The Only Avenue of Escape

The only avenue of escape was up the large stone staircase that led around and around the empty shell of the tower, towards the open-aired top of the castle.  I rushed up the first level and turned with my sword ready, well knowing its ineffectiveness against the 10-foot-tall metallic giant that was pursuing me.  It came lumbering up the stairs making a great crash with each footstep. I swung at it, hitting his sword and then ducked as it swung at me. I dealt him savage blow right to this chest, but my sword only rung in my hands.  I turned and proceeded following the staircase climbing level after level, not really knowing where it led, not that it mattered, for I was concentrating only on escape from this monster. I looked over the edge of the stairwell at the dizzying heights to which we had already climbed, then looked up to realize that there were only two levels left before I reached the top.  I turned back to the approaching giant and as he raised his sword I swung at it and knocked it from his grasp, sending it down the stairs to the previous level.  Then, to my great surprise, the giant stopped, turned and went down after it. While he did, I ran up the remaining two flights only to find a blank wall at the head of the stairs, and the long, long, drop down to the bottom of them. My mind was racing, trying to find an avenue of escape when once more the giant came up the stairs.  He didn’t even slow down when he saw me trapped, as if he had only one thing in his mind, indeed, if he had a mind at all, and that was to skewer me. Suddenly I conceived a plan, and knowing that it was my only chance, I grimly stood my ground, and waited for the coming onslaught. The giant was up the stairs now and raised his sword once more.  Before he swung I quickly lashed out with my sword, again striking his and to my relief, again knocking his from his grasp and sent it over the edge of the stairwell.  He rushed over to the edge swinging his arms widely, perhaps trying to stop the fallen sword, and as he looked down at it, I gave him a tremendous shove and sent him following.  I collapsed there, exhausted, and listened to the terrific crashing getting further and further away as the giant bounced off the sides of the stairwell and then … the hauntingly familiar laughter came from behind me as I blacked out.

When I awoke I couldn’t see clearly, but I know I was in the throne room once more.  How long ago it seemed since I had been there, when I was sentenced to die by a voice emanating from a black stone embedded in an otherwise empty throne.  But my thoughts were interrupted when I heard that same soft and yet coldly piercing laughter, only louder as I heard heavy footsteps approaching.  My eyesight was blurry and I rubbed my eyes but to no avail. Then, hearing the footsteps come to my right, I quickly rolled to my left and heard the sharp swish of my new adversary’s sword as it barely missed me.  I stood up and my eyesight returned just as a giant black-bearded man rushed at me with a hate in his eyes older than time.  I dodged his sword and saw mine lying where I had been.  I nimbly rushed over, picked it up and jumped up on a nearby table as the bearded giant missed his next swing at me. I jumped out to meet him, surprising him and with one swift hard blow I cut his head off, which fell to the floor, eyes, up still staring, still hating.  As his body sagged and fell I turned and ran right at the throne, it’s black carvings and evil designs once more writhing and moving as it had when I first looked upon it so long ago.  I saw my dark-haired Lynla whom the chair had seized, chained and standing near a wall off to one side.  I took my magic-touched sword and raised it high above my head and swung with all my might, shouting a plea to the Gods for help, and hit the dark jewel directly, shattering it and my sword in a burst of great light.  Deep claps of thunder echoed throughout the hall, as the throne burst into flames and crumbled.  I ran over and saw that Lynla’s chains had disintegrated so grabbed her hand, looking into her fiercely determined eyes, then we ran down the corridor as the castle shook and rumbled beneath out feet. I remembered where the massive iron door was and we scurried through the halls as they were crumbling and falling around us, staying just ahead of the effect. We got to the door, pushed one side open and ran out into sunlight. We reached the portcullis to find it a crumbled heap of rust.  As we passed through the archway the castle gave one last shudder, disintegrated to dust and was gone…

And so. As all that occurred many years ago, I'm not sure what I had eaten before I went to bed the night that I had those two separate-yet-connected dreams, but I'd be willing to have another helping. 

Pleasant dreams to you...

Withering Flats, Episode Two, part 6, conclusion

(Episode 2, Part 6, conclusion)

Greetings and welcome to the conclusion to Episode 2 of Withering Flats! We left Nick standing dejected at the door after the trick-or-treaters laughed as they thought his prideful declaration of villainy was all part of a Halloween act. Poor Janee has been wrapped in copper wire for quite some time (especially since I have not met a timely production schedule) and is patiently sleeping while waiting for Nick’s return. Let’s not keep her waiting any longer and we present the exciting conclusion to our tale...

“Ha ha, thanks Mister!” and they turned and went on their way, as Nick lowered his arm and looked rather deflated.

“Kids nowadays,” he lamented, “No respect...” and he closed the door.

Then, seeing Janee still trussed and asleep, he shook himself, growled, cocked his head at the sound, growled again, and then smiled his old evil smile once more. He waved the plunger at her and said, “Now it’s show time for you, my sweet!” He put the plunger back between his legs, pulled the goggles out of his pocket and pulled them on so that the elastic back was against the back of the helmet, took the gloves out from under his arm, pulled them on, grabbed the plunger from between his legs and strode over to where his helpless victim stood propped against the wall.

Janee’s rhythmic snoring had caught the interest of a fly that was now buzzing in and out of her mouth with the vibrating tides of her breath, but otherwise showed no awareness of what was transpiring around her. Nick knelt at Janee’s feet, picked up the two ends of wire and...

Ding-dong...

“What?!” Nick Cried.

Ding-dong...

“I don’t believe it!” Nick denied.

Ding-dong...

“I don’t care!” Nick belied, and he stuck the wires into the socket, causing Janee to jerk and clamp her mouth shut with a “WHOOP!” just at an influx of breath (much to the consternation of the fly), then he got up, picked up the plunger and stormed over to the door.

He flung the door open to see a person standing there who was dressed in a blue and green striped jacket with matching trousers, a yellow shirt with purple polka-dotted red tie, a pair of red, white and blue gym shoes, a straw hat sporting a plastic daisy from its band, and who held a large bunch of oily looking tulips in one hand and a box of candy in the other. Nick stuck the plunger under his arm, glove handedly fished in his coat pocket, pulled out the box of foil packets, stuck the whole box down into the flowers, grabbed the plunger again, waved it threateningly and said, in goggle-eyed frustration, “Trick or Treat yourself!” then slammed the door.

The door re-opened immediately, Nick reached out, grabbed the box of candy, said, “My treat this time!” and, as sparks flashed behind him, re-slammed the door.

The door again opened, this time with smoke accompanying Nick, as he said to the person, “And that’s the silliest costume I’ve ever seen!” and slammed the door once more.

The door opened still yet again and, as smoke billowed out, sparks shot from behind him and a sizzling sound grew louder, Nick added, “And my costume is not a costume at all, it’s my working wardrobe because I’m a scientist and I’m getting mad! So don’t bother me, we’re busy!” and with that he finally slammed the door for the last time, leaving Clem Clump standing there in great confusion in his Sunday best suit, wondering if perhaps Janee is busy for the evening and can’t go with him for a walk in the moonlight to watch the fireflies at the city dump.


Well, that’s (fianlly!) the end of Episode Two of Withering Flats. Will Janee survive Nick’s shocking intentions? Will Nick get the deed signed over? Will Janee agree to marry Nick? Will Clem find someone to go watch fireflies with? Will the Trick-or-Treaters find a good use for the foil packets? Will the toilet plunger become the new weapon of choice for magicians? Tune in again next time to see if these questions are answered! So for more action, suspense and romance be sure to return for Episode Three of Withering Flats!


Written by Michael Steven Platt 5-17-09

Keep Dreaming, Valiant Warrior

Friday, from the couch as I ease into dream: … hazy start drifts into newscasts of aliens landing to some resistance… those people of Earth still fighting being defeated and crushed, bombs devastating cities… the mothership in orbit as we watch TV to get some idea of what is happening… the east coast of the USA bearing the brunt of this assault, which is headed this way. Someone says we should shoot missiles to blast the big ship out of the sky but the newsman on the tube immediately says that no missiles are available, the government will not further antagonize these creatures, they will not fire.

"The private people have a missile… they're going to use it!" sounds out from the general crowd. Sure enough, the view pans to a steaming rocket on the launch pad… the governmental representative says, "No!" but too late... up into the sky it flares, armed and ready, Mankind's last hope... the TV picks up the view as it arcs upward and then levels out over the land, heading east, the camera on board showing towns and cities streaking by below.

"This is a "live" picture", I comment, somehow becoming the moderator for those watching on the tube, "it's actually happening as we watch.” And the view from the spaceship missle is sharp and clear, from about 500 feet to a hundred miles up at the same time, compressed for the benefit of the viewers. The landscape stretches out below, with New York against the oncoming horizon of evening, a look back showing Chicago outlined against the setting sun, and down below, as the ship passes over, the fiery hole of a bombed out city flickerflaming angrily in the offsetting dim of dusk.

I look up from my perch, where I have somehow become situated in the very nose of the speeding craft (the camera view is now from my helmet), shoulders, arms and head sticking out like a hood ornament, control box on the side of the ship in front of me, my body up to my chest enclosed within the ship. The steering has become visual/manual, and I note, from some innerglimpse of outerview, that I should have my goggles on. The ship hurtles over the land at varying altitudes, but seems to be best if flying low and (hopefully) out of detection range. The city looms near and I start to weave in and out, around the bridges, buildings and other obstacles that present themselves in my path. The mother ship is now settled in New York's harbor, safe, they believe, and secure. My way to it more and more confused, following through tunnels and byways that don't make much sense, but must be navigated all the same.

The Lincoln Tunnel is right in front of me… should I go down and under, flying over the backed up automobile traffic, or should I follow the stairs up to use the George Washington bridge? I opt for the bridge and wind my way up the staircase, camouflaged as another person in the crowd, minus my ship in a smooth, dreamlike (as real as that could seem here) transition, when suddenly, right in front of me, at the top of the stairs, the stewardess stops the line to let the surface of the bridge buckle up for a moment, then back straight and flat again. (Compensating for the crowds? Stretching?) I am let through (whew!) to follow some East Indian women up into the (suddenly materializing) waiting airplane's door, way up above the crowds still milling about on the bridge, onto a ramp that drops to the wing, with no walls on that side to hamper the view. I see the downtown area of the city in the distance as the bridge continues on over the river, but don’t have time for more than this quick glance.

The women jump down to the wing and (for some obscure reason) begin to undress, their saris unwrapped and bare skin starting to show. I avert my eyes, remembering that the folks at home are still watching through my TV camera eyes, turn and step over to and through a door that opens to the grassy side yard of a school. My two daughters suddenly tagging along beside me, sad that I must go, knowing that I'm going for good. I bend and hug them, kissing them goodbye, telling them I love them and they should think of me, saying that I love Mommy and everything will be okay. I shed them, climb back into my conveniently waiting spaceship (we had become separated somehow at the tunnel-bridge choice…it must have gone ahead through the tunnel) climb up and strap in quickly, for the authorities are coming. A man suddenly grabs onto the side of the ship, clawing at my arms to try to stop me as I flip the switches and blast off. He is torn away and I'm flying off on my rocketing mission once again.

My heart cries out for my girls as I rise above the harbor, spy the submarine like craft of the alien’s mothership, thrust the throttle full and head (literally) straight for them. I wonder if there is some kind of force shield that might protect them from the bombs loaded in my ship, but realize it is too late to worry about anything like that. I zoom slant in at an accelerating killer dive, faster and faster, closer, closer tense and POW crashcrush helmet head body ship exploding into the side of that evil vessel without so much as even scratching it…

My ghost floats over to where my wife has been watching all this on TV, and I ask her if I destroyed the enemy's space craft. "No"… was her distracted reply (she was still engrossed in the replays of the last action from my helmetcam). So I shook my head in resigned frustration and faded into oblivion...

Well, it was a good try anyway…..

I had another, much more mundane and typical dream before that one, but I can’t recall more than a particular scene. I remember that there was this short, stocky, scowling dwarf dressed in bright pantaloons and a gaudily decorated vest. He had a large hammer with a hugely oversized head on it as big as his body, which he was holding in threatening manner in both hands by the long, thick pole of its handle. He had just walked away from us, gone over and bonked the giant rabbit into unconsciousness when it had come outside of the nearby cave for a drink, letting it lie at his feet as he looked around for anything else to hit. He left the monstrous, over-muscled, gnarly, snarling ogre and its companion (also strange within my peripheral view, yet not seen enough for a valid description) character to guard me and my hapless companions as we were busy with shovels and picks filling the large, roundish pit in the ground with garden salad.

So how was your sleep?

Written by Michael Steven Platt 4-11-09