Atomic Swan Serials

It's Been A Long Time Coming

2011-08-19T00:01:00.002-04:00

I haven't posted here since May. That's just about a three-and-a-half month hiatus. I've been a busy little boy since then. But I'll discuss all that later, if you don't mind.

Recently, I posted a few things about my life elsewhere on the Internet and a few of my friends encouraged me to write my memoirs. They were not aware that I'd begun a novel in November of 2001 that may closely resemble a memoir, or the closest I may ever come. Memoirs aren't really my style of book at this point in my life. I'm more interested in constructing, layering and telling a good story.

All of my work is autobiographical to various degrees, even the science fiction and fantasy. But Joyride Thru Death Valley, the novel I started in 2001, is perhaps the most autobiographical to date.

I look upon Joyride as Ray Bradbury looks upon Dandelion Wine: it's a novel that may have many truths but has been constructed via imagination to capture a feeling of time and place and presence.

Not everything you will read below is true and accurate. It's not meant to be. Not everything is exaggerated and imaginary. They're not meant to be. If I can challenge my readers, make them feel themselves present within my tales and, ultimately, entertain them, I've done my job as a storyteller. I am a slave to the story and not always to the truth.

But I learned long ago that my feeble imagination cannot hold up to the drama of real life. So I often don't make the attempt. I instead gather imaginings around truth to cultivate a story.

That is Joyride. There is truth. There is imagination. And there is, if I've done my job right, a solid story.

This is incredibly rough. It's a long read, so I appreciate your patience in advance. I hope to finish this work some day.

I can only hope you enjoy.

For my friends, both new and old,

~ Charles

***********************************

JOYRIDE THRU DEATH VALLEY
by
Charles Shaver

The moon danced in and out and between streaking clouds. Shadows crossed my face like the bars of a jail cell. Both barrels of the old Fox .12-gauge swung up. I pressed them forward into the face of that fucken old man. A gleam of steel momentarily flashed below Ziggy’s neck as clouds moved away and then back. I got the drop on Old Man Peck with his own gun, but he got the drop on Zig with my switchblade.
We stood in the desert for a century like a Grecian urn. Oh the ode Keats would write!
If I pulled the trigger I was sure to blast half of Peck’s face off, but I might take half of Zig’s off along with it.
Another flash of steel. That blade was pressing pretty damn hard into Ziggy’s throat. I was shocked I didn’t see any blood being drawn. Or had I? What was that shadow on his neck? Ah, fuck it! I couldn’t over-think this shit. My boy was about to die at the hands of some one-hundred-year-old crazy fuck.
I breathed deep. The night air was cold, crackling in my chest. My eyes steadied, as did my hands. I wish I could say the same for my heart. I then shattered the soft quiet of the desert night.
Click.
Boom.

*****

I was born into winter, 1976, in Flint, MI. The dragons of a snowstorm waged a war of discontent outside the hospital walls while inside I was being flushed into this world, incomplete and unhallowed. I was a sickly child and no one could ever reason why. For all appearances, I was healthy. But I wasn’t. By the time anyone figured out what was wrong with me, I had six weeks to live. I was diagnosed with a congenital cardiac condition or, in other words, a fucked-up heart. My right ventricle was underdeveloped, working at less than 10% full capacity. It wasn’t there. I had 3/4ths of a heart. Plus I had a hole in my heart. Plus I had an aortic regurgitation. The regurgitation, essentially, has to do with the valve in the heart that opens and closes to pump blood from the body into the heart. The valve didn’t close all the way, so there was a slight backwash of blood goin’ on every time my heart pumped. All of it would prove to provide continuous circulation problems for the rest of my life. Emergency, life-saving open-heart surgery had to be done on my tiny body. All this was unheard of in 1980. If I had been born a year earlier, the most any doctor would’ve done was to throw their hands up in the air and measured me for a coffin. The operation was a success, but I was still weak in body and continued getting sick. Every winter I would get at least pneumonia, if not double-pneumonia. Every season of my birth brought me a little closer to death. That’s when it was decided a move to the warmer climes of Southern California would be best for me.

*****

I remember little of Michigan. Most of my memories begin with California and my self-adopted home of Long Beach. I loved Long Beach, even as a child I knew there was something special about this place. In Long Beach I had the closest thing to a normal childhood I could’ve ever experience. A childhood made up of weekly trips to Shoreline Village to buy planes made of balsa wood, plastic props and rubber-band engines; of flying high within myself as I twist-started their souls and sent them soaring across vast living room skies. It was a wonderful time before the Great Dying, or Dyings, and all was fun and free. It was then I began to write, to truly write my own original stories, copying the styles of Poe and the Hitchcock Mysteries I would check out from school libraries. Great adventures played out in my head and in my room as marine layer rolled in off the ocean, bringing with it the mysteries of a London Fog and the unseen phantoms of nature. This was a good time. To this day whenever life gets me a bit down I think back to this time. I make it feel like Long Beach inside. It levies some worries and makes me happy, full of childhood wonder. And once I get there in my heart, all I want to do is play. And smile.

*****

1984. It was a year of science fiction.

*****

Searing hot blacktop. Most people don’t realize it’ll boil in the right heat. Those long hot days in Long Beach can feel hot enough. If your every day is spent on blacktop, though, it’s a life in purgatory. And if you pay close enough attention you’ll see the blacktop change, course, flow, raise and lower with each hot new day. One day in the corner of the blacktop there’ll be a small crack, the next it’s edges will have melted and melded together. One day the blacktop will be as flat as glass, the next it’ll have bumps where air pressure has built up. The stuff is like a bubbling witch trio’s brew. It can be death to have to remain on blacktop any extended period of time. Yet we were made to. Three times a day. Two fifteens and one full hour for a grand total of an hour-and-a-half a day.
Resting atop the blacktop were four buildings, a fleet of Bauhaus amidst the massive sea of blacktop churning under the Long Beach sun. There was a cafeteria, a theater, a building for special education and one main schoolhouse, which was the tallest building. The schoolhouse was really only two stories high but each story was at least fifteen feet in height. Most buildings measure ten feet per story. This collection was the house of education for kids from grades K-6.
Each building had been painted a light gray, with an even lighter blue along the bottom. The main schoolhouse was airy with massive halls and stairwells. Walking those halls alone while class was in session made you feel very small, intimidated, frightened, watched… haunted. Everything felt so old and large and not made for kids but instead for the giants of an archaic age for unknown purposes. But this was our school, a home to many.
At the two corners farthest from the buildings were the fading painted white lines of two miniature baseball diamonds. The blacktop crept up the steel poles of tetherballs, jungle gyms, pull-up bars, rings and brick walls erected for handball but were more often used for shade. Every recess and lunch we’d jump ship and ride those black waves.

*****

Smooth. Grooved. Attitude packed in wax. I felt the LP with my fingers. Sleek. Cool. Violently etched out. Voices screaming in the dark. Scratched. Caught. Sought after.
We had an old record player. An atavistic relic. I stood before it. It was big, more like a table. No, an altar. A shrine. The cool LP in my hands. All apartments had alleyways. Darker sides. Congregational meeting places of sex, drugs and, well, as luck would have it, rock ‘n roll.
I had been walking home from school, second grade. Sticking out of the corner of our apartment’s darker half dumpsters had been a cardboard square. It had pictures of Chubby Checker and several others I didn’t yet know. I grabbed the square. It was pretty clean. Clean enough to handle. I cocked it open. Out rolled the big, beautiful, black LP. Unscratched. Unscarred. Unbroken. It was someone’s memories now too painful to hear. Their trash was my gold. As soon as I got home, I dropped my Thundercats backpack off just inside my room and headed for the record player.
I stepped forward, the LP unsheathed and in my hands, and I summoned the player to life. Switched it to 33-1/3. Then I softly, gently lowered the great black disc to its rightful place. The revolution began. The needle fell into groove. The world was blown away from around me, like leaves in a gale.
Barrett Strong’s “Money (That’s What I Want)” screamed out at me. I was chained to the spot instantly. I could do nothing but I had to do something. I stood motionless, unknowing yet learning. And then it came to me.
My body exploded into a fury. My puny arms whipped at the air. My feet kicked and stomped. My hair… I could feel my hair! It bounced and swayed with my frantic, stupid dancing. I was alive for the first time in my life. And I stayed alive until the song ended.
I was sweating, panting, heaving, hurting, feeling good. Alive.
I turned around, glancing, making sure no one had seen my convulsions. Two eyes stared dead at me. They were my own. I had forgotten that we had a floor-length mirror across from the stereo. There it was. There I was, witnessing me witnessing myself. I looked into those eyes. My tiny chest slowed and stopped heaving. Sweat rolled. New music played, but I did not dance.

*****

Humanity is a collection of snapshot memories, and that is how we will be judged.

*****

I was born into a yesteryear never before seen by human eyes. A place where Chuck Berry and Lovecraftian horrors dance in some Pooh-Bear Hunny Pot Madness mockery of life’s ideal. A place where everyone and thing is not much more than a big Fuck You to God or whatever Greater Plan there might be. And, if there are no such things, then that’s the most wonderful Fuck You of them all, to all the idiots that ever believed in false hopes, false idols and the insane, inane imaginings of monks or priests or lamas or whatever-the-fucks drunk with power, mental illness, madness, sex, their own voice or wine and mushrooms.
But no, that can’t be the ultimate joke. Death is the ultimate joke prancing in his dyed-black or charcoal gray (for that chic well-worn look) court jester suit. Dancing like a mad bum in the streets. His dancing so beyond understanding you can’t help but laugh. Yet you know his madness carries the disease of danger. He’s dangerous to passers-by and to himself. But who gives a fuck about him? You just hope he doesn’t strike out at you or hit you up or even talk to you as you pass him on the street.
Sometimes, a safe distance across the street from him, you watch his dance through some box or portal or similar periscopic device. And then you laugh at dear Mr. Dancing Death ‘til you cry. Like watching Benny Hill for the first time and you laugh partially out of shock as you ask, “Can he really do that?” And then sometimes the truly brave or depraved, but usually just the uber-bored, will stand and laugh right in his face, taunting poor Mr. Death with the promises of pennies if only he’d piss himself one more time.
Welcome to Long Beach, circa 1985.

*****

We were growing up on Doo-Wop and Motown. I don’t know exactly how or who or why or when any which one of us first started listening, but we were. All of us. Maybe we were listening to it cuz it was all the symbol of an era that defined America. An America living in the every-day fear of the A-Bomb or the H-Bomb or the Whatever-the-Fuck-Bomb or the UFOs. Maybe cuz the fifties were confusing times and all the kids had was the music, Alan Freed, and James Dean’s red jacket or Brando’s black leather one and his soft cry of “Whadya got?”
Maybe it’s cuz we saw the same shit goin’ on in the eighties. We had fear and nukes and ICBMs and sky-jackings and dime-a-dozen serial killers and a racist president continuing the murder of the indigenous and blacks and making it harder for people to become citizens despite Lady Liberty’s promise. And we, too had our red jecket. But it was Michael Jackson’s. And we still had the music on stations like KODJ and KRLA 1110 AM. Yes, A-fucken-M. And, more than that, we still had our Brando battlecry of “Whadya got?”
Nah, fuck it. The music was fun and it bopped along and was an alternative to the fucken pussy-assed New Wave bullshit that everyone whored to the television was listening to. Doo-Wop was fun. Plain and simple.

*****

Every decade suffers from the illness of nostalgia. But sometimes an illness can train your weakened body by exposing it to the horrors of sleepless nights, vomiting, and the tang of bile. Like chicken pox. Once you get it you’ll never get it again because your system has adapted to fight it, to prevent it. So illness, ultimately, is a walk through fire that can strengthen and enlighten you. But you still gotta go through a period of delusional flux, insane dreams when you’re unsure if you’re really asleep. A hell tailored just for you.
That was the eighties. And the nostalgic affliction hitting us then was that of the fifties. All the nobody old fucks were finally becoming somebody old fucks. The fifties dominated the eighties, flu-ing it all up. The kids of the Atomic Age were grown and taking the reigns of the Space Age.
And their music was everywhere. At least 3 or 4 radio stations surrounded L.A.; VCRs were invading homes with movies like The Buddy Holly Story; the theaters filled with movies like Back to the Future, Stand By Me, Top Gun, Great Balls of Fire, Dirty Dancing, La Bamba and The Outsiders. Hell, I was even made to read Hinton’s book twice, once in the fifth grade and then again in the seventh. Elvis-mania dominated as Nashville went from country to big city Pop.
Yep. History was repeating itself, regurgitating all over the eighties. Some absolutely hated it. So they ran, they ran so far away into something less than music and only slightly more than a jingle. Those that knew better but still didn’t jive with the nostalgia rallied ‘round Black Flag, Bauhaus, Bob Marley, The Clash, Grandmaster Flash and Run DMC.
Then there were young cats like myself. Cats that dug the jive. Some back then woulda said it was cuz I didn’t know any better. Maybe. But I learned, while those critics are still listening to the same ole shit, the eternal loop of an 8-Track, I learned. I learned where Elvis stole his moves and I learned where the Rolling Stones got their name and I learned exactly who it was that went down to the crossroads every night to pay his debt.
Besides Doo-Wop and rockabilly and Hip-Hop we had Motown. Having been born in Flint I had a factory-assembled, built-in interest for Motown. When we moved to California, we were poor. Not like eating on-sale turkey-ham for two weeks kinda poor. I mean broke-ass poor. And when you’re broke-ass poor, even turkey-ham on sale is too expensive. It was a good thing I loved my PB&Js and Ramen. Still do.
Our first place was a three-room apartment off Granada in Belmont Shores. The three rooms were a bedroom, a living room and kitchenette, and a bathroom. For a long time we slept on cheap-ass, painful plastic folding chaise lounges, the kind that I would later find out the rich and the tourists could buy, use once and throw them out, forgetting about them like any other piece of trash. But when you wake up with stripes all up and down your legs, arms, back and ass from the strips of plastic, you pray for the day you can throw them out. But you’ll never forget them. My parents wouldn’t let me sleep on the floor cuz it got too cold at night, so they said. I think it had more to do with the carpet, what little there was of it, had been too far beyond cleaning for anyone to lay on.
There was a good mix of blacks and gays and whites in our area and a helluva lotta Asians. I can’t count how many times I’d hear on the radio about boat-loads of Asians getting caught in the port o’ Long Beach or L.A. trying to sneak into the country. The news always showed the feds in some grand crack-down, charging and yelling into an inconspicuous ship that coulda been any random cargo ship, pointing their menacing weapons and blinding flashlights at massive groups of people huddled together, half-starved and unarmed and frightened. Then, at the footnote of the news piece, someone would always say how horrible their lives must have been in their country of origin. And that was that. The reporters would move on to the cuddly human-interest story of the night. Those nameless, faceless people forgotten in the second of a segue.
All of us were poor. No matter our skin color, sexual preference, politics, religion… whatever… our lowest common denominator was poverty. That made us equal, mostly respectful and sometimes even protective of each other. Though we were never so stupid as to let our guard down, to stop fearing our neighbor just enough, to ever think that that same poverty we shared or the occasional junkie’s habit would make our very neighbor either consciously or unconsciously stick a knife in us for whatever few bucks we mighta had.
But mostly we shared what we had, which was a whole lotta nothin’. But we shared the sun, laughs, heartache, and the music. And Motown was big. I quickly learned that Motown, R&B and Soul began with James Brown and ended with Marvin Gaye, with the high points in between belonging to Teddy Pendegrass, Al Green and Ray Charles. In my humble opinion, the unsung hero of soul singing (maybe because he was around during the Doo-Wop era, a decade prior to Motown) was Brook Benton. That cat could sing. I’ll admit he didn’t do as much for the music scene as other cats, but I can’t help loving his voice. Of course, the biggest group around, the one everyone listened to, were the masters known as The Temptations.
All that music, it spoke to us. It said what we were saying, what we were living. Oh, sure, we loved our M.J. and Rockwell and Grandmaster Flash. Any respectable man would. But Motown, well, it had soul. A soul we could kick back to and say “Fuck it” to the world outside and just enjoy that moment in our lives while it played.

*****

I hadn’t many friends. I spent kindergarten in Michigan, first grade in two different schools (one in Michigan), and second grade in another. And I missed most of second grade due to my second surgery and illness.
But by the time second grade rolled around, I was stuck with a school for the first time for three years. I made the first best friends I’d ever had there.
I never knew how anyone ever got their boom box onto campus – we weren’t supposed to bring any electronic devices with us to school – but inevitably someone did. Boom boxes were everywhere. Ghetto blasters were a common name for them, too. And to see some cat walking down Redondo in the middle of the day with a massive rack of speakers on one of his shoulders was the ultimate staple of what it meant to be cool in Long Beach in the eighties. Eventually I got one of my own. It was smaller with and blue and gray. I don’t remember the brand. But I didn’t care then. It was blue and gray and had detachable speakers and that’s all I cared about. So no matter what, whether we were at home or at school or at the beach, music was blasting out at us everywhere and we were perfectly happy with that.

*****

Outta my little group of friends back then, I was the only one born here in the States. I didn’t really know a world where one ‘race’ dominated.
There were five of us: myself, Twin, Little Sammy, Key-Man and Con-Man. We called him Twin cuz he and Sammy were always together, hanging out, studying and even fighting just like they were twins. And boy would they ever fight. The first real, up-close and personal, fully in Technicolor fist fight I ever saw was between those two. They would swing their arms wildly, landing most of their punches on the back of each others’ necks and shoulders cuz they’d have lowered their heads and just started goin’. They would beat the living fuck outta each other. The first time we saw it happen I think we were all kinda shocked, not at seeing two kids fight on the playground at school, that happened all the time. But because we cared for each other and these two were so tight we were amazed they’d even think of raising a fist to each other. But they did. Several times, in fact. Me, Con-Man and Key-Man would just stand down and let them go. We’d watch for the playground security and shit to make sure they were never seen. They never were. We came close once or twice, but they were always aware enough to hear me or one of the other two tell ‘em to break it up cuz security was popping over.
After a fight they’d always cuss in their native languages to each other, keep their heads down in class and not speak to one another. But by the time the bell rang at the end of the day things were all cool between them. They’d even be quietly studying together. Crazy little shits. What I was always amazed at was neither one never really got hurt too bad. Coupla cuts and several bruises, but never any stitches or anything big enough to really grab anyone’s attention or require anything bigger than a band-aid.
Once, these punk-ass high school kids who were most likely ditching school drove around the block and pulled up outside the schoolyard fence to watch them go. They started hooting and hollering like uncultured apes. Apparently they’d never seen a good fight, or at least not a really good fight between such young kids. Sammy and Twin stopped when they heard us yelling at the punks to go fuck themselves. They started mouthing back at us. Which of course only pissed us off all the more. I’d found a penny earlier that recess period. I pulled that thing outta my back pocket and flung it like a hot, fast flying disc right at their fucken car.
THWAP!
It didn’t do any real harm. It just sounded incredibly loud off his little piece of shit Pacer with all its rusting metal. The driver got out and really started screaming his head off, saying we was all little fucks and how he was gonna kick ours asses. We, of course, egged him on. Key-Man shouted back, “The only thing you can do with asses will get you thrown in jail if you touch us!” Con-Man was screaming in his native Cambodian. Sammy joined him. Twin was screaming in his native Laotian and Key-Man and I started picking up odd assortments of rocks and shit and hailing them down on the little shitty car. You shoulda heard it, like a fucken PCP addict trying to play steel drums at mach speed.
You gotta remember, this was 1986. We were ages ranging from 8 to 10. These guys we were standing up to were almost twice our age and at least twice our size, all four of ‘em squeezed into that little Pacer. But we weren’t about to let some stupid fucken asshole stop and watch and get his fucken jollies as our boys were dukin’ it out.
Twin had been born in Laos, but soon after his birth his parents had moved to Thailand thinking life would be better there. It wasn’t. So after several years of scrimping and saving they came to the States. I met him a month after he’d moved here. Key-Man, who got his name cuz he could play piano, had been born on a ship on the way to the States in international waters. He’d been in the U.S. for about four years. I think his parents somehow managed to get him declared as a U.S. citizen. I don’t really know cuz I didn’t care one way or the other then. Con-Man and Little Sammy had both been born in Cambodia. We gave Con-Man his name cuz he was always talking to girls and he was always getting’ us outta what little trouble we were actually ever caught up in. He didn’t have a way with words so much as he knew how to present himself, how to hold himself, how to say certain things or smile a certain way. He reminded us of Dirk Benedict’s character Templeton “Face-Man” Peck off the TV show The A-Team. Con-Man was like our unofficial leader. We all rallied around his leadership. He took good care of me, too. He taught me my love for math. So much so that I was able to start learning the fifth-grade math with all the fifth-graders. He was a real whiz for the shit. I, in turn, taught Sammy and Twin.
Con-Man even taught us a few basics in kempo at recess. Mostly he taught us things like foot stomps, a palm to the nose, a pencil or similarly sharp object to the eye, nose or mouth. Just basics that would get someone to scream, disoriented, and give us enough time to get the fuck outta Dodge if we ever got into trouble. Con-Man had learned all this shit from an uncle in Cambodia who was into martial arts. This uncle was still in Cambodia, though, and Con-Man seemed sad once when he mentioned his uncle didn’t want to come to the States to be with him. Con-Man had never mentioned a father, so I figured this uncle was the closest he had to one. But I never pressed the issue, so I never found out.
Out of all them, though, I don’t think I was as tight with anyone as I was with Little Sammy. He and I hung out almost as much as he and Twin did. Mostly I helped him with his studies in class. He needed a lot of help in English and math and history. Spending all that time together made us good friends. We’d joke and have fun actually studying. I guess it was at this time I first discovered my love for learning, thanks to him and his desire to learn and be good in school and my desire to help him in that.
Sammy was kind of a cute kid. He had rich, dark brown skin. His face, I hate to say, kinda had a pug-nose thing goin’ on. His hair was jet black and shiny and so were his eyes. He had this weird habit, like I did, of looking at the ground a lot. Maybe it was where we were coming from. Maybe we were just weird kids. Who knows?
Once, after school, we were sitting on this beat-up, carved-up, chipped wood bench that had been painted red over and over again. I wondered why whoever did the painting didn’t just give up on the damned thing. Making that bench look good was definitely a losing battling. If you weren’t careful you’d get splinters in your hands or in your ass from it. But it wasn’t much of a thing to pull the splinters out and the damned thing was always in the shade, no matter the time of day, so we always sat there.
Anyways, we were sitting and waiting on our mutual families to come and pick us up. I asked if his mom was coming to get him. A simple conversation began.
“No. I think mah brudder iz.” He still had his heavy accent. “But mah mudder might come, too. Mah brudder jess got here lass night.”
“From where?”
“Cambodia. Mah uncle came, too. We all togedder now.”
“That’s cool, man. I bet your mom and dad are happy.”
“Mah mudder’s not happy. Mah brudder got inna fight on da boat. Broke his toe. Had ta go ta da hospital. Now we got more bills an’ he can’t work yet cuz a da broke toe.”
“Shit,” I sighed.
“Yeah, an’ mah fodder, he not alive no more.”
“Fuck, man. I’m sorry. How long ago did he die?” We was tight, so I didn’t think he’d mind me asking. He didn’t, he just sorta stared at his feet as he spoke.
“When I was liddle. We lived inna farming area. Lotsa farmers. One big field all cut inta sections. But eberyone worked eberyting. We shared eberyting. We had one car only for all of us. It was mah gran-fodder’s. Mah fodder and someone else took it one day. Dey filled it wid stuff ta sell in town over da udder side of da mountains. He never come back.
“Da next day, I remember I was wearing nuthin’ and mah mudder was holdin’ me when deez two men come ta our house. Mah brudder was dere an mah gran-fodder an uncle. Mah gran-fodder’s dead now,” he added as a side note. “Never made it here.
“But deez men dey say ‘Are you dis man’s wife?’ I remember mah mudder say yes. Den dey say, ‘We sorry but your husband is dead. He was a part of some people who hate da gov’ment.’
“He was, too. So was mah gran-fodder. So was mah brudder. So was eberyone. But dis man he say, ‘We stop him on da mountain road.”
Again Sammy noted, “Da only way inna town was a long road tru da mountains. Half-day trip. Maybe more. Cliffs next ta da road da whole way. So deez men dey say, ‘We stop him and kill him an da udder man as our country’s enemy. Den we put him an’ da udder man back inna car an push it off da mountain.’”
Sammy and I were nine-years old. I didn’t know what to do for him. I didn’t know what to say. I just put my arm around his shoulder and said, “I’m sorry, man.” And there we stayed until his family came. His brother was there, cast on his foot and all. And he gave me the meanest, ugliest look a man has ever given me. Had he given me that same look a decade later, I woulda gutted him with a blade then and there. He wouldn’ta left that hot fucken schoolyard blacktop alive.
But I was young then, and I didn’t yet know about the kind of hatred and sorrow that could consume a man until he was hollow, until he would stupidly break his own toe in a fight in the belly of a whale headed for Oz.
But I was learning.
And somewhere in the background, on somebody’s boom box, The Temptations sang.

*****

We were in a mixed class of fourth- and fifth-graders. It was hard on the teachers to have such classes all day long, but it was needed with the sudden influx of families into Long Beach and all over L.A. My grades and my friends’ started rocketing up. And when our teacher, Mrs. K, saw this she allowed me to help others. She didn’t do this with everyone, but it helped her cover the whole class with little teachers aids built right into her students. Con-Man and I, along with two girls, were allowed to help others in study groups from time to time. It don’t think Mrs. K ever planned for it to happen, it just happened naturally.
I helped a couple groups with history and English. Con-Man had two groups in math. It was like our classmates saw how tight me and the guys were, how we stayed outta trouble yet were willing to take a stand should trouble come. We weren’t a gang, we weren’t a crew. We were a family. We took care of each other, watched out for each other, learned with each other and grew up together. We were what cultural anthropologists would years later call an urban tribe. And it seemed some of the other kids noted and respected that so they were glad for me and Con-Man to be in there helping them out, too.
Before Mrs. K we had a sub named Ms. Lowpass. For the first two months of that school year she was our regular teacher, fighting to get the position permanently. Ms. Lowpass was a good teacher. Every day after lunch we’d all have what she called our ‘cool-down time.’ We’d all come into class, hot and sweaty from the long lunch on the hot blacktop, and we’d have to stay quiet and relax. On really hot days she’d leave the lights off, too. This was our time to wind down, to relax and shake off the effects of the first half of our day. While we were doing this we had to stay quiet while she read to us for fifteen minutes. We didn’t have to listen, we could read on our own if we wanted to. She suggested no class work be done but she didn’t yell at you if you did. You just couldn’t talk. Reading was everything to her and she stressed that on us kids.
The first book she read to us was The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe by C. S. Lewis. She actually read very well, too, like a storyteller should. She paced her voice to match the action of the passage she read, sometimes raising and lowering her voice when needed. Often she also would act out a few of the things, like curling her fingers into claws and moving them in ferocious slashes as Aslan attacked. The second book she read to us was The Phantom Tollbooth by Norton Juster.
Yeah, reading was big for her and it sparked an interest in us all. Key-Man, who sat next to me, and I would sometimes have reading contests. The rules were simple and based on an honor system: we couldn’t skim whatever we were reading, we had to actually read it, we certainly couldn’t skip a single word, and who ever read the most pages in the allotted time won. One of our favorite contests was to pick up two copies of the same Choose-Your-Own-Adventure book from the school library and sit and read at the same time. When we finished, whoever died at the end of their adventure lost. If we both died we’d start the adventure all over again. And if we both survived we’d share our stories with each other. It was great, though admittedly pretty nerdy. But it made reading fun. That’s the problem with a lot of teachers I’ve come across since Ms. Lowpass, they make reading a chore for their students. Reading should be fun. For me and Key-Man, we felt oddly alive when we were reading cuz we were kids in a grown-up world where we couldn’t do a helluva lot on our own. After school we’d have to go home to our families, do chores, maybe sometimes help make the family make money, watch the news like everyone else after our cartoons and see the same shoot-outs and corrupt politics going on in the world that the adults were paying attention to. We lived in the same world as adults, but often weren’t treated as though we were.
I’d tried to get Sammy into our reading contests cuz he needed the practice. He read well enough, but it sometimes frustrated him to be learning the new language. He always passed on the opportunity to read. Instead he’d just sit and do other class work. And he drew a lot. He drew a lotus once and had to teach me what a lotus was.
Over the two months with Ms. Lowpass, though, I saw him doing less and less doodling and more and more reading on his own.
To this day it fucken pisses me off to see adults treat kids like they’re stupid animals. Kids may seem more animal-like, but only cuz they have yet to learn all of our useless and not-so-useless social inhibitors and rules, but kids are never stupid. If you call them stupid or treat them stupid, they’ll grow up to be stupid adults, but there’s no such thing as stupid kids. There’s only parents who shouldn’t have been parents in the first goddamn place treating and raising their kids poorly.
So our reading wasn’t reading at all, it was us taking control of ourselves. It was us going on grand adventures that no one else would allow us to go on once we got home. And it was Ms. Lowpass that stuck that all into us.
It was also Ms. Lowpass that made us, after our morning recitation of the Pledge of Allegiance, sing the first verse of Woody Guthrie’s classic “This Land Is Your Land.” At the time I just thought it was some cool shit to be singing cuz we had all these kids from all over the world right there in that class together. I just thought it was her way of making everyone feel a little better about the alien world we were all thrust into: A world where we were taught to be quiet; A world where authorities weren’t trusted, be they cops or local or national politicians, whatever, yet we all had to answer to them.
It would be years later that I’d look back at these times and realize that Ms. Lowpass had at one time probably been a hippie. But then, why would I know that in 1980s? What the fuck was a hippie to the kids of the eighties? Nuthin’. That’s what they were. They didn’t exist to us then. But Ms. Lowpass wasn’t a hippie like all these New Ager wannabes that wanna touch and feel everything and love you and spin inanities like “You Can’t Hug With Nuclear Arms” or any other such lameness that’s on par with most political slogans or other such lower-level philosophical slang-thought.
She was more the kinda hippie on the level of Mama Cass. She reminded me a lot of Mama Cass, actually. Or vice verse, since I learned of Mama Cass much later. Ms. Lowpass loved life and learning and teaching. She was educated, smart, thoughtful, energetic yet humble enough to know that others had the validity of thought and it was in her best interest at times to listen, not just talk 24/7 about this issue or that. She knew her history lay with the Beatniks and French philosophers and German philosophers and music and literature. She wasn’t teaching us this shit or into it herself cuz it made her feel ‘free’, whatever the fuck freedom is. She just lived it. And she was very much alive. Just that simple. She never once told us outright that she loved us, she instead turned love into a verb by spending time with us, by reading to us, by singing along with us Woody’s ballad that was written in response to Irving Berlin’s overly pompous, mis-loved “God Bless America.”
If anyone ever asked me what America was like I’d tell ‘em to turn on the evening news, believe only half of what you hear cuz the other half is all lies made up to sell you something and that they’d have to guess which half to believe. If they wanted something less wise-ass, I’d tell them to listen to Grandmaster Flash’s “The Message.” But if anyone ever asked me what America was about I’d tell them to listen to Woody’s complete version of “This Land Is Your Land.”
In those two months Ms. Lowpass had us as her class, her hippie tendencies never really surfaced. It was because she was a rare one. She was actually teaching instead of preaching. We were the kids of the eighties, digging on the fifties, and she was preparing us for the ninties. She was teaching the ancient history of her generation to us; we were the first generation to not know a world without home video game consoles. She was the generation of tune-in, turn-on and drop-out and she was teaching what was to become the first generation to plug-in, log-on and drop-out. And we all loved her for it.
The day before she was to leave and be replaced by Mrs. K, Ms. Lowpass stopped at the end of our ‘cool down time.’ She just got silent. She had been reading us children’s poetry, but she just stopped and got quiet. I thought she might have been getting sick. Now I know she was thinking.
“What do you think?” she asked the class. Damn, I didn’t know she was going to ask about the poetry she was reading. I had actually been working on some math work instead and not really paying attention, so I started hoping she wouldn’t call on me. A couple of the other kids spoke up, though, and saved me by making agreeable comments about the last poem.
“No,” she said. “I mean about reading. How do you like reading?”
The question kinda threw us all off. No one answered. A few kids, myself included, looked around at each other in confusion. What did she mean? The question was kinda from outta left field. Was it a trick question? But Ms. Lowpass never asked trick questions. Did she just want to hear we liked reading? What was she driving after? Then Sammy raised his hand.
“Yes, Sammy?” said Mr. Lowpass.
He stood and with a smile said, “I love reading.”
She returned the smile, the brightest smile I’d ever seen on her almost-always smiling face, and said, “Thank you, Sammy.”
Sammy sat and she continued, “Remember class, there are six more books to the Chronicles of Narnia and, when you feel you’re ready for it, try The Lord of the Rings.”
Mrs. K replaced her the next day.
*****

Mrs. K was walking into an impossible situation with a tough crowd. As it turned out, though, she was a fair teacher as well and easily likable. By then Key-Man, Con-Man, Little Sammy, Twin and I had formed our little family. She caught on to this and let us start helping others with their studies. We kept away from the older kids peddling drugs and watched out for each other in the sea of blacktop from the normal dangers like dehydration, bullies, random violence that never seemed to have a reason, the vultures roosting outside the schoolyard waiting to kidnap some stray kid, and the security.
Key-Man and I kept up our reading contests that eventually evolved into writing contests. These contests were never so much contests as they were just games. We each had to write a paragraph of at least three sentences, then we’d trade our papers off to one another, read what had been written and continue the story with another paragraph of at least three sentences. We only ever did this when we got our class work done ahead of time, which was always, and when we weren’t helping others.
When we were helping other kids, I concentrated the most on Sammy and Twin. They were two fresh-off-the-boat kids in a new land having to learn a new language on top of all their regular studies. Together with Con-Man we helped bring them from near-failing to damned near straight-A’s. Hell, one quarter Sammy got more A’s than I did. They were both bright kids, they just needed that extra help we were giving them. Con-Man had already gone through all this shit and I was just a good student to begin with. It was then I realized that a vast majority of the kids around me were failing not because they were dumb or couldn’t handle the material, it’s because they weren’t getting the individualized help they really needed. One teacher just can’t do it by themselves. It’s a law of mathematics set to the student-teacher ratio versus the amount of time in any one class or subject or school day. There are bound to be kids that fall through the cracks.
One day after we got our second quarter grades both Twin and Sammy came and thanked us, all formal like. Hand-shakes and everything. “If it wasn’t fo’ you guys,” Sammy said, “we bot’ prolly been expelled this year.”
“Yeah,” Twin chimed in, “We were both told last year da only reason we bein’ put in da fourt’ grade was cuz they had nuttin’ else dey could do wit’ us.”
It’s the absolute fucken truth. They had to make room in all the grades for all the new kids coming into all the school systems. Both Sammy and Twin had started third grade real late in the year and wound up failing their classes, but the school board just pushed them on through… maybe hoping one day they’d be someone else’s problems. Or maybe hoping that once they’d drop out or flunk out, they’d become criminals outside the board members’ neighborhoods. Cuz educated kids rarely become criminals. It’s when the parents and schools fail them they turn to the desperation of crime to get ahead in life.
We told them it was nothin’, which it really wasn’t. We were like a family without really being one. We were the new urban tribe, a little more than a collection of friends, comrades in arms, a band of warriors whose only purpose was pure survival on the blacktop and inside those four walls of a classroom, the preservation of our own sacred little peace. We were brothers closer than our own brothers at home. We kept our sanity through simple contact with each other as we had to deal with a strange world where it seemed like everyone was out to get us, to con us out of money (not that we had any), deport us, fiddle with our bodies and minds for illness, to kill and rape and fuck us. We knew who the fuck Richard Ramirez was and we also knew full well what he was doing. We were growing up in a world where the adults were blatantly stripping us of any childhood we might have had and still believed in the proverb, “Children are to be seen and not heard.” We were the cattle of youth being herded through the system and one wrong move got us sent to the slaughterhouse. Helping each other came with the territory. We were standing as a united front against gangs, violence, and drugs. We were just kids trying to be kids while the whole world raged with hatred around us.
I must admit, though, hearing those happy thanks from them felt good. Sammy and I grew tighter after that. We hung out almost exclusively with each other. Life was good.

*****

There were other kids we hung with. Our little group was pretty tight but we wandered in and out with others. The five of us just always came back and hung out together, that’s what made us a family. Usually when other people came to hang out with us it was because we were having a pick-up game of baseball on one of the two diamonds on the playground. I loved baseball, always had. I even got to see the great Reggie Jackson in a coupla games over at Angels’ Stadium before he retired. When we weren’t playing baseball we were playing kickball: the pitcher would roll a kickball to the kicker/batter, if the ball got air and was caught the kicker would be called out, and to tag a runner you could reach out with the ball and touch them or hurl it and nail them dodgeball-style. It was great.
We had the usual cast of supporting characters hanging out with us one day and gone the next, running the painted bases one day and gone from sight the next. They were like commercials interrupting the regularly scheduled broadcast of our lives to let us know other realities were out there. Among them were Pooh, Nickel-Nickel, Trent, Sheena, Eevie and her little brother Santos. Each had their own story, each their worth and place in our group.
Pooh was named after the Milne character, and he used it to get attention from all the girls. He was a bigger playa than Con-Man when it came to girls, but he couldn’t quite talk a good talk when trouble came around like Con-Man could. Pooh never did his work, but he always had the right answer if the teacher ever called on him. He was just naturally smart that way. But school didn’t seem to jive with him. He just kinda drifted in and outta class as he pleased, always late and always with an excuse why he had to leave early. Mostly he came to school just to hang out.
Nickel-Nickel got his name cuz he was always selling something on the playground at recess for a nickel. From Garbage Pail Kids to candy, Nickel-Nickel had it. His name started out as The Ice Cream Man cuz when that bell rang kids would come storming out of the building, spilling onto the hot blacktop, rushing toward him with their nickels in hand, as if he were a passing ice cream man on a hot summer day. It eventually became Nickel-Nickel.
There was always a quality about Nickel-Nickel that disturbed me. Not cuz he was peddling bullshit on the schoolyard instead of playing. Hell, we all knew our families could use the money. I just figured he was a genius for his entrepreneurialism. What disturbed me was his near-obsession over making money. He was always talking business, inside of class or outside. He tried really hard to grasp the subjects we were learning, but he always seemed to have trouble. We offered to have him study with us a couple times. I think we all learned real quick it just wasn’t going to happen. Once we started studying on our own, out from under the teacher, he’d be back in there talking about making money. I’ve seen people broke before to the point where their kids had to chip in to help out, but he seemed like he was a major bread winner for his household at the age of ten. During one of the few times he actually did try to study with us, he mentioned his father skipped out when his mom was pregnant with him. Not a new story. Pretty par for the course for many of my peers, really. On another occasion he told me, with quite some pride, his mom had her own pot plant growing in the corner of the kitchen. He said she even got the plant its own little lamp and everything so it could grow right. When he made his third and final attempt to study with us he told me that he was a direct descendant of John Dillinger. I had little idea who the hell that was back then, but I made a quick trip to the school library a couple days later and found out. Finding out only added to my frustration of not being able to shake the feeling that something else was wrong with the kid. I didn’t know why he was telling me specifically all this shit. Maybe he trusted me and they were all his own little cries for help with whatever he needed help with in his life at the time. But what the fuck did I know? I was nine and he was ten. Eventually I just learned to ignore the notions and accept him for the good guy he was, struggling with the rest of us, trying to move on to the next lesson, the next day.
Us fourth-graders looked up to the fifth-graders mostly. Con-Man, Key-Man, Pooh and Nickel-Nickel were all fifth-graders. Maybe that’s why Trent hung out with Nickel-Nickel. He never really hung out with us. The only time Trent was around us was when Nickel-Nickel was. I always felt bad for Trent. He just seemed to get into trouble no matter where he went. Out on the playground he would be yelled at for running, despite the fact every other kid did, too. If there was a test in class, he’d fall asleep in the middle of taking it and flunk it. If he was called on it was only ever when he wasn’t paying attention. But then he was never paying attention. He just always seemed distracted. Maybe that’s why he and Nickel-Nickel got along so well. At least Trent had someone watching out for him.
Sheena was some Aussie chick with silky blonde hair, part aboriginal if I remember and part Brit, who’d come to the States to live with her grandmother. She lived not far from me so we started walking to and from school together. She was a very nice girl, sometimes overly proper, but it was never out of place. She was just well behaved and friendly and respectful. She didn’t hang out with us too often while school was in session. She had made her own friends. But on a few occasions she’d come over to us and take part in whatever game or bull session we were having. Mostly we just walked to and from school together.
Eevie and Santos were Mexican. By the fourth grade Eevie and I were sharing our third classroom together. I had always had a little crush on her, even way back in the second grade. She was such a pretty girl, with almost Castilian features. She had black hair that shone in the sunlight and deeply brown eyes, mocha colored skin that was soft (I remember the first time she touched my forearm to get my attention to ask me to pass her something in class… I don’t remember what the hell she wanted but I remember that touch and her soft smile as I wordlessly handed her whatever-the-hell-it-was to her); she had a smile that could melt the whole coming of the next ice age, and she always wore prim and proper little dresses. Politeness came to her naturally. I hadn’t dared talk to her too much over those coupla years. She was too pretty and I always lost my voice when I got near her. Eventually I grew into being more comfortable around her. She would always say hi and smile and I would always return the kindness and ask how she and her little brother were doing. Santos was in the second grade by the time we were in our fourth, but I had known him since he was in kindergarten.
Eevie was very protective of her little brother. I think it was because their parents were going through a particularly nasty divorce that had been going on since I had known her. That might be the reason why she brought little Santos to us when he started getting into trouble at recess with his own classmates. They were destroying property and shit like that. Marking up the walls with crayons and markers and rocks and whatever else their little fingers could wrap themselves around. Eventually it came down to a brawl between Santos and some know-it-all punk who, even though he was only in the second grade, already had a fucken chip on his shoulder. So one day during recess me and the boys were just hanging out on a couple of the chin-lift bars (we liked climbing up and just sitting on them where we could overlook the whole playground) and here came Eevie dragging little Santos along behind her. I about shit my pants. Eevie had only rarely come our way and usually only during a kickball game, but today she was walking towards us with a purpose.
“Hey guys,” she said as she approached us. “Can I ask you a favor?” Both Con-Man and I knew her pretty well so she addressed us more than the others.
“What’s up?” Con-Man said before I had the chance.
“My little brother’s been getting into trouble. He even got into a fight last week. I was wondering if he could hang out with you.”
“Sure,” I shot. I liked Santos. He was actually a very nice kid, very much like his sister, so I didn’t mind him around. Plus I saw it as a chance to do Eevie a favor, which was my greatest pleasure at the time. And Santos started hanging out with us during recesses and lunch and, to my delight, so did Eevie. I think he was bored at first, but we all took to him real quick. Sammy, who was heavy into the sound of bass-men from the Doo-Wop groups we listened to, taught him how to properly “poppa-oom-mow-mow,” which any young cat should know how to do. Key-Man and Twin especially treated him like a little brother and were the ones who spent most of their time with him. They even got him reading at recess, which even we didn’t do. Con-Man taught him some of the defensive moves he had taught the rest of us, this time a lot more discreetly. I taught him all about Chuck Berry, Little Richard, Bo Diddley, The Stones, Bill Haley, James Dean, and the incomparable Gene Vincent. And I spent a lot of time with Eevie.
We were all just taking care of each other. And that was that.

*****

It turned out that Little Eevie, as we came to call her, loved all the same music we did. There was one exceptional difference, though. She could sing the shit. And I mean she could sing like nobody’s business. When she got goin’, diggin’ down deep for that gutteral pitch she could get, she sounded like a very young Laverne Baker. Eevie loved Laverne, and Etta James, The Shirelles, and she really dug Rosie and the Originals. She also swooned over Michael Jackson, as any kid did in those days, and The Furious Five, The Temptations, everything that mattered. She’d get to singing and the rest of us would clap along while Santos danced wildly and Sammy dropped in with the bass of his voice he was always practicing. Life was never so fully enjoyed by kids on that playground as we were doing it.
Every day I would look forward to school, but this time for a new reason. I’d still go to school to do my work and play my writing games with Key-Man and help other kids, all of which I loved doing. But now I also lived for those recesses, for my time with Eevie. She seemed to gravitate toward me in conversations and often we’d be having our own little talks while the guys played or talked around us. That’s when I learned how bad her parents’ marriage was.
We were sitting on the bench along the first base line of one of the diamonds watching Sammy roll-pitch a kickball to Con-Man, who had a helluva kick that could get some real air, and Twin and Key-Man scramble after the ball in the outfield. It was our usual diamond, the one we always went to when we wanted to play. I had met a lot of kids whose parents were already divorced or separated, I even met a few orphans with foster parents, but Eevie was the first kid I ever knew whose parents were actually going through the divorce shit. And it was bad. They argued over everything, even each others’ clothes. Eevie and Santos were living with the mother while their father was working for some big corporation down in San Diego. Her greatest fear, she once confided in me, was to have her dad get custody of them. She didn’t want to move outta Long Beach. She wanted to stay with her friends. Because of her parents, she hadn’t stayed at a school as long as she had at our current elementary. I found that a shocking coincidence and told her of my health issues. I told more or less anyone who was interested back then about my health and if it happened to come up in conversation, but I never really confided in anyone how much confusion had been brought on by the moving and uncertainty it caused me. But I told her.
“Oh, Charles,” she sighed as she lay her head on my shoulder. I took her hand without thought. Any other day I would have exploded inside having done such a thing, but not today. Not at that moment and not with what we were talking about. It was all just natural and it was nice.
“When the hell is this world gonna get its shit together,” I said, like some dumb, young elitist. I probably heard someone say that very thing on TV and it seemed to fit that moment.
She sighed again, “Yeah.”
We watched the playground surge with activity for a few moments. Then the bell rang and we returned to class.

*****

There was this house on the corner across from the school. It sat empty, with a dilapidated ‘For Sale’ sign out front for a long time. It sat that way at least a year that I could remember. It was always closed up, curtains and all. Rumors spread around the school starting in third grade that some very bad people had moved in there. No one was sure who or how many lived in that house, but a common thread amongst the rumors is that one of the guys who lived there had been in prison for a few years. He’d gotten out, saved up some cash and bought the house almost in full. Whatever was going on in there we all knew to stay the fuck away. It’s like when some place has bad mojo, you don’t really know why you’re supposed to stay away or what’ll happen to you if you don’t, you just know something bad would happen and that was enough to keep us away from that house.
It was actually a cute little one-story deal. The paint job was old but in fair order, though the beige color was fucken sickening to look at. Its dark brown rooftop was nicer looking than the paint. It had a very tiny porch just off the front door.
Only a few kids who happened to live on the same street could ever say they saw anyone go in or come out of the house and no one had ever seen any furniture or anything being moved in. The only thing that changed about the house was that over night a new front door had been installed. It was big and thick and heavy looking and stuck out with its white paint job against the other muddy colors the house was made up of.
By the time the fourth grade rolled around it was pretty common knowledge that the house had been turned into a junkie hut, aka an illegal narcotics lab. PCP was being produced and pushed outta that house. Maybe some heroin on the side. Whatever. Us kids just knew to stay away and we did.
BRAAANG!
The bell rang. Kids flooded out of the school like a sink overflowing. Key-Man and I were hoping to get a game of kickball going out at our usual diamond, the diamond across from the house. I was running full speed with Key-Man, who was carrying the faded red ball, toward the corner of the schoolyard. Then Key-Man broke stride and slowed. I looked back and saw him heading for the chain link fence at the edge of the schoolyard. Others were joining him. I stopped and joined Key-Man, our fingers interlocked in the steel links of the fence. Across the street, at the junkie hut, sat a mass of uniformed men. Six or seven cop cars surrounded the joint. Several cops had their guns pulled, pointing them toward the house. Most of them were just standing around talking. Out through the heavy door came more officers, pushing and pulling a massive mountain of a man. His head was shaved clean. His muscles rippled, straining to break the cuffs that held him. The cops just yelled obscenities at him and pushed him head-first into the back of one of their black-and-whites. Then more cops came spilling out of the doorway, this time dragging a haggard woman behind them kicking and screaming. At first I thought she was an old lady, old enough to be my grandmother, but when they got her up on her feet I saw that she wasn’t old at all. She just had an ugliness about her, like a weariness. A drugged-out weariness. She wore only a halter top faded red like the ball that Key-Man was still holding and she wore a pair of cut-off jean shorts. Varicose veins ran all up and down her legs that looked all too skinny and somehow sagging at the same time. Great deep purple circles hung from under her eyes. She refused to give up the cigarette she had in her mouth until a cop pulled it away and threw it into the street. She was a mess of a woman. Not really much of a woman any more. Just another junkie.
“Shit!” I heard a voice next to me. “That’s my mom!” I turned to see look at Nickel-Nickel. He ran from the schoolyard, jumping the fence, screaming across the street towards his junkie mother. It finally all made sense. And I hated it.
The emergency school bell rang, as if there was a fire. The principal’s voice came over the P.A.: “Attention all students, return to your classes immediately. Attention all students, return to your classes immediately.” Apparently the powers-that-be in the school had seen the same shit goin’ down and were pulling us back in until the cops cleared out. The schoolyard security started rounding us up, herding us back into the schoolhouse. I took one last look over to the house. A cop had literally picked up Nickel-Nickel and was carrying him to another black-and-white where he placed in the back seat. The cop then squatted to talk to him. I looked to Key-Man. His mouth was open and sad. He looked at me. I didn’t know what to say. He shrugged. That’s all that was needed to be said. Just a shrug.
Kids walked slowly by the few windows we had that could be used to see the scene outside. Walking behind us the whole way was the playground security. When we returned to the class, Mrs. K started us into our studies right away. No one talked about what had been seen outside. No one asked about what was going on. No one even asked where Nickel-Nickel was at. We just picked up our books and carried on.

*****

Nickel-Nickel didn’t return to school for two weeks. When he finally did, no one talked to him but the teacher. I guess no one knew what to say. And the only time Mrs. K spoke to him was on the first day he was back, just before she started class. The day after he got back I had a chance to talk to him during a study session. I asked him if he was okay. He just sorta shrugged, much like Key-Man had done two weeks before, and he left it at that. He was a real quiet student after he got back, too, and Mrs. K never called on him for anything. Sometimes I wonder if that had really been what was best for him. He didn’t get back to selling anything at school for another two weeks and when he finally did start selling he wasn’t hustling like he had before. He just put the word out that he had candy or whatever and we’d only find out through word of mouth toward the end of recess. He was ten, and it was like he was broken.

*****

She had the look of pain in her eyes. But, more than that, a look of knowledge, a kind of wisdom, not so much a resignation, that life was full of pain. We were nine-years-old.

*****

Ring.
“Hello?” I got a phone call late one Sunday afternoon. It was from Little Sammy.
“Hey, Sammy. What’s up?”
“Not good,” is all he said.
“Why? What’s wrong?”
“I miss you. Key’s in anudder class wid Con-Man. Twin an I are alone. Dis whole year I been askin’ ‘Where’s Charles?’”
We were in the fifth grade now. The rent at our apartment in Long Beach was raised an unreasonable $150 a month extra. So my family and I moved to Cypress, a small burg outside of Anaheim. Cypress was six square miles and there was some culture shock to it for me. I’d gone from near inner-city to Mayberry, USA. In Long Beach, our apartment’s manager lived in a fancy condo on Naples Island. We never knew who the owners of the building were. In Cypress, we rented a house and not only were we friendly with the owners, they were our neighbors down the street.
I hadn’t seen Sammy in some time except for a chance meeting at a McDonald’s off Redondo in Long Beach one weekend. We maintained some small phone contact, however.
“I’m sorry, man. I wish I was still there, too. Are you having problems with the work?”
“No. not really. The teacher she go way too fast. I can’t keep up an’ when I ask for help she tell me ‘after school’ but den she neber dere an’ I gotta go home right after school anyway. No one pays attention to me and Twin. We understand the work, we just need more time in class but she no give us da time.”
“Damn. How are your grades?”
“Not good,” he gave a brief pause, then slammed me with the next thing he said. “You remember Nickel-Nickel?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“He dead.”
Another brief silence, this time from both of us.
“What?” I asked.
“He died in da gutter outside his apartment.”
“What? How?”
“He shot up pure heroin.”
“Pure!” Holy shit. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “I didn’t… I didn’t even know he was shooting.”
“Me needer,” said Sammy. “I only notice he not in school so much. But he in a different class, too. So I just thought I wasn’t seeing him. But word on da street an’ in da school is dat he was hooked an’ he hadn’t shot up in days. He got desperate. Nobody knows how he got pure, but some people think he got it from his mom’s boyfriend. Some say he got it at da house across da street. You remember?”
“Yeah, I remember.”
“So he shot up da pure. Dey sayin’ he went crazy. Flipped-out. Ran outta da house after he shot up, crazy, and died right in da gutter in front of his apartment, his mom still on da phone wid da police callin’ for help.”
Nickel-Nickel’s death disturbed me. I’d heard of kids OD’ing at the age of twelve before, that’s old news. It happens every day in L.A. That’s why you don’t see it on TV with pictures at eleven. It’s old hat. But Nickel-Nickel’s death was different. It was different cuz he was a friend. Well, kind of. Not a very close friend, true, but a friend none-the-less. And the real tragedy was I couldn’t be there for him, to hold him while he died. Even at the age of eleven I wished I could’ve been there for him, to hold him while his life slipped from him. It took me years to understand why I wanted to be there for him like that. All I know then is that even if I couldn’t have stopped it, even if he woulda been too doped up to have known I was there, I coulda held his hand at least in those last moments of his life to let him know he was loved in this life. It was a stupid, childish thing to wish. But I wished it.
But I wasn’t there. I’d even seen all the signposts outlining what trip down what road he was taking. And I still wasn’t there. Instead, I was miles and miles away listening to another friend’s distant voice telling me of all the details two days after it had happened.

*****

Ring.
The phone rang again. It was exactly one week later and the phone was ringing again.
Ring.
I didn’t want to pick it up. Something was telling me to let the damned thing ring. But I picked it up.
“Hello?”
“Hello? Is Charles there?”
It was Sammy. Shit. Something was wrong. He’d never called this often. Something was definitely wrong.
“What’s wrong, Sammy?” I asked right away.
Silence.
Silence.

Silence.

“Sammy?” I coaxed. “What’s wrong?”
“Eevie’s dead.”
I exploded from within. Every last bit of me, every last cell, erupted in a self-induced explosion that fire-stormed its way through my soul. I was in Hiroshima. Heat was baking and eating flesh, marrow liquefied and boiled, pressure built until my bones exploded. I melted from the world and disappeared, returning only slightly to a consciousness never again to be fully seen with everything painted black.
Sammy’s voice was soft. I wasn’t really listening but I heard every detail. I didn’t answer to anything he said. I didn’t have to. He just continued slowly and softly and affectionately.
“Her parents, dey been separated. Living in different places. Dey got togedder for dinner an’ I guess to decide stuff about da divorce. I don’t really know. But dey went out an’ left Eevie to watch Santos alone.
“Eevie, after her parents go she decided dey needed bread or milk or something. She tell Santos to stay on da couch an’ not to open da door for anyone. He fell asleep.
“Da parents, dey return an’ found Santos asleep an’ no Eevie.”
Sammy stopped for a second. I said nothing during his pause. I only listened to him breath and adjust the phone to his ear.
When he spoke again his voice was like a fishing bobber popping up from under the water after disappearing below the surface, “Dey search all night, Charles. Da cops, dey find her in da morning. Dey say she was alive most the night. She died only about an hour before dey find her.
“She was raped an’ left inna alley near da liquor store. She neber got to da store. No one saw or heard nuthin’.”
Eevie had been just eleven-years-old, same age as me. She had been raped and left to bleed to death in an alleyway just a block-and-a-half from her home. Once again I was miles and miles away hearing all this days after it happened on the phone from a friend.
Sammy and I sat on the phone silently together for the longest time. No words passed between us. We just shared our silence. Sammy was the closest thing I had had to a brother at that point in my life and he was my best friend. Eevie had also adored him, so I knew he was hurting, too. That kicked itself into my head and I finally spoke to him.
“You okay, Sammy?”
I heard his sigh. “Yeah… no. My family, we gotta move soon. Too expensive here dey come an’ say dey gonna raise the rent.”
“Yeah, they’re raising rent all over Long Beach.”
“So where eber we move to, I call you from dere. I gotta go. I gotta help clean da kitchen.”
“Okay, Sammy. You take care.”
“You too, bro.” He hung up.

*****

Two months went by and I hadn’t heard from Sammy. I decided to call him.
“We’re sorry. The phone number you’re trying to reach has either been disconnected or is no longer in service.”
I hung up.
I loved those friends. I loved them more than anything. They were the first real group of friends I had ever had. They had taught me the meaning of family, of love and the responsibility of caring for one another. They had shared their happiness and lives with me and I returned the kindness the best I could. I loved them. But I don’t think I ever got the chance to tell them, except by just being there for them the few times I could, the few times we shared our lives. I would never hear from any of them ever again.
I picked up the phone, called Sammy’s number and listened the message again out of loneliness.

30 Day Drawing Challenge - Day 1

2011-05-06T08:41:00.002-04:00

I've been horrible at keeping up with this blog this year. I'm being pulled in so many other directions at the moment.

I started a 30 Day Drawing Challenge today. I kinda phoned in today's drawing. Done in MS Paint in about 5 minutes, but it is what it is. It's supposed to be "A Drawing of Yourself". I didn't take it quite so literally.

Deus Ex

2011-04-22T09:45:00.002-04:00

I didn't post last week because my OS crashed. Yeah. I had to reformat my HD. I lost some stuff, but was able to save almost all of my work on an XHD. As a result, I couldn't post last week and I don't feel much like postinhttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gifg this week.

So here's the trailer for Deus Ex: Human Revolution.

Wings Pizza

2011-04-08T10:48:00.001-04:00

My web series, Rats, finished shooting its first full-length episode last Wednesday. Here's an ad for the fictional Wings Pizza, where the character Wayne works at.

Enjoy.

New Rats Outtakes

2011-04-01T19:56:00.003-04:00

Okay, so my web series Rats has found sponsorship, enough for a single episode, but it's raised the hopes and joys of a lot of people I work with. There's a lot of love for this project. Here's outtakes from yesterday's shoot. I think this is a good feel of what Rats is like.

NSFW

2011-03-25T08:59:00.002-04:00

Friend Chris Reed and I cut this promo ad for the Atomic Swan Zine Fest sponsored by If Ezine. If you're in Flint, come on out and support local writers!

Buttle Rocket

2011-03-18T23:05:00.005-04:00

My company Atomic Swan Films is involved with a few different projects. One such project in development is a web series titled Hillbilly Dynamite. Think Hee Haw meets Jackass and you've got Hillbilly Dynamite. Here's our second and latest video.

Enjoy!

Please Note: Adult themes and language!

Zine Fest

2011-03-07T10:46:00.001-05:00

I'm afraid I have to phone in this week's post. Sorry, folks. I'm a little busy and blogging just isn't in me. And Mondays don't seem to be pushing any additional traffic my way, as of next week I'm going back to my old, preferred posting-on-Fridays schedule. Until then, zines!!!

And check out the Atomic Swan Zine Fest sponsored by If EZine on April 8th in downtown Flint!

Atomic Swan Zine Fest sponsored by If EZine

2011-02-28T21:58:00.004-05:00

I've been doing zines for a very long time. I love them. Here I talk about the Atomic Swan Zine Fest sponsored by If EZine that I've been putting together for April 8, 2011 in a celebreation of storytelling and all things zine-y.

Enjoy.

2011-02-20T22:54:00.000-05:00

I've been developing a web series called Hillbilly Dynamite. Here, now, for the first time ever is footage from the show!!! One part Jack Ass, one part Hee Haw, all parts fun and ridiculousness!

Valentine's Day

2011-02-14T08:35:00.001-05:00

Happy Valentine's Day

Behind the Scenes of Among Thieves

2011-02-07T23:41:00.001-05:00

Behind the Scenes of Among Thieves, the movie we shot last October.

I Love Michigan Video Contest

2011-01-31T09:18:00.006-05:00

On the 21st of January I was informed of the I Love Michigan Video Contest. While I wouldn't mind the prize money, in truth I think the real tragedy would be to have a contest like this come along and I, with Atomic Swan Films dedicated to community-mindfulness, not participate. So in the last ten days I cut together the following video for the contest.

Michigan hasn't always been nice to us, but it's our home.

~ Charles

Atomic Swan 50s Sock Hop

2011-01-24T09:34:00.009-05:00

I've got a lot on my plate at the moment, in large part due to my own doings. Besides the Atomic Swan Zine Fest sponsored by If EZine, this year I'll be sponsoring the Atomic Swan 50s Sock Hop (and two other events) in Flint, MI. I would talk about the other events at this juncture, but today I'd like to concentrate on the Atomic Swan 50s Sock Hop. I'll be spending most of my week trying to find a location and pound out some of the details for this event. But to get an idea of what the 50s Sock Hop has to offer, let's check out the announcement video.

This should be a fun event. And out of all the events, as much as I'm amped for and have a personal interest in the other events Atomic Swan will be hosting, I'm taking the 50s Sock Hop most personally. Someone out there might be asking what a guy born in the 70s would be doing celebrating the 50s on a personal level. Well, I believe I can best explain by sharing part of a book I've begun writing titled Joyride Thru Death Valley. Joyride, for short, was started in 2001 and has yet to see completion in part because it's my most autobiographical work. Allow me to define my writing right here and now: I am an autobiographical writer, meaning I pull a lot from my personal life and a lot of my personal life is reflected through my writing. Yes, even the science fiction and fantasy. I'm not like J.D. Salinger or some other writers who claim to have no connection to the people or worlds they've created. My first completed novel (still looking for a publisher, by the way! Hint! Hint!), titled Soar, is about a cyborg living in a world where technology has been outlawed. It is my reaction to the religious fervor created in the United States post-9/11. Silent Nights, another novel I've completed and am looking for a publisher for, sprang forth from a conversation with a one-time friend that claimed he believed in the Christian God because if said god did not exist, he would have nothing to live for. His was such cyclic and dependent thinking that it nearly frightened me for him. As for The Children of Gods (aka TCoG) novel Theft of Heaven and the novella Escape from the Cottonwood Chamber, the entire world of TCoG is my answer local personalities losing their culture, their identities and their life's structure through corporate globalization being sold to them; TCoG is an attempt to take Joseph Campbell's theories one step further by not just recognizing universal similarities in regional cultures and folklore, but creating a folklore that all regions can attach to in the presence of globalization. It's an odd conjoined life that TCoG lives, to be sure.

Anywho, out of all my writings, probably the most autobiographical would be Joyride. And here is a sample of the text that should help bring reason to my personal interests in hosting a 50s Sock Hop (please note: this is NOT an autobiography; an impression of my life, sure, but a novelization thereof):

"Smooth. Grooved. Attitude packed in wax. I felt the LP with my fingers. Sleek. Cool. Violently etched out. Voices screaming in the dark. Scratched. Caught. Sought after.

We had an old record player. An atavistic relic. I stood before it. It was big, more like a table. No, an altar. A shrine. The cool LP in my hands. All apartments had alleyways. Darker sides. Congregational meeting places of sex, drugs and, well, as luck would have it, rock ‘n roll.

I had been walking home from school, second grade. Sticking out of the corner of our apartment’s darker half dumpsters had been a cardboard square. It had pictures of Chubby Checker and several others I didn’t yet know. I grabbed the square. It was pretty clean. Clean enough to handle. I cocked it open. Out rolled the big, beautiful, black LP. Unscratched. Unscarred. Unbroken. It was someone’s memories now too painful to hear. Their trash was my gold. As soon as I got home, I dropped my Thundercats backpack off just inside my room and headed for the record player.
I stepped forward, the LP unsheathed and in my hands, and I summoned the player to life. Switched it to 33-1/3. Then I softly, gently lowered the great black disc to its rightful place. The revolution began. The needle fell into groove. The world was blown away from around me, like leaves in a gale.

Barrett Strong’s “Money (That’s What I Want)” screamed out at me. I was chained to the spot instantly. I could do nothing but I had to do something. I stood motionless, unknowing yet learning. And then it came to me.

My body exploded into a fury. My puny arms whipped at the air. My feet kicked and stomped. My hair… I could feel my hair. It bounced and swayed with my frantic, stupid dancing. I was alive for the first time in my life. And I stayed alive until the song ended.

I was sweating, panting, heaving, hurting, feeling good. Alive.

I turned around, glancing, making sure no one had seen my convulsions. Two eyes stared dead at me. They were my own. I had forgotten that we had a floor-length mirror across from the stereo. There it was. There I was, witnessing me witnessing myself. I looked into those eyes. My tiny chest slowed and stopped heaving. Sweat rolled. New music played, but I did not dance.

I was born into a yesteryear never before seen by human eyes. A place where Chuck Berry and Lovecraftian horrors dance in some Pooh-Bear Hunny Pot Madness mockery of life’s ideal. A place where everyone and thing is not much more than a big Fuck You to God or whatever Greater Plan there might be. And, if there are no such things, then that’s the most wonderful Fuck You of them all, to all the idiots that ever believed in false hopes, false idols and the insane, inane imaginings of monks or priests or lamas or whatever-the-fucks drunk with power, mental illness, madness, sex, their own voice or wine and mushrooms.

But no, that can’t be the ultimate joke. Death is the ultimate joke prancing in his dyed-black or charcoal gray (for that chic well-worn look) court jester suit. Dancing like a mad bum in the streets. His dancing so beyond understanding you can’t help but laugh. Yet you know his madness carries the disease of danger. He’s dangerous to passers-by and to himself. But who gives a fuck about him? You just hope he doesn’t strike out at you or hit you up or even talk to you as you pass him on the street.

Sometimes, a safe distance across the street from him, you watch his dance through some box or portal or similar periscopic device. And then you laugh at dear Mr. Dancing Death ‘til you cry. Like watching Benny Hill for the first time and you laugh partially out of shock as you ask “Can he really do that?” And then sometimes the truly brave or depraved, but usually just the uber-bored, will stand and laugh right in his face, taunting poor Mr. Death with the promises of pennies if only he’d piss himself one more time.

Welcome to Long Beach, circa 1985.

We were growing up on Doo-Wop. I don’t know exactly how or who or why or when any which one of us first started listening, but we were. All of us. Maybe we were listening to it cuz it was all the symbol of an era that defined America. An America living in the every-day fear of the A-Bomb or the H-Bomb or the Whatever-the Fuck-Bomb or the UFOs. Maybe cuz the fifties were confusing times and all the kids had was the music, Alan Freed, and James Dean’s red jacket or Brando’s black leather one and his soft cry of “Whadya got?”

Maybe it’s cuz we saw the same shit goin’ on in the eighties. We had fear and nukes and ICBMs and sky-jackings and dime-a-dozen serial killers and a racist president continuing the murder of the indigenous and blacks and making it harder for people to become citizens despite Lady Liberty’s promise. Maybe we were looking for something distinctly American, learning what it was to be a cog in a machine. And we, too had our red jacket. But it was Michael Jackson’s. And we still had the music on stations like KODJ and KRLA 1110 AM. Yes, A-fucken-M. And, more than that, we still had our Brando battlecry of “Whadya got?”

Nah, fuck it. The music was fun and it bopped along and was an alternative to the fucken pussy-assed New Wave bullshit that everyone whored to the television was listening to. Doo-Wop was fun. Plain and simple.

Every decade suffers from the illness of nostalgia. But sometimes an illness can train your weakened body by exposing it to the horrors of sleepless nights, vomiting, and the tang of bile. Like chicken pox. Once you get it you’ll never get it again because your system has adapted to fight it, to prevent it. So illness, ultimately, is a walk through fire that can strengthen and enlighten you. But you still gotta go through a period of delusional flux, insane dreams when you’re unsure if you’re really asleep. A hell tailored just for you.

That was the eighties. And the nostalgic affliction hitting us then was that of the fifties. All the nobody old fucks were finally becoming somebody old fucks. The fifties dominated the eighties, flu-ing it all up. The kids of the Atomic Age were grown and taking the reigns of the Space Age.

And their music was everywhere. At least 3 or 4 radio stations surrounded L.A.; VCRs were invading homes with movies like The Buddy Holly Story; the theaters filled with movies like Back to the Future, Stand By Me, Top Gun, Great Balls of Fire, Dirty Dancing, La Bamba and The Outsiders. Hell, I was even made to read Hinton’s book twice, once in the fifth grade and then again in the seventh. Elvis-mania dominated as Nashville went from country to big city Pop.

Yep. History was repeating itself, regurgitating all over the eighties. Some absolutely hated it. So they ran, they ran so far away into something less than music and only slightly more than a jingle. Those that knew better but still didn’t jive with the nostalgia rallied ‘round Black Flag, Bauhaus, Bob Marley, The Clash, Grandmaster Flash and Run DMC.

Then there were young cats like myself. Cats that dug the jive. Some back then woulda said it was cuz I didn’t know any better. Maybe. But I learned, while those critics are still listening to the same ole shit, the eternal loop of an 8-Track, I learned. I learned where Elvis stole his moves and I learned where the Rolling Stones got their name and I learned exactly who it was that went down to the crossroads every night to pay his debt.

Besides Doo-Wop and rockabilly and Hip-Hop we had Motown. Having been born in Flint I had a factory-assembled, built-in interest for Motown. When we moved to Cali, we were poor. Not like eating on-sale turkey-ham for two weeks kinda poor. I mean broke-ass poor. And when you’re broke-ass poor, even turkey-ham on sale is too expensive. It was a good thing I loved my PB&Js and Ramen. Still do.

Our first place was a three-room apartment off Granada in Belmont Shores. The three rooms were a bedroom, a living room and kitchenette, and a bathroom. For a long time we slept on cheap-ass, painful plastic folding chaise lounges, the kind that I would later find out the rich and the tourists could buy, use once and throw them out, forgetting about them like any other piece of trash. But when you wake up with stripes all up and down your legs, arms, back and ass from the strips of plastic, you pray for the day you can throw them out. But you’ll never forget them. My parents wouldn’t let me sleep on the floor cuz it got too cold at night, so they said. I think it had more to do with the carpet, what little there was of it, had been too far beyond cleaning for anyone to lay on.

There was a good mix of blacks and gays and whites in our area and a helluva lotta Asians. I can’t count how many times I’d hear on the radio about boat-loads of Asians getting caught in the port o’ Long Beach or L.A. trying to sneak into the country. The news always showed the feds in some grand crack-down, charging and yelling into an inconspicuous ship that coulda been any random cargo ship, pointing their menacing weapons and blinding flashlights at massive groups of people huddled together, half-starved and unarmed and frightened. Then, at the footnote of the news piece, someone would always say how horrible their lives must have been in their country of origin. And that was that. The reporters would move on to the cuddly human-interest story of the night. Those nameless, faceless people forgotten in the second of a segue.

All of us were poor. No matter our skin color, sexual preference, politics, religion… whatever… our lowest common denominator was poverty. That made us equal, mostly respectful and sometimes even protective of each other. Though we were never so stupid as to let our guard down, to stop fearing our neighbor just enough, to ever think that that same poverty we shared or the occasional junkie’s habit would make our very neighbor either consciously or unconsciously stick a knife in us for whatever few bucks we mighta had.

But mostly we shared what we had, which was a whole lotta nothin’. But we shared the sun, laughs, heartache, and the music. And Motown was big. I quickly learned that Motown, R&B and Soul began with James Brown and ended with Marvin Gaye, with the high points in between belonging to Teddy Pendegrass, Al Green and Ray Charles. In my humble opinion, the unsung hero of soul singing (maybe because he was around during the Doo-Wop era, a decade prior to Motown) was Brook Benton. That cat could sing. I’ll admit he didn’t do as much for the music scene as other cats, but I can’t help loving his voice. Of course, the biggest group around, the one everyone listened to, were the masters known as The Temptations.

All that music, it spoke to us. It said what we were saying, what we were living. Oh, sure, we loved our M.J. and Rockwell and Grandmaster Flash. Any respectable man would. But Motown, well, it had soul. A soul we could kick back to and say “Fuck it” to the world outside and just enjoy that moment in our lives while it played.

I never knew how anyone ever got their boom box onto campus – we weren’t supposed to bring any electronic devices with us to school – but inevitably someone did. Boom boxes were everywhere. Ghetto blasters were a common name for them, too. And to see some cat walking down Redondo in the middle of the day with a massive rack of speakers on one of his shoulders was the ultimate staple of what it meant to be cool in Long Beach in the eighties. Eventually I got one of my own. It was smaller. I don’t remember the brand. I didn’t care. It was blue and gray and had detachable speakers and that’s all I cared about. So no matter what, whether we were at home or at school or at the beach, music was blasting out at us everywhere and we were perfectly happy with that.

Outta my little group of friends back then, I was the only one born here in the States. I didn’t really know a world where one ‘race’ dominated.

There were five of us: myself, Twin, Little Sammy, Key-Man and Con-Man. We called him Twin cuz he and Sammy were always together, hanging out, studying and even fighting just like they were twins. And boy would they ever fight. The first real, up-close and personal, fully in Technicolor fist fight I ever saw was between those two. They would swing their arms wildly, landing most of their punches on the back of each others’ necks and shoulders cuz they’d have lowered their heads and just started goin’. They would beat the living fuck outta each other. The first time we saw it happen I think we were all kinda shocked, not at seeing two kids fight on the playground at school, that happened all the time. But because we cared for each other and these two were so tight we were amazed they’d even think of raising a fist to each other. But they did. Several times, in fact. Me, Con-Man and Key-Man would just stand down and let them go. We’d watch for the playground security and shit to make sure they were never seen. They never were. We came close once or twice, but they were always aware enough to hear me or one of the other two tell ‘em to break it up cuz security was popping over.

After a fight they’d always cuss in their native languages to each other, keep their heads down in class and not speak to one another. But by the time the bell rang at the end of the day things were all cool between them. They’d even be quietly studying together. Crazy little shits. What I was always amazed at was neither one never really got hurt too bad. Coupla cuts and several bruises, but never any stitches or anything big enough to really grab anyone’s attention or require anything bigger than a band-aid.

Once these punk-ass high school kids who were most likely ditching school drove around the block and pulled up outside the schoolyard fence to watch Twin and Sammy go at each other. They started hooting and hollering like uncultured apes. Apparently they’d never seen a good fight, or at least not a really good fight between such young kids. Sammy and Twin stopped when they heard us yelling at the punks to go fuck themselves. They started mouthing back at us. Which of course only pissed us off all the more. I had found a penny randomly earlier that recess period. I pulled that thing outta my back pocket and flung it like a hot, fast flying disc right at their fucken car.

THWAP!

It didn’t do any real harm. It just sounded incredibly loud off the little piece of shit Pinto with all its rusting metal. The driver got out and really started screaming his head off, saying we was all little fucks and how he was gonna kick ours asses. We, of course, egged him on. Key-Man shouted back, “The only thing you can do with asses will get you thrown in jail if you touch us!” Con-Man was screaming in his native Cambodian. Sammy joined him. Twin was screaming in his native Laotian and Key-Man and I started picking up odd assortments of rocks and shit and hailing them down on the little shitty car. You shoulda heard it, like a fucken PCP addict trying to play steel drums at mach speed.

You gotta remember, this was 1986. We were ages ranging from 8 to 10. These guys we were standing up to were almost twice our age and at least twice our size, all four of ‘em squeezed into that little Pinto. But we weren’t about to let some stupid fucken asshole stop and watch and get his fucken jollies as our boys were dukin’ it out.

Twin had been born in Laos, but soon after his birth his parents had moved to Thailand thinking life would be better there. It wasn’t. So after several years of scrimping and saving they came to the States. I met him a month after he’d moved here. Key-Man, who got his name cuz he could play piano, had been born on a ship on the way to the States in international waters. He’d been in the U.S. for about four years. I think his parents somehow managed to get him declared as a U.S. citizen. I don’t really know cuz I didn’t care one way or the other. Con-Man and Little Sammy had both been born in Cambodia. We gave Con-Man his name cuz he was always talking to girls and he was always getting’ us outta what little trouble we were actually ever caught up in. He didn’t have a way with words so much as he knew how to present himself, how to hold himself, how to say certain things or smile a certain way. He reminded us of Dirk Benedict’s character Templeton “Face-Man” Peck on the TV show The A-Team. Con-Man was like our unofficial leader. We all rallied around his leadership. He took good care of me, too. He taught me my love for math. So much so that I was able to start learning the fifth grade math with all the fifth-graders while I was still in the fourth grade. He was a real whiz for the shit. I, in turn, taught Sammy and Twin.

Con-Man even taught us a few basics in kempo at recess. Mostly he taught us things like foot stomps, a palm to the nose, a pencil or similarly sharp object to the eye, nose or mouth. Just basics that would get someone to scream, get them disoriented, and give us enough time to get the fuck outta Dodge. Con-Man had learned all this shit from an uncle in Cambodia who was into martial arts. He was still in Cambodia, though, and Con-Man seemed sad once when he mentioned his uncle didn’t want to come to the States to be with him. Con-Man had never mentioned a father, so I figured this uncle was the closest he had to one. But I never pressed the issue, so I never found out. Sometimes shit like that doesn't matter. You know, shit you can't fix.

Out of all them, though, I don’t think I was as tight with anyone as I was with Little Sammy. He and I hung out almost as much as he and Twin did. Mostly I helped him with his studies in class. He needed a lot of help in English and math and history. Spending all that time together made us good friends. We’d joke and have fun actually studying. I guess it was at this time I first learned my love for learning, thanks to him and his desire to learn and be good in school and my desire to help him in that.

Sammy was kind of a cute kid. He had rich, dark brown skin. His face, I hate to say, kinda had a pug-nose thing goin’ on. His hair was jet black and shiny and so were his eyes. He had this weird habit, like I did, of looking at the ground a lot. Maybe it was where we were coming from. Maybe we were just weird kids. Who knows?

Once, after school, we were sitting on this beat-up, carved-up, chipped wood bench that had been painted red over and over again. I wondered why whoever did the painting didn’t just give up on the damned thing. Making that bench look good was definitely a losing battling. If you weren’t careful you’d get splinters in your hands or in your ass from it. But it wasn’t much of a thing to pull the splinters out and that damned bench was always in the shade, no matter the time of day, so we always sat there.

Anyways, we were sitting and waiting on our mutual families to come and pick us up after school. I asked if his mom was coming to get him. A simple conversation began.
“No. I dink mah brudder iz.” He still had his heavy accent. “But mah mudder might come, too. Mah brudder jess got here lass night.”

“From where?”

“Cambodia. Mah uncle came, too. We all togedder now.”

“That’s cool, man. I bet your mom and dad are happy.”

“Mah mudder’s not happy. Mah brudder got inna fight on da boat. Broke his toe. Had ta go ta da hospital. Now we got more bills an he can’t work yet cuz a da broke toe.”

“Shit,” I sighed.

“Yeah, an mah fodder he not alive no more.”

“Fuck, man. I’m sorry. How long ago did he die?” We was tight, so I didn’t think he’d mind me asking. He didn’t, he just sorta stared at his feet as he spoke.

“When I was liddle. We lived inna farming area. Lotsa farmers. One big field all cut inta sections. But eberyone worked eberyting. We shared eberyting. We had one car only for all of us. It was mah gran-fodder’s. Mah fodder and someone else took it one day. Dey filled it wid stuff ta sell in town over da udder side of da mountains. He never come back.

“Da next day, I remember I was wearing nuthin’ and mah mudder was holdin’ me when deez two men come ta our house. Mah brudder was dere an mah gran-fodder an uncle. Mah gran-fodder’s dead now,” he added as a side note. “Never made it here.

“But deez men dey say ‘Are you dis man’s wife?’ I remember mah mudder say yes. Den dey say ‘We sorry but your husband is dead. He was a part of some people who hate da gov’ment.’

“He was, too. So was mah gran-fodder. So was mah brudder. So was eberyone. But dis man he say ‘We stop him on da mountain road inna town.”

Again Sammy noted, “Da only way inna town was a long road tru da mountains. Half-day trip. Maybe more. Cliffs next ta da road da whole way. So deez men dey say ‘We stop him and kill him an da udder man as our country’s enemy. Den we put him an da udder man back inna car an push it off da mountain.'”

Sammy and I were nine-years old. I didn’t what to do for him. I didn’t know what to say. I just put my arm around his shoulder and said, “I’m sorry, man.” And there we stayed until his family came. His brother was there, cast on his foot and all. And he gave me the meanest, ugliest look a man has ever given me. Had he given me that same look a decade later, I woulda gutted him with a blade then and there. He wouldn’ta left that hot fucken schoolyard blacktop alive.

But I was young then, and I didn’t yet know about the kind of hatred and sorrow that could consume a man until he was hollow, until he would stupidly break his own toe in a fight in the belly of a whale headed for Oz.

But I was learning.

Sammy got up from the bench and said goodbye and walked away. And somewhere in the background, on somebody’s boom box, The Temptations sang.

There were other cats we hung with. Our little group was pretty tight but we wandered in and out with others. The five of us just always came back and hung out together, that’s what made us a family. Usually when other people came to hang out with us it was because we were having a pick-up game of baseball on one of the two diamonds on the playground. I loved baseball, always had. I even got to see the great Reggie Jackson in a coupla games before he retired over at Angels’ Stadium. When we weren’t playing baseball we were playing kickball. It was great.

We had the usual cast of supporting characters hanging out with us one day and gone the next, running the painted bases one day and gone from sight the next. They were like commercials interrupting the regularly scheduled broadcast of our lives to let us know other realities were out there. Among them were Pooh, Nickel-Nickel, Trent, Sheena, Eevie and her little bro Santos. Each had their own story, each their own worth to our group.

Pooh was named after the Milne character, and he used it to get attention from all the girls. He was a bigger player than Con-Man when it came to girls, but he couldn’t quite talk a good talk when trouble came around like Con-Man could. Pooh never did his work, but he always had the right answer if the teacher ever called on him. He was just naturally smart that way. But school didn’t seem to jive with him. He just kinda drifted in and outta class as he pleased, always late and always with an excuse why he had to leave early. Mostly he came to school just to hang out.

Nickel-Nickel got his name cuz he was always selling something on the playground at recess for a nickel. From Garbage Pail Kids to candy, Double Nickel had it. His name started out as The Ice Cream Man cuz when that bell rang kids would come storming out of the building, spilling onto the hot blacktop, rushing toward him with their nickels in hand, as if he were a passing ice cream man on a hot summer day. It eventually became Nickel-Nickel.

There was always a quality about Nickel-Nickel that disturbed me. Not cuz he was peddling worthless crap on the schoolyard instead of playing. Hell, we all knew our families could use the money. I just figured he was a genius for his entrepreneurialism. What disturbed me was his near-obsession over making money. He was always talking business. Inside of class or outside. He tried really hard to grasp the subjects we were learning, but he always seemed to have trouble. We offered to have him study with us a couple times. I think we all learned real quick it just wasn’t gonna happen. Once we started studying on our own, out from under the teacher, he’d be back in there talking about making money. I’ve seen people broke before to the point where their kids had to chip in now and then. But he seemed like he was a major bread winner for his household at the age of ten. During one of the few times he actually did try to study with us, he mentioned his father skipped out when his mom was pregnant with him. Again, not a new story to me. Pretty par for the course for many of my classmates, really. On another occasion he told me, with quite some pride, his mom had her own pot plant growing in the corner of the kitchen. He said she even got the plant it’s own little lamp and everything so it could grow right. When he made his third and final attempt to study with us he told me that he was a direct descendant of John Dillinger. I had little idea who the hell Dillinger was back then, but I made a quick trip to the school library a coupla days later and found out. Finding out only added to my frustration of not being able to shake the feeling that something else was wrong with the kid. I didn’t know why he was telling me specifically all this shit. Maybe he trusted me and they were all his own little cries for help with whatever he needed help with in his life at the time. But what the fuck did I know? I was nine and he was ten. Eventually I just learned to ignore the notions and accept him for the good guy he was, struggling with the rest of us, trying to move on to the next lesson, the next day.

Us fourth-graders looked up to the fifth-graders mostly. Con-Man, Key-Man, Pooh and Nickel-Nickel were all fifth-graders. Maybe that’s why Trent hung out with Nickel-Nickel. He never really hung out with us. The only time Trent was around us was when Nickel-Nickel was. I always felt bad for Trent. He just seemed to get into trouble no matter where he went. Out on the playground he would be yelled at for running, despite the fact every other kid did, too. If there was a test in class, he’d fall asleep in the middle of taking it and flunk it. If he was called on it was only ever when he wasn’t paying attention. And he was never paying attention. He just always seemed distracted. Maybe that’s why he and Double Nickel got along so well. At least, I would think, Trent had someone to help watch out for him.

Sheena was some Aussie chick with silky blonde hair, part aboriginal if I remember and part Brit, who’d come to the States to live with her grandmother. She lived near me so we started walking to and from school together. A very nice girl. Sometimes overly proper, but it was never out of place. She was just well behaved and friendly and respectful. She didn’t hang out with us too often while school was in session. She had made her own friends. But on a few occasions she’d come over to us and take part in whatever game or bull session we were having. Mostly we just walked to and from school together.

Eevie and Santos were Mexican. By the fourth grade Eevie and I were sharing our third classroom together. I had always had a crush on her, even way back in the second grade. She was such a pretty girl, with almost Castillian features. She had black hair that shone in the sunlight and deep brown eyes, mocha skin that was soft (I remember the first time she touched my forearm to get my attention to ask me to pass her something in class... I don’t remember what the hell she wanted but I remember that touch and her soft smile as I wordlessly handed whatever-the-hell-it-was to her), a smile that could melt the whole coming of the next ice age, and she always wore prim and proper little dresses. Politeness came to her naturally. I hadn’t dared talk to her too much over those coupla years. She was too pretty and I always lost my voice when I got near her. Eventually I grew into being more comfortable around her. She would always say hi and smile and I would always return the kindness and ask how she and her little brother were doing. Santos was in the second grade by the time we were in our fourth, but I had known him when he was in kindergarten.

Eevie was very protective of her little brother. I think it was because their parents were going through a particularly nasty divorce and that had been going on since I had known her. That might be the reason why she brought little Santos to us when he started getting into trouble at recess with his own classmates. They were destroying property and shit like that. Marking up the walls with crayons and rocks and whatever else their little fingers could wrap themselves around. Eventually it came down to a brawl between Santos and some know-it-all punk who, even though he was only in the second grade, already had a fucken chip on his shoulder. So one day during recess me and the boys were just hanging out on a coupla the chin-lift bars (we liked climbing up and just sitting on them where we could overlook the whole playground) and here came Eevie dragging little Santos along behind her. I about shit my pants. Eevie had only rarely come our way, but today she was walking towards us with a purpose.

“Hey guys,” she said as she approached us. “Can I ask you a favor?” Both Con-Man and I knew her pretty well so she addressed us more than the others.

“What’s up?” Con-Man said before the words could stumble out my own mouth.

“Well, my little brother’s been getting into trouble. He even got into a fight last week. I was wondering if he could hang out with you.”

“Sure,” I shot. I liked Santos. He was actually a very nice kid, very much like his sister. So I didn’t mind him around. Plus I saw it as a chance to do Eevie a favor, which was my greatest pleasure at the time. So Santos started hanging out with us during recesses and lunch and, to my delight, so did Eevie. I think he was bored at first, but we all took to him real quick. Sammy, who was heavy into the sound of bass-men from the Doo-Wop groups we listened to, taught him how to properly “poppa-oom-mow-mow,” which any young cat should know how to do. Key-Man and Twin especially treated him like a little brother and were the ones who spent most of their time with him. They even got him reading at recess, which even we didn’t do. Con-Man taught him some of the defensive moves he had taught the rest of us, this time a lot more discreetly. I taught him all about Chuck Berry, Little Richard, Bo Diddley, The Stones, Bill Haley, James Dean, and the incomparable Gene Vincent. I also spent a lot more time with Eevie.

We were all just taking care of each other. And that was that.

It turned out that Little Eevie loved all the same music we did. There was one exceptional difference, though. She could sing the shit. And I mean she could sing like nobody’s business. When she got goin’, diggin’ down deep for that gutteral pitch she could get, she sounded like a very young Laverne Baker. Eevie loved Laverne, and Etta James, The Shirelles, and she really dug Rosie and the Originals. She also swooned over Michael Jackson, as any kid did in those days did, and The Furious Five, The Temptations, everything that mattered. She’d get to singing and the rest of us would clap along while Santos danced wildly and Sammy dropped in with the bass of his voice he was always practicing. Life was never so fully enjoyed by kids on that playground as we were doing enjoying it.

Every day I would look forward to school, but this time for a new reason. I’d still go to school to do my work and play my writing games with Key-Man and help other kids, all of which I loved doing. But now I also lived for those recesses, for my time with Eevie. She seemed to gravitate toward me in conversations and often we’d be having our own little talks while the guys played or talked around us. That’s when I learned how bad her parents’ marriage was.

We were sitting on the bench along the first base line of one of the diamonds watching Sammy roll-pitch a kickball to Con-Man, who had a helluva kick that could get some air, and Twin and Santos and Key-Man scramble after the ball in the outfield. It was our usual diamond, the one we always went to when we wanted to play. I had met a lot of kids whose parents were already divorced or separated, I even met a few orphans with foster parents, but Eevie was the first kid I ever knew whose parents were actually going through the shit. And it was bad. They argued over everything, even each others’ clothes. Eevie and Santos were living with the mother while their father was working for some big corporation down in San Diego. Or, at least, that's what she said. I'm not sure. Her greatest fear, she once confided in me, was to have her dad get custody of them. She didn’t want to move outta Long Beach. She wanted to stay with her friends. Because of her parents, she hadn’t stayed at a school as long as she had at our current elementary. I found that a shocking coincidence and told her of my health issues. I told more or less anyone who was interested back then about my heart problems and if it happened to come up in conversation, but I never really confided in anyone how much confusion had been brought on by the moving and uncertainty it brought to me. But I told Eevie.

“Oh, Charles,” she sighed as she lay her head on my shoulder. I took her hand without thought. Any other day I would have exploded inside having done such a thing, but not today. Not at that moment and not with what we were talking about. It was all just natural and it was nice.

“When the hell is this world gonna get its shit together?” I said, mimicking someone I'd heard somewhere. But it somehow made sense to me at the moment.

She sighed again, “Yeah.”

We watched the playground surge with activity for a few moments. Then the bell rang and we returned to class."

So there you have it, an impression of my childhood in relation to music and the environment I grew up in. This is why I'm personally overseeing the 50s Sock Hop. I want it to be first and foremost fun.

Now, to find a place to hold the Sock Hop. Let's do this.

New Zines and New Years

2011-01-17T19:25:00.013-05:00

The new year brings a lot of new things my way. For one, I'll be making my attempt at blogging on Mondays. I've thought about this for some time - it seems like two years now that I've been considering it. So, here we are, Monday the 17th of January, and I'm blogging.

This week's blog post is all about zines. This August will mark the 8th anniversary of If EZine: The Free Online Magazine of Thrilling Speculative Fiction. I'm pretty proud to be able to say I'm still going strong with the old ezine.

I have a lot of zany zine-y stuff in my life already and much more awaits me in my near-future. For one, I've published my first book. Tales from the Ifreet is a collection of the serialized fiction that can be found in If EZine, plus one new story not published anywhere else. Tales from the Ifreet is now available. My good old cohort J. Ho not only did a beautiful job on the cover art (both front and back) but he recently blogged about it. You should check out his artwork. He's just about the finest illustrator I've ever come across (and I'm not saying that just because we're also old friends) and I'm incredibly happy with his rendering of Iffy the Ifreet, If EZine's mascot and horror host. Thanks, J. Ho.

Cover art by J. Ho

In addition to the book, If EZine and my movie company Atomic Swan Films are hosting the Atomic Swan Zine Fest sponsored by If EZine this April. It's Flint, Michigan's first real zine fest (as far as I know; feel free to correct me on this). We have quite a few zinesters and creative types excited to participate and attend this zine fest.

On the Origins of the Atomic Swan Zine Fest sponsored by If EZine: As I became more involved around Flint and started meeting more people, I've found there's a pretty big sub-culture of writers here. But there aren't many events in the area that I felt properly celebrated the art of telling tales and writing. The Skelebration of Scares is certainly a very good one (wherein local writers get together to read their scariest tales at Halloween), but has a certain emphasis on reading and performance and less on the actual formulation of words on the page. There's the blossoming Flint Comix Con, which is great, but has a definite emphasis on comics and visual art and not so much on writing (though they generously make room for writers; in fact, it was at the Flint Comix Con I met local writer, Skelebrations organizer and fellow shenanigans lover Chris Ringler). But, in general, there wasn't an event specifically celebrating the visceral act and art of writing and the DIY spirit of punk, science fiction and the pulpy, gritty, down-and-dirty doin'-it-my-own-damn-way art of zines. The DIY attitude is definitely prevalent in Flint, but no one seemed to be celebrating it outright, at least not in relation to writing.

In essence, I saw a need in Flint to have a zine fest. Not one to wait around for others (there's that DIY spirit again), I threw out some feelers, found out Ringler once produced zines, met Chris Reed who loves zines and came across a general resounding, "Um, yeah, you know what? Flint SHOULD have a zine fest" sort of reaction.

So I got off my ass, recruited Chris Reed into my zine army and we're setting off to war, as it were.

I'd like to take this moment to thank Reed, who graciously accepted when I asked if he would chair this event. In his own words, "I'll chair it like a la-z-boy." Haha. I knew Chris would be perfect to chair the event. Not only is he an entertaining Absurdist (both in person and through his writing), his love for zines is seconded only probably to my own.

The zine fest has gotten me back into the writing mode. I'm already working on my second zine in two days with plans for at least two more. Here's the cover of the first (this zine collects some of my more funny, asinine and worthless Tweets).

So, here we are: zines, zines, zines in 2011. If you're in the area on April 8th between 6pm and 9 pm, come to The Lunch Studio for the Atomic Swan Zine Fest and let's rock it hard.

Tales from the Ifreet now Available for a Mere $10.95!

2011-01-07T18:31:00.007-05:00

First post of the new year! And it's a doozy. For the past 7+ years I have been self-publishing an electronic magazine, If EZine. This webzine sprang forth from my love of science fiction, fantasy, horror, and pulp. I grew up on comic books, the Amazing Stories TV series, Twilight Zone and Alfred Hitchcock presents the Three Investigators. For me, IF EZine keeps me in constant contact with my childhood; keeps me in constant contact with that child I once was sitting at home with an imagination running wild; keeps me in touch with something I think a lot of us lose as we grow older: our sense of wonder. If EZine keeps me young, I hope vital and in constant contact with the loves in my life: writing, storytelling and wild dreams.

And now I share those dreams with you.

Tales from the Ifreet is the first book from If EZine.

Since 2003, writer Charles Shaver has been publishing If EZine - The Free Online Magazine of Thrilling Speculative Fiction. With a passion for pulp-era storytelling, Charles has established If EZine as a hub of science fiction, sword & sorcery, horror and adventure. Collected within this volume are stories originally serialized throughout the issues of If EZine - plus one new never-before-published story!

Stories in this edition:
The Last Stand of King Zalam
Zalam of the Mountains
Zalam in the lost City of Adul-Ra
Spidorans Below
Captain Destiny and the Creature from Atrius-99
From Here to the Stars!
Hunter of the Dead
Iffy's Tale
The Gargoyles of Fort Van Raine

and the brand new story published only in this collection:
Blood on the Mountain

With cover art by J. Ho.

Go buy one today!

https://www.createspace.com/3483698

Flint Holiday Festival

2010-12-03T21:56:00.003-05:00

I attended the Flint Holiday Festival this week. The mayor, Angie Hendershot and Bill Harris were on hand. I got some video. Here it is!

New Games

2010-11-26T00:17:00.000-05:00

There's quite a few games due out next year or are currently out that I'll be living for. Here are the videos of such games.

Fallout New Vegas

Homefront

Deus Ex Human Revolution

Punk Rock Rummage Sale 3-D!

2010-11-19T09:30:00.007-05:00

I was going to take this last week off. As it turns out, I got the opportunity to take part in the Punk Rock Rummage Sale 3-D!

So I spent the last week making stuffs for this arts & crafts & punk show. I'll be selling the following digs (and more):

Beanie

Hand painted patch

Zine

Atomic Swan Films Liberty Spike Beanie

Come out and do some of your XMas shopping!

Veteran's Day

2010-11-11T09:19:00.002-05:00

I'm posting early this week in honor of Veteran's Day here in the United States.

Enjoy.

~ Charles

In Flanders Fields
By: Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, MD (1872-1918)
Canadian Army

In Flanders Fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

I Haven't Blogged in a While

2010-11-05T09:36:00.002-04:00

I haven't blogged in a while. October was rough, though good. Last June I founded Atomic Swan Films, a movie company "making movies in Michigan, about Michigan and for the good people of Michigan" here in Flint. We shot our first short starting September 29th and ending October 24th. Besides filming, I also made an appearance at the Flint Zombie Walk, of which I was a sponsor through If EZine and Atomic Swan Films. I also made appearances at the Night of the Living Dead Screening and the Skelebration of Scares as Iffy.

The end result: this 'lil boy is uber tired. No matter how much I sleep, I can't get enough rest. I've been napping like crazy, too. If I wasn't convinced Hollywood would've killed me before, I am now. The hours and demand are too much.

But doing things my way and on my own terms here in Flint should allow me some room to work with.

The next project for Atomic Swan Films will be a film about the Michigan Dog Man. I'm also likely to want to write a little more on The Children of Gods. But that'll be all for next year.

Until then, I'm going to try to rest and catch up on other writing.

~ Charles

Halloween!!!

2010-10-29T09:35:00.003-04:00

Skelebration of Scares

2010-10-27T09:30:00.002-04:00

Iffy the Ifreet, horror host for If EZine, will be making an appearance this year at the Skelebration of Scares. He'll be telling stories along with other area writers. Photo booth and more will be featured!

Flint Zombie Walk 2010 is tomorrow!

2010-10-22T09:43:00.003-04:00

Come out to the Flint Zombie Walk tomorrow! Our grand marshal is none other than Kyra Schon herself (the little girl from the original Night of the Living Dead). Check out ABC's coverage of LAST YEAR'S zombie walk!

For more information:
http://www.flintcitytheatre.com/zombie.htm

Dracula Has Risen From The Grave

2010-10-15T10:56:00.001-04:00

I have searched FOREVER to find the name of this movie. I simply remembered the premise from watching it as a child. Thanks to Tyler Zickfoose who found it for me!

Scene 7 Improv from Among Thieves short film

2010-10-08T16:52:00.002-04:00

Here's some outtakes from the short film I'm shooting. Enjoy. ;)

Flint Zombie Walk 2010

2010-10-01T12:08:00.001-04:00

Zombie Hunter

2010-09-24T08:04:00.000-04:00

Attacks Happening in Flint

2010-09-18T08:26:00.007-04:00

I was so caught up with the movie yesterday that I forgot to blog!

So I'm lifting something from local events. Strange attacks have been going on in Flint, Michigan, where I live. Viewer beware: Some of this is a little gruesome.

Find out more here.

.

If EZine Issue #16 is Here

2010-09-10T10:21:00.002-04:00

The Annual Halloween Issue of my webzine, IF EZine, is now available! Check it out FOR FREE at: http://ifezine.com/

Special Effects Tests

2010-09-03T22:40:00.004-04:00

Homemade squib-testing for my movie, Among Thieves!

Flint Zombie Walk 2010

2010-08-27T09:20:00.008-04:00

Both If EZine and my movie company Atomic Swan Films will be sponsoring the Flint Zombie Walk this year. And Iffy the Ifreet will be making his first public appearance at the event!

Check it out October 23rd! It's a fun event for a good cause!

Ultramarines Movie

2010-08-20T00:01:00.000-04:00

A little video about the Ultramarines movie. I found this video by way of Dan Abnett on Facebook. Thanks Dan!

Behind the Scenes with the "Chain Gang Bitches"

2010-08-13T00:47:00.001-04:00

Behind the Scenes of John A. Benjamin's and Anarchy Productions' "Chain Gang Bitches" trailer to be featured in Project Swan! PLEASE NOTE: Adult language and situations are present... viewer discretion advised.

Iffy is Nigh

2010-08-06T10:54:00.002-04:00

I missed posting last week due to the fact I was tending to some personal family issues. But I'm back this week, and with a new video/slideshow.

Enjoy.

Blood Red Moonlight Sonata

2010-07-23T00:01:00.000-04:00

i-Dosing

2010-07-16T00:01:00.001-04:00

The future is now.

SOURCE: Wired.com

If EZine vs the World

2010-07-09T10:03:00.008-04:00

I was running around like a chicken with its head cut off yesterday trying to figure out what to blog today. My good friend and partner in crime J. Ho suggested I make up a few church signs using the sign generators so prevalent on the internet these days (here's the one I used). He even gave me a few ideas to get me started. About an hour and a half later, I had 15 of these little suckers. I'll be posting them all on the If EZine Facebook profile as well as the If EZine MySpace profile.

Enjoy.

Any take a look at J. Ho's SketchBlog. It's nifty.

And be sure to visit ifezine.com, home to If EZine, the Free Online Magazine of Thrilling Speculative Fiction!

Prey Trailer

2010-07-02T09:10:00.009-04:00

I've been making some friends through filmmaking, one such new friend is John A. Benjamin, owner of Anarchy Productions. He makes exploitation films here in Burton, MI. And I love 'em. Here's the Prey trailer.

RIP Dennis Hopper

2010-06-25T00:27:00.004-04:00

I'm going through some pretty heavy shit with my family right now. I'm actually holding up well, but I'm tired. And I've had my movie on my mind the whole time.

Since I cite Easy Rider as inspiration for my movie, I thought I'd post a clip. And while we're at it, RIP Dennis Hopper.

Playlist for "Among Thieves"

2010-06-18T08:28:00.004-04:00

I'm just about 7 weeks out from beginning to film. I'm trying not to freak out and doing an okay job being cool so far. I'll learn some things this weekend about key people to be involved with the film and I'll know by then whether or not to freak out Haha

The big point is that all my time from hereon in will be dedicated to the film, so I won't be writing much here on the blog. That's a sad scenario for some, I assume, but a good one as I'll still be working creatively, just in other capacities.

So for today's post I thought I'd share with you the playlist of songs I've been listening to fairly consistently while developing the script and generally working on the film.

My film, "Among Thieves", is based heavily upon 1970s indie movies, like Trip with the Teacher; Dirty Mary, Crazy Larry; Easy Rider; and Pink Angels. It follows three men on a crime spree across Michigan.

Here's the playlist. Enjoy.

2010-06-11T09:08:00.005-04:00

World Cup begins today. Here's the official theme for South Africa by K'Naan.

I'll be watching USA, of course (American Outlaws and Sam's Army, anyone?). But I'm also keeping an eye on Ivory Coast, New Zealand and Germany.

Michigan Dog Man

2010-06-04T23:49:00.006-04:00

I damn near forgot to blog today. I've been taking an entrepreneurial class as of late and I've been spending most of my time split between that and the movie. As such, my time for writing here on the blog has been greatly lessened.

Here now is a video I came across whilst researching ideas for future movie projects.

Enjoy the legend of the Michigan Dog Man.

Project Swan Update

2010-05-28T08:56:00.001-04:00

An update about the movie I'm working on.

New If Ezine Product!

2010-05-21T10:13:00.002-04:00

That's right, my site and webzine will soon feature merchandise! Specifically, this ringer tee. It will go for approx. $20 (plus S&H). Be on the look-out for it at ifezine.com!

Casting Call for Among Thieves -- The Michigan Branch of the movie Project Swan!

2010-05-14T08:17:00.002-04:00

"Seven Jade Doors" -- Act VI

2010-05-07T00:06:00.015-04:00

"Seven Jade Doors" is copyright 2010 by Charles Shaver. All rights reserved.

**********

ACT VI

DEATH RIDES INTO LIU-WAL: Wherein Añuli is Born and Placed Amongst the Stars; The Trap is Sprung by Ketsueki Sato; Many Die in Liu-wal; The World Weeps

**********

Part 1

Once there was a powerful sorceress named Rea Mani-citali. She traveled far and wide and had taken residence within the Many Hells to learn from the demons there the arts of sorcery, of manipulating the world with thoughts. And though she consorted with demons she could not be spoken of in terms of grand adventure. Oft she would meet demons, ask of them questions and have questions asked of her, then her training was complete. Her life was one of studiousness and the only matter of note is that she was on more than one occasion chased from a town or village as a witch though she rarely performed her sorcery and she had never become a Blessed One incapable of dying through natural causes. Indeed, she remained quite mortal.

Then came a time when she met Kawacatoose, a beggar and con man that traveled the world scheming monies from people. A genuine romance blossomed between the two and when people heard of this many hoped their love would change their ways. If anything, however, the couple became proficient at bending the minds of others to their own needs and stole from innocents daily.

Soon came the time, however, when Kawacatoose lay with Rea Mani-citali in the desert in an embrace of passion. Upon witnessing this, and feeling sorrow for the corruption the couple brought into the world, the sun goddess Amaterasu visited Rea Mani-citali's womb without her knowledge as Kawacatoose loved her and there blessed the couple with a shining son that would bring good into the world.

When the child was born the couple was at first quite happy. They named this daughter Añuli for they last had gained immortality through child. But soon they realized their daughter was different, perhaps cursed - though in reality Añuli had been blessed by Amaterasu. The child grew swiftly, was far more beautiful than either of her parents and glowed softly as night as though lit by a candle from within.

Rea Mani-citali accepted her daughter nonetheless and with Kawacatoose raised her whilst traveling the world. They taught their daughter the ways of treachery and betrayal, the games of cards and dice and the skills of selling dreams to take monies. But when Añuli came of age at thirteen, she began twisting the deceptions. The first, she used a game of cards and when her parents - both posing as strangers to one another and destitute gamblers - placed all their monies in a game to entice others to do the same, Añuli switched the cards, thus causing her parents to lose all money they had. Añuli found this to be great fun though her parents scolded and beat her for it.

On grew young Añuli into full adulthood. She continued to play her tricks, though rarely on her parents. She grew less interested in scheming money from others, as well.

On a moonlit night she sat by the shore of a great ocean and wondered at the stars. Soon she was able to decipher the shape of a man in them. Upon feeling his presence discovered, the man took the full form of a living mortal and descended the night sky as mist. He sat in the sand beside Añuli, looking into her eyes with wonder. Said he, "Long have I waited for one to find me hiding within the jewels of Zingtai. Long have I pondered the identity of my discoverer. Thought I the person to find me would be some aged sage or blood-covered warrior announcing his victories to the night. Yet here you are, a beautiful young lady. I must confess as I sit here, though I yet know not your name, that I love you."

Warmth swelled within Añuli chest and body. She nearly shook with anticipation and conversation. She said, "I am Añuli."

"I am Caelestis of the Night," said the man.

"I did not know the stars could shape themselves into the shape of a man," said Añuli.

"Many mortals can be found reflected in the stars," explained Caelestis.

Each night, no matter where she roamed with her parents, Añuli would sit and find Caelestis within the stars and he would come to her side and they would talk into the night. A love blossomed between the two.

Añuli told her parents of Caelestis and they demanded to meet this man. It was done and they both loved their daughter's suitor. On a night when Añuli stepped away to be with Caelestis, Rea Mani-ciali and Kawacatoose spoke.

"Dear love," said Kawacatoose, "this man is a god. He lives on within the stars. Surely he must have great powers. What should be done is to convince him to marry our daughter to inherit his wealth and heavenly powers. Once this is done, we can then rid ourselves of Caelestis and our daughter shall rule the nighttime sky and we would benefit as her parents."

"Yes, this plan is good," agreed Rea Mani-citali, "but how do we rid ourselves of a god?"

"You are a sorceress, do you not know how to destroy a god?"

Rea shook her head, "Not entirely. That is beyond my means or I would have razed the Many Heavens and taken up residence there long ago. I know, at best, how to bind a god to a specific place so he can never move from there."

"Then this shall be done. If Caelestis is bound to the ground, he cannot rule the nighttime sky and our daughter will have to take his place."

"It is agreed, then," said Rea, "we will do this thing."

And so Añuli's parents extended an invitation to Caelestis to join their family for a meal. Caelestis accepted this invitation and Rea and Añuli set about preparing a fine meal in the open over a campfire. Añuli was happy to have her family accepting her newfound love in Caelestis.

Matters were discussed in a general sense as the food was prepared. Kawacatoose asked of rather bluntly of Caelestis, "What do you plan with my daughter? Would you marry her?"

"Oh, how I would love to, Kawacatoose. If, that is, you would only give us your blessings."

"I would," answered Kawacatoose.

Caelestis and Añuli smiled upon hearing this.

"But how would you care for my daughter?" asked Kawacatoose.

"I would give her everything I could," answered Caelestis.

"Would you give her all your powers within the nightly heavens? Could she become a star maiden as you, too, reside in the stars?"

"I would. Yes, I would," answered Caelestis. "So in love am I with your daughter, I will gladly give all my powers to her now if only to be with her forever. I need not be married to her to give up everything."

Upon hearing this proclamation, Rea and Kawacatoose smiled.

The food was set out and Rea called for a prayer.

"But you have never prayed before this," said a suspicious Añuli.

"We have never had a god to pray to before," said Rea.

As the prayer was begun by Rea Mani-citali, her words soon changed from worship to demonic tongues. Añuli, recognizing a curse being spoken, cried out in horror and grabbed at her mother. Kawacatoose gathered up his daughter and pinned her to the ground so she would not interfere with her mother's casting of the curse.

As Reaa Mani-citali spoke, Caelestis found himself being bound to a nearby boulder, large and immovable. He felt as though his entire body was growing roots and taking hold of the land. He soon was propelled into the stone and there bound forevermore.

Añuli cried out in terror and, when her father let go of her, she ran to the stone, fell upon it and wept.

"Do not fret," said her mother. "You heard Caelestis' proclamation as well as anyone and I'm certain the Many Heavens heard it, as well. He said he grants you all his powers, even without your marriage. Since he is now bound to the lands, you must take his place and with your new position as a star maiden you will be more powerful than ever."

Añuli wiped tears from her eyes. She demanded, "Why have you done this? How could you gain anything from this?"

Rea Mani-citali smiled and said, "Why, you are our daughter. Whatever is yours to inherit shall become ours. We are now rich in ways money cannot compare."

"You are rich only if I share it with you," said Añuli. "And share it I will not."

Feeling the power and the pull of the stars traveling across the nighttime sky, Añuli floated as mist into the sky overhead where she shifted in form to that of a collection of stars outlining her shape. She looked down upon her lover, Caelestis, now bound to a boulder and she wept. And where her eye would be, where the tears would fall, the brightest star shone.

In the days following, Añuli used all her newfound powers to sway the course of a gang of robbers to her parents. This gang of robbers held Rea Mani-citali and Kawacatoose for ransom, but when they discovered no one would pay for the safety of the treacherous couple, the robbers murdered them both and left their bodies to rot beside a lake.

So Añuli came to be known as Añuli the Star Maiden, Protector of All Against the Treacherous. Whenever a person felt they might be the victim of betrayal, or when new business dealings were entered into, or when gamblers needed a new run of luck, Añuli was prayed to. And of all the gods and goddesses, Añuli knew best how to fend of treachery and deceit for she had once been a trickster herself. But now she spent every night watching over the innocent with one eye and with the other weeping for her lover, Caelestis, who now stood silent within a giant stone.

**********

Part 2

Tiger Chiang stood at the borders of the city of Liu-wal. He moved from hence to place himself downwind. He sniffed at the air and his great lips curled, baring his teeth. He said to Mabo, who was sitting upon his shoulder beneath Tiger Chiang's straw hat, "The demon is here. I have winded the foul stench of his wickedness."

Mabo shuddered to think they were so close to the demon and the hunter that had killed his people. He asked, "What shall we do from here? I had not thought what to do when we caught up with them."

"I have," Tiger Chiang growled lowly. He reached into his sack and pulled forht a steamed bun. He tore from it a small piece and offered it to Mabo, but Mabo could not eat. The small hare shook his head and asked, "What shall we do, then?"

"A town of this size is likely to have a tavern or inn of some sort that serves food and liquor. You will go there and order for me a saké and keep watchful eye over it until I come to drink it," instructed Tiger Chiang.

Mabo sniffed at Tiger Chiang. He asked, "And what would you do?"

"I will put down this demon and his men." Tiger Chaind swallowed the last of the steamed bun and offered a hand to Mabo. The hare allowed his friend to prick him from his shoulder and to be placed on the ground. "Now go," said Tiger Chaing.

"But," Mabo stammered. "This is my fight. I should be present."

"Know you how to fight?"

Mabo lowered his head, ashamed he did not know how to fight yet he had come looking for a fight.

"Keep safe within the tavern," instructed Tiger Chiang.

Knowing not what else to do, Mabo followed his friend's instructions. He scurried into the town, looking for the tavern. At last he came to the place he was to go, but as he neared the door familiar voices filled his long ears. Memories leapt into his mind; memories of the night his family was slaughtered; memories of overjoyed voices and desperate squeals. He looked around the corner and there found the Eternal Empress' shoulder, now clothed differently. He did not recornize them all, but two struck hard as a hammer against the anvil of memory. He scurried away, finding a spot beneath the tavern as the building was raised on small stilts. The hare's heart beat rapidly. The tuft of fur upon his neck rose and prickled. He listened to the voices overhead. He heard them talking about nothing of grave importance until one said, "I wish those damn creatures would soon show themselves. I thirst for more blood."

"Quiet," scolded another. "The demon's plan is immaculate and if it is to remain so we must charade as merchant and not speak of such things. Quiet your tongue lest the plan turn sour."

Mabo heard this and thought they spoke of himself and Tiger Chiang. "It's a trap!" Mabo whispered to himself. His little lips stammered in incontrollable fashion, wondering what he should do. He thought he should run to find Tiger Chiang, to warn him the demon was lying in wait for them. He peered out from under the tavern in time to bear witness to Tiger Chiang's coming. A few passersby spied him, but carried on without further notice. Mabo bolted from under the tavern, yelling, "Friend Tiger Chiang! It's a trap! It's a trap! The demon lies in wait!"

**********

Part 3

Stavros and the others came into Liu-wal. They had traveled hard all morning and were tired. They left Gullnir, freeing him outside of town and thanked him for his efforts. They feared his likeness might give away their presence since a horse was more difficult to hide. Stavros eyed the town then his friends. He said, “We must discover the geography of this place, first. Then we’ll find a place to rest and discuss our plans.”

A thought struck Snow Fox and he asked, “What would we do should Ketsueki Sato already be in Liu-Wal?”

Stavros looked at the town. He said, “I doubt that. Look, there are peaceful matters and people going about their business. Should Ketsueki already be here, he would be busily burning everything to the ground.”

Snow Fox agreed with this and was relieved. The small group traveled together through the town, seeking out hiding spots and determining a place to rest. Elkhorn spied them and avoided their line of sight, circling the market as they walked through its center, circling them, hungry for the fight to come.

They came at last to the center of town, nearby the tavern. Exploding Sword pointed to the tavern and suggested, “We could rest there. We haven’t much money, but we could find drink and some rice there.”

All immediately agreed and as they moved closer, convinced Ketsueki was not near except Stavros who kept a watchful eye for any sign. He watched a lady come near to them, watched her pass and dig at her sash to produce a small coin to be placed in a beggar’s cup. She fumbled with the coin and it dropped clumsily from her hand, but the beggar reached out swiftly and grabbed the coin before it hit the ground, far swifter than Stavros thought one with an illness should be able to react. The beggar’s hand was wrapped in cloth, he noticed. He watched as the beggar said something to the woman. He could not hear the voice, but assumed he gave his thanks as he placed the coin in the cup. The woman hurried away now without saying anything in return, as though afraid – as though afraid of what she had heard.

Stavros spoke. He did not yell, nor did he speak softly. He spoke with all normalcy and control in his voice, “They’re here.”

Hearing this, his friends turned with a waking horror, many placing their hands upon their weapons. They searched to find what Stavros looked at and saw only the beggar.

“Do you fear a beggar?” teased Exploding Sword.

“He is no beggar,” Stavros said as his hand grasped the hilt of his sword.

Then came to them another voice, a small voice, though its urgency and strain made it sound large and full and fearful. “Friend Tiger Chiang!” screamed the voice. “It's a trap! It's a trap! The demon lies in wait!”

The gathered group turned to see a small hare running from beneath the tavern.

They turned again to see Tiger Chiang coming, eying the hare. The tiger took a defensive stance, bared his claws and sniffed the air, his nose leading his head to turn until he looked at the beggar. Tiger Chiang growled ferociously.

The people nearby drew closer and immediately quite.

Stavros grabbed at the drinking gourds and other items tied to his waist and let them fall free, drawing his sword until it came before him in both hands.

A cackle of genuine amusement came from the beggar and silenced the whole rest of the town as it grew in volume and breadth. The beggar rose, though not struggling to stand but instead as though floating. Wicked vines appeared beneath the tattered robes. Came a voice from the beggar, “Heh-heh-heh… At long last you have come to me. At long last I shall seep the blood of Blessed Ones. Welcome to Liu-wal, the place where you all shall die!”

The robes and rags were flung from Ketsueki’s form.

Exploding Sword clenched his fists.

Yele Prin Prin readied her talons.

Balin Pop and Jasmyn clenched one another.

Snow Fox whimpered with excitement, spinning his throwing knives in his hands.

Eloqua turned towards the tavern only to be backed away by the appearance of the Eternal Empress’ soldiers, dressed as merchants, wielding knives.

Elkhorn stepped from the market, his bow in his hands, an arrow knocked and aimed for Yele Prin Prin. Though he, since she appeared the only one that could fly, must first be killed.

Stavros did not know this tiger, nor did he yet trust him. It appeared as though the tiger and the hare were enemies against Ketsueki, but appearances had been deceiving this day. He decided instead to strike at the heart of their enemies.

“Come to me, Ketsueki!” challenged Stavros. “Let my sword drink your blood this day!”

The soldiers yelled and charged.

Ketsueki turned his head towards Stavros and smiled his ugly smile.

Tiger Chiang’s muscles contracted, ready to pounce.

Snow Fox readied his knives.

Wounds would soon be opened. Blood would soon be spilled.

**********

Part 4

Tiger Chiang leapt forward at the demon Ketsueki, his claws slicing the air with a fury only the gods may speak of. His claws came downward upon Ketsueki, tearing his wooded hide and stripping from him some bark. Ketsueki looked at the scars upon his chest, unfettered by the attack. He looked at Tiger Chiang and grew larger than the tiger’s size, looked down upon him and smiled. A burst of laughter came from Ketsueki as his tendrils busied themselves at grasping for the tiger. Tiger Chiang’s world filled with flipping, flitting vines. He fought them off and otherwise was made to ignore the demon altogether.

Came Stavros next, his sword held aloft, his focus upon the demon’s waist. He swung his steel, drawing the metal blade across the demon below the mid-section. A scar appeared, but the wood of Ketsueki’s form did not allow the blade to bite too deeply. It gave instead until the blade left only the thin scar.

Ketsueki looked down upon Stavros. He grabbed him up with his vines, wrapping themselves about Stavros’ throat and immediately began choking the rat.

“Far too tangled is he!” cried Tiger Chiang.

The people of Liu-wal ran from the center of their town, running in terror at the Blessed Ones and the demon fighting. Screams lifted into the air as children were not gently but hurriedly pricked from their homes as their parents took them to safety.

Eloqua pulled forth the branch she had been using as a weapon for practice and wielded it clumsily at the soldiers. The soldiers looked at the woman, gazed upon the servant and her puny makeshift implement, looked to one another and in unison laughed.

“Laugh at me?” cried out a nervous Eloqua, “I’ve enough knowledge of the fight in me to kill at least one of you. Which of you will it be? I’ll allow you to decide.”

Again the soldiers looked at one another and laughed. One of them waved his hands to the side, indicating the rest to circle Eloqua and her companions Yele Prin Prin, Exploding Sword, Balin Pop and Jasmyn. His fellows did this and he said, “Foolish woman! Once you were the servant of the Eternal Empress. You, of all those gathered here, should know her soldiers have never known fear. Fear is a friend we refuse to make.”

“Come!” cried Eloqua in desperation, “Come and meet with your god!”

Another soldier stepped towards her, his knives flashing in the mid-day sun. He said, “It is you who will die! For your treachery against the Eternal Empress!”

He lunged at her.

Eloqua listened to Stavros’ voice yet in her memory. She raised the sharpened branch, thrust forward, using its advantage of reach and the soldier’s own charge against him. Thrusting and falling, the two forces met as the branch’s tip met with the soldier’s ribs. It pierced him through, though not deeply.

Exploding Sword grabbed Eloqua’s hands, now shaking as they held the branch. He pushed with all his might, dragging Eloqua with him until the branch pierced the back of the soldier and he gasped with throes of death upon the wooded weapon.

“You must make certain to do it this way. If you are to kill a man,” said Exploding Sword, “you must kill him completely or you will not kill him at all.”

The soldier fell to the dirty road before the tavern.

The branch twisted from Eloqua’s hands and she gave a small yelp.

The other soldiers fell upon Exploding Sword and Yele Prin Prin.

Eloqua, feeling the urgency of the fight, grabbed the branch once more. She tried to remove it from the soldier’s body but it would not go. At last, seeing a soldier come for her, she bent low to pick up the fallen soldier’s paired knives and stood up with them. She made her final peace with death in the small moment before the new soldier was upon her. She gripped the knives taught and she began to fight.

Eloqua struck out first. Her knives bit the air. She was clumsy with her moves, slow. The soldier allowed her to fight the air around them, tiring herself. He knew that soon she would grow so weak from her own fight, he could easily split open her stomach and seek the vengeance needed for his fallen comrade. When at last she was showing with wear, the soldier came at her and stuck both blades into her ribs. He lifted up with them, lifting the woman off the ground with only the hilts of his knives and his own strength. Eloqua groaned and blood ran from her left nostril and mouth. The soldier lowered her and pulled free his knives. She threatened to fall, but he reached out to grab her by the clothes and sank one knife into her breast again and again, seventeen times in all until her chest was covered with blood. He then let her fall and focused his attentions on Yele Prin Prin.

Yele, seeing the fallen Eloqua, noticed the woman’s mouth moving, but could not hear her words as she spoke softly and the fighting was waged loudly.

“Tell my liege,” said Eloqua through bloodstained teeth, “I have died as I had lived: in service only to Alecto.”

Eloqua drew her last breath. Her chest stopped its slow rise and fall. Her eyes remained open and staring at something beyond the fight. Her body lay motionless.

Balin Pop grabbed up the knives from Eloqua and handed one to his wife. They jittered nervously before a soldier. Balin Pop struck out blindly and the soldier easily knocked his efforts away. The soldier then grabbed Jasmyn by the wrist and brought his own short sword down on her forearm, severing it there. He allowed her hand and portion of her arm to fall to the road.

Balin Pop roared with anger at this. He swung wildly at the soldier, only to be stabbed in the thigh for his efforts.

Exploding sword came to their aid. He grabbed the arm of the soldier with the short sword, pulled him close and punched him in the side of the head. The soldier’s skull cracked and he fell dead.

Jasmyn looked upon her arm in horror as her husband picked up the short sword. Her husband then cut a bit of his clothing free and wrapped her wound to stop the bleeding.

Yele Prin Prin’s claws struck the edge of a soldier’s incoming knife and together they sparked with fight. She reached out to claw across the soldier’s chest, but the wounds were small and bled only in a small way.

Elkhorn groaned as he saw the soldiers descend upon Yele Prin Prin and the others. He had wanted to kill the one capable of flight first, but now, if he shot, he risked killing one of his own men. The lives or deaths of the soldiers mattered little to him and, with his newfound love of Ketsueki Sato, he lowered his bow and wondered at the strength of his loyalties for the Eternal Empress. He had decided her pleasure was not as valuable as that of demon’s when a small knife struck him in the left shoulder. Shocked, he looked at the weapon with a wide mouth. He looked to find where the weapon had come from only to see Snow Fox running at him.

Elkhorn grimaced. He ignored the knife stuck in his shoulder and raised his bow. He let loose an arrow only to watch it skip across the ground where Snow Fox had once been. Snow Fox, seeing the arrow, used his swiftness to roll sideways and come behind a crate of pomelo fruits. He peered around the corner and threw another blade wildly. Elkhorn easily ducked Snow Fox’s weapon and overturned a merchant’s tables to create a wall with which to hide behind. He knelt low, watching the now ruddy-colored fox. He watched as the fox peeked around the corner of the crate and threw a knife. Elkhorn jumped as the knife struck the table just below his face. He looked once more to see Snow Fox had left a foot sideways out from behind the crate. Elkhorn knocked an arrow, he drew the length of his bow and fired it. The arrow struck Snow Fox in the foot, causing him to cry out in pain as it pinned him to the ground. He tried to pull his foot free, but to no avail. Snow Fox attempted to run away, hoping the full weight of his body would pull the arrow free, but it was useless. He flopped helplessly on the ground, making every effort to free himself.

Seeing this, Elkhorn stood from his hiding place and readied another arrow. He stepped from behind the tables and drew near to Snow Fox.

Mabo, afraid and watching his friend fighting the entanglement of the demon, ran to bite at the vines.

“No!” cried Tiger Chaing when he saw this. “Run from here! Hide yourself as we had planned. If you remain here you die!”

Mabo, now angry that his efforts were unwanted, cried out, “This is my fight as much as anyone’s!”

“Hide yourself, you damned fool rodent!” growled Tiger Chiang.

Mabo scurried in fear at the growl. He turned to watch as Tiger Chiang made his way through the tangling vines to reach out and claw at the vines strangling Stavros. A few broke free from the demon’s body and the rat was set free. He landed on his feet and bent over to gasp for air.

“Keep fighting!” growled Tiger Chaing.

Stavros raised himself and nodded. He swung his sword at the countless offending vines.

“He allows a stranger to fight, but not his friend!” Mabo argued with no one. “If Tiger Chiang will not allow me to aid him, then I will help another!”

Mabo looked about. He watched Exploding Sword punch one of the soldier’s knives, causing it to exploding along with the bones in the hand that held the weapon. He felt he could not help there. Then he peered into the market where Elkhorn now stalked the wounded Snow Fox. Hatred bred within Mabo for the murderer of his people. Without much thought, Mabo ran towards the market, screaming, “I come for you, murderer! I know not how, but I will topple you this day!”

Hearing the coming small voice, Elkhorn turned his attentions away from Snow Fox.

Snow Fox, also hearing the hare’s coming, looked to see how closely Elkhorn had come. He grabbed another knife from his belt and threw it, striking Elkhorn in the neck. Blood spurt from the wound and around the metal blade. Elkhorn stepped sideways and cried out.

Mabo ceased his approach, afraid of the scene before him. Seeing Elkhorn too busy to mind him, Mabo thought it best to help the trapped fox so that they might fight together. He ran to Snow Fox’s side, grabbed at the arrow with his teeth and pulled upwards.

“Who are you?” demanded Snow Fox.

Mabo said something, but with the arrow in his mouth, the words were indecipherable.

“What?” asked Snow Fox.

Mabo removed his mouth from the arrow and said, “A friend.” He once more returned to trying to remove the arrow from the fox’s foot.

Seeing the hare trying to help him, Snow Fox said, “I don’t think that either one of us will get it alone. Here, allow he to grasp it with both hands and you with your mouth and we’ll pull together.”

They did this and soon the arrow was free from the ground though still lodged in Snow Fox’s foot.

Snow Fox then said, “Watch out! He comes again!”

Mabo turned to see Elkhorn had regained his composure though the knife remained in the side of Elkhorn’s neck. Mabo ran forward and bit at the man’s shins, but Elkhorn pulled back a foot and so hard did he kick that the hare flew across the market to land hard, his back hitting a crate of vegetables and chasing the air from his lungs. Mabo lay on the ground, panting, uncertain of what had just happened to him yet certain he was near death.

Elkhorn removed another arrow from his quiver and readied it on his bow. He raised the weapon. Snow Fox, seeing this, pulled another knife and threw it. The blade struck Elkhorn in his left hand, the hand that held the bow itself, cutting free his middle and ring fingers while the blade lodged in the bow.

Elkhorn cried out again and dropped the bow. He stumbled, afraid now. Long had he fought with a bow, now his hand was rendered useless to a bow. He made his way out of town, away from the fight.

Snow Fox did not waste this opportunity. He quickly shoved the arrow through his foot, screamed in pain, then got to his feet and made his way towards the fallen Mabo.

As the battle raged within Liu-wal, Comet Fox came upon the town. He flew overhead and peered down from the clouds. “We’re here,” said Comet Fox to Alecto.

Alecto looked down upon the town and witnessed the rising of dust, the scuffling of peoples and Blessed Ones and animals alike. She said, “Something happens there now.”

Comet Fox, the trickster god and one so loving towards jokes and drink and song and goodness, frowned. He said, “The fight has already begun.”

“What shall we do?” asked Alecto.

“I’ll land outside the town and together we’ll run to find you a hiding place. Then we will join the fight.”

Comet Fox circled the town, looking for safety. He then spied the wicked Neboshazzar and remembered the creature from the Battle Upon the Plain of Adoration. And with him was a large bug looking much like their former companion Sarut. Alecto, too, saw these creatures and said, “What are they?”

Comet Fox thought on this and said, “Ketsueki must have them hidden for another attack yet to come. He’s trying to trap our friends by making for them a bed of death.”

It was then Neboshazzar spied Comet Fox and his long tail. The vile creature cried out so all could hear.

In Liu-wal, Ketsueki silently called to Neboshazzar and Sarut. Neboshazzar’s cry had been meant to alert them to some change in the course of the fight and Ketsueki dare not allow his two reserved friends remain hidden any longer. He called to them and they heeded that call.

“We cannot waste time,” said Comet Fox, “We must find for you a place to hide.”

Comet Fox swiftly descended into the town. Everyone paused in their fighting a moment to take notice as the fox-god flew behind the tavern.

Comet Fox immediately saw the tavern was a raised building. He said found a small path underneath and forced Alecto under there. He said, “Stay hidden beneath this building and do not come out until I return for you.”

Tears had begun to appear on Alecto’s face as the weight of the fight came to her. She nodded and crawled beneath the tavern. Her world filled with darkness and four far-off horizons. She looked out towards the front of the tavern where the fight was taking place, but all she could see was a layer of dust and kicked-up dirt. She cried, hated her mother, hated Stavros for having stayed her hand. The Little Empress remained hidden beneath the tavern, weeping.

Fearing the enemy might discover Alecto through his coming, Comet Fox circled around the town first, then came within its borders near the market. He saw first his brother Snow Fox tended to a hare. He ran to Snow Fox’s side and said, “Brother, I’m here to help.”

“Thank the many gods,” answered Snow Fox. He smiled at his brother and his tail flicked with happiness. “We could use your fighting skills. Is Alecto safe?”

“She is, for now. Who is this?” Comet Fox asked about the hare.

Snow Fox said simply, “A friend.”

“He’s injured. He may yet live, however. You need to get him to some place safe. Might I suggest the small space beneath the tavern? But beware, do not allow others to watch you go there. Once there, take care of our friend there.”

“Friend?” asked Snow Fox.

“There is another friend already hiding there,” said Snow Fox, “There’s no time for further explanation.”

Snow Fox nodded. He asked Mabo, “Are you able to walk?”

Mabo blinked, thinking now he might yet live, and said, “I believe so.”

“Go swiftly as you can,” instructed Comet Fox, “and let no one see you.”

Snow Fox and Mabo did just this and when they came beneatht he tavern they found the weeping Alecto there. She jumped at their presence, but upon seeing Snow Fox she smiled and said, “Have you come for me? Is the fight over?”

Snow Fox shook his head, “I fear it may be entering its final, bloodiest hour. But now that Comet Fox is here, we will be made safe. Why are you not with the frog Wu Chan Chu?”

“She was not at the Peony and Comet Fox thought it a waste to try to search for her,” explained Alecto.

“I see,” said Snow Fox.

“Who is this?” Alecto asked about the hare, now busily cleaning himself and yet panting heavy.

The hare looked at them and said, “I am Mabo.”

“He helped me in the fight,” said Snow Fox.

Neboshazzar flew overhead, spying the battle below. He glided low over the center of town and cried out happily as he passed the demon and his master Ketsueki Sato. Ketsuei smiled back in return and said to him, “’Tis a good day for death!”

Neboshazzar called back. He circled the town and descended upon the soldiers fighting Yele Prin Prin and Exploding Sword. The soldiers backed away, one of them saying, “Allow Neboshazzar his fun.”

Neboshazzar flew close and his talons struck at Exploding Sword, causing a large cut across his back. Yele Prin Prin lifted into the air to chase the creature, but thought she would better serve herself and Faryad’s to remain near his side. When Neboshazzar circled and came near again, Faryad the Exploding Sword said, “I’ll grab at the creature and, while I’ve bound it, you strike at its heart.”

Yele Prin Prin said nothing, knowing only her lover would know she understood his plan.

Neboshazzar flicked its talons at them again. Exploding Sword sidestepped the attack and grabbed the creature by the legs, pulling it to the ground, but Yele Prin Prin was behind the creature and could not strike at its heart. She instead clawed at the feathers upon Neboshazzar’s left wing, clipping them and making him incapable of flight whil Balin Pop and Jasmyn eyed the soldiers, watching for them to move in on them. But the soldiers remained resting.

Neboshazzar struggled free of Exploding Sword’s grip, but fell to the ground. He tried to fly, but found his cut feathers incapable of lifting him. He cried out in anger.

Exploding Sword grabbed the creature’s right wing and pulled it wide, exposing it. He then punched at the creature’s wing, at the bone supporting the flesh and feathers, breaking it in three places. He let go the wing and it fell limply by the creature’s side.

Seeing Neoshazzar wounded, the soldiers attacked once more, drawing Yele Prin Prin’s and Exploding Sword’s attention away so that Neboshazzar limped away easily. Once more Yele Prin Prin, Exploding Sword, Balin Pop and Jasmyn found themselves amidst battle.

Then came Sarut to Liu-wal. He neared Ketsueki Sato and the demon commanded, “Burn everything!”

Sarut understood and began spitting his flame at every building, at every merchant’s stand, at every bush and tuft of grass.

Comet Fox wished it and his ulus appeared in his hands. He stepped up behind the fighting soldiers and slipped in weapons into the backs of two of them. They tightened with fear as they felt the wounds opened. Comet Fox placed his head between theirs and said, “Despite being a god of trickery, I am not a god of treachery. Normally, I would not stab someone thusly and without warning, but your allegiance with the demon Ketsueki Sato proves you have no honor, no integrity. So, you must die.”

Comet Fox twisted his blades, slipped them upward and cut the soldiers along the lengths of the spine until their backbones fell exposed. He then removed his ulus and the soldiers collapsed to the dirt road, dead.

“Comet Fox!” Exploding Sword said with some joy.

Yele Prin prin, too, smiled at the fox-god.

The fox-god eyed Balin Pop and Jasmyn, both severely wounded. He said to Balin, “Perhaps you should seek a safer place.”

Balin Pop refused this.

Comet Fox drew nearer his ear and whispered, “Hide beneath the tavern, but make your way about it so as no one sees. There you will find other friends resting and perhaps in need of your help.”

Balin Pop eyed Comet Fox. He nodded with understanding and lead his wife away. They made their way silently and unseen to hide beneath the tavern with the others. Together, those gathered slowly, quietly made their way towards the front on the tavern to peer out from beneath it, to watch the fight. With less people fighting, the kicked-up dust and dirt settled some and they could see better, though not yet clearly. For the most part, however, they were able to make out the events unfolding before them.

Comet Fox lowered his eyes on Ketsueki yet fighting Stavros and Tiger Chaing. “Who is the tiger?” asked Comet Fox.

Exploding Sword looked, then said, “An enemy of Ketsueki, it would appear.”

Comet Fox accepted this and said, “Let us rid the world of this demon.”

He lead Yele Prin Prin and Exploding Sword towards Ketsueki Sato.

**********

Part 5

Elkhorn removed the knives from his neck and shoulder. Desperate and gathering his thoughts, he realized he yet might be able to hold his bow. He returned to find his bow yet lying in the market. He first tore a bit of cloth free from a merchant’s table and wrapped it about his neck to stop the bleeding. He then removed the knife from his bow and raised it, testing his grip and though it was weak, he felt he could yet shoot arrows. He tried this once by shooting into a table at the far end of the market and found his accuracy somewhat off, but he was happy he could still prove his worth to his newfound demonic lord. He made his way to Ketsueki Sato’s side.

“Ketsueki!” cried Comet Fox as he neared. “Remember me? Do you remember the god you once made your drunken pet?”

Ketsueki turned to look. He smiled at Comet Fox as though greeting an old friend. He said, “Welcome, Comet Fox, to Liu-wal. It is certainly nice to see you once again.”

Stavros backed away from fighting the demon’s vines. He came to the side of Comet Fox said, “Your face is a welcomed sight, old friend.”

“What he says is true,” agreed Ketsueki in a mocking way, “your face is a welcomed sight.”

Tiger Chaing also made his way away from the demon. He joined the others by their side.

Sarut busily burned the town all around them.

Elkhown came to Ketsueki’s side.

“Where are your men?” asked Ketsueki.

“All dead,” anwered Elkhorn, “or run off like cowards.”

Ketsueki chuckled at this.

The town burned around them.

Comet Fox eyed this, watched as Sarut belched flame and set a home ablaze. He said to Yele Prin Prin and Exploding Sword, “You should tend to or old friend. The one setting the fires, I believe, is none other than Sarut himself.”

“This is true,” confirmed Ketsueki. “He came to me so very hurt. Whatever did you do to him? He was so angry with the likes of you all.”

Exploding Sword sighed at this. Yele Prin Prin took his hand and said, “Come.” Together they set out towards the oversized Sarut.

Comet Fox, Stavros and Tiger Chiang stood now against Ketsueki and Elkhorn.

“Let’s end this, Ketsueki,” called Comet Fox.

“Yes,” nodded Ketsueki in agreement, “let’s end this before I grow bored of it.”

Comet Fox took to the air and flew as swiftly as he could, his arms extended out with his ulus before him, his long comet-like tail trailing behind him. The ulues cut at the vines grabbing at him as he made it close to the demon, plunging his weapons into the woody chest of Ketsueki and knocking him backwards so that his vines had to reach out in every direction to grab ahold of stones, trees, everything he could to remain standing.

Stavros and Tiger Chiang wasted no moment. They both charged at the demon, Stavros hacking with his sword and Tiger Chiang slashing with his claws, cutting the many vines of Ketsueki Sato.

Comet Fox pulled free his ulus and struck out, but the demon knock away his efforts. Comet Fox floated before him and they exchanged an endless series of blows, of punches and cuts.

Exploding Sword first sent Yele Prin Prin flying, then he came to Sarut’s side. He called the ladybug’s name softly, but the bug did not hear it over his own destructive joy and the crackling fires. Exploding Sword then cried out louder, “Sarut!”

Sarut now heard this and turned to look upon his enemy. The ladybug groaned with happiness and anger. He said, “You’ve come to die, have you?”

“No, friend,” said Exploding Sword, “I’ve come to convince you to stop. Know you that I can explain your anger, though I cannot know your pain. I know why you do this thing now. I know why you take such joy in destruction. I caused that pain and that joy. But this is not the way to console it. This is a path leading only towards further destruction.”

“Shut your mouth and quiet your lies!” Sarut said. “For far too long I have allowed you to live! Now you must die!”

“Sarut, please, I beg of you. Give up this path of destruction,” pleaded Exploding Sword.

“No,” refused Sarut, “it is far too much fun.”

Exploding Sword frowned. He said, “Then I will have to put you down.” He clenched his fists.

Sarut breathed deep.

Exploding Sword looked to the sky.

Yele Prin Prin saw this and came flying down at Sarut, claws out, cutting along the length of his back.

Sarut cried out.

Exploding Sword charged forward. At the final moment he said, “I’m so very sorry for causing your pain.” Exploding Sword’s fists, both of them, came down upon Sarut’s head, causing it to flail around like an empty sack in high winds. Sarut collapsed, his legs weak now, but was not yet dead. With tears in his eyes, Exploding Sword broke off one of Sarut’s own ugly mandible claws and plunged it into the ladybug’s head.

Sarut the Ladybug lie dead amidst the crackling fires of Liu-wal.

Exploding Sword fell to his knees, sobbing heavily.

Yele Prin Prin landed near her love and put her arms around him. Together they fell to the ground, Exploding Sword crying uncontrollably and Yele Prin Prin holding him lovingly.

Ketsueki flung out a vine and it struck Tiger Chiang in the shin, piercing the skin and sinking there, though not deeply. Feeling this, Ketsueki drank. At long last he drank of the blood of a Blessed One and it sent him into such ecstasy that he forgot Comet Fox a moment, smiling, closing his ruby eyes in pleasure. As the few droplets of blood entered him, his teeth grew longer, his smile wider and more wicked, more gnarled.

Tiger Chiang cried out in pain as his blood was stolen from him. He dropped to a knee. He flexed his pawed hands and cut at the vine. He pulled the bit of vine from his leg and stood once more.

The blood letting stopped, Ketsueki opened his eyes once more to see Comet Fox’s hand swing near his face as one of his ulus cut at the demon’s neck. Ketsueki smiled at this, thinking how wicked the fox-god was made to become, made to slit the throat of another and he reveled with joy at this. But more than that, he looked upon Comet Fox as a source of power. More than anything, Ketsueki Sato was overcome by the desire to feed upon Comet Fox and, to this end, he became more focused.

Ketsueki heard the arrow being knocked. He waited for it, planned for it. He heard the small twang of the bow’s string as the arrow was launched into the air by Elkhorn and it found its mark in Comet Fox’s side. Comet Fox floated sideways. He pulled the arrow free, made certain there was no blood and threw the arrow down. Ketsueki, waiting for this moment, attacked. He struck at Comet Fox with a furious blow, sending the fox-god flying backwards and landing before the tavern. His vines then picked up Stavros and Tiger Chiang and flung them together to one side. His path now made clear, Ketsueki moved closer to the fallen fox-god. He raised one long, thick vine overhead.

Comet Fox propped himself off the ground. Seeing the demon drawing near, he floated, ready to fly away in any direction. He grabbed at his ulus lying on the ground. He then tried to fly off, but by then it was too late. The many vines of Ketsueki Sato had grabbed the fox-god first by the tail, then the legs and not by the waist. Comet Fox twisted, trying to claw at the ground to pull himself free. He looked for anything he could grab onto, but found only small faces peering out at him from beneath the tavern, all of them too far to reach. He felt small vine after vine sink into him as the one larger vine wavered high overhead. He looked back at Ketsueki to discover his fate. He turned once more to look upon the gathered, hidden faces. He did not speak, he made no sound. In his final effort, Comet Fox mouthed a single soundless word, “Run.”

Alecto, Balin Pop, Jasmyn, Mabo and his brother Snow Fox looked on in horror as the large vine slipped into Comet Fox’s back, grabbing hold of him therein. They watched as the demon Ketsueki Sato tore him asunder, drinking and bathing in his blood, growing to nearly three times the height of any building in Liu-wal, cackling with delight for having killed a god.

**********

Part 6

Those collected under the tavern were frozen in fear until, at last, Mabo spoke. Said the hare, “We must run as he has said.”

They crawled then stumbled out the back of the tavern. They made their way through the burning town to where Stavros and Tiger Chiang were now picking themselves off the ground, eying the dastardly deed Ketsueki had committed. They called to them and they came to their side.

“Comet Fox said to continue to run,” said Mabo.

Stavros eyed the destruction.

Tiger Chiang did not want to leave the fight.

Yele Prin Prin and Exploding Sword came running nearby and Mabo called to them.

Stavros considered the others. He said, “None of you can further fight. Not this day. Not after what has happened.”

“No!” cried Snow Fox. “We must fight! He murdered my brother!”

“Comet Fox is dead?” asked Yele Prin Prin.

Stavros merely nodded. He then added, “No one here is in any condition to further the fight.”

Tiger Chiang growled lowly at this, but eyed Mabo and knew this to be true. He felt the best thing for Mabo, at least, was to get far from the town and have some time to let matters pass.

Stavros said to Yele Prin Prin, “Come. Take Alecto. Faryad, take Snow Fox. We must run. Let us hope we can get free of this town.”

Exploding Sword picked Snow Fox up, though the small fox struggled against this.

“But Ketsueki will come after us,” said Balin Pop.

“Most likely,” said Stavros. “So we will need to run now.” Stavros lead the group to the edge of the burning town and, as they crested a hill, Balin Pop stopped them. He said, “We are wounded, Ketsueki will only catch up with us if we run now. We must cause a diversion.”

“What would you suggest?” asked Stavros.

Balin Pop sighed. He said, “Let my wife and I do this thing.”

“What thing? What will you do?” demanded Stavros.

“I, as yet, do not know. But of all of us, we are the least capable of fighting and the slowest, especially now that my thigh has been wounded. Allow us to create a diversion.”

“Then what will you do?” asked Stavros.

“We will run once more, perhaps in another direction, perhaps to find you again one day.”

“We can’t waste any more time,” said Yele Prin Prin, now holding a crying Alecto.

Stavros nodded at Balin Pop and said, “May the many gods watch over you.”

“And you,” said Balin Pop. He and his wife watched as Stavros and the others descended the far side of the hill and ran as fast as they could to the west.

“Where do we go?” asked Tiger Chiang of Stavros.

Stavros thought on this a moment and wished he had his drinking gourds with him. He wished he had some liquor to drink so he could get drunk with Comet Fox this night. He fought back tears at this thought and said, “Where was Wu Chan Chu?”

Alecto could not answer for she was in shock and running.

“She was not at the Peony,” Snow Fox said through tears. He wiped his eyes and stopped struggling against Exploding Sword’s grasp.

Stavros considered this and said, “Then our only option is to seek out Balori in Ife.”

On ran the group, on towards the west, on towards Balori in Ife.

Balin Pop and Jasmyn watched them go. When they could no longer be seen, Jasmyn said, “We go to our deaths at this hour, don’t we?”

Balin Pop said, “Perhaps. We ran from our own village. We cannot run from this town. We haven’t any family but one another. If we are to take a stand in the name of Caerraul let it be here, let it be now. We should have done this before, but we have been given a second chance.”

Jasmyn agreed to this. She grabbed up her knife as Balin Pop grabbed up his short sword. They descended the hill leading into the town. They made their way through the fires, seeking out the demon.

Ketsueki and Elkhorn was surveying the damage. Neboshazzar could not be found and Sarut was dead.

Soon Balin Pop and Jasmyn came upon them.

“What’s this?” asked Elkhorn. “Has Alecto’s cowardly followers been sent to fling themselves at our feet?”

“Perhaps they wish to join us,” chuckled the towering Ketsueki. “Is that what you wish?”

Balin Pop shook his head and raised his short sword.

Ketsueki sighed. He flicked a vine near Elkhorn towards Balin Pop. Elkhorn understood and readied an arrow. He shot it, striking Balin Pop in the forehead and killing him instantly.

“No!” cried Jasmyn. She fell to her knees, holding her husband’s dead body.

Ketsueki laughed at this. “So futile are the lives of mortals, yet so precious you make yourselves. You’re not of any value, you stupid whore!”

Jasmyn stood. She picked the short sword from the ground.

Ketsueki laughed at this, too. He said, “Elkhorn, make this one fun for me, won’t you?”

Elkhorn smiled. He shot another arrow, this one at Jasmyn’s remaining hand now holding the sword. His aim was not entirely true, striking her in the arm instead, causing her to drop the sword. He shot another arrow at her, this one into her right foot and pinning her to the ground as he had done with Snow Fox. But as Jasmyn fell to the ground, sitting up, the force of her fall caused the arrow to snap in half.

“You whore!” called Elkhorn. “How dare you break one of my arrows?”

He shot her a third time, this time hitting her right thigh.

Ketsueki continued to laugh at her pain and with every arrow strike.

Elkhorn again shot Jasmyn, this time in the left knee. He shot her a fifth time in the left shoulder. This caused her to fall back in pain. He shot her a sixth time, this time in the stomach, then added two more there.

“Those three are so that you may never birth another whore like yourself!” Elkhorn cried out for his demonic lord’s pleasure.

Ketsueki doubled over with laughter.

Elkhorn shot Jasmyn six more times. He then said to Ketsueki, “My lord, I’ve only one more arrow left.”

Ketsueki ceased his laughter and said, “Then finish her.”

Elkhorn sent his final arrow to pierce the forehead of Jasmyn.

Ketsueki eyed the dead woman a while.

“Shall we keep after them?” asked Elkhorn.

Ketsueki considered this. He said, “Perhaps not. What I desire is Xiao-tep. Now that his dear friend is dead, he will certainly come to face me in battle. I’ve not reason to pursue the others any further.”

“What of the Eternal Empress and her daughter?” asked Elkhhorn.

“To the Many Hells with the Eternal Empress!” cried Ketsueki.

Elkhorn laughed at this. He asked, “Then what shall we do?”

“Do you intend to remain by my side, peon?” asked Ketsueki.

“I had thought I might,” said Elkhorn.

This made the demon smile. He said, “The gods will be most displeased with us. We must gather more to our side. We must therefore raise an army.”

"Agreed, Lord Ketsueki," said Elkhorn.

**********

Part 7

As Ketsueki and Elkhorn left Liu-wal, news spread quickly of the battle within the city and, most of all, of Comet Fox’s death. People the world over heard the news and knew sorrow.

The day Comet Fox was slain by the demon Ketsueki Sato, a new student came into the Temple of the Frosted Moon. A new uniform was needed for this new student and Ada was sent to claim it a day later. When she returned with the new uniform, she also returned with news of Comet Fox’s death. Said she, “There was a great battle in the town of Liu-wal.”

“Who all was involved?” asked White Lotus.

“Many were involved, specifically the demon Ketsueki Sato and Comet Fox.”

“What was the result of this fight?” asked White Lotus.

Ada hesitated. She said, “The town was burned to the ground and… Comet Fox was killed by the demon.”

This shook Zom Loa, for it had been his own hands that had resurrected Ketsueki. He now felt responsible for the death of a god. He remained silent for the next two days. He even missed a day’s meditation as he struggled with his own thoughts and feelins. At last he entered the meditation chamber one day, late to the appointed hour, and took his place kneeling upon a mat. He hesitated, but then said, “Master, I apologize for interrupting everyone’s meditations, but I cannot wait any longer to speak with you.”

White Lotus gazed upon Zom Loa and asked, “What is it you must speak of?”

His fellow students looked to his as Zom Loa said, “I feel I must leave the temple, Master White Lotus.”

“Why is this?” asked White Lotus. “What purpose do you have in leaving your studies behind?”

“I must seek out and destroy the demon Ketsueki,” explained Zom Loa.

“You are not responsible for Comet Fox’s death,” White Lotus’ words shocked Zom Loa, for he had not guessed White Lotus might already understand what he had been thinking. Said White Lotus, “You may have set free Ketsueki Sato once more, but the actions he’s taken since then have been his own and have no reflection upon you.”

Zom Loa considered this and said, “I bow to your wisdom, Master, but I cannot shake this. I must leave.”

White Lotus was silent a moment, then asked, “Butik, what agreement have we each about the leaving the Temple of the Frosted Moon?”

“No one may leave the temple,” said Butik. “And should anyone ever leave the temple, they shall never be welcomed here again.”

“Thank you, Butik. It is an oath we have all give, Zom Loa, including myself. Do you wish to break your oath?”

Zom Loa frowned. He said, “I do not wish to break my oath, but I must.”

White Lotus nodded. He said, “Leave your uniform.”

Zom Loa stood and bowed deeply at everyone. He returned to the sleeping chambers where he removed his temple uniform and placed his old robes back on himself. He worked quickly so as to leave as soon as possible. He gathered his old items. The only new items he took were his three takaras. Lastly, eying the skull of Tarn, he rubbed it before placing it upon his head. He spoke to the skull, “We’ve yet another place to go, old Tarn; another place to be.”

He left his uniform folded on his sleeping mat.

He left the temple. No one noticed him leave as they were all still in the meditation chamber. He closed the massive doors of the temple by himself. He turned to look out upon the world before descending the mountain.

**********

Part 8

Xiao-tep was inspecting the new chamber being built specifically for him when news of Comet Fox’s death came to the Many Heavens. It was Makemake who brought word of the fight with Ketsueki.

“This cannot be,” lamented Xiao-tep. Then anger overwhelmed him and he screamed, “This cannot be!”

At this anger, the skies all over the world crackled with thunder and Ketsueki, traveling, knew the gods were displeased with him. He smiled up at the Many Heavens.

Lei-zi made an attempt to soothe her son, but she could not help. Xiao-tep said, “I must return to Taleisin.” And so he did where he lay in the soft grass and cried for his friend until, the night Comet Fox died, he traveled to the world to visit a village honoring Comet Fox. The fish-god watched as bon fires were built for the fallen god and he joined in the prayers that were held and listened as Comet Fox’s tales were told. Long had everyone known of the god called Comet Fox the Trickster. Yet, for all his guile and wits, he had also been known as a fair-minded god; a caring god that, on occasion, aided the mortals he would befriend. Comet Fox had been, above all else, adored.

Amidst this adoration, amidst the death of Comet Fox, the world wept.

As the many prayers from people all across the world were lifted into the Many Heavens, Añuli the Star Maiden, Protector of All Against the Treacherous, fell in love with Comet Fox as one friend might love another friend. On the following night, when the last of the fires were put out in Liu-wal, Añuli made her way from the nighttime sky and, with Zingtai’s blessings as well as those of the people of Liu-wal, she took what little remains of Comet Fox there were and returned to the sky that evening. Before the night was finished and Etain had peeked over the far horizon, Añuli had properly placed Comet Fox’s remains as jewels amongst the stars and had done so in his shape so that, in the bright and sunny months, he could be seen all over the world.

Also, for generations to come, Añuli commanded the stars to streak across the sky whenever treachery was afoot or, when treachery had been learned of, as an omen of good things to come despite the treachery.

Thus Comet Fox would always be remembered, would always be loved and would forever be placed in a position to watch over the people and the lands he so loved.

**********

This is the final act of "Seven Jade Doors" folks. I'll get back to posting this continuing novel in two weeks, right here on Atomic Swan Serials Blog.

"Seven Jade Doors" -- Act V

2010-04-30T00:01:00.012-04:00

"Seven Jade Doors" is copyright 2010 by Charles Shaver. All rights reserved.

**********

ACT V

THE SCURRYING ANIMALS: Wherein Zom Loa Receives Training at the Temple of the Frosted Moon; Zom Loa is Trained with His New Weapons; Sarut's Anger Leads to a Betrayal; Ketsueki Sato Lays a Trap Within the Town of Liu-wal

**********

Part 1

Zom Loa stayed within the Temple of the Frosted Moon a few days. He watched as the students meditated, practiced their martial skills and as White Lotus acted as orator, speaking of Xiao-tep's tales. He admired the uniforms of the students, their snow white cloth made in the village below with orange and gold lapels and an orange belt. Only Butik wore a bright gold belt and Zom Loa recognized it as an signifier of some higher order above theother students, yet below Master White Lotus.

One day, whilst speaking of the Battle Upon the Plain of Adoration, White Lotus said, "As Fei Li Mi and Xiao-tep fought, the battle below took notice."

Zom Loa had to interrupt. He said, "That is not entirely true. Many took notice, truthfully, but not all. Some were so steeped in the acts of battle they knew only the enemy before them."

"I suppose the one that caused the falling of the stars should know the tale of the Battle Upon the Plain of Adoration best," White Lotus scolded Zom Loa for the interruption. "Come," he said, "tell us what you saw."

Afraid to deny the Master his wishes in his own temple, Zom Loa told of what he saw, what he witnessed, what he did to aid in the Battle Upon the Plain of Adoration. And, as he was sitting in a temple dedicated to Xiao-tep, he made certain to speak of the fish-god often.

"I've a question, if I may ask it," said Butik.

White Lotus nodded to his student.

"Why is it that Xiao-tep then fought. I would assume he fought because it was the proper course of action to take against Yaska Selith. He has also fought and previously defeated the demon Ketsueki Sato. Now Ketsueki reigns with new terrors in the world. Why does Xiao-tep refuse to fight at this hour?"

"As he felt it was the proper course of action previously, he feels it is not the proper course of action now," answered White Lotus. "We must respect his wisdom in this."

"But he's defeated the demon before," argued Butik. "Surely he could once more. And once he has rid the world of Ketsueki again, then he could follow the path of peace."

"We must trust in his wisdom," said White Lotus again.

"But so many die and suffer as we speak!" Butik became angered. "He could end this suffering!"

White Lotus said, "We must trust in his wisdom."

Butik bit his lipless mouth in fury, bringing himself to silence.

"If I may," said Zom Loa, "I might be able to speculate on the matter."

"Speak your mind," allowed White Lotus.

"Xiao-tep is definitely wise. I doubt I could find many that would argue this point. But I've had the opportunity to meet with him, though minimally. He struck me as wise in a way that wisdom comes through compassion. He fought at the Battle Upon the Plain of Adoration to end suffering, this is true. And as a collector of tales, I know he fought Ketsueki Sato once before, but to free himself from the Cottonwood Chamber. But know you Xiao-tep fought at least once before this? He fought and did slay the troll Been Eter.

"If we are to examine his purpose, if we examine the calls he answered to the specific fights, we learn much about Xiao-tep. He fought and killed Been Eter as a matter of survival, this is true. Been Eter came upon him to eat him as Xiao-tep's father had wanted to eat him upon his birth. Therefore, in a sense, Xiao-tep was fighting his father. He was fighting with furious passion and anger and, dare I speculate, with incredible hatred and contempt. And when he struck down the troll, Xiao-tep laid himself in the snow to weep for the loss. This fight was steeped with emotion in every respect.

"Then came his fight with Ketsueki Sato within the Cottonwood Chamber. It could be argued Xiao-tep fought merely to free himself; he was indeed fighting for his freedom and his life. He fought for no other certain purpose. We could argue he fought for the freedom of the imps and his sister Wu Chan Chu and friend Comet Fox, but he did not yet know his sister nor was he yet friends with Comet Fox. They merely happened to be fighting each for their freedom against a common enemy. It could be said, then, Xiao-tep's purpose then was selfish."

At this the students stirred and accused Zom Loa of contempt for their chosen god.

White Lotus raised a hand to quiet his students and when he received silence, he said to Zom Loa, "Carry on with your thoughts, but be careful how you express them."

Zom Loa swallowed hard, nervous, but he continued to speak. "If we then examine the Battle Upon the Plain of Adoration, Xiao-tep was called to action because a great evil had entered the world in the form of Yaska Selith the Demon-dog. This, it could be said, was the first time he fought selflessly. It may be true he wished to know more of Fei Li Mi; it may be true he wanted to help his sister Wu Chan Chu whom he had grown to love and help his friend Comet Fox whom he had grown to respect, but I think the strongest argument lies with his selflessness. He foguth at the Battle Upon the Plain of Adoration because he felt it the right course of action despite the ramifications, good or bad, that would come unto himself.

"Now," said Zom Loa in a low tone, more thoughtful than before, "Now an old enemy rears its head once more. Ketsueki Sato has been brought forth once more. And I am ashamed to confess to you now, but I feel I must confess this sin against the world, that it was I who raised Ketsueki from his grave this time. As I was once foolish and stole the jewel of Zingtai, so now I was foolish and placed the Ruby Bug that brought life to Yaska Selith within the maw of a wooden idol and gave life to the demon once more. Woe be the shame I feel. Woe be the heart that sinks, beating with difficutly, within my breast. I am sorry, Master White Lotus. And as I sit before you I apologize to the world for this."

White Lotus watched Zom Loa come nearly to tears and felt the sorrow of the Immortal. Hoping to distract Zom Loa from himself he said, "Have you reason for Xiao-tep's choices now?"

Zom Loa wiped tears from his eyes and nodded. "That I have. Xiao-tep is a most beautiful god and wish that I could have grown as he has. Now he refuses the fight, I suspect, because, it must be remembered, he is the Ankh-fish of 100,000 Sorrows. I can only suspect he refuses the fight because he has recognized that he cannot persuade sorrow from the world if he cannot first chase it from his own heart. How might a blacksmith make a shoe for a horse if first he cannot know to fire and bend steel? He does not give up the fight against indignity and injustice, nor does he abandon the people that have come to love him. Rather, he fights a battle now none of us can see. He seeks the opposite of sorrow. He seeks the root of love, of healing, of compassion. For if he can find this root within himself, he can return to the world with this root and teach us each to plant it in our own garden. Though he may appear selfish refusing the fight, what he does now is his most selfless act. To fight to save the lives of his loved ones would be the truly selfish course of action for him to take at this moment."

White Lotus and his students considered this. Master White Lotus commanded his student to meditate upon this and then, late in the night, called Zom Loa to his side into privacy in the commissary.

Together White Lotus and Zom Loa sat in the dark, only a small fire made for their warmth.

Said White Lotus, "Zom Loa, you are our guest here. You are welcome here for as long as you need, but I must ask, where will you go from here?"

"Demons haunt me, Master White Lotus," said Zom Loa. "I fear my next destination. If I lie in the wrong bed, I fear they may grip me a final time and drag me to the depths of the Many Hells."

White Lotus said, "You have shown great wisdom and understanding of gods, demons and important tales. Would you accept a permanent place here as a student at the Temple of the Frost Moon?"

"Me? A worshipper of Xiao-tep?" asked Zom Loa, shocked and honored at once.

White Lotus nodded.

"I must confess I've felt safer here than any previous place since my resurrecting Ketsueki," said Zom Loa.

"If you accept," warned White Lotus, "you must give up your garments. You must rid yourself of the grisly skull you wear upon your head. You must take on the uniform of a student. I will have one made to fit your form. And you must give up all matters outside this temple. You cannot fight, much as Xiao-tep now refuses to fight. When one becomes a student at the Temple of the Frosted Moon, it is a dedication for life. You can never leave. And should you leave, you may never return. It is an oath each of us has made in turn, including myself."

Zom Loa considered this. He was uncertain he could make such a dedication for he had never been presented with such an opportunity. He asked, "May I have time to consider this matter?"

"You may," said White Lotus.

That night, while Zom Loa lie on his small mat in the bedchamber with the others students, everyone sleeping but himself, he thought over White Lotus' offer to join the temple. He slept little, but when he arose the next morning, he went straight away to White Lotus and asked to see him.

Zom Loa bowed deeply before White Lotus as he had seen the other students conduct themselves. he said, "I should like to accept your offer, Master White Lotus. I should like to find peace within the Temple of the Frosted Moon. I should like to become your student."

White Lotus smiled and agreed to Zom Loa's acceptance. A message was sent to have a new uniform made for Zom Loa and when it came later that day, Zom Loa packed away all his other articles and donned the new uniform.

And so Zom Loa joined the Temple of the Frosted Moon.

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Part 2

Zom Loa was placed as an aide to Ada in the task of cleaning the commissary. He went to this work at first with great enthusiasm, using his tentacles to benefit himself and speed up the process. The duty of caring for the statues of Xiao-tep within the courtyard was then added to his list of duties. He was not allowed into the hall for White Lotus' orations. He soon tired of the work, his body growing stiff and his mind numb with the repetition. Yet he did not complain. When night came to the mountains he would lie awake, rubbing away the pain from his knuckles. Soon, though, he wondered why White Lotus would disallow his presence during the orations. He grew cantankerous, even argumentative with his fellow students. He rarely spoke to White Lotus as doubts of his own worth plagued him.

At last, whilst having lunch with the other students and White Lotus, the Master of the temple asked of Zom Loa for more curry powder. Zom Loa, irritated by own his thoughts, said wickedly, "Does the Master find himself without feet? Does he no longer have hands? Can he, this sage-child, not fend for himself?"

The commissary grew silent with the accusation. Said White Lotus, "It was a simple request, Zom Loa. If you do not wish to show me respect enough to merely bring forth a pinch of curry powder for my noodles, how then should I expect you to respect me in a class?"

"How can I respect a child that uses me to keep his temple clean?"

Ada leaned in towards Zom Loa and whispered in his ear, "Zom Loa, your words are offensive. Do not think to chastise the Master."

"Rise, Zom Loa," White Lotus commanded.

Zom Loa did this.

White Lotus rose and gripped his hands in the shape of a mantis'.

"What is this?" asked Zom Loa. "You wish to fight me?"

"No," answered White Lotus. "You wish to fight me."

White Lotus leaped across the length of a long table and came crashing down on Zom Loa's head with a quick, hard jab to his forehead.

Zom Loa backed away in horror, grimaced with contempt, then raised his own fists against his master.

The other students scattered to the far walls of the commissary. Butik called for Zom Loa to cease his aggression. Ada called upon White Lotus to have mercy.

Zom Loa moved swiftly, bringing his dark tentacles up under White Lotus to grab at him.

Once more White Lotus leaped at Zom Loa, dodging the grasping tentacles and smashing his palm into Zom Loa's nose, breaking it and causing blood to spurt from his nostrils. His fellow students cried in horror at this.

Shock absorbed Zom Loa and he backed away.

White Lotus leaped a third time, yet now Zom Loa caught his master mid-leap and squeezed at him. White Lotus struck downward with pointed fingers to jab intense pain into Zom Loa's tentacles, causing him to cry out and release White Lotus from his grasp.

Zom Loa stumbled backward into a wall. White Lotus ran at him a final time, making his way between the tangle of black tentacles and jumping at the last possible moment, raising his knee to strike Zom Loa under his chin and knock the Blessed One's head into the wall. Zom Loa's field of vision fell into darkness then erupted with thousands of exploding stars. He fell to the floor of the commissary incapable of fighting any further. He gasped for air, blinking to see. Bllod ran over his new white uniform.

White Lotus knelt near him, bending low to bring his mouth to Zom Loa's ear. He spoke so all could hear. Said Master White Lotus, "I do not condone fighting any more than Xiao-tep, but your experiences are far beyond my own, Zom Loa. With your history of demonic dealings, of battles, of tales both told and lived, how could you respect a child such as I? I knew the moment I thought to invite you to join this temple I would have to command respect from you in ways I otherwise would not allow myself with other students. You needed a demonstration of my skills. I apologize to you, your fellow students and to all that shall ever gather within this temple for spilling blood within these walls. But now that you have been allowed this demonstration of my skills, you may join us for the orations and take in my wisdom."

With this White Lotus took his leave from the commissary. He went into the meditation room and prayed to Xiao-tep to forgive him his transgression, to forgive him his violent act. There he remained until late into the night.

Zom Loa was helped by his fellow students. Though Zom Loa had been the receiver of the brutal beating, all felt the might of White Lotus' skill and they each respected him moreso for his abilities.

Zom Loa cleaned himself up and set his nose. That night, as his fellow students slept, he found himself unable to sleep. He rose from his sleeping mat and went into the meditation room where he found White Lotus meditating before a single candle and three sticks of burning incense. Zom Loa, seeing his master, came to kneel at his side before the candle and incense. He spoke, "Master, I am truly sorry for my selfish ways. But the wrath you delivered unto me was needed. I am humbled in your presence and, in truth, in the presence of the all things. Long did I desire to be immortal. I achieved this. Yet I continue to search for things outside of myself. Perhaps I should be more like Xiao-tep. Perhaps I should look inward for my answers instead of choosing to take offense to real or imagined transgressions. I apologize, Master. Please forgive me."

White Lotus breathed deep. He said, "The path of the teacher is to learn and then teach, then learn again. I suspect we've both learned something this day."

Zom Loa said, "I have, Master. I've learned I only wish to know my place in the course of matters and I should not place value upon sole desire."

White Lotus nodded. "Good. Tomorrow you will begin your lessons."

So began Zom Loa's training with White Lotus. His fighting skills increased. His knowledge and understanding of all matter opened up. White Lotus even began to create a curriculum specific to Zom Loa's form, teaching him to strike out with all his tentacles at once, to entangle as a the vines of a climbing rose might. Zom Loa meditated. He cleaned the commissary and took great care of the statues, often speaking with them as though they were Xiao-tep himself. He them began to carry stones and wood with which to make repairs to the temple and snow in buckets to be melted for water. White Lotus began training his students to ignore pain by having them spar and, on occasion, throwing fiery coals at them to either catch, knock away or be pelted with. Indeed, the Master of the Temple of the Frosted Moon even had his students spar atop a bed of hot coals.

Soon all the students, Zom Loa included, found their bodies changing with the efforts of their lessons. Their backs grew strong, their arms wide with muscles. And as each student progressed, White Lotus chose for them a weapon with which to train. He chose a weapon specific to each student's abilities. For Butik, for instance, White Lotus chose for him a five-clawed bagh-nakh. Combined with Butik's strength and slowness to counterattack, White Lotus felt the five-clawed weapon would do the most damage according to Butik's personal style.

For Zom Loa, White Lotus chose the katara and with it he learned to stab, to slash and to strike down in a killing blow. So in love was Zom Loa with his katara that he took on a job in the village below late at night. He slept little as he worked all day at the temple then worked cleaning a public stable for traveling merchants at night. He saved his money, made a few donations to the temple and eventually was able to commission the village smith to make for him two more of the weapons so that he had three in all. He did not fight with the kataras in his hands. Rather, he left his hands free and wielded the three blades with his tentacles.

White Lotus looked upon Zom Loa and, though he worried over his student's love of the weapons as a possible sign for a lust for fighting, he was proud.

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Part 3

Ketsueki Sato, Elkhorn and the Eternal Empress' soldiers came to rest outside the city Liu-wal, a grand port city specializing in fishing and shipping. It overlooked the southern oceans and bristled with life at all hours except in the earliest morning when ghosts and uglies are said to roam the land. The soldiers set up camp and prepared an evening meal of rice and the meat of a pig they had previously stolen from a farmer. They threw raw pork to Neboshazzar and offered the same to Ketsueki Sato. As they ate, Elkhorn broke the silence of the night by asking, "Ketsueki Sato - your fury is unmatched. Why is it then you do not return to the Many Hells but instead remain here in the realm of mortals?"

Ketsueki scowled at this as he ate the pork, his portion raw and unprepared in any way. He said, "You know the reason by now more than any."

"I do, but I cannot understand it. You aide the Eternal Empress in her quest, which may be beneficial to your own desires. But as a demon you need not do this. Why, then, do you carry on with us at your side?"

Ketsueki Sato put aside his raw pork and said, "I do not appreciate your questions, Elkhorn. You are a foul, useless man like so many others. But I will entertain your question as a matter of my own grace. And," he added, seeing a wonderment and awe in Elkhorn's eyes for him, "your knowing may be beneficial to me.

"I have returned to this world with the intention of destroying the fish-god Xiao-tep and, if I feel the need, his friends. But that end will come soon enough, perhaps too soon, and then I will no longer have purpose in this or any other world. Think you that I might be allowed to return to the Many Hells? Not after my disgraceful defeat within the Cottonwood Chamber, not after I foretold of my desires to usurp the Yama Kings. I would not be allowed even to stand at the entrance to the Many Hells. Therefore, once my task is complete and Xiao-tep is dead, I will have no place to go. But if I make a friend in the Eternal Empress, then one day perhaps I can rule here where the mortals are weak and the pains they feel are deep. I would never die of hunger of torment whilst living with and ruling over mortals."

"Then you position yourself to take power here," Elkhorn wondered.

"I do," answered the demon Ketsueki. "And when I do, I shall need a general for my armies. I must admit, I've thought of you for that position. Your ways are both wicked and effective. You would do well at my side."

Elkhorn felt greed and love for the demon grow within his heart. He felt within himself a shift of loyalty to the now distant Eternal Empress Sulia Laree and the far nearer and more gruesome demon Ketsueki Sato. "I would follow you," said Elkhorn to Ketsueki Sato.

Ketsueki nodded his pleasure at this. He picked up his raw meat once more and suckled at the remaining droplets of blood there. He said, "Until the hour of our reign comes nigh, Elkhorn, we shall have some fun. We shall hunt gods and the Empress' daughter and leave a wake of destruction and pain wherever our forms flow over the land."

After their meal, a caravan of merchants came upon their campsite. The merchants had heard of the demon Ketsueki and his band of villains, but dared press on to Liu-wal despite the rumors. When they came upon the campsite of wickedness, they were set upon by the demon and his followers. The merchants were slain and the blood offered to Ketsueki Sato who drank deeply. Their goods were plundered and their carts smashed for firewood. But this was not to be the final visit upon the evil encampment. At the next day's dawning same a second visitor.

With incredible anger, with a hatred so foul it left bitterness within his mouth, Sarut the Ladybug flew aimlessly away from his former companions. He wished he was larger so that he could have, in the past, fought Faryad the Exploding Sword when he killed Sarut's family. He wished he was far larger so that he may do grave acts of destruction upon the world. Tiring, he stopped a moment upon a branch of a wild cherry tree and there allowed his anger to force him to tear apart a leaf.

Thought Sarut, "If only I could harm Exploding Sword and his friends. If only I could kill his lovely Yele Prin Prin, I could cause him the anguish I have felt as a result of his terrible fists." Sarut thought on this, thought of ways he could cause damage unto the world. He said to himself, "Perhaps I could make a friend in one willing to cause such destruction."

And then a vile idea did come into his mind. He thought on his former companions' destinations and desires. He turned south, took off from the tree and flew as swiftly as he could.

He came to Ketsueki's encampment as they were readying to leave for the city of Liu-wal. He spied the wooden demon from afar at first, afraid of his horrible form. But his hatred overpowered his fear and soon he lighted upon one of Ketsueki's long tentacle0like vines. The demon swatted him away, missing Sarut entirely. Sarut called out, "Demon! I have come for you! I have brought to you news of a shared enemy."

This small voice intrigued Ketsueki Sato. He raised a vine before his face and said, "Come to me, little one."

Sarut once more landed upon the demon's vine and looked upon him. He shook with fear and hatred. He said, "Know you that at this hour the warriors Stavros and Exploding Sword and Yele Prin Prin seek you out? They come for the city of Liu-wal where they plan to lay in waiting before they spring a trap upon you, your destruction on their minds."

Ketsueki squinted at the small bug. He felt a kinship with the tiny creature and said, "Who are you? What are you called?"

"I am Sarut and once I was friend to Faryad the Exploding Sword. The warriors come for you as we speak!"

Elkhorn said, "What he speaks may be lies."

"I speak no lies!" argued Sarut. "As I have said, once I was friends with Exploding Sword, but our friendship was folly for he was the murderer of my family. I come to you to tell you of their plans so that I may bear witness to their destruction!

"And what of the trickster, Comet Fox? Would you call him a friend, also? If so, perhaps you are here as part of his treachery and guile!" Elkorn accused as he drew nearer.

"I care nothing for the fox-god!" yelled Sarut as loudly as he could. "Besides, he flies north to the Peony Teahouse to find some other friend. He has taken with him the Eternal Empress' daughter."

"The gods be damned!" cursed the demon upon hearing this.

"I must admit," said Elkhorn, "he knows too much to not be in some way connected with our current ventures."

Ketsueki said to Elkhorn, "If what he speaks be true, then it is not a matter to us. We want the girl and the fox-god only. What care should we have for these others?"

Ketsueki said, "True, these others are not our desired fight, but it is a fight just the same. We must revel in their destruction for it shall cause Comet Fox and Xiao-tep all the more agony. We will fight these audacious warriors."

"Then we must first lay our own trap within Liu-wal before these others arrive," suggested Elkhorn. "We've little time. yet, how shall we do this thing?"

Ketsueki considered the wreckage of the merchant caravan and said, "You will dispose of your trappings as soldiers and men of the Eternal Empress. You will don the clothing of the dead merchants and enter the city in their stead, making no more noise than one innocently passing through the town."

Elkhorn found wisdom in this and said, "You are quite wise, my new Lord and Master Ketsueki Sato."

To hear such esteem from Elkhorn pleased Ketsueki and he smiled as he had not smiled in half his lifetime.

"But," added Elkhorn, "what of you, Master? How would you gain entrance into the town? You will be recognized immediately as a demon."

Ketsueki once more thought. He then said, "I will come into the town swathed in the robes and rags of the ill. I shall pose as a leper so that none shall wish to touch or draw near me. If asked why I am in Liu-wal, I shall say I seek an alchemist. And should no alchemist be present within Liu-wal, I shall say I am passing through in search of one."

Both Sarut and Elkhorn smiled wickedly at this plan.

Ketsueki Sato looked upon Sarut and smiled. He said, "Sarut the Ladybug, what a beautifully small creature you are. Yet your true beauty comes from within. I can feel the ill-will within you. I hunger for it yet feel a kinship with it. I could not allow such anger to remain in such beauty. That is the place of the Eternal Empress. If you speak lies to me, it matters not, for I've a remedy for such a thing." At this Ketsueki twisted a bit of another of his vines and bit it. From the vine came forth the tiniest droplet of blood. He presented this to Sarut and said, "Drink, little one. Drink of a demon's blood and discover the power within. Learn why we demons rule all the Many Hells and increase your love for pain. Become anew. be born anew. And with this drop of blood, you shall be made horrible and mighty."

Sarut did this thing. He approached and drank of the blood until the entire droplet was gone. He soon cringed in pain and fell from Ketsueki's vine as he grew. He grew and grew to incredible size until his back arched over the head of Elkhorn. His face distorted and broke free with two wicked mandible claws capable of severing limbs from mortals, Gods and Blessed Ones alike. He was made immortal himself, a creature of demonic origins and powers. And he found that when he belched, he spewed forth a stream of flames like liquid fire. He felt the demon's blood flowing within himself and knew at once he was bound to Ketsueki's demands, but cared not. He growled in his new voice, "Thank you, Master Ketsueki! I shall be able to destroy all who oppose me!"

"He could not possibly join us in Liu-wal," said Elkhorn. "And neither could Neboshazzar."

"No, they cannot," agreed Ketsueki. "But they both feel the pull of my command. Sarut and Neboshazzar, you two shall wait here in hiding amidst the woods and behind the hills, far from this merchant's path. When the hour comes for our battle with Comet Fox's friends, I shall urge you to my side and you shall feel my command within your hearts. Come then and destroy all who stand against us."

Sarut and Neboshazzar both nodded and happily made their way into the nearby woods to hide.

Before they set out, Ketsueki said this to the men, "When the fight begins, kill all who draw near. Show no mercy. Let not a single limb remain attached to our enemies. Do not pull your weapons from out their breast until their breathing has stopped completely. Kill everyone and everything and continue to kill until I command you to stop." This was agreed upon by all.

The soldiers dressed as merchants, stripping themselves of any large weapons and keeping on them only easily hidden daggers. Ketsueki wrapped himself in rags and two robes until he looked like a proper beggar and leper.

The soldiers were allowed first to enter Liu-wal. Some time later came Elkhorn on his own. Lastly came Ketsueki Sato and, upon seeing him, the people in the town avoided him, refusing eye contact and did not see his true form or identity.

The soldiers dressed as merchants went carousing within the nearest tavern, but remained near the door to keep a watchful eye upon the town.

Elkhorn entered the market to browse the goods there and sell a few things he had stolen from the merchants they had killed.

Ketsueki Sato sat in the center of town, near the road, a bowl he had taken from the merchants set before him in askance of alms.

The trap was set. Only the scurrying animals need now come by.

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The sixth and final act is nigh! Come back next week for Act VI of "Seven Jade Doors"!

"Seven Jade Doors" -- Act IV

2010-04-23T00:06:00.003-04:00

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"Seven Jade Doors" is copyright 2010 by Charles Shaver. All rights reserved.

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ACT IV

THE TEMPLE OF THE FROSTED MOON: Wherein the Temple of the Frosted Moon is Founded; Xiao-tep Visits the Heavenly Court of the Seven Jade Doors; Lei-zi Offers Up Her Life for That of Her Son's; Zom Loa is Haunted by Demons

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Part 1

Xiao-tep descended slowly from the realm of Taleisin, the clouds caressing his form, the glow of his ankh brightening their whiteness to a golden sheen. Floated he through the clouds and mists of the world. A small cloud came to him playfully, swiping at his tail and giggling at his. Xiao-tep smiled and put out a fin, cupping up the cloud before it wriggled away and escaped. Xiao-tep smiled as his form pierced the bottom of the clouds and caw below him the purple-gray mountains, his eyes searching, seeking for the temple built in his honor. When he had found it, he bent over and flew to it.

Xiao-tep came to the temple as a light snow fell and the winds puffed softly. He saw no one in the courtyard, nor did he see any activity. He decided to come to the wide, large doors and there knock. White Lotus answered his call and opened the doors for him. Entered Xiao-tep into his first temple.

"Welcome, Xiao-tep," said White Lotus as the fish-god floated gracefully in. "It is an honor to have your presence here. I am White Lotus, founder of this, the First Temple of Xiao-tep."

Xiao-tep bowed low and at the waist in a diligent sign of respect.

White Lotus mimicked this gesture, making note in his mind to forever adapt the habit.

"The honor is mine," spoke Xiao-tep as flakes of snow grabbed at his scales and tumbled away with glee.

Stood Xiao-tep and White Lotus within the courtyard as snow fell, the mortal studying the god as the god studied the mortal. Together they smiled.

"Would you have some tea?" asked White Lotus.

"I would love some," answered Xiao-tep.

White Lotus lead Xiao-tep into the commissary where he introduced Butik to Xiao-tep and asked him to retrieve for them some hot tea to warm themselves. As Butik did so, White Lotus stoked the flames of a fire in a kiln. The mortal and god then sat upon great crimson pillows lined with gold filagree and piping. Butik returned with the tea, then left to return to his quarters to allow the fish-god and the temple's founder to speak in privacy.

Xiao-tep sipped at his tea and said, "It is a green tea, a fine one at that. But do I taste a subtle hint of mint and something else?"

"You are correct about the mint," answered White Lotus. "The other ingredient is the smallest pinch of cinnamon. I hope you find it to your liking?"

"I well enjoy it," said Xiao-tep.

"Would you like a tour of the temple?" asked White Lotus.

"I would love one, but I must admit I've a few questions for you about its founding. In addition, I assume you are perhaps in need of my help?"

"In a way," said White Lotus. "I should like you to give our meager temple your blessings. It would not do to have a temple dedicated to a god only to lack the god's sponsorship - or worse, to have the god ignore its existence entirely."

"I suppose there is sense in that," said Xiao-tep. He quaffed another swallow of tea and enjoyed it. "But may I first ask something of you, White Lotus?"

"You may ask anything of me, Xiao-tep."

"The gods are multitudinous and many and each serves a particular purpose for particular people, often at particular times. Why have you come to found a temple in my honor?"

White Lotus thought on this. He said, "Because your purpose has come nigh."

"But what might that purpose be exactly? To you? To anyone? Why have you put forth so much effort in my regard?" Xiao-tep questioned.

White Lotus contemplated Xiao-tep's questions, then said, "You bring hope to others. Wish that I could expound upon it moreso, but that is the best I can offer. Please forgive me, Xiao-tep. I fear while my deeds are great for one young as myself, my intellect at times is yet that of a child. My limitations appear to bind any further answers to your questions."

Xiao-tep sat back on his pillow and thought this over. At last he soothed White Lotus with these words, "It is perhaps not a limitation of your mind, White Lotus, nor of your age. Rather, it may be a limitation upon us all to not have answers to every question. I, for instance, cannot tell you the dealings or meanings, the destinations or the ideas driving the Misty Hands of the Cosmos. I, a god as I sit here before you, knows not everything."

White Lotus saw the wisdom in Xiao-tep's words and nodded.

"Tell me, then, White Lotus, why it is you have taken a particular interest in me. Give me your own tale."

White Lotus told his short life's story to Xiao-tep as the fish-god enjoyed his tea and poured more for the both of them.

"That is amazing," White Lotus said of this.

"What is so amazing?" asked Xiao-tep.

"You poured the tea for me. I should've done this for you. Yet you did so without complaint."

"The pouring and drinking of tea should be for enjoyment, not for status nor servitude. It is my happiness to pour more tea for you, almost as much as it is my happiness to drink this delicious tea."

At this, White Lotus could not help himself but to laugh. Xiao-tep joined him in the laughter and the two felt, for the first time, a small bond growing there between them.

At last, their laughter subsided, White Lotus said, "I've yet much to learn."

"As long as you keep learning," answered Xiao-tep. "Growth and learning is the key to all things."

This struck White Lotus and he said, "Then I truly serve a purpose here as the teacher of the temple?"

Xiao-tep sipped his tea and nodded. "That you do. To teach and learn, to learn and teach. It is the very cycle plants find themselves in every year. Old plants wither and die but fertilize the soil. New life sprouts the next Spring, stronger and better armed."

"Hmmm," said White Lotus. "It would seem I've brought you hear for a blessing and you've already blessed me by finding my purpose for me."

"Could you return the favor? Tell me why you wish to dedicate this temple to me?" asked Xiao-tep.

White Lotus adjusted himself upon his pillow and spoke in a most serious tone. "My family shared in some misery, Xiao-tep. When that misery was most volatile, most present, your tales attracted me so very much. It would seem at times you were born for sorrow, as you are the Ankh-fish of 100,000 Sorrows. Your father hated you before knowing you; Loki's treachery; the Spear of Sorrow's thirst for death's despair; the willow branch; Ketsueki's desire to misuse you and, when refuse, his attempt to kill you; your bravery in the Battle Upon the Plain of Adoration where my family holds annual vigils to this day; and now the death of Fei Li Mi and your casting of the Spear of Sorrows and the Willow. We mortals have heard this all and some of us can only come to the conclusion you've cast aside these things, cast aside sorrow and despair, because you've found another way. We cannot say this be true, but it gives us hope where hope otherwise does not lie. Hope against pain and grief and anger. Hope against the 100,000 Sorrows. Hope for Beauty."

Xiao-tep felt the weight of White Lotus' words. He felt the weight of those that looked to him and became afraid. He wanted to reject the temple at this moment. Said Xiao-tep, "But, I haven't any answers to these things. I do not know that I have another way. I haven't any magical wisdom against the realities of pain. I'm trying to find something, anything, but the whole world or whoever turns to me to find answers will find I have none. Not yet, anyways. Not yet. And perhaps never."

White Lotus gazed upon his god and said, "That rests well with many. We do not expect you to know everything or answer every prayer. We simply want our prayers heard, not always to be answered. Most of all, you learn as we all must learn and relearn. And as you learn we all grow stronger and better armed."

So the teacher taught his teacher.

Xiao-tep's fear subsided some. He drank down the last of his tea and asked, "May I have that tour now?"

White Lotus took Xiao-tep around the temple and pointed out its various aspects. When Xiao-tep passed by the two statues of koi that were meant to represent him, he patted one on the head and, smiling, said, "These are cute."

The tour complete, Butik joined them in the courtyard. Snow continued to fall slowly, silently, as though going about its own task without regard to anyone or anything else as snow often does. The air had grown colder. The three stood watching the beauty of the nature in its course.

"Will you, too, reject the life of fighting?" asked Xiao-tep.

"Of that I am uncertain," stated White Lotus. "I have fought only once and it ended in an enemy's life." He avoided Butik's eye, though Butik did not gaze upon him upon hearing this.

"It is difficult now for me to brand anyone my enemy," said Xiao-tep. "And the path of peace is beleaguered by another kind of conflict. Know you my friend Comet Fox now needs the help of others to save a life? But should I aid him, I may have to fight. And should I fight, I may have to take a life. No, it is not an easy path, White Lotus. It is one of severe internal conflict. It is as though the demons of the Many Hells have taken residence within me."

White Lotus listened and feared a life without fighting. He asked, "And if, through inaction, evil reigns? And if, through inaction, this life Comet Fox is attempting to save dies? And if, through inaction, sorrow is caused?"

Xiao-tep sighed. "That is a thought that remains with me throughout meditations, throughout both night and day. I cannot halt the ill will of all, I can only cease my own. And to kill again is one action I cannot do."

White Lotus looked upon the fish-god and saw in him both a sage and a small creature, a lord and a slave - this caused feelings of further kinship within White Lotus for Xiao-tep.

Xiao-tep moved the conversation elsewhere. "Tell me," he said, "What would you call this temple?"

"The First Temple of Xiao-tep, of course," answered White Lotus.

Xiao-tep thought on this, then shook his head. "I do not care for that. The 'first' is too hopeful, perhaps even a little pretentious. And though I appreciate the temple's dedication to me, I'm uncertain I care to have my name used."

"Are you saying you do not wish us to use your name? Do you not give us your blessings?" asked White Lotus, fearful that all his work on teh temple was for naught.

"I plan to bless this temple," explained Xiao-tep, "but I think a different name would better suit the place. Why not, if you're to name it after anyone, name it after its founder?"

"The Temple of White Lotus," Butik tried the name. "It's a pretty name."

White Lotus shook his head. "Whatever wisdom is planted and grows here shall remain long after I'm gone. And what should happen when I pass on? If someone were to take over the temple they would have the troubles of renaming it for I will no longer be here. No, my name will never do. This temple should not be about me, but rather the teachings within these walls."

The three remained in silent contemplation for a while. Xiao-tep watched the snow, eyed the mountains outside the wall, watched the moon oncoming. he said, "Why not name it for its place? The moon, the mountain, the stones used to build the temple were all here before the temple. Why not honor them in the naming?"

White Lotus liked this thought. He rolled over many names in his mind. At last he said, "The Temple of the Frosted Moon. How does that sound?"

"It certainly is frosty here," Butik agreed.

"I'm certain the moon and the winds would be happy," said Xiao-tep.

"The Temple of the Frosted Moon it is, then," said White Lotus.

At this Xiao-tep said, "I do hereby bless this ground, this mountain, the Four Winds, the falling snows and the Temple of the Frosted Moon. May wisdom and well-being be cultivated here."

White Lotus bowed low and at the waist. Butik mimicked him. Said White Lotus, "Thank you, Xiao-tep."

"Thank you for the honor, White Lotus. Teach well."

Xiao-tep lifted into the air.

White Lotus called, "You'll forever be welcomed here!"

Xiao-tep smiled and waved before his form entered the clouds overhead.

Within the days to follow, upon hearing of Xiao-tep's blessing the temple, more students came counting five in all, including one woman.

"It is a beginning," White Lotus said to Butik. "I shall name you Butik the Stoker. It shall be your job, seeing as you are affected most by the cold, to remain inside and tend to the fires in the different buildings - within the sleeping quarters at night, the commissary and classes at day. These duties are necessary as you'll be watching over the well-being of your fellow students. Take to it with seriousness. These duties will also be in addition to your own studies."

Butik bowed low and said, "Thank you, Master White Lotus."

**********

Part 2

"What say you? How is it that Xiao-tep's not coming?" Freyr raged at Lie-zi.

"There's no reason to yell at the goddess," said Odr.

"Quiet!" demanded Freyr.

The three gods stood outside the Courtyard of Seven Jade Doors. Clouds roiled about them and flowers eternally bloomed.

Said Lei-zi, "He was called by a follower to his side. He went to aid the mortal and said he would be here as quickly as possible, should he yet be allowed within the courtyard for your council."

"Damn that Xiao-tep!" Freyr cursed.

"Do not damn another god," warned Odr. "Do not foul the Many Heavens with arbitrary bannings and hatred."

"Silence yourself," said Freyr to Odr, "or you'll next be damned."

Odr fell silent.

Hapi, who had been eavesdropping nearby, drew nearer. He said, "The fish-god, my bastard son, refused you, Freyr. He must be punished for this. Not in all the course of time, not since all thing were first created by the Misty Hands of the Cosmos, never has the council of the Many Gods within the Heavenly Court of the Seven Jade Doors been refused - nor must it be tolerated. Seek out Xiao-tep, send forth servants and vassals, assassins and swords of Heavenly Doom to punish my son. My permission, not that it would be needed, is granted for this venture."

Freyr looked upon Hapi's wicked smile. He then asked Odr, "What shall we do? Never has this happened, as Hapi has said. No mortal sage nor fellow god has refused the Heavenly Court of the Seven Jade Doors."

Odr, ever the meter of Heavenly Dealings, considered all he had heard. He said, "We must first discover Xiao-tep's purpose. We must ask of ourselves, 'Why has this god chosen to be the first to have refused the council of the Heavenly Courtyard?' And his reasoning, so says his mother, whom we may assume is an authority - authoritative enough the rest of us had sent her on the mission to retrieve Xiao-tep - states Xiao-tep has gone to the side of a mortal. We do not yet know the condition of this mortal, but it tells us the story of Xiao-tep's state. He is one dedicated to mortals and to followers. It shows a kindness that must be considered. We should not be too harsh toward him in light of this. Kindness is a respectable virtue, after all."

"My son did not say he would not come," added Lei-zi, "merely that he would first attend to the mortal's needs before coming to the Heavenly Court of Seven Jade Doors."

Freyr listened and, though contempt for Xiao-tep still lingered, understood the wisdom of Odr. He said, "We will remain waiting. Our invitation to Xiao-tep stands open. When he comes nigh, we will meet with him."

This angered Hapi. He said, "Xiao-tep must be punished!"

Freyr nodded agreement. "And he will be. His impudence will be weighed when he stands before us all in full measure."

Freyr departed the Many Heavens to tend to the needs of his people, leaving Odr, Lei-zi and Hapi together.

Said Lei-zi to Hapi, "Once was a time you would lie with me in expressions of love. Why must you only show hatred now? Why can you not also love your son?"

Hapi grimaced. He huffed, jiggling his great rotund belly with disgust. He said, "Because my wishes have been disobeyed and the laws of the Many Heavens rolled through so much muck."

At this, Hapi also took his leave for the lands of his people, leaving Lei-zi and Odr.

"Xiao-tep sounds a virtuous god," soothed Odr.

Lei-zi smiled sweetly, "Pride swells within for him."

"I will do what I can to assure his weight is measured fairly," said Odr.

Lei-zi at first gave no response, then said, "I wish him only to be what he must be and be judged as such. But I know the council of the Many Gods is not always fair. If my son is to die without true measure first being applied, I am prepared to take my own life as an act of rebellion against the entirety of the Many Heavens."

"That would not do," gasped Odr.

"Nor would the unfair demise of Xiao-tep," answered Lei-zi.

Xiao-tep returned briefly to Taleisin. There he found the millions of butterflies taking refuge and spoke with them assuring their safety. He then visited with Aglina, asking of her well-being. He stayed long enough on Taleisin only to wave and say his hellos to Etain, Kalavata and Zing-tai. As Etain crested the far horizon to bring forth a new dawn, Xiao-tep took his leave.

He ascended slowly from the realm of Taleisin, the clouds spiraling away below him, the glow of his ankh growing dim against the brightness of the Many Heavens. As he broke the mists to come to rest within the realm of the Many Gods, he was greeted by gasps, a few cries and many whispers. He nodded and bowed respectfully to everyone.

Lei-zi was near enough to witness her son's ascension into the Many HEavens and she came to him, Odr following closely.

"Hello, mother," smiled Xiao-tep.

"Hello, son. How was your meeting with the mortal?"

"He has established a temple in my honor. I gave him my full blessings."

Lei-zi was happy to hear this and said so. She then introduced Xiao-tep and Odr to one another.

"It is fine to meet you," Xiao-tep bowed.

Odr looked upon the fish god with gaped mouth. Said he in honest confession, "Never have I seen a more beautiful god."

"That is most kind of you to say," said Xiao-tep, embarrassed.

Word was quickly sent that Xiao-tep was within the Many Heavens and ready to meet with the Many Gods. Freyr came quickly, greeting Xiao-tep outside the Heavenly Court of Seven Jade Doors.

"We've heard much of you," said Freyr rather noncommittally.

"It is an honor to be here," answered Xiao-tep.

The Many Gods first entered the Heavenly Court, leaving Xiao-tep, Lei-zi and Odr outside as Freyr made a speech to prepare the gods for their business of judging Xiao-tep. Then Freyr returned and said, "Follow me inside, if you can pass through the mist, Xiao-tep."

"Is my father here?" Xiao-tep wondered.

Freyr frowned. "I've not yet seen him. He has a tendency to be late at such gatherings. Now, no more questions. You are to be questioned, not to ask questions. Follow me."

Xiao-tep entered the clouds surrounding the mystic Heavenly Courtyard, following Freyr, with his mother at his side and Odr directly behind him. Xiao-tep could see nothing but the clouds. It was as if the Many Heavens fell away beneath him and he was once more descending through the clouds to meet with White Lotus at the Temple of the Frosted Moon. But Xiao-tep carried on his untoward journey through the clouds and soon came to a large door made of green jade. Freyr stood by the door, waiting. He frowned a little as he saw Xiao-tep break through the clouds, then opened the door and lead them in to the courtyard.

Xiao-tep was taking aback by the number of gods and goddesses present in the courtyard. Gods both old and new, beautiful and ugly; gods with few followers and gods with a network of temples - it seemed to Xiao-tep every god and goddess in to have ever or would ever exist had filled the outside rim of the courtyard, surrounding its center in a circled crowd.

"Xiao-tep," said Freyr, "stand in the center of the courtyard."

Xiao-tep did so.

Lei-zi and Odr found a place to stand near the door they had come through.

Freyr came before Xiao-tep. He looked upon the gathered gods and said, "We've come together to meet with this god, to find his full weight and measure." He looked at Stork the Keeper of Records and said, "Make record of this hour for we determine the fate of the god called Xiao-tep."

Stork nodded and produced a new slab of slate to record the memory of Xiao-tep's tale.

"At this hour, we will put to Xiao-tep our questions. He will answer them each in turn and, should he refuse, his corpse shall be dragged from this courtyard. If he complies and, should we deem him unworthy of the Many Heavens, we will reserve the right to drag his corpse from this courtyard."

While this came as a surprise to Xiao-tep, he gave no reaction. Said he to himself, "It is their way."

"Should we judge Xiao-tep and find him fit to live, yet unworthy to maintain visitations to the Many Heavens," continued Freyr, "he shall be banished from here for all time much in the same fashion we have banished Loki and the few others."

The Many Gods viciously whispered as Freyr spoke.

"And what if we judge him worthy in all ways?" asked Odr.

Freyr scowled at Odr and said, "Then we will decide his fate at that time." He then turned to Xiao-tep and asked, "Do you understand these things?"

Xiao-tep nodded.

"And you would answer our questions openly and without refute? Lest you be mercilessly put down here within the courtyard?"

Xiao-tep nodded once more.

"Then let us begin."

The Many Gods rumbled in agreement.

"How came you to be?" asked Freyr.

"I was born of the love between Lei-zi, Goddess of Thunder and Lightning, and of Hapi, God of the River Nile."

"You say love. Do these two truly love one another?" asked Freyr.

Xiao-tep looked to his mother. He said, "I believe my mother once loved my father, and perhaps he in turn loved her. Now, however, due to my father's hatred of his son, he appears to have cast her aside."

"Hapi has many children, as have we all. This son you speak of, the son that Hapi so hates, would that son be you?"

Xiao-tep nodded, saying, "Of course."

Then Hapi entered the Heavenly Court of Seven Jade Doors. he did so with effort to conceal his arrival, but failed. Whispers breeze over the lips of the gods gathered. Seeing he was found out, Hapi moved towards the center's edge and sat next to sit beside Sedna upon a marble bench.

Freyr allowed this moment, then returned to his questioning of Xiao-tep. He asked next, "Why would a god, capable of any small thing, hate his son?"

"It is because he feared reciprocity against him for having fathered a new god," explained Xiao-tep.

"Is that true?" Freyr asked Hapi.

Hapi shifted his weight uncomfortably and said, "It is, to a degree. But if you would allow me to explain-"

"I'll not allow it," said Freyr. "Not out of any contempt for you, Hapi, but because this hour is not for your judgment. Rather, it is for the judgment of your son."

Hapi nodded, relieved to hear this.

"Xiao-tep," said Freyr. "Did your father take any actions against your birth?"

Xiao-tep nodded. "he demanded of my mother to bring me to him upon my birth. He intended to eat me alive."

"Hapi, then, is absolved of all accusations of wrongdoings. Yet, here we are, Xiao-tep, you and I. Now we stand together within the Heavenly Courtyard. How is this when Hapi had meant to eat you?"

"We've gone over this!" decried Qailertetang.

"We have," said Freyr, "but in the interest of fairness, Xiao-tep should be allowed to tell the story himself. Please answer the question, Xiao-tep."

"My mother asked of a fisherman to bring to her a large fish. She placed this fish in my stead. Hapi thought he had eaten his son. He had not and I was allowed to grow and live in secrecy until Hapi discovered the truth. he hunted me at first. Since our initial meeting, my father and I have had no further contact."

"Should what you tell us be true," Freyr circled Xiao-tep, then came to stand before Lei-si standing with Odr, "then your mother is the true villain here. Perhaps we should quarter her for her treachery and lies!"

"She was protecting her son!" cried Xiao-tep in defense.

Freyr turned on Xiao-tep. "You deign to yell at another god within the Heavenly Courtyard?"

"Forgive me my trespass," said Xiao-tep, "but a mother can never be judged immoral in her quest to provide life to her children."

Freyr laughed at this. "How very noble and generous of you. But should a mother sell herself to feed her child she is no less of a whore."

Xiao-tep gave no reply. He was merely content he had turned Freyr's anger away from his mother.

Freyr looked to the crowded gods and asked, "Has anyone any questions for this fish-god?"

Mictlantecuhtli raised a hand and Freyr recognized him. Asked Mictlantecuhtli, "Tell me, what damages have you caused in the world, Xiao-tep?"

Xiao-tep answered without delay, "I have taken quite a few lives, starting with troll Been Eter and ending with the Blessed One Fei Li Mi."

"And what have you done to heal the world?" asked Makemake.

"I can only hope my fighting has lead to the saving of some lives while admittedly ending others. I have also recently cast of the trappings of the fighting life, destroyed my Spear of Sorrows and refuse any path by a peaceful one," said Xiao-tep.

"You have killed, yet you preach not to kill? Are you a treacherous god?" asked Ulanji. "How are we to know he's not a Trickster god?"

"We would catch him committing his treachery," said Freyr, "as we did with Loki."

"We did not discover the truth of Loki's motives until long after much damage had been done!" cried out Laran.

"We will deal with Xiao-tep's treachery as it comes," Freyr calmed the gods, the realized his words and looked to Xiao-tep to say, "should he prove treacherous."

Endovelicus stood from where he was seated and asked, "Xiao-tep, what followers do you have? Who can you claim as your people?"

"I do not know that I can claim many," admitted Xiao-tep, "though I have just come from the side of White Lotus and his friend Butik who have recently built a temple in my honor."

This caused the gods to rumble with emotion.

"He religion has rooted! He is a threat!" one goddess cried out.

"His people will be devastated if you kill him in the courtyard upon this day! We cannot touch him!" cried out another.

Freyr raised his hand to call for general calm. When the gathered gods had grown quiet, he asked of them, "I believe we have heard more than enough from this fish-god. Any further questions would only enlighten us to his details that would not persuade our opinions one way or another. What say you, fellows and ladies? What action shall we take against Xiao-tep?"

Not one of the Many Gods wished to speak one way or another, for or against Xiao-tep. They both feared and were in awe of him. It was Chi You who at last stood from his three-legged seat and proclaimed, "I find this new god, this Xiao-tep, in no way a threat. I say we allow him to live."

It was then that Garuda ventured forth, coming as a inquisitively, to Xiao-tep's side. He lifted Xiao-tep's fins, sniffed at him, poked at his scales. Garuda then straightened his back and looked Xiao-tep in the eye. He wings ruffled a little. He then proclaimed, "I like this one! Let him live." Then Garuda returned to the crowded gods.

Tenjin stood to say, "With change comes conflict and though we may assume much of the conflict will be at the feet - or rather fins - of Xiao-tep and never affect the rest of us, the conflict yet may still affect us. If we allow Xiao-tep his life, which I concur with, we must at least banish him and his coming troubles from the Many Heavens."

Hapi spoke as he rose, "Freyr, I beg of you, allow me my initial desire. Kill the fish-god and I will do away with all traces of him by consuming his flesh to the last."

Freyr rubbed his chin with thought. He asked Odr, the wisest of even the wise gods, "How might you cast your voice, Odr?"

Odr stood reluctantly but respectfully. He said, "I see no harm coming onto the Many Heavens from Xiao-tep. His life has proven him noble. I say he lives and allow him full access to the Many Heavens."

Freyr turned to Xiao-tep. He said, "Fortune smiles upon you this day, Xiao-tep. While your fate remains uncertain, your life is to be spared. Leave us now and do not return until you hear from the Many Heavens again. And do not run from our call, nor hide form our hounds. We would send out riders of war to come for you should the need arise."

"I have postponed our meeting," Xiao-tep admitted, "but neither have I run nor hidden. I plan on remaining on Taleisin. I'll await your call."

Xiao-tep was given leave of the Heavenly Court of Seven Jade Doors and the Many Gods convened over his fate. They escorted Lei-zi from the Heavenly Courtyard, fearing her defensive over her son from interfering with their thoughts.

Many days later, Freyr came to Lei-zi and said, "Lei-zi, many of the gods are angry with Xiao-tep. They fear what he represents; they fear he may take away followers. Many would be appeased if there were not so many of us gods and goddesses. Talk of his demise remains, including talk of rogue assassination attempts. Xiao-tep's life may be in danger. While I cannot argue I've not been harsh against your son, I do not wish rogue agents of rebellious gods to be allowed, so I suggested Xiao-tep be brought here to join us in the Many Heavens - in part for his own protection. Yet there are some gods whose fear remains. They're even asking, should Xiao-tep live, another god be slain in his stead. Loki's name has come up more than once, but that would require great effort for Loki is a formid-"

Lei-zi interrupted Freyr, "They would have no need to put forth any effort if they merely accepted my son."

"Agreed," Freyr said.

"Would any god suffice?" asked Lei-zi.

"I suppose, though there is a special quality in Loki the others desire gone from the world."

"Would a goddess suffice?" asked Lei-zi.

Freyr squinted at her. "What do you suggest, Lei-zi?"

"You know well."

Freyr breathed deep. "I suppose if you offered your life for Xiao-tep's, that would satisfy many's thirst for a death."

"Then it is so offered," said Lei-zi. "Shall I take news of your offer to Xiao-tep to join the Many Heavens?"

"Yes," said Freyr and he outlined the plan proposed for Xiao-tep.

Lei-zi then returned to Taleisin to deliver the message.

"The gods have fully invited you to join them in the Many Heavens," Lei-zi told her son. "They wish to build for you your own chamber there. They will call it The Chamber of Beauty."

"This wonderful news!" exclaimed Xiao-tep. "I have been accepted into the Many Heavens and with the endorsement I can perhaps aid more people in their hours of weakness and with their sorrows."

"Perhaps," lamented Lei-zi.

Noting his mother's tone, Xiao-tep asked, "You would not be pleased by my presence within the Many Heavens?"

"Of course I would, but I fear the motives of the Many Gods are not ideal. They desire you nearby so they may watch over you," she explained her worries.

"Oh," said Xiao-tep. "They do not accept me, rather they wish to spy on me?"

"Indeed."

Xiao-tep thought on this, then said, "It is not a matter. I'll go and I'll do good if I am allowed. Will I be allowed to return to Taleisin to keep up its state?"

Lei-zi shook her head, "Of that, I am uncertain. They would not allow me to overhear their discussions for fear I may taint objectivity with my maternal bias."

"Oh," said Xiao-tep. "They would surely allow me to return to Taleisin, though. And to White Lotus' side should he call upon me once more."

Again Lei-zi shook her head. "This I cannot say. There are times when I find it difficult to discover the motives of my own desires, Xiao-tep. I certainly cannot assume to know the desires of all the gods at once."

"Of course," said Xiao-tep. "How did father take this news?"

"Not very well. He stormed from the Many Heavens a day ago, before the Many Gods came to me to have me deliver this message to you."

"He most likely finds this decision as another afront," said Xiao-tep.

Lei-zi gave no answer.

"What is the matter, mother?" asked Xiao-tep.

"These are trying times, Xiao-tep. They wear on me so," was all she gave.

"Matters will improve, mother," consoled Xiao-tep.

"One can only hope," said lei-zi. "You should prepare your ascension into the Many Heavens. I'll let you be for now."

"Thank you, mother." Xiao-tep watched his mother rise high overhead, disappearing into the Many Heavens, wondering why she appeared so troubled by the message she had just delivered.

**********

Part 3

Zom Loa the Black Tentacle had been on the run since the day he had resurrected Ketsueki Sato in his new form. Each night came to him with some measure of ugliness and fear; each night came to him with a new horrid dream; dreams wherein demons whipped and maimed him; dreams wherein he was made a slave to evil; dreams wherein his actions caused the deaths and pain of others. And more than once did the same demon's voice speak to him in his dream. Never did he see a face. Never did he see a form. Always was he returned to the land of the lighted night sky, its dancing colors and, beyond, sparkling jeweled stars. He would stand amidst a field of stars and dancing colors as the demon spoke to him, floating as though flying upon the wing of Zingtai.

"Come to me," spoke the demon.

"Who are you?" Zom Loa asked in fear, the sky slipping from beneath him. He reached out to grasp at a star to cease his fall, but his fear of tearing Zingtai's wing stopped him short and sent his hand running. He stood amidst a field of stars once again.

"I would not give you that power over me," said the demonic voice.

Zom Loa then knew, as one knows things within a dream that otherwise cannot be known. Zom Loa knew the demon knew his name. "I'll not let you have me!" cried Zom Loa and his cry echoed through all time.

Zom Loa, knowing this a dream, searched for knowledge as he struggled against unseen forces. Knowledge did come to him and, once obtained, he wished he had not sought it; he wished he could un-known that which was known. His eyes turned to blood and streamed down his face. His brain caught fire. His tongue was as lead and immovable. His breath became choked. Zom Loa, with his new knowledge, was dying under its weight. As the stars became darkness and Zom Loa felt death's creep, the demon released him from his end, but kept him whole with his knowledge.

Said Zom Loa of what he now knew, "You are not but one demon, but all of them. You are not any chamber servant, but the Yama Kings and Rulers of All the Hells."

Zom Loa clapped his hands to his ears and armies of demons laughed riotously at him.

"If only it were that simple, though it is not far from the truth," said the voice.

Zom Loa let his hands fall to his sides. He said, "You once trained one called Motharus."

"That, also, is true. We are both here," said the voice.

"Now you want something of me," Zom Loa realized with grave horror. Again, without the true knowledge of having seen or experienced the matter, Zom Loa felt the demon smile at him.

"Of course I do, Demon Father."

"I do not father demons!" screamed Zom Loa. Again the sky slipped from under him and he tumbled through darkness.

The demon returned him upright and said, "Do not yell at your betters. You took away the night's beauty. You resurrected Ketsueki Sato. You spoke with the demon to the north. So much pain, so much agony, so much fear has been introduced into the world because of your desires."

The demon cackled.

Zom Loa wept.

"Remember Tarn?" asked the demon. "Your first friend? The first one to show you kindness on your quest for immortality? Well do you remember the walrus that delivered you onto the Devourer despite the danger of the journey? He remained for you, waiting, until he died. Now you wear his skull in some mock ceremonial honor. He died for you, Zom Loa! Do you feel the pain he felt when he realized he was going to die, never to see you again? Never to see you fulfill your desires?"

Zom Loa fell once more, crying blood, sobbing as a child.

Zom Loa was made to stand. Said the demon, "Feel that pain. Find it in your heart. Find the fire of burning anger. Flesh it out and manifest it!"

Zom Loa felt the fire, touched the raging anger within himself for himself. He reached out and from his hands came forth a bursting ball of flame that flew across the night sky of his dream.

The world around him went black and, just before waking, the demon's voice gave him these last words to remember: "Use it well, Demon Father, to destroy your son."

Zom Loa awoke, freezing. Snows had come to his small cave where he had taken residency as a hermit. He knew of a village on the far side of the mountain and wished to be there, to find warm food and hot fires. Hot fires especially called to him.

Black tentacles whipped out, pulling him across the frozen mountain as he climbed higher and higher. As he crested the peak, he looked to the east and there found a wondrous sight. Below him was the walls of the Temple of the Frosted Moon and the black smoke of a warm fire.

Zom Loa descended the mountain. He eyed the temple as he drew nearer. He came to the doors as the storm picked up. He knocked upon them but no answer came. He cried out and finally one of White Lotus' student answered him. She opened the doors and let him in.

Said she, "Welcome to the Temple of the Frosted Moon. Do you come to join us in our studies?"

"I come seeking refuge from the coming storm," explained Zom Loa.

"Are you a Blessed One?" she asked.

"I am," said Zom Loa speaking of his immortality.

"We would be happy to have you as our guest," the young student bowed low and at the waist. As they walked through the courtyard, Zom Loa eyed the statues of a koi fish. He asked, "This is a temple?"

"It is," answered teh student.

"Which god do you worship?"

"Xiao-tep the Fish-god of 100,000 Sorrows and Beauty."

Zom Loa smiled a little at this. "Good for him," he said.

"Come this way into the commisarry, we are all having our meal now and you will be able to meet with Master White Lotus."

"I should like that," Zom Loa said as he followed the young student.

**********

Thus ends ACT IV of Seven Jade Doors! I hope you're enjoying it so far!!!

The Gate

2010-04-16T10:14:00.002-04:00

I'm taking this week off from "Seven Jade Doors" as I don't want the material to become stale and a forced effort for me. So I'm taking a break.

In lieu of Act IV, here's a trailer for the classic 1987 horror film, The Gate.

"Seven Jade Doors" -- Act III

2010-04-09T00:35:00.013-04:00

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"Seven Jade Doors" is copyright 2010 by Charles Shaver. All rights reserved.

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ACT III

RISE OF THE WHITE LOTUS: Wherein White Lotus Learns of the Spring Adoration and the Many Gods; Chinyere is Lost; White Lotus Takes on Two New Masters; A Duel in Moonflower Village; White Lotus Establishes the First Temple Dedicated to Xiao-tep

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Part 1

Every spring, after the heavy storms subsided and the sun came forth to warm the lands, the people of the Kingdom of Aniabas would step from their homes, their faces outstretched towards the sun, gather the last of their foodstuffs and walk barefoot or - for those young and strong enough in body - to crawl upon their knees towards the Plain of Adoration where they would erect shrines of carefully balanced stones and lay out their offerings. They adorned some shrines with the first flowers to bloom and they prayed at each shrine to their personal gods. Even King Aniabas, now old and gray with not only children but a grandchild, would make the trek upon his knees and in full armor to the plain. Often he was joined by his faithful soldiers.

Of the names spoken during prayer, the names most often softly called were Xiao-tep the Ankh-fish, Balori the Towering Elephant and Gogi the Grasshopper for it was these three that that made the greatest efforts during the Battle Upon the Plain of Adoration. Xiao-tep and his sister Wu Chan Chu had lead the forces of good against the evil that had staked claim to the plain. Balori, after the battle, had returned to Taleisin to restore the stars into the nighttime sky. And Gogi the Grasshopper, the smallest creature present for the battle, little Gogi had been the one to tpple the demon-dog Yaska Selith. The people did not much pray to him, rather they prayed for him to have a good and blessed life for their lives were now peaceful because of his efforts.

White Lotus was a child of five years when the first such pilgrimage took place, the Spring after the Battle Upon the Plain of Adoration. Son to Madara and Fedir, White Lotus could not understand the new rite. He made the pilgrimage silently most of the way, but feeling his feet uncomfortable without his hauraches and much too warm in the noonday sun, he eventually complained to his father as they stacked stones to make a shrine.

"Shut your mouth, boy," said Fedir. "And respect the gods."

"He does not know," said mother Madara.

"Then he will learn," answered Fedir. "But for now, keep quiet and pray."

White Lotus did as he was told and when they returned to their home and as they ate a meager meal of bread and curd, father Fedir told his son the tale of the Battle Upon the Plain of Adoration. White Lotus listened attentively as his father told him of the fury of Stavros the Red, of the cunning of Comet Fox, of the might of Wu Chan Chu. They boy's eyes grew wide with wonder and fear at the devilry of Yaska Selith, Renorio and Raiju Yu. He marveled at the heroism of their own king. Most of all, he cried out for joy when he was told of Gogi's bravery. And of all those that battled that day, the one that captured White Lotus' soul was the fish that could fight and fly, the god called Xiao-tep the Ankh-fish of 100,000 Sorrows and Beauty.

Two Springs later, when White Lotus was seven, his family met with a clergyman in dark blue silk robes that had heard of the rite of Spring within the Kingdom of Aniabas and traveled to witness and partake in the act. White Lotus soon forgot the man's name and asked his father who he was.

"He is a priest," explained Fedir. "His name is Je."

"What is a priest?" asked White Lotus.

"A priest studies the wisdom handed down by the gods and gives council to mortals," said his father.

White Lotus thought on Priest Je a long time and wished that he too could study the wisdom of the gods. Before the following Spring and his own eighth year, White Lotus declared to his family that he would like to become a priest.

"It is a fine ambition," encouraged his mother.

His family was soon blessed with a little sister for White Lotus named Chinyere and together they grew, White Lotus the protector and Chinyere the wild, adventurous child. While White Lotus was learning to read and studied from books, Chinyere showed little interest in reading and instead enjoyed wandering off. Many was the time that White Lotus' little sister would come up missing and the family would panic until she was found imagining some grand adventure at sea or in battle while walking the length of a ditch or playing in a creak.

Of their many shared interests, White Lotus and Chinyere were most passionate about tales and especially about tales of heroes and gods. It was often that White Lotus would remain awake late into the night reading books to his sister and the two discussing their own planned adventures.

When White Lotus was eight, Priest Je returned for the Spring Adoration - as the ritual pilgrimage had come to be known. The priest met once more with White Lotus and his family. As White Lotus had the ambition to be a priest himself, Madara invited the priest to stay with them and eat of their food. Priest Je happily accepted and in returned blessed the family's meager home and their futures. While at supper, White Lotus announced to Priest Je that he should like to become a holy man.

"It is a fine ambition," said Priest Je, "but a difficult path. One must endure intense suffering and counsel others in their suffering while suffering themselves. Many's the night that I travel hungry and bored, lonely and lost. The path of studying the gods is not a glamorous one."

At this, White Lotus was dismayed. He frowned, poked at his food and asked, "Then why do you follow this path?"

"It is not a glamorous path, as I've said," explained Priest Je, "but it can be a fulfilling one. When others are suffering, often I am called upon to ease their pain. Sometimes I fail, but many is the time I succeed and it is in this success, this shared bliss between myself and those I aid, that makes all the difficulties of priesthood worthwhile.

"Each person must weigh the values and shortcomings of priesthood with their own scales. I have met many who have done this and been discouraged or have turned away from the path. It is, plainly put, a difficult life."

White Lotus nodded with understanding. He silently agreed that helping others was a cherished duty and made up his mind then he would not falter on his path. He then asked of Priest Je, "Of the Many Wisdoms, which god is it that you follow?"

"I listen to them all," said Priest Je. "I follow the correct one depending upon my current situation."

This was an incredible revelation for White Lotus. Though he studied the tales of the Many Gods, the one god he enjoyed studying most was Xiao-tep. He said, "I've an affinity for the fish-god."

"Oh, do you now?" Priest Je smiled. "How curious, very curious."

"What can be so curious about the boy's interest in Xiao-tep?" asked Fedir.

Priest Je looked to the father and said, "Of the children I meet in my travels, most show an affinity for Wu Chan Chu or Thor or the antics of Coyote or Comet Fox. It is rare to find a child interested in such a thought-provoking god as Xiao-tep. Additionally, Xiao-tep is not an Ascended God. He is not largely accepted, let alone known, within the circles of Heavenly Knowledge. He is oft times regarded as an abomination against the Heavens."

"Why is that?" asked White Lotus defensively.

"He has never been allowed into the Courtyard of the Seven Jade Doors. As such, he is not a member of the Heavenly Council of Gods and is not recognized as a True God. He is rather a Rogue God, the un-sponsored son of two other gods. He is often seen in no greater light than a Blessed One - and, as we know, a Blessed One may be good or evil."

This further discouraged White Lotus.

Priest Je sat back upon the pillow he had been provided as a seat. He considered White Lotus and said, "This may be a passing interest, your affinity for gods. Mayhaps you'll instead become a learned scholar. But if, in a year's time, you should still show interest in priesthood when I return for the next Spring Adoration, I shall take you as my pupil."

This made White Lotus happy and the family ate in peace.

White Lotus studied diligently on the tales of gods for the next year. Yet, when the following Spring Adoration came, Priest Je did not appear from the West as he had the year previous. After the day's praying, White Lotus remained by the shrine his family had built. No urging could persuade him home. As Kalavata flew overhead that night, White Lotus crossed his legs and sat before the shrine, softly reciting the tale of the Battle Upon the Plain of Adoration to himself. So he sat for three days. When his mother came to make certain he was well, White Lotus said, "I will not leave this spot until Priest Je comes for me."

White Lotus did not eat, nor did he drink for ninety-eight days, remaining seated and meditating on the gods and praying Priest Je would come to him. On the ninety-ninth day, White Lotus determined Priest Je was not coming for him, that the priest may be hurt or dead or showed no real interest in White Lotus. White Lotus then determined that he should seek out Priest Je. He rose from his seated position and walked home to announce his leave-taking.

"You are very young," said Fedir. "This world would eat you as a demon might. You cannot leave."

"But I must," explained White Lotus in a calm manner.

"You will remain home," ordered his mother.

This angered White Lotus. He screamed, "I want to leave!"

His father punished him for yelling at his mother by making him crouch in the corner, his many books resting on his upward-turned palms. "Now hold them there," ordered Fedir. "And should the books fall below the level of your shoulders, I will strike you with this cherry branch."

Every time the books descended below White Lotus' shoulder, his father would keep his promise and whip the boy with a cherry branch across the back and bottom. And so White Lotus remained this way for three days. His father asked him again, "Do you wish to leave your home?"

Said White Lotus, "Yes, I but I will not do so in honor of your wishes."

Thus ended White Lotus' punishment.

A day later, while White Lotus was helping his mother clean the home and Fedir was selling goods in the local market, a neighbor came into their home screaming, "She's dead! Your daughter Chinyere is dead!"

Madara ran from the home, following the neighbor. White Lotus ran to the market to retrieve his father. Together, the family learned the neighbor's words were true for they found the young Chinyere drowned in the nearby creak after she had slipped on a wet rock, was knock unconscious and rested face-down in the waters until she slowly drowned.

The death hurt the family and their neighbors and friends deeply. The aged King Aniabas heard of the death and sent the family money and food and his heartfelt sorrows. He also made an offering to the gods in honor of the dead Chinyere.

Three days after Chinyere's death and burial, Priest Je appeared in the West. He came late at night when most of the kingdom was asleep. He went directly to the home of White Lotus. He gently roused Fedir and Madara and said, "I am sorry for your loss. I heard about Chinyere's accidental death yesterday and traveled until I reached your home. I thought you might be in need of consolation and prayer."

"Thank you, dear priest," wept Fedir.

Together the three prayed.

Before dawn, Priest Je asked, "Has White Lotus kept with his studies?"

Fedir nodded.

"Would you allow me to take him on as a pupil?"

Madara and Fedir looked to one another. Said Madara, "When would you take him?"

"In a few days time," answered Priest Je.

"To lose both children so swiftly," mourned Madara.

"But it is a righteous path," consoled Fedir.

White Lotus awoke and greeted Priest Je with a smile. He said, "I've waited for you."

Priest Je smiled and explained, "I was busy helping others with their woes. I am sorry I've come to you so late in the year."

Priest Je gave White Lotus white pants and a white jacket to wear. The jacket had a black belt to tie it closed and with these he was given black tabis to wear. "These are the clothing of monks at the beginning of their journey into priesthood," explained Priest Je. "You will gain more colorful clothing as you gain more colorful wisdom."

White Lotus donned his new clothes and sat patiently as Priest Je shaved his head. Then the four paid homage to Chinyere's grave later that day.

Three days more and Fedir and Madara watched as White Lotus followed Priest Je from the Kingdom of Aniabas, occasionally looking back at them over his shoulder.

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Part 2

White Lotus was ten when Priest Je was stricken with pneumonia and, in ailing health, felt his time nearing an end. By then they had traveled extensively, counseling others and paying homage to shrines of gods.

It rained heavily the night Priest Je died. They had found a kindly old farmer that hadn't much more room than a spare stall in his stable. Priest Je lie coughing on a bed of fresh straw. White Lotus stayed at his side, watching him, studying his teacher, trying to understand the changing in death.

Priest Je coughed. He said, "Do not fear death. Do not fear my dying. It is a part of all things. Even gods may die. We mortals must die. It is our pleasure and our pain, our blessing and curse. With death, we cannot see the end of many of our ambitions. Without death, our lives are not so precious."

"Your tale ends here," related White Lotus. "And I do not wish to be so selfish, but I am uncertain what is to happen to me."

"Your next act begins," coughed Priest Je. "You will find another master, perhaps. Or perhaps another path entirely. Whatever is next for you is in your choosing."

White Lotus cried for he felt the loss of his family, of his sister and parents, with the new loss of his master.

Priest Je coughed, breathed heavily, then did not breathe another breath again.

White Lotus cried as the skies rained heavily upon the dilapidated stable.

The next day, the old farmer helped White Lotus bury Priest Je under a knotty pine on the hill in a grove of trees looking out over the peaceful lands not far from his final resting place. The old farmer promised to visit the grave once a year. White Lotus bowed to the old farmer, thanked him and blessed him, then left the grave of Priest Je forever.

White Lotus wandered for many months. He bemused himself with the idea of returning home, but felt the pull of adventure and of tales of gods far too strong to do so.

He then came to a small village called Moonflower, having taken its name from the many plants that blossomed only at night there. White Lotus was by then near starving as he wandered from home to home asking for alms.

He finally came to the home of an elderly, decrepit man named Shanxi Som Hakka. When Elder Hakka answered the door, White Lotus held out a small bowl he had carved from maple on his journeys with Priest Je and asked, "Alms for the poor?"

Elder Hakka eyed the boy's clothing. He said, "I haven't much, but I can share my rice and vegetables with you if you wish to join me for supper, young monk."

White Lotus blessed Elder Hakka and his home as he entered to share supper with the old man.

As they ate, Elder Hakka asked, "Where do you wander to, young monk?"

"Wherever I wish for now," explained White Lotus as he ate rice and stir-fried ginger and sweet potato.

"Where is your master?" asked Elder Hakka.

"He died some months ago," frowned White Lotus.

"A masterless monk?" inquired Elder Hakka. "And one so young? The gods have certainly stacked the odds against you."

White Lotus shrugged. "Perhaps, but I will not waver on my path."

"Good! Good!" cried Elder Hakka with some laughter. "Have you any idea where you go from here?"

White Lotus shook his head.

"Why don't you stay here, then? In return for tending to my house, I will feed you and you can sleep on the spare mat I have. It's a bit old and dirty, but you can clean it, I'm sure."

White Lotus considered this, then nodded. "I would be honored. I am called White Lotus."

Elder Hakka smiled at this. "A fine name! I am Shanxi Som Hakka, but most everyone calls me Elder Hakka."

"How do you earn your money, Elder Hakka? Do you farm?" asked White Lotus.

Elder Hakka giggled. "Oh, by the gods, no. I've never been one for growing things. I... well, I... let me show you."

Elder Hakka quickly swallowed the last of his rice and vegetables and set the bowl before White Lotus. He said through a mouthful of food, "You'll take care of that won't you?"

White Lotus looked at the bowl and nodded.

Elder Hakka smiled and chewed. He got up from the table at which they were seated and walked to the back of the home. There he picked up a bamboo cage and brought it to set it upon the table between himself and White Lotus. Elder Hakka swallowed the last of his food and smiled. He said, "His name is Fenrir. I've named him for the terrible wolf-child of Loki."

White Lotus peered into the cage.

Elder Hakka unraveled the bit of leather that tied the cage closed and let the small door swing open. Out stepped a large and strong Leaf Mantis. Fenrir raised up to spy White Lotus, then lowered itself low to the table to mimic a broad, flat leaf.

Elder Hakka tapped lightly at the table to draw Fenrir's attention and set out from his pocket a dead fly. Fenrir scurried to the fly, caught it up with his hooked, spiked forelegs and began tearing at its body, eating it.

Elder Hakka looked to White Lotus. He said, "I provide food and shelter for Fenrir and he, in turn, fights the mantises of others and with the winnings I support this home and now I will support you. But you must clean and care for my home."

White Lotus blinked. He ate the last of his meal and said, "I will do this, Elder Hakka."

White Lotus spent many hard days' labor at Elder Hakka's. He carried buckets of water across his shoulder from the village well to the home. He swept and cleared the floors. He washed the dishes. But soon he realized he was exerting less effort and made a game of his duties. When he would wash the dishes, he would juggle them and throw them into place. He would carry not two but four buckets as his strength grew. And he danced as he swept the floors.

Elder Hakka would leave with the cage Fenrir nearly each day and nearly each time he left, he would return with a handful of money.

One morning, Elder Hakka did not leave the home. White Lotus made for them their usual morning meal and when he went to find Elder Hakka, he found teh old man with the freed Fenrir practicing kata in the garden.

"What is this that you do?" asked White Lotus. "It appears as slow dancing."

Elder Hakka smiled. "It is, in a way."

White Lotus attempted to mimic their movements and, with some small coaching by Elder Hakka, soon joined them for these occasional morning rituals. White Lotus was surprised at first to learn it was Fenrir who appeared to lead the dance. Elder Hakka mimicked Fenrir and White Lotus had been mimicking Elder Hakka. He soon learned to mimic Fenrir in unison with Elder Hakka.

One such morning, while the three sat eating at the table in the home after they had practiced the kata of the day, White Lotus said, "It is a peculiar thing, but I can see why you do this. When we dance so, I feel calm."

Elder Hakka smiled. "Good," was all he said.

As White Lotus took his first bite of food, which was always after both Elder Hakka and Fenrir had taken their first bite as a show of respect to them, he thought of something. He looked to Elder Hakka, chewed and swallowed. He thought of his body growing strong, of his mind learning new things. He said with some surprise, and somewhat in a questioning way, "You've become my new masters."

Elder Hakka smiled and said, "Eat your meal, little monk."

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Part 3

It was a day for fighting and Elder Hakka brought his companion Fenrir to the small den within which the mantis fights were held. The den was run by a man named Gama, but called himself and forced others to call him The Great Gama. He always wore black shirts and pants, dusty sandals and a black turban.

Forever at his side, forever his pet, his friend and, ultimately, forever his loyal servant and the son of a mystic lizard born of a rock on a southern island and his lover, a mortal woman. He stood squat and thin, had the shape of a man standing with a lizard's head with multicolored feathers sprouting from the jawline and atop the skull. His flesh was scaly and brightly colored and speckled with yellow spots. His tail had yellow stripes. His name was Butik and he was never seen without Great Gama.

Came Elder Hakka as he always did on days of fights.

"Here enters that foul winner," spat the Great Gama.

Butik hissed. "I suspect he cheats."

"Of course he does," added Great Gama. "How else would his damned mantis win so often? He must feed the mantis something, or perhaps get him blessed."

"To the credit of the mantis," ventured Butik, "he is quite large."

"Shut your mouth!" Great Gama glowered at Butik.

The Great Gama and Butik watched they mantis fights, collecting wagers from those gathered in his den. When Fenrir won his fight, Great Gama stepped to Elder Hakka, handed him his winnings and said, "You win again, old man."

"Fenrir is a great fighter," Elder Hakka shared the jubilation with his little insect friend.

"Watch over your mantis closely, old man," warned Great Gama. "Someone might wish to steal him... or worse."

Butik nearly laughed at this.

Elder Hakka frowned. He placed Fenrir in his cage and left for home.

The Great Gama watched the old man go.

Butik asked, "What plans have you lolling about in your head, Great Gama?"

The Great Gama smiled. He said only, "Perhaps... perhaps."

Late into that very night, The Great Gama hired three thieves to break into Elder Hakka's home to steal the mantis Fenrir.

"Do not harm the mantis," he instructed, then with a smile added, "unless it is truly necessary. Return him to me and I shall pay you the remaining monies I've promised."

The three thieves donned their black pants, shirts and hoods and melted into the shadowy night. The emerged from the darkness a moment later outside the home of Elder Hakka. They made no knock, they gave no warning. They found an opened window and slipped inside the home without much sound.

Yet a sound they did make once inside for they knew not where the mantis was kept. White Lotus awoke to this sound and called out, "Elder Hakka, is that you? Are you awake at this hour?"

One of the thieves quickly grasped at White Lotus' mouth and whispered, "Make another sound or hinder us in any way and we'll kill you!"

White Lotus remained silent, his eyes trying to pierce the dark room to watch what was happening while the thief kept his mouth covered.

Another thief found Fenrir in his caged and called to the others before exiting through the same window they had entered.

The thief holding White Lotus whispered once more, "Should the old man ever wish to see his mantis again, tell him to publicly renounce mantis fighting and never show his face at the great Gama's den again. If he does so, his mantis shall be returned to him."

The thief let go of White Lotus and exited through the window.

The thieves gone, White Lotus ran to the yet slumbering Elder Hakka's side. He shook Elder Hakka awake and explained the occurrence of the theft to him.

Elder Hakka wept for he feared Fenrir may be harmed. He said through sobs, "This si the work of the Great Gama himself! I know it is!"

White Lotus looked out the window but could find no trace of the thieves. He determined then and said, "We should raid the Great Gama's den and retrieve Fenrir."

Elder Hakka shook his head. "I don't know if that would be the thing to do. We don't know if Fenrir will be kept in the den or elsewhere within the village. We should get the Great Gama to bring forth Fenrir first."

"How could we do that?" asked White Lotus.

"At noon tomorrow I will renounce mantis fighting as they have demanded."

"How will that aid in our search for Fenrir?" asked White Lotus.

"It will force Great Gama's hand. He will have to respond in some way. I can only hope he will respond by returning Fenrir safely to me."

White Lotus eyed his master, wondering but not entirely certain he understood Elder Hakka.

At noon that day, Elder Hakka came to the center of the village. White Lotus helped him to call the villagers to him to hear his announcement. The Great Gama and Butik joined the gathered crowd.

Said Elder Hakka, "Today I wish to renounce fighting in the mantis den from now until the end of my life. Never again shall I allow my mantis, Fenrir, to fight ever in the Great Gama's den ever again."

Several of the peopler were shocked to hear this. Others were uninterested. The Great Gama spoke up and said, "How generous of you, Elder Hakka, to step aside and allow others a chance to win some money at my den. It has been an honor to have known you. It is unfortunate, however, for I had heard of the thieves that stole into the night with your Fenrir and, much to my surprise, they came to me wishing to fence the little creature into my hands. I paid a handsome price for Fenrir and in honor of you. I knew you would be worried about him. But I paid the price nonetheless with the intent to gift him back to you... with the understanding you would pay me back in the near future for my lost money."

Elder Hakka glowered at Great Gama upon hearing this. he knew then not only did Great Gama intend to rid himself of Elder Hakka and Fenrir, but to make him literally pay for the matter.

"I had thought I'd merely take the money out of your winnings. But now that I hear this, I understand you're most likely to have difficulty returning to me my money."

The Great Gama looked to the gathered crowd and continued, "But let it be known the Great Gama is not an ungenerous man. If Elder Hakka thinks he could find another means to fund my losses, then that is no cause of concern for me. Or, as I am also a fair man, I would not refute the Elder Hakka's services as a personal attendant for, say, the period of three years."

Elder Hakka frowned at this.

The Great Gama smiled at him, "Or, again in the interest of fairness, I could, at your agreement, dear Hakka, simply keep the mantis Fenrir as my own."

"Where is Fenrir?" asked Elder Hakka.

"He is quite well," asured Great Gama.

"I should like to see him," said Elder Hakka.

The Great Gama smiled wider. He bowed a little in mock respect and called for Butik to retrieve Fenrir. Butik went to a clay jar sitting outside the den and pulled from it the cage and Fenrir within.

Elder Hakka leaned close to White Lotus and whispered, "He is clever to have hidden Fenrir in public in this manner."

Butik handed teh caged Fenrir to Great Gama and the Great Gama brought the cage before Elder Hakka, though he did not offer the cage nor Fenrir to Elder Hakka. He allowed only that all may see a healthy and well Fenrir.

Satisfied with Fenrir's safety, Elder Hakka said, "I would take him."

Great Gama smiled again and nodded. "Very well. And when might I expect my payment?"

Elder Hakka breathed deep but did not answer.

"I will allow you to take Fenrir from me if you can get me one thousand baht."

"What?" cried Elder Hakka. "That's an outrageous amount!"

Great Gama smiled. "It is what I had to pay... with only a small fee settled on top for my services."

"The farmers in these parts don't make a thousand baht in a full year!" proclaimed an angered White Lotus.

"The farmers in these parts don't have mantis fighters as great as Fenrir, little boy," mocked Great Gama.

"We know it was you!" cried White Lotus.

Elder Hakka slapped White Lotus across the face. "Show your respects, young monk," scolded his master.

"What is that he was going to say?" Great Gama growled.

"He said nothing," issued Elder Hakka. "I have your money. I can pay your price."

This piqued Great Gama's interests. "Oh, have you now? And how would you come by a thousand baht?"

"I've been saving my winnings from your den," explained Elder Hakka. He turned to White Lotus and whispered the location of the money into his ear. "Go now, boy. Go and get the money so we may retrieve our friend Fenrir."

White Lotus did as he was told and soon returned carry the thousand baht in his hands.

Elder Hakka pointed White Lotus to Great Gama.

White Lotus handed the money to Great Gama. Great Gama then handed the money to Butik and waited for his servant to count it.

"What he says is true," spoke Butik a moment later. "The money is here. He can pay us now."

Great Gama lost his smile upon hearing this, but soon regained it as he thought of the fact he now had a promise Fenrir and Hakka would never return to his den and that he'd made money on the venture of stealing Fenrir. he opened the cage slowly and let Fenrir loose.

The mantis hopped, flew and climbed to Elder Hakka's side. He climbed to Elder Hakka's shoulder and perched there.

During this, Elder Hakka did not remove his gaze from Great Gama. Once Fenrir had climbed onto his shoulder, he said, "Young monk, ready yourself."

This surprised White Lotus. He wasn't certain what Elder Hakka meant for they had not discussed what to do beyond this moment. But when he saw his master's hands rise from his side, his fingers curled inward, his leg lifting slightly to balance on one toe, his eyes steady and remaining on the Great Gama, he understood his master's intentions fully.

White Lotus mimicked his master. He raised his hands in the shape of a mantis' forelegs, breathed deep to calm his now racing heart.

The fight was begun.

"What is this that you do?" asked great Gama. "Does the loss of your money, money that I rightly deserve and that I should not lose with regards to the loss of your mantis, anger you so that you would wish to fight me like your mantis might? Ha! You are fools! This must be a joke." Great Gama turned to Butik and said, "Look, they mimic the manners of Fenrir. They must truly be stupid!"

Butik and Great Gama laughed as one.

Elder Hakka said calmly, slowly and in a low, serious tone, "Prepare yourself Gama, or you will be caught unawares and will be killed."

"I am the Great Gama! How dare you disrespect me to call my name as though you were a friend!" raged Great Gama.

Elder Hakka and White Lotus remained silent, though White Lotus shook with nerves in anticipation of the fight.

"Hmph!" groaned Great Gama. He said to Butik, "Retrieve for me my sectional staff. It would seem I must beat some respect into this old man and his boy-child."

Butik ran into the den. While Butik was away, Great Gama removed his black shirt to reveal a deeply rippling chest and sinewed arms. Butik returned with a three-sectional staff and handed the weapon to Great Gama, then backed away.

The Great Gama prepared himself.

Elder Hakka and White Lotus remained statue-still.

Fenrir squinted at his one-time captor.

With an near imperceptible movement of his wrist, Great Gama's sectional staff flicked out first at White Lotus and caught him lightly at the top of his head, causing enough to sour the young monk off the fight for a moment.

Elder Hakka moved swiftly. He jumped closer to Great Gama, well within his range/ His left hand struck out, grasping Great Gama by the throat, choking the airway there. His right hand swung around with furious speed and his fingers slammed into Great Gama's temple, causing an instant headache. He foot then raised and stomped down on Great Gama's own, causing him to step backwards. But as he backed away, Great Gama regained himself and lifted the nearest end of his weapon up, thrusting it out from under his arm to slam into the nose of Elder Hakka and breaking it, until blood sprayed out from it, down the staff and onto the ground.

Great Gama backed away.

Elder Hakka backed away.

Great Gama spun around, his staff entwined in his extended arms like a windmill gone mad in torrential winds. One end of the weapon came crashing down on Elder Hakka's shoulder where Fenrir was sitting. Elder Hakka cried in pain, then looked for his mantis friend only feel he had jumped out of the way of the staff and was now climbing through the hair on his head.

Great Gama brought the staff around and held two sections while the third came down upon Elder Hakka's head. Again, Fenrir was able to jump away in time but the swinging weapon caused Elder Hakka's vision to go first black then explode into a field of exploding stars.

Seeing his masters hurt and in danger, White Lotus rallied himself to leap at Great Gama. Great Gama backed away. White Lotus swung wildly and Great Gama ducked under his fist. Seeing Great Gama's head now lowered next to him, White Lotus grabbed Great Gama around the back of the neck with his full arm and trapped him there. He raised his foot behind him to slap Great Gama in the face.

Great Gama spit dirt from his mouth and straightened, sending the much smaller White Lotus flipping up and over his form until he came crashing down onto the dirt behind Great Gama.

Elder Hakka blinked. His sight cleared and he attacked. He tried once more to grab at Great Gama's throat, but Great Gama batted this assault away with the end of his staff.

White Lotus, now on his back, reached up from the ground and pinched at the back of Great Gama's legs near the nerves to try to incapacitate him.

Great Gama swung his weapon downward between his legs and the end of the staff hit White Lotus atop the head. White Lotus jumped up, leaned his back against Great Gama's back and pushed him towards Elder Hakka who, in turn, struck out with punishing strikes to Great Gama's chest.

Great Gama over powered White Lotus and pushed back, sending the boy somersaulting away. He swung his weapon wide and Elder Hakka had to back away to retreat from the staff's range.

Great Gama did a small kata with his three-sectional staff and paused a moment, the middle section of the weapon across his back while the other two were held in his hands. He looked to Elder Hakka and said, "You cannot kill me! I am the Great Gama!"

White Lotus got up from the ground. He leaped through the air at Great Gama and came to land on his back, his feet resting upon Great Gama's hips, his pointed fingers twisting and punching into his kidneys. White Lotus remained on Great Gama's back as his enemy cried out in pain.

Elder Hakka then leaped through the air himself, bringing his feet down upon Great Gama's knees as his pointed fists were driven into Great Gama's neck where they drew blood at the artery.

Great Gama stood this way a moment, locked in a death throe, White Lotus upon his back and Elder Hakka upon his neck. The last thing Great Gama's eyes gazed upon was the mantis Fenrir resting on Elder Hakka's left shoulder.

Great Gama fell and with him fell White Lotus and Elder Hakka.

White Lotus and Elder Hakka stood. Great Gama did not. He remained locked in a state of horrible recognition for his demise.

White Lotus knelt before Great Gama and began to pray for him.

Elder Hakka panted.

Butik looked on in horror and wonder. He said softly to himself, "How I wish I could fight as these two do."

White Lotus presided over Great Gama's burial immediately, an honor Great Gama did not much deserve, or so thought the villagers of Moonflower, but they admired the young monk for his compassion.

That night, while looking at the stars outside his masters' home, White Lotus wondered why the gods had allowed things so gruesome and horrible as violence. Elder Hakka joined him, the two sitting atop a collection of freshly cut logs that White Lotus had attended to the day before. They sat quietly gazing at the stars for a long time.

Then White Lotus asked, "Do you remember when the stars were stolen away?"

"I do," nodded Elder Hakka.

"I come from the Kingdom of Aniabas. To the north was teh Plain of Adoration where the Jewel of Zingtai was won to be restored and with it all the stars, yet I do not remember a night without stars."

"You are fortunate."

"I do not think anyone should know a night without star," sighed White Lotus.

"And I do not think anyone should be allowed to know day with night," retorted Elder Hakka.

White Lotus considered this. He nodded and said, "I think I should be leaving you, Elder Hakka. But I want you to know it is not a sign of disrespect. I feel I must leave for my own purposes."

"I would not be offended," said Elder Hakka. "You came as you needed. Go as you need."

White Lotus ventured to hug his master.

Elder Hakka gladly hugged the boy in return with a deep, loving, trusting hug.

The next morning, Elder Hakka awoke and took Fenrir outside for their kata. White Lotus said good morning to the both of them and prepared for them a fine meal while they practiced. But when Elder Hakka grew suspicious why White Lotus hadn't joined them, he took Fenrir back into the home to find a full meal prepared, but White Lotus had already gone.

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Part 4

On the eleventh birthday of White Lotus, he awoke under a pandanus tree with the ambition to build a temple for his most beloved god, Xiao-tep. He told many people about this ambition and got quite a few people to agree to help him. They followed him for seven months until he came to a peak within the northern mountains called The Mountain of the Misty Moon. So tall was this mountain that the moon, when it passed overhead at night, nearly touched the mountain's peak. It was here, exclaimed White Lotus, that the temple must be built. Of the many that followed him, nearly two-thirds abandoned him at this moment. There were not enough supplies and it was too far from the nearest town from which to get food and drink and tools. Of those that remained, they saw the wisdom within they young boy's choice. The harsh climes and the seclusion from the world made the Mountain of the Misty Moon a perfect location for meditation upon the gods. Construction was begun and it took a year to build the small stone temple. It was not adorned generously. A lone man named Michel carved two statues of Xiao-tep and that was all the decoration the temple required. Every stone was put into making a commissary and garden, a building in which White Lotus' disciples could sleep, a room for White Lotus alone, and a temple within which to pray and meditate and study. These were all enclosed and joined by an outer wall that was hoped would keep out predators and ill winds.

When the temple was complete, those that had helped build it, though they had agreed it was a fine place for a temple, could not imagine themselves living under such conditions. They left White Lotus alone in the temple, but before they went, he asked them to spread word of his temple and that he issued forth an invitation to Xiao-tep to come visit the temple and see that it was satisfactory.

White Lotus lived alone for two months before someone came to the large wooden doors of the temple. They called out for White Lotus by name and when White Lotus opened the doors, he recognized the one calling his name. It was Butik, the lizard demi-god and former servant to Great Gama.

"If you've come for your revenge," said White Lotus as Butik stood chilled in the falling snow, "you'll not be allowed to stain this temple with blood. Take your anger elsewhere and I will seek you out another time."

"You think I could fight in these climes?" issued Butik. "I can barely move. I do not want vengeance on you or anyone else. The day I witnessed you and your master fight Great Gama, I discovered what I had been missing in myself: control over my own destiny. I seek your counsel, your wisdom and your fighting skills."

"Do you mean to say you wish to become a student at my temple?" asked White Lotus.

Butik nodded. "Though, truthfully, I'd prefer a warm fire right now. This cold air is bringing death closer every minute for me."

White Lotus opened the temple doors wide and let in Butik. They warmed themselves by a fire and ate together. They spoke of the last day they had seen each other. Butik told how he tracked White Lotus to the temple. Slowly, very slowly, they came to trust one another.

And in the village at the base of the mountain, an orange butterfly by the name of Iulia overheard a conversation about White Lotus' invitation for Xiao-tep to the temple. Julia knew that nearly all the butterflies in the world had flown the ugliness of the demon now plaguing the world for the beautiful gardens of Taleisin, home to Xiao-tep. She took it upon herself to fly to Taleisin, flitting and fluttering up and away to above the clouds where Taleisin roamed the skies. Once there, she sought out Zyanya and told her of the invitation and Zyanya, in turn, sought out Xiao-tep.

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Part 5

"The Many Gods would like to meet with you in the Courtyard of the Seven Jade Doors," Lei-zi explained to her son.

Xiao-tep considered this. He asked, "Why would they wish to see me?"

"I cannot lie to you, my dear son. They wish to weigh your worth and to possibly invite you to join us in the Many Heavens. it is a great honor."

"What a wonderful honor, indeed," agreed Xiao-tep. He thought it over, nodded and said, I will go with you to the Many heavens and there meet with the Many Gods within the Courtyard of Seven Jade Doors."

It was at this moment Zyanya came to Xiao-tep and told him of the invitation to the temple White Lotus had dreamed and had built.

"My son would seem quite popular these days," Lei-zi bragged to Zyanya.

"He has a good heart," said Zyanya.

Xiao-tep considered both invitations. He knew that ascending to the Many Heavens to meet with the Many Gods was an incredible offer and one that not everyone received. But he was also honored to hear a temple had been built in his honor and wished to see if the mortal called White Lotus needed him.

"The pull to go to both is strong," said Xiao-tep slowly, "but the pull to the temple is far stronger. The Many Gods do not need me, nor will they ever need me. But mortals might need me. I cannot turn my back on this White Lotus. I can only hope the Many Gods do not take this as a choice made in vanity."

Lei-zi smiled, but lowered her head in sadness. She said, "Perhaps the gods will agree to meet with you after you have visited with White Lotus."

"We can hope, but we cannot count on that," said Xiao-tep. "I must go, mother. Perhaps I'll see you when I return?"

Lei-zi smiled and wished her son a fair journey. As she watched her son fly away from Taleisin, she wondered if she could convince the Many Gods not to kill him for the choice he had made.

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I hope everyone enjoyed Act III. Check back next week for Act IV!

"Seven Jade Doors" -- Act II

2010-04-02T00:27:00.010-04:00

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"Seven Jade Doors" is copyright 2010 by Charles Shaver. All rights reserved.

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BROKEN HEARTS: Wherein Alecto Attempts to Take Her Life; Stavros and Comet Fox Argue; Old Friends Go Separate Ways

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Part 1

Darkness, sorrow and despair filled the heart of young Alecto. She lay, trying to sleep amidst the friends and the night, covered in a blanket of fleece. Eloqua lay snoring next to her. Alecto's eyes found the moon and watched its path beneath Kalavata. She pricked up her head, looking about. Everyone was asleep, even Stavros who was to be on guard for enemies. The rat sat leaning with his back against a cypress, his head bobbing with wear. When at last his head rested low and did not come up, Alecto removed her blanket and stood to creep away from the others.

Every move she made created some noise. She feared every step. Yet she moved onward, away from the camp and unseen. She wandered, heart weak with worry, until she came to the side of a creek. She bent low to watch the moon's reflection there and caught a glimpse of her own. She asked of her mirrored self, "Why must so much death rule the world? Why must my mother hate me and wish me dead like my father?"

Tears flowed from her heart, out her eyes and cascaded through the cold night air to land, rippling in the waters of the creek. She could not look at herself, her eyes darting from her reflection. Laying on the ground nearby was a short length of a fallen branch from a cypress tree. It's end came to a long and jagged point and she thought it might make a fine spear. She leaned forward, grabbed at the branch and picked it up in both her hands. She eyed the branch, wondered at its fall, then turned it round so that the broken point was directed at her own stomach. She weeped quietly, desiring her own death. Thought she that were she already dead, her mother might end her reign of terror and the others would not need flee with such effort.

A small sound startled her and she turned, afraid.

Came a voice, "Are you well, Little Empress?" It was Stavros who had seen Alecto slip from the campground.

Alecto hid the branch up her sleeve and answered with cracked voice, "Y-yes."

"I know lies," said Stavros as he stepped from the shadows. He drew near and sat by the creek's edge, beside the kneeling Alecto.

"I've no reason to lie," lied Alecto.

"Oh?" Stavros considered his reflection in the creek's water. "Once I was a small rat, did you know that, Little Empress?"

Alecto shook her head.

"It's true. I was but a mere mortal rat, a common pest no one wanted near. Yet here I am," Stavros leaned closer to the waters to consider himself, "a Blessed One that has witnessed much adventure, much death, much agony, I've had many good friendships and witnessed many triumphs - my own and those of others."

Stavros looked to Alecto and said, "There are times I wonder why I was chosen by the Misty Hands of the Cosmos to become what I am now. And yet, I chose to bite off that bit of the Jewel of Zingtai that made me what I am as I sit by your side now. I was so very hungry then and didn't understand what the jewel was. I had hoped it was food. It wasn't, of course. And my fate as I sit here now very much confuses me. I am blessed. I am cursed. I am Stavros the Red. Once I was little Garu, friend to Doku. Now I am Stavros, friend to Comet Fox and the Ruska Roma. What a marvelous and frightening life I've lived and it is far from over."

Alecto said, "You are truly blessed. You should not consider the events of your life a curse. They are as they need to be and you will act upon those events as you need to react. Your life is truly wonderful."

Stavros smiled at this. He gazed deeply at Alecto and spoke, "And you should do the same. There is no other Little Empress. You are now witness to many tragedies, but your triumphs will come due and your friends - myself included should you wish - will be there at your side."

Alecto could not fight the tears upon hearing this. She threw herself into the arms of the rat.

Said Stavros into her ear, "Allow me the branch, Little Empress."

Alecto drew away from him, afraid to learn he had guessed at her thoughts and actions. Somewhat ashamed, frightened, but comforted by the gentle nature of Stavros she admitted to her desires by producing the branch from her sleeve and handing it over to Stavros.

Stavros took the branch, floated it in the creek and let it go to sail with the flow of water. He looked to Alecto again and said, "Give us a chance to make matters right."

At this, Alecto determined to remain alive. She said, "Thank you, friend Stavros."

Together they returned to the others. Stavros covered Alecto with the fleece blanket to keep her warm and sat at her side while she fell asleep. Before she slipped away, she asked, "Stavros, do you think that one day all this suffering will end?"

The question confused Stavros. He was uncertain if the Little Empress meant all the suffering in the world or merely her own suffering. He searched for a proper response and, finding a way to answer both possible questions, said, "I can only hope."

He stayed by her side through the night. He did not wake Comet Fox in the small hours when the moon fades into Kalavata's wings and before Etain crests the horizon. When Comet Fox scolded Stavros for this upon his waking, Stavros explained, "I could not sleep, friend, therefore I allowed you to rest while I remained awake."

Comet Fox sighed, saying, "Did anything happen to keep you awake?"

Stavros told a half-truth, "No, my own thoughts were keeping me awake."

Soon the entire gather band was awake, stretching with the morning sun. They were all startled when they heard the crashing sound of someone running through the wooded areas where they had slept. Came to them, by chance, Balin Pop and his young wife Jasmyn, refugees running for their lives and from their home in the small town of Caerraul near the river Ursk. When Balin Pop saw Comet Fox and the others, he gasped with fright, fearing they may well be in league with the demon Ketsueki Sato.

"Stay away from us!" he cried, placing his wife behind him so as to protect her.

"Who are you?" Comet Fox demanded.

Balin Pop stood, his wife peering from behind him, amidst the cypress trees, eying the Comet Fox and his band. "We will not go with you," warned Balin Pop. "We will not be tortured by your master Ketsueki Sato. You've destroyed our homes, you'll not lay another hand upon us!"

Comet Fox approached Balin Pop and Jasmyn slowly.

Balin Pop looked to the ground, found a large fallen branch and picked it from the ground. He waved it menacingly at Comet Fox, "Stay back fiend!"

"You do not understand," answered Comet Fox. "We are not in league with the demon. We are in flight from him as you appear to be. Tell me, what has he done to your people?"

Balin Pop, having run all night with his wife, gasped for air. He struggled to speak.

Jasmyn tugged at her husband's dark robe now torn from the efforts of their flight. She whispered into his ear, "I believe this to be the one called Comet Fox. He is a friendly spirit and son to Coyote."

Balin Pop eyed Comet Fox. "What are you called, demon?" he asked.

"I am called Comet Fox," came the answer, "but I am no demon. I am a god."

Balin Pop lowered the branch to the ground. He said, "Is this true? Do gods run from the demons now? I thought gods and demons stood against one another."

Comet Fox nodded, "Most often that may be true, but we've mortals in our midst and they cannot stand against demons, so we run."

Balin Pop heaved with effort, trying desperately to breathe.

Yele Prin Prin brought forth two skins of water and handed them to Balin Pop and Jasmyn. The two refugees took them hesitantly, then drank deeply from them.

"Thank you," said Balin Pop once he had nearly emptied the skin.

Jasmyn considered Yele Prin Prin, her dark skin and feathered wings. She smiled at her and said, "You are quite beautiful."

Yele Prin Prin blushed and thanked Jasmyn for the fine compliment.

Comet Fox drew nearer Balin Pop. He said, "Tell me what Ketsueki has done to you."

"He killed a family in our town of Caerraul, then set every building ablaze with his angry fire. We fled into the night, leaving everything behind," explained Balin Pop.

Stavros came to Comet Fox and said, "The demon's anger must lash out. A demon must destroy. Since we are keeping ahead of him, I suspect he's destroying everything else in his path along the way in frustration."

"Ketsueki's murdering because he cannot face us, is that what you mean to say?" asked Comet Fox.

Stavros nodded.

"Would one of you happen to be Xiao-tep?" asked Balin Pop.

Comet Fox's ears pricked up at this. He said, "What of Xiao-tep?"

"The demon called for Xiao-tep. He said if Xiao-tep does not appear before him to fight, he will continue to destroy and murder throughout world."

Comet Fox sighed at this.

"Am I to assume none of you are Xiao-tep, then?" asked Balin Pop.

Comet Fox shook his head. "Xiao-tep knows of Ketsueki Sato's presence in the world, but he will not face him."

"Then we have to face him," said Stavros. "We must make a stand and fight Ketsueki."

Comet Fox looked to Alecto. He said, "No, we cannot."

"Then the demon will continue his wrath," Stavros spat.

"Alecto and Eloqua cannot fight!" argued Comet Fox.

"I have been teaching Eloqua the use of weapons. She may not have our skills yet but she can help more than hinder at this point in her training," said Stavros. "We must fight the demon or let the world continue to suffer!"

"And what of Alecto?" asked Comet Fox.

"We will find for her a good hiding place before the fight."

"And should Ketsueki find her?"

"We will not allow that!"

Comet Fox shook his head, "You know as well as I that all the preparation in the world cannot truly bring us to the foot of battle. Every detail in a fight must be scrutinize as the fight unfolds and when a weakness is found, it must be exploited. Ketsueki is an old and wise demon, a demon that once had tricked me into being his slave. He will know the course of battle as much as we and we cannot control every detail. He will also be looking for weaknesses and he will be looking, most of all, for Alecto."

"Listen to this man," Stavros pointed at Balin Pop, "the demon's mind is clouded with thoughts of Xiao-tep! He'll not want Alecto!"

"But what if he should find Alecto?" asked Comet Fox.

"He won't!"

Comet Fox stepped closer to the rat and said gently, "But what if he does?"

Stavros sighed. Said he, "We both know what would happen."

Comet Fox nodded. "My task from the first day has been to protect the Little Empress. I will not stray from that path, Stavros."

"Then, perhaps," Stavros' words came slowly, thoughtfully, "we should part ways. You should take Alecto to safety while the rest of us remain behind to fight."

Comet Fox sighed with frustration. "And where would you go? What would you do?"

Stavros asked of Balin Pop, "Where is the nearest town?"

Balin Pop pointed to the south and west and said, "Liu-wal. It is, I could guess, a half day's travel on foot. We were going there at first, but then thought better of it. If the demon Ketsueki is traveling the merchant paths from town to town, Liu-wal shall be his next destination, so we steered ourselves north to these woods and now here we are."

"Will Ketsueki have made it there yet?" asked the rat.

Balin Pop shook his head. "He came slowly into our town and left the same way. I suspect he's taking his time, reveling in his destruction. I would suppose you could make it to Liu-wal before the demon."

Stavros looked to Comet Fox. "I will meet Ketsueki in Liu-wal and there lay a trap for him. When he comes to burn the town, I shall strike him down."

"You speak with a fool's tongue," said Comet Fox. "Once I fought Ketsueki Sato. I alone could not have defeated him. It took the combined efforts of myself, Wu Chan Chu, Xiao-tep and many others to bring down the demon. Though he has a new form, we cannot expect him to be any weaker. Stavros... friend," Comet Fox spoke these words pleadingly, "you alone cannot stand against him. You cannot defeat ketsueki Sato."

Stavros eyed the fox-god. His hand went to the hilt of his sword. He felt the weapon a moment before saying, "I cannot continue to run. I cannot allow Ketsueki to continue his reign of terror. I was born to fight. This may be my destiny."

"But you cannot defeat the demon!" Comet Fox cried out.

"Then that, too," answered Stavros, "may be my destiny."

"I would go with you," spoke Faryad. "I tire of the pursuit, as well. Not only is the demon hounding my trail, but Sharif follows. I wish to make a stand, as well."

"I will stay at Faryad's side," added Yele Prin Prin.

Comet Fox considered the three that desired the fight. He said, "I agree that we must fight at some point, that the infernal Ketsueki Sato must be put down... but not at this time. Alecto's safety must be our priority. And then we can turn our attentions towards the demon."

"Your promise to Alecto is that," said Stavros, "it is your promise, not ours. Though I doubt any of us would argue your heart's nobleness, we cannot allow more lives to be sacrificed for hers."

"I wish I had killed myself last night!" Alecto screamed at Stavros. "I wish you'd not stopped me!"

Eloqua wrapped her arms about Alecto as she fell to the ground, weeping without end.

Comet Fox cocked his head at Stavros. "What happened last night?"

"It is true, the Little Empress wished to take her own life last night," sighed Stavros.

"And what did you do?"

"I simply spoke with her. She gave up the branch she was going to use on her belly willingly."

"I hate my mother!" cried Alecto. "I hate myself! I no longer wish life! I wish the demon would come here and take my life and end it all! Ketsueki Sato! Be my savior! End my life!"

Alecto's words echoed throughout the woods. Eloqua clasped her hand over Alecto's mouth to silence her.

The gathered band looked about, listening, watching, waiting to see if Ketsueki had heard, waiting to see if the demon would come.

"We can only pray the infernal did not hear," said Balin Pop and Jasmyn nodded in agreement.

"Comet Fox," said Stavros in a low voice, "Alecto is badly hurt. Her heart yearns for an end to this. Take her in your arms and carry her to the Peony without the rest of us. Those of us that wish to make a stand will do so at Liu-wal. This should give you enough time to get her to the safety of Wu Chan Chu's care."

"Wish that I could know you three were enough to defeat the demon," answered Comet Fox. "But I cannot say. I beg you all to reconsider. I beg you to remain with me as I travel to the Peony Teahouse to find Wu Chan Chu. She is the greatest fighter I've ever seen. Her fists and knees would be of great help to us."

"All this fighting discourages me," complained Sarut as he flew to rest atop Faryad's shoulder.

"Stay quiet," warned Faryad.

"Why should I? They yell so that the Many Gods Within the Many Heavens should hear. Why should I remain silent?"

Upon hearing Sarut's small voice, Stavros snapped at him, "Quiet, little bug, or I'll squash you as you perch upon Faryad. And I could do so without rustling a single hair on his face."

"Bring any harm onto Sarut," warned Faryad, "and I'll shatter both you and your sword into many pieces."

Stavros' pride willed him to say, "I would cut you in twain, first."

"Do not snap at the bug, Stavros. Attacking the weaker is far beneath you. I've never seen you do this before," scolded Comet Fox.

"Do not look down upon Stavros," urged Faryad. "Sarut has a way with his mouth that causes anger. It is not a flaw in Stavros, but in Sarut."

"How dare you!" cried Sarut. "First you kill my family, now you insult me! Were I larger I would strike you down!"

"I have apologized for what I have done to you and your family, Sarut. I fear I cannot do much more. I've brought you with me so that I may care for you, to repay my debt I owe to you. I will not, however, kowtow to your every whim for every whim that you may have may not always be righteous. What good would it do to promise obeisance if you are to have me conduct ill? As I am trying to live a righteous life and repay my debts of the past, I will hold you in the same regard."

"Do you suggest to command me?" defied Sarut. "Those are very many pretty words, Faryad the Exploding Sword, but do not think me ignorant. I know you've given a poetic flair to telling me to shut my mouth!"

"In essence, perhaps-"

"No more with your lies and flair!" Sarut interrupted Faryad. "Perhaps the rat is right. I think our parting is imminent. I would not stay it's arrival. Fare well to you, Faryad. May the demons of the Many Hells pursue you to death and beyond!"

Sarut took to flight. Comet Fox lifted into the air after him and gave chase, calling him, "Sarut! Wait! Talk with me!"

Comet Fox followed Sarut some ways through the cypress woods, his comet's tail streaking behind, Sarut fly with desperation and anger. Finally Sarut landed on the back of a needle-like leaf of a cypress and Comet Fox passed him by, having lost sight of the small ladybug. When Comet Fox returned to the others, Sarut slipped from behind the cypress leaf and flew from the woods unseen.

"I've lost him," said Comet Fox to the others.

"It may be best he's not with us at the moment," said Faryad, "though I feel horrible for I know from whence his anger comes."

"Do not consider yourself the source of all anger," soothed Yele Prin Prin. "Sarut has the right to be angry with you, but at some point he has chosen anger over forgiveness, pain over pleasure. You have made the attempt to help him and you can do nothing more."

"Take the Little Empress," said Stavros to Comet Fox, "remove her from this place. Get her as far away from here as possible."

Comet Fox nodded. "I do not agree with our parting ways," he said, "but I agree I can fly with Alecto in my arms more swiftly than if we remain grounded and running."

"Get her to the protection of Wu Chan Chu," agreed Stavros.

"What of me?" asked Eloqua.

"I cannot carry you both and maintain my flight for long," admitted Comet Fox. "I may be a god, but my strength is not as apt as my guile."

"Than I must stay behind," Eloqua realized. "You would trust your own life with this Wu Chan Chu?"

"I would," answered Comet Fox, "and I have."

"Then I also trust her. Take Alecto to her side. I will remain and, if I have to, I will join the fight."

Snow Fox stepped forward. He said, "Brother, I do not wish to part with you, but I cannot follow."

"I will return as swiftly as I can," answered Comet Fox.

Comet Fox gather the sobbing Alecto up in his arms. Eloqua stroked the small mustache at his maw and kissed his nose. She struggled with words and her emotions at the moment of parting. All she could say was, "Please..."

Comet Fox nodded. "With my life, I will protect her."

He then looked at Stavros and said, "Once she is safely with Wu Chan Chu, I will fly as fast as I can to Liu-wal and meet you there before the fight begins."

Stavros nodded.

The fox-god took to the air and was soon flying northward towards the Peony Teahouse, the others watching him go.

Stavros then turned to Balin Pop and said, "I assume we also will part?"

Balin Pop nodded. "I think that would be best."

Jasmyn tugged at her husband's tattered robe and said, "Balin, perhaps we should accompany them."

"What is this? Why would you want to face the demon again?" her husband asked.

"For all we know we may be the last of our people, the last of Caerraul. I would assume that if we could get away, however, others did as well. But we've no children, no home, we've barely the clothes we wear. If anyone is to bring honor and glory to our little town, let it be the two of us. Let us join these people in their fight against the demon that would destroy us."

"Glory and honor are not good reasons to fight," said Stavros. "One should fight only when it is the right thing to do."

"But you go to fight, correct?" asked Jasmyn.

Stavros nodded.

"Because it is the right thing to do?"

Again Stavros nodded.

"Then we should join you."

"If we were going to fight, dear Jasmyn," said the frustrated and fearful Balin Pop, "then why didn't we last night? Why did we spend the night running for our lives?"

"Because we were afraid," answered Jasmyn. "And maybe because it was the right thing to do. It allowed us to cross paths with gods."

"There was only one god here," corrected Stavros, "and he left."

"We still crossed his path and the paths of Blessed Ones," said Jasmyn.

Balin Pop sighed. He looked to Stavros, Yele Prin Prin, Faryad and Eloqua. He said, "I suppose being in your company would be a good thing. Jasmyn and I can always run again if we need to. Dear wife, are you certain about this?"

"As certain as the day I married you, dear husband," answered Jasmyn.

"Climb on the horse Gullnir with Eloqua, then," Stavros instructed Jasmyn, then asked of Balin Pop, "Will you be able to keep up?"

"I will do my best," said Balin Pop.

Stavros bowed slightly. He introduced himself, "I am Stavros the Red. Follow me."

**********

Part 2

Lei-zi came to Taleisin amidst a field of butterflies. She was in awe of the layers of colors they created throughout the Mountain That Lives in the Sky and the air around it. She stood upon the soft grass watching the flitting and fluttering of the thousands and thousands of butterflies. She held out a cupped hand and guided a Rhetenor Blue Morpho named Zyanya closer to her. The butterfly landed on her hand and crested her first finger to look at the goddess.

"Little one," said Lei-zi, "are there always so many butterflies in Taleisin?"

"No," said Zyanya. "We have come here recently, fleeing for our lives."

"Why do you flee? What would have you so frightened?"

"A demon has come into the world," said Zyanya. "And he means to destroy all life. Now we fear being here and are discussing flight to a new land. A mere day ago the demon called for the blood of Xiao-tep, Taleisin's caretaker. Taleisin is no longer safe."

Lei-zi considered this. "What is the name of this demon?"

"Ketsueki Sato. Xiao-tep has faced him once before and defeated him. Now the demon seeks his vengeance against the fish-god."

"Where might I find Xiao-tep?" asked Lei-zi.

Zyanya hesitated. She asked, "You are not in league with the demon, are you? I would not deliver death unto Xiao-tep."

"No," Lei-zi shook her head vigorously. "I am Lei-zi, Xiao-tep's mother."

Zyanya thought this over, then said, "He is atop the mountain where he communes with the dove Aglina."

"Thank you, little one."

Lei-zi released Zyanya and the butterfly joined the many layers of flying colors swirling about Taleisin. The goddess then ascended the mountain.

Xiao-tep was the first to notice her coming. He stood from where he was sitting next to Aglina's nest as they spoke and ate fruit. He watched his mother coming carefully and welcomed her with a hug and kiss when she drew near.

"Mother!" cried Xiao-tep with a smile.

"Hello, son," Lei-zi smiled in return. They embraced and Lei-zi touched lightly the ankh now glowing golden upon his head. She said, "You've undergone a change."

"Yes, mother, I have."

"Has it been a good change?"

"I believe so."

Lei-zi smiled at this.

"Mother, this is Aglina the Dove. She resides here upon Taleisin and is a dear friend. Won't you join us for a lunch of fruits?"

"I would like that," answered Lei-zi.

Together they sat, eating fruits and chatting idly about Taleisin. Xiao-tep told a few of his tales to his mother as he broke apart a mango and fed bits of it to Aglina.

"Have you spoken with father?" Xiap-tep uneasily asked.

"I have," said Lei-zi. "And recently."

"Is he well?" asked Xiao-tep.

This question surprised Lei-zi. She folded her hands upon her lap and eyed her son. She swallowed a bit of pomegranate and asked, "Xiao-tep, please forgive me, but how is it that you would care about a father that would have you dead? he still desires your death, you know."

Xiao-tep sighed at this. He merely said, "It is his way, mother."

Lei-zi thought this over. She asked, "Xiao-tep, what ha become of you? A murderous father like Hapi would surely create a child of woe and anger. Where is your anger? What has become of Xiao-tep the Ankh-fish of 100,000 Sorrows?"

Xiao-tep looked down upon the plain at the foot of the mountain. He said, "It was there, mother, below us that I took my last life. I killed Fei Li Mi upon Taleisin and struggled with the killing for some time. But then the world opened up for me and became as a beacon, a light and - as I sit before you I swear this to you - it was as though I could see the very Hands of the Cosmos themselves and their intended destiny. My vision has since become muddy, but the feeling I got that day remains. I cannot say I know the truth in all things, but I know murder can no longer be a part of my path. I must instead love the world. And why shouldn't I? It is a glorious world, even when it is ruled or stained by ugliness. As a demon must be demonic, so my father must desire my death. I cannot say he truly hates me and that eases my pain. He does not know me. True hatred cannot be bred through ignorance, though often hatred is the child of ignorance. This is the case for my father. he does not know me. He cannot hate nor love me. But to be angry and afraid that I am alive is in him. He has much to lose if my existence becomes known to the many gods."

"But Xiao-tep," said his mother, "the gods know."

Xiao-tep looked at his mother. "Do they? How?"

"Freyr had discovered the truth of your being and when he came to me with the obvious questions, I could not lie to him. A council within the Courtyard of the Seven Jade Doors was held and it was decided your presence is requested within the same courtyard to be introduced to the many gods."

Xiao-tep looked over the world, then to his mother again. "What effect will this have on my father?"

"He is angry," Lei-zi could not lie, "and he is not in general favor with the gods, but he will deal with this as he must."

"Is that why you've come to Taleisin? To retrieve me for this meeting of the gods?"

Lei-zi nodded, "And to visit with my beloved child."

Xiao-tep smiled at this.

"Tell me more of your adventures. And please tell me of your friends!" urged Lei-zi as she ate another bit of pomegranate.

Xiao-tep smiled. "I have been blessed, mother. My friends are many. Did you know I've a half-sister? I am fortunate to be able to call her friend."

"Oh?" asked Lei-zi.

**********

Part 3

Comet Fox came streaking across the sky above the Peony Teahouse. He circled once then landed. Alecto had fallen asleep, exhausted from emotion, in his arms on the way to the teahouse. Comet Fox woke her and said, "Dear Little Empress, we are safely here. We have come to the Peony Teahouse."

He set Alecto on the ground. A few passersby eyed them, though not for long.

Alecto wiped at her face and looked up at the glorious teahouse. "It's beautiful," she said.

"It is not as it seems," Comet Fox informed her. "It can be quite the den of ill-will."

"Where would we find Wu Chan Chu?"

"If she is here she will be the house champion. We will go inside to find her."

"House champion?"

Comet Fox nodded. "Remain close to me and do not speak to anyone."

Alecto felt a sense of danger and wonder at once.

Together the two entered the Peony Teahouse.

Comet Fox quickly found Sal Igo and questioned him of Wu Chan Chu's whereabouts.

"What do you mean she's not here?" demanded Comet Fox.

"She left," explained Sal Igo. "We have a new champion, one called Iron Shirt. His skills are far superior to Wu Chan Chu's and he will not run out on me on any little whim. So when Wu Chan Chu came here looking for her old position I turned her away."

Comet Fox shook his head. "That was a stupid thing to do."

"Why? Should I feel threatened by the mighty and powerful frog?" Sal Igo mocked.

"No, because she is a great draw and your losing money every day she's not your house champion."

"Only if she remained here, but her history with the Peony shows she cannot be trusted to do so. She comes and goes and then I have periods wherein my profits are slack. Iron Shirt is a constant and steady money-maker. He may not be quite the draw, but he more than makes up for it in the long run."

"Where did Wu Chan Chu go?" demanded Comet Fox.

Sal Igo shrugged. "Can anyone say? That dastardly frog goes where she will and when she will. She could be in Taleisin for all I know."

"How long ago did you last see her?"

"Three, maybe four days ago. I cannot remember. Her presence here was so unimportant to me."

Comet Fox grabbed up Sal Igo by his robes and said, "Listen to my words, profiteer: When next you see Wu Chan Chu tell her Comet Fox seeks here. It is a matter od dire importance."

Afraid, Sal Igo raised his hands and said, "I will convey the message."

Comet Fox let go of the Peony's proprietor.

Said Sal Igo, "Now, unless you wish to make a bet on the next fight or be in the fight yourself, go away from me. I've business to conduct."

Comet Fox glowered at Sal Igo, grabbed Alecto's hand and lead her out of the Peony. They stood side-by-side outside the teahouse's doors. Comet Fox looked in every direction, wondering which way Wu Chan Chu might have gone.

"Where do we go now?" asked Alecto.

Comet Fox sighed. He said, "I suppose our only option is to return to Liu-wal to meet up with Stavros and the others. Or, I suppose I could try to find Balori in Ife and leave you with him, but I'm uncertain where exactly in Ife he is and I'm not familiar with his country."

"Does that mean we're returning to Eloqua and the others?"

"I'm afraid so," said Comet Fox.

"Oh," said Alecto. "Can't we look for Wu Chan Chu?"

"I do not know where else she could be. I cannot search the world over looking for her. If she is not here, she could be anywhere."

Comet Fox gathered up Alecto in his arms once more and flew from the Peony Teahouse.

"What about Xiao-tep? Could you take me to him?"

"No. Ketsueki wants both of you and Xiao-tep now refuses to fight. Taking you to Taleisin would be most dangerous."

"Oh," said Alecto.

As they traveled, streaking across the sky, Alecto asked of Comet Fox, "Do you ever wonder why the Cosmos made us, Comet Fox?"

"There have been times when I've questioned my purpose," admitted Comet Fox.

They traveled on some ways more before Comet Fox asked, "Did you truly intend to kill yourself?"

Alecto nodded. "I did."

"How did Stavros stop you?"

"He merely came to my side and spoke with me. He asked for the branch I was going to use to impale myself and I handed it over. He then covered me again and made sure I was warm to go back to sleep." She then mused, "He is a good person."

Comet Fox agreed, "He is also a good friend. It hurts me that he and I argued."

"Perhaps you should speak with him on the matter," suggested Alecto. "Apologize for yelling at him."

"I am not sorry for trying to get you to safety," said Comet Fox.

"Oh."

"But I am sorry I yelled at my friend," he added.

"Speak with him, Comet Fox. Speaking with him made me feel better and made me give up the branch."

Again they were silent for a while. Then Alecto asked, "This fight with Ketsueki is going to be bloody, isn't it?"

Comet Fox reluctantly nodded. "Fights with demons are always bloody."

"Will you hide me, as Stavros suggested, then go to fight?"

"I will."

Alecto fought against tears. She asked, "What if Ketsueki does find me?"

"I will protect you," said Comet Fox. "With my life... remember?"

Alecto smiled. She gave the fox-god a small kiss, then nuzzled her head into his shoulder.

Comet Fox flew through the sky, his tail streaking with mad brilliance.

**********

Hope you enjoyed! Check back next week for Act III!