The Crystal Cave

Thirty-six had been contracted as crew members aboard the garbage scow and tow barge Interpret, only a handful remain alive. All the others were transmuted by the local life forms and then assimilated. Many exsanguated themselves, others walked away from the shelter of the ship to freeze to death in the subzero weather. Several of the crew members and myself found their frozen bodies while doing perimeter checks.
Why wouldn't they listen to me? I tried to warn them, but they wouldn't, or couldn't hear me, maybe they were just to far gone...lost in their minds. I heard the voices in my head, but blocked them out. Captain Kavne Olson was the first go. He began acting rather weired, as if always plugged in and talking to the ships computer, even tho he didn't ware a ear monitor. We all noticed when the horns...antlers started to erupt from both sides of his head. We joked about it and started called him, "Longhorn of North", and "Old Son Caribou", he didn't seem to care. And all the others? Similar things happened to them, one after another, they surrendered over to the ice planet and were transfigured in to different life forms. I watched in horror, not knowing at the time what to do, or how to help them. Captain Olson had done a remarkable job landing the garbage barge and he had tried his best to keep the crew safe from the arctic elements of the planets surface. I will always remember him as a hero.

I hope my journal entries will some day reach the hands of what's left of my family, so they will know what happened to me. My spirits are low, and I calculate my chances are slim-to-none of ever being rescued, in the mean time, it does make me feel better knowing that six of my friends and crew mates have a chance to make the outer rim of this planets star system. If their escape ship can make it to the rim, they may be picked up by an off-course merchant freighter, or even a military scouting vessel. At least they have a chance to reach home. Home. What a sweet word.
I can't say that I did not have knowledge of their mutiny and stealing of the escape pod. They were all officers, and I am a dime-a-dozen private with a low I.Q. No other ship would sign me on except the Interptet, and that was because I agreed to work for minim wages, and a chance to learn a trade. So who was I to interfere when they escaped. Six officers with a chance of survival, twenty-seven known dead, two missing and presumed dead, and me...not a very happy ending to what started out as a routine garbage transfer mission.

The wind has stopped howling, and so have those werewolf ghost things. The only sound is the tinging of the stove pipe which needs to be cleaned again. I have traveled down from the polar ice fields to the timber line, and am now holdup in a cabin that looks as if it may have been salvaged from an alien ship. Two observation windows look out on to a forest of mixed pine trees. Here the colour spectrum is different than on Earth. I have seen shades of colours, beautiful hues and tones that I have no words to describe. Many things have I paid close attention to while on this planet: anomalies of sounds, smells and even the taste of the food that substanes life. However, none of that really matters now. All scientific equipment used to measure such phenomena has been lost, left behind at the crash site. The science officers on board gathered as much data as they could.
I believe there is some kind of...what can I call it? Evil intelligence. At times it seems as if it is trying to take over my mind and body. The fact that it comes and goes is puzzling. I block it out by my will power alone. I think it has something to do with my genetic makeup. Both my parents were explorers of the off world space lanes. Their ship was lost in a meteor shower in the Orion sector. I was very young, yet still remember them. Once I had a image book with there pictures, a family album. It's to painful to look back now anyway. I hope they know how much I loved them, and I hope they can forgive me for not being smart, because the best job I could get was looked down on as worthless to most of the crew.
I did meet and shake hands with Mr. Vennie Verdi a couple of times. Mr. Verdi owns and operates the space garbage salvage franchise. His contracts reach just about as far as anybody has traveled in to space. He's a nice man, told me I should be proud of my work. "Doing the work nobody else will do shows character." he said. Maybe he says that to a lot of workers just to make them feel better about their jobs. He said, "Getting to the top of the heap may not be easy, but the view is great, and there's alot of money to be made in garbage." He should know, he is a very rich man.
Oh! I almost forgot to mention, I found an old book. It was tucked under a pile animal skins in the back of the cabin. I've been trying to decipher the language, but haven't made much progress so far. The maps and graphs are interesting. I wish I knew what the word "Tome" means. On the cover of the book is a strange metal medallion in the shape of a dragon. Some kind of green faceted gem stone is set in the dragons front claws, and it has small red stones for eyes. The books cover is made from a silver metal material. It's very sparkly when I hold the book up to the window light during the day, and strangest of all, it glows when this planets three sister moons rise at night.
I have no way of knowing how much time has passed sense I left the crash site and found this place. The compass, given to me by my father so long ago doesn't seem to work here, so I drove the land scout, until I found the cabin. Wow! No wonder my nick name is Lucky Ualaxy.
Guess I had better stop writing now. It must be getting colder, the small stove isn't putting out the heat it should and besides, I want to see if I can figure out some more of the writing in that old book.
One more thing, I just want to mention the lamp I use for light when it's dark. It too I found in the cabin under the animal skins that I now use for a bed. The lamp is very old and works by some kind of magic. Late one afternoon during a terrible snow storm, I was sitting by the fire wondering how it might work. In the dim light I said something like, "Please, I sure wish this old lamp worked, I could use some light to look over the writing in this book." I had the book sitting on my lap, and the lamp in my hands, and all of a sudden, the lamp started to glow with bright light. I said, "Thank You." I tried several nights after that and nothing happened. Now it works whenever I say, "Please", and "Thank You." It really is some kind of powerful magic.

Rambunctious Ransom

Broken whisky bottle on the front step,
Little girl tripping out the door.
What was I, four?
I still carry the scar.
Another slice of life.

Why do you touse at me,

My mixed blood family?

Gypsy nomad free,

That's why I fight.

Fear? You showed me fear.

I drove through the fear.

You showed me Heaven,

Then left me here to die again.

A game of pain, Life?

Keep your plowshear lie.

My roots are made of stone.

Clear water raft, dream rail,

I know the feel of thirst and hunger,

Pain.

Ave, my star of arrogance.

Recompense I cry.

Montana Wildlife and Parks

Standing on the observation ramp at the rim of "Old Pucker" in Montana's little known "Backwater Biosphere Reserve" is young Heviner McLeash. He stands poised on the brink of a new discovery. Racked with emotional pain from the loss of his older girlfriends flame of fanning affections, Heviner McLeash inches a toe forward.
"Don't do it boy." said a high pitched voice from behind him. "Step back from edge. "Ya never know when "Old Pucker" there is gonna blow off some steam. Trust me boy, you don't want to be standing there when she lets loose."
"Who are you?" ask the young man.
"Ranger Symone. I'll tell you my last name, but first step away from the edge cuz you're liable loose your balance laughing and fall into that there pit. You do have a sense of humor don't you?"
"Sometimes life sucks." says the young man. His voice sounds cold, without a spark of emotion.
"Hell boy, you should be here in the Winter time if you're feeling a little blue. Yes sir, when Old Pucker freezes over it's a real tourist attraction. People from all over the world visit the park just to get a look at that old ice hole."

"My girlfriend says she doesn't love me, and wants to break-up."

"Oh Poo!" says ranger Simone.

"My girlfriend says I'm boring." Heviner turns slowly to look at the park ranger dressed in her crisp dark green uniform. He notices the chin strap of the Smokey-the-bear hat she is wearing is real tight, her cheeks are sooth as a baby's bottom, compressed as if she just had a face-lift by a over zealous South American plastic surgeon. Several strains of bright red hair play peek-a-boo from her loose fitting hat band. The young man smiles.

"You drink coffee? I have a thermos of espresso in the jeep over there." she nods toward a new vehicle parked off the dirt road on the gravel parking lot. "You look as if you could use a little pick-me-up."

"Ya, sure." he says, and walks with the ranger towards the jeep.

Papa's Work

My father never owned a gun.

New Story

When winter weather is blowing snow and ice outside, and the chores are done for the day, it's time to write about those who stand guard on the rim of space.

Royaléloxiss is the most dangerous planet in the Asperon system. Owned and operated by the Candreamn Corporation and its many subsidiary companies, it is a world run by heartless, greedy overseers, who squeeze life's blood, sweat, and tears of sorrow from it's bound-and-chained contracted company workers. Little is known of the planets deep mine workers. They work long hours for little pay, while company's big shots reap huge profits and live in opulence.
Few have escaped from the mining planet. Most die from exposure to toxins found in the mines and from the exported food supplies shipped in from Chinchow, a large planet also found in the Asperon planet system.
In the years following the sighting of a twin-tailed comet that passed Royaléloxiss, a legend began to spread of a super race of beings who promised to return and help the plight of those sick and down trodden company workers. Unknown to the Candreamn Corporation, secret communications had been delivered to a few humans who were strong enough to mind-link with the alien race. Many of those contacted went mad, their brains scrambled like green seuss eggs in a mixing bowl. Others cowered in timorous fear, mentally not being able to accept what was revealed, or imparted. Those few who were able to understand grew stronger mentally and physically, thus escaping the labor planet by means of cleverly built space ships. They became adept fighters for an independent and politically free society. Under the cloak of secrecy they worked, creating fantastic tools and weapons while on board their resilient and reliable space ships. The aliens kinntet mind-link to those enhanced few, although at times weakened due to the Candreamn Corporation's network of satellites circling high in Royaléloxiss atmosphere, could not be broken. Using alien knowledge of anomalys in time travel, the fighters minds and bodies soon became immune to Royaléloxiss deadly toxicity.
The story you now read is true. Names have been changed to protect those who
continue to fight for change in the Asperon system.
The distinguished fighting ship Gargoyle had been stranded just over the Rim of space in Asperon territory for what seemed like an eternity. Her cloaking shields, and heavy anti sonic cannons had been damaged in an all out battle with enemy forces. The Gargoyle obscure drift was now surrounded by a squadron of freight and fighting ships, all of whom passed supplies and replacement equipment to her crew members as they worked at a fervent pace to restore her to space travel and battle worthiness.
"The Captain of the lalaliberty seship Tar Baby wishes tooto speak toooto you Captain."
Captain Dusty Bönus lifts her welding mask long enough to shoot the stuttering crew member a wicked glance. Her green eyes glowed in the high overhead lighting.
"Who the cares what the Captain of the Tar Baby wants. Can't you see I'm busy?"
"Yes caacapCaptain, but this isn't a babattle situation, and I'mmm nananot risking my being skewered by a sharp saber like a shshshish kebab by Captain baba Momba."
"Fiddlesticks." said Captain Bönus as she lowered her mask and expertly ran a bead of melting metal along the decking plate of the ships ammunition loading ramp. Quickly she flipped up the viewing shield. "Captain B.B. Mamba!"
Nowhere the Rim was there a person of any species that had not heard of the fierce and honorable Captain B.B. Momba of the red dragon society. She had been schooled in the ancient arts of the road warriors, and was a tree world witch from childhood. Captured, tortured, and confined in situations that would have driven less noble prisoner insane, she always escaped, leavening behind a trail of dead bodys. She, many times out battled small armies of the corporate overlords by stealth cunning and formidable personal strength. Captain Mamba aristocratic name and brave exploits is what space frontier legends are made of. Standing just under five foot, with raven hair and eyes so dark as to drown most who dared look in them longer than a quick glance, Captain B.B. Momba strikes fear into the hearts of young and old alike, no matter what their station, or status in life might be.
"Holy Shit, Of all the Hell Hole quadrants in space to choose from, how in the hell did she know I was here?" said the now befuddled Captain Dusty Bönus. "What is she wearing?"
"Fafafafull babattle ddress."
"Oooo! Sabers, black velvet, red sash, cork knee-high boots?"
"Yes!" said the trembling lieutenant.

Winter Blooms

When it's cold and gray outside, and even the falling snow doesn't seems to have much zeal or enthusiasm, my kitchen engenders the warmth and enjoyment of Spring.
I love to force Narcissus (Paperwhites) bulbs during the Winter months. They are easy to grow, reliable, and only take six weeks to bloom. I like to start a succession of potting bulbs every two or three weeks so my kitchen has a fresh supply of fragrant blooming flowers all Winter long.
If your budget is tight around the holidays, Winter flowers make great gifts. I like to think they add a dash of warmth to rekindle the smiles of friendship. To me, flowering paperwhites stand as a symbol that the cold and snow of Winter will all to soon turn to the warmer winds and rain of early Spring.
And for those few who take objection to the sweet scented aroma of Narcissus...Stay out of my kitchen! :)