These are small parts of works in progress, some of which may never see the light of day. Enjoy.
Mobius Travel, LLC
Hal Endris smiled his practiced salesman’s smile and prepared to shake hands with the approaching young couple. He would make exactly three seconds of eye contact with the man during the shake. His wife received the same treatment, but with a lighter touch, a shallow embrace, and only two seconds of eye contact. Of course, after her greeting, the gentleman received a smile to show he was no threat. Hal was someone to be trusted, and why not? He was ‘the guy’ at Mobius, the face of the company. When people were looking to tour the past, he was the one they had to talk to – the one they relied on. That guy from the commercials, they called him.
Then, he would turn and lead them beyond the front desk and into the facility for a tour of the jump room, and an extravagant demonstration of the machinery – the elegant, world class magnum opus of a generation of thinkers, he would say – the beautiful child of dreams and dirt, of science and fantasy – the Mobius Intertemporospatial Gateway – the time machine.
The Wrath of Gabriela Cruz
Gabriela turned to Carnegie Hall and scowled. Plastered all down the wall at street level were promotional posters reading “ONE NIGHT ONLY! An Evening with Hernando Velez.” Hernando’s face had not changed at all. He still had the same smug look he wore in the days when he was a murderous junkie. The show was sold out, but Gabriela had purchased her ticket weeks in advance.
She steeled herself and approached the box office. “One down, one to go.”
Mara was screaming as she woke up, drenched in sweat and tears. The dreams again. She couldn’t remember them, but they left her terrified every time. And the ringing in her ears – it was still there. She nearly broke out sobbing as her reality dawned on her for yet another day. From one hell to another, she thought.
The door to her room swung open to reveal a nurse, accompanied by two stern orderlies. “Is there a problem, Mrs. Gurlenko?”
“No, I was having a nightmare.”
“Okay, well try to keep it down. It’s very early in the morning, okay? This is when people are trying to sleep.” This nurse, called Shelly, was always so patronizing. Mara hated her.
“Right. I’ll try.”
The nurse gave her a look as she closed the door. She didn’t see the middle finger sent her way, but Mara hoped she felt it somehow.
Mara threw her head back onto her pillow and sighed a heavy sigh. There was no way she was getting back to sleep now, even though the sun hadn’t even begun to lighten the sky yet. She rolled over and stared at the blank wall of her room, trying desperately to think of anything other than the place she was at. She tried to recall her dream, but could find only emotions. Terror, desperation, emptiness, sorrow. With nothing else to go on, Mara tried to shift her thoughts to her husband. Nikolai was going to visit her today, and she was determined not to make any waves that might prevent that from happening. Her ears rang in that same distant tone that comes when the air is deadly quiet and one can become nearly sick with dreaded anticipation of what might break the silence. She began to hum the same song she always hummed to drown it out, a melody she recalled from a radio somewhere in her past.
The Mages of Odyssey
It was the last thing Jymm Dunnarc ever expected to see in his lifetime, and yet the rarest of sights in Norsein was right before his eyes – a natural vein of zithramite. The mineral had been hunted for and mined by his family for centuries. Its electromagnetic conductivity was second to none, and when forged with simple iron and carbon, it became a tremendously strong alloy that allowed for the imbuement of magical properties, if one should happen to know how to do such a thing.
A sword hung sheathed under Jymm’s robes, hanging from an iron rivet on his hardened leather cuirass. Its pearlescent blue zithramite blade radiated an immutably intense cold when removed from its scabbard. The sword was born, like all of its kind, in the Frozen Forge at the peak of Mt. Seider, crown of the north. There the hands of the smiths assembled their masterpieces, crafted uniquely for each and every member of the Dunnarc royal line since the early days of the Awakening. Knowledge of that time is scarce, owing to the faulty information storage of the ancient world, and that meant the knowledge was valuable to anyone who could understand what it meant for the world.
Centuries before, Isaiah Zithram was such a man. He was the first to rediscover the enigmatic mineral’s potential. An international council named it after him to illustrate the dawn of a new age, and the rebirth of an old one…
An age of magic.
The Shepherd’s Garden
In 1972, Albert met his future wife, in those days named Opal Mae Emerson. He had just entered his local pizza parlor, Antonio’s. Suddenly a young woman burst from the kitchen and slammed right into him, spilling a hot large sausage and mushroom pizza all over the both of them. As they both apologized profusely to each other, Albert realized she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. He offered to pay for her dry cleaning and a drink, if only she would tell him what time her shift ended? They were married in 1974, and the first stop of their honeymoon was for a hot slice of Antonio’s pizza.
Albert accumulated a great deal of money from his profession as the years passed. His affluent parents left him a small fortune, and with some considerable effort and smart investing in stocks of all kinds, he managed to turn it into a large fortune. He commissioned the Warton Foundation, an organization dedicated to helping the poor and spreading the word of God. As the years passed, Albert slowly began to reconcile his scientific mind and his faithful heart. He started developing a plan that would close that gap, not just for him but for all mankind.
Keep your eyes open.