See me running through that open door.
Midtown
Dawn rises on Grey Town
“SHIT DOC, MUST BE GOOD GETTING A FREE RIDE!” The Baker boomed, his voice like a megaphone blasting sound directly to my ear canal. I instinctively clapped my hands to my ears to muffle the noise before realizing that my grip was the only thing that kept me on the Baker’s back. I sounding like a building being razed, as I fell to a heap on the pavement.
“ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR FUCKIN’ MIND? HOLD ON!”
“Please be quiet,” I whispered, pointing to my ears, “You sound like a bomb detonating.”
The Vino rushed to my side, supporting me with his slender frame.
“What’s wrong, Doc? Something mess up your ears?”
Vino’s usual rasp sounded like a rich tenor to my hyper attuned ears. This was the price of saving Baker’s life. Who would have thought that even a scratch from a Shade’s blade could spell death for any us? Baker was quick to realize that this was the consequence of his health. Our group quickly hushed their tones to silence and Baker hefted me up, his willful burden. I could tell he struggled the most with this conversation embargo.
Every footfall echoed like a falling boulder and even the rustle of clothing sounded like flock of birds taking flight. Although the dreaded Midtown silence was a blessed oasis to my wounded ears, its maddening effects quickly permeated our group. Luckily Vino was the first to break it, setting the proper tone
“So, Doc. Do you ever wonder what you used to be like? Like before you came to Grey Town?”
“I guess. Sometimes. It’s so hard to think back to anything before I cam here. I’m sure I was a pretty average guy, living a pretty average life. I imagine I had a nice home, maybe a nice family. Just living under the radar. Nothing grandiose. I think I’d like it that way. That’s why Grey Town seems so fierce. We’re always fighting. Always making a stand. I mean I’m no hero. I’m cursed the same as you are. Yet I’m forced to keep going just to regain the mediocrity that I loved so much before.”
“I’ll tell you what I was,” the Baker interjected, his whispered voice sounding like a shovel grinding through gravel, “Some gruff fuckin’ sailor! Sailing the high seas, plundering ships and blowing shit up. I’d be getting in bar fights and scoring a nice piece of ass every night. Not like this sausage fest!”
“I never realized that till you just said it. I’ve never seen a woman in Grey Town. Everyone I’ve ever met is a gray man”
“Shit, they’res women all over this place. Long black dresses, painted faces, always trying to take everything in your life. Ya know, women!”
I chuckled quietly, fighting the uproarious laughter that would rupture my eardrums.
“To regress to our earlier discussion,” The Pretender started, saddling up to match our strides, “I believe that my previous position beyond this dreary existence was of a great ruler. No doubt I was dressed in splendor, a true king or prince. I doubt I was anything short of benevolent, however I imagine I was naïve of those impoverished peasants outside of my position. My subjects would no doubt try their hardest to win my approval with their entertaining antics, and I, in my foolishness, did not appreciate their plight. I believe my current predicament is a sort of fitting justice. Once I can truly engage an audience will I be restored to my previous glory!”
“I have killed a man for wounding me, a young man for injuring me,” chirped the NIV.
“Man if I hadn’t seen what you did with that last Shade, I’d hardly believe that over the Pretenders. I’m sure you were a truly might man outside of here.”
“I don’t think I was anything mighty,” drawled Vino, “Clearly I’m not useful now. I mean, Pretender has his masks, the Bard has his songs, you’ve got your healing and even Baker has his fists but I feel like I’ve just been holding everyone down. Perhaps I’ve always held people down. Maybe they just got sick of me and banished me to Grey Town. Maybe this is my punishment for being the world’s largest annoyance.”
“That’s hardly true,” I comforted, “I mean if it wasn’t for your wine, we couldn’t have taken out that Shade by the lighthouse. You were the first to attack that last Shade. Baker and I owe our lives to you, Vino. Who knows what you were before Grey Town. Who cares? You can be whatever you want to be now.”
“I dunno, Doc. I can’t be depended upon when it really counts. I try and help, but I just freeze up. Those Shades got me tied around their pinky. I can’t stand it!”
“Look at me! I’m a cripple. We got two mutes, a drama king, and Muscles here with a bad mouth and bagels. But for some reason, here we are, back in Midtown, defying the Maker of Grey Town at every turn. Imagine how much more humiliating it will be for the Maker to be outwitted by a bunch of outcasts. Separate we’re all worthless, but together we’re unstoppable. So don’t think about what you were or what you’re not. Just wait for opportunity to come along and seize it. Keep your head up and your eyes wide. I’m sure you’ll find you’ve got more skill than you realize.”
“Well we’ve made it to your damn tower, you pint-sized wretch,” the Baker scoffed as he sized up the unscalable skyscraper. Its glass exterior was so slick, not even Midtown mud could cling to it, “If you’ve got some keen wisdom from that fuckin’ Book of yours, I’d love to hear that shit!”
“As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts,” the NIVs wizened eyes gazed bullets at the Baker.
“Oh so now you’re a funny man?” Baker glared back, “How about I knock a couple more inches off your small ass head?”
The Bard leapt into action at that, standing in front of NIV, his arms outstretched to shield him. The Baker remembered what happened the last time he lost control. He turned away frowning at the tinted glass, without reflection.
“What about this one?” the Vino pointed to a moderate structure, brown ribbons peeling off its painted brick, “It still looks pretty tall and has a fire escape on the side there.”
“Brilliant, Vino,” I whispered, beaming a smile down at him. He mirrored it back to me, standing taller than he ever had before.
We walked down the block to the Vino’s find, a faded sign reading “Demon’s Windfall” barely legible on its front. Tattered awnings hung like death shrouds at every level up to its sizeable peak. Sure enough, a rusted fire escaped clung to its crumbling brick face. It was hardly a sturdy way, but a way nonetheless. Unfortunately, the final ladder was a good two stories up, bound out of our reach.
“Useless! This shit is all useless! Now what do we do?”
“It is said that certain ballads can make the spirit soar, both in intensity of passion and quality of lyric. Perhaps evoking such songs can do much the same for certain gray men?”
The Bard scowled as the Pretender inclined a head in his direction. The gray man threw up his hands in exasperation. The Bard was fresh out of songs readily at his disposable. Since that last time he has used his curse, it nearly had gotten him killed by the Baker, he wasn’t much willing to use it again.
My back twinged painfully as I shifted my weight on the Baker’s back. Reminded by the pain, I remembered that I had unknowingly used my own curse far before I had realized it was my own. Back in Outertown, I had healed my mind enough to recall a song for the Bard and this back pain had resulted the morning after.
“Come over here, Bard,” I whispered excitedly, “I’ve got a plan.”
The gray man cautiously approached, glowering at the Baker all the while. I placed a hand on his forehead, envisioning a multitude of songs to be revealed like hidden treasure from under the bog of his mind. My hand felt afire as my curse took hold, and the Bard smiled. New compositions bloomed in his memory and shone out through his grateful eyes. He would sing for us again.
“I believe I can fly;
Spread my wings and touch the sky;
I think about it every night and day;
Spread my wings and fly away.”
Luminescent wings blossomed from between his shoulder blades, capturing the stale Midtown air with each arcing beat. The Bard rose up along with his resonant voice, clumsily and first but then more confidently. He was a radiant angel stark against the darkening sky as he flew over our astonished faces.
Dusk fell on Grey Town.
Just got through with another gauntlet of exams and such. Brandon and I took a 13 mile round trip bike in the rain yesterday. It was a blast and the longest I've been able to go. Before that we rode with a group called Critical Mass in protest of a State News article. The opinion piece told road bikers to stay "where they belong" on the sidewalk. Being we have laws protecting our safety on the street with motorists, bikers everywhere were justifiably outraged. It was fun getting a mob of 70 riders together and riding from Beaumont Tower to the Capitol and back. I suggest we ride in a traffic circle as to not let motorists in. Brandon suggested a BYOB party, as in Bring Your Own Brick for window smashing. Needless to say, we did my idea, at least for one lap.
As a final thought LEGO Rock Band Can anything be this good and this bad at the same time?
Dawn rises on Grey Town
“SHIT DOC, MUST BE GOOD GETTING A FREE RIDE!” The Baker boomed, his voice like a megaphone blasting sound directly to my ear canal. I instinctively clapped my hands to my ears to muffle the noise before realizing that my grip was the only thing that kept me on the Baker’s back. I sounding like a building being razed, as I fell to a heap on the pavement.
“ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR FUCKIN’ MIND? HOLD ON!”
“Please be quiet,” I whispered, pointing to my ears, “You sound like a bomb detonating.”
The Vino rushed to my side, supporting me with his slender frame.
“What’s wrong, Doc? Something mess up your ears?”
Vino’s usual rasp sounded like a rich tenor to my hyper attuned ears. This was the price of saving Baker’s life. Who would have thought that even a scratch from a Shade’s blade could spell death for any us? Baker was quick to realize that this was the consequence of his health. Our group quickly hushed their tones to silence and Baker hefted me up, his willful burden. I could tell he struggled the most with this conversation embargo.
Every footfall echoed like a falling boulder and even the rustle of clothing sounded like flock of birds taking flight. Although the dreaded Midtown silence was a blessed oasis to my wounded ears, its maddening effects quickly permeated our group. Luckily Vino was the first to break it, setting the proper tone
“So, Doc. Do you ever wonder what you used to be like? Like before you came to Grey Town?”
“I guess. Sometimes. It’s so hard to think back to anything before I cam here. I’m sure I was a pretty average guy, living a pretty average life. I imagine I had a nice home, maybe a nice family. Just living under the radar. Nothing grandiose. I think I’d like it that way. That’s why Grey Town seems so fierce. We’re always fighting. Always making a stand. I mean I’m no hero. I’m cursed the same as you are. Yet I’m forced to keep going just to regain the mediocrity that I loved so much before.”
“I’ll tell you what I was,” the Baker interjected, his whispered voice sounding like a shovel grinding through gravel, “Some gruff fuckin’ sailor! Sailing the high seas, plundering ships and blowing shit up. I’d be getting in bar fights and scoring a nice piece of ass every night. Not like this sausage fest!”
“I never realized that till you just said it. I’ve never seen a woman in Grey Town. Everyone I’ve ever met is a gray man”
“Shit, they’res women all over this place. Long black dresses, painted faces, always trying to take everything in your life. Ya know, women!”
I chuckled quietly, fighting the uproarious laughter that would rupture my eardrums.
“To regress to our earlier discussion,” The Pretender started, saddling up to match our strides, “I believe that my previous position beyond this dreary existence was of a great ruler. No doubt I was dressed in splendor, a true king or prince. I doubt I was anything short of benevolent, however I imagine I was naïve of those impoverished peasants outside of my position. My subjects would no doubt try their hardest to win my approval with their entertaining antics, and I, in my foolishness, did not appreciate their plight. I believe my current predicament is a sort of fitting justice. Once I can truly engage an audience will I be restored to my previous glory!”
“I have killed a man for wounding me, a young man for injuring me,” chirped the NIV.
“Man if I hadn’t seen what you did with that last Shade, I’d hardly believe that over the Pretenders. I’m sure you were a truly might man outside of here.”
“I don’t think I was anything mighty,” drawled Vino, “Clearly I’m not useful now. I mean, Pretender has his masks, the Bard has his songs, you’ve got your healing and even Baker has his fists but I feel like I’ve just been holding everyone down. Perhaps I’ve always held people down. Maybe they just got sick of me and banished me to Grey Town. Maybe this is my punishment for being the world’s largest annoyance.”
“That’s hardly true,” I comforted, “I mean if it wasn’t for your wine, we couldn’t have taken out that Shade by the lighthouse. You were the first to attack that last Shade. Baker and I owe our lives to you, Vino. Who knows what you were before Grey Town. Who cares? You can be whatever you want to be now.”
“I dunno, Doc. I can’t be depended upon when it really counts. I try and help, but I just freeze up. Those Shades got me tied around their pinky. I can’t stand it!”
“Look at me! I’m a cripple. We got two mutes, a drama king, and Muscles here with a bad mouth and bagels. But for some reason, here we are, back in Midtown, defying the Maker of Grey Town at every turn. Imagine how much more humiliating it will be for the Maker to be outwitted by a bunch of outcasts. Separate we’re all worthless, but together we’re unstoppable. So don’t think about what you were or what you’re not. Just wait for opportunity to come along and seize it. Keep your head up and your eyes wide. I’m sure you’ll find you’ve got more skill than you realize.”
“Well we’ve made it to your damn tower, you pint-sized wretch,” the Baker scoffed as he sized up the unscalable skyscraper. Its glass exterior was so slick, not even Midtown mud could cling to it, “If you’ve got some keen wisdom from that fuckin’ Book of yours, I’d love to hear that shit!”
“As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts,” the NIVs wizened eyes gazed bullets at the Baker.
“Oh so now you’re a funny man?” Baker glared back, “How about I knock a couple more inches off your small ass head?”
The Bard leapt into action at that, standing in front of NIV, his arms outstretched to shield him. The Baker remembered what happened the last time he lost control. He turned away frowning at the tinted glass, without reflection.
“What about this one?” the Vino pointed to a moderate structure, brown ribbons peeling off its painted brick, “It still looks pretty tall and has a fire escape on the side there.”
“Brilliant, Vino,” I whispered, beaming a smile down at him. He mirrored it back to me, standing taller than he ever had before.
We walked down the block to the Vino’s find, a faded sign reading “Demon’s Windfall” barely legible on its front. Tattered awnings hung like death shrouds at every level up to its sizeable peak. Sure enough, a rusted fire escaped clung to its crumbling brick face. It was hardly a sturdy way, but a way nonetheless. Unfortunately, the final ladder was a good two stories up, bound out of our reach.
“Useless! This shit is all useless! Now what do we do?”
“It is said that certain ballads can make the spirit soar, both in intensity of passion and quality of lyric. Perhaps evoking such songs can do much the same for certain gray men?”
The Bard scowled as the Pretender inclined a head in his direction. The gray man threw up his hands in exasperation. The Bard was fresh out of songs readily at his disposable. Since that last time he has used his curse, it nearly had gotten him killed by the Baker, he wasn’t much willing to use it again.
My back twinged painfully as I shifted my weight on the Baker’s back. Reminded by the pain, I remembered that I had unknowingly used my own curse far before I had realized it was my own. Back in Outertown, I had healed my mind enough to recall a song for the Bard and this back pain had resulted the morning after.
“Come over here, Bard,” I whispered excitedly, “I’ve got a plan.”
The gray man cautiously approached, glowering at the Baker all the while. I placed a hand on his forehead, envisioning a multitude of songs to be revealed like hidden treasure from under the bog of his mind. My hand felt afire as my curse took hold, and the Bard smiled. New compositions bloomed in his memory and shone out through his grateful eyes. He would sing for us again.
“I believe I can fly;
Spread my wings and touch the sky;
I think about it every night and day;
Spread my wings and fly away.”
Luminescent wings blossomed from between his shoulder blades, capturing the stale Midtown air with each arcing beat. The Bard rose up along with his resonant voice, clumsily and first but then more confidently. He was a radiant angel stark against the darkening sky as he flew over our astonished faces.
Dusk fell on Grey Town.
Just got through with another gauntlet of exams and such. Brandon and I took a 13 mile round trip bike in the rain yesterday. It was a blast and the longest I've been able to go. Before that we rode with a group called Critical Mass in protest of a State News article. The opinion piece told road bikers to stay "where they belong" on the sidewalk. Being we have laws protecting our safety on the street with motorists, bikers everywhere were justifiably outraged. It was fun getting a mob of 70 riders together and riding from Beaumont Tower to the Capitol and back. I suggest we ride in a traffic circle as to not let motorists in. Brandon suggested a BYOB party, as in Bring Your Own Brick for window smashing. Needless to say, we did my idea, at least for one lap.
As a final thought LEGO Rock Band Can anything be this good and this bad at the same time?