Tales of the Unanticipated #28

Rebecca Marjesdatter, associate editor of the Tales of the Unanticipated “Heroes Issue,” states:

“I don’t like heroes. In my stories, I have protagonists. In my mental landscape, I have role models. In my life, I have mentors, teachers, or inspirers. No heroes.”

in answer to the question “What’s Wrong with Heroes?” Seventeen short stories accompany a troupe of poems and black-and-white graphics for a rainbow of scenarios in issue #28. This “swell issue,” as described by Editor in Chief, Eric M. Heideman, is a tour through various genres and styles from a John Wayne galactic Chevy ride through space to culturally poignant fables, ensuring this issue will satisfy the most eclectic of palates.

In “Johnny Quantum And The Supergalactical Hellfire Jamboree” by Terry Black, time opens up, and aliens descend on a cowboy joyrider. Johnny Quantum is an alpha male antihero. He loves the feel of his jet-boosted ‘57 Chevy and Sue Ann Swanson, “the pert and pouty love-struck prom queen.” Johnny is far from evolved, but there is a certain suavity about him reminiscent of James Dean as he coolly flies through space and into hell. Will the Devil get his due? You’ll just have to read to find out.

With its tight pacing, this story will entertain alpha male readers, though it leaves much to be desired in terms of its stereotyped characterization and dialogue. The humor grazes a Douglas Adam’s repartee but falls short at times. The less than sympathetic hero might be hard to connect with for readers inclined to the more politically correct. Still, it is a fun ride through the cosmos and beyond. What can I say? I’m partial to Chevys.

“Escape” by Barbara Rosen is a story of a broken woman, her body waning. Invalid Rosalie is our ineffectual heroine who must accept that her own choices are not those of others. In her room, Rosalie finds a changing landscape:

The walls moved back and stood firm; the polished surfaces glittered. The carpet glowed on the floor like spilled treasure.

This Garden of Eden fantasy pushes conventional mores, engaging the reader with subtle investigations of life and death. Adam and Eve are beautiful, black, and efficacious, leaving the reader with a broader view of the spiritual.

In “The Pinocchio Cantatas” by Tony Pi, a magical carousel of mythical creatures, including a unicorn named Chivaree, partner with a family of carousel knights who magically jump from the carnival ride into open air, their poles becoming lances. In the opening, Chivaree spies a recent victim, Crooner, who acts as the catalyst to this heroic tale.

The imagery of this surreal fantasy engages deeply, though the descriptions can, at times, read a bit too thickly. Mitch, Chivaree’s rider, is sympathetic, and he is intriguingly used in a subplot that explores choices and change. “The Pinocchio Cantatas” is recommended for fantasy readers who like dark elements without a dark ending.

“The Price of Peace” by Uncle River explores primitive cultures with a subtle sentimentality that brings out the horror and beauty of a strong and changing community. It hints at being a tall tale with its elements of realism, which makes it that much more intriguing. Centering upon a stalwart protagonist—”No one spoke his name. To do so would dishonor his sacrifice”—the nameless hero is set upon serving his warring Kessian village, Prittepaya, to his detriment. His choice of servitude, based strongly in Christian teachings, echoes the current state of the union. Thematically, metaphors weave together dexterously. This tale functions as an allegory, a life journey, and as such, we first meet the protagonist as a boy.

In “Deputy Death” by S.N. Arly, teenage angst partners with the Grim Reaper to offer a coming of age ride into death. Liz has known that she possesses an odd sort of talent from a young age, but without direct guidance, she has little understanding of how to use it:

A tingle started in the middle of Liz’s head, spreading down into her teeth. It was an odd sensation, but not unpleasant. She thought of it as her death sense, because when it kicked in, she was sure to find the body of some dead animal.

Though death is a thematic anchor to this piece, it is far from gloomy. Rather, death presents itself as natural and transitional. Liz’s journey into understanding her own gifts spans generational relevancy. It is an experience of the human condition. The conclusion resonates with its satisfying imagery, although it’s drawn out a bit with a clipped afterthought. Still, it’s an enjoyable, poignant read.

In “Lack of Vision” by Paul E. Martens, Gerry LeBeau struggles with a sporadic gift, love, and his will to retain a moral code. The narrative opens with an interesting and active crime sequence. Tension builds as Gerry uses his gift of sight to identify the killer: “Gerry knew he was looking at the killer…” but what Gerry doen’t know is that the killer might be looking back.

Though dealing with sad topic matter, “Lack of Vision” handles delicate issues well, advancing the plot without gratuitous detail. The reader is tempted to assume that the whodunit plot will follow a usual course, but instead, Gerry reveals details about how his waning gift affects his confidence, thereby telling the story of a reluctant and struggling hero, one who cannot make his talent work. Reminiscent of a sports drama featuring sporadically endowed sports heroes who yearn to make the big play and who encounter an “I think I can” rise, Gerry’s ineffectual ability to meet expectations creates a sympathetic character while at the same time producing an undercurrent of desperation.

In “The Honest Truth About Beta Males” by Martha A. Hood, Tholos, Beta male adulterer and accused thief, seeks help from Kendra, a female attorney. Kendra is reluctant to involve herself with this client but cannot help feeling sympathy for him as he recounts the injustice of Beta males in a world run by Alphas.

Manapan humans were unusual in that only thirty percent of all live births were female. In the male population, Beta males outnumbered Alpha males almost two to one. By law, only Alpha males married and raised families. By tradition, only Alpha males mated at all.

Ah, but Tholos proves the theories wrong in all the right ways. Kendra finds herself caught up in social intrigue and court corruption as she watches her Beta lover dehumanized. This dystopian society offers up some metaphors about contemporary society, and it does it with a gender twist not often explored.

“Bubby’s Favorite Demon” by Fred Schepartz is a touching tale about a grandmother and granddaughter gifted with magical sight. Seemingly based upon a Jewish folk tale, the plot has interesting depth, and the story contains colorful and enchanting characters. At the beginning, we see the family doing family things, but with a twist. Something just isn’t quite normal about Bubby or Bubby’s deck of cards.

I dealt a couple hands of gin. That was our game. Right away, I noticed something weird. The face cards showed creatures with human faces, but wings instead of arms and talons instead of feet. Except one neat thing, the queens looked like they ran things. The kings were merely older versions of the jacks.

Seemingly benign details throughout build tension as Schepartz masterfully sculpts scenes and language to clue the reader into the reveal at the climax, and this reader was not disappointed. Playing on childhood experiences and difficulties, Bubby and Polly create a touching connection between generations and do what families do best—support each other.

In “One Tongue Tiger” by Ka Vang, a Vietnam War landscape comes to life through the experiences of Colonel Chue Chang, an honorable soldier sympathetic to U.S. forces. Chue Chang gains mounting respect from his subordinates due to his abilities:

. . . his friends said he could see in the dark, while his foes claimed he used black magic to enhance his skills.

But will black magic save Chue, as he travels alone though the jungle? Chue’s journey home is touching as he seeks to reconnect with family that he deserted out of duty. Loss plagues his journey and his heart, but a spirit of triumph prevails in the unlikeliest of places. The rich detail and characterization in Vang’s work teaches as it questions, an experience for the intellectual fantasist.

Jeff Kouba creates a world within a world in “King Under the Bed.” Robbie is a highly sympathetic child stuck in a less than favorable home situation. Struggling to survive the cyclical manic neglect of his father, Robbie turns to his imagination for release:

The king turned his powerful steed to face the armies of the Goat Knight across the field, and drew his sword, the blade ringing as it left the scabbard. The ranks fell silent in anticipation. The king thrust the sword toward the sky and held it there, motionless

The worldbuilding around the Goat Knight is nicely done, originating as it does from a child’s point of view, and resonates as escapist longing; however, the conclusion, though touching, did not strike this reader as being particularly realistic, expressing an ideal more reminiscent of a child’s romanticization than reality. Still, the story provokes thought and feeling in its handling of family relationships.

Patricia Russo’s “In Comes I” is a quirky little trip into depression, chimaerism or hallucinations, and death eating, or so it seems. The protagonist is in a rather strange pickle:

She’ll never give you a second glance. Why should she? . . . For a very long time, I’ve had to search hard, every day, for something different to distract me from death. Perhaps it is a result of age, but my attention span has been dwindling; very little holds my interest for more than a few hours . . . [until] I glimpsed her in the park, last week . . . despite Gav’s negativity.

Though in definite need of therapy, the protagonist evokes sympathy in his plight to find some sense of normalcy and even love. Unfortunately for him, Gav—the little guy who lives on his arm—will have none of it and undermines his confidence at every turn. When they both must attend to the remains of the burnt dead, the purpose for the nasty little arm demon is revealed. Russo’s language and her scene setting keep the plot on edge so that the reader is never certain where it is going. The characterization could be clearer to help build scene and conflict, but the conclusion ends on an ironically tragic note that nicely arcs the plot.

“Coup de Grace” by Stephen Dedman takes a satirical look at spiritualism and spiritual lobbyists who seek good graces. George Ringo the First has taken leadership of Vatican City with a wit and wisdom one might expect from a good-natured, good-humored, and down-to-earth Pope. Spiced up with some sexual repartee that pokes and pulls at conventional assumptions, Pope Ringo provides an entertaining and in-depth study of new-wave Catholicism—accessible, hip, and morally grounded.

Social intrigue told as a fable and cat fighting prove to be an entertaining mix in Joyce Finn’s “Tessa’s Tale.”

It took most of the populace—the old, the young, the harried and the married—three days and twelve nights to trek up to the pass where the vote was to be taken. To make it a more festive, entertaining journey, the first arrivals were allowed to fling boulders onto the heads of the ones behind—a yearly tradition just started.

Flinging boulders is just the beginning of what this population is willing to do for fun and advancement. When a beautiful specimen of a man shows up, Tessa, the “upright and uptight traditionalist table-top tarantella dancer” decides to off her archrival, Gertie. Garnished with a bit of the absurd, this looks at social competition and climbing in an in-your-face narrative.

In “Rosemary and Time” by Judy Klass, Rosemary suffers in her golden years when her daughter commandeers the reins of her life. To cope, Rosemary retires to the bygone days at Greenwich Village.

Rosemary sits in the smoky downstairs performance space of the old Village Gate on Bleecker Street in Greenwich Village. It’s 1964…[s]imultaneously, however, Rosemary is sitting with her daughter Marjorie in Dr. Krauss’ waiting room in 2007.

This is a touching and real look at old age and independence that speaks to multiple generations by showing multiple perspectives, the most endearing being Rosemary’s. If ever I doubted my own grandmother’s need for independence, I will not again. “Tessa’s Tale” creates empathy with a twist of humor and spunk.

William Mingin’s “Which Leads to What Comes Next” takes a walk on the wild side, both physically and mentally, as a rock climber struggles with his perception of reality and fantasy on his journey home:

Roger lowered his foot to find the narrow ledge that should have been just beneath him, and instantly drew it back. The ledge wasn’t there. He was startled, though, not by what wasn’t there, but by what was: a wooden platform . . . [e]xtending from the cliff beneath him, where there should have been open air, was a set of stairs.

With a Yann Martel-esque look at what can happen in the minds of the lonely and exerted, Mingin has created a sense of anticipation and tension that grips from the very start. Less satisfying is the deviation from immediacy that happens as the plot slows toward the end. Metaphor, however, is not lacking, and Roger’s journey home is one which most can identify with.

“A Piece of Strangeness” by Mary Soon Lee is aptly titled. In it, an elderly artist distances himself from the commercial world and all its associations and ponders the nature of talent versus will. When a visiting artist appears, he must reorder his perspective to include that which is not conventional. The visiting artist is strange and hints of a Vonnegut cameo alien without the dark sense of amusement. And when the artist leaves behind a sculpture, the idea of aesthetic relativity rises to the surface, breaking the plane of surface tension that covers the depths below:

On the desk beside me lies what may well be the first alien sculpture anyone in the world has handled. The prevailing theory goes that the alien is an artist, dropping in for inspiration at various places, but the object in question conforms to no aesthetic that I have studied.

What would a Heroes Issue be without an honest to goodness sidekick? In “The Show” by A. Christopher Drown, Billy Paulsen, a.k.a. Rocket Lad, is attending yet another humdrum celebration where he and his partner receive, yet again, a Key to the City. Drown twists clichés with this superhero story told by a reluctant sidekick, exploring the persona, position, and strengths of a sidekick, bringing to the role new depths. Sometimes witty, this tale ends on an unexpected note. A fun ride through Metroburgh and morality.