Moonrise

I peered out the back window and found the world had filled with a thick, creepy fog. The park behind my house had turned into the misty moors of the Midwest. I had awoken to a world filled with prowling werewolves and other monstrous creatures. Nothing else could explain the ever-expanding, concealing cloud outside the window. I already missed the romantic comedy that was my life a mere eight hours before.

I looked around for my wife, Penny, worried she had already disappeared with the changing setting. Each alteration moved at its own speed; rarely was it ever slow enough for me to say goodbye. I thankfully found her downstairs making breakfast.

I ran to her and hugged her tightly. She let out a confused laugh and asked what was wrong. I quickly told her my worries: that werewolves now roamed the moors, hunting for their next victim. She smiled at me, and patted my head gently.

“Oh sweetie, this town may have been built upon a swamp, but it lacks the bogs to be classified as a moor. You're over thinking things.”

With her reassurance and a quick kiss I was on my way to the train for work. Since the station was on the other side of the park my daily commute always began with a walk. Halfway through my journey I heard a soft noise that could have been a car starting up, or the train leaving the station without me. It was at that moment I realized something: while my lovely fiancé, did reassure me, she never once denied the possible existence of werewolves. With a great feeling of dread I rushed to the train station, not in fear of a fictional monster, but in a heightened sense of urgency to make it to work on time. Or, at least, that is what I told myself.

The mists parted to reveal the train station, with two large lantern-style lights on either side. Were those always there? I looked around for a sign of life and was met only with concealing fog. The sound I had heard earlier must have been the train leaving without me.

The shape of a man appeared feet away from me; I saw his fedora and trench coat long before I saw his face. Desperate for reassurance, I quickly blurted something out.

“Good morning sir, this fog sure is crazy, isn't it? ...Sir?”

The man fell forward and grabbed my shoulders, a dire look on his face as he muttered something that sounded like “Fade Halcyon” and dropped to the ground. This is when I saw the blood: he had been shot. But what did “Fade Halcyon” mean? Was it some dubstep band? And, if so, aren't those the worst final words ever?

It took a few minutes after I called the ambulance to realize his last words were really "Jade Falcon." It helped that I found his notepad filled with details about a case he was working on, locating the Jade Falcon. On the last page was a phone number with the initials “E L” and a kiss left by a pair of red-stained lips.

I wasn't in a world of horrific werewolves; I was in a noir. I knew what I had to do: find the killer, and solve the mystery of the Jade Falcon.

I discovered I was a natural detective; once justice was done, and the Falcon returned to its rightful owner, I struck up an acquaintance with the mysterious “E L” -- Elaine Lambroe, the most popular singer at a local speakeasy called the Lounge. I knew Elaine was the wrong kind of dame the second I laid eyes on her. She had me on her hook the second I heard her sing in that “deep come hither” voice I couldn't resist.

My Girl Friday, Penny, quit after stumbling upon Elaine and I in a compromising position. Even though she had set it up by “accidentally” falling onto my lap, I couldn’t say no to Elaine. I was under her spell.

That is how I ended up on a case to locate a painting. Entitled “Moonrise,” it had been stolen from some local mob boss who owned the Lounge and wouldn't let Elaine out of her contract unless I retrieved the art. I was a sap, but at least I was a lucky one: it only took four bribes, three beatings, and two bottles of bourbon to discover the location of the painting.

That night I made my way to an old warehouse on the waterfront and slowly crept inside. I hoped the goons who stole the painting were stupid enough to leave it unguarded while they went out to enjoy the night's festivities. With a little bit of digging and more dumb luck I stumbled upon the painting in a large crate. I pulled out the painting and wrapped it inside a sheet and started to make my getaway. When I turned I saw the flimflammers that started this whole mess. There were three of them and one of them had Elaine by the arm.

“Easy there,” I said in a voice I hoped sounded confident, “we can make a deal, give me the girl and you get the painting. No one needs to get hurt.” They told me to put the painting down slowly and we could talk. I complied and pulled out my revolver as I stood back up and aimed it at the main schmoe's head. They backpedaled quickly but kept Elaine in their grip. Just as I felt like I was in charge, I heard a click behind me and felt the cold steel on my neck. It was Elaine's boss, the painting heist was a scam to get rid of me, and like a schmuck I had fallen for it.

Elaine and I were escorted towards the car, we were both in for the big sleep, we knew too much. I apologized for not doing more to protect her. She smiled at me, one of those deadly and heartwarming smiles she had perfected.

“Don't worry about it Mac,” she said in the sweetest voice possible, “you did everything you could, and this kitten isn't without a claw or two.”

She leaned over and kissed me deeply. I regretted the fact my hands were tied. I couldn't grab her, couldn't hold her close. She slowly parted from me and gave me a wink. She turned around and leaped at the closest lug. By the time she landed on the poor schmoe she had turned into an eight foot furry killing machine. After she had finished off the entire goon squad and her former boss she let out a piercing howl at the moon above.

When Elaine calmed down, I offered her my coat and with the painting in hand we scrammed.

Her head lay on my shoulder as I drove us out of town, she was so peaceful and calm, nothing like the heart stealing vixen I first met or the heart ripping monster she was an hour before. I knew we would be safe together; we just had to make sure no matter what setting we fell into next, we remained close. Who knew werewolves were able to jump genres too?

Old NaNoWriMo Steampunk Thing

This is a short thing from a past NaNoWriMo that I thought I would share. Set in a steampunk China, it is the start of the long war between China and Japan in the late 1800s, but you know more steampunky.

We woke before sunrise in preparation. My platoon gathered our weapons and neared the front line in anticipation of the Japanese forces. There ships were seen landing on shore the evening before and an attack was imminent. At dawn we all prayed to the Gods for safety and victory, it was the last time I saw many of my men smile. A little bit after dawn we saw the first enemy banner. Seven large boats that moved across the earth came forward.

One of their soldiers carrying a banner rode a horse close to us. He was obviously unarmed so we allowed him to move but watched the walls closely. Every last gun in our possession was set on this man and the land ships behind him.

The man cried out, “We ask that you put your guns away and surrender peacefully. Give praise to our he Emperor and we will let you live.”

The men were sure it was all a ruse and laughed. The soldier yelled out, “Very well” and then returned to the seven land ships. The ships were out of our range... not that I think it would have mattered, not with what was on them.

The front of the massive land ships opened and huge armored behemoths walked from them. They spewed out steam as they moved, obscuring themselves. These machines were the size of three men and the earth itself shook as they moved toward us. I could hear fearful remarks from my men. I ordered them to hold themselves, do they not remember who they were? Once the first machine was within range we fired a lobby of shots. Heat filled the air as our bolts flew forward. I remember holding my breath, waiting for the steam to clear. Surely 100 shots would reduce the machine to rubble. These things seemed to have no ranged attacks, we would have this whole battle won in minutes.

Then I saw the machine continue to lumber forward. It hesitated for a second then picked up speed. The steam behind it increased as it raced towards my men. We fired shot after shot, our best weapons were fired at this thing and it barely slowed. Cannons made direct contact with the monstrosity, our attacks only succeeded in killing our spirits.

When the machine made it to us my men were already scattering. Many of the platoons were already in chaos. Any that weren't soon were. Their machine ran through several soldiers, leaving puddles of blood where they once stood. The thing's arms would reach out and strike down men with no issue. Steam continued to pour out of it causing even more confusion as men tried to fight or flee. I tried to call for retreat, not that it mattered anymore.

I started to flee, grabbing one of my men who was either too stupid or scared to move. We made our way back towards the camp as another machine appeared from the mass of steam. It had a giant sword in it's arm, it was shaped like a katana and it sliced easily through soldiers. The soldier I was with was decapitated by the blade. I threw my weapons down and tried to show the machine I was no longer armed. The monstrosity looked my way, or at least faced me and then quickly went away from me continuing it's attack.

About ten minutes later I had made it away from that field of death. A handful of our men were there to meet me and a few more staggered in afterwards. Soon the battle field cleared of steam and we saw the amount of death those machines had caused. Hundreds of men were mutilated. As the highest ranking officer left alive and in the area, I was the one who agreed to our defeat. These machines will be the end of us. They are unstoppable.

Signed Sergeant Yao Tsing 4th Platoon of the Silver Army

The Silent Ballad of Doctor Teeth

James is yelling again, I can’t recall why. He is being too loud. If I could build the courage, I would beg him to quiet down. I can’t, I can’t make the slightest of noises. If James continues being so loud, he will come. He is the reason I am so quiet. He demands my silence; or would, if he ever spoke.

His name is Dr Teeth, and he has taken care of me for as long as I can remember. Whenever bad things happened, he would step in. With a big smile, he just came along and fixed it all. My father, who yelled and beat me, the huge dog that lived next door who snarled and bit me, my abusive ex boyfriend... he took care of each one.

James bellows something that makes me look up. A forehead peeks around the door frame behind James; a giant grin slowly follows. The smile is full of yellow teeth, the grin distracts from the rest of his nightmarish face. My gasp rings through my ears, but James ignores me, still screaming in anger. I try to use my eyes to plead with him. Dr Teeth doesn’t like noise; the last thing I want is….

Behind James, Dr Teeth creeps forward. Every movement made is silent, slow and exaggerated. James slams his fist into his hand. His punches are loud, fast, and expressing his anger. He tells me my puppy dog eyes won't be enough this time. My eyes dart between the two moving figures. As Dr Teeth nears James I do the unthinkable, I very meekly say, “please be quiet”.

James reaches back to slap me. Before his hand moves to hit me his whole body is spun around. Dr Teeth quickly, elegantly, quietly, moves his arm in an arc. The sound of blood gurgling from the wound echoes through the room. James falls onto the couch next to me, his throat cut cleanly. The blood spills onto my lap. I try to remain silent. Dr Teeth cleans off his switchblade, his smile reflecting in the shimmer of the metal.

When things in my life get too loud and scary, Dr Teeth comes along to save me. The first time he to my rescue, my father was found hanging in the bedroom, his belt around his neck... the neighbor's dog had his head crushed by a giant rock... my ex boyfriend was..... oh God, not again.

I look up at Dr Teeth through tear soaked eyes, his grin is gone and he's shaking his head at me. His cold finger touches my lips; he wants me to be quiet. I can't take it anymore. I'm tired of controlling myself for him. My crying gets louder, I wail, all the years of silent obedience are released. I scream so loud the apartment shakes. Dr Teeth is taken aback, there seems to be a look of confusion on his face. I stop crying and look up at him. He cocks his head to the side taking an appraisal of me. His grin slowly creeps its way across his face.

Shaking, I stand up. Dr Teeth is still watching me, his ugly grin glowing at me. I open my mouth and scream. The apartment shakes. I fall back onto the couch. I let the tears pour out. I remain loud as possible, releasing my frustrations.

Dr Teeth thrusts his arm out, there should be sound as the switchblade opens. Dr Teeth never makes any noise. He puts a finger to his lips, his other hand swinging down. The sharp blade swoops towards me. He finally makes a noise.

SSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH