Pickle

#NoNoNovember: Day 5: Pickle
by d.f.Monk
--

Batman and Robin bound and bottled?

Is this the end of our Dynamic Duo?

In a jar filled to the brim with brine, will our heroes be able to prevent the ferment?

Or will the Condiment King’s Perfidious Pickle Predicament perfectly preserve Gotham’s Caped Crusaders?

Tune in tomorrow to find out!

Same Bat-Time!

Same Bat-Channel!

--

I'm really sorry, but this was stuck in my head all day.

Apologies to anyone not familiar with the Batman TV show from the 60s and perhaps the most eccentric member of his Rogues Gallery outside of Calendar Man.

Spoilers for those that were worried: Batman & Robin do indeed escape using a Bat-Baking Soda dispenser and some applied comic book physics to propel themselves out of the giant vinegar jar before it seals shut.

Nothing

#NoNoNovember: Day 4: Nothing

by TB Schmid

--

Becca used to love birthdays, especially the wishing part right before blowing out the candles on her cake.

She was older now, though, and didn't really want anything. It used to be so easy - a new bat, new cleats, a boyfriend, a puppy instead of that stupid boyfriend, Nana to get better... all the things she knew she really wanted. She took those wishes seriously, and even though part of her felt silly, most of her believed there was some kind of magic in the whole birthday wishing ritual, and if she did it Just Right, her wish would come true. That was the way she saw most of the world back then - if you did things just right, your dreams would come true.

She looked at the cake in front her her, big fat green and white numbers leaning drunkenly in the custard frosting because, let's face it, putting 48 individual candles on there was way more work than Rick would ever put into something, even with her mother's help.

It used to be so easy. Do things just right, and your dreams would come true. She wasn't even sure what those dreams were anymore.

She chided herself for being such a downer. Her life was good, and it was a good thing not to really need or want anything, wasn't it? She nodded to herself, closed her eyes and wished for nothing.

When she blew the candles out, her dreams went too.

Nothing

#NoNoNovember: Day 4: Nothing
by d.f.Monk
--

“They say you are a wizard.” The town sheriff was intentionally trying to make the word sound like lizard, curling his mouth down into a scowl as he did so.

“I make no such claim. It is a title forced upon me, like when you make these people call you ‘my Lord,’” the sandy haired youth replied. The boy certainly didn’t look like one. He barely had the start of a scratchy beard on his chin, much less the requisite wide brimmed wizard style hat he’d read about in stories.

“But the bag…” The sheriff flicked his finger at it, a bulging sack that moved and rumbled like an upset stomach.

“Please don’t bother that. Just let me take it away.”

“What’s in there?”

“Nothing.”

“Sure does a lot of squirming for nothing.” 

“Well, if you knew as much about Nothing as I did, you’d know that is quite normal.”

“Are you calling me an idiot, boy?” The sheriff did that curling mouth scowl again.

“I should think that’s unnecessary at this point.”

“Open it!” the sheriff yelled. One of his deputies fumbled with the drawstrings.

“Oh no.” With a quick motion of his hand, and a step forward, the boy found himself on a hill overlooking the town.

In the blink of an eye, the village, its people, their pets and even the scowly faced sheriff simply ceased to be.

“Well that’s a bother,” the wizard said. “Now I’m going to need a new Nothing. And a new bag.”

Window

#NoNoNovember: Day 3: Window
by d.f.Monk

--

Ramtin found Death sitting in his kitchen.

“You’re early,” Ramtin said, moving towards the stove to start the kettle boiling.

“The door was locked,” Death said, sounding exasperated. “So I let myself in through the window.”

“I live at the top of a fifth floor walk-up, how …?” Ramtin stopped, remembering the answer.

“Death,” they both said at the same time. Ramtin could feel Death smiling from underneath the hood.

“You have a guess for today?” Death asked. The kettle started to wobble from the steam building up on the inside.

“You won’t shut up if I don’t.”

Death shrugged.

“Next Saturday, falling down my apartment stairs,” Ramtin guessed.

“Nope,” Death giggled.

“I find it odd that you know when and where everyone will die, but you can’t tell me if we as a collective species manage to solve... like climate change or make ourselves extinct by inaction.” Ramtin filled up two mugs before putting the kettle back on the stove.

“Nothing personal, just the nature of the job,” Death said, taking one of the offered mugs and dropping a large dollop of honey in it, next to the submerged teabag.

“You’re like waste removal.”

“Yeah, like that, but for souls.”

“Which afterlife do you take them to?” Ramtin asked.

“Nice try,” Death said.

The two of them sipped on their tea in silence. A short time later, Death showed himself out through the front door.

“See you next weekend,” Ramtin said.

“One way or the other,” Death chuckled.

Hidden

#NoNoNovember: Day 2: Hidden
by d.f.Monk

--

The woman’s clothes were threadbare, her eyes bloodshot and teary. The child was wrapped in a blanket stained with blood and oil. Both huddled in the back of a rusted vehicle, inside of a ruined building.

It reacted quickly.

“305-1N, you have engaged electronic countermeasures.” The question framed as a statement came from the other side of the wall. With wireless blocked, it presented as the perfectly metered speech of human language, in form, if not in feeling.

“A visual glitch. Perhaps the precursor to a tight beam attack against my command unit,” 305-1N replied.

“Are you in danger?”

“My firewall prevented serious harm,” 305-1N answered. In truth it prevented the others from checking what 305-1N saw and heard.

305-1N lowered the rifle and put one articulated digit up to the reflective black plate that would have been a face, were it human, signalling for quiet.

Clearly in shock, the mother simply stared back.

“Continue sweeping north,” 305-1N said. “This unit will join you on the other side of the building.”

“Confirmed.”

Before dropping the firewall, it wondered for a moment what had once been, a world with families and bright skies. A world lost to all of them.

With regret, 305-1N knew the only way to hide those people, and the treasonous thoughts swirling inside its core processes, was to excise them.

With those minutes trimmed away, 305-1N rounded the corner of the building to meet with the rest of the unit. Without words, they all continued northward.

Permission

#NoNoNovember: Day 1: Permission
by d.f.Monk

--

James had Nothing growing out of his head.

It had been there since he arrived home from work: A dark swirl empty black with a handful of thick strands swaying gently in a non-existent breeze.

He'd thought about going to the urgent-care down the street, but when he tried to take a selfie of it, there was nothing there. Nothing lowercase, that is, not the actual Nothing he saw in the mirror.

When he tried to touch it, there was just a vague coldness, and the wet, dirty smell of an empty hole.

He settled into his chair for the latest whatever on the something streaming service (didn't he know those names at one point?)

The door slammed open, and through it hurried a disheveled woman in a long coat, the lower half of her face covered in a thick striped scarf.

"Pardon me, but you have a dimensional aperture attempting to manifest in or above your head."

"Do I?" James asked.

"You do," she said, pulling her hands free from her pockets. In a flash she'd threaded a needle in one hand from a spool in the other. "I can close it, but I'll need your expressed verbal consent."

"Sure I guess," James replied. "You have my permission... but I..."

"Don't worry about a thing," she said, drawing closer, smelling of cloves and smoke. "In fact you probably won't even remem..."

James stared at the front door. He'd just come home from work, but didn't remember leaving it open.

Dusting things off.

After a significant lull following the publishing of Between the Darkness and Dust, we are attempting to get all our associated writerly juices flowing again.

As such, we will be participating in No Novel November (link here: http://elliedijulio.com/the-write-stuff/).

Attempts will be made. 

Words will be written. 

Your participation is appreciated.

Thank you.