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Blue Mage III: Life’s a Beach

Castaways

The chief wrapped up assignments for the day and paired me with Robert Ignacio. Most of us just called him El Gruñón, Spanish for grouch.   And if he heard you use his nickname, he’d purse his lips and furrow his brows – more so than usual – and respond in Spanish.  Some of the other officers who speak Spanish confirmed that his responses were always of the upmost respect and full of delightful kindness.  Just like El Gruñón.

As we all filed out of the meeting room, Robert matched my pace and offered to drive.  And I think I remember almost seeing him smile as he looked down at my newly gifted supply box.  We split ways as I made my way to the locker room and he left to pull the Ford Interceptor around front.  After stowing my gifts away, I walked outside and climbed into the suburban. We drove to the beach accompanied by the sounds of Herb Alpert and Andrés Segovia.

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Blue Mage II: Back in Black and Blue

Beach Duty

I’ll always remember my first day back at the precinct after blowing my knee caps out.  And not just because of the good-natured gifts my fellow men and women in blue bequeathed upon me for successfully integrating back into the force.

Firstly, I recall being tired.  Partly because I tossed and turned the entire night before, and also because re-qualifying was a lot harder after spending a few months on the couch than after the academy.  My legs were still burning.  As I sat in the briefing room waiting on my first assignment, my bullet proof vest chafed the mound of fat that had settled between the bottom of the vest and the top of my belt.  According to Tommy and the others, I was looking “healthy”.

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Magic Typewriter I

Magic Typewriter I

She burst through the door with the poise and grace of a wounded chicken taking flight.  The sound of her elbow clipping the edge of the door frame reverberated through the paper-thin walls as she stumbled into the kitchen, her head bobbing listlessly to one side.  Her arms wildly searched the cabinet doors, until she flung open the third set from the left, and then stopped.  All this time, the man on the other side of the kitchen / living room never looked up from his typewriter as he sat on the couch, furiously clacking away at the old metal keys filling the room with an incessant sound of industry. Continue reading “Magic Typewriter I”

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MagPunk: Blue Mage 1

It’s been almost five years since the awakening of magic – an exact, unforgiving science that is completely misunderstood by the entire world.  The brightest minds of our times have gathered together after Detroit disappeared in a flash of light.  They’re there to observe, test, and squabble over competing hypotheses.  Unfortunately, it wasn’t long until reports of smaller “anomalies” began to work their way through the news cycle and into the imaginations of a dumbfounded world. Continue reading “MagPunk: Blue Mage 1”

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State of the Blog: What is this Place?

Welcome, weary traveler of the internets.  I hope you’ve come looking for stories, because that is all we have to offer.  How many, you ask?  As many as time provides.  The story teller intends to grace this site with tales from several different worlds of his own invention.  Each story is meant to provide you with a short escape from your world into a world that is not your own.

What worlds does the teller plan to write of?  A few – not too many.  Well, perhaps too many.  Perhaps he will run short of time and only tell a few stories, but I have high hopes for this one.  Why?  Well, I like what he intends for his stories.  They are nothing like me, and I find the idea intriguing. Continue reading “State of the Blog: What is this Place?”