A. L. Kaplan

Author: A. L. Kaplan

  • Goodbye Wave

    Patricia knelt on the beach numb and trembling, a single black rose grasped in her hand, heedless of the sharp thorns. Blood mixed with the salty water dripping down her arm. An icy vise crushed her heart. The rose had washed ashore only moments before Chris’s broken board, just like in her dreams. Did she make this happen? Was it her fault? No amount of pleading could stop Chris from surfing today. Now he was gone, torn from her by the crashing riptide.

    Jackie saw the Black Rose slash the surfer’s board and yanked him under the massive wave. Hate shrouded the assassin like a cloak, masking all but the signature black rose. As Chris was dragged farther into the ocean Jackie’s skin prickled. A dream projection couldn’t drown, but the instinctive fear still made her hesitate. Chris was almost out of sight before Jackie forced her spirit into the churning waters. It took all her concentration to reach him and strike the Black Rose. The assassin screamed in anger as Jackie attacked. Icy hands lashed at Jackie’s neck and she felt her spirit weakening from the onslaught. Desperately, she kicked at the shrouded figure, invoking the strength of the Dream Guardians. A bright light flashed and the Black Rose hissed, then vanished.

    Nearly drained, Jackie dragged Chris’s limp body to the shore and forced air into his lungs. Chris would live, but Jackie’s job was far from over. It was time Patricia learned her dreams were premonitions, not assaults.

  • Old Glory

    With liberty and justice for all. That’s what they taught in school. Home was a different story. Only those who fit dad’s mold of the ideal man were accepted. Pumping iron was mandatory. It made me look good and was great bonding time with my brothers, but a word of encouragement from him would have been nice. My brothers lived up to Dad’s expectations and followed his footsteps into the service. I tried to please him, but nothing I did was good enough, not even stellar grades.

    College was expensive and dad wouldn’t pay a dime. Said the military was the only way to go. Living a lie isn’t for me, so that was never an option. They don’t want my kind. My brothers understood, so did Mom. She used her own money to help. The rest was up to me.

    I found a way.

    The stars and stripes weren’t the only ones flying when he saw the picture of me in my faded blue jeans and white tank top, old glory draped over my shoulders. Dad freaked out, said I disgusted him. Sorry Dad, it’s a land of opportunity and modeling paid for college.

    It’s been years since I posed for that photograph. All the college loans are paid off and I make more money than I need. My family visits often. Dad still refuses. Maybe one day he’ll accept me for who I am. I’ll be here waiting when he does. Until then, I’ll remain true to me.

  • Early Start

    George shifted the throttle on the old motorboat and disappeared into the mist forming over the cold water of the lake. The first rays of morning sun tried to penetrate the vapor, but were repulsed, leaving only a sickly glow. Chills ran down George’s back as he glanced at the bundle on the boat’s floor. Chains and weights crisscrossed the pink floral sheet. No one could know what he was doing, no one. Traveling by instinct, he reached the deepest part of the lake where the shoreline was hidden from view. First his little boy, then his wife, all dead.

    “I wish I’d never found you.” George said as he grasped the bundle.

    The package twisted and wriggled in his hands, knocking the industrial ear muff he wore from his head. George released the package and clamped his hands over his ears as a voice, taunting, singing, filled the air. It would be so easy for him to sink into the soothing waters, silent and dark. That’s what he wanted, wasn’t it?

    George froze, one leg already poise to jump into the icy water. The sleek trout gleamed at him from its mounted plaque as it lay unwrapped on the floor of the boat. George jammed his ear muff back on and rewrapped the wriggling singing fish, making sure the weights were well clamped. His hands shook as he threw it overboard and he prayed no one would ever find the thing again.

  • Balticon 46

    There’s nothing like a Science fiction convention to bring out the wackiness in all of us and I mean that in a good way. This year’s Balticon which was held over Memorial Day weekend was no exception. Where else can costumers, writers, fans, and science geeks all hang out and have fun? I spent most of my time going to writing workshops and costuming workshops, but managed to slip in some anime and games. This year’s masquerade had only 24 entrants, but where they lacked quantity, they made up for in quality and presentation. The Best in Show winner titled, Basic Black, had me laughing hysterically. Ever see Jafar in a little black dress and heels? There were plenty of great costumes just walking around the halls as well. For Doctor Who fans, I saw a TARDIS and at least three Doctors. One of those Doctors was also in the masquerade along with a couple of Weeping Angels. The short film contest, which included a world premiere and several Maryland premieres, was quite enjoyable, but I wonder if some film makers truly understand the concept of telling a complete story. The Chase, directed by Philippe Gamer, won for anime and The Oblique Sector created by Albion Park Productions of Massachusetts won for live action.

    Oh, did I mention I won the Hall Costume Contest for my Blue Dragon?

    Balticon 47 will be held Memorial Day weekend of 2013. Come join the fun. You can find more information at the BSFS website. I hope to see some of you there next year.

  • Balticon

    This Memorial Day weekend is Balticon, Maryland’s premier Science Fiction/Fantasy Convention. It’s loads of fun with activities that range from writing workshops/panels, readings, science programs, anime, games, costumes, and so much more. It runs from Friday through Monday. I’ll be doing a costume panel this year. My friends, daughter and husband are doing their first panels as well.

    If you are in the area, come check it out. For more information on the convention go to Balticon and check the list of my friend’s panels at http://marylanddreamweavers.wordpress.com/ 

    Hope you see you there.

  • The Ski Lesson

    Brad screamed as they moved his leg, but finally they got him strapped into the rescue sled. Who breaks a leg on the bunny slope? The damn little kids were still zipping by left and right, just like the one that had cut him off. How could he have let his friends talk him into skiing at his age?  He winced as the sled hit a bump. At least the ski patrol was nice. The guy hauling him down the slope now had been particularly pleasant.

    Half way back to the lodge his escort turned to face him. “So, Brad, will that be cash or credit?”

    “What!?”

    “Your ski pass says you didn’t take our ski insurance with your rental/lift package, so we should discuss your options.”

    “Options? What are you talking about?” said Brad. The throbbing in his leg must be effecting his hearing.

    “Do you want our recovery package or do you prefer to pay à la carte?

    “What is this, an airline?”

    “Where do you think we got the idea? Anyway, the recovery package is $500 but if you prefer à la carte, emergency medical response is $100. The ride down the mountain costs $250. Boot removal is $80 and there is an additional $100 fee to retrieve and return all your rental equipment for you.

  • Fate 101

    He looked at the image on the photo, a young woman walking down a quiet city street carrying a heavy backpack. An address and time was scribbled in black sharpie across the bottom. The road was one he had traveled a hundred times. They had probably crossed paths often and not even noticed. It was an easy task in a city this large. Time was critical with his job, so he tucked the photo into a pocket and peddled down the street. Missing her could cost him future work.

    Neither the coffee nor the cool air could shake her fatigue. If only she could sleep without bad dreams. Worried about being late, she didn’t look before darting into the road. There was only a flicker of warning, a hostile wind that made her look up in time to see him barreling toward her. Their eyes met for just an instant, and the chill she saw in them made her heart stop. It felt like a DVD in slow motion – dark icy eyes – a glint of sun off the blade that appeared in his hand – and all the time her feet glued to the asphalt. Then, at the last second, the bicycle jerked, tossing him under a passing truck. She blinked as tears streamed down her face, trying to slow her racing heart. For just a moment, right before he fell, she saw the ghostly image of a foot, kicking the wheel of the bike.

  • Gold Fever

    Lance yanked another gold bracelet off a skeleton and slipped it onto his arm, then slapped Miquel on the back. “Those superstitious fools who turned back are going to kick themselves when we return to town.”

    Miquel placed a crown on his head and smiled. “Max and Renato died in an accident, not because of some Mayan curse. Nacon, god of war, be damned. Now we’re the lords of Quixtelopotec.”

    Hours later, Miquel hauled the last bag of treasure up from the sacrificial pit and held his hand out to Lance, a knife concealed behind his back. It wasn’t much of a struggle.

    “Blasphemer! You will die for your sacrilege!”

    Miquel spun around, his face frozen in shock as a stone masked figure stepped into view. He backed away, slipping on Lance’s blood. Renato pulled the mask from his face as Miquel fell into the pit. Now the treasure was all his. Killing Max and frightening the others was easy. He whistled at he loaded the loot onto the pack mules.

    “Blasphemer!” the voice reverberated off the stone ruins, shaking dirt and debris loose around Renato. He looked around. Did the others sneak back? He paled as a figure marched out of the rock wall shaking a stone mallet over his head. “You, who dare to steal from Nacon, shall pay with your blood.”

    His former companions, eyes black and hollow grabbed him with ethereal hands. He could only scream as he fell into the darkness.

  • A Chance Meeting – Or Not

    Retirement was supposed to be relaxing, fun, but since his final night as a fireman Mike had been anything but. He breathed in the fresh salty air and continued his walk down the beach, trying to forget that last fire. Mike and his beautiful wife of thirty years, Sheila, moved to Boca eight months ago, but the image of his friend’s granddaughter, Jackie, leading him out of the firetrap still haunted him.

    Mike gazed down the rock strewn beach and froze. His chest tightened in shock. Jackie sat on a small bolder in a thin white cotton dress, windblown hair trailing. Mike rubbed his eyes, but Jackie remained. He walked to her on shaky legs.

    “Am I hallucinating again?”

    Jackie smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “No.”

    “Did I see you in the fire?” Mike’s voice sounded strained.

    She turned away and stared at the crashing waves, twirling a strand of her brown hair.  “You’re not crazy, but if you keep talking about it people will think you are or worse, it’ll attract the attention of some very bad people.”

    “Like?”

    “Like the ones who wanted to kill the boy you rescued. They set the fire. We saved him and will keep him safe, but that’s all I’m permitted to say. Please, enjoy the retirement you’ve earned, but let it go.”

    A smile crept across Mike’s face for the first time in months as she walked away. He’d stay quiet, but letting it go just wasn’t his style.