The Voyager

THE VOYAGER

The interviewer nestled in his seat.

"Thank you so much for giving me the chance to talk to you Mrs. Stevens"

Mrs. Stevens, a deceptively young looking woman sat before him in blue jeans and a thin t-shirt.  She smiled a sweet smile.

"Oh, please call me May."

"Alright, May.  I would like to talk to you about your husband.   As you are no doubt aware, the anniversary of his dissapearance is 6 months out and I was hoping to get your impressions on the matter.  It will be the 7th year since he has dissappeared and most people are assuming that he will be declared legally dead."

"Yes, you are correct.   He isn't, though."

The interviewer was surprised.  "Wait.  Are you saying he is alive?"

"Well, of course.   He would never do something as foolish as dying without letting me know first.  No he is alive.  He's just travelling."

"Travelling where?"

"Well, wherever there is a story, I imagine.  He is much like you are; although a bit older and wiser.   He wants to tell the stories.   He lost his inspiration here and decided to build that ship and travel elsewhere."

"You mean his spaceship?"

"No I mean the Nautalis.  Of course, I meant the spaceship, dear.  What else?"

"I apologize.  But why would he leave you?  Did your marriage have problems?"

May smiled.  "Problems?   Hardly.  We have the best marriage you can imagine.  Stable, friendly.  We are best friends, you know.  He lived his life and I led mine.   When our lives intersected, we lived every single moment.  Isn't that wonderful?  Not a moment lost."

The interviewer hesitated.

"Um... I am not sure I understand.  You are aware of his infidelities, yes?"

"Infidelities?   You mean Sarah and Rebecca?  They are hardly infidelities.  They are family, dear.  Of course I knew.   Now did you come here to discuss our sex life, our romantic life, or our public life.  I must admit, you have me somewhat confused."

"My apolologies, maam.  I meant to discuss your relationship with James.  And to gain some insight on your feelings on his disappearance."

"Oh, that, right.   We are all handling it well.  He will return when he feels it is time.  We each have our own lives, after all.  I have taken up costuming.. again.  I did it when I was younger.  Never lost the knack.  I guess it is like riding a bike.  The others have done their own things, of course.  Oh, and don't call me ma'am.  That sounds so stuffy."

The Kind Son

THE KIND SON

There was once a wealthy old man.   He had two sons that he loved very much.  James was his oldest son and was a famous war hero.  He ran one of the old man’s businesses and brought a lot of money to the family, but he was mean-spirited and rude to his workers and customers.  Samuel was the younger son.   He chose to travel the world rather than join the military.  He refused to run one of his father’s businesses and instead spent his life travelling and taking odd jobs whenever he could find them.

One day, the old man called for his sons.  When they both arrived, he treated them to a feast and said, “My sons, I love you both.  I am old and will not live forever.  I need to decide who will run the family businesses when I am gone.” 

James laughed and said, “How is this a question, father?  I have run one of your businesses for years.  I am famous and a great leader.  Samuel has wasted his life spending time with common people.  He is nothing remarkable.  I should run your businesses.”

Samuel frowned.  “Father, it is true that I spend my time travelling and visiting with people that did not grow up wealthy.  But I have this so that I could better understand how you grew up.  I do not know if I can run your businesses, but I would like a chance to try.”

The old man pondered for a moment and then stood.

”Tomorrow morning, you will be taken to a town in a neighboring county.  There you will be left with no money and only the clothes on your back.   You will not have access to any of this family’s resources.  I will send for you in 6 months and you can show me what you have done on your own.”

James protested, “Father, this is insane.  We should not have to start with nothing.  We have so much already, we can do anything we want.”

But the old man had made up his mind.  “This is the way it will be.  Sleep well.  And best of luck.”

The next morning, James and Samuel were left in the poorer section of a nearby town with nothing to their possession except the clothing that they were wearing. 

“This will be a fantastic adventure!” exclaimed Samuel.  “Would you like to join me for breakfast, James?  I know a baker around here who will take us in.”

“Are you crazy?” said James, incredulously.  “We only have 6 months.   We have no time to waste talking to your pitiful friends!”

James turned and stalked away mumbling.

Samuel smiled at his brother as he left and then turned walked the other way to his friend’s bakery.

Six months passed from that day and the old man sent his staff to find and summon the two sons back to his home. 

Samuel was the first to arrive.  He was well dressed and in good health.  He entered the main hall and greeted his father warmly.  

“Hello father, how have you been?”

“I have been well, my son.  It would appear that you have done well for yourself.”

“I think I have, father.   But where is my brother?  I have not seen him since that first day.”

“Here I am!”  James entered the room in a grandiose fashion.  He was in fancy clothing and smiled broadly.

The old man was impressed.  “You are looking well, James.  Tell me what you have done with your time.”

“Well, father, I now own the largest shipping company in the area.  The day you dropped me off, I was bitter.  I could not see how I would be able to win your challenge in such a short time.  Then I recalled a person I had met at one of our parties.   He owned the largest shipping company in the county and was doing well, but I saw that he could do better.   I reminded him of who I was and told him I was interested in helping him grow his company.   He agreed and made me a partner.   I immediately fired half of the drivers, doubled the work hours on the rest and raised prices.  I even convinced the local government to give us sole access to certain areas in the county.   Since I stepped in, my company’s profits have tripled and I convinced my partner to retire.”

The old man frowned at James then turned to Samuel.  “What about you?  Have you done anything as remarkable as your brother?”

Samuel replied, “I am sorry, father, but I have not.  That day after we were dropped off, I found a friend who ran a small bakery.  He treated me to breakfast and I told him of our adventure.   He offered me a job cleaning up the bakery until I could find something better.   While I worked at the bakery, I had the chance to speak with many of the customers.  They were upset that it had suddenly become much more expensive to deliver their products to areas around the county.   I thought about it and decided I could help them out.  I borrowed the baker’s truck and spent my time off delivering goods for the local business people.   My truck is small and I don’t have a lot of customers.   I do have two people that now help me, but I have not made such a huge impact as James has.  I guess I have failed this challenge.”

The old man sent them to their guest rooms and spent the evening in deep thought about his decision.   In the morning, he met his sons for breakfast. 

“I have made my decision.  James, you have taken a moderately successful business and tripled its profits.  You have managed to give this same business a market advantage and have sent the original owner off to a comfortable retirement.   At least this is the way you would tell it to me and perhaps yourself.   In fact, what you have done is use your fame to hijack someone else’s dream and hard work and alienated many of his customers.  In the end, you stole the business from the owner completely and convinced him that he was better off for it.”

“Samuel, you took a small job and used it to get to know the community you were in.   Using that knowledge you discovered a problem, ironically caused by your brother, and turned it into an opportunity to not only start a business, but to also serve your community.   Your results, while modest, are much more admirable and worthy of praise than the actions of your brother.  

Moreover, you started from scratch.  The point of this exercise was to see who was better fit to carry on my dreams regardless of what might happen.  James, you did not carry on my dreams.  You stole someone else's dream and perverted it to your tastes.  Samuel, you took something of your own and have made it into something that you are proud of without causing harm.  This was my dream in my youth.  Thus, you are my choice as successor.”  

The Crime Scene

THE CRIME SCENE

“I had to stop her” the man cried as he shivered in the rain.  The flashing red and blue lights shone bleakly on his face.  He looked up to Officer Stevens.  “You try, you know?  You try hard to do your best by them.  To make them understand the way the world is and to help them fit in with it.  You try!”

The man began to bawl.  Officer Stevens scowled.  This was not the night he was hoping for.  He gestured to his partner to look after the man and started to walk into the hotel room.   He stopped as he entered and swallowed hard to hold back the rising bile.  Inside the room, piles of rotting food, trash, fetid clothing, and two dead bodies greeted him.  The scents washed over him filling him with a sense of dread and disgust. 

The officer walked towards the body closest to the door, stepping gingerly over a maggot encrusted pile of what seemed to be the remains of pizza.  The body lay strewn over the bed.  It was a man, no more than 25 years old.  He was wearing dirty blue jeans and Doc Martin boots.  His worn out t-shirt had a blood encrusted slit through the middle of a Megadeath logo.  His eyes stared blankly at the ceiling through his dirty blond hair. 

Officer Stevens took a picture of the body with his phone and then turned to the other body, presumably the girl the old man was speaking about outside.   He stumbled over a pile of towels that had crusty white residue on them.   Choking back a fresh wave of bile, he made it to the far wall of the room.  The young gal couldn’t have been more than 20.   Judging by the dark circles under her eyes, she was not in the best of health when her life ended.  She was wearing nothing but panties and a bra.  Her dark brown hair was disheveled and matted.  A tiny round hole on her forehead sat in stark contrast to the gruesome splatter of blood and brain material that clung precariously to the wall behind her.

“Everyone has a story”, Officer Stevens thought to himself.  “I'm not sure I really want to know this one.”

The Encounter

The Encounter

Michael reached the top of the hill and bent over, panting, trying to catch his breath.   Standing straight he stared in awe at the crimson clouds forming in the distance.   Purple lightning leaped across the surface of the deadly storm.   Michael stood entranced watching the growing mass of light and shadow emerging in front of him.   It was risky to be up here.  If the poison rain arrived before he could get to shelter, he would be dead within minutes as the toxins burned through his flesh and lungs.

Behind him, the klaxons in the town began their morose whine.   The eerie sound shook Michael out of his fascination.  He looked around and a cold chill swept through him. 

“Oh, no!” Michael exclaimed. 

He turned and ran back towards the town.   As he ran, he could feel the air growing thick in his lungs.  The hair on his neck began to stand up, charged by the growing static electricity.   Overhead, the sky darkened as the poisonous clouds began to block the sun. 

Reaching a small abandoned gas station, Michael ran inside and slammed the door behind him just as the awful green liquid began falling.   He fell to the ground coughing violently.  

After a moment, he stood and took stock of his surroundings.   The shelves were empty, long salvaged of their products by hungry survivors of the war with the Anu.  Dust covered everything.   Looking through the glass of the door, Michael watched the drops of poison hit the ground, vaporize, and slowly turning into a rolling fog.  

Michael then noticed a person in a long cloak running down the street.   The person stopped and looked frantically around.   Michael’s heart quickened.  That cloak would not last long in the rain.  He cracked open the door to the store and shouted out to the street.

“HEY!  Over here!  Get out of the rain!”

The person turned towards Michael and sprinted to the door.   Michael opened the door just enough to let the person squeeze through and then shut the door securely.   The stranger stood in the corner coughing violently. 

Michael looked for a towel while the stranger recovered.  He found an old box of napkins and tossed it over to the stranger.

“Here, try to clean that off of you.  Why were you out in that?  That’s crazy!”

“No one would let me in,” the stranger replied.   The voice was strange and distorted.  Michael decided it must be a result of breathing the mist.  The stranger seemed to gain his composure and stood.   He was unnaturally tall.  Michael began to get uneasy.  He backed away from the stranger, stumbling over a shelf.

The stranger took off his cloak and set it on the counter next to the door.  He was very pale, but his skin glowed as though lit up from some hidden light source.   His eyes were larger than a human’s and disturbingly dark.   His white hair was long and straight.   He turned towards Michael.

“Thank you, child.  I would not have lasted much longer out there.  My name is Pacu.”

“I… I have never met an Anu before,” Michael stated shakily.   “Are you going to hurt me?”

Pacu shook his head. 

“No, I am not.  I am here on a diplomatic mission.  The rain surprised me and no one would give me shelter.”

He stepped towards Michael.   Michael backed away in a panic.   Pacu raised his hands to indicate he meant no threat and sat in the chair next to where Michael had been standing.

“I.. I.. I don’t understand!  A diplomatic mission?  You people are dangerous, you want to kill us! ”

Pacu sighed.  “We are no more dangerous than you are.  Your mayor understands this and wants to find a way to make things better for all of us.”

“NO! You killed everything I know!  You destroyed our planet!”  Michael stormed to the door and jabbed his finger at the glass, indicating the rain outside.  “This stuff is YOUR fault!”

Pacu’s face twisted.  “What is your name, human?”

“Michael.  Why do you care?”

Pacu chuckled.  “Well, Michael, I don't want to just call you ‘human’ all the time. “ 

He stood.  Outside, the rain was beginning to die down. 

“But you are correct.   We did try to destroy you.   I don't know why.  I was just a boy then. All the people that knew about that were killed by your soldiers.   But I know we didn't make the rain.  Your people did.”

Michael was stunned.  “Liar!  Why would we do that?  Why would we do THIS to ourselves? ”

“I am not lying.   There would be no point.   Your soldiers attacked us with something that we had no defense against.   It destroyed our ships and left us stranded here.”  

He pointed to the storm outside. 

“It also made the rain.” 

Michael was indignant.  He glared at Pacu then turned and stalked down one of the barren aisles of the store.

“No.   No that can't be true.”  He stopped and turned to face Pacu.   “Why would we do something like that?”

Pacu shrugged.  “I don't know really.   Your people were desperate.  Perhaps we would have done the same thing in your situation.  The point is that now that the fighting is over, the rain is killing us all.   If you hadn't let me in here, I would have died out there.  And all hope with me.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I should have left you to die!” 

Outside the rain had stopped and the poison mist was drifting away.  Pacu reached for his cloak and positioned it around his shoulders.  He turned to look at Michael.  His expression was enigmatic.

“Perhaps.  Still, I must go find your Mayor now.”

Pacu began walking towards the door.

“Wait!” shouted Michael.  “You said, 'All hope with me'.  Why are you here?”

Pacu spoke quietly.

“Because I know how to make the rain go away forever.  I am giving my discovery to your mayor.  Hopefully we can learn to live together in peace.”

 

He turned and bowed slightly to Michael. 

“Thank you for saving me, Michael.”

Michael stared in stunned silence as Pacu left the store and closed the door.

The Poacher

THE POACHER

A poacher was captured in the woods and brought to the local nobleman for punishment.  The nobleman was bored and decided to amuse himself by challenging the poacher.

"You have been caught stealing my deer.  The sentence is death.  However, I am in the mood to be entertained.  If you can convince me why I should spare your life, you shall go free."

The poacher paused for a moment.  This was most unexpected.  Finally he said, "Simply put, sire, it was not your deer."

The nobleman, taken aback by this asked, "What do you mean?  It was in my forest!"

The poacher replied, "With all respect, m’lord, it is not your forest.  If you might indulge me a chance to prove my point.  I am certain I can entertain you."

The nobleman thought on this for a moment.

"Fine.  Tell me then, how is it not my forest?"

The poacher asked, "Well, sire, do you tell the trees when to grow?"

The nobleman responded, astonished, "of course not!  What difference does that make?"

The poacher then asked, "Well, sire, did you tell the deer when to have children?"

The nobleman, now agitated, responded, "Of course not!  Tell me, what is the point of this?  How does any of this give you the right to kill my deer?"

The poacher replied, "Well, m’lord, then it is not your forest.  How can you claim something you cannot control?  I certainly don't claim those deer.  I did not even have the right to kill that deer. Those animals have a right to their own lives.  Yet, I am starving as are my children.  I killed one deer to feed my family.  I am not sure that I am a worthy recipient for the life it might have had.  I had hoped that what it would have given to me and my children might have given us the chance to bring something amazing into this world.

Now that is wasted.  The deer was left to rot, my children likely condemned to die from neglect and starvation, and you will be unaffected, save a little entertainment at my expense.  

I killed one of the deer in these woods, yes.  I also thanked it for its sacrifice.  Maybe it meant nothing to something already dead, I do not know.   It meant something to me because I value what it gave up for me.  When was the last time you thanked some poor chap you killed on the battlefield for his sacrifice to let you stay in these hallowed halls?  When was the last time you were grateful for the sacrifices those under your care make for you?"

The nobleman was outraged.  "Why you ingrate!  I keep you safe!  My guard keeps you from fearing for your life!  My army protects your home!"

The poacher retorted, "My nobleman, you are mistaken!  I have never seen your guard arrive until after the bandits have left.  I have never seen your army until after my home was put to the torch.  You have provided nothing to me.  Everything I have is something I have done for myself.  I do not mean to seem ungrateful, sire.  I simply have nothing to be grateful for.  I do not mean to take anything from you, either, because I would not want anything taken from me. 

That deer might have died from old age if I had not killed it and you would have given it no thought.   Now, because of your soldiers, it is rotting in the woods.   No has gained anything from this.  There has only been the loss of one deer’s life.   And so I ask you, sire... What would you accuse me of?"

The nobleman was furious.  He slammed his fist down onto the arm of his throne.

"Send him to the dungeons!”

The guards grabbed the poacher and drug him away.

That night, the nobleman did not sleep.  He paced his room for hours, often stopping to stare out the window at the forest beyond.  When day broke, he brought the poacher before him.   He peered intensely at the poacher.  Then he stood, approached the poacher, and bowed deeply.

"I bow to you because you have done what no other man in my charge would dare.   You have humbled me.  I did not sleep last night.  I am troubled that I have lost my place in the world.   Your words have reminded me that I am mortal and no more or less of a man than any other in my charge.

"You are correct in that I can bring about the death of everything in this realm, but I cannot control the life of anything.  I could, by right, kill you for killing a deer I thought I owned, but that would bring nothing but your death.  Nothing is gained.  It is obvious that we have something to learn here.  I therefore release you with no charges.  My kitchen will give you the equivalent of what we have wasted on this ordeal.

Go now and try to be happy."

The Phantom Scarf

The Phantom Scarf

I took a walk one day to feel the sun upon my face.  The world I knew had worn on me, and I needed to escape.   Every day seemed to weigh ever heavier upon the other.  I felt as though I was alone in the world.  That I had forgotten who or what I was. 

As I walked, a flash of red caught my vision.  It was an old, worn, sun-bleached scarlet scarf tied to a tree.  It fluttered silently; beckoning to me.  As I approached that ghostly caller, I imagined the person who had tied this cloth to the tree.  Had this been a message to a long lost love? A fading memory forever memorialized in fabric and wood? A hopeful yearning to see their special one again, knowing, perhaps, that they never would?

I reached for the scarf. The silky fabric brushed against my outstretched hand.  Perhaps it was a token of their love, given on some special day.  A simple expression to symbolize something that was so much greater. 

The edges of the scarf were frayed and the fabric looked stained from water in places.  How many late nights of laughter had this simple piece of cloth witnessed?  How many tears?  What had happened to its owner that the scarf would end its journey here, tied to this tree?

My eyes gazed past the scarf to the ground below the tree.   There lay a simple headstone with a brass plaque.   The words were bright, although the plaque had weathered.  As I walked over, my senses were heightened by this almost supernatural experience with a life, a person, long passed.  I could hear the grass shuffling under my feet and could almost feel the millions of eyes from birds and insects in the trees around me.   

I knelt down at the gravestone.  The grass was smooth and the brightest of greens.  A small bouquet of faded flowers rested there and on the plaque, there was a simple story.

“My life was a lonely one,” read the plaque. “I had made many mistakes and I was ready to end my journey.  This person changed that.  In one night and one day, this person showed me, once again, what it meant to be alive.  I never knew that anyone could fall in love with someone so quickly and then lose them just as quickly.   This tree is where we met.  The scarf was one of many gifts given to me on that day.  The most important, I now give to you.  

Live.  Live your life and rejoice in it.  Share that joy with everyone you meet.  

And Love.  Love with all of your heart.  You never know if you will see them again. – Eleanor”

I sat quietly for a time, taking in the words. 

Finally, I stood and it seemed that the weight of the world had lifted from my shoulders.   I silently thanked Eleanor for her gift and glanced over at the scarf one more before continuing my hike.  After a time, I looked over my shoulder.  The tree was almost out of sight, but I could swear there was an old woman there, smiling at me as I walked away.