30 Days of Fiction: Day 29

Taratumba was the smallest cheetah cub.

His brother and sister were much larger and would never let Taratumba win any of the games.

His mother would watch as they wrestled and raced.

Even though Taratumba was always overpowered and last in the races he never stopped trying.

When he was one month old he and his siblings began to chase rabbits and birds around the savannah. Taratumba wanted to practice hunting too but when he tried his brother or sister would run up behind him and take the small animal he was chasing for themselves. They would laugh at Taratumba but he never stopped trying.

Soon, Taratumba learned that while his siblings were faster, he was smaller and quieter. When no one was watching he would sneak away from his mother and practice stalking small animals. He would crouch down as low as possible making him nearly invisible. Slowly, he would sneak through the grass as quiet as a mouse. After much practice, Taratumba could get so close that a rabbit only knew he was there when its whiskers felt his paw swiping at it.

One day, when no one was looking, Taratumba snuck out to practice stalking. He found a rat and stalked it for a while until the rat began to run. Taratumba raced after the rat and, for the first time, he caught it in his mouth. He was so proud and so excited to show his mother but when he turned around he did not see his mother or siblings anywhere.

Taratumba was afraid. He dropped the rat and it scurried off. He tried to retrace his steps but could not find his family.

After searching and searching, he found himself at the edge of a large forest. Tall dark trees towered over Taratumba which made him feel smaller than ever.

He turned to leave but stopped when he heard a mesmerizing voice coming from deep inside the forest. The voice was calm and comforting and softly said, "Taratumba... Taratumba..."

Taratumba was hypnotized by the voice so he walked toward the voice into the forest.

"Taratumba...Come to me," the voice called out.

Deep into the woods, Taratumba came upon a tall tree with many slithering limbs that stretched forever toward the sky and out into the endless forest. He looked up into the tree to see the glowing yellow eyes of a black panther staring back at him. It was crouched high above Taratumba, ready to pounce on the little cheetah cub. Taratumba stared back at the panther, transfixed by its gaze.

Without warning the panther lept toward Taratumba but he was able to jump away, barely escaping the panther's razor-sharp fangs.

Taratumba ran as fast as he could but the panther was getting closer. Knowing he could not outrun the panther Taratumba took a sharp left and hid inside a big bush. The panther stopped and sniffed the air searching for its dinner.

Taratumba crouched silently through the forest floor sneaking around massive tree roots, fallen logs and jungle vines. With the vicious panther just behind him, he crept closer and closer to the light coming from the edge of the trees.

When Taratumba was within a few feet of the savannah grasses he began to run. The panther heard him and took chase. In a fury, Taratumba ran past the trees and into the open grassland. With the panther just behind him, he saw three cheetahs running toward him.

The panther caught up in time to slash at Taratumba's legs causing him to fall forward into the dirt. Before the panther could strike again Taratumba's mother and siblings were there to get in the way. Even though the panther was much larger the Taratumba family was more agile and ducked away from its swipes. Taratumba watched as they took every opportunity to strike back at the beast. His siblings fought bravely hitting the panther alongside their mother.

All of this commotion confused the panther who gave up and ran back into the darkness of the forest.

As Taratumba struggled to his feet his family surrounded him and helped him get up. They nuzzled and licked him showing him how much they had worried when he went missing. Taratumba told them about how he was getting really good at stalking and how he was practicing when he heard the panther calling him from the forest. He told them that he would never sneak behind their backs again and they told him that they wanted to see his new skill in action. The family walked back into the arid grasslands, this time, with Taratumba leading the way.

30 Days of Fiction: 14

As Wyatt looked up into the golden sky he wiped his brow and headed in for the evening after a hard day's work pounding posts into the dry land. He had purchased the land for only twenty dollars six months before but he was making quick work of the land in an effort to make it ready to grow his crops in the coming season. Corn, watermelon, potatoes, tomatoes, cucumbers and even a few apple seeds were his ticket to a good life in the untamed lands in the west. Although the rains had yet to hit he worked diligently everyday making sure his garden would be ready when they did.

A year ago Wyatt had been drinking in a saloon in West Virginia, where he was born and raised, when a man in a white top hat and matching white boots came up to him and sat down.

"You look like a smart young man," the man said with a smile. "Let me buy you a drink and tell you about a great opportunity," he continued and gestured to the barkeep who quickly brought over two tall glasses of yellow foamy liquid.

"Well, I'm not about to turn down a free drink," Wyatt said with the enthusiasm of someone who had never seen someone with such brilliant clothes. "Where'd ya get them clothes," he asked.

The man looked down at himself and said, "I got these fine linens and fabrics from the finest clothing maker in all of New York City. They fit me perfect and one day you can have clothes as fine as these, young man. I'm sure of it." 

"I doubt that," Wyatt said thinking about the five cents in his pocket, which was the sum of his savings. 

"Well, that's why I'm here. My name is Phillip Russell and I'm here to help young up and comers, such as yourself, make a better tomorrow for you and yours. Have you heard about what's happening to west of us young man," the white hatted man asked as he took a swig of beer.

"No sire. I keeps to my self mostly, when I'm not working on the farm," Wyatt said feeling stupid for not knowing. He took a drink anyway. 

"Well. That's fine. In fact that's perfect seeing as there's land out west. And it's dirt cheap if you know the right man," Phillip said. "And it just so happens that I'm the right man."

"Whatcha mean," Wyatt said with a confused turn of the head. 

"Let me explain," Phillip said excited to get to the good part. "I have hundreds of acres of land in Utah. That don't do me no good seeing as I'm here and it's just sittin there waitin for some hard working fellow to make use of it. That's where you come in. You see?"

"Utah," Wyatt asked indicating that he may not have understood much more than that. 

"Yes, son. Utah. It's a beautiful land. Has fertile soil like none other. I swear you'll make your fortune there and soon enough you'll be livin the American Dream," Phillip said leaning back in his chair.

"Well that sounds amazin. But I aint got no money for land," Wyatt said assuming he was defeated at the start. 

"Not a problem. You see. I can sell you a small portion of what I got. Let's say ten acres. And I'll sell it to you for," Phillip said and stopped to think about how much that might cost a man like Wyatt, "fifty dollars." 

"That's more than a year's work mister. Thanks for the beer but you're barkin up the wrong tree," Wyatt said.

The man in the white hat leaned over the table to tell Wyatt a secret, "For you. Twenty dollars."

Wyatt's eyes went wide with excitement and he said, "I can't pass up a deal like that. Shit. But I don't have it now."

"That's fine, son. Just pay me five dollars a month until it's paid," Phillip said with a grin on his pale face and the two shook hands.

For the next five months Wyatt worked harder than ever on the farm and helping people whenever he could. He saved every bit he could until he finally paid for his plot of land all the while doing his best to learn everything there was to know about farming from his grand father and others in town. On his final day in his home town only his mother and Phillip Russell wished him well and he set out to claim his new land with little more than a map and a paper deed. The next few months were arduous but he made it to Utah and started building his new life. 

He had managed to cobble together a meager wooden hut with enough room for a wood stove and a bed but he loved it. With just enough saved to purchase food and a few supplies he made himself a breakfast of bacon and eggs every morning before getting to work. The summer was hot in Utah and he wasn't quite sure how he was going to get the land tilled properly without a horse and as he thought about how he might accomplish more with less he noticed riders coming up over the hill toward him. Wyatt grabbed a shotgun, the one his father owned before he had died, and walked out to greet the riders.

Five men in black round hats, black vests and white shirts galloped up with their rifles trained on Wyatt. They circled Wyatt until he put his shotgun down and then the leader dismounted and walked up to him. 

"Who are ye and why are ye making camp on this land," the man in a black vest asked.

Wyatt was stunned and furious and tried to explain,"I bought this land fair an square from Phillip Russell not six months ago. I have to deed an everythin." He turned to get the deed but was struck down by the butt of a rifle. 

"That be a lie. This land is owned by God and the Mormon church," the leader said standing over a very confused Wyatt. 

"No, no. That can't be," Wyatt pleaded and added, "I have the deed. I paid fair and square."

The leader of the riders turned to the other men and said, "Burn it down," and then began kicking Wyatt repeatedly in the stomach. All of his seeds, tools and wood burned up in a few minutes and he was left there to die in the dirt. After a few hours Wyatt managed to get to his feet and he walked the few miles to the nearest village. It was the same village he had purchased supplies from and it was the same village that had informed the Mormons that "a new one" had came in looking to take their land.

Wyatt had thought it strange that there had been no saloon but now that he had no money and could barely walk it didn't seem to matter so he just sat against a building and waited. After an hour of unsuccessful begging a man with a tall black top hat and matching black boots came walking up and stood in front of Wyatt and said, "Well, you seem down on your luck, young man."

"I've had it worse than ever sir, spare a coin," Wyatt said wincing from the pain in his side. 

The man in the fancy black hat and boots took a cigar out of his mouth and said, "I've something better than a coin, son. I have a once in a lifetime opportunity for ya. Have ya heard of what's happening in California?" 

30 Days of Fiction: 3

The year was 2035 when the sun spewed out it's leathery tendrils into the oblivion of space. Scientists reported that there was a 60% chance of missing earth but they were wrong. Earth was hit with so much energy and radiation that all electrical systems went out in a matter of minutes. Food, transportation, banking, medical and every other life sustaining system was offline and people panicked. Riots, wars and complete economic and social chaos took over the once technologically advanced and thoroughly connected planet. Within months millions died. Within years the population was no more than a few hundred thousand souls, dispersed across the continents in small communities.

John lived in one of these communities off the coast of what was once called California but now did not have a name or boundary or government. Early one morning John was sitting on his small boat casting a net into the bay when he heard a shot ring out. It didn't come from the shore so he looked out into the foggy sea and after a moment he saw a large vessel break the fog's tattered shell. It was only a few hundreds yards away and on the bow John could see men holding torches and rifles. More shots started to ring out and when one hit the water only a few feet away from John's boat he began to row even faster.

He made it to the shore and began to running up the sandy hill toward the mansions on the hill. When he arrived at the first door he knocked hard and fast. In a few moments someone could be heard on the other side clambering down the stairs and then the clambering stopped. Then, suddenly the door swung open.

John looked inside to see a man hiding behind a barricade made of car doors stacked up fifteen feet from the entrance pointing a black rifle at him.

The old man bellowed,"what the fuck do you think your doing banging on my door? You better fuck right off."

"Hank, it's me. John," John yelled as he took cover beside the door. "Goddammit! We've got a hostile boat coming in fast with at least twenty men. We have to move!" Josh said looking in to make sure Hank understood. Hank looked at him, nodded and got out from behind his barricade and started back up the stairs as John bolted toward another mansion next door. This one bigger than the last.

John managed to get to the front door before the sound of the alarm gong started ringing from Hank's balcony. John reached the door and knocked hard and fast but this time it opened slowly and he was greeted by a blond woman who, if it weren't for the slightly burned state of most of her skin could have been a model had the world not ended.

"We have to move. Men are coming from the sea. At least twenty," John said rushing past the his wife into the living room. Just then two teenage boys came rushing down the stairs, each with a rifle and a concerned look. "We're going to need the big one," John said when he saw his sons and then walked up to what should have been a fridge and opened the hollowed out husk of an appliance and pulled out a massive fully automatic, belt fed machine gun.

"Barricade the doors and let's get to the roof," he said looking at his wife and she immediately closed the door, locked the standard locks and then barred it with a large black metal rod. Then she pulled the string hanging down and another large metal door came down, with a thud, covering the first door. There was a shotgun resting against the side wall and she grabbed it and sat behind a turned over table reinforced with metal sheets pointing the gun at the doors.

When John and the boys made it out to the balcony only Hank was ready on his balcony facing the ocean. The others had better hurry up, John thought as he laid down on the deck placing his machine gun barrel out of a cutout in the reinforced fencing that lined the balcony.

"They are almost to land," John's oldest son Marlin said as he looked through the binoculars at the oncoming hoard. "I count twenty seven from two boats. Standard rifles. One machine gun mounted on the front of the first ship."

Just as he said that a single, loud pop rang out from Hank's perch.

"Twenty six now." Marlin said with a grin. Putting the binoculars down and taking cover he and his brother posted up ready to shoot whenever John gave the command.

Now shots were belting out from the ship's machine gun nest toward Hank's house and men began to jump off the boats into the shallow water and make their way to the path up the hill.

"Wait until they are funneled on the path before you start shooting," John directed.

His boys were afraid but they had trained many times for this and they knew what to do. This would be the youngest's (only eleven) first encounter with marauders but Marlin, 19, had been through two such events. One group had come from the sea like this but that time they didn't have the path that funneled anyone coming from that part of the bay straight through a narrow opening up a sandy beach. People died that time and then the built the path.

Another shot rang out from Hank's place and the machine gun on the ship stopped firing for a moment before another man jumped on and started firing back again. Now both ships were stopped along the shore and all the men were disembarking onto the beach and taking cover next to logs and defunct boats or behind the tall grass that grew all over the sand. Some marauders laid down fire toward the mansions and some started to head up the hill.

"Now!" John yelled and he and his sons started to fire onto the men heading up the path, the machine gun thudding against the wood deck with each round. Marlin and the younger son had single shot hunting rifles with scopes but their aim was dead on. Both targeting and firing and then pulling back the bolt, chambering a new round and firing again like seasoned military veterans. Soon other balconies were home to firing squads raining bullets down on the beach and after a few frightful moments it was over.

No one was moving on the beach other than a few moaning or crawling men but even they were silenced quickly by a few shots from Hank's perch. John and his sons stood up and look around to see that their neighbors had joined the defense and were cheering all around them. They had survived the onslaught and protected their territory once more from would-be "takers". Those that roamed the world stealing, raping and destroying all they came into contact with. John and his community had come together and decided that they would not live like those "takers". They would strive for peace in a broken world and protect themselves from anyone that tried to take what they had worked for. They fished and hunted and grew a few crops and they trained and prepared. That is how they would choose to survive.

Just as all the revelry was starting to die down and everyone contemplated the clean up that was ahead Marlin took up the binoculars and looked out at the scene. His smiled faded and his jaw dropped.

"Oh Shit!" He said. "There's more." He handed the binoculars over to John.

John looked out past the dead men on the beach, past the two boats that brought them, past the ship wreckage that littered the bay and saw something bursting through the fog. The ship he saw was ten times the size of the first ships, with canons lining both sides, hundreds of men on it's deck and white sails boasting a large yellow smiley face painted on. Then two more ships broke through the fog to join the armada all with yellow smiley faces adorning their massive white sails.

"Go get the rocket launchers." John said with no emotion and not taking his eyes off of what was to come. His sons ran back into the house to get the rocket launchers.