to share the love of roses and so he climbed over the wall of the garden and gave her a small rose bush. The one bud was small, but beautiful, and the scent was fresh. They planted it in the garden and the princess was so happy she asked Jack to join her in the garden again. The princess and Jack spent many an hour together, walking around the roses and talking. They enjoyed their time together and their joy made them smile. The light from the moon and stars reflected off their faces and illuminated the garden. Standing over the rose bush Jack had brought, they stared at each other, smiling, and from their enchanted eyes tears of joy fled. The happy waters fed the bush and the one rose bud bloomed so large the petals engulfed the princess and Jack. They sat in the rose together all night, climbing down the thorns like a ladder at dawn. At each of the Moon's four phases, full, right half, new, and left half, they met in the garden in their rose bud smiling and crying the tears the roses craved.
Time past and the rose bud was more beautiful than ever, it stood higher than the garden wall. Jack said, "princess, my love, the world is big, and my boots can be softened and dirtied more. But, do not be saddened for our rose is big and can be seen from far."
Jack left the garden. The princess returned to the rose at the next phase of the moon and peering over the petals she looked out for Jack. They saw each other and smiled, but his face was so small to her being far away, and she was sad being in the rose alone with no one in the garden to talk to. The princess cried and watered the garden, but as the moon traveled her tears were more sadness than joy. The rose shrunk, first becoming only big enough for her, then too small to climb. But climb it she still tried, not wanting the rose and her time with Jack to end. As she pulled herself around the dwarfed thorns the stem bent under her weight down into the rose garden. The princess was cut all over, shaken with pain.
Eventually Jack returned, but the princess didn't not want him in the garden anymore. She pointed to the scars that covered her and said, "this happened because of you!" The princess continued to spend her nights in her gardens, again spending more time amongst the mandrake than the rose. The prince, who hoped the princess would come away from the garden after the rose receded, left their keep for another that wouldn't have a high tower that sees over the wall of the garden.

Copyright Michael Mosher 2013

Knowable Unknowns: Chapter 1

"No hostile activity detected. Can you confirm, Eagle's Nest?"
You glance at your communications specialist to see if anything changed since the smoke cleared from the aerial drone strike. "Visuals show direct hit. IR doesn't contradict." Another screen. "No signal communication for the last thirty minutes."
While waiting for the smoke to clear any survives have had time to put IDEs in place. Even if the mapping from the cockroach drone is accurate, the maze of signal dampening natural rock which makes up this bunker is going to be dangerous. You aren't going to skip any step that will let these boys get hurt.
"Hercules One this is Eagle's Nest. We confirm no hostiles are active within range. Get me an ATD in Hades."
An automated tracked drone, ATD, looks a lot like the robot in the movie, Five Alive. Though capable of climbing varied terrain, in this instance with crater depressions and rubble inclines it is most efficient to give it a handicapped start halfway into the opening.

the big day

S
The scent of jasmine and orange with acrid candle smoke , a pastel background. She looked lovely, even he felt lovely. Primped and coiffed, they turned from their mirrors and saw with their eyes what had been felt in their hearts for two years.
"I do." he laughed at himself as soon as heard himself.
"That's it, we are done! Now we can undo all of this." she motioned to take in all of her onsombal.

In Need of a Plot

So...National Writing Month in the United States in November, very soon. All coincidental, however, as the muse has struck, but maybe encouragement to keep a pace that may propel this work to its endgame. In the past I've gotten lost in my work, not seeing were things are going, so not knowing what I should be developing, overwhelmed by the possibilities. With that said, I know what I need to address, though I can't say that in my current idea that I've solved that problem. Again, an excellent premise, at least in my mind, and an excitement to write and create. My premise has personal drama; a group of underclass heroes, with slightly more privileged as contrast, and a very dramatic context for metaplot. It will have revelations, being speculative fiction on the "harder" side of the genre, and mystery and paranoia conspiracy-style. So of course there will be a surprise twist somewhere between two-thirds and three-quarters through, and it doesn't have to be subtle, and would need to be significant after everything leading to it. But then the ending won't need to resolve the metaplot, maybe not even have a large impact on it, instead have a personal conclusion leaving the context as this larger-than-an-individual thing, right?

Prelude:

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