Guy Does That Thing
…Journal Entries from Dr. Acula
A curious case made us all excited. It seemed that there was a man who had set a record for holding his breath. Guinness doesn’t do such records because they don’t want to encourage such acts of danger, but his record was impressive: 27 hours. We were convinced that this was due to supernatural qualities of said man. The only question was whether it was the man himself, or someone else operating through the man. More on this later.
After several experiments and much checking, we determined two things: One, that the man himself appeared to be dead for all intents and purposes, and two, the record had not been set voluntarily. The locals seem to be in two groups also, those who remember the man as being extremely fast and extremely creepy, and those who don’t remember the man at all. That first fact seemed to indicate that there was a third possibility that we had not considered – that both the man himself and the person operating through him were of the supernatural.
It was necessary to travel through New York City yesterday, and it had the consequences we were warned about. The city was overrun. Relatively, of course – it would be difficult to overrun a city of 8 million. No, but there was a much higher concentration than previously thought. They could sense our Sentinel blood, but we kept them at bay. It was the downside of being enhanced. The upside was, of course, matching them move for move and speed for speed. They were easy to avoid. We made it to Europe with little fuss.
The concentration in Paris was not as high as New York, but still high. For some reason, though, they did not attack us. This was a good sign. Could it be that what we seek is closer than ever?
Success, of a sort. Some were discovered dead. Not like the man, but completely dead in the normal way. At least, I assume that the parts we found were dead. Can’t count out the possibility that they are not, though! In any case, this means we are in the right place. We will attempt to see something, or make contact, anything.
More dead. The trail is hot! Unfortunately, so is ours. We were attacked today. Fortunately, the dead man we brought with us defended us admirably. Barely any skin was lost from the brainpan, and the skull was mildly dented. As I write this, Jones is making repairs to the left sensory control module. I heard something just now, so I will go and
“That’s the last entry, sir.”
“Very good, Jones. Any idea what happened to him?”
“Absolutely. He was captured and turned.”
“Oh no. Did you administer the-”
“He was turned completely, sir. And one more thing. I believe we have discovered who we were looking for.”
“It’s you, sir. You sent us to look for you. This is… unacceptable, as you know. The policy is clear. The Code is clear. Just one question – why did you do it?”
“What? What are you talking about? What makes you-”
“The tracers do not lie. You were there, right behind us. And in two cases, ahead of us. You killed them. It was you.”
“Well done, Jones. You’ve got me. Fair enough. But you’re wrong about what you’re looking for.”
“I don’t see how I could be. You are an alpha, just putting others in their places. You wanted us to root them out. You used us as bait.”
“You’re only half right. I am not one of them. Think, man. Have you ever known me to disappear? Have I ever even so much as looked at any of you in the way that they do? Have I ever expressed even a modicum of sympathy for them in any way?”
“That is true, but alphas rarely-”
“Even alphas have their favorites! I have none. You know this. Aside from you and Smith and Williams and the rest of the team, I do not have visitors.”
“I saw you, once. You had a caller. A woman.”
“Oh, did you now? That was for your benefit. I wanted you to see that. To humanize me as much as possible. For I am, at the root, based on humanity as much as they are.”
“Okay, how are you different? How are you so different from them? You use people, you kill the weak, you make sacrifices.”
“I used you to find them, yes. But the sacrifices I make are necessary for our survival. Not your survival. Not their survival. Ours.”
“”Ours, ours, ours” – who is this ‘us’ you seem to think you belong to?”
“Jones, you should have figured it out by now. Throughout time, there has been a circle of life. A food chain. And humans rose to the top for many years. The vampires rose in your midst, preying on you. They were the top for many years as well.”
“Jones, Jones – everything has a predator. Everything.”
He stared at Jones’ shocked face for a few minutes, and then vanished.
This particular Daily Prompt asks YOU to finish a story that I write. What did it say again?
Write a story or post with an open ending, and let your readers invent the conclusion.
Well, I’m going to cheat and introduce you once again to this thing I created a while back. Get lost in it! Have Fun!
Granite Countertop, Private Eye in Hall of Madness: A Choose Your Own Blog Adventure! The Blog Adventure Where You Decide What Happens Next!
**NOTE: I originally did this Choose Your Own Blog Adventure back in October 2011, and I think it holds up well. There are many different paths you can take, links you can click, and many different endings. Only one is the actual “winning” ending, but some of the other ones are really good too! So do this now, and enjoy yourself!
If everything goes well, then you don’t have to wait for me to write another Granite Countertop adventure – you can write your own, simply by choosing where the story goes! I am talking mechanics here – of course not all the written material will work. Ha ha! It’s a different story every time, unless you choose the same exact options. But why would you do that? You should be like the great poet Robert
Smith Plant Frost, and take the road less traveled. And now, on with the adventure!**
Ten in the morning. The city. The library. Way past dawn. Not even close. Granite Countertop, Private Investigator. Detective extraordinaire. Complete silence. All but the last were things Granite was used to. For Granite, the silence was like two plastic guys dressed in matching tuxedos atop a cake for a wedding held at Westboro Baptist Church. He had told the librarian the night before that he was there to do research, and he was not lying. That research was on a great many things, but it was especially on sleeping soundly. If he actually compiled the research into a thesis paper, it would be entitled “Treatise On Sleep Deprivation Due To The Effects Of Alcohol, Parrots, Gunfire And Cross-Dressing: Salvation of Librarianism In Higher …” with drool and coffee stains finishing it off, because the title alone would be enough to put him out. The bright stuff from the burning thing in the up there spot touched him deeply through the window, and he woke up. He folded up the Murphy bed into its crevice in the Geography, Anthropology and Recreation section, carefully replacing the books on social graces and intercultural competence, and then he was off. He removed his pajamas, footed, as usual, with bunnies, put on his suit, and headed for his office, conveniently located just a few minutes away from something close to it.
What happens now? Is his office…
Ain’t free will grand? Choose carefully!
This Daily Prompt was much funnerly than some other ones that make you think with yore noggin! And that hurts my head! So this was fun, as I said previously before earlier antipodally.
A genie has granted your wish to build your perfect space for reading and writing. What’s it like?
Well, to be honest, if there was a genie I probably would be wishing for loftier things than a space for me. Like Salma Hayek holding a plate of cooked bacon in one hand and a suitcase full of a million dollars in the other, and nothing else. I’m pretty sure my wife would agree with that wish, too. But, I’ll play along. It would be soundproof and yet have a great stereo system with surround sound in case I wanted to listen to anything. It would have a T9 connection to the internet and a couple of Alienware or better computers, with 32″ monitors to look into – two per computer. Maybe three. Walls of books that I haven’t read, but that somehow I know I want to. And I’d write in complete silence, with the internet at my fingertips and music at my other fingertips. It would also have lots of food and beer and energy drinks and such, for refreshment. And a bed, in case I need some rest. And a bathroom, in case I needed some inspiration. Lots of Asian art on the walls, relaxing scents, just a dreamy place.
And that’s what I’d wish for.
I was answering an ad in Craigslist by driving to an open warehouse. Just minding my own business. The warehouse had not been leased or actively used for maybe 6 years, and the new lessees opened it up to find dozens of chairs. For some reason, emptiness was more important than money, so they were free. And I went down to get as many as I could to refinish and reupholster, which turned out to be 12.
On the way out, I drove by this little bit of land, long and skinny, and all made up with all sorts of interesting. I of course parked and got out and took tons of pictures. It turned out to be Garden Station, an incredible little section of land in downtown Dayton. According to the Facebook page:
Garden Station is a collaborative revitalization project first started as a project of the Dayton Circus Creative Collective, and recently established as it’s own separate non-profit organization. We are transforming a two acre lot on the northeast corner of Fourth Street and Wayne Avenue that was vacant for more than 40 years into a vibrant art park and community garden.
I entered at the southwest corner and was immediately drawn to the art (get it?) along the north wall. Here’s a sample:
Once I had gone a fair way down the wall, I ran into Lisa and Dave. Lisa is basically the curator of Garden Station, the driving force that made it happen. She told me of all the events that go on, educational and green, school groups and other gatherings. Dave was studying French verbs on one of the benches in the far corner of the park – which was a very quiet and secluded place indeed. Dave lived nearby in one of the warehouses that had been converted into lofts, and he came there nearly every day. He said that he had planted some of the vegetables in the vegetable/flower garden, and that people were respectful of the wall and the park. No one had tagged the wall or covered up any of the art. Occasionally a homeless person had spent the night in the park, and because of the odd effects of mutual mistrust, both the park and the person are safe on those nights. On other nights, there is live music on one of the stages set up in the park. Not just folk, like I thought, but also electronic music! That’s when I discovered the place had electricity. Here are some of the other features I discovered.
This is a greenhouse with a wood frame, but otherwise made out of empty 2-liter soda bottles.
This shed was made of bales of straw, with a front wall made of a mosaic of inlaid glass bottle bottoms.
This is the vegetable/flower garden, too large to get in one shot.
There were many gathering places around the park, many places to sit, but here are two of the more interesting:
And I leave you with some more of the wall art from this incredible find. Did I mention that there are skyscrapers just a couple of blocks to the west here? Warehouses just on the other side of the wall? The vibrant Oregon District just to the southwest? Incredible that this place is nestled in the city like that, yet is a quiet and peaceful sanctuary. It was a much better find than the 12 free chairs!
If you have trouble finding your dreams, this should help you: