The airship has waited long enough...

My increasing affection for steampunk aside, I always thought of our not fully adopting the airship as a serious missed opportunity, if not absolutely idiotic.


The idea of the airship aka the zeppelin came LONG before the Wright brothers went to Kitty Hawk, but why didn't we adopt airships fully for commercial, business and military use? Because of damned accidents, and the fear they put in us.


Who else remembers how hesitant we were to launch a space shuttle again because of the Challenger disaster? For some reason that fear was compounded with airships, maybe because in physical terms they are so big. But did we let fear of accidents stop things like planes and automobiles from being built, evolving, becoming a part of our society and our world? No, and we had no reason to do it with the airship...a missed opportunity and perhaps idiotic, indeed.


I always loved the idea of the airship, and it's PAST time we made it a part of things!

How do I know steampunk when I find it?

It took a while for me to answer that question, and for the sake of those coming in late, I'll give you a head's up. Steampunk can be found...well, everywhere, and it's slowly but steadily growing in popularity. There's no single reason why a person might be attracted to it (I have a laundry list of reasons myself...more on that in blogs to come), but it isn't just a form of science fiction-fantasy entertainment and art. It's becoming an increasingly (and I hope to hell it stays in a good way) fashionable aesthetic, influencing things from music to clothing...some are taking it so far to make it a lifestyle alternative! Others have made virtual, steam-driven lives for themselves in Second Life's New Babbage.

Here's some visual aids to help you, too. (AGAIN, LEGAL BULLSHIT DISCLAIMER: I don't claim to own these images, which I found in the public domain. I'm not making a profit from them either, so there!)

For even better visual aids, let me describe to you the best mainstream examples of streampunk that can be found on television and DVD...I'll start with the 1960's Robert Conrad-Ross Martin TV series "The Wild Wild West" and its cinematic remake from 1999.

I still remember seeing the original "The Wild Wild West" on syndication a lo-ong time ago (so long I’ve forgotten more than I remember of it!), and that show was the first mainstream example of steampunk before it even got its name. Definitely a classic, while in my opinion the "Wild Wild West" movie...isn’t classic, and probably will never be called that. Without a doubt, it has the Victorian/Wild West era and the steampunk aesthetic and devices, some of amazing scale...a giant steam-driven tarantula has to be one of the best extreme examples of steampunk! Unfortunately, for me and a lot of folks, the movie fell short for three good reasons:

1) Will Smith wasn’t so much playing a cowboy/secret agent as he was playing himself...nothing wrong with that, but he felt out of place in the story’s time and setting.

2) Kenneth Branaugh as Loveless chewed up everything in sight, but the rest of the actors outside of Smith didn’t seem to be giving even half as much energy for their parts.

3) The movie’s pace was slow too much of the time...a typical big-budget movie with too much money to spend and too little to say, outside of some novel key moments. (Like James West nearly being ambushed with Miss East in that ’trick room’; you’d have to see it to appreciate it. And seeing a giant robo-spider tearing across the Wild West is always interesting.)

One movie I’ve seen I know people will disagree with me liking is "The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen", with Sean Connery. Before you sling your nasty words, I never read the original graphic novels the film is based from, and I don’t doubt that the source material is better than the film. (Just look at "Watchmen", whether or not you’ve read the book.) But "League" is still a good action/adventure film, and it has a lot of steampunk to it, with the exception of the Nemomobile...the tires and the headlights were too modern! I’m surprised people haven’t said more good things about the film’s take on Captain Nemo (which would have to be the closest to how Jules Verne envisioned him, especially in regard to his Indian roots) and the screw-propelled incarnation of the Nautilus.

For the best modern steampunk film, though, I haven’t seen "The Golden Compass" yet...so I’d have to recommend the Japanese anime film, "Steamboy". Whether you love anime or not, this movie is steampunk heaven from start to finish. There are too many reasons why, so I won’t bother counting them!

I'm sorry, Louis Armstrong, it isn't a wonderful world.

In fact, I don't understand this world sometimes. I really don't.

This is verbatim from AOL News, and I have to pass it on. I doubt you'll make any sense of this, either.

(DISCLAIMER FOR LEGAL BULLSHIT: This is not being published to plajarize AOL News or to profit myself. I don't work for AOL News, so I'm also not hyping them. I'm just helping to get this information out. If you want to know even more, go to AOL News, all right?)


City Is Haunted by Horrific Crimes

(April 16) - One question has to be haunting the citizens of Tracy, Calif.: Why is this happening to our children?

The community, located about 60 miles east of San Francisco, turned out Friday for a public memorial for Sandra Cantu. One day earlier, the 8-year-old was buried in a private funeral. The mother of one of her playmates is charged with raping and murdering her.

Incredibly, Sandra’s murder is the fourth criminal case involving juvenile victims to rock this small city of about 78,000 – and make national headlines -- in recent months.

"This area has never experienced anything like this," Tracy Unified School District spokeswoman Jessica Cardoza told ABCNews.com. "These past few months have been very difficult."

In December, an emaciated, bruised, nearly naked teen with a shackle attached to his ankle ran into a Tracy gym and begged for help. The 17-year-old implored, "Hide me, please hide me," according to Chuck Ellis, a worker at InShape Fitness Center.

Four people –- among them the woman who was the boy's legal guardian -- have been arrested on charges including torture, kidnapping and false imprisonment.

In February, a plastic surgeon was arrested after several women came forward and accused him of sexually assaulting them in his Tracy office. A revised criminal complaint filed this week accuses Dr. Peter Chi, 46, of molesting 64 women. The list of alleged victims includes a 16-year-old girl.Chi is free on $100,000 bail. He was ordered to stop practicing while the case is ongoing and has surrendered his medical license.

In March, a substitute teacher was arrested on charges he molested 12 girls at a Tracy elementary school. Jesse Llorente III, 39, pleaded not guilty Tuesday to 10 felony charges of lewd acts with a child, three misdemeanor counts of child molestation and one count of possession of child pornography, the Tracy Press reported. He is being held on $1 million bail.

On the same day that Llorente was arraigned in San Joaquin County Court, Melissa Huckaby, sobbed and trembled in another courtroom as she was formally charged with murder with the special circumstances of rape with a foreign object, lewd or lascivious conduct with a child under 14, and murder in the course of a kidnapping.

If convicted in the death of Sandra Cantu, Huckaby, 28, could face the death penalty. Prosecutors have not decided yet whether they will seek it.

Sandra disappeared March 27. She was last seen in the trailer park where both her family and Huckaby lived. Ten days after Sandra vanished, her body was found stuffed in a suitcase that had been submerged in an irrigation pond. Huckaby was arrested late April 10.

Huckaby, the granddaughter of a local Baptist pastor, has a 5-year-old daughter who often played with Sandra. Huckaby herself taught Sunday school at her grandfather's church.

******

I hope you're resting in peace, Sandra.

New story time!

And I do mean new. :) (Again, though, for mature readers!)



"Fluffy"
...a story about a little boy and his pet, by Charles Spencer


He entered the front door and might as well have announced instead of said, "Honey, I'm home."

He shut the door as only silence answered. "Honey?" Still nothing. "Merideth?" He frowned. He wasn't that late, was he? He warned his wife more than once he might be held up by work more often than not...

As he mused on that, his 8-year-old son entered the living room from the kitchen. The boy's smile was neutral. "Hi, dad."

The father smiled and said, "Hey, sport. How was your day?"

"O.K." The boy looked uncertain. "Dad, I've got something to tell you."

The father, Robert, nodded with a smile. "Go ahead, Timmy. You know you can tell me anything." He taught his son long ago and repeatedly since that honesty was always best. He wasn't sure how to tell the boy about politicians and lawyers yet, along with most every human being who liked at least a white lie every now and then.

Timmy brightened a little, but he still seemed unsure. "I found something really cool on my way home from school."

"Uh-huh?"

"I named him Fluffy."

Oh, shit, he thought. "Uh-huh."

"I named him that cause he was real hairy and small."

Robert tried his best to keep the annoyance from his voice. "O-kay. Where did you find Fluffy?" He thought, Where the hell is Merideth?

"It was kindamore like he found me. You know where that meteorite landed the other day?" Dozens in the area saw a meteor descend from the night sky. A search was made, and in a vacant field a crater the size of a small car was found. No meteorite, though, which disappointed many of the locals.

"Yes, Timmy, I do. It wasn't far from where nice old Mrs. Morley lives." He didn't add out loud, Her and her hundred frigging cats.

"Well, Fluffy just jumped out of the tall grass in front of her house as I was walking back home from school. I almost stepped on 'im."

"Uh-huh." The old bitch can't even hire out to have someone cut her grass, but she can sure invest in kitty litter. "Fluffy might be one of Mrs. Morley's cats, son -- "

Timmy said quickly, "Oh, he wasn't! I thought he was really cool and I brought him home, dad. Can I keep him?"

I don't need this shit right now, he thought, we already have a damn dog. What more does this kid want? "Well...where is Fluffy right now?"

"Oh, he's around."

"Uh-huh." He strode over to a few feet in front of Timmy and got on one knee, so they could 'talk man to man', as he himself said more than once. "What does your mommy think of Fluffy?" She should be home now, where is she?

Timmy hesitated, but only for a second. "She was kinda scared of Fluffy when she first saw him, dad. Danni thought he was cool too, though." His face scrunched into a familiar disdainful expression he employed when he started talking about his sister, one year older than he was. "Like I care what she thought."

Robert blinked and gave Timmy a look. "Why would your mom have been scared of Fluffy?"

"Cause he looked cool, dad. She didn't know what to do at first."

Robert's brow furrowed a little. "Help me understand a little better, son. What makes Fluffy cool?"

"He's diff'rent."

"'Different' how, Timmy?" Where is Merideth...come to think of it, why isn't Danni here?

"Diff'rent enough to call Amy at the vet's."

Robert almost showed an expression of disdain that would have rivaled Timmy's toward his sister, but he controlled himself. Amy and Merideth were best friends, and they had the same love for animals. In fact, Amy was a charter member of everything from the ASPCA to PETA. She's one of those idiots who'd chain themselves to something in protest for even fucking rats. Merideth wasn't as bad as Amy was, though. He hoped. At least he knew Spot, their dog, was being taken care of well by Amy...he was at the vet's at this time because of a broken leg. He kept his patience as he tried to get something specific from his son... "Okay, but what exactly made Fluffy different? What kind of animal is he? You said he wasn't a cat."

Timmy shook his head definitively. "Nope!"

"Is he a dog? A little puppy dog?"

"Nope."

"Then what is he?"

Timmy helped nothing by shrugging his little shoulders and pronouncing, "I dunno."

Robert frowned. 'Real hairy and small' could mean anything, then, from a squirrel to a baby possum...shit. Wait, of course that explains where Merideth and Danni are! "So mommy took Fluffy to Amy?"

"No, Amy came here a few hours ago."

Puzzled, his father asked, "Amy's here? Now?"

"No, dad, she's gone."

Robert started to lose his patience...and to feel a vague fear. "Then where are your mother and your sister?"

"They're gone, too."

"What do you mean 'gone', Timmy? Where did they go?"

"They're gone...like Amy."

The fear and impatience built in Robert like a slowly rising tide, and it made him say what he did next in a taut tone of voice: "Timmy...tell me everything that happened since you found Fluffy until I came home. And I'm serious, tell me everything."

"There isn't much to say, dad -- "

Robert snapped, "Tell me anyway!" He shut his eyes and winced, embarrassed he lost control for a moment. But he needed to know. His eyes opened and he willed his expression to be soft for his son. "Please, Timmy...tell me what happened."

Timmy nodded. "O.K. I came home with Fluffy, and Danni was already here with mom. Mom was really afraid of Fluffy at first, but sis thought he was cool like I said. Mommy kept saying she had to call somebody, and I didn't know why Fluffy scared her. He was just jumpin' up trying to get on my shoulder. Fluffy can jump really high when he wants to."

Robert looked at his son blankly. What the hell? Is Fluffy a jackrabbit?

"So then mommy decided on Amy and called her, and she said come right away like something was wrong. Then mommy grabbed Fluffy and took him into the guest room and locked the door. Mommy didn't want us to go in and see Fluffy 'til Amy got there. It took 'bout an hour for Amy to get here."

"Then what?"

"Mommy and Amy talked for a while real quiet...she didn't want me or Danni in the same room with 'em. Then mommy and Amy came to us and started askin' me stuff like you are now. Where I found Fluffy and stuff. And I told the truth like I'm telling now. You always say honesty is the best policy."

Robert managed a smile and nodded. "That's right, son." Of course, he never communicated the fact to anyone, and definitely not to Merideth, he was sleeping with one of his co-workers on the side, a buxom brunette secretary. She was the reason he was often late coming home, like today.

"So Amy went into the guest room t'look at Fluffy. The thing was, Fluffy grew bigger."

"Fluffy grew...what?" Suddenly, things made even less sense to Robert.

"Uh, almost an hour went by after mom put Fluffy in the room 'til Amy got there. And I saw him, dad, he got a lot bigger when we left him alone! He kinda did that after I found him and took him home, too. He felt a lil' bit heavier when I showed him to mommy than when I first picked him up and put 'im in my backpack."

Robert's eyes narrowed. "That can't be right, Timmy. No animal can grow that fast."

"Fluffy did, I swear!" Timmy looked surprised and maybe a little angry that his dad didn't take his word for it. "Mom would say he did too if she was here!"

Robert started to get a little agitated that he didn't know where Merideth was, which didn't mix well with what he already felt. "Wait, you still didn't say -- !"

Timmy broke him off, wanting to finish his story. "Anyway, Amy said a big word about Fluffy growin' so fast...it was like 'geometric'ly', a real big word. But mommy kept asking if Fluffy was...was dangerous. Amy said she didn't know, and we had to leave Fluffy in the room again by himself. He must've gotten real hungry." He shrugged again. "Anyhow, Amy said he might not be dangerous to me. She used another word I didn't get...inprint or imprint or somethin'. I didn't know what she meant, and Amy said that happens when a baby and parent see each other. She said maybe Fluffy wouldn't hurt me cause I'm like family."

"Th-that's good to know, son." Robert tried his best again to understand, but he couldn't. He needed more.

"But mom was still scared of Fluffy...and I guess Amy was right, cause Fluffy really only likes me. Maybe I can teach him tricks or something?"

"Son, wait." The fear in him grew stronger with each passing moment. He tried to keep his voice from shaking. "What...what does Fluffy look like?"

"That's what's cool about him, dad! He looks diff'rent from anything! Well...he was hairy and all and small at first, but the thing that really made him diff'rent was his face."

"What...?"

"Yep! He kinda looked like one of Danni's dumb teddy bears with his eyes...theyre small and black, like buttons, but his mouth is huge! And I couldn't see under all his hair to see how many legs he had until Amy saw he had six of 'em!"

Robert suddenly burst out laughing, in spite of himself. Timmy looked at him with a cross expression as his father laughed. "What's so funny? He does have six legs!" His father tried to settle down and stop laughing, but it took a moment.

Finally, Robert looked at his son and said, "I get it now, and that's funny! That's a good joke, son! Now c'mon, Merideth and Danni can come out from wherever they are!"

Timmy looked at his father with wide eyes. "You don't believe me?"

Robert shook his head and his smile was light. "You did have me going for a minute, Timmy...I'm not ashamed to admit it, too. But when you started going on about six legs...!" He chuckled almost to himself.

His son was truly offended and blurted out, "I'm not lying! I swear, I'm doing what you said people have to do to communicate, I'm tellin' the truth! If mommy and Danni and Amy were here they'd tell you!"

His father's smile never left his face, but he started to feel the vague fear return. "So where are they, Timmy?"

"I told you, they're gone."

His father's smile faded as his fear increased. "Yes, but where did they go?"

Timmy hesitated again...for a moment. "Nowhere. Fluffy ate 'em."

Robert looked into his son's eyes, and he couldn't say anything. He didn't see any sign his son was lying or trying to trick him. Or playing some kind of joke.

Timmy said much more quietly, "Like Amy said, I think Fluffy only likes me. And we were waiting for you to come home cause mommy tried to call you a few times and you didn't answer. And while we were waiting, Fluffy got even bigger in the guest room. A lot bigger, and a lot hungrier too, I guess. He broke the door to pieces comin' out and...well, he went and chomped on Amy first in the kitchen while the rest of us were upstairs. He must have been fast gettin' to Amy cause we didn't hear nothin' happen. Then he came upstairs and went after mommy and Danni. Mommy was tellin' us that we had to call the 'thorities when you got home about Fluffy, but then we heard the door get broken downstairs and she looked really scared and then Fluffy came in. I didn't want to see what happened, so I shut my eyes like I would watchin' one of those scary movies? When I looked again, only Fluffy was there -- "

His father suddenly shouted, "That's enough!" He'd been spurred once and for all by the continued absence of his wife and one of his children, his impatience, and his secret building fear. He taught his son to always tell the truth, but he had to be lying now. He simply had to be. He reached out and took hold of Timmy under his arms angrily and raised to stand to his full height, picking his son up off the floor as a result. Robert held Timmy, whose eyes were wide with understandable surprise, close to his face and shouted, "Stop joking around with me, dammit! I want to know where your mother and sister are NOW, or so help me -- !"

Robert heard something in the house then, behind him, distant but closing fast. A set of feet running...no, not feet. Something else. Something was approaching from the den on one side of the house, and it was fast. And big.

Robert's fear was all-consuming within him then, but the logical part of his mind managed to wonder. About that meteorite no one found. About Fluffy imprinting on Timmy...he knew something about that natural phenomenon, too. He remembered Timmy told him that Fluffy wouldn't hurt him. But it would have to be a different story for anyone else...

He heard the sound of multiple feet rushing fast until they came to a stop behind him. He heard something else...slow but steady inhales and exhales of breath, but each breath was an unnatural growl unlike anything he'd ever heard of. On this planet. He got the sense of something very big behind him, perhaps looking upon him with eyes as black as a teddy bear's, but they had to be very small in comparison to its mouth.

Still...as the fear he felt made him piss his pants, Robert quietly asked his son one more question, because Timmy always told the truth: "Where...where's Fluffy now, son?"

Timmy said, "Right behind you, dad."



This story is the copyright (2009) of Charles Spencer. No part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted, by electronic means or otherwise, without the express permission of the author.

Women Warriors, Part One: YUKARI OSHIMA

Years ago, when in college, I found out about Hong Kong action films the same way most everyone in the West did: thanks to the extraordinary movies of Jackie Chan, which were finally being brought to the States by mainstream means. (Raise your hand if you remember "Rumble in the Bronx"! It wasn't his best movie by any means, but there was a lot more to come...Jackie's older films became accessible, along with new efforts ever since.) As great as Jackie is, though, he consequently turned us on to all manner of great films and the talents responsible for them from Hong Kong. In my case, I became aware of a sub-genre of HK films in particular known as the 'Girls With Guns' films, and I haven't been the same since.

What is more attractive than a beautiful woman? Watching a beautiful woman defy convention and kick serious ass, that's what. This is the start of one of many installments in which I'll give you an idea to what makes me tick by telling you about things and people I love. Without a doubt, I love the 'Girls With Guns' films and other movies from HK and Japan that aren't afraid to bring us women who can kick my ass easily, but are so beautiful (in more ways than one) I couldn't care less as long as I get to watch.

One of the first 'Girls With Guns' actresses I couldn't help but notice was Yukari Oshima.

Just looking at Yukari's beautiful repose as she gave a hard-as-steel stare at an opponent got my attention instantly. Unlike most actresses in films, even Hong Kong films where actors have to do their own stunts more often than not, Yukari can honestly fight and it shows in every film I've seen her in. From "Shanghai Express" to "It Takes a Thief", nearly all of her performances show a clear and present fighting ability and power that isn't just as beautiful as she is, what she brings to the screen can be honestly daunting. Each and every move she makes means business. In the classic "Angel", which helped make 'Girls With Guns' films popular in HK, Yukari starred as a truly frightening villain who was as strong as she was sadistic. Due to clear and present prejudice in the HK film industry just because she was from Japan, however, her star never rose as high as it could have. No matter where she goes from here, though, the impression she can leave is undeniable, whether as a hero or villain.

Yukari Oshima certainly made an impression on me...she was my first and foremost inspiration for the title character of my novel, "Hell Knight". :)

I'm back, and with an increasing appreciation for something...

First and foremost, though, I wanted to wish Yen the very best...whatever is happening, I hope you're all right, dear friend.

I'm sorry for the lapse, I've had a few things get in the way. One of them research when I wasn't having one thing or the other for that bugaboo called 'life in general' getting in the damn way. Bah, I'm back anyhow and doing as okay as anyone can be!

So maybe you're asking what my research was into...maybe you couldn't give a damn less. I'll tell you anyway:

In one word, steampunk.

Some of you will come across this saying "Huh?", while others will brighten like a gaslight lamp. For those who don't know, a little explanation (in a nutshell with thanks to Wikipedia). Steampunk is a sub-genre of fantasy and science fiction heavily influenced by the 19th Century 'scientific romances' of Jules Verne, Mark Twain, Mary Shelley and H.G. Wells, and would therefore be set in the Victorian Era between 1837 and 1901. This was both an extended period of prosperity for the British, and a time of great change and industrial revolution in the United States. Steampunk fiction envisions a world where steam still drives the world in Victorian times, but anything or everything else is different or brought far in advance of what is historically known. Think an alternate universe where paths that hadn't been taken were taken, and you'll have a good grasp of what steampunk is all about.

Two of the best mainstream examples of steampunk can be found from similar places. One is "The Wild, Wild West", the 1960's television series with Robert Conrad and Ross Martin that was a combination of two genres, the western and science fiction. (Its time period was still in Victorian times, when Ulysses S. Grant was President, and is therefore considered definitive steampunk.) The other place is the 1999 Will Smith-Kevin Kline film inspired by that program...the movie sucked, but its conventions and creations still held true to the sub-genre.

Imagine a world of the 19th Century where armies of steam-driven robots are set against one another for world domination. Imagine airships big as skyscrapers cutting through the skies. Imagine things like automobiles and airplanes practically and competently created decades ahead of their time, or computers and rocket ships a century or longer before they began to revolutionize the endeavors of science. Imagine looking at the world through brass goggles instead of rose-colored glasses as you drive or fly through this world.

That's steampunk.

The more I learn about steampunk, the more I learn about steam power...and I wonder to myself why more level heads couldn't have made such a world a reality. Fault human beings for not being perfect and putting our brain cells to use where it really counted, I guess. But I've been researching both real Victorian Era history and steampunk, and needless to say...I've been given a few good ideas.

I won't share them with you right away...but there will be more to come as time marches on.... ^_^

My newest short story

Yes, I'm back after a while...and I have something new for you to read I pulled out of one of the darker corners of my imagination. This story isn't for the timid. That's all the warning you'll get.

"Womb"
A story for mature readers written by Charles Spencer


Even when he opened his eyes, all he saw was darkness.

He had to wonder if he did open his eyes for a moment, the darkness was so profound. But no, he felt the telltale impulse of his eyeblinks. His confusion was heightened by sudden fear, however.

The eyeblinks were all he could feel. He couldn't feel anything from the rest of his body...it was a dead numbness that made his fear compound instantly. Wait, he could open his mouth...then he centered on the sound of his own breathing. It was quickening with his fear, but he didn't calm down. He couldn't. He thought, Where the fuck am I? What happened? He was somewhere he didn't want to be, he knew that much. He tried to recall his last memory, and he couldn't do that, either. He opened his mouth and tried to speak, to call to someone, anyone.

"Huh...hey...wh-where am I? Hey!" His fear and confusion reached a new level because he finally realized he was inside something. A tight, confined space that made his voice too loud, even though he thought it sounded weak. Each warm breath he exhaled raised the temperature in the tight space around him higher than it already was, and it felt damned hot already. He tried again: "Hey! C-can anybody hear me?! What is this...? I need to get out!" The sudden claustrophobic reaction didn't mix well with the fear and confusion he already knew.

He wanted to scream, and he tried his best. "Hey, goddammit! Somebody better hear me! I need out! GET ME OUT OF THIS!" It didn't help. He didn't hear anything within or from outside of this place he didn't want to be, if there was an outside. He roared, "SOMEBODY, ANYBODY, GET ME OUT! GET ME THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!" He felt his heart's rhythm race like a jackhammer in his ears, in his head as only silence answered his increasingly volatile demands.

All right...all right, getting pissed ain't helping me, he thought after a moment, barely managing to get ahold of his common sense. Giving myself a fuckin' heart attack won't, either. Calm down, goddamn it...calm the hell down. I gotta find a way out of this, wherever the hell this is. But why can't I move or feel anything? What the fuck...? He had a sudden, nasty thought that his body was paralyzed somehow and terribly that thought felt right; it almost brought the panic and terror back in a surging tide but he latched onto confusion instead. How the hell did that happen, was I in an accident or something? I've gotta remember, dammit...think back, man, think back!

But whatever happened to him, he couldn't remember, no matter how hard he tried. Whatever happened to him in the short term, maybe it was ugly enough he couldn't remember. Or he didn't want to remember it.

"Shit," he mumbled in the space he occupied, and it felt hotter than ever with each exhale. He pursed his lips and willed himself to calm down, to slow his breaths...he might run out of oxygen here, wherever this was.

The last thing he did remember, though, was something wonderful. He remembered being with her. Trina.

Trina, the last time he saw her. Her black hair flowed around her face like liquid midnight. Her pale dancer's body, however, nearly glowed in the moonlight as she smoked a cigarette next to the big window of her husband's bedroom. Her husband...his boss. His capo. Her crimson-red pumps were all she was wearing, matching her bright lipstick. The pale skin of her perfect nude body was cooling from the passion they just shared in the bed he laid upon -- he was as naked as she was -- but the cherry of the cigarette she smoked flared hot. He once asked Trina why she wore high heels in bed. Her simple answer made his pulse jump: "Because I like to dig my heels into the mattress when I fuck."

That was when they first flirted with one another, during one of his capo's 'business' trips. A lot of time passed, and a lot of opportunities for him to fuck her when her husband was otherwise detained by drug distribution weren't wasted. But something more happened, too. He knew she had never really been in love with her husband -- it was exciting and fun to be with him for a while, Trina said, but that faded along with any genuine attraction she had for the man long ago -- but love began to grow and then blossom beautifully between them. A love between a Mafia wife and one of her husband's men.

It was beautiful but doomed to die an ugly, early death. Maybe they were, too. Unless...

"Can you do it?" Trina's voice was tense when she asked that. Her eyes were full of worry for the one she looked at as smoke exhaled lightly through her nose. God, she was perfect, he thought. Perfect. "You said you could, but I need to be sure, Marco. I trust you, but..."

Marco remembered what he said to Trina, to calm her down. "Then trust me, baby. I can do it, and I will. I'll pick him up from the airport in an hour. Then on the way it'll be like I said. I'll kill him, then make it look like somebody attacked us and took him away. I gotta shoot myself once or twice to make it look good after I dump his body in the river, but it'll be worth it. I'll do anything to be with you."

She nodded, but shakily. "Me, too. I still want to kill him myself...God knows he deserves it."

"I know, baby." What Trina told him about her husband's sadistic streak still burned in his heart, like a fresh brand. The few bruises his boss did leave (at times he was careless or too enthusiastic) weren't on parts of Trina's beautiful body that could be visible if she had clothes on. Marco got up from the bed and strode over to the one he loved and his hands lightly touched both sides of her slender waist. "I know...but that'll be over soon, I swear it. He won't hurt you anymore, and we'll be together after tonight. I'll love you forever, baby."

Trina's eyes were full of emotion as she looked into his, as she absently crushed out the cigarette in an ashtray on a nearby dresser just to her side. "I'll always love you, Marco. Even if it doesn't work, even if..."

"Don't say that, okay? Don't even think that." He didn't want to think about it, either. He knew what her husband had done with people he wanted dead and gone.

Trina smiled and softly shook her head. "I'm just saying even if the worst happens...we'll always be together. Together forever." Her eyes shifted in the moonlight and became needful...her soft smile became hungrier as her hands began to caress his bare chest. Trina slowly, deliberately lowered to her knees before him then as her voice fell into a whisper, still looking up into his eyes. "I hope we'll be like this forever, too. I always want to be your special girl..." One of her hands gently took hold of his shaft, glossy from their shared sex not long ago, and her red lips took him into her mouth.

All he was able to think as Trina gave him ecstacy was that she was perfect.

The rest was a haze of lost memory for him...for Marco. He realized that something had to have gone wrong, horribly wrong, and he cursed himself as his eyes pinched shut in the confining darkness. Stupid motherfucker! Big man with a big plan, huh?! I dunno what happened after that, but it didn't go the way I wanted! If it did, I sure wouldn't fuckin' be here, wherever HERE is! And Trina...oh God, what's happening with her?! I screwed up and she might be paying for it, too! SHIT!

Marco almost lost all control of his emotion then, in spite of the fact he couldn't move and couldn't know where he was. But he had to ask again what was happening to him, where was he now? Oh shit, am I fuckin' dead?? No...no, that definitely didn't feel right, but the future still looked damned bleak for him. The air inside his confined space had lost a lot of oxygen in the few minutes since he woke up, and the stale air only got hotter. He really thought about it, and it was almost funny. Jesus...I'm like a baby in my momma's womb, not even friggin' born yet. It's like living in limbo that way, isn't it? When a baby grows inside his mom, he ain't got no idea where he is, no clue what's waitin'...

It stopped being funny just as quickly for Marco. He had no idea what was waiting for him. Wherever he was.

He heard a noise then...was it a door opening?

Marco couldn't tell where it came from, just ahead or...? Wait, footsteps now. Two sets, it sounded like.

He couldn't feel anything from the rest of his body, but the space he was in shifted somehow...his face made contact with something as he felt the sensation of being lifted. Part of his face rested on a very smooth surface, almost waxy. One word popped in his head: plastic. He was in something plastic?

Then, with perfect clarity, he knew where he was. His capo had his own system for disposing of bodies in a way that no one would ever find the evidence. At least as long as no one else figured out where to look, but even then finding something of substance was almost nil. Marco knew that because he had to dispose of a few bodies for the asshole, too. When a body had to be disposed of, it was wrapped in plastic (But I'm not fuckin' dead, he thought, I'm not dead!) and taken to this place with a sub-basement. There the bodies were taken out of the bags and --

No...aw, no-no-no-no-no-NO! Marco was completely overtaken by panic then, and he tried to yell one more time. "No! No, not like this! Lemme fuckin' OUT!"

He barely heard someone very close by say, "Shit, he's still alive, man!"

Hearing that voice almost made his heart stop. Another voice, one he thought he recognized and just as close, grunted, "Shut up. I'll take care of that, just keep goin'!"

Desperate, he yelled again. "Hey! I heard you, okay!? Listen to me! Just let me outta this shit, please! Please let me out!"

The first voice again, almost muffled by the plastic. "Goddamn! This is freakin' me out -- !"

The second voice again, the one Marco thought he knew: "I said I'll take care of it, shut the fuck up!" The space of two seconds passed, and before Marco could yell again... "Okay, drop him!"

A lurching feeling, and then he felt himself jarred so hard he reflexively cried out. "Uhhh!" A sharp, sudden feeling in his neck came with it that didn't feel good at all. It was the first feeling he felt after waking up, and in spite of everything, he was glad for it. Disoriented, he felt the plastic his face was against shift and stretch...

...and finally, the plastic broke open to pleasantly cooler air, air Marco could breathe, and he breathed it in gratefully as he laid on his side. Panic and dread gripped him again soon enough as his eyes adjusted to his surroundings as he looked up from the floor, where he'd been dropped in the plastic bag he was put in. It was a dark, dreary place he was in, this sub-basement he did indeed remember...the floor not far from his face was gray, uncaring concrete. Footsteps again, and then someone was standing next to him...he still couldn't move, he couldn't even turn his neck to look up, but his eyes moved just as easily to see the man who was now lowering to one knee and looking down upon him. The man nodded and said, "Hey, Marco."

Marco's voice trembled as he finally recognized the guy. "L-Leo...? Wh-what the hell...?"

Leo sighed with legitimate regret. "You gotta understand this ain't personal, Marco. We always been like brothers, you and me. But you shouldn'ta tried to whack the boss, man. I understand why you did it, though. His wife was one helluva beauty."

Marco felt it hard to breathe again, but in reaction to Leo's words. He had failed. But...what did he mean by Trina 'was' a beauty? "Leo...Leo, man..."

"But look at it this way, Marco. Wherever you're goin', you won't be alone. See?" He saw Leo hook his thumb in a 'see that?' way to something not far behind the man. It was a work table, and close by that was the huge, drum-style woodchipper, its output chute modified so it could direct the machine's waste into an open sewer outlet. The chipper was ominously quiet at the moment, but Marco knew it could be fucking loud. That was why there was soundproofing down here, of course.

The soundproofing wasn't really needed to keep screams from being heard, though, since anyone who'd be sent here and then through the chipper would already be dead. Each body had to be dismembered on a table, and then fed to the machine in pieces so its works wouldn't jam up. He'd cut up a few bodies there himself, Marco remembered. His soul went cold and he cried out, "Ah, fuck!" Because he saw the bloody pieces of a body on the table now, ready to be sent into the chipper.

He saw Trina, who had been disassembled gorily. He saw her beautiful face, lying on its side...her head disconnected from the rest of her by someone long after she was dead. Her eyes stared out neutrally at nothing, and he hoped it meant she didn't see it coming.

Marco moaned, "Trina..."

"You can see she got a head start on ya, though." Leo looked down on Marco with regret as he got out a simple .22 LR rimfire revolver. He usually fitted it with a silencer when he was going to kill someone in a hit. He wouldn't need the silencer now. "She tore the boss up, wantin' to break from him by havin' you kill his ass. He wants to return the favor, man. I'm sorry I gotta do this, Marco, I really am."

He tried to look up at Leo again, knowing his death was approaching fast, but he was so frightened. He wanted to live. "Leo, wait...p-please, don't do this -- !"

Leo barked back, "I gotta, man, or I'm in the chipper with you!" His friend frowned then and shook his head. In a softer, reassuring tone: "It'll be okay, Marco. You'll be with her again, and I'll make it fast like I did for her. Cause we always been like brothers."

Leo put the muzzle of the gun flush to the side of Marco's head, then. He squeezed the trigger as Marco cried, "No -- !" Marco was dead seconds after the deafening gunshot, the bullet tearing up the gray matter of his brain.

Marco's last thought was that he wished he didn't see what was waiting on the other side of limbo.



This story is the copyright (2009) of Charles Spencer. No part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted, by electronic means or otherwise, without the express permission of the author.