1. Outraged parents began contacting the school board at record rates. The principal had been selling drugs to some students and using others as dealers on the street.
A. Outraged parents began contacting the school board at record rates. The principal had been selling drugs to some students and using others as dealers on the street. It was the biggest scandal the county had ever seen, and nobody was happy about it.
Dozens of middle school children were going to be attending court mandated drug management programs. The principal, the Teacher of the Year, a janitor, and the cop that had accepted bribes to look the other way were all going to prison. And the once idyllic town dealt with the aftermath of a school that had taught their children how to use and sell drugs.
Things were never going to be the same.
2. It was the fourth day in a row that her children came home with unfamiliar toys. When she asked where they came from, she was surprised to hear that the children bought them from their principal.
A. It was the fourth day in a row that her children came home with unfamiliar toys. When she asked where they came from, she was surprised to hear that the children bought them from their principal. She pointed out that they didn’t have any money when they went to school.
“But Mommy, Mr. P said we didn’t need any money. He just wanted a little favor.”
Her stomach sunk. She could feel the blood flooding heat into her face, throbbing in her neck and forehead. “A favor? What kind of favor?”
3. Even knowing it was against district policy, he couldn’t help himself. He began selling things to the students, small things at first, then bigger and bigger.
A. Even knowing it was against district policy, he couldn’t help himself. He began selling things to the students, small things at first, then bigger and bigger. He knew he was in trouble when he sold a 3D TV to a 15-year-old. Because that’s when the phone calls started. That’s when the parents started taking notice of what he was doing and had already done.
The two policemen waiting in front of the school when he arrived Monday morning were the nails in his coffin. He saw them standing there, and something in him broke free.
It’s gardening time again. I’m not the best at it, but I keep trying.
Things I’m growing so-far:
JalapeƱo
Cherry tomatoes
Lettuce
Bell pepper
Pumpkin
Watermelon
Pet grass
Strawberries
I’ve got tons of other seeds, but I lack the space to grow them in once they’re big.
“Don’t plant where I gotta mow.”
“We don’t need a bunch of holes in the yard.”
So I’m looking at container plants, and I’ll maybe use a corner of my uncle’s garden. But small and sustainable is what I’m looking at.
I also need to look around for a safe moth spray. They come and lay their eggs on the fruit trees. If they can, they try to get their babies amongst the blossoms. It’s awful.
*
Stuff I’m working on:
ATR and Tuesday Night, of course.
Plus drawing and painting so my Ren’Py game will be awesome. People like graphics in games *shrug*.
I’mma be throwing Overwatch[1] to the public. There was some interest, and I do need to expand the details of the Kanon-verse.
*
[1] In Tuesday Night, the Teen Demis and many other superhero groups receive orders and oversight from Overwatch. Attached to the CMPF and the budding Metahuman Affairs Bureau (MAB), Overwatch is an organization setup and funded by the Tobias Foundation.
Started by Warrick Tobias upon the diagnoses of his brain tumor[2], Overwatch was founded in memorium of his long-time friend Blue Ice. Killed the year before in battle against the Hammer of Doom, Blue Ice had been one of the nation’s most beloved superheroes.
In honor of Blue Ice, many superheroes volunteered their time and expertise to the Overwatch program. It became the place where superheroes unfit for the field could still serve. Guiding, helping, and reining in the next generation.
Overwatch is a long-time organization in the Kanon-verse
*
[2] Dr. Zee had to get those brains from somewhere. And as the Kanon-verse operates at a different time-rate to the Heroes & Villains universe, Kanon-Warrick suffered some irreparable brain damage before he met Vereint. Very sad.
As such, Starburst was enrolled in so-called Charm School, where his psionic metability was studied and honed. By the time the side-effects were discovered, it was too late. Starburst had renamed himself Darkstar and half of Megacity was in his thrall.
The Wall surrounding and segregating Darkstar’s Megacity was built in record time. The Omega-class metahuman stood on the tip of the tallest rooftop spire and watched the construction. It was a relief when he didn’t intervene.
Supplies are delivered daily to the four Gates built into the Wall. As the agreement stands, as long as the Darksters never leave their walled city, they will receive all they need to survive and serve their “Dark God[3].”
Heroes & Villains, by Harper KingsleyHeroes & Villains, by Harper Kingsley
Warrick Reidenger Tobias was packing for a business trip to Chicago when it felt as though the world suddenly whirled around him. He staggered against the bed, dropping the navy silk tie he held as his hand lost all strength. Multicolor lights flared behind his eyes.
He didn’t realize he’d dropped until his knees hit the floor. His head bounced against the carpet. His body twitched and shivered uncontrollably.
It was his first seizure.
It wasn’t his last.
~ ~ ~
The doctors didn’t know what was wrong with him. Dozens of specialists and days spent in drafty paper gowns having his blood sucked out by needles and his brain scanned by machines. He felt like a lab experiment.
And at the end of it all, there were still no answers, just speculation.
He hated feeling helpless. But there was nothing he could do.
So he continued with his life and pretended that everything was all right. As though faking normal would *make* everything normal.
He did such a good job at pretending that he started believing it after awhile. As though the past few weeks had been a dream and he was finally awake.
He was free to go about his regularly scheduled life of superheroing and presiding over a large and powerful company.
And then there was another seizure and another one and another one, so rapid and close together that he didn’t recognize what was happening until after the third one, the BIG one. The one where he finally had to admit there was a problem because Caspian had seen and just wouldn’t let it go.
/EXCERPT
*
[3] Which is an irony, as I’ve been considering having the Kanon-Darkstar go on walkabout after ATR. Events progress, time gets wacky, and the God of Light comes into being.
After a timeless eternity floating through the nothingness, he. creates Sindarek, his brother and the God of Chaos, and later a sister, Goddess of the Night.
Events are explained when Rue’s Chosen enact the Play of Light in his honor. But basically Sindarek gets jealous and attacks the God of Light, destroying his physical form, and beginning his cycle of wearing human avatar bodies (like Rue). During the fight, there was a tear in spacetime, and the God of Light’s blood ended up in Universe A, creating the human gods.
Due to the humans of Universe A spreading from their now-hostile universe to neighboring realities, where they are gods in human form, there is a contamination of multiverse not just with the introduction of the human gene mutation known as the Nor-gene (resulting in metahumans) there is also the spread of the nectar bee mutation caused by the multiversal adventures of the superheroine known as Blue Devil aka Blue Fairy aka Fairy Godmother aka The Godmother of Horns.
*
Anyways, I’ve got stuff percolating in my brain, and I’m trying to get them all down on paper.
1. The story of the so-called “Sleeping Beauty” was an interesting one. A young woman dressed in a historically accurate medieval gown, surrounded by flowers, found unconscious in a city park.
A. The story of the so-called “Sleeping Beauty” was an interesting one. A young woman dressed in a historically accurate medieval gown, surrounded by flowers, found unconscious in a city park. People were interested.
Donations were gathered to pay for the woman’s medical care. Her image was spread far and wide as volunteers kept up the search for anyone that knew her identity. She was a beautiful mystery, one that people were desperate to solve.
2. Being a third grade teacher wasn’t as easy as she’d thought it would be. Especially when it came time for the class play, a version of Sleeping Beauty that had been written by a previous teacher.
A. Being a third grade teacher wasn’t as easy as she’d thought it would be. Especially when it came time for the class play, a version of Sleeping Beauty that had been written by a previous teacher. Just reading the script made her wince. The writing was terrible, and there were some problematic elements that she couldn’t believe existed in the first place.
She asked the principal if some changes could be made, and her request was denied. The play had been a yearly school tradition for close to twenty-two years. The play was to be performed as written.
3. “Wake up, sleeping beauty. It’s time to start your first day in hell.”
A. “Wake up, sleeping beauty. It’s time to start your first day in hell.”
Roland groaned and opened his eyes to slits. The last thing he remembered, he was in a bar with some friends, celebrating his cousin’s birthday. Now he was in what looked to be a large dormitory filled with cots, foot lockers, and what looked like a dozen other men dressing and making up their cots.
He sat up, glad to find that he was still fully dressed. He even had his shoes on. Someone had simply thrown a drab green blanket over him.
“Where am I?” he asked.
“You’re in the army. That’s where you are and where you’re going to stay.”
I write more when I smoke weed. Is that a terrible thing to say? But it’s not like I’m going to mess up anyone’s life if I toke up. I’m not a doctor. I don’t drive at the moment. I’m not handling anyone’s money.
I’m a very nervous person. I don’t quite know how I got this way, but here I am. Broken before I even started; that one colored pencil that draws a few vibrant lines of color, then the tip falls out. Eventually you get tired of always having to resharpen something.
Left to my own devices, I would sit somewhere and read.
It’s only necessity that gets me washing dishes and wiping down counters. It’s only the people around me that keep me from winding down and just stopping somewhere. A silent, motionless humanoid shape, gradually losing all definition as it is caught in the spell of time.
So I smoke some weed.
It focuses my mind on the here-and-now. My brain chemistry has always been a bit different (that’s the problem you know, my brain chemistry. Ups, downs, and the short in-betweens). One Sudafed knocked me out for 12 hours once. I hallucinated for hours on a sleeping pill. Coffee calms me down. Music pours itself into my skull, reshaping my mood with its passage. And weed breaks me out of my obsessive compulsions.
If I start reading a book, I am driven to finish it. No sleep. No food. No rest.
I learned to read fast as a survival technique. It’s how I can read something like Dune in three hours and finish the whole series in a weekend.
As a kid, I would get weird notions caught in my head. I remember being abducted by aliens, the light shining everywhere, the gladness of never having to go back–It must have been a vivid dream for a child to have, because for years in my preteens and early teens, I was waiting for them to come back like they promised. I got a notion in my head that aliens had taken me up, and I believed it. Quietly in my head, child-me was sure someone was going to come and take me away.
My teenage years were hard. The giving up of childhood things and the entry into the real world. I took things especially hard.
I’m pragmatic. I’m agnostic to most religions–I don’t believe but I don’t disbelieve either; anything is possible in the afterlife. I love beautiful things, but I don’t have many beautiful things in my life. I’m prickly. I’m perky. I’m weird. I’ve got wacky brain chemistry.
Smoking weed helps me focus my thoughts. It breaks my obsessive thinking. It lets me write coherent prose.
