Tag: The Black Planet

The Dragon with the Time-Traveler Tattoo

On June 18, 2022

When a herd of dragons visits the small town of Valley, the mayor decides it’s his civic duty to greet them only to get caught in a mystery.

There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. Mayor Axepen was dead set on giving the unfamiliar herd of dragons a friendly welcome as part of his civic duty. In his 42 years of living on the Black Planet, Brutüs occasionally saw dragons fly throughout the skies, wait in line at the drive-through of a coffee shop, or deliver kegs of beer from a local brewery. Seeing over two dozen together was a rare sight.

Upon hearing of the arrival of dragons, Brutüs skimmed through Hugging Dragons: A Cultural Etiquette Guide to Befriending Flying Serpentines by Peigi MacLeòir. After all, Brutüs won the democratic mayoral race based on his platform of owning and reading the most books in the Valley. During his campaign, he also decorated his horns to appear less threatening, invited constituents to tea parties to listen to their concerns, and held ice cream soirées at the library while reading children’s stories. He successfully proved to the citizens of the Valley that he wasn’t some dumb, mean, brawny minotaur but a well-educated, compassionate, brawny minotaur.

Brutüs minded his steps up the hill of rainbow-colored flowers to not ruin the plants. He made a mental note to discuss adding gravel trails to the hill at the next town planning meeting as he thought all should enjoy the calming scents, colorful sights, and overall relaxing walk.

As he reached the top, he recalled MacLeòir’s advice on figuring out the leader. The book warned not to judge based on the size as sometimes the leader is the smallest one, or sometimes the leader was the largest, or the one with the most heads, or somewhere in the middle. The book said not to ask because if you happen to ask who the leader was and that was their leader, a fight would break out. Instead, the best course of action was to study the dragons to see who they watched the most. Everyone tended to keep an eye on the leader. However, with current technology, MacLeòir advised scanning the herd with a networker to find the answer.

Brutüs’ owned a networker designed to look like an ax, which he wore as a necklace. He lifted his networker and asked, “Networker would you tell me who is the leader here?”

“Scanning!” the networker replied in a cheerful tune as a holographic spinning rainbow ball projected out. “No information found. This appears to be an unregistered group. Sending out a request for more information.”

“Uhm,” Brutüs said, letting the network fall to his muscular chest. The holographic display faded off. “I’m glad I read that book first.”

Following the author’s advice, Brutüs watched the dragons, studying who they watched the most. Everyone seemed focused on a white, single-headed dragon, who was small by dragon standards but was still twice as big as himself, a 7-foot tall minotaur. He straightened his blue suit and decided to take a shot at welcoming the leader.

“Greetings,” Brutüs said with a big wave. “I am Mayor Axepen, and I welcome you to the Valley.”

The white dragon lowered her head in a bow, her spikes glistening in the morning sun. “Hello, Mayor Axepen. My name is Swift. We mean you no burden or trouble as we merely pass through to visit The Black Dragon.”

Brutüs nodded. The Black Dragon was the oldest and most influential living being on the planet. Although officially, The Black Dragon wasn’t the planet’s ruler – unofficially was a different matter. As a town leader, Brutüs was in charge of the yearly tribute in which the most talented artists competed to send their works of art to The Black Dragon. Fame often followed the winners as only the best would win. With The Black Dragon being practically immortal, the dragon would often auction or donate the works in the future for a significant profit. Brutüs viewed the tribute as a win-win and held neither a positive nor negative opinion of The Black Dragon. Although writing about The Black Dragon in his journals was a tiny bit of an inconvenience as The Black Dragon had no pronouns or titles. However, such an “inconvenience” was a nonissue matter for respecting one’s personal preferences.

“Very well,” Brutüs said, straightening his red and black striped tie. “If you are interested in obtaining coffee before your long journey, the drive-through at Gratitude Coffee can accommodate you.”

Fun fact about dragons: dragons are caffeine sensitive, and what would be a large coffee for a human would often be the perfect size for a dragon.

“Thank you, Mayor,” Swift said. “We may consider that.”

As Brutüs was about to leave, he caught sight of a tattoo of a human woman in a green dress with a green door on Swift’s arm. “If you don’t mind me asking, Swift, what is the story behind that tattoo?”

“Why do you think there’s a story?”

“I’ve never seen a tattoo of a human on a dragon before, that’s all.”

Swift brought up her arm to see the tattoo in question. “This…This was someone special to me. She saved my life. It’s a long story.”

“I do enjoy a long story if you enjoy sharing one.” Brutüs sat on a clean patch of ground. “I do have the time.”

Swift laid in a rested state. “Well, a long time ago, when I was about your size, I was an actress, and she was a director. She had a fiery spirit like the mightiest dragons – for a human. I later learned she was a time-traveler, but that’s getting ahead of myself.”

“A time-traveler?” Brutüs repeated, trying not to scoff in disbelief. In the entirety of Brutüs’ library, he only owned one book about time-travelers. In How to Survive an Encounter with a Time-Traveller by Filip Webb, the 150-page book only consisted of the word “Avoid” written on each page in different languages, font styles, and graphical representations.

“I sense your skepticism,” Swift said, “as I was a skeptic myself. To this day, she was the only time-traveler I met.”

“My apologizes,” Brutüs said. “I mean no disrespect. Please, do continue.”

Swift nodded. “This happened around when people believed rumors that a dragon’s spikes were potent aphrodisiacs. As I was leaving a solo act one night, I got mobbed by a gang. They had me chained and in a cage before I knew what was happening. They were professionals.”

A red tear ripped the clouds above Brutüs and the dragons. A ginormous spaceship–larger than the field of dragons–flew out from the portal. The sudden, looming shadow and the engine’s raging hum gave away the ship’s presence. Swift stood up, fully alert, while Brutüs sat in confusion.

“Gods,” Swift cursed. “Did you scan us by any chance?”

“I was trying to figure out who the group leader was,” Brutüs said.

Swift groaned and faced her fellow dragons. “Everyone, Evacuation Formation Beta. Rally together at point 13. Go!”

The dragons flew away, splitting into eight groups and going in separate directions. Without saying another word to the mayor, Swift left, joining up with one of the groups. Brutüs watched them leave as the ship opened fire on the dragons. He felt like someone had given him a prologue to a book while keeping the rest of the story for themselves.

I wrote this story for a short story contest at Vocal. The challenge was to write the first chapter of a fantasy novel with the following first sentence as a prompt: “There weren’t always dragons in the Valley.”

Thanks to Janine De Guzman for bringing the scene of Brutus and Swift meeting at the Valley.

I know this story has a total jerk ending, which I was playing to this being like a prologue. I may continue this saga if the story is well received. 😉

One Hour Future Photo

By Dennis

On May 2, 2020

In Imaginary

A couple buys an antique camera from another planet that they realize takes photos one hour into the future.

Ixan examined the foreign boxy “L” shaped gray device. The bottom had a slot to insert something, and what that was, Ixan had no clue, other than it had to be thin. On the front was a circle that seemed like an old-fashioned lens, and the top had a tiny red button on the right corner. There was a worn, brown leather strap attached to carry the device. Ixan stopped himself from putting the strap around himself as the gadget had a delicate quality to it with its lightweight, and Ixan didn’t want to invoke the wrath of the kind shopkeeper.

“Hey, Adriyel,” Ixan called out in a hushed tone to his girlfriend. “Come, look at this thing.”

Adriyel walked over with her arms folded. “What did you find now?”

“I don’t know. I thought you might know.”

“I don’t know either,” Adriyel said as the snakes in her hair moved with unease. “This shop is giving me the creeps. Let’s get out of here.”

“I see you found an Insta Photo Camera,” the shopkeeper said with glee as she strolled over to the couple. She was a young human woman with black hair in a bun and wore a red dress more fitting for date night than an antique shop clerk. She had introduced herself to the couple earlier as Raven.

“Never seen a camera like that,” Ixan confessed to Raven.

“That’s because I acquired it from Earth.”

“Woah.”

“I wonder what the pictures look like,” Adriyel said, her interest peaked.

Raven pulled out a small, white piece of paper from behind a rustic wooden counter. “Would you like to test it?”

“Yes!” Ixan exclaimed.

Raven handed him the paper. “Simply put this in the slot in the button, point the camera, and press the red button on top.”

Ixan followed the instructions, taking a selfie. The camera buzzed and whirled for a few seconds before it printed out a photo. The picture developed in front of them, showing Ixan at a different location with a red smudge on his purple cheek.

“That was unexpected,” Adriyel commented, confused.

Ixan’s feelings were the opposite. “This is so rad. It’s like the camera remixes the image. How much?”

“It’s 5,000 shinnies and comes with a pack of 13 photos.”

“Sounds like you’re trying to get rid of it,” Adriyel accused. “Especially something that’s supposedly from Earth.”

“Once you use all 13 photos, that’s it,” Raven explained.

“I’ll take it,” Ixan said. “This will be fun to use throughout our date today.”

Adriyel agreed, and so Ixan paid for the camera. Raven assured Ixan the strap was sturdy if he wanted to sling it over his shoulder. The two carried about their romantic outing in downtown Helvetica, wandering through a few other boutiques before they stopped for a snack at Pi’s Pie Time.

The smell of freshly baked goods greeted them, along with warm welcomes from a ragtag trio of workers in matching aprons behind the glass cabinets. The largest of the three was a chrisom minotaur, who had the smoothness of a ballerina despite his wrestler physique. Moving with slow and cautious precision, he placed tiny adorable pies inside a display case from a massive tray he held with one hand without any unsteady shakes. A dark-skinned human woman near in size with the minotaur approached them from behind the counter.

“What can we make for you today?” the woman asked as an animated tattoo of a white bear performed tricks on a unicycle around her sleeveless arms.

“A small cherry pie for me,” Adriyel politely requested.

“Same for me,” Ixan added.

They paid for their order and took a seat, sinking into a soft, flora pattern couch. The intimate coffee shop bakery had about a dozen tables and several sofas scattered about as a mellow rock tune filled the air. As they waited, the couple chatted about the vibrant landscape paintings done by a local artist that adorned the walls.

A moment later, the women who took their order bought out their cherry pies. As she walked over to them, she didn’t notice the bag someone had left behind a chair and tripped over it. She managed to keep a grip on one pie, but Ixan’s face caught the other. Adriyel laughed.

“I am so sorry,” the woman profusely apologized.

“It’s okay,” Ixan admitted. “It’s just pie.”

“I’ll get you another one.”

The woman left, and Adriyel stopped laughing. Disbelief covered her face as she stared at her boyfriend.

“What’s wrong? Is there something in my teeth?” Ixan joked.

“Pull out that selfie you took with that Insta camera.”

Ixan pulled out the photo from his hoodie and handed it to her.

Adriyel held the photo up side by side to his face. “This is a perfect match. It’s like the camera took a photo of you an hour into the future.”

“Let’s test it out.” Ixan filled the camera and took a picture of Adriyel. In the photograph, Adriyel was smiling, covered in bubbles. “I don’t see you getting covered in bubbles in the next hour.”

“Me neither.”

The woman returned with another pie and two strips of paper. “If you’re interested, I got a pair of tickets to a concert tonight. A promoter dropped off a few earlier today for us to giveaway.”

Adriyel enthusiastically took the tickets. “I love Valiance Refuges! I’ve always wanted to see them live. Thank you!”

The woman smiled. “You’re welcome. Enjoy the show, and so sorry about the pie.”

With the show starting soon, the couple finished their meal and leisurely made their way to the concert venue. The lights dimmed in the historic building as the stage curtains opened to a mellow guitar solo, followed by a thunderous drum beat and cannons spraying foam bubbles, covering the audience.

The crowd cheered while Adriyel and Ixan looked at each other, unsettled.

“That’s two for two,” Adriyel stated with worry.

“Let’s take a photo of us together,” Ixan said, still skeptical.

They huddled together for a selfie. In the printed photo was only Adriyel. She was crying. Thinking he frame themselves wrong, he took two more shots, each solo. Adriyel’s photo had her still crying while Ixan’s was blank.

“Okay, this thing is just messing with us,” Ixan grumbled. “Let’s just enjoy the show and go home afterward.”

It took a few songs and some alcoholic drinks, but their mood did improve. They left the venue in cheerful spirits, discussing their favorite moments. For them to rate this experience as one of their favorites was high praise, considering the couple attended a concert about every other week.

“Next time that band’s in town, we gotta see them,” Ixan said to Adriyel.

“I’ll keep tabs on their schedule. Hold on. What’s that noise?”

Adriyel looked up while Ixan shrugged. A dragon, twice their size with a wing on fire, was spiraling out of control, falling toward them.

“Watch out!” Adriyel screamed as she ran to the side.

Confused and a little intoxicated, Ixan sluggishly looked around for the danger, only to see the dragon too late. The dragon crashed into him. Adriyel cried out. Strangers nearby rushed over to help.

The next day, Adriyel returned to the antique curiosities shop with the camera strapped around her. The retail space was empty, with only a “For Lease” sign on the door.

This story was inspired by a simple writing prompt about an old camera that photos one hour into the future. Since the last few of my stories have taken place on Earth, I decided to give this concept a sci-fi setting and place it on The Black Planet. I also worked in a pie shop that I have featured in one of my books I’m writing currently.

If you want to help support me, join me on Patreon and one of the rewards is early access to my short stories. I’ll also post locked/exclusive stories that I’ve submitted to publications, like this one here, about a shop that sells personalities.

Thank you to Janine De Guzman at Design Pickle for bringing the shop scene to life.

Thank you for reading!

The Clock Tower’s Purpose

By Dennis

On February 1, 2020

In Imaginary

After the initial chaos of a clock tower falling from the sky, it faded into normalcy with only a reporter keeping tabs on it until one morning when its lights went out.

There were many theories why a clock tower the size of two houses fell from the sky and landed in Whiteridge. The initial reaction to such as large object falling in the village center was that a spaceship had crashed, but when emergency crews arrived, all they found was a violet steel tower with digital numbers the size of a person displaying the current time. There was no way discovered to get inside the structure. Early speculations suggested The Black Dragon dropped the tower; however, when the press inquired, The Black Dragon denied any knowledge of it.

One of Auceon’s favorite theories was the whole tower was a social experiment by a secret cult. He didn’t have any opinions about what that experiment was. Although Auceon also liked the idea of it being an art piece, he figured the artist would’ve come forward to claim it or had the clock count down to something as part of a statement. After months of the clock running normally and no one taking credit for it, the clock faded into normalcy.

Despite the lack of activity, Auceon kept tabs on it as one of his beats for the newsroom. As part of his commute from work, he stopped by on his hoverboard. All the changes he recorded were beautification efforts to the area, like new flowers, trees, benches, and playground equipment — all of those he received press releases. No mysteries there.

This morning was different. From off in the distance, Auceon noticed the red glow from the numbers were gone. With no time on the clock, Auceon raced on his hoverboard to the scene, his brown fur blowing in the wind as he traveled as fast as he could. Since most visitors came to the tower in the evening, it was easy for him to spot three humans carrying boxes running out from a previously hidden door at the tower’s base. They fled around the corner and out of his sight. Auceon had a choice: follow the people or go inside.

Auceon went inside. Thousands of screens covered the entire room. His jaw dropped in shock.

“Hello,” Auceon called out. “Anyone here?”

With no reply, he decided to familiarize himself with his surroundings. He rushed up the glass stairs, calling out again, only to find a self-sufficient greenhouse. At the end of the room, he found two doors. One lead to a bathroom and the other a tiny bedroom with three bunk beds. There were no personal belongings or clothing left by whoever resided there.

Auceon trekked back downstairs to study the screens. It didn’t take him long to figure out all of the displays were live feeds monitoring people and places throughout Whiteridge.

“What did I find?” Auceon muttered to himself.

Auceon scanned through the various monitors until he came across a set of static screens. Underneath was an infamous name: Bravak.

As if on cue, Bravak tore through the door. Auceon trembled at the sight of the shark twice his size. Bravak saw the screens as if they confirmed a suspicion he had and then noticed Auceon.

“You,” Bravak bellowed in accusation. “I should’ve known it would’ve been one of you reporters spying on me.”

As Bravak marched forward, Auceon knew it was the end of his journalism career.

Thank you to Henry Yusman at Design Pickle for bringing this scene to life. For this artwork, the scene depicted takes place before the events of the story, back to when the clock tower first fell.