The Watcher

A short snippet from a novel I got about a third of the way through before running out of steam several years ago.

Any given destination has a number of possible approaches. Choosing one that can be defined as optimum is simple if the terrain is relatively flat and there are no obstacles between where you are and where you wish to be. Life is seldom this simple.

The sun is just beginning to peak over the eastern horizon. In a different climate birds would be singing, and near the environs of man, early morning commutes would be getting under way. But this is an altogether different sort of place.

The sand is cold. Nearby rocks of gray and black poke above the surface. Below, they float either exclusively on a bed of sand or rest partially on bedrock. Above, a small light moves across the sky.

When one is describing, it is inevitable that something will be lost in the translation. Paintings lack detail and may be abstracted as well. Prose is even more lacking though it may be just as pleasing in its own right. Video comes close, but the scope is inevitably limited and the palette is often filtered. Reality consistently outstrips our ability to describe it. Even the smallest part of it is made up of billions of parts; but this scene is an abstraction of an altogether different sort.

A cloud appears on the horizon. It seems to lead the sun, like a horse unto a chariot. The rest of the sky is now clear, except for fading pin-pricks of light.

A small figure sits atop one of the boulders. He feels something calling to him, but knows that now is not the time to answer. He will continue to be patient; the payoff is coming, and someday he will be able to answer.

The sun retreats until it is again night. This is a place of perpetual first light with the watcher as its only witness.

Pete's Rat

Another one from the vault.

Pete's Rat

Pete's bar is not the cleanest or most reputable establishment in the city, but it is close to where I live, and as long as I drink the beer from a fresh bottle I'm no all that worried about catching something exotic.

I'd been waiting around for something to happen. Sometimes I get these feelings. It had been a busy night. Lots of drinking, cursing and general carrying on; exactly the sort of atmosphere I like. It was around one AM when something happened behind the bar.

Pete is a big guy. He has to be to keep things orderly and profitable in that part of town. I'd seen him take on three angry drunks at once and not even work up a sweat. He was bending down behind the bar when he let out a yell and a curse. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a large gray shape run from behind the bar and out through the legs of several of the patrons. The hair on the back of my neck started itching. I slapped my money down on the table and headed out the door just behind Pete. I know a rat when I see one.

I hung out in the shadow of the doorway to see what would happen next. Pete was wandering around the street calling out to somebody named Jennings.

"Jennings? Come out here you stupid rat. I want you back in your cage!"

Jennings? Who names a rat Jennings and sticks it in a cage behind a bar? I hadn't thought Pete was that imaginative. He ran past me muttering under his breath "Jennings! You bastard! Get back here!" He kept it up for the better part of an hour. The police came out eventually and carted him off when he got unruly with them. Magic can have a strange effect on some people. It’s kind of like an allergic reaction. Pete was apparently one of those. I might have been able to help him out but I had bigger fish to fry.

The patrons had been taking care of the bar during the owners little 'illness'. I walked behind the counter and checked the till. It looked like somebody had been sober enough to recognize the possibilities there so I wasn’t going to be able to do Pete any favors on that front.

On my way out I grabbed a package of crackers from behind the bar. I walked over to the Dumpster and dropped one. "Ok Jennings you can come out now, he's gone." Silence, or the closest thing you can get to it in the big city. "Look, we can do this easy, or we can do it hard. So make it easy on both of us and come out."

"Say I did, what's in it for me?"

I smiled, my hunch may have been correct. "Besides the cracker? That depends."

"On what?"

"How did you happen to become a rat in a cage in the back of the bar at Pete’s?"

"Oh, that. Well, it’s kind of a long story."

"Do tell."

"You really want to hear this?"

"Yes."

"Well, I used to be a Poodle. Then one day I woke up as a rat. That was a bit of a shock, especially since I'd been curled up next to Solips, the family cat. Luckily I managed to get out of there before he noticed me; out the dog door through a hole in the fence and into the street. I've been running ever since."

"And before that?"

"I was one of those big sea turtles. A good life, and not to bad if you know how to avoid the pitfalls. I had to be careful though. Speed, at least on land wasn't my strong point."

It was all made sense to me. All that was left was arranging payment. "I'll bet you started life out as a human?"

"Yep, near as I can remember it I started life out as a tinker in 18th century New England."

"And did a brass ring come into your possession a short time before these problems started?"

"Let me think... Could have been, it's been awhile you know."

"Well then, I think I can help you. All I want is the ring."

"You’re welcome to it if you can find it."

"Good, are you going to come out from under there now?"

"Oh sure."

Out he waddled, one of the biggest rats I had ever seen. He paused long enough to quickly eat the cracker and then looked up at me "What now?"

I pulled the wand from the inner pocket of my coat, mumbled the words to the unbinding spell and stood back. The spot that had held the rat a moment before now held a short swarthy brown haired man dressed in the clothes of an old time merchant. On the ring finger of his left hand was a brass ring. "The Ring?"

"No problem, happy to be rid of it." He replied. He took it from his finger and handed it to me. It was well worth my trouble; I'd recovered one of my earlier devices and saved myself a finder’s fee.

The tinker scratched his head "Now all I have to do is figure out how to make a living."

I smiled and did my best to look reassuring "You can spend the night at my place. I have a friend that would be glad to have your services. There's still work for a craftsman."

As we walked back to my apartment I smiled to myself. "Yes," I thought. "Still work for a craftsman."

Copyright 2011 Michael J. Miller Jr.

Small Magic

Another story from the vault.

Small Magic

The fish weren't biting much, but I didn't really care. I was in that fuzzy state you get into only on really good days, my mind wandering around sort of lazy like. Then I heard the buzzing. I didn't really want to open my eyes in case it was what I thought it was; but it kept up and finally I relented.

It was six inches long and mostly green with little bits of yellow all over its body. In its claws it held a small scroll. Most people don't see a Dragon Flyer every day but if you do, you don't generally look forward to it. Right away I knew his lordship wanted me for something. I grunted at the Flyer and held out my hand. It dropped the scroll and vanished.

There wasn't any use in putting it off, so I opened the scroll. I'd been about twelve when my mom took me aside to have a talk. At first I thought she was going to tell me about the birds and the bees, but I was wrong. She started making coins and other small object vanish and reappear. I'd never seen her do that and I was impressed. Sleight of hand stuff seemed really cool to me. That’s when she lowered the boom. Said it wasn't sleight of hand. Told me it was real magic.

I was skeptical at first but she proceeded to show me, and I was impressed. She told me she thought it was some sort of recessive gene or something; said that very few people had it, and that those that did kept it a secret. I was wondering why she was telling me all this stuff when a little light went on above my head (No not literally) "You mean I have this power?" I asked her. She nodded her head solemnly. "Alright!" I exclaimed. I was really happy. She just smiled at me in a sad way.

I found out that some pick pockets and small time magicians had the gift. They were generally looked down upon for wasting their talents and shirking their responsibilities. If there was one thing my mother didn't go in for, it was shirking ones responsibilities. So I got to learning some of the history of people like my mom and I. It turned out we'd been burned as witches and warlocks for centuries though in spite of the Salem witch trials there were very few formal witch hunts in the colonies back in olden times.

It turned out the age of science had been a real boon for our type of people. Almost nobody believed in magic any more, and witch burnings were way down, especially in the western countries. Heck, some people even viewed it as a good thing. But I'm straying from the subject. It was one of John's scrolls. "The Great John" as he liked to call himself was the area rep. Sometimes I called him Lord John to get his goat since he was a bit too full of himself for my liking, but he did his job done alright.

Turned out some small time mage was getting out of line. Now we don't try to tell people their morals, but we got the wellbeing of the group at large to think about. People ever got to actually believing we exist and things might get kinda sticky again. Nobody wants to be hung or burned to ashes you know. Least wise not while they still have a desire to breath. Even worse would be spending the rest of your life in a lab somewhere being cut up and tested. No thank you.

The guy’s name was Rick Blade. Fancied himself to be a master pick pocket according to the scroll. As long as members kept their take within reason we left 'em alone. Like I said, we don't dictate morals. But our buddy Rick was getting a bit ambitious. Seems he'd planned a rather big heist. That was bad enough. What was worse was that he'd apparently taken a few of his friends into a deeper confidence then we generally liked. Add in the fact that he looked like a burn out case, and it was not a pretty picture.

See, Magic takes something out of you. The minor stuff really doesn’t amount to enough to matter, but when you try for the big stuff... You can really mess yourself up if you don't know what you’re doing, and even if you do, it still makes you a little weaker. Wasting or burnout is what most of us called it. Now not everybody was built the same. Me, I had a fairly high resistance. That made me a prime candidate for law enforcement, and my Mother never would have forgiven me if I'd shirked my responsibilities.

So the fact I was on vacation didn't really mean much overall. I'd have to go into town and check this guy out.

I checked his home, but he wasn't in, and I couldn't track down any of his friends either. Seemed his main haunt was a bar called “The Barrel”. I got myself a seat in the back and waited. Sure enough, a couple hours later he came in. I didn't approach him, since I wanted to get him alone. He had a wild look about him, and I could almost smell the magic.

He sat down and started talking to a group of fellows at one of the tables. I'd brought along one of those listen from a ways a way devices. (No use using magic when you don't have to.) It looked a lot like a cheap MP3 player. Being real subtle I got the mic pointing in their direction. They weren't really talking about anything important as far as I could tell. It stood to reason that this guy wasn't that dumb. They was just shooting the breeze and drinking beer.

I ran over my options. Easiest thing would be to take Rick buddy aside and have a little chat. As of now what his friends knew really didn't matter that much. Most people just don't believe in hocus pocus as anything more than a game. They might sell a story to one of the scandal rags, but we didn't care. Heck, we sometimes sold a story or two ourselves, mostly for humor value. The problem with this option was it would let him know we were on to him. If he didn't take it well he could make it real hard on us. I wanted to avoid having to bring in the big guns.

Of course there was another option, but I didn't like it much. Rick was real close to the edge. A little nudge at the right time would probably put him over. We in the business called it the ‘it’s better to burn 'em out and then fade away' gambit. It wasn't quite murder, but it was close. I didn't give it very serious thought. It was really something of a selfish thing. If I was ever going to soil my hands that way I was going to make sure I did it on somebody worthwhile.

I decided that I'd just hang around and see what happened. No need to work up a sweat if I didn't have to. Maybe just being around to pick up the pieces would be enough. (Yea right.)

Eventually they left of course. I'd been getting a bit bored listening to them talk and I almost missed it. Following them was a minor problem. I had to keep a low profile all the way around. Don't let anybody tell you that it’s easy to keep somebody in sight and not be noticed; especially when the person you're following has more than the usual five senses.

They headed downtown and entered one of the old warehouses in the industrial area. It didn't look like it'd been used much recently. They'd used a service access door in the back. Now this was a problem. One of the things I haven't mentioned up till now is the fact that some metals cause problems with magic. It tends to vary from person to person. For some its lead, for others is steel. Rarely it’s with gold. My weakness is aluminum. Yep, the stuff they make soft drink cans out off. It’s not like it burned me. I just couldn't see through it, and it interfered something fierce when I tried to cast any spells. (I still drive an ancient Dodge Dart because of this.)

Now guess what the siding of this warehouse was made of..Yep,my friend Aluminum. A lot places used steel. This would have to be an exception. This left me in a bit of a quandary. I Couldn't see in and I couldn't use magic. Only thing I could do was wander up and check things out by conventional means.

I circled around to the other side in the hopes that being subtle would give me an advantage (In my experience, breaking down the front door and screaming "Freeze, Magic Police!" Just didn't work all that often.) The report John had sent me had been a bit vague on the size of the gang. I didn't think they were all that well run, but I wasn't sure. Things were quiet on the other side. There were a couple of doors and half a dozen windows fairly high up. I didn't see anyone in any of them either visually so I moved up.

The door was locked, but that wasn't a problem. I pulled out my pick set and had it open in about 15 seconds. I might as well have knocked. As soon as I stuck my head in to look around I was clobbered and down for the count.

I couldn't have been out long, because when I came around I was still in the front room I'd glimpsed before getting knocked unconscious. There was a scrawny intense little guy that I hadn't seen at the bar standing over me. I was propped up against the wall by the door. There was a painful pounding in my head, but other than that I felt OK.

He backed off a few steps and pulled a wallet from within the blue denim jacket he was wearing. He either had one a lot like mine, or he'd been busy while I was out. He gave me a look that let me know he'd do something nasty if I moved. He talked less than I did. I didn't sense any magic about him, so I wasn't worried.

He was thorough in his examination. I suspect he was disappointed since I had no plastic and only carried 10 bucks cash. He took the money of course. Finally he asked me a question.

"So you’re a private eye eh?"

I had to make a living somehow when I wasn't fishing or chasing down small time mages gone bad and it was a good cover. "Yes I am."

"What you doing down here?"

I smiled to buy some time to think. "Well I'm afraid, that comes under the category of client confidentiality." He didn't like that answer.

"You can talk now, or you can talk later. I know what my choice would be." He replied.

I was getting tired of the subtle approach. I was supposed to be on vacation, and here I was getting hit on the head and asked stupid questions. The time had come for action. I looked at the guy and shock my head in the negative. "If you want me to answer your questions take me to your boss. I'm one tough SOB and I don't think you can get anything out of me by yourself." I expended a small amount of magical energy to nudge him towards the decision I was hoping for.

He'd already searched me, so he probably figured I wasn't carrying a gun or anything else obviously deadly. I knew that he'd missed a few things, but I wasn't planning on using them anyway.

He was sort of muttering silently to himself, almost thinking out loud. Finally he came to a decision. "Get up nice and easy and head for that door." He said backing off a bit. I followed his instructions.

I hadn't seen a gun up till that time, but it was easy to tell that it wasn't his finger that jabbed me on the way to the door. I didn't bother to do a positive ID. Whenever possible I avoid using the magic. The reason for that is coming up.

We went through a hall and a couple of doors before we meet up with anyone else. There was a fast explanation followed by my escort growing. We finally reached a large door marked “Manager”. Bill had the other guy knock. I could sense the other mage.

We went inside, and there he stood. It was obvious he'd been doing some serious stimulants. I'd suspected as much, but hadn't been sure up till now. Chances were this was going to get ugly fast.

I could see him sizing me up. I didn't try to hide who I was, even made the secret hand gesture.

"I suppose you've come to talk me out of my life of crime?" He said and smiled in a devil may care way.

I looked around at his compatriots and raised an eyebrow. There were a half dozen of them standing around the room.

"We have no secrets here. I think it’s about time we stopped hiding don't you?"

I pretended to be bored. "I don't deal in politics. I'm just the law. You know the rules."

He smiled at that. I guess he liked to smile. "I'm familiar with them. I believe we should be able to use our powers any way we like. Survival of the fittest is nature’s way."

"Look Mr. Blade. You think magic is going to get you lots of power and money. And if you were unique, you might be right. But there's a whole heck of a lot of us that don't agree with you. We like things the way they are. Besides, at the rate you're going you'll be dead before the end of the year."

Seems I'd hit a sore spot with my death comment, because that’s when he decided to attack. Nothing to obvious, this was fortunate for the others in the room. I could feel him trying to squeeze my heart. He was direct and to the point anyway. I managed to fend him off, but only just barely. He wasn't half bad, and he didn't much care what he did to himself apparently.

When his initial attack failed he backed off a little to give me a second look. I decided to take care of the innocent bystanders during the lull. I looked over at them. "Leave NOW." They wavered for a bit but left in a hurry when I looked at each of them in turn. I can be very convincing when I want to be.

I turned my full attention back to Rick. He was getting a bit frayed around the edges. That’s when he played his ace in the hole. I saw the gun just before it went off. It was a small Derringer he’d had hidden up his sleeve. He'd gone for my heart again. Luckily for me he missed, but the numbness in my shoulder told me that his effort hadn’t been entirely wasted.

Now this put a whole new spin on things. If he was going to shoot me I'd just have to get nasty. You see, I don't use magic much. But it’s not because I'm bad at it. It’s because of the cost. When you’re in my line of work you can't really afford to waste any effort, because there will be times when you're going to have to burn bright and fast. I wasn't tired and I wasn't on edge. I had a lot in reserve right then.

His next move was to heat up the slug that was still lodged in my shoulder and push it towards my heart. That had the potential to do a lot of damage. Right then I wasn't really feeling anything much from the wound, and I figured I had another minute or two before I did. The human body has a wonderful way of insulating one from this sort of thing. After all, you can't run for your life or defend yourself if you're on the ground in agony.

I was having trouble getting ahold of the bullet. It felt like some sort of composite, and Aluminum was apparently one of the metals. Rick was a smart guy to have thought of that angle. Mix in enough metals and you’d have a decent chance against most of our kind. I could almost get a grip on it, but not quite. Rick was having no trouble, probably because his least favorite metal wasn’t in the mix. He certainly had me on the defensive, and it was time for me to strike back. All I needed to do was break his concentration.

Fire is tacky. It’s messy, and it does a lot of collateral damage. Water on the other hand... I'd spotted the sprinkler system on the way in. I had just enough in reserve to make a fast modification. My buddy Rick had that annoying smile on his face, right up until the pipes above him burst and he got drenched. I guess he'd been watching for something direct. I'd already made my frontal assault for the day when I’d come through the door to this place earlier.

Now the water wasn't going to hurt him, but the surprise broke his concentration, and gave me a chance to go on the offensive. I mentally grabbed ahold of a nearby file cabinet and slammed it into him as hard as I could. He managed to deflect it at the last moment, but it still nailed him good on his left side. From the sound of things I figured I'd broken his arm and maybe a rib or two.

At that point I was getting tired. Between the damage Rick had done, the knock on the head, and the effort I'd just expended I was nearing the end of my reserve. Luckily for me he wasn't much better off. I managed to pull my cell phone out of my jacket pocket and call up John. I knew when to call in the Cavalry. It was about then that Rick fell to the ground. I didn't know it then, but apparently he had a heart attack. I tried to get over to check him out, but about that’s when the pain hit me and the world got fuzzy around the edges. I was out before I hit the floor.

Obviously I lived. It was a close thing though. Rick didn't make it, but I didn't feel much guilt. In my book he was as bad as they come, and considering the stuff he'd been doing to himself it could almost be called natural causes.

My survival was a big magic to me, the sort that made my ability to do small magic insignificant.

Copyright 2011 by Michael J. Miller Jr.

The Wizard in the Window (Chapter 2)

Chapter 1 was posted a few days back. Again, this is a story I wrote several years ago. I currently have five chapters and just over ten thousand words. It is incomplete. I'm thinking seriously about making the completion of this  my next big project.

The Wizard in the Window

Chapter the second

Bright sunlight shining through my eyelids brought me back to my senses. I didn't open my eyes immediately, preferring instead to take stock of what my other senses were telling me. First, smell. Strange, there was something missing. Ah, that was it! The air smelled too clean. Next, hearing. I could hear the twittering of birds. I was coming close to a conclusion. Touch, I felt carefully around with my hands. Hmm, felt like grass. About four inches high. Taste... I was hungry.

My first thought was that I'd fallen asleep at a park. But then I started to recall the events that had led up to my little nap. Time to open the eyes I decided.

Now, I had expected to find myself in a forest glade or something. Just goes to show you how easily the senses can be fooled. The first thing I saw upon opening my eyes was a skylight. The second was the ceiling that surrounded it. Further examination showed me that I was in the middle of what appeared to be a shopping mall. People were milling about, going into various shops. I was lying in the middle of an island of wildlife in a sea of consumerism.

Now, you will note that I said it appeared to be a shopping mall at first glance. At second glance, a few discrepancies caught my eye. First of all the people were dressed strangely. Clothing styles varied from the medieval, to the futuristic, to the… I had no idea. Next, were the stores. They featured names like "Artllo's splitzer emporium." and "Onieas Fibtok grill". But the thing that really clued me in was the Dalmatian that came walking up to me as I stared wide eyed at this strange place. "Lost, are you." He asked and paused as if expecting a response.

Now, most people would have gone catatonic at this point. But after months of dealing with MM, I'd developed a tolerance for the strange. Or possibly I’d gone totally out of my mind. I decided it was too early to tell which.

"Yes, as a matter of fact I am. You haven't seen a coffee table around here by any chance have you?" I don't know why I focused on the coffee table. I said I'd developed a tolerance, that doesn't mean I wasn't a little whacked out by the whole experience.

The Dog sat down and scratched behind his right ear. "Was that yours? Sorry, looks like I've been remiss in my duty. A gnome picked it up and carried it off just before you woke up."

I finally sat up. "Oh well, it wasn't important."

The dog gave me an incredulous look. "You're not from around here, are you?"

"I don't believe so. This wouldn't be earth would it?”

"Nope."

"No, welcome to the land of collective unreality."

Must be another name for Washington DC, I thought to myself.

The Dalmatian let out a moan. "Oh no, why couldn't I have seen it sooner. All the classic signs. And they say curiosity killed the cat."

I, ever the astute conversationalist replied, "Huh?"

"Plain as the nose on my face, and you can't get much more obvious than that."

"Am I missing something?" I asked, beginning to get more confused than I already had been.

The Dalmatian winced. "Yes you are, and that's the problem."

I scratched my head "My entire planet seems to be missing, if that's what you mean."

"No, it's even worse than that. That gnome stole your coffee table."

"So?" I asked, confusion level rising even further.

"You really don't know how things work around here, do you?"

I shook my head in the negative. "No, why don't you explain?"

He flopped down dejectedly. "Might as well. I'm stuck now. Suppose I should introduce myself. Dalmas is the name. You?"

I went to hold out my hand and then thought better of it. I wasn’t sure whether to shake his paw or rub him behind the ears. . "Mark."

"Wish I could say I'm pleased to meet you Mark, but being a quest companion has never been an aspiration of mine. Hmm, that gnome can't be more than five minutes ahead of us. I have a great sense of smell, and if we went after him now... Na, it’s never that easy. We might as well relax, while I explain some of the facts of life to you."

"Look, I can live without the coffee table. It isn't really all that important to me. Heck, one of the legs was loose, and I can't begin to count the number of times I've stubbed my toe on the stupid thing."

"It’s not that simple. You illegally imported an other worldly object into the land of collective unreality. And, even worse, you let it be stolen. Now, you have two choices. You forget about the table, and spend the rest of your life here, or you retrieve it."

"I hate binary systems. Isn't there a choice were I have a leisurely three week vacation and then return home?"

"No."

"How about a not so leisurely two week vacation?"

"No."

I searched my mind for something else to say. "What has this got to do with you?"

"First native on the scene becomes a quest companion. It’s part of the unwritten rule book."

"If it’s unwritten, then how do you know what it says?"

"It’s all part of being a native. If it were written down, then it would be open to interpretation. Since it isn't, nobody can argue, makes perfect sense."

Right then, I knew they had no lawyers. Maybe this wasn't such a bad place after all. "OK, so what does this unwritten rule book have to say about quests?"

"Rather simple really; for a quest, you need two things. A goal, and at least one being crazy enough to want to attain it."

"So we've met the minimum requirement. What's say we get started?"

Dalmas got to his feet and shook himself off. I followed suit. Which is to say, I got to my feet. Nature had seen fit to give me a perfectly good set of hands to wipe myself off with after all. "Which way?"

"Follow me."

We set off through the crowd at a brisk walk. Every once in a while Dalmas would stop to sniff around. I now noticed that there were all sorts of strange odors permeating the mall, so I wasn't sure how he was following the Gnome.

"How can you be sure you're following the right scent?"

"Gnomes are rare and have a distinctive odor. Besides, he threw up on your shoe."

I looked down at my feet. The right one did look to be a little dirty... "Bluk, why'd he do that?"

"Probably some sort of weird Gnomish challenge. Gnomes are just kinda wacky in general. I knew one once that would give himself hot foots, laugh while the match burned down, and then scream in pain, curse, and swear to get even with the bastard that had done it to him."

"What happened to him?"

"Oh, one day he tried it with a stick of dynamite."

"Blew himself up did he?"

"Actually no, but he had the misfortune to be standing next to an elephant at the time. The explosion panicked the elephant, and the gnome, being a wee bit sunned from the blast wasn't able to get out of the way in time."

I shuddered. "Not the best way to die."

"No indeed, definitely one of the less pleasant ways to PACKY it in so to speak."

I groaned. "Was that necessary?"

"No, but it was definitely worthwhile." Dalmas replied.

We traveled on in silence for some time. The contents of the mall continued to be strange. Most of the pedestrians appeared to be human, but I also noticed the occasional animal. Some, like Dalmas were of familiar breeds. Others were much more fantastic. At one point I also saw what looked like a Unicorn and several Dodo’s involved in what looked like a tap dancing contest.

Eventually Dalmas came to a stop. We were at the edge of another one of the islands of vegetation. This one was similar to the one I had first awoke on. The only difference I could discern was the silver arch that sat in the middle. It was devoid of ornamentation, and about 9 feet high, by 3 feet wide by 1 foot thick. Upon closer examination, I noticed blocky script along the top that spelled out "a sure sign of intelligent life."

A faint bluish tint could be seen shimmering within the confines of the arch. Dalmas came to a stop a few feet in front of it. "Bloody well figures."

"So, he went through there?"

Dalmas nodded in the affirmative.

"Why don't we just walk around it?" I asked.

Dalmas snorted. "It’s a dimensional gate, what good would going around it do us?"

"That was a rhetorical question?"

"You catch on fast."

"What are we waiting for?"

"There's a saying that comes to mind. My mother used to be fond of it. 'A fool runs in where a wise dog hesitates to follow.' Of course, she also said 'He who hesitates is lost.' So go figure."

"Did your mother have anything to say about silver arches?"

"Not really. She wasn't the oracle after all."

I decided to let that one slide. "So, what are we waiting for?"

Dalmas sounded exasperated. "I don't know what you're waiting for, but I'm waiting for you to go through that arch. You're the hero after all. I'm just the faithful companion."

"I thought you were my quest companion."

"Purely a matter of semantics I assure you."

"I don't suppose you'd like to list out our respective obligations?"

"Can't be done. Heroes have to learn as they go along. I can of course give advice if asked."

"More words of wisdom from the unwritten rule book I suppose?"

Dalmas grinned in a Canine sort of way. "Of course."

Some days it just doesn't pay to get out of bed. I was at an impasse. I didn't know what I'd find on the other side of the gate and I wasn't all that keen on finding out. But Dalmas was starting to look impatient (Not a pretty sight, let me assure you.), and I was getting eager to make some progress. You can only stare at objects that are rumored to violate the laws of physics for so long after all.

"Well, I think I'll be on my way." I said, heading for the arch.

"Was that supposed to be a heroic speech?"

"No, I'd say it was more a nervous affectation. Follow me, o faithful companion."

I walked through the arch. A rainbow of colors played around my head. When they cleared, I was most definitely somewhere else.

The first thing I noticed was the huge expanse of blue sky above me. Of course the wind whistling by my hair might have come to my attention before that, but I'll give the nod to the sky. The wind once blew my homework out of my hands and into a tree, and I've been known to hold a grudge for a very long time.

But the wind was impressive. In fact, I was having a hard time keeping my feet under me. I felt something bump into the back of my legs.

"Get a move on. What are you trying to do, get me cut in half?" Dalmas asked.

"Cut in half?"

"Step lively or my hind end won't be the only one in arrears."

I was starting to wonder if the unwritten rule book had something to say about when and how often quest companions could be testy.

The arch on this side was identical to the one we had passed through in the mall. As I stepped aside I noticed that Dalmas was indeed half way through. He wasted no time at all completing his trip.

The two of us were soon sitting down, as that was about the only position we could maintain for any length of time. "So, where are we?"

"Can't say for sure, I haven't seen any place like this before. Can't even tell which way the gnome went what with all this wind."

"Since I'm the hero, it no doubt falls to me to decide which way we go now."

"In the absence of a question mark, I'll assume that was a rhetorical question." He responded.

"?"

Dalmas snorted in exasperation. "Enough of this punctuation, let’s get going."

I chose a direction at random and began to crawl. Something had been bothering me... "Dalmas, why isn't there a sun in the sky?"

"A son in the sky? You hadn't even mentioned you were married." "No, not son, sun!"

"Sounds the same to me."

"Well there's a big difference, believe me."

He replied placatingly "Whatever you say hero."

"Look, why isn't there a yellow orb somewhere above our heads."

"Why should there be?"

"The light has to be coming from somewhere."

"Nope, it's coming from everywhere."

"Not true. It’s not coming from you or me."

"How can you be sure?"

I snorted in exasperation. "That's absolutely absu..."

"Problem?"

"Never mind." The disturbing thought had occurred to me that Dalmas had a better chance of being right than I did. After all, in a land where malls had inter-dimensional gates and dogs talked, anything was possible.

Copyright 2011 Michael J. Miller Jr.

Green & Gold

This is the first fiction piece I've actually completed in several years. I'm entering it in an online writing contest. I'd recommend not going to the contest page until after you've finished the story as it would probably give too much away. The story comes in at just under one thousand words.

Green & Gold

In the spring of 1953 Wallace Green was young and strong. According to his grandmother he was also “Sharp as a whip”. It was this fortuitous combination that had allowed him to find the pot of gold and given him the ability to carry it once the finding had taken place. A bit of research beforehand had shown him that gold weighed more than eighteen times what an equivalent volume of water did. You didn't have to be sharp as a whip to realize that even a small pot of gold was going to weigh a lot.

He was in the process of carrying away his new found wealth when the Leprechaun appeared. The fellow was just a bit under two foot tall and dressed in a smart green suit and matching hat. “Where do you think you’re going with my gold?” were the first words to emerge from the diminutive fellow’s mouth.

Wallace paused for a moment to give this turn of events some thought. “Well, first I was planning on heading back to my truck with it.”

The Leprechaun assumed a pose of contemplation with his right hand resting on his chin. “I see.” was all he said and stared at Wallace.

Wallace waited politely for a full minute. He’d have waited longer but the pot was very heavy.  “Well, good to meet you. I’ll be going now.”

The Leprechaun spoke again.“Oh very well, I see that you’re made of stronger stuff than I’d hoped. You’re not going to give me back my gold, are you?”

“I’m afraid not sir.” Wallace replied.

“Would you like to wager for it?” the Leprechaun countered hopefully.

“No sir, I don’t gamble. My Grandmother doesn’t approve.” He resumed his progress.

The trip back was not long but it was difficult. When Wallace arrived he was dirty, sweaty and tired. The Leprechaun was perched on the hood of his beat up black 1933 Chevrolet pickup truck.

Wallace placed the pot of gold on the floor boards in front of the passenger side half of the bucket seat and closed the door. He contemplated the possibility that the Leprechaun might be able to take the pot back now that he was no longer holding it but decided that if that was the case it could happen at any time and he’d just as soon have it happen now rather than later.

He could have walked around the back of the truck and avoided the Leprechaun but that didn’t seem right so he walked to the front and tipped his hat in passing. The little fellow looked resigned and sad. Wallace was not a cruel man by nature and at this point he started to feel a bit guilty. He stopped just as he got to the driver side door and returned to the front of his truck. “Wallace Green” he said and held out his hand. The Leprechaun looked non plussed for a moment before holding out his own hand. “Collin Murphy”. The hand shake was a little awkward given their difference in size but they managed.

"Do you know much about my kind?” Collin asked.

“A little; I didn’t find that pot of gold by accident. Most people wouldn’t even credit that such a thing is possible.”

“Indeed. And how did you find my pot of gold? I’ll wager it didn’t involve walking backwards towards the end of a rainbow.”

“No sir, it hasn’t rained in these parts for more than a month.”

“Then what’s your secret? Is this something you came up with yourself?”

“Yes sir.” Wallace answered.

“Well, as I’ve made you a rich man I’m going to make a request. Would you do me the favor of not telling anyone else?”

Wallace gave this proposal some thought. “That seems fair.”

“Do you swear upon your honor?” Collin asked.

Wallace nodded in the affirmative. “Yes sir.”

The Leprechaun could hear truth in these words and his mood lightened somewhat. Another thought occurred to him. “I know you don’t gamble but would you consider a trade? A Leprechaun is nothing without a pot of gold and I need to get started replacing mine.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“Well, as you may know my people are Cordwainer’s by trade. That is to say we make shoes of the finest quality. I’d like to sell you a pair.”

Wallace shrugged. “I could use a new pair of shoes”.

Collin grinned sheepishly. “I’m afraid the pair I have in mind would be far too small for you.  They were made for a customer more my size. They would likely fit a human infant or toddler.”

Wallace was about to say no thank you when he noticed that Collin had doffed his hat and was looking at him beseechingly. “Fine then, how much do you want?”

Collin grinned and put his hat back on his head. “How about twenty gold coins?”

Wallace did a quick estimate on how many coins were in the pot and guessed this was only a small fraction. Even so, his Grandmother had told him to never accept the first offer when bartering was afoot. “Five.” He responded.

Collin was a tenacious and stubborn negotiator and eventually they settled on twelve.  Wallace retrieved the coins from the pot and out of nowhere Collin presented him with a beautifully made set of tiny hard  brown leather shoes.

“Well, I can’t say it was a pleasure doing business with you Wallace Green but at least I have some gold to get me started. I’ll now bid you good bye.” And so saying Collin stood, bowed briefly and vanished.

After securing his new wealth Wallace made a trip down to the local paper and took out an ad.

“For sale, baby shoes. Never used” it read.

He had no use for them and as his Grandmother was fond of saying, “Waste not, want Not.”

The Wizard in the Window (Chapter 1)

This story dates back more years than I care to admit. I did some minimal updating and put some effort into cleaning things up. I have a few more chapters beyond this one that I may post at some point.

The Wizard in the Window

Chapter the First

The wizard in the window stared at me as if with its eyes it could know all that transpired within my mind. Its clay hand held above its head an orb, in which I could see many tiny round replicas of my face reflected. I fixated on that for a moment, imagining myself as actually being that size. He was about eight inches tall, wide and adorned with robes, pouches and a staff.

I looked down at the price tag, $75. It was a lot of money for a lump of clay and a tiny bit of crystal... Why not? And so I walked in and bought it. It was wrapped and bagged and I was out of the store. Total transaction time, 5 minutes.

I looked around at the other shops, but saw nothing else of interest. It was a mall much like any other. There seemed to be one at every freeway exit. I decided it was time to find my car and head home. I knew just the spot for my purchase.

On the way in I noticed that the grass was dying, and noted that I'd have to look at the sprinkler controls again. It often seemed to me that they didn't even make the things they didn't used to make the way they used to make them. (Sometimes it’s best not to look for logic in pithy sayings.)

Up the stairs and to the door, insert key, yep the same old routine. Flipping the light switch by the door brought my living room to illumination, and also served to remind me that it was time to vacume again, but I put it off, as the statuette was heavy under my arm. The mantle of my fireplace always had looked a little bare, so I removed the little mage from his wrapping and placed him there.

After dinner I sat down to read the paper. Death, violence and advertisements all leapt out at me. Sometimes it just seems better to avoid finding out what the rest of the world is doing. After flipping through the 600 or so channels I have the dubious honor of receiving I decided it was time to do some reading, something light and entertaining. I looked at my “to be read shelf” and spotted a book by Piers Anthony. It was another of his Xanth series; always good fodder for an evening's entertainment.

Two hours later I'd made my way through most of the book. It was a familiar story, but as usual the execution was superb. It was then that I caught a movement out of the corner of my eye. I looked over at the fireplace, looked away and then back again. The clay mage was dancing, twirling about and tossing his crystal ball in the air. I'm not sure how long this went on while I sat there slack jawed. Then with a final flourish he turned to me, smiled and vanished.

The next day I went back to the little shop in the mall. And there in the window was the clay mage. I wasn't sure if it was the same one until he winked at me.

I was soon out another $75.

I came to think of him as the mini mage. Eight inches tall, and full of more life and mischief then any being that size had a right to be.

Looking back, I realize that my finding him was more than luck. Call it humorous pre-destination. An amusing little lark for an amusing little being. And I had the good fortune of being the straight man.

It wasn't a bad job really. He had his fun, and I got to run. And you know what they say about the benefits of exercise.

There were of course times of relative calm. On one occasion we were sitting watching TV. MM was big on TV, said it reminded him of home, a subject he was reticent to talk about in any greater detail. For whatever reason, the subject of cats came up, and that reminded me of a story.

"A couple of years ago a friend of mind decided to get a cat. He went down to the local humane society and picked out a kitten. He and the cat hit it off fairly well, and were soon the best of friends. But it seems this cat (Whose name was Boris) had at-least one rather annoying habit, not uncommon to the species. It liked to rip things up with its claws." At this point I paused to make sure MM was actually listening. I'd left my jacket on the floor when I'd come in, and he was lounging on it. He nodded his head.

"Well, one day my friend bought a brand new pair of speakers. They were expensive, and sounded very nice. He set them up in the morning, and when he got home that night they were ruined."

"Really?" commented MM, taking the role of straight-man for a change.

"It was really quite sad. He turned on his stereo, and the speakers sounded terrible. Upon closer examination he found that they had been catsrated."

The look on MM's face was priceless. But it wasn't often I got the best of him.

I remember vividly the day he opened the portal. I'd just spent the better part of an hour trying to catch my gerbils. The Mini mage had set them loose, and every time I came close to catching one or the other he'd point his staff, mutter, and the gerbil would vanish, only to reappear across the room and out of reach. Once he even had one of them appear in midair.

"Fly, be free." He yelled in jubilation. he'd definitely been watching too much syndicated TV recently.

Now, I'm a man with a long temper, but I have to say that I was about at the end of mine at that point; so I bowed to the Mini Mage, and proceeded to flop down on the couch. After a moment I picked up the paper.

Now, if there's one thing that makes MM mad, it’s tiring of his jokes before he does. I'd known him long enough to be capable of a fairly effective snub. This one had really hit the mark, as I could hear him mumbling under his breath as I read the paper. Finally he settled down. The calm before the storm I was soon to realize.

"Mark."

"Yes?" I said, not bothering to put down my paper.

"There's a hole in your floor."

"Don't be redic..." I'd put the paper down. There was a hole in my floor. It was about three feet wide and getting larger as I watched. In fact, it was in danger of swallowing my coffee table.

"I think its hungry..." MM said, smiling mischievously.

I looked him straight in the eyes. "And what does it want to eat?"

"What's tall, horizontal and slow on the uptake?" He asked. The hole looked like a very thick fog, and it was an inch away from eating my coffee table.

I grabbed onto the table just as it started to teeter, paper in one hand, coffee table in the other. The leg touched the hole, and there was a blinding flash of light and then everything went dark.

Now, at this point you might be thinking old MM was a bit of a pain. I won't say he didn't have a cruel streak in him. I'm a realist, and I'd been the butt end of enough of his pranks to know that he didn't mind putting other beings at the downside of his wit. But in his defense, I must say that he could take it as well as he could put it out.

It wasn't often that I had an opportunity to get the upper hand with him. He was after all not even a foot tall, and capable of all sorts of things that we normal humans go goggle eyed at, especially when they aren't happening on TV or at the movies. ILM could have saved millions if they'd been able to gain his services. But as I've noted, there were times when I got the best of him. One in particular comes to mind.

Early on, I'd realized that there were certain limitations to his powers. For instance, he refused to be seen moving by anybody but me. This led to all sorts of fascinating possibilities. On this particular occasion, I'd decided on an especially elaborate joke. It was my birthday. I won't mention which one, though I will note that I stopped paying close attention after I hit 25. The drop in my car insurance had been impressive, and all I'd had to do was live into my middle 20's. Of course, a lot of ground would have been lost if I'd had the audacity to actually make a claim, but I digress.

I'd long had an interest in tropical fish. Didn't know anything about them really, just liked to watch them swim around. Something about the semi-contained ecology of the fish bowl just fascinates the heck out of me. So, the day before my big day, I went down to the local pet shop and purchased a 75 gallon fish tank, and all the stuff that went with it, including something that looked a lot like a catfish. Heck, maybe it was. I'd paid the people at the pet store to bring it all out to my place, and set everything up.

I smiled to myself when I heard the knock on the door. MM had been flying around the living room batting at a fly. As I got up to answer, He flew back to the mantle and took up his usual stance and position.

I greeted the people from the pet store, and pointed them to the place I'd decided to have the tank placed. They handed me a 200 page book with a title along the lines of 'The 100 most important things to know about tropical fish.' I sat down and began to read. The pages blurred and my mind wandered. I contemplated inquiring as to how much it would cost to have somebody come in and take care of the fish for me.

It took quite a while to get everything set up, but when it was all done, it looked very impressive. "Looks great, but you know, there seems to be something missing..." I said staring at the tank. Slowly I turned about and looked at the mantle. I think I saw the MM twitch. The people from the pet store mumbled to each other as I wandered over and picked him up.

"You know, I think I'd get just the affect I'm looking for if we placed this statuette in the middle of the tank." The pet store people looked doubtful, but couldn't think of any serious objections. They did urge me to rinse the MM off before placing him in the bowl. I declined. I didn't want to give my little friend an opportunity to escape.

I took a length of yarn out of my pocket and tied it around the statuette's up-stretched arm. The pet store people mumbled some more. Gently I lowered him into the tank. He came to rest by a piece of artificial coral. Carefully I worked the yarn free and removed it from the water. I barely suppressed a chuckle at the sight of the MM at the bottom of the tank. I thanked the pet shop people and showed them out.

As the door closed, I heard a loud splash from the tank. A high pitched giggle greeted me when I turned around.

"You got me good  there." He said.

I smiled. "I've been planning it for days."

"And a fine gag it was. But did it ever occur to you that I might need to breathe?"

"You breathe?" I asked incredulously.

"Now you ask me." He winked and disappeared.


copyright 2011 Michael J. Miller Jr.

Introduction

I've loved to read since about the age of eight. That is when I discovered the science fiction and fantasy genre's.  Almost over night I went from an indifferent reader to reading several grades beyond my grade level.

Fooling around with writing was inevitable. I won an honorable mention in a national writing contest when I was in the eighth grade and I've published some non fiction technical articles as well.  Having said that, I'm not a professional writer and I don't know any copy editors. I depend on spell checkers and my own less than perfect understanding of the rules of proper English.

I don't plan on posting any links to this site. If somebody discovers it, great. Unless/until that happens this is just a place for me to post works of fiction that I've created over the years, and possibly new stuff if I ever get around to completing anything.