Divine Aesthetics: The Blog

Emrys Part II

Who walked in at the end of Part I?

I should specify something: This series is in a fantasy/sci-fi genre. Don't expect all normal situations here.

*Ding! Ding!*
*Ding! Ding!*


"Sorry, we're not ope-" Eric stopped talking when he saw who walked in. "Hope?"

"Hey, hotshot! Didja miss me?"

In front of Eric stood a girl who was almost a head shorter than him, although having half of her long, black hair pulled into a ponytail that arced out from the back of her head at a 45 degree angle did make her seem a little taller than she actually was. The oriental hairstyle was fitting, since she definitely got most of her looks from her mother. The exception was her noticeably pointed ears, which she'd inherited from her father - the one who taught Eric everything he knew about martial arts.

"Um, yeah, but what are you doing here?" Eric did little to hide his surprise. He'd last seen the half-elf when he was living in Tokyo, what seemed like a lifetime ago.

"Well, I'm pretty much done with high school so Mom's letting me start college, with the provision that I stay with someone she trusts. I guess she's afraid her little girl could get hurt in the big bad world."

"More like she wants someone to protect the world from the big bad Hope."

Eric saw the punch coming and easily dodged it. He was still over twice Hope's age, after all.

"So why here? I mean, don't get me wrong, I haven't seen you since Tokyo and it's nice to see you again, but I thought you'd, you know," Eric looked around, although he knew there was no one there, "... find a college in your own time."

"That's what I thought at first, but you know how overprotective my Mom is. She can pop in when ever she wants, unless you're in a different era. I really wanted to get out from under her wing, you know?"

Eric nodded in agreement to that. Training under her father had been a wonderful experience, but the old elf was so powerful he eclipsed everyone around him except Hope's mom. Eric knew exactly what it was like to live in someone else's shadow.

"In any case, you're cooler than your version in my era anyway. The older Eric is all serious and stuff - you and Cyra were a lot more fun to hang out with,"

Eric's smile vanished from his face, and Hope clapped her hands over her mouth. "Cyra's ..."

"Oh no! Eric, that wasn't supposed to happen yet! I mean, I remember Cyra from my time, and I'm not even-"

"Timelines change, Hope. You of all people should remember that. The day you came to this era you stopped it from being your past and turned it into an alternate history. Nothing that you remembered had to happen, and some of it happened a lot faster. Heck, you might not even be born in this timeline."

"You mean Dad's not ..."

"Both Blake and your father are still missing. Thankfully, so's Dimitri. Whatever Blake did to stop Dimitri in Tokyo, he was thorough about it."

"So ... you're stranded here, then?"

Eric gave a short, bitter laugh. More of a bark, actually. "Your Dad planned ahead. If I really wanted to go back I could find a way, but what would I go back to? I promised to take care of Fay, and I can do that better if I stay out of all the craziness for a couple decades."

"Fay ... oh, you mean Faile! She's here? Can I see her?"

"She's upstairs doing her homework, if she knows what's good for her." Eric said that comment louder than he needed to, but there was a squeak of surprise from the staircase, followed by the sound of someone scurrying back upstairs.

Hope moved to follow, and Eric called after her. "We go by 'Fay' here, it keeps the teasing down."

"O.K.!"

Eric turned to the still half full box of books, and decided he'd finish it later. After locking the front door for the evening, he went upstairs to join his daughter & their new guest.

Emrys, Part I

The red haired man shoved the screwdriver into his back pocket and opened a box of assorted books that was sitting against the wall with a dozen of it's brothers. A quick look-through showed that they were mostly chemistry textbooks, so he went to a bookcase labeled "Science" in bold, construction paper letters.

Starting a used book store is often a risky endeavor reserved for the retired or those with alternate incomes. The exception to that rule is when you set up shop in a college town and offer to buy and sell textbooks. By moving in right at the end of the Fall semester, Eric had guaranteed that he would be able to buy more books than he had the space for. At this point he was almost done setting up for his first wave of customers that would be giving him money - not the other way around.

*Ding! Ding!*
"Daddy!"


Eric's head snapped towards the open door in time to see a short red blur barge through and barrel into him. With a practiced twist he managed to protect his assailant from the Chemistry books that were now raining down around them. "Ack! Nice to see you, too, Fay. How was your first day back?"

The blur was (as Eric had suspected) now a red haired girl that looked to be about ten years old. Her jeans and PowerPuff Girls™ t-shirt had done little to restrict her movement as she used her patented tackle-hug, much to her father's dismay.

"Schoolwasgreat! Welearnedhowmummieshadtheirbrainstakenoutoftheirnoses (whichwaskindagross) andthattwowrongsdon'tmakearightbuttwonegativesmakeapositiveinmath *GASP* AndBillythrewupandhadtogotothanursebuttheysaidhe'llbebacktomorrow. Howwasyourdaydaddy?"

Eric blinked. Of course by now he was used to Fay talking like she'd just won a sugar eating contest, but it still took a moment to process everything she said when she was excited.

"Um, well, I'm almost done stocking the shelves. Howabout you go upstairs and get a snack, then I'll help you with your homework?"

"Ok, but don't take too long, okay?"

"No problem there. Now skeedadle, ya rugrat!" Eric took a playful swing at his daughter as she giggled and ran upstairs. Over the winter he and some friends had converted the second floor into a somewhat more than modest living space, including two bedrooms, a kitchen/dining room, a living room, a storage room, and a small dojo. Eric made it a point to spend at least an hour in the dojo every morning practicing his katas before Fay woke up.

Eric was finishing up the last box when a now familiar bell rang.

"Sorry, we're not ope-" Eric stopped talking when he saw who walked in.

Checkmate

College student comes to terms with having loved and lost.

English 270, M 6:00
Fall '98
Final Short Story
Checkmate


"You want me to do what?"

"C'mon, it'll be good for you - for both of you."

"I seriously doubt that."

Amos finished off his soda and flipped over the check. After some over-simplified math he took out $7 to pay for his share of the food and cover the tip. Codie glanced at the slip of paper and handed Amos her share of the bill. With that, they both got up and headed towards the register.

"You're way too pessimistic, you know."

"I like to think it's more like realistic. Based on previous evidence..."

"...You 'have no faith that you'll ever find someone to spend the rest of your life with.' I know, I know - you've told me that like a thousand times already."

As the words were spoken, a quote popped unbidden into Amos's head:

That's a nice little speech you've got there - run through it a few more times and you might have it rehearsed to the point that nobody knows your acting.

What annoyed him was that they were his own words. He'd written them in one of his stories not a year earlier.

Amos hung his head as he walked out the door of the diner, a sheepish grin on his face.

"Sorry... but I still don't want to go on a date with her, even if she's as nice as you say she is." All irony aside, he was far too stubborn to give in once he set his mind down one path.

"Grr! You are so depressing sometimes!"

"And you think she'll have a good time on a date with someone as depressing as me?"

Codie threw a half-hearted punch at Amos, and it glanced off his shoulder. The flinch he gave was as much an act as the punch had been.

"You don't have to be depressing, you know. You can be a very... 'spiffy' person when you want to be."

They both chuckled at the inside joke. "Spiffy" was a word that Amos had used so often since his freshman year that among his friends it had even become his nickname.

-=-=-=-

On their way back to the dorms their conversation turned to more comfortable conversation, such as computers, Japanese animation, and the writing club of which they were both founding members. It wasn't until they got to where Codie had parked her car that she brought up the subject again.

"Look, I'm not saying you should marry her - just go on a date with her. One date. You and Demi are so much alike, you might actually enjoy yourself for a change."

"Codie..."

"Just promise me you'll think about it, okay?" Amos remained silent and examined an empty beer can someone had left sitting in the middle of the lot.. "Okay?"

"Okay... I promise I'll think about it."

"Okeedoke! I'll see you later then. Bye."

"Fare thee well." That was another running gag of sorts. Amos only said "Fare thee well" because he thought it made him sound eloquent - a sharp contrast to the wrinkled, shabby, paint-stained clothing he preferred to wear.

They hugged goodbye, and then Codie got in her car and drove off to her apartment. Amos shivered against the cold in spite of his coat and hurried back to his nice warm dorm room to get some sleep. He had an early class the next morning.

-=-=-=-

That's a nice little speech you've got there...

"Yeah it is, isn't it?"

Despite how tired he was, Amos couldn't get his mind off of this whole blind date business. He knew his current attitude made most of his friends disappointed in him, but he really didn't see a better alternative.

"If you're tired of getting burned, stop getting so close to the fire."

...run through it a few more times and you might have it rehearsed to the point that nobody knows your acting.

"It never works out. Either nothing happens or I fall for her while she falls for someone else and lives happily ever after."

...run through it a few more times...

Amos recalled a chess game he'd seen his roommate playing once. For lack of something better to do, he'd decided to adopt two different strategies and play himself. At the point when Amos walked in, both sides were mirror images of each other. Neither side had the upper hand. Or both did. It depended on how you looked at it.

His roommate had started out with two plans of attack, but over time they'd come together to be the same thing - only for different sides.

That game was never finished. After Amos showed up, the pieces were put away and they both left to go grab something to eat. It was too bad, though. Amos would have liked to see which side came out on top. The moves could only mirror each other for so long - once one side called "check," the symmetry would be broken.

One side had to win.

Sure there could be a draw, but there was a winner and a looser in that, too. It was the last resort of the player who knew there was no other option but to loose. One could, in a draw, achieve the small victory of not loosing. "You can't beat me if the game goes on forever."

But even then it's known who should have lost, who should have won. All the loser gained was the ability to not give the winner satisfaction.

The game needed to play itself out. Amos couldn't simply "think about it" forever.

A quick glance at the clock showed that it was almost one in the morning. Codie would be home by now.

"Checkmate."

Amos picked up the phone and dialed.

"Hello, Codie...?"

---

Commentary on Checkmate

Throughout the course of this semester I've become rather annoyed by the sheer number of stories with depressing endings. Checkmate is in part an attack on the premise that all short works of fiction that portray the real world must leave off at a depressing moment. To show this, I ended the story at a scene where one can be optimistic as to how it continues.

I didn't want to carve what is intended to happen in stone, however. "And they lived happily ever after" is far too cliché for my tastes. Besides: as an artist, I've come to take a post-modern view of my art works. One of the recurring traits in post-modernism is a lack of closure. The circle is almost drawn, but is left instead as an almost-closed "C," with enough room left for a little ambiguity.

On another note, all the names in this story tell something about the characters. Amos means "bearer of a burden," Codie means "helpful," and Demi is short for Demona, which means "girl of sadness." Codie's statement that Amos and Demi are alike also implies that their names' meanings can be juxtaposed.

There is, of course, much more symbolism thrown in this story, but a one-page commentary can only talk about so much. Almost every action, every included detail, either puts forward a helpful detail or supports a previously mentioned stance.

© 1998 Divine Aesthetics.