Richard passed through the campus quad, exchanging greetings with several students. The spring air filled his nostrils with fresh cut grass, pollen, aerated earth, and faint scents of distanced nature. A stray basketball from a nearby court bounced towards him, breaking his nostalgia. A familiar face raced forward in pursuit.
“Darren,” he passed the basketball to the student.
“Hey there Doctor B. Whassup?” The sweaty athlete replied.
“Just heading to the office. Shouldn’t you be in the study group in the library?”
The student smirked with overconfidence, “Nah man, I good. Hit the books last night!”
Richard frowned in doubt, “I’m good. You’re lucky I’m not your English professor. We’ll see how ready you are this afternoon I suppose…”
Darren gave a calm nod, “…this test won’t be any harder than playing you in B-ball.” Richard was known to pick up the occasional basketball game with the students when his schedule allowed, but his skills and stamina were outclassed by the younger. Darren was a student with average grades, and Richard hoped he would have taken advantage of the pre-exam study session organized by his teacher’s aide Nicole. Darren apparently shrugged it off, as he always does.
“Well Darren you sound pretty sure of yourself. I certainly wouldn’t want to burst your confidence in the classroom, or out here for that matter,” Richard jested. Darren rolled his eyes and excused himself, “Whatever Dr. B. See you in class!” Richard observed the game for a moment, before continuing on his way. He walked into the science building, waving at fellow professors and checking his watch. ‘Good, still time for some lunch. I hope the chicken patties are as good as they smell,’ he thinks. Closing the office door behind him, he stopped in confusion. He had not known the lunch menu, and the school cafeteria was a three building distance from his office. He raised his nose and sniffed again, the faint aroma of cooked chicken lingered. Never before had he been able to smell school lunch from his office. He looked down into the glass cage of his black pet rat, “hey Baxter, time for some food buddy.”
The rat wandered across the cage to Richard’s hand. Standing on hind legs, the rat spoke with impatience, “About time…”
Friday, May 14, 2010
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Hex tidbit 3
The janitor in the lobby rolled his squeaky cleaning cart near the yellow ‘wet floor’ stand. He cautiously observed the area for several minutes until certain there were no onlookers. He hurriedly fetched a twelve inch totemic object hidden underneath the sign. Hiding the totem in a pile of dirty rags, he advanced the cart towards a public water fountain. Brooke passed him in a brisk gait, neither made eye contact with the other. Waiting for another opening, he retrieved another totem hidden under the fountain. Without wasting further time, he escorted the cart to the back room, his face wrinkled in a confident smile.
I
The University of New Hampshire campus in late spring blended the stress of final exams and added academic workloads with the lackadaisical feeling of long awaited warm weather. In the library seats were always full. Outside, the basketball courts were never empty. The usual professors tried with diligence to keep their students on their studies. Richard Brewer was not the usual professor.
Dr. Richard Brewer, doctorate of biology, was much younger than his peers. He graduated UNH just two years ago, and instantly landed a teaching job in the biology department to fill a timely retirement. Many upperclassmen still remember his days as one of them, his endless hours engrossed with the science section on the library’s second floor. Dr. Brewer tried to carry himself with professionalism while still interacting with the students on a friendly level.
I
The University of New Hampshire campus in late spring blended the stress of final exams and added academic workloads with the lackadaisical feeling of long awaited warm weather. In the library seats were always full. Outside, the basketball courts were never empty. The usual professors tried with diligence to keep their students on their studies. Richard Brewer was not the usual professor.
Dr. Richard Brewer, doctorate of biology, was much younger than his peers. He graduated UNH just two years ago, and instantly landed a teaching job in the biology department to fill a timely retirement. Many upperclassmen still remember his days as one of them, his endless hours engrossed with the science section on the library’s second floor. Dr. Brewer tried to carry himself with professionalism while still interacting with the students on a friendly level.
Monday, May 10, 2010
Hex tidbit 2
On the grounds that would one day become the New Hampshire DMV, a thousand springs prior, a Native American shaman in intricately detailed rawhides lowered his hands. He bowed slowly to the tepee before him. Wooden totems standing knee-high surrounded the tepee, scribed with etchings of people, various animals and the four elements. A wizened elder with flowing black and white hair stepped alongside the shaman, “Well?”
“It is done, Chieftain,” the shaman met the chieftain with luminescent eyes and a solemn tone. The chieftain gestured with his carved cedar stave; two younger apprentices scurried towards the tepee. One by one, the pair of helpers removed six unconscious bodies and placed them under the open sky. The shaman walked between the sweating, gasping volunteers, “I felt their beings channel into them. They should hear thoughts and suggestions from our great Blessings. The Blessings have left a degree of their own powers within our brave warriors. I am certain this is true, Chieftain.”
The chieftain cast an ominous gaze toward the northern mountains. “For Junawo sake, Shaman Winterhawk, I hope you are right.” Winterhawk wrinkled his face into a confident smile.
#
“…no fever, pulse seems ok…”
“…sweating …panting, claustrophobia?”
“…Vanessa …can you hear me Vanessa?”
Swirling and echoing voices came into clarity. Vanessa opened her eyes to find several faces of strangers staring down at her. Lifting her head sparked a sharp pain in her forehead. She examined the surroundings to conclude she was on the cold dark tile of the DMV lobby. Her focus returned. One of the looming faces she recognized as the construction worker from the elevator. He spoke in a comforting tone, “Vanessa, are you alright?”
She groaned, wiping the hair from her face. “Do I know you? How do you know my name?” she asked, while the random onlookers carried on about their business. The bald man smiled from ear to ear, “You are Vanessa Tyler aren’t you? If not, you’re running around with a fake license.” He held up the license renewal form Vanessa had brought into the building. The construction worker extended his right hand, “I am Jesse, Jesse Lambert.” She reached expecting a greeting, but the large hand clamped her small one and he hoisted Vanessa to her feet in one fluent motion. She staggered finding herself suddenly on her high heels but Jesse secured her balance. Images of the shaking elevator revisited her mind… the red light, the electric surges, the panic. Despite her three inch height bonus from her footwear, she still needed to crane her head upward to Jesse, “What about you? Are you ok?”
“Yes,” he grinned, displaying no evident scrapes or scars. “I have no idea what happened. I passed out too. Everyone did, I think.”
“I thought the cart was getting electrocuted or something. It was very strange.”
“I thought so too, but we wouldn’t be here if that were the case. The electricity would have done us in. I am amazed we are all walking away from whatever that was.”
Vanessa pondered the other victims, “Where are they all?”
“Two have left. The short lady woke up just after me. She went to go file a complaint with Maintenance. The tall pretty girl went with a policeman to file an incident report.”
Vanessa frowned at ‘pretty girl.’ He had to be referring to the woman in the floral dress. Her malnourished physique and curly strawberry blonde hair gave a resemblance to an inverted mop! Vanessa attempted to mask her appalled reaction, but her first expression was transparent.
“The short one took our names before she left,” Jesse continued, “…that is why I had to look at your license… sorry about that.”
“Oh, uhh, no problem really… thanks.” She recollected her belongings, blushing in embarrassment from Jesse observing her license picture. He beamed for an extended silence until Vanessa began to feel intimidated.
“What is your number?” he asked oafishly, “I can call you…”
She eyed Jesse skeptically.
“…if I find out anything about what happened…”
Vanessa again blushed. Though Jesse has been nothing but benign, she was apprehensive and he sensed it.
“I had better go,” she explained politely.
“OK, how ‘bout this,” Jesse presented a business card from his back pocket of his worn jeans, “YOU call ME if you hear anything. OK?”
She paused and finally accepted the business card. Placing the card in her purse, she checked her watch. “Oh geez, I gotta go!” Vanessa departed in a clumsy scurry before Jesse could raise his hand to wave.
Jesse shouted, “Nice meeting you!”
#
“I am here to file a complaint…”
Brooke Coleman was the type of person that found it impossible to overlook anything. She has always dwelled on detail, argued until she won, looked for any and every opportunity to put up a stink. She was not the person you want in a faulty elevator in you are the Head of the Maintenance Division in the Department of Motor Vehicles.
Startled at her arrival, the aged man jilted to attention behind a dusty desk. Even sitting upright, the arc in his spine and frail exterior implied he should be enjoying his retirement rather than tying up office space. His sagging throat rattled a cough. He squinted through bifocals to meet his guest. A short dark-skinned blur in a black top and tan Capri pants folded her arms.
“Yes, Miss? Can I help you?” He wobbled to a stand.
“Are you the person in charge of the maintenance here?” Brooke wore an unforgiving stare.
“Yes I am the Superintendent Miss.”
“I am Brooke Coleman. I want to file a complaint about one of your elevators.”
He returned to his chair, and offered her a folding metal chair positioned before his desk. Brooke opted to remain standing. He sighed before speaking, "I heard about the elevator in the main lobby. Were you a passenger?"
"I was."
"It was very strange, the elevator has never acted up like that. It was recently serviced..."
"You certainly need to keep a closer eye on your routines and servicing," Brooke pointed accusingly, "I don't know how this place is designed but the elevator came in contact with some sort of electric surge! It was horrible! I thought we were all going to die!"
The superintendent lowered his head, "I am not sure what happened but I have personnel looking into it right now. Please accept apologies on behalf..."
"Apologies?" Brooke raised her voice, "You are lucky we came out of that safely!! What if one of us had a medical condition? It could have been much worse!" The elder man slanted back in his chair and gaped, surprised by her outburst. Brooke forced a calmer tone, "There were five others in the elevator. I have their names. If we ALL to do receive a formal written explanation and apology, we will see you in court. Is that understood?"
He nodded fearfully while retrieving a pen and clipboard. Brooke listed the names slowly and clearly, "Richard Brewer, Trinity Peterson, Jesse Lambert, Brianna Slater, Vanessa Tyler and myself, Brooke Coleman."
"I am sure the DMV will gladly issue an apology... and I am sorry for any stress this may have caused. I will see to it that each of these people are contacted with a written apology." He spoke patiently, hoping the eristic woman would leave.
"And for the elevator?"
"The elevator is out of service until we find out what happened."
Brooke raised an eyebrow and contorted her chin in satisfactory approval. "I have said my peace. Thanks for your time Superintendent and good day."
"Thank you Miss Coleman," he waved and struggled to his feet. Brooke departs before he could see her out.
“It is done, Chieftain,” the shaman met the chieftain with luminescent eyes and a solemn tone. The chieftain gestured with his carved cedar stave; two younger apprentices scurried towards the tepee. One by one, the pair of helpers removed six unconscious bodies and placed them under the open sky. The shaman walked between the sweating, gasping volunteers, “I felt their beings channel into them. They should hear thoughts and suggestions from our great Blessings. The Blessings have left a degree of their own powers within our brave warriors. I am certain this is true, Chieftain.”
The chieftain cast an ominous gaze toward the northern mountains. “For Junawo sake, Shaman Winterhawk, I hope you are right.” Winterhawk wrinkled his face into a confident smile.
#
“…no fever, pulse seems ok…”
“…sweating …panting, claustrophobia?”
“…Vanessa …can you hear me Vanessa?”
Swirling and echoing voices came into clarity. Vanessa opened her eyes to find several faces of strangers staring down at her. Lifting her head sparked a sharp pain in her forehead. She examined the surroundings to conclude she was on the cold dark tile of the DMV lobby. Her focus returned. One of the looming faces she recognized as the construction worker from the elevator. He spoke in a comforting tone, “Vanessa, are you alright?”
She groaned, wiping the hair from her face. “Do I know you? How do you know my name?” she asked, while the random onlookers carried on about their business. The bald man smiled from ear to ear, “You are Vanessa Tyler aren’t you? If not, you’re running around with a fake license.” He held up the license renewal form Vanessa had brought into the building. The construction worker extended his right hand, “I am Jesse, Jesse Lambert.” She reached expecting a greeting, but the large hand clamped her small one and he hoisted Vanessa to her feet in one fluent motion. She staggered finding herself suddenly on her high heels but Jesse secured her balance. Images of the shaking elevator revisited her mind… the red light, the electric surges, the panic. Despite her three inch height bonus from her footwear, she still needed to crane her head upward to Jesse, “What about you? Are you ok?”
“Yes,” he grinned, displaying no evident scrapes or scars. “I have no idea what happened. I passed out too. Everyone did, I think.”
“I thought the cart was getting electrocuted or something. It was very strange.”
“I thought so too, but we wouldn’t be here if that were the case. The electricity would have done us in. I am amazed we are all walking away from whatever that was.”
Vanessa pondered the other victims, “Where are they all?”
“Two have left. The short lady woke up just after me. She went to go file a complaint with Maintenance. The tall pretty girl went with a policeman to file an incident report.”
Vanessa frowned at ‘pretty girl.’ He had to be referring to the woman in the floral dress. Her malnourished physique and curly strawberry blonde hair gave a resemblance to an inverted mop! Vanessa attempted to mask her appalled reaction, but her first expression was transparent.
“The short one took our names before she left,” Jesse continued, “…that is why I had to look at your license… sorry about that.”
“Oh, uhh, no problem really… thanks.” She recollected her belongings, blushing in embarrassment from Jesse observing her license picture. He beamed for an extended silence until Vanessa began to feel intimidated.
“What is your number?” he asked oafishly, “I can call you…”
She eyed Jesse skeptically.
“…if I find out anything about what happened…”
Vanessa again blushed. Though Jesse has been nothing but benign, she was apprehensive and he sensed it.
“I had better go,” she explained politely.
“OK, how ‘bout this,” Jesse presented a business card from his back pocket of his worn jeans, “YOU call ME if you hear anything. OK?”
She paused and finally accepted the business card. Placing the card in her purse, she checked her watch. “Oh geez, I gotta go!” Vanessa departed in a clumsy scurry before Jesse could raise his hand to wave.
Jesse shouted, “Nice meeting you!”
#
“I am here to file a complaint…”
Brooke Coleman was the type of person that found it impossible to overlook anything. She has always dwelled on detail, argued until she won, looked for any and every opportunity to put up a stink. She was not the person you want in a faulty elevator in you are the Head of the Maintenance Division in the Department of Motor Vehicles.
Startled at her arrival, the aged man jilted to attention behind a dusty desk. Even sitting upright, the arc in his spine and frail exterior implied he should be enjoying his retirement rather than tying up office space. His sagging throat rattled a cough. He squinted through bifocals to meet his guest. A short dark-skinned blur in a black top and tan Capri pants folded her arms.
“Yes, Miss? Can I help you?” He wobbled to a stand.
“Are you the person in charge of the maintenance here?” Brooke wore an unforgiving stare.
“Yes I am the Superintendent Miss.”
“I am Brooke Coleman. I want to file a complaint about one of your elevators.”
He returned to his chair, and offered her a folding metal chair positioned before his desk. Brooke opted to remain standing. He sighed before speaking, "I heard about the elevator in the main lobby. Were you a passenger?"
"I was."
"It was very strange, the elevator has never acted up like that. It was recently serviced..."
"You certainly need to keep a closer eye on your routines and servicing," Brooke pointed accusingly, "I don't know how this place is designed but the elevator came in contact with some sort of electric surge! It was horrible! I thought we were all going to die!"
The superintendent lowered his head, "I am not sure what happened but I have personnel looking into it right now. Please accept apologies on behalf..."
"Apologies?" Brooke raised her voice, "You are lucky we came out of that safely!! What if one of us had a medical condition? It could have been much worse!" The elder man slanted back in his chair and gaped, surprised by her outburst. Brooke forced a calmer tone, "There were five others in the elevator. I have their names. If we ALL to do receive a formal written explanation and apology, we will see you in court. Is that understood?"
He nodded fearfully while retrieving a pen and clipboard. Brooke listed the names slowly and clearly, "Richard Brewer, Trinity Peterson, Jesse Lambert, Brianna Slater, Vanessa Tyler and myself, Brooke Coleman."
"I am sure the DMV will gladly issue an apology... and I am sorry for any stress this may have caused. I will see to it that each of these people are contacted with a written apology." He spoke patiently, hoping the eristic woman would leave.
"And for the elevator?"
"The elevator is out of service until we find out what happened."
Brooke raised an eyebrow and contorted her chin in satisfactory approval. "I have said my peace. Thanks for your time Superintendent and good day."
"Thank you Miss Coleman," he waved and struggled to his feet. Brooke departs before he could see her out.
Saturday, May 8, 2010
Hex tidbit 1
Late May was among the busiest times of year at the New Hampshire Department of Motor Vehicles. Procrastinators born under the latter Taurus and early Gemini signs waited between those eager to register a motorcycle or a speedboat for the upcoming summer weather. Various customers foolishly arrived during the lunch hour of a weekday in hopes of tending to their business in the confines of their alloted work breaks. Everyone was a stranger, and few words were spoken between them, yet the DMV was still a hectic scene of noise and chatter.
The clicking high heels of a professional woman in her late twenties echoed against the dark tile of the lobby. Her rambling earpiece groomed her straight blonde hair behind her left ear. She flipped disorganized paperwork in her right hand to view her wristwatch. 11:59 AM.
"No, that won't be a problem at all. I can meet them this afternoon."
Locating the elevator in the lobby, she was too preoccupied to pay any heed to the older maintenance man fixated on her. 'Just some pervert,' she thought, feeling his eyes follow her. His line of vision changed to her papers as she passed him by, his lips mouthing out the name he scanned on the yellow form. 'Vanessa Tyler,' he muttered while soundlessly commiting to memory. She quickened her pace to catch the closing elevator doors.
"Fine. Yes. It's a date then. I have the listing in the car. Will do. Thank you, bye bye."
Vanessa flipped her phone shut while squeezing into the cart between a wide shouldered construction worker and a slim red head in a short floral dress. The collective wiff of dried sweat and overly applied perfume attacked her from either side. She concentrated on holding her breath until her first chance to exit. The doors slid to a close and the cart brought its half-dozen passengers upwards.
An unexpected jolt activated the emergency light, casting a reddish hue. The elevator stopped abruptly between floors. The passengers exchanged looks and shrugs, grunts and sighs.
"Oh what the.. come ON!" A short dark woman protested in animated impatience, "Shoulda taken the stairs..."
"There was a wet floor sign blocking the stairwell entrance," a thin man with bright red hair responded.
The cart rattled and shook its captives once, then twice.
"What was that?" The floral dressed woman squealed.
The construction worker studied the nearest wall. A surge of what looked like lightning raced upwards against the wall. The large man pointed, "What the hell was that?"
Vanessa frantically peered around at the lightning surges zapping along the ceiling and each wall with more frequency. The air in the cart grew heavy, making each breath more difficult. Vanessa fell against the back wall, slouching into unconsciousness. One by one, they collapsed to the floor...
The clicking high heels of a professional woman in her late twenties echoed against the dark tile of the lobby. Her rambling earpiece groomed her straight blonde hair behind her left ear. She flipped disorganized paperwork in her right hand to view her wristwatch. 11:59 AM.
"No, that won't be a problem at all. I can meet them this afternoon."
Locating the elevator in the lobby, she was too preoccupied to pay any heed to the older maintenance man fixated on her. 'Just some pervert,' she thought, feeling his eyes follow her. His line of vision changed to her papers as she passed him by, his lips mouthing out the name he scanned on the yellow form. 'Vanessa Tyler,' he muttered while soundlessly commiting to memory. She quickened her pace to catch the closing elevator doors.
"Fine. Yes. It's a date then. I have the listing in the car. Will do. Thank you, bye bye."
Vanessa flipped her phone shut while squeezing into the cart between a wide shouldered construction worker and a slim red head in a short floral dress. The collective wiff of dried sweat and overly applied perfume attacked her from either side. She concentrated on holding her breath until her first chance to exit. The doors slid to a close and the cart brought its half-dozen passengers upwards.
An unexpected jolt activated the emergency light, casting a reddish hue. The elevator stopped abruptly between floors. The passengers exchanged looks and shrugs, grunts and sighs.
"Oh what the.. come ON!" A short dark woman protested in animated impatience, "Shoulda taken the stairs..."
"There was a wet floor sign blocking the stairwell entrance," a thin man with bright red hair responded.
The cart rattled and shook its captives once, then twice.
"What was that?" The floral dressed woman squealed.
The construction worker studied the nearest wall. A surge of what looked like lightning raced upwards against the wall. The large man pointed, "What the hell was that?"
Vanessa frantically peered around at the lightning surges zapping along the ceiling and each wall with more frequency. The air in the cart grew heavy, making each breath more difficult. Vanessa fell against the back wall, slouching into unconsciousness. One by one, they collapsed to the floor...
Friday, April 30, 2010
Melancholy
The title picture above was taken from a screen shot of City Of Heroes, an online game that lets you design and play a super hero or villain. Her name was Melancholy, she was one of my heroes.
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