Sincerely Bob

Dear Professor,

                Sorry about the mess in the lab.  All the animals are gone now.  I don’t remember how that happened.  I was trying to finish the latest experiment over the weekend.  Evidently one of the subjects reacted badly and seems to have bitten me.  I don’t remember how that happened.  I tried to seal the biter in and start the sterilization.  The break in the glass must have kept that from working.  I don’t remember how that happened.  I think I called out for help from one of the other students.  She is mostly gone now.  I don’t remember how that happened.  Now that as the hour is getting late I have become hungry and need to grab something to eat.  If you will stand very still while reading this letter, you won’t remember how it happened.

Sincerely,

Bob

Needed Elsewhere

Arthur was brought back to consciousness by the feeling of a cold wetness on his cheek.  He slowly opened his eyes and realized that his head was uncomfortably laying in an open notebook on a wooden desk.  But why was his cheek wet?  Notebooks aren't wet.  Desks aren't wet.  The sharp realization that slobber is wet caused him to snap his head up, slinging tendrils of saliva in the process, suddenly realizing where he was...

 

The windows of the fifth grade classroom had far too much bright sunlight streaming in, causing Arthur to blink hard before he could see properly.  Through sun induced spotty vision he tried to make out the chalkboard at the front of the room.  It was covered not only with the day's lesson written in large letters, but Arthur could see his name in the corner with a few check marks next to it.  That was not a good sign.

 

With his mind still trying to figure out how he got that last check mark, Arthur turned his head toward the teacher for what seemed to be the millionth boring time.  This time what Arthur saw made his heart skip a beat.  The teacher, with hands on hips and horn rimmed glasses at the end of her nose, was staring straight at him, waiting.  A sinking feeling in his gut more than his peripheral vision hinted that the other kids in the class were staring, too.

 

However, not entirely all of the twenty-seven kids were staring at him from their respective seats around the room.  One had yet to pool enough saliva on his desk to wake up.  A couple more were looking out the window, too distracted to bother with class at the moment.

 

They were looking outside, past the basketball hoops that lined the far side of the empty playground where the other children usually didn't play with Arthur.  They were looking past all the painted lines across the cracked cement which marked out spaces for several other games Arthur was also regularly left out of at recess.  They were looking toward the other side of the fence, where the normally empty street was made interesting by two black cars parked with men suited in black waiting nearby.  The men were wearing sunglasses and appeared to be looking at the school building, perhaps even directly at Arthur's classroom.

 

But Arthur was not looking out of the window.  He was transfixed by his fifth grade teacher, Mrs. Washington, who twisted a new scowl on her face that slid her glasses so far down her nose that it was not entirely obvious how they still hung on.  She did not seem surprised that he didn't know what was going on.  "Well Arthur," her voice rising as if she was asking for the second time, "what is the answer?"

 

Arthur slowly began to look around, trying to figure out what she may have asked him while he was still unconscious.  Scrawled in the middle of the board, the day's lesson seemed to have been about birds and trees or something.  There were a lot of blanks left to be filled in.  Perhaps something from his notes would save him!

 

Unfortunately, the pool of Arthur's saliva had soaked through his now ruined notes.  The only things left of what he had written were extremely creative doodles of jet airplanes, explosions, and silly clowns with crossed eyes.  It seemed doubtful that this moment could be any more embarrassing.  Of course, if he could have seen the red pressure marks on his right cheek and the lock of stray hair on the front of his head sticking straight towards the ceiling, he wouldn't have doubts at all.  This moment could not be any more embarrassing.

"Give me an answer," demanded Mrs. Washington.  "Now!"

Arthur couldn't even remember how he got the last disciplinary check mark and he was about to get much worse.  Nothing about the day's lesson could be summoned to mind.  He stared at the smears on his notebook.  Beneath one of the cool explosions drawn on his paper there was a blur of something about hawks flying south in October.  It was a better answer than nothing at all.  Maybe.  Perhaps it was at least better than not trying?  With a face full of confidence, hoping that would make everyone forget he had just woken up and thrown slobber everywhere, Arthur gave his answer. "Well, of course the answer is that hawks fly south..."

 

Before he could finish his sentence, Mrs. Washington's mouth stretched into a toothy of-course-it-is-not-the-answer grin that caused Arthur's tongue to seize and the rest of his brilliantly improvised answer to remain unsaid.  Arthur was doomed.  But just then...

 

The classroom door was thrust open with great gusto and two men wearing black suits and sunglasses entered with exaggerated strides.  Paying little attention to Mrs. Washington, the first man in black quickly scanned the room and inexplicably settled his gaze in Arthur's direction.  The second man, posed in action figure stance, watched the rest of the class with his right hand hidden inside the lapel of his suit coat from where all the other stunned kids imagined he could whip out a deadly weapon at any moment.

 

"Thank goodness we've found you, Arthur," the first man in black declared as he strode further into the room. "The world is at stake.  You're needed elsewhere!"

 

To be continued...

Writing Plan for the year 2011: An Interview

Very Famous Interviewer:  Can you give me some kind of summary of where things stand right now?  Did you accomplish anything last year or make any long term goals?

 

Me:  Well, right now I have no finished stories written of any kind.  Oh, I suppose that's not quite true.  I did write one short story about a girl who disappeared into an attic and was never seen again.  I hear she got lost in some bubbles or something.  But I have started several promising projects and created my own website as a showcase for what I hope people recognize as stories and the stories and poetry of a friend.

 

Very Famous Interviewer:  Really?  What can you tell me about these projects?

 

Me:  They are all fantastic and will be studied by grade school children in their American Literature courses one day.  The first is a project on which I have yet to write a single word.  It is a ghost story called Set in Stone.  I do have several characters and scenes planned in my head, though.  The other two that actually have work put in are a story called Needed Elsewhere and another named The Legend of Bernis Brown.

 

Very Famous Interviewer:  Bernis Brown?  Wasn't he that Methodist preacher who guarded prisoners during the Revolutionary War?

 

Me:  You've heard of him then?  There is a legend that he helped Thomas Jefferson hide away some government documents near his home in what is now Shenandoah National Park.  I happen to have found the true story of what happened, and I'll be revealing the long held secret to the public this year.  I have almost 3000 words of that story put on paper.  Not real paper, of course.  Imaginary paper in my computer.  But there are words on it.

 

Very Famous Interviewer:  Ah! Very exciting!  Can you give us any details now?

 

Me:  Well, I hate to ruin surprises, but perhaps I can be persuaded.

 

Very Famous Interviewer:  Here, have a nice root beer.

 

Me:  Okay, you've persuaded me.  The secret behind this story is that Bernis didn't hide those documents alone. He had help... help from an old man who knew of secret paths and secret caves.  The problem for Bernis is that the old man doesn't work for free.  The old man makes Bernis work for his help.

 

Very Famous Interviewer:  Who was this mysterious old man?

 

Me:  Oh just some old beardy dude.  The odd thing is that Bernis somehow caused so much trouble for the old man that his desire for revenge seems to have spilled over into my ghost novel that I haven't written yet.  There may be a lesson here not to trust old beardy dudes who keep things in secret caves.  Unless they keep root beer in the caves, in which case you should try to be nice.

 

Very Famous Interviewer:  Yes, yes, that goes without saying doesn't it?  So what is this last project?  You're calling it Needed Elsewhere?

 

Me:  Needed Elsewhere is the project I am focusing on at the moment as it seems to be more fun to write.  I plan on putting it up on my website in pieces, in the style of the old movie serials.  Hopefully I can get an on-going series of scenes about 1000 words each or so.

 

Very Famous Interviewer:  How long do you think you can keep that up?

 

Me:  I have no idea.  Until the story is finished I suppose.  I am setting a goal of 50,000 words for the story, but it may not be good enough to last that long.  The story about Bernis will probably only make it into the 15,000 word range and that is the only story that has a full outline at the moment.

 

Very Famous Interviewer:  What kind of ideas do you have for Needed Elsewhere?

 

Me:  The story is about a 5th grade slacker who is mistaken for a genius action hero by government agents that ask him to save the world.  He's up against a mad scientist and a bratty little girl.  It is yet to be seen which one is more dangerous.

 

Very Famous Interviewer:  What?  A bratty little girl?  How could such an obstacle ever be overcome?  You've set the bar too high on this one!

 

Me:  Yes, well I did say it was going to be fantastic didn't I?  You'll just have to read each episode to find out how these impossible things come to pass.

 

Very Famous Interviewer:  You've already got me hooked.  You must tell me, when will the story begin?  What kind of timeline do you have for all of this writing?

 

Me:  I wanted to start the Needed Elsewhere series in January, but I wonder if that is the right choice.

 

Very Famous Interviewer:  But...the mad scientist...the little girl... Starting now must be the right choice!

 

Me:  Well, I've been reading these books on writing fiction, you see.  I am getting the feeling that if I want to make the word count goal I need to do just a slight bit more planning.  I'm almost ready, but not quite.  There is a large probability that if I start now, I won't be able to keep up the pace that I want.  I want to be able to put out one good episode every other week, but I don't think I have the time.  There is this calculus class that is taking all of my time...

 

Very Famous Interviewer:  Hey, don't get off on that now.  I'm asking the questions, and I didn't ask anything about any stupid calculus anything.  How much time will you be committing to writing?  You need practice if you plan on writing anything worth reading don't you?

 

Me:  From now until May, I will make every attempt to do something related to writing for at least 2 hours a week.  Starting in June, I'll bump it up to 5 hours a week.  If I can keep up with that, then I'll be a real part time writer and will be expecting some kind of reward.  Like chicken fried steak, or a nice cheeseburger.

 

Very Famous Interviewer:  I don't know about those things.  It sounds like you need to add a bit of gravy or something.

 

Me:  Oh yes, don't forget the gravy!  In the short term, I hope this writing schedule will let me get a sufficient backlog of good Needed Elsewhere episodes that I can start pushing them out to the website no later than the end of March and still be able to put up one every other week until the story is finished.  I hope to actually be finishing one episode every two weeks starting right now, including sending it out for editing and review to polish things up a bit.  When June hits, I plan on working on both Needed Elsewhere as well as getting back to the Legend of Bernis Brown.  The Legend should be finished by August and then I will begin outlines and plans for a big push in November to start on Set in Stone.

 

Very Famous Interviewer:  I see.  So you are making a short term goal of writing no less than 1000 words, plus editing and re-writing every two weeks, and no less than 2 hours of writing time per week starting right now?  Isn't that a bit shallow for such a talent as yours?

 

Me:  I can't tell if you are being facetious or not, but I do plan on doing several other things as well.  I have a serious blog you know.  I want to start posting new articles there every other week.  I have several things planned, such as reviews of the 2010 top ten science stories listed in the journal Science at the end of December.  Also there are quite a few other topics that I have been trying to work out, such as the basis for the many claims of "fundamental rights" in almost every situation imaginable.

 

Very Famous Interviewer:  Will you be doing anything else with your spare time other than writing?  Surely you need to relax and recharge your pulsating brain every so often.

 

Me:  Quite right.  The idea has been given to me by a friend that this year I should read some of these books I have laying around.  I already know of 6 that I want to get through... no wait there are 8.  No wait, there are 9.  Okay 10.  Ten books.  I'll try to read at least 10 books this year, both fiction and nonfiction.  I also feel the need to get some familiarity with biblical Hebrew.  I have been trying to start that study for a year or so now.  Maybe I can pick that up in June while I am still in the habit of reading a textbook.  Not to mention I'll be starting my own business soon and setting myself up to make a few royalty dollars on a promising patent application in the not too distant future.  If you want to include my real job, I hope to have about 4 manuscripts published in scientific journals, too.

 

Very Famous Interviewer:  Oh my goodness.  You are wearing me out.  How you'll ever do all that this year I have no idea.

The Attic

That little door in the corner caught her attention near the end of the day.

Was that always there? Trying to think back to her last visit here, she didn't remember seeing it. She certainly had never opened it to see where it might lead. Her eyes focused on the handle of the door, imagining the feel of the metal, turning it in her mind. Curiosity had kidnapped the last of her energy for the day. Nothing else could be done now. Not until that door was open.

Slapping shut her notebook and tucking her little purse out of sight behind a pillow on the couch where she sat, she made herself ready. Eyes still on the door handle she stood from her place across the room. It only took three quick steps and her hand was on the metal, dull and slightly uneven from long use. If she turned it, would the door open? Would this shot of adrenaline come crashing down or push her beyond this pine barrier to the unknown?

From inside the handle a faint creaking of metal on metal could be heard and she turned it to the right. She could tell the door was free without having to move it. This mystery was going to let her in. She opened just a crack, just enough to peer in with one eye. Too dark. She couldn't see anything. A faint smell of dust made its way out of the small opening along with a light breeze. There couldn't be any turning back now. The door was open and where there is a breeze, there is a place to explore. In one long swing, she pulled the door wide open, throwing in light, determined not to make any allowance for shadows to steal the details of her vision.

It was a bit smaller than she hoped. Just a closet really. Perhaps two feet deep and not much wider than the door frame. But the adrenaline did not crash. This small closet hid a ladder. It was a very tall ladder that went up and up, beyond the reach of the light coming in from where she still stood with her right hand forgotten in place on the metal handle. Where could that ladder lead? Another light breeze came down from up above and brushed a few strands of hair from her face. Where ever it went, that ladder led to her destination.

Finally remembering her hand, she let go of the door handle and stepped within reach of the ladder. First the left hand, then the right foot. She pushed herself off the ground, at the same time throwing the same hand that started this adventure up as high as she could reach. Bringing her other foot up to the next step, the journey began. With each shift of weight, each push and pull up the ladder, she could peer further into that unknown.

For the first time she became distracted from her goal as tired muscles scolded her for not exercising this week. Just one more push... how long could she hang on? It was at that moment that her eyes were opened. The darkness still hung thick but it could no longer keep its secrets. The ladder did not continue forever as fear of falling had tried to convince her. It ended at a small opening in the back wall, just big enough to crawl through. The stray beams of dim light that made it this high were only able to reveal the outline of this rectangle.

She climbed just high enough for her eyes to look into that next stage of adventure. The light either lost its way on the other side of the opening or did not have the courage to pass any further. Blackness hid everything. Or perhaps it was hiding nothing. There could only be one way to find out. The breeze again blew out of the rectangular opening, this time stronger and easier to breath than the dust down below. Her courage leapt, pushing her farther than even the light dared to go.

Into the hole she crawled, head first. Her body disappeared into that unknown with the soles of her shoes the last to say good bye to the ladder, to the light, to the room below.

(Continued by Lindsay with Letting Go)

Posterous

These stories are reposted from Posterous.com.
Asleep on the Phone at asleeponthephone.com.