[LNHY/ACRA] The Daily Super Short-Short Story #25
Saxon Brenton
saxon.brenton at uts.edu.au
Sat Oct 2 01:28:16 PDT 2004
The Daily Super Short-Short Story #25
A Devil Came Down to Georgia 7
Last Time: Martin witnessed a skirmish purportedly between good and evil.
The seminary student frowned and crossed his arms. "You're assuming
that I want to be involved in your war."
"It's not a matter of wanting or not wanting," the armoured giant
replied seriously. If he was put off by Martin's all-but explicit
rejection of his position, he didn't show it. "It's a matter of calling."
"My calling is to God."
"Yes."
There was a long pause while Martin waited in vain for clarification
of that. Finally he said, "You want to explain yourself, or should I just
assume that you're deliberately being cryptic?"
"The lines between good and evil are usually clear cut, but there
are complications in this case," was the reply. "You will inevitably
make a choice, but you must be sure that it is the *right* choice, and
any advice I might give could muddy your reactions. You must search
your feelings on this matter."
"Thank you, Obi Wan Kenobi," was Martin's sarcastic reply. Then he
frowned and said, "Why am I even talking to you, anyway? You're just a
dream. You're probably just a suppressed anxiety about how Dad wanted me
to go into his computer software company rather than take vows."
"You are dreaming, but that doesn't mean that I'm a figment. And
*that*," said the giant, pointing back towards the now distant battle
between light and dark, "certainly is not."
"Maybe. Maybe not," said Martin distractedly. He was thinking about
what Shane had said earlier today. Was it really only a few hours ago?
He had totally lost track of time, and now that he was trying to regain
his bearings he found it difficult to adjust his sense of place and
duration.
'Oh, I'm dreaming and can do the impossible' Shane had said, or
something like that. Well, let's see how... if... this worked. He raised
one arm and imagined metal wings. The shape and form and texture. What
it would feel like to have air racing over them.
And quite suddenly, there were wings. "Okaaayyy," he breathed, and
then began constructing a full flying battlesuit in his mind. Thruster
jets formed at his ankles, and metal armour (far more aeronautically
streamlined than that of his companion) formed over his body. Martin
took to the air.
"Cool!" was Martin's opinion as he soared up into the night sky.
This was great! Better than sex, at which thought Martin blushed. He was
supposed to be putting those sorts of urges behind him. Huh, hadn't Freud
said that when you were dreaming of flying you were actually dreaming of
sex? Martin recalled. .oO( I wonder what it means when you're dreaming
about sex, then? )
The young man continued to climb higher and higher, and eventually
he woke up.
Martin tried to reorientate him perceptions and discover where he
was. .oO( Bed, ) he finally decided. Yeah, that would make sense. The
clock on the bedside table said 2am. Bleah. That afternoon nap and
subsequent study session to 11 must've thrown out his body clock.
He rolled over and prepared to get up. He needed to go to the
bathroom. He started to untangle the bedclothes from around his legs,
which was when he discovered the thruster jet tubes growing out of his
ankles.
"Wha?" He looked around blearily. Was he still dreaming?
Tomorrow: How about some Tsukamoto style cybernetic body horror?
The Daily Super Short-Short Story series created by Arthur Spitzer, and
used with belated permission.
-----
Saxon Brenton University of Technology, city library, Sydney Australia
saxon.brenton at uts.edu.au
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