Unnamed

An idea I had at work and had to write it down, but I didn't have time to continue for too long:

The music stopped abruptly, allowing the angry static to dominate the airwaves. The helicopter dropped a few feet in the air. Crap. They were in an empty zone - there was nothing to power the aircraft here. Not only that - they were on the border of another territory, someplace they were supposed to keep out of. These days, crossing the reception lines unannounced (or even with permission) could get you killed. The pilot punched at the control buttons frantically and the helicopter jerked to the left, slowly making a complete 180 degree turn. The engine sputtered back to life and a few seconds later the dashboard lit up again, and the pilot and his passengers basked in its soft blue glow. The pilot sighed with relief - that was a close one. He figured he'd better get back to base before anyone figured out he'd gone too far. Even if it was only by accident, border breaches could get you into serious trouble. He hoped no one aboard would mention it to the wrong people. Having gained infinitely more speed, the helicopter jetted back in the direction it had come, and soon the base was coming back into view. So much for testing the perimeters today. He'd have to wait for another time, sometime when he could go alone, for that. As much as he hated chauffeuring tourists around, it gave him a chance to fly all over town to see if he could spot any breaks in the surrounding atmosphere. But he couldn't try flying through them carrying other passengers that might be missed when they didn't return to ship for the evening meal.

Chapter 1: Queen's Island

Cora stepped off the ferry and simply stared - her eyes were the size of saucers. This was the first time she'd ever been to Queen's Island. She gawked at the extravagant plant life and marvelous creatures that dominated the cityscape. Back home, they only had such boring things as daisies and roses and cats and dogs. But here, they seemed to have thought of everything. Rainbow-feathered pigeons scavenged for tidbits of popcorn and cotton candy on the grounds in front of the ferry, while truffle-headed fish and neon-colored eels swam around the moat that surrounded the city center, Castle Firefly. Everywhere in between, elm and oak elephants roamed, the gentle breeze blowing through the leaves on their branched tusks, past slinky-necked giraffes who grazed upon brilliant blue trees and singing willows. Button beetles of every shape and color danced with amoeba flowers, which appeared to change shape and grow larger according to the tune of the willows' songs.

Suddenly, Cora remembered why she was here: she was on a mission. She shook her head and walked onto the wide path, trying not to gawk conspicuously at the procession of four-legged fish that was making its way into the center of town. She followed along nonchalantly - that was where she needed to be, too, and since she had no idea what kind of security surrounded the queen, she figured she might be as well learn by watching someone else first, just in case the guards weren't very friendly.

As they shuffled along noisily, kicking up dust with their webbed feet (Cora stayed back, not wanting the dust clouds to settle immediately in her penny-colored hair - her mother would certainly give her a talking to about that!), she reflected upon her quest. Cora was here because of a promise she'd made to her best friend Betty. Betty didn't believe in Queen's Island; it was just some old loon's crazy fantasy thought up to entertain children so well that their eyelids would slide shut well before their preferred bedtime.

But Cora knew she was wrong. She knew, because she'd seen and heard clues that this place existed, that it wasn't just some crackpot fairy tale. A tiger-striped mouse darted across the path in front of her, nearly tripping the last of the quadrupedal fish that trudged along. He scowled at the mouse, who squeaked out a measly "sorry!" as he streaked into the fields of zebra flowers that flanked both sides of this part of the path.

El islote

El islote parece generar luz por su propia habilidad.

En la negrura nublada, es una joya.

Este islote llama del allende, como las sirenas les llaman a los navegantes.

Tiene un poder, fuerte y callado.

Es la esperanza.

O rio pela janela

Veio o rio pela janela

Ela corre e corre

De qué corre moça?

 

The Pearl in the Glass House

The Pearl in the Glass House

 

There once lived a pearl in great house made of glass that shone brilliantly in the sunlight.  It was the wonder of all the land, a great glass castle and inside the largest pearl in existence (at least that was known), shimmering an opalescent shadow.  All who gazed upon this curiosity tried to enter the castle, for they wished to lay their hands as well as their eyes upon this prize, as it would suffice to support the largest of families for generations.  All who tried, however, ultimately failed.  Even those whose intentions were good had no success because a pearl is not something that should be stolen.  This created a great problem, as no one knew who owned the house or the pearl, and as they could not begin to bargain with one whose identity is unknown, the pearl was left where it was.  It was a problem for the pearl herself, as she got lonely in a great glass house where she could look out and see people and animals of all kinds, and the sea but had to be admired from afar.  She could not talk to any of them, because no one could get into the castle.  This made her very sad as she wished very much to be able to entertain visitors. 

 

On one particularly stormy night, the pearl got her wish.  The tides raged fiercely and a terrible thunder and lightning razed the skies.  A spike of lightning struck the tallest tower of the glass castle and it shattered into innumerable tiny bits.  With nothing left to tether or support the pearl, she rolled and rolled until she came to the sea, where she sank down, and down, and down.  Happy to be free of her glass cage, she was not at all scared as she slowly descended into the abyss to the bottom of the sea.  When she finally landed, she looked about and found herself in a dark cavern a million times the size of her glass castle.  She couldn't see much, save the occasional bioluminescent creature that floated by.  Not much lived in these parts of the ocean, like an underwater desert. 

 

Just as she was considering rolling about to a better spot, what little light there was suddenly vanished, and she found herself in another kind of cage, only this time it was dense and opaque; she no longer had a view of any kind.  She stayed this way for a very long time and grew melancholy.  She began to miss her old dwelling, seeming ancient by now, and wished to be above the waters again in the warm sunlight with a view of the whole land. 

 

One day, when the pearl was feeling particularly melancholy, she suddenly felt her cage being lifted upward.  This gave her a start; nothing else was supposed to be down here, much less something big enough to lift the heavy prison in which she now resided.  After a time, she felt the pressure inside the prison become lighter and lighter, and eventually the water inside began to drain out.  She began to wonder now what was going on.  When some more time had passed, the pearl realized she could see the faintest crack of light - hope!  And suddenly the world was bright again. 

 

People were standing all around her, applauding the one in particular who had broken her free of her prison.  After much celebration, the pearl arrived at the man's home, which had a cozy feeling about it.  The pearl was meant to be a gift to the man's wife, and she accepted this duty with excitement as she knew this meant something good.  The pearl lived out her days in happiness on display inside another house, but this time the house welcomed all visitors, and they all adored her.  She shimmered more brightly with each day and never needed polishing, though sometimes the woman to whom she had been given would do so lovingly, and she felt as warm as if the sun still shined on her every hour of the day.  Finally, the pearl was happy.

The Girl in the Snow Globe

Sometimes I feel like I live in a snow globe. I can see everything that's going on, sometimes clearly, sometimes not so clearly. But it's like there is something keeping me from going out and experiencing life for myself. So when something (or someone) comes along and shakes up my world, I don't know how to act. Or how to react - this snow globe never came with a manual. So here I sit, up high on a shelf. Maybe if I push hard enough, I'll fall off and send this snowy orb back to its maker. The globe will crack and I'll break free from this watery world, a liquid grave. Maybe.

El vacío es nublado

Un laberinto de negrura.

 

Espera la creatura

Espera el monstruo

Espera a mí.

 

Quiere un cuerpo de sangre

Quiere una alma

Quiere una vida.

 

Murió hace muchos años

Por no ser un ser benigno

Ahora grita y grita con dolor.

 

Le duele tanto ser un monstruo

Le duele lo que tiene que hacer

Para hacerse vivo otra vez.

 

Nunca lo vi

Vinió por atrás

Sentí los dientes

Agudos como dagas.

 

Sentí llover mi sangre

Y avanzó la negrura.

 

La creatura abomidada

Sólo vió la luz allende

La luz, la luz, la vientre de la vida.

 

Como yo me siento marchitar

Él se colore con tintes brillantes.

 

Respira

Respira

Luz.

Northern Lights

Electricity blazes through the air.

It is black outside, nighttime.

It's nature's bedtime, but it waits anxiously for its storyteller.

The wind slows to a gentle breeze

And then it happens -

Magic pulls a blanket across the sky.

Radiant greens, blues, and yellows swirling

Carry thousands of stories, ancient and new.

The snow reflects each one

Playfully tossing it back to the storyteller,

But at the same time keeping some for itself.

These remnants are comforting

And sleepily nature surrenders,

The vibrant colors fading back into the darkness.

All is calm.

 

7-9-07

 

Sequoia

There she stands, straight and tall

She can almost touch the sky

She is ancient and wise

She holds the memories of those around her

Keeper of all who went before her

She guards the gates of heaven

Arms outstretched, she welcomes everyone

She is the mighty Sequoia.

 

7-9-07

 

Yet

Yet

 

Hey!  You stole my genes!

Well, give them back!

I can see them, you know.

There they are, just sitting in a test tube,

Waiting to be injected into some other poor unsuspecting soul.

 

He won't even be real.

Oh sure, he's real enough,

Flesh and bone and all that bit.

But he won't have a single original though inside his empty head

Or movement within his frail body.

 

Because he was, is, and always will be

A Copy.

Not even good enough to name,

Just numbered and wheeled from room to room,

Test after test, needle after needle.

 

And at the end of the day, what have we learned?

When even we have become reproducible en masse by our own actions,

By our own hand, we, the super-intelligent, nearly invincible Rulers of the Earth

Have made ourselves disposable.

 

Human life no longer holds awe and wonder

Because with the right knowledge and conditions,

We'll just make more.

Consumerism at its best. 

Or worst.

 

Designer babies and uber-expensive personalized drug prescriptions rule the world now.

The costs drive classes apart, pushing the rift between haves and have-nots wider and wider

With every needle drawn.

 

It's a good thing we don't live in a world like that.

 

Yet.