The Adventures of Zane Legends
"My Own Monster"
Criteria: Thriller, big city, writer/storyteller
Some people have a knack for finding strange things; strange always seem to find Zane Legends. But today that just wasn't the case. It was late Friday night, and Zane was spending yet another weekend at home by himself. As he sat there flipping the channels on the TV he wondered what he could possibly do to turn the tide of his evening- not even realizing that he wasn't even watching the TV anymore. Life just seemed so complacent, so dull, so.... Normal. He silently thought to himself, why am I sitting here?
"If that thought was silent how did you know what I was thinking," he said aloud.
Silence followed. Zane turned off the TV and walked over to the window of his pathetically small (and overpriced) apartment to try and catch a glimpse of what the real world was actually like.
"It's not pathetic," he said. "And you try finding a cheaper place with a view like this." His eyes darted frantically from corner to corner of his cramped place. "Where are you?"
Zane soon abandoned his search and returned to his window to watch his "oh-so incredible" view of the city streets below. He stared out at the world below and watched the people that actually had lives go about their way happily and he wondered to himself: will I ever give up this nomadic life of mine?
"Ok, that's enough! I know what I am thinking, and it's pathetic enough without hearing it recited back to me thank you. What are you doing here anyway? Why are you following me?" Zane stared up at the ceiling waiting desperately for someone to answer. "I'm not desperate either!" He shouted.
Look Zane, it's kind of what I do. You have your bizarre experiences and I write about them. It's like a job or something. I mean, I'm the writer and you are the story, so I kind of have to follow you. Now that we are on the subject, you really shouldn't be talking back to me; it kind of kills the momentum of the story. Now I have had to take an entire paragraph to tell you about my purpose here instead of telling everyone what you are doing. . . . Do you see the predicament?
"Just because I understand it doesn't mean that I have to like it," Zane said.
Well I would apologize but I really don't feel like it. I made you after all, so I shouldn't have to say that I'm sorry for using you in the way that you were created for. You only exist because I tell you that you do. You are in your pathetic little loft because I needed to put you in a big city, and I figured that it would be fitting that you were in a dinky apartment of some kind, and...
"Whoa, wait just a second! You created me? What am I some sort of literary monster? Your own Frankenstein on paper that does whatever you feel like? That's not right man . . . . Hold on a minute." Suddenly everything that the narrator had blurted out struck him to the core. "You put me in this place? You make me do all sorts of ridiculous things to entertain yourself?!?!" He could barely contain his fury, his head was throbbing and his hands clenched at his sides in fists so tight that the blood ceased to flow to his fingertips. "You put me in the crappy apartment...."
But I thought you said the view was. . .
"That's not the point!" Zane's entire body was quivering with rage. "I have been on a bloody pirate ship, in the net of some beastie madman, I had to knock out some drunk in outer space, and I nearly had my ipod stolen, and it was your fault!"
Well not all my fault, I mean Justin wrote. . . .
"I don't even know who I am! All I know is that I am constantly hungry and I have a stupid scar on my head that came from some freak accident when..."
Look Zane, you are getting a little carried away here. I understand that your position in these stories is difficult, but that's the way it is. We need to move the plot along and keep things interesting. That's the reason you are here. Take our conversation for instance, I mean, without you I would just be talking to myself- and who would want to read about that? I mean, I wouldn't, and I wrote it!
"You know something, you're right!" Zane took a deep breath and made his way back to the couch in front of his puny. . . "Easy!" alright fine, in front of his adequately sized TV. "You do need me. A story must be driven by its character's actions...." Zane opened up the drawer under his coffee table and took out a pad of paper and a pen. As he wrote, a huge grin spread across his entire face-shadowing his eyes. With pen to paper his hand wrote in a flurry: The writer didn't know what was going on, or when he had somehow lost control of his own story. But the sad truth was unfolding before him as he typed about his own pathetic situation.
Hey, wait! What are you doing?!?! You can't do that, this is my story!
Zane paid no attention to what the writer was saying. His hand kept scribbling every thought that came into his head. The writer didn't know what to do. He stared blankly at the screen. He suddenly felt a measure of fear churning in his stomach. His hands were sweating, and his mind raced, but his fingers typed on as fast as they could (which wasn't very fast at all).
Stop! Please Stop! I. . . . I never took a typing class! It's not my fault I type slowly! I just. . . . Quit it!
The fear that was bubbling inside was now clearly written across the writer's face. He finally understood the powerlessness of his situation. As he sat there typing furiously, he wondered how long this cold possibly go on for, and how far Zane was willing to take it.
"Oh just wait," Zane said. "You know how thrillers are. . . . There is always a surprise ending." He could not smile any wider if he tried, as it was, his lips were spread so far they nearly cut his face in two.
Suddenly it all became to unmistakably clear to him. Tears began to well up in his eyes as the writer finally realized what had just happened. The narration of his own life swam around inside his own mind and with it the laughter of a monster that he himself had helped to create. "Oh no. . . ." he thought to himself. "It's alive, it's alive, IT'S ALIVE."
Sunday, February 7, 2010
The Obses Loveblock
The Adventures of Zane Legends
"The Obese Loveblock"
Criteria: Romance, underground, drunk
Some people have a knack for finding strange things. Strange things always seem to find Zane Legends. Interestingly, his day so far had been rather normal, except for that incident right after lunch. But other than that, it was a normal day, which was in itself strange. Of course, just because a day starts out normal, it doesn't mean it has to continue that way, especially for Zane.
Zane stood in the elevator of an underground train terminal. In the elevator was him were a mother with twin babies in a stroller. She was doing all she could to calm them, but they were still crying at the top of their lungs. Most people took the escalators down to the boarding level, but Zane preferred the elevator, screaming babies included. Stairs that moved were even worse than stairs that stood still, and Zane was not going to risk any injuries.
The elevator doors slid open and Zane stepped onto the boarding platform, where he saw the long, green and blue train that would take him across the country in just a few hours. He preferred these high-velocity underground trains over travelling by air, mostly because of the food they served. Zane was not a fan of the less than satisfactory snacks the airlines provided, and the underground trains included full meals in the ticket price. It was definitely worth it in Zane's opinion.
He gave his ticket to the attendee and boarded the plane. He quickly found his seat, and discovered it was a window seat. Having a window seat on an underground train wasn't quite the same as a window seat on an airplane; in fact, the windows were simply images of outdoor landscapes. Zane didn't mind though; he sat down, stowed his belongings under the seat, and pulled out the menu from the pocket of the seat in front of him. The Meal of the Day immediately caught his eye - a double cheeseburger, made with real hamburger (a rarity, animal activists had all but removed real hamburgers from restaurant menus). He was halfway through reading the juicy description when he noticed a rather beautiful woman walking down the aisle, and bless his grandmother's homemade sausages, she was assigned a seat in the same row. She sat down and immediately a lovely flowery scent hit him. She gave him a quick glance and a smile then began to rummage through her purse.
There was a seat between them, but Zane rather thought that he might somehow end up in that seat once the train began to move. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, an ugly obese man sat between them, completely blocking Zane's view. Zane had been so entranced by the woman's beauty he had failed to notice this man approach. He was now regretting his decision to wait until the train began to move to switch seats, he should have acted sooner.
The man gave off the unpleasant smell of cigarette smoke, which unfortunately completely masked the wonderful scent he had enjoyed just moments before. The man turned to him and asked, "Hey, mister, can I borrow that menu?" The man's breath smelled of alcohol, and his speech hinted at drunkenness. Zane had already decided on the special, so he gave him the menu.
He let a few moments pass in silence, then asked, "You don't happen to want the window seat, do you? I personally don't really like sitting by the window all that much."
"Ah no, mister, no. Did ya know that these trains go hundreds of miles an hour? Seein' stuff pass by the window that fas' would make me sick up."
"Oh, yeah, that certainly makes sense," Zane muttered to himself. "Those painted trees might make me sick, too." He thought he heard a soft giggle from the other side of the man. He couldn't be sure, but it made him happier anyway.
After a few minutes the train left the station and quickly accelerated. When it reached a constant speed, a lady began to walk down the aisle, asking for the people's orders. When she reached their aisle, Zane was pleasantly surprised to hear the girl order the Meal of the Day. He wondered if it might be a match made in heaven. Zane ordered the same. The obese man simply asked for a bottle of Bud Light. Zane wondered why he ordered the light version, considering the man's size, but refrained from asking.
He was not about to let this ugly fat man keep him from flirting with the girl on the other side, so he pulled out a small notepad and quickly scribbled a short message.
Hey sweet thing, what's your name?
He reached around behind the man, tapped the girl on the shoulder, gave her the notepad, and waited for a response. In no time at all, he felt something hit his foot, and looking down, saw his notepad lying there on the floor.
Lily.
Not much, but a response nonetheless. He wrote another question.
Where are you headed?
The response soon came. Washington. What about you?
Zane wasn't headed for Washington, but he thought he might make a slight detour. He was just visiting family anyway, they could wait if necessary.
I'm going to Washington too! I notice you have a good taste in food. Wanna catch dinner when we get there? And maybe a movie afterwards or something?
Before he could hand off the notepad his meal arrived. Food took precedence over flirting, so he set the notebook aside and began to eat. He watched incredulously as the man next to him guzzled down the beer in a few minutes and asked the stewardess for another. And he guzzled down that one, too. After the third, the man began to mutter under his breath, and after the fourth, he began to sing the lyrics to Girls Just Wanna Have Fun while jiggling around in his seat.
Zane finished his meal and suddenly remembered that he had not yet passed his note to the girl. Unfortunately, the obese man noticed him and said, "Hey, what's this?" He pulled the notepad out of his hands and read the note loud enough for the whole train car to hear, and with a horribly slurred voice.
Needless to say, Zane felt rather embarrassed, and figured he no longer had a chance with the girl. It was therefore surprising to feel something hit his foot again a few minutes later. He reached down to picked up his notebook and read what she had written.
I'd love to.
He didn't think he'd have any chance, but luckily for him, strange things happen to him all the time.
"The Obese Loveblock"
Criteria: Romance, underground, drunk
Some people have a knack for finding strange things. Strange things always seem to find Zane Legends. Interestingly, his day so far had been rather normal, except for that incident right after lunch. But other than that, it was a normal day, which was in itself strange. Of course, just because a day starts out normal, it doesn't mean it has to continue that way, especially for Zane.
Zane stood in the elevator of an underground train terminal. In the elevator was him were a mother with twin babies in a stroller. She was doing all she could to calm them, but they were still crying at the top of their lungs. Most people took the escalators down to the boarding level, but Zane preferred the elevator, screaming babies included. Stairs that moved were even worse than stairs that stood still, and Zane was not going to risk any injuries.
The elevator doors slid open and Zane stepped onto the boarding platform, where he saw the long, green and blue train that would take him across the country in just a few hours. He preferred these high-velocity underground trains over travelling by air, mostly because of the food they served. Zane was not a fan of the less than satisfactory snacks the airlines provided, and the underground trains included full meals in the ticket price. It was definitely worth it in Zane's opinion.
He gave his ticket to the attendee and boarded the plane. He quickly found his seat, and discovered it was a window seat. Having a window seat on an underground train wasn't quite the same as a window seat on an airplane; in fact, the windows were simply images of outdoor landscapes. Zane didn't mind though; he sat down, stowed his belongings under the seat, and pulled out the menu from the pocket of the seat in front of him. The Meal of the Day immediately caught his eye - a double cheeseburger, made with real hamburger (a rarity, animal activists had all but removed real hamburgers from restaurant menus). He was halfway through reading the juicy description when he noticed a rather beautiful woman walking down the aisle, and bless his grandmother's homemade sausages, she was assigned a seat in the same row. She sat down and immediately a lovely flowery scent hit him. She gave him a quick glance and a smile then began to rummage through her purse.
There was a seat between them, but Zane rather thought that he might somehow end up in that seat once the train began to move. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, an ugly obese man sat between them, completely blocking Zane's view. Zane had been so entranced by the woman's beauty he had failed to notice this man approach. He was now regretting his decision to wait until the train began to move to switch seats, he should have acted sooner.
The man gave off the unpleasant smell of cigarette smoke, which unfortunately completely masked the wonderful scent he had enjoyed just moments before. The man turned to him and asked, "Hey, mister, can I borrow that menu?" The man's breath smelled of alcohol, and his speech hinted at drunkenness. Zane had already decided on the special, so he gave him the menu.
He let a few moments pass in silence, then asked, "You don't happen to want the window seat, do you? I personally don't really like sitting by the window all that much."
"Ah no, mister, no. Did ya know that these trains go hundreds of miles an hour? Seein' stuff pass by the window that fas' would make me sick up."
"Oh, yeah, that certainly makes sense," Zane muttered to himself. "Those painted trees might make me sick, too." He thought he heard a soft giggle from the other side of the man. He couldn't be sure, but it made him happier anyway.
After a few minutes the train left the station and quickly accelerated. When it reached a constant speed, a lady began to walk down the aisle, asking for the people's orders. When she reached their aisle, Zane was pleasantly surprised to hear the girl order the Meal of the Day. He wondered if it might be a match made in heaven. Zane ordered the same. The obese man simply asked for a bottle of Bud Light. Zane wondered why he ordered the light version, considering the man's size, but refrained from asking.
He was not about to let this ugly fat man keep him from flirting with the girl on the other side, so he pulled out a small notepad and quickly scribbled a short message.
Hey sweet thing, what's your name?
He reached around behind the man, tapped the girl on the shoulder, gave her the notepad, and waited for a response. In no time at all, he felt something hit his foot, and looking down, saw his notepad lying there on the floor.
Lily.
Not much, but a response nonetheless. He wrote another question.
Where are you headed?
The response soon came. Washington. What about you?
Zane wasn't headed for Washington, but he thought he might make a slight detour. He was just visiting family anyway, they could wait if necessary.
I'm going to Washington too! I notice you have a good taste in food. Wanna catch dinner when we get there? And maybe a movie afterwards or something?
Before he could hand off the notepad his meal arrived. Food took precedence over flirting, so he set the notebook aside and began to eat. He watched incredulously as the man next to him guzzled down the beer in a few minutes and asked the stewardess for another. And he guzzled down that one, too. After the third, the man began to mutter under his breath, and after the fourth, he began to sing the lyrics to Girls Just Wanna Have Fun while jiggling around in his seat.
Zane finished his meal and suddenly remembered that he had not yet passed his note to the girl. Unfortunately, the obese man noticed him and said, "Hey, what's this?" He pulled the notepad out of his hands and read the note loud enough for the whole train car to hear, and with a horribly slurred voice.
Needless to say, Zane felt rather embarrassed, and figured he no longer had a chance with the girl. It was therefore surprising to feel something hit his foot again a few minutes later. He reached down to picked up his notebook and read what she had written.
I'd love to.
He didn't think he'd have any chance, but luckily for him, strange things happen to him all the time.
Homeless Guidance (ZL)
The Adventures of Zane Legends
"Homeless Guidance"
Criteria: Crime, school, homeless person
Some people have a knack for finding strange things; strange things always seem to find Zane Legends. Some days he found himself in strange places, other days strange things happen to him. This day, the strange thing appeared in the form of a young boy in the middle of an average sized town. It really wasn't that the boy was strange, what was strange was the chase that followed.
Zane happened to be walking carelessly through the streets of the town. It was his lunch break, and he was on his way to his favorite restaurant. Already he was imagining the smell of the place, and his mouth watered at the thought of tasting the food. There was nothing better than lunch at Robbie's Steakhouse.
The sweet sound of Bryan Adams singing Everything I Do, I Do it For You blared through the headphones of his iPod. He stepped to the beat of the song, and he was rather enjoying himself. Suddenly a small boy, no older than twelve, ran up to him and stole his iPod right out of his hands, then took off before he could say, "Smoked sausages!" He said it anyway.
He regretted turning from his path - he really wanted that delicious lunch - but he also really wanted his iPod back. So, he put his back to his destination and took off in pursuit of the boy. He ran to the end of the block, where the boy had make a right turn, but the only person he saw was an old homeless man sitting in front of a coffee shop. The man wore a simple jacket that he probably found in a dumpster somewhere, and there were large holes worn in the knees of his corduroy pants.
"Did you see a young boy run by here just a few moments ago?" Zane asked the old man.
"A boy, you say? 'Bout eleven, stands about this high?" he asked, holding his hand a few feet above the sidewalk.
"Yes, that's him!" Zane responded.
"He ran that way as though he'd done something terrible and his father were after him," he said, indicating the direction with a finger.
"Thank you, sir," Zane said. He tossed the man a coin and continued in pursuit of the young thief.
When he reached the next corner, he still did not see any sign of the boy. Oddly, there was another homeless man sitting on the side of the road, this one in front of a small record store.
"Excuse me, sir, did you see a small boy run past here just moments ago?"
The man looked up into Zane's face and asked, "And who might you be, young man? Odd scar you've got there on your forehead, looks almost like a sign of peace, it does."
"Yes, well, it's an odd story actually. A few years ago, I was -"
"A boy, did you say?" the man interrupted.
"Yes, did you see him?"
"Indeed I did. Seems to me he ran off in that direction, toward the elementary school."
"Thank you, kind sir," Zane replied. "I'll -"
"Where did you say you got that scar again?" the man asked.
"Perhaps I'll tell you the story another day," Zane replied, then continued toward the school.
He sprinted the last few blocks, and when the school came in sight, he almost lost hope. Apparently, it was recess, and there were hundreds of children in the school's playground enjoying their moments of precious freedom between torturing classes. He didn't think he'd be able to find one child among so many.
He was about to give up the chase when he noticed yet another homeless man leaning against the building across the street, smoking a cigarette. He decided he might as well go ask him.
"Did you see a young boy run into that school just a few moments ago?"
The man pulled the cigarette from his mouth and breathed smoke into Zane's face. "I sure did," he said. "I seen lotsa little boys run into that school."
Zane coughed and attempted to wave the smoke away. "Yes, but this one came from that way, and could not have passed by this spot more than a minute ago," he said.
The man drew again from his cigarette, exhaled, and said, "Yes, I do seem to recall a boy running past here. He ran right through the gate and into the building. Sure was in a hurry."
Zane thanked him and as he walked away, added, "You know, smoking's bad for your health. You might consider quitting."
Zane determined to walk into the school and report the little thief to the principal. He had a fairly good description of the boy, he had hopes that perhaps he might get his iPod back. He passed through the gate and jogged up to the stairs leading to the entrance. He stopped at the bottom and thought, Stairs. I hate stairs. He laid himself down over one of the hand rails and, hand over hand, pulled himself up it to the stop of the stairs. He received a few odd looks from the nearby students, and some called to their friends and began laughing at him. They won't laugh when one day they trip and break their head open, he thought to himself.
He soon reached the top and entered the school. He approached the front desk and explained his problem to the secretary there.
"A few minutes ago a boy stole my iPod, and I followed him to this school. I was hoping maybe you could help me get it back."
"I doubt it, but maybe," the secretary replied. "What did the boy look like?"
Zane held out his hand and said, "He was about this tall, probably twelve or so. He had dark brown hair and wore a Spiderman backpack."
The secretary thought for a moment and said, "That sounds like Jimmy. I'll call him to the office." She pulled up an intercom and spoke into it. "Jimmy Greenman, come to the office please. Jimmy Greenman, to the office."
Zane only had to wait a few moments before he saw the boy walking toward him. When the boy realized who was there waiting for him, his eyes grew wide and it looked like he was about to run again.
"Jimmy!" shouted the secretary. "Come over here!"
Jimmy reluctantly walked to the desk.
"Jimmy, did you steal this man's iPod?"
He frowned but answered honestly. "Yes."
"Jimmy, give it back to him now."
The boy extracted the iPod from his backpack and gave it back to Zane, if a bit forcefully. "Here, take it. You have crappy songs on it anyway." He then ran off again before Zane could say anything.
The secretary shook her head and said, "Sorry about that. I'll have to report him to his parents."
"Ah, don't worry about it. People make stupid mistakes all the time."
Zane stepped outside, put Bryan Adams back on, slid down the handrail, and made his way to Robbie's Steakhouse, where he planned to spend rather more than he normally would have. After all, he saved money by not having to buy himself a new iPod.
"Homeless Guidance"
Criteria: Crime, school, homeless person
Some people have a knack for finding strange things; strange things always seem to find Zane Legends. Some days he found himself in strange places, other days strange things happen to him. This day, the strange thing appeared in the form of a young boy in the middle of an average sized town. It really wasn't that the boy was strange, what was strange was the chase that followed.
Zane happened to be walking carelessly through the streets of the town. It was his lunch break, and he was on his way to his favorite restaurant. Already he was imagining the smell of the place, and his mouth watered at the thought of tasting the food. There was nothing better than lunch at Robbie's Steakhouse.
The sweet sound of Bryan Adams singing Everything I Do, I Do it For You blared through the headphones of his iPod. He stepped to the beat of the song, and he was rather enjoying himself. Suddenly a small boy, no older than twelve, ran up to him and stole his iPod right out of his hands, then took off before he could say, "Smoked sausages!" He said it anyway.
He regretted turning from his path - he really wanted that delicious lunch - but he also really wanted his iPod back. So, he put his back to his destination and took off in pursuit of the boy. He ran to the end of the block, where the boy had make a right turn, but the only person he saw was an old homeless man sitting in front of a coffee shop. The man wore a simple jacket that he probably found in a dumpster somewhere, and there were large holes worn in the knees of his corduroy pants.
"Did you see a young boy run by here just a few moments ago?" Zane asked the old man.
"A boy, you say? 'Bout eleven, stands about this high?" he asked, holding his hand a few feet above the sidewalk.
"Yes, that's him!" Zane responded.
"He ran that way as though he'd done something terrible and his father were after him," he said, indicating the direction with a finger.
"Thank you, sir," Zane said. He tossed the man a coin and continued in pursuit of the young thief.
When he reached the next corner, he still did not see any sign of the boy. Oddly, there was another homeless man sitting on the side of the road, this one in front of a small record store.
"Excuse me, sir, did you see a small boy run past here just moments ago?"
The man looked up into Zane's face and asked, "And who might you be, young man? Odd scar you've got there on your forehead, looks almost like a sign of peace, it does."
"Yes, well, it's an odd story actually. A few years ago, I was -"
"A boy, did you say?" the man interrupted.
"Yes, did you see him?"
"Indeed I did. Seems to me he ran off in that direction, toward the elementary school."
"Thank you, kind sir," Zane replied. "I'll -"
"Where did you say you got that scar again?" the man asked.
"Perhaps I'll tell you the story another day," Zane replied, then continued toward the school.
He sprinted the last few blocks, and when the school came in sight, he almost lost hope. Apparently, it was recess, and there were hundreds of children in the school's playground enjoying their moments of precious freedom between torturing classes. He didn't think he'd be able to find one child among so many.
He was about to give up the chase when he noticed yet another homeless man leaning against the building across the street, smoking a cigarette. He decided he might as well go ask him.
"Did you see a young boy run into that school just a few moments ago?"
The man pulled the cigarette from his mouth and breathed smoke into Zane's face. "I sure did," he said. "I seen lotsa little boys run into that school."
Zane coughed and attempted to wave the smoke away. "Yes, but this one came from that way, and could not have passed by this spot more than a minute ago," he said.
The man drew again from his cigarette, exhaled, and said, "Yes, I do seem to recall a boy running past here. He ran right through the gate and into the building. Sure was in a hurry."
Zane thanked him and as he walked away, added, "You know, smoking's bad for your health. You might consider quitting."
Zane determined to walk into the school and report the little thief to the principal. He had a fairly good description of the boy, he had hopes that perhaps he might get his iPod back. He passed through the gate and jogged up to the stairs leading to the entrance. He stopped at the bottom and thought, Stairs. I hate stairs. He laid himself down over one of the hand rails and, hand over hand, pulled himself up it to the stop of the stairs. He received a few odd looks from the nearby students, and some called to their friends and began laughing at him. They won't laugh when one day they trip and break their head open, he thought to himself.
He soon reached the top and entered the school. He approached the front desk and explained his problem to the secretary there.
"A few minutes ago a boy stole my iPod, and I followed him to this school. I was hoping maybe you could help me get it back."
"I doubt it, but maybe," the secretary replied. "What did the boy look like?"
Zane held out his hand and said, "He was about this tall, probably twelve or so. He had dark brown hair and wore a Spiderman backpack."
The secretary thought for a moment and said, "That sounds like Jimmy. I'll call him to the office." She pulled up an intercom and spoke into it. "Jimmy Greenman, come to the office please. Jimmy Greenman, to the office."
Zane only had to wait a few moments before he saw the boy walking toward him. When the boy realized who was there waiting for him, his eyes grew wide and it looked like he was about to run again.
"Jimmy!" shouted the secretary. "Come over here!"
Jimmy reluctantly walked to the desk.
"Jimmy, did you steal this man's iPod?"
He frowned but answered honestly. "Yes."
"Jimmy, give it back to him now."
The boy extracted the iPod from his backpack and gave it back to Zane, if a bit forcefully. "Here, take it. You have crappy songs on it anyway." He then ran off again before Zane could say anything.
The secretary shook her head and said, "Sorry about that. I'll have to report him to his parents."
"Ah, don't worry about it. People make stupid mistakes all the time."
Zane stepped outside, put Bryan Adams back on, slid down the handrail, and made his way to Robbie's Steakhouse, where he planned to spend rather more than he normally would have. After all, he saved money by not having to buy himself a new iPod.
The Music of Mayhem (ZL)
The Adventures of Zane Legends
"The Music of Mayhem"
Criteria: Sci-fi, underground, musician
Some people seem to have a knack for finding strange things; strange things always seem to find Zane Legends. Strange didn't even begin to describe the world that Zane found himself in. It had been decades since the great fallout of World War 3. What was left of the human race had long since abandoned the surface world for fear of radiation poisoning from the Atomic War of 2017. A new and crude existence had begun beneath the ground. There were no cities to speak of but one: Subterania. It was the last effort made by man to coexist peacefully. Well, somewhat peacefully anyway. Daily riots and an ever-increasing death toll could hardly be considered peaceful in normal times- but these times were far from normal.
Zane loved the raucous of life in the city. There was always a place to sleep, to take shelter from the acid leakage that poured down from the surface, and there was always something to eat. The food wasn't great, but it was better than the rat feasts that you found trying to live in the outskirts. Subterania had its bad sides, but it was home . . . for now anyway. And while he was here he was going to enjoy himself.
Zane sat at his favorite place in the city. A small club called The Grunge. It was so named not because of its lovely oil on walls motif, but because of its origin. The club was dedicated to everything vintage from the great 90's era of music. Local bands tried their hand at recreating the wondrous musical genius of what is known as the grunge music scene; everything from Nirvana, and Pearl Jam to Rod Stewart. At the present moment Zane was trying to gag down the water he was drinking, desperately attempting to avoid the gag reflex that this Brian Adams remix was causing.
"His music was bad enough when it wasn't remade with an electric tambourine!" someone yelled from the crowd. Zane didn't say anything, but he raised his metal mug in a salute that said he agreed. The fool that was attempting to spew out ancient lyrics that should have been long dead was knocked out by a flying mug just as he was finishing the beloved chorus of Everything I do, I do it for you. "Well I did that for all of us," Zane shouted. And the rest of the club roared with laughter and screams of gratitude.
Leaning back and chuckling to himself at his own greatness he silently hoped that no one would ever find out about his Brian Adams retro mp3 collection that he kept at home on his computer. Say what you want, those things are classics, he said to himself in a futile attempt to convince himself, yet again, that he was cooler than he really was.
"That was a nice shot, but personally I would have aimed for the tambourine."
Zane was caught off guard and nearly fell back from leaning too far in his chair. "What," he said. "Oh right, that....well no sense in destroying a good tambourine," he said with a wry smile. Finally setting his stools legs on the hard floor he got a good look at the woman he was talking to. She was about his height with hair shorter than his and each eyebrow carried 2 small metal loops (the sure sign of a fellow grunge enthusiast).
"I brought you another drink," she said. "Or more ammunition . . . however you want to look at it." She took a seat on the stool next to him facing the stage. Zane rubbed unconsciously at his scar like he always did when he felt nervous.
"That's a nutty mark you got there," she said. "Kinda look like an upside-down guitar mount."
"This," he said while trying to move his hand away quickly. "Well it's a crazy story really; I was just in the wrong place when . . ."
"Kinda like the tambourine man," she said, with a flick at his mug.
Music pounded from all around them so hard that it shook the block walls. But the girl talked as though they were all by themselves in quiet room. While they talked they unconsciously bobbed their heads to the thumping bass that echoed around them- pulsating with the blood thumping in their veins.
"I was kind of hoping that you would see the drink as a peace offering," the girl said. "My band is up next and I wasn't looking for anymore metal to put on my forehead." She flicked Zane's cup again and a little water sloshed onto the table.
"As long as you stay away from trying to turn easy listening into something tolerable I think you should be fine." Zane laughed at his own joke hoping that she would join in. Apparently she didn't find it as funny as he did. "You know I'm joking," he said shifting uneasily in his chair.
"It helps that we start with tolerable music to begin with," she said. "We call ourselves Sub-urban. We only play our own stuff, but I know the owner, so he lets everyone think that it's some grunge era rip off so we can play. Hold onto that cup of yours, and maybe you can fill it up again when I'm done." With that she got up and walked up to the stage. Swaggering all she had to emphasize the fact that she wanted him to stay.
Zane couldn't say a word. He just sat there unable to think of anything . . . . well, almost anything. "Hey waiter, wanna bring me something to grub? I'm running on empty here."
"The Music of Mayhem"
Criteria: Sci-fi, underground, musician
Some people seem to have a knack for finding strange things; strange things always seem to find Zane Legends. Strange didn't even begin to describe the world that Zane found himself in. It had been decades since the great fallout of World War 3. What was left of the human race had long since abandoned the surface world for fear of radiation poisoning from the Atomic War of 2017. A new and crude existence had begun beneath the ground. There were no cities to speak of but one: Subterania. It was the last effort made by man to coexist peacefully. Well, somewhat peacefully anyway. Daily riots and an ever-increasing death toll could hardly be considered peaceful in normal times- but these times were far from normal.
Zane loved the raucous of life in the city. There was always a place to sleep, to take shelter from the acid leakage that poured down from the surface, and there was always something to eat. The food wasn't great, but it was better than the rat feasts that you found trying to live in the outskirts. Subterania had its bad sides, but it was home . . . for now anyway. And while he was here he was going to enjoy himself.
Zane sat at his favorite place in the city. A small club called The Grunge. It was so named not because of its lovely oil on walls motif, but because of its origin. The club was dedicated to everything vintage from the great 90's era of music. Local bands tried their hand at recreating the wondrous musical genius of what is known as the grunge music scene; everything from Nirvana, and Pearl Jam to Rod Stewart. At the present moment Zane was trying to gag down the water he was drinking, desperately attempting to avoid the gag reflex that this Brian Adams remix was causing.
"His music was bad enough when it wasn't remade with an electric tambourine!" someone yelled from the crowd. Zane didn't say anything, but he raised his metal mug in a salute that said he agreed. The fool that was attempting to spew out ancient lyrics that should have been long dead was knocked out by a flying mug just as he was finishing the beloved chorus of Everything I do, I do it for you. "Well I did that for all of us," Zane shouted. And the rest of the club roared with laughter and screams of gratitude.
Leaning back and chuckling to himself at his own greatness he silently hoped that no one would ever find out about his Brian Adams retro mp3 collection that he kept at home on his computer. Say what you want, those things are classics, he said to himself in a futile attempt to convince himself, yet again, that he was cooler than he really was.
"That was a nice shot, but personally I would have aimed for the tambourine."
Zane was caught off guard and nearly fell back from leaning too far in his chair. "What," he said. "Oh right, that....well no sense in destroying a good tambourine," he said with a wry smile. Finally setting his stools legs on the hard floor he got a good look at the woman he was talking to. She was about his height with hair shorter than his and each eyebrow carried 2 small metal loops (the sure sign of a fellow grunge enthusiast).
"I brought you another drink," she said. "Or more ammunition . . . however you want to look at it." She took a seat on the stool next to him facing the stage. Zane rubbed unconsciously at his scar like he always did when he felt nervous.
"That's a nutty mark you got there," she said. "Kinda look like an upside-down guitar mount."
"This," he said while trying to move his hand away quickly. "Well it's a crazy story really; I was just in the wrong place when . . ."
"Kinda like the tambourine man," she said, with a flick at his mug.
Music pounded from all around them so hard that it shook the block walls. But the girl talked as though they were all by themselves in quiet room. While they talked they unconsciously bobbed their heads to the thumping bass that echoed around them- pulsating with the blood thumping in their veins.
"I was kind of hoping that you would see the drink as a peace offering," the girl said. "My band is up next and I wasn't looking for anymore metal to put on my forehead." She flicked Zane's cup again and a little water sloshed onto the table.
"As long as you stay away from trying to turn easy listening into something tolerable I think you should be fine." Zane laughed at his own joke hoping that she would join in. Apparently she didn't find it as funny as he did. "You know I'm joking," he said shifting uneasily in his chair.
"It helps that we start with tolerable music to begin with," she said. "We call ourselves Sub-urban. We only play our own stuff, but I know the owner, so he lets everyone think that it's some grunge era rip off so we can play. Hold onto that cup of yours, and maybe you can fill it up again when I'm done." With that she got up and walked up to the stage. Swaggering all she had to emphasize the fact that she wanted him to stay.
Zane couldn't say a word. He just sat there unable to think of anything . . . . well, almost anything. "Hey waiter, wanna bring me something to grub? I'm running on empty here."
The Forest's Snare (ZL)
The Adventures of Zane Legends
"The Forest's Snare"
Criteria: Fantasy, middle of nowhere, salesman
Some people seem to have a knack for finding strange things; strange things always seem to find Zane Legends. In fact, at the present moment, strange things seemed to be all around. The world itself was strange. It was not often that Zane wandered far from a city or town, but tonight was one of those times. He didn't much care for sleeping outside; too many slimy things that can crawl into your blankets- especially in a place like this.
I have never seen a forest like this one, he thought to himself. The whole place seems alive.
He walked down what he thought used to be a path of some sort. It meandered through the mangled trees. It was the trees that made this place so strange. So twisted, and so dark with tentacle-like branches that hung low- as if they were the fingers of the forest reaching out to touch the lonesome travelers and pull them deeper into the darkest parts of the wilderness.
The shrill cry of some animal being caught for supper was the only thing that told him that he was not alone in this place (a thought that he wasn't sure if he liked). His soft soled leather boots sloshed on the damp ground. No river was to be seen anywhere near, but the soil grew damper with each step- as if the water were coming from the ground itself.
Is everything in this place reaching out to grab at me? I feel as though I were a sausage on a stick waiting to be devoured! ....I wonder if this is even a trail. The real thought that he was too afraid to even think out loud was: Where exactly is this trail taking me? And then it happened, as though that thought were the trigger to the trap the forest had been waiting to spring. From just beneath the damp soil a net sprung into the air- surrounding Zane and hoisting him into the air. "Oh bloody sauss. . . .!" His curse was cut of by the stringy rope pushing against his face.
"Who would put this net in the trail? What are they expecting to find here?" Zane asked out loud. And then, as if the world were there to supply all the answers- a voice rang out in the silence:
"Well I wasn' spectin' to find sumfin' is ugly is you aw!" Zane tried to turn around, but this proved difficult while hanging in mid-air. So he settled for craning his neck to one side, but when he saw who had said that, he wished his neck hadn't stuck in that position. It was what appeared to be a man. A man who was draped in animal skins, though from what animal Zane couldn't say. It was also hard to tell where the animal skins stopped and the man's oily hairy self started. At first glance it appeared that his raspy old voice didn't quite match his body, but then after a closer look (a lot closer of a look than Zane had wanted) the man showed all of his years in the wrinkles that spread across his dangy face.
The old man walked right up to him until their noses were almost touching. "You got a bit of a birds beak to ya," the old man said. Zane had always been a little self-conscious about his slightly large nose. The fact that this old codger picked that to talk about made Zane feel more ridiculous than he looked. . . .on second thought, that might not be possible.
"I bet you can smell a Dange cat 10 leagues off wid dat snout!" The man almost lost his footing he was laughing so hard- a laugh that sounded more like a witch's cackle, but turned more into a wheezing dog.
"Well I can sure smell you," Zane said- as he tried to straighten himself a bit to regain a small amount of composure- a vain attempt. "Who are you anyway? And will you get me down from here?
The old man's wheezing stopped. Zane only saw the knife for a split second as it flashed through the air and back into the old man's belt in a single breath, and before he knew was going on he was on the ground with the breath knocked out of him. Now it was his turn to wheeze. While he caught his breath the old man stood above him, staring him down.
"Da name's Kanger. And you boy? Where'd you com from? You some sort o' lost soldier? That scar you got there looks like a shriveled mandrake root- dat from some sotra battle?"
Zane barely had enough time for all of the man's questions to register, let alone to try and answer one. "Kanger. . . . well, I came from that way," he said as he shot a backwards glance. "I'm no soldier, and this scar, well that's a bizarre story. You see this one day I just felt like. . . "
"Yeah yeah," Kanger mumbled. "Knew you wasn' any soldier, not with that mouth. You wouldn' survive youse own troops, let alone som one eles'."
Zane decided to ignore most of what this man said. "So what are you doing out here anyway?"
"What do ya think boy! I'm a trapper. I trap 'em and sell 'em. That's da game."
"Well sorry to have wasted your net here," Zane said- rubbing his bottom he suddenly didn't feel very sorry at all.
"Who says it's wasted? Kanger's grin looked like a tiger's might just before he pounced. "Why do ya think I put me net in the middle o' da path man, think! Lot's o' men come wanderin' through deeze parts with purses fat- ready for long journeys. Man skins might be a bit lackin' in the hair but the meat's still good." The man actually licked his lips and faught to hold back a snarl.
It took a minute for what the old man was saying to register, but when it did it didn't take very long for Zane to react. Kanger was slowly reaching for his belt knife again, but before his fingertips touched it Zane lashed out. He couldn't do much from his precarious position on the ground, but he kicked as hard as he could and the old man flew back against one of the old swirly trees. Before he had time to catch his breath and fight of the grasping branches that now surrounded him Zane had bounced to his feet (it's strange how agile the body can become when you think you might be dinner). He sprinted as fast as he could in the direction the path was taking him earlier- deeper into the forest. He ran and ran, not even looking back to see if the old man was breathing.
When Kanger finally lifted himself off the roots of the tree and unhooked the branches that had latched onto his clothes- he couldn't help but smile. By da way dat boy was runnin', the fool actually thought I would gut 'em meself! Oh well. . . . Guess I will jus let dem wild Mange cats do it for me. Kanger chuckled to himself as he re-set his trap back on the forest tiger's hunting path. Hope dis time the dang contraption catches me a real cat 'stead of some gutless kitten.
"The Forest's Snare"
Criteria: Fantasy, middle of nowhere, salesman
Some people seem to have a knack for finding strange things; strange things always seem to find Zane Legends. In fact, at the present moment, strange things seemed to be all around. The world itself was strange. It was not often that Zane wandered far from a city or town, but tonight was one of those times. He didn't much care for sleeping outside; too many slimy things that can crawl into your blankets- especially in a place like this.
I have never seen a forest like this one, he thought to himself. The whole place seems alive.
He walked down what he thought used to be a path of some sort. It meandered through the mangled trees. It was the trees that made this place so strange. So twisted, and so dark with tentacle-like branches that hung low- as if they were the fingers of the forest reaching out to touch the lonesome travelers and pull them deeper into the darkest parts of the wilderness.
The shrill cry of some animal being caught for supper was the only thing that told him that he was not alone in this place (a thought that he wasn't sure if he liked). His soft soled leather boots sloshed on the damp ground. No river was to be seen anywhere near, but the soil grew damper with each step- as if the water were coming from the ground itself.
Is everything in this place reaching out to grab at me? I feel as though I were a sausage on a stick waiting to be devoured! ....I wonder if this is even a trail. The real thought that he was too afraid to even think out loud was: Where exactly is this trail taking me? And then it happened, as though that thought were the trigger to the trap the forest had been waiting to spring. From just beneath the damp soil a net sprung into the air- surrounding Zane and hoisting him into the air. "Oh bloody sauss. . . .!" His curse was cut of by the stringy rope pushing against his face.
"Who would put this net in the trail? What are they expecting to find here?" Zane asked out loud. And then, as if the world were there to supply all the answers- a voice rang out in the silence:
"Well I wasn' spectin' to find sumfin' is ugly is you aw!" Zane tried to turn around, but this proved difficult while hanging in mid-air. So he settled for craning his neck to one side, but when he saw who had said that, he wished his neck hadn't stuck in that position. It was what appeared to be a man. A man who was draped in animal skins, though from what animal Zane couldn't say. It was also hard to tell where the animal skins stopped and the man's oily hairy self started. At first glance it appeared that his raspy old voice didn't quite match his body, but then after a closer look (a lot closer of a look than Zane had wanted) the man showed all of his years in the wrinkles that spread across his dangy face.
The old man walked right up to him until their noses were almost touching. "You got a bit of a birds beak to ya," the old man said. Zane had always been a little self-conscious about his slightly large nose. The fact that this old codger picked that to talk about made Zane feel more ridiculous than he looked. . . .on second thought, that might not be possible.
"I bet you can smell a Dange cat 10 leagues off wid dat snout!" The man almost lost his footing he was laughing so hard- a laugh that sounded more like a witch's cackle, but turned more into a wheezing dog.
"Well I can sure smell you," Zane said- as he tried to straighten himself a bit to regain a small amount of composure- a vain attempt. "Who are you anyway? And will you get me down from here?
The old man's wheezing stopped. Zane only saw the knife for a split second as it flashed through the air and back into the old man's belt in a single breath, and before he knew was going on he was on the ground with the breath knocked out of him. Now it was his turn to wheeze. While he caught his breath the old man stood above him, staring him down.
"Da name's Kanger. And you boy? Where'd you com from? You some sort o' lost soldier? That scar you got there looks like a shriveled mandrake root- dat from some sotra battle?"
Zane barely had enough time for all of the man's questions to register, let alone to try and answer one. "Kanger. . . . well, I came from that way," he said as he shot a backwards glance. "I'm no soldier, and this scar, well that's a bizarre story. You see this one day I just felt like. . . "
"Yeah yeah," Kanger mumbled. "Knew you wasn' any soldier, not with that mouth. You wouldn' survive youse own troops, let alone som one eles'."
Zane decided to ignore most of what this man said. "So what are you doing out here anyway?"
"What do ya think boy! I'm a trapper. I trap 'em and sell 'em. That's da game."
"Well sorry to have wasted your net here," Zane said- rubbing his bottom he suddenly didn't feel very sorry at all.
"Who says it's wasted? Kanger's grin looked like a tiger's might just before he pounced. "Why do ya think I put me net in the middle o' da path man, think! Lot's o' men come wanderin' through deeze parts with purses fat- ready for long journeys. Man skins might be a bit lackin' in the hair but the meat's still good." The man actually licked his lips and faught to hold back a snarl.
It took a minute for what the old man was saying to register, but when it did it didn't take very long for Zane to react. Kanger was slowly reaching for his belt knife again, but before his fingertips touched it Zane lashed out. He couldn't do much from his precarious position on the ground, but he kicked as hard as he could and the old man flew back against one of the old swirly trees. Before he had time to catch his breath and fight of the grasping branches that now surrounded him Zane had bounced to his feet (it's strange how agile the body can become when you think you might be dinner). He sprinted as fast as he could in the direction the path was taking him earlier- deeper into the forest. He ran and ran, not even looking back to see if the old man was breathing.
When Kanger finally lifted himself off the roots of the tree and unhooked the branches that had latched onto his clothes- he couldn't help but smile. By da way dat boy was runnin', the fool actually thought I would gut 'em meself! Oh well. . . . Guess I will jus let dem wild Mange cats do it for me. Kanger chuckled to himself as he re-set his trap back on the forest tiger's hunting path. Hope dis time the dang contraption catches me a real cat 'stead of some gutless kitten.
The Misty Professor (ZL)
The Adventures of Zane Legends
"The Misty Professor"
Criteria: Thriller, ship/boat, teacher
Some people have a knack for finding strange things; strange things seem to always find Zane Legends. And some things can be much stranger than others. Some stories are in fact so strange that most people try to forget they ever happened. This is that kind of story.
Late one night, beneath an enormous full moon, Zane found himself clinging desperately to a large piece of wood in the middle of the ocean. The waves crashed upon him, forcing him under. Every time he fought his way to the surface, sputtering and coughing once he reached it. He suffered through that agony for what seemed like hours, and he was beginning to wonder if he would survive.
How he found himself in such a predicament he was not entirely certain. He had been crossing the ocean in a rather nice passenger ship, and the price of passage had not been cheap. He had lain down one night after a marvelous meal and had fallen fast asleep. The next thing he knew, he was wet, shivering, and surrounded by miles and miles of water with nothing else in sight.
He was reminiscing about that wonderful meal he'd had when he suddenly became aware of a ship passing nearby. The full moon lit up the ship, and he could see it almost as well as he would have been able to during the day. His first thought was, sausages, that is certainly an ugly ship, but then he realized that perhaps he would not die after all.
He began to cry hoarsely in hopes that someone would be able to hear him. "Help! Help! Man overboard!"
The salt water had a nasty effect on his throat, and barely a croak escaped his mouth. However, it seemed like somebody must have heard him, because the boat slowly turned to move in his direction and when it neared a rope ladder was thrown over the side. He grabbed the bottom rung and began to climb the ladder. As he did, he noticed the words written in faded red paint on the side of the ship, The Misty Professor. Thinking that was certainly an odd name for a ship, he continued his climb until he pulled himself over the rail and fell onto the deck.
Standing there waiting for him was a strange, balding man, with a torn brown hat and a rough, unshaven face. Zane looked up at the man and, not knowing what else to say, said, "Hello."
"Hello there, laddie," responded the man in a rather scraggly voice. "Welcome aboard The Misty Professor. The name's Captain Rogers. Who might you be?"
Captain Rogers looked down at him with an unblinking stare, and Zane quickly responded, "I am Zane Legends."
"Well lad, get yourself off your back, and let's go find ya some dry clothes."
Zane scrambled to his feet and followed Rogers across the deck. As they walked, Rogers continued his questioning.
"So, lad, how'd you find yourself drowning in the middle of the ocean on a stormy night like this one? And where do you be headed?"
"Well, sir, I was in a ship bound for the New World, but I truly do not know how I left it," Zane answered.
"Ah, you be headed for the New World then. There be interestin' folk there. Interestin' indeed...." He remained silent for a few moments after they entered his cabin. He began rummaging through a closet, and asked, "And how did you come by that unusual scar on your forehead there? Be shaped almost like an anchor. Your weren't born on the ocean, were you?"
"Well, sir, that is an interesting question, actually. You see..."
"Ah, here it is," Rogers interrupted, holding up a pair of pants and a pitch black cloak. "It don't be much, but it will keep you warm."
Zane gratefully accepted the clothing. As he changed, he asked, "Sir, why is your ship called The Misty Professor?"
"Well, lad, I do be a teacher of sorts."
"Really? What do you teach?"
"Lotsa things, lad. I teach about life, and death, and all the steps in between."'
Zane paused in the middle of shrugging on the black cloak. That seemed an odd thing to say. "What do you mean?"
"Well, there do be people who are living, and there be people who are dead. I just teach people the steps from one to the other, and help them along."
Zane began to wonder if perhaps he was safer in the sea. This man did not seem to be entirely normal. Suddenly, a curious thought struck him. "Captain, where is the rest of your crew?"
"Ah, that be an excellent question, lad. And the answer be simple: this ship does not need a crew."
Zane began to worry. "If there is no crew, who is steering? And where are we going?"
"The ship steers itself lad, straight into the Passage of Despair."
"The Passage of Despair?" Zane cried. "No ship can pass through there!"
"That do be true lad, indeed. Why do you think you be dressed in black? It is time to prepare for your funeral."
Zane suddenly noticed that Captain Rogers's eyes were not a normal color, but instead glowed bright red. He did not respond, but bolted from the cabin as quickly as he could, intending to jump off the ship before the insane man could kill him. The man called after him.
"Wait, lad! There do be a grand banquet prepared for the occasion!"
Zane stopped and turned around, "A banquet?"
"A banquet indeed," Captain Rogers responded with a smile. Zane suddenly realized that there was a large table in the captain's cabin, and it was filled with dishes and dishes of delicious-looking food. He did not think it was there before, but was not sure.
"Perhaps I could stay, just for a moment," he said.
"Of course you can, laddie."
Zane began walking slowly back toward the cabin, his eyes mesmerized by the large assortment of food laid out so carefully on that table. There was pork, chicken, bread, apples, wine, and countless others. It was a feast fit for a king.
Captain Rogers pulled out a chair and motioned for Zane to sit. He was about to, but then suddenly realized what he was doing, and shouted, "No!" He again bolted from the room, ran across the deck, and threw himself from the ship. It was a good thing to, the ship entered the passage just a few minutes later, and Zane watched as it crashed into the sharp rocks and sunk to the bottom of the sea.
Zane congratulated himself on surviving that encounter, but he was still in trouble. He was still floating in the sea with no idea where he was, though at least land was in sight. The he noticed a small boat moving toward him from the shore. When the boat got nearer, he could make out the man on board, a man with glowing red eyes.
"The Misty Professor"
Criteria: Thriller, ship/boat, teacher
Some people have a knack for finding strange things; strange things seem to always find Zane Legends. And some things can be much stranger than others. Some stories are in fact so strange that most people try to forget they ever happened. This is that kind of story.
Late one night, beneath an enormous full moon, Zane found himself clinging desperately to a large piece of wood in the middle of the ocean. The waves crashed upon him, forcing him under. Every time he fought his way to the surface, sputtering and coughing once he reached it. He suffered through that agony for what seemed like hours, and he was beginning to wonder if he would survive.
How he found himself in such a predicament he was not entirely certain. He had been crossing the ocean in a rather nice passenger ship, and the price of passage had not been cheap. He had lain down one night after a marvelous meal and had fallen fast asleep. The next thing he knew, he was wet, shivering, and surrounded by miles and miles of water with nothing else in sight.
He was reminiscing about that wonderful meal he'd had when he suddenly became aware of a ship passing nearby. The full moon lit up the ship, and he could see it almost as well as he would have been able to during the day. His first thought was, sausages, that is certainly an ugly ship, but then he realized that perhaps he would not die after all.
He began to cry hoarsely in hopes that someone would be able to hear him. "Help! Help! Man overboard!"
The salt water had a nasty effect on his throat, and barely a croak escaped his mouth. However, it seemed like somebody must have heard him, because the boat slowly turned to move in his direction and when it neared a rope ladder was thrown over the side. He grabbed the bottom rung and began to climb the ladder. As he did, he noticed the words written in faded red paint on the side of the ship, The Misty Professor. Thinking that was certainly an odd name for a ship, he continued his climb until he pulled himself over the rail and fell onto the deck.
Standing there waiting for him was a strange, balding man, with a torn brown hat and a rough, unshaven face. Zane looked up at the man and, not knowing what else to say, said, "Hello."
"Hello there, laddie," responded the man in a rather scraggly voice. "Welcome aboard The Misty Professor. The name's Captain Rogers. Who might you be?"
Captain Rogers looked down at him with an unblinking stare, and Zane quickly responded, "I am Zane Legends."
"Well lad, get yourself off your back, and let's go find ya some dry clothes."
Zane scrambled to his feet and followed Rogers across the deck. As they walked, Rogers continued his questioning.
"So, lad, how'd you find yourself drowning in the middle of the ocean on a stormy night like this one? And where do you be headed?"
"Well, sir, I was in a ship bound for the New World, but I truly do not know how I left it," Zane answered.
"Ah, you be headed for the New World then. There be interestin' folk there. Interestin' indeed...." He remained silent for a few moments after they entered his cabin. He began rummaging through a closet, and asked, "And how did you come by that unusual scar on your forehead there? Be shaped almost like an anchor. Your weren't born on the ocean, were you?"
"Well, sir, that is an interesting question, actually. You see..."
"Ah, here it is," Rogers interrupted, holding up a pair of pants and a pitch black cloak. "It don't be much, but it will keep you warm."
Zane gratefully accepted the clothing. As he changed, he asked, "Sir, why is your ship called The Misty Professor?"
"Well, lad, I do be a teacher of sorts."
"Really? What do you teach?"
"Lotsa things, lad. I teach about life, and death, and all the steps in between."'
Zane paused in the middle of shrugging on the black cloak. That seemed an odd thing to say. "What do you mean?"
"Well, there do be people who are living, and there be people who are dead. I just teach people the steps from one to the other, and help them along."
Zane began to wonder if perhaps he was safer in the sea. This man did not seem to be entirely normal. Suddenly, a curious thought struck him. "Captain, where is the rest of your crew?"
"Ah, that be an excellent question, lad. And the answer be simple: this ship does not need a crew."
Zane began to worry. "If there is no crew, who is steering? And where are we going?"
"The ship steers itself lad, straight into the Passage of Despair."
"The Passage of Despair?" Zane cried. "No ship can pass through there!"
"That do be true lad, indeed. Why do you think you be dressed in black? It is time to prepare for your funeral."
Zane suddenly noticed that Captain Rogers's eyes were not a normal color, but instead glowed bright red. He did not respond, but bolted from the cabin as quickly as he could, intending to jump off the ship before the insane man could kill him. The man called after him.
"Wait, lad! There do be a grand banquet prepared for the occasion!"
Zane stopped and turned around, "A banquet?"
"A banquet indeed," Captain Rogers responded with a smile. Zane suddenly realized that there was a large table in the captain's cabin, and it was filled with dishes and dishes of delicious-looking food. He did not think it was there before, but was not sure.
"Perhaps I could stay, just for a moment," he said.
"Of course you can, laddie."
Zane began walking slowly back toward the cabin, his eyes mesmerized by the large assortment of food laid out so carefully on that table. There was pork, chicken, bread, apples, wine, and countless others. It was a feast fit for a king.
Captain Rogers pulled out a chair and motioned for Zane to sit. He was about to, but then suddenly realized what he was doing, and shouted, "No!" He again bolted from the room, ran across the deck, and threw himself from the ship. It was a good thing to, the ship entered the passage just a few minutes later, and Zane watched as it crashed into the sharp rocks and sunk to the bottom of the sea.
Zane congratulated himself on surviving that encounter, but he was still in trouble. He was still floating in the sea with no idea where he was, though at least land was in sight. The he noticed a small boat moving toward him from the shore. When the boat got nearer, he could make out the man on board, a man with glowing red eyes.
The Holy Flock (ZL)
The Adventures of Zane Legends
"The Holy Flock"
Criteria: Scriptural, ship/boat, storyteller
Some people seem to have a knack for finding strange things; strange things always seem to find Zane Legends. On this particular day though, strange things were far from the mind of this young fellow. Marvelous experiences awaited him in a brave new world: adventure, thrills, and excitement lay just on the other side of the seas. That is, if he can ever find away to cross them.
And so we reach our fist stumbling block on this road to adventure. Our dear friend Zane hasn't a way to reach the opposite shores. But firsts things first, Zane had been walking nearly all day, and if we know anything about the boy, it's that he has a healthy appetite-
"I'm so hungry," he thought to himself. "The shores of awesome adventure can wait, time to fill this belly!" But much to his dismay, when he reached into his sack to find a snack there was nothing but breadcrumbs. "Oh sausages!" he exclaimed. "Well, let's have a look around then."
The village that he found himself in was much like the rest of the port towns he had seen in his life. Small streets, crowded inns, and wall to wall full of people. It suited him. He always liked the hustle and bustle of bigger cites. This wasn't a big city by any means, but the people made it feel that way, and that was close enough.
"Well, c'mon feet, let's see what we can find." But just as he was about to descend from the hill overlooking the town a man called to him. "Hey, boy!" he said. "Looking to go aboard a vessel are ye?" Zane was taken aback; he did not even realize that the old shepherd was sitting not 10 paces away.
"I. . . .Um . . . . . yes, I am. How'd you know tha..." The mad didn't let him finish.
"Oh, you look the part." The old shepherd replied. "I've seen my fair share or young men ready to go across the seas. Truth is, that's where I am heading myself," he said with a smile. "You're not looking for work by chance are you? I could use a hand getting my heard on board, and I would be willing to pay for your passage to Rome, if you would be willing to help."
A normal man would be suspicious of such an offer. But Zane Legends was no normal man. "I'll do it!" he exclaimed.
As Zane and the old man herded the sheep through town, Zane noticed that the villagers were throwing them strange looks. Not a very pleasant place, he thought to himself. I wonder why they.... But before he could finish his thought, his question was answered. A straggly fellow that looked as if he had just rolled out of a ditch that morning and into a tavern came walking toward them. "Finally shovin' off eh old man! Well pwaise the Gawds! We've ad quite enough o' you prophetizin' round ere!"
"I hope the rest of the world doesn't share your opinion Arnosh, or we shall all be in for a world trouble- for the end surely comes, and we must prepare."
The man simply swaggered off back to the tavern exclaiming "yea yea yea" under his breath. Zane stood there stunned. "I'm sorry, I....didn't know you were a....um, prophet," he said. "Do you actually speak with the Gods?" The old man laughed so hard he had to bend over and use his knee for support. "Do you think me mad boy? Of course I don't talk to the Gods, no man can."
"Oh," said Zane.
"My sheep to all the talking, I just listen to what they have to say. They are the ones who talk to the Almighty; everyone knows that the writings of the Prophets always have sheep in there somewhere. So I just listen, and tell everyone else. You might even say I'm a story teller of sorts."
After that the climb to the ships was very quiet. As they loaded the sheep onboard all Zane could think about was, well at least it's a gang plank and not stairs. After all the sheep were aboard they set sail, and the boat was on its way.
Just then, Zane remembered his empty stomach- which wasn't something that he normally could forget. He approached the old man warily, but before he could get the words to leave his mouth the old man broke in:
"I've been wondering boy, where did you get that scar on the side of your face, it kind of looks like two shepherds crooks back to back."
"Ya know, there's a funny story behind that. This one day I was minding my own business when all of the sudden. . ."
"A Great whale struck the ship!" The old man interrupted.
"No, that wasn't it at all, what happened was. . ." but he didn't have time to finish. It was then that Zane saw what the man was talking about. A giant whale was right next to the ship, nearly dwarfing the vessel with its massive body. Zane backed away slowly from the railing. He looked around frantically to see that the rest of the passengers had already fled downstairs to the cabins. NO! Not the stairs! I will have to take my chances with the whale.
Just then, the whale leaped out of the water and crashed through the railing of the ship and swallowed the old man and his flock whole. Zane was tossed onto his back from the power of the crash. As the whale was sliding down he could hear the old man screaming, "I wasn't trying to run away I swear! I only wanted to visit my relatives in the opposite direction. . ." The voice faded as the whale swam into the distance. But just before it was gone from sight Zane could almost see the shape of a halo in the mist that shot out from the creatures back.
"Hmm, well that was interesting. I never would have guessed that whales ate sheep."
And so we end this tale of our friend Zane. The day is over, and his quest continues: a journey to find adventure, distant lands, and something to eat.
"The Holy Flock"
Criteria: Scriptural, ship/boat, storyteller
Some people seem to have a knack for finding strange things; strange things always seem to find Zane Legends. On this particular day though, strange things were far from the mind of this young fellow. Marvelous experiences awaited him in a brave new world: adventure, thrills, and excitement lay just on the other side of the seas. That is, if he can ever find away to cross them.
And so we reach our fist stumbling block on this road to adventure. Our dear friend Zane hasn't a way to reach the opposite shores. But firsts things first, Zane had been walking nearly all day, and if we know anything about the boy, it's that he has a healthy appetite-
"I'm so hungry," he thought to himself. "The shores of awesome adventure can wait, time to fill this belly!" But much to his dismay, when he reached into his sack to find a snack there was nothing but breadcrumbs. "Oh sausages!" he exclaimed. "Well, let's have a look around then."
The village that he found himself in was much like the rest of the port towns he had seen in his life. Small streets, crowded inns, and wall to wall full of people. It suited him. He always liked the hustle and bustle of bigger cites. This wasn't a big city by any means, but the people made it feel that way, and that was close enough.
"Well, c'mon feet, let's see what we can find." But just as he was about to descend from the hill overlooking the town a man called to him. "Hey, boy!" he said. "Looking to go aboard a vessel are ye?" Zane was taken aback; he did not even realize that the old shepherd was sitting not 10 paces away.
"I. . . .Um . . . . . yes, I am. How'd you know tha..." The mad didn't let him finish.
"Oh, you look the part." The old shepherd replied. "I've seen my fair share or young men ready to go across the seas. Truth is, that's where I am heading myself," he said with a smile. "You're not looking for work by chance are you? I could use a hand getting my heard on board, and I would be willing to pay for your passage to Rome, if you would be willing to help."
A normal man would be suspicious of such an offer. But Zane Legends was no normal man. "I'll do it!" he exclaimed.
As Zane and the old man herded the sheep through town, Zane noticed that the villagers were throwing them strange looks. Not a very pleasant place, he thought to himself. I wonder why they.... But before he could finish his thought, his question was answered. A straggly fellow that looked as if he had just rolled out of a ditch that morning and into a tavern came walking toward them. "Finally shovin' off eh old man! Well pwaise the Gawds! We've ad quite enough o' you prophetizin' round ere!"
"I hope the rest of the world doesn't share your opinion Arnosh, or we shall all be in for a world trouble- for the end surely comes, and we must prepare."
The man simply swaggered off back to the tavern exclaiming "yea yea yea" under his breath. Zane stood there stunned. "I'm sorry, I....didn't know you were a....um, prophet," he said. "Do you actually speak with the Gods?" The old man laughed so hard he had to bend over and use his knee for support. "Do you think me mad boy? Of course I don't talk to the Gods, no man can."
"Oh," said Zane.
"My sheep to all the talking, I just listen to what they have to say. They are the ones who talk to the Almighty; everyone knows that the writings of the Prophets always have sheep in there somewhere. So I just listen, and tell everyone else. You might even say I'm a story teller of sorts."
After that the climb to the ships was very quiet. As they loaded the sheep onboard all Zane could think about was, well at least it's a gang plank and not stairs. After all the sheep were aboard they set sail, and the boat was on its way.
Just then, Zane remembered his empty stomach- which wasn't something that he normally could forget. He approached the old man warily, but before he could get the words to leave his mouth the old man broke in:
"I've been wondering boy, where did you get that scar on the side of your face, it kind of looks like two shepherds crooks back to back."
"Ya know, there's a funny story behind that. This one day I was minding my own business when all of the sudden. . ."
"A Great whale struck the ship!" The old man interrupted.
"No, that wasn't it at all, what happened was. . ." but he didn't have time to finish. It was then that Zane saw what the man was talking about. A giant whale was right next to the ship, nearly dwarfing the vessel with its massive body. Zane backed away slowly from the railing. He looked around frantically to see that the rest of the passengers had already fled downstairs to the cabins. NO! Not the stairs! I will have to take my chances with the whale.
Just then, the whale leaped out of the water and crashed through the railing of the ship and swallowed the old man and his flock whole. Zane was tossed onto his back from the power of the crash. As the whale was sliding down he could hear the old man screaming, "I wasn't trying to run away I swear! I only wanted to visit my relatives in the opposite direction. . ." The voice faded as the whale swam into the distance. But just before it was gone from sight Zane could almost see the shape of a halo in the mist that shot out from the creatures back.
"Hmm, well that was interesting. I never would have guessed that whales ate sheep."
And so we end this tale of our friend Zane. The day is over, and his quest continues: a journey to find adventure, distant lands, and something to eat.
An Intoxicating Encounter (ZL)
The Adventures of Zane Legends
"An Intoxicating Encounter"
Criteria: Sci-fi, middle of nowhere, drunk
Some people have a knack for finding strange things; strange things always find Zane Legends. One such strange thing began late one evening as Zane travelled through deep space in his interspatial cruiser, the Space Bar. Really, it could not have been late evening, for there is no sense of day and night when one travels through the middle of deep space. Evening was, however, Zane's favorite time of day, so when he travelled through deep space, it was always evening.
He had passed the final star system nearly thirty hours previously, and he yet had a long way to go before arriving at his destination. He was just sitting down for a wonderful five-course meal when the ship's AI pilot began to speak over the speaker system.
"Alien ship detected fifteen degrees off our current trajectory," it said in its monotone voice.
It was rather unusual to run into another ship in these large stretches of space, since there were so many other routes a ship could take. "What is the ship's destination?" Zane inquired of the AI pilot.
"Undeterminable," it responded.
Zane arched his eyebrow in confusion. "Undeterminable? How can that be? I thought you were supposed to have artificial intelligence."
"The ship is not on auto-pilot, and it is changing directions so quickly it is impossible to determine what his destination is," it responded, continuing in its monotone voice.
"Perhaps his ship has a malfunction?" Zane wondered aloud.
"It does not appear that way, sir."
"I'm sure it doesn't," Zane said. "After all, auto-pilots are nearly perfect these days."
"Indeed they are," agreed the AI.
Zane just shook his head and said, "Send him a com-request."
He had to wait for a few minutes, which he used to his advantage by eating as much of the food in front of him as he could. It wasn't the best food he had ever tasted; there were certain restaurants in his home city that almost seemed like heaven. But, he kept his ship well stocked, and the food certainly was not lacking in variety.
Too soon, the AI interrupted his meal. "Com-request granted, now on speakers."
"Good evening, this is the Space Bar calling. may I ask what your destination is?" Zane asked.
"Who 'r' you?" came the response.
"My name is Captain Zane Legends. It appears to me your ship may be malfunctioning, is there anything I could do to assist?"
"Ma' ship? Ma' ship's jus' fine, don' you worry 'bout that. Bes' you jest stay outta ma' way, mister Zane."
Zane tilted his head slightly to one side, and with a thoughtful expression asked, "Sir, are you intoxicated?"
The voice over the speakers sounded somewhat angry. "O' course I'm not, what kinda fool do ya think I am?" With that, there was a faint pop which meant the man had closed the connection.
Zane sat there for several minutes, mostly to finish his meal, but he also wondered what his best course of action was. He could obviously just stay clear of the guy, which would be the easiest and safest route. But Zane knew he couldn't do that, what if the man killed himself, or worse, accidentally killed somebody else? He was too far away from any civilization to report the man to the space traffic authorities, so he would just have to take care of the matter himself. That's the way things often worked in deep space.
He carefully scraped off the last bits of food from his plate, drank the last of his imported orange juice, then carefully wiped his face with a silk napkin.
He went to his quarters to change into more appropriate clothes for handling a drunk. "Bring the ship close enough to board," he commanded the AI. He put on his best, most intimidating coat, which also happened to be stain-resistant and projectile-proof. With that coat, he could do anything.
After a few minutes the AI announced, "We are now within boarding range."
Zane walked briskly to the teleportation room and stood on the circular platform in the center of the octagonal chamber. "Teleport me to the ship, and set a thirty minute automatic recall," he commanded. The automatic recall may have been unnecessary, but you can never be too careful around a man crazy enough to travel through space while drunk.
Zane felt a strange tingling sensation pass through him from head to toes, which was immediately followed by a horrible, cold, senseless feeling, then he found himself in the teleportation chamber of the other ship. He looked around and instantly knew that his ship was much better than this pile of junk, but not everyone could have a ship as fine as his.
He exited the room and made his way to the control room of the ship, where he found the pilot manning the controls. He immediately saw that his guess was correct, the man was swaying back and forth like his Uncle Jim did every New Year's. The man heard Zane approach and staggered to his feet.
"I told yeh I'm jes fine, now get outta ma' ship before I shoot you through!" the man shouted in a hoarse voice.
"Sir," Zane responded in the most professional tone he could come up with, "you are violating galactic law by travelling intoxicated. You should turn auto-pilot on immediately. You should also take a bath as soon as possible."
The last comment detracted from his business like tone, but the man, being drunk, did not really notice it.
"I gave yeh a warnin', and yer tresspassin'," the drunk said. Then he suddenly picked up a gun from the control panel and shot Zane square in the chest. At that moment, Zane was very glad he had had the foresight to wear his projectile-proof coat. The man was so surprised that Zane was still alive he dropped the gun and nearly passed out. Zane helped him out by banging his head as hard as he could against the nearest wall. The man was out cold and collapsed.
"Hopefully by the time you wake up you'll be a bit more intelligent, but perhaps that's a bit much to hope for," he told the now-unconscious body sprawled on the floor. He then set the auto-pilot's course heading to the nearest traffic control station and teleported back to his ship.
"Restore our previous heading," he told the AI. And as an afterthought, he added, "And cook me up another meal, that business made me hungry."
"An Intoxicating Encounter"
Criteria: Sci-fi, middle of nowhere, drunk
Some people have a knack for finding strange things; strange things always find Zane Legends. One such strange thing began late one evening as Zane travelled through deep space in his interspatial cruiser, the Space Bar. Really, it could not have been late evening, for there is no sense of day and night when one travels through the middle of deep space. Evening was, however, Zane's favorite time of day, so when he travelled through deep space, it was always evening.
He had passed the final star system nearly thirty hours previously, and he yet had a long way to go before arriving at his destination. He was just sitting down for a wonderful five-course meal when the ship's AI pilot began to speak over the speaker system.
"Alien ship detected fifteen degrees off our current trajectory," it said in its monotone voice.
It was rather unusual to run into another ship in these large stretches of space, since there were so many other routes a ship could take. "What is the ship's destination?" Zane inquired of the AI pilot.
"Undeterminable," it responded.
Zane arched his eyebrow in confusion. "Undeterminable? How can that be? I thought you were supposed to have artificial intelligence."
"The ship is not on auto-pilot, and it is changing directions so quickly it is impossible to determine what his destination is," it responded, continuing in its monotone voice.
"Perhaps his ship has a malfunction?" Zane wondered aloud.
"It does not appear that way, sir."
"I'm sure it doesn't," Zane said. "After all, auto-pilots are nearly perfect these days."
"Indeed they are," agreed the AI.
Zane just shook his head and said, "Send him a com-request."
He had to wait for a few minutes, which he used to his advantage by eating as much of the food in front of him as he could. It wasn't the best food he had ever tasted; there were certain restaurants in his home city that almost seemed like heaven. But, he kept his ship well stocked, and the food certainly was not lacking in variety.
Too soon, the AI interrupted his meal. "Com-request granted, now on speakers."
"Good evening, this is the Space Bar calling. may I ask what your destination is?" Zane asked.
"Who 'r' you?" came the response.
"My name is Captain Zane Legends. It appears to me your ship may be malfunctioning, is there anything I could do to assist?"
"Ma' ship? Ma' ship's jus' fine, don' you worry 'bout that. Bes' you jest stay outta ma' way, mister Zane."
Zane tilted his head slightly to one side, and with a thoughtful expression asked, "Sir, are you intoxicated?"
The voice over the speakers sounded somewhat angry. "O' course I'm not, what kinda fool do ya think I am?" With that, there was a faint pop which meant the man had closed the connection.
Zane sat there for several minutes, mostly to finish his meal, but he also wondered what his best course of action was. He could obviously just stay clear of the guy, which would be the easiest and safest route. But Zane knew he couldn't do that, what if the man killed himself, or worse, accidentally killed somebody else? He was too far away from any civilization to report the man to the space traffic authorities, so he would just have to take care of the matter himself. That's the way things often worked in deep space.
He carefully scraped off the last bits of food from his plate, drank the last of his imported orange juice, then carefully wiped his face with a silk napkin.
He went to his quarters to change into more appropriate clothes for handling a drunk. "Bring the ship close enough to board," he commanded the AI. He put on his best, most intimidating coat, which also happened to be stain-resistant and projectile-proof. With that coat, he could do anything.
After a few minutes the AI announced, "We are now within boarding range."
Zane walked briskly to the teleportation room and stood on the circular platform in the center of the octagonal chamber. "Teleport me to the ship, and set a thirty minute automatic recall," he commanded. The automatic recall may have been unnecessary, but you can never be too careful around a man crazy enough to travel through space while drunk.
Zane felt a strange tingling sensation pass through him from head to toes, which was immediately followed by a horrible, cold, senseless feeling, then he found himself in the teleportation chamber of the other ship. He looked around and instantly knew that his ship was much better than this pile of junk, but not everyone could have a ship as fine as his.
He exited the room and made his way to the control room of the ship, where he found the pilot manning the controls. He immediately saw that his guess was correct, the man was swaying back and forth like his Uncle Jim did every New Year's. The man heard Zane approach and staggered to his feet.
"I told yeh I'm jes fine, now get outta ma' ship before I shoot you through!" the man shouted in a hoarse voice.
"Sir," Zane responded in the most professional tone he could come up with, "you are violating galactic law by travelling intoxicated. You should turn auto-pilot on immediately. You should also take a bath as soon as possible."
The last comment detracted from his business like tone, but the man, being drunk, did not really notice it.
"I gave yeh a warnin', and yer tresspassin'," the drunk said. Then he suddenly picked up a gun from the control panel and shot Zane square in the chest. At that moment, Zane was very glad he had had the foresight to wear his projectile-proof coat. The man was so surprised that Zane was still alive he dropped the gun and nearly passed out. Zane helped him out by banging his head as hard as he could against the nearest wall. The man was out cold and collapsed.
"Hopefully by the time you wake up you'll be a bit more intelligent, but perhaps that's a bit much to hope for," he told the now-unconscious body sprawled on the floor. He then set the auto-pilot's course heading to the nearest traffic control station and teleported back to his ship.
"Restore our previous heading," he told the AI. And as an afterthought, he added, "And cook me up another meal, that business made me hungry."
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