[The 500] Your Answer

The 500 is a literary site in which authors contribute to a literary question, in this case "Where do we go from here?" I answered.  Quite literarily.

Your Answer
by Rhombus Ticks

Left. Well. You asked.

What? You wanted a different answer. A hundred years ago, the answer was
West. Fifty years ago the answer was Beverly Hills. In the 80s, it was
this little old place where we can get together.

You asked. I answered. Go left.

Don't go that other way. That other way would lead you straight to that
nasty castle. You think I'm joking. Sure...sure...sure...there is
dancing Goblins and a baby that seems to be gravitationally challenged,
but at the same time, the only way to go forward is to go back, jack, do
it again, else they turn you round and around until you don't know which
end is up.

Go left.

Right is wrong. And wrong is slowly becoming right. Any direction can
always take you back to where you started but if you start in the Pit of
Despair lolling over the Bog of Eternal Stench then you are probably way
way way way way in right field and there is no answer for it but truth.

Go back to the beginning. It is as I said. Your answer was found early.

Oh. You want more. What do I look like a Pez dispenser?

I told you what to do. How many more parables do you need? This above
all, to thine own self be true. Most people, when faced with their true
reflection, run screaming from the magic mirror gate. You ever wonder why
that is? What is that true reflection?

Perhaps it is because introspection is frightening. That gaping maw of
the true depth of your character might be that of a soggy Krispy Kreme
left over plate and you can't handle the truth if it came and bit you on
the ass. Guess what? It is. It's knocking, so loud it could wake the
dead.

Speaking of truth, you will be dead one day...so why waste a minute more
lying to yourself? What do you do about it? What wise words will motivate
you to do something? What could the answer possibly be?

Go left.

Archivist Interviewing Archivist

Julia Carlson Ricks interviews Lockey Burdin Lawson.  One is an archivist that has just started her career, the other served during the 50s, 60s and 70s.

Saved from the Circular File

Where I'm From

Rhombus recounts two anecdotes of where he is from, one from the Nation of Texas's war on the United States and the other called, "Mr. Right and Mr. Kind."

Check out this episode!

[Fairy Tale] Untitled Tale #2

You can learn of the rules here.  This is the seconds of the seeds that the group created.  This tale will be updated on Fridays until done.

Once there was a terrible storm at sea, with lightning and thunder and wind most foul. The king's grand longboat had spun upon the sea like a piece of cork and finally been pulled apart.  

“Hutetu!” cried the young prince as he grabbed for a raft made of timbers, being torn hither and yon by the deep blue sea. Just as the sea was about to rip free his grip, the raft's sole inhabitant, a young ship's boy, an orphan of low class, grabbed the prince's hand to save him.

The prince pulled his hand away, refusing the filthy boy's touch, and was thrown free by the pell mell crashing of the waves. The ship's boy wanted to cling to the raft, but no one should drown, so he let go and swam out to him, but the prince would have none of it.

Finally, the ship's boy asked the Sea if she would save the prince. The Sea being as she is, and at that moment being full of fury and candor, screeched back, "Why ask me to save the prince, when I have taken your captain and the sailors and the king and the vicar?”

“Because it is something I can ask. Please save him.”

The Sea said, "What a feckless fool you are. He is braggart and unworthy of me.”

“Please,” said the ship's boy as he swam back toward the raft.

“Very well,” said the Sea in annoyance, "but he shall regret it.”

And so the Sea saved two lives that day, because she could. 

In all the world, there is an island for every kind of animal where they talk and run all the live long day as if the island were their own. And the prince she sent to the Island of Baboons, where they eat with their faces and snarl and scratch and are most uncivilized. And so, the prince became a baboon.

But the ship's boy she sent to the Island of Turtles, because turtles are kind, as was the boy.  And, anyway, the island was close, and so not much work for her to put him there. And the sun came out, and the sky cleared and the Sea calmed, content in her good deed, quickly forgetting the dead souls caught deep within her bosom.

The ship's boy washed ashore, exhausted by the long ordeal, and promptly fell into a deep sleep. When he awoke, two wide eyes looked down on him. 

[Script] Unfood - Page 18

CONTINUED: 18. FREIGHT I’m stranded. SHIP’S COMPUTER I’m Terribly Sorry about that. We’re working to fix the problem but the next supply ship will not be here for DIFFERENT FAKE VOICE Three months two days and seven hours. SHIP’S COMPUTER In the mean time, feel free to enjoy the ship’s facilities as much as you like. Per interstellar treaty, you will be billed for your time on board, but we recognize the difficult situation in which you find yourself, and will gratefully extend you a line of credit until you are able to pay us back. FREIGHT Thanks. SHIP’S COMPUTER No, thank you. Service is pleasure. FREIGHT Right. SHIP’S COMPUTER Thank you. FREIGHT Shut up. SHIP’S COMPUTER Of course. Thank you for asking me to shut up. FREIGHT SHUT UP! SHIP’S COMPUTER Gratefully shutting up now.

[Fairy Tale] Elowyn Wisp - Part 4

You can learn of the rules here.  I felt this story deserved a title at this point.  None of the members of the group suggested a continuance, so I moved it forward.  A second story will occur on Fridays starting this week or next.
He walked through a briar patch made of rosewood and dust, swirling around with sapphire and ruby dust motes.  As he walked the stars shimmered and rippled as if the sky were a bed sheet being changed with new stars each time someone shook the sheets.  The ground hummed and as he walked it worked up his bones and to his teeth.

Then he came to a large lake surrounded by white and gold bamboo, with all of it cut and formed into a giant artificial island in thick slabs as wide as a man's leg with a regal pathway that went to the still waters.  Soft gentle music slowly played in the background.

There was his daughter, lying despondent on the ground.  She was so sad and crying so hard that her father did not know what to do.

"Why are you crying Elowyn?"  he asked her.

At first, she did not hear and wept only.

Despondent, he tried again.  "Why are you crying daughter mine?"

At this she stopped crying and looked up, looking hopefully at her father and then she started crying a second time.

A third time he asked,"Why are you crying my beloved daughter? I will do anything I can to make it better or fix what is wrong.."

And then she smiled.

[Script] Unfood - Page 17

17. ACT 1 SCENE 7 SCENE EXTERIOR – MARGARET TETHERED TO THE FATSHIP – NIGHT The Margaret lists back and forth. The strain of the event causes the rope to chafe against the Fatship until a piece of the foil is cut and floats away. SCENE INTERIOR – RADAR OF THE FATSHIP – NIGHT The Margaret shows up on the Fatship’s Radar. SCENE INTERIOR – ALERT CLAXON ACTIVATING – DAY Freight panics. He runs back toward his ship. SCENE INTERIOR – CARGO BAY OF THE FATSHIP – DAY Bob is activated. He is sent out a hatch to the outside. SCENE INTERIOR – HALLWAY OF THE FATSHIP – DAY Freight runs towards the Margaret. He stops to catch his breath. He is obviously not in very good shape. SCENE EXTERIOR – TETHER BETWEEN THE MARGARET AND THE FATSHIP Bob cuts the tether. The Margaret begins to drift away. SCENE INTERIOR – HALL OF THE FATSHIP Freight gets to the airlock and watches the Margaret drift away. FREIGHT Not good.... END OF ACT 1 ACT 2 SCENE 1 INT – INSIDE OF THE SHIP – DAY Freight stands at the control center and talks to the computer. (CONTINUED)