How I Came to be a Character in a Science Fiction Novella

Most of you know my nephew Kyle J. Knapp died nearly three years ago in a fire. A way of coping from the loss was to continue publishing books of his poetry that I had started when he was still alive. Then, after reading his dream journals, another idea came to me in which I asked several writers to compose a short story based on a snippet from one of Kyle’s dreams for The Lizard’s Ardent Uniform.

There was one dream that was particularly special to me and I knew just the person who could do it justice. The dream: Kyle (a huge Doctor Who enthusiast) had to save my life from a sabotaged mission by time traveling in a pair of my futuristic gravity boots—what a kick that was to read!

So I approached my good friend Garnett Elliott whose work has appeared in countless magazines, including Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine. The result was “The Zygma Gambit.” There was real magic happening among those pages, and Garnett has since written “Carnosaur Weekend” where we stop crooked developers from exploiting the Late Cretaceous. The newly released “Apocalypse Soon” has us on a high octane undertaking reminiscent of Mad Max! My alter ego name: Damon Cole. Pretty damn cool, huh? But the biggest thrill is Kyle (aka Kyler) continues to live, breathe, soaring through space and time. Does the heart good. Hope you take a look and enjoy.

In Dreams

In dreams...I talk to you

Frequencies Open, Captain Cranmer

I’m on the USS Enterprise, my first day on the job, walking around in jeans and a plain old T-shirt. I’m led into a room that’s to the right of the elevator in the original series. I know that’s not spatially correct, but I have bigger concerns ... I’m worried about what color shirt I’ll be wearing. Please don’t be red! I tell myself. In the room, I’m handed a ‘Spock’ blue shirt, and I sigh a relief.

I’m left alone to put it on. It feels comfortable (though I remember William Shatner said in an interview that they were not), but it’s too long, stretching almost to my knees. I don’t have time to think about it as someone comes in and whisks me away, out of the starship.

The Enterprise is docked on Earth, and it’s a beautiful sunny day. Apparently, back on board, the crew members on the bridge are preparing for an emergency drill training session that I will be leading. Sensing my unease, Kirk slaps me on the back and says, “You’ll do fine.” Then he escorts me back to the bridge. The training begins with a scenario of another ship’s crew in danger on a foreign planet.

“Open all frequencies,” I tell Uhura.

“Frequencies open, Captain,” she replies.

I speak loudly into the air, asking, “How many casualties?”

“Seventy-nine,” a male voice crackles back from the imagined faraway outpost. Anguished screams and explosions sound in the background. They are under attack from a formidable opponent. Probably Klingon.

I tell him what to do to save his crew and repair the situation. “Keep me posted,” I command with authority. I click off the intercom, and then as an afterthought, I click back on, adding, “But don’t call us, we’ll call you!”

My lame joke is well received with everyone on the Enterprise Bridge as they double over with laughter.

The Night of the Killer

A gorgeous, dark-haired woman is walking toward me along a canal in Europe. On the other side of the tapered road is a line of two-hundred year old homes. I’m in modern times but the lady walking toward me seems to be from the not-so-distant past. Her high heels are dropping soft footfall clicks on the cobblestone. Her shadow looms large, enveloping the area. I recognize the curvy shape and the attitude in the stroll, even though her face is still unclear. It’s the actress, Ava Gardner.

I’m eager to meet this Hollywood star, even if I’m just dreaming. She’s been a favorite of mine since having seen THE KILLERS, THE NIGHT OF THE IGANUA, ON THE BEACH, and THE LIFE AND TIMES OF JUDGE ROY BEAN. Lately, I’ve been reading The Secret Conversations. But how do you talk to a legend? It comes to me … I’ll start with saying that my wife and I named our daughter after her.

I thumb my fedora up. I relax my hand off Jack Laramie’s Colt that I brought along. I’m feeling Alan Ladd-ish cool, but my enthusiasm and ease are short lived. Out of the shadows I see the well-known face for only a second before she morphs into a zombie. She smiles a wicked I’m-going-to-kill-you grin.

I’m petrified but can’t run. I know the end has arrived.

She lunges.

Fade Out.

On Thunder Road with Bleeding Wrists

This past March we were in Freeville, along Fall Creek, to visit one of the last of the hipsters (more on this in a later post) who was talking to me about dreams and what we can learn from them, like reaching the great beyond, etc. I had my doubts. Still do. (Damn, he mentioned a book I can't remember at the moment). Nevertheless, I told him that I used to record my dreams as a twenty-something. Well, a few weeks ago, after recalling our conversation, I started again. My friend Charles in Louisiana has devoted blog posts on his midnight exploits which I always find fascinating. So I've decided to post some of mine here from time to time. An example of my journey into dreamtime from 7/31/13 in North Charleston, South Carolina, around 3:45 am:

I am sitting in a parked Honda Civic on a dirt road that heads up a hill on the George Junior Republic property in Dryden, NY. A group of  juveniles pull up behind me, making me nervous. The car won't start, but after a few tries, I manage to get it going and race away with the kids staying tight to my bumper. The cheap Hollywood scenery is sliding past like I'm Lucas Doolin roaring away on Thunder Road. At the hilltop, I make a fast right off the road to lose them ... Fades to: I pull into a reality show contest where I am told by the amiable television host that I can win twenty bottles of the finest wine! But for my part of the contest (though there are no other contestants) both my wrists are slashed, and, if I remain standing for a length of time, I will win the wine. After bleeding buckets and buckets of red, I'm told to "place my wrists perpendicular" to stop the bleeding ... I wake up before I get the prize!

Usually, I can point to events, conversations, news articles or the like from the days beforehand to explain away certain aspects, but that takes the magic/mystique/crazy out of it, right? So I'll just post the cinema verites as they arrive.