- The Writers Voice -

[shadowlight]

The image is not mine. I got it from the internet. Please use it only to spark your creativity. Thank you and have fun.
God bless,
Marlicia
I'm sorry about the size. I couldn't get it any smaller.
_________________
Be patient with me. Like any good story, I'm a work in progress.

[Harry]

Curse of the Dark Star

Harry Buschman


Professor Leoncavallo is gone now and none of us are the least bit surprised. Everyone knew the little piece of dark star material would be the death of him.

You can't fool with mother nature. The professor should have remembered that.

The entire crew of the School of Celestial Studies flew by private jet to Ecuador when the surprising news of a small piece of "Black Hole" material had been discovered by a primitive tribe in the almost inaccessible jungle of Ecuador. The natives didn't know the little nugget was part of a black hole of course, but Professor Leoncavallo was sure it was. He witnessed the interstellar explosion in the vicinity of Coma Berenices only a week before, and since time and space are nothing to the inter-stellar travel of black holes he expected a small sample of it might reach the solar system and possibly find its way to Ecuador.

Of course it would have enormous magnetic properties. It swallowed up everything. Within a week the natives had declared it was sacred and they quickly ran out of vestal virgins within a week to their new God. They called it Vakuoom ... which it was in a way. That first week they lost their medicine man too, he shook has magic stick at it and the tribal chieftain witnessed his long time friend and advisor sucked into the black hole in a flash, and later, he remarked with a sly smile ... "He too is with the virgins."

The professor was a more careful than that. He rigged up a device to hold his wristwatch and a camera. The camera was set at its fastest speed and fired off a shot just as his watch disappeared into the vortex of this mighty force of nature in the whirling, corkscrew effect of the black hole just as he had predicted. "A tvisting und a skvirming.” he explained. "Like a boa constricter mit a pig svallowed haff way down." Celestial science can only be explained and understood by the experts.

The School of Celestial Studies decided a bold and unique plan to contain this chunk of dark matter was called for. A container of solid lead would be lowered by a giant boom controlled by the Dean from a safe distance. He would be guided by signals from Professor Leoncavallo himself as he sat astride the container. Lead, the Professor sagely predicted, was uniquely impervious to dark hole matter.

Two things went wrong.

The Dean was clumsy and the Professor's prediction was incorrect. As the entire contraption disappeared into the insatiable maw of the dark star the old tribal chieftain was heard to comment, “Give my regards to the vestal virgins.”
_________________
We are all apprentices in a craft where no one ever becomes a master.
Ernest Hemingway

[shadowlight]

Sorry it's taken me so long to post. I've started F2K with Writer's Village University so I'm pressed for time, but here's my take.

Thanks for taking a look and God bless,
Marlicia
with God all things are possible

Lost (WC 500)
©Marlicia Fernandez 8-30-14


It’s frustrating down here, definitely not where I saw my life when I took this job, how many years ago now? I don’t remember. Everything is fuzzy, like maybe I haven’t had enough sleep or food. Man, could I use a drink. A good stiff one. Maybe then I’d remember.

Maybe not.

But at least it might give me something to write about. If I don’t fall asleep first. I think I might have done that before, but I really can’t recall.

You know, it’s funny. I can’t remember my name. Not even the first letter. I don’t know where I was born or when. There’s nothing on me to give me a clue. Not even a billfold.

Funny, I don’t remember setting out to sea either. I suppose the boat, or the ship, or whatever, sank or something. But I haven’t seen any other survivors. Just schools of fish and solitary sharks. Occasionally a whale will glide by…yes, glide. It’s amazing how graceful the large creatures are in the water. But anyway, none of the pay any attention to me. Not anymore. They now I can’t harm them and they can’t eat me. Lord knows, they’ve tried.

That kind of surprised me, but I guess I should be grateful.

I’d be more grateful if I could remember who I am, or find someone to talk to. Anyone, even if they don’t recognize me. Together maybe we could piece together the puzzle of my situation.

This desk is a mess. The typewriter is fused to the desk in front of me by barnacles and who know what all. It’s as stuck as I am. (Did I say fused? What’s fused? How do I know that word? And what’s a typewriter? I feel I should know…somehow, but it eludes me).

Papers are strewn across the desk, their words, illegible and frustratingly indistinct. I’m certain they will give me some idea of where I’m at and why I’m here if only I can find a way to decipher them. But that’s not going to happen; the salt and the sea are against me. Everything’s disintegrating—disintegrating. I use a lot of big words. I must be educated, but where and to do what?

I want to bang my fist on the desk, but I can’t. It shouldn’t surprise me. I haven’t been able to move my arm or anything else in I don’t know how long. But it does surprise me—every time.

There used to be a paper sticking out of the typewriter. It swayed with the current until the water-smudged letters and the paper disintegrated and floated away.

Disintegrated. There’s another big word. Maybe I’m a writer of some sort. One who works for, what’s it called? I can’t remember. Something that tells people what’s happening, like a diary or journal, but for the public. Just the facts. Journal…journalist! Is that what I am? That explains the typewriter and the desk, but not what I’m doing here…or who I am.
_________________
Be patient with me. Like any good story, I'm a work in progress.

[shadowlight]

Oh, Harry, this made me smile all the way through. I love it. How you arrived at this story from the prompt...I'm not sure, but it does fit and it's a wonderful read. All those vestal virgins and two men, LOL. Wow...

As always, a pleasure, my friend. Loved it.

God bless,
Marlicia
with God all things are possible
_________________
Be patient with me. Like any good story, I'm a work in progress.

[Harry]

If I were there I’d be able to help you old boy. I’d be able to ease your mind a bit. You don’t have to worry about one thing though, you’re not a journalist. Nobody ever heard a journalist use a word like’ disintegrating.’ Much too highfalutin … he’d say “kerboom” or something – something the editor might understand. Anyway I hope things turn out for the best for you down there. Things always look darkest before the dawn. Thank your lucky stars you’ve got Marlicia on your case – she’ll see to it that you come up for air eventually.
_________________
We are all apprentices in a craft where no one ever becomes a master.
Ernest Hemingway

[shadowlight]

LOL,

I'm sure you would, Harry. I think he can use all the help he can get. I didn't know that about journalists. Thanks for telling me. It made me smile. Ah...but there's the operative word...eventually. I think I see our quasi-journalist shaking in his boots. At least as much as he's able to shake.

Thank you for taking the time to read and to comment, my friend. I appreciate it, as always.

God bless,
Marlicia
with God all things are possible
_________________
Be patient with me. Like any good story, I'm a work in progress.

[valuesleader]

haha,i agree with you






____________________
all of us need buy fifa 15 coins

[shadowlight]

You made me smile.

God bless...
Marlicia
with God all things are possible
_________________
Be patient with me. Like any good story, I'm a work in progress.