Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
He read in a paper, “…they were laying down on their stomach.” He frequently reads sentences like that and wonders, is down necessary? Could they be laying up or in another way? It seems redundant.
Like that phrase so constantly heard, “I was thinking in my head.” Like, where else do you think? Explain.
He knew a brief history of pants and also read about plural tantum, but it still bothered him to hear underwear referred to ‘a pair of underwear’ or ask for ‘a pair of pants’. He had no problem with a pair of glasses although a pair of scissors irked him. For his own use, he’d quit referring to a ‘pair’ of any of these things.
He was just trying to pare things down to make life simpler.
The sign said, “Welcome back to our new store.”
He wondered if he could be welcomed back to a place which was new.
After knowing one another for fifty-one years, including forty-five years of marriage, they remain a couple separated by a common language, even though they’re both American.
I was a detective in a trench coat. American, I didn’t speak French, but I was working with French detectives. Although I didn’t speak French, they understood me when I spoke English and I understood them when they spoke French. This startled me in the dream, causing me to pause and ask, “How is this possible?” I didn’t have a chance to pursue an answer because there was a crime to solve. I zipped around Paris with the detectives, flashing my badge, interviewing people, asking the other detectives questions, and answering their questions. The crime and mystery were never definitely stated in the dream, yet I knew what it was. The dream ended with me looking at the Eiffel Tower, as that’s where the clues led.
I think the dream arose because I’d watched a dose of The Sommerdahl Murders before I went to sleep, though why I ended up in Paris with French detectives isn’t explained. Haven’t been to Paris since the last century. All in all, a mild and innocuous, pleasant dream, although this detective dream left me with a mystery.
But don’t they all?
I was in a room decorated with furniture and hangings in which purples and reds dominated. I don’t recall seeing windows but the small room with dark wooden walls was cluttered, with a low ceiling. As the dream progressed, it seemed more like a loft.
I was working on some sort of rectangular woven hanging which was shades of purple, attempting to straighten it and neatly fold it over a wooden rod, when I heard people below. As I leaned over the heavy wooden railing, I saw people coming up the narrow wooden steps. They were shouting but it was a language which I didn’t understand. Still, I shouted back at them, “No, you can’t come up here, it’s time to go.” I then met them on the steps, waving my arms and repeating what I’d said before.
I went down and outside onto a crowded and busy plaza awash in sunshine. My wife was with me. A young man in a white shirt provided me tickets for our flights. We hadn’t paid for the flights. I saw his shirt cuff as he handed us the tickets. “Playboy Style” and “Cotton” was embroidered in white thread on his white shirt’s cuffs. I thought, these tickets are going to be expensive. I then asked, but he didn’t answer. As he went away, I opened the little sheaf of papers he’d provided and saw the ticket prices. They amounted to $4,000. I said, “No, these tickets are too much.” My wife replied, “We can afford it,” to which I answered, “We can afford it, but do we want to pay that?”
Dream end
Flooflan (floofinition) – An animal devised language created to help them communicate with humans.
In use: “After using telefloofy to communicate with the dog and cat in his new house, Bowser discovered that the humans couldn’t comprehend his thoughts, forcing him into using flooflan, which was mostly, IHO, just silly barking, as the humans didn’t seem to understand that, either!”
Floofnacular (floofinition) – Animal’s ordinary speech and language which is specific to regions or species.
In use: “Although Max was bilingual, the dog sometimes confused what the cat, Snuffy, meant, due to differences in the floofnacular, but both continued learning and the differences didn’t prevent them from napping together. Nap was the same in both floofnaculars.”
Issuing a hard squawk, a jay glided into the backyard, settling among the crispy brown weeds after a few hops. Cool mountain air stirred the firs and cherry tree bordering the yard.
A ginger and white cat shading herself on the patio flipped over onto her belly and watched the bird. Green eyes grew big. Watchful. She chittered.
The bird snapped off a chirp. Cat and bird glanced around. Six AM on Saturday, a fenced yard. No humans were about.
The cat strolled into the weeds. Bird hopped to her. Exchanges were issued. Then, business.
“What you got?” the cat asked.
“Not much. Neighbors across the street have gone camping. Will be back Friday. Fran, two doors down, fell. Bruised herself but broke nothing. Sissy was sunning herself on her roof yesterday, started taking selfies and almost fell off.”
The cat chuckled. “People.”
“You?”
“Not much. Bear visited the Miltons. Drained their hummingbird feeder. Flipped over a trash can.”
“Heard that. You pass this stuff on to your people?”
“Try. I tell them but they don’t seem to grasp it.”
“Well, keep trying, sister.”
“You, too, brother.”
“Keep cool.”
“Stay safe.”
They parted ways. A while later, the man entered the backyard. Chuckled the cat’s way. “Heard you and that bird going at it.”
The cat meowed several times back, trying to convey the information learned.
“What is it? What are you telling me? You hungry? Want water? A treat? What is it?”
The cat repeated the stories the bird had shared.
The man shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re trying to say.” He went on to water the garden.
The cat sat down with a sigh. That all summed up the problem. People could hear but couldn’t understand.
Michael Seidel, writer 