Archive for the ‘Authors’ Category
The Cliff of Deeds
Monday, August 2nd, 2010
Our village lies up with the hawks. I can name you every current and cross-current of wind that rails around our high seat. Some several thousands of years ago, my people diverged from the human tree, choosing a peculiar kind of self-protection over terror and aggression: we fly.
But not all of us.
That’s the hard part.
We train and train, when we are young; we name the winds and learn the ways to speak from mind to body, to say, we are as birds, we are as dragons, we are as air, and we shall not fall. We study, and prepare, and then—no amount of preparation can ensure that we will pass the test when we are old enough.
That’s where I stand, right now. I stand at the edge of the Cliff of Deeds. I don’t look down. The nets don’t catch everyone, after all, and before today my friends and I have crept to this edge and picked out a white skull, here and there, far below. Those who fall and live have to stay in the village forever, and may take no-one to child with. Those who fall and die have peace, I suppose; I have thought sometimes I’ve heard their spirits. And those who fly…
I have no time left. It’s my turn and my mother is watching. I judge the currents, my hands shaking at my sides.
And then—
That’s that—
My stomach lurches—
There’s nothing at all, nothing at all under my feet—
I can see the horizon—
And then, I am not among the white skulls or the trapped living, I’m myself, flying, and there is nothing more lovely than the edge of the earth, out there ahead.
Sneak Peek
Thursday, July 29th, 2010
“Two for After Serenity, please,” said William, a linebacker-sized guy with a Beatle haircut. Tucked up against him was a short, copper-haired woman with the face of a Greek goddess. She was looking around Robbie’s modest living room with an air of complete disbelief.
“That’ll be twelve hundred dollars,” Robbie said.
“And a large popcorn.”
“Four dollars. Do you want butter?”
“Is it real butter?”
“It’s an amazing, fat-free, butter-like food from the future. People eat this stuff and have orgasms.”
“Really?”
“No, actually it’s real butter.”
William grinned as he handed over the cash. Robbie made change, locked the front door, and followed William and his date down into the basement.
Several of the patrons milling around in the recently-remodeled basement called out Robbie’s name. Some were settled in the big, faux-leather movie chairs, sipping soda or peering at the DVD case. Others watched Robbie’s 65″ flatscreen TV expectantly. Robbie popped in the DVD and took a seat in the back row, next to the copper-haired woman. She bent over as the preview began, until her lips were almost touching his ear.
“When is this movie supposed to be from?” she whispered.
“It comes out eight years from now.”
“And you got it how?”
“Time travel.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“You will after you see a few of these movies.”
“At these prices?”
“A guy’s gotta make a living.”
“If you can time travel, why don’t you just play the lottery? Or buy stocks?”
“I’m numerically dyslexic.”
“You’re a big, fat liar.”
“Well, I’ve been trying to lose weight.”
The movie started then, and the copper-haired woman stopped to watch it. It wasn’t as good as its predecessor, but it didn’t have to be. Everyone in the room, Robbie knew, was keenly aware that they were seeing something nobody else would see for years.
Animated conversation broke out over the credits. When the disc was done, Robbie took out the DVD and held it up in one hand. In the other, he lifted a hammer. As the others watched, he dropped the DVD into a steel bowl and smashed it with the hammer. Everyone cheered. Robbie took out a bottle of 12-year-old scotch.
The copper-haired woman peered into the bowl and shook her head while William poured them both doubles. “This is a hell of a way to make a living,” she said.
“Yes,” said Robbie, grinning. “Yes it is.”