 The Shaffer Journal
Volume 10 † Issue 7 † July 2004
[Internet Stuff] [Hockey Puck] [Twins of the Dark Star]
[Poetry Corner] [The Dull Stuff] [Guest Articles] [In The Keys]
Kitty Talk
These journals are dedicated to Kitty GreyCat's spirit. She is at RainBow Bridge now along with her human friends, Leo and Doris. We all loved you, Kitty! Click the cat graphic to visit her Memorial page. Kitty born June 6, 1982. Died July 9, 1997. Please use our email form linked below to make suggestions or offer praise. >^..^<  Ebony: I like to be outside, which is no cat secret, but I have been outside so much lately. Now the heat making me lose some fur around my belly. I have to stay inside. Don't like that much. The lizards are outside. Some of the lizards get inside the trailer though. >^..^<
Abby: I like the inside lizards. First, I groom myself on my human bean's lap. I get a few pets on the head and scratches under the chin. I love all the loving attention given to me. Then I go cruising for lizards inside the trailer. If I don't find any lizards, then I attack Ebony. >^..^<
Ebony: Yes, after I growl and hiss plus some running, I come back to my special place in the big old bedroom closet. I groom myself there and settle in for some long, deep catnapping and dreams. >^..^<
Abby: I don't expect those dreams include the monthly flea treatments. I hate those. I hide under the bed, but that human bean gets under the bed to get me. Then I get my dose of flea stuff even though less than Eb's. >^..^<
Ebony: Well, flea stuff is something to growl and meow about, that is for sure. Trinity the next door pup is even worse and very worthy of a big long hiss, paw waving with claws out, and a big growl of extreme displeasure. Even Abby hissed on the puppy, not once but twice. She hardly ever hisses. I soon grew tired of hissing at puppies. I chased some juicy lizards into the next door neighbor's flower garden. I meowed a lot about that inside. >^..^<
Abby: Meow, I get spritzed for meowing too much. I was happy when Ebony meowed too much and too long inside recently. Finally, she got what was coming to her, getting squirted by water from evil human beans. I feel like escaping outside at such times like that there. Ebony is a great escape kitty cat, full of feline surprises. >^..^<
Ebony: I have made a special game of escaping on the human beans at night. They chase me and have a hard time finding me in the dark and against the black tires of the trailer. I nose I is the bestest escape cat. >^..^<
Abby: Ebony used to be the bestest escape cat, but I have been practicing. I don't know where to go once I am outside though. I let the human beans catch me and bring me back inside. It is fun anymeow. What is more fun is when the human bean brings the grocery sacks home. One sack was a big, brown paper sack. Once it was empty, I got inside. Meow, that was fun! Human bean picked up the bag and carried it to the bedroom, before he wondered why the bag was heavy. That was cause I was inside the paper sack, looking up at the bean. >^..^<
Ebony: I don't like sacks. That Ab is crazy doing crazy cat stuff all the time. What makes me crazy and happy is a pinch of catnip in our catnip bowl in the bathroom. Us cats make a mess all over the floor with that good stuff. Abby snuffs and huffs; I roll and roll. Abby drools; I get frisky and loving. Abby sees puppy dog tails. >^..^<
Abby: Yes, catnip very nice indeedy, but I like the smell and taste of ice cream. I really like sneaking around trying to steal a lick of human bean's brother's ice cream. Ice scream that is stolen is very nice. >^..^<
Ebony: I don't like ice cream. It gives me dry skin. I like the brushing, because it removes the dry skin and makes the fur all nice and shines like all get out. I don't like that big overhead fan in living room either. >^..^<
Abby: I nose what you mean, Ebony. I don't like the big fan blades going around and around and around. It makes me eyeballs all twisted. I get dizzy and scared. It is a good thing we all got safe places to hide. I am going to hide there right now. All use kitties and human beans out there in net land, be good until next month, meow. >^..^<
Internet Stuff
Here are the latest DVD films from http://www.NetFlix.com: Welcome to Mooseport is a fun movie about a local running for mayor against a former US president. Ray Ramano and Gene Hackman work well together in this light comedy. The Lion King 1 1/2 is the prequel to The Lion King, but the film is not quite what the original was. Mystic River is a Clint East wood film full of dark tensions and human frailties. Paycheck is a scifi movie that is a mystery thriller as a man, whose memory was erased, tries to figure out things that he sent to himself. S. W. A. T. is a good Samuel Jackson action movie about specially trained cops on a mission. Another good cop film is the Bad Boys II movie. This sequel is just as good as the original. The stars play well off each other. Interesting websites we visited recently: If you lose or damage a library book, there is no better or faster place to order a replacement than http://www.amazon.com. Anytime I need to update information on my backup, dial-up ISP, I just go to http://my.msn.com that is tailored to my needs as I setup those needs. When I needed to replace a remote control for my DirecTV system, I went to http://www.directv.com. Paying bills is easy at http://mycheckfree.com. I can even confirm that I didn't get any of the six lotto numbers at http://flalottery.com.
In The Keys
My dear friends are finally having to move from Gulfstream Mobile Home Park here in Marathon. Sandler at Greater Marathon Bay has done everything legal and illegal to make people move. They are currently doing the same to good people in Virginia Beach, Virginia, at Wedgewood Mobile Home Park. I lived there from 1991 through 1993. Back to my dear friends at Gulfstream: Some are my age, middle aged, and some are over 80. I find the whole thing completely disgusting that Sandler at Greater Marathon Bay, the City of Marathon, the state of Florida, even Monroe County, and, most of all, the Gulfstream Homeowners Association have not helped these residents. I am ashamed of my beloved hometown and of some of the people responsible for this tragedy and travesty. There were plenty of actions that could have been taken, but none were undertaken. Miscellany: Third Rail Tattoo shops, one at 6363 Overseas Highway here in Marathon, specialize in stylized artwork of the tattoo variety. This shop is located near mile-marker 50, and their telephone number is (305) 289-7929. Blind Hairy's closed recently, which is such a shame. There are other tattoo and piercing ships in town, which will be the topic of subsequent articles in this magazine. After shopping, there is always room for boating fun. We enjoyed Molasses Keys several times this month, Sombrero Reef, Stirrup Key, Rachel Bank, Delta Shoals, and John Sawyer Bank. Father's Day came and went. I miss my father who is cooking in heaven's kitchen now. Independence Day is coming soon with fireworks, hot dogs, hamburgers, and the good old USA. Finally: Did you know that Indiana's state bird is the Cardinal? The flower is the Peony. The tree is the Tulip Tree. The capital is Indianapolis. Statehood was granted December 11, 1816. Lastly, the Woodenhead Gallery features avant-garde furniture, art brut, and outsider art. This Key West gallery is located at 907 Caroline Street. They have seasonal hours. Their telephone number is 305-294-3935. Call the gallery for more details. That's all there is for this month! Poetry Corner
“Shadows Play”
March 3, 1998
Upon the wind
Through flowering groves
Spirit fed
Steps on the ground
Dew into mists
And there be no sounds
A dead calm
The dull moon
Shadows play
With movement
Somewhere amiss
And the darkness lives
Heart pounding
Quick breath
Cold caressing
Then there be evil
Wind stirs again
The moon brightens
From shadows
Appear a smile, a face
Sudden contentment
Recognition complete
The unknown known
It was all in the mind
To bed, warm comfort
Moon beams from window
The night placed well
Dreams yet to come © 2004 L. E. Shaffer Hockey Puck
The NHL Stanley Cup champions in seven exciting games is the Tampa Bay Lightning. The Calgary Flames came close though. There is no more exciting moment in professional sports than when the champions skate the Stanly Cup. The NBA champions Detroit Pistons dismantled the highly favored Los Angeles Lakers. Buddy Rice won the Indianapolis 500 car race. The Williams sisters got blown out of the WTA French Open in the quarterfinals. NASCAR's Dale Earnhardt Jr. and Jeff Gordon are still in the top 5 in the NEXTEL Cup points race. In the PGA, Tiger is still number one worldwide, even though he has struggled in every tournament. The horse, Smarty Jones, finished second in the third leg of the Triple Crown. That's all the sports stuff this month. Guest Articles
Stuff not written by us. As always everything is copyright of the author. Group Novel
As an experiment and for fun, we are writing a group novel at our Area 52 forum. The first section is contained in the June 2004 magazine edition. The second section is as follows: As I nestled into the soft moss I felt my body giving way to its comfort. I burrowed in as deep as my weary limbs would allow, and practiced closing each of my three eyelids one by one. I had been doing this ever since I was a hatchling, first closing one, then the next, and the next and then opening them. This is I did tonight routinely in hopes that I could find a rhythm that may help me find “the” correct pathway.
A rhythm. “Why did I think that,” I groggily murmured aloud to myself? I sat up with a start, cautiously surveying my surroundings once again. It seems that I had been doing that the past three moonlights for some reason.
I settled into my comforting bed once again and lay staring up at the sky full of bright pinpoints of light. “Somewhere out there,” I thought, “is a dark star, one with no light”. What does that mean? I must travel to the high observatory next quarter arn and seriously try to find out if this is true, a dark star. Could it be possible?
A tune runs idly through my mind as I begin to drift into comforting sleep. The rhythm of the tune seems to match the rhythm of the opening and closing of my three eyelids. I begin to hear words in my mind, getting louder as if they are important somehow. "Dark star, I see you in the morning." I wake slightly realizing that this is a song I have heard my earth friend sing, and not about a star at all. I smile inwardly, amused as always at the way earth people use language.
Yet the words stick in my mind, playing over and over. I know not to dismiss these words. The words and images that flow through my half-sleeping and sleeping mind are always of import, and always guide me on my way. My mind still questions as I drift further toward sleep. A dark star that can be seen in the morning? How could this be? But it makes no less sense than there being a dark star at all. A part of me wants to ponder this, but I'm too sleepy. A few last words rise out of the darkness before dreams take me: "Sleeping next to me."
I drift in the warm-cool ether between the stars, and there beside me is the dark star, huge, sleeping for more arns than I can imagine. I feel the strong gravimetric force of its mass. For me it is only a gentle pull, easily resisted. But the people of earth would find this force enormous, enticing, irresistible. They would want to harness it as they do the force of other, more common stars. And they must not, for my sleeping companion will soon wake. There is something I must do, I don't know what. Seeking my path, I let the star's gentle force pull me toward it.
I gather speed toward the dark star. This is no dream! How I got here is a wonder, but I am here. The traditional music rings in my mind. I feel the intensifying gravimetric well building around me. Darkness engulfs my being. Somehow this is comforting.
I am aware. The gravity is more than energy. This is what the humans from Earth cannot grasp. The dark star is more than a star. This is what my parents could never understand. I am here.
I still don't know why or what for. Infinity fills me. The music, the incessant music will not go away. The black star fills me and is through me. From some part of my spirit comes the sound. I sense paths, infinite paths. What is happening to me? Why am I here? What am I to do? What must I find?
The path, the journey, this I remember. Another sound fills the infinity around me. A sound from creation. I move toward a path. I must find those who came first. They have something for me.
Infinity propels me across the multiple universes and suddenly I am at the beginning. A red sun bathes ten planets. The fourth one caresses me with a sound. Yes, I understand a small bit of this mystery of my life. Music is the universal language. The beginning of my journey is over.
I arrive. Or have I? Not only do I hear but also I see music. It permeates my being with its agency. The sounds slowly weave a vision around me. I am floating amongst columns, columns they seem to go on and on. They have no bottoms or tops. But they are straight and seem to go up and down. They are constantly in flux and change as the minute discrepancies in the music appear before my eyes. There is light all around me (but what is its source?).
The columns seem to breathe the music and an inner dance plays as they wax and wane to the sounds. First one and then another (or is it the one next to it that has disappeared?) I am here but where is this place? I survey the surroundings with intenseness as I try to categorize these new feelings. I lay back (but on what?) I close my eyes to think.
It seems I have been thinking too long, for when I open my eyes again the columns are fading away slowly into the pale gray. Floating (somewhere) I see a bottom (or is it a bottom) that stretches as far as my mind can see. It seems to be a flat plane stretching forever. No beginning and no end. It has a pattern of sorts that I recognize and I feel must hold the path.
Once again the columns are there. They seem to have changed intensity and are now blocking my view. The music grows and engulfs me and it is good. As the light slowly starts to fade I feel my body shifting as if being sucked into a huge container. I am being pulled gently as the music electrifies the space around me.
I find myself between that which I seek and that which I left behind so many pulses of light and sound ago (or was it ars?), I do not find it strange that I cannot find words to describe what I feel. I taste the richness of the moment and it is good. I feel good and it is right. This moment draws closer to a light that I feel and hear. A light that I know only too well.
“Zybai,” I hear in the distance. “Zybai,” a soft sound. My female parent gently caresses my forehead with a soothing wet sponge. “Zybai you have returned,” my mother softly says. In the distance I see my father, and his council looking on with awe and with dread in their eyes. Why are they so afraid I wonder?
I realize I am uncomfortable and squirm in my moss bed, trying to find a better position. The indentation in the earth beneath the moss is too small! How can that be? Did I grow while I journeyed? I look at my surroundings more closely. No, I am not in my moss bed, not the one I left, not the one in the grove with the other young males. I am in the moss bed I used as a child, in my parent’s grove. How did I get here? Did the elders carry me?
I push myself up on my elbows and midarms and stretch my cramped neck. The somewhat hysterical conversation of my father’s council draws my attention. ”He is the Kla'abai the legends speak of,” Ladian is saying. “He must be! How else could he have disappeared from his moss bed and reappear here, after so long…” Krilat breaks in. “Perhaps he was simply journeying to the stars and no one saw him leave.”
So, I wasn’t carried here, I came here on my own, without realizing it. “I must work on my landings,” I think, and chuckle. I am spending much too much time with my earth friend. “Landing” is not an Anaraian word.
My chuckle brings new looks of horror from the council. “You are talking nonsense, Krilat,” Beorai says, drawing his gaze back to the others. “Peroit’s youngling saw Zybai disappear.”
“He is hardly a reliable source,” Krilat scoffs. “He is always imagining things when in dream-sleep.”
“But Ziha herself saw him appear here!” Ladian gives Krilat a hard look. “Surely you cannot consider Zybai’s own mother unreliable! He is the Kla'abai, I tell you! ‘Tis said that the Kla'abai can taste the music of the stars…”
“And wake them, even move them!” Beorai’s words draw all of their eyes back to me. Uncomfortable under their stares, I turn my gaze to my mother’s face. She is smiling, and winks at me, closing and reopening one lid at a time. This has always been her way of telling me all is well. I wrap my arms around her and hug her fiercely, feeling suddenly afraid and alone. Her smell brings back a flood of memories from my childhood, simpler times when my only fear was Zeena pinching me with her newly-formed midarms. I know, somehow, that my journeying will take me away from her more and more often, and for longer periods of time. I think I have traveled too far, too soon, for although the thought of journeying again excites me, it also fills me with a strange dread. I am becoming something I never expected…clearly something no one expected.
”We know nothing yet for certain,” Zerkai is saying, looking firmly around at his council, “Save that Zybai disappeared and reappeared a quarter arn later. Such a thing is not unheard of. I will talk to my spawnling, now that he is awake, and see where he has been. And if he is the Kla'abai of which the legends speak,” Zerkai’s face softens into a slightly smug smile, “that will not be a thing to fear, but rather an occasion for celebration! Now go, and let me speak with my youngling.”
The council moves away, grumbling. Zerkai stands still as a statue. I know he will not move or speak again until they are all well out of ear-shot. As he waits he gazes at me, smiling, with hope and pride filling his eyes.
Chapter 2
"Son, you've started journeying. Traveling in search of music and adventure."
"Father, the music told me things. I saw columns, a planet, and the plains from the dark star."
"Yes, I suspected as much. Those are the ones first created, long gone to another existence. They've left behind their music. Your task, then, is to follow each song and bring us back these adventures."
"Father, but why?"
"Son, you are the ONE legend sings about. We have languished here at this time and this place long enough. We must become more than we are, fulfill what we must become. Only through you will our path be chosen. Rest. Eat. Then travel again. I will go and prepare the Council for the feasting and the legend songs."
The child, no longer a child, feels the pleasant past slipping away. One tear slips down his face. And the next moment his heart sings. He is going on adventures!
The morning’s suns, Mu’a and Ne’a, find Zybai sleeping soundly after bouts of terror throughout the night. Night sweat still upon his forehead, Zybai turns over, a whisper escaping his lips as he turns, “ Starchild.”
Visions are mingled within his mind, visions of the future. Zybai unconsciously rubs his left upper thigh where his sword would lay in his future adventure. He rolls over upon his back and then is rudely awakened from his slumber. It is Ladian of the Council.
“Master Zybai, Master Zybai,” Ladian cries, “you must awaken.” Zybai stares at the sky to get his bearings.
“Mu’a is straight overhead and her sister Ne’a is on the western horizon so it must be close to mid-day,” thought Zybai.
“The Council members are distressed because you were expected to attend first light ceremonies,” Ladian recounts in an almost mechanical way. It is expected of you each morn for the next 5 day breaks.
“Hmm . . .this is the first day of the 7th Min and the weather is so warm and inviting,” Zybai thinks to himself, “and I must get out of this in some way if possible. I know, I will feign illness, for illness strikes many who slumber too long here in the groves.”
“Ladian,” whispers Zybai, “I am not feeling well this day and I am afraid I will not be able to make an appearance. Please make my apologies to Krilat and the rest of the Council, and I promise that I will make my scheduled appearance on the morrow.”
Ladian bows as he makes his quick exit, and Zybai breathes a sigh of relief and he is rather proud of himself. “I have made my first excuse”, he said aloud to sky. “Now to start making plans, for now I am seen as The One, and I must divide my time between my studies the people, and still find time to see,” moaned Zybai.
Zybai had yet to make 17 ans but his mind was expanding ever so fast. Zybai rose and walked through the grove towards the sea. In a matter of seconds Zybai was by the shore and in the sea’s silver shimmer Zybai peered at his reflection for a long moment. “Will my physical form ever match my mind,” he thought, as his thoughts once again rushed outward searching for the unknown.
Remembering my "excuse" to Ladian, I move deeper into the bushes, that I may not be seen by any elder or, worse, one of my nosy and now jealous peers. I find myself in an uncomfortable position in society, for the other young males are less than welcoming when I return to the grove to sleep. I think many of them are a bit afraid of me, and the less-developed have taken to taunting me about my new-found position as Kla'abai. I suppose it makes them feel better about themselves to tease me--they will never achieve anything close to my abilities, no matter how many arns they live.
On the other hand the elders laud me, although many of them also seem afraid, or at least intimidated. They hide their reservations in their interminable ceremonies. I have no desire whatsoever to have anything to do with those. I never liked the ceremonies my people are so appallingly fond of, but they have now become intolerable. I want no more to be toasted and cheered than I want to be teased.
I find myself torn: part of me longs to go adventuring, if only to escape they demands of my people, while another part longs to go to the Observatory and Library for study. There is so very much I have yet to learn, and although the music of the dark stars calls me, I know that I must learn much before I return to them.
"I wonder if being the most-honored Kla'abai might not allow me to make my own decisions on how to spend my time." I muse on this thought as Mu’a slides far too swiftly toward the eastern horizon. The more I think about it, the more I am certain that I can make demands of my own. The last Kla'abai appeared longer ago than even the great-grandmother of the oldest living Anaraian can remember. Things, customs, were different then: this I know from my history classes.
Also, the legend always refers to the Kla'abai as being someone apart from society, alone among the millions. "Then apart and alone I should live and be," I decide, "at least as much as I need to be. I will still need teachers, I will need to ask questions of the elders and the scientists ere I am ready to follow my true path." The smile I feel growing inside me is tinged with mischievous delight. I can defy the customs and the council's demands. Oh, I will give a concession to them, making a brief appearance at the next few day's ceremonies, but I am the Kla'abai, and will insist that beyond that my time must be spent working toward my destiny. I will tell the council tonight that my time is all too precious to waste sitting around in ceremonies that do nothing to move me on my path.
I laugh out loud, thinking of the horror that will fill the council's faces at this declaration. "I am the Kla'abai, and this is how it will be!" I stride confidently out of my hiding place, ready to fully take on the mantle that has been gifted me. "And while I am at it," I think with roguish glee, "I will declare that the Kla'abai requires a grove of his own!" I laugh as I make my way, head held high, to the ceremony grounds.
Chapter 3
Zybai fought back the tears of frustration. He stared back at his father and mother. Still, given what had happened at the ceremony grounds, he could hardly have expected anything less. How awful to be rebuffed by so many!
His father and mother stood close and comforted their son. He had learned a valuable lesson today. Everyone was interconnected. No one was so important to be above that. Everyone learns that lesson eventually, even Zybai.
The son started pacing between the great sighing trees and suddenly stopped. The trees were singing! He remembered the first journey, the first path. "I saw columns, a planet, and the plains from the dark star." Zybai had also heard the music, but now, for some odd reason, comprehension dawned.
He turned to his parents and explained. Of course, they smiled, understanding. How they know before he does is always amazing, but he must journey again. Zybai must use this new understanding before he loses the tones.
The second dark star presses in on him, but he listens and feels the tones. He remembers the vibrations of the columns. He feels the race memory of the barren planet. Zybai hears the glacial thoughts of that first dark star. And there is the path among all the infinite ones before him. He darts to the vortex and glories in his physical form being compressed to dark matter.
Zybai appears in a system on the rim of a great spiral galaxy. An old yellow sun, swollen with great age spins a tune. He quickly looks beyond the planets to the last planetoid, full of ice and darkness, but singing to him the loudest. Zybai moves towards the sacred object. He stops for an eternity and listens.
A great race of winged creatures lived, gloried, and disappeared. They followed a dark path through fourteen dark stars. They want the first one to understand to follow them. Zybai gasps with comprehension, but he does not dare take that journey before returning to his parents and the council that had so recently chided him. Reluctantly, he stores the complex and long music and turns around. Zybai feels at peace. There is always home; there is always the tune played by his sun.
© 2004 L. E. Shaffer, Kim Young, Linda Hall Twins of the Dark Star
Book One Tears from Ao and three poetry collections, Pages of Life, Visions of Life, and Moments of Life are available electronically at http://RunesofAo.com/aobp/. The Runes of Ao project, Book Two The Mountains of Ao novel currently in final edit, Book Three Twins of the Dark Star novel in early stages, and The Book of Kalian Mysticism poetry collection are works in progress. Also a collaboration with K. Young on a novella called Dragon Embers is now published on the fan site known as Runes of Ao.com. The Dull Stuff
All opinions expressed do not necessarily reflect those of this magazine, company, or its advertisers. Inputs, email, suggestions, and letters to this journal are subject to approval by Ebony and Abby. Submittals may be edited for content and length and become the creative property for the one-time nonexclusive publication of: Shaffer Novels/Poetry Company
Merchant Occupational License #48210-0076151
PO Box 501833
Marathon FL 33050-1833
(305) 743-9648 voice/fax Internet URLs: www.RunesofAo.com
www.RunesofAo.com/roa/
www.RunesofAo.com/aobp/
www.RunesofAo.com/ebony/
www.RunesofAo.com/abby/ Publication date: June 28, 2004
Author: L. E. Shaffer
Company: Shaffer Novels/Poetry Company &
Shaffer Internet Publishing Company
© 1995 - 2008, 2009 L. E. SHAFFER
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED WORLDWIDE
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
FIRST PRINTING; ELECTRONIC & PRINT MEDIA If you want an email reminder of
when the next journal is posted,
please click on the email link at
the bottom of this web page
and fill out the form, putting "Journal
Email Reminder" in the subject line. [Previous Journal] [Journal Index] [Next Journal] |
