Important news!

Please accept my apologies, but I can no longer maintain this site. I have had a whole lot of fun building it over time, and watching so many come and go, who also enjoyed watching my work develop. I thank you many times over for your support.

I will be devoting my energies entirely to my author site, which is you visit www.johnpirillo.com you will find is actually much more full with stories, movies, videos, fractal flames than this site is. I update my author site every day and during the summer multiple times during the day.


I will leave this blog active so  you can come back to look at what is here.

Thanks for your patronage. I hope you will support me on my author site as much as you did here.

And wishing you the best.

John Pirillo

www.johnpirillo.com

"Of Man and Gods, Centaurs and Eagles" A Merlin Story By John Pirillo. Time to have a little fun!

Okay, time for a little fun. I get tired of blowing up the world, people dying, death and destruction and clever people averting universal disasters after awhile and have to fall back on my very most favorite fantasy characters, the top of the list being Merlin.

So while not so long, it is a meant to be amusing and light hearted tale of Merlin as a young boy....proceed with caution, as you are in grave danger of having fun! :) John


Of Man and Gods, Centaurs and Eagles
A Merlin Story
By John Pirillo

My name is Merlin Ambrosius Indigo. And this is my story:


The first time he decided to venture out on his own in the lands was the first time he had his nose rubbed in dragon poo. Literally!

"Great gods of fire, Lillian!" He had hollered at his best friend, Lillian. She was a centaur with a gorgeous mane of silken purple hair and a tail to match. Her body was a piece of art, carved by the gods of the mountain and the gods of wood. She was as fluid as water and as strong and unyielding as stone. In other words she was stubborn.

She twitched her button nose and stuck her tongue out at him.

His anger fizzled into a spout of dry stupidity. "Okay!" He said, wiping at the poo with one of the great leaves of the tree next to him. The dragon had to have perched in the tree the night before or else he wouldn't have had the enormous dropping fall onto his hair and face like it did. Sometimes a denizen of the lands got whacked from the sky as dragons flew over. They were quite unconscious of where they dropped, just like the birds, but always apologized whenever they found out. So they weren't soulless creatures, just...well, he had to think with a grin...spontaneous.

"Indigo." The name she preferred to call him because his face turned that color whenever he was mad or upset. "You really must be more alert."

He frowned at her. At his early age he already had thickset, heavy eyebrows that looked like thunderclouds fallen from the heavens. "Next time, you wait under the tree."

"I shall." She agreed, but he could tell she wouldn't. It wasn't her nature to take chances like him. Perhaps that was what compelled him to explore deeper into the woods that morning. Mother Tree had given him her blessings and Father Tree as well, once he could be awoken from his usual day long slumber. His father was a lazy head, he thought fondly.

"Indigo!" Lillian shouted.

He startled from his thoughts and saw that she was galloping off. "Can't catch me!"

He frowned deeply. "Of course I can't, you four legged excuse of an imp!"

She giggled girlishly and hoofed it even faster.

He stood there with his hands on his hips, wondering what to do next, and then a bright idea flourished for a moment in his mind. He rubbed his hands together and then cupped them to his mouth.

Lillian didn't look back when she heard the call of an eagle. They were so common in the lands that hardly anyone noticed them calling to each other as they wheeled in the skies or dove for food. Eagles were mighty creatures and not to be feared. They were the friends of Fairie.

She also didn't look back when she heard powerful wings approaching. She had no fear of anything flying, because anything that flew in these lands was friendly. But when Merlin swooped past on the back of a giant eagle and then put his thumb to his nose and blew a rude sound, she stopped and flew up her back hooves and kicked at the sky.

"Ambrosius! You rascal!" She hollered. She used his middle name when she was angry or irritated with him. At that particular moment her great big brown eyes were screwed tight in anger and irritation.

Merlin sensed it, leaned over the beak of the eagle and stroked between its eyes gently. "Shall we help Lillian calm down, old friend?"

The eagle, whose name was Feathers Sky God, swept around in a tight circle then approached Lillian head on. Lillian continued to make rude gestures until she realized Feathers Sky God wasn't going to turn.

She quickly turned about and began racing for the safety of the woods. "I'm going to pluck your beard when I get you back home." She cursed at Merlin.

He heard. He had very, very good ears. Almost supernatural, because he could hear words before they were spoken by lips. In his head. "Too young to have a beard." He shouted at her, and then as he swept just a bare inch above her purple hair, he coaxed Feathers Sky God to complete the mission.

Lillian screamed in horror as a precise bomb of about ten inches in diameter splashed in waves of goo across her glistening back. "I am so going to pluck your beard for sure, you beast!"

Merlin laughed all the way home. He leaped from Feathers Sky God's back, rushed to his sleeping spot, and grabbed the largest tumble of berry branches he had stashed there and ran back and held it up for Feathers Sky God, who began plucking the berries he loved from the branches as delicately as if he were using fingers.

Merlin loved to watch his large feathered friend eat. He rolled his eyes with pleasure at even the smallest of tidbits he was fed by Merlin. "If only all creatures were as noble and grateful as you, Feathers Sky God." He praised the creature.

Fathers Sky God rewarded him with a rub of his beak across Merlin's face, and then he swept around and leaped back into the sky, calling out happily as his wings caught a draft which pulled him higher yet.

Mother Tree tapped him on the shoulder. He looked up into her warm, amber eyes and she gave him a smile. "You've been naughty again, haven't you, Merlin?"

His mother usually addressed him by his first name. Well, she was his mother after all!

"Noooo." He hedged.

She leaned closer, her eyes whirling hypnotically in their sockets.

"MERLIN I'M GOING TO MURDER YOU!"

"Yes." He finally admitted as Lillian drew in beside Mother Tree. She put her well muscled arms and hands to her sides and glared at Merlin. Then she tossed her mane revealing the gooey mess on her back.

"Oh my!" Mother Tree exclaimed. "Did Merlin do that?"

"No." He answered.

"Yes." She added.

She looked at both of them. "Well, which is it?"

Merlin sighed. He couldn't lie well. It wasn't in his nature...yet! But he saw sometimes in quiet moments his future and it included parts of himself he didn't recognize now, and some of those parts frightened him and some made him sad and some like this part just made him sadder. Because he saw the coming loss of a better part of himself that could never be replaced...his innocence.

"She made fun of me!"

Mother Tree looked at Lillian.

"He got back at me by making Feathers Sky God poo on me!" She spit out angrily, tossing her girlish mane in emphasis.

Even though she was mad at him he couldn't help but admire the beauty of her hair. She noticed and crossed her arms, raised her nose and went. "Humph!"

Mother Tree touched Merlin on his right shoulder. "What has Father Tree taught you, my son?"

He paused a long time. He wanted to say it, but the moment he did he would be admitting he was wrong and he would also be facing the loss of innocence he had dreaded seeing come to past. Finally, he took a deep breath and looked across at Lillian. "I'm so sorry, Lillian. I shouldn't have done that."

Lillian gave him a beautiful smile. "I forgive you."

Mother Tree laughed. "Now see how easy that was?"

Merlin nodded.

Mother Tree walked slowly away.

Merlin looked into Lillian's eyes, which were now looking kind of...triumphant. Mother Tree hadn't seen that side of her. Merlin had...more than once by now.

"No. What I should have done was had him empty out on your head!" Merlin said, and then as Lillian roared angrily behind him, kicking at the sky with her angry hooves, he clapped his hands together and vanished in a clap of thunder and lightning.

Merlin appeared in another clap of thunder and lightning beside a calm lake in a distant land, where men stood tall, but fought fiercely amongst themselves for possession of what all living creatures shared, but which they falsely claimed as their own. A land he was attracted to, though at that time he couldn't explain why. His visions of the future told him this land was important to him in the future and would become more so when he met someone very special.

He never got a clear glimpse of who that was, but he knew when the day came he would recognize the child. It was his ability to see to the truth of things. He sighed. Especially in himself.

So he sat beside the lake and pondered the mischief he had wrought and that more impish side of himself and wondered where it came from. He knew his real father and mother must be human like he, but Mother and Father Tree would always be his real parents. He also knew that. Saw that. He sighed again, and leaned his chin on his cupped hands, seated on his crossed leg on the green sward next to the lake.

The lake bubbled slightly, which caught his attention. Then a wondrous light began to rise and bubble in the water, colors of the rainbow. As he watched a great sword of uncanny beauty and incredible godlike beauty rose from the waters, clutched in the hand of a water nymph. He rose to his feet and gestured at the rising sword and hand.

"It is not time yet!" He ordered, not knowing why he said those words, only that they were true.

The sword slid back into the waters and the bright rainbow colors vanished. In moments the waters became still once more. He could see a fish launching across the bottom near his feet and a distant eagle soaring across the skies.

He turned his back to the lake and his future and began walking again towards the land he was born in. Or was he?

He clapped his hands and vanished in a flash of thunder and lightning.

King Kong...Son of Kong...a featurette by Peter Jackson of the making of Son of Kong coming out in the near tuture

Fantastic Four...Worlds Greatest Heroes Animation

New Fractal Flame Gallery featuring crisp, tasty swirls of rainbows and spiralling delights!

New Fractal Flame Slide Show. The genie once more arrives with wishes to create a really cool show of colors and delight.

Casper the Friendly Ghost cartoon. Animated video.

Red Painted Souls "Escape to Adventure Story" By John Pirillo. Something dark was left behind. They found it!

 
Red Painted Souls
"Escape to Adventure Story"
By John Pirillo

"Up here!" Danish called to Rusty.

She stood at the base of a formation of red stones that were a combination of sandstone and hard granite that spiraled up into the cap where Danish stood. It was one such formation of many in the valley of the Red Painted Souls as it was called by the natives of Peru. Danish had discovered the rather oddly protected valley quite by mistake when he was enroute to another part of South America in a privately leased jet to help with a drought ridden area United Nations Project he and the Director had gotten involved with.

Rusty shrugged her rugged backpack to her other shoulder. It had been a long day. Too long. Like most of these kinds of things they explored and did, regular hours didn't fit the picture. Not even irregular. The hours were just...monstrous.

She wiped a sweep of her red hair from her sparkling green eyes and sighed. She was a tall woman, but next to Danish she seemed short. He was close to six foot two, maybe four. She'd never asked and he'd never ventured.

As hot mountain sun burned down on her, and sweat coursed through her hair across her forehead and into her eyes, she thought back to how she had come to be in this God forsaken hellhole of a stone dungeon.

Ever since they had solved their last great mystery. Excalibur. They had both decided to take a leave of absence from the museum and its attendant mysteries and instead give their time to charity. It had worked wonderfully at first. They had run from one hot spot to another over the past year...Syria to Lebanon, Egypt to Israel, Pakistan to India and a dozen provinces within those countries, but eventually it became plain to both of them that they were getting bored.

It wasn't that they didn't love helping people, but everyone else was so much better at it, and more dedicated. They had spent their lives in anticipation of such help and building it into a career of sweat and blood that knew nothing else but alleviating the torment of their fellow human beings. Even so, no one knew how close the earth had come to destruction several times and had it averted by Rusty and Danish and their wonderful friends, the Director his son an her best friend.

But everyone had drifted their own ways after the Excalibur incident and it had been all right with them to do so. Each had their own goals to fulfill.

But now Danish and Rusty were back out in the wilds again, seeking the solutions and answers to mysteries that others had failed to either find, or to comprehend.

Rusty had lost some of the powers she had picked up in their first incident with the alien ship, but she still had a tremendous amount of surprises in store for herself with the ones she had not lost. While she was no longer transforming, her body transformation had stopped. Her ability to divine information not readily available without a microscope and a computer had not been lost. She found herself wincing as she leaned against the pillar Danish stood atop of. She could feel the malevolence that had become embedded in that stone. And not just there.

"Danish, come down from there before you hurt yourself!"  She hollered at him.

He shook his head. "Come up!" He insisted.

Rusty dug her heels in and shook her red hair. One thing she was not going to do was climb that crazy rock just to take in a view. "No way!" She hollered, shaking her head vigorously.

Danish gave her one of his famous puppy dog looks, his big brown eyes exuding those love me vibes that had sucked her into him in the first place. "Please." He mouthed.

She blew out a sigh, and then set down her backpack against the base of the pillar. She swore she was going to make him pay that evening for doing this, but...

She made her way up as carefully as she could; using the special tennies she'd bought in the airport for grappling. Lots of climbers used the Peruvian mountains to test their skills. Amateur and professional. She was somewhere in the middle of that lot. Neither an amateur nor a professional. But she knew enough to be dangerous to herself and others, which is why she usually avoided climbing at all.

She slipped slightly as she crested the top, almost losing her grip. Danish caught her and pulled her up effortlessly to the top and against him. She bathed in the radiance of his hot body a moment, and then gave up. She put her arms around him, nuzzling him with her nose.

"I'm sorry, I'm just burnt out." She confessed.

"I promise you we'll head back to camp when we're through here, and then return to New York."

She gave him an excited look. He put a finger on her lips before she could squeal. She always did that when she was excited. That and glow in the dark. Something that hadn't left her when the aliens had taken off in their gigantic crystal ship to return home to their planet.

She bit him.

"Ouch!" He jerked his finger away and nursed it in his mouth, giving her a hurt look.

She laughed, and then put her hands on her hips. "So now what? You got me up here. Is it just to neck or do you have something disgusting or at least interesting to show me?"

He broke into laughter. She was good for him that way when he got too serious. He turned and pointed through the maze of twisted rock columns that formed the Red Painted Souls. She gasped. There it was. What they had been searching for these past five weeks.

"The Director is going to have a heart attack when he learns about this."

Danish nodded.

Before her and his view as a very, very unique twisted column of rock. It interwove with four others, forming a platform. At the top of the platform was a massive growth of plants, but just below the growth and just above the platform was a door.

"Pacaitambo." He intoned in his best Indian voice.

"Abode of Procreation." She added, translating his word.

He looked into her face. "You realize what this means, don't you?"

"Yeah. More beans and water." She made a face.

He smiled and put an arm around her. "This is living proof of the Unu Pachaciti, the Great Flood before times."

"The Yunca Tribe believed that the Pachacamac..."

"The equivalent of our Jehovah."

"He animates this world."

"Why is the Big Guy always a male, for God's sake?" She complained. "You'd think at least some cultures would give the gals a break."

"Amazons."

"Oh, right. Forgot about those hotties."

He laughed. "The Yuncas believed he was the Creator of the World."

"I don't think I like the part about them doing blood sacrifices in his name. Sounds like a screwy god to me. What kind of god would want to kill his kids?"

He gave her a stern expression. "Be careful where you say that, Rusty. There are still Yuncas alive to this day, though not openly so. Their cult is looked down upon by most modern Peruvians."

"Even so." She broke in. "None here. No bother. No worry."

"Even the stones have ears." He teased.

She giggled. But she wouldn't have giggled had she seen the brightly colored Indians who were hiding on the other side of their rock, listening to everything.

"Well, I got no problem with their existence, just their way of life. Sucks. And that stupid Pachacuc thing."

"Crushing spiders to divine the truth, the future." Danish finished for her.

"Yeah, that too. Creeps me out big time."

He leaned closer. "What the records, modern ones at least, don't describe or talk about is that they also sacrificed human beings to achieve their goals. And it was rumored that they could climb stone like spiders and suck the blood from their victims."

"Now you're just plain creeping me out, Professor Danish."

"You believe this flood is the same that Noah experienced, don't you?"

He nodded.  A thoughtful expression on his bronzed features. "Too many early cultures, here among the Indians and in our America have such legends for it to be a coincidence, or just smoke."

"Where there's smoke..."

He finished. "....there's fire."

"Usually." She reminded him.

He smiled into her face. "And this is why I love you so much, you raggamuffin."

She punched him lightly in the stomach, but he acted as if she had struck him hard and playfully gasped in pain. "You big softie."

She pulled him back to her. "Tomorrow, okay?"

"What's tonight?"

She looked into his eyes.

His widened. "Oh." Was all he commented.

========================================================================

They had headed back down the pillar with the intent of retracing their tracks in the morning. The sun was low by the time they reached their simple camp. An outdoor oven of heaped rocks in a hollow circle, which Danish expertly put to use by rubbing some sticks together to catch a fire, kept them warm and heated the can of beans they shared between them.

"Pinto. My favorite." Rusty said, making a face.

Danish handed over another can. She took it and spooned some out. "Hot. Yummy Kidney beans."

"Lots of protein in beans. And good for your skin as well."

"It's not my skin I'm worried about, dreamer boy."

Her stomach let out a loud growling sound.

"Okay. Okay." He surrendered. "We'll check out the cave entrance. If it's valid, we'll leave a transponder to find it again and hike back to normalcy."

"Hallelujah to that, brother." She said with a smile.

"Now, about that little something I promised earlier."

She rose, took his hand and led him towards the tent. She raised the flap to enter and then shrieked. Inside the tent was this hideous giant spider, about three feet in diameter. Its multifaceted eyes were focused on her, and its legs bent to leap.

Danish swept her back; shut the flap hurriedly as something large impacted it, almost knocking him down.

He looked at the fire. Rusty didn't need any encouragement. She dashed over, grabbed her jacket off, lit it and tossed it on top the tent.

The tent burst into flames in seconds. Danish held the flap shut as long as he could bear the heat and flames, coughing from the smoke as the thing inside let out a blood curdling scream that the two of them would remember to their dying days.

The screaming got louder and higher, then suddenly stopped.

Danish jumped away from the flap at the same time as the whole tent collapsed.

Rusty shrieked and pointed. The spider was still alive and on fire now. It leaped at Danish. He rolled out of its way, grasping a hot stone from the makeshift oven and heaving it into the open mouth of the creature. The spider swallowed it and made choking sounds, but it kept crawling towards him.

Rusty grabbed another hot stone and clobbered it on its head. It spit out the other stone and stood there frozen for a moment, its multiple eyes on her. She froze too. This was it. They were both going to die!

Then the giant spider collapsed, the fire finishing the job it had started.

Rusty and Danish stood over the burning spider, their looks of horror frozen on their faces.

"We lost all our gear."

"I don't care." Rusty shot back.

"We're so outta here." Danish said.

He took her hand. She screeched.

"Burnt! Burnt!"

She took his other hand.

He let out a howl of pain. "Burnt! Burnt!"

They looked at each other and burst into laughter, then froze when they heard a screech like the spider had made.

"I think that's our cue."

Danish nodded.

They ran!

As they vanished into the night one of the Indians walked into view. He laid down an unusual pipe and squatted before the burning spider. He began to hum and then sing to it in an Incan voice. The burning spider's shape began to shimmer in the flames and then slowly it resolved into the shape of the other Indian.

========================================================================

Danish and Rusty caught the first plane back to the States. When they had disembarked, a porter came up. "Your luggage is waiting at the checkout."

Danish and Rusty looked at each other, but went inside.

At the checkout was a huge piece of luggage with their names on it.

The Checkout Man said. "Passports please?"

They handed them over, and he checked them out, and then nodded. "You can get a cart over there." He nodded towards a row of rental carts.

Danish and Rusty shook their heads.

"No thanks." They both said at the same time.

They walked away, not looking back. Had they done so, they would have seen the huge piece of luggage move as if something large were inside it.

The Checkout Man eyed the luggage, then shrugged as a couple walked to the exit. "Passports please."

Spy Smasher, Chapter 11: Hero's Death

Blog will now be on weekends only.

Sadly, I will be cutting this blog back to just the weekends.

If you want more cool stuff, most of my time is going to be devoted to my author site, www.johnpirillo.com where I do post fresh stories every day, images and other fun things. www.johnpirillo.com Check it out if you haven't already.

John

Glow! A Cartoon Story by John Pirillo. She's the light of his life and he's the light of hers. But monsters don't like that!

 
The Glow!
A Cartoon Story
By John Pirillo

"Take that!" He said, tossing the huge garbage bag into the dumpster behind Al's Diner, the place where he made his living while he worked his way through college. His name was Johnnie and he was a Comic Book Commando. Some months back he rushed to the rescue of a young girl in a burning high rise building. She would've died without his help. He saved her, but a strange thing happened during the rescue. One of his arms had stretched like plastic to grab a railing to save him and the girl from a fatal plunge.

Ever since that day he'd been working with the girl of his dreams...a forever young looking Princess from the land of Cartoon. And her name was, appropriately enough, Cartoon. Everyone in her world looked like cartoons. She did too at night. Her body gave off a golden glow. During the day, not so much, barely visible. Most people wrote it off to t he sunlight in their eyes. She wasn't just a Princess, but a damned good warrior as well. This to her credit saved his bacon from the fire many a time.

But today was Mister Normal day, not super comic book hero guy. Behind the dumpster and to the right was the old warehouse where all kinds of fruit and veggies were packed and stored. A very small wood and wire cage held a guard dog in there during the day. He roamed the warehouse at night to protect it from intruders. He was a terribly mean and nasty guard dog accordingly to Al, but Johnnie hadn't had any problem with it.

The first day he'd seen the dog, he'd fallen in love with it. He'd found some scraps left over from a meal, and shoveled them into the dog's cage. It had run up with teeth bared at first, but Johnnie just smiled. It lost its grimace and shoved its nose and mouth to the wire and began licking at him through it. He had put his face closer and felt the wet tongue roll across his cheek, and then he had pulled back and carefully put his hand inside and stroked the dog's neck while it ate hungrily at the steak and eggs he had provided.

Some trucker had been in a rush and just eaten his Danish and bacon and left the rest. Bad luck for him. Good luck for the dog.

"Good boy." He told the dog, who looked up a minute, licked its chops, wriggled its tail happily, and then returned to eating.

Johnnie went back inside, where he caught Koomay watching him. She hurriedly put her hands back into the sink where she was cleaning bacon for the next rush of customers on the morrow. "You're pretty good with animals." She told him, not asked. Told him.

He shrugged. "Do unto."

She giggled. "Well you do unto pretty good, Johnnie boy."

Without another word she returned to her cleaning and he to his.

At the end of the day he hung up his gloves, apron and dragged the ribbed rubber mat back inside where he laid it down behind the counter. It accumulated all kinds of dropped food and dirt from the constant back and forth of Koomay and Al while they worked. It was a small diner. Al did the cooking and she did the serving and waitressing mostly.

Johnnie was the go to man. What they couldn't do. He did.

He rushed to the front door after he'd finished cleaning the windows, then waved at Al, who grunted with a smile, and Koomay who gave him a lovely dimpled smile, then exited.

He was in a rush to get to the comic book store. There was a new comic book hero coming out and he wanted to grab the first edition copy. His apartment had a whole closet filled with first run copies. He figured someday they'd be worth a fortune.

Cartoon looked into it one day and made a face, until she saw the look on his face and he said very patiently. "You wouldn't be here today if I didn't collect these...and now...he looked at a hand that suddenly sprouted a rose. He offered it to her.

Her eyes widened. "I can actually smell it!"

"Yeah. I've been working on my skills." He answered, and then walked away part of his hand missing. But in a few seconds the rose sprouted wings and a face, then flew after him and rejoined his hand. Cartoon giggled. She loved it.

He had promised to take her on a walk along the levy that night.  The one that ran parallel to the Sacramento University. And he intended to keep his promise.

He probably could have used his Plastic Man comic book and changed into a car and driven her there inside his body, but that would be revealing a bit too much. He'd been spending a lot of time saving lives lately and only the simple face mask that he sprouted now every time kept his identity secret.

Most of the time people didn't even know they were in danger when he saved them. From giant insects, zombies, vampires, werewolves, psychotic robots from Mars, twisting globs of gooey monster that sucked you dry and other adverse and not so chummy things. So he was able to work the little miracles of his comic book commando life without them even realizing he had a hand in it. But like that Mall Incident last Christmas where there was a zombie invasion, that time he couldn't hide. People got all kinds of photos of him on their cells. Fortunately for him, he never stayed still long enough and it was dark enough no one got good clear shots.

That's when he and Cartoon decided they needed disguises. She could change into anyone she wanted to look like, but for him, he had to have a comic book handy. Like in his hand or pocket. But sometimes, he and Cartoon couldn't figure out why, sometimes he was able to transform or initiate a change without a comic book nearby.

And that's what they were discussing when they got off the transit and walked up the sidewalk into the school grounds. Students were still streaming from the Library and cafeteria where late snacks were available. A couple guys were playing guitars in front of the Library and a team of Cheerleaders were practicing on the grass quad as the sun descended from view.

The veered away from the busier parts of the campus and found the footbridge that crossed over the American River. They reached the other side and began walking the levy, still in a contemplative conversation about the changes.

"I don't see how it's possible, Johnnie." She told him in exasperation, letting go of his right hand for a moment to smooth her golden hair back behind her shoulder again. She had been letting it grow longer and longer. Even though in public when working with him she looked kind of like a Japanese power ninja girl, in private and at times like this she reverted to her normal look. Which was tall like him, narrow hipped, long flowing golden hair and eyes, and skin that was bronze and glowed a soft white or yellow depending on her mood. When she was angry in battle her glow would turn a violent red or a disturbing black color. When she was sad her colors would fall back into a kind of dull olive green.

Tonight it was golden, just like the golden girl she was.

"Maybe someone out there likes me." He kidded.

She rolled her eyes. "Please. Don't go pulling one of those Norse god legends on me."

"No, I was thinking more along the lines of a President Bush, or Clinton."

She laughed and then punched him on his arm. "You're terrible, Johnnie!"

"Yeah. But you love it."

"No. I love you."  She promptly pointed out. "And that's a whale of a different color."

My turn to laugh. "Where in the world did you pick up that old term?"

She blushed. I got it. "You read my grandfather's yearbook."

She nodded.

He smiled. "He was something else." Then he saddened. Felt his eyes moistening. "I loved him so much."

She stopped and threw her arms around him and hugged him tight. "Oh Johnnie! You big baby!"

She gave him a sweet kiss, and then pulled back. "Don't ever stop!"

"Fat chance." He quipped, and then burst into a run.

"Johnnie!" She cried after him.

"Catch me if you can!" He hollered over his shoulder.

She screeched angrily, and then cut out after him. In a few seconds she had caught up. He stopped, grabbed her by the waist and tossed her round and round like you might do a child in play. She laughed and laughed, her sweet voice warming the chill night air.

Then he froze. Rising from the river next to them was something large and glowing.  It had two huge eyes, four tusks and eight ears up and down its body. It was segmented and had a face like a human and a tail like a fish.

"What the..." He gasped.

He set her down and she turned to look. She gasped too, took his hand. "We must leave. Now!"

"Why? I've got just the thing on me for a creature like that." He reached back into his pocket for his Superman comic. He had picked it up at the comic book store when he couldn't get a copy of the new super hero one. It had sold out when the store opened, much to his dismay.

He reached for the comic, and then went pale as a ghost.

"Oh crap!" He swore.

"Johnnie?"

"I must have dumped it on the path when I ran."

They looked back. There was the comic book about fifty yard back, lying on the asphalt pathway, its pages fluttering in the breeze.

From the river came a horrendous sound. They turned to face it. Cartoon summoned a wicked looking sword into being and eyed the creature as it reached the bank and began to crawl up it. "Behind me! Now!"

He didn't argue. He was defenseless. He didn't have anything to fight with. He looked around as Cartoon tensed for battle. Nothing. Not even any large rocks to toss. He turned back in frustration.

The monster came closer. Its human eyes and mouth crinkled in a wicked smile. "I am for the Comic Book Commando, not you Princess."

"Over my dead body." She shouted, raising her sword.

The creature's tail lashed out and caught the sword, wrenching it from her hand. It tossed it into the river. She summoned a second one and a second time its tail lashed out, taking the new sword away as well.

Johnnie was thinking as hard as he could of something, anything he could do to help, as she summoned an even larger sword and rushed the creature.

"Die then!" It admonished her, opening its mouth wider and wider.

Johnnie's body suddenly grew as bright as the sun.

Cartoon's glow was washed away in the harshness of the glow.

The giant centipede like creature recoiled from the light and began sliding back into the water, its eyes sightless, its skin beginning to smoke. It cried out like a small child in pain, and then slipped out of sight into the depths of the fast rolling waters of the river.

Cartoon spun around, the sword vanishing from her hands as he turned to look at him.

The incredibly bright glow vanished, but not entirely. Now his skin glows a soft golden color like hers.

"What's happening to me?" He asked. "I'm starting to glow like you."

She came up and wrapped her arms around him. "I was so frightened for you."

"But it was going to eat you." He protested, not her arms about him, but her sense of sacrifice.

"No. I cannot die in your world from such as that."

"What was it?"

She didn't answer at first, and then she said. "I need to prepare you better. Next time it may not be so simple to scare it off."

"Hell, Cartoon, I didn't just scare it off. If it had been a human with pants, it would've dropped its pants and had a dump right there and then!"

She laughed, and shook her head. She gently caressed his cheeks. "This is why I love you so much. You're such a hopeless romantic."

She gave him a really great kiss and that was all folks that night as far as he was concerned.

"I think we need to go home." He told her, his blood boiling.

She smiled. "Not really."

That night the moon's glow was bright, but not nearly as bright as that of the couple beneath it at the water's edge, lost in the glow of love and friendship.

UltraMan Ginga Episode 10...more gigantic Kaiju and superhero fun!

Ultraman The Next...Kaiju movie of monstrous proportions. Tons of action and sci-fi fun.

New Fractal Flame Gallery. Feast your eyes! Crisp, mesmerizing, hypnotic swirls of radiant energy.

"Ghostly Things." A Samuel Light Junior Story By John Pirillo. Their intent was to eat the girl. His intent was to save her and them!

Ghostly Things
A Samuel Light Junior Story
By John Pirillo


"Sammie." Jimbo's voice hollered.

He ran.

The underground tunnel opened up, allowing him to move more safely through the stinking corridor of waste and disposal that ran beneath Vegas. It was low now. Winter was the slower month through the seepage, but if it had been summer, they would have been to their knees in the stinking sludge.

He found Jimbo eyeing a side corridor. The walls went straight up for about ten feet, where they met a semi-lit ceiling with deeply recessed fluorescents every hundred yards, leaving deep pools of shadow between them. The walls were coated with a softly glowing green light. The floor was free of flow; it was higher than the one they currently stood on. Stacks of crates lined the walls on the right and seemed to go endlessly up the corridor towards some distant loading platform.

"What do you think it is?" Jimbo asked, his thick eyebrows surged together in a storm of perplexity.

Jimbo was his huge Texan friend. They had grown up together. He lived mostly in Vegas and Texas. His parents were ranchers. They spent half their time in Vegas. Half at their ranch. Mostly, they let Jimbo stay in a boarding school. A private school where he terrorized the teachers and chased the girls. He also went to Samuel's high school, where he was on the football team. Not many wanted to go up against him. They usually got stomped.

To look at him you'd think he was death on wheels, but he had a heart of gold and no better friend was possible for Samuel. Likewise Jimbo saw his gangly, think friend the same. They were batter buddies. Veterans of the occult and the paranormal and even the occasional gang war as well. What they couldn't finesse with their brains, they sometimes resorted to other things...like Samuel's ability to raise powers that could drive an opponent into their own past to see why they had become such jerks.

"You think they took her this way?" He eyed Jimbo.

"Look there, Mister Detective Man." Jimbo sneered.

Samuel spotted what he had overlooked at first because of the floor being so clean. Footprints. Next to the right side. Not that so much caught his attention as the occasional mark on the wall, which was like a "Hello, I went this way."

"I guess they must not be paying much attention." Jimbo commented.

"Let's hope not. Remember the last time you said that we almost got our asses kicked."

Jimbo smiled. "Yeah. Those were the good times."

Samuel shook his head. "Not really."

"Okay, partner. Let's agree to disagree and go kick some ghostly butt."

"Agreed." Samuel grinned.

They rushed along the new corridor, their flashlights scoring the walls and floor for clues as they ran. It felt good to Samuel to be moving again. It had been a long year at school. One final after another. Late nights up. Early mornings up. He was tired, but not hurting when they found a twist in the corridor that branched into four different directions.

"Holy crap." Jimbo cursed.

"Nothing holy about it." Samuel said.

"Now what?"

Samuel looked at Jimbo. "You still have her scarf?"

"Never leave home without it." He said, plucking it from his thick cotton shirt pocket. He handed it over.

Samuel touched it and...

WHAM!

Eyes. Big eyes. Much bigger than they should be. The eyes were hungry. Very hungry. So hungry she could feel them savoring the thought of ripping into her soul and tearing her apart. She looked around. It was a very dark room, but the door to it showed a very, very bright light and there was one word on it...Superintendent."

WHAM!

Samuel staggered and dropped the hanky. Jimbo deftly caught it and stuck it back into his shirt pocket. "Well?"

"Wait a second while I come back into my body." Samuel urged.

Feeling stable again, he eyed the four different corridors. He pointed to the middle one. "That way!"

"What did you see?"

"How we're going to catch them." Samuel said in a grim tone.

=====================================================

Samuel swept his blonde hair out of his eyes and smiled at Candace, the cheerleader he was friends with from 7th grade. They lived on the same street and used to walk to the same elementary school together. She was a fun girl to be with. He remembered when she used to weight quite a bit more, but then she read up on some diets and found one that was healthy and applied it. She never put a stray pound on again. She usually scalded Samuel when he ate sweets or drank a Coke, but he ignored her friendly jibes. He knew what his body needed.

Somehow, it was like an inner voice was talking to him all the time. It wasn't scary like those ones you hear in the movies, or get when you're about to do something really dumb. No, it was warm and friendly, like you were holding hands with yourself kind of. That voice always pointed him at what he needed at any exact moment. It might be asparagus. It might be an apple. It might be a hamburger, which he didn't really like. But when the voice pointed, he complied.

And each year he grew stronger, taller and brighter. Least that's what his Mom always told him. The only reason why he believed the first two parts was because he and Candace had been the same height in 7th grade, but by the time they reached 9th, he was a foot taller and he could lift her without any effort, when she wanted to practice some of her cheerleader work.

They hung out together after school, using the after school activities to have some fun and wait for their respective parents to come home. Her Mom and Dad both worked for the Water Company and his Mom...well, she worked wherever she could now that Dad was gone. That thought always brought a twinge of unhappiness in his heart, so he would quickly dart in another direction so he didn't dwell on the past.

"I hear a new Indiana Jones movie is coming out next week." She gossiped.

He nodded, eyes on the book in front of him. He was studying for lit. She put a hand over its pages. He looked across at her. The library was quiet, except for the sound of keyboards by computers where kids were surfing the Net, or doing homework of their own. One printer was singing its humming song as it nicely printed out sheet after sheet of homework.

"I need to do this."

"You need to talk to me, Samuel. You haven't been yourself all week!"

He sighed, and then shut the book. "Okay. Jimbo's moving."

"Holy, Mother Mary, Son of God and Lord of Heaven, that just can't be!"

He laughed. "Candace, Mary was not the Son of God."

"You get it."

He sighed again. She was agnostic. And didn't care what she blurted out. But he loved her anyway. Not in a boyfriend girlfriend kind of way, but as you might a sister or brother. "It's killing me."

"Don't worry, Sammie, it'll be fine. It always is."

And that's the last thing he heard from her mouth as she got up to leave. "See you at Nina's?"

"Yeah."

She smiled, gave a circular wave, and then exited the library.

School flew by and he wandered over to the B section where Jimbo was unloading books into his locker as a loudspeaker urged everyone they only had two minutes until the buses left.

"Hey!" He said.

"Right back at you, little buddy." Jimbo shot back.

Samuel actually was taller than Jimbo, but he didn't argue with it. They were pals. Pals could and do stupid things like that.

"Nina's?"

Jimbo eyed Samuel. "Sure. Best fries in town. When?"

"Now."

Jimbo looked worried a moment, then nodded. "Sure anything for my little pal." He put an arm around Samuel's shoulder, then let go.

======================================================

Samuel snapped back into the present. Ahead, he could see the lights brightening. "We have to slow down here. We don't want them hearing us?"

"Do they do such things?"

Samuel nodded. "They might be dead, but they still have ears."

"Sammie, I still find it hard to believe that dead people could hold Candace hostage."

"They're not. They plan on eating her."

"What? How?"

"By shoving her out of her own body."

"That's not very sporting of them."

"You'd rather they actually ate her?"

Jimbo squirmed under Samuel's gaze. "Uh. It would make more sense. You know how hard it is for me to believe in all this ghost stuff."

"Even after all these years?"

"Especially after all these years." Jimbo admitted.

Samuel shook his head, put a finger to his lips, and then moved forward.

They sneaked to the side of a huge shack built in the corridor. Above the shack was a huge opening with the scoop of a mechanical digger hanging in plain view. "That's the Superintendent's Office." Samuel pointed out. "She's in there."

"Where's the construction crew?"

"Hey, it's Sunday, remember?"

"Oh yeah. Right."

They flattened against the shack and Jimbo looked to Samuel. "Now what?"

"Now you're going to close your eyes and when I say run. Run!"

"Run, but we're supposed to be rescuing her!"

"Just trust me."

Jimbo shrugged, made a sigh of disapproval, and then shut his eyes. "The things I do for God and my country."

Samuel kicked him.

"That's not playing fair."

"Shut up."

Jimbo hushed.

Samuel pressed his hand against the wall of the shack and shut his own eyes.

Inside the shack Candace sat up suddenly, her eyes alert. The four figures that were hard to focus on gave her a sharp look. "Man, you guys are in one helluva lot of trouble now!" She shut her eyes.

The interior of the shack lit up brighter than the sun a moment.

Unearthly screams of dismay.

Candace jumped to her feet, flung open the shack door. Samuel was there. He grabbed her into his arms. "You okay?"

"Now." She said.

Then the four figures inside stopped screaming. They rushed the doorway.

Samuel nodded and pulled Candace aside and from view along with him. Jimbo burst into view and ran like the football hero he was for the ladder which stretched upwards into the fresh air above.

The ghostly figures burst outside and chased after him. They suddenly stopped. They turned around. Samuel shut the door they had come through and put a hand on it. It glowed for a moment, then the building.

The ghostly figures rushed towards him, howling like demons.

Candace, behind Samuel, screamed in terror.

The ghostly figures were within inches of Samuel when they bounced back as if striking an invisible barrier. They looked confused a moment, then rushed him again. The same thing happened once more.

They realized they couldn't touch him and turned around. Jimbo stood there with a huge work light, which he switched on. The ghostly figures screamed again.

Samuel stepped into their midst and hugged them to him. They struggled to break free, crying out over and over, as if in the worst of pains, then suddenly they relaxed and went limp. Samuel stepped back. Jimbo stepped back. Candace stepped back.

A huge tunnel of white light opened up before the four ghostly figures. They turned to look into it. What looked like a small group of normal folk stood in the light, smiling and waving. The four ghostly figures rushed into the light and it vanished with them.

Jimbo shook his head. "How in the world do you fake those illusions, Sammie?"

Samuel didn't answer. Jimbo just didn't want to believe his own eyes. He turned to Candace. "Ready to go home?"

She wiped tears of relief from her eyes and nodded. Jimbo stepped up and took her right hand. "Then let's get you home, you sweet bundle of joy."

She giggled, gave Samuel a grateful look, and then leaned into Jimbo as the two of them went to the ladder and the way back up to the surface.

Samuel smiled, if a bit sadly. His friend always got the girls. Always. But you know what, he thought to himself. I get something much better. He didn't know what it was just yet. But that voice inside him told him it was what most people would have gladly given their lives to have. Peace of mind. With that thought floating in his mind, he went to the ladder, grabbed the middle rung and began hauling himself back up to the open air, knowing that four souls were no longer lost in the darkness.

A Breakfast treat! New Gallery of Fractal Flames served fresh and hot from the oven.

A breakfast made for champions of new fractal flames served up with generous whips of creamy colors, ice cream swirls and candy stripes!

Enjoy!

John

Boston Blackie at the Movies: Chance of a Lifetime

Spy Smasher, Chapter 10: 2700 Degrees Farenheit...more smashing and trashing and close calls!

The Case of Constable Evans' Fancy A Sherlock Holmes Story By John Pirillo. Love can be criminal sometimes.

 
The Case of Constable Evans' Fancy
A Sherlock Holmes Story
By John Pirillo

To say that Constable Evans was smitten by the mysterious thief, who got away, would be an understatement of the most momentous proportions. To say that he was madly in love with a phantom that could slip through spaces no more than a centimeter thick some might also say was not just an understatement, but an indictment of his imagination as well. But then, they hadn't been there that night that Sherlock, his father Inspector Bloodstone and Doctor Watson had cornered the gossamer lady only to have her flee without being captured.

"It's really nor right that a thief should look so..."

"Handsome?" His father ventured, winking at Doctor Watson, who was seated to his left inside 221B's sitting room at a table with a silver platter of scones, a teapot and a steaming coffee pot as well.

Sherlock, in his typical fashion, stayed out of the conversation, preferring to thumb through the latest story of Conan's he had written since his transition from the alternate earth universe. "Come now, Inspector, surely the lad desires a bit more credit than that?" Sherlock ventured without losing his place or his eyes on the story he was reading. He had already finished ninety percent of it. He was quite a remarkably fast reader, able to remember almost a hundred percent of whatever he read, which was what led him to reading the fiction of Conan's, it gave him a different route for his memory to travel...one less tried and true.

The Inspector coughed into a hand, took a sip of his tea, then eyed his son sternly, who gave the look back defiantly. "Well, perhaps, but he is after all just a child."

"I am not, father!" Constable Evans denied, jumping to his feet. "A man of his twenties is hardly a child!"

Doctor Watson who had been watching the tirade with amusement jumped in. "But then all men seem like children when we become older, is that not so, Inspector?"

The Inspector laughed. "Tied my hand behind my back, Watson. How can I ever deny such a word of truth as that?"

"Oh, I image rather easily." Sherlock said, once more interrupting his reading to comment. "You do it all the time."

The Inspector gave Sherlock an evil eye for a moment, then sighed and looked at his son, who was still fuming from the insult. "Sit down; you're making me tired just watching you stand there."

"I will not, Inspector!"

The Inspector sighed again. "All right. You're not a child. So stop acting like one. What the bloody hell's gotten into the kids these days?" He muttered to Mrs. Hudson as she walked in with a fresh tray of sandwiches and placed them on the table.

She looked over at Constable Evans. "Oh, I'm so forgetful." She pulled a letter from her apron that had beautiful flowers drawn on it in purple." She handed it towards Constable Evans. "They said it was for you."

He perked up. "I don't know anyone who might..."

Suddenly his face lit up. He ran down the stairs for the front door.

Sherlock laughed then. "You received the letter mid morning, did you not, Mrs. Hudson?"

"Yes, but how..." She giggled.

He smiled at her and resumed reading.

Constable Evans flew back up the stairs into the sitting room. "What did they look like? The one who delivered it?"

"Oh, a quite charming young lady. Wore this very peculiar dress that seemed more like silk than cotton. Though I've never seen that material before..."

He ran back down the stairs again. The front door was heard banging open, and then shutting.

"Oh dear me." Mrs. Hudson declared, giving Watson a pleading look. "What have I just done to that poor boy's imagination?"

"Oh, it's not imagination, dear Mrs. Hudson that has struck him in the heart. But rather something more soft and delicate."

Everyone laughed.

Then Watson and the Inspector realized what had happened and who they were talking about. They grabbed their coats and ran down the stairs as well. The front door opened with a bang and slammed shut again.

"Are you not going with them, Mister Holmes?" She asked, gathering the used dishes to bring to the kitchen.

"I'm not through reading dear Conan's time travel story and I do so much hate dead ends."

"Oh?"

He looked up with a smile. "The lady in question I'm sure has been a faithful distance between her and our flat by now."

With that he returned to his reading, the smile never leaving his face.

=====================================================

Constable Evans ran all the way to Regent's Park, stopping pedestrians and Constables to inquire if they had seen anyone looking like Gossamer, as he called her, the girl he had been smitten by. They all gave him a look of humor, seeing as how his desperation colored his words and the fact that it was a girl he was chasing. None of his inquiries led to any likely prospect.

So finally, he sat down on a bench beneath an ancient elm that spread protective arms beneath the cloudy skies of London. The sky was clear, but starting to blur somewhat with light clouds that moved swiftly from North to South. A slight drizzle had wet the pavement earlier and so the park bench was still moist, but Constable Evans didn't feel it. He only felt the beat of his lonely heart. This incident just reminded him once more how devoid his bachelor life had become of true happiness. Sharing with a partner.

"Now what?" He demanded of himself.

He suddenly remembered the letter he had been handed. He had smashed it into his coat pocket, forgetting about it in his rush to find the missing girl. He plucked it out hurriedly and began to read it.

=======================================================

Dear Constable.

I hope this letter finds you well and happy.

I know it does me.

Please do not think unkindly of me for being so forward as to communicate with you.

I realize you may think less of me because of what you witnessed this last evening. But I assure you no harm was meant to you or anyone else.

I don't have much time to write this, as I am continually moved to keep searching for my redemption. But when I searched you eyes I saw something in them I had been looking for and did not realize. Hope.

I pray that we shall meet again soon. For my heart feels as if it will surely break if we do not.

Please do not look for me. I do not want to bring you grief by such a useless gesture.

Patience will be its own reward.

Yours sincerely,

Gossamer!

=======================================================

Sherlock's smile returned as he sipped his tea and the pounding of Constable Evans feet ascended the staircase to the sitting room. Sherlock was alone.

"Where is my father?"

Sherlock patted the chair opposite him.

Constable Evans sat down, and then eyed the stack of sandwiches which lay before him and Sherlock.

"Please, help yourself, Constable Evans. I imagine your dash to Regent Street Park and your futile search for the thief of last night has left you not only weak of the knee, but the stomach as well."

Constable Evans dug into the food, while Sherlock looked on, occasionally sipping teas. Finally, Constable Evans was as full as a young man's stomach could bear. He shoved back from the table and started to get up.

Sherlock shook his head.

Constable Evans sat back down again.

"The letter she sent you, did it not request you be patient in your endeavor to capture her attention once more?"

"Yes, but how could you know..."

"And did she not say that there was a special bond between you?"

"Yes, but Sherlock..."

Sherlock was relentless. "And you feel that by exerting yourself to the maximum this will prove your worth to this nightingale. Is this not so?"

"Bloody hell it is." Constable Evans swore.

Sherlock nodded, then set his tea down, went back to his favorite chair, sat down and picked up a new book. He looked to Constable Evans. "Mister Wells and Mister Verne have come up with a very fine time travel story I feel to be of the utmost interest. Perhaps you could join me at the other chair and partake of my extra copy?"

Constable Evans got up, started that direction, and then looked longingly at the staircase.

"Constable Evans." Sherlock reminded him of still being there.

Constable Evans came over, picked up the extra copy and restlessly at first, then calmer and calmer, continued to read.

"I think the page where Jules realizes that he will never see his dearly beloved again if he continues to run forward through time for her, seeking the version he remembered, when she was no longer there, but in the past. I think that might be of interest to you."

Constable Evans glanced at the page that Sherlock showed him, flipped through his own copy and found the page.

"Please, Constable, read it out loud. I rather fancy the tone of your voice. It would help me to calm my agitated nerves just now."

Constable Evans glanced at Sherlock, not seeing a nervous man at all, but complied.

"And when I, the inventor extraordinary, flew through time in the Master of the World with Mon Frere, Wells, we came upon a very unusual spot in time. It was London. But a very different one. One where the people all wore these glistening types of clothing. Like gossamer they were."

Constable Evans looked up at Sherlock, who didn't return the glance. He began reading again. "And one of them seemed to know us intimately and called us by name, and said to give a message to a young man. That he wouldn't know it was for him yet, but in the years ahead he would."

Constable Evans began to choke up.

"Please, Constable, don't stop now. I feel so soothed by your voice."

Constable Evans read on. "His name is Constable Evans. You must tell him to be patient, as it is not truly his nature when his heart is full. How I know this is because mine own is so much the same. Tell him we shall meet again. And sooner rather than later. But he must be patient as time works more safely for the patient, than the impatient."

He finished reading and looked at Sherlock, who closed his book. "I feel so calm now and relaxed. When the good Doctor returns with your father, please tell them I am taking a nap. So kind of you." He said to Constable and exited into his bedroom.

Constable Evans looked at the book in his hands and clasped it to his chest. "I will, Gossamer. I will be patient."

And then very impatiently, he rose to look out the window. For even as patient as he was trying to be, the hope of a fresh and more loving tomorrow was almost too much for his patience to bear. Such is the nature of love.