A Tiny Ray Of Light

I just finished watching Twin Peaks yesterday. I jumped on it when I found it on Netflix since I have heard people talking about it for as long as I can remember. Its a conversation that always goes something like ‘Twin Peaks is so good, it was really the first show of its kind.’

I’m still a bit confused how I feel about it here at the end of season two. I feel like it was a mix between a great show, an unsettling shroom trip, and an awkward independent film that had directors switch halfway through (the second director was much better.)

Okay, I know I can’t harp on it of course because it’s one of those classics that you appreciate even with all its quirks.

I will admit, there was a great ensemble of lovable characters and many moments that were laugh out loud funny. The humor at times hearkened back to the slapstick humor in ‘Airplaine’ and ‘The Naked Gun’ which is my favorite type of comedy.

There were also a lot of moments that were dark and scary and some very surprising twists and turns. However there were also a few “filler” characters and dramatic relationship fluff that just seemed to take up airtime and made the episodes drag.

The best characters were the main FBI agent and sheriff’s department team, and the main storyline surrounded these individuals. It would have been more enjoyable if the show would have zeroed in on the mystery and darkness of the murder and focused less on the soapy relationship drama in the small town.

This show came out the year before I was born so am I missing some of the nuance of it due to being a younger generation? Am I just spoiled and jaded due to today’s modern TV selection and streaming services? Honest question- what is so great about it, or was it just unique for it’s time? Did you enjoy it? What are your thoughts?

#tv #reviews #thoughts #twin-peaks

I am so very glad I was born in the era of podcasts. I should probably be thankful I was born in the era of you know, toilets, vaccines, cars, things like that. But podcast are my favorite.

The first podcast I got into was Aaron Mahnke’s Lore after I watched the first season of the Amazon series. It was all downhill from there. I binged the series, and then tried to find other series similar. Soon I was knee deep into Astonishing Legends, Unexplained, Monsters Among Us, Crime Junkie, Unsolved Murders and on and on- overly excited that there was a community of people who were as interested in monsters, madness, cryptids and the unsolved questions of the universe as I was.

I think podcasts allow us to connect with a large group of like-minded people, as well as learn new and exciting things not previously available in such a specific and accessible format. Many podcasts also have their own online communities where listeners can connect and discuss the show and other topics related to their similar interests.

What do you think about podcasts? Have you delved into this newer world of media? If so, what is your favorite genre and series?

The woman sat at the metal table, navigating the thick wooden puzzle pieces on the table in front of her delicately. She completely ignored the man sitting across the table from her, who was staring at her, large white eyebrows furrowed, tapping his pen in an annoying, uneven beat. tap, taptap, tappity tap, tap, tap. His decorated army uniform was in pristine condition, ironed and starched to the point where it almost looked unnatural. It was decorated with medals and stripes and buttons that jingled whenever he moved in the slightest.

So this is what they look like. He thought as he stared the woman down. She was small, and young, and significantly…normal. She wore flip flops, a bright colored tank top and white and black striped shorts. It was usual dress for summer in New Mexico, but still, he had expected…something else. Older. Scarier. Louder. Something…well, more.

“What, were you expecting some old woman with big Texas hair telling you that they could commune with your dead relative, Major Harrington? Or perhaps someone dressed in all black out of the Matrix who could run up walls and shoot lasers from their eyeballs?”

The man was taken aback as she responded to his unspoken query. 

“Or perhaps you would you like me to read your palm, and tell you when you’ll die?” With the follow up question she lifted her eyes from her puzzle, for the first time making eye contact with him. Her eyes were a piercing grey color, unlike anything he had ever seen before, and it made him inhale sharply.

The woman laughed a bit at the officer’s reaction, then rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to the puzzle in front of her. There was silence between them again, as the officer continued to tap his pen on the table, finally speaking. “You know why you are here, correct?”

“Is this a joke, Major?” She responded, leaning back in her chair, silver stare piercing through him, the gaze giving the elder man an actual physical chill. “Of course I know. I saw the parade of other quote unquote psychics in the foyer on my way in here. Have fun sorting through those soothsayers and wackadoodles.”

The man cleared his throat. “Right. Well, your supposed abilities have come to the attention of the CIA. We wanted to speak to you about a possible opportunity.”

The woman rolled her eyes again, for the umpteenth time in the conversation. “My abilities? I’m a simple magician who can guess what’s inside envelopes and what people have in their pockets. Besides, I was under the assumption that the army had discontinued all of their projects in regards to the supernatural fifty years ago. You know, something about it being all bullshit, psychic power isn’t real, burn the witch sort of thing. So what, is the military finally opening its mind to other things?”

“That’s classified at this time. And you came to our attention when you pinpointed two of our top secret army bases and the Colonel’s summer cabin on a map live on your YouTube channel last autumn, if you recall your brief imprisonment with us.”

She barked out a short laugh. “Right, I forgot about that. Good times. You know that the Russians, Koreans, Australian and the Chinese have been using special mind divisions in their army for at least the last two decades. Do you want to know how many times it has stopped the world from ending? Six. Literally.”

“Uh huh, so you’re still claiming to be an actual psychic then, not some sort of hacker or espionage agent. You have actual real mind powers. But the rest of these people out there are just hogwash.”

“I have remote viewing capabilites. I can see things happening elsewhere.” She said, twisting the puzzle pieces again. “I don’t have psychokinesis. I can’t move things with my mind. And I can’t view the future. Those are other abilities. It’s like how some people can paint and some people can sketch. They’re both art but they’re not necessarily interchangeable. And as for these other supposed physics as you call them, that’s their business. But the communing with the dead has nothing to do with psychic abilities so that is actual bullshit.”

Well, I’ll believe it when I see it. This isn’t my project I’m just the…” He sighed in annoyance again, “…handler.”

“You government people.” The woman said, scooting her chair out and pushing up from the metal table, “You can put a man on the moon and cure the most deadly medical conditions. But when it comes to things you don’t understand you suddenly revert to the Orthodox church of the 1500’s where everything is wichcraft. It’s not like mind powers is magic or dark arts. It’s quantum physics. Read a book.”

“If it’s science, it should be able to be replicated. That’s the scientific method.” 

The woman shrugged. “Sure. But you have to have the base materials to work with in the beginning. Some people do. Others don’t.”

“But where does it come from initially. It’s not a gene. It’s not like musical talent or red hair or something passed down or learned or things that run in families.”

“Oh, of course.” The woman sighed. “Where did it come from. It doesn’t make sense, so of course, it’s probably the dark arts, or magic, or aliens. That’s what you’re wanting to hear, isn’t it? Because something that makes NO sense is the thing that makes the most sense?”

The man put his hand to his forehead. “I hate my job.” He stood up, “The offer to assist with the opportunity with the CIA is retracted. You’re dismissed.” He scribbled her name off his list angrily.

—

The woman turned the key in her apartment door, the narrow door swinging open with a creak. The apartment was hot, but she didn’t really mind. She mindlessly moved around, opening the windows to let a breeze in.

 She made her way into the bedroom, stopping to gaze into the long freestanding full length mirror. She stared at herself intently, examining her sweaty hair and gazing at her large, piercing silver eyes as she smiled, then slowly blinked. When she opened her eyes again, standing behind her was a large alien grey- the same color grey as her haunting stormy eyes. He was tall, with large black eyes and long arms and legs, exactly as she remembered him being. When she whipped around to see him in person, he was gone.

It was true. The superior mind powers had come from the alien greys. Just like so many other things. Flight capability. Plasma weapons. Stealth planes. Dimension doors. Hidden technology tested in secret by classified government projects. Everyone knew, secretly. Everyone has that feeling, itching somewhere in the corner of their mind. That there is something else out there, somewhere.

Truth be told, she wasn’t sure if she would ever see the greys again. But she knew they were there. Always there, all around her. Some came for experimenting. Some came to help. But she had been one of the lucky ones to receive their gift.

#scifi #shortstories #fiction

You want to know what I don’t want to talk about right now? Current events. Seriously. No more. No more news. No more media. No more information overload, hashtags, and arguments.

You know what I do want to talk about?

Raise your hand if you believe in aliens. But, like, discreetly, so your neighbor can’t judge you, if you’re worried about that.

UFO, extraterrestrial, and alien grey stories are some of my favorite stories out there, because it seems like the more you look for them, the more you find. So many people have reported extraterrestrial encounters, and they have been happening for hundreds of years. Do I believe in ET’s? Eh… Maybe. I’ve never seen one…thankfully. If I did see an alien grey I’d probably point, yell “Aha! I knew it! You are real!” Then pass out dead in fright.

What I do believe in is people and their stories.

My favorite podcast currently is called Monsters Among Us, hosted by Derek Hayes. It reminds me of an old radio show called Coast to Coast AM, which I remember my mom listening to when I was very young. On both Coast to Coast and Monsters Among Us, individuals call in and report their personal paranormal encounters with ghosts, ghouls, aliens, and mysterious creatures.

I grew up in the Pacific Northwest and am very convinced I saw three Sasquatch as a child, so I tend to have an open mind to people’s stories. Is the human brain easily tricked by light, sound, and other things? Yes. But people’s encounters are still fun to listen to and peruse with a “what if, could it be?” mindset. Even if they can be debunked, the experience is still true to the individual who encountered it. Besides, isn’t it more fun to live in a world where some things are still mysterious and yet undiscovered?

What do you think? Do you believe in aliens, creatures, and other monsters? Have you ever seen anything “unbelievable?”

#monsters #creatures #aliens

I’ve been playing a lot of video games lately so I thought I’d throw out this fantasy dabble. I always seem to put way too much thought into my character’s mindset when I’m playing the games so I thought I would share it.

It’s so quiet. The small fire in front of me is slowly fading to embers, the dying light casting large, spooky shadows on the slick cave walls. The only audible sound is a continuous plink, plink dripping noise somewhere far off in the unexplored cavern. This part of the cave is free of monsters, I was certain to check thoroughly before I made camp for the night. Beyond where the firelight reaches and through the twisting and turning of the cavernous reaches of the unlit cave, though, I have no idea.

I carefully sit down, resting my weary back against the wall. The cave is somehow a greenish, yellow color- maybe from some sort of unusual stone, or a type of cave dwelling bug or plant. I don’t know. This area is foreign to me, with strange places and undiscovered monsters, and unique individuals with different customs and languages. The stench is rancid in this place in particular, but that is most likely attributed to the hundreds of dead creatures strewn around the space, and could be partly myself, now as well. My long leather jacket, knee boots and sturdy chain pants are spattered in two shades of green blood, and my left elbow-length glove is soaked in blood and a putrid slime mix. The tip of a small black arrowhead is embedded right in the front of my heavy metal helm, the enchanted helmet, albeit a little odd looking, once again saved me from a deadly strike.

I sigh, pulling my enormous, legendary battle hammer into my lap. It’s huge, nearly six feet long, with a hammer head as long and thick as my entire torso. It’s heavy and unbecoming, especially for a mage. If the temple embermages that worked so hard to bless me with my magical skills saw me now, wielding a greathammer like a common rogue, they would be sorely disappointed. The enchanted greathammer was a gift from a forgotten king, and no matter how hard I try I can’t give it up. It is a beautiful gold color, and enchanted with lightning abilities, the entire hammer buzzing and crackling like it was blessed by the God Thor himself. It is something truly unique, and as I have carried it halfway across the world now, it would be a shame to give it up to carry a simple wand like a normal embermage, even though it would be the respectable thing.

I eye the dying fire, considering whether I should let it go out, or let it burn a little longer. Once decided, I press my hands together, fingers making a pointed motion, with my two forefingers curling in. Sparks shoot out my pointed fingers and shower the embers, a gigantic pillar of flame spiraling up from the small fire with enthusiasm, hitting the ceiling and billowing off to the sides before calming, the fire brighter and alit again.

There is silence again, nothing but the plink, plink in the chasm to be heard, and the crackling of the newly re-kindled fire. I never really stop to think about what it is like, being alone. I had left my small village with companions- but they were all gone now. One stopped in a village and stayed there as a forgemaster. A second heard of a quest that he could not pass up, and he was not seen again. The third companion died in a cave much like this. But that was long ago, much time has passed since then, and the memory has just turned into a cold scar of regret. Now the only companion I have is Lovecraft, my hawk. He rests peacefully on my shoulder for now, every so often lifting his foot to chew at his talon absentmindedly.

The cave doesn’t have us on edge, not really. Not the monsters, not the journey, not the dark. But the end destination makes us both anxious.

We were recruited about a year ago at a simple desert village. We were charged with hunting the worst type of monster: a human. A human like myself- a mage. A mage, and worse, someone I had known my whole life. My friend. They now called him ‘The Dark Alchemist.’

The Dark One. The Destroyer. The one who was trying to tear a hole in the fabric of the universe. Who was trying to kill everything. My friend. The one who had taught me magic. 

I pressed all five of my fingers together and held them up, looking at the blue sphere forming in the air above my fingers. I held it, charging it for just a bit, before letting go, shooting it up in the air. The sphere hit the roof of the cave and harmless, light snow puttered down, melting as it hit my overcoat, the fire, Lovecraft’s beak and feathers, and the bloodied floor of the cave. 

The Dark Alchemist.

Or as I knew him, just Antony. 

The last time I had seen him, he was next to me on a bar stool, so far from here, on our island city of Etheria. He banged his wooden mug on the counter, sloshing ale all over the bar, his crystal blue eyes squeezed shut in laughter. I was relaying a story of one of our earlier adventures to the barkeep, a tale in which all my hair got singed off by a fire drake when I attempted to steal the legendary beast’s treasure. Antony saved the day by freezing the dragon and helping a (bald) me escape with the secret treasure we had entered the forbidden tower for.

Honest to God Hyacinth. You’re one of the best embermages I’ve ever met. But I swear to shit you’ll be the death of me.

I squeezed my greathammer around the end, mindlessly scratching some dried guts off of the handle. I had laughed then, too, and followed up with some sort of hilarious zinger that got him laughing again. But I wasn’t laughing now. No one was.

Antony. My friend. The Dark Alchemist.

What made you this way…what drove you to this madness, and why is it me that has to cross swords with you at the end of it all?

I stared into the darkness, expected someone, somewhere, some God to give me a merciful and just, reasonable answer to it all. But there was nothing. No one. No answer at all.

Plink. Plink. Plink.

#fantasy #games #dnd