Jonathan Ottke
“Two Stars have a conversation”
Inspiration piece

Orion’s Boote
By Gary Hewitt
Response

“I am the brightest.”

Alnilam raised a nebulous eye at the unwarranted disturbance. Who the hell invited this loudmouth to her party? She sipped from a fluted glass filled with neutron olives and shimmering mercury. She supposed her guest had a certain appeal but preferred partners strong but silent.

He leapt up on stage, and to her horror sang a selection of ancient songs from a million light years away. Did he not have his own material? He paused for atomic breath after the sixth song and Alnilam offered a tiny golf clap.

“Very good Arcturus, but your delivery needs to tone down an octave or two. I fancy they could hear you in Andromeda.”

“I should hope so too,” he roared. He readied himself for a new rendition. Alnilam took hold of his arm and spiralled him to a cosmic couch.

“Please, you have a strong voice, but I’ve had a long day intercepting a few unwanted comets. I’d rather settle down for light conversation if you don’t mind.”

Arcturus scratched his mighty beard. He loved action, excitement and tried to recall the last time anyone asked him for a polite chat. Alnilam glided to her own oasis and patted the cushion in invitation. Arcturus hurled his mass into the chair expecting a hint of fusion. Alnilam switched her gaze to the barman and ordered two specials.

“So, Arcturus, what brings you over to our constellation? You’re a long way from Bootes.”

“Lady, I need a change of scenery. Don’t get me wrong I love it in dear old Bootes and the crowd are great company but I need something different. I do pretty much anything I like out there and they love me for it, it’s time though for me to share the love if you catch my drift.”

Rigel stared at the odd couple. Alnilam waved him away when he asked if all was well.

“Forgive my brother, he’s a bit overbearing but his core is in the right place. Anyway, I do understand your wanderlust but should you not be looking after your family?”

“Oh, don’t worry about them,” he snorted, “They’ve got everything they need. When I left they were playing planetball, was a scream, I can tell you.”

Alnilam looked over the dull shoulder of the bright star admiring the delicate recital of poetry of Bellatrix. She doubted if Arcturus ever read a sonnet, let alone write one.

“Is that all you do all day, play games?”

“Oh goodness, no,” he said. “I love the ladies too, I’ve never had a complaint yet either, I understand the divine feminine after all.”

He rested his hand on Alnilam’s knee. His touch red hot and matching the flushing cheeks of his unexpected company.

“I suppose you do have a certain charm, yet we’re a bit more refined here in Orion you know,” she said returning his hand to his lap.

“Ah, you’re a babe into the arts and all that. It’s not really my thing but you’d love to listen to Nekkar. You’ll have to come over and listen to her Sestinas.”

Alnilam never paid much attention to the doggerel of Nekkar. She remembered a pamphlet of this so called poetry and it did make a most useful doorstop to uninvited quasars. She thought of making her departure and to her astonishment found herself warming to the braggadocio of this brash braggart.

“Arcturus, no-one has ever called me babe before I have to say. I’m not sure whether I ought to incinerate you or kiss you.”

She caught her thoughts after her words. Arcturus leaned in close, so close she almost tasted his primordial breath. To her horror and pleasure, their lips collided and she tasted the radiance of this bright star. He wrapped his strong arms around her and she melted into a helium flash of rapture. Again and again their lips and passion merged, both lost in total delirium.

She blinked to see her brothers and sisters staring agog. She looked to the spiral staircase and led her partner to her quarters, such a wonderful change from playing checkers with Saiph, she thought.

———————————————————-

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Lisa Kilhefner
Inspiration piece

Friend
By Gary Hewitt
Response

Shoes are never the best of pillows. Graham straightens and rubs the back of his neck. His head throbs from dehydration. He manages to stand and empties the contents of his stomach into the gutter.

He’s grateful it’s summer. He wipes grit from his eyes and lurches through shattered streets. An ancient diner still stands. He hopes he can find water and perhaps food. He curses again the alcohol he discovered last night. He should have saved it for bargaining.

He pushes into the diner and several bottles of sealed water lay nearby. He shouts a greeting yet no-one responds. He rips the lid off of the nearest drink and downs it in two gulps.

He leaps over the counter and finds a few bars of chocolate and tins. Graham seizes a can of corned beef and prises open the lid. The taste is far better than the junk he’s been feasting on the last few days. Even after all these years the contents are good.

He searches the interior. He finds a butcher’s knife, a stained apron and a baseball cap welcoming you to Joey’s Place. He takes the knife and dons the cap. There’s nothing else of note. His stomach rumbles yet it keeps his meal down. He needs his strength.

Outside, the sun chars the dusty streets. He is grateful for Joey’s hat. Graham trudges back to his steel shopping trolley and tosses the knife inside along with a collection of cans and bottles. He decides to head to the river. He is caked with grime and mud.

He fingers his hair with a fork. He should be blonde yet these days he finds a constant scum of brown. He pats down his tracksuit bottoms and knows he’ll need some new threads. Graham spots a place called Ottaker’s Casuals and makes his way towards the derelict shop. Old signs telling him it’ll cost fifty bucks for a pair of denims are ignored. He shoves his shoulder against the door and despite resistance it gives way.

He puts on a pair of dusty jeans. He rips off his shirt and claims a yellow polo. He quails from the stench of his own sweat. He stops when a voice asks him what he is doing.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t see you. My name’s Graham.”

“I don’t care what your goddamn name is. What are you doing in Mum’s shop?”

A girl of no more than fourteen descends a flight of stairs. She aims a pistol at Graham’s head.

“I need some new clothes. Listen, I’m no threat to you so please put the gun away.”

“Yeah, so you can molest me, enslave me or maybe you’ll even fucking eat me. You think I haven’t heard about what they do out West.”

Her eyes are feral. Her black hair flaps across her shoulders and Graham winces when he hears the click of her gun.

“Look, I’m only looking to survive. I’m on my own and don’t belong to any outfit. What about you? Are you alone?”

Her eyes fill and her throat trembles. He feels her strength waning at bad memories.

“Mum and Dad were murdered. I hid in the back and saw it all. I know what men and women can do Mr and I don’t trust you.”

Graham remembers the chocolate he’s just stowed in his new trouser pocket. He offers the girl a Hershey Bar.

“If you’re all alone, why don’t you team up with me? I promise I’ll do my best to look after you and maybe we can look out for each other. I could sure as hell do with a pair of extra eyes and some company. “

The girl looks doubtful yet the brown gold is too tempting. She snatches the wrapper. Graham nods his approval.

“I’ll think about it. My name is Gina.”

Her small fingers grab hold of Graham’s hand. He draws her by his side.

“I’ll come with you.”

They step outside. Gina shields her eyes and Graham gives her his hat. He can tell she hasn’t seen the sun for a very long time.

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Inspiration

Golden Paradise by Gary Hewitt

Response

I’ve never come across a ghost ship before, let alone two. We stand and listen. There is no sound except our heightened breaths. I walk across to the other boat. Both are in perfect order.
‘Captain, what do you think happened?’
I shake my head.
‘I have no idea. There must be a clue somewhere. The table is set out with four meals and drinks poured yet no-one has had as much as a nibble.’
‘Another Marie Celeste?’
I frown.
‘Cisco, please keep it real.’
I head into to cabin. I scan the room and curse our myopia.
‘There has to be something.’
I smack the space bar on a laptop and an image of a naked mermaid swims onto a desktop. I click recent documents and spot a word.doc called blog. I look at the properties. The last modification was two days ago.
‘What did I tell you?’
The screen whizzes for a second before the hourglass sails away. I begin to read.

Tuesday: Sun, Sun and Peace

As I sit here typing I can honestly say I have never known such happiness. The sun never seems to set and I can sit on the deck with Elspeth with no fear of being disturbed. Oh, except for a couple of seagulls. We’ve called them Billy and Jessica. Don’t ask me why but the names seem to fit.
The beauty of being out here is that it gives us time to reflect. God, it’s good not to have to worry about that damn office and this must be good for my blood pressure. No-one coming up to me and saying ‘Mr Reynolds can we drop another three percent off the price’ and getting annoyed when I refuse. No going home with a beetroot face in a perpetual state of stress and grief. No, this is heaven.
She’s just asked me what I’d like to eat. I fancy a good old fashioned steak and Dauphinoise potatoes with a glass of red. I know this is all a bit banal but trust me it’s the little things in life that make life sweet. The sun is setting. It’s still beautifully warm though, in fact life is perfect.

Wednesday: Dear Friends

We’re not alone. I can’t believe in the middle of this ocean that we’ve bumped into someone else. Before you think I’m complaining I must add I most certainly am not. The couple we’ve met are very charming. They’re also rather generous and invited us to their boat for dining and wining. It transpires the chap who owns the boat is a property developer in Spain who is looking to enjoy a good three or four months on the ocean. His wife is a divine creature who isn’t afraid to flaunt. Still, she can’t compare to Elspeth (I know you read these entries my dear!)
We’ve all agreed to go ashore tomorrow to explore the island. As much as it’s bliss to laze on this boat we’re curious to see the interior. You never know, we might even find a few indigenous natives to regale us with their local knowledge.
Jean Claude (sorry, he’s the other chap I mentioned) says he’s heard tales of an ancient treasure. He even showed me a rather crude map with an x marked beneath a grove of palm trees. I fancy he is playing a rather outlandish yarn upon me but I’ll play along with him. I dare say we will find a chest of gold doubloons. Then again, perhaps not…
Well, their lights have been extinguished we had best follow suit. I have a feeling that tomorrow will be a most eventful and long day.

Thursday: The Golden Frog

What a day. Where I start? I imagine the morning is a good a place as any. We clambered onto land at first light and after a walk of an hour or so we encountered a bizarre Polynesian by the name of Ahurewa. Fortunately she spoke perfectly good English (even if it did have a most annoying Antipodean slant) who warned us about finding the cursed treasure of some unpronounceable deity.
It’s amusing how these simplistic people can be. Fortunately, we are more rational and intellectual than our friendly native. Apart from the puerile nonsense about a curse she proved to be a most amenable host. We even bought some lucky charms from the good lady and bade her good day before venturing further.
Can you imagine my astonishment when we found the spot Jean Claude’s map had mentioned? Whilst there was no x on the ground we soon found an incongruous pile of rocks and we set to work. We dug for half an hour and discovered a casket made of gold. I had the honour of prizing the treasure open and was astonished to find a frog crafted of the same material. It is rather an ugly looking thing but must be worth an absolute fortune. We’ve agreed to split the income from the sale of this delightful trinket.
Poor old Ahurewa went positively barmy when we showed her and the dear creature went running back to her shack and told us to return the idol at once. Silly woman. We shall leave her to her dementia whilst we shall enjoy a rather nice profit.
I’m looking at the toad right now and it really is rather hideous to look at. I fancy the auction houses of London will find good looks not an issue though.

Friday: A Worrying Day

Truly this is a most dreadful Friday. We had a most restless night and we awoke at about 3am due to a most odd sound coming from the cabin. When we entered we found the idol on the floor and the figurine has developed a rather strange red tinge around its mouth. Talking of the mouth it gapes open where I swear yesterday it was sealed quite shut.
I was going to ask Jean Claude about this but when we went over to their boat to share our breakfast there was no sign of them. I have no idea what happened to them and when we spoke to Ahurewa all she prattled on about was this absurd curse. She told us that they’ve been spirited away by an evil spirit and if we do not return the idol we will follow. Poppycock!
However, I must admit their disappearance is rather worrying. The thing is their boat is in perfect order. I can only imagine they rowed to one of the outlying islands for the day. I do find it odd they never thought to tell us though. I dare say we’ll find out soon enough if only to silence that silly woman and put her mind at ease.

Saturday : Help Needed Now

I am beside myself. Elspeth is missing. I had just finished my coconut and cream and encountered an unfortunate episode with my rather gentle stomach. When I came out of the toilet I could not find any sign of my wife.
I have been to the island and called her name and yet I have heard nothing. My wife would never wander off in this fashion. All I heard was the ridiculous nonsense about the curse. Jean Claude and his wife never returned either. Oh and the damnable toad has changed again. Its colour is now bright crimson and its belly is incredibly bloated. I have contacted the authorities and a boat has been sent and will be with me in a couple of days or so. I fear my wife and our new friends must have been abducted.
***
‘What do you make of it Captain?’
‘I’d say the woman ashore knows plenty. Curses my foot, four wealthy foreigners would be worth a decent ransom to someone. It might even be piracy for all we know.’
My colleague nods and his nose wrinkles.
‘Look at that ugly old bastard.’
He points to a golden frog. Its head is wide open and several flies flit around its gaping mouth. I wish I’d never seen it.
‘Evidence, Cisco. Guess we’ll have to take it to the mainland.’
He pales and shies away.
‘Yes Cisco, it does make us the new owners doesn’t it? Remember, we’re here to keep law and order, even out here.’
He doesn’t take comfort from my words. I’ll be honest, I’m not looking forward to the trip back to the mainland.

Note: All of the art, writing, and music on this site belongs to the person who created it. Copying
or republishing anything you see here without express and written permission from the author or
artist is strictly prohibited

Cat Ross

Inspiration piece

Gary Hewitt

Response piece