Saturday, January 13, 2018

"The Gitzy 500" by Richard F. Yates



Welcome race fans! Thanks for joining us on this sunny Saturday for the first, annual Gitzy 500 Challenge! We have nearly a hundred talented drivers here today, some of the best in the world, preparing to challenge their skills and endurance on this incredibly challenging, some might say “ludicrously difficult,” course. Let’s go down to the pits now and see if we can get an interview…

—Yates & Yates (Photo by Mariah R. Yates. Words by Richard F. Yates)

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Monday, January 1, 2018

"A Piece of Paper Trapped in a Bush" by Richard F. Yates



I spotted a piece of paper trapped in a bush
in the rain
It could be love letter
to a heart that will never know it’s cherished
Or it could be a ransom note
for a child who will never be returned
Or it could be a formula
for a disease that will now never be cured
Or it could be a rejection letter
for an author who will never write again
Or it could be a suicide note
for a family who will never know why he’s gone
Or it could be some homework
for a kid who didn’t care if his C+ ever made it to mom

I spotted a piece of paper trapped in a bush
in the rain
And I left it there

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

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Sunday, December 31, 2017

"Restricted Airspace" by Richard F. Yates

In my art (and writing and life in general) I try to represent the randomness and absurdity of existence. (I usually fail at this, but trying is still fun.) Sometimes my attempts are humorous, often they are ugly, and sometimes—out of sheer chance—something NEAT happens. Absurdly NEAT-O!

I’m in my mid-40s now. I’ve lost some people. I’ve seen great human beings, funny and imaginative and warm (and sometimes a bit evil, but I don’t judge) who have lived lives, deeply affected those they were close to, but made no impact on society AT LARGE in any recognizable way—-and then they are GONE. Not superstars, never rich, not great philanthropists, not famous artists or writers or poets, just PEOPLE who came and went. They struggled and laughed. Some died way too early, some lived long enough to see most of their friends go before them. And I’d love to believe that they didn’t just DISAPPEAR. That SOMEHOW those great personalities are still out there in the universe, somewhere…

But I don’t see much evidence that the PERSON, the thoughts and desires and scars and smart-ass remarks and weird quirks that make up the INDIVIDUAL—I don’t see any convincing evidence that THESE THINGS survive the death of the body and brain. (I’m sorry, all you true believers, but the evidence is not compelling…)

However, the fact that life is finite doesn’t mean it can’t be LIVED while we are here and have a chance to live it.

Have you ever wondered whether or not someone LIVED A GOOD LIFE? Have you ever wondered if you are WASTING your time? Now ask yourself this: HOW DOES A CAT KNOW IF IT’S LIVED A GOOD LIFE? Is the life of one deer BETTER than the life of any other deer? What is a fulfilling OCTOPUS existence? Have the blades of grass in the front yard prepared for the REAPER as well as the grasses in the back yard have?

One could argue (pretty easily) that HUMANS have the intellectual capacity to CONSIDER these concepts (WHICH HUMANS MADE UP), whereas other creatures, like octopi and deer and cats and blades of grass, do not have the BRAIN CAPACITY. Whales and dolphins have some big brains, do THEY wonder if they’re wasting their potential?

My mom was killed in a car wreck when I was 14 years old.

She took my brother, one of his friends, and one of our aunts to go strawberry picking on the last day of school my freshman year of high school, and she never came home. Apparently, on the drive to the strawberry field, a man, coming off a double shift and traveling the opposite direction from my mom’s car, fell asleep at the wheel of his vehicle, drifted across the center line of the road, and collided with my mom, head on. She died instantly. My brother and aunt where hospitalized for several months and suffered through numerous surgeries to put them back together, but they survived. (The friend was, somehow, basically uninjured in the crash.) The driver of the other car, who hadn’t been drinking, wasn’t playing on a cell phone, who was just working hard to get enough money for his family to live a good life, broke his wrist in the collision. I don’t blame this guy AT ALL for what happened. It was a million to one shot that he happened to float over the center line just as my mom’s car was passing.

Random. If mom had left five minutes earlier, or later—two minutes even—she wouldn’t have been anywhere near where this hard-working man’s trajectory intersected with her line of travel. My life would have gone in a completely different direction. Her life would have KEPT GOING, for a while anyway.

I’m not trying to be maudlin, this was just one of the moments in my life that sent me in search of some HARD MEANING. Why? How? What’s the point of this? What MADE this happen? Nothing. Physics. Two fast moving, relatively heavy bodies ran into each other, and the soft parts in the middle got broken. No plan. Couldn’t have predicted this would happen. It just DID.

Now, I’ve learned to keep moving. (“Just keep swimming,” the little fish sings.) Bad things happen (often to good people, but also to bad people.) You live with it, or you don’t. I found ways to overcome that tragedy. I found ways to overcome many OTHER tragedies. I read a lot. I WRITE a lot, which helps me THINK THINGS THROUGH. I tried to remember how quickly things can change while I was raising my OWN kids. And I tried to have fun—with my wife, with my kids, with my family and friends—and to live a life that all the other blade of grass, and deer, and octopi (though probably not the cats) would be able to look back on and have a laugh.

HAVE FUN—even when it’s not appropriate.

Some folks have shown us the way: the Dadaists, the Situationists, the punks (early “punk” before it become a specific sound or fashion), Fluxus, the Absurdist playwrights and poets, and the many artists who just GO FOR IT (like Ray Johnson, Basquiat, Joan Miro, Roger Corman, Lloyd Kaufman, Ian Dury, Richard Brautigan…), these are the types of folks who really inspire me. They made shit. Not everyone liked what they made (even I don’t like EVERYTHING), but the point isn’t the individual artifact. Not everyone has the skill, drive, passion, temperament, education, or physical ability to be Michelangelo. FEW PEOPLE ARE PERFECT…

But CHOOSING to create anything in the face of a random, nonsensical, absurd universe, THAT is enough. Money, fame, a place in history—probably all worthwhile pursuits, if those are the goals you have—but if what you want is just to LIVE and have a good time, make some connections, forge a few lasting memories, THEN CREATIVE WORKS ARE A GREAT METHOD for achieving THESE goals. The MAKING part is fun, the satisfaction of FINISHING something (even something short or small or silly or awful—so bad it’s good, maybe?) is also pleasant, and the memories that can come from sharing the created work with others, maybe seeing them laugh or smile, maybe seeing them want to make something of their own… That’s WHERE IT’S AT…

The STRAIGHT CROWD will tell you that there are fighter jets overhead. To keep your balloon on a tether or you’ll drift into RESTRICTED AIRSPACE! And I say, fuck it… Wherever the wind blows…

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

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Wednesday, December 27, 2017

“About the P.E.W. – Heading into 2018”

As of December 25th, The Primitive Entertainment Workshop went PREMIUM! That means, for the first time since I started this thing back in December of 2012, we are PAYING to be online. It costs about $100.00 for a year of FANCINESS, but it was an essential move, because we ran out of room for NEW STUFF.

primitiveentertainment.com

We are now, OFFICIALLY, a DOT COM! Holy Glagnar!!! I don’t even know what fancy thing to do first!!!

If you are a regular reader of the site (and even the artwork has a literary dimension to it---if you don’t believe it let me know, and I’ll write you a PROOF that my doodles are actually thrilling works of fiction in visual form---even the abstracts!)… If you are a regular reader of the site, then you know we post A LOT. We have several regular contributors, and a few “once in a whilers,” and besides that, I’m a compulsive doodler and word compiler. And with the exciting digital technology that my wife keeps acquiring for me, it’s become extremely easy for me to scribble on a napkin or a receipt or a hunk of cardboard, then snap a high rez photo and color the heck out of it with those magical electro-devices and share them with all the humans and A.I. in the digital world! I draw all the time, and I write just about every day (mostly on scraps of paper or old bits of junk---and then I tape everything into my notebooks.) And, of course, a lot of what I create ends up on the P.E.W.!





But after 5 years of compiling stories and poems and photos and drawings and book reviews and all that jazz, we ran out of room. 5,700+ posts in five years. IMPOSSIBLE, now, to read everything we have posted. We needed to EXPAND---to GO PRO, if you will. So we did.

Now for most people, a hundred bucks is probably not that big of a deal. For ME, it’s a serious chunk of cash. Now that I’m PAYING to make this site, I’ve got to focus on trying to make that investment BACK before December of 2018 so that I can re-up for the next year. It’s only going to take me a few weeks to go over the “free” allotted space on this site, so I won’t be able to go BACK to the old plan without causing weird and potentially catastrophic things to happen.

And that’s where you folks come in. I’m going to be working pretty hard over the next year to try and make $101.00 to pay for the next years’ bill. (It only costs $96.00 for the plan, but I figure making an extra five bucks will help pay for the TIME I’ve invested.) If you believe in free expression, in helping the underdogs, in pushing punk creativity and Dada spirit and underground attitude in the MAKING OF THINGS (Richard Brautigan style---unpublished/self-published type stuff), then consider patronizing our PURCHASABLE sections: Books You Can Buy, the Primitive Image Emporium, Postcards from Paradise, and so on. We could sure use your help! It will keep the creativity rolling along, and we’ll be able to keep doing all the wacky things we do: posting new stories and art and poems, self-publishing our books, promoting creative expression in “outsider types” (like most of us at the Workshop), and KEEPING THOSE CONNECTIONS ALIVE! 

I’ve had tons of contributors who have helped sweeten the pot here at the Workshop over the years, and I’m extremely grateful to all of them for their efforts. One of these days, I should force myself to look through all the POSTS (a Herculean effort at this point) and write up a contributors’ list, just to make sure everyone gets credit! (But I think that’s a project for a different day.)

One of the BEST things about creating artwork and writing is the SHARING! The collaborations, the art parties, the bouncing off of each other’s ideas… These are the things that I love about this life. OBVIOUSLY, I’m not making any money at this, but I’ve made friends, some I’ve met in person, some that I’ve only ever talked with online. I’ve been influenced by the stories and artwork I’ve seen others make, and I’ve heard people say that I inspired them. (Comments like, “If he can sell THAT shit, anybody can do it!” are pretty common. Good to know I’m helping people understand that ANYONE can do this!) Sitting in the front yard with a bunch of drawings and paints scattered around, during the summer, and selling a $10 drawing to someone is wonderful, and getting to talk to them about how we (as a family) came up with the ideas for doing all this stuff, is even better! There’s also the thrill of seeing someone SMILE when they get one of my visual puns or when they work out the weird little joke I’ve got hidden in some three sentence story---these are great moments. These are worth it.

THE CONNECTIONS! However brief, however seemingly insubstantial, the connections that I make are the reason I keep doing this. It’s also the reason that EVERYONE should be MAKING THINGS THEMSELVES. You don’t have to be a trained artist to love to draw or paint. You don’t have to be a college graduate to write a story or a poem. You just have to be a human. And then to SHARE that work with others, that’s WHY we are alive. It’s not about making money (although now I HAVE to make money to keep the game rolling…), it’s about CONNECTING. Keep making, keep doing, keep connecting, and I’ll keep going, too, until I CAN’T anymore…

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

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Saturday, December 9, 2017

"Bigfoot (Part 8)" by Randy Long

[If you haven’t read any of Randy Long’s epic fantasy-adventure story, yet, you can start from the beginning HERE. Meanwhile, strap yourselves in. We’re heading back to Randy Land!!! ---RFY]
_______________________

The water from To-Wonga Falls seemed magical. It seemed to give all in our party new energy. I’m thinking the water has something to do with the anti-aging of that world, and To-Wonga Falls was the headway. That’s why the water glows there.

That planet has the Fountain of Youth. Only it doesn’t keep you a child, but it does keep you from growing old.

After drinking the water at To-Wonga Falls, we all emptied our water containers and filled them up again at the falls. We all felt better than we had in years. It had only been a day, but I already had more of a spring in my step.

So we were off to Oasis Village, the high desert village. We hadn’t seen any Bigfoot people in two days. The average days were 80 to 85 degrees, and sunrise was at 5:00 A.M., Twin Phoenix time. Sunset was about 10:00 P.M. The closer we got to the high mountain desert, the longer the days seemed to be.

What I wouldn’t have given for some kind of transportation other than walking, but as long as we had To-Wonga River water, we all had more energy.

We eventually ran across some humans heading west, and they said we were two days away from Oasis Village. One man pulled me aside and said, “Why are you with that Bigfoot lover?” And I asked him what he meant. He told me Tracy was a spy for the Bigfoot people and to watch out. She had gotten someone he knew into trouble.

She had told a Bigfoot about his friend, and from then on, that friend had to live in Bigfoot City and was watched constantly. I thanked him and told him I wouldn’t mention his name. And then I told Ed that Tracy couldn’t be trusted.

He got mad but understood, and he said, “I knew she had a secret. I just didn’t know what.”

I told him that we needed to talk to her. “Tracy, come here,” I said, “We need to talk. I was told that you’re a traitor to your own kind.”

She said, “Now that I know the real truth about what we discovered at To-Wonga Falls, and the Bigfoot people said they were the Ancients… Now I know that’s not true. I know I’ll have to earn your respect and trust in me. I will try by best.”

“Why did you tell on your own kind?” I asked.

“I was told that those humans were eating animals and trying to kill the Bigfoot.”

I told her I understood, and I asked if she was told to spy on us. She said, “Yes, but after getting to know you all, I wouldn’t. I consider you family and know you wouldn’t harm anyone.”

Oasis Village was just over the next rise. It was an all human village in the high desert. As we walked into the village, we noticed that is was huge and had a lake in the center of town with an inlet and outlet streams. The water in the lake glowed just like To-Wonga.

But we were still on a mission, and we talked to the elders, and that night we had a fish fry. The elders told me there were caves to the west, and they had heard there might be someone living there, but they weren’t sure if it was who we were seeking or not.

The next morning, I told everyone to stay there and stock up on supplies. I was going to the caves and would be back in 3 or 4 days. It was most of a good day’s walk to the caves, and I proceeded to look through the caves, but didn’t find any sign of anyone living there.

Well, two days had gone by, and I decided that, on the third day, I would head back to Oasis Town. I went to sleep that night, and about an hour before daylight, I was awakened by a sound. Someone was standing over me and screaming, “What are you doing in my cave! GET OUT! Don’t come back!”

I was half asleep, and I said, “Bill Johnson sent me.”

The man stopped screaming and said, “Do you know Bill?”

I said, “Yes, I do. Bill told me to find you.” I asked his name. Bill told me his name was Kermit the Hermit, and if he didn’t say Kermit, if he answered with anything else, he wasn’t who I was looking for.

He said, “George.”

“My friend Bill says, if you say anything but this specific name, you’re not who I’m looking for,” I said and turned to leave.

And he said, “Wait a minute. Bill taught you well. I’m Kermit the Hermit.”

“Wow! I’ve been looking for you for at least 6 months. I’m looking for the Golden Compass.”

In reply, Kermit said, “Show me the Golden Key.” From a cord around my neck, I pull the Golden Key out of my shirt. Kermit said, “I didn’t know it actually existed. Now the Golden Compass… Well, it’s like this. I couldn’t keep it on me, from fear of the Bigfoot, so I hid it in a dark place deep in the caves.”

I said, “Do you know about the Ancients at To-Wonga Falls?”

Kermit said, “Yes, we all do around here. Oasis Town and the surrounding area. Some of the people near Bigfoot City even know there, but they can’t talk about it. They’re afraid of the Bigfoot people.

I said that wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

“Well, let’s go in the cave and get the compass,” I said. We started walking.

After a while, Kermit said, “I have to warn you, I have a friend in the caves.”

I thought, “How bad could that be?” and as I turned a corner in the cave it opened up into a great big, giant room, and in the corner of the room was a Bigfoot sitting in a dimly lit area. I looked at Kermit and said, “What the…?”

And Kermit said, “Relax, it’s not what you think. This is…well, I call him Ralph, but his real name is Rafe-Gun, but you can call him Ralph. He’s actually the King of all Bigfoot, or he’s supposed to be, but there are too many Bigfoot that wanted to rule everyone instead of the way it’s supposed to be. If Ralph could become King again, like he’s suppose to, the Bigfoot people would be the protectors, not the rulers.”

“Hey Kermit,” I said, “about the---ya know…”

“It’s okay. Ralph knows, too,” Kermit says to Ralph, “He’s come for the Golden Compass.”

Ralph had it camouflaged, but he handed it to me. Ralph looked at me and said in my head, “I need help to get control of my people again.”

I looked at Kermit and asked, “Is he serious?”

And Kermit said, “Yes, and I trust him completely.”

“Okay,” I said, “with the Golden Key and the compass, we can make you King again. We need to go back to Oasis Town, so I can get back to the ones I came with and talk to the elders about Ralph.”
_______________________

[So now it’s getting serious! Revolution!?!? Tune in NEXT WEEK for the FINAL PART of Randy Long’s “Bigfoot” adventure!!!! And if you made it this far into the story but haven’t read the beginning, you should go HERE and read the whole thing! ---RFY]

---Randy Long

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"Bigfoot (Part 7)" by Randy Long

There were so many animals in that world that they needed to be regulated. Some of the animals were domesticated, and most all the animals were pretty tame ‘cuz there was no threat, from or against. Most humans lived by water there and were farmers. The primary food there was grown, and a few people threw nets in the water for fish.

Highland Town, I believed, was just on the other side of the next mountain. We came around the corner, and at the top of the mountain, there it was! We came into town and were met by the Elders of the town, and we asked if they’d seen Ed. They said yes! And they said he was on the other side of town. They proceeded to show us around.

They were very friendly people. I could see why Ed stayed there. It was a pretty big town for a human residence in that world. One of the elders said, “Let me see if they’re here.” He knocked on the door, and sure enough Ed came out and greeted us.

I guess I never seen anyone so happy to see anyone before. “Hey, good to see you two!” The elders left, and sure enough, Ed had a girlfriend. Her name was Tracy. Seemed real nice. I asked if Linda and Tracy would make something to eat.

Really, I just wanted to talk to Ed alone. Told him sorry he couldn’t go home, but we need to talk. I told him, the Bigfoot people say we can’t leave. “Well, between you and me, I’ve got a plan!” I told him I met a man named Bill, and he told me a story and we might be able to go home, but it won’t be easy.

I started telling Ed about the doorways, and asked if he remembered about the Golden Key I have around my neck. He remembered. I told him it came from the Bigfoot world. Bill told me this world has a bunch of keys, but it’s said there are only two Golden Keys. One was around my neck, and Bill gave me the other one. No one knows I have both, but it’s said that the Golden Keys will unlock any doorway, and might even allow us to go home, because there’s one thing that most people and the Bigfoot don’t know—there’s a magic doorway!

The magic doorway only appears in certain spots on this planet and at certain times, but needs a Golden Key to open it, and then the magic doorway will take you where you want to go.

But, of course, there’s a catch! There’s an old man who lives in a cave on the other side of the desert where a mountain starts and the desert ends. There’s a hidden cave in the side of the mountain. The old man knows when and where the door will appear. Bill said not to let the Bigfoot people find out. He said we would need one other thing, a compass. The compass will show us where the door will be. Bill said the old man in the cave can tell us where and how to find the compass. But above all, never let the Bigfoot people know anything!

We stayed a couple days, and we were all going to leave and look for the compass and the old man. Ed and his new-found friend, Tracy, were pretty chummy, and we asked her if she wanted to come with us. She said she did. She said she’d been there all her life.

Ed and I decided not to tell her our plans right away, just that we wanted to explore the planet more and that she would make the perfect guide. So we headed out of the village: myself, Linda, Ed and Tracy. (By the way, my name is Randy.) I told Tracy we would like to go to the high desert mountains to the human village of Oasis. I was told by Bill that the old man in the cave lived near there, or so Bill had heard. Tracy said it was a long journey away. She said she’d never been there but that she thought she knew how to get there.

So we were off to Oasis village in the high desert. Tracy said it was at least 3 or 4 weeks away.

Tracy and Ed were pretty close, but Ed said there was something about her. Maybe it was just that she was born there, or maybe something different. She was a bit secretive, like maybe she was hiding something.

Well, we were off. Tracy said we should first head to the Great Falls of To-Wonga. The Great Falls are the only place that an ancient statue still stands from the ancient people who lived there before the Bigfoot. This is the only remnant of the ancients left on this world that shows what they looked like, and Tracy said that at the Falls the water glows even at night!

I was real curious to see the statue of the ancient beings and to see what they looked like. We headed southeast through the Forest of Weer. They say the Forest of Weer’s trees are the oldest on that planet. The trees are blue, they say. When the planet was young there was less oxygen in the atmosphere and the trees grew blue, and some of the trees were thousands of years old. They say the largest one is 980 feet tall and over 30 feet around.

The Forest of Weer is the biggest forest. It’s said it’s a hundred million acres. We were only going through one edge of the forest, about 20 miles across. Amazing! Blue trees! Looking up and seeing as far as you can see, to the tops of the trees! There was thick brush and a small trail heading through the forest. It took three days to pass through the edge of the Forest of Weer.

While going through deep in the forest, we seen the blue jackalopes, the only place the jackalopes are blue, from eating plant life in the Forest of Weer. I was told by Tracy that it’s good luck to see blue jackalopes because they’re rare. After leaving the Forest of Weer, the trees became less dense and were back to green and normal foliage.

I noticed that the further southeast we went, the dryer the air became. There were also less trees, and the foliage was changing, becoming more desert like. There were also less Bigfoot people. It was odd not seeing Bigfoot people after seeing them all the time.

It had been a week since we’d run across any water. It was a good thing we had plenty of water with us.

A week and a half since we left the Forest of Weer, and we had three or four days more before we reached the Falls of To-Wonga. One more day passed, and we reached the River of To-Wonga. It seemed a flock of gryphons lived near the rocks next to the To-Wonga River. Tracy said it was two more days until we reached the falls.

Now that we were at the river, we stocked up on water and fish. I was amazed that the gryphons were friendly. They are legendary creatures with the head, talons, and wings of an eagle, and the body of a lion.

One more day passed uneventfully. We got up bright and early the next morning, so we could get to the falls. Finally, around noon, we showed up at To-Wonga Falls. To my astonishment, the ancients were humans. People who looked just like us were the first that ruled this planet!

The writings on the stone statue explained all: the humans left that planet and went through the doorways long ago. They left the planet so the animals would prosper and left the Bigfoot people in charge to protect them. It’s kind of funny—it went full circle. The true secret of that world is that the ancients knew. Humans would kill all the animals, and to preserve the planet, they all left.

Then we forgot that world.

They left the marker at To-Wonga Falls so anyone looking could find out, but it would take a long journey to find out. On one hand, I felt ashamed, and on the other I wondered how we lost our intelligence—and how many other planets did we go to through all the different doorways?

Knowing all of this changed how we looked at the world. We were all a bit more humble, but we still had a mission, and the next day we would be leaving To-Wonga Falls to go to Oasis village in the high desert.

—Randy Long

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Saturday, November 11, 2017

“Serialized Novella: ALLEN TOMBES – FIRE FROM WATER (Chapters 34 to 37)”

[Well, here it is, folks. The final few chapters in my novella. Thanks to everybody who stuck with the long serialization process! Let me know what you think of the tale! I’ll have a link at the end of the post to the ENTIRE STORY in one handy place, if you missed a chapter or two! In addition, if I get around to it, I’ll compile the story into book form and for digital download. I’ll try to keep you all informed as that project progresses! Thanks again! On to the final devastation!!! ---RFY]

ALLEN TOMBES – FIRE FROM WATER (Chapter 34)

Shea rushed through the now door-less opening to the roof, followed by Rose and Allen, as Stacey crumpled forward. Wei and Biggs, forced to uphold the barrier without their third, a barrier which was still under attack by dozens of beetles and Shadow creatures, screamed in shock and pain then both collapsed.

Allen felt the hairs on his body twitch as the shimmering barrier dissolved. He heard a high, cackling laugh that filled his chest with ice, and saw Krystal float down to the roof next to Angie. Krystal raised her arm and waved, and Angie mimicked her movements, exactly. Krystal moved her other arm, stretching it out to her side, and Angie swung her arm, which still held the knife in it, out as well. Krystal smiled a wild, wicked grin.

"No..." Rose said, quietly, her hands springing up to cover her cheeks.

The smiles on both Krystal and Angie's faces grew sickeningly huge, then Krystal jerked her outstretched arm quickly to her heart, and Angie, in return, drove the knife in her hand into her chest. She fell, face down, onto the rooftop.

Both Rose and Allen screamed in anguish. Shea drew her pistol and fired into the witch, the bullets tearing at her ragged, black dress but seeming to pass straight through Krystal's body.

Krystal floated up, off the rooftop, her black knife appearing suddenly in her hand, when she suddenly froze in mid-air. A dry whisper of a voice said, softly, "Stop."

Krystal's face looked pained. Her grin evaporated, and a look of fear took its place. The air on the roof grew colder, and a dark mist formed between Krystal and the others. The mist swirled like black ink in the air, and a single Shadow appeared, with red light pouring from its eyes. It swam forward a step, a liquid shadow, then solidified into an ancient looking man, standing on the rooftop, completely bald, in a shining black suit.

"Come down," he said, his voice dry and soft, barely a whisper. Krystal landed on the roof then froze like a statue.

"You are Allen Tombes," the man said, not asking, just stating a fact. His eyes were red, with black irises that stared directly at Allen. Allen shivered. He looked at Rose, who seemed to be as immobile as Krystal, then at Shea, who was also frozen.

"Who are you?" Allen said, looking back at the man. Though Allen tried to sound brave, even defiant, his voice shook.

"Such a waste," the man said, nudging the body of one of the guards lying on the rooftop with the toe of a shining black shoe. "All of this senseless death. It's tragic, isn't it?" The man's red eyes swiveled back toward Allen. The man's head shook slowly back and forth, apparently deeply moved by the crumpled bodies at his feet. "But we can stop all of this, of course," the man said, his voice consoling, almost pleading with Allen to understand him.

"What do you mean?" Allen said. The man took another step toward him.

"Your parents didn't have to die. You know that to be true, don't you? Your friends, none of these poor, simple humans," the man waved at the bodies lying around, wisps of black smoke trailing his hand as it moved through the air. He took another step.

"It's you that I want, child," the man said in a calm, almost sweet, voice. Allen shivered again.

"Why? Why me?" Allen said. He moved back a step.

"Because I know what is inside of you. I'm trying to save your world. The creature that's trying to take you over, to possess you, I know what it's capable of doing. It's already tried to murder your brother, one of the only family members you have left." The man stepped closer. "If you allow it to come into your world completely, it will consume every living creature on this planet. Everything will be destroyed," the man said, in a pity-filled, sad voice. The man stopped, only a few paces from Allen, and stared at him, his red eyes unblinking.

Allen's lip trembled.

"You can save your sister---your brother---all of your friends," the man said.

"How?" Allen asked, his voice a whisper that echoed the Shadow Lord's soft voice.

"If you surrender, if you will come with me, now, so that I can sever the connection between you and the fire demon, I will call off the attack on this building. I'll withdraw my forces and leave everyone else unharmed," his voice was so calm, so soft and compelling. Allen glanced again at his sister, her face frozen in a scream of terror.

Allen shook all over. He felt tired, almost relieved that this would all be over, very soon. He looked back into the chalk white face of the man in front of him, who was smiling, reassuringly, and nodding.

"Just so you know, Kiddo," said a voice from behind Allen, "he's lying." Allen turned and saw Chaz walking through the doorway and step out onto the roof. Chaz was carrying something in his hand.

"There's no chance in Hell he's going to call off the attack. He just wants you dead so he can slaughter everyone here more easily. But now, kid, you better duck," Chaz said.

Allen turned back toward the white-faced man in time to see his features contort into a mask of rage, the red eyes blazing, then the face melted into mist, and the creature lunged at Allen, its arms spread wide.

Allen dove toward Rose, who was still frozen, and pulled her out of the way. Chaz threw a magnesium flare into the Shadow Lord's face. It screamed, a high, echoing howl, and flew backwards.

The creature yelled something in a language that Allen couldn't understand, and Krystal snapped back to life.

Chaz, who was bent over Allen's bag, yelled to him, "Hey! You'll want this!" He tossed Allen's sword to him, and Allen, who was still laying on the rooftop next to his sister, caught it with one hand.

"What's going on?" Rose said. She sat up, looking confused.

"You're about to die!" shrieked Krystal, brandishing her huge, black blade.

Allen jumped to his feet and pulled the sheath off his sword, which burned a bright blue-green. He moved, quickly, between Rose and Krystal, and set his feet in a fighting stance like the one he'd seen Chris take in the training room. Allen heard a crackle of energy, and Kitsle, buzzing loudly, flew out of his bag, hovering near Allen's shoulder.

The Shadow Lord growled a few words in his strange language, and Allen recognized enough to know it was some kind of curse. Then the Shadow Lord vanished with a thunder-crack and a swirl of black mist.

The evil smile that had been on Krystal's face fell, replaced by a look of savage anger. She glanced around the rooftop, and the wicked smile returned. She switched her knife from her right hand to her left, then drew the blade across her empty palm. A thick, black blood oozed out of the wound. The knife floated out of her hand and hovered above her head as she dipped a finger into the blood and drew a spell in the air in this sick, black ink.

"This ain't good..." Chaz said, moving closer to Allen and Rose.

Allen was confused, then noticed the bodies on the roof starting to twitch, then move, then stand.

"Kitsle, some of them have guns," Chaz said.

Kitsle's wings flashed and he zipped off toward the nearest group of armed guards. Their eyes were black and faces blank. They moved slowly at first, but picked up speed as the spell worked its way into their joints. Allen saw Kitsle exploded in a shower of sparks, and a few of the guards dropped back to the rooftop.

"Oh no..." moaned Rose, as she spotted Angie, the knife handle still sticking out of her chest, lumbering toward them.

"Come on!" Chaz said, heading back toward the doorway. He kicked at a guard, whose uniform was covered in blood from a horrible neck wound.

Kitsle flashed, again and again, dropping guards then buzzing on the next group, but it was obvious to Allen that there were too many for Kitsle to stop them all. They had to escape. Then he remembered the real threat.

"Where did Krystal go?" Allen yelled. Rose, almost at the doorway, screamed as Krystal flew out of the sky above Allen, slashing him across the chest with her knife. He fell to his knees, touching his fingers to the gash in his chest and looking at the blood on his fingers.

"No!" Rose screamed. She tried to run back to Allen, but Chaz grabbed her by the shoulders. "Let go of me!" she yelled, smacking at his hands.

"You don't want to be out there right now," Chaz said and pointed at Allen, whose hair had gone dark blue and begun to burn.

Allen, moving like a puppet pulled by invisible strings, floated up from the rooftop and into a standing position, hovering inches above the roof's surface. He moved his head, slowly, scanning the reanimated guards rushing toward him. In his right hand he still held his sword, but it was now engulfed in dark blue flame. He raised his empty hand and a swath of fire, moving like a churning wave, flew out at the approaching hordes. Their bodies ignited instantly on contact with the flame, flesh and clothing and bone melting like wax. The guards, liquified by the flame, all fell. Rose, seeing the flames reach the lumbering form of her friend, covered her eyes as Angie's body melted away, the charred metal of the knife clanking on the roof amidst anemic ashes.

Krystal cursed at Allen as she floated high above the roof. Allen raised his empty hand to her and she, again, froze in mid-air. Allen's fingers twisted and Krystal was dragged through the air toward him, screaming in pain the entire way.

"You tried to kill us," Allen said in a dreamlike, hollow tone. He rubbed his fingers across the place on his chest where the gash had been, though it was completely healed now, with only the slashed shirt, swimming in flames, as evidence of what should have been a mortal wound.

"You don't belong here!" Krystal spat, her face twisting in fury.

"And you do?" Allen asked, his flaming, blue-black eyes looking into her dark, dead ones.

"Humans are soft and weak. You'll destroy them all," she growled.

"Maybe," Allen said, softly, a smile suddenly curling his lips, "but first, we're going to destroy you. You've been killed once already. We can smell the stench of death all over you. It's disgusting." Allen closed his eyes and sniffed the air. "And more importantly," he said, opening his eyes and smiling, "we hate you." Allen smiled wickedly, then stabbed his sword into the witch's chest. She screamed. The flames around Allen grew brighter and more intense, and the sword in Krystal's chest boiled with dark blue flame. Her mouth fell open and her head rolled to one side, then she burst into flames and, in seconds, melted into ashes.

Allen looked at the remains of Krystal on the rooftop. He was still smiling.

"Allen?" Rose called, her voice shaking with fear. Allen turned his head toward her and Chaz, still half in the doorway. Allen's smile slid away, leaving his expression blank.

Kitsle buzzed up to Allen at that moment, fluttering and clicking, then flew to the edge of the building. Allen, still hovering just above the surface of the roof, followed Kitsle with his eyes. Kitsle clicked and flashed again, then flew over the side of the building and down toward the street. Allen, looking back at his sister, rose higher into the air, floated toward the edge of the building, and followed Kitsle over the side.

ALLEN TOMBES – FIRE FROM WATER (Chapter 35)

On the streets below, Chris was still waging what he was beginning to consider a losing war against the Shadows, now that the shield spell had fallen. When the shield fell, the remaining beetles and dozens of Shadows and crawling eyeballs had entered the building, smashing or chewing through windows or demolishing sections of the building's walls. Haro ordered his clan to remain with Chris and continue the fight against the Devourer, but Haro himself had rushed off to the dorm rooms to make certain that all the children living within were protected.

Meanwhile, sitting cross-legged on the ground in front of the steps to the Brashley building's doors, Tazzi had succeeded in casting his freezing spell on the Devourer, which had slowed the great nightmare down, but hadn't stopped it completely. Its tentacles still moved and thrashed, but now at half speed, like a film played in slow motion. Maintaining the spell required all of his focus and mental energy, and he was surrounded by a circle of Eddings's men, who fought back Shadows and scuttling eyeballs. Horace, swinging a gigantic, curved scimitar, which glowed red, tore through Shadows and knocked screeching eyeballs away.

"Shit! There goes the power," Chris said to Horace, as the beetles apparently found and chewed through the main power conduits for the building. As he tore off his now useless headset, the majority of the lights in the building behind him went out. Chris smiled wearily as one of Haro's clan slashed through a swarm of eyeballs, which seemed to exist at a strange energy frequency that made it impossible for most of the human guards to kill them, even the elites. The Simmerons, however, had no trouble destroying the spidery creatures. But Chris also realized that his forces where getting tired, while the enemy onslaught continued to press forward, Shadows were still slipping out of the rift into the streets, and new eyeballs were being let loose whenever a Simmeron tore a thrashing tentacle out of the Devourer. It was still at least an hour before dawn, and Chris was uncertain how much more the guards could take. He also feared for Allen and Rose, who the control room had lost contact with before the shield spell went down.

Chris felt the ache in his arms as he slashed through a Shadow that had appeared near Tazzi's group. He looked at Horace, who was sweating and moving more slowly than before, but still smiling as he punted an eyeball and it screeched in pain.

Chris heard a buzzing sound over the din of the battle, and the street began to glow with a bluish light. He looked up and saw a dark blue fireball falling slowly down the side of the building, tracked by a flashing globe of electrical sparks, which he recognized, after a few seconds, as his brother's lightning bug. As the ball of flame drew nearer, Chris realized that it was Allen. Despite the warm wind that flashed out of his brother's body, Chris felt a cold chill.

As he watched the figure of his brother, consumed by a layer of dark blue flame, land on the street, Chris was suddenly knocked off his feet by a huge, blue beetle, which pinned him to the ground.

The beetle snapped at his face with its giant mandibles, and stabbed him in the side with one of its pointed claws. The claw tore through the body armor and into his flesh, and Chris screamed. He saw the shadow of a figure approaching, then a huge boot kicked the beetle, crunching into its shell and sending it flying down the street. Horace leaped over Chris, following his limping prey. His red scimitar flashed through the air, slicing the beetle in two.

Horace's huge hand pulled Chris back onto his feet, and Chris heard Horace's deep, warm laugh.

"Now we're even for Madrid!" Horace said and smacked Chris on the back.

"You still owe me one for Hong Kong," Chris grunted, holding his hand to his bleeding side.

Horace laughed again and dashed back towards the group of men guarding Tazzi. Chris looked around for Allen and saw him hovering slightly above the pavement staring at the Devourer. A swarm of eyeballs rushed toward Allen, swiping at him with their spidery legs, but as they touched him, they squealed in pain and melted like ice under a blow torch.

Kitsle buzzed over to Chris, flew down near his bleeding side, clicked and chirped a few things that Chris didn't understand, then flew back to Allen, clicking and sparking. Allen turned to look at Chris for a second, his eyes flaring with dark blue flame, then scanned the entire battle scene. In a voice that vibrated with power, Allen said to Chris, "You should take your men back into the building. I don't want you getting in the way of my fun." Not waiting for a reply, Allen faced the Devourer again, and began walking toward it in slow, measured steps, each footfall a few inches off the ground but still scorching the pavement.

Chris's mouth felt too dry to talk, but he tried to swallow, then he yelled out, "Everyone, back to the building. It's about to get serious out here." Horace nodded, slowly, as the flames around Allen intensified. He waved for his men to follow Chris inside.

As Allen approached, the Devourer moaned, a hollow, terrible sound that shook the windows of nearby buildings. The great beast shuddered, and another swarm of eyeballs pulled themselves from its nightmarish body and raced toward Allen. He raised his empty left hand and a tidal-wave of dark blue flame rushed at the approaching swarm, melting them instantly. The tar in the pavement began to bubble under Allen's form, and the heat flashed off his body in licks of dark blue flame. He continued to walk toward the giant creature, casually tossing the sword away.

Chris, who had retreated to the top of the steps, watched Allen move casually toward the Devourer.

Horace turned to glance back at the scene before going through the doors of the building, and said, "Sure am glad he's on our side!"

"Is he?" Chris asked.


ALLEN TOMBES – FIRE FROM WATER (Chapter 36)

The Devourer bellowed another low, moaning howl, like the sound of a train wreck or a slow motion explosion. The creature, released from Tazzi's spell, swiped one of its giant tentacles at Allen and grabbed him, pinning his arms to his side. The tentacle pulled Allen toward the huge head, and the body began to tilt backward, ready to consume him.

Chris felt the hairs on his body go stiff, then a huge gust of hot wind pushed into him, stinging his eyes and drying his lips, instantly.

"I think we'd better get inside," Chris said.

"Yeah, I think you're right," Horace said.

The Simmerons, fire creatures themselves, all stopped their hunting and gathered at the bottom of the steps to the Brashley building to watch the clash between Allen and the Devourer. Chris waved the last few humans inside the building and closed the doors. Tazzi cast a protective charm on the doors, then shrugged his shoulders, indicating that it was the best he could do, but under the circumstances, he didn't know if it would be strong enough to hold against Hellfire. Chris and Horace ordered their men to take the stairs and start hunting, floor by floor, for any creatures that had gotten inside the building.

Outside, Allen was held tight in the Devourer's tentacle, but was still smiling. The flame around him grew darker, as if the midnight sky were pouring out of him in thick waves. The Devourer began to shriek, and the tentacle wrapped around Allen began to bubble and boil, then shrivel away, melting as the eyeballs had.

The Devourer shifted its massive body and started to pull itself on its remaining tentacles back toward the rift. Allen, spotting this, grew a sick, devilish grin, and waved his hand toward the glimmering opening. The rift wavered, then collapsed in a crash of sparks and sound. The Devourer, cut off from escape, roared, shattering thousands of windows and rocking Allen backward. It raised dozens of thrashing tentacles, and pushed itself into the air with the four thickest at its base. It pounced on top of Allen, then folded itself around him, sucking him in and constricting itself around his form.

The Great Wolf, woken by sounds of the Devourer's attack, staggered to its feet.

"We are lost," it said solemnly. A few of the Simmerons laughed.

There was a strange, sucking sound, and a wind, which pulled cars, debris, and bodies toward the Devourer, and even staggered a few of Haro's clan, who began to grumble in their language, some laughing loudly.

The Great Wolf strained against the pull of the wind, crouching low to the ground.

The Devourer began to moan again, stretched a tentacle, weakly, toward the Great Wolf, then was lost to sight as dark blue flame began to flare up from inside the monster's body. Dark waves of fire suddenly exploded from the Devourer, melting the streets and vaporizing the debris that had been sucked too near. The blue flame crackled, reaching outward to consume everything around it, then stopped, frozen for an instant, then flooding back into itself, revealing Allen, floating in the center of a crater.

He hovered back to a portion of the street that hadn't been completely destroyed, stepped onto the pavement, and laughed, a sick, inhuman, insane sound. Haro's clan moved in front of Allen and bowed. Allen looked at them and chuckled.

The Great Wolf approached, slowly. "I know you," the wolf said.

"Do you?" Allen asked, his blue flame eyes staring into the wolf's brilliant green.

"You are Agni, the Fire God," the Great Wolf said, bowing his head.

Allen smiled. "And you are a forest spirit, young pup. There, now we've introduced ourselves."

The wolf stared, fearfully, at Allen, whose attention had been captured by Kitsle, buzzing near Allen's head.

"Why have you returned?" the Great Wolf asked, once Allen's gaze had finally returned to him.

"It's been nearly eleven thousand years since I've visited. I was sleeping in a comfortable abyss, when this child," he tapped himself on the chest," called for flame. I heard him. It's been so long since I've had true followers here, I'd nearly forgotten the place."

"Few true gods remain on this world. Humans have lost their taste for them, and sadly, have invented their own gods to take the place of the natural spirits," the wolf said.

"Perhaps they need to be reminded of why they worshiped and feared the gods," Allen said, the devilish smile returning to his face. Kitsle clicked and buzzed in his ear, and the smile faded.

"Allen!" yelled Rose as she, Chris, and Haro came through the doors of the building. Shayla, Cheever, and a number of others followed. The sun, a thin, orange crack in the sky, appeared between the buildings blocking the horizon.

Allen scanned the multitude of faces appearing from inside the building. He looked at Kitsle, the Great Wolf, and the bowing Simmerons, who were quickly joined by Haro. Allen watched as Rose walked toward him, but was stopped by Chris, his hand grabbing her arm. She shook loose of her brother's grip and continued forward, her eyes wide with fear.

"You cannot stay on this planet, Fire God. Surely, you know this," the wolf said.

"No 'thank you' for getting rid of your little pest problem?" Allen said, inclining his head toward the smoldering crater behind him.

"This world, these creatures, they are all far too delicate to worship you. They could not survive your presence. Not for very long," the wolf said.

Allen raised a hand and looked at it. "This boy seems pretty sturdy to me," he said, and Kitsle landed on one of his fingers, clicking and popping wildly.

"The boy is an exception, a throw-back to the time of heroes," the wolf said. "Were it not for his strength of spirit, that body would have been destroyed the moment you entered it."

Kitsle clicked and buzzed, glowing and shooting sparks.

Allen frowned and his shoulders slumped.

"Fine," he said, in a sulking voice. "I can see that I'm not wanted here." His expression brightened, "Maybe I'll go hunting for more of these old beasts to kill. That was fun!" he said, then his face went blank and his body fell to the ground.


ALLEN TOMBES – FIRE FROM WATER (Chapter 37)

Three months later----

Chris slashed at Allen with his blue, glowing blade. Allen blocked the swing, his own blade flashing blue-green as he spun and counter attacked with a thrust. The sensor chip on the back of his hand glinted under the lights of the training room's high ceiling, which still bore the scorch marks from Allen's first training session. Most of the remodeling and repairs were already complete, but the room still needed to be repainted.

Cheever and Rose stood behind the computer cart, Cheever nodding and brushing absently at his mustache.

Chris thrust his sword at Allen's chest, and Allen parried the thrust, but the maneuver left him off balance. Chris swept his foot out, tripping Allen, who fell to the floor with a thud.

Rose gasped, then shook her head. Chris bent over Allen and said, "Are you always going to fall for that?" He reached out his hand and pulled Allen to his feet.

"Peaked at 280 that time!" Cheever said, clapping his hands. "Temperature's normal, but his heart rate is pretty high. We'd better call it a day."

"So, how are you feeling?" Rose asked Allen, looking a bit apprehensive.

"You ask me that every time we practice," Allen said. "I'm fine. It's been three months, Sis! I'm not possessed anymore!"

"That's for sure," Chris said, chiding him.

"Don't listen to him, my boy. You're already generating one of the strongest energy fields at Brashley, and you're still only fifteen!" Cheever said, patting Allen on the shoulder.

"Yeah, but his technique sucks," Chris laughed.

"Well, look who my teacher is! What do you expect?" Allen said, laughing.

"Ooooo... Good one," Chris said, punching his brother in the shoulder.

"You boys play nice," Shea said as she stepped into the training room. Allen went red in the face. "Rose, my mom wants to see you. There's a job that needs a witch, and Esmeralda says you can ride along as part of your training, if you're not too busy."

"Hot damn! See you guys later! I've got a job to do," Rose said, grabbing her jacket from a chair and following Shea out of the room.

"When do I get to go on a job?" Allen asked as he helped Cheever push the computer cart back into the storage room.

"I'm sure it won't be long," Cheever said, smiling the huge grin that made his eyes disappear.

"Yeah, we destroyed a huge chunk of the Shadow population, but they'll build back up," Chris said. "I'm sure you didn't put us out of a job, yet."

"Do you think the Shadow Lord is going to keep trying to kill me?" Allen asked, his face suddenly dark.

"I wouldn't worry," Chris said. "Just keep up with your training, and if he does ever come after you, we'll be ready to kick his ass, again." Chris mussed Allen's hair, then turned off the lights and they walked out the door.

End.

[There are thoughts in my head for a second Allen Tombes story, but nothing even in the outlining stages as of yet. If anyone is interested in hearing what happens next, let me know. Meanwhile, I think I’m going to switch back to my unfinished Sharkey and the Jabberwock story! I’ll do some reediting, maybe some reposts of the early chapters, and then finish that sucker, too! Thanks again for hanging with me and the monsters for a bit!]

Here’s a link to the entire Allen Tombes story:

ALLEN TOMBES – FIRE FROM WATER


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

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