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"Time Crash Redux" - Part One

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  Part One “Ugh! These pants, man! I think they’re losin’ the ongoing war with my butt. I swear, just when I think this regeneration has shown all of its surprises, another comes along and tests my wardrobe!” Thomas loved traveling with his father, especially this sixth incarnation of him. In physical appearance, Rania was a beautiful brunette in her early to mid - twenties. She had an athletic body that was compl e mented by the fitted black top she wore, clinging to her frame—practical and embellished—emphasizing movement over decoration. It was the kind of clothing chosen by someone who expects to act at any moment—run, fight, build, fix. There’s no wasted space in it, no excess. Just function shaped into form. Then there were her pants…the ones she was in the process of griping about. A worn-in pair of earthy brown jeans that look ed like they had seen more than a few timelines. The fabric ha d that lived-in quality—not distressed for style, but naturally broken in from mo...
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"Somewhere Out There" - Part Six

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  Part Six             Along with the Mousekewitz family, Craig was gathered with several other mice inside a building that once belonged to a ‘Professor Digitalus’ and his ‘Museum of the Weird and Bizarre’. There was supposed to have been another rally, arranged by Gussie Mausheimer and Honest John; however, after ten minutes of waiting, something about this felt wrong to Craig. Adding to his suspicions were Gussie and John onstage, bickering back and forth about who called for a rally.             That’s when it dawned on Craig: “This is a trap!”             “What?” Tanya was the only one who heard him. “What do you mean?”             “Look at everyone,” he gestured among the crowd of mice. “Look at how confused everybody is. Nobody has a clue who called ...
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"Somewhere Out There" - Part Five

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  Part Five             Rania could not tell how many cackling cats there were surrounding the cage in which she and her friends suddenly found themselves. She never would have imagined the Archivist to be one of those cats. He wasn’t laughing with them; instead, he merely glared at the mice he had trapped.             “Nice form you took,” Rania mocked him.             “It seemed appropriate, under the circumstances of my visit to this realm,” the Archivist said.             “And what ‘circumstances’ would those be?” Rania asked.             “The National Institute of Mental Health—or ‘NIMH,’ as the people of this world call it,” the Archivist disclosed. “The rats they have experimented on at the inst...
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