Of Love and Lions

Here is part of a story that I'm working on - working title: "Of Love and Lions". I will attempt to add to it from time to time on this blog until it is complete.

Edward quickly drops to a crouch and rushes his adversary passing below the leveled AK47’s barrel and knocks the VC soldier to the ground. Simultaneously, his right hand grasped the knife in his right boot bringing it up in one fluid motion while struggling to pin down his opponent’s rifle with his left hand. The up thrusting momentum of the blade rips through the enemy’s loose fitting black shirt. As the torn cloth flaps out, two small, but well-rounded breasts are revealed along with an odd-looking golden pendant dangling on a thin gold chain. The knife stops just shy of the soft nape of the opponent’s neck. The revealing site liberated by his blade has arrested Edward’s eyes. He briefly lingers at the area of the twin small mounds that identify the enemy as a female, but he has killed female enemy soldiers in the past. What causes him to freeze is the golden pendant. Time seems to almost standstill as his eyes, finally released from the grip of the pendant, more closely examine the opponent herself. Her skin is very dark brown, almost black; her face is also unusual, the curve of the jaw, the deep green rounded eyes, the pug nose, and thickness to the lips – an odd looking Vietnamese indeed!

Seeing a chance for life, the Viet Cong soldier doubles up her feet under Edward’s chest and then kicks out as hard as she can causing Edward to tumble up and out. He ends up flat on his back, and his knife knocked out of his hand. Jumping to her feet, she quickly levels her rifle again at Edward, who was now sitting up staring back at her pendant still dangling free. She hesitates to pull the trigger wondering what is causing him to just stare back at her, not in anger or fright but in wonder! He slowly reaches into his own shirt and pulls out an identical golden chain and accompanying pendant!

It is her turn to stare in wonder! She is already suffering from two gun shot wounds encountered during this battle with the Americans and her adrenaline is fading fast. Her head slowly droops down and she collapses. Snapping out of his trance, Edward lunges forward and catches her in his arms. He now sees her two wounds, one in the left shoulder and one that grazed her right side. Acting quickly, he works to stem the flow of blood from both wounds. Neither one appeared to be life threatening.

He has several wounds from the battle himself, which he now attends to after gently laying the girl on a small stretch of grass. He then turns his attention back to her, while taking out his canteen. He wets his fingers with the lukewarm water and gently rubbed her full lips. Opening her eyes, she looks up at him and parts her lips. He brings the canteen up and allows her several small swallows; too much water would be harmful in her condition. They silently looked at each for several minutes. Then she closes her eyes and turned her head up against is chest.

Edward was also exhausted. His mind spinning from the turn of events he was just know apart of. The battle had been waged most of the afternoon. Then he had been separated from the main body of his unit and was unable to fall back. The Cong, had mostly retreated themselves, fearing that the Americans would be calling in another air strike. He had already taken out two of the enemy stragglers, and she was the last one. It seemed like they were currently the only ones left alive in this desolated village.

Life, if you can call it that, had been simple here in the jungle, just kill or be killed. As he looked down at the sleeping female, he pondered. “Life had become a lot more complicated!”

The sun is rapidly setting and the temperature is also waning in this time just before the rainy season begins. The village had been reduced to nothing but smoldering rubble, no shelter here. Edward removes his poncho from his pack and wraps it around them both as best he could.

Edward reflected on pictures his great-grandfather had shown him as a kid of an Ethiopian warrior. As a youngster, he had marveled at the old man’s war stories about how he and the Ethiopian in the pictures had been part of the war against the Italians back in the 1890s and how the Ethiopian emperor’s forces has defeated the Italians and sent them packing! His grandfather was an adventurer in his younger days, rare for a Black American back then. He and the Ethiopian had become blood brothers. For their valor during battle, they had both received identical gold lion head pendants. Edward had gotten his great-grandfather’s after he died. Fingering the back of the girl’s pendant, the same inscription, and date with the name of the Ethiopian Warrior staring him in the face!

Taking time again to examine her facial features as she lay sleeping on his chest, he mumbled, yes, she could be part Ethiopian, certainly part something! Maybe she was the Warrior’s great-granddaughter!

It was now Edward’s turn to see the adrenaline fade as he nodded off into a deep sleep.
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Stay tuned for more "Of Love and Lions" ...........

Exit Plan

This my fiction blog. I plan to post attempts at writing all types of short fiction. This first offering a super short 249 words as a response to a contest. I'm including several drafts - main problem is getting the story down to the 250 word limit. Here it is the final entry is followed by Drafts One, Two and Three.

The writing contest in question is at www.clarityofnight.blogspot.com if you are interested. Entries must be sent in by midnight, June 28, 2006 I believe.

Exit Plan by Robert H. Ball, Jr.

The finger-like shape jutted out of the crusted earth toward the nighttime Nevada sky – the ubiquitous utility pole. A blacktop road receded into the darkness. “So this is NV-375, the so-called Extraterrestrial Highway”. Ilsa thought. Her escape attempt had turned ugly when she unleashed a telekinetic firestorm upon her pursuers leaving a trail of bodies and debris scattered into the distant Papoose mountains toward Area 51. The black-skinned petite green-eyed female was the second-generation result of DNA experiments conducted by ex-nazi German scientists secreted away at the end of WW-II. The “grays” found at Roswell in 1947 mixed with radiation burned female workers from Yucca Flats provided the ingredients. Omnipotence with attitude was why she had been confined since birth, and why she was being desperately hunted now.

Ilsa could always sense the presence of alien spacecraft and she felt one nearby. It emerged from the glowing clouds above the utility pole. A yellow beam emerged seeking out the human-like figure. She was bathed with the pulsing light, but then the beam hesitated sensing a non-human presence. It was too late, the girl’s eyes glowed green as she uttered “gotcha” and popped out of sight as the alien ship gave an inaudible shudder. Ilsa sat before the controls studying them intently, then looked over at the crew strewn about the far side of the cabin like discarded dolls. She thought: “I simply must work on my inter-personal skills.” The craft slipped Earth’s gravity heading toward the Alien mother ship.

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DRAFT ONE:

The monolith jutted out of the crusted earth toward the moonless sky. Its shape barely discernable in slight contrast to the clouds oozing the glow of a billion distant suns. A utility pole with tell tale high voltage top lines, a transformer and low voltage feeders. So-called civilization must be near by betrayed by the affixed sign heralding “Rachel 15 miles”. A black ribbon of tar stretched out into the darkness along either side of the beam. Another sign identified the road as Nevada Highway 375, the so-called “Extraterrestrial Highway”. The dirt road leading into this scene from the east had no identifying signs, just a straight way of graded sand heading off into the distant Papoose mountains toward Area 51.

Ilsa, named after the nazi German scientist whose immoral DNA experiments upon her mother then her from a radiation burned worker. The “grays” found at the Roswell Alien crash site back in 1947 had proved to be irresistible. The black-skinned five-foot tall, slender-built green-eyed female human-alien highbred with close-cropped white hair assessed her surroundings and chances. Her jogging suit showed signs of extreme trauma: numerous bullet holes, taser caused burns, and other rips and tears caused by nearby exploding grenades and other small weapons fire. Bare feet pressed upon razor sharp rocks and prickly spines. Her body however, was not affected in any way! Ilsa’s telekinetic, firestarting, telepathic aptitudes protected here from the evils of human nature. Indeed, omnipotence with attitude was why she had been confined since birth to an underground highly controlled facility. This is why she was being desperately hunted right now. Her escape had been anything but stealthy with a trail of twisted bodies, and vehicular remains trailing off back toward the distant hills. This is why a B-2 armed with a 1-megaton nuclear tipped missile was cruising the distant Jumbled Hills. Not in the mood to test her durability against E=MC2, she was looking for an exit.

Her innate ability to sense the presence of alien spacecraft had captivated her handlers for a long time. She had decided that her only chance of true escape would be to hitch a ride to the stars. While her kinship to the space beings would be no better than to the humans, her options and chances for freedom would be much better. Her abilities were far beyond that of any human and she innately felt that for some reason, she as well beyond her Alien roots as well. The craft in question emerged from the glowing clouds above the utility pole causing some sparking in the high-voltage wires. It floated noisily twenty feet over the highway. A pencil like yellow beam jutted out of its side toward the human-like figure. This was indeed a human abduction ship. The beam suddenly showered her with pulsing light, but then hesitated sensing something not quite right, not quite human. However, it was too late, the girl’s eyes glowed green and her mouthed “gottcha” as she popped out of sight! The beam of light also disappeared and the alien ship gave an inaudible shudder, and then shot straight up.

Ilsa sat at the ships controls studying them intently, then looked over at the crew strewn about the far side of the cabin like discarded dolls. She thought: “I simply must work on my inter-personal skills.” The ship slipped the bounds of Earth’s gravity and toward the planet Uranus’s innermost moon, Cordelia, where the Alien mother ship lay hidden.

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DRAFT TWO:
A petite figure stood before a finger-like shape jutting out of the crusted earth toward the nighttime Nevada sky. The utility pole announced that civilization must be near by betrayed by. A black top road stretched out into the darkness toward the north and south. Another sign identified the road as 375, the so-called “Extraterrestrial Highway”. The dirt road leading into this scene from the east had no identifying signs, just a strand of graded sand heading off into the distant Papoose mountains toward Area 51.

Ilsa is a second-generation abomination spawned from ex-nazi German scientist secreted away to the American southwest at the end of WW-II. The “grays” found at the Roswell Alien crash site back in 1947 had proved to be irresistible candidates for DNA experimentation. Add to this nightmare some terminally ill radiation burned female workers from Yucca Flats and the stage was set. The black-skinned five-foot tall, slender-built green-eyed female human-alien highbred assessed the situation. Her jogging suit showed signs of extreme trauma: numerous bullet holes, taser caused burns, and other rips and tears caused by nearby exploding grenades. Bare feet pressed upon razor sharp rocks and prickly spines. Her body however, was not affected in any way! Ilsa’s telekinetic, firestarting, telepathic aptitudes protected here from the evils of human nature. Indeed, omnipotence with attitude was why she had been confined since birth to an underground highly controlled facility. This is why she was being desperately hunted right now. Her escape had been anything but stealthy with a trail of twisted bodies, and vehicular remains trailing off back toward the distant hills. This is why a B-2 armed with a 1-megaton nuclear tipped missile was cruising the distant Jumbled Hills. Not in the mood to test her durability against E=MC2, she was looking for an exit.

Her innate ability to sense the presence of alien spacecraft had captivated her handlers for a long time. She had decided that her only chance of true escape would be to hitch a ride to the stars. While her kinship to the space beings would be no better than to the humans, her options and chances for freedom would be much better. Her abilities were far beyond that of any human and she innately felt that for some reason, she as well beyond her Alien roots as well. The craft in question emerged from the glowing clouds above the utility pole causing some sparking in the high-voltage wires. It floated noisily twenty feet over the highway. A pencil like yellow beam jutted out of its side toward the human-like figure. This was indeed a human abduction ship. The beam suddenly showered her with pulsing light, but then hesitated sensing something not quite right, not quite human. However, it was too late, the girl’s eyes glowed green and her mouthed “gottcha” as she popped out of sight! The beam of light also disappeared and the alien ship gave an inaudible shudder, and then shot straight up.

Ilsa sat at the ships controls studying them intently, then looked over at the crew strewn about the far side of the cabin like discarded dolls. She thought: “I simply must work on my inter-personal skills.” The ship slipped the bounds of Earth’s gravity and toward the planet Uranus’s innermost moon, Cordelia, where the Alien mother ship lay hidden.

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DRAFT THREE:
A petite figure stood before a finger-like shape jutting out of the crusted earth toward the nighttime Nevada sky. The utility pole meant that civilization must be near by. A black top road stretched out into the darkness toward the north and south. A weathered sign identified the road as 375, the so-called “Extraterrestrial Highway”. Her escape had been anything but stealthy when she vented a telekinetic fire-starting deluge upon her handlers leaving a trail of twisted bodies, and vehicular remains trailing into the distant Papoose mountains toward Area 51. A B-2 bomber armed with a 1-megaton nuclear tipped missile was cruising the distant Jumbled Hills.

Ilsa is a second-generation abomination spawned from ex-nazi German scientists secreted away to the American southwest at the end of WW-II. The “grays” found at the Roswell Alien crash site in 1947 mixed with terminally ill radiation burned female workers from Yucca Flats provided the nightmarish soup for DNA experimentation. The black-skinned five-foot tall, slender-built green-eyed female human-alien highbred assessed the situation. Omnipotence with attitude was why she had been confined and secreted since birth, and why she was being desperately hunted now. Her ability to sense the presence of alien spacecraft had always fascinated her handlers – she felt one nearby.

The craft in question emerged from the glowing clouds above the utility pole and floated noisily twenty feet over the highway. A yellow beam emerged from its side seeking out the human-like figure. This was indeed a human abduction ship. Ilsa was encapsulated with the pulsing light, but then the beam hesitated sensing something not quite right, not quite human. However, it was too late, the girl’s eyes glowed green as she mouthed “gottcha” and popped out of sight! The beam of light also disappeared and the alien ship gave an inaudible shudder, and then shot straight up.

Ilsa sat at the ships controls studying them intently, then looked over at the crew strewn about the far side of the cabin like discarded dolls. She thought: “I simply must work on my inter-personal skills.” The craft slipped Earth’s gravity heading toward the planet Uranus’s innermost moon, Cordelia, where the Alien mother ship lay hidden.