Short Story 1 – Part 8

Posted on

[8] (Change point of view to CIA Agent)

The last couple months had been a pain in my ass. Everything I do at the Agency is about national security, whether it’s gathering intelligence, analyzing, or going out in the field. Currently I was trying to figure out which brilliant government agency gave the Museum of Natural History a very classified satellite. A satellite that gave them the view of a very unique, and secret cluster of islands.

 

My intelligence told me that Amelia Garrett, current Head Curator from the Division of Anthropology would soon be leading a team of researchers to the islands to explore and, well, research.

 

I couldn’t let that happen. It was too late now to only find where the satellite came from and erase all the data that had been collected and stored. Too many people were involved, and I still had no leads on the satellite itself. I needed to stop them before it was too late. Our already unstable world may not be able to survive if those islands and what was on them became public.

 

I picked up my phone and slowly dialed the other senior agent on this case.

 

“I think it’s time.”

 

His words were as follows: “Oh, it definitely is. I was just going to call.”

 

Astonished couldn’t even begin to describe the way I felt when he got done telling me what he had discovered.

 

Advertisements

as the sun sets

Posted on

as the          sets just below the trees

sun

and just above the mountains,

an eagle’s screech rings out

 

setting the stage for nature

 

a place where anything can happen

where the moon is as bright

as the sun

 

and something as small as a

rock dropping on a worn down trail

can be heard for                                               miles

and                                                                                                      miles

Short Story 1 – Part 7

Posted on

[7]

By lunchtime I was almost having an information overflow. I was attempting to do research for my job, while also researching about dreams and dream travel. Let’s just say that having dual computer monitors was coming in handy. My initial Google searches looked a little like this:

“dream travel”.

But after only being able to find travel agencies I decided I needed to change directions. I started simple and looked up the Oxford Dictionaries definition of dream. It stated “a series of thoughts, images, and sensations, occurring in a person’s mind during sleep”, which didn’t seem to quite fit the mold of what was happening to me since I had been both sore and had scrapes. It was as if though my body wasn’t physically moving, what happened to it in one world affected it in the other.

 

I made very little progress on the Internet and decided I would have to search around the libraries and archives to see if there were references to these types of events occurring in history. I also decided that I should probably get back to work. We were set to go out to our island cluster in just a few weeks, and I needed to make sure everything would go smoothly.

 

We were planning on our research and exploration taking longer than normal. From what we could see from the satellite, the islands seemed to be covered in thick greenery and trees. We had even been referring to them as  “los verdes” just to mix things up a bit. There was one larger island-it seemed to be around 2000-3000 sq. miles, but it was hard to tell-surrounded by several smaller islands that were only around 200-400 sq. miles. The big island also had a river that ran right through the center of it. I still wrapping my head around the fact that this islands had never been recorded on any

in a city of distortion

Posted on Updated on

Please note that there are not supposed to be periods where I wrote out wails, it kept auto aligning. 

in a city of distortion

a dog barks in the distance

a siren’s w

……..a

……i

…l

s

get c     l    o   s  e r

and

closer.

the darkness and light through

the bars on the window

blurred together like the view of earth from space

tiny lights in an ample darkness

the world as it is

unsafe.

d is t or     t      e d

the city

a blank canvas

awaiting the brush of Picasso

with endless possibilities

Trash.

Posted on Updated on

This is a random poem I wrote about trash a while back:

a newspaper lays folded under a

man’s

a

r

m.

already read; useless.

trash.

soon it is tossed into an overflowing

c

a

n

where it sits on top

waiting to be taken away.

but

the wind

b

…..l

…….o

…..w

…s

;

the paper flutters away.

trash.

a homeless man stirs at the sound of rustling paper

to his right

a newspaper lays open.

perfect cover for a hole in a cardboard roof.

one man’s

“trash”

now becomes another man’s

treasure.

Short Story 1 – Part 6

Posted on

[6]

Suddenly, I was back in my office. My computer was open, my coffee still warm, and I was surprised to see that it was only 9:23. Twenty minutes. It had been approximately twenty minutes since the last time I had looked at the clock, but what I had just experienced while I was “dreaming” had to have taken hours.

 

I quickly wrote down everything that had happened. Legal pads were my favorite for taking down notes and the one I was using was filling up fast. I wasn’t typically a dreamer and these dreams seemed different. Not to mention the whole falling asleep in the middle of the day.

 

As my day went on I tried to push the dream away, save it for later, so I could work, but I couldn’t. My mind kept going to the native and what had happened after I followed him. What I had seen.

 

What I had seen was something that most people wouldn’t believe. I wasn’t even sure if I believed. I definitely didn’t know why it was happening to me. What I did know was that it was too early to tell anyone.

Short Story 1 – Part 5

Posted on

[5]

It was the smell that stirred me. Pine tree. And rain. What the hell? I was not thrilled that this had happened again. I thought that if I kept my eyes closed long enough I would open my eyes and be back home. After about thirty seconds, I knew this would not happen as my sense had continued to grow stronger and stronger. The sound of moving water slowly became apparent and as I opened my eyes I discovered I was laying in a patch of grass about ten feet from the river. The sun was rising and it was almost light. It’s light. For once I’ll be able to see. The scenery was beautiful. There were mountains surrounded by lush, green vegetation. I turned my head the other direction…

 

A lone figure sat on a stump staring at me. His hair was long and dark but starting to gray at the top. He had a strong jaw line, with a lean, muscular body that was visible in part due the fact that his only article of clothing was a worn and tattered loin clothes that seemed to be made out of some type of leather or skin. In fact, I don’t think I had ever seen so many muscles visible on one body.

 

We spent a few moments simply staring at each other. I was afraid to move, but I was more than ready to run if that’s what I needed to do. Suddenly, he stood up. Alert; listening. He seemed to be able to hear something in the distance. He looked at me and moved his arms in a motion that seemed to say “follow me”. He could be leading me into an ambush… he could be trying to help me. My mind was racing through scenarios at super speed, but my gut told me to follow him. As soon as I stepped toward him, he started running. Good thing I’m prepared to run. I started after him. He was quick as a whip, and I was having a terrible time navigating through the foliage as quickly as he was.

 

Thump. Thump. Thump. The sound of heavy footsteps in the distance was unnerving. Is this what he heard before we left? All I could do was hope that he knew where he was going.