A stopwatch would be needed, not just a calendar
To view the space between our first kiss and this moment
Time is both long and short between then and now
And any point along the strap is a good one for me
Yes, it has not been without difficulty
No life is lived in a vacuum
But, like tanning leather
Sometimes the scrapes add character and flavor
Your gift for me has seven silver beads
One for each day of the week filled with glittering life
Between us
Days that I have cherished and kept close
Mine for you was a bound journal
Within, your precious thoughts will be kept
Not only of me, but of life itself
Because we are braided together
Sometimes,
I told her
You have to drive the highways
with the windows down
moving at seventy miles per hour
Feel the air, smell the road
I felt like a hypocrite this morning
Driving the highways
Window rolled up against the rain
I cried, feeling my age
So, I rolled the windows down
And smelled the rain
It is a wide, open plain
With bits of life and pieces of soul scattered
Like rocks in the sand of the desert
The smell of the dry heat
Stings my nose
But warms my heart
It makes me breathe, slow, and deep
As one moves, glides across the face of the deep
All things are possible, an infinity of dots and dashes
From scratches to clay, from black ink to bits of light
The signal never fades
It grows, it moves, it changes
But it is human, at its core
It is us, all of us
Spread in defiance of the black deep
Light in the infinite darkness
Growing steadily
For even the darkest night is not complete
When one light shines
All voices screaming their nonsense
But truth exists in the mess
A car, lonely, in the jam
It carries the hope of the world
Seeds leaking from the doors
Sometimes growing, sometimes lost
Crossing the world
A digital Johnny
Apple trees in its wake
Knowledge is neither good nor evil
Only what is done with the knowledge
Blinders detract from the whole
As truth is subtle and sublime
It can be disguised as coal
Among apparent diamonds it can be lost
But, which can keep one warm on a winter’s night?
The lines point the way
Will you lift your hammer to strike the blow?
Form from hot iron the mind of the world?
Shed the barriers of the skin, of the bone, of the flag
Join with the rest of us, in blood
Not spilled, but boiling with discovery
Onward, upward, outward
So, the book is plugging along at a good pace. I have, however, noticed something.
Unlike my previous writing, I find killing much easier. I think I blame/credit Scott Sigler with making death so much less objectionable to me than it once was. So far, there have been more than two hundred deaths in my book, two in detail, and I do not feel that bothered by it. I mean, the two detailed deaths (not gruesome – I haven’t gotten to that point yet) were characters, true, but they were created just to be destroyed. I do not feel guilty about it.
So, Scott, in homage to the effects you have had on my writing style, a taste of hell:
Dear sir,
I want to thank you for your submission to Weird and Wonderful Tales. Although your story was, indeed, weird, the editorial staff and I felt that the premise was a bit too implausible, even for fantasy fiction. This story went too far beyond the bounds of our own world to have much appeal to our readers.
Some of the sections we had the most issue with:
The idea of an asteroid striking Nuyao millions of years ago was novel, but the supposition that anything would have survived an event such as you describe is implausible at best. The intense heat from the explosion would surely cook everything on the land, in the air, or in the sea.
That the animals that survived were the fur covered milk-bearers was, again, implausible. Did you not know that they give birth to live young? Without the protection of an egg, how are they to survive the harsh conditions that would exist after the impact?
The milk-bearers eventually losing their fur and becoming the intelligent “humans” was beyond belief, even for us. Millions of years of science have shown us that these creatures will never develop beyond their current state as pets and sometime pests.
Finally, that these “humans” would form a world wide civilization powered by “oil” in less than a hundred thousand years was the final tooth, as it were. It has taken us millions of years to evolve to the point we are at now. Such a species, in their haste, would strip this world to its core for metals before learning constraint.
If you plan to make any future contributions to Weird and Wonderful Tales, please keep these sticking points in mind. No one’s scales are too thick to take a bit of constructive criticism.
Best regards,
Rongilan Garahra
Asst. Editor Weird and Wonderful Tales
(To those good intentioned well wishers, this is a piece of flash fiction, not an actual rejection letter… read it closely if you are confused)
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