:NMinus

As usual, a thread at the Dire Cafe is to blame… Sorry, Johnny!

I hear the rocket screamin’
It’s screamin’ through the sky
And I ain’t seen the planet Earth
Since so long I can’t say why.
I’m stuck on planet Mongo,
And time keeps draggin’ on.
But that rocket ship keeps flyin’
Until my home is gone.

When I was just a baby,
My Mama told me, “Son,
Always be a good boy,
Don’t ever play with guns.”
But I shot a man on Mongo
Just to watch him die.
When I hear that engine screamin’,
I hang my head and cry.

I bet there’s guards a’comin’,
In a fancy rocket car,
They’re probably sportin’ laser whips,
Or lizard men from Mars,
But I know I had it comin’,
I know I can’t be free.
But those lackies keep arrivin’,
And that’s what tortures me.

Well, if they freed me from this empire,
If that rocket sled was mine,
I bet I’d move out over a little,
Farther down the line,
Far from planet Mongo,
That’s where I want to stay.
And I’d let that lonesome rocket engine,
Blow my blues away.

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The challenge here was to write no more than three paragraphs in the Lovecraftian style: oblique, revelatory, and with an italicized ending kicker.

—————————————————–

My dwindling O2 gauge grants me the only peace I will ever know again. I am a coward, and I cannot bring myself to break the seals on my helmet, to suffer that quick onrush of corrosive hate that the native denizens of this world once called air. In twenty minutes, I shall be blissfully and finally dead. The remaining span I am condemned to terror and madness: the horrific, cosmic truth of what I unleashed upon my own race those uncounted cosmic ages ago.

I have logged as much as I could for transmission back to Earth. What has happened is undoubtedly in the ancient past — indeed, its evidence is carved in stone all around me — yet my poor spirit knows that I in the present have committed the crime. Now I know the dreams are not a form of space madness or air mixture imbalance, as I had once feared. I would gladly trade my blasted, terribly cogent mind for the innocent, discordant shards of mere psychosis.

Around me, in the great chasm, the infinite universe is bounded in a bubble of stone, etched millions of years ago by alien hands. Constellations long-shattered by the grinding of stars through the aether have been captured and embossed in the pale grey sheen of enduring rock. We knew that this race had conquered time, but who could have guessed they had learned from others how to master the vastness of space? What surprise then that the mighty intellects of Yith had taken advantage of the knowledge of an unlooked-for visitor from a distant, future world? And who would not be terrified to see — carved amid the curvilinear diagrams of this ancient planetarium, describing with mathematical exactitude that only a spacefarer would possess — the shortest interstitial route to pre-Cambrian Earth, in the weathered symbols and forms of an all-too-human calculus?

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Inspired by Hypnoangel at the Dire Cafe. Enjoy!

—- Panel 1 —-

Martha, a rather dowdy yet cherubic-faced teen, is walking with her non-descript friends down the halls of her high school.

MARTHA: Can you believe that research paper our teacher assigned to us?

ND FRIEND #1: Five pages on the life and times of John Adams. Groan.

ND FRIEND #2: I’m going to go home and study right now!

—- Panel 2 —-

Friend #1 and #2 leave. Martha watches them go.

BOTH: Bye, Martha!

—- Panel 3 —-

Close up, Martha wonders on her own: “They’re sure to get As. But what am I going to do? Who can I turn to for the truth about John Adams?”

—- Panel 4 —-

Martha turns her head to look behind her. From of-panel, a voice balloon intrudes:

DARK STRANGER: “Looking for answers, Martha?”

MARTHA: Gasp!?!? Who???

—- Panel 5 —-

Revealed, the sinister DAMION, a dark-haired, gaunt teen with a trenchcoat. In his arms, instead of schoolbooks, he carries the D&D Manual of the Planes, the collected works of Anton LeVey, and a copy of the Democratic National Party junior member handbook. A black pallor hangs over him, on him, and near him. He looms over her, smiling wickedly.

DAMION: I know where you can find all the answers you seek.

MARTHA: Really? Well, I don’t know …

Caption: “Beware the evil one, for he speaketh lies, and by his dress sense ye shall know him.” - WTF 3:19

—- Panel 6 —-
Close-up: DAMION: I shall reveal to you the hidden knowledge of … the WIKI!

Caption: “And to the righteous, his words shall sound like gobbledeegook, yet verily, the unworthy shall fall prey to his buzzwords.” - LOLZY 5:19

DAMION: Your father is wrong, Martha. There’s so much more … realms of knowledge undreampt of, now lie bare before you!

—- Panel 8 —-

Martha hunches over her computer, a thin line of drool counterpointing her wild-eyed frenzy as she types.

MARTHA: Damion was right! This wiki contains all the answers! I’ll get to the truth of John Adams in no time!

—- Panel 9 —-

The next day at school, Martha stands in front of her class, reading her essay. She’s looking rather bleary, dark circles under her eyes. The teacher looks on unapprovingly.

MARTHA: “And so, in conclusion, John Adams played a vital role in the establishment of Western democracy in North America.” The end.

TEACHER: I see … Thank you Martha, you may sit down. Next, we have Jennifer’s paper.

—- Panel 10 —-

Jenny, a blonde vision of angelic beauty, glides to the front of the class. A nimbic aurora of radiance backlights her.

JENNY: “My paper on John Adams, by Jenny Smith. John Adams was a sinner. The end.”

Caption: “Verily I say unto you, if it taketh more than a bite of sound, it hath not the ring of truth.” GWB 9:11

—- Panel 11 —-

Jenny floats back to her seat with the grace of a rose petal alight on a soft spring breeze. Teacher is very happy.

TEACHER: And now for your grades. Jenny, you got an A…

Caption: “Bitch, I hath done told thee.” SLJ 8:23

—- Panel 13 —-

Martha runs out of the school, tears flying from her face in torrents.

MARTHA: I worked all night on that paper! How could I fail? How will I get into Yale now?

—- Panel 14 —-

Martha, unheeding of her direction, runs into traffic and the path of an oncoming school bus.

MARTHA: This is all Damion’s fault! Oh no!

Caption: “And the sinner’s days shall end in a great screeeeeeeeech, and two thumps.” HTLB 10:3

TYPECARD: Are YOU going to end up like Martha? Don’t turn to wicked wikis and tricky technology — all you’ll find there are SECULAR HUMANIST PIT TRAPS THAT LEAD TO HELL! Remember: the Bible has ALL THE TRUTH YOU’LL EVER NEED!

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Well, I made it. In true NaNoWriMo style, a deadline I could live with was the key.

I think this script is a strong one, especially around the end of Act II at poolside, which is where I started writing from today. The showdown between Lang and Doctor Marlowe is probably some of my best character work.

Feast on it before it feasts on you: The Deep End.

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Okay, so I suck at deadlines this week.

Still working on it, folks. This may be a good time to reflect a little on St. Baty’s wisdom so that I can power through this the way God intended.

So, in the interests of maintaining the joyful optimism of the deadline, I am re-deadlining The Deep End. “Release it on March 5,” the spirits seem to whisper to me, and so I obey.

See you then.

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