bluepenguinstories

[bluepenguinstories]

As If I Was Don Henley

Out in the desert I still remember that little young lady’s spirit stuck in the bobble head of my friend Bobby’s pick up truck. We weren’t meant to crash not into that cactus.

Somehow we walked back home. Picked ourselves up off the road. Made love while waiting to hitch a ride. I still remember you, Bobby.

And when I see my grandmother, I shed a tear. Because I know she’s not supposed to be there. Not anymore, but I just can’t bear not when I need somebody older than me. I can’t keep getting older. I can’t be the next one in line. But I know I can’t be that Little Debbie any more than Robert can be Bobby.

Now as if the blazing desert didn’t make me hallucinate even in the coldest of nights I can see my fate. It’s crisp, it’s dark but I know I’m among friends and I was never one to believe in anything greater than that.

#poem #poetry #writing #nostalgia #don henley

[bluepenguinstories]

Remoras Full Chapter LXXXIV: Sunrise

Bit my hand.

Yep.

It’s hard as a rock. All blue and numb. There’s no other way around it: frostbite.

Ha. I’m going to die, aren’t I?

Yes, it was a morbid thought, but it was always important for one to remember their own mortality. Some people have this idea that when we die, we all die alone. I don’t think that’s true, though. There’s always something with us. Even in death, we’re given comfort by our surroundings. In life, we have friends, family, the people we meet along the way, both good and bad…

...but to hell with it. For all intents and purposes, I walked alone in the dead of night, a purple sky, illuminated by the northern lights. Not even that could light my path ahead, however, as all I saw in the distance were shadows of mountain ranges, little squares and rectangles that may have been buildings, and a yellow glow further out.

Wait. Wasn’t that significant?

Looks like I had a bit of luck left in me after all. Lady Luck, if you’re out there, I’ll blow a kiss your way.

Yes, even as I was left stranded in the middle of the night, my clothes soaked and clung to me, now turned to near-ice, and my hands frostbitten, I wouldn’t give up so easily. I felt the constant shiver, the kind Remora would often feel. But more than that, I was sure I should have reached the stage of ‘paradoxical stripping’ about an hour ago (not that I had a sense of time, but it sure felt like an hour) yet there I was, clothes still stuck to me. Wouldn’t someone call that fate?

So when I saw through the front window the silhouette of a man in a black suit and slacks with slick, black hair, and thin, delicate glasses, my frozen heart started to thaw just a little.

Is that...am I home? I thought, even though it went against what I had been told. No matter how hard it was to walk, I had to enter that diner. I had to go through those doors, even if I collapsed as soon as I entered.

In retrospect, some might have called it fate that I did exactly that: shoved my way through the front door, only to collapse at the entrance.

“Interesting. So you’re telling me that you came from another timeline – one where you and I are husband and wife?”

His hands were folded and rested on the edge of the table. He sat across from me, smiling slightly, but not giving much indication as to how he really felt or believed. In other words: it was Ray, all right.

I nodded. While I did manage to explain the situation to him, it was still hard to get words out, especially what with all the shivering and defrosting I was doing.

“Incredible,” he continued. “While I wouldn’t say this is the first time someone has crashed through my restaurant in critical condition, this is certainly the first time someone’s told me a story like that.”

I shook all the moisture off of me like a wet dog. Water flew all over the floor, the window (which was already foggy) and the table. Ray didn’t look concerned, even as some got on his sleeve, and he just sipped his tea like usual.

Someone, who had a split, pencil mustache, sure looked concerned, however.

He was in a blue and white striped suit, with a green bucket hat over his head, and matted, swamp-green hair poking out. In other words, he looked just like your typical waiter if the restaurant in question encouraged quirky dress codes.

“Excuse me. You just got water all over the floor,” he sounded rather annoyed.

“Please, Pierre. This is a guest. We can always clean the floor later,” Ray turned toward the waiter. When he turned back to face me, he waved his hands away. “Sorry, you’ll have to excuse my husband.”

A knot twisted in my stomach. Not that this man, Pierre, wasn’t handsome in any way, just that it was yet another reminder that this wasn’t my world. This wasn’t my Ray.

Oh, but he’s still Ray in any other way that matters. That much is clear.

“Heh,” I smirked, “I get it. Crazy lady shows up and says she’s your wife. It’d be enough to make anyone a little irritated. But don’t worry, I’m not trying to steal you from him. I’m also not expecting you to believe me. Like, what? I’m from an alternate version of here? Oh, but I’ve got more stories to tell. Maybe crazy enough stories to make what I already told you seem plausible.” By now, I was starting to return to my usual self. It helped that Ray had given me a blanket and orange and white fleece sweater. His generosity could be tricky, as he knew his way around people enough to make anyone feel special, even if he didn’t know those people at all. If I wasn’t careful, I’d breakdown and wish for him to be my Ray. But I couldn’t do that. I had another one back at home. It wasn’t right to be greedy.

“Go on. I won’t promise to believe you, but I’m always willing to listen to a guest. Say, would you like some tea? I’m currently drinking oolong.”

I waved my hand away as if I was fanning myself.

“No thank you. I would like some whiskey, though.”

“Whiskey?! Really?! You were stranded in the cold and THAT’S what you want?!” Pierre’s outbursts were rather amusing. I forgot that this wasn’t a world that didn’t know who I was.

“Eh? Why not?” I shrugged. “A drink’s a drink. I always find those drinks to warm me up and provide a kick. Especially good for colder climates.”

He continued to gawk until Ray snapped his fingers.

“Well? Are you going to bring this lady her drink?”

“Of course, my love!” Pierre saluted, then ran off to the back. I had a little snicker at the sight before I returned my focus to this Ray.

“Did he take your last name? Or did you his?” I pointed my thumb toward the back.

“Ha. Neither. We’re pretty independent like that. I’m Ray Sunshine, as you know, and he’s Pierre Oiseaux.”

“I can’t pronounce that.”

“Don’t worry about it. You can just call him Pierre. He calls me ‘hubby’ or ‘my love’, but that bit’s a little irrelevant.”

“It’s a little gaudy,” I agreed.

“Excuse me?” Pierre returned with a glass of bright, sun-kissed whiskey in hand. “Who are you to say I’m gaudy?”

“Sorry, no offense. Such pet names aren’t my thing. But it’s fine if it’s yours.”

He let out a deep sigh.

“Sorry. Sorry. I’m just a little on-edge right now,” he admitted.

“Oh, hun. High strung? What about?” I asked.

“Just marriage trouble,” Ray joked. I say ‘joked’ but his delivery was rather flat. Not deadpan, either. Just real jolly and matter-of-fact.

Which, if there was one thing that must have been consistent among Rays was this: when he says marriage trouble, he means something else. If he says something other than marriage trouble, than it might have been marriage trouble. That’s how Ray operated. He was honest in his dishonesty.

I want to pry...I want to pry...I want to pry…

“So, what other stories do you got for me?” Ray asked.

Damn it! I missed my chance to pry!

“Well, you got your hand shot by a former assassin named Remora. You later just got your whole arm amputated and got it replaced with a prosthetic, though you usually just find it easier to cook without that fake arm attached. You know Rhea Flection?”

He shook his head.

“Darn. She’s a well-known former assassin as well. Been to many timelines. So, Remora is another version of Rhea. Who died, by the way, except never mind, no she didn’t. Say, what about the time traveling gay mafia boss, Tony Falsetto? Are you still friends with him?”

“While I don’t like to make my connections known, no, I’ve never met someone by that name.”

Lame. Where’d all the cool people go?

“Man. I wonder what Demetria’s up to. Maybe since she never met Remora, she finished school and is studying them fishes. Oh, and Tigershark. Well, I guess since Cronus never showed up here, she’d still be with her parents and be going by Rotellina Littlewheel. Hmm...does that mean my timeline was the bad timeline and this is the good one?” I thought out loud.

“The Littlewheels? They were regular guests here. Cute kid, too. Their research was done, though, and they’re living in Italy now.”

Hearing that put a smile on my face. Sure, I would never meet the Tigershark that wasn’t Tigershark, but at least this version had her parents. She was probably happy, if nothing else.

“They were good people, yeah?” I asked.

“Yeah. They were.”

I couldn’t think of anything else to say. Nothing that would impress him, anyway. Sure, I could have mentioned Aion. Maybe those two had history here as well. But let’s be honest: I had bigger concerns.

“Hey. So. It’s a longshot, but have you seen a slender black woman named Ananke with cool armor over her limbs?”

“Can’t say I have.”

“Damn. She’s my ticket out of here. If anyone knows how I can get back home, it’s her.”

“Home? As in your timeline?” Ray pondered.

Matters such as this could be so delicate. There were many ways to approach such things. Yes, a simple ‘yes’ would have sufficed, but I was much more sophisticated. So I shook my head.

“No. Home as in my home. It may not be the best place, but it’s the one I love.”

“Well, for your sake, I hope you find it. I’ll be on the look out for this ‘Ananke.’ Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”

Why, yes, dear Ray, there is something, I grinned.

So that’s how I ended up walking out the door of the restaurant with a fishing pole and bait in hand. This Ray also gave me a bundle of sticks for good measure. There was only one thing left to do: walk a fair distance away from the restaurant and light a fire. With any luck, I could cut a hole in the ground and do a bit of ice fishing.

Right when I thought I found a good spot to drop everything, I heard a neat little clicking sound behind me.

“Just what are you really after?” Growled a rather, if I was in the complimenting mood, handsome voice.

“I told ya already. I’m not interested in your husband. I have my own,” I smirked.

Moisture ran from my thick hair down to my neck. It wasn’t sweat, I knew that much. It was just proof that I wasn’t fully recovered from almost being a snow cone.

“That’s not what I mean! Who do you work for?”

“Huh? I work in the name of wanderlust. I’m after a way to get home.”

“I bet that was just a sob story you made up! You said yourself that you don’t expect Ray to believe you!”

“Yeah, because it’s pretty ridiculous, don’t you think? But it doesn’t matter how believable it is. It’s the truth, and as long as I know the truth, what else matters?” I was really starting to get exhausted with this guy. What stick was up his butt, seriously? “But tell me, what do you think my intentions are? What do you think I’m after?”

“You mentioned a time traveling mafia! That must be it! You’re in one of those groups! You’re probably here to get revenge on Ray after he stole from you guys!”

That’s my Ray! Cunning to the end. Ahem! I should probably be scared, huh? That Pierre guy’s got a gun on me. He’s already made up his mind and now he’s going to defend the man he loves.

“Look, buddy, I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve had a gun pointed at me. Worse, been shot at,” I had my wrist ready. Stella was going to come through. She’d deflect that bullet. Hopefully the bullet wouldn’t hit him in return, and if it did, hopefully it wouldn’t be fatal, but hey, it would still be better than me getting shot. “So believe me when I say that I won’t be the one shitting my pants.”

“RAAAAA!” He yelled and pulled the trigger. Luckily, I knew to turn just as soon as his yell started out as a growl, and with a flick of my wrist, Stella, the bracelet on my arm…

...did nothing.

She remained a bracelet. No whipping power, no baton, nothing.

Actually, something did happen, though. Something significant: my knuckles bled.

“AAAH!” I groaned and hissed as I held onto my knuckle. Luckily, the bullet missed, but it sure grazed me good.

“What?! Why would you try to aim your fist at the bullet?! Were you trying to punch it?!” Pierre freaked out. Given the situation, if anyone should’ve been freaking out, it’d be me.

“No? That would be dumb! I can punch many things, but a bullet isn’t one of them!” I shouted. I had to such in my breath in intervals just to make sure no tears would flow.

“Then what were you trying to do?!”

“It’d be pointless to explain now! Anyway, why did you shoot me?!”

“I was just trying to protect my husband!”

“Big whoop! All I wanted to do was fish and now I’m not even going to enjoy that properly!”

“I’m sorry!”

“You better be! Do you have any bandages?!”

Our shouting match was one for the century, but even if I took a physical hit, I was still coming out on top.

“Yeah...uh...hold on,” he lowered his voice while shuffling his feet. His head hung low in shame as he headed back in the restaurant.

I sat down next to the bundle of sticks and my fishing rod.

“Stupid...stupid…” I hissed and shook my head.

This whole trip to an alternate timeline has been stupid from the start. Who cares if the world was better off without Remora ever showing up here? Or if Demetria never had a reason to come to the arctic? Or if Tigershark never became Tigershark? Or if Ray and I weren’t a duo? This whole world could’ve been a fucking paradise, but it still wasn’t my home.

But no, I wasn’t going to cry. It wouldn’t do me much good. Not until I’ve made it back home to everyone. Then I could bawl my eyes out.

Pierre’s soft footsteps were like the sounds of someone chewing through spoonfuls of dry cereal. He crouched down beside me, legs spread, and held some bandages and tape in his hand.

“Lend me your arm,” he said in a sloppy, oily tone.

My gaze was downcast at the patch of icy ground that I’d like to dig into and try to catch some fish. While I did what I was told, I didn’t wish to look him in the eye. It’s not that I held anything against him, I was just exhausted.

“I’ve had a long day,” I said as he wrapped the bandage around my knuckles.

“Tell me about it. I’m sure I didn’t help.”

“Eh. It’s not the first, nor will it be the last time, some guy shot at me.”

“That’s concerning.”

“Is it? If this weren’t such a regular occurrence I’d be much angrier with you.”

“Ha. You sure ain’t normal. You sure you ain’t with some mafia?”

All I could do was shake my head.

“Negative. I’m not organized enough to be in organized crime.”

“Then how do you intend to make it home?!”

There he went again, shouting. God damn it, Pierre, couldn’t you just keep your voice at an even volume?

He tightened the bandage and tucked the end of it to the first layer.

“There,” he stood up like a flamingo and trotted back toward the restaurant. “I really hope you find your home, lady.”

“Thanks!” I grinned. “My name’s Sunny!”

After he went inside, I turned to see the curtains of the restaurant draw to a close. Teal curtains, which, regardless of whether or not the color mattered, it was still odd to see them close at all. In fact, I don’t think we ever put up curtains in my home’s diner. Guess that’s just another thing that’s different.

My left fist was still free. Sure, it would bleed soon, but not after I…

A light tap was made against the earth in front of me. I looked up, of course, and almost grinned at what (if I were more naive) could have been my salvation: Ananke. Yes, Dr. Paracelsus herself graced me with her presence donned in black striped sweats, a peach cream colored tank top, and adorned with a golden necklace which displayed little snakes eating each other’s tails. It wasn’t just a casual landing, however. No, she was decked out with her mechanical frame. That bulky, black exoskeleton which allowed her to fly around and pulverize whoever she damn well pleased (if she pleased to do so at all). It was a rather unflattering jacket which almost made me suspect that its real purpose was to distract from the beauty within.

“What brings you here?” I asked.

“I wanted to check up on you. Is that so wrong?” She returned my question with another.

“No,” I shook my head, “it’s not. As you can see, I’m getting by.”

There were more pressing matters to discuss, but I couldn’t bring myself to show any contempt toward her, even if my current position was less than ideal.

Her expression didn’t change – flat, monotone. Very little lip movements. I wanted to say she reminded me of a little frigid friend of mine, but even said frigidity tended to be on the soft, more breezy side. In contrast, Ananke was a dearth of emotion.

“Tell me – aren’t you cold?” I asked.

“Freezing, burning. Such things mean little to me.”

Cryptic. I see. If that’s how she was going to be, there was little reason to keep beating around the bush.

“I want to return home.”

No question, not this time.

“You know that can’t happen,” she shook her head.

“And why is that?”

“I need that device to satisfy destiny. Besides, you may not see it yet, but it’s safer for you here.”

“I don’t care what’s safer. What I care about is being with the ones I love.”

“Compared to the magnitude of the world, your wish is mere dust. You can always rebuild. Find new love. New dreams. There is a whole world of adventure that awaits you.”

“So inspiring,” I crooned sarcastically. “But I’m nothing if not stubborn.”

Even if I lived for another fifty years, there was only one adventure that mattered to me right now.

“You seem to know a lot about this whole,” I made vague gestures. “Why doesn’t Stella work anymore? When I tried to use her, it was just a regular ol’ whip.”

“Stella?” She tilted her head.

“My ‘angel weapon’ as I’m sure you’d call it.”

“Ah. That must mean the angel is no more. Which means the world you came from will soon be no more.”

Just as the pulse on my wounded knuckle pounded, so too did my heart.

“That’s even more reason for me to go back! I can’t let this happen to my family!”

I stood up. Catching fish could wait. So too could starting a fire. There was already something blazing deep within me.

“Even if you were able to go back, there is nothing you can do. Now stop this foolishness. Your lifespan is but a speck. Don’t waste it.”

“I’ll waste my life however I damn well please.”

It was subtle, but her brows, as thin as they were, wriggled until they met a slight crease against her smoky eyes.

“Of course. I see now this is the kind of person you are. Just as you are dedicated to your foolishness, so too have I dedicated my life to my research.”

What will it take to convince you? I wondered. I knew I stood no chance in a fight. Not with my current equipment.

“I take it you and Aion were lovers? Or perhaps if not lovers, you had feelings for him?” I tried out an old trick of mine.

“Are you daft? We agreed to work with each other so long as our goals intersected. Once they parted, so did we. If there was anything I could say about him, it’s that he’s a fool masquerading as a genius.” Then, she smiled. “Then again, he might say the same about me.”

“So what? Any other lovers? What about friends?”

“Why the inquiry now?” “Well, it’s just that...aren’t you lonely? Maybe I could help you with your research. Be your colleague, your companion. And maybe...something else.”

She coughed out a laugh.

“You cannot hope to seduce me. Men and women alike have tried over the years, but none of them would satisfy. Their lives are so fleeting, and they would only serve as a distraction. Even if I felt anything past a kinship with you, it wouldn’t even put a dent into my life. Half of your lifespan is not even half of one percentage of how long I have lived. What good does a mortal love do me?”

“Wait. ‘Mortal’? Are you telling me…?”

“For thousands of years, I have lived. Tempered by the elements. Survived poisoning, stabbing, burns, starvation, dehydration. I am not invincible, but hardened to the point by a desperate need for survival.”

“Even if that were true, how could anyone live for, what, thousands of years?”

“Come on, Sunny. You said you believed in magic. How absurd could it be that I was blessed by a god to live on and carry out my fated goal?”

A shiver ran down my spine.

“Just what is your goal?”

“A simple, but more meaningful one than you could ever conjure: I have seen my original tribe assimilated, only to be made into several different cultures over the years, and having lost its original culture. My original people, displaced until forgotten. War and changing of values, the colonization of an already civilized people. Lands ravaged until inhospitable. Did you know that the Sahara was once a thriving landscape where crops grew?”

“So what? Your goal is to restore your former people? And why does a time travel device factor in? Are you planning to bring your community back into this time? What with the changing of landscape, I doubt they’d even survive this period.”

“No. You misunderstand, as most are want to do. I was an outcast in my own tribe. Assaulted, tortured, ostracized. I don’t hold resentment for them, as I was quite weak back then. I hold no resentment for the changing of times, either. I know that change is inevitable, and values clash constantly. I don’t need community, and I know that this planet won’t last forever. All I wish for is a land that will last. Unbothered by pollution. Unbothered by the clashes of the outside world.”

“You really don’t think you would be lonely at all, do you?” I asked, this time genuine.

“I am not alone for fate is always with me.”

“So how does the time travel device factor in?”

“It holds enough power to shield my land from attacks. I have spent countless years of research into creating an artificial landscape, unbothered by the environment which surrounds it. In certain places, tropical. Others, a desert. All of it, beautiful. A refuge of my own making.”

The idea sounded majestic, if not misguided. Or maybe I was the misguided one for still preferring my home over her potential home.

“I’m sorry to put you in this position, but it looks like I have to crush your dream in order to fulfill mine.”

I positioned into a fighting stance, my uninjured knuckle facing forward.

“Are you blind? Deaf, perhaps? Even if my body wasn’t tempered the way it was, my armor will surely protect me,” she sounded surprised. Turns out she didn’t know me as well as she thought.

I charged forward and readied my fist. As I swung forward, she blocked with the armor covering her arms, something which I already predicted she would. That was when I shot my leg forward and kicked her in the stomach. Despite that part of her being defenseless, she did not so much as budge or groan. My foot under my thick, leather boot, felt crushed as if a boulder landed upon it. I pulled back and hissed.

She really is hard as a rock, I thought.

My tactic changed: this time, I pulled out Stella. She may only be an ordinary whip now, but I was willing to bet I was strong enough to leave some kind of mark.

When I cracked it, she blocked it by lifting up her knee. Even if she wasn’t so durable, that armor was still in the way. So I switched hands, aimed for her face and to my astonishment, she didn’t even flinch or try to block as it hit her cheek. More so, there was nary a mark upon her.

She stepped back, undid her armor as she did so.

“I have no intention to fight you. I may not be capable of being harmed, but that doesn’t mean I am very strong, either. Still, I have to deter you from such foolish notions,” she declared.

I kept trying to hit her while she continued to take steps backward. Then, her armor shifted into that of a long, thick, black cleaver of a sword.

No way. Is she going to cut me down with that thing? But that’s not what she did – in fact, what she did was far worse. She held it against her own wrist.

“While others wouldn’t fare so well, I can allow myself to bleed,” she sounded less like she was about to harm herself, and more like she wanted to show me a magic trick. And indeed, she was, as she slid her blade against her wrist and a few drops of thick blood poured down and sunk into the frozen earth.

“It is time you met one of my daughters.”

What was just her fresh blood expanded and shot upward until it formed the shape of a person: brown skin, short, braided black hair, and emerald green eyes. Her pointed teeth poked out from her full lips and she opened her mouth and spoke in a firm, yet warm tone:

“You summoned me, mother?”

“Yes, Atropos. Go fight Sunny for me, but do not mortally wound her. She need not die, only deterred.”

“Mother, call me Aisa,” her summoned daughter pursed her lips and pleaded. Despite looking like a grown woman, this ‘child’ of Ananke’s expression reminded me of a toddler soon to burst into tears.

“But that name is too hard to pronounce,” Ananke rebuffed.

“I won’t do as you say until you call me Aisa.”

“Fine,” Ananke sighed, not nearly as stubborn as I. “Go fight Sunny, Aisa!”

Although Aisa was blocking the view, I managed to catch a striking detail from Ananke for just a split second – her wound on her wrist had already closed up and healed, without even so much as a scar.

Her sword transformed back into her outer armor and attached itself to her limbs. Before turning away, she addressed me.

“Don’t come looking for me,” she warned before flying off.

If I didn’t know any better, I’d think it was an invitation.

A faint trace of smoke was left by the fuel used to carry Ananke away. I let out a faint cough, and I would have been thankful for that brief warmth, were it not for the guest in front of me.

Aisa wore a long, flowing, white robe, with a V-neck which tastefully (in my opinion) showed off her small cleavage. That robe of hers extended down to the point that they covered the ground and blocked any view of possible footwear. Shame, too, as whether she was wearing sandals, boots, or barefoot could have made a huge difference in whether I stood a chance or not.

She reached her hands into her pockets and pulled hand spindles from one, and a wooden wheel from the other. Even if its diameter was smaller than my head, I still imagined it would have done some damage were it to strike me.

Jeez. How big are those pockets? I wondered, but not a moment sooner, she spun the wheel toward me, with many strings connected to it.

I dodged in time and she ran toward me, tossing spindles my way. One cut against my cheek. I tried to grab onto the needle, unbothered by the cut, even in the stinging cold, but she pulled the needle back.

I bet she’s a yo-yo expert, I observed and pulled out my whip. Stella may no longer be ‘Stella’ as I knew her, but she was still stellar in her own right.

With one crack, I wrapped Stella around the threads of her spindles and pulled her closer to me, then kicked her down.

“Ha,” she smirked, “I can see why mother would find you special.”

“Me? Special?” I asked, wide-eyed.

“Yes,” she closed her eyes. Her wheel, which still hung low, spun toward me and cracked against the icy ground. I watched as her hand flung the string forward and aimed the wheel up toward my stomach. I held onto my whip with both hands and blocked against the wheel. The wheel didn’t let up speed and spun higher, toward my face, forcing me to follow along with my whip.

I thought it would keep getting closer and shred my whole face apart, but just as I could feel a tickle of wind against my nose, it slowed down. Aisa pulled back, leaped up and spun in the air. She flew up high enough that for a moment I thought she was a fairy.

Instead, she dove down like a torpedo. I backed away, and in that moment, noticed that she wore stiletto heels with a dagger poking out. I gulped, grabbed onto her ankle, and tossed her away.

She landed on her feet, unfazed.

“Ha! I’m impressed as well! See, mother doesn’t care for people, but you? You caught her interest!” She as flattering as she was in ecstasy over the thrill of battle.

“I don’t see how!” I shouted back. “I don’t have any magic power! I’m not immortal!”

She spun the wheel and it missed my face, but cut against the sleeve of my shoulder and left a searing cut.

“Ack!” I winced.

“Don’t sell yourself short. Mother is never wrong.”

We’ll see about that, I huffed.

She tossed spindles once again. Each time, I swatted them away with my whip. It was my turn to advance on her, and this time I’d whip her senseless.

“Not bad,” she nodded. “Unfortunately, I’m going to wrap this up now.”

She didn’t try to dodge my whip. Instead, she set her wheel on the ground, then propelled herself up into the air once again, with wheel in hand.

I avoided this once, I can do it again.

She dove down, aiming her heels once again my way. I backed away and wrapped my whip around her ankle. She was caught, and would soon be slammed to the ground and I thrust down.

However, she had the same idea, and slammed her wheel right against my stomach. I was knocked back to the ground.

Aching, I tried to pick myself up. She didn’t pull back her wheel, and it kept me down, like a weighted blanket.

“For a mortal with an ordinary weapon, you put up a good fight. However, as I am the weakest of the fate sisters, you have no hope of reaching mother.”

She pulled her wheel back and placed it in her pocket. I watched her wrap threads around herself and she spun away like a spinning top. She leaped up in the distance and I watched her fade away into a crimson mist.

“Ugh,” I rubbed my head.

Dawn would be breaking in just a few hours.

I checked on Stella, my whip, and saw that the middle of her was threadbare, almost cut in half from the pressure of that accursed wheel. It made me lay my head back on the ground in defeat.

Only a few minutes later, I struggled my way to sitting up. My busted up belly ached to the point I felt like throwing up, but I held in whatever bile would have spewed out.

Tears flowed down my cheeks. It stung the cut on my cheek, even if the cold already did a good job of that.

Utter defeat. Time and time again.

No, I wasn’t going to give up, but when I counted up the different times I’ve lost, the idea was tempting.

Then there was the issue of succeeding. Was I really willing to destroy someone’s home in order to see myself back home?

I folded my knees and buried my head in them.

Where was my determination? It must have been buried as well.

My greatest treasure: my home. I’ll retrieve it at all costs. But how?

I must have been lost in my wallowing to the point that I didn’t hear anyone approaching. It was only when a hand was placed on my shoulder, the same one that was still wet with my blood.

I looked up to see Ray. Not my Ray, but it was still him all the same.

“What’s wrong, miss lady?” He asked in his soft, Ray voice.

“Ray…” I sounded hoarse, weary.

“Won’t you tell me another story? Someone as interesting as yourself shouldn’t be so sad.”

“I don’t know if I have it in me.”

“At least come inside where it’s warm.”

“But what about your husband?”

“I already gave him a few good spankings. Apologies for his rudeness.”

What other choice do I have? I thought while taking his hand.

Pierre looked down in shame next to the bar counter where Ray would usually serve drinks to passing customers.

Of course, most of the time, the diner lacked customers, and this time was no exception.

What other yarns could I spin for them? Either out of regret for his actions or genuine interest, Pierre sat next to Ray at the booth and leaned in. Both of them were awaiting some kind of tale.

After I took a sip of warm water, I figured it out.

“One time, there was a sculpture I learned about under an Egyptian tomb. Emeralds for eyes and in the shape of Anubis. But I wasn’t about to donate it to some museum or sell it to a black market – no, that’s not the way I roll…”

It was a fantastic tale, one from my old days. That tomb consisted of a maze and several traps, including moving giant statues with spears. Ah, I was a lot more agile then, as well.

“Wow so you were a regular treasure hunter?” Pierre’s eyes lit up.

“Ha. You like that?”

“Well, I always dreamed of doing stuff like that when I was a kid, but then I stubbed my toe on a thumbtack while exploring an abandoned building in my neighborhood.”

Ray wrapped his arm around Pierre’s shoulder.

“He’s such a baby,” Ray joked, “but I love him anyway.”

“Well, I’m a baby, too. I’m just a big one with lots of experience. Sometimes you just gotta...jump into that active volcano, wander into a toxic mine shaft, or search for the monster under your bed.”

“Yeah, but you make all that sound easy,” Pierre whined.

“It’s not that it’s easy, it’s that it’s…”

I didn’t know the word. I probably did at one point.

My sole weapon is nearly broken. In those examples, I usually had a parachute, a gas mask, or a torch.

“So here’s another story, from just a few minutes ago: Ananke, the woman that I’m searching for, turns out she’s immortal.”

“What? Oh, right, it’s a story,” Pierre was shocked until he scoffed.

“Just because it’s a story doesn’t mean it’s not astonishing, dear,” Ray closed his eyes and sipped his tea.

“Maybe she’s not invincible, but immortal and ageless? Yeah. And for what it’s worth, she practically seems invincible. I tried to fight her and not so much as a dent. Someone like her is beyond belief.”

“It sounds like you’ve got a thing for her,” Pierre suggested.

“I have a thing for Ray,” I waved my hand away, “err...not your husband. Mine.”

“Yes, but she’s your ticket out of here, no?” Ray said. “I must say, even if you make it back home, you’re not someone I’m likely to forget any time soon.”

“That is true. But I don’t even know where she resides.”

Ananke mentioned somewhere tropical. In the Southern hemisphere, perhaps? But didn’t she say it was an artificial environment? So the region probably doesn’t matter so much. Now that I think of it, she found me pretty fast, didn’t she? It’s almost as if…

“I think I do, actually!” I shouted and grinned.

“Oh? That’s great,” Ray clapped his hands together.

“Yeah! I gotta go there now! Like, pronto! ASAP!”

“But...your injuries…” Pierre pointed to my knuckles, then my shoulder.

“Eh. Wounds build character,” I flexed my arms.

“Yeah, if you give them time to heal! Be sensible!”

“Pierre Oiseaux, you bird brain! You’ve known me to be a fool since I got here! Why would I be sensible now?”

“It’s not pronounced ‘Wee-saw,’ and you should be sensible because what good is going home dead? If Ray died doing something stupid, I’d never forgive myself. Think about what your Ray must feel if you died doing something stupid!”

“If Ray dies doing something stupid, just kick him until he wakes up!”

Ray chuckled.

“I should agree with my husband – but I won’t say this isn’t amusing,” he said.

I paced around the dining area. It wasn’t good enough to think it would be close. And just saying I wanted to be there now wouldn’t get me there.

“Quick question: do you know an Aurora B?” I asked the two gentlemen.

“What?! Are you associated with her? Her and her gang are awful!”

“In a manner of speaking, yes. But I’m not looking to rob you guys. In fact, if I wanted to do that, she’d already be nearby and of course things aren’t that easy.”

“Why would you want to meet her?”

“Because she could take me there. I have a feeling that Ananke’s close.”

“I’ve got a motor sled. Why don’t you just borrow that?”

“Pierre, I could kiss you if you were Ray and not Pierre. But even if I used your sled, I’d still have to swim across freezing water.”

“I’m with my love on this one,” Ray held out his hand and waved it about. “She’s tried to rob us before a couple of times. Even though she wasn’t successful the second time, she still made a mess of the place. I don’t even think she meant to leave it a mess, she was just shitfaced drunk and kept knocking into things.”

“Ha ha! I’ve done that before!”

Actually, now that I thought about it, I did have a way to contact her. That is, if my hunch was correct.

“Ray, can I borrow your phone?”

“Whatever for, miss?” He asked, smiling coyly.

“I want to know just how alternate this timeline is,” I explained.

Pierre gave a confused look with a side of disgust.

Ray tossed his phone and I caught it in my palm. Just a simple black flip phone. Rather outdated, but y’know, it was cute.

I entered in the digits and dialed.

Back in my own time, Ray had (reluctantly) added Aurora’s number to his contacts back when he decided to have her babysit the diner. I pretty much had her number memorized. Not that I called her often or anything.

The phone rang a few times before I finally heard a familiar, gruff voice.

“Who is this?” She grunted.

“Hey pretty lady,” I cooed. “Why don’t you come over to my place. I’ve got something for you.”

It was Ray’s turn to give a confused look. From the other end of the line, I’m sure Aurora looked just as confused. In hindsight, there was a better way to get her attention.

“I think you have the wrong number. I don’t do booty calls. I got a crew to satisfy me.”

Fuck this.

“I’m not talking about sex! I’m talking about food! I heard from a friend that you and your crew was starving, so I thought I could help, but you know what? Screw this! Some ingrate you are!”

“Hey! Nobody talks to me like that! Where are you? I’ll show you a thing or two!”

“Ray’s place. Look for a yellow building. Can’t miss it.”

“Gah! Just you wait! I’ll satisfy my hunger and then make you eat those words!”

“Bring it.” I hung up and tossed the phone back to Ray.

“What did you do that for?! Are you trying to endanger us all?!” Pierre panicked.

“Yeah, that was...wow,” Ray gave a nervous smile.

“Trust me. Just as much as I know how to deal with Ray, I also know how to deal with her.”

“I hope you’re right,” both Pierre and Ray said.

Now we just had to wait.

We didn’t have to wait long. For all Aurora’s faults, she was at least good at keeping her word. The train parked right in front of the diner. I stepped outside just as she stepped out of the front train car.

There she was, the big redhead with the big, bushy strawberry hair. She had on a thick yellow wool sweater, a gray scarf, and fuzzy black pants.

Oh, and a heavy scowl.

She rolled up her sleeve and clenched her fist.

“Who are you? I wanna know the name of the person I’m about to beat to a pulp!”

Good luck. I’ve already been beaten pretty bad. What’s a little more?

“Sunny Reyes, at your service,” I took a bow.

She grunted.

“I’ve never heard of you!”

“Well, I’ve heard of you.”

“Of course! Who hasn’t heard of the great Aurora B? Now are you ready to pay for what you called me?”

“What? Pretty?”

Aurora stroked her chin.

“Now that I get a good look, you’re rather pretty, yourself. What say you? Wanna join my crew after I finish giving you the beating of a lifetime?”

“That’s only if you can beat me.”

“Oh, I sure can!” She began to run toward me, but I held my palm out.

“Hold it! I didn’t say how we would battle, did I?”

“What? You can’t just order me around!”

“Leg wrestling. You and me.”

Aurora’s face turned red.

“Well...I...my legs are so strong that I could probably crush yours like a grape…”

“What? Scared?”

“No way! You’re on! Right here and now!”

“You can’t be serious, Sunny! Leg wrestling? Unprotected?” Pierre asked, the fear in his voice palpable.

“What? We’re both wearing pants.”

“That’s not the point! People have died leg wrestling! It’s no joke!”

“That’s silly talk! Leg wrestling is perfectly safe as long as you know what you’re doing,” I waved my hand away.

Jeez. Pierre really was a baby.

We both laid flat on the ground, opposite of each other, but our legs against one another. Just as we raised our knees, Aurora yelled, “wait!”

“What now?”

“We should at least roll up the sleeves of our pants. Who’s ever heard of arm wrestling with mittens on?”

“Oh, right. Good point.”

We rolled up our pant sleeves to our knees and folded our bare knees into each other, with her foot between my legs, and mine between hers.

“Hey hey!” Waved what looked to be a cheerful redhead with freckles. “I’m Allison Daughters! I’ll be your referee!”

She jumped up outside the train and looked real giddy, with a whistle tied around her neck.

“All right! Whoever can pin the other’s knee down first, wins!” She explained, then blew her whistle.

We pushed against each other. I had to admit, she was doing a pretty good job of keeping her knee in place, but only time would tell if she would last.

“Remember: if I win, you gotta join my crew,” she sneered.

“Let’s make this interesting: if I win, you gotta take me somewhere,” I said back.

“What?”

“I have somewhere in mind.”

I began pushing harder and her leg began to fold inward.

“Gah!” She grunted.

“I can’t bear to look! It’s too scary!” Pierre gasped.

Oh please. Even though you tried to shoot me? I thought, though my eyes were concentrated on Aurora’s leg. I pushed harder and saw as her knee began to go down, even just a little.

“I can’t lose yet! My pride as a captain is on the line!”

She pushed herself up and sat up. I didn’t know whether or not that could be considered cheating, but I didn’t really care. It wasn’t going to give her the advantage she thought it would.

I sat up and inched closer to her.

“Now we’re even,” I declared and began to push harder. She let out a gasp as she tried to push my leg away.

“Nng…” She winced. “If we get any closer to each other, this might get bad.”

“Agreed,” I held my own, but I wasn’t getting her knee down any lower. I was still in the advantage, but damn if she wasn’t trying.

“I’ll allow it! Get as close as you want!” Called out Allison, the referee.

Aurora pushed harder and our knees were both up once again, evenly matched.

“You’ve got a lot of stamina,” I said.

“I practice with my crew.”

“Sorry to sully your pride in front of your crew, but,” I pushed my leg with as much force as I could muster. Aurora tried to hold on, but it was clear she wouldn’t hold much longer.

“Haa...haa...heh, if you beat me, forget about pride, you’ll earn my respect.”

I grinned, even though I was straining to finish this.

And finish it I did – with one slam of my knee against hers, I pushed her knee down on her other leg and held it down.

“Ha! Victory!” I raised my hands in the air.

We released our grips on each other and huffed in short breaths.

“Haa...aa…that felt really good,” Aurora sighed.

“You’re telling me. Been a while since I’ve had a good workout like that.”

“Um. Sunny. I think you drained our boss!” Allison declared.

“Hey! I’m just fine!” Aurora yelled and pushed herself up off the ground.

“Amazing,” Ray had his hand on his chin as if it were some game of chess.

“So where is it you’re looking to go?”

“I believe there’s an island off the coast of here. I want to get on that island.”

Aurora nodded.

“I see. You’re one of those people.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing bad. I am too. See, there is an island, or rather, three islands. It’s an archipelago surrounded by a wall of fire. There’s a bridge to get across the water to each island, but the problem is that it’s gated. There’s some powerful lady with a wheel who stands guard to the first island. She seems to let most people in as refugees, but it’s like she’s some kind of mind reader.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, you probably want in for the same reason I did: to steal the food and take it back for yourself, no? Or get this: there’s probably a vast wealth of treasure on those islands. When I walked up, she said she knew what I was after and chased me off with her wheel. Like, excuse me? She wasn’t even that hot.”

I snorted. Sounds like Aurora all right.

“Well, nobody tells me what I can and can’t have...is what I would like to say, if I could get in. That fire wall stretches high. Unless you drop in from the sky, I don’t see you walking in the normal way.”

“Nah. And I don’t want to.”

“So if that’s your goal, I don’t know how I can help you, sorry.”

I placed my hand on Aurora’s shoulder. It wasn’t like her to get discouraged. And I was already reeling back from remembering when I was discouraged.

“It’s okay. We can do this. You just gotta send me flying. Got a cannon?”

Her jaw dropped.

“What?”

The train sped through the icy terrain. I stood atop the front car, wind in my face.

Needless to say, this was going to happen. Just not in the way that I hoped.

No, I wasn’t going to be launched from a cannon. Yes, she did have some, but none in working condition. Instead, one of her crewmates, Russel, said he’d take care of it and to wait in the front car. Allison brought Ray, Pierre, and Aurora a can of ginger ale in the meantime.

“It ain’t much, but it hits the spot. Dawn’s going to be breaking soon,” Allison looked out the window.

“Mm,” Pierre hummed as he chugged down his can of soda. He let out a belch, then said, “you know, I brew the best ginger beer. It’s at Ray and I’s place.”

“Oh yeah? We might have to rob that from you guys sometime,” Allison said. She was far too cheerful about such a prospect.

Ugh. That reminds me…

“Hey. Aurora. I’ve got another deal for you.”

“Yes, dear?” Aurora’s eyes fluttered. Something about being bested at leg wrestling really changed her demeanor.

“I want you to stop robbing Ray and his husband’s establishment.”

“Nu-uh. What’s in it for me?” Aurora crossed her fingers.

“I’m not telling you to quit your lifestyle – how about this? You avoid robbing their place, and they’ll give you and your crew free food for life.”

“What?! What’s in it for us?!” Pierre balked.

“An interesting proposal, but one that we would have to agree to as well, no?” Ray said while stroking his chin.

“Simple: Aurora, you refer anyone you rob to eat at Ray’s diner. He’ll get customers. You’ll get free food. Sound good?”

Aurora shrugged.

“Eh. Yeah. Sure. Maybe I’m just getting on with age, but that sounds fine.”

She didn’t sound too enthusiastic, but better than nothing.

“And if they go back on the deal,” she added, “I could just have my crew shoot ‘em.”

“There’s no need to go that far. I’d be happy to have you as a business partner,” Ray held out his hand. Aurora shook it while looking away and whistling.

The door to the train car opened. Out popped Russell with his thick brown facial hair and his thick, gray sweater and gray flappy hat.

“It’s ready,” he announced. “Got a big slingshot on the roof.”

Along with the announcement, he reached behind and tossed me a parachute.

“Thanks, RJ!”

“Uh-huh,” he growled. It sounded like a happy growl.

“I forgot that guy’s a construction expert,” Aurora said.

“Oh? You mean to tell me he’s --”

“Yeah. Into model trains.”

Thank goodness there was someone on a train who was into model trains. Always an essential crewmate to have.

“Now, here’s the plan: I want you to accelerate until we get close to the side of the first island. Once we’re close, hit the brakes. I’ll be on the roof, preparing the sling.”

“Are you insane? That’s going to send you --” Pierre was about to protest, but I cut him off.

“Yeah. I want Aurora to send me flying.”

Ray chuckled.

“I think I see now why my other self fell for you.”

“Damn right. I wanna get in her pants,” Aurora agreed.

“Well, I’ll have to give the other Ray and Aurora plenty of love when I get back home,” I gave them a thumbs up and climbed onto the roof.

Before I reached the top, Ray stopped me.

“Hey. You had better live to tell the tale.”

I winked.

The train accelerated and the brisk air caught up with me. I felt icicles form on my nostrils. The wind and icy air caused my air to set backward. I didn’t care. My racing heartbeat told me all I needed to know.

The sky grew brighter. What was deep purple turned into a light, frosty view. It was enough to make me reflect on some things. But not for long, as the island, with billowing flames blocking the way, came into view.

“NOW!” I shouted. “HIT THE BRAKES!”

I pulled the sling back and readied the parachute. I was going to do this.

Just as the train slammed to a halt, near the edge of the shore, there were a few bumps from the train cars in the back and I let go of the sling, soaring into the air in the process.

My parachute opened up midway through the air. I spread my arms out and grinned the whole way, the wind propelling me forward. It still didn’t look like I was high enough...but…

Whether I would become a shooting star or go down in flames, I knew I was going to make it.

#remoras full #writiing #stories #scifi #drama #comedy #action #fate #ananke #aisa #sunny #this was a long time coming #started back in late september #but then lots of stuff happened #got depressed #didnt write for a while #and took a while more to get back into it #but here it is

[bluepenguinstories]

Reign On My Parade

It was the big day: never one for the spotlight but I wanted the recognition. I waited my whole life to not be part of the crowd but to dance in the middle of the street with all the displays and my name in lights. But when I stepped forward the streets were empty and someone took my place. How could you reign on my parade?

Never mind. Whatever floats your boat but mine’s tits up and the ship has sunk. Just the other day, I checked for holes and found none. But now I may as well have been a sponge.

Never mind. Whatever you call your throne may as well be my face with your name on it. The coronation, my damnation. My crowning achievement was placed on your head. I’m crowning and I’ve returned to being an infant Fresh from the womb, I’m an open wound. My mother’s cold sore. Lo and behold, the doctor declares: “A scar is born; the ache shall never heal again!” I couldn’t afford the treatment so the doctor bashed my teeth in. You were provided for while I’m covered in debt. For all the bullshit I’ve endured I must be seeing red because you’re the matador of this stage.

Never mind thunder you never needed to steal anything. Instead of sunshine you should have been soaking up my sheets. It would only have been fair but it could never be even. I’d have to get on my knees just to squeeze out a hint of truth from you. Never mind pride, I know you wear the emperor’s new clothes. You could have stained my back instead of my legacy. Now what do I have? You reigned on my parade.

Well I hate to be window dressing but I’d gladly change my appearance just to toss your salad.

One last gasp from the audience. One last grasp of my dignity. Because I’ve lost all shame while you reign on my parade.

#poem #poetry #writing #upstaged #overshadowed #parade #ive tried to write this one for years #since at least 2016 #but I kept getting stuck on the words #feels so weird for it to finally be done #but I really like how it turned out

[bluepenguinstories]

Sick Enough to Taste My Own Medicine

Entrance to the depths of Hell. Armed with a dagger in each hand hardened was its forge to take is to restore. With each next enemy felled the daggers get their fill. Each one, connected by a string but there’s no one holding the ends the puppets lead themselves.

Catch and receive the kings and the queens. Skeleton keys unlock doors made of skulls and bones. Somewhere, a familiar formation. Punished and punishment become one when a room with only an inward view becomes a host for enemies.

Entrance to the depths of Hell. One side magma, the other side ice. Human shapes form from each extreme. Contained within, blood to bleed to feed to the daggers and earn their keep. It’s just luck; once again the beginning and the end, and somewhere in the center it quivers and aches.

Demons are the ones who deny their own evil. Only by embracing may liberation be found. Shackles became a thing of the past. The residents are creative enough to make their own punishments. Those in the present are no different. False strength is its own disgrace for only the meek shall inherit the dirt.

#writing #poetry #poem #hell

[bluepenguinstories]

It's My Party and I'll Die if I Want To

I don’t know what it is with my mind it’s been eaten away, day-by-day by my Great Depression. Almost took me away from my 30s, that it did, and all I ask from others is a little god damn patience. Because I’m happier than I’ve been than I was in my 20s, but if I’m not careful I just know my mind’ll be in prohibition.

So come and stay, don’t hide me away. Come next October, I’ll make red to blue into red, back into blue. I’ll hunt for whatever brings a peaceful resolution. But don’t be surprised if I bring up the end. I’ve been told I’m not fit for parties all my conversations tend to lean unpleasant. But that’s just how life is and sometimes the vulgar becomes the Godliness before the cleanliness. Don’t be surprised – if I don’t make sense.

I may be done with self-deprecation but I’ll still find moments creep in where the desire for isolation becomes too much to bear and energy is on short supply. Yes, I will smile, yes, there’s a chance that I’m fine and I’m exaggerating again. I don’t mean to look like the fool but I can’t say that I know when I don’t. It’s just…let me huff the fumes of blissful ignorance even just a few, enough to feel light every once in a blue moon. It’s simple, really:

If I’m the fool, let me dance away and not be the commiserating clown.

#writing #poem #poetry

[bluepenguinstories]

Seeking Feeling

Loving you in a self-congratulatory manner. Some would call that a masturbatory affair; I’ll just tell them I’m ambidextrous. If you’re willing to go out on a limb I’ll really have to hand it to you. Out of all the worst nights I’ve had you’re one of the best.

These are the lonely hours. They don’t get much better than this. Seated somewhere I never thought I’d be: right beside myself. It just doesn’t sit well with me. I cannot stomach an empty meal and you know all about what I already have on my plate.

Join me, if you will. Your shoulder was always so inviting. I never needed to RSVP. Who else took me in during the lonely hours? I’m still remembering. Oh, our nights that never happened.

Offer up your lap, or I’ll give mine it’s charity night at the bar that keeps getting lower. These are the lonely hours where everyone’s got reservations about everyone else. Glasses half empty, dead of night when I feel most alive and it’s the most sobering of times. So please, sit beside me.

#poem #poetry #writing #lonely

[bluepenguinstories]

Landlocked (and Loaded)

Used tampon fished trash, wore dirty looks at grocery store. Behind the counter sour milk, teary eyes vomit swallowed down. Shrugged shoulders story told. Used tampon all poor behind the counter ringing groceries. Smile, laugh, pause, judge bagged groceries, arranged tiles. Straight lines, thoughts occupied. Exasperated, oversharing, unsanitary Day comes, drop off face of the earth.

#poems #poetry #writing #abridged version of previous poem

[bluepenguinstories]

Landlocked and Swallowed the Key

Most days I feel like a used tampon that someone fished out of the trash and wore only to get dirty looks from onlookers and so they reply, “hey, I know this shit is gross, but I’m poor!” And it’s all happening at the grocery counter where a sardonic man behind laughs. He’s the type who always buys milk only for it to go sour, and when he drinks it and spits it out, tears fill his eyes from the intense urge to vomit, but he swallows it down and shrugs his shoulders and says: “no use crying over spoiled milk!” Or at least that’s how the story goes. Well, this man says to the one with the used tampon: “hey, we’re all poor! What do you think we’re here for?” Some days, I feel like the cashier behind the counter ringing up these people’s groceries and I’m forced to hear this interaction. Day by day without being able to say: “hey, I’m really better off not knowing!” But I either smile or laugh and ring up their items not even taking a moment to pause and judge these supposed customers on their purchases. Nearby, sometimes, I’m the one bagging the groceries arranging them as if they were tiles and I was trying to make them fit in a straight line. I try to keep my thoughts occupied and try not to mind the exasperated cashier or the oversharing customers with their unsanitary tales. If ever a day where I feel like I’ve long left the store whether as a customer or an employee I no longer care. If that day comes I’ll drop off the face of the earth.

#writing #poem #poetry #unsanitary

[bluepenguinstories]

All Roads Lead to Nowhere

A man on the street once beckoned: “Trust me, this drug won’t have lasting consequences.” I wish he wasn’t right, at least on that because at least then it would have made my life more interesting. Maybe it would have given it meaning. Brought out some kind of scandal if I was famous. What will I tell my friends? My family? They already know. It’s not going to be my cause of death or mentioned on my obituary.

I’ve taken it all my life, on various dosages (never increased), and it’s had the same effect each and every time. At best, it passes the time. At worst, it makes me a little funky. I could get more fucked drinking coffee. It never cured my depression, though it never worsened my anxiety. And yeah, it’s fine, I’ll keep doing it ‘til the day I die - but it’s never going to be the cause. Now I know why they call it a gateway because you get so bored you wanna try the harder stuff (just kidding) (I’m sober) (I’m normal)

Contrary to the above, I’m not talking about any one plant. I’ve chewed on mint to numb myself, for instance. My doctor could prescribe me something that could do more damage with an actual rate of addiction, if only my pain was physical. For me, until I find myself with a serious injury, it’s just a pat on the back, “keep doing what you’re doing!” Well, I don’t know, what I’m doing isn’t very interesting or at least nothing to write home about.

#writing #poems #poetry #drugs

[bluepenguinstories]

Dishonest Mistake

Had friend, did drugs; was boring. Won’t say which one (was boring). End came, friend went hard, then soft. Now story turns new page:

No grave, send to landfill. Better use that way. Splayed out among trash and sprayed down with wax cleaner.

Completely torn in two papier-mâché heart sent to the Louvre, put on display. Plaque states: “Once, exquisite corpse.” Bon appétit, mon amie. C’est la vie.

#poem #writing #poetry #trying something new

[bluepenguinstories]

You're Not Smarter Just Because You're High

Well, I’ve figured it out; connected the dots. It all lines up. The skills, their names, what they do… it all goes back to what they had to go through. It’s about alienation, and the struggle to be an idealist when the each half of the world would like to see you dead. The flies buzzing around, frightening at first, become plums once in your stomach.

I should know that feeling very well. That pit. If you look at this date, at this time, in this location it all lines up like a colony of ants out on a mission. I’ve been too much of a shut-in lately to have my head in the clouds. Call this self-centered, but I think I understand others better now. At least better than when I was critically anxious. I still don’t know about their intentions. People are scary, even when I understand then (if I do at all) but this isn’t a rally cry, or a call for help. The call is coming from inside the house.

Even in my head, it’s all about the day-to-day. Hours better spent, and always worse spent. It’s been at least a decade since I’ve had any ambition. What does it mean to have brown hair? It is so wrong to have it? I come from a community fractured like my face from all the times I picked at pimples. My dreams are best experienced when I fall asleep when I was awake, I used to forget I was in reality. Others now say, “you give up too easily.” But the truth is only a matter of never able to handle rejection, the slightest criticism, failure, confrontation. Yet I remain self-critical because deep down I’m aware that it’s necessary to have someone tell me my downsides. I just don’t want it to be someone other than me. In this dim, radiated light, it’s because if someone else says what I believe about myself, it will confirm my fears. Yet consciously, I know it’s not personal. Not like that. It just permeates my life, like expired lunch meat in a fridge.

But then, that’s all beginner material. That’s not the advanced course. Anybody can come to conclusions like that. It doesn’t reflect my values. Maybe it’s that what I value I don’t put into practice until it starts to look like I don’t value anything. Life is a constant struggle between being able to survive and sacrificing what I value. Yes, I know part of it is the economic system I live under but then I really wonder: is the problem also me? Is it because of my broken mind that I struggle to survive? Sometimes it becomes hard to tell how to act. Should I be the shivering puppy in the rain? No, even better, I can live invisible once more. I can cancel myself out. At least that’s how I see it. But I also know the meaning between wanting love and wanting intimacy. But how do you tell the one you love that you want nothing? That is not to say I am without but what I want is the very thing that is nothing. Nothing is everything to me.

Or at least it must be for someone. So did I do it? Did I crack the code? There were newspaper clippings on my great-grandmother’s floor. She always warned me about reading books for devil worship but she never prepared me for the fact that I just don’t like baseball. It all must have some deeper meaning…gender roles, or expectations and that comes another issue of mine: meeting the expectations of others. When medical professionals ask me if I’m pregnant or currently planning to be I have to tell them that I just can’t deliver. I didn’t put on tutus or anything. I am still not the most feminine – I wear hoodies. So how else was my great-grandmother to know? And if she saw the signs would she call me gay? But over time maybe I would have said, “yes, but not in the direction you’re thinking of.” That would have been a good bonding experience. But I just could never bring myself to tell her.

(Actually, that’s a lie, too, as I couldn’t bring myself to tell her because I didn’t even fully grasp that about myself either. Even if I was as bold as I was lamenting I wasn’t, I still couldn’t tell her. That’s just the fact. Also, I probably wouldn’t have even cared enough to tell her had I known, since I have never been close with my relatives to begin with. Actually, that’s a partial lie, too. I liked some relatives more than others and were closer with some than others.)

Is that it? Is that truly the root to everything? Is this some philosophical breakthrough? Freud would say so. Jung would snort coke off my back (allegedly). How should I know where I am and where the universe resides? I didn’t take that class. I didn’t reveal any hidden truths, I just want to make it sound like I did.

#poem #poetry #writing #this was just written one night when I was depressed #its more of a vent than anything resembling a poem #prose #really its stream of conscious depression

[bluepenguinstories]

Earnest Irony

Love is the buzz I feel and I’m not going to easily sweat it out but by the time I’ve vibrated to exhaustion I’ll have been a puddle, covered in it.

I hear the screams of the witches, echo until they become pleasant. Pasteurized, curdled chunks of pleasant background noise.

Or maybe we were meant for talking while lying in bed where we’re chickens and all we do is be tender next to each other. We talk about our childhood trouble Abusive parents, spoken with the fondest of voices. There is a fire around us, but we won’t turn to ash. I promise, we can turn down the volume. We can think of the now, or remember the past.

Some nights, I swear, I can see double. Like there’s a smaller version of the two of us with an appetite enough to swallow two more. One more run, one more heist, one more violent night and I swear I can come home so long as I make it out, or at least don’t get caught. But if you have to wait years, I’ll just walk away. I have too many on me, and there’s not yet enough on you.

#poems #poetry #writing #written while high and watching wild at heart #I basically paused sections of the movie and wrote down whatever I felt like fit the mood at the time

[bluepenguinstories]

Bay Leaf in Yourself

Don’t relax. You know it’s early and the weather on the way here wasn’t inviting. There’s an ease before the bereavement and tea leaves to burn away the morning. It’s a slow burn, one drowned out by the rain. Only safety a thin pane of glass.

Seated in a velveteen recliner eyes close but no cigar sleep won’t come even with temporary blindness. Besides, you’re meeting with a friend. They’re late; fifteen minutes. No, you’re not counting but the analog clock catches all your glances.

#poem #poetry #writing #there was originally going to be more but I couldnt think of any more words #and this felt like a nice enough stopping point anyway #still I do wish it was longer

[bluepenguinstories]

Coffee Breath

Permeate my insides are coated with you. Cannot wash you out. Cotton swaps down my mouth pushed into my throat, the fuzz compels the search for oasis. No matter how much I wash I cannot put you out. You always find your way inside me.

There’s no replacement; no matter the form you take, you always find your way. I try not to think of the cost as you raise my heart rate. If I’m awake for whatever comes next I’ll wake up short of of breath.

It’s no use, I already know what I taste like. I’m not worried when I pass by others for they can already tell: You are with me through and through. Always linger, poured from clay or paper. When you’re bitter, I’m bitter and it’s the just the taste I deserve. I’ll take you slow, or you’ll take me throughout the day, into the next.

What was I doing? I’m sitting here, others are sitting at tables typing up their papers, or mingling with friends. The air I breathe is the air they breathe and the air we breathe is made up of you. Oh, the foam. Oh, the cream. If only we could be so lucky. I know this will fill my throat to the point I’ll scratch myself silly but you better know this is the taste I requested no pressure from others, just raw desire to see this little journey through don’t worry that I’ll soon be low on gas and sure to crash that doesn’t mean it has to end we can all get high off the fumes.

#coffee #poems #poetry #writing

[bluepenguinstories]

Morning Etiquette

Demetria trotted up to the table where Hecate, Proserpina, and Nemesis were all sitting down, at least one of them with a mug of coffee, the other with tea, and one apple juice. All three of them had a saucer with buttered blueberry muffins. Hecate had on her usual charcoal gray cloak. Proserpina had starry sweatpants and a velveteen tanktop, along with a stocking cap over her head. Nemesis had a green dinosaur onesie on.

It was 7 AM.

“Howdy! I’ve had lesbian sex before!” Demetria sang and did a little jig next to the table. All three peered at the oddity that was Demetria. For her morning, she had a flannel sweater and skinny jeans rolled up on. It wasn’t her usual attire, but something she chose to wear on impulse.

Proserpina was not in a good mood. It had nothing to do with whether or not her coffee was iced. No way. It was that the night before, her and Hecate had a fight over whether or not crafting runes would be considered cultural appropriation. Hecate refused to talk to Proserpina when they both woke up, but Hecate held tight onto Proserpina the whole way to the dining hall. That they were still sitting next to each other, but not speaking a word, spoke volumes.

So in other words, Proserpina did not have the patience so early in the morning for anything inappropriate.

“Demetria. Dear friend. Do you ever stop and think about what you’re going to say before you say it?” She asked, only masking the venom behind morning breath.

“What? We’re adults here. I don’t see Tigershark around,” Demetria retorted. She knew what Proserpina was up to, but ever in dangerous spirits, she wanted a challenge.

“That’s not the point! Not everyone wants to hear about whether or not you’ve had lesbian sex first thing in the morning. Some of us are trying to eat here. Look, there’s a plate for you at the table: muffins. Now sit down and eat muffins rather than talk about inappropriate things.”

“What’s so inappropriate about it? I mean, I just wanna brag about having lesbian sex.”

“Big deal! We’ve all had lesbian sex at this table! You don’t hear us talk about it. It’s pretty much implied.”

“You do?”

“Oh suuure. But you don’t hear us starting a book club about it or comparing techniques or bragging about some hypothetical top score. We just wanna eat our breakfast.”

“Is this one of those ‘too much information’ situations?” Demetria asked, flat-toned, almost lifeless.

“Yes! Now you get it!”

“I haven’t told you how often I’ve had it yet, have I?” Demetria, not playful, just checking her bases.

“No! And no one wants to know! Right, Nemesis?”

Nemesis backed away and waved her hands in front of her heads.

“I’ve been trying not to say anything because Cybele says I have a problem with putting my foot in my mouth, too, so I sympathize with Demetria. I also have to double check my emotions before I say things because Achlys cries when I talk while not having a good handle on my emotions.”

“But she always cries,” Proserpina pointed out.

“It still hurts regardless,” Nemesis lowered her head and swayed it in shame.

“I’d like to talk about why it’s okay to craft runes even if you’re not descendant from vikings and is actually important to do so,” Hecate raised her hand and spoke up at last.

“I’d rather talk about lesbian sex than even entertain the idea,” Proserpina groaned, took a sip of her coffee, and went back to eating.

Everyone else was silent after that.

#short story #remoras full related #writing #not canon #but could be

[bluepenguinstories]

For Those About to Fuck (We Salute You)

Well, I can’t bear to deny it any longer: your thighs were thunder, your voice was hard. You were a hammer. I wanted to be nailed down. I wanted to be that stake so you could pitch your tent on me. But I let my mind get carried away and I undid the zipper what was meant for gratification only granted me slumber. I was supposed to be outside, being taken control of by you instead I wormed my way in until we were one like a buffet counter. Oh, I heard a rumbling. I heard the war cries before I heard the sounds of pleasure. And off in the distance, I heard:

“For those about to fuck…we salute you!”

Just then, I, a bear, with my hand stuck in a honey pot. Oh, the rabbit came the rabbit laughed and the rabbit wailed. One tale says I’m still stuck in that house. Oh, if somebody could smack my bottom or feed me that honey I could surely slip free. But no, the world’s a boa constrictor and you know what happens to blood pressure after a good squeeze (I swear I can read). Up ahead, the signs were all there: some pointed to a crescendo for others, it was a downward spiral. Yet even as we acted out our parts, pointing to each section at a time giving our parts pet names the script was still being written. No need to brag, but I caught a sneak peek; the director passed away and in his will was one request:

“Please salute those about to fuck.”

Next day, I was part of the audience. Everyone panting, some exhausted, all wet. Faces downcast, glazed and warmed. Tension filled the air and the leads only had one line each:

Actor: For those about to fuck -- Actor 2: We salute you!

#acdc #tribute #poem #wish you all the best

[bluepenguinstories]

Hypothetical Anxious Mouse

Deep within the wood stood the rusted remains of a once thriving public park. Rusted monkey bars, a partially collapsed play structure, and a swing set that creaked, and one of the seats were missing. There was a committee made up of the commune who resided within the former park who stated that they would get to work on repairing the monuments and making it a place where people of all ages could play once more. However, months after such a declaration was made, there has been no progress with regards to their mission. How could there be when survival always took precedent?

At the center of this former forest resided a wide building coated with peach colored paint, and had boarded up windows. It was once known as a recreational center and the open room in the middle of the building was home to a basketball court and sometimes the elderly would get together and play shuffle board, or there would be chess tournaments hosted there. Now, it was a place where crowds of people slept, and various blankets and sleeping bags filled the floor. One corner of the room had a pile of blankets and a sleeping bag stuffed with pillows.

Minerva Pond, or as she preferred, Minnow, was exhausted after walking through the woods and not seeing a hint of human life all day, aside from her constant companion. Her feet ached and her back kept giving her the feeling of pins and needles. When she found this community, it was like finding an oasis in the desert, and a smile widened, and she licked her lips. But rather than food or water on her mind, rest was what she yearned for.

“What’s in that sleeping bag?” She asked Chorizo, a helpful guide who had introduced her and her companion to the community when the two arrived. Minnow always felt a sour taste on her tongue when she spoke with others, and quietly cursed her feeble and soft voice which betrayed her every word. Chorizo, a man with chubby cheeks and a few tufts of hair above his head, who wore a sleeveless jacket made of blue duct tape and gray, baggy sweatpants didn’t mind nor comment on Minnow’s voice and instead answered her question.

“Oh, there’s just some extra pillows in there. You can help yourself to the pillows or blankets,” he smiled and gestured.

“May I sit on the pile?” She was less sleepy and more just needed a short reprieve.

“Sure. I don’t see why not.”

What a relief it was to hear such a thing.

Her smile widened only for it to fade upon wondering where her companion had gone.

Once I’ve taken a few minutes to sit, I’ll go look for Null, she resolved.

She sat down on the pile of blankets, some in tatters with holes in them, some striped pattern and stitched together. Others, thick, and fleece. All the same, they made for a nice cushion underneath her and she leaned forward, had her elbow on her knee, her head rested on her palm, and smiled.

“Mmf! Mmf!” Came muffled cries from somewhere nearby, breaking the contentment that made up Minnow’s face, and in its place was a small, open mouth as she looked around for what could have made that sound. It sounded like someone had a sock in their mouth, or was trying to scream, but someone else had held their mouth shut. It was pained, yet hidden away, and no one in the crowded room seemed to take notice or mind save for her.

The lights above, yellow and dizzying, only made matters worse. Whoever or whatever could have made those cries, those strained yells, wasn’t being acknowledged, and a nauseous feeling filled the air around her. Like all the oxygen was being sucked out of her and given to someone else, someone foreign.

Movement in the sleeping bag caught the corner of her eye, as two stiff, long shapes bobbed up and down.

What? Snakes? She wondered, and broke out into a cold sweat. That sweat was soon twisted into a hot jolt of liquid as her seat shook beneath her and she fell forward, her hands pressed against the cold and cracked tile floor. Above, the lights continued to be dizzying, but be it her tiredness or the dying of the bulb, it kept blinking out into seconds of darkness.

“Aargh! I thought I was going to die!” Yelled a hoarse, serene voice behind her. Arms shot up, palms spread, and all Minnow needed to do was identify the deep scar on her palm and those short, uneven nails, to tell who those arms belonged to.

“Null!” Joy, and a touch of worry, filled Minnow as the name escaped her lips.

Null’s arms bent and grabbed onto the pile of blankets, tossing them aside in the process.

When Null sat up, her face was red – almost as much as her sun-dried tomato colored hair, which happened to be even more of a mess than usual.

“If you’re going to sit on my face, could you at least wait until I’m awake?” Null rubbed her forehead with the bottom of her palm and gritted her teeth as she croaked out her complaint.

“Sorry! I didn’t know you were under there!” Minnow’s face was flushed as it was and she could only imagine the agony Null went through with her rude awakening. The tips of her coarse, chestnut hair began to frizz up and nerves in her cheek gave off little popping sparks.

Despite the distraught from her companion, Null remained dissatisfied and scrunched her face while shaking her head.

“I might end up with neck problems,” she groaned.

“No! Please don’t have neck problems!” Minnow choked back a sob.

Commotion was as usual in the large room, with everyone scattered about and talking with whoever would happen to listen. But Null couldn’t hear any of that – and instead, the air was still and silent. Her eyes widened, as she forgotten just how Minnow could be. True, Minnow wasn’t the most sensitive person, but when it came to Null and her wellness, Minnow could leak like a loose faucet.

“Hey, I’m fine, really!” Null backpedaled. She held her palm against her neck and gave a light squeeze. “See? Neck’s fine.”

“Please don’t choke yourself…”

“I’m not, I’m just showing you that my neck’s fine. I’m not mad at you, either.”

“You’re not?”

Null forced a smile.

“Not at all. I was just surprised, is all, and so I reacted the way I did. All I ask is that the next time you sit on my face, you do so when I’m awake, okay?”

“Ri-Right,” Minnow hiccuped. “Next time...I’ll sit on your face when you’re awake,” she smiled and wiped away a tear from her right eye. “Got it.”

“Good. Now,” Null’s forced smile shifted to a more natural, but bestial grin. “Unfortunately, I will have to punish you.”

“You will?”

Null nodded as she leaned forward, palms curled, and tickled the sides of Minnow’s stomach.

“Eep! Cheep!” Minnow let out a squeak and squirmed. “S-Stop!”

Every time Null’s hands brushed against the softness of Minnow’s skin, wherever it may be, she couldn’t help but want to touch more. Of course, she had to heed the words of her mistress.

In one swift motion, she wrapped her hands around Minnow’s waist and held her tight while giving several kisses across Minnow’s cheeks and neck.

“Ahaha! Null! There’s so many people around!” Minnow laughed, and her cheeks turned almost as red as Null’s hair.

“Sorry, I’ll stop.”

“I do like it, really. I just don’t want so many people to watch.”

“Mm. That’s a good point,” Null let go, crossed her arms, and nodded. “I’m already not a fan of crowds to begin with.”

“Mm-hmm,” Minnow knew very well.

“In that case…”

Null curled up and rested her head in Minnow’s lap.

“This is fine, right?” Null looked up and asked. She saw the hunger in Minnow’s eyes, the kind of hunger that said Null could have been Minnow’s next meal. If she were to be devoured by anyone, it would have to be Minnow.

“Yes,” Minnow said in a labored breath, “this is fine.”

Rather than resume a peaceful slumber, Null decided to test the waters. She ran her fingers across the valley that was Minnow’s thigh, starting the top and prancing her fingers in, then outward.

“Careful. You know how easily I get turned on,” Minnow warned.

Null stopped herself. She knew better, but she still had a habit of forgetting such a fact.

“Right. You turn into quite the beast.”

“Stop that. If others hear, they might get the wrong idea.”

“Guess we both need to be careful,” Null chuckled. “Hey, if we’re tired, wanna share the sleeping bag with me? We can rest our heads under the pile of blankets, too.”

“We should probably leave our heads out of the blankets. I don’t want a repeat of what happened to you.”

“Of course not. You’re the only one allowed to sit on my face.”

The two shimmied into the sleeping bag and fell asleep, their foreheads rested against each other. Not a soul woke them from their slumber, even as the communal dinner rolled around and everyone nearby shared bowls of soup.

#null void #minnow pond #ham #I havent written anything in a while due to struggling irl #but wanted to write something short and sweet #and not to mention its tiwa's birthday