SS: GRAVITY

This challenge was to write a short story that begins with the following line from John Mayer’s new album Continuum: "Gravity is working against me and gravity wants to bring me down."

Gravity is working against me, and gravity wants to bring me down. I'm floating here in my escape pod with too much time to think, too much time to relive the events that brought me to this point, too much time to second guess our actions and reactions. What if we had done this... or maybe that...? Would the Numidians still have blasted our ship into smithereens? Was there any possibility that we could have talked our way out? After all, we were only on a peaceful mission, exploring and trying to learn more about our galaxy. We had no warlike intent. Our shields and weapons were for purely defensive purposes.

When we approached the Numidian system, there were no warning buoys or beacons, so we presumed the Federation found nothing dangerous here. It didn't occur to us that the Federation had never had anyone report back from scouting expeditions to this region of space. It appeared to be just a lovely little planet, much resembling Earth as it looks from space. We were so excited to pick up radio signals coming from the surface of the fourth planet in the system. Our universal translator seemed to be working perfectly, and before long, we had enough of a vocabulary to be able to communicate with them.

Seeing them on our screens, we were amazed. They were tall, thin, ethereal looking beings who looked as if a good breeze would blow them away. And their speech was so soft and melodic in sound. Their eyes were large and luminous. Their hair was so unusual, resembling feathers more than hair, really. They seemed almost like angels to us. Perhaps that's why everything went to hell in a hand basket so quickly. We just weren't expecting them to respond so violently to what was an innocent mistake.

We opened discussions with them, first requesting permission to land a small party on the surface of the planet. This was adamantly refused. We then invited them to send a small delegation to visit our ship. That they were willing to accept, and so we beamed the three Numidians aboard. We took them into the Captain's Mess where refreshments were served. We invited them to share a meal with us, and they accepted. While it was being prepared, we entered negotiations with them regarding trade between our two worlds. They seemed pleased with the prospect, and we were, too.

Our meal was finally ready to be served and smelled so delicious. As it was being served, the Numidian who seemed in charge of the delegation sniffed at the aroma intently. "What manner of food is this?" As we explained that it was chicken, he seemed puzzled because of course the word was not readily translatable by the universal translator, at least not without a lot more input. So, we started showing them pictures of animals from Earth. "And to which of these is this food related?" he asked. We pointed out the chickens and birds, explaining that chickens were raised as food on our planet but that this meat was actually created in our food replicators.

How could we have been prepared for their reaction? There was just no way we could have known. No way at all! Not without a lot more time spent learning about them. We couldn't have known that on their planet evolution had taken an avian path. We couldn't have known that to them we had just committed an unforgivable sin.

They rose as one and harshly demanded to be beamed back down to the planet. Our pleas for an explanation were summarily dismissed! So we acceded to their demands and let them go.

Once we were alone again, we began trying to figure out what had just happened. Eventually someone suggested feeding a picture of a Numidian into the computer for analysis. Imagine our shock when it came back that they were related to birds! We had just invited them to dine on their ancestors, in effect.

Well, the retaliation didn't take long. We were only able to make it into the escape pods because of an alert crewman scanning the planet when the pulse of light came from the surface towards the ship. The pods were flung everywhere. I couldn't see any others as I floated in my orbit above the Numidians' world. Try as I might I don't see how we could have figured it out in time to avoid this catastrophe.

My orbit is decaying, slowly but surely. Gravity is working against me, and gravity is trying to bring me down. It shouldn't be long now...

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Copyright © 2006 by Judith Ann Neary. All rights reserved.
This post is the intellectual property of the author and her heirs. It is not to be copied or reproduced in any form without the author's written consent. Please contact me for further information.

SS: I LEFT MY HEART IN SAN FRANCISCO

This was my entry for a friend's Story from a Song challenge. I hope you enjoy it!!! The song I selected is Tony Bennett's "I Left My Heart in San Francisco."

I've always loved San Francisco, The City by the Bay. There's just something special about it. No wonder there's a song about "I Left My Heart in San Francisco." So, at least once a month, my friends and I spend a night there, eating out at some place special, then going to our favorite club. We have a great time!! We laugh ourselves silly, eat and drink a bit too much, but we always feel renewed afterwards. I guess I've always been sort of a night person, so I love it!!

For Halloween, the club was having a special party -- place decorated with all the requisite spooky stuff, cobwebs, ghostly sounds in between songs, and lots of fun. I fussed for weeks over my Cleopatra costume, getting it just right. And, if I do say so myself, it turned out quite nice ... very glamorous... did the makeup, everything. Really looked like Cleopatra, all that kohl. The best part was that I could wear sandals. Mmmmm, love comfy footwear!!! We were all looking forward to the party.

And it was indeed a BLAST... great music, lots of laughter, lots of dancing. Some of the costumes were hilarious, too. But all evening long I kept catching glimpses of this tall dark handsome type watching me from across the room. Never approaching me, but just sort of studying me intently. He didn't really have a costume on, just dressed all in black. He was so striking that I started finding my eyes drawn to him again and again.

Something funny, though. He'd be in one place and then when I looked again he'd be in a totally different place in the club. Now it wasn't exactly an atmosphere that would lend itself to someone dashing around, but he just seemed to move so quickly. Odd, but no big deal really. And always watching me... his eyes so dark, so mysterious, so intense.

The party started winding down... and my friends were getting ready to leave. Laughing and talking, we made our way to our cars. I had driven in separately this time because I was late leaving work. We said our goodbyes, wished each other Happy Halloween a million times, and got ready to leave. My car didn't want to start on the first try, so they took off before me.

Just as the engine caught, there was a tapping on my window. I looked up and ... who do you think it was? Yep, tall dark and mysterious from the club... my admirer. He said "Would it be possible for you to drop me two blocks from here to get my car?" Well, of course, I hesitated ... I mean, I didn't really know this man, but then I thought "Oh, don't get all creepy... just give the man a lift... what can happen in two blocks?" He seemed harmless enough, just a little intense. So, I said, "OK, hop in."

We started talking as I drove. I don't even remember what about and before I knew it I had driven all the way down by the beach --- a lot further than two blocks. I couldn't understand how I had done that. I parked the car and we talked some more. He told me that my costume was beautiful and said "You know, you look very like her. Stunning, sensual." As if he actually knew what old Cleo had looked like. Yeah, right!!

The next thing I know, he's talking about wanting to give me a gift, running his fingers up and down my arm. The most amazing thing of all is that none of it seemed the least bit strange. His eyes were mesmerizing... so deep, so thoughtful, dark pools that I could drown in. He says I can have the gift but I have to ask him for it... those are the rules. I never knew there were rules about gifts... but I play along and ask him to please give me the gift he has.

He draws very close to me, as if he's going to whisper in my ear. But he doesn't whisper... he grabs hold of me, kisses me brutally, then starts to nuzzle my neck. And ... sinks... his... fangs... into... my... neck... At first the pain is agonizing, but it quickly changes to the most intense mindblowing feeling of pleasure I have ever known in my entire life!!! I'm stunned ... I feel like I'm dying... I feel like I'm exploding.

He lifts his head then, and I can see his eyes. They're RED... I remember thinking "how peculiar." But I decided it just must be some of those weird contacts. Things get spookier and spookier... he draws out a pocket knife and slashes it across his palm. Then puts his hand up to my mouth and says "Drink... and you will have the gift."

Entranced, I do. AND... THEN... I... DIE......when I come back to life, at his house, I don't know how many hours or days later, he guides me to find "food" and cautions me not to drink too much or I'll be ill.

So, I guess you could say that I did in fact leave my heart in San Francisco that night. Well, maybe not my actual heart... I presume that's still there... but I don't have a heartbeat any longer. As far as liking the night, well, it's not just a preference any longer, it's a necessity. The sunlight would burn the flesh from my bones. And I guess I'll have to give up my favorite Chinese restaurant and their exquisite garlic chicken. He assures me our kind cannot tolerate such things.

One good thing is that I'll live a very long time -- if you can call something without a heartbeat "living" -- and I'll always... ALWAYS ... look as young as I do when he turned me. At least, I try to tell myself it's a good thing. It is... isn't it?

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Copyright © 2006 by Judith Ann Neary. All rights reserved.

This post is the intellectual property of the author and her heirs. It is not to be copied or reproduced in any form without the author's written consent. Please contact me for further information.

SS: A MOM CALLED GRANDMA

A MOM CALLED GRANDMA

This was inspired by a snippet of conversation that I overheard one day after church. A little girl came up to one of the Sunday School teachers and asked, "Do you have a mom called Grandma?"

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Does your Mom have a Mom called Grandma? Mine does, and she loves me a lot. We do so many different things together. My Grandma likes to rock me in a rocker and reads me lots of stories. Don't you love stories? No matter how many I want to have read, she always says yes. Grandma never says she's tired and that's enough stories. I really like that.

Sometimes we bake cookies together. My Grandma lets me sift the flour and then stir things together. I get flour all over me and even some on the floor, but Grandma says, "Don't worry, we'll clean it up later." Then she lets me drop the dough on the baking sheet. My Grandma helps me with that, though.

My favorite kind of cookie is chocolate chip. Mmmmmmmm! But sometimes we make oatmeal with raisins. That's my Grandma's favorite. What kind of cookies do you like best?

I love to go to the library with my Grandma, too! All those books! After I pick some out, we sit down and Grandma reads one or two to me. Other kids like to come over and listen, too. Maybe they don't have a grandma to read to them. Wouldn't that be sad?

I really like it when I get to spend the night at my Grandma's house. We have our baths, then she makes hot chocolate for us. We watch a video together cuddled up on the couch. And then it's story time, and then to bed.

My Grandma tucks me in, listens to my prayers and says one herself, and then my Grandma kisses me on my forehead and she always says "Sweet dreams, honey! See you in the morning." Does your Grandma do that, too?

When we wake up in the morning, my Grandma always gives me a hug and a kiss and says "Good morning, Sunshine!" She's never grumpy in the morning. After we have our breakfast, we pack a lunch with some of the cookies we baked. Then, we go to the park.

I love the park, don't you? I love to play on the slide and the jungle gym best of all. Sometimes Grandma pushes me on the swings, and sometimes she even swings herself. My Grandma says that's her favorite ever since she was a little girl. Grandma even told me a poem about it.

How do you like to go up in a swing,
Up in the air so blue?
Oh, I do think it the pleasantest thing
Ever a child can do!

Up in the air and over the wall,
Till I can see so wide,
River and trees and cattle and all
Over the countryside--

Till I look down on the garden green,
Down on the roof so brown--
Up in the air I go flying again,
Up in the air and down! *

Isn't that a good poem? She knows so many things!

I'm so glad that my Mom has a Mom called Grandma! Aren't you glad yours does, too?
__________
*The Swing, by Robert Louis Stevenson from Child's Garden of Verses

Copyright © 2006 by Judith Ann Neary. All rights reserved. This post is the intellectual property of the author and her heirs. It is not to be copied or reproduced in any form without the author's written consent. Please contact me for further information.

SS: PLACES IN MY HEART

 

This was a short story I wrote for a short story challenge on 360.  I was thinking about it, so I thought I'd repost it.

 

This Week’s Challenge: This weeks challenge is to write a short story that begins with the following lines: “Where to begin…I shall begin in those years that left their calling card in the things we had, which were battered and familiar; in what we believed, which was reassuring and unchanging; and in what we said, how we felt, and how we treated one another”…from Freddy & Fredericka by Mark Helprin

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Where to begin…I shall begin in those years that left their calling card in the things we had, which were battered and familiar; in what we believed, which was reassuring and unchanging; and in what we said, how we felt, and how we treated one another.

We never had much growing up, but then we never needed much. At least, that's what we believed, and so it was true enough for us. Papa's work at the steel mill was subject to down times, when they were retooling for some new product. Thus, our income had a tendency to wax and wane. It never seemed like hardship, though, because when Papa was off work, he always made sure to spend time with us, sharing stories of The Old Country, telling us all about relatives that we had never met, about his hometown, Giffoni Valle Piana, and about his boyhood friends. He had been in America a long time now. While he often talked about going back for a visit, the time and the funds just never seemed to be there. Still, he tried to keep it all alive for us, the country of his birth and our heritage. What stories he would tell and what songs he would sing to us!!!

Mama always kept everything running smoothly - in the good times and in the lean times, too. She was so creative and wonderful a cook that we were never really aware when she was trying desperately to stretch the food budget until the next payday. In fact, some of our favorite dishes were those she invented to do just that. Of course, there was always pasta e fagioli (pasta with beans), that was a staple and how we loved it. There was also pizza, naturally, made with her loving hands, sometimes with only a little cheese and some basil on it. Then, she borrowed a recipe from a Polish friend for halushki... that's a sort of potato dumpling with a little onion in it which she then tossed with cottage cheese or ricotta and butter and seasoned with salt and pepper. They were so delicious!!!

Whatever she cooked for us, she always added a generous measure of love. I swear we could taste it, and I remember it still. Even if cinnamon toast and cocoa were all we had for dinner, she could make an occasion of it. She would bring it into the parlor and we would have it in front of the fireplace. Then, we would tell stories before we went to bed, with everyone taking a turn and adding to the story we were making up. And, always, hugs and kisses all around before we went up the stairs to sleep.

Both Mama and Papa put family first! From my first breath, I remember them saying "Friends may come and go, but your family is always your family." Family meant that you would never be alone, never in need of a place to stay and a good meal, never wanting for someone to talk to about a problem. They were always there and always ready to listen to whatever we wanted to tell them, little childish secrets or later more grown up concerns. We always knew we could count on them and each other!!

I remember each of them saying to us in different ways, "Treat everyone as you would like to be treated." Or "Never ever steal from another." "Always be kind to everyone." "You must always look out for the ones littler than you." All the little sayings that expressed what they felt was important in life. None of them ever had to do with making a lot of money or being famous. They were always about being a good person, an honorable person. I can hear them even today in my head, and they always bring a smile to my lips.

And, oh, how Papa loved Mama!! He would come in from work, obviously tired, but when he saw Mama, a smile would light his face and he would come to give her a hug and a kiss, running his hand down the side of her face with such tenderness. Sometimes he even would grab her and whirl her around the kitchen in a polka or two-step, saying to us, "See, your Mama is still the most beautiful girl in the world and such a marvelous dancer, too!" And she would threaten to hit him with her wooden spoon and say "Be off with you, I've dinner to attend to." But we could see the sweet smile tugging up the corners of her lips and knew that she loved him just as deeply. And that was how we grew up, cocooned in love and security.

One morning before school, my brother Gino and I were playing on the school yard when we heard someone yelling and crying "No, no, stop it, stop it!!!" We turned around to see what was going on and saw an older kid, the bully of the school, taking a smaller first grade kid's lunch money. The little kid kept on yelling and the bully kept on getting meaner and hitting him. Gino and I ran over there. Gino told the bully to stop, but he wouldn't. Angry and frustrated, Gino pulled the bully's arm, and the bully hit him then and yelled at him, "Go away, you poor white trash Dago, what can you do, who do you think you are? You got nothin' and you'll never have nothin'. Just get out of here!" Well, Gino wasn't going to stand for that, so he hauled off and hit the bully while I pulled the little kid out of the way. "Yeah," said Gino, "not so brave or tough when you're up against someone your own size, are you, huh?"

Of course, wouldn't you know it, that was the moment a teacher picked to finally show up. "What's going on here?" he demanded. All of us started talking at once. "Wait, wait, one at a time. You, go first." He was pointing to Gino. So, Gino explained what had happened and that he hit the bully to make him stop hurting the little kid. Looking to me now for confirmation, the teacher asked, "Is that true?" "Yes," I said, nodding vehemently. "That's exactly what happened!" "Well," he said to the bully, "And what's your excuse this time? I know you'll have one, you always do." "Well, well....ummm...." stammered the bully. "Never mind," said the teacher, "Save it for the Principal. I'm sure he'll be interested to hear all about this."

So, off we were marched to the Principal's office. He listened to each of us, then said he would have to call our parents to come down. I think he expected Papa to scold Gino for fighting, but of course he didn't. Papa stood right there and told the Principal that he should give Gino a Good Citizenship Award instead of detention, because Gino had only done what was RIGHT under the circumstances. Papa said, "I always tell my children to treat everyone as they would like to be treated, never to steal, and to always ALWAYS look out for the ones littler than you. Don't you think, Mr. Principal, that the world would be a much better place if everyone followed those rules?"

The Principal laughed grudgingly and clapped Papa on the shoulder. "Yes, sir, you're right. The world would be a better place. Perhaps that other child would not be such a bully if you had had the raising of him!!!"

And, so I end as I began, in those years that left their calling card in the things we had, which were battered and familiar; in what we believed, which was reassuring and unchanging; and in what we said, how we felt, and how we treated one another. Maybe we never had many material possessions, but what we did have was immeasurably more valuable!! Our lives were far richer than many other peoples, and I wouldn't change a single thing! I treasure these memories in a special place within my heart!!

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Copyright © 2006 by Judith Ann Neary. All rights reserved. This post is the intellectual property of the author and her heirs. It is not to be copied or reproduced in any form without the author's written consent. Please contact me for further information.

SS: THE LITTLEST WITCH - October 2, 2008

WENDY, THE LITTLEST WITCH

Now everyone knows that witches come in all sizes and varieties, big, small, tall, short, skinny, fat, ugly, beautiful, but there was one witch who was the littlest one of all.  Her name was Wendy, and she just kept waiting and waiting to grow, but she never did.  Why, she was so tiny she could fit in a teacup!!

She couldn't figure out why she was so little and never grew.  She talked to the bigger and taller witches, she talked to the ones who had been around longer, but they didn't know the answer either.  They kept telling her to just be patient, that she would likely grow in time.  Fine for them to say, they were a proper size and very scary looking besides.

But Wendy was so tired of waiting.  When she went out on Halloween, no one was even scared of her.  Now I ask you, what kind of Halloween is that for a witch?  Even a very little witch wants somebody to scream and run away when she cackles.  But you see, when Wendy cackled, or tried to, it just came out as a sort of giggle.  Who would be scared of that?  People just said "Oh, isn't she cute!"

And she never could attract bats and spiders like the other witches.  Do you know how embarrassing it is for a witch to be out on Halloween night with birds and butterflies hovering around her?  How humiliating!

Now, stirring the cauldron and brewing up potions was particularly horrible.  I mean, what self-respecting witch wants their magic potions to turn out as chocolate cake and deep dish apple pie.  Poor Wendy, she wasn't just the littlest witch, she was the absolute worst witch there ever was.  Although I must admit, her concoctions were fantastically delicious.

Of course, there was also the problem that Wendy just hated black.  You know that witches ALWAYS dress in black, so what was Wendy to do.  She had to wear black when she really dreamed of wearing cotton candy pink and periwinkle blue and leaf green and sunny yellow.  She couldn't even tell anyone about it because they would just laugh at her.

One day, just before Halloween, Wendy decided to concentrate with all her might on growing some warts on her nose.  She spent all day thinking and thinking and wishing and wishing for some warts.  She closed her eyes and held her breath and strained with all her might, well as much as such the littlest witch could, anyway.  She was just determined to force a wart to grow right on the end of her nose.  It didn't work at all.  It just gave her a headache and a kind of itchy feeling in between her shoulder blades.

She finally gave up, wiped away her tears, and went to bed, so very sad at facing another terribly disappointing Halloween.  Whatever would the littlest witch do?

When she woke up the next morning, Halloween morning, she felt very very strange.  "Oh, maybe I did manage to grow a wart overnight after all," she thought excitedly.  She ran to the nearest mirror and what did she see... not a wart at all, but wings.  "Wings? WINGS?"  Even the very littlest witch knew that witches don't have wings.  She just couldn't do anything right, could she?

Just then, one of the other witches passed by and saw her beautiful shining wings.  She said, "Oh, that's the answer to your problem, Wendy, the reason you are such a failure as a witch.  You're not a witch at all!  You're a fairy!" 

Wendy was so shocked that she couldn't say a word, but then she realized that a fairy needs to be tiny so that she can fly. 

And fairies don't like bats and spiders.  They can wear any color they want to and never ever have to wear black.  They can cook up the most marvelous tasting concoctions and nobody will ever call them a failure.  And best of all, she was perfectly free to giggle all she wanted, and she never ever had to try to scare anybody again. 

What a relief!!  She wasn't a terrible witch at all, she was a perfectly good fairy!!!

HAPPY HALLOWEEN, EVERYONE, FROM WENDY.

Copyright © 2008 by Judith Ann Neary. All rights reserved.