Zan’s Prehistoric World, A prehistoric futuristic fantasy science fiction story about demons, goblins, sprites, spirits, aardvarks and space ships, set in a Universe that exists only somewhere between my frontal lobe and that part of my brain that tells me pizza is a food group. Notes: I have discovered there is a writer’s gallery as well as a blog. Well, I don’t really consider myself a writer, but, this section allows for 25,000 characters versus the 4,999 characters of the Photoshop gallery. The stories I write are much longer then what I post but I’ve had to cut so many paragraphs out to make them fit that the stories are so watered down its ridiculous. So, I’m going to try this out and see how it works. This is a full episode. Hope you enjoy. Narrative: The boys entered the old Kitsune Dome where their school was located, as well as the hundreds of shops, factories, warehouses, restaurants and sprawling parks of vegetation that could never survive outside the Dome, and the boy’s favorite, the theater complex. Zan quickly found himself ushered into the school office to register. Tarlock, his foster father, had already called ahead to let the school know Zan would be starting classes today. A kindly Demonia woman stood behind the counter. Zan laid his registration forms in front of her and she looked down at the name printed on the form. Zan quickly laid his hand on top of his real name and looked the woman in the eyes. “My name is Zan,” he said, “then removed his hand.” The woman glanced at the printed name and swallowed. Oh my, she thought, well this isn’t the first time a lord has tried to hide his identity, but this particular lord was a prince and perhaps the most famous princeling since Prince Vengence. “Welcome to our school, Zan,” the woman said with a smile. Several minutes later he left the school office and rejoined his foster brothers waiting in the hall. Zan’s brothers lead him to his first class and left him standing at the door with Talur, the youngest of the four brothers and same age as Zan. “We have all the same classes,” Talur told Zan, leading the way into the classroom. The classroom was a disaster of debris on the floor, torn books scattered on shelves, and desks that had seen better days. This was nothing like anything Zan had ever experienced in school before. He handed the teacher a slip of paper and waited. “We have a new student today, class.” The teacher stated. The physics teacher glanced at the slip of paper Zan had handed him. “Zan is it? Tell us where you are from Zan.” Zan faced the class. “I was born here on Demonia, but I’ve lived at the Project Spirit Science Outpost on Terra Prime since I was a baby.” The class welcomed Zan by throwing various objects at him. Zan dodged a collection of pencils, notebooks and textbooks. “Alright class,” the teacher held up a hand to settle the class down, “we are having a physics test this morning. There are thirty-five questions and I expect everyone to finish at least ten questions.” The teacher offered Zan the opportunity to go to the school library and sit out the test. “No, thank you, sir,” Zan replied. “I can take the test.” This kicked off a whole new barrage of flying objects and snickering around the room. “Teacher’s pet,” several students shouted. The teacher shrugged and pointed at a desk for Zan to sit at. Zan quickly sat at the offered desk, hoping to stop being the center of attention. The teacher passed out the test papers and the class settled down and reluctantly began the test. The room was quiet until twenty minutes later when Zan got up, walked to the front of the room and laid his test paper on the teacher’s desk. “Too hard for you?” the teacher asked. “Don’t worry; we will get you caught up.” “No sir,” Zan interrupted. “I’m sorry it took so long. They were so easy I thought they were trick questions so I did them all twice.” The teacher looked down at the paper. All thirty-five questions were answered. The teacher had to pull out the master answer sheet; he had never had to check the answers for the last twenty-five questions before. “These are all correct,” the teacher said incredulously. “Of course,” Zan said as he turned to head back to his desk. “I wouldn’t turn incorrect answers in.” Zan thought this would have earned him some respect, but instead, had the opposite effect on both the teachers and students. The rest of the day went downhill from there and ended in a nightmare during history class when Zan asked the teacher if the Freedom War was the Demon Rebellion; at least three students had pulled out small vengeance blades, sliced their palms and pointed at Zan. The bell finally rang and Zan looked around for his new brothers. They were nowhere to be seen. He really didn’t blame them, the first day hadn’t gone very well for him and his brothers hadn’t asked for Zan to be their new foster brother. Zan sighed and headed toward the door to walk home alone. Zan left the building and walked down the steps to the school yard. It seemed as if the entire school was following him across the school yard. He made it about half way across the yard when the mass of students formed a circle around him, blocking any escape. Zan looked at the several hundred sets of red glowing eyes and thought to himself, this is going to hurt. “Hey bone skull,” Zan heard Karu, his oldest foster brother say. Karu and his other three foster brothers had stepped out of the crowd surrounding him and were walking toward him. “So, are you going to be the first ones to beat me up?” Zan dropped his head, he felt hurt and betrayed. “For someone so smart you are the dumbest demon I know,” Bezil stated. Zan’s four foster brothers spread out around him, then turned around and faced the crowd of angry eyes. Karu put his fists up and lowered his horns; his tail was whipping back and forth menacingly, indicating his intent to do battle. “Well, who’s first?” Karu shouted at the crowd. The crowd took a step back. Everyone knew how dangerous Karu and his three brothers were, Karu especially, he was built like his massive father. The crowd wavered undecided for a moment then began to break up. A silent understanding had passed through the students and they knew the four brothers had accepted this strange new tailless brother as one of them. Now they would be even more dangerous then before, no one was willing to go up against this group of brothers. Karu turned around and said, “It’s over, lets go.” Zan started to follow when Karu suddenly spun around and jabbed a finger into Zan’s chest. “And I’m tired of your disrespect,” Karu growled at Zan. “If you haven’t noticed, which you haven’t, we walk in the correct order. You want to be a proper Demon then you need to learn our ways.” Karu turned around and began walking again. Zan had no idea what he was suppose to do when Bali brushed passed Zan. “I’m older then you,” Bali said and pointed a thumb over his shoulder. “You’re back there,” Bezil added and followed his older twin. “Sorry,” Talur said as he stepped passed Zan. “I’m two months older then you.” Of course, thought Zan, he had known that Demon society was a caste system, but he hadn’t really understood what that had meant. It affected even the order that brothers walked in. Zan took his place at the end of the line and followed his brothers. The boys filed out the dome entrance and onto the rocky path that wound its way away from the dome and the city around it to the smaller village they lived. “We are being followed,” Bali told his brother, Karu. “Yea, I figured. It’s Alir; he doesn’t know when to just drop it.” Karu responded. Karu stopped and waited for the boy following them to catch up. “What do you want, Alir?” Karu asked, somewhat annoyed. “I’m challenging that half-Kitsune freak, one-on-one,” Alir demanded, “or will you fight his challenges too?” Karu’s tail quivered in agitation, but he was right, Zan would have to fight this one alone. “Zan, go take your beating and get it over with so we can go home.” Karu commanded. Zan stepped forward and chose an open spot. He measured the boy carefully and watched as his tail whipped back and forth low to the ground. The boy was bigger but his arm reach appeared to be shorter. The tail was what he would have to watch for. The barb on the end was lethal, but Zan had noticed that the tail, he himself was born without, due to his mixed parentage, was a liability for his attacker. Zan realized that the tail was broadcasting the boy’s intent. The boy was keeping his tail low to ground. It would take too long to whip it over his head. He would probably attack from the side. Zan watched the tail a few more times and noticed that the boy favored his right side. The attack would come low and from the right. Zan had already won this fight. The boy charged and Zan waited until his attacker was committed to the attack then dropped low into the Kitsune Fox stance; one arm above and one below with a leg forward and his foot barely touching the ground. The attacking boy saw Zan drop into a Kitsune marshal arts position and his eyes went wide, but it was too late, his tail was already moving to strike and his momentum was propelling him forward. Zan kept his forward leg still and pushed hard with his rear leg, lifting and twisting his body in the air. The attacking boy’s tail passed harmlessly under Zan as he twisted in the air. Zan’s legs were then around the boy’s chest as he continued to twist in the air. The attacking boy was lifted off the ground by Zan’s twisting momentum and then dropped hard on the ground with Zan on top of him. The leg Zan had trailed with was now pushing in to the boy’s throat and Zan’s open hand stopped several inches from the boy’s face. “Is it over?” Zan asked calmly. The boy nodded and Zan got up and walked back to his brothers who were staring at Zan in amazement. Karu led his brothers away; father had taught him never to stay on the battlefield, but to move off it quickly to a safe place. There would be time for questions and praise later. The brothers marched toward home wordlessly until they were almost in front of their cavern. They could see father in the entrance of the cavern bent over his car working on the engine. “Talur,” Bali said, “wait.” Bali turned around waited for Zan to catch up. “I know who you are now,” Bali began, looking at Zan, “and I know why you are so smart, and I know how you know the secret Kitsune marshal arts.” Zan knew he couldn’t keep his secret for long. It was only a matter of time before they realized he was Prince Malice, but he had tried to tell them from the beginning. Bali was holding a finger up to his chin and tapped while he was thinking this through. Zan stayed silent and listened. “We all know that with a name like Zan you are obviously born very low caste. So, I have been trying to figure out how you got our father for your Tarlock. Father is the Senior Chief on Lord Fox’s Battleship. There is just no way you would have got that high of a caste Tarlock.” Zan just stood there blinking. What was this, Zan thought, Bali’s imagination was making up a story to explain the mystery around him. Bali continued, “I figure Lord Fox secretly returned to Demonia twelve years ago and searched for another half-demon, a low caste one so that no one would know and bought you as a slave. That’s why you never talk about your father and needed a Tarlock.” Zan was speechless. Bali thought the Kitsune had slaves. Slavery had been outlawed on Kitsune Prime for hundreds of years. “That doesn’t explain anything,” Karu interrupted. “Why would they let a slave attend class with Prince Malice and learn the secret Kitsune marshal arts?” Bali smiled and declared triumphantly, “This is Prince Malice’s personal body guard, and that’s why he was on the same battleship with the Prince. Also, he would have attended all the same classes as Prince Malice and been required to learn the Kitsune marshal arts.” “But then why is he here?” Talur argued. “Because the Kitsune steal or buy babies so that they can be trained to become perfect warriors and are bound unquestionably to their lord.” Bali explained. Zan held his laughter in and bit his tongue to stay silent. “That still doesn’t explain why he’s here?” Bali shook his head frustrated, “But it does. Prince Malice is the greatest Prince ever. It would make him sad that his body guard and deepest friend was a slave and had never known a father, or brothers, or family, or even how to be Demon. So the Prince freed him by giving him over to a Tarlock that could be trusted.” Talur interrupted, “But that means…” “Yes,” Bali stated, “Zan doesn’t have to go back unless he asks Tarlock to release him.” Zan’s brothers gathered around and patted him on the shoulders, comforting him. “You’re free now, brother,” Bali said. Zan was speechless. The story Bali had fabricated in his imagination was so touching that he almost wished it were true. This was just getting deeper and deeper and just when he didn’t think it could get any crazier, Talur decided to jump in. “You know what,” Talur said, “I’ll bet father is the one that told Prince Malice that slavery is wrong and came up with the plan to free Zan.” The brothers all nodded in agreement, patted Zan a few more times, assured him that no one would ever make him a slave again, and then as one, turned and walked into the cavern garage where their father was just finishing up his latest tweaks to the engine of his prize muscle car. Tarlock looked up from the engine and saw his boys arriving home from school. He looked passed the line of boys marching into his garage to Zan, standing a short distance outside, waving his arms and jumping up and down. Tarlock wasn’t sure yet what was going on, but whatever it was this time, he thought, no doubt it was going to be good. The boys stopped in front of their father and executed a smart salute, their fists over their hearts and said as one, “Honor to you, father.” “This isn’t getting you out of trouble for being late to school this morning,” Tarlock replied. The boys came forward together and hugged their father one by one and all declared any punishment would be an honor from such a great father. Then they all filed out of the garage and into the kitchen to presumably attack the pantry for an after school snack. Zan wandered into the garage next and Tarlock asked, “Would you care to tell me what that was all about?” Zan made a wry smile and replied, “They think I’m a freed slave and that you were the one that talked Prince Malice in to freeing me from the evil Kitsune over-lords.” Tarlock laughed, “Don’t worry about it; they come up with some of the best evil conspiracy plots with Bali blazing the way to some new adventure. A few months ago they decided the neighbors were evil aliens in disguise and dug a moat around their house to trap them. Then before that they believed Demonia Minor was going to crash into the planet. They dragged an old Dart ship home from the junk yard so they could escape the impending Armageddon.” Zan had been poking his head under the hood of Tarlock's car, trying to figure out how the machine worked. At the words “Dart ship” Zan’s head whipped around. “They have a Dart ship? There’s a place you can just go to get old ships? Where is it? Where is the Dart? Can we go see this place?” Zan was babbling with excitement. This was the first Tarlock had seen Zan show any emotion or interest in anything other then seeking vengeance against the attacker that had left Prince Mischief injured and the two brothers separated on different worlds for safety. “You are standing next to it,” Tarlock pointed at a tarp covered object in the corner of the large cavern that served as a garage. “I thought that was just another one of these,” Zan replied, referring to the car. A Dart ship wasn’t much larger then a car and with the wings folded it didn’t take up much more room then a car. Tarlock watched as Zan approached the tarp covered Dart ship. I’ve seen priests approach the alter in temple with less reverence, thought Tarlock. Zan touched the tarp and then pulled at it. The tarp slipped off the slick surface of the old broken Dart ship. He reached out and touched the black surface of the hull. Zan walked around the Dart the first time slowly, savoring every moment of his first time this close to the fastest ship ever made. The newer Comet ship was a slightly slower ship capable of much further distances, but lacked the pure beauty of the sleek angular design of the magnificent Dart ships. Zan couldn’t contain his glee any longer and started running back and forth and around the Dart ship. “It’s so beautiful,” Zan shouted. Tarlock looked at the old broken Dart. There were signs of the fire that had finally burned the engines out. Someone had ran it too hard and the engine was probably seized up or had simply fused all it’s working parts together. There was no way that old Dart would ever fly again, but no telling what a boy in love with his first spaceship could do, and Zan just might be smart enough to figure a way. “What are they going to do with it? Zan asked. “You can have it, bone skull,” Karu replied. He had come back out to the garage munching on a sandwich. “Honest? Really? It’s mine,” Zan was nearly in tears. “Don’t cry about it, it’s yours,” Karu said, “but you have to drag it back to the junk yard when you’re done with it, and don’t ask me to help you.” Zan twisted the hatch lock and the Dart reluctantly opened. Zan didn’t even wait for the hatch to fold all the way open. He ducked under the opening hatch and crawled inside. Tarlock watched as Zan crawled through the hatch and into the cockpit. Tarlock laid a hand lovingly on the hood of his car. “That was me and you many years ago,” Tarlock said softly to his car. He thought back to when he had been just a boy and dragged home the old SR41 Turbo. It didn’t even have an engine when he had found it. Zan stuck his head out of the hatch of the Dart. “Can I sleep in here, please?” Zan begged. “Of course not, bone skull,” said Karu. “Yes, you may,” said Tarlock. “What?” Karu looked at his father. Tarlock laid a hand on his oldest son’s shoulder. None of his own sons had developed the love of engines that had led Tarlock to eventually become the Senior Chief of a Space Fleet Battleship. “You can’t understand what he is feeling right now, but you have done a very good thing son, now leave him be,” Tarlock told his oldest boy. Tarlock had slept in the back seat of the old Turbo for weeks after he had brought it home before he had finally returned to his own bed. Zan was still in the cockpit making zoom noises.