Talon Tales - "Zoe and Toby's Adventure"

Our heroes find themselves in a local jail after their brawl. Their accomplice explains the situation they are in.

“I suppose you could fool Gandolph into thinking you’re not worth much.” Tivoli bit his lip, not too convinced of his own reasoning. He saw the look of puzzlement and concern on my face.
“ He has been involved in the trafficking of humans. I should point out this is highly illegal. I imagine slavery is forbidden where you come from?” he continued with disgust, crossing his arms in an attempt to hold his temper, I think.
“Very much so.” I replied with equal disgust and got a really bad feeling about this scenerio. I glanced at Toby and his expression seem to say the same thing. Warning.
“Why hasn’t anyone tried to stop this Gandolph fellow?” Toby said.
“Because he is the Prestige . No one has caught him in the act so nothing was done.”
“How do we know you’re not in on it?” Toby said harshly. Tivoli looked mortally offended. He opened his mouth to say something more when the big door banged open again and a beer keg sized barrel was set down on the landing.
A tall thin guard greeted everyone and cheerfully announced the day’s meal. His ironic manner was not appreciated by the inmates who slowly lined up. We joined the line and received a bowl of rather bland looking stew and a hunk of heavy coarse bread.
“I don’t suppose you have any cabernet sauvingnon to go with this?” I asked with mock hopefullness. The man ladling the soup stared blankly at me. I could hear Toby convulsed with laughter behind me. Well it was worth a try, I sighed. We retreated to our little corner and ate in silence. The bread tasted like cardboard and the stew was- forgettable.

More from "Talon Tales"

An excerpt from "Zoe and Toby's Adventure". A second narrator gives his POV of our heroes, picking up from the last installment.

Like a slight tingle one feels in cold air announcing snow, I knew the portal was ready to bring forth a offworlder again and there they were. 
I spotted them first, a short woman, petite but muscled, someone who was physical and a big man with hair the color of old copper. They seemed oblivious to the stares they got as they sat down at a table in the local tavern.
Then palace guards showed up and everything went wrong. The two managed to escape the melee. I finally untangled myself from the mess of angry tavern customers but it was to late. By the time I caught up with them, they were being lead away to the town garrison. She was unconscious and the big man was thrashing about wildly.

Dark Shadows Remembered

From 1967 to 1971 there was a soap opera on Television like no other; the gothic "Dark Shadows". The icon of the show, Jonathan Frid passed away three weeks before the premiere of the Tim Burton movie. The film has it's own audience and perspective but for the fans of the original it was the portrayal of the flawed, wounded Barnabus Collins that is most remembered.

Neither the producers, writers or Frid ever intended to create an iconic and original character but that's what happened. The show was tanking in the ratings and ABC was on the verge of cancelling it when Executive Producer Dan Curtis had a dream about a vampire and his kids suggested he make the show scary. Frid was hired to play the role for a 12 week run then they would stake the character and move on but he proved so popular the role continued for five years. According to actress Lara Parker who played nemesis Angelique, John Frid told Curtis "I want to make him real, I want to make him human and I want to give him a soul and a heart. " It was a combination of that actor, playing that role, written that way that revolutionized an archetype . Years later when I was reading "Interview With a Vampire" I pictured the narrator Louis as Barnabus. They were kindred souls locked in their personal tragedies.

Much has been made of the show's production. There were few rehearsals and one technical blocking. It was all shot live; no stopping, editing, or do overs. Props failed, stage hands wandered in to the frame, lines were forgotten, dead bodies moved. The result was unintended, sometimes cringe inducing hilarity. The critics ridiculed but the fans forgave the gaffes because the actors were so serious in their efforts, so much was invested in the characters to worry about such things. 

I am amazed after more than forty years how those performances hold up. Much credit is given to Frid for the show's success and rightfully so. His classic old world handsomeness and telegenic acting were riveting. The ability for the actor to transmit emotions through the camera is a rare skill and he had it. This despite the fact that he was new to the medium of TV. The terrified look on the character's face was not just an act, Frid was not a quick to learn his lines so he was always searching for the tele prompter with his myopic vision. He confessed later at being a bit chagrined to be associated with the show but actors rarely get the change to choice what will be their great role. Johnny Depp paid him homage when he indicted the lavish set and told Frid  "None of this would be here if it weren't for you."  

Indeed none of the memories of a show kids rushed home from school to watch would have been possible without Jonathan Frid.

Why You Dislike Homos

I was having a heated debate with a friend a few weeks ago about gays and marriage. He had been in the Navy years before there was DADT. There were gays in the service but nobody cared then, hell he didn't care so he was a tolerant guy. His problem was gays being out in the open where they were "shoving it in our faces." with all the talk of same sex marriage and rights. He wasn't feeling very tolerant of them now. Why should they have the right to marry? This is where we parted company in the debate. 

Since then I have been giving this point of view a great deal of thought. It reminded me of the old convenient excuse  "I don't mind black people as long as they don't live next door." It's easy to be tolerant when you don't have to deal with your discomfort every time you step outside and the black neighbor waves hello to you. 

 Allowing gays to be open means having to confront ones own bias, translation: you're not ready, able or brave enough to actually defend their right to be who they are. When gays come out and demand true equally it challenges the status quo and that may force you to chose sides in the debate when it's so much easier to believe they don't exist to ease your peace of mind. If only they had kept their place so you could continue to view homosexuality as some dark social secret. When they're in the closet it means you don't have to worry about changing your mind because they aren't "shoving it in your face."

Four Ideas for a Better World

I know I've spoken of this before but I can't find the original post and it bears repeating.

The US is falling behind. Like that old man who lives next door and refuses to change; he has no use for new fangled gizmos, thank you.- we refuse to be up to date. There  are a few  things I find consistently irritating about our backwardness so I have a few suggestions to make life easier and allow us to catch up with the modern world.

Change the National Anthem -The hell with knee jerk patriotism and tradition, let's be honest  'The Star Spangled Banner"  sucks as our national anthem. It's hard to remember the lyrics, and it's hard to sing,.Unless you're a trained singer you can forget about handling the two and half octaves in a minor key.  At  the last Super Bowl game, the closet thing to a religious experience  we have in this country, they sang both the national Anthem and  "America the Beautiful" which is a far better song. Easier melody, simple poetic lyrics easy to remember. If people stubbornly refuse to change the tune then make both songs official.

The Metric System:  Only the US and England use the English standard of measurement. It's time to switch to the metric system. "It will cost too much to convert" some businesses wail. Horse shit, the loss is temporary and in the long run it will save the trouble of producing goods in both versions. Don't we want to be part of the Global community? Then go metric.

Change to the Dvorak keyboard. Look at your keyboard, it's a model of inefficiency. It was designed to slow you down, it was developed in the days when you had to worry about typing too fast and jamming keys. It's over a 100 fucking years old. So why do we still use it? Because we are used to it, the worst excuse ever. The Dvorak layout is easier and faster and you can learn it in a few weeks. Get over it.

Make English the Official Language of America. Insisting we all speak English may seem unfair to immigrants but it's not a not an evil plot to suppress minorities -it's motivation. If you live in Germany you speak German,  if you live in France, you have to speak French. If you live in Canada you have to - ok bad example but being Bilingual is a gift not a burden.With that in mind, the new law should require requires every American to learn a second language to graduate high school.

So  we up to speed with the rest of the world with weights and measurements, increased the productivity of the written word and can communicate clearly when traveling to a foreign country.Your welcome.

A Taste of "The Dragon Within"

Here is an excerpt from one of my novels ( it's been a couple of years since I worked on it). In this snippet our hero who can enter other's dreams, deals with a young girls' nightmare.

An unnatural amount of light, more than the lantern could emit, filled the surrounding space revealing a cartoon character that towered above his own average height. Arjen was incredulous at the ridiculous image before him. It was a stuffed toy from a well known child’s book, dressed like a cross between a circus clown and a matador. He wore a tight red sequin jacket and wild checkered pants. It had an outsized head with a mop of yam colored yarn for hair, a wide plump grin and big blue eyes with white pupils.  The artist should have drawn the pupils in black he corrected in an aside. The disproportionally large hands were sheathed in purple mittens.

At first he seemed benign with his goofy grin. Arjen turned and smiled at the girl there was nothing to be afraid of. He wondered how this nonsensical character could be so alarming to her. Children sometimes find terror in the most innocuous things and as an adult he had forgotten that. 

The character “Poppy”- prone to pratfalls, inane suggestions and dumb explanations to the goings on of the hero of the book, was truly a harmless figure. When Arjen turned back to him  however, his heart leapt in fear equal to the little girl. 

The expression on the face had changed, it was now contorted into an expression of fierce menace. The mouth was open, showing a jagged line of sharp teeth like a shark’s. Arjen was on guard and manged to step aside as the monster reached out with a massive paw and tried to grab him. He avoided the grasp easily because the monster- for it truly resembled one now-moved slowly as if underwater. It was utterly silent, the only sound was Arjen’s panting and shuffling feet. He continued to evade the clutching;  guiding it away from his original prey while trying to figure out how to defeat it. He tried to remember the story for some clue to a weakness. He had read it to one of Laura’s nieces and cursed himself for not being as absorbed in it as Simone.

A memory came to him in a flash, water. The character hated water so of course he was dumped in it at every opportunity by his companions. It was funny until he fell in a lake over his head and they discovered he couldn’t swim. There was a moral in the episode but right now all Arjen cared about was finding a substantial body of water. 

Since thought were actions in dreams, he thought of a vast bottomless lake but nothing happened. The creature continued his lumbering advance. 

Damn, he didn’t have the will to change the dream since it was the child who created this reality. Arjen dodged sideways, keeping Poppy at bay while getting close enough to call out to the child.

“Water, you must think of water like a lake, an ocean, a river, anything.” but she only shook her head vigorously, burying her face in her hands.

The sick grinning doll swung at Arjen and he ducked just in time, feeling his hair brushed.  He shifted in the other direction hoping to move the goliath away from the trembling girl rooted to the spot in shock. He tried to stimulate her imagination once more.

“I would love to take you for a ride in a rowboat out on a lake, where the water is cold and deep and gold fish swim and jump about. We could feed them too.” he said in a pleasant cojoling voice as he ducked another swing. He was exhausted  from his exertions causing him  to trip on a chunk of fallen stone and fall on the floor, knocking the lamp out of his hand.  To his surprise the doll stopped, suddenly uninterested in him and headed to the girl curled on the floor.

“Oh no you don’t”  Arjen jumped up and heaved the irksome stone at Poppy but it had no effect on him.

He picked up the lantern to light his way back when another flash of insight came. Poppy, like all the other characters, except the hero of the story, was a plush toy made of cloth and stuffed with hay.

Arjen broke the glass shade over his knee and uncapped the fuel tank. He turned the flame up as high as possible and sloshed the kerosene all over, the strong smell almost overwhelming him, until the whole thing ignited then hurled it as hard as he could at the backside of gaudy toy. That did the trick. He burst into flames, his coat and hair drenched in kerosene. It waved it’s stubby  ineffective arms around in vain. Arjen scooped up the girl in his arms, feeling her heart pound madly as he held her close, and put as much distance as he could between them and the engulfed figure. The heat and fire lit up the vast hall, casting harsh shadows over the sculptured walls and columns. The thing burned for a long time, too long he figured and looked at the girl in his embrace, commanding her.

“Let it rain a river and wash the monster away.” she understood at last and nodded. They were immediately inundated in a downpour. The water snuffed out the fire, leaving a mass of sodden smoldering, straw in a heap.

The sky appeared and lighted to a gray overcast as the rain came down in sheets, flooding the place. A moment later the rain ceased as abruptly as it started and the clouds parted letting the sun come out dazzling brightly. Arjen and the girl were now in a row boat, she held an immense parasol, while he was dressed like a Glouster fisherman in yellow raincoat and wide brimmed hat. He was amused at the absurd setting. The heap of blackened material disappeared under the water, leaving the faint smell of a burnt hay behind.

“Very good princess”Arjen said formally as he rowed the boat across the water.

“Who are you Monsieur hero?”  her voice pitched full of joy. Arjen allowed a rare smile to spread across his face.

“Your humble servant.”

Resistance is Futile

Prepare to be assimilated and watched, strip searched and get used to the new police state comrade. Mind you this is in a democratic country with a bill of rights that is suppose to protect citizens from excessive and oppressive government practices but the war on drugs and now the war on terror have pretty much decided that having your privacy invaded is more important than freedom.

Now go back to watching mindless TV and eating junk food, citizen.