An Eternal Nemesis

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The human life span is estimated at between one and one and a third Earth millennium. Over a thousand years of passion, knowledge, and the will to grow and expand into the vast universe. Humanity, although it is now a unity of several different species, have not stirred away from their original cause. The unveiling of the great unknown.

A war of unprecedented scale had begun anew, now that the enemy chose their new leader. Commander Tuk Am Lai Pal of the Gan Is Is Me Is dynasty. The greatest strategist the universe had ever born. A creature of such vast intellect and keen intuition, that it is considered to be a worthy foe, even by the brilliant Commander Kall of planet Tailtwo, the leader of the human Coalition.

"Captin," a voice crackled in the Command Hall of Greatness, inside the most technologically advanced spacecraft of the Coalition, the Fist of Power. "Captain Kall?" It repeated.

"I am here, Sergeant. Speak," the commander ordered.

"A fleet of Unspeakables had been identified," the voice paused and then added, "and I cannot tell where they are headed, Sir."

The Captain looked back at his General Advisor. The duty of the 'advisor to the captain' was to warn of any dangers that any line of action may present. The advisor nodded, grimly, knowing that they had no other choice, but to follow the guidelines.

"You know what to do, Sergeant," the Captain answered. "Prepare the fleet in defensive positions, and scramble to nine. I will let you choose our method, once you know more."

The Captain turned back, and marched away from the hall. He would not let a bunch of nonsensical Unspeakables disturb his work, on the Board of Action. A team of educated and heavily experienced sergeants was already expecting him there, to confirm their plan. He had to make sure it was a good plan. The enemy would not let them fail, and enjoy a safe retreat.

The future is sillier than you ever imagined!

"It is the war of the century," said Markolas. His hair a monument of defiance, standing straight up on his scalp, held by the majestic force of magnetism. Magnetic hair was the fashion. "It is the war that no one will ever remember!" He exclaimed, and recanted, "I mean forget! Never forget!"

"Forget?" Asked Salastyan. In pure contrast to his party, Salastyan was tall, black skinned, and bald. "Forget? Are you..."

"Never! The Unspeakables at war! Can you even imagine that?"

"No, that is exactly why..."

"Exactly! It is unimaginable! Can you even start to comprehend the meaning..." Markolas trailed on, his mind already shifting away from the war. His mind, like a bird at flight, flying across the great oceans; never waiting for others.

"If the war is so great, then why do you not join it?" Asked Salastyan under a frown, now slightly irritated.

"Join?" Markolas asked, not hiding his despise at such an idea. "Join, ha! I have no time for games. I am a philosopher," he said, as if it was a perfectly reasonable counter.

"They do have philosophers in the Coalition," retorted Salastyan. "They have got all sorts. You do not even have to actually kill anything, to be a part of their crusade."

"Crusade? Do not make me laugh, Salastious."

"It is Salas..."

"My friend," Markolas interrupted, or rather, did not let the other's interruption interfere. "I am no thug. I have no desire to scream in battle, as I murder my fellow creatures. My fellow intellectual partners." He turned, as if searching for an example, and then found one. He pointed, rudely, at a near by Unspeakable. The Unspeakable, a creature beyond the measure of any physical domain; a creature which simply cannot be described in any way, or even proximity, stared back. Markolas shivered, visibly, and lowered his hand.

"Yeah," Salastyan drawled the vowels and smiled, "your fellow. I can see that." He did not turn to look at the Unspeakable. His intuition revealed to him that it is most likely that their 'fellow' was busy talking to another being, not even a creature; not even of their own space or time.

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Jerny At Ways, Part Two

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When Pae finally realized that she and her brother could not stay at the farm any longer, she asked Maghir, her elder brother, about their mother.

"Why can't we stay with mom? We can work the animals, ourselves," she complained. Maghir, a young boy, quite far from being a young man, did not have a good answer. Instead of giving her a bad answer, he decided that answering another question would be better.

"We're going to aunt Jen and uncle Madhu. They'll take care of us, and granny will take care of mom," he ended in a decisive tone. He was not really sure why their mother needed taking care of, but it was plain enough that she did not take their father's death well.

It is not that most children take death well. Not even a friend's death, much less family. Even the death of a farm animal could hurt. It is not even that their father was a bad man to be despised and glad over his demise. Not at all. Maghir and Pae simply did not feel as strongly as most others, when it came to death. Even they suspected that such a perspective was considered unusual in people.

"Spring" by Charles-Francois Daubigny, 1857

On the northern road, away from their home in Iranwin and towards those who would adopt them, at least for a time, Big Hor sang merrily. "Hoddy ho doddy do, little bird a whistle oh," he went and changed melodies and lyrics often, with little pause. Pae seemed aloof to the man's attempt at cheerfulness. Maghir felt slight disgust at the notion that they were too young to be allowed to be upset about their father's death.

Hor was a neighbor and an old friend. Each farm in their village, their further and further away village, stood a good walking distance away from the next farm. Even so, the locals felt close to each other, and treated each other well. Even between adults and children, games and conversations were commonplace. Hor was not then only a friend of the family, but an actual personal friend to both brother and sister.

As they walked under the mid-day sun, Maghir heard a noise from the east. Hor seemed to be too preoccupied to notice the sound, but Pae did turn to look at the same direction, as Maghir did. They exchanged curious glances. Could it be a wandering fox, Maghir wondered. When he turned back to look to the east again, he saw a tall woman covered with feathers from head to toe. She wore no clothing, except her feathers and a big toothy smile.

End of Part Two.

Jerny At Ways, Part One

The Crossroads at the Eagle Nest

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Maghir's father died, shortly after the boy had reached his seventh birthday. The grief tore at his mother, who decided she would travel alone and see the world, so that healing would come faster. She left Maghir and his younger sister Pae to their aunt and uncle; her elder sister's family.

Turning and twisting in his sleep, Maghir dreamed of the morning his father died. He and his younger sister were playing with the lambs; those who had already grown enough wool to be fluffy to the touch. Two rams were wrestling under a big oak tree. His father did not appreciate having his rams injured or dead from fighting, so he moved in to kick one of the giant heavily-horned rams.

This was not an unusual day. Life at Maghir's family farm was a quiet and simple one. Mostly pleasant, and sometimes harsh. Just as life should be, or so Maghir imagined. Suddenly, he heard his father yell followed by a loud crunch. Pae turned to look and so did he. They both stared to see their father lying broken on the ground. One of the giant rams sniffed at the man curiously.

"Dad? Is he dead?" Pae asked without looking away. Maghir had the words dad and dead confused in his mind.

"Yes," he said sharply. "Of course he's dead, Pae. Just look at him." Their father was not twitching or moaning. The two children had seen many people and animals this way, before. A broken body, so badly twisted that it was a surprise to not see blood oozing from the corpse. "Stay here and make sure nothing comes to... eat him," he turned to look at Pae, his eyes worried and his lips pursed.

As he turned and walked back towards their wooden hut, beneath the trees further inside the forest, he was not surprised to see his sister only staring in disbelief, or was it shock, at the twisted corpse of their now ever-restful father...

End of Part One. Listen to part Two.

Takin' IT Seriously

Answers at the bottom!

Why did the dead baby cross the road?

What's black and blue, crying in the corner?

What genre of films is the hardest to title?

Look Below!

Because it was stapled to the chicken.

My wife.

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