WHEN DEATH COMES

Copyright (c) 2019 by Randall R. Peterson ALL RIGHTS RESERVED This is a work of fiction. All persons, locations and actions are from the author's imagination or have been used in a fictitious manner.

WHEN DEATH COMES

By R. Peterson

A silent wind moved through the rooms when Death came, a bitter cold heralding the approach of doom. The book I was reading tumbled to the floor. A long-dead poets words whispering to my thoughts … in my voice … silenced. I reached for the volume and knew better … best to leave broken dreams where they lay. Perhaps in this approaching gloom, I would hear the author speak and the words would once again flow as they should. There must be some light beyond the coming darkness! But then … perhaps we always had it wrong. I moved slowly to a window … lingering over my lack of fear.

I’ve read that the vehicle that transports you to your final destination is started and kept running moments after you were born. One ever knows for sure when you will leave this world … unless it’s by your own hand. The black 1952 Cadillac Hearse that stopped in front of my house looked freshly washed and polished. Death was expecting me. I saw the driver’s door open. Moments later, a rotting figure under a dark hood began to lurch toward my doorstep … fleshless bones moving black robes like curtains. Fear, like a barrel filled with ice-water poured over one’s head, began to drown me.

-------2-------

I was a child looking for a place to hide. The closet would have to be cleaned before I could slip inside. There was no place. I heard a loud knock on the front door. The heating vents were insanely too small … and still I was tempted. The knock became a pounding. Inside the oven? Too many stories of witches! I’d die of fright … before the flame was lit.

I finally did what all children do when faced with an uncertain punishment. I hid under the bed.

The pounding was much louder. I heard the wood begin to splinter then a horrible crash … and Death was inside my home.

-------3-------

It was so quiet, my breath was as a roaring wind. Each time I stilled my lungs … the thumping of my heart made the floor tremble. I could hear the long hands of the hallway clock clicking off the seconds as Death started up the stairs. I could hear every boney toe on every wooden riser. The scraping of untrimmed nails on polished wood … and a tearing sound as they snagged carpet. My heart was now a frantic drum … ever louder … ever faster. Death was ever closer.

Like a roaring engine without oil, my heart began to shake and knock violently just as my bedroom door opened. The pounding was intolerable and my heart seized up completely as the creature crossed my room, crouched … and then peered under the bed. The eyes that looked upon me were volcanic stones from the unbroken plains of Damascus … far past the beginning of time. And I was taken.

-------4-------

I rode in the back seat. There was no coffin; none was needed. Those are earthly things … and we were beyond. The windows were tinted black but I could see the small house where I lived as a child when we rolled past. A small mound of gravel perhaps to cover a septic entrance was a place in memory without worries … standing atop the stones and shouting my joy to the world.

My first school rolled past the darkened window. Visions of being the last child picked for baseball teams and a debilitating shyness that kept me on the swings … always alone.

-------5-------

My unwelcome driver sped past my high school where I first discovered so many things … fleeting moments of pleasure … and the ever present agony … of first love lost. The hearse darted down an alley and I saw the rickety stairs leading to an upstairs apartment where my wife fell with my first born still inside her. And on we went, my life rolling past in fine detail as the darkness continued to grow.

My ride sped up as we traveled the more than sixty miles I drove daily for work in my happiest time. Every stone, post and blade of grass … a memory.

“There is music,” the driver said. “If you desire.”

The tabletop jukebox was hidden behind a door in the seat-back. I wasn’t really surprised when there were only two choices: Stairway to Heaven by Led Zepplin and Highway to Hell by ACDC. I didn’t have a dime and asked the driver for one. He laughed. “Doesn’t matter,” he said. “You made your choice … a long time ago.”

-------6-------

            We were cresting a high hill and even in the dim light I could see the highway dividing below us. One road twisted and turned as it descended into a fiery chasm. The other stopped before a staircase slowly turning … as it disappeared into the clouds.

I begged Death to stop.

            “Are you sure?” he said. “Why not sit back … and enjoy the ride?”

            “Please … forgive me,” I prayed.

-------7-------

            I don’t remember stopping … only the endless stairs … and the growing light that slowly pushed back the dark. With each step I felt lighter as I stopped, grasped another memory, and then gave it to the mist. The dark was far below and the brightness into which I ascended was slowly becoming like the sun … and then beyond. There was an eternity for reflection and I used it … to forget.

I was finally free of all memories dim, dear and distant and I wanted to shout! But I didn’t know how! Everything was once again new. I had been holding my breath … submerged in my mother’s love … and I gasped when the light broke. There was cold and pain … but also hope.

Three smiling faces looked down upon me …and I began to cry.

THE END ???

NAIL GUN

Copyright (c) 2019 by Randall R. Peterson ALL RIGHTS RESERVED This is a work of fiction. All persons, locations and actions are from the author's imagination or have been used in a fictitious manner.

 NAIL GUN

By R. Peterson

I called in “sick” but I was just lazy. The lumberyard could operate one day without their gopher. With a pillow over my head to block out the Monday … I slept until ten. Mom was working and Suzie, one year younger than me, was enjoying her Senior Year in High School … I was home alone.

Of course I felt guilty, that’s what three extra hours of sleep does to you. We were in the middle of a bathroom re-model so I decided to redeem myself.

Mom had painted the walls and they needed baseboard-molding. After measuring and cutting the lengths I needed, I loaded two-inch brads into an eighteen-volt battery powered nail gun and went to work. The trim boards were pre-painted I adjusted the depth control to keep the nails from going too far into the hardwood. I was listening to Canned Heat and almost didn’t hear the doorbell. There was static, a flash of light and I heard the chime just before the radio came back on. I had the nailer in my hand when I answered the door.

-------2-------

A UPS driver stood in the doorway. The package he was holding had a pen and sheet of paper on the top. “I need a signature.” He smiled. I held the safety-release on the nail gun with my left hand and shot him three times between the eyes and once in the cheek as he turned. He stumbled as he staggered down the walkway and I sunk a row of nails across the back of his neck that nearly decapitated him.

Mary Lewis was walking her Pug Puddles past on the sidewalk. “What happened?” she gasped as she stared at the puddle of blood beneath the driver’s head beginning to soak into the concrete. The first nail went into her arm just above the wrist and she dropped the leash. I was reminded of a cat-fight as more than thirty nails tore her fake chinchilla coat to shreds. Puddles kept running in circles alternately charging me then backing up … it took seven nails planted deep in his nose and head … to shut him up.

Harvey Wilson was watering his lawn when he saw Mary fall. He dropped the hose in a petunia bed and hurried across the street. He came at me like a charging rhino, even after the first few shots hit him. I didn’t think he was going to go down. He finally collapsed in a bloody pile, just before the steps, with his pudgy fingers still reaching for my neck. His broken glasses and golfing hat lay in the street and that’s when the police cruiser stopped … and then pulled to the curb in front of Wilson’s house.

For the first time since answering the door, I had time to think about what I’d done. I sat on the steps and placed the nail gun beside me. The cop was out of his car … crossing the street. He stopped to pick up Wilson’s hat and broken glasses and was staring at me. At first I reached for the nail gun but then when I saw him release the metal-snap I decided against fighting back as he drew the thirty-eight from his holster.

-------3-------

The cop was advancing toward me with the gun aimed squarely at my chest. I raised both hands above my head, wishing I hadn’t ignored the alarm clock and gone to work. I blinked several times. There was something wrong with what I was seeing. It was now a little past eleven and the morning sun was shining directly above my right shoulder but there was no shadow as the cop crossed the street. There was also something wrong with the police car. The driver’s door was painted with the familiar star and oak-leaf design of the Cloverdale Police Department but Cloverdale was spelled Clonerdale.

I was ready for the cop to order me to lay face down as he advised me of my Miranda rights. What I heard instead was “Rak ou da ka mo be zoon!”

His mouth opened incredibly wide showing at least six rows of shark-like teeth. I don’t remember reaching for the nailer only the pain as bits of shattered concrete stung my fingers. It wasn’t a bullet that tore into the cement and sent the stapler spinning into the flower bed … but a beam of light. “Rak do cun gabba wo zoo!” A tongue almost as long and green as Mr. Wilson’s water hose whipped from the creature’s mouth and retrieved my weapon from mom’s hollyhocks.

-------4-------

Suddenly three figures descended from the sky in a blinding beam of light that turned daylight into night. A somehow stunning female with hair like porcupine-quills pointed to the fallen UPS driver, Mary Lewis, Mr. Wilson and the Police Officer. “That’s them, Keeper,” she said. “They’ve shape-shifted to blend in with the earthlings.”

“Thank you Leika.” A man floating six inches off the ground, and with no visible feet, clicked an object in his hand and all four victims of my staple gun transformed into wounded insect-like creatures. The police car became a giant centipede with several seats attached to its back.

“Thanks for your help,” Keeper said. “We’ve tracked these mutants through three galaxies after they escaped from a zoo on Aboll’da 618.”

“I knew, even at reverse light speed, we’d never reach Earth in time,” Leika said. “So I used my mind-telepathy powers … to allow you to help us.”

“Just be thankful she didn’t want to mate,” the only human looking member of the group smirked … then looked nervous when the female called Leika glowered at him.

“Please don’t hurt me … I promise I won’t tell anyone,” I begged.

All three aliens laughed as they ascended into the sky with their captives. “Who would ever believe you?”

The phone rang just as I went back in my house. It was my boss. “Are you okay,” he asked.

            “Just caught some kind of bug,” I told him.

THE END?

THE BLACK SKULL CANDLE

Copyright (c) 2019 by Randall R. Peterson ALL RIGHTS RESERVED This is a work of fiction. All persons, locations and actions are from the author's imagination or have been used in a fictitious manner.

            Aunt Edna’s death couldn’t have come at a better time. I hardly knew the wealthy old crone but she’d left me something in her will and I was undergoing financial difficulty. Disaster might be a better word than difficulty. After decades as a struggling writer I finally had an agent who called me back … and a publishing deal. Then six weeks before my book was to be printed the publisher filed for bankruptcy and a pack of vicious New York wolves masquerading as lawyers wanted my advance back. I’d already spent the two thousand bucks.

There were more people listed in Edna’s will than there are cows in Wisconsin. I sat on a dusty sofa and watched people carry off Tiffany lamps, Butler Finnegan nesting-tables and Edward Hopper watercolors. The twenty-six room mansion, complete with Aspergillus-mold and exotic cobwebs, went to the local animal shelter. I almost chucked the black skull candle I received on the way out, but the garbage-can had been seized by an obese woman with two snarling poodles.

I was waiting in my battered car for the battery to recharge when a man wearing a straw hat and stained overalls rapped on the window. “You better leave your dark misfortune with me!” He pointed a dirty finger at the candle. “The first flame brings good luck,” he declared. “But every other time … it calls the Devil!” The Ford started and I left him in the dust.

In October I was job seeking and had forgotten my aunt Edna. My wife decided to use the black skull candle as part of her Halloween decorations.  I came home late and found her and my daughter Jane waving a lottery ticket as they danced in the kitchen. The two thousand dollars was a blessing but it didn’t last. Taxes were due just after Christmas and I stared for hours at the black skull candle sitting on my desk. I was going out of my mind. I reached for the two year old package of stale cigarettes hidden in my top draw but instead of lighting one … I lit the candle.

The flame sputtered for twenty minutes before I blew it out and went to bed. During the night a metal on metal scraping noise woke me up. I pulled a pillow over my head and went back to sleep. I laughed the next morning when I found out someone had “keyed” my rusty Ford Falcon with a bent nail. The next time I lit the candle … it would bring “good” luck.

I lit the candle as soon as I got out of the shower and before dressing to go to the pony track. I bet my entire unemployment check on Black Magic to win. It was a twenty to one shot and I went home with over eight thousand bucks.

Nothing goes faster than money unless it’s sex appeal after a honeymoon. In April I put the Ford in my garage and lit the black skull candle right after getting my sixteenth rejection letter for a new novel. I slopped Black Velvet whiskey on the sputtering wick and shivered as I finished my cigarette.

In my dreams I heard something being dragged down the sidewalk and up the stairs onto my deck. The next morning my wife and daughter’s screams woke me up. Someone had strangled our black lab with a heavy tow-cable and hung the poor dog from the porch rafters.

I locked the black skull candle in a storage chest in the basement and as I hid the key in the drawer where my cigarettes used to be I made a solemn vow never to light it again. I got a part time job at a car wash. Months later something kept nagging me as I searched the kitchen cabinets in vain for a package of Ramen noodles. I was stopping after a bad experience when I should have stopped after a good one.

I emptied the overflowing drawer on my home office floor but the storage chest key was missing. An hour later I found it in my daughter’s room … on her dresser. Jane and my wife were out of town for two weeks visiting her mother. The black skull candle had been lit so many times I couldn’t tell when the last time was. I used an elderly neighbor’s phone. Jane’s cell went to a recording and my wife’s card had been expired for months. I carried the candle upstairs to my office … and stared at it for hours.

I was out of cigarettes again. I don’t know if that’s what made me light the candle but I did. I stared at the flickering flame until I grew sleepy … wishing I had a pizza.

The house was freezing cold and I had three ragged blankets on my bed. I woke up hearing wind when the downstairs door opened. Had I forgotten to lock it? Something large dragged across the hallway and through the living room. It sounded like a rusty logging chain. I heard a thump and clunk growing louder on each stair riser.

I had a twenty-two revolver that used to be my father’s and three bullets. I aimed the gun at the door when it started to open and then pointed it at my own head.

Mr. Wilson stood panting in the doorway leaning on his rusty walker. “Your daughter called and said it was important …”

Jane’s sounded out of breath when Wilson handed me his phone. “Your agent has been trying to reach you,” she said. “He showed your novel to a publisher and they went nuts. You’ve got a ten thousand dollar advance in the mail and everyone’s talking best seller!”

I didn’t know it was 7 AM until I heard the garbage truck stop out front. I ran into the street in my pajamas and tossed in the black skull candle.

THE END ???

BACK TO EARTH

Copyright (c) 2019 by Randall R. Peterson ALL RIGHTS RESERVED This is a work of fiction. All persons, locations and actions are from the author's imagination or have been used in a fictitious manner.

BACK TO EARTH

By R. Peterson

We said our goodbyes in The Kennedy Space Center’s visitor’s complex thirty-six hours before lift-off. James and Jill both hugged me tightly. I don’t think Doris would have even showed up if it wasn’t for the national press coverage but she kissed my cheek for the flashbulbs. Astronaut training is Hell on marriages. I was one of seven taking the space shuttle Endeavoure into orbit for sixteen weeks of zero gravity and extensive payload experiments. My mission, when I wasn’t docking with the International Space Station, was helping a botanist from Russia grow tomatoes in a weightless environment.

A piece of wood from Captain James Cook’s historic ship of discovery was integrated into the flight-deck’s massive control panel and I couldn’t help wondering as I touched the oak with my gloved hand what the famous explorer’s thoughts would be if he knew where at least part of his ship was now going. I closed my eyes at launch, took a deep breath and listened to the Beatles’ White Album as I gained about six-hundred G-force pounds. If anything went wrong on this critical part of the flight … there was nothing I could do.

-------2-------

The botanist’s name was Vladimir Krikalev and he spoke English better than I spoke Russian. We spent precious hours staring at space from inside the observation module and discussing everything from growing up on a communal farm near Kiev to me catching my wife cheating with her Yoga instructor two days after I was selected for this mission. “You worry psychology doctor say no to space flight?”

“I couldn’t take a chance,” I told him. “I’ve worked for three years and suffered through two near launches to get here. I promised Doris a generous divorce settlement when I got back if she’d just play the part of a good wife until this mission was over.”

“You think she fall in love … dance teacher?”

“No, she told me he didn’t mean anything at all to her,” I told him. “She wants to move to Hawaii and date young naval officers.”

“Children feel not good?”

“Jill and James don’t know yet.” I swallowed a lump in my throat. “How do I tell two pre-teens their mother is moving to Hawaii … and doesn’t want them coming with her?”

The Russian shook his head. “There are many worlds,” he said. Kikalev was also a systems control specialist and this was his third trip into space.

After Krikalev closed his eyes for a forty-three minute nap I took my children’s plastic coated photos from the back-pocket of my flight manual and let them float in the air around me. I would do anything to protect their precious smiles. A sliver of light showed the cloud covered east coast of North America as it appeared on the darkened Earth rotating below. “Good morning,” I said.

-------3-------

A week into the flight I received my first from-home video conference. James and Jill’s faces appeared on the computer screen. “Mom’s sick, so we’ve been staying with grandma and grandpa,” Jill explained.

“What’s wrong with her?” I asked.

“Just a cold,” James replied. “But she doesn’t want us to catch it.”

I showed them the floating pencil trick and then got their photos to orbit around me. I’d been practicing.  “That’s so cool!” Jill was ecstatic.

            “Have you seen any little green men?” James was serious.

The precious fifteen minutes went by way too fast. Space flight was great, but why did I feel like a failure as a father?

-------4-------

            For almost thirty years, official observations have linked numerous UFO sighting from space to a single possible spacecraft of extraterrestrial origin. I first heard about the Black Knight when I was learning to fly F/A-18 fighters just before the Iraq War. Like the rest of my squadron, I scoffed at the idea of anyone but Americans having air superiority in the skies.

            Fourteen weeks, three days and seven hours into the mission I, and everyone else aboard the ISS, suddenly experienced a G-force gravitational pull that caused the tomato-plant I was holding for Krikalev to break in my fingers. The stem and three cherry-sized tomatoes went exploring the payload-bay. The Russian let go of a ten-thousand dollar micrometer and the precision instrument chased after the plant he’d been measuring.

            A dark object the size of a Red London Bus appeared just beyond the solar panels and blocked out most of our view of Earth. The light-show that followed made the Aurora Borealis look like a child’s night-light. We were out of contact with Houston for seven minutes. “That didn’t happen,” Krikalev told me.

            “What do you mean/” I gasped.

He told me to look in my flight manual under unusual observations and sure enough what we’d seen was classified as non-disclosure.

-------5-------

The mission was a complete success. Jill, James and a breathtaking woman I’d never seen before greeted me hours after the shuttle landed. The kids both hugged me … the woman kissed me passionately on the lips. I was stunned. They put it down to orbit fatigue. It turned out to be okay. The kids called Susan mom and, as I found out when we got home, we’d been happily married for fourteen wonderful years.

My wife is extremely busy with soccer practice, PTA meetings and school recitals but she still finds time for me each evening. James broke two of my office windows with a baseball and boy-crazy Jill is getting her driver’s license … but still … I’ve never been happier.

On the rare times that I’m alone, I often gaze up at the stars and remember the words of the Russian from my time in space. “There are many worlds!”

I used to think there was only one Earth but I was wrong … there is an infinite number of them … each with the smallest of differences … that can change everything!

THE END ???

DEAD PHONE

Copyright (c) 2019 by Randall R. Peterson ALL RIGHTS RESERVED This is a work of fiction. All persons, locations and actions are from the author's imagination or have been used in a fictitious manner.

Dead

PHONE

By R. Peterson

                I tripped over a tangled cord and yanked the phone off my desk. The plastic case broke. I think it was still working; the dial-tone sounded like a bumblebee, but after I cursed and kicked it against the wall with my steel-toe work-boot there was only silence and the whispering of the crippled neighbors in the apartment next door.

            Like most rage and anger, mine was directed at myself.   The Western Electric rotary-dial telephone was one of the few things I still trusted in the twenty-first century and I had destroyed it. The buttons on most phones were too small for my former-boxer fingers and the new touch-screens all butt-dialed someone I owed money to … or an obnoxious solicitor … each time I sat down.

            Rocco  (the bade) would be annoyed if even one lousy ten-dollar bet could not be placed because my phone was dead. And when Rocco was annoyed … people died.

 I was going to pick up beer and a pizza and I decided to swing by the Goodwill Thrift Store first. Estate sales sometimes donated old electronic items. With any luck, I could replace my precious life line and start taking calls.

-------2-------

Splintered shelves were piled high with toasters, waffle-irons and broken blenders. Just when I decided to visit Wal-Mart I spotted the handset to a Western Electric 102 hanging out of a shipping crate. It was about thirty years older than what I was looking for. The 1929 telephone was priced at ten dollars with a ringer-box and a digital plug attached to the woven-cloth cord. “Does this thing work?” I asked after blowing off the dust.

            “If it doesn’t … bring it back,” The clerk said.

-------3-------

            The Chicago Cubs were playing Kansas City and betting ends with the first pitch. I just got the phone plugged-in when the first call came. The gamblers used a four digit code to hide their identity and I wrote down the wagers. “This is four nine three six … fifty bucks says the Royals steam the Cubs!” The sound was distant with a slight rattle … but it was okay.

            Two hours later, I turned on the TV to watch the game. I was as amazed and shocked as anyone else …. The Cubs actually won! On impulse I picked up the phone and dialed a Royals fan, to rub it in. The phone rang three times before I remembered Joe Fresco had died of a heart attack a month before. I was about to hang up … when he answered! “Joe?” My mouth was as dry as an Arab’s flip flop.

            We talked for fifteen minutes and then I reminded myself that Joe was dead … I told him I had to go to the bathroom.

I stared at the phone for the next half hour before I called Rocco. I redialed his number and always got a recording. The operator sounded like a screen-door banging in a tornado. Every number I gave her was a no listing. Finally I gave her my mother’s number … she’d been dead for seven years.

“Hello mom?” I was half amazed and half freaked out. According to my mother she was fine. I didn’t tell her otherwise. After I hung up, I opened a bottle of Scotch … and tried to wake up.

-------4------

Someone was pounding on my door. My head pulsed like the air in a jack-hammer. Rocco stood in the doorway grinning. “Something wrong with your phone?” he asked. I gathered the sheets of paper with the bets.

“I can’t call out,” I pointed to the antique phone. He didn’t even look.

“Fix it … or I will,” he said.

He turned before he left, flashing a big smile this time. “I hear lefty Coogan is looking for a new anchor for his boat. The pay ain’t so good … but then there’s that endless overtime.”

I could hear him laughing all the way down the hall.

-------5-------

            I bought a desk phone from Costco along with an adapter so I could plug everything in. I spent the afternoon reading obituaries and making phone calls. Not everyone I called thought they were still living. A woman on the south side broke into tears when she said none of her seven cats had eaten since her funeral.

            The scratchy operator still sounded like a screen door coming off its hinges but she gave me the phone number for Jimmy Hoffa.

The missing Teamster leader told me he was buried under a concrete overpass support on Interstate 88 just west of DeKalp, Illinois along with lots of other secret things. I found out the overpass was being demolished … and called a reporter friend.

Information is money if you know the right people … and my list was growing. Rocco’s business partner had been missing for three years. I called Rocco and told him I knew where the man was buried and if anything at all happened to me, after he paid me my generous overtime, the Feds and the Chicago Tribune would both get the information.

The 2020 Corvette Sting Ray can really eat up a highway. My life as a bookie buying hookers and drinking cheap whiskey was a fading image in my rear-view mirrors. I had my foot on the gas and was headed for bigger and better things … I’ve always wanted to be a writer.

I plugged the Western Electric 102  telephone into a motel room in Wyoming. It was a nice place with a heated-pool … and a free continental breakfast.

I asked the scratchy operator for the number of Lee Harvey Oswald in Dallas Texas. Thirty seconds later I heard the dead man’s voice on the line. “Lee,” I told him. “You claimed you were a patsy … do you know who hired you to shoot President Kennedy?”

            “Yes.” … the man finally sounded ready to talk.

THE END ???

           

SEA MONKEYS part 4

Copyright (c) 2019 by Randall R. Peterson ALL RIGHTS RESERVED This is a work of fiction. All persons, locations and actions are from the author's imagination or have been used in a fictitious manner.

SEA MONKEYS

Part 4

By R. Peterson

Benny hid behind swaying clumps of kelp, as legions of Groma emerged from the secret passage. The underwater army moved past mountains of darkened Tresto that had been stripped from the tunnel walls by the treasonous Lagene, toward the city of Tenellis. Most of the insect-like invaders carried shocking sticks and a battalion of sea-horses pulled even larger weapons plus a few thing covered by woven tarps. The Sea Monkey’s sleeping castle shimmered in the far distance - an emerald jewel waiting to be captured on the ocean floor.

It was too late to warn the Eiriol. Tanwen said he was suffering from a disease and unless he went home he’d die there and be stuck in this world forever. Benny was halfway through the darkened passage when he stopped. An image of cranky Mrs. Wrachen ordering him to re-mow her weed-infested lawn made him turn back. These underwater creatures were his only real friends.

The invisible Moonraker attached to the lower half of his face allowed Benny to breathe underwater but he still exhaled carbon dioxide. Benny moved through the thickest kelp forests so that the oxygen bubbles produced by the plants would disguise his breathing. Brilliant colored schools of phytoplankton waggled past like small fishes attesting to his tiny size. He watched from behind a half-buried conch shell as the vast army assembled themselves around the castle walls. Why don’t these creatures just swim over the ramparts? Benny wondered.

His question was answered a moment later when a small group of Groma, obviously sent as spies, swam just above the castle walls and were instantly sent hurtling to the ocean surface by a tremendous blast of bubbles. The Eiriol were using stored oxygen as a type of underwater bomb. At least my friends know their enemies are near!

Lagene and her followers approached and Benny was sure he was going to be caught. Luckily they stopped just before they reached the place where he was hidden.

A squadron of Groma removed one of the tarps covering a train of underwater platforms attacked to the sea horses and Benny gasped. The head of a monstrous Olive Sea Snake strained against the cords tying it to the sleighs. The laughter of Lagene could be heard as she rallied her troops. “The venom from my captive pet as it pokes its snout into the castle windows will stun all of Queen Palmer’s defenders. Then they will be eaten at her leisure.” Most of the two hundred treasonous Eiriol warriors surrounding Lagene cheered.

Benny had never heard the Eiriol queen’s name before but it was familiar. His mind searched his past for recognition … but that world seemed a lifetime ago.

“What is to prevent this sea snake from devouring us once her supply of castle defenders is exhausted?” one of the captains asked.

“We’ve woven clothes out of Water Hemlock,” Lagene boasted. “We’ll dress the last of my pet’s meals in them when she is no longer needed. Once the snake has been fed it will die soon after!”

“What fools have you deceived into releasing the hungry sea snake before the castle walls?” the same captain took a step back.

Lagene pointed to a handful of her followers removing the tarps from the end of the train. They were too far away to hear her. “A few of my followers believe this operation is the queen’s plan to destroy the Groma. When you joined my command you all swore to gives your lives for me …” Lagene smiled wickedly. “Let some of these oaths now be fulfilled!”

Benny gasped as he stared at the doomed warriors removing the tarps … Glayelda was among them.

-------2-------

            Benny moved through the kelp forest until he was beside Glayelda. “You’re in great danger?” he whispered.

Glayelda gasped. “Benny! I thought you went home!”

            “You’re helping Lagene and she plans to betray the queen and capture the castle!”

Glayelda looked at Benny strangely then whispered. “Follow me and don’t let anyone see you. There is something you have to see…”

Benny followed Glayelda to the edge of a deep ravine. She pointed to the bottom and Benny stood on the edge and looked down. A large clam shell was just starting to close. “They open every three times a day,” she said. “You should be safe inside!” And then she pushed him.

-------3-------

            Eight hours later the shell opened and Benny was able to escape. He made his way back to where Lagene and her army had prepared to attack the castle. There were signs that a tremendous battle had taken place. Broken weapons lay on the ocean floor around the bodies of slain Groma, Eiriol and others. The Olive Sea Snake lay next to a pile of half eaten clothing made of hemlock.

            Benny searched through the carnage until he found Glayelda and she was still alive but just barely. “Tanwen and the queen have both suspected Lagene’s treachery for some time,” Glayelda gasped. “The Groma knew about the secret entrance and the city of Tenellis had to be abandoned. I came here with a few others to give the Eiriol a chance to escape.”

Benny tried to help her but he knew her life was slipping away. “Where did they go?” he asked.

Glayelda could no longer speak but she gestured with her hand. “West,’ she whispered.

Moments later she died in Benny’s arms.

-------4-------

            Benny buried Glayelda and the Eiriol he could find under some large rocks so that their bodies would not be eaten by scavengers. He spent almost an entire day searching the empty city of Tenellis without finding anyone. He turned and with tears floating around his face took one last look at the glimmering green castle nestled under the American Continental shelf …

… and then he began his journey to the west.

THE END ???

SEA MONKEYS part 3

Copyright (c) 2019 by Randall R. Peterson ALL RIGHTS RESERVED This is a work of fiction. All persons, locations and actions are from the author's imagination or have been used in a fictitious manner.

SEA MONKEYS

Part 3

By R. Peterson

When Benny woke up he was in a kind of travois being dragged along the ocean floor by two Eiriol he had never seen before. “Where’s Tanwen?” he moaned.

Benny had wondered where the light came from and because he was on his back looking up he could tell. The entire ceiling of the Continental Plate shelf was covered with millions of Tresto. They were obviously aware of the attack on Tenellis. The light they projected had a red glow that reminded Benny of sunsets in his other life.

            “I’m Glayelda,” the first Eiriol spoke to him. “You were unconscious so Tanwen hid you in a ticket of kelp while she carried her sister back to our city. She sent us back to find you.”

            “I don’t know what good you are to us,” the other Eiriol complained. “You don’t even have a tail. It’s amazing that you can swim at all.”

            “I’m sure the princess has her reasons for bringing this human here Lagene,” Glayelda said. “Someday Tanwen will be queen. If you want to earn her trust you should do everything you can to help her.”

            “Well she’s not queen yet,” Lagene grumbled, “and if the Groma find a way inside our city we will no longer have a royal family to rule over us.”

            “I’m sorry,” Glayelda whispered to Benny as she struggled to pull the travois by herself. Lagene had lingered behind examining the ruins of a small underwater house and barn. “We’ve lost so many fighters in the war with the Groma, we have to use whatever help we can get.”

            “How many Eiriol live in Tenellis?” Benny asked.

            “At one time, we numbered more than a million,” Glayelda said. “Now we are less than three-hundred thousand.”

            “Why have you lost so many?”

            “The Groma are ferocious and they come at us in endless numbers,” Glayelda said. “Thankfully only a few are able to fight their way through the tidal wall. If they ever discover our secret entrance, we won’t be able to hold them back.”

Lagene appeared leading what looked like a string of large grub-worms. “What are those,” Benny gasped.

            “Boons,” Glayelda said. “The Eiriol who lived in this underwater farm kept them like humans keep cows.”

            “That’s right,” Lagene said. “Since the farmers are either dead or have fled to safety, these boons belong to me!” She smiled. “I can already taste the milk.”

Glayelda shook her head. “Let’s just try to make it back to the castle.”

Just before they reached the castle walls Benny noticed the reddish glow faded and the underwater colors returned to normal.

-------2-------

Glayelda blew on the long stem of an underwater flower and Benny could feel the vibrations pulse through the water. Seconds later a large metal portcullis was lifted and heavy double doors opened.

A hundred Eiriol mounted on sea horses were just inside the gate. Tanwen placed her kenograt behind an ornate saddle and dismounted. She wore a flowing gown of white that reflected the colors of a rainbow. Her long green hair streamed around her face like emerald grass and Benny thought she had never looked more beautiful. “We fought off the last wave of attackers and were ready to come looking for you,” she scolded. “What took you so long?”

            “Lagene found these boona in a ravaged barn and knew how hungry we’d all be,” Glayelda said.

Lagene turned her head so that Tanwen couldn’t see and scowled.

            “Thank you so much. That was very thoughtful,” Tanwen said to Lagene as the boona were led away.

Lagene was now all smiles. “It’s a good thing I went along,” she said. “Glayelda always forgets to think of others.”

Benny was led through countless chambers formed like gigantic bubbles into what looked like a huge flower bed. Stems and petals from stunning underwater plants wound themselves around him much like a blanket. He found that he was getting groggy. “Relax,” Tanwen told him. “These plants can sense your injuries and they will heal you.”

Benny could hear distant music playing and singing but the words were in a strange language and the melody seemed to be drifting and hypnotic.

Just before Benny fell asleep he could taste peanut butter in his mouth. Where did that come from? He thought. I never eat peanuts … I’ve never liked them.

-------3-------

Benny awoke to the sound of underwater drums and distant music that was different this time. “What’s going on?” he asked the Eiriol female who was gently pushing back the underwater plants that blanketed him.

            “It’s a parade to honor Lagene,” the girl said. “She left early yesterday morning with just a handful of warriors and brought back rescued hostages and enough food to last the city for a month.”

            “How long was I asleep?” Benny still felt a little woozy but he still managed to climb out of the flower bed.

            “Three days,” the girl said. “I’m glad that you are well. I don’t want to miss the ceremony when Tanwen makes Lagene the general of all our armies.”

Benny followed the girl named Tuttle into a crowded area in front of spectacular royal palace. The entire sea floor was carpeted with flower petals.

 The crowd cheered when the Queen of the Eiriol appeared in a glistening conch shell being pulled by eight butterfish. Tanwen rode at her side.

            “This is a glorious day for all Eiriol,” the Queen addressed the crowd. “We have beaten back the latest attack from the Groma and the brave and noble Lagene has rescued many of our warriors from the Groma and supplied us with enough food to last into the next moon phase.”

The crowd cheered.

 “It is in recognition of her daring and unselfish acts that we have decided to make her general of all our armies. I can rest easy in my flower beds these last days of my life knowing that my daughter will succeed me and that my people are in good hands with Lagene’s leadership.”

The crowd cheered again.

Benny was just one face in a crowd of thousands but Tanwen made eye contact with him just before Lagene was given a special head-piece that showed she was in charge of the armies. “Meet me in the grove of kelp plants just outside the castle walls just after third watch tonight,” she whispered.

-------4-------

            The celebration went on for hours. Afterwards Benny lay in his flower bed thinking about all the things that had happened since he’d followed Tanwen into the sea. The Eiriol blew on water-trumpet vines to signal the start of each watch. When Benny heard the third bast he crept from his bubble chamber and made his way outside.

            The Tresto must have been sleeping the water was a soft blue color that faded to purple in the shadows. Tanwen was waiting behind a clump of Milfoils. “I’m glad you came,” she whispered. “I’ve been to the beach and I’ve learned many things from the birds.”

            “You were on the land?” Benny was astonished.

            “Just in a tidal pool,” Tanwen told him.  “The gulls told me that when you followed me into the sea, you left your real body in your upstairs bedroom. You’re suffering from an unknown disease in your other world and unless you go back you’ll die there and be stuck in this world forever.”

            “But I like this world,” Benny argued.

            “Imagine how hurt your mother would be if you died.” Tanwen whispered. Benny thought she might be crying but it was impossible to tell underwater. “I want you here too, but you must return to your land city … until we can find out what’s going on.”

-------5-------

Tanwen kissed him just before they parted and Benny could still feel the pleasant sensation on his lips as he approached the tunnels that created a secret way into Tenellis. The sound of many voices speaking in whispers caused him to hide behind a grove of cabomba. Benny saw a flash of red that was quickly extinguished.

            Lagene emerged from the tunnels leading about two hundred warriors. They all carried bundles of dead Tresto that had been stripped from the tunnel walls. Lagene was speaking. Don’t worry the plant guards on the ceiling are too far away to provide any kind of warning. In less than an hour we will conquer the entire castle and the Eiriol will have a new leader.”

Benny gasped. Behind the warriors came thousands of Groma; each one of the tail-thrashing black insects was armed with one of the stinging scoona sticks.

Lagene was betraying her own people … to make herself queen!

TO BE CONTINUED …