Special Halloween post--The Skeletal Bride and Groom--by KMKaung

Halloween post--
fiction.

The Skeletal Bride and Groom--by KMKaung--excerpt from my novel 2131.

The writing group went better than I thought.  The five men came from different backgrounds. One said he worked for the government and was worried when he was xeroxing my piece about moving the White House Bunker.

One said he was getting married during Halloween and would be a skeletal groom with a red cape and his fiancee would be dressed as a skeletal bride.

I did not know what to say, as in our old-fashioned, new fangled Berm part of the world, that would be like the evil eye and inviting bad luck.

Of course this was a long time before I knew how really influential our Monday night groups were, and long before I realized that whatever international hits and plots we decided on on first Mondays, would all be executed by the second Mondays, but at that time we were new to each other, and disguised as writers of fiction.

It was truly nice to have one group member say, "It's like Murakami," what I wrote, and I know Murakami is a very cerebral writer, but I don't even like him that much.

*
So then I decided, like van Gogh going out on the street to assuage the fire in his loins and see if he could find a woman, so also I thought I would go and see if I could find a skeletal couple in my cyber telepathy community who could help me with this compilation of lists, which was starting to weigh on me heavily.

Joy had telepathized me from Konroe, Tejas, and said all her drones of all sizes, including the mini mosquito drone were all set to go, and also other means that I never asked about involving the two-legged.

It bothered me that I was way below the monthly as well as the weekly hit quotas, and I was very anxious in case I put someone on the List who should not have been there.

All the names of all the ethnic groups around the New World, hundreds of them, were very confusing.

There were three, four and five word names, some with the surnames in front, some with the surnames last, some with no surnames like me, named after the day of the week, Monday.

All the transliteration into New English was also all cockeyed.

Darren, the group leader in the writers' group, said of my alter ego, "Dr. Khine is an assassin?"

They all looked incredulous, all the men between say age forty five and fifty five.  They were all younger than I.

I started to say she was a Researcher, not an assassin, and it was all done at arm's length, that's why it was so easy.  It's already happening, my fiction is just a projection and extension, exaggerated, of course, of what's already happening.

They looked at me over their mug-shaped tea cups like Germ beer steins and nodded sagely.

I took a sip of my cinnamon apple tea, and swallowed quickly, the liquid burning my throat.  Oh no, it wasn't a tea, it was a tisane, and we were at the Tisane, where god bless us, the food was not so good, but we were just across the street from the National Archives, and that was pretty convenient.

So like poor Vincent in search of a woman, I went out and looked for my skeletal couple to solicit their help, and dear me, I had not long to look.

(end excerpt)
Copyright KMKaung
10-8-2014