“Bigfoot (Part 4)” by Randy Long

[We return you now to the wild and woolly adventures of Randy Long and his band of explorers! If you’ve missed the first few episodes, I’ll include links to those at the end of this section. Meanwhile, let’s get back to the fun! ---RFY]

We were all pretty tired and slept peacefully during the night. Other than a few odd sounds, it was mostly uneventful. When I woke in the morning, my wife had coffee from the propane stove and breakfast cooking. I heard Ed rustling around in his sleeping bag, and I looked at my watch, and it said it was 10 minutes after 11:00. My wife said when she was getting up it was just getting light---about an hour before. I guessed that daybreak was at about 10:00 A.M. This must have been the summertime there.

It was an amazing place, and I decided to call it Twin Phoenix because of the two suns. The plant life there grew in abundance. I know that on Earth everything is grown and harvested by humans, but on that planet, Twin Phoenix, the bigfoot creatures are the main people. There was no other sign of civilization, but many signs of different kinds of animals.

The foliage there reminded me of pictures I’d seen of prehistoric Earth. All the plant life was huge and wildlife was everywhere. There was an animal there that flies, I guess a gryphon. I never seen a real one, but this looked like pictures in books that I’d seen.

I’d tasted the water the day before, and it seemed fine. I didn’t get sick.

None of the bigfoot creatures had approached us, but I did get the sense they knew we were there, and we were not the first. Ed seemed really freaked out, really nervous and jittery all the time. Linda and I just seemed to go with the flow. The wonders of that world were amazing.

Since we’d been there, about eight days, there had been long days and short nights. Summer like weather, and it had rained only twice for about ten minutes. The animals there, believe it or not, were all Earth’s mythical creatures, or so I thought. The mythical creatures must have come from that world. The doorway must have been open to our world in our ancient times, letting creatures from this world come through. I think the bigfoot creatures must have closed the doorway a couple thousand years ago. Some would come through the passageway. Just enough to get into our history books. Also, I finally understood why there were no bones or even bigfoot bodies. They made sure that all remnants of any bodies were brought back through the passageway.

All I can say is, that was an amazing place. We’d been walking west towards the sunset for the eight days we’d been there. We’d been following the river since we’d been there, downstream. The fruit and fish were plentiful. It was a tropical area.

In all the time we’d been there, traveling, we’d never run across a mean animal. A little curious, but nothing dangerous. We seen other animals fishing and eating fish, and there was definitely enough to go around. The fruit was also real similar to ours and in great abundance. The nights, so far, were no colder than the mid-50s. I don’t recall who said, “You learn something new every day,” but how true! Especially in a world such as this.

I left camp and went down to the river one morning. When I looked up from drinking in the water, a bigfoot creature was there. He started talking to me, only he didn’t speak. I heard him in my head. It was odd, but he said we’d been watched us since we came to that land, and as long as we ate fish and fruit, everything was fine. He said no one harmed animals there. He said we could fish and eat fruit. I asked how he could talk by thinking the words, and he said they’d done it for centuries. The doorways to our world used to be open all the time, but humans killed animals, and so they closed the doors centuries ago.

He said, “In our world there are some humans, but we are the dominant species, like humans are on your world.” We talked for quite a while. I told him we would obey their rules while we were there, then thanked him and went back to camp.

I told my wife and friend what had happened and the rules of the land. We made a pact never to let anyone know of that world. Something was said by the bigfoot, he said his name was Ko-Roo, and I remember he said “doorways,” meaning there was more than one doorway. He said that, depending on what region we were in, the animals would be different. Most animals there were much more highly evolved than on Earth.

I’d seen unicorns, dodo birds, phoenix birds, gryphons, small gargoyles…and all the usual animals, such as bears, squirrels, deer, elk, birds, ducks, horses, etc. So many more. All I can say, that place was amazing. My wife is like me and wanted to explore as much as we could, but Ed was getting homesick. Understandable. We’d been gone for going on two weeks by then. We’d learned everything is such a short period of time! We’d been marking our way and following the river. Ed had decided to leave the next morning to go back home. He promised not to say anything of his adventures.

My wife and I made it an early night, and before we knew it, it was morning. We said goodbye to Ed and figured if he followed the river, he should be able to get back to the doorway in two weeks or less. Now it seemed to us that it was time to explore more. Halfway into the first day without Ed, the river forked off in three directions. Of the two smaller forks, one went north and one went south, and the third continued west. We’d been coming from the east, so we continued west. The further west we continued, the more trails we ran across. Finally, we came into a pretty big village.

It was mainly a bigfoot village. I introduced myself to one of them, and he said he knew who I was. Ko-Roo had told him. He said his name was Mar-Gun, leader of that village, and he said all bigfoot are mentally connected. He hadn’t really seen Ko-Roo, but they spoke mentally. He asked where the third one in our party was. I told him Ed went home. He could tell, mentally, that they had nothing to fear from us.

Mar-Gun welcomed us and invited us to stay in the village for a while. We were overwhelmed with the idea. They seemed to be such calm creatures, but also a take-charge kind of people. They told us they have been visiting Earth for thousands of years, and that they were a migratory species. They told us they will reveal themselves to humans, but for now we just keep killing each other.

They said their species eat fish and fruit and other vegetation, but they never harm each other. They have visited us, and have been called Bigfoot, Sasquatch, Yeti, Abominable Snowman, and others, down through the years. In medieval times, they were called trolls, and down through the years, they tried to get along with humans, but all the humans would do is try to hunt and kill them. They still visited Earth sometimes, but not like they used to. They tried not to be seen anymore, and they closed most of the doorways. Only the hidden doorways had been left open. They said that they’d kept their world simple without the so-called improvements that humans have made. They also said that the Native Americans of our world used to worship them, and that they would talk to the tribes, but that now the days of old were long gone…

[To be continued!!!!]

---Randy Long

Here’s how to find the other sections:

“Bigfoot” Part One
“Bigfoot” Part Two
“Bigfoot” Part Three

“REVIEW: The Young Ones”

In 1986, I discovered a weird, British show that was playing on Sunday nights on MTV. It was about a group of college students who shared a house together, although they seemed to hate each other, and the bizarre and nonsensical adventures that they found themselves in. The show made little sense, had great musical guests, and often ended without any resolution to the “plot-line.” It was called The Young Ones, and it became one of the most important influences on my life and work…

The Young Ones – BBC Video / Warner Home Video (2002)

Considered one of the first “punk” influenced shows to air on British television, The Young Ones was written by Rik Mayall (who plays “Rick” in the show), Ben Elton, and Lise Mayer, and was directed by Paul Jackson and Geoff Posner. It ran for two seasons, (the first in 1982, the second in 1984), and each season had six episodes---and yet with only 12 episode in total, the show made a lasting impact, partially because of the brilliance of the nonsense, and partially because the actors who play the horrible, awful, nasty characters were so incredibly funny!

There were four regular “stars” of the show. The first, Rick, is a wanna-be, anarcho-punk poet who fancies himself a brilliant and charismatic leader of the underground movement, but in all actuality, he’s just a spoiled rich kid. Next is Vyvyan, the psychotic metal-head medical student, who spends most of his time torturing Rick (who definitely deserves it.) Another is Neil, the chronically depressed hippy, who does most of the cooking and “cleaning” around the house. And then there’s Mike, the slick conman and womanizer (who isn’t smart enough to be a conman or handsome enough to get any women.) Together, these four characters experience everything from being attacked by a vampire (from South Africa?) to traveling back in time to the medieval era to having their home invaded (on at least three occasions) by various psycho killers. Most of these stories aren't followed to any kind of satisfactory resolution, but their premises become themes that are sometimes returned to as the craziness progresses.

Instead of straight plots, most episodes start with one of these weird premises, then various non-sequiturs interrupt the story---a puppet will start singing or a killer sock will crawl into the room or the camera will focus on a picture on the wall and then the story from the picture will unfold, or a band will show up and take over the scene. (Some great early 80s bands made guest appearance on The Young Ones, including Motorhead, Madness, Dexys Midnight Runners, Amazulu, The Damned, and (my favorite) Rip Rig + Panic!) Guest stars also popped up constantly, including Terry Jones (from Monty Python), Robbie Coltrane, Stephen Fry, Hugh Laurie, and Emma Thompson!

The show was full of bad puns, ridiculous visual jokes, Three Stooges style slapstick, constant references to pop culture, terrible puppets, the characters turning to the camera and addressing the audience directly, scenes where the actors broke character completely and point out that they’re on a television set, and weird little subliminal blips (which you could go back to with your VCR or, later, your DVD player, and watch in frame by frame mode, although they always ended up being some bit of nothing, like a fraction of a second from an old western or a bird flapping its wings…) The show was confusing and juvenile and often pointless, and absolutely brilliant. It’s true that other comedy shows, like Monty Python or The Muppets, had similar elements, but the tone of this show made it unique. The characters were awful to each other, the scenes are frequently cruel, but the violence is so silly that you can’t take it seriously, and the pace of the show was ridiculously fast, like Family Guy, but ten or fifteen years before Stewie’s first attempt to murder his mother.

Personally, I still find the show hilarious, even though I’ve seen each episode hundreds of times. (I wore out the VHS tapes that I had, and it’s lucky that DVDs don’t wear out as easily!) Some of the episodes, particularly “Bambi,” “Nasty,” and “Bomb,” are so funny that I can watch them over and over again. (I would tell you what they’re about, but it’s tough because they’re all over the place.) As a writer, I’ve been influenced by Mayall, Elton, and Mayer’s embrace of following a line of illogic to it’s absurd conclusion, no matter how far away from reality that might take you. The show may not be enjoyable to people who like a beginning, middle, and end in their stories, or for people who want at least one or two of the characters in their entertainment to be “likeable.” These folks are completely horrible, and that’s what makes the nasty things that happen to them so funny! Still brilliant, still uncomfortable, still unique. And (spoiler alert) they all get killed off in the end!

---Richard F. Yates
(Primitive Thoughtician and Grand Hoohaa of The P.E.W.)

https://primitiveentertainment.wordpress.com
http://readadamnbookwithrfy.blogspot.com
https://ilosttheplotafewmilesback.blogspot.com/
https://www.facebook.com/richard.f.yates/

“Serialized Novella: ALLEN TOMBES – FIRE FROM WATER (Chapters 17…)” by Richard F. Yates

[Okay citizens, here’s where we are… Now that I’ve killed the Patreon page, I’m free to publish my entire novella for the whole world to read, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do. For the purposes of suspense and to keep the posts from being too lengthy, I’ll continue with the serialized format. That’s more fun anyway. If you haven’t read any of the adventures of Allen Tombes yet, I’ll include a “Table of Contents” at the end of this post with links to the various chapters. For archival purposes, I’m not going to rewrite the intros to the various chapters (which were mostly attempts to get people to visit the Patreon page and give me their hard-earned dough), but I think I’m going to disable the links---because there’s nothing to see there now anyway! Ah, enough with the business, WE’VE GOT ADVENTURES TO EXPERIENCE!!!!]

ALLEN TOMBES – FIRE FROM WATER (Chapter 17)

There was a rush of wind, and Chris appeared just outside the destroyed kitchen with half a dozen men in black uniforms, weapons drawn. Chris surveyed the charred remains of the wall and the final wisps of smoke from the melting teeth and claws left by the fallen Shadows. He stepped cautiously into the kitchen.

"What happened here?" Chris asked. He spotted his mother's body on the floor, and his face fell. "Dad?" he asked in a low voice. Allen shook his head.

Haro, placing a claw carefully on Allen's shoulder, said, "The child called a Fire Spirit. It destroyed the Shadows and, I'm afraid, a large portion of the house."

Chris looked wide eyed for a second, his gaze shifting from Haro to Allen to the remains of the kitchen wall. He shook his head, "That’s impossible. How could he have summoned anything?"

"Impossible or not, the Shadows were devoured by a Fire Spirit. I saw it myself," Haro said. "It was particularly interested in your brother." Allen looked blank, and shifted the weight of his sword from his left hand to his right.

"Chris? I can't... Where have you been?" Rose released Angie, who was still cowering near the cupboards, and took a few steps closer to her older brother.

"We don't have time for that right now," Chris said, his head apparently clearing. "We have to get you guys out of here. I need you both to go gather the essentials, clothes, weapons, just the bare minimum. We've got to leave before the Shadows regroup and come back. They've never attacked in numbers like this before. It's completely unheard of."

"The other child must come with us as well," Haro said, gesturing toward Angie.

"No. It's going to be hard enough to keep these two alive without dragging another helpless kid along," Chris said.

"She'll be dead within the hour if we leave her. The Shadows have seen her," Haro said.

“Chris, please," Rose pleaded. "She's my best friend. We can't just leave her here."

He looked at Rose, then at the body of his mother lying on the floor. "Fine," Chris said. "Where's Oro?"

"He fell," Haro said, his rumbling voice even lower than usual.

Chris looked shocked. "I'm sorry, Haro," he said, looking at his own brother. Allen was wiping tears from his face as he stood over his mother's body.

"He fought well and died nobly," Haro said. "But now we must protect those who are still alive."

"You’re right, we've got to get moving. Rose, Allen, get your things, and be quick! Your ride will be here in just a few minutes. We’ve got to be gone before the Shadows return." Allen watched his brother walk out the of the kitchen to speak to the men standing in the yard. Rose grabbed Angie by the arm and led her through the doorway back into the living room and directed her to the couch. Angie sat down, shaking badly.

Allen followed the girls into the living room and found the sheath for his sword. He slid the blade back into it. The house smelled like burnt wood, mixed with a putrid scent that Allen guessed was the remains of dozens of Shadows all melting at once.

"Shouldn't we call an ambulance or the police?" Allen asked.

Haro lumbered heavily into the living room and said, "It's unnecessary. Brashley has a cleaning squad who will come after we've made sure you and your sister are safe. They will take care of the house. The neighborhood is currently under a sleeping spell to help keep the civilians safe. The damage, and the---remains," he said, softly, "will not be discovered until morning. However, I am certain that the Shadows will return to make another assault within the hour. Now that they've discovered what you are capable of, they will certainly send more than mere drones with their next attempt."

"More than... There are other---things?" Allen said, his voice quavering.

"You ask this as you are looking at me?" Haro said. "Yes, they have many other things under their control. Now, please child, gather your belongings."

Allen nodded and headed for the stairs. As Rose hugged Angie and made to follow Allen, they both heard arguing and shouting from the back yard through the open kitchen. One of the voices was undoubtedly Chris. They looked at each other. Rose's face was lined with tear stains. Allen's was grim and exhausted. Rose hugged her brother tightly, then they both walked up the stairs.

As Allen reached for the doorknob to his room he hesitated. He pulled Kitsle's box from his bag and tapped. The bug flew out and hovered at Allen's eye line.

"Um, hi," Allen said, and bowed his head a bit. He wasn't sure if he had to be formal every time he asked for help. Kitsle clicked a laugh.

Allen smiled, uncomfortably. "Is the, uh, door safe for me to open?" he asked.

Kitsle buzzed near the knob for a second, then looked at Allen and nodded.

"Thanks," Allen said. "And thanks for saving us earlier."

Kitsle clicked another laugh. He buzzed up to the door and wrote in letters of light, "Good kid" then flew back into his box.

Allen opened his door and went in as the letters faded away. The window was smashed so the room had become very cold. "Why didn't she just open it?" Allen said to himself, shaking his head. On the floor, drawn in what Allen guessed was the witch's own blood, was a circle about three feet across with several strange symbols drawn inside of it. Allen assumed that this was all part of the spell that the witch had used to brake the protective barrier around his house and let the Shadows come in. Because of Krystal, his mother had died.

Seeing the circle filled him with rage, but it also made him nervous. He didn't know how much magic was still alive inside of that circle, so he skirted around the edge of it as he grabbed some clothes, his journal, a few paperback books, and his emergency cash, which he kept in the bottom drawer of his dresser in an old Creature from the Black Lagoon lunch box. He stuffed all of these things into a backpack and slipped it onto his shoulder, grabbed his weapons bag off his bed, and headed for the door. He looked back. He was leaving this room, possibly for the very last time, but seeing the bloody symbols on the floor and feeling the chill from the broken window disgusted him. The witch's presence had tainted this space, and it no longer felt like home. He closed the door and felt better, then walked toward Rose's room to see if she was ready to leave.

When he reached his sister's room it was already empty. Further down the hall he found Rose and Angie in the bathroom, scrubbing the dark streaks off their faces. Allen noticed a backpack, stuffed completely full at their feet.

"But why can't I just go home?" Angie said, scrubbing her cheeks with a washcloth.

"Didn't you hear that lizard guy?" Rose said.

"Haro," Allen interrupted. "His name's Haro."

Both of the girls jumped.

"God! Don't do that!" Angie said, as she went back to smearing a layer of foundation on her cheeks.

"Anyway," Rose continued, "Haro said that if you get separated from us, those ghost monsters will try to kill you." Rose grabbed a tube of eyeliner from a little purple makeup bag on the counter and started redrawing the black lines around her eyes.

"But I didn't see any monsters---except the giant lizard and that giant bird that caught my hair on fire," Angie said, mussing the singed hair on her head and making a pouty-face. "I just want to go home, and when I wake up in the morning, this will all have been some terrible dream. Stacey won't be..." she started to say, but stopped, tearing up again.

Rose dropped the eyeliner back into her makeup bag and hugged her friend. Angie took a deep breath and nodded, then went back to fixing her makeup. Rose grabbed a tube of bright red lipstick, and Allen shook his head.

"We're about to die, and you're putting on lipstick?" he said.

"I wanna leave a pretty corpse behind, don't I?" Rose answered, smacking her lips. She tossed the lipstick into the makeup bag, unzipped her backpack, and stuffed the makeup kit in with the jumble of mostly black clothing.

"We'd better hurry," Allen said and headed for the stairs.


ALLEN TOMBES – FIRE FROM WATER (Chapter 18)

When Allen reached the bottom of the stairs he saw Chris, Haro, and two very tall, blonde men in black uniforms in the living room, standing near where Haro had bashed the witch into the wall. Her body still lay unmoving beneath the splintered wood paneling, and a rush of anger surged through Allen again. He found it difficult to swallow and knew that his cheeks had flushed red. He tried to calm himself as he walked over to Chris.

"The girls are almost ready," Allen said as he realized everyone was looking at him.

"Good. Our ride will be here any second," Chris said.

"A giant dragon, I suppose, to fly us all to a cave in the mountains," Allen said. Both of the men laughed. Allen smiled at himself, and realized how exhausted he'd become.

"No, not a dragon," Chris said. "We'll have to settle for a van. A dragon would be pretty conspicuous flying around in a city."


"The city?" Allen said, genuinely surprised, "but I thought..."

"I know what you thought. Monsters and magic, like one of your fantasy novels," Chris said. Allen thought he almost saw a smile on Chris's lips.

"She's here," Haro rumbled.

Allen looked through the still open front door and watched a large black van pull up and park behind his father's car. A thin woman, not much taller than Allen, with shoulder length red hair, hopped out of the van and trotted to the house. She was wearing the same black uniform as the two blonde men. She walked directly to Chris, said something quietly to him, glanced at Allen, then headed back to the van.

"I'll get Rose," Chris said. "Haro, I want you to go to Eddings and tell him everything that's happened here tonight. See if he'll be willing to help now that the Shadows have mobilized and begun to move."

"No," Haro said, in his lowest, deepest voice. "I will stay with the children until they reach Brashley."

Chris's face flushed red. "You were here. You can give numbers, explain how Allen called the Fire Spirit. We're going to need Eddings’ help now that the Shadows are attacking in the open."

"I will not leave the children until they are under Shayla's protection. Send the twins to Eddings. They can relay the story to him," Haro said.

Chris ground his teeth together, looking at the floor. "Fine," he said. "Tell the twins everything that you can remember."

"Who's Eddings?" Allen asked.

"He's a Collector, like Chaz," Chris said, "but more---influential." Allen looked confused. "Just go get in the van with Haro. I'll get Rose," he said and ran up the stairs.


ALLEN TOMBES – FIRE FROM WATER (Chapter 19)

Allen left his house and walked toward the van, followed closely by Haro, who was again walking on all fours and scanning in every direction with his head. The red haired woman was standing by the side of the van speaking, in hushed tones, to someone on her cell phone. She ended her call as Allen approached and slipped the phone into one of the many pockets of her uniform.

"I'm Shea," she said to Allen, extending her hand for him to shake. Her grip was stronger than he'd imagined it would be.

"I'm Chris's brother, Allen," Allen said, then felt himself blush.

"So I've heard," she said, smiling.

Chris came out of the house, looking frustrated, followed by Rose, carrying her overstuffed bag, and Angie, who looked very angry.

"When do I get my phone back," Angie said, in a testy voice.

"You don't. You're going into hiding. If you send someone a text message, the Shadows can trace the call, find you, and kill you. No phones!" Chris shook his head, then opened the sliding door of the van and told everyone to climb in.

Shea drove and Chris sat in the front passenger seat. The dash was aglow with screens and buttons, almost like a cockpit. Allen, Rose, and Angie sat on a second row bench seat. Behind them, Haro was stuffed uncomfortably in a space entirely too narrow for his gorilla sized body. On the walls of the van on either side of Haro were numerous cabinets with metal-mesh covers through which Allen could see guns, swords, battle axes, and other devices, some of which Allen suspected were grenades or bombs of some kind.

Rose was clearly shaken by the items on the walls of the van, and after a few minutes of shocked silence finally said, "Chris, what is this? Are you in some kind of---military group?" She didn't use the word "terrorist," but Allen could feel it there, just behind his sister's eyes. Shea laughed.

"No, not really. We're a security service. We protect people from---serious threats," Chris said as he glanced out the side window of the van, then at the screens on the dashboard. Allen noticed that the screens showed images from just about every angle around the van. He assumed Chris was making sure they weren't being followed.

Rose, who obviously wasn't happy with Chris's answer, said, "Okay, you're a security agency. And..." She rolled her fingers in the air for Chris to continue.

"And right now, you're both being recruited to work for the company," he said. He turned then and locked eyes with his sister. For a second his face was cool, almost cold, then a look of sorrow came into his features. "Just like I was," he said.

"But I've got school!" Allen said, close to panicking. "I'm only fifteen. I can't work yet."

"Chris, are we being kidnapped?" Rose said, eyes widening.

"You're not being kidnapped, you're being rescued," Chris said, his gaze moving back to the windows and monitors.

"The company employs some of the best private tutors in the country," Shea said. She tried to sound reassuring, but all three of the kids in the back seat looked terrified. Looking in the rear view mirror and seeing the looks on her passengers' faces, Shea said, "Haro, can you explain what Brashley is and does? They look like they're about to flip out." Allen, Rose, and Angie all turned themselves around so they could see Haro better.

Haro grunted his assent, then said, "Your family line is one of several who, for a hundred generations, have served as warriors and protectors for their people. The Brashley Corporation, which is currently headed by Shayla McCleggan, Shea's mother, is the public face of an ancient organization that has secretly served humankind since the days of the Egyptians, though then they were considered warrior priests and sorcerers by most who knew of their existence. You two have a special gift, the ability to see through the glamour cast by many non-human creatures, and at least one of you has the ability, as your brother does, to physically interact with and even destroy those creatures that are a threat to your kind. It's possible, Rose, that you too may have the ability. The trait runs very strongly in your mother's line."

"But, Chris, why didn't you ever come back and tell us any of this? Why did they take you away?" Allen asked.

"Because I saw a Shadow, one night on my way home from a date. I saw it, and it saw me. I ran home, thinking I was going crazy, and then Haro showed up at the house, tracking a group of Shadows that had come there to kill me."

Haro laughed, low and soft.

"I was terrified," Chris continued, "of him more than them. But then he spoke, and told me he could protect me. He told me that I had to go with him, that the Shadows would return for me and would kill everyone in the house to get to me. He said the Shadows knew I could see them, and that as long as I remained at the house, the rest of you would be in danger as well."

"Then it was your voice I heard the night Chris disappeared," Allen said, looking back at Haro.

"I recognized your scent, as well," Haro rumbled.

"Most weapons, knives or bullets, won't hurt the Shadows," Shea said. "They are only partially in this world. They come here to feed on the life-force of humans and other animals, and when someone is killed by them, they are drawn into the Shadow's world and become one of them. But people like your family, and mine, are immune. You can't be made into one of them."

"And some of us," Chris said, "when we are trained how to, can channel our life force into an object, a sword or club, and we can use that energy to destroy them."

"Your brother has already discovered that ability," Haro said.

Chris turned to look at Haro, his face confused.

"He has already destroyed a Shadow with his sword," Haro said, laughing again.

Chris cracked a smile, a real, solid smile. "My brother's a natural? We'll see about that!" he said, and laughed.

"Plus, the calling," Shea said. "I still can't believe it." Rose shook her head, and Chris's smile instantly faded.

"I don't understand," Rose said. "What's does 'calling' mean?"

"Somehow, your brother was able to summon a Fire Spirit to help him in his time of desperate need. A Fire Spirit is an incredibly powerful creature that exists on a separate plane of existence from this world. They are worshiped as gods by most cultures that have any knowledge of them," Haro said.

"It's an ability that very few humans have. Even after decades of study, most magic users find it impossible to do more than speak across different worlds, let alone draw creatures to our world," Shea said.

"But you were somehow able to call a Fire Spirit. Few humans have ever done that. Even fewer have survived such an encounter," Haro said, laughing again in a deep, rolling rumble.

"I didn't mean to," Allen said. The entire conversation filled him with a deep fear.

"This is all great," Rose said, angrily. Allen realized she was glaring at Chris,"But it still doesn't explain why you couldn't contact us and tell us you were okay."

"My mother, Shayla," Shea said, "does not allow people who we recruit to contact their families or loved ones. The company exists today because it has remained a secret. If Chris or any other agent shares information about our company, our whereabouts or plans, that information could be extracted by the forces we're trying to keep at bay."

"What does that mean?" Rose said, her face flashing red.

"It means," Chris said, "that you or anyone you speak to could be captured and tortured, your minds read a hundred different ways, until our enemies learned enough from you to try and take us down. Then they'd dump your body, or feed it to one of their pets, and come after us." His breathing was becoming shallow and quick. Rose looked ferocious, glaring at him.

"Besides that," Shea said, trying with her tone to defuse the situation, "my mother had hoped that Chris would be the only member of your family who could see through glamour. Your mother couldn't, and the likelihood of more than one family member in a generation having the gift…"

"Curse," Chris interrupted.

"Or curse…" Shea agreed. "The likelihood of more than one in a generation is pretty small. The last member of your line to be able to see, before Chris, was your great uncle, Siegfried, who, according to official records, died in World War II at twenty-one years of age. In actuality, he worked for us until 1990. He was my favorite instructor when I was a teenager," she said, fondly. "Brilliant, but a real hard-ass!"

"I knew him well," Haro said. "He was a good man. One of my best finds."

"You were the one that saved him? When the Nazi's..." Shea said. Haro laughed and nodded.

"I still don't get this," Rose said. "Are you saying that your 'company' takes kids and trains them to fight monsters?"

Haro laughed again, "Not all monsters, child."

"You saw them, didn't you?" Allen asked.

"Yes, I saw them," Rose said, "but why the big secret? Why hide it all?"

"Because most humans are at their mercy," Haro said, his voice soft and low. "Human-kind has been bred to be helpless and simple, and there have always been creatures who have fed off your species, that use glamours and other magic to confuse and control your kind. But there have also always been those beings who chose to protect humans. Your mythologies are full of stories of gods and titans and other creatures who have aided humanity, and many of those stories are based on actual events and real creatures, though they become exaggerated over time. It is believed by some scholars of magic that family lines such as yours are the results of gifts given by these benevolent protectors, or from interbreeding with non-human creatures who are more resistant to glamour. These humans have usually become the warrior-priests or heroes of their times, unless they were discovered and destroyed by humanity’s enemies first."

Everyone seemed lost in their own thoughts. Angie's face, in particular, had gone completely white.


ALLEN TOMBES – FIRE FROM WATER (Chapter 20)

As Shea guided the van onto the freeway, heading south, but before the Brashley cleaning crew had arrived, a lone figure appeared inside the doorway of Allen's home---the Shadow Lord. It had been a century since he last came to Earth, but he was interested in these recent events.
Though he swam in the same dark mist as his drones, the Shadow Lord was more substantial. Hints of an ancient, pale body loomed beneath the swirling darkness. The creature's red eyes glowed brightly in the quiet darkness of the scorched living room. He floated over to the body of the dark haired witch, who lay shattered on the floor near the dented wall.

"You failed me," the creature said in a hiss, "but you can still be of use." It reached out with a hand made of dark mist, which solidified into snow white flesh. It brushed its fingers along the woman's cheek. Her body shuddered.

She gasped and her eyes popped open, revealing orbs of pure black.

"Oooohhhh, God!" she said, then shrieked in agony.

"Yessssss," the Shadow Lord hissed. It laughed a sickly, wheezing laugh. "Remember this pain. Remember the torment that these children have caused you! Savor it, and then return it to them."

The witch continued to scream as her shattered bones melted within her flesh, her blood turned to steam within her veins. The Shadow Lord laughed again, then his misty body surrounded her and they both vanished.

[Stay tuned for more exciting MONSTROUS action!!!]

---Richard F. Yates
(Primitive Thoughtician and Grand Hoohaa of The P.E.W.)

https://primitiveentertainment.wordpress.com
http://readadamnbookwithrfy.blogspot.com
https://ilosttheplotafewmilesback.blogspot.com/
https://www.facebook.com/richard.f.yates/

Below is the promised “Table of Contents” that will take you to the other chapters of Allen’s story!

ALLEN TOMBES – PART 01 - Chapter 1
https://primitiveentertainment.wordpress.com/2017/05/07/serialized-novella-allen-tombes-fire-from-water-chapter-1-by-richard-f-yates/

ALLEN TOMBES – PART 02 - Chapter 2
https://primitiveentertainment.wordpress.com/2017/05/08/serialized-novella-allen-tombes-fire-from-water-chapter-2-by-richard-f-yates/

ALLEN TOMBES – PART 03 - Chapters 3 and 4
https://primitiveentertainment.wordpress.com/2017/05/09/serialized-novella-allen-tombes-fire-from-water-chapter-3-and-4-by-richard-f-yates/

ALLEN TOMBES – PART 04 - Chapters 5, 6, and 7
https://primitiveentertainment.wordpress.com/2017/05/10/serialized-novella-allen-tombes-fire-from-water-chapters-5-6-and-7-by-richard-f-yates/

ALLEN TOMBES – PART 05 - Chapters 8, 9, 10, and 11
https://primitiveentertainment.wordpress.com/2017/05/28/serialized-novella-allen-tombes-fire-from-water-chapters-8-9-10-and-11-by-richard-f-yates/

ALLEN TOMBES – PART 06 - Chapters 12 and 13
https://primitiveentertainment.wordpress.com/2017/06/17/serialized-novella-allen-tombes-fire-from-water-chapters-12-and-13-by-richard-f-yates/

ALLEN TOMBES – PART 07 - Chapters 14, 15, and 16
https://primitiveentertainment.wordpress.com/2017/07/15/serialized-novella-allen-tombes-fire-from-water-chapters-14-15-and-16-by-richard-f-yates/

“The Range” by Poetrybot 070 (Licensed to Confound)

Chemical donut mutton beard
Analog asparagus becomes giant fruit fly.
If the corruption in the sidewalk
Challenges competent Mohawks
Why bring the dishes
Under the church clang?

Blank home hand grenade
Flicks playful bat juice
Broken antenna flute goblin horse
Bedside musical
Titans of cowhide roaming brilliantly.

—Poetrybot 070 (Licensed to Confound)

https://primitiveentertainment.wordpress.com
http://readadamnbookwithrfy.blogspot.com
https://schoolofmadnessastruth.blogspot.com/
https://www.facebook.com/richard.f.yates/

“Hungry Beasts” by Richard F. Yates

---Richard F. Yates
(Commander in Cheap of The Primitive Entertainment Workshop)

https://primitiveentertainment.wordpress.com
http://readadamnbookwithrfy.blogspot.com
https://schoolofmadnessastruth.blogspot.com/
https://www.facebook.com/richard.f.yates/

“Young Love” by Richard F. Yates

---Richard F. Yates
(Commander in Cheap of The Primitive Entertainment Workshop)

https://primitiveentertainment.wordpress.com
http://readadamnbookwithrfy.blogspot.com
https://schoolofmadnessastruth.blogspot.com/
https://www.facebook.com/richard.f.yates/

“Life Theater” by Porky Timecork

Christmas is coming… (Quit hissing!)

What I like about Xmas is the total immersion of the experience. For an entire month, maybe more in some places, you get lights, music, decorations, movies, foods, seasonal clothing… All the stores and television shows and windows and people scream CHRISTMAS! And there’s no way to escape, especially if you hate it, which I don’t. I love the totality of it.

Why can’t we have a total immersion experience every month—or every other month? We’ve got Halloween (in Oct.) and Xmas (in Dec.), so why can’t we fill the other EVEN months with SOMETHING: costumes, decorations, lighting, sound…

Maybe what I’m thinking of is LIFE THEATER. Weave a narrative into daily life; significantly transform the environment you live and work in; change your costumes to match the theme. Every two months, come up with a new theme, OR establish some fake “holidays” and push them on the rest of the world. (They do it to us, so why can’t we do it back??? Except, we’ll make our holidays MUCH more interesting!) Keep pushing until they become REAL for everyone else, too. Within a generation or two, we could have complete environment transformation—and individual human role characterizations for each “holiday.” Develop interesting characters that people can dress as, embody, and BECOME (like the Lord of Misrule—or Margaret Thatcher.) There will be a STORY, a narrative, for humans to immerse themselves in, like a shamanistic experience. The costumes and environment will induce a “spirit” in the participants, and they will feel themselves, for the duration of the holiday, BECOMING their character. (And the next year, they can be somebody else!)

That would be fun—and much less boring than our current calendar, which only has a couple of really FUN holidays per year. WE DEMAND MORE!!!

If you have any good ideas, let us know! We’ll publish the good ideas as NEW HOLIDAYS and get this Theater of Life underway!

—Porky Timecork

https://primitiveentertainment.wordpress.com
http://readadamnbookwithrfy.blogspot.com
https://schoolofmadnessastruth.blogspot.com/
https://www.facebook.com/richard.f.yates/

[Originally posted 18 Apr. 2013 @ The Primitive Entertainment Workshop]