Frienemy

When I wrote "Girl talk" My wife said "That's not how girls are with each other, they're way more catty" so I wrote this. This is basically girl talk from a girls prospective...I guess.


Did you hear about (add name)!
Did you hear about (add name)!
While gossip girl is blabben,
I don't want to play this game.

We talk about her weight,
My issues have to wait!
Cuz "don't even get me started!
on issues with my mate!"

I just nod my head,
At all that she just said.
Smile, laugh, (at some of it)
But wish that I were dead

She tells me I'm the one,
She has the mostest fun.
Then  hang with another,
And bout me mouths will run.

Girls friends never lack,
In reasons to make pacts...
Of B.F.F loyalties,
With knives behind their backs!

I guess I'll just appease,
All her crazy pleas.
Cuz, if life gives us lemons...
We'll make um Frienemies!

The Last Son of Krypton: Chapter One; Part Two

OK! here it is, Part Two of Chapter One. It took longer to post then I wanted, but that's because I rewrote it. I want to see a real story, out of the superman mythos. I wont see that if I short change my self.
            My original 'Part two' had a sparse description of the people. I felt that it didn't do any justice to what I was trying to accomplish. So I picked one moment and expanded it into a more intimate scene.

  

The red eyed men were laughing and congratulating each other as they approached the downed bird. A large quick man rushed to slit its throat, while the others started unzipping and unbuckling their thick coats.

A young boy gasped and fought with his zipper in desperation, he looked sick enough to throw up.

“Calm your self manling.” A tall, darker man said, dropping his coat and tunic. “You can’t restore any faster while in a panic” he laughed as he helped the stricken boy out of his things.

Bare skinned, the boy threw him self out into the sun.

“Whose idea was it to bring a child on a hunt?” said a burly man with a bald head and unkempt beard.

“Mine!” said the boy’s father who was cleaning his knife.

“Zod? Wouldn’t it due, to wait until his change is over?”

“No” Zod said calmly removing his coat. “This is better”

Burly beard started to protest, but thunder shook the sky. Flames rolled and danced above. “Fi’storm” he said squinting upward “this looks like a bad one!” he looked back to the boy. “He better not slow us down, Zod" he said pointing. "because when that storm descends...”

“IF! that storm descends!”, Zod interrupted, walking past him. “Then you better pray to your god that I don’t tie you to that cannon barrel.” He pointed out the massive barrel sticking twenty feet out of the ground.

When the light touched Trohins skin, the burning feeling within started to fade and color returned to his face. He ignored the men as they teased him about his “change” and stood tall as his father slapped his bare back in passing. He was going through Mensure, and was becoming a man.

Trohin was the son of Captain Meis dok Zod; Unified Army, Off world Battalion, who was a war hero. He quelled the Gen-form revolt on the Kry’bion mining station three years ago, and the most respected man in upper Amorra.  

After a moment he felt better and turned to find his father. He found him giving orders to the men. These were his father’s men; they followed him every where. Except the man with the beard, his father seemed to know him, but he joined the group during the night. Trohin watched as the men cleaned the Chir’Mia bird, and inspected the Lepord that fell with it.

Most of the men still had there shirts off while others put on the thin sleeveless shirts that allowed maximum restoring. While watching, Trohin couldn’t help but notice the large bearded man had markings on his back and arms. He didn’t want to embarrass his father by asking about them right now.

“Once we’ve eaten, we’ll break into Alfa and Beta groups.” His father announced “We are hunting for fuel cells and cores today.” He was answered by some hoots and hollers. “I will be training my son for the rest of the morning….Dorrin!” he called to the tall darkish man. “Are you sure about that ridge?” he pointed up a small incline.

“Yes caption”

“Good, carry on men. Report if you find a core.” He turned and walked toward Trohin briskly peeling off gloves as he came. “Are you feeling better son?”

“Yes, I mean, Yes sir” Trohin said sheepishly.

“Your mother has babied you” he said as he walked passed. Trohin had to jog to keep up with his father’s long stride.

“Father, may I ask a question?” he asked as he jogged along.

“Of course” he said curtly.

“Who is that bearded man? I’ve never seen him with you.”

“That is M’arjok” he said. “He came to help with the hunt, he's an ass, but also good in a pinch.”

“What are those marks he has?”

“Those are Freemen marks” Zod said looking at Trohin from the corner of his eye.

Trohin tripped but caught his balance “He’s a Stick!” he blurted.

His father stopped short, and looked right in Trohins eyes. “Don’t you ever let me hear you say that word again! Understand!” He said in a quite, angry tone.

“Yes father” Trohin stammered, ashamed.

Zod continued his pace up the hill “The Union won the war, and we owe our allegiance to the Congress. That does not mean we can dishonor the memories of those who opposed the Union. They were solders, following orders.”

When they reached the top of the hill Trohin was surprised when he saw that the edge dropped into a valley that was filled with...destruction. Thousands upon thousands of uninterrupted Battlemech forms, Canotrips and Tankers littered the rolling hills. He thought he saw v-suit frames, and blaster supports through out the rubble, but he couldn’t tell. The most amazing, yet horrifying part was that, the rubble covered every inch of the land, and continued into the horizon.
 This valley was now a graveyard. It was the final battle between the Freeman and the Unified Congress of Krypton. It happened over a hundred years ago, yet it looked like it ended yesterday.  Trohin didn’t know what to say.
"Go'Romoth" Zod said reverently. "The Freemen were marching to take Amorra, the Congress's Capital at the time."
“Is this…the reason you brought me with you?” Trohin said in a whisper.

His father stood on the edge for a moment looking down into the mist swirl below. “No” he finally said. He took in a deep breath and blew in a burst, dispelling the mists. Satisfied, he said “This is!” then he threw Trohin off the ridge.



Part three

The Last Son of Krypton: Chapter One; Part one

             My first question in validating superman (for my self)  is "What was Krypton like?"  Starting from the basics I wrote a snapshot of the planet its self.

“I can’t help but think about our amazing planet. It seems to turn slowly, yet this is only an illusion of its size. The speed of its long rotation creates an amazing gravitational pull, which attributes to the dense nature of our very matter.  Its long hot days and long treacherously cold nights affects an atmosphere that seems intent on killing. So intense is our environment, that life should have never taken root, yet life found a way.”

Enan dok Eahl  Father-Founder of gene code expression

Chapter one

The bird awoke with the sun. Stretching the sleep out of its long leathery wings, it turned its silvery back into the light to absorb its rays. Feeling refreshed, the bird leapt into the gas thick sky and fell into a gentle glide over the lush canopy of a sprawling forest. The heavy atmosphere pressed against the great aviator as it rolled and shifted dangerously close to the tops of the trees, which were slowly turning their leaves up towards the great red Sun.

The long night was over, and the trees shook off a thin coat of ice as the heat of the Sun enlivened them. A slow thick mist both rose and fell from the canopy as the sun melted and evaporated the night’s frost. With their burdens lifted, the trees stood taller and unfolded their day limbs. The trees sent shivers down into their roots, awakening the creatures big and small that thrived in the day light.

The smaller creatures scuttled about at the base of the great trees, while the larger ones slowly made their ways into warm patch’s of light. The hunting beasts began to change their techniques from night to day. Slowly the infrared in their eyes faded away, as they stalked the day time prey that were moving slowly to the open fields, which were littered with wreckage and debris from the Great War.

Thunder rolled in the sky, as a small fire storm erupted high in the atmosphere, sparked by lighting within the flammable clouds. Large groups of small birds burst out of the tree lines in response; swooping down quickly over the burnt out and abandoned vehicles of destruction. They passed by a pride of large cats slinking in the shadows, spying slow grazing calves that were finding there way into the sun. One of the smaller lithe cats crawled impatiently out of cover and sprang at its target, to be caught out of the air by a huge leathery bird.

The bird flapped its great wings to fight the weight of its meal, and the pressures of gravity. It screeched in triumph, and then in pain, as a long sharp barb flew threw its heart. As it fell it heard the war cry of its only predator. Man.



Part two

Eat Me!

This story popped into my head while I was at the supermarket the other day. I was just staring at the junk food in the check out line like I'd never be whole again if I didn't buy some. 

“Eat me!” something said to me while in line at the supermarket. “Eat me!” it insisted again. I looked over to the “impulse isle” you know, the treat bar the store so lovingly placed to tempt us into that one last item. A bag of Doritos held my attention. “You know your gonna stop at the gas station on your way home if you don’t buy me here” it said to me.

I glanced at other shoppers to see if anybody was hearing this; some shoppers were on their phones, others were browsing though a magazine, nobody heard. While wondering if I was going crazy I noticed the opposite rack had a healthy array of candy bars.

“Hello” said a reeses crunch in a French accent. “I can see in your eyes that we have a connection”

“No you fool!” said a snickers bar “He was looking at me!”

“You-want-to-blow-some-bubbles” chimed in the entire rack of bubble gum.

I had gone crazy! I couldn’t deny that I wanted to buy a snack, in fact I wanted to buy them all! But I was determined not to yield to these temptations.
I chose this line for a reason; it only had one customer in it. Yet as I tried to ignore the treats I noticed that the other person couponed and was pulling out a wallet the size of my head, full of clippings.

The candies sung out their sweet siren songs. The salty snacks rose up in savory chorus. They were all bidding me to sample their 10% bigger bags, and gusher goodness. I roved my eyes about looking for a possible shorter line, but they were all packed. I unloaded my cart onto the conveyer belt desperate for the distraction, but the breath mints above the belt breathed there minty message to me.

I persevered in my resolve, and insisted upon my reasoning, not to give in, I am the master of my cravings! Finally the casher scanned my last item, gave me my total, and I ran.

I was the victor! The champion! I was the master of my will! I reveled in my glorious triumph as I unloaded my groceries at home… and noticed something odd. Amidst my food items were a scattering of the very junk food I was trying to avoid. Was I so weak that I subconsciously gave in?

I looked at my kids, who were staring expectantly at the snacks

“How did these get in here?” I asked dumfounded.

“We put them in daddy!” my kids said looking up at me with puppy eyes.

“Oh yah” I thought “I had them with me”. I looked at those little faces… took a deep breath…got ready to lecture them about self control and said “good jobs kiddies.” Then we attacked those goodies like wild animals.

Words in the mist.

           I'm currently reading a series right now that is driving me crazy. "Mist born" by Brandon Sanderson Is a story about a girl who finds out she has the power of a mist born, who can burn different metals in her belly to give her different powers. She and a band of thieves are working together to save the world from the threat of the immortal Lord Ruler and the evil Darkness. It's a great book and I love the story, and I love how its written, however I'm having trouble with the story telling.

           Story telling is hard to do some times. I'm not talking about 'ploting', Story telling is how the plot unfolds. I feel that even if your story and plots sucked, you could save it in your story telling. The problem I am seeing in Mist born is that it feels really drug out. I don't wont to ruin the series for any one so I wont give any examples from the book, but my wife had a hard time finishing the third and final book. "I'm sick of reading the same thing over and over!" she said.

           This got me thinking? Are publishers asking writers to add more text to expand a series, or is this the writers doing? I for one, am not happy with the development of some of the series I've read, because of these shenanigans. I do, however, understand that if each book was written like a stand alone then a new reader could pick up anywhere and enjoy what he/she is reading. But then I think, If this was my intent then I would plot and adopt a story telling technique for doing just that.

           I like to look to one of my favorite books, The Lord of the Rings, as a case study. It was written as a whole book, then slit apart into three. The narrative doesn't back track. If you pick up the second book first, you will get lost, and Tolkien isn't sorry for it, and he was named the 'Writer of the Century'. I like this because as a series its focus was on the story it was telling. If you pick up a story in the middle, you should be lost, so go back to the beginning. If its a 7 book series, then go to book 1. Writers shouldn't be giving us a monologue over what happened in the last book, because the reader should have read it already!

           I also look to another favorite book, 'Dresden files' by Jim Butcher. Each book was written as a stand alone. You can pick it up any book and enjoy it. Jim Butcher tells the story in such a way that you don't mind that you already know that this or that had happened. He planned the story telling to include it, and it always adds to the story he is currently telling. Other writers do this also, Clive Cussler does this with the Dirk Pitt series, in fact Clive Cussler very rarely back tracks, he introduces the characters in every book as if you never knew him, then moves on to the story.

             My point is that It seems like many of the  new writers are so intent on writing a series, they forget to tell the story, and that's a shame.