Interlude: Return to Aleria

The bittersweet story of a washed up, middle-aged man yearning for a world he lost so long ago.

The shabbily-dressed man shuffled down the quiet midnight streets, the city having found its bed some time ago. He tossed the remains of his extended nightcap into a trashcan. He self-consciously rubbed at his belly and sighed.

He stared down the length of empty street before him. Was this who he was, now? Fat, half bald, an alcoholic, presumably homeless now. He rubbed the coin in his coat pocket and started walking again.

It was so hard to remember the brighter times, now. He’d been a brilliant lawyer, very respected in his time. Like so many, he had become a victim of his own success.

He celebrated that success with drugs and alcohol. It changed him over a number of years. He garnered a sense of overzealous importance. It masked the growing discontent that had silently crept into his mind one night. It grew and festered there, hidden by booze and money.

So he had tried to return.

He had received a coin years ago from his grandfather. It looked like any other half-dollar. His grandfather told him it was no such thing.

The grandfather had told him wonderful tales of the adventures he had gone on in another world when he was younger. This coin, he said, was matched to a key in that world that acted as a gateway. With it, his grandson could visit this same wonderful place.

The man passed away a short while later. The young man hadn’t given it any more thought until one boring Summer afternoon. He sat at the end of a blind alley, turning the coin over in his hand, thinking of his grandfather.  He flipped it up into the air.

When it landed in his hand, he found himself sitting in a wide-open field. Everything his grandfather had told him was true. Here, before his unbelieving eyes, was all the evidence he’d ever need.

What followed was an epic tale in and of itself. In this reality, the fair kingdom of Aleria was ruled by King Michael, but he had become deathly ill. His son, Prince Aaron, believed it to be the work of the wicked Count Errol.

He soon found that a prophecy held that a young one from a faraway land would come to save them all. He reluctantly embraced this proposed fate and agreed to help the people of Aleria. The prophecy held true, and the Count’s plans were thwarted.

The king, deeply grateful and dutifully impressed with the young man’s abilities, offered for him to live in the kingdom as one of his loyal knights. This he did… for a time. He soon found himself missing the life he had left behind.

He returned to our world to find that not but a day had passed since he had first left months ago. He would feel a yearning to return to Aleria from time to time. One flip of the coin in this nondescript alley…

The middle-aged version of that young man stood at the mouth of that very alley. It had been so long since he’d visited this place. He had been in the last weeks of his senior year in high school.

He’d recently learned that he’d been accepted to a prestigious law school. With the last of his childhood fading, and his adult life racing toward him, he had decided it was a perfect time to escape this world for a while.

Except this time the coin failed to work.

He stood there, staring dumbly at the coin, unsure of why its magic remained quiet. He went home deeply worried for his friends in that distant land. He would return a number of times, increasingly faint hope tingling in the pit of his stomach. The coin never worked again.

It had sat in the top drawer of the bureau in his bedroom for years afterward, slowly forgotten, cold and lifeless. He pressed on with college and began his life as a newly-minted adult. The memories of his young exploits slowly faded from his mind.

Only recently had he rediscovered the coin. Memories of Aleria raced back into his mind the moment he picked it out of its hiding spot. He found it while he was packing his things. He’d just separated from his third wife.

Things had quickly gone downhill from there in the form of countless bottles and pills. The man shuffled to the end of the alley and sat down roughly on the damp ground. It had been so many years. He pulled out the coin and turned it over and over in his hand.

That old familiar tingling returned to his gut, spurred in part by the exhilaration he felt at the idea of returning to Aleria. He flipped the coin skyward. He watched it flip high into the air and back down into the palm of his hand.

The sky remained dark. The alley stubbornly refused to dissipate.

The man bowed his head and began to sob. This was it. There was no more hope. He pulled a pistol from his other pocket. Still sobbing, he placed it to his head.

The gun clattered to the ground. He balled his fist and pushed it hard into his burning chest. Even now, would he be denied what he wanted? His eyes watered from the pain spreading from his chest to his left arm.

“Enough of it, Trevor! Hail and get off of your ass!”

The man… Trevor… looked up at the robed man looming over him in the dark. “Help me… I’m having… heart attack.” He fought to spit the words out.

The man above him waved a dismissive hand. “Bah! Of course you are. You poisoned your heart with the sickness of this land years ago.”

The robes of the man swung aside, revealing a gnarled wooden staff. He stabbed at the ground beside Trevor, who yelped. The amber stone at the top of the staff shimmered.

The staff glowed bright yellow. Crackling yellow energy arced from the stone to Trevor’s chest. The robed man returned the staff to its former position. “Now, I say! Get off of this forsaken ground! Aleria needs you.”

“Aleria…” Trevor looked up, fresh tears in his eyes. “Tyrion!”

“At least your eyes are still working.”

Trevor scratched and pulled his way to his feet. “The coin! It stopped working years ago.”

“Aye! I told you! You became too poisoned to use its magic. That’s why I came of my own accord. But I warn ye… if you return with me, never again will you see this wretched, filthy world.”

Trevor shook his head. “I have nothing here. Please… please take me back.”

The wizard considered him for a moment, his gaze burning into Trevor’s own eyes. “I can see the pain. Desperation. You are sick, child…” He nodded. “Come forth with me, Trevor of Earth! Stay close, now.”

Trevor followed closely behind the wizard. The brick walls on either side of them began to change. Bits of mold and fungus erupted from between the bricks and spread. The concrete underneath their feet gave way to earth and grass.

The gray sky above brightened into one of a brilliant blue-green hue. The sun glared in Trevor’s eyes. When he blinked it out, he found the two of them walking across the fields outside the kingdom of Aleria.

The wizard Tyrion turned to see what his charge thought of the sudden change of scenery. Trevor looked back at him with a face decades younger than his years and smiled. Tears of joy filled his eyes.

Tyrion nodded, his own eyes growing moist. “There you are, lad. Welcome home… now and forever.”

FlashFic: The Storyteller

A simple scribe weaves an epic tale for a too-proud hero.

“Are you ready to venture forth, scribe Belvedere?”

“Quite! Quite…” A small, balding man emerged from Zoran the Brave’s domicile. His large, flat feet were wrapped in sandals that constantly threatened to capture his flowing brown robe.

Zoran frowned. “You are certain you are up for this venture? I heard you are the best scribe available.”

“And so I am! Shall we begin?” The scribe removed a leather-bound journal and a golden quill from inside his robe.

“So we shall!”

“Let’s see… Zoran the Brave stood facing the unknown…” The golden quill glowed brightly as he wrote. “The wind blew his long hair back behind him. His loincloth…”

“Loincloth…” Zoran looked down. He yelped, discovering that he was indeed now only wearing a loincloth. “Oh, my!”

“Is that a problem, sire?”

“You! That… loincloth!”

“Well, you did say you were going for a ‘sword and sandals’ vibe…” The scribe shrugged. “Okay then, how about: Zoran the Brave stood facing the unknown, his armor gleaming in the sunlight.”

Certainly enough, Zoran found himself donned in shining silver armor. He lifted his visor. “Can we drop the helmet? I liked the hair thing.”

Belvedere smirked. “Of course, sire. Ahem… His hair flowed in the blowing winds as he faced his perilously long journey.”

Zoran looked at the quill. “Um… Brief journey.”

“Okay… His brief journey.”

“And he had a large sword.”

“He wielded a beautiful longsword…”

“And he had a beautiful maiden…”

Belvedere narrowed his eyes. “You’re quite the piece of work, aren’t you? Look… I can help here and there, but don’t you think your story should at least be plausible?”

Zoran grumbled. “Don’t think a beautiful maiden would have me, do you? Well… What if I faced great peril!”

The scribe grinned and cracked his knuckles. “Grand idea! Zoran the Brave turned to face the approaching dragon…”

“Now just a minute, scribe. I think…”

“The immense, fire-breathing dragon swooped down at the mighty hero…”

“Scribe! I really don’t think…” Zoran turned to see a large dragon descending from the skies, indeed blowing fire from its open maw.

“Yes, too simple, isn’t it? Let’s see… The hero’s sword broken, he faced the dangerous creature with but a simple dagger…”

Zoran went white. “Forget it! Forget it all!” He ran off in the opposite direction of the quickly approaching dragon. “I’m done with heroing!”

Belvedere licked the tip of the quill, a sly smile on his face. “…And the shamed hero never returned to his disappointed village.” The scribe closed the journal and placed the book and quill back in his robe.

The sizable dragon touched down with a mighty thump near the scribe. It talked with a deep, rumbling voice. “Gods! You cleared this one in record time!”

“That I did, friend dragon. He was… more brawn than brains, to say the least. He was also quite rich!” Belvedere pointed to Zoran’s abandoned home. “We’ve a few months of gold coin to be had in there.

“It almost seems unfair, doesn’t it?” The great dragon chortled.

Belvedere shrugged his shoulders. “All I did was tell his story!”

DEEP THOUGHTS: Penguins

Deep thoughts on penguins, Adventure Time, and poop. So much poop.

A few days ago, we asked a question on Twitter:

“Do you think the little penguin in the refrigerator that turns the light off ever gets lonely?”

A poll was added, and results were calculated! Here’s where we stand:

Always Gunther. ALWAYS.

So clearly a majority are concerned for the little fella. This stands to reason as Penguins tend to be social creatures. The daddy penguins tend to hang out with each other to keep warm and discuss sporting events while keeping their unborn chicks cozy. Meanwhile, the mama penguins form cliques and go shopping (read: food hunting.)

Such is the power of the penguin pack that they leave a poop stain on earth large enough to be seen from SPACE.

Poop! From SPACE!

Your dookie party has nothing on penguins.

At least one soul was concerned about the whereabouts of Gunther, which was nice. The cute little penguin pal hung out with the Ice King on the Cartoon Network hit show Adventure Time for an impressive eight years. Now that the show is over, you could argue that Gunther would be sad as well.

However, in a um… unique twist, Gunther ended up with the Ice King’s crown at the end of the lastest episode ever. The petite penguin was granted whatever wish popped into his little head. Gunther’s wish was, apparently, to be Ice King.

GAH!

Well… as long as he’s happy? I guess? Yeah. Let’s just go with that.

If I had to be a ghost

So I was thinking, as one often does, about what I would haunt if I had to be a ghost.

That’s normal, right? Thinking about that? Anyway…

If I had to choose someplace to haunt, I wouldn’t pick a mansion, or a castle, or a shack in the woods.

I’d pick a department store.

Bear with me…

There are actually several benefits to selecting a department store to haunt. Foremost is the broad selection of vict… um, customers to interact with. Why hang out waiting for people to visit your haunted property when you can hang out at Walmart and have them stream in by the hundreds?

Lots more variety that way, too. A cabin would snag you a string of young lovers, with perhaps the occasional Unabomber. A department store lands you everything from Bitchy McMoneybags to Herbie the Hick, and everything in between.

Indeed, one could spend hours in rapt silence, simply watching the various oddballs interact with each other. Watch the rich folk chuckle at the rednecks puzzling over smartphones in the Electronics section. Watch the rednecks point and laugh at the rich folk fearfully skittering past the hunting gear in Sporting Goods.

That’s not even to mention the gossip. I think that’s half the reason people go to these things: Just to track down other gossipers and spread the love. Eventually you could hunt down the regulars and get updates on who’s dating whom, you won’t believe what the neighbor did to his dog in the backyard, etc.

You’d get bored with that, I’m sure, but you’re in a freaking department store. Full of stuff. That you can look at. You can even play with it, if you do the poltergeist thing.

Little Jimmy being a snot? Wait until Mom looks away and pelt the little fucker with a tennis ball. It’s not like he can tattle on you, and even if he could, do you really think Mom is going to believe him? Well, of course not.

If beating small children isn’t your thing, there’s always the old folk to mess with. Wait until he’s examining the prune juice section and take old man Jenkins’ pack of Magnums out of his cart. See how many times he goes back for another box before he accepts his senility and goes home.

Lastly, the fun never ends! People (eventually) go to sleep in the haunted house. Visitors leave the castle. Young lovers bone for the fortieth time. But the department store? It’s open 24/7, baby!

Sure, it gets quiet in the early a.m. That just gives you time to plot your next hilarious practical joke. Or you could always go watch TV in the Electronics section. You know, maybe catch a movie or something.

I’m surely just scratching the surface, here. Walmart has to be, like, Disneyland for dead people. Go ahead and keep your creepy graveyard, I’m headed to Wally-world.

A Momentous Day

I don’t have a lot to say, but I wanted to mark this momentous day.

Hey, I rhymed! 😀

Today was the day it was announced that I have joined the Kyanite Publishing family. How about that. Your boy getting signed by a Publisher.

I honestly never thought it would happen.

I was content to stay an indie author for… well, for the foreseeable future. I’m not one to think very highly of myself. I’m also not one to give up even a sliver of control.

But I want people to read my books. That requires some spot-on advertising and networking. Those are two things I am severely lacking in, hard as that is to admit. I still feared getting lost in some sort of mega book-pooping machine.

Kyanite Publishing is a very happy medium for me. They’re small enough to know — and care — who I am, but with the talent and weight to get my books in front of readers like I never could have dreamed. It’s the perfect balance.

I see great things not just for myself, but for this publisher. May we grow together in our pursuit to bring quality writing to the masses. I raise my glass to thee.

Take a moment to check out Kyanite Publishing, if you haven’t already. You’ll be seeing my own work there before you know it. 🙂

Until next time.

John