Ziegiest

#26

Flower

Vultures

Monkey

Twins in Death: Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen

Halloween Night

 

The Palace

 

            Her name was Zhaznal, and she was the goddess of uncertainty. Not much is really known about her, at least from a mythological standpoint. There are, as far as we can discern, no legends or fables or indeed any myths of her at all. She does not seem to have any worshipers besides a few new age physicists who claim that she really runs everything in the universe. This is not quite true, she observes the universe, and by observing certain parts of universe she affects them. She cannot truly control the outcome but it’s a pretty safe bet that she would be the one to sit next to at a roulette wheel. Always bet on what she put her chips on if you get my meaning. The palace she lives in is a huge empty place, which appears to be strewn with spider webs.

 

            These webs are not actually the silk of spiders but instead are the physical interpretation of waveforms of possibility. The goddess and her assistants shift the outcome of events and thus create one reality or another, by collapsing the waveforms of possibility and causing events to come to fruition. By watching the strands very carefully, one can usually tell which strand is going to finally be left and thus which event is going to take place, those strands are usually thicker and more substantial. Still Zhaznal has the ability and the right to affect the final outcome, by deliberately choosing one strand or another when the final event comes close.

 

             It is said that if a single person could more easily perceive multiple dimensions and could see all the alternate realities they would more fully understand that Zhaznal and her assistants don’t actually eliminate strands, but rather they sort each possibility into a reality of its own. They shape every reality by putting each individual waveform of probability into a set of strands that make up each reality. Those realities are then said to be woven together into strings, which confound physicists and then make a rope, in which the mulitverse is contained as a whole and complete thing.

 

            There are billions or possibly trillions of tiny spider-like creatures helping Zhaznal in her task of plucking (or possibly selecting and moving) each stand. There are then large angelic like figures who help her in selecting the daily decisions while leaving the larger choices to her.

 

            At this moment, most of them were intently watching seventeen strands, which were hanging in two massive clumps together over a small chasm. One clump of webbing was the past and the other was the future. Strands stretched out from each of the strands and formed pools and rivers, which branched out into other things. The fate of the universe though, seemed to be based on these seventeen strands before them. One spider watched as The Weirdo and his double Loki walked towards the warehouse. If one of them walked away he would break one strand, if they didn’t, he’d break another. If they both walked away it would be a third.

 

            People think that the tiniest difference in the way they might have acted could change the universe. Such changes are rarely as large as anyone thinks, a real decision would have to be made because what with Fate, Luck, all the assorted gods, and Zhaznal watching, things generally turn out like they were supposed to. Every once in a while though, the outcome is not what people think it’s supposed to be. Sometimes they turn out one way because people have bribed Fate, Luck, many assorted gods and Zhaznal to do things one way. Sometimes they turn out another way because other Gods, and creatures who we haven’t even seen yet get wise to the bribery. There are times though that things turn out the way they do because revenge can be a larger motivating factor than duty.

 

 

Bird is the word

It's not the leaving of Liverpool

Tower

Grasses

House

Twins in Death: Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen

A Last Attempt at Ragnarok

 

 

June 1^st, 1711

9:04 a.m.

 

            The Weirdo was leaning against the wall, his jerkin buttoned to his throat as the Captain’s was. The two of them watched as one person then another walked past the guards at the door. The king was having yet another one of his delightful, parties which were just a way for him to demean and degrade everyone around him. The Weirdo didn’t particularly like this young man, but he had been assigned to learn everything he could from the captain of his royal guards, and thus here he was.

 

            He looked at the other Musketeers and wondered how many of them held the same grudge against the king. Was it just the love of the captain that kept them here? The Captain had been a Musketeer during the bad days, when the Cardinal had started the war with England. The Weirdo looked at the Captain and glanced at a priest who walked in and nodded to the Captain who nodded back.

 

            “Is that?” The Weirdo asked, stopping himself before he finished.

 

            “He is.” The Captain said.

 

            The Weirdo looked back at the black robed priest as he walked across the floor. He was taller than The Weirdo had thought he would be. He wondered for a moment what Miss Parker would say if she could see him. Her first thing might be that they were about a hundred and fifty years before her birth, but after that there would be amazement. She would be shocked to find a man she thought to know only the obscenities of the French language speaking it well enough to have become the trusted Lieutenant of the Captain of the Royal Guards in only two years.

 

            “I had better go check the west posts.” He said straightening up from the stone pillar. “He’ll want to go out into the garden soon, best to make sure everyone is in place.”

 

            “Very well.” The Captain said. “I’ll meet you by the great fountain.”

 

 

Rail Window

Dark Machine

Woodpile

Night

Tonight, at the plot bunny buffet

I had an idea today, and you can steal it for your plot bunny...


I’ll tell you the idea as I had it, you can abuse it any way you like.


A man wakes up in a hotel.

He doesn’t know how to get to the hotel, or why he’s there.

He went to bed last night, woke up in a hotel this morning.

He is wearing pajamas that are not his own, but they fit well.

By context (TV, newspaper, or looking out a window) he concludes that he is in Paris.

That Paris, the one in France.

There are clothes in the closet, very good clothes that fit him.

He has a wallet with about five thousand Euros in it and four major credit cards in his name.

He has a drivers’ license and a passport.

There is also a cell phone that rings.

The man answers the phone and is informed that if he goes to Brussels, someone will give him a case and if he takes the case to Frankfurt, someone else will pay him ten million dollars.

This then begins a race to Belgium, and then Germany.

Our hero is not a member of the SAS, he isn’t a former Navy Seal, he’s a normal, everyday guy.

On his way to Belgium, our hero is nearly mugged, and someone approaches him to make an offer that they’ll give him twenty thousand dollars to just give this up.

No one tells him what’s in the case and warns that it’s probably booby trapped to stop anyone tampering with it.

He gets an accomplice/bodyguard in Brussels who helps him on the rest of the journey. The other person (it should probably be a woman because of tropes) doesn’t know what’s in the case or why they want it any more than our hero.

The two of them then adventure their way to Germany, after basically being in a coldwar spy thriller from the late 70s/early 80s.

And now, the spoiler (don’t read if you don’t want my spoiler)

Dome

Twins in Death: Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

The First Battle of Central Park

 

October 31^st, 2002

12:04 a.m.

New York

 

            Kestrel sat alone in the ballroom, looking out the windows. There were such large windows and they gave such a beautiful view of the night sky. The dark and heavy clouds covered the night sky, but they were beautiful clouds. The wind had begun to pick up and the leaves were sailing by. They tumbled along, like the little happy things they had once been. Now they were dead of course, which was a bit of a sobering thought. Those had once been attached to a living tree, in order to help make food. When the season got too cold, and the leaves were too expensive in terms of water and warmth, they had to go. The tree could only survive by getting rid of the leaves. That which had formally been so vital to its life could cause its demise, so the leaves had to go.

 

            She wondered for a moment if that’s what they all were. Were they just leaves, drying up on the stem of the world? She was alone and trying to figure out where the hell she was going to go next. The problem was she felt like she might be drying up, like those leaves. She had felt it for so long and wondered if it was time for her to be blown off the life tree and become mulch for next year’s plants?

 

            She thought, if only there was some sort of sign that everything would be all right.

Shack

And now...

Bird

Crossing

Room of Light

Goose

Window

LLLLLLLAAAMA!