It’s the root of censorship, really. It’s saying: “We are not going to listen to you because you talked wrong.”

Grammar is rarely the goal of someone who is setting out to write something. People write because they have something to say. What people have to say is more important than how they say it. You’d think.

We know it’s not like that, though. We know that there are people who are more concerned with form than function. They are more concerned with appearance than competence.

It’s the root of censorship, really. It’s saying: “We are not going to listen to you because you talked wrong. What you said made absolute sense, but since you broke some grammar rules, it doesn’t count. You don’t count.” Those are always bureaucrats in training.

People who do not want to hear what you have to say are going to make EVERY excuse not to listen. Grammar is usually just their first cop-out. Your grammar could be perfect, and they would still find an excuse not to listen.

This is, of course, not to say that there is no place for grammar. Writing rules are important. There’s no discounting that. Proper grammar on paper is the difference between a lot of things. Speaking is different. You know what someone is saying, even if they’re doing it ‘wrong.’

communication

1 a: a process by which information is exchanged between individuals through a common system of symbols, signs, or behavior

the function of pheromones in insect communication

also : exchange of information

This definition has changed. The definition of communication used to include the word “effective.” When communication was exchanged effectively, the goal of the communicator was reached. Now, that is no longer the case. Attempting to communicate is now considered communication. Definitions change, that’s fine. Let’s look at the old definition of communication by talking about effective communication.

What is effective communication?

I’m using helpguide.org. Here are a couple of paragraphs from the link.

Effective communication is about more than just exchanging information. It's about understanding the emotion and intentions behind the information. As well as being able to clearly convey a message, you need to also listen in a way that gains the full meaning of what's being said and makes the other person feel heard and understood.

Effective communication sounds like it should be instinctive. But all too often, when we try to communicate with others something goes astray. We say one thing, the other person hears something else, and misunderstandings, frustration, and conflicts ensue. This can cause problems in your home, school, and work relationships.

I have heard truly awful people say things like. “If they can’t speak properly, I’m not going to recognize them.” That’s real. There are people like that. They use every excuse that they can to buffer themselves from every aspect of the world that they possibly can. These are frightened people who cannot defend their position, so they create rules and then change rules so that they can be dismissive of fellow citizens who challenge their idiocy. Who hires people like that?

There are dialects of language that are very efficient. There are dialects of English spoken by groups of English speakers that are far more efficient than proper English. In dialects like this, people can make all the same points and do it efficiently with fewer words than they’d use if they were being proper. Everyone in the room knows exactly what they are saying, and they did it in six words instead of twelve. That’s cool. But, there are people who use this improvement of the language as an excuse not to listen to them.

Something I learned as an athlete from very good coaching I had as a kid, outside the public sector is, it’s better to look stupid doing the right thing the wrong way than to look artful doing the wrong thing the right way. I think communication counts like that too. When someone says something stupid with impeccable grammar, it’s so much worse than someone saying something intelligent, "improperly.”

What do you think about the written rules vs. the speaking rules? Should we allow people to dismiss others because of some language rules? The point being that if people are using grammar as an excuse to dismiss other people, they were never serious in the first place, and why are we allowing them to control the conversation?

This OVALS triad is analyzing and set to scoop up an old relic and then go mess with ol’ homo sapiens obsoletae.

“I’m heading in to get a look at this thing. “Review with me.” Madrigal says to Corcoran.

"OK,” Corcoran responds. “That dome looking thing, you know, that’s the plume from a gas geyser. “You’re going to have to penetrate that and then get below it. “Once you’re clear of that, you should have good horizon all around. “The readout is going to take you right to your location.” Keep auto off until you get below the plume.”

Corcoran, Madrigal, and Graybill hover over a "stinker.” Stinkers are planets that produce and belch. It could be gas or liquid, but some planets gather energy in their bellies and expel it. Any planet with life or movement has to have a way to eat and a way to expel. One way or another, one material or another. All planets with life have some kind of cycle of some elements or others.

“What the heck is this thing?” Graybill asks. The three of them look at images of the crash they are surveying to claim.

“It’s a long way from home, that’s for sure.” Corcoran says. “Anybody know when it’s from?”

“This is basic carbon made stuff.” Madrigal says, “It’s not Earth, though, but definitely linear. “I wonder if it’s early Frestric.” I think that bulge inside the vertical stabilizer looks like an early plasma box housing."

“I have a feeling you’re right.” Corcoran says. “There’s nothing here of note, really, I’m not sure we’re really here for the materials. We may just be establishing ourselves in this mapping. “I think we need to establish some paperwork out here.”

“OK, I’m ready to drop.” Madrigal says. She gets herself into position beneath the other two. Corcoran ranges off to the side to follow the descent with a view from the side. All of these maneuvers are logged and recorded by all three OVALS. Graybill will stay directly above her as she descends. The main focus of this OVAL is the gas cloud.

OVALS function identically in any atmosphere. For the species that developed the OVALS, there is no distinction between a gas and a liquid, in terms of their evolution. They evolved on and escaped from what we named Earth 4 million years before humans even began evolving. They evolved to master both the land and the sea. They breathe and function equally well, breathing Earth’s air and water. They breathe both fresh and salt water.

For this reason, their physics are completely different. They have never approached science and manufacturing in the same way humans have. Most of their tools and materials function equally well and behave identically in gas and liquid environments. Including the OVALS.

Maddy descends into the plume, and Graybill and Corcoran admire the chemical reaction as her OVAL approaches the source of the gas. “Pretty",” says Graybill. “You’re glowing yellow and blue, Maddy.” Corcoran says. Maddy can see whatever they are seeing. They see what she’s seeing. They all have one another’s screen’s views.

“OK, I’m out, I’m following readout.” In an instant, Madrigal is hovering over the wreck. “Activating claim.” she says.

She gets her images of everything, and they run their analysis. It is, in fact, one of the earliest Frestric. The Frestric have probes all over space, but as a species, they’re ‘grounded,’ meaning they’ve never been out of their atmosphere. There are many advanced species that cannot travel due to the nature of their biology. Frestric are a carbon species like humans and myriad others. Frestric are what is known as ‘ethereals’. They are comprised of thirty percent light, and they have very soft, translucent, and delicate features. Things like pressure and vacuum do not agree with them.

“Their stuff is good.” Madrigal says. “They definitely compensate for their displacement. “This stuff is barely dented. It kited down, it was an automated descent, but it couldn’t handle the landing.” She explains.

She runs all sorts of analysis on the station. It’s not dissimilar to an Earth station from the same era. Frestric are a more intelligent and advanced species than humans, but rather than their intellectual and emotional conditions, its their physical attributes keep them tethered.

“Let’s convene.” Corcoran says. “Let’s meet over at Earth at my favorite low orbit hang, ready.” Corcoran set’s the mapping, and they are gone.

“It seems like the more communication capacity these linears have, the worse they get along.” Madrigal says, as they watch 1970’s Earth.

Corcoran responds: “Well, what happens is that the better their technology is, the faster they destroy everything.” They aren’t just linear, they’re backwards too.”

“We’re seen!” Graybill announces.

“I see them.” Madrigal responds. “What should we tell them?” She adds.

“One of them just asked the others if they thought we could see them.” Graybill says. “I’m going to blink twice.”

“You are so bad.” Madrigal says.

“I’ll take care of it.” Corcoran says. He chants three times to them.

“Coincidence. Coincidence. Coincidence.”

The End.

This is the story that inspired Flash Fiction February. I thought I’d put it out here again.

Transported as a Novice in this realm. Had a breakdown on a country road. Got picked up by a stranger who knew way too much. Pretty weird time. Made me wonder if we exist in other dimensions.

I do all kinds of short writing, and podcasts. I’ve wanted to do this one for a while. The “Comfort Zone” is a physical phenomenon. Address it appropriately.

How to Change the World on Your Commutes and in Seemingly Mundane Situations

Actions to get out of your comfort zone & bring comfort to countless others.

You have large thoughts. You're deeply invested in your job and spare time pursuits, whether it's launching your own business focused on solving real problems or contributing to a meaningful organization. The prospect of taking the next significant step can be daunting, especially when you're accustomed to your current comfort zone.

In any case, you want to do it. You want to change everything. In fact, you may be on the verge of taking the next step that will actually take everything to the next level. That can be really scary because you have become comfortable with where you are now. You are kind of “set in your ways," as it were. It all seems overwhelming. It’s hard to leave the comfort zone. There is a reason.

Despite the overwhelming nature of such efforts, remember to compartmentalize your activity from feelings of uncertainty and take action:

* Recognize, while large-scale endeavors may seem daunting, the physical tasks involved are often no more challenging than everyday activities.

* Phone calls are phone calls. Emails are emails. Paragraphs are paragraphs.

* Break down tasks into their smallest actions to alleviate fear and deceleration, focusing on the tangible physical movements required to accomplish them.

* Understand that fears, particularly those related to money, can inhibit progress, but success isn't solely about financial gain; it's about creating value and pursuing meaningful goals. A $100 bill weighs no more than a $1 bill. A giant stack of $100 bills weighs no more than a giant stack of singles. But everything in the world is not about money, and it is usually fears associated with money that scare people who are about to accomplish great things, and that fear holds them back.

* The dreams and goals of going to new places, having nicer things, and as being seen as someone truly valuable are not always enough, and those things are not even the motivation for everyone. In fact, the comfort of anonymity is often the reason that people never take that next step. Some people do not want to be rich and famous, and they are not impressed by Leer Jets and cruises and the hype of having colossal, life-sized images of themselves projected into the world in order to create a sense of awe in people who have a penchant for following. Sometimes our own self-interest is not enough to get our juices flowing because we like our lives the way they are, even though we have a desire to accomplish new things.

* Sometimes we do not want to be perceived as someone who is an egoist, because, let’s face it, some of the most successful and famous people in the world are megalomaniacal jackasses, and we just do not want to be perceived as such, even if it is not a befitting description.

* With 100% certainty, people are going to say this about you ANYWAY. Judge yourself by your enemies.

* Maintain focus on the underlying purpose that is meeting the need you are addressing.

Getting out of your comfort zone is a difficult thing sometimes. It is called a comfort zone because that is exactly what it is: a physiological phenomenon.

We feel good there; we might even want to call it a familiarity zone, or a certainty zone. When we know we are on the verge of huge success, we can feel our familiarity and boundaries being threatened by new relationships and responsibilities, by the necessity to rub shoulders with new people who carry all kinds of influence in realms that we are not familiar with and realms we may have preconceived notions about.

* Sometimes we feel that the new relationships we are making are straining our current relationships. You have to make time to shore that up as well.

It is easy to just shrink back to what we are comfortable with, even when it means getting out of our comfort zone for a few days will bring comfort to countless others.

* Alter your physical environment to create a sense of urgency and purpose

* Trick your brain into a state of heightened focus and productivity.

* Embrace new experiences and environments, whether by conducting tasks in public spaces or changing your location, to foster adaptability and a sense of adventure.

Rather than making these phone calls or other similar physical movements in your usual familiar location, go to a public place, like a local diner, or take a ride on a subway, commuter train, or bus in order to create a sense of adventure and energy that will not only be heard in your voice, but also foment physical conditions of urgency that will cause you to focus and "think on your feet".

* Once you’ve made your first big push away from your comfort zone and tackled a first set of goals, that is exactly NOT the time to relax and get comfortable. This could be the time to obliterate your old comfort zone and set up a new familiarity. Make another big push right now.

Once you've navigated these challenges and achieved success at a new level, take time to acclimate and establish routines while remaining open to further growth opportunities. Reflect on your journey, determine any necessary habit adjustments, and continue pushing boundaries to shape a better future. Your dedication to progress is invaluable, and your efforts will undoubtedly contribute to positive change in the world.

It’s the Flash Fiction February Finale. I have learned a lot. 29 brand new flash fiction stories in 29 days. That’s what all the weird references are, in case you didn’t get to all the stories.

Thanks for the follow Romaric Jannel PhD. I hope my podcast is as interesting as Japanese philosophy. I’ll do my best.

Getting cups of coffee to four thousand decent people is a proud responsibility. Tying up loose ends at the end of a task is a mixed bag. You’re welcome. I’m Herschel Sterling and I’m here to help. If anyone hasn’t figured it out, listening is best for my posts. There’s more stuff in the audio files than in the written part.

There are four thousand people at this antiwar rally, and Manny and Sam have to get coffee to all the people that want one. One of the local businesses donated as much coffee as is needed, and Manny and Sam have been tapped for the task.

As they roam through the crowd with a couple of carts, some disposable carafes, and paper cups, it’s a hectic path. There is a lot of activity, and it’s hard for them to focus. There is a loud whistling sound as a lady has made some whistles out of some old plastic flick lighters. She has passed them out, and people are going crazy with them.

There is a guy bumping his way through the crowd with a portrait of an old, scary-looking man who looks like he’s staring at everyone from the photo. Then there is this guy walking around trying to sell these weird weed bongs with built-in air filters. People will try to make money anywhere.

Just as Sam is pouring a cup of coffee, two mice come panicking around his feet with a giant chunk of cheese. He almost spills it, but there happens to be a woman close by with a gold vase, and she catches the coffee in the vase. “Thanks”. She says. “I can use this.”

Near the front of the crowd, by the stage, there’s an art installation using an old Super-8 projector to superimpose images from the Vietnam protests onto the back of the modern stage, where two bungee jumpers are hauled off and arrested for jumping from one of the buildings with a protest sign. Three men in lab coats are watching the sky. One of them has a device.

A man and his granddaughter are eating granola bars in the middle of the crowd near Manny. The old guy can really use a cup of coffee with that granola bar. “You always find what you want, granddad.” The little girl says. As Manny turns from them, he spins into a teen boy and his dad, who is tightly holding onto a box with holes punched into the tp and the sides. “Why are you bombing our syssssstemssssssss—consciousnesssssss isssss a closssssed syssssstem—you’re bombing yoursssssselvesssssss.” Says the voice coming from the box. Manny is freaked out by that and moves more quickly.

Back over by Sam, there are two laughing ladies. One of them has a chair with a thrift store price tag on it. The other one has a sweater she bought for a friend. As Sam pours them some coffee, he sees something out of the corner of his eye, in the sky over his shoulder. There seems to be a battle in the sky over whether it will rain or not. There are conflicting reports, and it’s as though the sky can’t make up its mind. A little girl is looking at the sky, she’s following some activity in the sky, but it’s as though she’s the only one who sees it, and what’s odd are the socks that keep appearing near her.

Manny and Sam catch up to each other. Manny says: “Did you see those three lights in the sky?” Sam responds. “No, but there’s something going on up there, it feels like every time I look up to see what’s happening, I feel like I’m being watched.”

Spring is right around the corner, as these two continue dutifully to get the people the coffee. There are signs, banners, and dumbshit psyop fake communists and activists who are 100% on the clock for the psychopaths.

There are real, decent citizens as well, protesting another illegal war, tired of funding all of this at their own expense. The disparate nature of this crowd seems insurmountable, but the agreement among them is incontrovertible. They may just yet figure that out.

The End.

A journey through music history with a persnickety soundboard that chooses the clients. It is Day 28 of Flash Fiction February.

Hello, new follower Erin Rose Latta, Thanks for the follow. Erin writes some poetry about powerful aspects of nature. She’s intrigued by imagination, like me and probably you.

One day left of 29 brand new stories in 29 days. How does that sound?

The Clarendon board was legendary. Some say it had a personality. They said that anyone touching the board would influence the sliders to move on their own, like a Ouija board, but a soundboard.

No one can deny that the most iconic photo in Rock, is of the band The Beast’s Mistress with their fingertips on the board, as though it’s a planchette, on the back cover of their 1976 multi-platinum fourth album, Thallium Stew.

The board has been in many hands over the years. It doesn’t seem to stay put. But no matter where it lands, it makes platinum records. The record setting bubblegumdeathrock had the board for their release of Face the Back Wall in 1985.

Their producer, Herb Melton, checked himself into a psychiatric facility one week into the project. He claims that the board would readjust itself, and he couldn’t lock the sliders. The band stated that they went into the engineering business on their own, and the fact that “Face” broke records in 4 genres was beginner’s luck. They appear to have no complaints about the board at all.

On an interesting side note, bgdr’s lead singer, Nylon, and his wife, Delores, named their son Clarendon.

“ Clarendon has such a stately tone, man.” Nylon said.

Smoking Pestle had the board for the recording of both of their albums, Gas Punk and Poodle Prey. The group hasn’t been seen since the end of their 1999 tour, and these two albums do not see an end in sales.

On the liner notes for the records, the Producer and Engineer are listed simply as “Clarendon.” When asked if the efforts were self-engineered, the response from the band was “Yes, “It seems like it.”

The Crepes, by chance, used the board to do a budget recording of a demo EP they called 5 Miles. Only five songs—the only five songs the all-girl band had written up to that point. Regardless, once it started playing on some college stations, there was an explosion of demand. The rest is history.

“We found this cheap, stinky old storage room to rent for rehearsing, and there was this board under a dusty cover in there. We had no idea what we were doing, except for the fact that we weren’t supposed to be touching that equipment. We kind of figured it out from seeing other people do it, I guess. “Everyone was mad that we used it, but once we got paid, then they got paid, it was OK. It all worked out in the end because, the money, you know.”

There isn’t a lot of demand for a good old-fashioned mixing board any more. Everything is done digitally, and I guess that’s OK for now. The demand for human played instruments, played by humans, will be a nice trade in the future. And these old boards—yep, those too—they’ll make a comeback.

I’m not sure about ol’ Clarendon. Those stately tones are reserved by chance— for the uninitiated.

The End

Platinum Frequencies: The Influence of Clarendon Soundboard in Music History

AI Titles

* The Enigmatic Legacy: Tales of Clarendon Soundboard"

* "Echoes of the Clarendon: Legends of Music's Mysterious Instrument"

* "Resonance of Legends: The Mythos Surrounding the Clarendon Board"

* "Soundwaves and Superstition: Unveiling the Mysteries of Clarendon"

* "The Clarendon Chronicles: An Odyssey Through Music's Uncanny Artifact"

* "Platinum Frequencies: The Influence of Clarendon Soundboard in Music History"

* "Unveiling the Veil: Secrets and Stories Behind Clarendon Soundboard"

* "Touching Tone: The Supernatural Saga of the Clarendon Soundboard"

* "Harmonic Whispers: The Intrigue of Clarendon's Musical Spirit"

* "Beyond the Sliders: Exploring the Otherworldly Aura of Clarendon"

This is a scary one. Day 27 of Flash Fiction February.

Hello, new followerLilla Bell. Lilla writes erotica, and why not? Maybe this is a good inspiration for a little story. Nothing too risque for me, but I can work with it. Scary trigger warning. It’s gross when peepshows become creepshows.

There isn’t a lot of reason to go into the reasons. People like to read all sorts of things. Sometimes “forbidden” stories unlock parts of people’s minds that set them free. The pleasures of the flesh are an experience of life. These are personal, sacred, and private activities.

Jenny is a writer, and she has a dedicated following on her writing pages. Enough to satisfy her drive to write and supplement her income. As one might imagine, she gets all kinds of attention, and it’s not all the good kind.

Jenny has been called every name, and she has been maligned, of course. There are people who simply have zero ability to control their obsession with controlling others. Being wise, she gathers her associations from better circles. She also knows that for every action, there is a counter-action. That’s just how things work.

Lately, Jenny has been receiving disturbing letters that have been hand-delivered to her mailbox. She starts asking neighbors to keep an eye out, and one of the local businesses trains their camera on her entrance to see if they can help identify the perp. She doesn’t like this thing of having to look over her shoulder all the time.

Once she puts the word out that she is being stalked, the letters stop. That means the perp has his ear to the ground. She puts the word out about that as well. Now people also know the perp may be in their midst.

Jenny goes to a writing class a couple of nights a week. She likes to perfect her craft, and it shows. She sees a steady increase in her online subscribers. She takes the subway to class and walks a few blocks to and from the train. The last couple of nights, there have been some consistent signs that she’s being stalked.

Someone is leaving stickers with her name on them and messages for her.

"Jenny, you are my dream. I am your nightmare"

She sees that one on the electrical pole on the way to the subway.

"Your guts are in my visions, Jenny"

That one is stuck to the header on the stairs down to the subway.

This one is near the bench on the wall:

"I share Jenny's love of peanut butter for breakfast"

This sticker shows that the creeper knows details about Jenny’s life, and it’s really irking her. Jenny isn’t as scared as she is angry. She wants this perp to show himself. She carries an awl, a very potent, illegal pepper spray, and a small pistol that fits in her purse. She’s 100% on board with dealing with this dirtbag personally.

After a good class, she needs some time to talk about this with some friends, so they meet for pie and coffee at a local diner, and they stay till after midnight. They make a plan for communication and discuss the legal ramifications of the whole mess.

On her way home, the haranguing is in real-time. It’s not normal, though. Jenny feels a sense of fear that seems to affect her differently, and she shivers with a sense of cold confusion. Something external to her is affecting her.

As she leaves the empty car of her subway, she can feel a presence behind her, staring a hole into the back of her head. She’s so gripped with a confusing fear that her legs wobble as she ascends the steps to the street. She feels a cold rush almost overtake her as she steps onto the street. She quickly takes a few steps and turns around, glaring at the subway entrance, waiting to see who it is that is doing all of this. Only a few people come up the stairs; none of them seem to really even notice she’s there, other than to acknowledge her as they pass her.

She begins walking home, and she’s sure she’s being followed. There are streetlights, and the lights from businesses, but everything is closed this late. There aren’t a lot of cars passing, it’s not a secluded walk home. It is getting late, and there aren’t any other pedestrians.

She has a couple more blocks to walk, and she keeps turning around because she feels eyes on her. Each time she looks, she swears she sees someone shadowy hiding in the doorways, and each time they are closer. As they get closer, the irrational, atypical fear and confusion seem to get stronger. She can’t shake it. She is losing control.

Jenny knows that if she can make it to the next corner, she’ll be OK, because she takes a right turn and her apartment is a half block from there. She starts hearing a whisper, but it’s loud and distorted, and it seems to be right in her ear, as if there is someone directly next to her.

"I'll be sure you die lonely, if not tonight"

The creepy, broken, whispery voice says.

Jenny breaks into a scream, and she scurries around the corner. She spins around into a ready position, and she sees a shadow from the streetlight. From the same corner that she just turned, some ominous figure is coming, and Jenny is now so gripped by this that she feels faint. She falls to the ground, but she is not passed out; she’s having trouble keeping her eyes open as she’s paralyzed with fear.

Just then, Jenny hears a swooping sound. She can barely see from the glare of the streetlight and the confusing shadows made by the pillars and relief work on the corner building.

A large figure sails high above her from behind, and this shadow overtakes the entire scene. Suddenly, there is a rush of wind as this large figure descends on the corner. It engulfs the figure, and the incredible force of its ascent, up and around the corner, away from Jenny, tears the air loudly, and creates a brief vacuum. In an instant, the shadow is gone.

The air is lighter, and the lights are crisper. Jenny sits up. Everything is more fresh. She smells ionization in the air, like rain is coming, but there are no clouds. She immediately sends a group text to her friends from the diner meeting.

“It's over, you guys, he's gone.”

The End

Honey, we’ve been viewed by the Earthlings. When UAP’s are seen, they call it being ‘viewed.’ Holy moly, let’s view a triad, a delta formation, shall we? This will be reproduced as part of the OVALS Project. Day 26th of Flash Fiction February

Mike would lay on the front lawn and stare out at the stars. Very much like many other kids around his age of 7 or 8. Kids of all types and kinds and races and genders and locations and every other thing, all love to, when they can ever get a chance, go somewhere and stare out at the stars.

He had heard about UFO’s; there were all the stories and the theories. He wasn’t about the sky at night for the UFO’s. It was the gasp-inspiring expanse of the universe, for him. That’s what it was.

One evening Mike was stretched out, gazing from the yard, and he saw a peculiar triangle of three stars, slowly rotating in the sky.

He thought to himself, “Those can’t be stars.”

In low Earth orbit, three Ovals converse in formation.

“Hey, we’re seen up here.” Corcoran says.

Another, Hao, also notices. “Let’s see if it can hear.” He says. “They’ve been convinced their observation isn’t perceivable.”

“This is my first time, you guys.” Confesses Madrigal

“Your first view?” Says Corcoran. “It’s only my second.”

“My first view too.” Says Hao. “I want to see if it can hear, what is this symbol for them? This formation we’re in?” He asks. “If it can hear me, then it will know that we know it saw us.”

"Triangle.” Madrigal answers.

“Too many syllables.” Hao says. “These things are linear.”

“Try delta… tri.. try delta.” She says. “Delta is a triangle, and it’s used a lot for three, but it’s also the fourth letter of one of their alphabets, so it’s versatile.”

“Delta. Delta. Delta.” Hao directs the words at Mike. He repeats. “Delta. Delta. Delta.”

Mike watches from below as the triangle slowly turns. He doesn’t know that it’s called low earth orbit, but he has surmised that the lights appear to be the size of the stars because of their size in relation to their distance to Mike. In the language a boy that age would use to describe spatial and proximal relationships. Then, out of a corner of the sky, another one of these lights appears and hovers just outside the triad.

“Hey, it’s me, Simpson; I got the juice, make a way for me.”

Corcoran leaves formation to allow Simpson to enter the center of the formation, and then Corcoran returns to formation. In these formations, the Ovals meld their fields. The triad is now taking energy from Simpson’s Oval. Simpson has been buzzing power stations and catastrophes at this mapping in order to help power this mission.

Simpson announces. "OK, you kids, be safe, you make sure to check in with mom and dad!”

Corcoran repeats the preceding maneuver and allows Simpson to exit.

“This is always so refreshing.” Madrigal opines.

Mike watches this process from his front lawn. This was before the massive distribution of pesticides that took out most of the crickets and, therefore, frogs. It was a lively evening. The formation spins quickly twice, then each of the three lights takes turns leaving the formation and returning.

Mike’s head turns to the right as the formation ambles slowly off to the north of where Mike is. He watches them fade off into the stars until they can no longer be discerned from the stars. He sits up and shakes the grass out of his hair. He stands, brushes off his pants, and goes into the house.

Mike approaches his father, who is on a couch, watching television. “Dad, what is it when there are lights in the sky that look like stars, but they aren’t stars; they are just small, so they look farther than they are?” What is that?”

His dad raises his head from the television. “Don’t tell anyone you saw anything like that; all they’ll do is say you’re crazy, and they’ll drive by the house and point to the house and say, ‘That’s the house where the crazy kid lives.’ So don’t say anything about it; forget about it.”

“Um. OK dad.” Mike says. “Oh, dad?” Mike says.

“What now?” His now-annoyed dad responds.

“What does ‘delta’ mean?”

The End.

What the crap is the deal with the missing socks! Honest’tagod… I think the little one knows what’s going on.

Day 25 of Flash Fiction February, 29 brand new stories in 29 days. It’s a little bit of a journey. I’ve learned a lot about writing in short formulas, how to podcast, how to produce my podcast and how to organize the process for efficiency.

Thank you for the follow Crudamente, a photographer from Argentina in Berlin. Thank you Substack for exposing us to brilliant people.

It’s laundry day at the Smith family home. It’s a big day here. It’s the big convergence. On the first Sunday of the month, house cleaning and laundry are part of the schedule. Everyone stays home and gets the work done.

Everyone is busy. Little Mary is responsible for all the interior windows. Her biggest brother, Billy, is on the exterior windows. They make faces at each other while they work.

John and Dave are in charge of the floors and the stairs. They vacuum and mop, and they don’t forget to start in the corners and around the edges, so there’s no buildup.

Mom and dad are dusting everything, cleaning the drapes, airing out the furniture cushions, and dealing with all kinds of details. They are also, of course, commanding the troops. They are taking care of the laundry as well, which the family will fold together in the living room after all the chores are done, just before dinner.

Sisters Sally and Amy are out in the yard. They’re raking, sweeping, mowing, and doing some lawn edging. They're glad it’s their turn to do the outside chores this week.

As Sally is sweeping out near the corner of the gangway next to the house, she sees something near the dryer vent. She can’t quite make out what it is. She thinks it’s a squirrel, or maybe a bird flapping around. It is hard to tell because there were such quick movements, and then it was gone.

She continues up that sidewalk, sweeping and singing this week’s Taylor Swift song. It’s a really nice day. This family doesn’t use stupid leaf blowers that blow the dust all over all the clean things while removing it from the dusty things. She’s glad about that, too. She’s glad she’s from a smart family.

As Sally gets closer to the dryer vent, she hears a noise. She calls her sister to see if she can help figure it out. They look around, put their ear near the vent, and it’s just the sound of the warm, damp air coming from the vent and the gentle flapping of the vent cover.

As soon as they begin walking away, back to their respective chores, they hear the noise again. It sounds like there is something inside the vent, as if there is something in the exhaust duct. They come back to the area, and the noise stops.

They figure maybe it’s something bouncing around in the dryer, and the sound is coming through. Again, they walk away from the vent. Sally continues sweeping her way past the vent, and Amy goes back to edge the lawn.

Sally is finishing up the gangway; she’s up near the back yard now. As she turns around, she sees something in the corner of her eye, but as she focuses her attention, she can’t see what it is. She confers with Amy. They can’t figure it out. The vent is pointing downward, and there is a vent flap. That makes a different noise.

They are perplexed, but let’s face it, it’s not their problem. They’re only looking to finish chores, fold the laundry, and have a nice Sunday dinner with their family. They walk back to the front of the house together, and as they get on the other side of that vent, they hear scratching, and this time Amy swears she saw a blurry movement in her periphery as she turns.

The two of them give up on this quandary and make some jokes with Billy, who is washing the windows. They make faces at their little sister, who is on the other side of the window. Eventually, all these chores are done, and it’s time to go in and fold laundry.

Everyone has cleaned themselves up and washed their hands well. They convene in the living room for the final work of the day before they get to sit down to a huge chicken dinner and then movies, ice cream, and popcorn for the rest of the evening.

As they are folding laundry, just like every single Sunday, mom notices that so many socks are missing. It never fails. Sometimes she even uses safety pins to keep them together, to no avail. There are always socks missing. They discuss it.

Dad jokes that it’s a feminist conspiracy plot from days of old, and there are still a lot of angry ladies that keep up the tradition. He and Mom laugh together across the room. Billy thinks if he takes the dryer apart, he’ll find a dozen odd socks. Little Mary thinks it’s all just a game.

Sally and Amy tell the rest of the family about their experience out in the gangway. The family just figured the noises were from a squirrel or one of the local pet cats that roam the neighborhood. Dad says that old houses make noises. Billy says he’ll take a look at the duct-work to see if he can fix it.

Meanwhile, in another dimension, some Faeries are having nice naps in warm socks.

The End

Keywords:

Family chores

Laundry day

House cleaning

Sibling dynamics

Household tasks

Mysterious noises

Missing socks

Home maintenance

Sunday routine

Faeries

Censorship is hate and it’s Day 23 of Flash Fiction February. Communication and expression are inherent human qualities and today we are on a mission with Captain Farmouth, who is clone hopping.

“The fronds on these branches are interesting; they are like hairs; they are like hairs on larger, beefier hairs. I’m going to run a check on these; if they are like earth trees, then they are sensory.”

The OVAL hovers near the base of the massive spire that is protruding from the floor of this planet like a follicle. The probe follows the current of the tree down beneath the floor of the planet.

Captain Judah Farmouth is clone-hopping. He has a range of follow-up tasks to complete today before his four-day weekend starts. This is the first item on his punch list. “This isn’t a root system like an earth tree; there is nothing like it. It’s a single, thickening root.”

Farmouth is screening the scene below the surface and describing what he’s seeing. “It thickens to a distance of about twenty feet. Wow. Then there is a bulbous sack anchoring it into place. The sack has a seepy kind of mucous. These things really are a lot like mammalian hair.”

“The floor isn’t as much like skin as the trees are like hair, but there are obvious similarities.” He reports.

“Report complete and booked. Pulling back to pocket.” Judah announces to the System and pulls this OVAL back to the triad pocket hovering in the low orbit of this chalky, skin-like planet that has hair-like spires that pierce three hundred meters into the atmosphere. In triad formation with two other OVALS, Judah waits, and he observes the planet he was just probing. “Review for me the time of that next storm.” The Captain asks.

The System responds. “This will be in 46 seconds from mark. Mark.” Judah shoots the OVAL back down into the low atmosphere. He’ll record the storm from both the surface and also from the pocket.

Farmouth watches from the pocket as a chalk-like substance swirls and building on the side of a large mountain about 300 kilometers from the lower OVAL. He moves it closer; instantly, the OVAL is about 100 kilometers from the mountain. He watches from the lower OVAL as the storm approaches. It’s moving very fast. “Peak momentum on that front is 132 KM per earth-hour.”

The OVAL is a static object in a tempest of powder and scaly, film-like patches of debris from the base of the mountain. Powder and debris deflect from the OVALS magnetosphere...

…these things aren’t just mind-clones, they’re tiny planetoids.

From above, Judah watches as this storm tears these gigantic hairs out of the skin of the planet. They tumble, and bend and break into pieces, collecting at the base of the mountain on the other side of the valley. The powdery tumult rushes up the side of that mountain and gathers in a cloud. The broken follicles raining onto, and tumbling down the sides of the mountain.

"Wow, wow, wow.” Judah says. “That’s a heck of a show.”

“Return to pocket.” Farmouth calls the low OVAL to the triad. “Waiting in queue at triad, anyone else out there in queue?”

“Hey, watchya got out there, Captain?”

“Simpson, what are you on today?” Judah asks another Captain who is on similar duty.

“I’m a juicer, I got the juice; I did three runs down to two of the power stations and a heatwave surge, waiting to juice up a triad that’s supposed to be coming through here, Corcoran’s.”

“I miss juice duty, anyone see you in there?” He asks.

“I was under except for a streak trail; just another day of weird stuff in the sky for them.”

The two continue their banter and wait in their respective positions. Judah will get clearance for clone disengagement. He reviews his re-entry instructions. Simpson will make juice runs for a local triad until the end of his shift.

The End.

AI titles [dumb]:

* "Follicular Discoveries: Exploring Hair-Like Structures on an Alien Planet"

* "Roots of Revelation: Unraveling Mysteries Beneath the Surface"

* "Hair-Raising Expedition: Captain Farmouth's Encounter on a Strange World"

* "Storms and Strands: Observations from the Planet of Follicles"

* "Clones and Cloudbursts: Adventures in Alien Atmospheric Phenomena"

* "Triad Tango: Conversations Among Captains on Duty"

* "Juicing Up: Tales from the Power Stations of Corcoran's Sector"

* "Exploring the Skin-Like Surface: A Captain's Log"

* "The OVAL Chronicles: Probing the Unknown"

* "Follicle Fascination: An Expedition into Extraterrestrial Hairiness"