Once, there was a god of the sea. He lived in complete harmony with the animals of the ocean. He ruled from a massive coral palace in a bay. He had been master of the waters of the world from the dawn of time, and was extraordinarily patient. One day a group of humans settled at his bay. At first he liked them. They worshipped him like the other animals could not. But the tribe grew and grew, until a city was built there. The city grew great and powerful, and they abandoned their worship of him, caught as they were by the trappings of modern civilization. The city became so great, the poisons from their factories leaked into the bay, killing all life. The god of the sea grew angry. Something had to be done with these humans, he thought. And so he gathered the greatest and most vicious of his beasts of the sea, and set them on the city.
It was a calm day in Coral city, which lay beside downing bay. Fishing boats sat on the peaceful waters, gently trawling for fish. Everything was quiet, as the city had just begun to wake up. An old man sat on one of those fishing boats, fishing pole in hand, and cigar clamped in his mouth. He had been sitting in his little folding chair since four in the morning, and his back was beginning to ache. He stood up and stretched when he noticed a dark shape in the water. It was streamlined, and extraordinarily long. He peered at it, as it slowly moved forward. Suddenly, it sped up, going at least thirty miles an hour. He continued to peer at it, until it vanished below his boat. Two great walls rose out of the water and closed on the boat. Then, a shark, big enough to eat a minivan in one bite, leapt up out of the water, as an oil tanker ploughed into the bay. Suddenly, an orange tentacle wrapped itself around the prow of the boat. A second, a third, a fourth, a fifth , a sixth, a seventh, and then an eighth tentacle wrapped itself around the boat. Then, a massive head broke the water. It was an octopus bigger than an airplane! It proceeded to eat the boat, bit by bit. The citizens of Coral city watched this with growing horror. They watched as a massive head, then shoulders, then torso and arms emerged from the water. This gigantic man was made out of water! He then proceeded to speak in a deep, resonating voice, about mankind’s horrible atrocities against the living creatures of the ocean. He then raised one great watery arm. He brought it crashing down on the city, leaving nothing but splinters behind as he and his pets descended back into the depths of the bay.
27 Feb 2009
26 Feb 2009
The Great Carp
Once, in a time long forgotten, there was a great warrior named Otaru. He was a leaderless samurai who lived outside of a coastal fishing town. This small town lied in between two Daimyo’s lands, and lay close to a forest filled with spirits and dangerous animals. Time and time again he was called upon by the villagers to protect them from a malevolent spirit, or a warring band of samurai, or great demon-beasts from the forest. This is a tale from when Otaru was new to the village, before they knew too much about him.
On a pleasant summer day, Otaru set out for the harbor. He had woken with a taste for fish lingering in his mouth. So he walked to the harbor and set out in his small coracle. He stopped about a mile from the shore and got out his net. Laden as it was with bait it would attract a great many fish, he thought. So he cast it out and trawled for a while. He soon built up a mass of fish in his boat, and it began to ride quite low in the water. He threw the last great net full of fish into his boat and thought to himself, “This will keep me for a long time. So he set out for home. When he was halfway home, and was passing a grouping of craggy rocks sticking out of the shore, the water began to heave. Great waves threw themselves at the little boat and it tipped frightfully back and forth. Otaru was quite frightened, but remained composed. But then he suddenly blanched, for he had spotted a massive streamlined black shape heading with great speed toward him. He began to paddle furiously towards the shore, but the massive black shape leapt out of the water, revealing itself to be a great carp, twice the size of a man, with a long snout full of bladelike teeth. It crashed onto Otaru’s boat, smashing it to bits. He immediately began paddling to the rocks, which were only ten feet from him. He climbed onto a rocky outcropping, and just in time, too, as the massive carp leapt up out of the heaving water and landed next to Otaru. It thrashed around for a bit, its tail slamming into the rocks time and time again, knocking great chunks into the ocean. It twisted on its side and pounced, to take a bite out of Otaru. But Otaru was too quick for it and grabbed its jaws, slicing his fingers on its teeth. He shoved a sizeable chunk of rock in its mouth, keeping its great jaws open. Then he drew his small sword, which he always kept at his side. In one quick movement, he cut off the carp’s head. As soon as the carp was dead, the seas calmed. A bit later, one of the fishermen saw Otaru sitting on the rocks and retrieved. That night Otaru feasted on the flesh of the great carp. He went to bed content, his sizeable girth filled with fish, his hunger sated.
On a pleasant summer day, Otaru set out for the harbor. He had woken with a taste for fish lingering in his mouth. So he walked to the harbor and set out in his small coracle. He stopped about a mile from the shore and got out his net. Laden as it was with bait it would attract a great many fish, he thought. So he cast it out and trawled for a while. He soon built up a mass of fish in his boat, and it began to ride quite low in the water. He threw the last great net full of fish into his boat and thought to himself, “This will keep me for a long time. So he set out for home. When he was halfway home, and was passing a grouping of craggy rocks sticking out of the shore, the water began to heave. Great waves threw themselves at the little boat and it tipped frightfully back and forth. Otaru was quite frightened, but remained composed. But then he suddenly blanched, for he had spotted a massive streamlined black shape heading with great speed toward him. He began to paddle furiously towards the shore, but the massive black shape leapt out of the water, revealing itself to be a great carp, twice the size of a man, with a long snout full of bladelike teeth. It crashed onto Otaru’s boat, smashing it to bits. He immediately began paddling to the rocks, which were only ten feet from him. He climbed onto a rocky outcropping, and just in time, too, as the massive carp leapt up out of the heaving water and landed next to Otaru. It thrashed around for a bit, its tail slamming into the rocks time and time again, knocking great chunks into the ocean. It twisted on its side and pounced, to take a bite out of Otaru. But Otaru was too quick for it and grabbed its jaws, slicing his fingers on its teeth. He shoved a sizeable chunk of rock in its mouth, keeping its great jaws open. Then he drew his small sword, which he always kept at his side. In one quick movement, he cut off the carp’s head. As soon as the carp was dead, the seas calmed. A bit later, one of the fishermen saw Otaru sitting on the rocks and retrieved. That night Otaru feasted on the flesh of the great carp. He went to bed content, his sizeable girth filled with fish, his hunger sated.
Monkey
Once, in an era long forgotten, in a land far away, there was a mountain. It dwarfed all others, and rose to such heights that the tip pierced the fabric of space. There was a small village, no more than three hundred people that lived on a plateau on the eastern side of the mountain. They worshipped the spirit of the mountain, named Monkey. There they farmed rice and sweet corn, and they were content. Every morning they woke to a golden sun, and every night they slept in small hovels, under a starry canopy. They were called the Peaceful Folk, for they were never angry, and were never touched by greed, lust, or anger. They lived in complete ignorance of the world below, and the world below lived in complete ignorance of them, as they were hidden by thick clouds. This was fortunate for them, for the fires of war were spreading across the world. Blood ran in thick rivers, as the violent races from below competed for control.
But, there was a race from below who knew the secret of flight. “If we control the skies, eventually the entire world will be bowing at our feet.” So they built a mighty armada of sky-ships, and they began to take control. A hundred years, there were only two great nations left to do battle. The engineers of flight needed something to fund their war, as they were suffering heavy losses and they needed more weapons. So they set out to find a suitable source of funds. They eventually came upon the mountain called Monkey. They landed on the plateau, and men in dark black coats and black glasses descended into the Peaceful Folk’s lives. They stayed hidden, hiding behind trees and rocks. They watched carefully as the Peaceful Folk went about their lives. They did not know that the strange people were hiding near them, as they were blind. Soon, the strange people made their way to a cavern deep in the mountain. There, they found a horde of diamonds. Somehow, these strange folk found the Well of All Souls, were the souls of the deceased go to rest. As they mined the rich seam, fueling their bloody war, the Peaceful Folk grew uneasy. They knew that something was disturbing Monkey’s sleep, and soon he would wake. Then, one day, the Peaceful Folk and the strange people felt the mountain called Monkey begin to shake. Then, the mountain called Monkey woke from his deep sleep. His wrath was terrible when he fund the strange people were mining in the Well of All Souls. He released the terrible fire from his belly. There were no screams. There was no time. There was fire… then nothingness.
But, there was a race from below who knew the secret of flight. “If we control the skies, eventually the entire world will be bowing at our feet.” So they built a mighty armada of sky-ships, and they began to take control. A hundred years, there were only two great nations left to do battle. The engineers of flight needed something to fund their war, as they were suffering heavy losses and they needed more weapons. So they set out to find a suitable source of funds. They eventually came upon the mountain called Monkey. They landed on the plateau, and men in dark black coats and black glasses descended into the Peaceful Folk’s lives. They stayed hidden, hiding behind trees and rocks. They watched carefully as the Peaceful Folk went about their lives. They did not know that the strange people were hiding near them, as they were blind. Soon, the strange people made their way to a cavern deep in the mountain. There, they found a horde of diamonds. Somehow, these strange folk found the Well of All Souls, were the souls of the deceased go to rest. As they mined the rich seam, fueling their bloody war, the Peaceful Folk grew uneasy. They knew that something was disturbing Monkey’s sleep, and soon he would wake. Then, one day, the Peaceful Folk and the strange people felt the mountain called Monkey begin to shake. Then, the mountain called Monkey woke from his deep sleep. His wrath was terrible when he fund the strange people were mining in the Well of All Souls. He released the terrible fire from his belly. There were no screams. There was no time. There was fire… then nothingness.
24 Feb 2009
Haiku
a lily pad sits
on blue water like a polished
stone, under the sky.
a weeping willow
hangs over the glassy pond,
as night approaches
a milky yellow
sits, floating just above
the green horizon.
on blue water like a polished
stone, under the sky.
a weeping willow
hangs over the glassy pond,
as night approaches
a milky yellow
sits, floating just above
the green horizon.
18 Feb 2009
Caliban.
The diminutive, cherry-red man pushed the remaining rubble down the cliff and carefully made his way out into the sunlight. His horns quivered as he shielded his abnormally large eyes from the bright glare of the midwinter sun. He glanced down to a small village several miles below, surrounded by snowdrifts. He turned and motioned to indistinct figures massing in the darkness at the back of the cavern through which the man had come through. As the first dwarf ran down the hillside, a wooden pitchfork grasped in one hand, a great red wave started to flood down the mountainside as his fellows followed his decent.
Down in the little village, a elderly man, around sixty, with a massive grizzly beard, had heard a rumbling. He grabbed his rifle, clumsily loading a slug into the barrel, while dimly wondering if John the Milkman’s cows were stampeding again. He opened his door and stepped into the frigid cold. Seeing no cows, stampeding or grazing, he looked up at the mountain. He gasped as he saw the mighty red army pouring down the mountainside. He raised his gun and shot one. It fell headlong down to the foot of the village. Still, its fellows came.
They fell onto the village with the force of an avalanche. The lead dwarf-man stabbed the old man with his pitchfork, and the old man began to shrivel up. In a second, he was just skin and bones. He slid off the end of the pitchfork, and the diminutive man began to swell. His muscles began to grow. They eventually grew so big that it looked as if his skin would split from the strain. A vein beat a tattoo in his forehead. He shot up like a rocket. Soon he was seven feet tall. He bellowed, a roar of primal savagery, as he watched his horde tear apart the village like tissue paper.
The massive man opened his mouth for another roar, but it was drowned out by a massive rumbling coming from the mountain. He whipped his head around to stare at the peak, which began to shudder. Suddenly, the top of the mountain exploded. The black smoke pouring out of the peak took the form of a man’s head, torso, and arms. Its face had a long, flowing beard and windswept hair. It opened it mouth and said, in a deep, gravelly, commanding voice, “Caliban, you and your kind have caused to much trouble. Today, you shall die!” It raised one arm, and grabbed the mass of diminutive red men in one fist. It squeezed, and they turned to dust. He opened his fist, and the dust drifted away on the wind. The smoke vanished. The rumbling stopped. Everything was quiet. Then the mountain exploded. Fire rained down from the heavens. Smoke clotted the skies. There was flame… then nothing.
Down in the little village, a elderly man, around sixty, with a massive grizzly beard, had heard a rumbling. He grabbed his rifle, clumsily loading a slug into the barrel, while dimly wondering if John the Milkman’s cows were stampeding again. He opened his door and stepped into the frigid cold. Seeing no cows, stampeding or grazing, he looked up at the mountain. He gasped as he saw the mighty red army pouring down the mountainside. He raised his gun and shot one. It fell headlong down to the foot of the village. Still, its fellows came.
They fell onto the village with the force of an avalanche. The lead dwarf-man stabbed the old man with his pitchfork, and the old man began to shrivel up. In a second, he was just skin and bones. He slid off the end of the pitchfork, and the diminutive man began to swell. His muscles began to grow. They eventually grew so big that it looked as if his skin would split from the strain. A vein beat a tattoo in his forehead. He shot up like a rocket. Soon he was seven feet tall. He bellowed, a roar of primal savagery, as he watched his horde tear apart the village like tissue paper.
The massive man opened his mouth for another roar, but it was drowned out by a massive rumbling coming from the mountain. He whipped his head around to stare at the peak, which began to shudder. Suddenly, the top of the mountain exploded. The black smoke pouring out of the peak took the form of a man’s head, torso, and arms. Its face had a long, flowing beard and windswept hair. It opened it mouth and said, in a deep, gravelly, commanding voice, “Caliban, you and your kind have caused to much trouble. Today, you shall die!” It raised one arm, and grabbed the mass of diminutive red men in one fist. It squeezed, and they turned to dust. He opened his fist, and the dust drifted away on the wind. The smoke vanished. The rumbling stopped. Everything was quiet. Then the mountain exploded. Fire rained down from the heavens. Smoke clotted the skies. There was flame… then nothing.
16 Feb 2009
The Raft of The Medusa
The small raft floated away from the red-tinged sand. Loaded with people, it bobbed up and down, its red sail slowly growing smaller as it was swept into the distance. Its passengers looked backwards, to the beach with a look of fear. They could see a lone figure, wreathed in shadow, standing on the shore, surrounded with small army of stone figures. She held a spear in her hand, and red pinpricks glared out from her eyes. Slowly, mist began to obscure their vision. Soon, the island was wreathed in mist. They each turned inwards, and thought of the events of the past twenty-four hours. One man, his body netted with bandages, started to speak in a horse whisper.
“Once, there was a mighty army. They were clothed in golden armor and red capes, and those who resisted them were swept aside like leaves in a summer storm. After many years of fighting, their homeland lay before them, kneeling to their might. But their lust for battle was too great. Their hunger for blood and conquest was not sated. They wanted new lands to explore. They were blinded by their bloodlust, they couldn’t see they wonderful land they already had a wonderful land to populate. But they needed new lands to conquer. There was a great land, wreathed in mist, not thirty miles from where they stood. They saw it and wanted it for themselves.
“So they built a great ship, like no other, unmatched in size and speed. They loaded themselves in and headed for this new misty land. They sailed for days and then they came to a bay. They anchored themselves there, and set out to pillage and conquer. They had barely marched a hundred strides when three women, all garbed in animal skins and rags. They each had a spear, rusting and ancient. Their hair was green and iridescent, like the finest emeralds. It hissed and moved of its own accord, for their hair was hundreds of swaying snakes. They lifted their heads, and the first of the army to see their red eyes went still and silent, turned into the hardest stone. Then the three women fell onto the army with the fierceness of wild beasts. They slaughtered them, but two of the she-beasts were killed in the fierce combat. In the end, there was only one of the snake women and ten remaining of the great army. She sent them away on a small raft, with a warning ‘Tell your masters,’ she had hissed ‘Tell them, the Last of the Gorgons, The Medusa, waits to tear their flesh and shred their lifeless carcasses. ‘ She sent them away, to float for all eternity on the water. She left them to Death, the merciless witch!”
He cursed and shook his fist at the retreating island. “We, the remnant of the mightiest of armies, rid ourselves of the Island of Gorgons, and its accursed inhabitant!”
For many months the raft drifted, floating in the ocean. One day, it drifted into the port that the army had left from. A small boy ran to the edge of the bay and peered into the morning mist. “Hey, there’s something out there!” Then, with a bump, the raft hit the shore. The boy dropped to his feet and screamed. On the raft, there stood a woman with rags for clothes, snakes for hair, and carried a rusty spear. Surrounding her were ten corpses, their bodies covered in stab wounds, and dried blood coating the wood.
“Once, there was a mighty army. They were clothed in golden armor and red capes, and those who resisted them were swept aside like leaves in a summer storm. After many years of fighting, their homeland lay before them, kneeling to their might. But their lust for battle was too great. Their hunger for blood and conquest was not sated. They wanted new lands to explore. They were blinded by their bloodlust, they couldn’t see they wonderful land they already had a wonderful land to populate. But they needed new lands to conquer. There was a great land, wreathed in mist, not thirty miles from where they stood. They saw it and wanted it for themselves.
“So they built a great ship, like no other, unmatched in size and speed. They loaded themselves in and headed for this new misty land. They sailed for days and then they came to a bay. They anchored themselves there, and set out to pillage and conquer. They had barely marched a hundred strides when three women, all garbed in animal skins and rags. They each had a spear, rusting and ancient. Their hair was green and iridescent, like the finest emeralds. It hissed and moved of its own accord, for their hair was hundreds of swaying snakes. They lifted their heads, and the first of the army to see their red eyes went still and silent, turned into the hardest stone. Then the three women fell onto the army with the fierceness of wild beasts. They slaughtered them, but two of the she-beasts were killed in the fierce combat. In the end, there was only one of the snake women and ten remaining of the great army. She sent them away on a small raft, with a warning ‘Tell your masters,’ she had hissed ‘Tell them, the Last of the Gorgons, The Medusa, waits to tear their flesh and shred their lifeless carcasses. ‘ She sent them away, to float for all eternity on the water. She left them to Death, the merciless witch!”
He cursed and shook his fist at the retreating island. “We, the remnant of the mightiest of armies, rid ourselves of the Island of Gorgons, and its accursed inhabitant!”
For many months the raft drifted, floating in the ocean. One day, it drifted into the port that the army had left from. A small boy ran to the edge of the bay and peered into the morning mist. “Hey, there’s something out there!” Then, with a bump, the raft hit the shore. The boy dropped to his feet and screamed. On the raft, there stood a woman with rags for clothes, snakes for hair, and carried a rusty spear. Surrounding her were ten corpses, their bodies covered in stab wounds, and dried blood coating the wood.
11 Feb 2009
Last Living Soul
Yesterday, I was reading when the bomb raid sirens began their blaring. We (me & my family) ran to get into the bomb shelter. I was the first inside, but before my family got in, a bomblanded right in front of them. They were gone in seconds. I was locked in that shelter for a long, long time. When the shaking had stopped I climbed out. For miles around me I could only see mountains of rubble and dunes of silt. My house was gone. Everyone was gone. I was the last living soul for miles around.
9 Feb 2009
Invasion Chapter 25.
They stepped, carefully, into the inky darkness. It seemed to constrict their breathing, this stale air, this thousand-year-old stale air, with a malicious intent swirling within that filled their hearts with a racing fear, and their minds with images of various bloody deaths. The blond man stopped about fifteen feet from the tunnel that they had previously exited, and stooped to place the bomb. He pressed a red button next to the screen, and a glowing red fifteen appeared. “Okay, we have 15 minutes to get out.” They ran back to the tunnel and entered. The blond man ran on ahead, but Mr. Davies stopped. He glanced at the floor, and, to his surprise, he saw the head of the beast that the blond man had decapitated. It had sprouted small, crab-like legs and was scuttling around in a circle. He stomped on it and it went still. He picked it up and tucked it in his coat. He ran over to the end of the tunnel, saw a rope hanging down from above, grabbed that and began to climb. He appeared at the top of hole, and a medic ran over, asking, “Are you okay, sir?” He clutched at his coat and smiled, “Fine. Just perfect.”
6 Feb 2009
Invasion chapters 23 & 24
In front of Big Ben, two men, one in a long cloak, the other in a lab coat, prepared to descend through a gaping hole in the concrete to a black, foul, pit, filled with creatures out of a nightmarish fantasy-land. The first man bent forward, his blond hair tumbling down his shoulders, and was lost in the blackness. The second man, with a nervous expression plastered on his face, peered into the darkness, quickly looked up, and then disappeared into the void.
Mr. Davies tumbled down the earthy tunnel, hitting rocks and the like that jutted out from the tunnel walls. He heard a crunch below his trainers, and he then, unexpectedly, hit the ground. He was in a slightly sloping channel that extended twenty feet before plunging into a massive, black cavern. In front of him, though, was the blond man, with ten of the beasts facing him, snarling in their guttural language. The blond man stood, impassive, one hand hidden in the folds of his cloak. He suddenly whipped something out, and one of the beasts head tumbled to the earthen floor. Its fellows stared blankly at the skull for a second, but the blond man was already moving. One by one, the beasts fell backwards, their upper body separated from its lower counterpart. “Come on.” The blond man said, his expression passive.
Mr. Davies tumbled down the earthy tunnel, hitting rocks and the like that jutted out from the tunnel walls. He heard a crunch below his trainers, and he then, unexpectedly, hit the ground. He was in a slightly sloping channel that extended twenty feet before plunging into a massive, black cavern. In front of him, though, was the blond man, with ten of the beasts facing him, snarling in their guttural language. The blond man stood, impassive, one hand hidden in the folds of his cloak. He suddenly whipped something out, and one of the beasts head tumbled to the earthen floor. Its fellows stared blankly at the skull for a second, but the blond man was already moving. One by one, the beasts fell backwards, their upper body separated from its lower counterpart. “Come on.” The blond man said, his expression passive.
5 Feb 2009
Invasion chapter 22
Back with the blond man and Mr. Davies, there was a full-scale argument going on. One of the older professors had demanded to go home, the crew cut man said no, and everything just boiled over. Everyone was yelling at once. The blond man had sat, silent, throughout the argument, but now, he rose and spoke. “Excuse me.” His words had no impact on anyone. “EXCUSE ME.” He said once more, and this time everyone stopped to look at him. “Now that the beasts are dead, we must destroy their hive. I will need a bomb. I shall plant the bomb in their central chamber, and it shall destroy them.” “What?” The crew-cut man asked, looking bemused. “You’re telling me YOU are going into the center of their operation, ALONE, and destroy them in one fell swoop, by yourself?” “That is precisely what I am saying.” The blond man said. Mr. Davies suddenly sat up. “As man of science, I demand to be taken down to their hive with you. I have everything I need.” He reached inside his coat and pulled out a knife, a handgun, several bullets and a video recorder. “Are you sure?” The blond man whispered. Mr. Davies nodded. “All right.” He sighed.
3 Feb 2009
Invasion chapter 21
A green army jeep with a chain gun mounted in the back and two Ford pickup trucks with a rocket launcher in the rear end stopped outside Westminster Abbey. An unremarkable man shouted something from the jeep, and a rocket was launched at the wall. It blew a hole about ten feet wide and ten feet tall in the stone, and they could see the beast. It heard their engines and turned to face them. It snarled at them, luminescent green saliva dripping in tentacles from its mouth. The beast dropped to all fours and bounded at the trucks. The man at the chain gun twisted sharply to face the beast and started to shoot. The gun blew off its arm and set the thing ablaze. It fell to the ground, writhing in pain. It crumbled to ash in less than a minute.
2 Feb 2009
Invasion chapter 20
A score of men, all carrying flamethrowers, ran towards the front door of the office building occupied by the creatures. A lone helicopter touched down on the building’s roof. Suddenly, the door to the roof burst open and two women burst out, and ran to the helicopter. They climbed in as two of the beasts scrambled out to the roof. As the helicopter left, they descended into the main building. The men below kicked down the front door, rushed in and started spraying fire. Once the room was nicely ablaze, then ran out the door and turned facing the building as the fire spread. After five minutes, a beast, screaming horribly and burning badly, burst through the glass and leapt from a fifth-story window to fall to its death. After ten more minutes, the building had collapsed, and the wreckage smoked feebly.
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