Monday, June 26, 2006

How I had entered the blue realm I could not explain - at first. I was dizzy and had no memory. But it all gradually returned to me. The world would end in a matter of days, and all the scientists were put to work in a frantic, desperate, and futile effort to conquer time as a means of escape. We expected it to be about as effective as "duck and cover" had been - but embraced it as our last straw of hope. My experiments with light diffraction had ejected me from that reality, and transplanted me into another. I wandered, confined in a spectrum of blue, kept company by those incomprehensible beings, childlike in appearance and inaccessible in attitude. None taller than the heights of preadolescence. I studied their features, saw the innocent faces of youth transplanted onto something ancient, heard them speaking in whispers, rushing about, soft footsteps indistinguishable from the whispers. Occasionally they stopped to glance into one of the glowing, mushroom-shaped fixtures that seemed to show them something. The beings appeared genderless to me, some hybrid beyond the distinction of male and female, but I had no way to be certain. Had I found the future? I tried speaking to a being who glided near me.

"Where? Where is this?"

The being began its vocalizations of which I could recognize only isolated syllables: ".....slowly.....understand.......the last day......"

It was like a voice heard on a radio tuned side to side, never quite finding the center of the signal. I tried bending the words into some coherent meaning, but my puzzlement must have signaled to the being that I could not understand.

"........echo........destruction........" I heard said to me, then the being gave a slight shrug, and rushed away towards the nearest mushroom of strange, non-organic origin.

I watched as the being peered into the fixture, and felt intensely eyes unseen trained upon me. Suddenly the meaning of what had been said to me surged into my memory. I had been transmitted as an echo to this distant era, a time in which intellect was relatively advanced. I was like a child to them and could therefore understand only fragments of what they told me, as a three year old might understand the ideas of an adult. But now, as the being projected its own intelligence onto mine, it became lucid, clear as a starless galaxy: how the world might still be rescued.

The figure straightened, then turned towards me with a gesture of farewell:

"Return now, return to your time, and rescue our future."

For some reason, at the utterance of "future" I glanced at my watch, but the glance lingered into a stare. I saw that the second hand was moving backwards, and with the intellect of those beings still projected upon me, I understood that I was at a point so far into the distant past, that it merged with the future.

Story #363

All stories will be reposted at Thanks for all the contributions!

Original post:

So now things are back to "normal": Fridays I will post a photo and Mondays I will post my story, and between Friday and Monday I'll suffer greatly wondering whatever it is that story might be.

Also, I may post something during the week telling about cool things I've found in the Internet. Like, here's a place where you can download every avant garde film and sound recording ever made or this blog offers intelligent discussions on the golden age of radio, recalling the classic moments from a modern perspective, and exploring issues in the writing and conception of radio plays as art. Stuff like that.


admin said...

A spontaneous story (5 min) for you:

The little wizard cast a final look at his room and blew the dust off the magic mushroom. Instantly he was tranferred to the world of fairies and goblins. "Ah!" he thought. "Finally the real world". According to the little wizard there was nothing more real than what some people called illusion and their reality was to him a mere mirage. "You are too little to understand." They used to tell him. "When you grow up, you will understand". It seemed to the little wizard that the grown-ups had constructed a world according to their fancy. A world that might even exist only in their fantasy. The sharp intelligence hidden behind his young eyes was beyond most people could imagine. It was all clear to him and had been clear since the day he was born. The only thing he missed was someone to blow away the blue clouds of his loneliness, that appeared when the sylphs abandoned him.

Logophile said...

...and there was light.
"Daddy, I want something that will move, something I can watch."
The indulgent father formed a organic soup, thick and dense and shaped creatures to delight his watchful son.
Through a process, which would have seemed to last for eons to the creation if they had been conscious of it, he formed a backdrop of stars and suns, whole galaxies as his son looked on with excitement. When at last he had finished some little creatures that looked a great deal like they did themselves he was met with a yawn.
"Daddy, can we go have a snack now?"
"Of course, I'll just leave this here so you can come back and play with it later, ok?"

Mighty Dyckerson said...

I propose that you make every Wednesday Dyckerson Day. Each week, you can write a post about how Mighty Dyckerson has influenced your life.

Anonymous said...

Love that photo. I'm going tohave to think on this one.

this is my third try at the word verifcation...................

Jamie Dawn said...

Some call them Indigo Children. They have blue auras, and they know where their blue light comes from.
Each Indigo Child soaks in radiance and intelligence from the spinning Blue Top.
The Blue Top visits all babies, but only those babies who smile at the Blue Top are blessed with future visits.

Miz BoheMia said...

Mama was a yogi. "Don't hold your breath she'd say", when fear would overcome me and my breath, its constant victim, was, or so it seemed, forever consumed by it.

But I wouldn't breathe.

"Life's mysteries lie in the breath... it's wonders, the intrigue... yes, much magic."

But I couldn't breathe.

And Mama lamented my loss. "If only you'd try. It is all yours for the taking, if only you'd believe!"

But I didn't believe.

Until one day I could hold my breath in no longer and came to, gasping. "Just breathe my child. Close your eyes and believe. And when the breath overcomes you, open those starry orbs and the truth you shall see."

At home in my skin once more, gasping no longer, I opened my eyes. Yes, there is much truth in the breath; there is a brilliance, a glow...

... and all it takes is an exhalation.

Just breathe.

Anonymous said...

I don't have anything today, but that sounds like a good plan. I look forward to your story.

Anonymous said...

Oh all right, maybe I have SOMEthing.

Like Flies to Wanton Gods

After he created the little world in the mini-spaceship microlab, he blew on it, causing havoc and destruction. He couldn't actually see the microbeings, of course, but their screams came up in faint, whistling tones. If he put on a special apparatus he could hear and even understand distinct words.
The funniest thing was how they would sing praises to him afterwards, thanking him for all the blessings he'd bestowed.

Indeterminacy said...

Viruswitch: You wrote a wonderful story in five minutes. My story was tortured. This phrase is especially fine "The sharp intelligence hidden behind his young eyes"

Logophile: Your story makes more sense to me than my own, as well as saying more with less words. It's definitely an other-world picture.

Cooper: This photo demanded to be posted - there was nothing I could do about it. Unfortunately I lost track of which set it was from, but as I recall, the rest were fairly normal (e.g. this-worldly).

Jamie: Your story makes me hungry for blueberries. I'll have to go bake a blueberry pie now. ;-)

Miz Bohemia: That took my breath away. Honest. Wonderful story!

Mrs. Weirsdo: That'll teach you to look forward to my stories! (e.g. the actual posting).

Your story is especially succint, "Horton Hears a Who" on a divine scale, even if it doesn't use rhymes.

THanks to all of you for a wonderful round of perspectives. In a way the stories are all similar, though in the particular details they vary greatly. I think it's because this was such a strong image, with something universal about it. I'll have to find more such photos to post.

admin said...

A longer story at last!

I really liked that it was longer than usually, reading your stories is like eating an ice cream. I like the big ones!

Unknown said...

"Daddy, I don't like these mushrooms!"

Going forward in time doesn't work either. Good to see Harry mentioned here.

Indeterminacy said...

Viruswitch: I hate the long stories! If I can't tell the story in 1 paragraph I feel like I did something wrong. But I'm glad you like my stories like ice cream.
(I ate ice cream once and got salmonella poisoning.)

Doug: I was wondering where your one sentence story was. Wanna trade blogs?

Miz BoheMia said...

Really? I am truly flattered you liked it! i was quite nervous about joining in I must admit!

Thanks for stopping by my place my friend! Glad the wuirk and extreme nuttiness did not scare you away! ;-P

I truly loved your story by the way! And hey, salmonella poisoning? Ice cream is delish and leaves one wanting more! I am with VW on this one!

The Mushroom said...

Malcolm found out what's inside of a golfball the hard way.

saksak puso files said...

i have a new one indie. :D - - nice sylphing.:D

Indeterminacy said...

Miz Bohemia: I love ice cream too - getting sick that one time didn't deter me at all. Truly glad you and VW liked the story - I often hate them, myself.

I think you have a distinctive, colorful style of writing - that's what I liked about the post.

Mushroom: I sawed open a golf ball once. That was fun, and now I know what's inside. But I've always wondered what mushrooms were made of.

Saksak: I was by the other day and saw that you're back - as poetic as ever - I was very happy to see you posting again.

Unknown said...

Indie, your readers would trash the place. They seem ornery.

Michael said...

That is one sweet photo.

loved your story too.

Take Care Michael

Indeterminacy said...

Doug: Just bark loudly. People are afraid of loud dogs.

Michael: Nice of you to stop by - I know I've been bad about checking up on your Friday stories. I'll be better, I promise.

The Mushroom said...

You don't want to know what mushrooms are made of. We did invent the flaky crust that pie lovers crave, that I can say. Presently this particular specimen has a juicy center, but that's not how things are supposed to be.

That is one demented photo you've got in your earlier comment...

Jamie Dawn said...

I want a watch that goes backwards and takes me back in time. I don't want to go THAT far back, but I wouldn't mind going back to 1980 or so.

I enjoyed your story.

Indeterminacy said...

Mushroom: OK I won't ask and you won't give me the recipe. I'm trying to find a new profile photo, but nothing I have seems right.

Jamie: You can borrow my watch tomorrow. ;-)