Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
He hated to do it. It seemed shameful. But.
He was helping a friend, staying in contact, checking on her, trying to encourage her. But she’d become belligerent lately. Combative. Seriously negative.
It exhausted him. He decided he needed a break. Had to take care of himself so he could take care of her. It felt like a rationalization, but he knew he was right.
I looked out the front door windows. It’s a daily thing, glancing out when I first leave the bedroom, on alert for zombies, mushroom clouds, or cats waiting to come in. What I saw locked me in the space.
Footprints in the snow came up the walk to the porch.
I’d checked the area around three AM. I’d been up – cat business – and fetched a glass of water. Since I was in the area, I looked out. No footprints marred the walk’s snow, then. Not even animal prints.
Putting on shoes and picking up my phone, I went out to ensure nothing on the porch was gone. Two chairs and a glider are out there. But thieves have been going around stealing whatever is available. The footprints were photographed. One compared to my foot, so I’d guess it’s a men’s 10 ½. The other was smaller.
I traced the steps to the garage. They’d followed my tire tracks up to the garage and then went up the walk.
Could be I’m paranoid. Maybe totally innocuous. Our security camera died last year.
Time to buy a new one.
March 1, 2023. Congratulations. You did it! You made it to the next month. That’s how we’ll get ahead, one step, one day, one month, one year at a time. It’s the long game. As Bob sang, “Turn the page.”
Today is Wednesday. Temperature has climbed to 32 degrees F, on its way to 42 F. Snow still covers everything except the streets. Sunrise at 6:46 delivered a mega-watt shine off all that snow. My eyes were bypassing my brain to tell my hands, put on those sunglasses. Sunset will close the daylight on this winter Ashlandia day at 6:01 PM.
Yesterday AM was spent reading and writing as the snow fell. When will it stop, we wondered, and asked Alexa. She informed us it was cloudy. Snow will start at 1 PM. What? “Alexa, what are the chances of snow in Ashlandia?”
“There is a fifty-four percent chance it will snow in Ashlandia.”
We laughed at the silly tech. Checking online, they said the snow will stop in sixty-one minutes.
It didn’t. It stopped about 85 minutes later.
Roads were plowed and cindered. All was melting. We’d been planning to clean the carpeting on that day. My wife suggested that we hold off because, snow. But seeing conditions, I decided to press on. I picked up the machine and did the deed. It looks great. Now the machine must be returned.
Today’s music was suggested by The Neurons. Someone mentioned a hot toddy would be nice in an online post. The Neurons immediately sang, “Hot toddy, check it and see. I want a toddy inside of me.” All this was to the Foreigner song, “Hot Blooded” from 1978. Wasn’t long before the proper lyrics were ringing in the morning mental music stream.
Stay pos. Hope your Wednesday and your March take you higher. (That triggered Sly and the Family Stone with, “I Want to Take You Higher”.) I need coffee. See you later.
Here’s the tune. Cheers
They were reading anecdotes about children mentioning previous life experiences.
“Did you ever have something like that?” his wife asked.
He nodded. “When I was a child, less than five years old, I told people that I’d been in the civil war. I called myself a rebel, and always wanted CSA hats and flags and wore them, carrying a bugle, and was really proud of being born in Virginia because that’s where our capitol was. Adults were always correcting me about the capitol being Washington D.C. and not in Virginia, so it was confusing and frustrating for a while.”
People were running in positions as though they sat in cars, following lanes marked with white lines and arrows. I did the same, jumping into the left-turn lane toward my home. The streets were narrow, lined with tall cement and brick buildings pink, yellow, white. The setting reminded me of Okinawa outside of Kadena Air Base’s main gate back in the 1980s.
Arriving home, a tall, old, cement building, I encountered friends. One needed to leave but his son’s baby sitter hadn’t arrived.
“I can take him,” I volunteered.
Ted, a Black friend, answered, “You sure? I don’t want to burden you.”
“Miles isn’t a burden.” Miles was the boy, a light-skinned Black child with a sweet, happy face, an oddly muscular body, and a head topped with soft curls. “We’ll have fun, won’t we, Miles?”
Miles agreed with a grin and words I didn’t understand, tottering over to show me something in his hand, which was empty.
“Okay, thanks.” Ted left.
Miles and I walked down the street to another building. People there seemed high or tipsy. Performers, I knew. Students. Singers, actors, musicians, artists.
Miles and I spent time chasing one another or playing hide and seek. People knew him more than they knew me. They started asking, where is his father? Why do you have him?
I explained that I was watching the boy for his father because his father had an appointment, but his mother was coming to pick Miles up.
“What was the father’s appointment?” I was asked. “Why isn’t he here?” They were disapproving, even though I’d already explained that the baby sitter had an emergency.
“He was counter-protesting a protest.”
Oh, that makes sense. That’s important, others agreed.
Miles disappeared from my watch. I panicked and searched for him. His father came in just as I found Miles. I said, “I was so worried that something had happened to him. I took my eyes off him for just a second and he was gone.”
His father, who was now another person, said, “I know what you mean. That happens to me all the time.”
I was visiting my sisters and their families. Someone was in the kitchen preparing food for us but I couldn’t see them. The kitchen was shallow and narrow, with silver and stainless-steel machines across its front, on top of a breakfast bar. We were all laughing and talking. I don’t recall anything said until I said, “Hey, how do you get into that kitchen?” I wanted to go in. “There are no doors.”
That wasn’t answered because at that point, I felt a powerful energy, a humming vibration, sweeping around me. Raising my hands, I stepped back to feel it better. “You guys feel that?” They all said no so I explained, “A powerful energy is flowing through here.”
Acting on an impression that struck, I moved back into an empty space in the adjacent living room. “Watch this.”
Putting my arms straight out to my sides, keeping my body stiff, I let myself fall face forward. As expected by me, I never hit the floor but levitated above it by several feet. “See that?” I called to them.
The children were watching and gasping in amazement. “How are you doing that?” several asked.
“I’m must using the energy. You can do it, too. Watch.” I landed on my feet and then repeated my act of falling forward and levitated again. The children were trying to copy me.
“I think I can higher and control myself,” I said. Then I changed my hands and moved forward, flying higher. Understanding that flight control was possible, I flew toward an open window.
Dream end.
The standard coffee house greeting is, “Hi, what can I git ya?” It’s said so often but after a bit, it slides under the cover of other sounds as his mind fixates on his writing.
Winting continues to ride Ashlandia, where the children are above average. Snow is melted in the valley’s bosom but look east and snow royally caps the mountainsides. It’s up to 27 F on the way to a 47 degrees F high. Sunshine, vaulting over the horizon like an arriving hero at 7:06 this morning, bullets a blue sky. 5:43 PM will be seen on the clock as the sun does it slow roll exit. It’s February 15, 2023.
My cats are happy with the sunshine but they’re not fond of those low temps. Tucker acted like he was going out but feeling that air on his heavy fur, did and an about face and floofered off. Papi, of course, galloped out per his secret identity, “The Galloping Ginger”, and then banged the door windows for re-admittance sharpish minutes later.
Plans are being planned for house painting, carpet cleaning, and those sort of matters, along with vacation. Yardwork is being given a gimlet eye. Our evening streaming rotates among Hacks, The Last of Us, Frayed, Shrinking, Lockwood and co, Station Eleven, CB Strike, and Astrid. Documentaries and comedy shows are sprinkled in as they become available. No puzzles are being assembled, with no plans to do any. K continues on her diet, pleased with her results. Makes the kitchen an interesting evening experience as we prepare our individual meals. Burners, oven, microwave going, timers ping, buzz, and chime. We dance around each other, plates, foods, and utensils in hand.
Today’s theme music is “Bullet the Blue Sky” by U2 out of 1987. Th Neurons delivered as I read a summary of gun violence in America, 2023. Can’t say it hasn’t changed this year as the rate of shootings increases. Fortunately, naught will be done because needless death is not as important as other matters.
Got coffee, and released Papi back into the sun-soaked rear yard. Stay pos, and own Wednesday. Here’s the tune. Cheers
He’s been watching ‘His Dark Materials’ and enjoying it. The novels by Phillip Pullman were fun, and this series seems faithful. The Gallivespians fascinate him. Such tiny people, no taller than a hand, with tiny leather clothing and boots. Their hair must be so tiny, as are the seams on their soles. They are so adorable. Deadly, but adorable.
Michael Seidel, writer 