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

Withering Flats, Episode Two, part 5

(Episode 2, part 5)

Hello and welcome back to the story, folks! If you’ve just joined us for the first time, then get on down and read the earlier parts so you know what the heck is going on! For those who have been following the story so far, we left off with nasty Nick just finished trussing up sweet Janee with copper wiring and threatening to plug her into the electrical outlet. Let’s see what develops from this potentially shocking situation and pick up again at that point...

Stepping back to survey his handiwork, he rubbed his hands together in glee and said, “Now my sweet, you’ll see what happens when you refuse my reasonable offers!”

He picked up the two trailing ends of wire once more and was just about to plug them into the wall socket when he stopped, said, “Whoops!” put the wires back down, straightened up and said to himself, “No, no no!” giving a little chuckle, “Ha, ha, ha, mustn’t be too hasty... could be problems that way...” and then looked around the front hall in search of something. Spying the closet door on the opposite wall from where Janee was comfortable propped, he stepped over, opened it up and was immediately assailed by a powerful, rather foul odor.

“Ahhh...” nasty Nick breathed in deeply, “How I love your perfume, sweet Janee!” thus demonstrating how over all bad he really was. In the closet were three hangers, one which was empty, one holding a very large fur coat that appeared to made from a bear skin (“Hmmm,” mused Nick, “That reminds me of that lovely afternoon last summer when I put Janee in the cage with that delightfully angry black bear... I wonder whatever happened to it...”), and the third held, “Ah, just the thing!” Nick exclaimed as he pulled out the long rubberized, stained and crusty mackintosh, with a label reading Ernie’s Services sewn just below the left front lapel. He put this on over his own coat, then on the shelf above the hanger pole, next to a pretty pink bonnet, he saw a well battered, crust spattered, pink hard hat, which he reached up and took, saying to himself, “This looks promising, though it’s not really my color,” and he plonked it down on top of his black, oily-haired head.

There was a pair of large rubber boots on the floor which were a grungy match to the coat and hard hat, so he took those out as well. Carefully unzipping and taking off his own black boots, Nick pulled on the big rubber ones, stood straight, shrugged into the coat a bit, looked down at the boots, felt the hat on his head and declared, “Yes, this is just the fashionable thing for our little afternoon activity.” Looking across the hall to Janee, he smiled affectionately in anticipation. Reaching to close the closet door he saw, hanging from a hook on the back of the door, a pair of large, black rubber gloves that matched the coat and boots in design, material and crusty condition.

“Perfect! Just the thing I was looking for!” Nick cried in glee. He took them off the hook, tucked them under his arm, shut the door and strode back over to Janee. He reached down and picked up the plunger, wondering if he could perhaps put it to some kind of creative use within his plans for Janee, but just then the doorbell once again started ringing.

“No!” Nick shouted.

Ding dong...

“Not again!” Nick denied.

Ding dong...

“No fair!” Nick pouted.

Ding dong...

“Aw nuts,” Nick finally shelled out, and stomped over to the door, collected his composure, cleared his throat, pulled open the door and sweetly asked, “Yes, may I help y...?” and once again stopped in mid-sentence as he found himself facing a policeman, a fireman, an army commando and a nurse.

“Umm... uhh, hello, officer!” Nick stammered out, “What can I do for you all?” weakly smiling and hoping that perhaps they were selling tickets to the local charity balls.

“Trick or Treat!” came the same chorus as last time.

“What?” responded Nick, once more taken by surprise.

“Trick or Treat!” as the prerequisite bags were held up expectantly.

“Oh.. oh yes, heh-heh,” Nick recovered. He transferred the plunger to his left hand, still holding the rubber gloves under that arm, put his hand into his coat pocket, screwed his face up in surprise and pulled out a pair of large, crust covered goggles. He looked down at the pocket and recalled that he was wearing the rubberized overcoat, stuck the goggles back into the pocket with a thoughtful nod, reached into his own coat pocket and pulled out the box of foil packets. He held this out to the children and admonished, “Take only one apiece, Uncle Nick wants to have some left over for himself,” leering suggestively.

The four costumed characters each obediently reached into the box and pulled out a single packet (“What are these?” the nurse whispered to the fireman, who whispered in return, “I know what they are. My brother gets these. They are some kind of super balloon and they hold a LOT of water!”), and after each had had their turn they all chorused “Thank you, Mister!”

The policeman spoke up to Nick, “Hey mister, that’s a funny costume, but who are you supposed to be ... and what stinks?” scrunching up his nose.

Nick replaced the almost depleted box back into his coat pocket, took the plunger out from under his arm, raised it above his head in a regal pose and, with intense fervor, declared, “I am the Terror of the Town, the Purgative of Pleasantries, the Villain of Villains, the Embodiment of Evil and Terror, I am Nasty Nick Nak and I will ram this magic wand up your little behinds if you don’t scram pronto!” and he glared menacingly down at the four children. They stood still for a pleasurable second, then all broke into raucous laughter, “Ha ha ha!”

“You’re funny!”

“That’s silly!”

“Crazy!”

“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.

(end part 5)


Poor Nick... he gets no respect. Perhaps that’s why he acts out his little fantasies with Janee. But poor Janee, all trussed up and nowhere to go. Will Nick finally get to plug her in? Will the smell of his newly acquired outfit knock her out? (I doubt it... remember, it’s her outfit to begin with.) Has Nick found a new villainous device in the plunger? Will a real hero every come to the door? If Nick finally does plug her in, will Janee be able to pay the next electric bill?

Find out tomorrow when we present part 6 in the conclusion of this Electrifying Tale from the small town with big drama, Withering Flats.

Written by Michael Steven Platt 5-15-09

Withering Flats, Episode Two, part 3

(Episode Two, part 3)

Hello again, folks! Well, we’re back at Withering Flats ready to find out what nasty Nick wants with sweet Janee’s Father’s Tulip Ranch. He seemed very intent on finding that deed and Janee was rather taken aback by it. Let’s pick up the action right there and see where it flies us...

“Not the Tulip Ranch!” she cried out, then queried, “Why ever would you want that worthless place?”

Nick gave her a puzzled look, asked, “Worthless?”

“Of course,” Janee replied. “The tulips don’t grow any more since the accident that killed poor Daddy. Didn’t you know that?”

Nick evidently did not know that, for he stood there and repeated, “Worthless?” looking at the now less enticing page of dirty paper in his hand.

“It was in all the papers around here,” Janee rambled on, “about how poor old Daddy was digging a well to get fresh water for the tulips because he was tired of having to truck it in, you know, with the lake being so far away and all, so he just thought he’d dig himself a well and fix that old tulip ranch up right nice,” she kept on as Nick was shaking his head in disbelief, frowning at the deed in his hand, “...so there he was just digging away and he had himself a hole about twenty feet deep when alluva sudden, there was this rumbling and shaking and I was just over by the shed and I could hear it and it scared the dog right bad ‘cause I saw him run and hide under the porch, which I didn’t think was a good idea seein’ as how that’s where the skunks had dug themselves a burrow...” Janee had a head of steam like a run-away semi- trailer truck down a mountain road, “...he was runnin’ hard and we ain’t seen head nor tail of that dog since, but we’re not feelin’ too bad about that on account of the smell, y’know, so anyway that’s when I heard this loud whooshing sound and looked to see this big, smelly tower of wet black stuff just gushing out of Daddy’s well stinkin’ up the yard and no sign of Daddy and I was wonderin’ where he might have got to and we never did find him, of course, which I thought was strange seein’ as that was the same time that the dog had run off smellin’ pretty bad himself, but I didn’t think of that until later on the next Tuesday, or maybe it was Wednesday, but anyway...”

Nick pursed his lips, stroked his chin, knitted his brows then suddenly looked at Janee again as she said, “...so even though it’s all spoiled and oily and worthless now that the tulips won’t grow, I won’t sell the ranch ‘cause of the memories of Daddy and how he used to love the place so much, at least when he wasn’t cussin’ at it and complainin’ about all the stinkin’ manure and the stinkin’ flowers and how they was drivin’ him to a early grave and all...”

“Did you say you won’t sell the ranch even though it’s worthless?” Nick butted in, knowing he’d never be able to speak otherwise.

“What’s that?” Janee came out of her monologue.

“You said you won’t sell me the ranch even though it’s worthless?” Nick asked, hopefully.

“Well, after what Daddy went through and it being the only thing of his I got and the fact that we never did find him, no I won’t sell it because it’s like havin’ Daddy still around when I go there, but of course the smell is different, not that Daddy smelled much better y’know, but at least I was used to it..” she continued until, smiling in renewed glee, Nick casually stuffed the rag back into Janee’s jabbering mouth.

“Mmm mnnng nmmm nnn...” she continued for a few moments until the jawing action segued into her chewing on it again and her eyes closed contentedly.

“Wonderful!” Nick chortled and rubbed his hands together, “Now I can force you to sell it to me, just like I planned!”

With his evil scheme back and ready to be put to action (”He’s not a bad boy,” his mother said of him, “it’s just that he has some social issues.”), Nick grabbed the ends of the heavy copper wire trailing down from the now lightly snoring Janee, and was just about to plug them into the wall socket when the doorbell rang.

“What?” Nick cried.

Ding-dong...

“Drat!” Nick scowled.

Ding-dong...

“Curses!” Nick cursed.

Ding-dong...

“Oh, ...oh ...oh phoeey!” Nick blubbered, then dropped the wires and told Janee, “I’ll be right back. Don’t start without me,” then waddled to the door, still reflexively holding the forgotten plunger tightly between his knees, waggling back and forth.

(“Maybe it’s Mother,” Janee yawned into the rag.)

Nick stopped in front of the door, composed himself, licking his hand and slicking back his jet black (dyed) hair, twirled his moustache, put on his best pearly gray smile (he’s so bad his teeth show it), and swung it open, politely saying, “What can I do for ...” then suddenly was struck dumb in seeing right there in front of him, Superman, Batman, Iron Man, the Wolverine, Harry Potter and a Cheerleader.

(end of part 3)
Oh my goodness! Have these brave Super Heroes arrived in time? (I think it is in their contracts that they do, their agents wouldn’t want them to look bad for the folks at home by being tardy.) Will Nick’s plans for Janee be handily foiled by this impressive group of Do-Gooders? Does Nick have a trick up his jet-black sleeve to treat these characters to? Will Janee stay awake to see what happens?

Tune in again tomorrow for the next exciting installment of adventure, drama and romance from Withering Flats!


Written by Michael Steven Platt 5-12-09