Jet Pack Angel: The Newest Interceptor

Hello again dear viewers,

I finally got the title name!

JET PACK ANGEL!

It works, no?

The idea at the moment is to write a vigilante story where a girl in New Amsterdam dons a superhero persona in order to clear her sister's name. That's as much as I have so far. I'll have to explore more of the plot later, as I'm still working on Point of View.

Let's see where this story goes.

-Zach

REWRITING Point of View

Hello everyone,

It's been a while, but Point of View is officially being rewritten again. What a crazy turnaround this time, huh? It only took me a couple of months this time! Sure beats having a rough draft on sale for two years (at least in hindsight it is).
Anyways, here's the new synopsis:

As Hollywood advances for a new generation, a seasoned veteran of the arts must embrace change, or face obscurity, in the world that he loves.


Second draft will begin soon, as I'm still working the kinks out of the plot and characters. This will be the one- the story that gets me somewhere, I hope. As always, we'll have to wait and see.

All of the best,

Zach Neuman

A Burst for Point of View

CONTENT WARNING: Language

This was a sporadic piece of writing from the past week, inspired by the song "Dying in LA" by Panic! At the Disco.

I hope you enjoy it.
..................................................................................................................................................................


“LAX seemed less crowded that day. I was gathering my baggage after my flight from Shanghai- dealing with some bigwigs there and getting some r&r with Stephanie- when I saw a young girl in designer jeans helping an elderly man with a suitcase. Make no mistake, this was a starlet.”

“How did you know?”

“She had the bright eyes, the gentle moves, and the glowing smile. She had dyed her hair and wore a trenchcoat in the summer like a diva.”

“Poor kid.”

“Yeah, I know. I left my bags and strode to her as she waited for a cab.”

“What did you say?”

“What I tell them every time. After some small talk, y’know ‘Welcome to LA. Where did you come from? What brings you here?’”

“Obviously, she said Hollywood, right?”

“Yep. She said how she wanted to be a star on the wall of fame, y’know, since all of the spots on the walk were taken.”

“And you told her what?”

“I told her to turn around and leave. She looked at me like I had insulted her, I swear to god.

‘How could I go home? No one else did, and their dreams came true! Look at Emma Watson, Cate Blanchette, Katherine Hepburn!’

“She really said those actresses' names?”

“I swear to you, that’s what she said. I knew there was no way I could convince her, so I watched as she took a cab and told the driver to go to Hollywood.

“A few months later, I was walking out of Reverie Midnight, one of the new restaurants on Rodeo, after wining and dining some new producers on the scene from Venezuela Nueva, when I saw her. Her glowing smile was hidden behind a subtle pout and her bright eyes dulled. I grabbed her a cab home and gave her my card, not before writing two words on the back.”

“What did you write?”

“'You tried'.”

“Oh, you’re so sappy, writing down a platitude like that.”

“Sappiness works in some cases, my friend. Next day I saw her as she tried to trespass into my office. I invited her in.”

“This was when you worked for Apacia, the talent agency?”

“No, later on. This was when I was at Babylon Pictures as an EP. My office was in a discreet building since I hated dealing with most of the pricks in and around the office. Anyways, I let her in and mascara covered her cheeks.

“She sits down in the chair opposite of me, a box of tissues next to her, and proclaims ‘This city is killing me’.”

“I looked at her and said ‘I know. I can see it all over your face. Where did you fly in from?’

“‘Tuscon, Arizona’, she says. I noticed that she wore the same dress as the day we met, for some reason.

“‘There’s a flight leaving in 2 hours from LAX. I’ll call a cab for you.' I told her, 'Don’t worry about paying for it. Just get in the cab and tell the front desk to bill my card. Remember, just get in the cab.’

“My mistake was not escorting her out. Granted, we were trying to get Venezuelan producers involved in pictures, and one of them called out of the blue, so I had to take the call.

“She never got into the cab.”

“How do you know?”

“I wasn’t billed, and that girl couldn’t get two nickels to rub together. She never got there.”

“You ever see her again?”

“Yeah. A year later. Saw her going into a strip club.”

“A male one?”

“Female one. She was going in to ‘entertain’!”

“What happened?”

“She told me she got swept up in a shady movie deal. Guy had told her he could guarantee her an Oscar nomination in her first movie. She signed on that night after she saw a flyer for auditions outside my office. She didn’t know it was for five pictures on a huge budget with fourth-rate producers. The films wouldn’t start up until the budget was secured.”

“How much?”

“Twenty million.”

“Jesus, why that much for five indie films?!”

“That was for all of the films at once. She never actually told me what the name of the studio head was because I would have hired all of the lawyers I could to wring their throats. I’m sure she’s not the only one caught in that net of theirs. And the nomination? They used the small loophole in the Oscars consideration laws.”

“The ‘play in one theater in Los Angeles for a week’ clause?”

“Bingo. She found out afterward and got heartbroken. Worst yet, she couldn’t get out of the contract unless she never wanted to work in Hollywood again. The douchebag wouldn’t release the contracts even after two months of inactivity.”

“That bastard.”

“Fuckin a. I offered to hire a lawyer to look over the contract, but she shrunk back. I asked her why she couldn’t leave, but she barely had an answer. She tried to convince me that her 3.8 GPA from Arizona State University with a smattering of side roles on her reel was enough for her to be cast. How could I tell her that luck is a currency around here, that status is everything, and that connections are almost impossible to cross onto once they’re built?

“The last time I saw her, which was a few weeks ago, I was walking the streets of Beverly Hills like they were old friends. Across the street, I saw her, as headstrong as a porcelain statue, followed by a camera guy and another man, presumably the director. The camera was pointed at her ass. Her eyes looked glazed over behind sunken cheeks.

“Michael, how can I say that’s unfair? Which parts can we blame for this injustice? Should we blame the producers for demanding a return on investment, the casting directors for picking only the best actors, the schools for taking every measure to fill their classrooms or the actors themselves for dreaming too high?

“I blame none of them. Hell, they may be selfish and ambitious, but they are all human. I blame the cities- LA and New York, the Broadways and the Rodeos. They put themselves on pedestals and proceeded to infect the youth and poison the earth with smog and rat-filled subways. Amidst all of that filth, they still attract the pure ones and send them to their doom.

“If people just stopped believing in the myths that we were gods, that film was the new tales of legend, and understood that all we did was entertain people for a short time, the industry would crumble faster than my kid’s toothpick bridge. Actors would have to take odd jobs to get by, not make more money than teachers and doctors.

“Yet I feel like it’s changing now, my friend. We were the gods, and now there’s a growing generation of atheists. The only fear I have is what happens when Hollywood reemerges somewhere else, and the pit opens up again to swallow the angels whole."

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Let me know what you think in the comments below. I hope to post here more often so be on the lookout for more content.

Have a great week!

-Zach

So my stories are coming together again...

Dear Readers,

It seems like these small posts are going better than expected. Some traction is better than none.
Anyways, Peter Pan Among the Shadows has a lot of the story finished, at least for the next couple of chapters. I have a few theories for Peter Pan and Neverland, so expect some of those in the newest rewrite.
Surprisingly, Pokemon: Kanto Champions (Red Version) is almost done! It's a fairly basic story that just exploded with personality and other ideas for characters. Red is a disgraced trainer who must fight to clear his name, Ray is changing the way Pokemon moves work, and Delia must take control over her pokemon if she wants to succeed.

Interceptor is getting renamed, with ideas sparse and far in between. One idea is to name her like a secret identity in real life, like with another name or something. It could work, but for now, I need to see what Caitlin thinks.

That's it for a recap. Let me know if I forgot anything. Thanks and tell you all about it soon!

-Zach

So I Wrote a lot today...

On the way to the Botanical Gardens today, I just decided to write some more for pokemon today.
In the end, I wrote more today than I ever thought possible.
Thirty-six HUNDRED words. That's the most I've ever done in a long time!
I still can't believe it's been done.

The story is here if you're interested: https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=10831843&chapter=1

Thanks for sticking with me so far and tell you more stories soon!

-Zach

So "Interceptor" Was Taken...

We'll have to totally rename the main characters, which isn't as bad as you think. It's a complete blessing in disguise since the name "Gevra" didn't fit the Scottish family of New Amsterdam at all.
So what next? Interceptor will be getting a completely new name and new main character. As we remake the story from the ground up, I've begun to enjoy calling her Caitlin Bridget MacCuaig (pronounced M-kaig). At least her nickname "Caity" (pronounced Katy) still exists. Will keep you posted on the full story as it develops, but for the moment I'm glad this part of the story is being squared away.

We'll see where this all goes,

Zach

So I'm Writing a Doctor Who Episode...

I wish I did, but for now, I'll have to settle for writing a fake treatment for an episode.

One of my dreams is to write an episode of Doctor Who, with its expansive lore and a mix of great characters. I figured, why not just pretend like I'm writing an episode for the higher-ups at the BBC without the pressure of deadlines. Here's the general idea of what I have and what I've written so far:

Episode: Time’s Edge

Description: The Doctor travels to the farthest point in time that the TARDIS can calculate- the end of time itself. The Doctor and her new companion must face her greatest fear, for what is a Time Lord, when there’s no time left?
                                                                          Episode

Jacob Skeller never saw such an odd box next to a dumpster. Covered in peeling blue paint, with the words “POLICE BOX” written in bold steel letters, a peculiarly strange light at the top of it and a simple lock on the door, it intrigued him more than the street performers before him. It must have been the odd colouring that interested him. After all, nothing looked so bold, yet so hidden. So artsy…

Yes, he said artsy in his head. After all, the art gallery not too far away from his house had used a Police Box like that for an exhibit, but they only found half of it. This specimen, as he investigated, was totally real. The paint peeled off in his hand as he looked at it, wondering if it was some kind of entrance-way to another world, through the wall it was parked against.

He never noticed the blonde-haired woman staring at him from the opening of the alleyway.

The Doctor stared at the human investigating her TARDIS, bewildered as he delighted in the most insignificant things. Usually, people look at the front, not the back, or the sides. Thankfully the windows were freshly tinted.

Jacob froze when he heard a nearby cough.

“Can I help you?”

He jumped up to see a woman in blonde, with a sharp nose and hands deep in her trench-coat pockets. She turned her head slightly as if looking at a strange art exhibit.

“Can I…Help you?”

The blood rushed away from his face as words failed him.

“Yes, right, well, um. Sorry, miss, but, I, well, this is sort of embarrassing…”

He saw her thin lips curl into a smirk, as if more amused than bothered.

“No, no, please go on. I’m enjoying this.”

She stepped slightly closer as he continued to tumble through his words.

“I… Well, I was looking at your ‘Police Box’ and couldn’t believe that there was a whole one still around. I thought, y’know, maybe this is a door inside to an apartment upstairs.”

She stepped up to the police-box with a soft step, gracefully pulling out a simple key to open the doors.

“You seem curious enough. What’s your name?”

“Jake-Jacob. Jacob. Yours?”

She brushed her long yellow bangs to the side.

“I’m the Doctor. Want to see inside?”

The first question confused him, while the second filled him with immense curiosity.

“Yes, please.”

With the click of a lock, the doors opened wide…

To a room far bigger than he expected.

“No…”

He didn’t even walk in before inspecting the box again, just to be sure he wasn’t mad.

“Is this box connected to the wall?”

“No. You and I both know the store next to us is a clothes shop. Beautiful tops and dresses, but their shoes were all I could afford…”

“But it’s…!”

He hovered around the doors, looking into the massive living room. Not an actual living room, but in his head the room felt alive like he stepped into the inside of a computer. A column-like console in the center of the room looked like a permanent installation, with rotating section above and massive lava lamps gracing the columns around it. Currents of light pulsated through its clear center, where pieces of metal and glass rotated around themselves like a mutated heart of steel and crystal.

“It’s inconceivable! It’s a miracle! It’s against every known law of physics! It’s…”

She turned to him, leaning on a column and snickering as his mind was utterly blown to smithereens. She’s seen this so many times before, with many different eyes.

“Say it, Jacob. Say what you really mean.”

He calmed himself down, allowing the simple truth to come to him.

“This box is bigger on the inside than it is on the outside.”

She turned to the center console. With a flick of a switch, the doors closed behind him.

“This is no ordinary box, my new friend. This is a time and relative dimension in space, or TARDIS. This machine can travel anywhere in time and space. All it needs is a destination. I don’t know who you are, or where you’re going, but I know that you’re curious, and curiosity leads to adventures. I could use an adventurer on my team.”

She turned to him as she hung her heavy coat on a rack and returned to the center console.

“I’d like to go on an adventure, Jacob. Where would you like to travel to?”

He walked closer to the center console, his hands floating above the buttons and screens. Scanners and lights flashed and whizzed across the whole room as circles moved and shifted on the walls. He never walked into a room that felt more alive.

“I’m…I’m…I don’t know.”

Her head dropped in disappointment.

“You humans are so interesting. When some curious ones get the chance to travel across time and space, they usually have a clue of where to go.”

She turned back to him, looking for a clue of where to go.

“You don’t have a single clue of where to go? Anywhere in particular?”

He shook his head. Immediately, she returned to the console and pressed a few buttons. Immediately a screen near him turned on, revealing a line on the screen.

“What’s this?”

She looked up from the console and pointed to the line on the screen.

“This is a line of Earth’s history. Simplified for humans to understand. Nothing personal, just the truth. Anyways, this is a cause-and-effect model of the entirety of human history, from Homo Sapien to Solar eruption. Pick a time and we’ll set off-”

He had been looking at the line, but his eyes pointed him towards one part- the far end of the line, where nothing seemed to happen.

“How about here? When is this?”

The Doctor turned to it and stopped mid-breath.

“That’s the end of the humans- no…”

She looked closer, turning the screen to her. Only after examination did she turn to him.

“Do you know when this is?”

He shrugged.

“This is the end of time. When nothing is left in this galaxy but swirls of gas and rocks and ice. Even the radio signals have dissipated. Nothing is left.”

“What is that like?”

She paused.

“I…I don’t know actually.”

“Shall we both find out then?”

She saw it in Jacob’s eyes. He wanted to go to the end of time.

She didn’t even remember what it felt like.

Maybe it would help her in some way.

Immediately she punched in the coordinates.

Milky way Galaxy, time- None.

By the time he actually got to question what he was doing, he felt the TARDIS float off of the ground and disappear into the air.







A blue streak sent ripples of time across its edges. The universe’s rambunctious time traveler and planet hopper zooms across the time threshold, with her new time machine and confused new friend.

“How fast are we traveling, Doctor?”

He held on to a lava lamp for dear life, afraid that if he let go he’d be cast into the void of space.

“You really want to know?”

Curiosity welled up in his throat.

“Yes.”

She flicked another switch, the TARDIS shifting into another gear.

“However fast you think it’s going, it’s going a lot faster out there. Besides the numbers are too complicated to explain.”

He turned to the Doctor as she calmly strolled across the bridge.

“How come you’re not gripping the banister, Doctor?”

“Because, Jacob, when you’ve been in the TARDIS for as long as I have, you don’t get so afraid of the time jumps.”

Almost on cue, the TARDIS shifted again, as if changing gears in an automatic transmission.

“We’ll be arriving in a few seconds, Jacob. Hang loose.”

He shut his eyes as he squeaked out. “Don’t you mean ‘Hang tight’?”

She snickered as she flipped a few more switches and pulled another lever.

“Not at all. The looser you get, the easier it will be when the TARDIS stops.”

He still held fast, ignoring the lost logic. She rolled her eyes as the countdown went from 35 to 0. She pulled the emergency brake and set the TARDIS back to stationary. Meanwhile, his grip failed him as he careened into the plush couches lining the walls.

She raced over to the poor man, now buried under an ocean of pillows.

He couldn’t speak, his breathing calming down after screaming so loudly, so quickly.

“I wasn’t ready to die, Doctor.”

She laughed out loud, in a charming but soft volume that calmed him more than embarrassed him.

“I do believe that no one truly is. Even me. Come on, get your legs up from underneath you.”

Her thin arms could surprisingly pull him up, but his legs were stuck below so many pillows.

“Why are there so many round pillows?”

“Because, Jacob, I like round things, and I like pillows. Two great things in one. You’re the only one who’s complained about them.”

“Have there been others?”

Jacob gathered himself and refashioned his tie as The Doctor paused.

“Yes, but none of them have seen the pillows. You were the first, I guess, so you’re the only one.”

He turned into a double-take for the second time in a day- or was it a day any more?

“Doctor, have we arrived?”

Now that Jacob was fully revived, the Doctor turned towards the door, pausing halfway to it.

“Yes, Jacob. We’ve arrived at the furthest point on my TARDIS. The time when time stops, but…”

She stayed in place.

“I’m usually excited to show you the outside, and what it’s like, but alas, I…”

“Alas? Doctor, what’s wrong?”

She turned to him, her thin finger tapping her left cheek.

“Jacob, I don’t think we fully grasp where we are. This is when time stops.”

He sat back down on the couch, sick of standing. She moved towards the control panel and pressed a few more buttons.

“What does that even mean?”

The Doctor leaned against one of the lava lamp pillars, the ambient glow of gold and blue reflecting off each other.

“It means that this moment is when there’s no one in the known universe that uses time anymore. The only beings around are too unintelligent to comprehend the concept of time. Once the last being dies, the whole universe returns back to how it came- a vast, cold, distant, and primitive plane of existence. A place filled with the dying of the old and the slow rebirth of the new. This is when time, as we know it, ceases to be.”

“But how is that even possible, when we’re still here?”

She turned back to where he sat, beckoning him to continue.

“For example, my phone still works, right? My watch still works. I’m still watching the time. As long as we’re here, time never stops.”

She tapped her cheek again.

“Maybe so, but what happens if we leave? Will time stop when we leave?”

The two of them stared at each other.

“If time itself has stopped…” Jacob sat up.

“And no one in the Universe is using it anymore except us…” She stopped her tapping.

“We’re the last time-telling beings in the universe.” They said those words simultaneously as if they each knew what the other was thinking.

She grimaced and began pacing around the room, her heels clicking against the metal floor.

“I knew I shouldn’t have come here! I…”

Jacob sat back on the couch as a sinking feeling washed over him again. It was all his fault.

“This is all my fault. I’m…”

“DON’T YOU DARE BE SORRY!”

He looked up, only to see the Doctor mere centimeters from his face.

“We made this decision together, and we’ll find our way out of this. Now, think with me!”

She continued to pace as she answered his questions, feeling emboldened.

“Why don’t we just leave?”

“Because the Time Threshold is a precarious place. I don’t want to be responsible for time being lost.”

“Why not?”

“Nevermind! More suggestions!”

“We look for other beings, in other galaxies and once we find intelligent life, we go.”

“Good. I set up a scanner while you sat down. We should find out any moment now. More.”

“Um, we set up a beacon, so anyone can know what time it is.”

She paused. He felt a wind of satisfaction wash over him. He said something smart?

“The WatchTower. Of course! I can check to see if that exists anymore. Next?”

He stood up now, readying his best suggestion yet.

“We put up a sign above the TARDIS reading ‘IF YOU STILL TELL TIME, TEXT JACOB’.”

She turned to him with an arched eyebrow.

“You got up from your thinking couch for that? That’s enough for now.”

He slumped back down as the TARDIS scanned for other life forms.

“Doctor, why were you asking me for suggestions? Haven’t you been driving this TARDIS enough to have a lot of companions here? What’s going on?”

The Doctor looked away from the scanners, towards the two doors keeping them away from what was out there.

“I hate this place, Jacob. I hate this moment in time. Yet every time I come here, I forget what I did the last time. That’s how bad this place is. Not the Time War. Not the birth of the Daleks. This moment is my most despised.”





He watched her slow pace from the door back to the console, her head forcing itself to stay above her shoulders as the scanner reminded them of its existence.

“You hate this place? Does that all mean you’ve been here before?”

She looked away, staring at the opaque windows, maybe hoping to just see a glimpse of the unknown.

“Yes, Jacob. I’ve been here before, many times in fact.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why didn’t you stop me from going there. Just say ‘it’s impossible to get there, try somewhere else’.”

“Because that would be a lie, and I don’t like lying to people. Besides, I keep forgetting why I don’t like coming here.”

“And why is that?”

The Doctor let herself slump against the console for a moment, just one, before strolling towards her new companion. The scanner still announced its existence.

“I’m what humans would call a wizard, a mystic, a miracle worker. However, the proper name for my profession is a Time Lord. I travel through time and space to help people and explore the universe and its endless bounty…”

She trailed off as she walked back to the beeping console. Not a soul within three thousand light-years.

“How long have you been a Time Lord?”

She turned back to him.

“How long have you been this curious?”

He took aback with her question and immediately responded.

“My father hated my questions so much, he used to tell me that everyone you meet will want to tear their ears off. Frankly, I think it’s good for everyone to ask themselves every question about everything. It’s like what Alice said: Think of 17 strange things before breakfast. I say, ask 17 questions before breakfast. So, in short, for forever.”

She snickered at his memory, the sharp edges rubbed down to soft nubs of confidence.

“My father,” she began, “took me to the time of the Big Bang. All I remember was me and my father, nearly blind in our sunglasses, watching the universe begin. He said to me ‘my child, when you get your own TARDIS, you must realize that with it, time is in your hands. Never lose time, for what is a Time Lord, when there’s no time left’. That phrase always stuck with me; every fight, every scream, every laugh, every single look at the stars from a new planet and every decision I’ve made. Watch over time, until your breath leaves your body.”

“Sounds like an intense family business.”

She scowled at him.

“I mean it. I’ve been doing this for years, and every time I come here, I get so shaken up I forget what to do.”

“How many years?”

She took a deep breath.

“960.”

Jacob tilted his head.

“Nine Hundred- NINE HUNDRED AND SIXTY YEARS?!”

She smiled in flattery.

“Well, when you say it like that, it feels strange. Even more so since I do believe I look around thirty in your world.”

She quickly opened a small bag dangling off of the console and looked at herself through a make-up mirror.

“Speaking of which, I like your human make-up. It makes me look so much younger. Truly when you look younger, you feel younger. One of the ladies working the shop said that once. Feels so vain, yet so true.”

“But that’s impossible! How-”

He instinctively closed his mouth as she motioned it to him.

“Let me have this moment.”

She put the mirror away and turned back to the doors.

Don’t lose time, her father had said. What would he think now, when time itself has run out?

“You want to hear something funny, Jacob?”

He didn’t answer.

“I’m the last Time Lord. Funny isn’t it. There’s no one else in the Universe with this thing.”

She tapped the wall, with its spinning gears and slow-blinking lights.

“So out there is where my destiny should be, instead of putting myself in harm's way. I should be somewhere else, fighting for those who haven’t yet the power to do so. To soothe the crying children, to feed the poor, to stop oppression and hate across the entire universe and bring peace to every realm. So out of all of the places and times, anyplace at all, what brings me back to you, old nightmare?”

She found herself speaking out loud, the doors standing still as if beckoning her to open them.

Jacob watched as she put her hand on the handle.

“Why do we cross our paths yet again?”

He sat in silence as she gripped the handle.

“I’ve been terrified of your existence. The fact that you do exist, out there in the aether, scares me to no end. When the nightmare ends every night, it always ends with you. Always there, always waiting.



“This time, I want to see your face.”

“Doctor…”

He stood up quickly.

“What are you doing?”

She continued.

“I want to see your face, demon. I want to see what I’ve been afraid of for so long.”

She gripped the handle tighter.

“Doctor, stop! The vacuum!”

“The only reason you’ve been around so long is that I’ve allowed it. I’m the master of you! No one knows that you exist but me! I am in control here! This one moment exists is because I’ve let it go on for too long!”

The door shook as she held it tighter.

“You’re the one thing I fear, yet I keep you alive to hide from. I want to see what you are! SHOW ME!”

As soon as she opened the door, all sounds abruptly stopped.





Nothing.

That’s all she saw.

A dark, empty abyss of nothingness; absence of light and hope.

She knew what to expect. After all, when time dies, it isn’t abrupt like a broken watch or an empty tank of gas. When time dies, it’s slow and painful. Everything alive, and everything those living things make crumbles. Empires, space colonies, whole galaxies go to ruin. The universe was frozen as its creations stopped burning.

The Doctor from stared into the abyss, holding onto the doorpost for dear life. Words escaped her grasp. Her breathing stopped. Both hearts froze. Tears streamed down her face.

She saw the face of death in the place where London once stood.

No time.

No space.

Just her.

“DOCTOR!” Jacob ran towards her. Yet it felt like he was moving an inch an hour.

“GET AWAY FROM THE DOOR!”

She forced her mouth to speak.

“I……..can’t.”

It’s everything she fears. The worlds she saves falling into the depths of frozen space. Her homeland, somewhere in the far reaches of the galaxy, devoid of hope and despair.

Nothing left in the Universe, but her.

But her.

If she had hope that there was another way to postpone the end. That’s it!

He eventually reached her, but she pushed him away.

“No! Let me see if….I…..could…”

She gripped the doorpost as she felt her body being sucked in like the abyss was a black hole.

“I see your face…” She mumbled under her breath, as she pulled herself away.

“I will not let you…” She pulled further.

“TAKE…MINE!”

She swung her body away from the doorway as she slammed one door shut. Immediately, with the push of a nearby button, the second door slammed shut.

They were safe again.

She slumped down, leaning against the doorpost in a fit of laughter.

She could sense Jacob’s confusion as she wiped the tears from her face.

“That was all I was afraid of? Ha!”

“But you were stunned into silence just now! How could you be so joyful?!”

“Don’t you see, Jacob? When you face a fear, it doesn’t scare you quite like it used too. I can’t believe I used to be scared of that.”

She pointed her thumb at the doors and the blackness that emitted from the windows.

“But you’ve been afraid of it all of your life. You said it terrified you.”

“I did. I still am. That’s the magic of fear, Jacob.”

She still gathered her breath in as she spoke.

“Fear only works before and during the ordeal. Only after, when you’ve conquered it once or twice, you can point at it and laugh.

“But the crazy thing about fear is that we forget it’s there until we need it the least. The moment when we purge our mind of thoughts and delve into what we would normally shy away from, we forget just how afraid we truly were of the monster.”

She took a couple of breaths as Jacob tried to help her up.

“Yet despite all of the other monsters I’ve conquered, this one will always haunt me, not because of memory. Dear me, no. It’s an inevitability that I must always consider. Everything I do is to avoid this moment, yet I need to face it every so often.”

“Why, Doctor?”

“To try and find a way to stop it.”

Bigby: Super clown (Story Preview, aka everything I have so far)

This is another work in progress, starting its development earlier this year. Let me know what you think.

.........................

A fog of curry drifted over the Bazaar, leaving Ofir's mouth dry. The sweat dripped from his light hair down his thin face, his narrow frame perfect for sliding through the crowds.

He shifted through the wide marketplace, between groups of women with baskets on their heads, men arguing loudly, and donkeys passing through. He was so busy, in fact, that he could barely see the ornate decorations adorning the buildings, the drapes of purple and scarlet silk.

He needed to find Aarav, fast. The boy had been at his side until a second ago, and if he didn't bring him back to his Mother, he'd be done for. He had to tie his shoelaces at the exact moment a band started playing nearby. That kind of act would've gotten him a stern look from his commander. He followed the noise, a percussion of drums with a harmony of sitars, bansuris, and pungis. The crowd dissipated as he grew closer to the music.

It was through a small crowd that he saw Aarav race back to him, with his seemingly lost Mother in tow. The two of them shared smiles as Ofir found his sister and nephew.

"The crowd is spreading and getting thinner. What's going on?"

Noa turned to her brother, a head shorter than her, and replied back in their native tongue. "It's another big wedding going on. They're having a big dance before the reception."

"In the middle of the market?!"

She smirked. "It's only a few minutes. Besides, it's beautiful to watch, and we have an enjoyable view from the middle of it."

They migrated towards the sidewalk as the music grew louder and more harmonious.

Hundreds of women in scarlet satin slid down the street in synchronized swaying. Their henna-covered hands reached to the heavens as the music crescendoed into a ballad.

A woman, dressed in yellow and adorned with henna and sparkling jewelry, sashayed within the group of women, the sounds of Hindi flowing melodically from her lips. The group moved as one, dancing with the band to their own rhythm.

Farther down the street, an assembly of men stomped to their own swing of the same song. Dressed in green tunics and headpieces, only one of them stood out, a red flower in a field of living grass.

"Ofir, we should join them!" Aarav tugged at his mother's and uncle's pants.

Ofir's eyes lit up, to Noa's concern.

"What a great idea! Noa, can we-"

"Absolutely not."

"Oh," Aarav moaned, shoving his hands into his pockets and shuffling his flip-flopped feet.

"Can I at least go?"

Noa looked down at her brother, raised his head up, and in the calmest voice she could gather, said:

"You're 16. If you could travel to India from Tel-Aviv, then you could certainly do this. Just remember, if anything happens to you, Imma will kill me, and then you. Hevanta (Understand)?"

"Ken (Yes). Hevanti (I understand)."

To Aarav's protest, Ofir raced into the Men's dance, entering the field as the red flower contorted and waved his hands above and around his body.

Being on the outside of the circle closest to the women, he got caught as they danced towards each other. The two groups raced towards each other, then between each other. In his tan shirt and khaki jeans, he looked like a piece of dust in the sea of green and red. The red and yellow flowers danced as one, with the rest of them dancing in a different flow.

Soon enough, Ofir caught on to the beat and mastered the dances. Soon he looked like a flower as well, dancing along with the women in red and the men in green. The group circled the two flowers as they danced atop a growing podium in the middle of the marketplace as if planned in the architecture since the beginning. He wanted a better look, so he moved in closer to see the two lovebirds as the priest married them on the spot. Only when he felt the rice hit him did he realize that they had just gotten married.

Now he became stuck in the inner circle. With no way to get out and relearn a new dance they had just begun, he resorted to doing the one thing he wished he didn't have to do; dance his own way, among strangers, in the middle of a celebration that must have been planned for weeks, including rehearsals...

Then the dancers saw him miss steps, clap at the wrong times, and as the music stopped, see him continue to dance to his own rhythm.

He never made that many people laugh at once. Even before he found his super-power, he never had been able to pull it off. Even Noa and Aarav couldn't stop laughing.

He grinned along with them. He knew they were laughing at him, but in this case, it was perfectly fine. Since he found his power to make people laugh, he knew that he was going to be the butt of the joke. Yet that was a risk he was going to learn to make.

Ofir Yitzhaki traveled to India to figure himself out, similar to most Israeli soldiers on Holiday. Yet after discovering this power to make people laugh, he ponders what that will mean for his life. With the help of an Ethiopian girl and his supportive older sister, he'll learn what it truly means to make people laugh.

Learn to laugh, learn to live.

While this story was planned for later, I'm curious what you think about this concept. Would you want me to write about this now over everything else? Let me know! Thanks, bye!

-Zach

Story Idea- Manta's Riot (Working Title)

Here's an idea I'm working on that's taken me less than a day so far:

MANTA’S RIOT

Monty Russell joins his uncle’s racing squad in his gap year, diving headfirst into the world far beyond New Amsterdam.

The tracks move above gravity and physics, the cities are larger than life, and the world is bigger than you think.

A look into racing culture outside and inside of urban areas, looking at the burgeoning combination of racing and automation.

His foot tapped the pedal as the needle moved towards 150 mph. He gripped the wheel ferociously, his white knuckles matching the whites in his eyes. The car tore down the track, sending debris flying across the road. What stood in front of him would be another test. The track began to twist into two paths, the audience stared in awe as the road took a life of its own.

“Take the one on the right, slick! The other road’s a dead end!” His coach barked into his ear through aviator goggles and three hours of sleep. His car waited for the choice as many drivers took the road Stanley suggested.

“I’ll believe you this time, Stan! Let’s do this!”

He took his car to the right side as the world separated away from the track. The road curved away into a loop, our driver silently thanking his magnetic tires. The loop reached a plateau as the leading cars started heading down. He pushed the pedal down further, sending his beloved Riot into the fray. Some cars weren’t so lucky. Their magnetic tires gave way, sending them straight down as they reached the peak.

“Now’s when you push it, kid! Send the Riot into overdrive NOW!”

He shifted forward like he was physically pushing his car, as Riot screamed forward, its engine spewing fire out the exhaust.

The straight line down sent him aerially. The tires left the track. He floated in his seat. The back of the car began to spin as gravity tried to dominate over his car.

Not today. 
He narrowed his eyes as he pressed buttons and shifted his gears.

A signal was sent to the tires, the balls of rubber and magnets that only hovered in the wheel bay. A compartment opened up from within the tires, sending exhaust flying from the back wheels.

Both Stan and his mechanic prepared for this moment. For racing in this climate, you had to be ready for anything.

At that moment, the Riot glided down the bottom half of the loop, sailing over other cars and hundreds of feet of track.

Through the sunroof, he saw his next problem. Drivers screamed helplessly as their cars careened towards the bottom of the loop.

“You have to outrun those cars before they get to the bottom and blast apart the track!”

Before Stan finished, he knew exactly what to do- at least what he thought would work.

He turned the burners towards the track as he shut off the tires' engines. The Riot jumped even further away from the track, straight towards the falling cars.

“Monty! What the fu-”

The Riot collided with the other cars, sending them ricocheting away from the bottom of the track. He reactivated the tire burners, sending the Riot spiraling towards the bottom of the loop. With a touch of the burners and a strategic wheel turn, the Riot landed all four wheels on the track. He heard Stan’s string of expletives as a sign of approval.

The race wasn’t close to over. Monty held the wheel firmly as the track moved into further contortions that defied gravity and physics. Yet he soldiered on, the Riot his chariot, the track his path to victory.

Now it was about placement. He was still in 19^th place, three higher than he started. For his tricks, other drivers had more. His jetpacks in the wheels were exhausted, his chassis looked beaten up, and the sunroof was cracked from the impact with the other cars. Yet his engine kept thundering on as the Riot stormed across the track, catching up to the armada of other cars.

He zoomed past Cobalt Striker, Jetstreak, Eclipse, and Hyperious one after the other as the track seemed to favor whatever choice he made.

Also, HEY THERE! HAPPY BELATED NEW YEAR...yeah, the timing is so bad, it's lower than the Mariana's trench. Anyways, it had to be said. I hope you enjoy some good ol' fashioned concept writing.