Sunday, October 31, 2004
Something odd was going on in the dressing room. A crazed woman stood there wrapped in her winter coat, telling everyone who might venture past her into one of the booths, "You can't go in there." Her slow and deliberate manner of speaking dripped of impending doom. No one dared challenge her. They called the police, but by the time they arrived she had somehow managed to blend in with the confusion she had caused and vanish completely. None of the witnesses could say exactly when or how. When they entered the booth she had so rabidly guarded they found her coat lying in a heap on the floor. No explanation of the incident was ever found. She might have been a ghost.
Note from Indeterminacy: A Happy Halloween to All!
Saturday, October 30, 2004
Why do these young people take the bus anyway? Don't they get cars from their parents for birthdays?......I knew I shouldn't take this damned bus, wasn't it like "the journey is the reward," well thank you God! This way it's hell!......We'll see Dolly how well you like it when you're seventy, have gout and rheumatism and some girly takes YOUR seat in the bus......Do they have to push all the time, so I've got the seat, they didn't, bad luck......I hate that when she starts telling me about her grandchildren. How long was the ride suppose to be? Oh, woman, your granddaughter is not bright, she is a little bitch and your grandson is far from gifted, he is just a spoiled punk...... Well! Don't I look just great in my new hair cut! I wonder, why has she fallen asleep? She must have seen me, when she got on the bus......What is this? A senior center excursion or what? I'm trapped in the back of this damned bus, help!...
I am the sun. I give you warmth, energy - I give you life! You have worshipped me. I was your God and Goddess! I am the power your existence depends on, since I can also destroy you! I am your "to be, or not to be!" But these millions of years glowing, exploding and shining were exhausting. I need a break. I am tired - please, let me sleep - that is the least you could do for me. And shut up!
Note from Indeterminacy: For this story my muse acted as author and I acted as muse.
Friday, October 29, 2004
Guess what! I can do magic. I've been working on this for a long time. No one suspected a thing. See the doll with the black hair? That's my Mommy. She got mad at me because I wanted to stay up late. Now I put her to bed in my dolly cradle. See the cute little teddy bear in red? That's Daddy. I didn't like to do it but he kept asking about Mommy. The others, they're the ones who keep coming by asking questions, where my parents are. I tell them they're visiting a neighbor. Then I invite them in to wait for them. And here they are, waiting. Oh, there goes the doorbell again. I wonder who it is?
Thursday, October 28, 2004
Silka had always felt there was someone out there watching, surreptitiously studying her from behind the windows or some hidden peephole. She never felt alone. On the streets she was prone to cast nervous glances behind her in hopes of catching whoever it was stalking her. She never could. Nights, before undressing, she drew the curtains in fear of telescopes and night view binoculars, then searched the room for hidden Webcams. Nightmares of lustful eyes bobbing around her permeated the cold sweat of her sleep. One day, just by accident, Silka unintentionally discovered the first proof that it was all true, and the realization shattered her psyche. A random link had drawn her to the Indeterminacy blog and this very story about her. She clicked it away and turned to run.
Wednesday, October 27, 2004
The two time travelers were on a brief excursion into the early 21st century. After taking in a Disney double matinee of Finding Nemo and The Lost Empire they shared a candlelight dinner at a popular seafood establishment of the day. At an Internet cafe they surfed history sites deep into the night. The subsequent day was devoted to shopping. By sunset, all the money they had received in exchange for their gold was spent. They took a long, last walk along the oceanside, watching the eternal waves engulf the sun and slowly give rise to the living stars. They exchanged a thoughtful glance, glowing gradually with the awareness that it was time to go home. Yes, the 21st century had a lot to offer, but so did their age. Their trip ended with the usual trouble of closing and sealing the coffers filled to bursting, this time with the finest in men's swimwear and the sexiest in ladies bikinis. The yellow-green hues of the time essence flickered as Heronikus and Isyka returned to Atlantis.
Tuesday, October 26, 2004
Ha! You think you're going to hear a story about me but you're wrong. I knew exactly what he was up to, eyeing me like that, trying to conjure up his fantasy. I focused my mind and stopped him with my look. He won't think a complete sentence for hours. Nobody's going to do that to me. Not even in their imagination. He was messing with the wrong girl. Pictures aren't always harmless, you know. But I think you and I might get along together. For example, are you thinking what I'm thinking? Yes you are. I can tell by looking at you. The same way I did with him. I sent him to bed. But without his decadent daydream. And now, if you would step to one side of the frame with me...
Monday, October 25, 2004
Hi, I'm Loretta and these are my friends. We're the pixies who live inside your PC. Every time you type something in on the keyboard I run over to gather up the letters and carry them back here to the files. My friend Mirella is good with numbers. Sometimes, when it gets boring, I give her a zero to divide by. She never succeeds but it's fun to watch her try! Something like if you'd try saying "Loretta Mirella" over and over a hundred times. Oh, and here's Herman. He's in charge of security. He throws logs on the firewall and keeps the viruses away from us. What's that Mirella? Yes. I think so, too. Look, I'm terribly sorry about this, but we've decided to crash your PC for a while. It's such a lovely day, we feel like going out to play in the sun.
Sunday, October 24, 2004
Pamela had developed a severe paranoia. She believed there were hands behind her, poised to grab her head and run away with it. It was futile to turn around and bite at the waiting fingers. There was never anything there. At least not anything she could see. But that did not fool her. The hands were real, belonging to an invisible being from Planet X. She was certain of this. The psychiatrists loved Pamela's condition, the way it was so easy to diagnose. The joke, however, was on everyone. Invisible beings from Planet Y, always happy to irritate and thwart the plans of their enemies on X, had abducted Pamela one night, hypnotized her, and bolted her head securely in place.
Saturday, October 23, 2004
Everyone at the beach ran screaming as they saw the shark. Not only was it a killer shark, it dashed out of the water and commenced chasing people on legs it had somehow managed to evolve. It also brandished a submachine gun in arms just as perfectly evolved, if not somewhat skinny. The ambidextrous hands seemed dangerously capable of pulling the trigger. Upon closer inspection it turned out not to be a shark at all. It was an unfortunate vacationer who had gone off balance after a harrowing assault with sand. The Charles Atlas Fitness method hadn't helped him so he got himself a shark suit and a gun. Fortunately the automatic weapon had been rendered unusable by the salt water and the costume restricted his movements. The girls who had run screaming returned and kicked sand in his face.
Friday, October 22, 2004
Girl 1: Come into the water.
Girl 2: Oh yes. Do come in. We're nice girls.
Girl 1: We won't bite you
Girl 2: Of course not. And we won't try to dunk you.
Girl 1: No, not us. We're not strong enough.
Girl 2: Not nearly as strong as you. We're so vulnerable.
Girl 1: Yes, I'm sure we three can have a lot of fun together in the water.
Girl 2: If my bikini happens to slip off, you will look the other way, won't you?
Girl 1: That's been happening a lot lately. I keep telling her to tie better knots.
Girl 2: Oh, do come in.
Girl 1: Yes, do.
Girl 2: Well, aren't you coming in?
Girl 1: Aren't you? Please don't leave.
Girl 2: Damn! He's leaving!
Girl 1: Someone must have tipped him off.
Girl 2: Oh, how will we ever get our pet shark fed?
Thursday, October 21, 2004
Chief Terobero of the Island of Tunga was diving for cola cans. He had adopted them as the legal tender of his island at a rate of four coconuts per can. The thousand year old remnants of the cola age occasionally washed onto the peaceful reefs surrounding what had once been called Manhattan. The cans, still containing their mysterious liquids, were kept at the Tungan National Treasury stacked in decorative displays, much as they had been in the ancient supermarkets of the vanished civilization that had produced them. The Tungans never opened the cans to drink the juices inside. The medicine man had issued a stern warning as to the consequences. But he need not have. Evil spirits were rumored to live in the cans, and anyway, the islanders preferred coconut milk.
Wednesday, October 20, 2004
Roger had just turned into a dog. The first thought that crossed his mind was meat. "I recently bought some choice sirloin steaks. Now, where might I have put them?" He remembered storing his purchase in the refrig- refrig- woof. Big words were getting hard to think. "Meat. Kitchen. Woof." he thought to himself. "Woof woof meow. Meow!?" Why "meow"? Something was definitely wrong with him. He was a dog, but he didn't feel absolutely essentially like a dog. A new thought popped up. "Stick. Stick. Chase stick." That made him feel better. The sound of an opening door caught his attention. He couldn't put it into words, but he hoped it was his mistress bringing him a mouse to play with.
Tuesday, October 19, 2004
Let me entrance you. There is such power in my body. Depending on how my eyes meet you I am mother, lover, diva or muse. I can give birth to your daydreams. I can show you attraction that will never let you go. My nuances have you completely in my power. I transform the light that tastes me. How will I show myself to you this time? Someone to hold? Someone to adore from afar? --- That knocking. Who? The art class? They're waiting for me? I'll think about this later. I have to go out now and pose for them.
Note from Indeterminacy: A big Thank You and belated Happy Birthday to Livinia Red Lips who found this photo for me.
Monday, October 18, 2004
The party was getting hot now. The DJ had laid on a new type of soul sound but instead of freezing in stunned silence the guests at the Disco Inferno continued the to and fro movements merged so intricately with the beat of the music. One by one the dancers burst into flame, twitching ever more rhythmically, their deepest lusts feeding the fire that consumed them. Air and body heat sweltered to the temperature of lava as swaying embers of men and women intermingled as one. A single dancer was seized suddenly by indecision: to continue the free fall into the final anonymity of smouldering ashes or struggle his way through the burning lusts and put on an ABBA CD.
Friday, October 01, 2004
Max was a first class magician. He could cause a lamp to appear out of nowhere and hover over his head. He could make the lamp glow. He could conjure up beautiful women to sit on his shoulders. He could pluck apples from the women's bodies and juggle the luscious fruits in the air. But there was more to life than all that. Max's contemplations soon developed a more existential essence. He realized that he was only a fragment of an author's imagination. He was also aware that this particular author had an especially grim way of dealing with his characters. He read his author well. Perhaps the two women would pelt him with fruit, or peel him like a banana. And if that wasn't enough, when the story ended he would ultimately cease to exist. Taking action, he froze the apples in mid-spin and concentrated intensely. The writer of these lines was aware of Max's intentions and attempted to end the story as quickly as possible, but before completing the final sentence dealing with Max and rescuing a point of wisdom out of the narrative, the author found himself wandering in the mountains of southern Poland far removed from the Internet.