NYC Midnight Flash Fiction 2011 -- Challenge 2

The Challenge:

Genre: Drama
Location: Forest
Object: Hammer
Words: 1,000
Days: 2

Rotten Wood

Synopsis: In the solitude and beauty of an Oregon forest, from 150 feet, everything can change in an instant.

The ancient forests of the Oregon Coast rose above the Pacific like stacked green cathedrals, and was as hushed as any place of worship. High above, glimpsed between branches of emerald spires, three ospreys soared in a widening spiral; feathered angels with lethal talons, seeking prey.

On the ground, sinews of fog still floated in the deeper hollows, where night had discarded them. The sweet smell of dew, mold and vegetation hung in the air. The only sound was the thud of hiking boots against a dirt trail.

At eight o’clock in the morning, Jason and Ana reached the base of the fire tower, which stood as an old sentinel, 150 feet above them.

The tower had long ago been abandoned by the forest service. No longer used to fight fires, its main purpose now was to reward any hiker determined enough to reach it. But there were complaints of its safety. From the upper deck, rotten wood had made the old structure dangerous.

Jason took off his backpack, pulled out his work belt, and fastened it to his waist. Then he grabbed the wood they’d use to replace the old railing.

“They say the top deck railing is loose?” Ana said as she tightened her own work belt and looked up, squinting. “That’s a pretty good hike up there.”

Jason couldn’t help himself. He stared at her, the tautness of her bare legs. Her figure seemed to glow in the early morning sun. Her voice had an infectious joy that lifted him. For the last six months they’ve worked together at the Forest Service. Each month he’d recommit to asking her out. Each month he chickened out. “You’ve never been here?”

“No, never.”

“Ahh. You’ll love it. But we’ll want one of these,” Jason said, holding up a flashlight. “It’s a little dark in there. The last thing you want to do is trip on something going up that staircase.” He pointed ahead to the doorway. “I’ll lead and light your way.”

The creak of each step echoed hollowly through the enclosed framework. As they ascended, their rhythmic breathing increased in pace. Aside from a few cobwebs, a musty and moldy smell, and loose balusters, it seemed to be in good condition.

Sweat pooled on Jason’s brow. He stopped, swung his flashlight around and peered down the stairs through the dancing shadows. He had become increasingly uneasy since he stepped foot inside the tower. He expected someone to be following him from behind. But the two were alone, with only spiders to keep them company.

“What is it?” Ana asked.

“Sorry, nothing,” he said, shaking his head and turning back around.

The steps became shorter and steeper as the diameter of the tower shrank until they reached the door that led to the observation deck.

Ana gasped when they opened the door. Jason leaned against the doorway, wiped his brow, and pulled out a bottle of water. He then took off his pack and started unloading the new railing.

“It’s spectacular,” Ana said.

A carpet of treetops spread out to the east toward the sleeping volcano, Mt. Hood. On the west, cascading pines pointed down to the blue waters of the Pacific.

Ana walked out with her eyes toward the ocean and rested her hands on the railing. It bent, and she stumbled forward but caught herself before she crashed through the decaying wood and pummeled to the floor below.

Jason leaped forward and grabbed her shoulder. “You alright?”

Ana turned around, her face turning pale. “I’m fine. But it looks like the rail does need to be fixed.”

“I almost lost you.”

“What? What does that mean?”

Jason let her go and took a step back, embarrassed. “It means we gotta get this fixed, Ana, before someone gets hurt.”

She smiled and turned around. “I’m not done with this view.”

Jason grabbed some wood, walked over and dropped it by the weakened section of rail. He pulled out his hammer with his right hand and a box of nails with his left. Ana walked over and reached down for the wood.

Jason shoved her so hard it lifted her off her feet. Her eyes flared as she crashed into the railing.

In a clatter of rotting wood, Ana disappeared over edge.

Jason thought about trying to catch her. But, instead, he just watched, and listened until her scream stopped. He walked over and stared straight down five stories below. Ana’s inert and contorted figure looked small on the forest floor.

The hammer swung slightly in his finger tips. He dropped the nails, which scattered across the wooden planks. A handful dangled on the precipice near the jagged gap in the railing. Jason stood there for ten minutes, hypnotized by the sudden event. Who knew he could be capable of such a violent act? Against someone who he cared for?

He backed up and fell to the floor and shook as he cried. He closed his eyes and mentally tried to turn back time, to change the events. How would he explain it? How would he live with himself? What would he do? How could something that happened in an instant change everything?

He walked out to the edge and closed his eyes. He put his foot out into the air. Then he stopped, with suicidal thoughts reeling, a smile broke across his face.

He reached down, grabbed a piece of wood, secured it against the tower, picked up a nail and hammered it into place.

Jason reached down for another nail. “We gotta get this fixed, Ana,” he said, a smile again wrinkling his face, “before someone gets hurt.”

NYC Midnight Flash Fiction 2011 -- Challenge 1

The Challenge:

Genre: Ghost Story
Location: Hall of Fame
Object: Alarm Clock
Words: 1,000
Days: 2

Brother's Keeper

Synopsis: In a vacant high school gymnasium, an old athlete walks the painful road of nostalgia and discovers the truth about a janitor. A truth that will change everything.

Columns of natural light spilled into the foyer from a row of tall, glass doors. Dust particles danced in the glow, defying gravity and spiraling in every direction. Shadows checkered the scratched linoleum that was littered with confetti and spilt food.

A random squeak of a tennis shoe, the slosh of a mop and the rolling wheels of a bucket is all that broke the silence. Beyond the foyer, a janitor cleaned the wooden floor of the old basketball court.

For 25 years I returned to walk down this hallway on the same morning, right after graduation. Every year it was the same – the janitor and I alone in an abandoned high school gymnasium. I welcomed the caretaker. There was something familiar and comforting about his presence.

I stared through glass cases that hung along the walls at awards, pictures and cutouts of former Cody High School athletes – the Cody Broncs Hall of Fame.

I walked slowly down the hall looking into the eyes of every kid that made All-Conference and All-State in Wyoming since 1942. The local stars of football, track and field, wrestling, tennis, and basketball, and the swimmers, gymnasts, and baseball players lined up like ghosts haunting the foyer.


When I reached the athletes from 1980, I froze. My eyes locked with the grooves where glass met wood. Sudden unknown fear and anxiety weighed on me like cast-iron shackles.

I yelled.

The scream seemed to emerge from some other realm and echoed through the foyer. Trying to free myself from fear, my hands shook the glass case. Pictures and awards collapsed.

The doors to the basketball court swung open. The janitor stopped and watched the trembling glass.

I let go and backed up.

“Sorry,” I said. The shaking stopped.

The janitor ignored me and walked over to the case, pulled out a key, opened it up, reorganized things, closed and locked the case, then walked back into the basketball court and closed the doors.

I walked further back, hesitated. I had to look at every kid. I had to. I started over from 2011 and worked backwards.

While the uniforms, equipment, and the hairstyles had changed from the past, the faces were the same from decade to decade. The same smiles, the same excitement, the same youthful hope, the same innocence.

As I walked further down that hall and reached the celebrated athletes of the 1980s, I froze in place again.

The paralyzing fear left a familiar taste. I reached up and wiped my mouth. Blood smeared on the back of my palm.

In that moment, I remembered I’ve felt this way before. Every year I’d feel it, and taste it. Anxiety mixed with blood in my mouth.

My hands were cold. My body shivered from something icy within. I inched further down the hall until I reached 1986. But I couldn’t look up. My eyes locked onto my name at the bottom of a large plaque, Owen Allphin, engraved in the middle of a dozen others.

This time pain accompanied irrational fear. I fell to my knees and groaned, then vomited blood. My left hand dug into the case and tore it from the wall as I fell. It crashed around me.

Once again my cry seemed distant, like it surfaced from some inhuman thing.

The big, swinging doors opened again and the janitor ran out into the foyer and stopped. He stared at the broken glass case. His head swiveled. His eyes wide and darting.

My pain and fear vanished as soon as I saw him. Blood no longer rested on my lips.


The janitor walked hesitantly toward the broken glass. He kneeled down in front of me and picked up the same large plaque from the rubble and gently brushed it off. He stared at it for a long time before he sat down. His upper lip trembled. His eyes pooled with tears.

“Owen, I’m sorry,” he said, cradling the plaque now.

“Sorry? I’m the one who broke it,” I said.

The janitor ignored me again. I got up and looked over his shoulder.

It was a picture of our basketball team moments before we traveled to the state tournament in Cheyenne. Despite coming here every year, I haven’t seen this photo before. I’ve never been able to see it.

An inscription below the photo read:

“IN LASTING MEMORY OF THE MEMBERS OF THE CODY HIGH SCHOOL BASKETBALL TEAM, THE COACHES AND STAFF, AND DEVOTED FANS, WHO DIED IN THE BUS CRASH ON MARCH 14, 1986.”

I fell back down to the floor. It felt like a frog jumped inside my throat.

“I’m so sorry, Owen,” the janitor was now crying. No, he was bawling. “I’m so sorry, brother. I should have been there.”

I stood straight up and walked around to look at the janitor head on. The face was tough and wrinkled, a face full of life’s experience. Not the face I remember, but one I now completely recognized. After all these years, my brother was in this gym with me every time.

The memories flooded back into my mind. My twin brother broke his leg and didn’t travel with the team that year. He never got on the bus.

I did.

I understood. I finally understood. I wasn’t shaking anymore.

I knelt down and put my mouth to his ear. “Royal,” I said. “I’m okay now. I was asleep when it happened. I don’t remember much.”

Royal’s head popped up. He wiped the tears from his cheeks. “I’ll see you soon, brother.”

An alarm clock chimed from behind us. I looked over at another familiar face who was tapping his watch. “Time’s up,” my father said. “I have to go back now. Come this time.”

“I’m ready,” I told him.

My father smiled.

I looked back on Royal. He picked up the plaque with the tenderness of a mother. Then I turned around, and for the first time, followed Dad into the unknown.

2011 NYC Midnight Short Story Challenge -- Heat 2

The NYC Midnight Short Story Contest randomly assigns genres and topics to the contestants, who then have to write a short story under 2,500 words in one week. I was given the "Fairy Tale" genre with the subject "Addiction." Here's to addictive fairy tales:

The Toad King

Synopsis: After the Prince is found in a coma, the King uncovers a widespread addiction that threatens the entire land. In the end, the King is forced to choose whether to save his son’s life or save his kingdom.

The War Toads brought the bodies out of the forest in the half light of dawn. They hoisted them up on stretchers made of water reeds and plates of jumbo tree bark.

The toads dressed in traditional battle gear: loin cloths, leather straps tied to their elbows and shoulders; and bamboo plating around their shins, chest and forearms. Weapons hung tight against their backs. They walked in silence, wary of the ever-watching Garuda. Each webbed foot fell softly into the tall grass, shaking free the beaded drops of morning dew. They moved through an open field toward the castle like phantoms of the forest. The large bodies on the stretchers ebbed and flowed above the tall grass like a flotilla of sailboats.

They reached the castle gates just as the mist began lifting but hadn’t yet burned off. In unison, the toads lowered the bodies to the ground. One toad drew his finger across the foreheads of those that didn’t survive the journey, and then momentarily cradled one who shivered from fever. They all bowed their heads and then stepped away, disappearing back into the meadow.

***

King Denton bit his lip as his horse galloped through the muddy streets of Bombadrezil. In his short time away, the once blissful, radiant kingdom had been transformed. Rainclouds shrouded the land in gray. Beggars called out to passersby. An ogre trudged through the streets crushing everything in its path. No laughter. No rumble of small talk. No flowers in the busy shops and eateries. People moaned. Farmer’s fields were empty. The skies were void. No birds flew. No butterflies danced in the air.

The King’s convoy had been traveling fast for two days since they received news about his son and several others found dead or near death at the gates of the castle. His brother’s son, an honored knight, didn’t survive.

The King turned his gaze away from the streets and looked at his brother who was muttering to himself. Isaac was a symbol of bravery, courage and respect. Although Denton was the older sibling, he often looked to Isaac as an example of how to live a good life. Life is hard when terrible things happen to great people.

Denton returned his view towards the decaying kingdom. He knew that whatever happened to their boys was just a small part of a bigger picture.

***

Deep in the forest where darkness and shadows retreat from the sun, sat a congregation. Under the canopy of the tall Jumbo Trees, they swayed with their eyes closed to the hypnotic melodies of a flute and slowly chanted, “Garuda … Garuda … Garuda.”

A shadowy, massive bird-shaped figure rose up out of the earth in front of the congregation, lifted its head and encircled the worshippers with its colossal wings.

“Be at peace, children,” came a subtle, warm voice. “You are safe here. Relax and feel my glow.”

The black wings changed color and exploded into a gleaming, blinding white light that seemed to set the entire forest on fire. The worshippers moaned in pleasure and collapsed. All color sapped from their bodies. Some fell unconscious. Garuda extended her wings toward the sky, opened her beak and let out a scream from deep down in her neck. Her body bulged, shifted and cracked as it grew nearly twice in size. Feathers floated to the forest floor. Garuda’s head now brushed the top of the jumbo trees.

The worshippers below raised their arms up to Garuda and started chanting again.
Garuda looked down. That same comforting voice spoke again, “My flock, my appearance at Bombadrezil is at hand.”

The congregation cheered.

“With your help,” Garuda continued, “I grow stronger each day. Leave me now, bring back more converts and I will offer you a glow you have yet to experience.”

Garuda covered herself with her wings and vanished in another explosion of white. Left alone, the congregation whimpered. Some crawled away. Others never moved.

***

The temperature dropped sharply as Denton and Isaac entered the thick, rock walls of the lower chamber that housed the remains of those who had died. In front of them were rows of dead bodies covered in gray sheets.

“You may not like what you see,” said the caretaker. “Are you sure you want to see your son?”
Isaac nodded.

The caretaker removed the sheet. He pointed to a wrinkled scarf wrapped around the dead man’s neck. “Your family emblem.”

The dead knight was barely recognizable as a human being. The skin on his face was shriveled like a wrung rag and spread tight across the cheekbones and jaws. The eyes were sunken into the sockets, appearing like pearls in a black sea. The mouth was agape displaying a shrunken tongue.

Isaac put his hands over his nose and breathed through his mouth. “Bloody, Hell.” He gripped his hands together to stop them from shaking and turned toward the rock wall.

“Cover him up,” Denton said. Sweat dripped down his spine and lodged into his belt line.

“What could do this?” Isaac stammered. “What in creation could do such a thing?”

“Garuda,” said a guttural voice from the opposite corner of the chamber.

Denton looked up and saw a fully armed War Toad squatting in the corner. He was a bulky, powerful creature. Red and yellow fibers hung from two metal rings that pierced his lips. The skin was leathery, warty. A long, sliver of red flesh dangled from his chin. Chartreuse amphibious eyes darted back and forth.

Isaac unsheathed his sword and charged.

“Isaac, no!” the King said.

The toad’s stocky body lengthened out to his full height of four feet, revealing ropy muscle that flexed along his arms and legs. In one fluid motion, he leaped with those powerful legs, turned in mid air and his large feet caught Isaac by the chest and shoulders and slammed him to the floor. Isaac grunted as his head struck hard dirt. The toad placed a blade just underneath Isaac’s Adam’s apple.

The king laughed. “You picked a fight with the wrong guy, brother.” The King walked over to the toad. “It’s okay. I promise my brother will behave. You can let him go.”
The War Toads are thought to be randomly violent creatures that haunt the forest. But the Kings of Bombadrezil know a much different side and have had a special relationship with them throughout history.

The toad released the blade and backed up. Isaac scurried to his feet.

“What are you doing, Denton? These toads did this to my son. To your son!”

“The toads brought the bodies here to warn us about something. If the toads killed them, why would they bring them back to the castle?”

Isaac flared his nostrils like a stallion and backed off. The toad put his blade back in its sheath.
“Trust me, Isaac. He’s here to help. Plus, I know this one well. His name is Alexander, like our father.”

The toad huffed, and his enlarged belly shook as he spoke, “Alexander, Chief General of the War Toads.” He nodded and blinked.

***

Garuda stared down at her council made up of Liches, Wights, Necromancers, Wraiths, Geryons and Aroiches.

“These peasants are fine. I can steal their life force for now,” Garuda said. “But the royals, including the King’s son, were not at the last Glow. What happened? We can’t take over the kingdom without royal blood continuously pumping through my veins.”

A Necromancer stood up, removed his hood and walked toward Garuda and bowed his head. The dark wizard addressed her with admiration, “The toads took them to the castle. I will lead a team to get them back.”

“No. I am strong enough to leave the forest. We’ll all go.”

***

Denton kneeled at his son’s bed and rubbed his forehead with a cold rag. His son trembled. Sweat beaded off his head and saturated his clothes. His lips were dry and cracked. Pools of darkness surrounded his eyes.

“Better that he’s not awake,” Alexander said. “It’s been nearly three days since he’s had the glow. His body is craving it. The adjustment is painful.”

“What can we do?” Denton asked.

“Wait it out, and hope Garuda is not yet strong enough to come here.”

“But the whole kingdom seems to be addicted to it.”

“Yes. She’s becoming stronger every day. Garuda will come for your son soon. And everyone else here if she can. Once she enslaves the royalty, she’ll have all power over the entire kingdom.” The toad riveted his eyes with the king’s. “You are not even safe once Garuda comes.

You will have to make a choice.”

Denton knew what the toad meant. To save the kingdom, he may have to take his son’s life, and the rest of the surviving addicts. Or, offer himself in their place.

Isaac burst through the door. “A dark wizard stands outside the gates. He wants to speak with you.”

***

Alexander and Isaac stood on the King’s side from atop the castle. They looked down at the stranger across the moat dressed in all black and riding an even blacker horse. A long nose protruded from underneath a brimmed hat that filled the rest of the face with shadow. The horse’s hooves kicked up dust that circled around its legs.

“A Necromancer,” the toad said.

Denton’s eyes flinched. Necromancers are evil wizards with the power over the world of the dead. The name itself caused his spine to twinge. They haven’t been seen in Bombadrezil in more than fifty years.

“What is your business stranger?” Denton yelled.

“The bodies,” the stranger replied quickly with a surprisingly warm voice. “I need to see them.”

“What bodies?” Denton said.

“Let’s don’t play games, Your Highness. I can smell them from here. Can we talk in private?”
The King nodded his head and turned.

“Wait, Denton. Don’t go down there,” Isaac said while grabbing his arm.

“Keep the archers on that thing out there.” The King said. He turned and high stepped down the stairs.

The King approached the Necromancer with one hand resting on the smooth handle of his sword.

“My best archers have their sites on you as we speak,” Denton said.

The wizard swayed back and forth, sniffing. His black, weathered coat touched the ground. The coat had visible scars, scratches and stitches, and swung independently as if it were alive. The man inside the coat was hard to see; the coat seemed to be intentionally hiding him, protecting him. If a shadow could rise from the ground and wear clothes, this Necromancer would be that shadow.

The stranger slid his hat down further across the bridge of his nose, engulfing his face in more shadow before he said, “Oh, that won’t be necessary, Your Highness, I’m not here to fight you.”
He leaned back in his saddle. “I just want the bodies.”

Inside the miasma underneath the long, brimmed hat, Denton saw two eyes shine for a moment and flicker out. “How do you know about the bodies?”


The wizard chuckled and tapped his long nose. “It’s what I do, Your Highness.” He shifted forward. “We will get those bodies and anyone else who’s addicted to the glow, whether you give them to us willingly, or we have to tear them from your bloodstained fingers.”

Denton’s eyes quivered. His hands balled up into fists as he controlled the urge to reach for his sword and lop off that evil creature’s head. “We will not give up our people,” he said as he turned his back on the wizard and stepped toward the castle.

When Denton reached the castle gates, the sun darkened.

Denton looked up as a shadow climbed the towers and spires of the castle. It was early afternoon, but night seemed to come to Bombadrezil. Denton turned his gaze to where the sun should be. A faint glow outlined Garuda’s immense wings and body that blocked out the entire sky.

Alexander met him. “Garuda grows very powerful,” he said. “You have to make a decision, now. Or else all is lost.”

“I can’t kill my own son. I can’t kill my people.”

Above, archers let arrows fly. A few fell to their deaths. Those addicted ran to the gates chanting Garuda’s name.

“Then there is only one option,” the toad said. “Become one of us and give yourself to Garuda in exchange.”

“What do you mean, become one of you?”

Alexander grabbed a small urn strapped to his neck, tore it away and shoved it in front of Denton’s face. “Drink this. Garuda has no power over us. It’s the only way to save your kingdom without killing your son. You must hurry.”

Dentin grabbed it, put it to his mouth and drank. He gagged as he felt the sludge pour down his throat. It tasted of sulphur, methane and mud.

“Good,” Alexander said. “Now, go out there. I have protection for you.”

When he left the gates, a dozen War Toads surrounded him. They walked about 50 yards.

Denton looked up at Garuda and called out, “I am King Denton, give me the glow!”

Garuda dropped her wings and swooped downward, once again revealing the sun. The toads scattered. She stood above the king in her massive glory and cocked her head.

“If you release the rest of the kingdom, including my son, I will let you have me.”

“Agreed,” Garuda said without hesitation. Her wings shuttered and lost color. She stumbled and shrunk more than half her size. “It’s done.”

Denton looked back. The people stopped clamoring at the gates. He looked back up, “Alright.”

She enveloped the King with her wings. Denton was bathed in blinding white light filled with ultimate pleasure. He could sense strength oozing out of his body. Then it stopped. He held his hands up and watched his skin grow warts. His body convulsed. Garuda released him, screamed, leaped into the air and disappeared over the horizon.

Denton blacked out.

***

In the distance, the sun glistened off the castle spires. A white butterfly bobbed in the air a few inches from Denton’s face. Bluebirds sang in the trees. From afar he watched his son embrace a young woman dressed in white.

“Future queen, I think,” Alexander said.
“Yes, father, we hope so,” Denton said. “Your grandson has done well.” He reached his arm out and looked at his leathery skin pocked with warts. He clenched his three fingers into a rough, solid fist.

Other War Toads rose up from the ground. It was time to move on. Denton closed and opened his new amphibian eyes. He let out a crooked smile. He stood and took his place with the War Toads, the guardians and former Kings of Bombadrezil.

2010 NYC Midnight Short Story Challenge, First Round: 'Twas Brillig, and the Slithy Toves

The NYC Midnight Short Story Contest randomly assigns genres and topics to the contestants, who then have to write a short story under 2,500 words in one week. I was given the Action/Adventure genre with the subject "underground." The Jabberwocky-referenced title is courtesy of Eric and Katie Sorte, who are much more cultured than I. So enjoy the following, which is either creative brain vomit or genius. I'm not sure which.

’Twas Brillig, and the Slithy Toves

Synopsis: When a mine collapses, an experienced miner risks everything to save the life of a younger colleague. But before they reach safety, they soon discover something more sinister than the typical dangers of a disintegrating mine.

Sean Westbrook was a fourth-generation coal miner. It was in his blood. He loved and hated it. But today he felt peculiarly uneasy and hated it more than he should. He couldn’t wait to leave that dark tunnel. Just one more load, he thought, and then he’d leave for the day.

He backed his scoop into a heap of coal and then headed up the road to dump it onto the conveyer belt, sending it thousands of feet to the surface. It’s the way it should’ve worked, the way it had worked day in and day out for twenty years now, but he hadn’t driven more than five feet when the bowels of the Earth groaned. Dirt rained down and bounced off his hard hat and onto the floor. He hit the brakes and rolled to an easy stop.

He looked up. The dark surface of the ceiling was marked with roofbolts and ridges cut from longwall machines. Sean breathed out slowly. His brows inched closer together. The underground was no stranger to enigmatic and sometimes frightening sounds. But this seemed different. It was different. He sat there a minute longer looking back and forth along the ceiling. His headlamp made broad strokes of light across the surface. He looked for something that would tell him the mine was weakened. With a whole mountain on top of you, you could never be too careful.

White reflector stripes floated along the right wall, and a familiar voice echoed through the cavern in the darkness ahead. “Hey, what’s taking so long?” said Mick, an 18-year-old who grabbed this job right out of high school. It’s what happens when you need to pay for a baby girl and a teenage bride.

Sean turned his head and squinted toward the voice. The rest of Mick’s body filled in the gaps between the reflective strips on his clothes and the young man momentarily turned off his headlamp so Sean could see him. Sean liked him. Mick was a good kid with a passion for life. But Sean had seen the mine strip that zeal out of a hundred young men.

“What you waiting for?” Mick said. “Let’s get this load on top so we can go home.”

The Earth growled again, shaking the ground. Plastic tubes that held electrical wires bounced along the ceiling. The trembling fluorescent lights flickered, casting demonic shadows that danced along the walls. Except for the hum of the scoop’s engine, it was completely silent.

“Mick, you alright?” Sean said.

Mick’s light turned on in response. “Yeah, I’m alright.”

“Well, get up here on the scoop. We’re getting out now.”

The scoop wasn’t built for speed, but it was quicker than they could make it out on foot. It was a long way out. Sean stepped on the gas, the engine rumbled, the scoop bounced along up the path.

The lights highlighted a damaged mine where wires hug dangerously low from the ceiling. Pillars had collapsed. The scoop scraped along the walls in a few places that were caved in. The tracked wheels squeaked as they turned.

Mick broke the silence. “What was that?”

“Not sure.”

“Earthquake?”

“Maybe.”

“Explosion?”

“Could be.”

Sean chewed his lip as they continued to climb up the road. The headlights formed eerie shadows along the dirt walls. He opened and closed his mouth. His nostrils and lungs felt dry and dirty. The pathway was filled with dust. “Keep monitoring the air. You never know what gasses can escape when these walls crack.”

Sean shifted in his seat and slowed the scoop.

“What is it?” Mick asked.

“Thought I saw something over there,” Sean said, pointing to the left.

Something flesh colored scurried behind the posts and disappeared in the dark.

“There! Did you see that?” Sean pointed.

Mick peered into the darkness. “See what?”

Sean shook his head and hit the gas again. As they turned the next corner, something roared from a tunnel that branched out to the left. They both realized what was barreling toward them.

“Get out!” Sean yelled.

They jumped and sprinted uphill as a wall of water smashed into the scoop, tumbling it over, pinning it against the opposite wall. The men stared as they watched the water tear the machine apart.

“Let’s get high before this fills the entire mine,” Sean said. “Glen and his boys shouldn’t be too far away.”

****

It seemed to take hours to reach the others. A group of about eight men sat around in a circle.

“Sean, Mick,” Glen greeted them. He stood about 6-foot-4, coal dust blanketed his face. The whites of his eyes seemed to glow in comparison to the surrounding blackness. He moved his head to the side and looked beyond them down the mine. “Where’s the scoop?”

Sean told him about the water. “We’ve got to get high before that water reaches us.”

“Yeah, well, that’ll be a problem,” Glen said, pointing up the road where dirt and rocks blocked the passageway. “We’re stuck here.”

“I’m telling you, whatever’s out there took him!” someone yelled.

Sean turned quickly, and thought he saw something run from the light of his headlamp.

“I’m telling you,” said Drew Hatch, another young miner. “Something came out of nowhere and took off with Casey. Something’s out there. That quake, it woke something up. Something that lives down here.”

“Drew,” Glen said, “he’s probably just out there taking a piss.” Glen turned to Mick. “He’s been saying he’s been seeing something ever since the tremors hit.” Then he walked toward Drew.

Drew’s words, however, struck something in Sean. Sean looked out into the void of the mine. Then he turned to Mick as the men tried to calm Drew and look for Casey. “How’s the gas in here?”

“Both carbon monoxide and the carbon dioxide is getting a little higher, but it’s still safe,” Mick said. “There is a little methane, however.”

“Keep checking,” Sean said. He reached down and felt his pick hammer in its holster. “You have your steel hammer?”

“Yeah.”

“Keep a hand on it.”

Sean wandered out further into the mine and exposing the walls with his headlight. Something moved just a few feet in front of him. He looked down; nothing was there. His heartbeat pounded in his chest, rattling the buckles on his suspenders. He thought about Casey. Something was much stranger than the typical dangers of a crippled mine.

Sean looked back down the road. His lamplight glistened off the tracks that lined each side, leading into a ghastly abyss. He could hear water getting closer.

Something dragged across the dirt floor. He spun around; his lights highlighted someone’s legs being pulled into a small crevice in the wall.

“Holy crap!” Mick yelled from right behind Sean. “Did you see that?”

Before Sean could respond, Big Drew bellowed from behind. Multiple men cried out in pain. Sean and Mick ran back and saw four men in a tight circle, shining lights back and forth. Their numbers were dwindling.

“What are they?” one of them yelled.

“It’s not a myth, it’s not a myth,” Drew repeated.

Sean got a good look at what he had only previously caught glimpses of. It clung to the ceiling above the four men. Its four appendages gripped to the ridges. It looked at the light with small, cloudy eyes.

“Holy crap.” Mark whispered.

The animal’s mouth opened with a crack, its jaws seemed to unhinge. Saliva dripped from two large canines as it hissed violently. The thing released its grip on the ceiling and fell in the middle of the four men.

Drew had no time to react. In one swift motion, the creature landed, pounced onto his chest, bit at his throat and leaped into the darkness, disappearing. Drew bent over and fell face first into the dirt.

Two more of Glen’s men were yanked into the shadows.

Something cut deep into Sean’s right thigh. He grunted as he hit the ground. His pick hammer was already in hand, and he swung it wildly at whatever grabbed and tore at his body. The pointed end of the hammer stuck in something, which thrashed on contact.

Mick aimed his light at Sean. The creature thrashed more when the light touched its skin. It released Sean then silently escaped into the cover of shadows, with a hammer bouncing along its back.

“Whatever they are, they sure don’t like the light,” Mick said, scanning everywhere with his flashlight.

“You alright?” It was Glen standing above, panting. Beads of sweat fell off his nose.

The ground shook again. Glen and Mick were knocked to the ground; Sean rolled to the side as boulders rolled past them in the dark. It was silent again except for the rush of water. The coming torrent cooled the air.

Sean looked back toward the collapsed wall that had blocked the path. His headlamp highlighted floating dust and a section of empty air.

“Hey,” Sean’s voice was only a gasp. He coughed up dust, cleared his throat and gutturally spoke again. “Hey, fellas, look! The way is clear.” Sean knew that the elevator, if it was still working, was not too far away.

Glen suddenly sprang up and sprinted uphill past Sean. Sean looked down. A herd of those things were scrambling up towards them; behind the creatures was a wall of water. Mick lay unconscious below Sean’s feet.

“Get up, Mick! We gotta go, now!”

Sean gasped as he tried to stand up, his leg didn’t support him and he collapsed. He put his hand down on his thigh. It was warm, wet. He crawled over to Mick and shook him by the shoulders.

“Come on, Mick!” He felt his pulse. It had a consistent beat. He looked down at the gas gauge. Carbon dioxide and methane gases were getting dangerously high. He pulled out his self rescuer and attached it to Mick’s face so he could breathe clean oxygen. Mick’s eyes fluttered slightly. “Come on, buddy.”


Sean aimed his light downhill and the herd of creatures splayed out on both sides of the beam and continued to race uphill. The creatures seemed uninterested in Sean and Mick. They just ran around them and swarmed through the hole towards higher ground.

Large chunks of the mine were loosened by the flow of water and crashed behind them. Sean somehow ignored the pain in his leg, hefted Mick onto his back, hiked a few feet and then dragged Sean through the open hole in the wall. He grimaced and spat sweat as he dropped Mick on the other side.

He reached into his belt and pulled out the materials needed to make a barricade wall. The walls were designed to keep bad air from coming in, but Sean hoped it would also help keep the water out as long as possible.

After attaching the last support for the wall, Sean picked Mick up again. He stumbled, his vision blurred. He wheezed as he gasped for air, but continued on.

The creatures seemed to vanish. He wondered if they ever existed, if it was just his mind. Where was Glen?

The wall behind popped and cracked as the water hit it. It wouldn’t last long. Sean pushed harder up the hill.

He turned the corner and knew the elevator shaft was close. Then he saw it. His lights flickered off the metal braces. The ground surrounding it seemed to swing and move.

He shined the light directly on the ground, revealing about 10 of those sinister beasts rhythmically swaying back and forth. One of them looked back directly at the light. Tissue and blood hung from its mouth.


Sean yelled and charged with his light. The creatures scattered. Sean set Mick down by the elevator shaft and looked at Glen’s body. It wasn’t recognizable anymore.

Mick mumbled.

Sean looked up at the elevator and then back down at Mick. “I gotta get you up there, Micky.” The car rested about seven feet above him. “Can you help?”

Mick nodded.

The animals hissed and scratched the rocks behind him. Sean shined his light and the swarm backed off.

Sean hefted Mick up onto his shoulders, put his arms underneath his rib cage and thighs and pushed straight up. Mick threw out his arms and grabbed a hold of the bottom of the elevator. Sean gave one more push and Mick rolled into the elevator’s floor.

Sean collapsed to the ground. His grimace looked like a painful smile. He grabbed his thigh and rolled onto his face. He wheezed. It felt like he was breathing hot tar.

Above, Mick started to come to. He pulled his mask off his face. “Sean, get up here.”

Sean tried to stand. He fell back down. He couldn’t even extend his leg. Sean looked above him at the lever that would close of the elevator car and send it up.

“Mick. Don’t worry.”

“What are you talking about?” Mick responded, weakly.

“Take care of those two beautiful girls in your family.”

“Sean, don’t,” Mick said as he tried to push himself up.

“It was an honor working with you, Mick,” he said, reaching up to the lever. He paused on it for a second. Then he closed his eyes and pulled.

The elevator door squeaked as it closed. Gears went in motion and the car started to rise.

Sean sat there and looked into the darkness. He checked the gas gauge. Methane was extremely high. He grabbed a rock with a sharp point and pulled out a piece of flint in his pocket. One spark would do it.

He shined his light into the dark. The group of creatures circled around him, stalking. He shined the light at them again to keep them away. He needed to wait a few minutes to make sure Mick would be safe.

The wall below creaked and moaned from the rising water.

He had to do it now.

Sean raised the rock and slammed it into the flint.

Just after a fireball roared through the mine and up the elevator shaft, a wall of water blasted through the barricade, swallowing up the surge of fire and everything else in its path.

****

Fourteen hours after feeling the concussion of the blast from Sean’s flint, and feeling the elevator come to a complete stop in some unknown place underground, something cut into the top of the elevator car.

“Anyone in there?”

Mick tried to yell “I’m here,” but it just came out as babble.

The roof of the elevator folded open revealing a smiling human face. “You okay in there?”

Mick nodded his head.

“Wow, you’re one of the few lucky ones.” He turned his head “Hey we have somebody down here!” He turned his gaze back towards Mick. “Don’t worry, we’re going to get you out of there.”

Beyond the rescuer, Mick saw something flesh colored blur by in the darkness.




Photo courtesy of coaleducation.org

NYC Midnight Short Story Challenge Final Round -- Hayley's Essence

For this final round of the competition, 60 of us were given the genre Sci-Fi, and the subject Neighbors on Friday, March 13 at Midnight Eastern. We had 24 hours to write a story for a chance at the big bucks and future fame and fortune.

After getting the assignment, my mind came up with TOO many story ideas. I started writing one, then I'd quit and write another. There were so many options with this topic. Finally on Saturday morning, I started a drama-type story filled with melancholy and sadness that, I was sure, could win this competition. But about 700 words into it, I re-read it and it was boring. My wife read it too, and she was bored. I realized I wouldn't be able to do it justice within the time frame allowed. I wasn't used to this type of story and knew I'd need a few more days to make it good.

There was only about 7 hours left to turn in the story. Frustration, and a diminutive sense of panic, set in. Then I started over. I didn't use any of my grand ideas. I just started writing whatever spilled out of my mind, and somehow I was able to submit this story below. I haven't read it since I turned it in, so I'm sure there are some typos I didn't catch. Also, this story is a little bit short at 1,700 words. There were some things I would have liked to add to it, but I didn't have time. So, with that lengthy introduction, enjoy this brain vomit:

Hayley’s Essence

Synopsis: When Ian Stone wakes up in the middle of the night to find his wife missing, he’s certain The Neighbors have taken her. While saving his own life, he is led to something else that gives him hope in this post-apocalyptic tale.

Ian Stone woke in a sweat. His body felt ablaze, yet he shivered from some unknown source that chilled his core. Fingers of dawn grabbed at his face through cracks in the two-by-fours that boarded the windows. His eyes felt sticky as he tried to pry them open. He turned over on his right side and leaned in to hold his wife for a few minutes.

He only felt pillow and bedspread. The right side of the bed was vacant. He popped up and frantically searched the bed.

“Baby, you here?” He jumped off the bed and opened the bedroom door. “Where are you? Hayley?”

“Ian,” a voice called out from the dark room.

Ian recognized the voice, but couldn’t immediately place it. His vision was blurred and it was too dark to see clearly into the dusty living room.

“Ian, I’m here to help. But I can’t stay long.” The voice was clearer, more recognizable. It was Hayley’s voice. Her figure materialized out of the darkness in a faint glow. He recognized Hayley, but knew something was different. Something was wrong.

“Hayley?” Ian said as he stepped closer. He reached out to her, wanting even more to hold her again, but stopped and stared at the woman he loved. His heart pounded, his stomach churned nervously. He knew this was not his wife.

Ian and Hayley had both created their “essences” in case one of them was taken by The Neighbors and the other was left alone. The essences were programs downloaded to an implanted chip in the partner’s temporal lobe. If one of them was dying, or losing their humanity, the chip would automatically activate in the other person. They were meant to guide whoever was left to safety, and to say goodbye if there wasn’t a chance. Only Ian could see Hayley’s essence.

“Hayley, no! How could they have taken you?” Ian dropped to his knees. His thoughts immediately drawn towards his last memory of her. Just last night they laughed together. Ian had watched her breathing when she fell asleep. He loved the woman and her peaceful sleep softened his soul.

The glowing apparition moved closer and put the back of its hand on his tear-soaked left cheek. Ian could almost feel the warmth of the hand. He could almost feel Hayley’s soft skin caress his face.

“Ian, it’s no longer safe here. The Neighbors know you’re here. You have to move. You have to leave this place. You have to continue on without me.”

“No, I can’t.” But he knew he must. “It’s not worth it alone.”

With a translucent finger, Haley’s ghost reached down and pulled up his chin with its index finger. Just like Hayley would have done. “Ian, I will always be with you, my love. You must continue on. For me. For you.”

Ian closed his eyes. His mind’s eye saw an image of her when they were in the Oregon Coast, before The Neighbors came, when the oceans still teemed with life. She stood in a light sweater with her hands in her pockets. Her head was cocked to the side, she smiled at him. The sun shone brightly. Waves crashed in the distance. The air smelled of saltwater and sand. She took off her sweater and bounded into the blue Pacific, laughing –

“The Neighbors are here, now.” the hologram said, waking him from his daydream. “They’re through the back door. You must hurry, Ian. It’s not safe here anymore.”

Then he heard it. A slight creek on the floorboards near the back door. The Neighbors usually operated in complete stealth. But the old floorboards were sensitive to any movement.

The beaming figure turned sharply. In a rush of static, specs of light spun in the air then vanished. Hayley’s essence dematerialized.

As the Essence disappeared, Ian saw movement out of the corner of his eye. He jumped to his feet and ran back into his room and locked the bedroom door. More light filtered through the boards over the window. He ran to the window and started ripping boards off. It would be his only escape from The Neighbors.

Hayley would soon become part of The Neighbors. She was probably going through it at this moment. Changing. There would be no stopping it now. There would be no saving her. Hayley was truly gone.

The Neighbors were at the bedroom door. He could hear them scratching, cutting. Soon the lock would be broken. If he was in the room when they broke in, it would be over.

“Hurry, Ian.”

Hayley’s voice was comforting, even though it was just the Essence speaking somewhere in the abyss of his mind. Ian kicked the last board down and stepped up to the window. The light coming through wasn’t the sun. Just a streetlamp aimed at the window. Night drowned the lifeless city two stories below.

“Jump, Ian. You’ll land safely.”

Ian jumped as the bedroom door swung open. The decayed trash in the dumpster wasn’t as soft as Ian thought it would be. Fueled by adrenaline, he rolled out of the dumpster onto the pavement and sprinted towards cover in the buildings to the north.

A silent flicker of twilight blue …

The dumpster exploded.

He dared not look back for fear of spotting The Neighbors in pursuit. He could not bear to view them. Each time he saw one, something dark roiled his insides.

Down an alley, the Essence stood pointing at an abandoned building. Ian leaped inside. He took only five steps into the hallway before he crashed through the floor.

****

He wasn’t sure how long he was out. He opened his eyes and saw Hayley standing above him. He sat up in a pile of debris. His body bruised. His right ankle was pounding. He tried to stand but collapsed.

He stood up again and was about to speak to the Essence, but it held a finger to its mouth, “Shhh ... ,” the Essence then pointed to a closet door.

“What is it?” Ian whispered. “What’s in there?”

The Essence looked puzzled. Then finally spoke, “I’m struggling for the right words.”

Hayley’s real consciousness must be fading, overtaken by The Neighbors.

Ian walked over to the door. “You want me to open it?”

The Essence nodded.

Ian slowly opened the door.

Something buried itself in the corner of the closet, in the fetal position, shivering from fear and cold.

A little girl. Another human! How did Hayley know? She must have seen her when she was taken.

Ian crouched down to the floor and whispered, “Hey there. Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you.”
The girl looked up. Her large hazel eyes were pools of sadness and fear. She was no more than ten years old.

“What’s your name?”

“Hayley. Hayley Brown.”

Ian paused and stared at the girl. “Your name is Hayley?”

The girl nodded, “Uh-huh.”

Ian looked up at the Essence. It was smiling for the first time. Ian looked back at the girl in the closet “Well, Hayley, it’s nice to meet you.”

The girl smiled and looked to the ground, embarrassed.

“Hide her!” the Essence said. “They’re above us now.”

Ian saw worry painted on the Essence’s face. He looked back down at the girl. “Hayley, can you hide here for just a few more minutes?”

“Please don’t leave me alone. The bad things will come get me.”

“I’ll be back for you I promise. I won’t let them get you. Be really quiet so the bad things don’t find you, okay?”

The girl nodded her head. Ian quietly shut the door.

“They are coming down the stairs,” the Essence said, panicking.

Ian ran back to the rubble pile and buried himself in drywall and sheetrock, hoping that if he stayed still, The Neighbors would only see him as part of the building. He looked back at the closet. The Essence was gone.

He waited about 10 minutes before he saw one come down the stairs. It walked with impressive agility. It seemed to float along the floor like a ghost. Parts of its body glimmered in the faint light. The machine parts. The parts that stole humanity.

It turned its head toward Ian, its red, laser eye piercing the darkness, searching for signs of human life.

Ian stayed still. Hayley, I can’t do it alone. I can’t continue without you. If I get caught, they’ll just bring me to you. Then I can be with you again. If I just stand up, it’ll be over.

“Ian, no.”

Hayley, you’re still there?

“I’m not what I was or who I was anymore. What I was is now dead.”

Hayley, without you, I’m dying. Without you, I’m dead.

Hayley’s essence again materialized in front of Ian. “I can’t keep the Essence going, Ian. You must save yourself and that little girl. For us. Keep me alive in her. I will soon be gone.”
The Essence pointed to the closet again. The Neighbor was a couple feet from the door. It reached for the door handle.

“Save her and live,” the Essence said.

The Essence dematerialized. Ian picked up a slab of concrete and ran to The Neighbor. The Neighbor turned.

A flicker of twilight blue …

****

The sun shone brightly on the Oregon Coast. The blue Pacific Ocean rolled in the distance. Waves rumbled. The sea lapped against the beach, leaving trails of foam. Air pockets in the sand blew bubbles as the water receded. Gulls cried in the sky.

Ian sat with his feet submerged in the warm sand and looked out at Hayley. The little girl was playing in the surf. She laughed as a wave knocked her over.

Hayley ran back with something in her hand.

“Ian, Ian. Look what I found.”

She opened her hand and a crab-like creature spun around. The movement tickled, and she let out a squeal, dropping the crustacean. It quickly burrowed into the sand out of sight.

Ian laughed.

“What are those, Ian?”

“Those? Oh, those are sand fleas.”

“Life?”

“Yes, life.”

“Let’s go find some more,” and she ran off back to the surf.

Ian couldn’t help but smile. He stood up to follow and saw the massive burn scars on his right arm, triggering the memory of the conflict with one of The Neighbors. He thought of his wife, and then looked at the girl playing in the surf trying to catch sand fleas. He remembered his wife’s last words, “Keep me alive in her … Save her and live.”

Ian jogged to meet Hayley. He would catch as many sand fleas as he could.