The Power Trio

Gary and Alex looked at each other across the old hermit’s fire.

“I feel your hesitation,” the blind old hermit murmured. “But the prophecy is quite clear. Your quest will fail if you remove John from your fellowship.”

Gary cleared his throat.

“It’s just that…even John is wondering if he can go on with us,” he tried to explain.

“He told us he thinks our group is just some fly by night operation,” Alex added. “Whatever that means.”

“And we’ve met this new guy,” Gary continued. “We really connected with him, you know. Like the two hemispheres of the mind becoming one.”

“We’ll just ease John out,” said Alex. “Exit stage left, you know.”

The hermit sighed heavily.

“If the prophecy does not dissuade you, what else can I say? Your quest is on the edge of a knife, and you may soon feel the steel’s caress in your very soul!”

With a great puff of smoke that filled the dark, dank cave–presto! the hermit vanished. The young men sat uncomfortably for a few minutes.

“I guess we’re supposed to leave now,” Alex finally said.

“Then let’s make like the pictures and move,” Gary urged.

“That doesn’t really make sense, Gary,” Alex pointed out.

With heavy thoughts, the pair walked down Hermit’s Hill into the small Canadian town below. The questioning wind ruffled the grass making permanent waves in the night.

“What time is it?” Alex wondered.

Gary checked his watch.

“9:12,” he answered. “Neil should be waiting.”

At the edge of their home village, sure enough, Neil waited for them. To pass the time he was beating out complex rhythms on the fenceposts encircling the town.

“Hey, Neil!” Gary called out.

Neil watched them as the young men walked over.

“What did the hermit say?” he asked.

“He just reminded us of the prophecy again,” Alex said. He glanced at Gary, who nodded.

“But Alex and I think we have something bigger than prophecy,” Gary said. “We’d like to roll the bones and try our own luck.”

“The signals are undeniable,” Neil stated confidently. “But are you sure, Gary?”

“I think from this moment I’m going by my nickname only. So call me Geddy.”

Neil put his hand out.

“So are we doing this?” he asked officially.

“I say yes,” Alex said, putting his hand on Neil’s. “The band’s been under a lot of pressure, but I think we can make our way through with grace.”

“Shall we choose a path that’s clear?” Neil asked.

Geddy laughed and added his hand to the group, declaring with pride:

“I will choose free will!”

 

{for the Rush fans}

 

The preceding tale is for the weekly Tipsy Lit story contest. This week’s prompt is: What happens when free will conflicts with prophecy? The term free will sent my prog-loving mind down the course you just read. On Saturday, Tipsy Lit posts the links to the story entries and readers vote for their favorite. Therefore, you will vote for me. Yes? Well, if you want to–we choose free will over here on T of V.

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A Fish Tale, part three

“George can’t breathe down here,” Tom insisted. “He’s gonna die.”

“Yeah, I see,” Eric snapped, angry because he didn’t see at all.

“I just thought you should know. It’s a bad thing, don’t you think?”

“I suppose. Should we do something? We should do something.” At the moment he said this, Eric almost meant it. “What can we do, Tom?”

Tom sighed.

“We can’t do anything, that’s what. But why not? Why not?” Continue reading

A Fish Tale, part two

“Hi,” Eric said.

“Wow!” George decided. “Talking fish on the beach! Let’s play!”

“We’re trying to follow a sound,” Tom grunted.

“Yeah, we’ll play some other time,” Eric agreed.

“The sound is gone,” Tom continued.

And it certainly was. No one realized the sound had been George crying, which his amazement at the fish had made him stop. But then, the pair of fish realized they were breathing air! And right above them was the sun, all ready to be played in! But they were undeniably still fish. How could they breathe air? How could they talk with George? How in the world—

“Just accept it!” a Voice boomed from all around them. Continue reading

Fish Tale–an allegorical fable

Once upon a time, there lived a fish named Tom. Now I don’t want to go so far as to say Tom hated being a fish, but he was a touch unhappy. You see, he had a slight problem. Tom suffered from what he called a reverse dyslexia. Dyslexia is an ugly, technical word which means (sort of) mixed up. So a reverse dyslexia, you might figure out, should mean Tom was the exact opposite of mixed up. Well, that was not quite the case. Take my word for it. Simply put, Tom was very tragically sad, whether he believed he was mixed up or not. Poor Tom. Continue reading

Brainwave’s Final Notion, part two

“…we the jury find the defendant, Captain Large,” said the jury foreperson five months later “guilty on all counts of aggravated assault, being a public nuisance, destruction of private and public property, failure to yield to proper authority, and—”

“That’s fine, ladies and gentlemen of the jury,” the judge interrupted. “I’ll take it from here.” He fixed his steely gaze to the person of Captain Large, seven feet and five hundred pounds of muscle who now looked like nothing but a scolded child. “I have a thing or two to add.”

“Your Honor,” Captain Large pleaded. “Brainwave flipped me off!” Continue reading

Brainwave’s Final Notion

The mastervillain sits in his coffee nook nursing his third cup of the morning and thinking vigorously. Normally it is not so strenuous coming up with a brilliant notion, not for the elite criminal who dared to dub himself Brainwave. Lately, though, it has become difficult.

Maybe it’s due to BW’s nemesis, Captain Babyballs. Could he be training some kind of mind-numbing stupid ray on Brainwave from his orbiting headquarters? Continue reading

The Planet that Didn’t Want to be Found, part three

Stone yelled like a maniac and rushed the twins. Taken by surprise, he actually knocked through them before either could pull their laser and got behind his ship ahead of their recovery. He heard the parents vainly remonstrating with their brutish children, but the sound of their stomping tread still came his way. Not wanting to shoot either one of them (and, honestly, he wasn’t sure the firepower he was packing would stop them) Stone decided he had no choice but to attempt a desperate gambit. Continue reading