The Drop Zone

Max came down the stairs; he hit the bottom floor and glanced down the hallway. He walked into the kitchen, and grabbed a butter knife from the counter and placed it into the rucksack and slung it on his back.

He went into the study and hit the play button on the computer, his playlist of songs that he had chosen the night before. He put on the earphones and adjusted the sound on the computer and nodded. He walked out the patio door where he dove over the rail.

Apartment 909
Constance Talons stepped from the patio doors and out onto the balcony; she had on a flowing housecoat and was carrying a cup of coffee. She had the morning paper tucked underneath her arm, she placed the coffee down onto the table. And put the paper on the railing. Max zipped pass and grabbed the paper.

Apartment 609
Darel LaPointe was enjoying his morning crescent and his coffee. He sat and watched the sun slowly crawl from the east. The sky was cloudless so it was going to be another beautiful day. He glanced at his wristwatch and turned to the side. He took an envelope that was sitting on the table and held it out over the railing and within seconds it was gone.

Apartment 309
Kristal Vancourt & Allyse Nolle were leaning up against the balcony. Allyse was leaning back and looking and then turned to Kristal.

"He's one his way," Allyse said.

"Who is he?" Kristal asked. "Like a version of Jackie Chan?"

"Who knows," Allyse said. "But he's dreamy."

Kristal rolled her eyes and took three bobby pins and held them out over the side of the railing and they were gone in a blurred action.

"And why is he doing that?" Kristal asked. "Like why can't he use the elevator?"

A Cake Walk

"You think that this is just a cake walk," the beast said in a guttural voice. It was the first time that it spoke. It was battered and bruised and slowly regenerating its wounds; it needed to stall in order to regenerate fully. Then it could tear this bitch limb by limb.

Maggie stepped forward; she kept her eyes on the beast as it tried to prop itself up with its only good limb left. She knew that it was trying to get her mind off the situation at hand.

"It's all about the cake, baby!" Maggie said. She had the pump-action shotgun in her hands and pulled the trigger, sending the demon back to whatever hell it came from. The body of beast disappeared as it imploded into nothingness.

It reminded her of some cheesy vampire movie after hunters had stabbed a vampire, as it turned to dust.

Time in a Bottle

"Time in a bottle?" questioned Max. "You mean Jim Croce was right?"

Goner let out a chuckle and he turned to face Mags. She stood by the window looking out, not turning to face the lads. Goner was sitting down the couch, his right foot propped up on his left knee, with a cup of coffee in his hands. At the moment he was drinking French Vanilla, because it was a flavour that he had recently discovered.

"Yes," she replied, still looking out the window and watching the nightlife unfold before her. "He is indeed a prophet."

"And here I thought he was singing about drinking," Goner said.

Max got up from the chair and moved towards Maggie; he grabbed a cup from the tray that he and Goner had brought in with them. He handed one to Maggie, she accepted. She drank her coffee black.

"It's an interesting concept, isn't it," Max said. He placed a hand on her shoulder.

Maggie was about to say something but Angst stepped out of the bathroom, wrapped in towel. She strolled past Goner.

"What's going on?" Angst asked.

"Maggie was just telling us about keeping time bottled up," Goner quipped; he really wasn't sure if Maggie was serious.

Max sipped his coffee and put it down on the dresser. "So what exactly are you getting at?"

Maggie stared out the window; a tear rolled down her cheek like a glacier moving across the earth.

It's Spiders, Man

Max skimmed across the floor like a hydrofoil; he was on his back and firing up at the ceiling as hundreds upon hundreds of fist-size spiders poured out of the air duct. It seemed that the bullets were propelling him along the floor.

He was getting as far away as possible; he had seen tons of freaky stuff in his lifespan in this reality and the others as well, but it was spiders that truly creeped him out.

"What the hell?" Frank asked, as he saw Max skim pass him. He was coming out the side door with a tray of drinks and he dropped them down to the ground. He looked down the hallway to see what Max was shooting at. "Crap!"

"What's going on?" Angst asked from the room. She could see that Frank wasn't a man to drop something as precious as coffee onto the ground. She grabbed a staff that she had collected and headed for the door, as Frank dug out a weapon.

If the Sun Refuse to Shine

Max looked at the invitation and then at the building; it was abandoned and boarded up. It looked like it hadn't been used in a number of years, and was now a derelict of a past that the future had forgotten. He dug out a smoke and lit it with a wooden match before proceeding forward.

Max checked the invitation again; this was the place that was written. He walked to the front door and gave it a tug and it opened, like magic. He stepped inside. The door didn't creak as he closed it behind him.

Dust and garbage littered the foyer and he stepped inside. Peered around. He walked into the place; it was an old bar, with a dozen or so tables scattered about. Except for one that had its chairs overturned and a candle burning on it, as well as a cold beer and a glass waiting for him.

He took a seat and reached for the glass; no sooner had his fingers touched the cool surface when music seemed to pipe in. The opening chords of a Led Zeppelin song, but sung by Duran Duran. His attention was brought to the stage as a curtain parted and Mags stepped through them. She was dressed in a red silky outfit, and raised a microphone to her lips.

Max smiled.

The Gathering

The bus pulled into Ted's Roadside Diner a little after 7:30 pm, letting out just one passenger. A young lady, looking like she was in her late 20's, disembarked. She stepped from the bus and glanced around the area. She wore torn jeans along with a t-shirt with the Doors emblem, and she had a long coat on.

She turned to the driver of the bus and said thanks. The driver smiled and nodded.

"Well, this ain't much but it's where you wanted to go," the driver said and he closed the door and pulled the bus out of the waystation.

She grabbed her shoulder bag and walked into Ted's; around this time of the evening Ted's was practically empty. She walked up to the counter, dropped her bag beside her and sat down.

"Coffee?" the server asked her. The server was sitting down at the other end reading a book.

"Sure," Maggie said.

The server casually went about her business and brought a cup of coffee over to the customer. "Menu?"

"Yes, please," Maggie replied; she was a tad hungry, after all it had been a long bus ride to get to this place.

The server reached under the counter and placed a battered menu in front of the customer. "So what brings you to these parts?"

"I'm supposed to be hooking up with some old friends," Maggie replied. "They should be showing up shortly."

As if on cue a red sports car pulled into the lot  and out popped a young woman with hair of red, dressed in a dark red dress, looking sultry. From the other side, a woman in black gothic gear stepped out as well.

"I take it that's them?" the server asked.

"That's two of them," Maggie answered. She turned in her seat, taking her coffee cup and headed towards a booth. She placed her coffee down on the table as the door chimed.

"And here I thought I was going to close up early," the server said with a smile. She was glad to have some people here this evening; ever since the bypass opened up two years ago, this cafe had been going on a downhill slant. "Let me fire up the grill."

The door opened and the lady in red called, "Magriel!"

"Hello Lucy. Been a long time," Maggie said as she made her way to the door.

"Hell of a long time," Lucy replied. As the two old friends embraced and gave each other a peck on the cheek.

"Get a room you two," a voice chided from the door. Maggie turned and smiled at the goth girl.

"You haven't changed much, Lilith," Maggie said with a wink.

> Akimoto in Plureality

into the belly of the dragon i stepped
and there was no fear

it bore me through cloud and darkness
on great iron wings

into a land of mist and blood,
and ancient stone it bore me

as my feet touched this enchanted earth
the metamorphosis began

the garb of the everyman fell away
in its place came the fur and leather of the barbarian

this was his land
the land of his heart

and his time had come again to wander

Chess Funky

Frank stepped off the curb carrying a tray of coffee, looking both ways as he crossed the street and headed into the park. He stopped off at the newspaper vendor, placed a bill down and grabbed a paper, tucked it underneath his arm.

"Thanks Frank," said the vendor.

"No, thank you!" Frank returned the gratitude. He liked reading about what was happening in various parts of the world. A newspaper was a man's best friend, for it can tell him things that a dog can't.

"Catch ya tomorrow," the vendor said. 

Frank continued into the park area; he saw the table and headed for it. Angst was sitting there, her head propped up by her hands. She had been studying the board and trying to figure out a move.

"You figured it out yet?" Frank asked her as he approached. 

"Not yet," she replied with a sour taste in her mouth. At the moment she was thinking of going postal on the board and sending the playing pieces scattering like leaves in the wind.

Vending Death

"What's this?" Suki asked when she noticed the vending machine, chained to the wall.

"It's a vending machine, Suki," Mags said with a smile.

"I know that," Suki replied. "But it's cigarettes in it!"

A slight rain fell onto the platform; it was a soothing sound, a comforting sound, a sound like a lullaby that you would hear a mother make to comfort a child. Suki was fascinated with a vending machine which was dispensing smokes; she had never seen one before.

"Yeah, back in the day," Mags replied, she leaned back on the bench. "Well... today in fact."

"You mean to say that cigarette vending machines existed all over at one point?" she asked Mags. She squatted down to make out the brand names that were before each knob, noticing the bright colours.

"Yes," Mags said. She leaned back on the bench and let the rain wash her face.

"That's stupid," Suki said. "When they know how harmful they are."

"Well, considering that kind of logic," Mags said without looking up; you could hear the mirth in her voice, "maybe they should ban cars since they kill a lot of people."

"Oh," Suki retorted.

Pretty Firefight

Max dove for cover as the explosion consumed the room, barely beating being caught up in the inferno by a mere scant seconds. It singed some of the hairs on his head though, and that really got him more ticked.

He hit the ground and rolled, and came up behind a barrier. He didn't know what they were using but it was some futuristic gun that made things explode. He got out his cellphone and dialed a number with his thumb.

"Pretty," Max said.

"I am," Pretty replied. "How can I help thee, Max?"

"You still have that Willis Gun?" asked Max.

"That I do," replied Pretty.

"Can you bring it to me?" Max asked politely.

She's Got It All

Mags danced on the ledge; she was several stories up and she didn't mind it at all. She felt free and alive, Bananarama declaring that it was a Cruel Summer. She never felt more alive than when she was dancing in the crisp cool air, listening to music. They say music soothes the savage beast, and she understood that concept. 

I wish that they had this back then, she thought.

Her phone rang; she jumped from the ledge down to the rooftop and walked over to where a lawn chair and a table was set up. She got it on the third chime.

"Mags here," she said. "If there's anything I can do for you, I am your girl."

> Frank in Plureality

We, each in our own way, 

approve of the sentimentality of tears 

though  we cannot find enough moments to pin them, 

delicately, to. 

In the thunder there is always anticipation, 

maybe something of the lyrical 

in our steps as we cross the road; 

always that thrill rippling distant across our numbness 

at the act, 

although every film seeking to document our mood has shown the very same scene 

and the cars never fail to slow. 

The first drops fall 

and perhaps you wish, pace quickening, 

you were running, laughing, the rain already a storm, for shelter under an awning 

he or she running beside you, 

two others you don’t know but who you share a smile with 

as your hand moves, suddenly slow, significant, 

through you wet hair. 

  

We think we may have discovered the refrain 

over coffee and cigarettes. 

Maybe the rain is a part of it. 

Later one of us will be reading, another dreaming in bed, 

another will be crying, and though you may see it, days later, 

behind their smile, you’ll never know why. 

And we’ll try and remember what it was, 

the way the storyteller paused to light her cigarette, 

the way he was resting his head in his hand, 

the way our cups were filled without asking, the song on the raido. 

Or did the others even feel it? Was it when 

your thoughts returned to the awning – 

It is in front of a gas station, on a highway. 

You had stopped to buy snacks, and to flip a coin 

over whether or not to buy a map 

when the rain started. 

  

There will be a collection  

of notes, 

a particular arrangement, though you may return to it 

for slight changes as suits your fancy, 

with the correct voice 

to speak of you. 

  

It is the way the smoke  

from your cigarette changes 

that tells you before they step from the hall. 

Everything else changes in the moment they do; 

everything else had been arranged for you to be alone, 

the window open but behind you, 

the record on but finished playing, 

the five butts in the ashtray, chain-smoked, 

all to make of you and the space and silence about you 

a moment worthwhile. 

That changes even as it is observed, and the words 

it would take to make of their arrival a moment 

are so much simpler 

only so much heavier 

than any that will be spoken tonight. 

It is not that either of your smiles are forced, 

they are just too familiar and no longer reliable.

A Prayer Before the...

Damn.

Goner felt the bullet enter his side and he knew that he was going to be in a world of pain. He fell to the floor like a bricklayer dropping bricks into a barrel. He crawled the best that he could with the one good arm, behind a short wall.

"That makes four," he said to himself.

He knew that time was short; he had been in situations like this many times but this time it felt different. This time he tasted fear.
He couldn't move his left arm since it was dangling at his side, the bone was broken from a previous wound. Bullets skittled around him, trying to break away the barrier that he was trying to hide behind.

Damn, I don't want to die just yet. There's one thing more I would like to do.

He propped himself up against the wall and reached to see if another clip had magically appeared in his jacket pocket but he knew it hadn't. He ejected the clip from the gun and saw only one bullet left. He put the clip back into the gun, using his leg.

He coughed and spat out some blood.

Damn. Game over.