This Reporter Part 1

I'm working on a new story idea. Really it's two stories that cross over with about a 75 year gap in-between. The first is a radio drama about two famous explorers in the 20s -30s. The next is the adventures of one of the explorers’ descendants when the events of the first story bleed through into the present. I have done quite a few treatments for this and tossed it around a lot before coming up with this format. This is an article written by a reporter who witnessed a large part of the present story. What the story would look like to an outsider. You may not have noticed but a lot of what I write is told from the prospective of a character or an all knowing narrator so this was kind of hard for me.

Long Field Ill. This reporter saw it all; weeks of snakes flooding into this small town, a deadly snake woman from the African Jungles come to get revenge on the grandson of the man who imprisoned her long ago, the jewel know as the Heart of the Jungle that held the power to shape one’s dreams, and the bravery of a group of kids to save the community they grew up in.

It has been no secret that for the last few months the snake population of the Riverside County in Illinois has skyrocketed. It’s what first drew this reporter to the small hamlet of Long Field. All types of snakes have been reported here but it wasn’t until rare tropical species from Africa showed up that the authorities became concerned. At first they suspected that a snake collector had gotten tiered of his exotic pets and had released them, often the case when wildcats are found roaming in neighborhoods. But as time passed the number of exotic snake found was far greater than any collector could have had, and the other fact was that all the snakes seemed to be converging on a single point within the county, Long Field.

Nothing made sense to this reporter until a little research found that since this whole phenomenon had started there had only been one snake related death; an elderly gentleman named Jonah Parks had been bitten in his house and died of the venom. Jonah Parks had been a locale celebrity in town, having spent most of his life traveling the world; he spent a lot of time telling the local children all about his adventures and showing off his souvenirs. That’s what he appeared as on the surface anyways, but with a little research this reporter discovered that he was really Jonah Parks, founder of the famed Adventures Club that meets at crossroads hall in London. He had been traveling companion to Professor Henry J. Humphries, famed explorer and discoverer of over 200 new species. Also Mr. Parks was over 100 years old, but from what I understand most people thought he was in his 70’s. Jonah Parks first appeared in newspapers back in the 1920s when he helped professor Humphries with the “Great Snake Infestation of the Congo”.

This was almost too much for this reporter to handle. The reports of the Congo snake infestation were hauntingly similar to that of the one this small Illinois town was facing. I was able to arrange some time to talk to Parks only living relatives, his son in law, Robert Jackson, and his son Johnny. Robert told me that he was aware that his father in law had been a famous explorer but was unaware of any snake infestation in the Congo. He did offer to have his son take me to his father in-law’s home to see if I could find anything there to help me.

That’s when I met Johnny Jackson, the boy with the walking stick.

Tagged again

I got tagged by one of my sisters to do this. Just to let you know I have been doing a lot of writing just nothing I’m ready to show here yet.

1. 
   I sing in my car all the time. As long as no one is in there with me I really belt it out, but don’t expect to ever hear me because I button up as soon as some one gets in with me.
   
2. On my mission I used to have this reoccurring dream that I could fly. I had it so often that some times I forgot that I couldn’t and would think to myself, “I don’t want to ride a bike, I should just fly there.” Then I would remember that I can’t really fly and feel stupid.
   
3. When I worked in a machine shop I specifically did not learn how to do one or two really basic steps in the machine set up process. This kept me from being completely independent in the shop and from being considered a real machinist. It was never my intention to stay at the shop and by not learning those skills (even though I picked up on them and could probably manage I never let anyone know) I never really became more then a chore boy.
   
4. The national Championship Air races are held every September in Reno and I always forget about them. I am really interested in Air racing but never seem to find events to go to. And for the last 3 years I remember Reno the week after it happens. So sad.
   
5. I once participated in a fantasy bowling league online. I knew nothing about pro bowling or the players which made it a lot of fun. Would I do it again? Yes! PS my team came in 956 out of about 3000!
   
6. I would like to own a store one day. Have my own place in a little shopping center. I don’t even care what it sells but as long as it’s mine.

5 Things Tag

Thought I would get on the band wagon with this one. I’m in trouble if everyone I know starts jumping off bridges.

5 things in my pocket (I don’t carry a purse)

1. Keys
2. Cell phone
3. Zune
4. Thumb drive
5. Smart badge

5 things in my office.

1. Golf club
2. Crow bar
3. Shoe polish
4. Comics
5. 5 inch floppies

5 things I always wanted to do

1. Go over Niagara Falls in a barrel
2. Write a comic
3. Go dancing in the streets
4. Play the banjo
5. Fight Nazis with a rocket pack

5 things I’m into

1. Webcomics
2. Writing
3. Cartoons
4. Samurai movies
5. Eddie Money (I really like his music)

I was going to write girls and freak everyone out, ahahahahaha.

Bobbin of Big House

I wrote this one because Jen told me to use the word “Betray”. It’s really kind of creepy and it disturbs even me, but I still like most of it. I tried to keep it under a 1000 words so it might seem to end a bit suddenly, that’s how it seems to me anyways.

Bobbin worked his way through the walls of the Big House with the skill and ease that any mouse posses; he was holding back. Bobbin was better then any other mouse in the Big House. He went places none of the others either could or would go. He found food none of the others even knew existed, and he saw things none of the others had ever seen. Their leader, Rx, had ordered Bobbin to teach two of the young mice how to do what he does. He had told Bobbin that the more mice that could make it to the high pantries or the Master Bedroom like Bobbin could, the more food they could bring back for everyone else. Bobbin had tried to explain that it was too hard to bring food back from those places, he had pleaded with Rx not to make him share his secrets, but Rx would not budge. Now he was stuck with two kids following him around slowing him down and asking stupid questions all the time.

“Hey Bob,” called out Tack, “where we going?” Tack was the older of the two kids Bobbin had been assigned. He wasn’t too bad at keeping up but mentally he wasn’t too sharp.

“I told you, we are going to the Master Bedroom. I also told you not to call me Bob. Where is Dust?”

“I’m here sir,” came the small voice of Dust. He was a small mouse covered in a coat of mixed color hair that made him look like a clomp of dust. Bobbin thought that it was his redeeming quality; if the people or the cat couldn’t see him then they couldn’t catch him. He was pretty sure they wouldn’t be able to because Bobbin kept loosing sight of him himself.

“Ah, yes there you are.” Bobbin was only slightly sure he had seen Dust poking out from behind Tack but he had heard him and that was good enough. He continued to lead them through the maze of dry wall and nails until they came to an impassable stud. Bobbin showed them how to stretch their bodies between walls and shimmy up to a knothole where they could get through. Both of them had to try it twice before they got up to the knot hole. They continued on to the Master Bedroom with Tack and Dust chattering the whole way about how cool it was to get up the knot hole. When Bobbin had had enough of their talk he stopped them and began his lecture.

“Ok boys we are in the walls of the master bedroom now so you’re going to have to be quiet. Our goal is to get up on the bed side table. Every night the Master brings a plate of snacks to bed with him and he only ever eats half before he falls asleep. Now the Master is a pretty light sleeper so just grab some food and run back to the wall. But be careful because he puts traps out. I’ll go first and make sure it’s ok. You two wait inside the wall.” They walked a bit more until they came to a hole that Bobbin had made.

Bobbin’s hole was underneath a dresser in the Master Bedroom witch gave Bobbin lots of cover. He looked out of every side to make sure the cat was not around. When he was sure he was safe he crept along the wall until he was just about to the corner. He stopped when he smelt cheese which told him that the Master had put a trap in the corner again. He bypassed the corned and the trap and made his way along the next wall until he reached the nightstand. He used the same trick as earlier to make his way up between the nightstand and the wall. When he reached the top there was a plate of cookies waiting for him, he broke off a piece and made his way back to the dresser along the walls.

When he got back Tack and Dust were very excited. The prospect of cookies was almost too much for them plus the added excitement of being in the master bedroom. Bobbin took Dust out with him and showed him how to check out of all the corners and told him all about the trap and how to get up to the night stand. Dust when off and a few minutes later he returned with a big piece of cookie in his mouth. He sent Dust back into the wall and had Tack come out and join him. He showed Tack how to look out from under the dresser and told him all about the trap. “Now when you get to the night stand go past it until you get to the bed. You can climb right up the sheets until you get to the top and there are the cookies.”

“Really, right up the sheets?”

“That’s right, but remember to be as quiet as you can, the first time I came I woke up the Master and almost didn’t make it out alive. Ok, on your way.” Bobbin watched as Tack disappeared into the darkness along the wall. After a few minutes there was aloud scuffle out in the room followed by a series of stomping noises. Dust poked his head out of the hole but Bobbin told him to get back in and hide. There was one finale stomp rather close to the dresser before the lights came on. Bobbin went back in the hole and waited for an hour with Dust. The lights went back off and the world was silent again.

“Come on Dust that’s all we can do for tonight. We better get back to Rx and tell him what happened. This will give you time to practice that new trick I taught you. You’ll need it for tomorrow when we got to the high pantry.”

Mo Money, Mo Ribs, Mo Money

Just taking a moment to remind all my readers to send me their prompts. The whole point of this Blog is to give me ideas to practice my writing. Also tell your friends to come read my blog, link me on your blogs and such. This is the first time in my life I am showing my writing openly. So far everyone has liked it, but they have all been my sisters so I don’t know if that counts. I also want to remind everyone that this writing is very raw and often unedited. It is full of errors and there is no need to point out all of them. Thank you.

PS – If anyone out there is interested in participating in a Weekly Flash Fiction Challenge, I would be willing to run one.

The Wind

I don't know if I have ever shown this one to anyone before (mostly I show them to David, ask him about some of my other works). the prompt for this was an old Indian saying about traviling with the wind at your back and rainbows on your shoulder.


With the wind at your back you can reach places you could have never imagined. This was the principal that Jeff lived his life by. He traveled wherever the wind felt like taking him. He would never fight it, couldn’t bring himself to go agenst it or to even try to use it like most people did. All he could do is to trust it and remember that the wind knows best.

When he was a little child he would stand on the small cliffs near the beach by his house. There the wind blew inland and brought the smell of the ocean all the way to his bedroom window. He would stand facing the wind, trying to see where the wind came from. It would ring in his ears with a loud slight whistle as it rushed past. On day, while flying a kite on the cliffs he sat there envying the toy. Why should it get to play in the wind and he had to stay on the ground? He tied the kite to a nearby fence and lied on the ground to watch as the wind pushed the clouds by. How he longed to be up there with the clouds. Not like the birds who used their wings to fly, but like the clouds, ready to go wherever the wind saw fit to take them. He closed his eyes and pretended he was a cloud, being blown by the wind to the plains further in past the beach. There they would rain and bring life to the plants, and joy to the hearts of the people there. What a thought he had then, a cloud is just a cloud ready to help those who needed the rain it brought. But the clouds could not get there on their own; they relied on the wind to take them there to help. He stood up with his eyes still closed and turned his back to the wind. How he wished to be like the clouds and travel with the wind. He could feel it rushing past him, smell it in his nose, and he could hear it whistling in his ears. With the wind at his back there was no echo inside his ears, no pounding of air as it bounced of him. He imagined he was a cloud now and that the wind went right through him. The whistling in his ears grew louder and he thought he could hear a tune. He brought his arms up into the air and turned his hands over in the wind. “I trust you” he thought. “I trust you like the clouds trust you.”

All of a sudden the whistling became singing and for the first time in his life, Jeff heard the voice of the wind. It was a beautiful tune full of hope and joy. The wind was singing to the clouds as they pushed them along. Jeff heard the words that the wind sang and wished that they were for him, he wanted to be a cloud so badly. Then he realized that he no longer felt the wind on his body. It was still there but instead of moving past him it was moving through him. All of a sudden it became very strong, as if it had turned to face only him. Then it happened; Jeff clearly heard a word come across the wind. “Jump”. He did. It was just a small vertical hop, and he returned to the ground in a fraction of a second. He felt solid again and opened his eyes to look around. To his amazement he was no longer on the small cliff where he had left his kite tied up. He was in the field between the beach and his house. He turned to see the cliff behind him and the kite still in the air with its line tied to the fence. The wind had taken him here, all the way to the field in a little jump. He had been carried like a cloud. He could hardly believe it. He started to laugh and turn about in the wind. Whenever he turned and his back hit the wind he could hear the song ringing in his ears. He began to slow his turns and eventually stopped with his back towards the wind listing to the song that it sang.

That night he slept with his window open and was sung to sleep by his new friend.

Jeff grew and listened to the wind that blew from the ocean. It had different songs and he learned every one. He would sing along with the cloud song, he would dance to the rhythm of the song for the summer rain, and he would let the wind sing him to sleep with it’s soft evening breeze. When the storms would come, he stayed up in his room crying to the sad song of the storm. When he was alone he would practice becoming a cloud, that’s what he called it. He would stand very still and let the air pass through him. Sometimes he would here the words come across to him in the wind. “Jump.” On occasion he would here “Step”. Each time it would take him a little further, and each time he would jump higher or step further. Once he was out in a boat by himself listing to the wind when it told him “Dive”. He almost did it, but wasn’t sure how far from the boat he would end up.

When the wind would go away Jeff was always sad. He would go out to the small cliff where he first heard the wind and sing the songs it taught him. When Jeff was thirteen there was a drought surrounding the area where he lived. Near the beach they were all right but no rain came and the wind stopped for 18 days. Jeff was starting to wonder if it was ever going to come back when a rainstorm blowing inland to end the drought hit them. He ran out into the storm, up to the cliff where he liked to listen, and called to the wind.

“Where did you go?” he called. “Why did you leave us for so long?” he continued to call out to the wind with anger, not stopping to listen to the song. He faced the wind head on not wanting to listen or enjoy the much-needed rain. After a few minutes he stopped and sat on the ground, brooding in his frustration. Not wanting to admit that he had missed the music of the wind, he refused to listen to it at first. But his ears had become used to the sounds and before long he unable to resist. To his suprise there was not the one voice singing that he was used to, but a new voice singing a duet with his familiar wind. They sang of a land far to the east that was very hard to live in. the mountains surrounding this land had kept the rain from coming to this land from some time, so the wind there had asked for help. Jeff’s wind had agreed to move it’s clouds and help push them over the mountains to save this land. Now the wind had returned to bring rain back to the land with the help of the wind from the east.

Jeff sat on the ground crying. He felt horrible for the things he had said to the wind. He had always trusted it before and now, when it was gone for such a short time, he had turned on it. “I’m sorry.” He said. “I didn’t know.”

Slowly from across the ocean came the words, “it’s all right”. Jeff was stunned, the wind answered him. It actually spoke back to him for the first time. He called out in amazement, felling slightly stupid for asking the question; “you can talk?” he was even more surprised to hear the answer. “Yes but not now. We have work to do”. And with that the wind returned to singing. Jeff sat on the cliff in wonder until his mother made him come inside.

“The wind can talk,” he kept saying under his breath. “The wind can talk”, all the way to bed. He lied under his covers listing to the duet push the storm through to the dry areas inland. He liked this new voice and wondered where exactly it came from. Then it struck him and the sentence under his breath changed. “There are other winds”. That was the night he decided to travel.