Michelle Schad's Blog, page 4

Review: Chernobyl

Today we sit to review the HBO show, Chernobyl, when comparing it to the book said show was based on. I finally got a round to reading the book Voices from Chernobyl, by Svetlana Alexievich. The popularity of the show made the book nearly impossible to find the book.

First, the show. I watched this back in March of 2019 when it premiered, just after Game of Thrones ended its run. It kept my HBO subscription for another week or two. Given how abysmally GoT ended, HBO needed to step up its game to keep my attention. Chernobyl did that. The show was remarkably well-acted, told a story that was entirely too human while being horrifying at the same time. I sat with tears in my eyes through almost every episode. Many of my friends who watched it said the same, or were not able to finish the series due to its content. This was not what most might consider ‘typically’ disturbing, either. This was hit-your-gut disturbing because these things that you saw on the small screen actually happened.

Vs

Fast forward to recent time when the book finally became available at my local library. Voices From Chernobyl is written in a journal style with each entry spoken by a different person. The author interviewed them, wrote down their stories, and put it out for the world to see. As with most things that are converted from print to screen, the screen does not do the stories justice. However, this time, it is not due to lack of imagination or poor directing. There are 227 pages worth of different stories. Each one has its own voice, its own heartbreak. How do you pick only a handful to show on TV?

That, I believe, was the monumental task set before the HBO directors. That is what makes the book so much better. Instead of the small handful television is relegated to, you get the full scope. Each one is just as heartbreaking as the last. My husband asked me, every night as I read, ‘Why do you read it if its that depressing?’. My answer didn’t make sense to him.

Some books you read through to the end for entertainment value. They hold your attention in a way that makes you yearn for the next page. Voices From Chernobyl is not like that. Every word made me want to stop, made my chest hurt and eyes sting. The stories were – are – so real. I kept reading because I had to, because I owed it to these people to know their stories.

Recommendations

I normally recommend one over the other when it comes to book vs screen. The reasoning is never the same: I’ve watched something before reading or vice versa; poor acting; poor writing. This time, my recommendation is for both. I understand that may not be possible given that the show premiered on HBO. It’s worth the brief subscription to watch 5 episodes. Find the book on Kindle or your local library. It is worth the longer, more detailed read.

We owe it to these people to know their stories, to know that things are not always what they seem. Now, more than ever, we owe it to ourselves to be well-informed, and willing to fight for what we hold dear.

The post Review: Chernobyl appeared first on Taming Chaos.

The Coronie

The images above most accurately depict the current Corona Virus standings as of St. Patrick’s Day (happy Drinking Day to you, btw) 2020. I, of course, speak of the COVID-19 pandemic spreading like wild-fire across the globe. I’m sure when future generations look back at the memes and tweets the Corona Virus has spawned, they will scratch their heads in wonder. What would memes from the Black Plague have looked like? Spanish Flu?

We laugh and jest about said virus, post funny memes and satirical articles, but we all know how serious this pandemic is. However, dwelling on that is no good for anyone. So, I won’t dwell. I will stay in my little home office with my cats and my dolls and…

From behind me, “Wait! When I try to take my Kindle off auto-rotate, my game accidentally opened and…”

Sure it did, kiddo. Sure it did. Game off, book open. Oh yes, that’s right, the kids are on lock down, the stores are closed and the libraries have abandoned us. Literally everyone was saying to stock up on books (myself included; I am an author, after all), and then they all close! I get it, federally and state mandated, blah, blah, blah. Have any of them ever tried to get a 10-year-old with severe ADHD to READ on a Kindle?? Or how ’bout explaining to two disgruntled teenagers that they cannot, in fact, go out to enjoy their spring break at the malls and movies with their friends because germs and stupid people. Or my husband’s employee tell him today, 5 whole days into this crazy self-quarantine and social distancing that he’s tired and can’t get war?

I WANT TO SCREAM!!

But we must not panic. We must not freak out. We must, instead, spray everyone in the face with Lysol and bleach all the counters while I continue to edit 3 (yes, 3) different books – all publishing in April/May, write 2 of them – publishing in Summer and Winter 2020, and conjure entertainment and education for the gathered masses from my perfectly imperfect posterior like the true tamer of cHaOs I am. I know others are feeling the same scream-inducing stress.

To reduce said stress, I recommend imbibing copious amounts of alcohol (unless you live in PA; sorry PA). To salute the Irish, of course. And to pickle yourself. Liquor kills germs. True story. Copious amounts of tea with honey might also work but it isn’t as fun, and salutes no one really. The Brits, maybe.

Anyway, raise a glass to the Irish and to ridding the planet of its excess baggage, I mean… clearing away the Corona Virus! CHEERS!

The post The Coronie appeared first on Taming Chaos.

Brain Thoughts

Which are, of course, different than the thoughts that come from other internal organs or appendages. My toes are often vexed by the temperature and my stomach likes to make complaints that I do not consume enough cake. However, back to my brain…

My daughter – aged 17 – in all of her infinitely short wisdom has decreed that I need a TikTok account. Naturally, I inquired as to why. She said, and I quote, “Cuz then you get to make dumb videos that people will follow. It’s like Twitter, mom, but with videos.”

I stared at my child after this. I do not consider myself to be terribly old. In fact, despite the age of my children, I have not yet reached the hag-status of 40 (that happens in July). I have grown and adapted with the changing times in which technology was introduced. I picked songs for MySpace, and documented the births of my first two children in photos while the last two were done all on Facebook. I have now, recently, learned how to properly use Twitter in order to grow my follower base and follow back on Instagram (hush). I even know how to Snap. Why, then, do I need yet another excuse to spend countless hours lost in the drivel of social media hell?

Because it’s popular. Because Facebook is going the way of the valiant Dodo Bird and video, thanks to countless YouTubers, is the next big thing.

Great.

No one wants to see this face. Not really. No one wants to hear this voice. Not really.

Or do they?

What has my brain come up with?

VIDEO REVIEWS!

Books, comics, games, most recent table-top rpg session (cuz GODS sometimes…). Endless fodder for the fire! Everyone likes to give their opinion, now I can add mine!

So I download TikTok… and twitch.

This is where I feel hag-like. Someone go retrieve my dentures and Salonpas while I beg my daughter to teach me how to use this new-fangled thing all the kids are using. Oh, and get off my dammed lawn!

The post Brain Thoughts appeared first on Taming Chaos.

Hello world! Again!

Otherwise known as ‘that time Michelle tried to migrate her working, functional website to a different hosting provider and broke all of the things because she’s dumb so spent the rest of the #&@^ day fixing her site and adding new things to it instead of writing’. Yeah, that all just happened.

More new stuff to come. Tomorrow. Or after a lot of liquor. Or after a day in which I’ve not only had a lot of liquor but a lot of sugar.

I’m going to go find myself a big giant glass of wine now. K thx.

The post Hello world! Again! appeared first on Taming Chaos.

I have a Blog!

Hey! Well look at that! I have a blog. Kinda forgot this existed. I have to admit, keeping up with this is definitely not my strong point. Such is life.

Well, we are now in February of 2020 (can you believe it!). MarsCon has come and gone. If you were there, I hope I got the chance to see you. If you weren’t there, then hello! What have I been up to? Oh, you know, just trying to write those novels. Yep, ‘try’. That is the key word there. Why? Cuz writing is hard. Duh.

It’s a little more complicated than that, but that is the base of it all. Writing is hard, ladies and germs. Like, really hard. Anyway, not the point. Let’s see: our weather continues to be extremely bi-polar; still haven’t gotten a really good snow for the year. My fat cat has lost some weight; my tiny cat has gotten a little bigger. I’ve got a dedicated office now. Uhm… what else, what else? Publishing is going well. I’ve got a new doll to work on (though he currently remains headless; poor baby).

Yeah, that’s about it so far. I’ll try to keep everyone updated with new things more often.

Happy 2020!

Review: We Contain Multitudes

We Contain Multitudes by Sarah Henstra


My rating: 5 of 5 stars



I will start by saying I am not one for much romance and less so when it involves teenagers. Perhaps I am a bit crotchety in my ‘old’ age but it just isn’t my ‘thing’. That being said, I picked up the book for the sheer mechanics of it. As an author, myself, I found it fascinating to have an entire novel told through the view point of letters between two individuals. I’ve seen it once or twice and the one other time I tried to read such a book it was far too convoluted and confusing for me to stick with it. I was pleasantly surprised to find that this was not the case with We Contain Multitudes.

The book was not only whimsically and fabulously crafted, but the actual plot and story between the two characters was both moving and realistic in a way I did not expect in a YA novel, let alone something written through the proverbial eyes of pen pal letters. It quickly became one of the few books I could not put down and was devoured very quickly once I started reading. The development of character between the two MCs as well as their own personal developments was told in beautiful, realistic prose from individual points of view. I also now feel the need to revisit the works of Walt Whitman thanks to this novel.

Wonderfully and masterfully done. It is definitely a must read.





View all my reviews

Fiction Friday: The Bard

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The Loot

Reven watched trunk after trunk of pilfered items float their way into the small apartment he shared with Liam in Ajana. Workmen carried each lacquered wooden piece as if it contained a sleeping infant, each of them eyeing Liam with concern. The thief-taker eyed each of the workman in turn, glaring at them with a silent warning to be cautious – or be dead.

Reven opened his mouth once or twice to ask a question, but thought better of it. He sat in a corner of the apartment, instead, staying out of Liam’s way. Some of the trunks were locked up tight, while others had a latch that bobbed up and down as it was moved. It was one of those that Reven chose to focus, silently peeking over the top trunk to the room before him before sinking back down into his corner unseen.

The trunk was rather large with well-oiled hinges and a latch that appeared to have been snapped off. The tirsai lifted the lid and grinned at what he saw inside. Rich fabrics and tiny pouches of velvet or worn leather; polished wood cases, a few gems, and something that made Reven take pause. A violin, the bow slightly bent but still in working order, and the body of it in need of a good polish.

A Little Attention

It took hours to get all of the trunks stuffed into the apartment. Liam barked orders and drank several bottles of wine while Reven hid in his corner with the trunk full of fabrics. He held the violin in his lap while laying out each of the wooden cases on the floor beside him. One held a polished silver flute and another held another woodwind instrument that looked similar to an oboe but with a double reed.

All three instruments tickled Reven’s mind with something that wanted to be a memory. He knew the instruments, knew their names and sounds, the fingering to produce just the right notes or how to tune them properly. The lilting notes of various songs echoed through his mind until he hummed softly to himself.

The violin held his attention the most. It was in need of repair, tuning, attention. He dug through the trunk before him for wax or extra strings but found neither. He made a face of annoyance and set the violin aside. Another trunk that was within his limited corner also had its latch snapped off, allowing him to dig through it freely. The pouches inside jingled and he came up with a wooden recorder that he placed beside the other instruments.

“Well,” he sighed, speaking quietly so that his voice did not carry beyond the wall of trunks that surrounded him. “I suppose it can’t be helped. Perhaps there will be new strings in another trunk.”

He lifted the violin up, placing it carefully beneath his chin. His hands and ears worked in tandem, tuning the instrument as best he could under the circumstances until it no longer screeched like a dying cat.

A New Song

With the violin tuned to its current best, Reven brought the instrument back up to his chin and placed the crooked bow on the strings. He shut his eyes and let his fingers do the rest. Some of the notes did not sound quite right, so he paused to adjust the strings, then started over.

The song that emerged was both haunting and inspiring, something dug out from a deep well inside of him. He played with eyes closed, played until the song finished then played another, and another, and another. He played until he felt he might weep, finally letting the violin down from his chin with a shutter.

“That was beautiful.”

Reven looked up sharply from his spot behind the trunks. Ajana and Liam watched him. Ajana had a radiant smile on her face and tears in her eyes while Liam eyed him with suspicion and annoyance.

“Did you write it?” Ajana continued, ignoring the duende thief-taker.

“I… don’t know,” Reven answered honestly. He still did not remember anything before meeting the beautiful cantari woman.

“Don’t know or don’t wanna say?” Liam barked, leaning over the trunks to peer at Reven. The tirsai man merely swallowed hard and set the violin back into the nest of fabrics in which it was found.

“Leave him be, Liam,” Ajana scolded, slapping the thief-taker on the shoulder. “It was beautiful. I would love for you to play again.”

Liam arched a brow, peering harder at Reven. The look made the poor tirsai shrink further into his corner.

“Might be use fer ya, yet, Master Bard,” Liam smirked. “Now get up outta there an’ come help unload these. Ya ain’t got no audience to play for yet. An’ don’t take nothin’ what’s not playable. Got it?”

Reven sighed but nodded, glancing one more time at the violin that would become his way of life.

Fiction Friday: Haze

Bar Fight



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Haze’s head connected sharply to the glass of the car beneath him. He felt the wind rush out of him, and his vision tunnel for a brief moment. Waves of vertigo followed, then gripping panic. The panic made his temperature rise, made his veins burn like molten lava, and his mind explode with self preservation that wrapped the man on top of him in a vortex of blue-orange flames. The man hollered in agony, thrashing around as he was blasted back onto the concrete – and then stood back up.
“Whoa!” ‘Vic’ cried, barely dodging the flying fire-ball of anger that flew past him.
Raging fire took over Haze’s psyche, bringing out his alter-ego in full force. Hellfire sat up, breathing heavily with death in his orange-colored eyes, watching his attacker howl like a rabid animal even as he burned. The man’s skin turned to char, peeling off in sickening black flakes. In one fit of rage, the man howled again, sending a concussive wave that not only extinguished the flames on his body, but knocked Hellfire and Crush back a good ten feet from where they’d been standing.
“This is gonna require some overtime,” the giant behemoth of a man known as Crush said as he got to his feet. Hellfire followed, narrowing his eyes in a vain attempt to clear his tunneling vision. He was unsteady on his feet, but forced himself upright all the same. “What the hell did you do to piss this guy off, anyway?”
“I beat him at darts,” Hellfire growled. His arms moved in an ‘X’ pattern, igniting the cement in front of them with a cross-hatch of flames that raced towards the howling Evolved at the other end of the alley. The man managed to dodge the flames, but not the car that Crush dropped on top of him. This time, Hellfire made sure the man stayed down, targeting the vehicle’s gas tank with one well-placed ball of flame that created a rather impressive explosion behind Kahuna’s Bar and Lounge.
“A little overkill, even for me, but well played,” Crush admired. He clapped Hellfire on the shoulder, already dragging the young Evolved out of the alley. They could hear the sirens and mutters of onlookers trying to catch a glimpse of what was going on with their camera-phones. What started as a bar fight turned into an all out battle. Neither Crush nor Hellfire could afford to be caught in the middle of it, not with their histories or the A.E.C. now hunting down every born-Evolved across the country. The flames from the explosion licked the sides of the building, creating a barrier between first-responders and the two retreating Evolved. They jogged almost three miles before collapsing on the shore line near the La Jolla Sea Caves. What little energy Hellfire still had flooded right out of him, making him flop to the damp sand like a wet noodle.
“Really? Darts?” Crush panted, squatting down beside Haze. Hellfire was gone, stuffed back inside where he belonged. Crush managed to maintain a decent balance between himself and his alter-ego; Haze had yet to find that balance. Virgil Krisken – now known as Victor Nesk – was the size of a mountain with a temper to match his girth, when that temper was warranted. Otherwise, the giant man had a heart of gold and a disturbing appetite for fried foods. He was one of Haze’s best friends as well as being his partner in psuedo-crime. To call them thieves was too simple. They stole things, sure, but it was not always a bad thing to steal from the people that pinged on their radar. Crush likened them to Robin Hood and his Merry Men. MJ, their focal point, equated them to Han Solo and Chewie with a few extra hands when the job required it. All in all, Han and Chewie was a better analogy. They took jobs from shady folks, or the folks that needed things done on the down low. It wasn’t the best way to do things. Lately they were taking a lot of jobs to hide people, get them out of the country or erase them from the Evolved registry. Anything involving Evolved garnered far too much attention so, for the most part, the Han and Chewie group maintained their distance from each other, only gathering for a few hit-and-run jobs here or there or to check in when an A.E.C. raid was announced.
“You ok?” Virgil continued. No one called him Virgil or Vic, much like no one actually used Haze’s real name. Neither was fitting so neither was used. Everyone just called the giant wrecking ball ‘V’ and Haze was just ‘Haze’ despite his driver’s license saying something else entirely. Even that was not his real name, but only a handful of people were privy to that knowledge.
“I think that maybe I’m done with darts for a while,” Haze sighed feeling the cool night air bringing his core temp back to a level that was not so volatile as it was before. His skin still glowed an eerie ember, his heart beating so fast inside his rib cage that breathing was a difficult task. The waves of vertigo had not stopped. In fact, they were getting worse.
“You don’t look OK,” V continued. Haze eyed him askance.
“I’m fine,” he lied. He felt awful and knew that he looked it, but worrying V did little good. Virgil was a man of good character and a decent heart. He lived life the best he could with few regrets and took Haze under his wing as a kid brother more often than not, mothering him with canned soup or several shots of tequila and French fries. Haze wanted neither soup nor tequila and fries so he maintained his lie.
“You sure?” V pressed.
“Shut up, V,” Haze muttered. The giant Evolved man complied, enjoying the sound of the waves as they rolled up around their feet.

Head Case

Haze had no memory of anything after the beach, waking the following morning in his apartment with a can of Campbell’s soup and a handwritten note on his bed-side table. His head hurt, and he felt the throb of aching muscles across his back and shoulders. He peered at the note, chuckling when he read its contents:
All they had was tomato. Eat it. It’ll help. Take 2 aspirins too. MJ’s taking care of the issue at Kahuna’s. Tell Dani I said hi. Let’s try billiards instead of darts tomorrow. – V
Just then, Haze heard the front door open and shut, heard the familiar clatter of keys hitting the bowl on the table beside the door and the following dump of belongings onto the floor. He forced himself to roll onto his back, half-lidded eyes fixed on the doorway to the bedroom. He managed to crack a smile when he saw his Hawaiian beauty slip through the door in Mickey Mouse scrubs, her hair in a tousled bun on top of her head. She removed her top, bra and all, slithering out of her pants so that the matching cotton uniform left a trail from doorway to bed before she threw herself onto the soft comforter beside him.
“Hi babe,” she said into the pillows. Haze grinned, rolling over enough to drape his arm across her bare back.
“Work suck?” he asked, tracing the intricate tattoo on her back, tickling her side in the process. She squirmed, then pulled him close for a sound, passionate kiss. Work sucked a lot, apparently. She ran her fingers along his jaw line and through his hair, making him wince and pull back. “Ow.”
“What happened?” she asked, sitting up with concern in her big brown eyes. Trying to hide the giant goose egg on the back of his head would do no good. She took his head in her hands and carefully parted his wild frock of loose brown curls. “Babe!”
“Just a bar fight,” Haze shrugged. “I don’t do too good at them I guess.”
“Nadir Rene,” she scolded, using both of the names he’d been given upon his arrival to San Diego. He could no longer be who he was, fleeing Chicago in a haze that did not lift until several months after reaching San Diego. A year later, the name still sounded odd to his ears, worse when it was used as a proverbial lashing for something stupid.
“I didn’t start it!” he pleaded, pulling away from her searching fingers. It did no good. Dani had gone into full nurse mode, pulling him back to her to inspect the damage. “V was with me, ask him. All we was doing was playing darts.”
“Were,” she corrected adding to the scolding by pointing out his slightly flawed English. Despite living in the States for almost seven years, English was still not his strongest language. Dani liked to point it out whenever the opportunity presented itself; like now. “Were you betting too?”
He remained silent, making a sheepish face instead. “Seriously? Haze, you said you were going to stop betting on bar games.”
“But I’m good at it!” he argued feebly, finally freeing himself of her grasp. “It’s not my fault the weirdo got all pissed off at me for it. I didn’t even beat him by a lot.”
Dani fixed him with a piercing, soul-searching glare. Some day, she would make an amazing mother, for no child would dare to lie when she made the face she gave to Haze. “The explosion at Kahuna’s?”
He opted to remain quiet which was as damming as confessing his sin. She hit him in the arm for it, creating an explosion of words that ranged from using his power in front of people to causing damage to the potential for death or, worse, incarceration which seemed higher on her list of worries than ‘death’. Haze just listened to the tirade with his head hanging between his shoulders. She was not wrong in berating him. He did know better; it was dangerous for people like him to reveal what they were. So many were incarcerated, lynched, or worse. The heroes that once walked openly among the public now hid themselves away like common criminals. Not even they were immune to the hateful vitriol that took hold of the country.
“Sorry,” Haze finally said when Dani was done hollering and on to glaring. The glare lingered for a few more minutes before she sighed and dropped her arms. She scooted over to him, pressing herself against his back while carefully looking at the giant knot on his head with gentle fingers.
“Stop being so reckless,” she said. “I don’t want you in those prisons. I want you naked in my bed when I get home. I can’t have that if they cart you away.”
Haze smiled, closing his eyes while Dani massaged his neck putting him in a haze of bliss.

Fiction Friday 08: Haze

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Bar Fight

Haze’s head connected sharply to the glass of the car beneath him. He felt the wind rush out of him, and his vision tunnel for a brief moment. Waves of vertigo followed, then gripping panic. The panic made his temperature rise, made his veins burn like molten lava, and his mind explode with self preservation that wrapped the man on top of him in a vortex of blue-orange flames. The man hollered in agony, thrashing around as he was blasted back onto the concrete – and then stood back up.
“Whoa!” ‘Vic’ cried, barely dodging the flying fire-ball of anger that flew past him.
Raging fire took over Haze’s psyche, bringing out his alter-ego in full force. Hellfire sat up, breathing heavily with death in his orange-colored eyes, watching his attacker howl like a rabid animal even as he burned. The man’s skin turned to char, peeling off in sickening black flakes. In one fit of rage, the man howled again, sending a concussive wave that not only extinguished the flames on his body, but knocked Hellfire and Crush back a good ten feet from where they’d been standing.
“This is gonna require some overtime,” the giant behemoth of a man known as Crush said as he got to his feet. Hellfire followed, narrowing his eyes in a vain attempt to clear his tunneling vision. He was unsteady on his feet, but forced himself upright all the same. “What the hell did you do to piss this guy off, anyway?”
“I beat him at darts,” Hellfire growled. His arms moved in an ‘X’ pattern, igniting the cement in front of them with a cross-hatch of flames that raced towards the howling Evolved at the other end of the alley. The man managed to dodge the flames, but not the car that Crush dropped on top of him. This time, Hellfire made sure the man stayed down, targeting the vehicle’s gas tank with one well-placed ball of flame that created a rather impressive explosion behind Kahuna’s Bar and Lounge.
“A little overkill, even for me, but well played,” Crush admired. He clapped Hellfire on the shoulder, already dragging the young Evolved out of the alley. They could hear the sirens and mutters of onlookers trying to catch a glimpse of what was going on with their camera-phones. What started as a bar fight turned into an all out battle. Neither Crush nor Hellfire could afford to be caught in the middle of it, not with their histories or the A.E.C. now hunting down every born-Evolved across the country. The flames from the explosion licked the sides of the building, creating a barrier between first-responders and the two retreating Evolved. They jogged almost three miles before collapsing on the shore line near the La Jolla Sea Caves. What little energy Hellfire still had flooded right out of him, making him flop to the damp sand like a wet noodle.
“Really? Darts?” Crush panted, squatting down beside Haze. Hellfire was gone, stuffed back inside where he belonged. Crush managed to maintain a decent balance between himself and his alter-ego; Haze had yet to find that balance. Virgil Krisken – now known as Victor Nesk – was the size of a mountain with a temper to match his girth, when that temper was warranted. Otherwise, the giant man had a heart of gold and a disturbing appetite for fried foods. He was one of Haze’s best friends as well as being his partner in psuedo-crime. To call them thieves was too simple. They stole things, sure, but it was not always a bad thing to steal from the people that pinged on their radar. Crush likened them to Robin Hood and his Merry Men. MJ, their focal point, equated them to Han Solo and Chewie with a few extra hands when the job required it. All in all, Han and Chewie was a better analogy. They took jobs from shady folks, or the folks that needed things done on the down low. It wasn’t the best way to do things. Lately they were taking a lot of jobs to hide people, get them out of the country or erase them from the Evolved registry. Anything involving Evolved garnered far too much attention so, for the most part, the Han and Chewie group maintained their distance from each other, only gathering for a few hit-and-run jobs here or there or to check in when an A.E.C. raid was announced.
“You ok?” Virgil continued. No one called him Virgil or Vic, much like no one actually used Haze’s real name. Neither was fitting so neither was used. Everyone just called the giant wrecking ball ‘V’ and Haze was just ‘Haze’ despite his driver’s license saying something else entirely. Even that was not his real name, but only a handful of people were privy to that knowledge.
“I think that maybe I’m done with darts for a while,” Haze sighed feeling the cool night air bringing his core temp back to a level that was not so volatile as it was before. His skin still glowed an eerie ember, his heart beating so fast inside his rib cage that breathing was a difficult task. The waves of vertigo had not stopped. In fact, they were getting worse.
“You don’t look OK,” V continued. Haze eyed him askance.
“I’m fine,” he lied. He felt awful and knew that he looked it, but worrying V did little good. Virgil was a man of good character and a decent heart. He lived life the best he could with few regrets and took Haze under his wing as a kid brother more often than not, mothering him with canned soup or several shots of tequila and French fries. Haze wanted neither soup nor tequila and fries so he maintained his lie.
“You sure?” V pressed.
“Shut up, V,” Haze muttered. The giant Evolved man complied, enjoying the sound of the waves as they rolled up around their feet.

Head Case

Haze had no memory of anything after the beach, waking the following morning in his apartment with a can of Campbell’s soup and a handwritten note on his bed-side table. His head hurt, and he felt the throb of aching muscles across his back and shoulders. He peered at the note, chuckling when he read its contents:
All they had was tomato. Eat it. It’ll help. Take 2 aspirins too. MJ’s taking care of the issue at Kahuna’s. Tell Dani I said hi. Let’s try billiards instead of darts tomorrow. – V
Just then, Haze heard the front door open and shut, heard the familiar clatter of keys hitting the bowl on the table beside the door and the following dump of belongings onto the floor. He forced himself to roll onto his back, half-lidded eyes fixed on the doorway to the bedroom. He managed to crack a smile when he saw his Hawaiian beauty slip through the door in Mickey Mouse scrubs, her hair in a tousled bun on top of her head. She removed her top, bra and all, slithering out of her pants so that the matching cotton uniform left a trail from doorway to bed before she threw herself onto the soft comforter beside him.
“Hi babe,” she said into the pillows. Haze grinned, rolling over enough to drape his arm across her bare back.
“Work suck?” he asked, tracing the intricate tattoo on her back, tickling her side in the process. She squirmed, then pulled him close for a sound, passionate kiss. Work sucked a lot, apparently. She ran her fingers along his jaw line and through his hair, making him wince and pull back. “Ow.”
“What happened?” she asked, sitting up with concern in her big brown eyes. Trying to hide the giant goose egg on the back of his head would do no good. She took his head in her hands and carefully parted his wild frock of loose brown curls. “Babe!”
“Just a bar fight,” Haze shrugged. “I don’t do too good at them I guess.”
“Nadir Rene,” she scolded, using both of the names he’d been given upon his arrival to San Diego. He could no longer be who he was, fleeing Chicago in a haze that did not lift until several months after reaching San Diego. A year later, the name still sounded odd to his ears, worse when it was used as a proverbial lashing for something stupid.
“I didn’t start it!” he pleaded, pulling away from her searching fingers. It did no good. Dani had gone into full nurse mode, pulling him back to her to inspect the damage. “V was with me, ask him. All we was doing was playing darts.”
“Were,” she corrected adding to the scolding by pointing out his slightly flawed English. Despite living in the States for almost seven years, English was still not his strongest language. Dani liked to point it out whenever the opportunity presented itself; like now. “Were you betting too?”
He remained silent, making a sheepish face instead. “Seriously? Haze, you said you were going to stop betting on bar games.”
“But I’m good at it!” he argued feebly, finally freeing himself of her grasp. “It’s not my fault the weirdo got all pissed off at me for it. I didn’t even beat him by a lot.”
Dani fixed him with a piercing, soul-searching glare. Some day, she would make an amazing mother, for no child would dare to lie when she made the face she gave to Haze. “The explosion at Kahuna’s?”
He opted to remain quiet which was as damming as confessing his sin. She hit him in the arm for it, creating an explosion of words that ranged from using his power in front of people to causing damage to the potential for death or, worse, incarceration which seemed higher on her list of worries than ‘death’. Haze just listened to the tirade with his head hanging between his shoulders. She was not wrong in berating him. He did know better; it was dangerous for people like him to reveal what they were. So many were incarcerated, lynched, or worse. The heroes that once walked openly among the public now hid themselves away like common criminals. Not even they were immune to the hateful vitriol that took hold of the country.
“Sorry,” Haze finally said when Dani was done hollering and on to glaring. The glare lingered for a few more minutes before she sighed and dropped her arms. She scooted over to him, pressing herself against his back while carefully looking at the giant knot on his head with gentle fingers.
“Stop being so reckless,” she said. “I don’t want you in those prisons. I want you naked in my bed when I get home. I can’t have that if they cart you away.”
Haze smiled, closing his eyes while Dani massaged his neck putting him in a haze of bliss.

Fiction Friday: Immortal

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The Hill

The Hill was what the Americans called their parliament building. It was all stone and endless hallways with no windows. It was boorish. Julian knew it was not ‘parliament’ but he stood with his hands clasped behind his back looking distastefully at a statue of one of the founding fathers. He was parliament and found the American system of government to be barbaric. The fact that he had to be in Washington DC at all disgusted him.

“You look like you’ve swallowed a sour orange.”

Julian smirked, turning to face Gloria Marcus. The woman was half his size with twice his power level, despite being fully human. Julian was not, nor was the other man chosen to represent the PeaceKeepers. The three together – Gloria, Julian, and Christian Lyle – had founded the now-global team of Evolved and were now desperately trying to defend it. The incident in Chicago left a bad taste in the mouths of all Americans with chaos exploding in all directions. All of the Strongholds were shut down, many teams disbanded and high-ranking members demoted to mere Agents of the A.E.C. If the trial did not go well, the fear was that other nations would follow suit and begin shutting down their Strongholds. The only one Julian had no concern over whatsoever was the UK. They loved their Evolved like they loved their tea and biscuits.

“I’d rather not be here,” Julian admitted to the aging woman that stood before him. They might have had a future once, if she’d not been so adamant about staying in the States. Such a wretched place. No ley lines, no groves – Julian honestly did not understand how Christian stood living in such a vile place. The time in Chicago nearly drove him mad. Gloria, however, merely smiled.

“Well, I appreciate your sacrifice for the greater good,” she teased. Christian joined them, a man who appeared in his early forties. Julian knew better. Their secrets were laid bare for each other many years ago. It always upset Julian how slowly the man aged. He was twice Julian’s actual age and looked half of what Julian did. It simple was not fair.

“Christian,” Julian sniffed. The other man smiled, his eyes squinting behind black-rimmed glasses.

“Good to see you again, Karma,” the man replied, using Julian’s given name. In the mortal world, it was the name of his Evolved alter-ego. In reality, Karma was his true identity, his true form. Explaining that outside of Britain never worked, however, so smirked when his true name was used. “We’re almost ready to begin.”

“Oberron be blessed,” Julian sighed. “I don’t want to miss tea again…”

Cats Game

“You have to pinch it the other way… no – have you never played Cats Craddle?”

Geoffrey Gao snorted, watching Lady Saraya Nigel and Agent James Kendall play a children’s game while they waited outside of Capitol Hill. The trials regarding the PeaceKeepers’ fate in the states began today, something no one was looking forward to. Geoff let his second in command take over as a representative with Agent Osprey seeing as how the man had a great deal more seniority within the PeaceKeepers than Geoffrey did. He was not a leader, Christian always said, so maintained a stand-by role instead, much like Karma did with Zephyr.

I played!” the young UK team-lead argued. “When I was five. Why do you play so often?”

“I have a niece and an annoying need to do something with my hands or I get twitchy,” James countered. “You’re all tangled.”

“Is that why you still smoke, Agent Kendall,” the woman threw back. James made a face at her. He was a good fit as her second in command.

Geoff smiled. A lot was riding on the trials. It made him nervous, made his skin prickle. He frowned. It was not normal nerves that prickled his skin. Auspex was his alter ego, his Evolved ability banking off of clairvoyance. Something was wrong.
“Aus?” Zephyr said – no one actually referred to her by her given name. “What is it?”

The question was answered with a resonating explosion that threw all three PeaceKeeper members to the ground and set car alarms blaring for miles. The entirety of the capitol building was just blown apart, creating a rain of dust and debris that settled all over the Evolved heroes.

“JULIAN!!!”

Auspex heard Zephyr scream as another blast tore the earth apart not five feet from where they lay. His ears sang a high-pitched song and his chest constricted painfully from inhaling marble dust and dirt. People around them screamed, many protesters and supporters surrounding the capitol that day all scattering in a panic. Auspex had to focus, had to find the source of the danger. It did not take long, his instincts zeroing in on a woman in a hoodie that had been part of the protest crowd. She grinned at him, her eyes all black and hands out as she ‘directed’ the explosions.

“Backlash!” Auspex called, directing Agent Kendall’s attention to the woman. Fire burned everywhere, hydrants shooting water up into the air and the earth churned as if stepped on by a giant. It was the fire that Backlash went to, absorbing it into his hand and then redirecting it at the woman in the hoodie. She was not expecting such a bold attack, screaming when her clothing caught fire and dropping to the ground. Only then did Backlash redirect the water to her, literally sitting on the woman and slapping her with a large, flat patch that robbed her of her ability to use her power.

“Julian!” Zephyr cried again, running towards the destroyed capitol building. Auspex debated, running to Agent Kendall instead.

“Go!” he said, directing Backlash towards where Zephyr went. “I got this one.”

Mourning

No one spoke, heads bowed and tears falling to rain-soaked ground. The weather turned just before the funeral services began, clouds parting to reveal bright sunshine. James stood beside Z, Eric opposite him to make a sandwich of support as the set Julian Nigel into the earth. Gloria Marcus remained comatose in DC but the rest of the PeaceKeepers gathered to mourn the loss of one of their founding members. Not that his death mattered. It was the nail in the proverbial coffin for the PeaceKeepers. The US PeaceKeepers were completely disbanded and Evolution outlawed. How do you outlaw something entirely out of your control?? It made no sense and had the A.E.C. scrambling like chickens with their heads cut off. Camps were being made for Evolved – prisons to keep them contained; heroes included. It was ridiculous.

One by one, the mourning heroes left until only Eric, Zephyr, and James remained.

“Think he’ll come back?” James asked after too much silence. He knew what Julian was. It was a rather interesting surprise and, yet, made more sense than anything else. Zephyr was the same, both fey-born and both, theoretically, immortal. Karma – like Zephyr – was the fey, their human alter-egos serving as some sort of strange vessel for the fey to exist in the mortal plane. Zephyr, James learned, was the daughter of Oberron and Karma her uncle because, why not? Nothing else made sense in the world, why not add faeries to it too? Now it seemed like the only thing James could hold on to. In theory, Karma could return; in theory.

“I hope so,” Zephyr said softly, voice choking up as she spoke. “I don’t know how I’ll do this without him…”

Eric hugged her as they stood there, her rock. James looked at the other man and sighed.

Fey-Bound

The man that stared back at Owen Grace from the mirror was someone he did not really recognize. Eyes were hollow, face gaunt with a growth of stubble covering sallow skin. His whole body jerked when someone pounded on the door, demanding he get out. He sighed, splashing water on his face before stumbling back out into the pub. People looked and whispered, tossed dirty glances in his direction. What did they know?

He pulled the last of his money out of a worn leather wallet and threw it on the bar before stumbling out into the slick, wet street. He could still smell the rain on the air; the storm was not over. How ironic.

He coughed, a hacking, throaty sound that echoed into the late night air and down the narrow alleys. The sound of his own echo caught his attention, making him twitch. Hands went into pockets and shoulders hunched, his steps quickening just a touch. The dark bothered him. Something in the alley to his left caught Owen’s attention, making his steps speed up. He didn’t want to see the shadows in the dark, the terrors that haunted him in his sleep.

Owen…

He winced, turning down a street with lights and raucous noise. Pub after pub lined the cobbled street. He ran into the first pub he saw, nearly tripping over the sawdust on the floor in his haste. People laughed, the bartender rolled his eyes.

“Whiskey,” Owen said knowing full well he had no way to pay for the drinks he ordered. Unfortunately, so did the bartender.

“Gonna pay the tab this time, Owen?”

“Just pour the damned drink, Norm,” Owen growled. He knew Norman; he knew all the pub workers. They were the reason his marriage dissolved, his bank accounts dried up, his business collapsed.

“Go home, Owen,” Norman answered instead. “I’ll hail a cab.”

“Forget it,” Owen snarled, stumbling back out into the misty night. The lights outside flickered, briefly dimming then growing brighter before popping one by one as he passed them. He flinched at each one, shrinking further in on himself until nearly falling into a pile of garbage.

Owen…

“Go away!” he hollered though he knew, logically, there was no one there. It did not stop the alluring whisper from tickling the back of his neck, the shivers from racing up his spine. He swore there were sparkles on the air and a haunting wind that had nothing to do with the weather or his state of inebriation. “Please go away…”

Oh, darling Owen, I’ll be with you for a long time to come…