A glimmering of thought

“Alright, we’ve transited. Let’s get to surveying, shall we?”

“Uh, sir, we’re getting some unusual readings here.”

“Define unusual.”

“...music?”

It was impossible; literally impossible, at least according to every known law of physics. Yet probe after increasingly powerful probe revealed not only were every planet and sun in the system giving off radio waves, but were, in fact, producing music. Not just any music, either. The entire system was resonating in a coordinated orchestral piece. Worse, it was familiar.

“Of course I know it, Johnson! Everyone knows it! What I want to know is why every single bloody body in this system is acting like they’re an orchestra! Why is the sun acting like a bloody percussionist? Why is that moon there giving off wavelengths of a woodwind instrument? How in the hell does a celestial body even emit that?!"

"Sir, there is zero precedent for this. I don't even want to know how many physical laws this breaks. Even the black hole in the center is...I guess, pulsing? I think it's keeping time?"

"Johnson, we are on the other side of bloody universe! And we've stumbled upon a system that is, collectively, producing the entirety of the William Tell Overture in a continual loop! What the hell do you suggest the message back to the top brass ?"

"Send musicians?"

"Funny."

"I certainly thought so, sir."

Ruthlessly he quashed every memory and slowly walked away forever.

What a squalid hellhole, he thought, gingerly dropping his luggage.

A hushed reverence fell as utter, weighty darkness burst forth.

Fallen leaves crunch as they silently walk, hand in hand.

Peering between raised fingers, he squints into the blinding light.

Shallow depressions mark the only evidence of his long travails.

Fluid melodies pierce the crisp autumn morning air, calling endlessly.

Rivulets run down cupped hands, mixing slightly with salty tears.

Sallow earth dusts lightly as the herd lows and meanders.

Single, icy droplets fall with a mindless determination and gusto.

Small, barely noticed scratches mar the door's surface, crying escape.

Quietly oozing, it slinks and slides over the window sill; translucent, neon pink tendrils glowing softly in the darkness. Burbling, bubbling, silently foaming as it pours itself in. Undulating slowly to an unheard and horrifying rhythm, it creeps in past the drapes and down the wall. Its form expands and contracts, coalescing in mentally scarring shapes, fracturing reality in its hideous transitions. Paint corrodes and screams in the wake of the unearthly, slimy trail. A dog, ever the loyal companion, seeing the mind-wrenching thing, foams and shrivels up like a slug under salt, writhing in horrid contractions. A pool of midnight, ebony madness boils furtively where once stood the proud beast. Onward moves the pearlescent abomination, carving swaths of nightmare in the once beautiful floor. The very fabric of reality seems to squirm in an attempt to avoid its eyeless gaze, straining and creaking, warping as it slides, probes, and gushes forth.

I had a most vivid dream last night. In fact, I have been having very vivid dreams for days now, though last night's seems to be sticking with me more than some of the others. Parts of it were inconsequential, of course, and thus were gone as soon as I awoke, but the important parts seem to be with me still. It involved a young man, a boy at first, who, along with some others, received a dual bladed staff weapon as a gift. It was intricate and more rectangular than circular, but the important thing was that it contained a blade on both ends, which could be capped with the same material as the shaft of the weapon.

The boy grew, honing greatly his skills with the weapon. It seems many young men had such a weapon, for several were sparring with him at one point, though he was far and above the better. At some point, the young man decided to build himself a kind of danger-room, made with some old, advanced technology. Lots of light tubes and whatnot. Once made, the room seemed to be made of liquid darkness, almost living. It could allow for things to come through it, such as enemies, and could move, change shape and solidity.

The most important part of the room was the AI, gotten from who knows where. It had a woman's voice and was highly intelligent, creating challenge after harder challenge for the young man. Then came the day when he reached his peak and managed to defeat her best challenge. And then she presented her finale: she tells him that he must defeat her and the room itself, revealing her sensors and wires and the like. He hesitates, not willing to destroy her. She insists, and he submits, tearing through her with skill.

It was here that another man appears. I think he was supposed to be a friend to the young man, though perhaps not a close one. The young man and his friend hang out in the trashed and sparking room, which doesn't actually seem like a great idea in retrospect. In a friendly wrestling match, the friend accidentally electrocutes the young man, seemingly killing him. The friend flees in panic. The scene ends.

The scene opened with the young man rising to his feet, and if I ever make a story of this, should be bleeding a bit, maybe charred some. There is a sparkle in the air, and AI whom he thought he'd destroyed stands before him. Her face remains the same, while her body shifts between various female forms. Now a fairy, now a warrior; now with short hair, now with long; now with these clothes, now with others. I had the feeling that these were all forms that he had created in the past in this room. The AI woman draws close to him and tells him that if he wants, they can be together forever. He agrees, and they come together. As they come together, she envelopes him in a large cocoon of some substance resembling a solid, opaque rainbow, almost like being in a large, somewhat oily pill. Fade out.

The dream opened again with the friend returning, to see that the young man is not dead. The friend sees him writhing and twitching on the floor, looking as if brain damaged, with muscles contorted. A very slim filament of bright substance is winding it's way all about him, flowing over and around. In a sudden change of character, the friend becomes angry, almost jealous, and in a moment grabs a still sparking wire and shoves it into the two, declaring that they will so die together. The "friend" then storms out. A pause.

There is a twinkle in the air, then a shifting, and the cocoon comes into view. Scene.

I'm not really sure what to think about this dream. I do not really know which ending is real, be it the eternal embrace of the two, or the mental damage and subsequent death of the boy. Words cannot adequately convey the feel of the dream either, be it the disturbing nature of the AI's desires, or why the young man accepted. In the dream, it seemed like he was training for some future need. Not to mention that he did not seem to love her, though he was close and felt comfort, being around her voice so often. The question that struck me when he agreed was why he chose to be with her forever when before he was just using her skills to become his best with the weapon. Nor do I understand why the friend so suddenly turned and willingly killed the young man. The dream has given me many deep questions as to the nature of these characters, and how the heck I could ever try to actually write about them.

Okay, so like I said, I needed to create a bit, so I just wrote this on a whim. I have no idea where this came from or what the hell is wrong with me, but here it is, the tale of man who flies in his sleep and his grand idea. Written in the form of a messed up fairy tale or child's story. Or whatever.

( Sky Sleep )

"I have not the drive to continue," he remarked sadly.
"I simply do not have it in me, and cannot."
"However shall I continue to write without any impetus?" "Electroshock?"
"Ha, very ha," he sarcastically remarked, "go soak your head."
"I'm shocked that you would say such a thing. Shocked!"
"Yes, well, you will be with the toaster along side."
"Not if it jams. Don't be so burnt out, now."
"Punny, very punny," he smirks, "but don't butter me up."
"Wouldn't dream of it, that'd be just nuts...bananas too."

I can't think of anymore puns, so I'm quitting now.
It's a shame, really. Could have been quite a laugh.
Ah well, such is life and all that, yes? No?!

Like a monkey, little Joey loved to fling his poo.

Once upon a time, in a little village, a girl.

Filled with remorse for his atrocities, Noran momentarily stopped whistling.

"I can fly!" screamed the future pancake as he fell.

"No you can't!" laughed the hungry and amused little crow.

The screams reverberated, piercingly, echoing madness; the dentist finishes up.

"What a pity," he remarked, "he did so love rhinos."

Face to face they glare unceasingly, challenging, baby versus rhino.

"Rhino? Really?" yells Spiderman, "Don't you know hippos *beat* rhinos?"

His face a mass of blood, he grins in triumph.

Gallons of bleach will clean anything, even this black sofa!

No perfume will rid us of this stench...your mom!

Will nothing we do ever rid us...of your mom? (sorry couldn't resist these last two)

Dirt crunching expectantly, he slowly fills the too deep hole.

Once there was a time for such things; no more.

Feel you the changing current? I think he just farted...

When the wind blows he can hear her calling still.

He furiously devours the pages, one crunch at a time.

The juices flow and he feels the words bleed out.

"Oh look," he exclaimed, "the walls are bleeding! How novel!"

"Save me!" he sobs as the bunny nuzzles his arm.

Slowly, so slowly, he inches his hand toward his sword.

As she watches, the slime devours her friend, then turns...

With a triumphant rallying call, they charge into the darkness.

Falling upon his swift blade, the creature looks briefly shocked.

Calling upon the might of Thor, Tretten grabs his hammer.

Calling upon the might of kittens, George dies quite swiftly.

Not knowing what to say, the man simply stares, horrified.


I don't think I have exactly enough of what might work thus far, but it occurs to me that one could cobble together quite a few interesting stories centered around these various 10 word stories I find myself enjoying. I think that once I make a few more, at least, I could attempt to puzzle some of 'em together. At the very least it could be like a really bizarre mad libs.

"Posting too much, you say?" he asked inquiringly, "Why, yes."

Potions for sale. Will cost only your health to acquire.

"This troll's blood is delicious!" he exclaimed, "but needs salt."

One day, Pinocchio became a real boy, starving them both.

Then they all burst into song, ignoring the oncoming traffic.

"Woe!" he cried, "my dog is dead, but not I!"

For whom tolls the bell? I think it's that guy.

In that instant, all was still, and all calm again.

Shining down, the sun glaring, hitting his eyes, he tripped.

How the hell did a spider have a sword?! Magic!

It was not I! I ate only one child today!

Writhing in agony, cursing the drink...but mostly the concussion.

In splendid colors flowers bloom, my allergies aflame with joy...

He spent his nights alone, killing spiders for the silk.

His soul shattered, adrift on the wind, see him weep.

Soul stone long gone, he flees like a little girl.

His oiled beard glistens in the wind, distracting from baldness.

"Preposterous," he huffs, "there's no such thing as a dragon!"