Thursday, June 25, 2015

secret joy | part 1 (slightly edited) & 2

“The mines are murderous rough and the world is murderous tough, but still… Could ya see in the dark stink of our sleeping place, you’d see a smile split ‘cross my face.

“Ya, I toil for the Yellow King, slick little bastard. Came here together we did. Not my idea.

“I used to scrub shitters and mop floors for too many hours. (Actually, a slave in the sulfur mines ain’t too far off from Custodian.) Anyways, that other shithead did some kinda some damn thing with quantums.

“Then… there we was. He talked real fucking fast, got them long yellow bastards on his side, found me in-con-venient, ditched me to digging lighter yellow bullshit outta darker yellow bullshit.

“So naturally I stole a shovel - them fucking giants is way too trusting and none too bright – and starting digging to get to… well somewhere the fuck not in the sulfur pits.

“Anyways… shit they’re coming. Look Busy.”


“I dug for I don’t know how long in all sorts of directions. Always in the dark. Always had to hide it come ‘morning’. (That glowing yellow slime’s all the sunrise we’re gonna get, but I guess you got that figured, huh?)

“Then I dug all day, for Him. I was wearing myself to nothing, for nothing, in this great yellow nothin’.

“Then I broke through. Some kinda opening, pitch black as anything else, she was there, though. She was there.

“We touched then we hid. We were scared, at first, then we whispered and felt. She’s too long, too lean, teeth too sharp. We danced on our knees in the dark. We huddled into love, I guess.

“Ya, I s’pose I love her. I ain’t never seen her, but I know her, every strange, beautiful inch.

“She’s one of them, I reckon. Don’t matter none.

“Got drug to the yellow pits of hell, and that’s just fine, I reckon.

“Now we both dig. Now we’re getting somewhere.”


The Yellow King grimaced at the crude cathode ray tube. The screen shone with the frozen, amber image of Bobby Lawson chattering to the walls. Bobby and a local Confederation Captain had been missing for more than a week. Others in the area had begun to disappear.

A long-limbed, yellow errand boy obsequiously delivered the latest Incident Report. The King absently opened the package, still glaring at Bobby’s frozen image.

A shinning shard of starkly green glass tumbled onto the King’s flaxen desk. His lemon-white hand jerked away as though the color could strike him.

It took some time before His Majesty could calm his mind and still his racing heart. He was no longer alone. He was no longer safe. There was hope of return.


Other Yellow Stories:


high risk, high yield ventures

even split

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