been working on rewriting book#3 and adding new material. This a sample
hot off the pen. Paul25 is an immortal 9 yr old from the planet
Sophista (he looks human). Jenny is a Federation police officer who
doesn't believe he is immortal. He is proving it by linking to her mind
and showing her his experience on Earth as a cabin boy on a sailing ship
in the late 1700's. The stars on the paragraphs denote the mental
experience vs. present reality.
* The scene changes and the
captain is sitting up against a mooring post of the dock in the deserted
darkness, gasping for breath. A little finely made wooden box is next
to him. Paul25 is sitting on the ground, frantically, tearfully wiping
the captain’s forehead with a damp handkerchief.
* A rough looking man walks up to the captain. “Let me see whatcha got in that there box.”
* “Be off ye scoundrel,” yells the captain, gasping and coughing afterward.
* The man pulls out a knife; Paul25 points his finger at the man—a
lightning bolt with the intensity of the core of Zeus burns its way
through the air, plummeting into the assailant’s heart. His body erupts
with thousands of tiny sparks, sizzling and crackling like the hairs of
death; he wails in a cracking voice as the terrified child within dies
in a searing fit. He leaps into the air, slamming the ground, and begins
to flop around like a freshly caught fish until the stillness of the
North Atlantic cold overtakes him.
* “I’m dun fur lad,” groans
the captain, in agony. “Now I know why ya been such a good cabin boy.
Ye's a sea fairy. I always hoped I’d see one. When I’m dun, ye take my
box. Git some good man to show ya how to use it. You can sail the seas.
I’d know you’d be a good captain, you would.”
* Paul25 says, “You can’t die here now, alone.”
* The captain takes Paul25’s hand with his shaking hand. “I’m not
alone. Ye’s always been me faithful sea fairy. Ye’s the best cabin boy
I’d ever have. If I’d a married some fine wench, I’d wish I’d have a son
* Before the captain can get another sentence out he collapses, coughs one last burst of blood, and is dead.
The link ends and some tears are coming down Paul25’s eyes. Jenny is
just standing there, staring at Paul25. He looks at her with the tears
of a begging child—a child begging not be soiled by the public
revelation of his grim deed of reaping.
“He was a really nice
man,” sniffles Paul25. “I didn’t want him to die. It was so terrible. He
had no family, no one. I had to stay with him. He would have been so
(C) Copyright 2011 by Rusty Biesele, All Rights Reserved.
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Everyone has hidden talents. At some point in your childhood, you selected a fork in the road and decided which of your good talents you would pursue. My first fork led me through government funded school research, corporate funded research, finally to various bleeding edge projects in Silicon Valley. Now, I am looping backwards in time so that I can try the other fork. I am on a campaign to help kids keep those brain cells us adults no longer have. Use them or lose them.