In the Dark of Night – Part 17
I got to celebrate a life entering our world yesterday.
After all the death and darkness of the last year, I got to welcome a new passenger aboard this wonderful star-ship, Earth.
A friend I’ve made at work just had his first child. He’s gonna be a great dad. After the birth, he called me immediately. He wanted to talk about what I’d been telling him over the last few weeks, how much it meant to have me around to talk to, and how nervous he was about the whole thing. That he feels I am worthy of such a position is one heck of a compliment.
I wrote last week about what it actually means for me to have forgone writing (so far) this year. Moments like these remind me that it hasn’t been in vain. I am accomplishing things, even if it isn’t reflected in my word count.
I’ve had a lot on my plate and everyone was trying to tell me that my job wasn’t to be an author right now but to focus on the rest of my life. This is my very public mea culpa that they were right and I was wrong.
It’s hard to heed that advice. It’s impossible to listen to something you don’t want to hear. I have heard them, however, and at long last I have turned their advice into something approximating inner peace. It’s not a pure acceptance of my situation: I do still wish to be an author. Painters paint, authors write. Hardship isn’t an excuse to do nothing.
That having been said… in this moment, at this time, I have found enough balance to allow myself to take today to be a good author. I spent the rest of this week being a good employee, or a good husband, or a good father, or a good friend. Tonight, my wife found some space for me to be a good author.
That means the world. I will not waste this gift that has been given to me. I will not lose further precious opportunities to unnecessary guilt or misplaced internal denunciations.
It’s story time baby. Let’s rumble.
In the Dark of Night – Part Whatever
Heart in my throat, I stared out across the gravel road to the field where I dealt the thrice-crowned disciple of Azazel the final blow.
Where there had once been gently molding fence and gently frosted grass, there was instead a crater.
Not an especially large one by the standards of old disaster films I had seen with Jacqueline. Those movies had done nothing to prepare me for what it meant to be at ground-zero of a meteor strike, however.
Small fires flickered in a haphazard splash pattern, melting the very frost which then extinguished them. Soft earth lay mounded in a gentle circle nearly five meters across. There wasn’t a hint of trail leading to the crater; whatever was in there came straight down. I looked over at Anzi, who was gazing back with the exact expression of bewildered consternation I wore.
I don’t know what kind of game Tim was playing, but so far I was not amused.
Jake lay stunned in Anzi’s arms. The downside of being a human trapped in an overlarge raven is that you’re used to a human’s resilience without the body to back it up. The normal stream of fowl-mouthed bravado was silent as he clawed his way back to normal.. I sent him soothing thoughts as I crawled over the low hedge and made my way towards whatever fresh nonsense today was determined to deliver.
Tattered bits of burnt paper wafted through the air, testimony to the fact that my books were well and truly cooked.
“Tim, you’ve got a lot of explaining to do.”
My dark mutterings went unheard over the crackle of dying flames and crunch of gravel underfoot. Anzi was picking her way across the road as well. Even consumed by curiosity as she was, I couldn’t help but notice that she took great care with Jake. The concern tugged up the corners of my mouth. It was hard to equate the young woman behind me to the power-drunk being that had lashed me to my own floor. There was hope for her yet.
“Blast it Tim, you make it hard to be angry at you.”
I muttered a great deal more under my breath as I approached the lip of the crater. Once I could see what was inside, it was a lot easier to be angry at Tim.
Nestled inside was a perfectly ordinary, slightly melted rock the size of a basketball..
It was just your average bit of space debris. So far, all Tim’s blessing had done was destroy what little remained of my backpack and give the three of us an enormous scare. All that for an unhelpful spaceketball.
Then there was a steaming hiss, and the sides of the meteoroid slid down into the earth in a decidedly unnatural fashion.
Nestled in the still-steaming center was a falcon. From feather to foot, it was a uniform metallic silver. It was also in a kneeling position, wings spread before it on the rocky floor of the not-so-meteoroid.
It rose smoothly, unfolding itself as if standing was a new concept it hadn’t quite worked out yet. Even at the top of the crater, I could hear soft, metallic whirring as the joints unfolded. Standing accomplished, it rose to meet my gaze with eyes a sinister shade of red.
“Claire Miller, let me come with you if you want to live up to your potential.”
The voice was a riot; Robot X Bird, with a heavy marbling of Austrian throughout.
I rolled my eyes so hard it shocked me that they didn’t go flying into the crater. Apparently, not even death could kill a twisted sense of humor.
I hooked out an arm. The metallic fowl stepped free of the meteor, extending the bright silver wings like the tiny creature was an x-wing switching to attack position instead of a bird preparing to fly. Then, without even bothering to flap its wings, it floated gracefully up from the crater and onto my outstretched elbow
I was accumulating winged things at an astonishing rate: Angels, familiars, and robo-birds, oh my!
I still didn’t know what Tim was thinking with this latest gambit, but looking over at Anzi gently attempting to brush detritus off Jake, I figured I could give him the benefit of the doubt.
“I am an automated temporary ornithological miracle-producing organism. You may call me by my designation, Atomo.”
A *snrk* escaped before I could catch myself. Atomo acted as though it hadn’t heard me. Anzi was looking at my arm like it had sprouted feathers instead of a metal miracle machine. Jake, recovered enough to rediscover his fowl disposition, took one look at this latest insult to avian creatures and flew off in disgust. He cawed derisively as he left, which made him a bit of a hypocrite in the un-birdlike department but I wasn’t going to call him on it. Anzi stared bitterly after him, jealous that she could no longer do the same.
The young angel let out a huff and crossed her arms beneath her chest as she closed the distance between us. Atomo, for its part, was flapping realistic wings in a very unrealistic fashion while standing rigid on my arm. It let out the occasional caw which sounded like a robot Arnold Schwarzenegger failing at his best bird call.
I couldn’t help myself. I bent double, holding my arm out so that Atomo wouldn’t fall off as I wheezed into knees. The laughter drove away the last dregs of terror from the adrenaline-soaked morning. If Atomo was what heaven sent to help me, how bad could things really be?
The blare of a high-pitched siren cut through my mirth as a police car tore onto the lane. It screeched to a halt on the wrong side of the road. Officer Davis lurched out of the vehicle, leaning across the hood of the car as he shook his head and chuckled. Waddling around the hood, he made his way towards us with his hands at his hips. His sneer was in his words as well as on his lips when he spoke.
“Well well well, fancy seeing you here Clarence. Looks like you and your friends are coming with me.”
To be continued…
