Let's play a game, kay? It's interactive LJ, I promise!

[darkelf105]

Today, whilst driving down Rt 2, I beheld a line of six, white, unmarked conversion vans of the sort that everyone and no one uses and I couldn't help but think, "Huh, how ominous. I wonder where they are going?" Now, they could have been caterers on their way to a wedding or bar mitzvah, or florists on the way to the funeral of some minor Ohio luminary, or maybe even repair trucks on their way to make some horrible disaster slightly less disastrous.  Or they could be something more sinister, after all, this is the modern age and an anonymous white van can portend much horror.

Here's what I think they are really up to:

In Avon, there lives an old man. His hair and beard are mildewed gray with age, and he sits underneath the overpass that straddles the highway connecting Rt 2 to Rt 6.  Underneath the Northeast Ohio sun, whether by winter's watery light or summer's blistering burn, he sits within the overpass's shadow and mutters words of prophecy.  Sometimes, he wanders over to a dead deer or raccoon that some yuppie's brand new earth-destroyer has torn asunder and stirs its entrails, sifting for signs. Occasionally, the old man wanders to the Bj's, up, just beyond the overpass, and combs the green dumpster behind the monolithic, brick box, looking for a stray scrap of pizza or hot dog. On some days, when he's up to it, and the crows cry just right, he chases Bj's customers with gleaming metal shopping carts until the store's security comes and chases him away, back to the shadows of his bridge. The old man has cutting, blue eyes and pearls hang from his ears and from his chapped and blistered lips, from behind teeth rotting from age and neglect, come words that tell the future.  In a past age he may have been a samurai or sailor, in this one he's the unheard voice of the oracle. No Delphi for him, no shrine nor temple, not even an audience, except for maybe the vultures that circle the highway in search for fresh kills.

 But some one has been listening. Leaks and murmurs have crept beyond the shadows of the overpass and have reached, quiet, rumor-like. The men, anonymous in black suits in their anonymous white vans, come from far away, from a place where important, potent things happen. The old man knows something they think they want to know and so they come bearing fried chicken and root beer as an offering. They have gleaned, from the graffiti soaked walls of Cleveland's bathrooms and institutional hallways, that this is what the prophet most longs for.  And so they approach, a peculiar sight to any traveler along Rt 2, the six gleaming vans lined up, a murder of black suited men, like crows, lined up along the underbelly of the overpass. They are all watching something, though their sunglasses make it hard to tell. They seem to be listening, but the stillness of their faces makes this hard to tell, too.  And then they leave. They climb back into their white, unmarked vans, faces grim, and pass along the highway, out of sight, into the east, towards Cleveland. Underneath the overpass, an old man chews his fried chicken and drinks his cold root beer. He is smiling. 


Now, tell me what you think those white vans were about. It's story time, children!

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[hittokiri-korru.livejournal.com]

Lurking along one of the many onyx snakes that fill the land of the blue planet, the inhabitants engage in their cyclic patterns. Among the bore of the everyday, something much more fascinating burns itself into the pages of history. The Neimoidian ambassador to the blue planet arrives in the west under the guise of a peace bringer. The ambassador has lived in the public eye as this peace bringer for 3 years since the reincarnating of his predecessor. As the peace bringer arrives on the wings of the silver lark the local populace bring forth their olive trees. While the specs of black watch over the bringer the dots of white slither along the onyx snake. A closer look shows a peaceful journey. The convoy of ivory conceal a grand plan, for hidden within lie a grand device of destruction. As they travel they pass the reincarnated, in the guise of a fallen foreseer who pisses his messages on the onyx snakes. After an afternoon's drive the ivory messengers bring their product to a grand coliseum. Filled with thousands the peace bringer arrives at the same coliseum. Unaware of the grand scheme the masses cheer for the peace bringer who speaks his message. As the peace bringer brings his peace the parts of destruction are unloaded, among them are a large golden vase, an equally large gold pipe, and bag of violet salt, and red stone smaller than a inhabitants grasp, and a flame thought by the people to be headed for a land covered in red. Men in white bring forth the parts on palanquins, while the onlookers wonder. The parts assemble in a way that appear to be a cannon. The salt in poured in a circle around the destructive devise and the peace bringer is given the flame and stone. He begins to chant in a way that seems welcome to the masses. However chaos ensues when the devise glows and a large crimson beam shoots to the sky. The ground begins to rumble but the panic continues. A body rises from the ground of the coliseum under the device and appears in the beam. The body is known to the locals as Richard Simmons. Inside the beam body changes shape as the peace bringer changes his chant. The body becomes solidified in iron and disappears into the skies and the beam disappears along with the peace bringers chant. Content, the peace bringer is escorted away by the specs of black, and returns to the silver lark. The local inhabitants are left to wonder, but will soon forget. The peace bringer returns to his embassy and speaks to the people of the blue planet, describing the body as a Defel intended on destroying the blue planet via forced infertility.