# Literary Maneuvers March 2022: Looking Glass



## Harper J. Cole (Mar 1, 2022)

*Literary Maneuvers March 2022: Looking Glass



*​Introduction
Let's gaze into the looking glass, and see what gazes back! What story can you conjure from this month's challenge?

650 words max., deadline 23:59 GMT / 18:59 EST, Saturday, 19 March
If you win, you'll get a badge pinned to your profile, plus the chance to enter our Feb 2023 *Grand Fiction Challenge*, which carries cash prizes.

Judging

There are four judges this month. Joining *Vranger*, *PrairieHostage* and *KatPC* will be *Kegan Thompson*. If you'd like to volunteer, please let me know via PM or in the Coffee Shop. If you wish to know more about scoring, take a look at the NEW JUDGING GUIDE which also includes a template to use for your scoring. Please use this template for consistency.

Additional

All entries that wish to retain their first rights should post in the LM WORKSHOP THREAD.

*All anonymous entries will be PMed to myself and please note in the PM whether you want your entry posted in the workshop.*

Please check out our Rules and Policies for extra details on the LM contests.

Everyone is welcome to participate, including judges. A judge's entry will receive a review by their fellow judges, but it will not receive a score, though some judges are happy to let you know their score for you privately. Please refrain from 'like'-ing or 'lol'-ing an entry until the scores are posted.

Judges: If you could send the scores no later than* March 31st,* it will ensure a timely release of results. Much later than that and I will have to post with what I have. Again, please see the Judging Guidelines if you have questions. Following the suggested formatting will be much appreciated, too.


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## Harper J. Cole (Mar 3, 2022)

Alice
_by Anon_


Some days you get screaming brats, others, little know-it-alls, rarely, nice kids. Today, I have a mixture of all three, as I welcome the parents and their little-uns aboard.

‘Endear yourself to them.’ I tell myself silently. ‘The trip will pass quicker.’

Once they’ve settled into their seats, blathering, I interrupt their conversations.

‘If there are any parents who don’t want their children back from this trip, please inform me now. It can be arranged.’ Receiving a mixed response. Happy nods from the adults and quizzical looks from their charges.

‘So, who can tell me why this boat’s called Alice?’ My question’s directed at the youngsters. Hands shoot into the air and I point at each child as I want them to speak. I love running a tight ship.

‘Because you love Alice.’ Clever-clogs chimes. I grin and indicate towards another, eagerly waving, arm.

‘Alice through the looking glass.’ Miss Prim-and-perfect answers.

‘Damn it.’ I think. ‘I usually get a good five minutes from that.’

I smile, appreciatively, at the child and then deliver the compulsory safety spiel. Jovially done, no-one want’s to believe that glass might actually shatter.

Steering the boat out of the harbour I announce the itinerary of the tour and what they should look out for. Starfish, jellyfish, crabs and lobsters. Eyes start to train downwards, into the port-holes and through the glass underbelly of Alice.

‘I’ve just seen a jellyfish!’ exclaims an excited voice.

‘Is it white, with blue circles? I question. Aware we’d be passing over a smack of them. ‘They’re Moon jellyfish.’ I smirk, inwardly.

‘Wow! There’s millions of them.’

‘Will we see fish, Mister?’

‘Skipper,’ I correct. ‘and we should see loads of mackerel today.’

‘I’ve just seen a huge shark!’

‘Well done! I think you’re the first to ever spot one.’ I never disagree with any fantasy sighting. They’re only kids. It happens every time I take the boat out.

‘It’s not only what’s in the water you need to be looking out for. Ahead are gannets out hunting.’ They circle and wheel the air before plummeting, death-defiantly, into the sea, to claim lunch. ‘Waiting in the wings,’ I motion. ‘that’s a skua. Watch what he does as the gannet re-surfaces.’ Like a well oiled watch, the skua swoops violently upon the gannet and bullies the bird out of its, hard fished for, meal.

As we near one of the islands with crystal-clear, water, I await the first shout; meanwhile, concentrating to position the boat within touching distance of Eilean Fruach.

‘Starfish!’ There it is.

‘Huge crab!’ Just as I’d expected.

‘I’ve just seen two more crabs!’ The tally goes on, and on. I educate them regarding the different types of crab and starfish they are seeing.

The parents are now exceedingly happy. The moaning little blighters aren’t pestering them anymore. It’s been money well spent, even if it’s only for an hour or two. But I have noticed, parents are always the first to give up on staring through the glass. The kids, never. Trying to out-do each other with bigger, better and more outrageous discoveries.

Mum and dad languidly looking out at the birds and at the stunning, silhouetted, mountains. They now have their arm’s lovingly embracing each other. Probably for the first time this holiday. A tender moment, while little Brat-face shouts ‘Massive starfish!’ And is ignored.

And here, I always manoeuvre the boat over a certain spot before heading, steadily, back to the harbour. Maybe, a child at the tiller, helping. A proud parent clicking memories into a camera.

‘Any second now…’ I think.

Children scream. They always do.

‘Dead body!’

‘What?’ I say.

‘I’ve just seen a skellington, under the boat!’

I smile, knowingly, towards the parents.

‘Come on now, sweet-heart, you’ve had far too much excitement!’

I raise a ‘tut’.

‘Kids, eh!’


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## TheChristianWitness (Mar 7, 2022)

What I Thought I Knew


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## Lawless (Mar 9, 2022)

*Unexpected Reflections*

A hare ran around in the forest and noticed a mirror. In the mirror, he saw a fox.
The frightened hare jumped back and so did the fox in the mirror.
The hare approached gingerly and wondered: "Why is my reflection a fox?"
"Because he's going to be the next animal passing by here," replied the mirror.
"Oh. Guess I better be on my way then."
"Guess so. Unless you'd like to ask me a question."
The hare thought briefly. "How can I hide my burrow so that no predators will find it?"
"Put something that smells of human near it. Then the other animals will be afraid to approach."
"How do I find something that smells of human?"
The mirror didn't answer.
The hare stood there cluelessly, then ran away.

A fox trotted past the magic mirror and was very surprised to see a wolf in it.
"Why is my reflection a wolf?"
"Because he'll be the next animal who comes here."
The fox thought for a moment. "When is a hen going to walk past here?"
"At four in the afternoon."
"Thanks." The fox jogged away.

A wolf passed by the magic mirror and saw a bear in it. His jaw dropped. "What's going on here?"
"You're seeing a bear because the next animal coming here is going to be a bear," the mirror explained.
"I see." The wolf turned to go.
"You can ask me a question."
"What question?"
"Any question you want, but only one at a time."
The wolf sank in thoughts for a while and then left.

A bear strolled past the magic mirror and saw a hen in it. He wondered: "Why is there a hen in the mirror?"
"Because the next animal who comes here is going to be a hen."
The bear shrugged. "Whatever." He sauntered on.

A hen approached the magic mirror at a quick pace. Seeing a familiar dog in it, she wondered: "Dog, what are you doing here?"
"I'm a magic mirror," explained the mirror. "You're seeing the dog because he will be the next animal passing by here."
"Oh no! He'll chase me back home. What should I do?"
"Hide behind me."
The hen did as told.

A dog came running and saw the fox in the magic mirror. He stopped confusedly, snuffled the air and found the hen behind the mirror. "Where's the fox?"
"I don't know."
"Stupid hen! Go home at once."
The dog sniffed the tracks around the mirror and hurried away. The hen stayed where she was.

The panting fox appeared. As soon as he saw a girl in the magic mirror, he turned around and ran away.

A girl came and saw the hare in the magic mirror.
"My, what a cute bunny!" she exclaimed. Trying to touch him, she realized the hare was her own reflection. "Is this a magic mirror?"
"Yes," said the mirror. "You are seeing the hare because he'll be the next animal to come here."
"Can I take him home with me?"
"No, he fears you and won't approach while you are here."
"What a pity! Can you tell him I won't hurt him?"
The mirror didn't reply.
"If I can't keep the bunny, I'll leave him a present." The girl took off her headscarf and placed it on the ground.
Before leaving, she looked behind the mirror and saw the hen.
"Naughty biddy, what are you doing in the forest? Come here, let's get you home."
She picked the hen up and walked away.

The hare approached slowly, wary of the girl's headscarf that smelled distinctly of human.
"May I take this?" he asked the wolf in the mirror.
"Sure," the mirror replied. "It's for you."


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## Jardis (Mar 9, 2022)

Gracie's Paradise
(645 words)


“Whatcha think?” he’d said, turning to me with blue eyes sparkling. “Sound good?” 

The idea of naming the lake house was his. Oliver Hudson, bohemian, writer, artist, rich-boy eccentric. Good looking in a nerdy way with his scrawny, corduroy butt and old man cravats-and-cardigans. Oliver Hudson who had decided our ‘first vacation place’ now absolutely must have a name. All I could do, with my pinstriped accountant’s brain, was make sure it wasn’t too absurd. 

“Figure she’d have liked it here,” Ollie added, the sparkle dimming. “Gracie.”

Odd how much weight a name can hold. That poor little puppy.  We had not spoken about it much, Ollie and I, not since it happened, but just then it seemed natural. Perhaps it was the elm forest. Or the small-but-beautiful crop of sunflowers owned by some unseen farmer. Perhaps it was the pond. Gracie had loved the pond that first, only day. Loved to swim, always doggy paddling.

“Maybe I’ll build her a treehouse over there.”

That was a joke, of course. We’d always joke that Gracie was more a child than puppy.

“You’re insane,” I said, “but I love you.”

Ollie nodded, smiled, walked away.





I tried to remember it. And tried not to. 

_Six years? Seven years?_

Endlessly varying timelines.

_Five? Twelve? Four? _

I contemplated each, maneuvering through a bazillion iced country roads like passages of a repeatedly solved maze, my hand leaving the wheel only to occasionally sip from my flask with one eye on the lookout for Yooper-Troopers. I wanted to believe they didn’t come out this far. But you never knew.

_Seven._

Then ahead the house was barely recognizable. No sunflowers. Woods leafless. I held my breath as my borrowed truck began up the snow-fat driveway, ending with a tired judder before a sunken porch. I got out, wincing through cold, and took another hit from my flask.

_Seven years._

No sign of that elusive farmer. Nor any Yooper-Troopers. A chain was wrapped around the door.  Some thick Yale padlock. Upstairs, ‘Paradise’s windows were sullen black, the ones on the ground floor boarded. That part made me smile briefly, when I imagined Ollie – the bohemian Ollie - lecturing his attorney about how the damned place needed sold. Protect the asset, he would say. _That sick bitch, jesus god how haven't they found her yet?_

I felt a stirring. Anger.

_She’s not El Chapo, forfuckssakes--_

Another hurried sip. The cold was coming.

_Seven years. Seven._

And then, suddenly, I heard Gracie barking.





It was a vague sound, faint as the hiss of snowflakes, easy to doubt. Still, in the haze of emotion I heard myself responding. 

“Gracie!”

My voice was slurry. Faint, like a toy whose batteries are dying. Even so, the barking loudened in response and so, spitting half-drunk liquor, I began around the house urgently. It was difficult to stay balanced as I waded through shin-deep snow.

“I'm coming!"

Behind the house, the pond was frozen. Across it, I heard the barking.

_My god._

Somewhere on the icy pond, but fading into the mist. 

_My god,_ I could hear Ollie's panicked heaving in my ear, _my god, my god. _

Snow thinned away becoming a dark, green-black sheet. I stepped onto it.  Looking down, I saw the dark stain of my reflection within the mirror of ice.

“My god,” I slurred.

_Call 9-1-1! _Ollie’s deranged phantom was screaming, as he hauled the clouded shape, the bedraggled mass, from the water. Turning to me, his eyes were crazed with terror and rage and horror. Then accusation.

_You knew you had to watch her round the water. 

I'm sorry._

Below, a spiderweb of fractures had appeared from my foot. Below them, the dead face emerged.

_More a child than puppy. _

When the ice shattered, I felt the grasping of her little hands around my legs. Dragging me under.


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## piperofyork (Mar 13, 2022)

The Veracity Mirror


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## TerraLiga (Mar 14, 2022)

*Brad*
I spend my days and nights pacing up and down the boards on the duller side of this bar. Both sides are dull, especially in this dusty town between two cities on a road that nobody crosses, but this side's the dullest.

This whole town is dull. We've no beach or lake, no forest or mountains. No natural wonders at all. During summer we get an occasional lost tourist stopping for fuel at the station across the street. The old guys in the bar take great delight in spending hours - sometimes days - talking about what car they're driving, how young they are, the clothes they wear and music they listen to. They bore me, and I hate them for it.

"Slide me over a beer will ya, Brad?"

He's talking to me. I'm Brad.

"Sure, Joe. Three bucks fifty, buddy." He's no buddy of mine, but I let him think he is.

I could have been somebody and out of this dust-bowl town. I was a pretty good running back in college and scouts came to see me often. At the last game of the season it was rumoured I was going to get at least one pro offer, but Angelo Ducass saw to it that I wouldn't get any offers. Not that day or any other. His tackle ripped the ligaments from my knee and condemned me to this town for life.

"Hey Brad, what position did you play?" Joe asks, while watching the game on the bar counter TV, taunting me with his grey-stubbled face and yellow teeth.

"Running back. Best in the county they said."

"You sure were, son. What happened to the boy who busted your knee? I forget his name."

"Ducass. Angelo Ducass" Checking my resentful tone and unwinding the tightly-wrapped bar cloth from around my fist. "He turned pro after college, but only played for a couple years. Quit or retired after that, I think."

"Hmm"

Idiot. He's not really interested. Like I said; taunting. And I know exactly what happened to Ducass.

The bar is where townsfolk come to get away. From their mundane existence, from lonely boredom, from nagging wives and leeching kids. All except Joe. He comes here by choice, the fool. He was stationed in Germany as an army engineer back in the eighties and got friendly with this 'Hermann' guy in the local bar. Turns out he's this famous motor-sports big-wig and offered Joe the chief engineer's job in one of his teams. He turned it down to come back to this. To this! He's a God-damned fool. Every now and again he retells the story to make us all look like redneck spivs. I hate this guy more than all the others combined.

I know that everyone in the bar looks at me and laughs behind my back. I know they do, I can feel it. I can see them in mirror behind the bar, smirking and giggling like little girls, whispering their secrets. They don't know I'm looking. They don't know that I can see them.

They look at me; a young guy who had the world at his feet and then in a fraction of a second had nothing. And now I'm condemned. Condemned to be behind this bar. To listen to their stories over and over again. To get mocked and laughed at. They have no idea what I can do. They have no idea what I have done. Nobody does. Angelo Ducass doesn't play pro football any more - he doesn't play anything. It was a big mystery when he disappeared and the TV rumour-mill was in overdrive; gambling debts, a Mob hit, an abduction gone wrong, and more. Many more. Nobody knows what happened to the guy who robbed my future, but I do. I know exactly what happened to Angelo Ducass.


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## KatPC (Mar 17, 2022)

*Shadows*


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## biograph1985 (Mar 17, 2022)

*Omnistasium*​ 
In the hull of the Dastyra designate ship Section-EB238, Qicomr navigates the appender in position to grasp the A-875 type asteroid before the celestial object can make another pass around the rim of the dark matter paraboloid. It has a five-minute window in which to clamp the asteroid or risk waiting another three weeks for another attempt. Fsaar gravely observes Qicomr’s progress.

“Completion sequence reading at +0.4,” communicates Fsaar.
Qicomr acknowledges this as the appender finally grasps to the A-875 type asteroid. Fsaar verifies the success: “Completion sequence at +0.1”.  The team communicates this to the Central Station-BXL-85429, a primary vessel docking station.

Fsaar and Qicomr are two parts of the many which make up the Dastyra, including those on the docking station and the rest on their home planet, also called Dastyra. Their team is searching for a crucial element that may stave off their extinction. Inside of these A-875 type asteroids is a viscous liquid known as omnistasium. 

Relieved at their success, Fsaar goes down to the temporary cell block to check on Adraas. Adraas is of the Rviisis, a galactic rival to the Dastyra. Every type of ship in this region, no matter what origin or purpose, contains a cell block. Spies, pirates, saboteurs and rebels of every stripe are clustered here and security is paramount.

“So, have you obtained your precious omnistasium?” hisses Adraas.

“Yes, we have what we need,” replies Fsaar.

A pause settles before Adraas continues: “Why do the Dastyra need this omnistasium? That you would travel to such …   inhospitable regions to attain it?”

Fsaar looks at Adraas. Why stand on ceremony? Adraas is not long for existence.

“The Dastyra require the reflective property of the omnistasium. In order to continue being, we must see ourselves in it. It replenishes the awareness of being -- a complicated process, and that’s all you need to know.”

“All reality is potentiality although not all potentiality is reality,” replies Adraas.

“Hm. So you are familiar with our ruminations.”

“Of course. The Rviisis are not ignorant of the teachings of rival cultures.”

Adraas peers closer at Fsaar. Fsaar seems disoriented, unfocused.

“What is this?” inquires Adraas suspiciously. “What is happening??”

What is understood shifts adjacent to what is, and Fsaar and Qicomr begin to lose understanding. The omnistasium’s component elements react to the environs of Section-EB238 as Fsaar and Qicomr experience a futile attempt to reconcile the understanding of what is with the evidence of what is now.  
Qicomr is back in the compartment where the omnistasium is held. Qicomr is not at the central controls of this vessel. This is not as it should be, but Qicomr is here and so is the focal point of the disruption -- the omnistasium. 

Clawing and stumbling back to the control room, Fsaar finds Qicomr gone. No single member is to interact with the omnistasium in this manner until the omnistasium is accessible to a certain critical mass of the Dastyra simultaneously. Yet Qicomr has diminished this distance in violation of custom. Qicomr in isolation is replenished in awareness of being. 

Fsaar understands that as perception and reality become further divided, Qicomr must now be caught between the two. Fsaar must locate Qicomr, and so engages the unlock mechanism for the compartment that hosts the omnistasium. Fsaar encounters Qicomr and all prior experience is erased for both. 

Below Adraas hears a commotion followed by something hitting the floor. His concern for his own safety increases.

Now Section-EB238 holds only one Dastyra, Adraas and the omnistasium. Qicomr is no longer Qicomr and Fsaar is no longer at all. Section-EB238 drifts off course and deeper into the paraboloid. 

Qicomr is filled with knowledge and depleted by resignation. What Qicomr saw was the undiluted futility of being. It saw too much of itself and the infinities that could have been but never were. Sectiom-EB238 disappears  into the dark matter paraboloid.


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