Forgotten Realms

by Cassidy Raine Wolters

  Paige appeared in her dreams. She was in her cheerleader's outfit, shaking her pom poms, and spelling out a word. A dog materialized and growled at her. It barked and barked and wouldn't leave her alone.

  Her eyes fluttered open and she struggled to wake up. She was home, but she couldn't recall how she got here. The last thing she remembered was Paige tormenting her. She had a vague recollection of Paige disappearing and a very fuzzy memory of picking something up off the ground.

  She realized her brother was sitting next to her, holding her hand. That's when she noticed her charm bracelet. It was normally adorned with four charms: a baby carriage, a van, a tuba, and a blue jay, but now there were two new additions - a cheerleader's pom poms and a dog.

  She looked at her brother and he seemed to understand. As she stared in his eyes, she thought of two more charms she'd like to add to her bracelet: a basketball and a school bus.

  The End

  32 - Meat

  By the 23rd century, most humans had given up eating meat. Breakthroughs in hydroponics and the manufacturing of synthetic foods had averted the Malthusian dilemma, a shortage in food caused by the exponential growth of populations, predicted by the Reverend Thomas Malthus in 1798.

  In fact, both food and leisure time were plentiful. Scientific progress had created a utopia in which man could do practically anything.

  The most popular past time in this far-flung future was visiting other planets and other galaxies. Sightseeing trips to Venus and Mars were routine, while those with abundant wealth could visit more exotic destinations like the Oort Cloud and the Crab Nebula.

  But some were not content with sightseeing. Some visited other planets for other reasons.

  Yes, most humans had stopped eating the flesh of their kin in the animal kingdom. But not Johnny Ray Johnson. Heir to a fortune that stretched all the way back to the United States railroad boom of the 1800s and a direct descendant of a famous Confederate soldier from the American Civil War, Johnny Ray loved to hunt and fish. He took tremendous satisfaction in setting traps to catch small animals. But his greatest pleasure was eating meat.

  He loved any kind of meat. Chicken, pork, bacon. You name it, he ate it. His favorite was beef. He had an antique device called a grill that he used to char thick cuts of animal flesh that he slathered with a liquid called barbecue sauce. Johnny Ray even had special traditions he followed when he cooked meat. He wore a tall hat and drank a cold liquid called "beer" that used to be extremely popular many, many years ago.

  With unlimited wealth, Johnny Ray took trips to every planet imaginable to find new beasts to kill, cook, and eat. He greatly enjoyed Festuvian yabba and Grundian karshmay, but his short attention span always pushed him to new planets in pursuit of new game.

  "How much longer 'til we get to Tallos 6?" Johnny Ray asked impatiently as he glanced around the cockpit of the spaceship.

  "We'll be there soon," said the captain. "We've just entered the Tallos system. We're passing over Tallos 1 now."

  "Good. I can't wait to find me some new creatures to kill. I hear they got packs of something like buffalo. Now there's a tasty critter."

  "Doesn't it bother you to slaughter innocent creatures?" the captain asked.

  "Nope," he responded. "They're just dumb animals."

  A look of disapproval crossed the captain's face but went unnoticed. "Well, I'm afraid those are just rumors about the buffalo. We're on the very edge of the universe and the Tallos system is largely unexplored. Nobody knows what's really out here."

  "Yeah, I've been just about everywhere else," Johnny Ray said as he impulsively pushed a few blinking buttons much to the captain's chagrin.

  "I do wish you'd stop fiddling with the controls."

  "Hey! Who's paying for this trip? Me or you?" Johnny Ray protested.

  A beep from the ship's console turned the captain's attention away from his uncouth companion.

  "It's time for me to eat," he said as he unbuckled himself from the command chair. "I'm going to get some vegetables and a synthetic protein drink. Do you want me to get you something?"

  "Hell, no!" Johnny Ray hollered. "Not unless you got some spare ribs smothered in barbeque sauce and some cold beer."

  "Please don't touch anything while I'm gone," the captain said warily. "You know, you really should wear a seatbelt," he added.

  "Nah, don't believe in them."

  After the captain left, Johnny Ray watched the control panel's lights flicker on and off for a few minutes before he impulsively started to push some buttons and flip some switches, accidentally hitting a combination that caused the ship to lurch and spiral towards Tallos 1.

  Johnny Ray was thrown from his chair and slammed into the wall. He could see the planet's surface rapidly approaching as gravity's tug inexorably pulled the ship downward faster and faster.

  With deadly inertial force, the spaceship hit the ground.

  Miraculously, Johnny Ray was thrown free from the crash. He caught a fleeting glimpse of the raging, metallic inferno before he slipped into unconsciousness.

  He awoke many hours later. Blood poured from multiple wounds as he struggled to his feet and limped to the site of the smoldering wreckage, but there was nothing left for him to salvage.

  He saw lights in the distance and set off towards them, but he didn't make it very far before he was forced to rest and soon dozed off to sleep.

  Strange voices mingled with his troubled dreams and he awoke with a start. He was surrounded by a dozen humanoid creatures who spoke to one another in a strange, incomprehensible language.

  "Ytrimm?" one said.

  "Granno ser lanni," another responded.

  "You must have seen the crash," Johnny Ray said in a groggy voice. "Thank God you found me."

  One of the creatures aimed some type of gun at him.

  "Wait! What are you doing?" Johnny Ray protested. He got up and stumbled away, barely managing to stagger into some nearby woods as several shots from his pursuers' weapons whizzed past his head. He didn't make it very far before a steel trap snapped tight on his leg.

  His wounds from the crash left a trail of blood that the hunters were able to easily follow. They soon appeared, removed him from the trap, and took him to their nearby camp where they threw him into a cage with a number of bizarre animals.

  Later that day, they removed one of the beasts and killed it. A humanoid dressed in a tall hat sliced the brute's meat from its bones and threw it onto a well-worn machine that spewed hot flames.

  It wasn't long before his captors returned. In desperation, he used his fingers to write in the soft, damp soil on the floor of the cage. "Look... see! I'm not a dumb animal. My name is Johnny Ray Johnson. I'm from Earth. Here, look at this. It's writing. I'm like you. I can think!"

  The two humanoids exchanged a puzzled glance.

  "Kretcha?" one asked.

  "Jommo," said the other as he grabbed Johnny Ray and roughly pulled him from the cage. They dragged him to the cooking area where the creature in the hat was sharpening a knife.

  The leader of the group was seated at a table, devouring his meal. He dropped a chunk of meat onto his plate and covered it with a thick, dark sauce. "Gorpa!" he demanded and a humanoid hurried over with a glass filled with a frothy liquid. The leader took a long drink. "Ahhh," he said as he wiped some dribble from his chin. He pointed to Johnny Ray and pointed to the hot flames. "Yoppa. Hurka, hurka!"

  "Furva," the creature in the hat said as he turned his attention to Johnny Ray.

  "Wait! No! I'm not a dumb animal. I'm human!"

  Those were Johnny Ray Johnson's final words.

  The End

  33 - The Reptiles from Raypeere

  Raypeere was a city of great antiquity built on a vast, still lake near the base of a weathered mountain chain. Drawn by precious metals found here and nowhere else, man first populated this desolate area centuries ago.

  Despite his belief, man is young and knows little of the ancient living things that thr
ived long before his appearance. And another race called this place home long before the birth of mankind.

  They called themselves the Gittari. Strange, reptilian beings with an intelligence equal to man, they worshipped the moon. Wary of the new arrivals, the Gittari kept to themselves and were content to share the mountains and the lake.

  But man is not built that way. By some glitch of evolution or quirk of personality, man cannot live in harmony with other creatures, so conflict with the Gittari was inevitable.

  Repulsed by the snake-like appearance and unfamiliar religious rites of the creatures, the men of Raypeere banded together to destroy them.

  Open conflict continued for years, and the men committed many atrocities and took great delight in throwing the bones of their defeated enemy into the vast, still lake. As more and more men arrived to mine the precious metals, the Gittari's numbers began to dwindle, and the few that remained were driven from the lake back into the foothills.

  The ancient race of reptiles wanted only to avoid conflict. Rather than fight back, they prayed to their mysterious gods, chief among them Korba, for salvation. They held religious ceremonies whenever the moon was full.

  But these observances enraged the men, who worshipped the sun and an odd array of bearded gods. The speed of genocide gained momentum; before long, the Gittari numbered no more than a few dozen, isolated in a single valley.

  The humans prepared for a final assault. As they surrounded the valley, they were surprised to find the reptiles, usually nocturnal, active during the day. They were gathered around a tall, stone idol chiseled in the likeness of Korba, their lizard god. An eerie chant in the curious dialect of the Gittari echoed through the foothills.

  Their peculiar voices grew louder as a solar eclipse, the rarest of celestial events, commenced. The stone idol began to glow in a disturbing green shade, causing some men to run away in fear. But others were made of sterner stuff. They swarmed into the valley and massacred the remaining Gittari as the sun completely disappeared behind the moon, leaving everything bathed in the sickly, green light of the idol.

  During the scant few minutes when the sun was totally eclipsed a rare alignment of the planets, previously hidden, was revealed. The dying screams of the Gittari, mixed with the pale glow of the idol, filled even the stoutest of men with fear that made their scalps prickle, but the gradual return of the sun revived their courage and they began to congratulate one another on their bloody victory.

  With childlike glee, they threw the bodies of their victims into the lake. They toppled the Gittari's stone idol, ferried it to the middle of the lake, and dropped it over the side of the boat into the dark waters.

  Many centuries came and went. Buried fears resurfaced on the rare occasion of a solar eclipse, but the lingering fright eventually vanished and the reptiles became a forgotten memory, only living on in tales told to frighten children. Still, there were those who swore they saw strange, green lights dance in the deep waters of the vast, still lake while others claimed to hear curious chanting in the hills and mountains.

  Raypeere prospered like no other city in the world. As weaponry advanced, the growing need for precious metals made the teeming city the destination of trade routes and caravan trails from all corners of the globe. The leaders of the city grew fat with wealth as they supplied both sides of conflict after conflict with the tools to wage endless war.

  Raypeere was a proud city filled with proud men. With their unprecedented wealth, they built golden-domed temples dedicated to the sun and their bearded gods. The arts and architecture flourished as patrons spent lavishly in vain attempts to trumpet their glory. They built houses out of glazed adobe and decorated them with marble, slate, and quartz. No other city had houses like these, and travelers from the farthest provinces marveled at their beauty.

  The rarest flowers were brought from across the world and cultivated in the famed hanging gardens. Silk and other choice materials were featured in ever-changing fashions and only the most ancient wines passed the lips of Raypeere's upper class.

  A thousand generations lived and died in the opulent city of Raypeere and the scientists grew advanced enough to predict the movements of the sun, the moon, and the stars with stunning accuracy. The city elders, ever keen for a reason to flaunt their greatness, settled on the upcoming solar eclipse and a rare, once a millennium, alignment of the planets as an excuse to hold a great festival.

  As the day drew near, the city bustled like never before as thousands of new visitors and merchants flooded the metropolis. Strange delicacies and delicious aromas where found in every tavern and on every street corner. The riches and delights of Raypeere reached a new zenith.

  On the afternoon of the appointed day, exactly as predicted by the astronomers, the moon began its advance across the sun. Noises from the huge throng of revelers swelled with the approach of the total eclipse. As the last bit of the Sun disappeared behind the dark curtain of the moon, the rare alignment of the planets, previously invisible, sprang into view.

  In the scant minutes of the total eclipse, the crowds celebrated in every way imaginable. But above the din, a strange chanting gradually was noticeable, and, by the time the eclipse had ended, all the festivities had stopped. Hordes of people shoved their way to vantage points in the city that overlooked the lake when it became apparent that the ancient waters were the source of the incantations. Those that could see the lake noticed a sickly, green glow in its depths. A rapid change from the slightest breeze to a mighty tempest occurred as the waters, unmoved in their entire existence, began to churn.

  The skeletons of an ancient reptilian race, long since extinct, climbed forth from the waters. Thousands upon thousands emerged from the lake. The chanting grew to a deafening volume as the revelers panicked and trampled upon family and friends alike to escape the horror.

  A stone idol, chiseled in the likeness of a long forgotten god named Korba, emerged from the waters, carried by the reanimated Gittari, a race that existed long before man first appeared in these mountains, searching for precious metals.

  Not a single man survived the bloody massacre that day at Raypeere and travelers no longer seek that once-celebrated city. A brave few claim to have ventured to that accursed place and there are whispers that a tall, stone idol is the only thing left standing in the ruins. But the wise amongst us know that those are only tales told to frighten children.

  The End

  34 - Paint

  Sunday afternoons used to be unbelievably busy at the flea market out on the old South Pike Road, but since the new strip mall opened a few months back, the crowds had thinned out dramatically.

  "How's business, Mildred?"

  "I've only sold two garden gnomes all day. How about you, Agnes?"

  "One afghan," she answered despondently.

  The two old ladies had booths adjacent to one another. They'd met over ten years ago and immediately became fast friends. Both were widows who lived alone and these weekends together at the flea market provided much-needed companionship.

  "I've added cupids, cats, dogs, and toads to my collection," Mildred announced. "But it's just no good. I can't compete with the prices and selection at the Pottery Barn at the mall."

  "Maybe you should try windmills. I hear they're quite popular nowadays," Agnes suggested. "I'm going to look for some new patterns for my afghan blankets."

  "We better come up with something quick, or we're going to be out of business. Even Larry is having a hard time," she said as she pointed to an elderly man searching the area with a metal detector. "He told me he only found a quarter and three pennies last weekend."

  "That's terrible!" Agnes exclaimed. "That won't even pay for his gas to drive out here."

  *****

  Mildred put the last of her garden gnomes in the trunk of her station wagon and got ready for the drive home. She turned on the ignition and was ready to pull out when there was a knock on her window.

  A man in a trench coat and dark sunglasses st
ood beside her car. He wore his collar up and a hat pulled down low, so it was hard to see his face.

  Mildred had never had any trouble at the flea market, but this man made her a little nervous. She cautiously rolled down her window. "Can I help you?" she asked.

  "Good afternoon, madam," he said in a pleasant voice that immediately set her at ease. "But you have it all wrong! I'm here to help you."

  "Help me? How?"

  "I have special paints that will make your pottery the envy of the world. You'll have the most lifelike garden gnomes that anyone has ever seen!"

  Mildred was intrigued, but skeptical.

  "Why would you want to help me?" she asked.

  "I go to flea markets all across the country," the man replied.

  "Oh, so you're a collector?"

  "Yes! An avid collector," he said with a smile.

  "What's your name?"

  "Louis. Louis Sypher."

  "Well, I tell you what, Mr. Sypher. I'll give your paints a try," she said with a smile. "Heck, what have I got to lose?"

  "Excellent!"

  *****

  Mildred listened to the public radio station on her drive out of town. The skies had clouded over by the time she turned onto Coffee Lane and a light sprinkle began to fall when she reached the long driveway that led to her secluded house.

  She'd just finished getting all her supplies inside when the rain began to fall in earnest. "Looks like it's going to be a real nasty storm, Sylvester," she said to a black and white cat that purred and rubbed against her leg.

  Mildred watched the evening news like she always did, but the bad weather caused the signal to fade in and out, and she eventually became so frustrated that she turned the TV off.

  "Let me get you something to eat, Sylvester, and then I think I'll try those new paints."

  *****

  Mildred spent the next few hours at her workbench in the basement, meticulously painting three garden gnomes. One held a pick, another held a shovel, while the third pushed a small wheelbarrow. Time and again she dipped her brush into the paints she'd spread on her palette and worked the pigments onto the small statues.