Welcome to the Emerald Dragon Archives. You can search (above), you can take your time going bit-by-bit below through all the posts, or you can use the categories on the right. There are author names, post types, and genres listed as categories. Feel free to share and comment alike, as the authors still have access to their archived stories and will love the feedback. The new and improving Emerald Dragon is here.
|Posted on December 30, 2011 at 4:30 PM||comments (0)|
First, don't panic.
I suppose you want to know why...
We strongly encourage writers who are serious about promoting their work to create their own blog or website. If you don't want to do that, or don't feel you are at that point yet, you may want to check out writing communities. There are still a few out there, that I am aware of... Writer's Cafe is one, as is WeBook.
Questions? Comments? Please feel free to email me or sound off in the comments below.
|Posted on November 16, 2011 at 3:50 PM||comments (0)|
Some New News
Emerald Dragon has been pretty quiet, and lowly, lately. We've been thinking outside the box, and have been considering revamping ED for the better. We've had some solid ideas, and I think we're finally near a realization of the practical use of Emerald Dragon, something that will benefit all those writers and readers involved. Most importantly, that there will be a new String-Along story coming soon, so writers be ready to volunteer for that!
First things first, you should know that we are now on Google+, and this is most likely going to be a place where a lot of our work comes to life. Please Circle Emerald Dragon on Google+, and prepare for some new and improved ED awesomeness. We will also keep the Facebook Group updated as well.
Also, 'Fatal Flaws' (formally known as 'Push'), our first String-Along story is nearing the publishing date. You can get your hands on a paperback copy of the complete story on January 1, 2012. Here is some prelimary work for the cover design.
There are some cool new things about to happen, I hope, so please stay tuned. Hopefully we can see ED become the greatness it was meant to be! Thanks for always staying plugged in.
|Posted on November 5, 2011 at 12:35 AM||comments (1)|
It was a typical cold and wintry day in Detroit when I awoke at 3:55am to take off to work VIA a public bus to the radio station I work with. WRQ 700 AM, of Detroit was trying to keep the ears by the radio and the eyes away from the TV with our music made in the fifties and the early sixties. I would start the day at 5:45am going through the program plan which was a usual rundown of what was expected. Every Saturday would be a test from The United States Civil Defense System, or otherwise then being the Emergency Broadcast System (EBS).
The CONELRAD or EBS was quite popular back in the Cuban Missile Crisis when at the time I was fresh from basic training in the in the United States Coast Guard and getting interested in radio. I was a idiot enlisting in the world of Military Radio for entertainment and fearing that a missile from the U.S.S.R. would come on by and knock us out of our collective lives and asses.
Quite an eventful life of fear of the ‘what if’s’ in the military, that I choose an uneventful career as a part-DJ, part newsman for a eventful city of Detroit. Not knowing in my entrance into the troubled Motor City in late 66 with the riots, and the excitement of the Detroit Tigers winning the World Series months later in October 1968, calming down the riots and giving my peace-loving ass some piece of mind.
I got a promotion from the minor market of Raleigh, North Carolina to fill in the news spots and play the fifties music, down the road, we graduated to the early sixties. But our current program director named Bill Tetley didn’t want anything past 1963. The Angels ‘My Boyfriends back’ was as far as we could go. Another reason why I was yanked out of North Carolina to Detroit was my military experience and knowledge of the world of defense. At that time, as you know, the Vietnam War was starting up, and my full-time working soul was responsible for bringing the updates of what’s new in ‘Nam to any peace treaties or peoples two cents on the war. Most times, I would deliver the news.
And lastly, although any idiot in the whole wide world could handle it, I was primarily responsible for handling the Saturday morning Civil Defense tests that would come from a black teletype machine. At around 10:30am, it would ring a generic three bells and out the paper would print.
I arrived to the building at 5:25am, seeing the snow filter into flakes and twenty minutes before my start. I’m not the kind of guy who likes to wake up in the morning, but really, my job isn’t difficult at all. I had to give news updates every twenty minutes, do a special on coverage of the Vietnam War at 8:40am and 11;40am, the latter mention would be my last twenty minutes. Plus also, I would have to handle the Emergency Broadcast at around 10:30am.
I had took over for the evening man just five minutes before my shift starts and gave him a break early that he was appreciative for, and I reported the news for my first time of the day, “Good Morning Detroit, this is Ron Cambridge welcoming you to a early morning edition of WRQ AM 700. We will start this portion with The Tokens but before hand, the news here in Detroit, a man was badly injured during a bar fight in Southwest Detroit. The victim will be okay and is said to be released from the hospital as early as this afternoon. The suspect remains at large.
Ford is announcing that they are making new model cars and also thinking about a new pick-up truck. However, no other details are posted at this moment. Bill Bonds of WXYZ-TV will have a better report on Ford’s new ways this afternoon. Also, good news for your TV entertainment, The Brady bunch will continue with it’s upcoming 4th season, ABC along with the show creators have confirmed this.
That’s it for the news as of right now.”
Then I spin the record The Tokens and announced over the beginning vocal and said to Detroit: “The Tokens, Lion Sleeps Tonight, WRQ.”
For the next four and a half hours, the day passed uneventful with no really exciting news coming up. The bar fight did contain a comment from the victim as I had to quote his quote myself. Ford announced sketches of what they call a F-150, a new pick-up truck they plan on pulling out, but no new developments came out of it as I personally received a phone call from somebody representing Ford had contacted the station stated more development would come in the following Tuesday, that I announced, along with Bill Bonds would be showing up that afternoon. And again, for those Brady Bunch fans, a fourth season was announced.
And of course, back in the fifties and early sixties, the average song was two to three minutes long. So since I was the person responsible for doing the Emergency Broadcast System routine announcements, I would have to wait for the silly-looking teletype to piss out the message. I played a generic three-minute major hit by the name of “Telstar” by “The Tornados” while I got out the generic test script and awaited for those bells to ring. The clock read 10:33am when I heard the first bell ring. I turned to it at the second bell and approached the machine.
However, there were more bells that followed that third, I counted seven after. I knew whatever was going to be printed out of that machine is not going to be generic, the operative words would be not good or even threatening.
The station had it’s own office in one of Detroit’s professional buildings, the building also housed one of our FM competitors, yet strangely a sister station, the WRIF with new DJ Arthur Penhallow, that station that week had went to the hard rock category with the emphasis on progressive rock such as the hit by Emerson, Lake and Palmer known as ‘Lucky Man‘, a genre of music starting to develop and I secretly liked. The broadcast area took a laughable ten percent of the whole section of the office, it was literally two walk-in closets together. We would often refer them as the radio closet and the producer closet, with a large window and a door separating each. While I heard and awaited the teletype whatever frights of our national security threats we would see, I looked at the female producer with a estranged look being reflected in the glass, I suppose I was trying to advertise to her that something was wrong.
After printing was finished, I hurried to the paper and took a look. Each EBS test script had a assigned code word associated with each test. I remembered correctly that today’s codeword was Impish (they usually have strange code names) according to the EBS cards that are hung up on the bulletin board in the producer room. Today’s script says Hatefulness. A non-matching code word is scary enough as I read on thinking that the Soviet Union had got a hold of Norad in Cheyenne Mountain (in where they play the scripts). The script continued with telling me to cease all broadcasting and go to emergency broadcasting system. However, the script didn’t give a reason why.
Telstar was still playing, a song I wasn’t too familiar with, but knew to be three minutes long. So it bought me some time to figure out what was going on. Into the producer closet I went with a concerned producer by the name of Kimberly Clarke, a WRQ veteran for 15 years and pushing to fifty, she walked towards me as I walked out the door.
“We’ve got a problem.” I said to her while I handed her the paper.
She took a look for herself and said, “Oh my God.”
“We gotta call Bill.”
She looked at me still with concern and said, “But it doesn’t say why.”
I looked back to that piece of paper, “I know, but, it’s a different code word. It’s rather suspicious.”
This is when I acknowledged that Telstar was fading out.
“Contact Bill at home, I’ll throw another record in the spindle.” I told her.
I handed her the paper of fright and stepped in the radio closet, looking through the basket of generics as I call it, which is instrumental music, or elevator music to best describe it. I took a random record and saw that the first song was over seven minutes long. Good enough.
I tossed the record on the spindle and walked out of the closet seeing Kimberly holding the phone up and her face was white. I suppose our program director Bill Tetley didn’t want to be bothered.
“It’s Mr. Tetley’s wife. She says he isn’t home at the moment.”
I took the phone from her, “Mrs. Tetley?”
She responded on the other end, “Yes?”
“This is Ron at the station.”
Before I could go on, she asked, “”You’re the weekend guy?”
Usually with pride, I would respond with ‘Weekend/Fill-in.’ I didn’t like being known as just the weekend guy, but I responded, “Yes.”
“Okay, what’s going on there? Bill’s not in at the moment.”
“Well, I received a bulletin from the Emergency Broadcast System to cease all broadcasting.”
“Oh darn, is there a reason why?”
“No, it doesn’t say. It just says to go to Emergency Broadcasting. It’s a unique situation for me because usually, it’s a test script.”
“Oh gee. Well, Bill isn’t here right at this moment. Umm… what I would do is go to that announcement. From what Bill tells me, in the event of something like that happening, he says they would have to go under, what he says, ’Emergency mode.’”
Bill never explained that to me, but upon having that machine being put in, that ‘in the extremely unlikely event of a serious emergency’ to broadcast ‘under the lieu’ of the EBS.
So I told Mary, “Well, I better go ahead and do that. Here’s Kimberly.”
I handed Kim the phone and told her, “I’m going on Emergency Mode, Tell Mrs. Tetley to have Bill give me a call once he arrives home.”
“Okay.” Kim responded.
I walked back into the Radio Closet and turned the mic on while putting the elevator music to a complete stop.
“This is Ron Cambridge, usually as this time on Saturday morning, we broadcast a test from the Emergency Broadcast System, or EBS. However, we have been ordered by the Department Of Defense to cease operations and go to Emergency Broadcasting. However, we have no given reason at this moment, on why we are under Emergency Broadcasting. Again, an order by the Department Of Defense to cease normal programming to tell you the alert from the Emergency Broadcast System, yet, no news follows. Stay tuned to WRQ 700 AM for further details. Please folks, do not call the station… um, we do not know exactly why we are under alert. Again, please do not call the station. If you just tuned in to WRQ 700 AM, we have received an alert on the Emergency Broadcast System that we are under a threat, however, no further details on what exactly the alert is for. Please stay tuned to WRQ 700 AM for further details and please, do not call the station. We do not know any more information here. Stay tuned to WRQ 700 AM as further details will follow.”
Not knowing what else to do, I played the elevator music record again.
Kimberly motioned to me to get back into the producer closet with the phone up and looking at me with fright. I imagine that Bill Tetley may not be taking this seriously and yapped at her. So I had to prepare myself to talk to the difficult Mister Tetley himself.
I took the phone, “Mr. Tetley?”
With his gruff voice, “Yes, what the hell is going on over there?”
“Well, we have received a EBS transcript to go to Emergency Broadcasting. Our code word is Impish according to the EBS cards issued to us. But this one says the code word of Hatefulness.”
“It’s probably a mistake. Just shut off that elevator music and spin a record, the machine should probably print our a message disregarding it soon.”
By the time he got to the last word, there was a knock on the door and behind it appearing at the window was a guy named Chuck who worked for our competition or similar sister station WRIF, a hippie follower and rumored draft dodger with a rich father, something my Coast Guard alumni-self didn’t like about the guy.
“Is that what you want?” I asked Bill while Chuck knocking at the door, Kimberly opened it for him.
“Yes, go back on the air and resume normal programming. It’s probably a mistake.” Bill Tetley said over the phone.
I was about to talk until Chuck who was probably under the influence of pot interrupted, “Duuuude man, did y’all see this shit the Emer’gin-cee people r sayin’?
I disregarded him and Bill asked who that was.
“It’s Chuck Sheaston at WRIF, checking on the alert too, I’m guessing he also got the alert.”
“Augh geez, that hippie at WRIF? I thought I told him to never to be at our station.”
“I’ll remind him of that Mr. Tetley. But sir, from a personal note, I think we should stay tuned on emergency mode.”
“Hey Cambridge, I know you were a military man, you saw the Cuban Missile Crisis, but I can highly assure you it’s a mistake. Russia is not going to get us, and Vietnam isn’t going to get us.”
Chuck kept running his mouth, “I mean Cambridge, do y’all think? You think Vietnam could bomb us? My dad says Vietnam can’t bomb us.”
I didn’t say anything on the phone and looked the other way with the disgust of Chuck. And inside the radio closet, I saw the old black junker on the process of printing another piece of paper.
“Hey Cambridge, your still there?” Bill asked over the phone.
“Uh yeah, In fact, I’m seeing that the teletype printed out something.” I said.
“Go get it, and put another record in the spindle, my wife is saying that we are on dead air.”
“Will do.” I said, and I handed the phone to Kim and asked Chuck quickly while I walked to the teletype, “Did you get the same alert too, Chuck?”
The answer was obvious, and he said yes.
I walked to the teletype which finished the new message, hoping it was good news and allowing the idea of Bill Tetley to be correct on this one. I grabbed that piece of paper to see the same codeword printed, that being ‘hatefulness,’ however, the good news was there. It read to cancel the previous message. Bill Tetley was right. I signaled to Kimberly the cut hand motion and proceeded to the mike.
“This is Ron Cambridge here at WRQ 700, if you have just joined us, we had the Emergency Broadcast System alert us with an message to cease normal broadcasting. We have just now received an message from the Emergency Broadcast System that the previous alert was an error. I’m repeating now, that the previous alert we received has been cancelled. The Emergency Broadcast System has now told us this new information.”
I then hesitated for a second or two, and continued with what I could say.
“Well, it’s been an interesting five minutes. The time is 10:35am. More news will follow on this issue here, but for now; The Angels, My Boyfriend’s Back.”
Then I played the record.
I walked back into the producer closet but before I took the phone, I had told Chuck that the message has been cancelled and also that Mr. Tetley warned him out of our offices. Back on the phone with him, Mr. Tetley just told me to continue with normal broadcasting and he was on his way.
Work continued on as normal with a couple of printings from the teletype machine, with the final one coming out at the eleven o’clock hour. Bill Tetley stood around the office and in the closets for about an hour to confirm things. It was quite interesting to see him wearing a sweater his wife made for him.
My final news report for the day was at 11:53am, which of course, had the addition to the EBS goof and they finally caught the guy who manipulated that fight at the bar the previous night. I also dared myself to finish off my last news broadcast with: “Hanes, the name known for being the underwear company, has reported a sales increases of 75% this month, even though the month isn’t over with. This is Ron Cambridge. WRQ 700 AM.”
|Posted on September 23, 2011 at 10:20 PM||comments (2)|
I wake up again in the middle of the night in a cold sweat from the same nightmare that I have been having since my mother met this mean, ugly, disgusting, dope addict of a boyfriend.
He is rude to her, and hardly ever say a word to me. He looks at me like I am the reason he can’t totally dominate my mother like he would like. When he does speak to me it’s in one word phrases like nope and yep.
He don’t work, but he seems to always have money, I would see him counting it with a wry smile on his face.
My mother receives food stamps so he don’t buy food and my mother gets a check every month so he never pays rent or anything else that I can see, and it leaves me with the reality that he is using my mom and beating my mom. He never has shown love to me or my mom since the day he walked into her life and invaded mine. He is so mean that he puts a chain lock on the refrigerator so that I only eat when my mom cooks dinner.
That leads me back to my nightmare, every time, the same dream. I walk into their bedroom right up to his side and take the gun he puts on the table next to him and points it right at his face as he sleeps. I stare at him with tears in my eyes because I know my mom wouldn’t approve of what I was about to do. The hairs suddenly stand up on arm as he opens his eyes slowly and starts to say “What tha…” when I pull the trigger and he falls back into his pillow, starts to violently shake as my mom wakes and falls out on her side screaming at me “What have you done! Oh Son what have you done!” and I wake up in a pool of my own sweat…
|Posted on September 20, 2011 at 2:55 AM||comments (0)|
She sat on the grass
beneath the summer sun
looking at you
as if for the first time
and as she looked at you
you looked beyond her
at the distant sky
and how the clouds
resembled a woman’s bust
and how humorous it was
when an airplane
went right through
on its way to some far off land
and as she took your hand
she said things about love
and how she felt
and did you feel the same
and you taking the image
of the airplane
and woman’s entered bust
said oh yes of course
trying not to let it show
on your 14 year old face
how funny that image seemed
and not realizing how deeper
and more loving she was
back then beneath
that summer sky
with you thinking
of that day and her
and her later death
and you hearing
in the silence
of the drawn out dawn
her soft words
in her prayerful breath.
|Posted on July 30, 2011 at 11:02 PM||comments (0)|
It is five-thirty in the morning and I am up getting ready for work when I hear a commotion next door at my friends Don and Mary’s house. I walk over to the window and look out to see if I can see anything going on and my eyes almost popped out of their sockets at the sight I saw. There were at least five armed men standing in the front yard and others inside, just then there was a loud pop and then another that sounded like gunfire then two others came out and joined the five in the yard. I quickly grabbed my binoculars to get a closer look and noticed that these men were men of Arabic descent. The man across the street came out of his house and walked across to the men in Dons yard and started to converse with them, I read his lips as he asked what was going on and one of the men turned and shot him in the head! I dropped my binoculars in pure astonishment and fear of what was happening. The mans wife and teenage son came running across the street and were quickly shot down in the street, my wife awoke and asked “Honey what was that sound? What’s going on out there?”
I turned and told her to get in the closet and stay there because something was happening very bad outside. She asked “What about you?” I told her “I will be there as soon as I finish calling 911 and tell them what is going on sweetheart, now go!” She ran into the huge bedroom closet and shut the door. I ran back to the window with my binoculars, what I saw was absolute carnage as they were going door to door killing everything that was breathing, Women, children and husbands all were being made to get on their knees, and then they were shot in the back of their heads. I heard the sirens from the police cars getting closer and closer as these murderers continued to assassinate innocent families still in their sleep wear, I just could not believe my eyes as the carnage seem to continue on and on Just then two police cruisers showed up and I was astonished that that was all that was sent for something like this, I told them that there was mass murders being carried out by what seemed like a militant type group of men and to please send everything they have and this was it?
The Arabic group walked into the middle of the street together as the police were yelling at them to drop their guns and raise their hands in the air, but a short war broke out that resulted in every police officer dead and the Militants started to resume the killing as others watched for other police reinforcements to arrive. I called 911 again and by this time the phone line was busy as I watched in horror this murderous cell shoot down a whole street and possibly an entire neighborhood while waiting for law enforcement to take it as it was and that was a serious attack from within.
I looked hard into my binocular lens and saw our corner grocer Assam with an Uzi in his hand, and his son obi who went to school right here in the area everyday with all the other kids shooting his so-called friends in the head. Several others from the area that had been living here for years and had become part of the community were now heartless murderers without as much as a conscious. They were all yelling things in the air and shooting wildly as if this was a celebration for them, I swallowed hard and backed away from the window as I saw Assam heading toward my house, I ran to the front room not knowing what to do, I mean I don’t have a gun and if I did I wouldn’t know how to use it so I was in total fear that my wife and I was next.
I peeked out and saw Assam coming up the drive with another man and his son and just then the Calvary arrived and they turn quickly to join the others in another fight that they ultimately lost. I ran to the closet and opened it as my wife came pouring out into my arms “Is it over!” she said in a whispery voice and I said, “Yes I think it is for our street anyway.”
We held on to each other as we walked to the front door which was being banged on by officers and sharp shooters asking whether we were alright, I opened the door and shook my head speechless at the site behind them on the street. Assam lay there with his son at his feet shot multiple times with the others nearby.
My wife asked an officer “What happened here? Why would they do this?”
And the officer just shook his head and said “Maam, we may never know”
And he walked away with the other officers to check on the rest of the street. We stood there in our front yard and watched as they loaded all our neighbors into the many ambulances while leaving the seven dead men in the middle of the street for last retrieval.
As daylight came the news reports said that as many as twenty-six hundred innocent people were killed in our city alone by several cells of Militants who themselves were killed. It was written on many areas in the city,
“WE WILL KILL YOU FROM WITHIN, IN THE NAME OF THE FIGHT YOU DID NOT SEE US AND WE WERE IN PLAIN SIGHT.”
As we washed the blood stains and messages away from both our streets and our minds we are constantly now on our utmost alert when it comes to Arabic people that run our stores and motels and etc… because now we fully understand that we as a Government and people let this happen by simply being caring and Christian beings on this populace we call the land of the free.
Could this happen again? But next time all over the world at the same moment from within from literally thousands of secret cells that have been engrained into our society for years as good friends and neighbors who we have trusted to be American? I say the probability is quite excellent simply because we are who we are, and they just can’t make us be like them, heartless, maniacal, evil, brainless, and spiritually messed up in the head.
We will never forget the lives lost and most of all we will never forget the deceit that we all were subjected to by who we took in as our friends that ended up being nothing more than MILITANTS.
|Posted on July 15, 2011 at 5:19 AM||comments (0)|
You are what you wear, Sutcliffe said,
You wear what you are. O’Brien laughed.
In that case, Eddie, you’re well alive,
Because you wouldn’t be seen dead
In those clothes. Sutcliffe brushed off
The jacket, disturbing the dandruff,
Loose blonde hairs took flight about him.
They’re hand me downs, Sutcliffe moaned,
Not what I’d have chosen by a long chalk.
When money’s scarce, you wear what
You’re given. Dead man’s cloth to be sure,
Dan Davies added, look at the lapels.
You could plant a rosebush in that flower
Hole there. My mother said, it fits well enough,
Sutcliffe said. It fits where it touches,
O’Brien held, laughter in the tone of voice.
And the trousers have fallen out with
The socks, going by the distance between
Them, Dan Davies joked. Sutcliffe gestured
With his digit raised skyward. You are what
You are, O’Brien stated, you wear what is
At hand or takes your fancy or will pull
The girls into your arms. Eddie’s cloth will
Draw the moth or frighten away the crows
Wearing those clothes, Dan Davies said.
O’Brien laughed again. Sutcliffe sighed.
He smelt the jacket. Scent of death.
Something thereabouts had died.