What follows is a dire warning.

Ignore at your own peril.

Flip Flops

(AKA thongs but not the dirty kind)

Flips Flops

not the recommended footwear

for the upcoming

zombie-apocalypse

I know some of you have already begun the Halloween march in full swing. A staccato and stilted swing as is apropos.

We've decorated some but the weather is still very early fall-like in Vancouver. So although the light is turning red, as the sun slowly declines closer to the horizon, it still doesn't quite feel like the haunting season. We may have to help things out with a some sympathetic magic. Otherwise known as art and literature.

We used to have an annual zombie march in Vancouver before the city council decided it was too expensive to police. Alas this was the year my son and I had planned to join in. It delayed his entry into the zombie culture.

Stranger Things has been rather popular these last few years. I have too admit I found this season (four) a bit too scary. At least for me. But he wasn't phased. It could be that I have, since he was an early age, whenever we saw something I thought was a bit frightening, framed it about make-up and costume and special effects.

Stranger Things also gives us a chance to talk about 80's culture, which seems to be every now. We attended a football game and many of the players had grown their hair long a la banger-chic. The jeans are high and getting tighter. And of course the Heavy Metal Glam Rock and New Wave is back.

(Unsupported https://open.spotify.com/embed/track/1K1TFdBh7NrDyKiwiJEmsy?utm_source=generator)

Last night, I decided to start Walking Dead from the beginning. Should you consider revisiting old seasons of WD, you'll find that over time the zombies de-evolved. Season one zombies were capable of simple tool use and turning door knobs. The remembered where they lived and children zombies played with toys.

It is hard to believe more than a decade has passed since WD's debut. Season One featured some pretty colorful language and risque interpersonal interactions that do not continue into later seasons. To be honest, I don't mind their absence. I guess AMC censors didn't feel it was worth it to include the raw realism and were hoping to appeal to a broader audience. Though I think we all know the violence did get hyped up circa Negan's entrance into the serial.

I have posted some more Wisp for those of you following along. An audio version is near the bottem.

The Wisp

Amy was at the back of the checkout line when Bara reached the foyer. At the desk, Ms. Korey had her head down, busily signing out books. The streak of silver in her otherwise black hair swayed back and forth in the dim light. She paused and tucked it neatly behind one ear.

Bara tried to put Amy off.

“Ms. Korey looks busy. Let’s show it to her tomorrow.”

“We can wait,” Amy returned. She maintained her focus on the checkout. Bara held back. She looked through the glass doors and to the square. An exiting patron in a black hood came through the revolving entrance doors and outside came in. A gust of wind, along with a few leaves, blew across the marble floor. Gone was the sunny fall day. The sky was now grey and it was raining. The door opened and closed again, more wind, more leaves. Looking back at Ms. Korey and then down at the diary, Bara felt an increased unwillingness to give it up. She actually thought about making a run for it, but it was too late. The last remaining patron was served.

Amy took hold of her shoulder and gestured Bara toward the counter. Ms. Korey put out her hand. Bara placed the diary cover down in her open palm. Ms. Korey took the book automatically and scanned the spine. There was no telltale beep. She turned it over and looked at the cover. Her grey eyes widened and then narrowed. “Where did you find this?” she asked.

Amy went to speak but Bara broke in. Her glance had stolen to the portrait of Nelson Sedgewick and inspiration hit.

“Oops! That’s my Dad’s. Here, I meant to take out this.”

She placed the Hideous Strength on the counter and then a little too eagerly took the diary from Ms. Korey’s loose grip. She slipped it into her bag. Amy made to protest. The weight of Bara’s foot landing on her own stopped her. Ms. Korey stared at her empty hand. Bara waited for her to challenge the lie. She didn’t. Instead she reached for the Hideous Strength

“Your father’s book is very special,” she said. “Take very good care of it. It would be a tragedy if it were lost.”

Ms. Korey finished signing out the Hideous Strength and placed it on the counter. Bara put it in her bag alongside the diary. She mumbled a thank you and motioned to Amy that they should go. They almost reached the glass doors.

“Oh, Bara,” Ms. Korey called. “What’s the book about?”

There was a long pause as Bara thought up another lie.

“Gemstones,” she finally said.

That makes sense with the stones on the cover. They must be Topaz?”

Eager to just get away, Bara agreed, “Yeah, topaz.”

Her hand was on the door. Ms. Korey stopped her with yet another question.

“You’re sure they aren’t amber?”

Bara said nothing.

“But no,” Ms. Korey answered her own question. “That can’t be. Amber isn’t really a gemstone. It’s sap. The petrified blood of trees … so to speak.”

“Blood …” Bara echoed and then reinvested in her lie. “No, they’re topaz like you said.”

“Take care it isn’t stolen,” Ms. Korey warned. “There are those that who would love to get hold of it, for the cover alone.”

“Right. Let’s go, Amy.”

“Be careful girls.”

“Careful? Yeah, you said that.”

Ms. Korey motioned to the outside.

“I meant the weather. It’s turned into a storm out there.”

Bara tried to open the door but it resisted.

“Good night!” Ms. Korey said. “I’ll see you both soon.”

Bara took one last look back. Ms. Korey still watched her. She pushed at the door harder and broke through the wind resistance. Followed by Amy, she went out onto the stone steps. A cold wind hit her full on, giving a mouthful of unwanted air, and almost sent her reeling back in. Ms. Korey was right. There was a storm coming, and it was robbing the day of the last of its light. Bara regained her breath and ran down the steps.

“Why did you lie?” Amy called after her.

Bara wasn’t stopping. She barrelled across the square. Amy ran to catch up.

“Why did you have to lie?” she repeated.

“Lay off," Bara threw over her shoulder. “If the book isn’t part of the collection. What does it matter?” She continued across the square and then started down Windfall Boulevard, still rushing but no longer running.

Amy caught up again. “I just don’t see why you couldn’t have told the truth.”

Bara stopped and rounded. The cold wind whipped through her hair. Wisps of red-gold fell on her face.

“Tell Ms. Korey about my dreams and how they led me to the diary? Seriously? She’d have thought we were lying, on drugs, or plain crazy.”

“Okay, maybe not the dream part.”

“She’d have claimed the diary! If we told her we’d found it in the library, she’d have said it belonged to the library.”

“No, she wouldn’t have. You’re being paranoid.”

“I’m not! Besides, it’s mine. Sedgewick said it himself. I found it. It’s mine.”

Amy looked unconvinced.

Bara’s frustration grew. She reached into her bag, brought out the diary, and gestured it roughly.

“I get it. You want it for yourself? Here! It’s yours!”

Amy took a step back and held up her hands defensively.

“I don’t want it,” she said rather vehemently.

Bara saw her obvious reluctance to take the diary and finally relaxed. She realized then she’d been acting the drama queen. She returned the diary to her bag and looked back at Amy. Amy was shivering, her coat too thin and worn for the weather. She didn’t have a large wardrobe. Back when they were preteens, growing spits and spurts, she’d been forced to wear pants torn at the knees and short at the hem. The terrible twins would ask her when the flood was coming. Bara made a mental note to give Amy one of her heavier coats. Her new cashmere would go great with Amy’s warm skin. Courtney had picked it out and it was pink. But Amy liked pink.

Bara smiled guiltily. “I’m a total loser. Total. It’s cold. Let’s go back to the dorm. We’ll see what the diary has to say together.” Trying to lighten the mood, she added, “For all we know, it’s some mushy romance or something.”

Amy agreed and they made their way back to St. Cat. Their fight was over but neither felt much better. The trees blocked out most of the light coming through the clouds and the streets were empty. Foul weather made sure of that. They didn’t see another soul. Yet there persisted the oddest sense. One didn’t tell the other, but they both felt there was someone else out there. They took turns peering into black shadows.

St. Cat’s gates were closed tight. They unlocked a side door and passed through. The school was dark. Stone gargoyles perched on the upper turrets, shadowy outlines in the last specks of dusk. They rounded the school and the dormitory came into view. Most of the girls were already in the dining hall, but many had left on their room lights. A warm glow guided them home.

Amy opened a heavy door. It closed behind them with a sturdy thud. The click of the lock echoed through the stairway. They were safe from the prying eyes of twilight. Still the unease persisted. They climbed the stairs to their second-floor room. Bara opened the door and turned on the light. The room was empty. Amy crossed to the window and closed the curtains.

Finally, they were alone.

Link to Audio

***

Words and Images are my own.

Flip Flops is published in Monsters, Avatars, and Angels.

MAAA and the Wisp is available in paperback or digital through amazon and your local libraries and bookstores. Click on any title below to further explore and support my writing.