Be sure to check out Sunday Scribblings and Weekend Writer's Retreat for more literary fun!
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“Here’s something I don’t understand.” Kalila paused outside the old movie theater and gazed at one of the posters. “What’s this fascination humans have for superheroes?”
“It’s a natural impulse," Ricky said. "We all want to think someone will come along and save the day.”
“But you have us.” She spread her arms. “Gods, djinns, fairies…we can do everything your superheroes do. Or at least we could back when your kind still believed.”
Ricky suspected where this was going, but they had been on the road for days, tonight’s gig had been troublesome, and all he wanted was a little walk in the cool night air so he could clear his head enough to sleep. A discussion of how humans had failed Kalila and her supernatural kind wasn’t in any of his late-night plans.
“You abandoned us for humans in masks and tights.”
“Not all of them are human. Superman—”
“Oh, please.” Kalila began walking again.
Ricky hurried to catch up. “It’s just stories; fantasies humans like to tell each other.”
“That’s my point. Why resort to fantasy when you have reality?”
“Because reality is problematic?” When Kalila didn’t answer, he tried to explain. “If I ask you to do something for me, you might do it or you might not.”
“That’s because I’m not your servant.”
“Right. But superheroes always come when called. We made them like that.”
“So it’s about control. You can’t be in charge of us, so you imagine powerful beings in your own image who you can boss around.”
Ricky had never thought of it that way before. “I don’t know if ‘boss around’ is how I’d put it. You have to be worthy and in need.”
“But if you are, then the superhero will always come.” Kalila nodded wisely. “You knew you couldn’t count on a real deity to help, so you invented ones who play by your rules. Since you created them, you’re in charge, which makes you the superhero.”
This was too much philosophy for one night. “Let’s go back to the hotel. Maybe I can find something on TV to help me relax so I can sleep.”
“Will this help?” She conjured a glass of neat Scotch whiskey.
“Not out here.” Ricky looked around. “They have laws about drinking on the streets.”
Kalila laughed. “If a cop saw you, I’d make him think it was a cup of coffee. If you went to jail, I’d get you out again.” She forced the drink into his hand.
Ricky took a sip and sighed with pleasure. Kalila knew her single malts. And in spite of her cantankerous ways, she always came through for him when it really mattered. He put an arm around her and they continued toward the hotel. It was nice to have a personal superhero.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
AUTHOR'S NOTE: If you enjoyed this story, you can now buy the book in print and Kindle versions from Amazon and e-book format from Fictionwise!.
Maelstrom Extra: Personal Superhero
Saturday, June 12, 2010
reviews (Comments): 7
Posted by
Maelstrom
On Tour
Saturday, May 29, 2010
reviews (Comments)
Posted by
Ricky
Hi, everyone! I'm just dropping in to let everyone know the band will be on tour for the next two weeks. When we get back, we'll have some great new giveaways of band merchandise and our new book. If you're not already a groupie, sign up, so you'll have the latest info when we return.
Maelstrom Extra: An Inconvenient Invitation
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
reviews (Comments): 12
Posted by
Maelstrom
This is a Three Word Wednesday offering, so be sure to check out Three Word Wednesday for more fun!
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Kalila slipped out of her bottle in a silver mist, poured herself out of the building through gaps in the seal around a door, and drifted into an office park courtyard, where she curled around one of the painted steel spires of a modern sculpture representing the concept of liberty. Or perhaps it was just a rat. Even the humans themselves weren’t sure, and Kalila had no desire to try to figure it out. The sun had warmed the red-lacquered steel and she settled into a comfortable position so she could think.
Sunday brunch with Ricky and his mother. There were so many things wrong with the idea that it would’ve hurt her head to think about it, had she been in human form. For starters, she didn’t care for human food, although she could tolerate it if she had to. But this “meeting Mom” thing was another matter. Although she wasn’t sure of the precise social ramifications, she suspected it would be taken as a sign that she was a girlfriend of sorts, and that simply wouldn’t do.
For Ricky to have suggested it at all was an outrage. She should find him and give him a piece of her mind; make him abandon the ridiculous notion by force if she had to. There was a time not so long ago when she would’ve done just that, but something made her balk, and this new indecisiveness worried her. That she cared what a human might think was puzzle enough, but not wanting to disappoint Ricky was downright un-djinn-like.
She sighed and drifted over backward, elongating herself like a rope and swaying back and forth on the breeze while she tried to bring her scattered thoughts to order. One didn’t spend over two thousand years knocking around the planet without learning how to handle a situation or two. The correct thing would be to track Ricky down and punish him. Severely. The problem was that she wasn’t angry. Instead, she felt oddly excited. No one had ever invited her to meet their mother before. She shouldn’t care, of course, since it was just another human, but the strange feeling of pleasure persisted and she gradually stopped her swinging to contemplate it for a bit.
The twittering of a group of sparrows tussling over a bit of trash brought her back to her senses. Djinns didn’t get emotional. She gathered herself together and slid down the sculpture, drifting past the birds without their noticing. When she reached a service door hidden from view by hedges, she conjured herself into human form, comfortably dressed in jeans, boots, and a natty black jacket. Then she went to the sidewalk and mentally summoned a cab. She would go to Ricky and explain. No brunch. It was simply impossible. Or if she did go, it would have to be a very short brunch, at someplace expensive that served mimosas. And no matter what, he couldn’t introduce her as his girlfriend. Not now, not ever.
A djinn might find humans acceptable company from time to time, but one had to draw the line somewhere.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
AUTHOR'S NOTE: If you enjoyed this story, you can now buy the book in print and Kindle versions from Amazon and e-book format from Fictionwise!.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Kalila slipped out of her bottle in a silver mist, poured herself out of the building through gaps in the seal around a door, and drifted into an office park courtyard, where she curled around one of the painted steel spires of a modern sculpture representing the concept of liberty. Or perhaps it was just a rat. Even the humans themselves weren’t sure, and Kalila had no desire to try to figure it out. The sun had warmed the red-lacquered steel and she settled into a comfortable position so she could think.
Sunday brunch with Ricky and his mother. There were so many things wrong with the idea that it would’ve hurt her head to think about it, had she been in human form. For starters, she didn’t care for human food, although she could tolerate it if she had to. But this “meeting Mom” thing was another matter. Although she wasn’t sure of the precise social ramifications, she suspected it would be taken as a sign that she was a girlfriend of sorts, and that simply wouldn’t do.
For Ricky to have suggested it at all was an outrage. She should find him and give him a piece of her mind; make him abandon the ridiculous notion by force if she had to. There was a time not so long ago when she would’ve done just that, but something made her balk, and this new indecisiveness worried her. That she cared what a human might think was puzzle enough, but not wanting to disappoint Ricky was downright un-djinn-like.
She sighed and drifted over backward, elongating herself like a rope and swaying back and forth on the breeze while she tried to bring her scattered thoughts to order. One didn’t spend over two thousand years knocking around the planet without learning how to handle a situation or two. The correct thing would be to track Ricky down and punish him. Severely. The problem was that she wasn’t angry. Instead, she felt oddly excited. No one had ever invited her to meet their mother before. She shouldn’t care, of course, since it was just another human, but the strange feeling of pleasure persisted and she gradually stopped her swinging to contemplate it for a bit.
The twittering of a group of sparrows tussling over a bit of trash brought her back to her senses. Djinns didn’t get emotional. She gathered herself together and slid down the sculpture, drifting past the birds without their noticing. When she reached a service door hidden from view by hedges, she conjured herself into human form, comfortably dressed in jeans, boots, and a natty black jacket. Then she went to the sidewalk and mentally summoned a cab. She would go to Ricky and explain. No brunch. It was simply impossible. Or if she did go, it would have to be a very short brunch, at someplace expensive that served mimosas. And no matter what, he couldn’t introduce her as his girlfriend. Not now, not ever.
A djinn might find humans acceptable company from time to time, but one had to draw the line somewhere.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
AUTHOR'S NOTE: If you enjoyed this story, you can now buy the book in print and Kindle versions from Amazon and e-book format from Fictionwise!.
