The Society On Da Run issue #10: Sleepover from Hell
11.11.11 Edition
By Nipaporn Baldwin
Published by Geppetto Garten/Nipaporn Baldwin
11/11/11 © 2011 licensed CC-BY-NC
Cover image: The Sleepover by PascalCampion: http://pascalcampion.deviantart.com/art/The-Sleepover-169427228
Thank you for letting me use your image! :D
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
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Editorial
Featured in this freebie issue are 5 stories from the Omnibus: Sleepover From Hell (the cover story), Winter Cicada, Cimberwell & Rasognir of Illeya (a poem) and The Story Behind Harmonics Fyalsis (Salsify). I’m starting to prefer the omnibus over these individual issues. The cover art is The Sleepover by PascalCampion. I came by his art when I was looking for a cover for this issue. All of his art is lovely. Here is his DeviantArt gallery: http://pascalcampion.deviantart.com/
His art really helped brighten up this issue :)
Sincerely,
Editor-in-Chief Nipaporn
Sleepover From Hell
The dragon cast his flame in midair, breathing life into the dark room. He sat behind his child companion, a blonde-haired girl four days shy of seven. She leaned in, her cheek nearly kissing the flame. The moving light transcended over her features, providing her with a haunting stare. Bridget Eisenhower, a brunette six days off her birthday, looked on with unspoken horror as she feared the story Yolien was about to tell. The blue-haired dragon-shifter, Dolores, was happily smiling as she awaited the story. Purple-haired Jessica was clutching her unhatched dragon egg in comfort. She was two days from becoming five and just a few inches taller than the egg.
“Okay,” Yolein began, “my mom told me this story and I put my own twist to it. This is the story of the Zammara effect.”
Dolores happily triple-clapped, “ooo I know this one!”
“Hush,” Yolien urged, “for the night is young. Ahem, once upon a time in the land of Meraux, the inhabitants spent all their time making out with each other.”
“…ew,” muttered Jessica.
“They neglected their crops, neglected help from the other kingdoms and bred too many babies.”
Dolores uttered to Bridget, “What? That’s not the version I heard.”
“One day Cleopatra came by asking for help and the King told her to go away. She became so angry with them. To teach ‘em a lesson, she unleashed a species of cicadas upon them called Zammara.”
“Where’s the creepy part?” asked Dolores.
“I’m getting to it. Anyway, the cicadas invaded their homes and stuck their…their…pro-bo-sis into people’s arms and drank their blood and infected them with…” she moved closer to the flame to cast her shadow, “ZAMMARA!”
Jessica began rocking back and forth as she sucked two of her fingers.
“This is not even scary,” muttered Bridget.
“After five days, the virus began to fester on their backs as big, bulging leeches that began to turn black and leak raw puss.”
Dolores’s eyes widened and Jessica’s rocking rapidly increased.
“The victims could not make out peacefully, for every touch would make goosebumps turn into giant red boils on their arms. Inside their bodies, their stomach acids began to bubble and toil. Their asoph…asoph…asophoguses were burned beyond recognition.”
Dolores kept muttering, “this isn’t the story I know. This isn’t the story I know. this isn’t the story…”
Jessica began to weep tears from her eyes.
Bridget was unmoved by the story.
“When everyone was nearly dead, Cleopatra returned to the King and asked for his help. He asked her, “what has thou done to my peoples.” She told him, “you were too busy doing useless things, so I opened your eyes.” He ran to her, tried to choke her, but she fought him off. Her last words to him were this, “fine! Be that way. Zammara will be your downfall, just like the lust you so deeply embraced!”
“Stop it!” Jessica cried through snot and tears, “stop it!”
“AND SO, everyone in Zammara was wiped out by the virus. The ruins of the kingdom tell a tale of blood, lust, and STDs.”
Dolores fell backwards onto her pillow. Jessica ran into the kitchen and hid under the oakwood table. Yolien smiled, thinking she had Bridget scared.
“How was it?” she asked.
“Horrible.” Said Bridget, “I’m going to bed.”
Yolien muttered, “boy, you’re fifty shades of boring.”
* * *
“Oh, my sweet prince Karrucci,” Bridget could see the young man atop the hill overlooking the sunset. His Pegasus was standing beside him, both of them canopied by the tree. Quintessence looked older than he did. He was handsome like his brothers before him, and regal like how a dragon prince should be.
“Hello, Bridget,” he said to her, his voice echoing throughout the land.
“Hello, my love,” her voice echoed too, unshattered by the singing birds, “kiss me, kiss me, kiss me!”
He leaned in, readying to fulfill her wish, but with a gasp he drew back.
“What in Rihahelm’s name is that?” he shouted.
She looked behind her, but could only see a faint black buldge. A mirror plummented from the sky and landed in front of her. She turned around, gazing wide-eyed like a scared Antelope. Her back was brimming with a giant black bulge. It moved in place, growling and leaking white liquids. She opened her mouth, screaming for dear mercy.
“AAAAAHHHHHHH!”
Yolien jumped up, “WHAT?!”
Bridget was panting heavily, trying to catch her breath. With fear in her trembling hands, she rubbed her back in hopes of feeling nothing. She happily sighed when the realization of it being a dream came to light.
“What? What is it?” asked Dolores.
Jessica, in her little voice, asked Bridget, “did you dream about Micah? He’s still here, Bridge. Don’t cry.”
Bridget shook her head, “I didn’t dream about Micah.”
Yolien started smiling, “you dreamed about Quint, didn’t you?”
“Um…” Bridget kept the dream to herself, “Yeah…I dreamed that Quint was…a bloodthirsty zombie.”
Dolores happily clapped, “That would be a perfect story!”
Bridget laid back down, concentrating on the upside-down flourescent light in the kitchen, right above the stove. She could see a few flies tapping into it, obviously attracted, or they could be drawn to the unwashed dishes.
Winter Cicada
“There are no bugs in winter,” said Bridget, “only their exuviae.”
Dolores withdrew her sheath, examining the harsh reality of winter
“I think the only fun we’ve ever had was that sleepover,” said Bridget
Dolores giggled, “I know, right? Yolien was the best!”
She smiled at the cicada on the tree
No cicadas lived here
Only their exuviae remain clinging to the trees
The only remnant left of cicadas’ time is their song
that plays over and over in her mind
Dolores rubbed her shoulders, feeling the cold of winter
Hoping she hasn’t lost her soul
“Fear not, young child,” she would say to her little brother, “for the cicadas will return.”
That was so many moths ago
“soon you can run about with your net and
catch as many as you can.”
She felt she told a lie
He was sleeping right now in the tent
Gently sucking his fingers as he dreamed of a time before the dragons became upset
Dolores’s grandmother would sit on the porch and listen to the cicadas
The heat, their song, the trees of the South, and Dolores hrself
It was a midsummer’s dream for any family
or listen to the cries of ghosts that only cicadas can hear
she went back into the tent, turning her eys away from the ruined land
she caressed her brother’s soft hair. She whispered in his ear, “just close your eyes and sleep, dream of cicadas’ ever sweet,”
she would rather say, “Or dream of the murders they witness with their six eyes”
But she kept quiet
Creative drawings bring cicadas alive
Intuitive songs include the bugs’ shrill cries
Dolores had no sketching paper, no tape recorder
Another two months to go before they return alive and anew
Demanding words desire they return now, but
Always they will be summer’s June bugs
She always called them that
June Bugs
They will always witness a murder unsung
A tree bound between power lines, they watch and listen while singing
They watch the desires of murder unfold
Dolores’s family, murdered by Crotonians during a roadtrip
Her brother’s life—her life—was spared
Cimberwell and Rasognir of Illeya
Cimberwell was a small town that once lived
Little Delaney was a village that had it’s own gas station
Kyiff was a city of bright lights
Rasognir was a sleepy town stuck in the sixteenth century
Illeya was the neighboring town of Rasognir, and it was a grim delight
These towns are represented by the Dragon Gods of which they are named
These small towns surround the city of Lindendale, with Illeya being the closest and most corrupted
Cimberwell was abandoned when Mosswing trees started to shed
The poisonous gasses eliminated the townsfolk in one sweep
Little Delaney used to be a food port for traders and merchants
But the recent takeover has turned it into a slave port
Kyiff still had it’s lights, but casinos were moving in fast
Rasognir was cursed by the C’yyant Witch of Time, and it’s inhabitants were stuck in an endless time loop, and anyone visiting would be sucked in
Illeya was polluted by drugs, gangs, war outbreaks, awful smells, everyday death, bad food, political corruption, slave trading and so much more
It’s trees were still growing tall and green, but grass started to overgrow the streets and pavement was cracking like popcorn
Some of the inhabitants of the small settlements had hope that these central towns would be restored
They kept the hope deep in their hearts
And they were the ones whom clung to the wings…
The Story Behind Harmonics F’yal’sis’
Three months before Dino-Macro
Earth was in shambles after the dragons’ unexpected attack
Law and order were abolished as soon as the dragons began taking people
Besides the towers, the dragons were also building nests that served as scientific study domes
A retired General named Maller managed to escape the dragons’ clutches, and when he spotted The Vessel in his human form, he knew he had to strike.
Him and a few other people cornered the dragon god and took him down, stabbing errenously at the man. Maller had plans for the dragons, and he carried out the plans mercilessly
The dragon god’s new home was onboard a space vessel called Newrama, and he was given his own space to breed new eggs. Mallard was cunning, he knew the dragon could telepathically call his dragons to him, so Maller placed a Phycosis Collar on the dragon’s neck. It blocked any telepathic link that the dragon tried to access. Mallar interrogated the dragon when he switched to his human form. At first there was silence…
Maller took a sip of coffee and spoke first, “So, Mr. Dragon—”
“Ashuton,” the man interrupted, “My name is Ashuton.”
“Oh, right. Ashuton. Nice name. I heard it was Japanese for ash town, which makes sense that an Italian like you would be given that name, since Pompeii is an ash town.”
“Why am I here? Why have you taken me from my children?”
“Children? Those winged animals are your children?”
“Do not insult them, remember you are talking to me, their God. You will respect them.”
Maller drew back, “oh, aren’t we so ardent. Anyway, I have you here for a reason. I need you to breed new dragons that can combat the Alma Maters.”
Ashuton chuckled, “that would be going against the code.”
Maller took a smooth egg from his bag and gently placed it on the table. He smiled, but this smile had tints of evil in it, “I have ways of making you talk.”
Ashuton’s eye twitched. He could feel the life in that egg and it was full of fear. He was wishing inside his mind that what was to come would be false. Maller took out a mallet and said, “you don’t co-operate, I kill your precious children, the babies you so dearly adore; the smooth eggs that were born from your…“positor.” And I know they are your weakness. A child is every parent’s weakness.”
He threw down the mallet onto the egg, shattering it’s shell and crushing the quivering dragon encased in it. He smashed again, completely crushing the baby into a moist mixture of blood, yolk and mashed flesh. Ashuton, filled with unbelievable rage, hissed and jumped towards Mallard. The guards swiftly pointed their spiked spears at the man, an indication to sit down or he’ll be “dealt” with.
“I have ways of making you comply, boy. And that hatchling is just the first.”
Ashuton growled under his breath. He turned away, not wanting to look at the murderer in the face.
Maller said to him, “When we settle down on Mars, you’d better be ready.”
“Mars?” asked Ashuton.
“Yes, Mars. It’s been terraformed.”
When Maller left, a sinister smile broke upon Ashuton’s face.