The Chrion Legend: Awakening Chrion

As I walked home, I repeatedly glanced at the book under my arm.  What was it?  Why was I hearing voices come out of it?  Why did I even have it?  But there was one question that troubled me more than any of those.  Why was I so drawn to it?  Despite my confusion, I somehow felt that I had made the right decision, and that the book would be important.

It was still another ten minutes of walking to arrive at my home.  It was getting late.  It was the growing darkness that began to transform the world around me.  The sky transformed from a beautiful beacon of hope to an empty void that was going to swallow me whole.  Buildings changed into hulking, monstrous towers of pitch black.  The branches of the nearby trees morphed from the comforting arms of  true friends into the skeletal appendages of fiendish ghouls.

As I rushed home I saw, although it is quite possible that it was simply my imagination at work, blood red eyes staring out at me from the night.  I saw the silhouettes of monsters that surpassed my most terrifying nightmares and swarms of such vulgar beasts that I considered abandoning my return home just to curl up into a fetal position and wait out the night.

But then I heard the whispers again.  Still I could not discern its words, but whatever it was saying filled my heart with courage.  My pace did not slow, although neither did it accelerate past my current one.  Ignoring the shadows, I continued on until finally arriving at my home on the eastern end of the city.

I ran up to the door, unlocked it, threw it open, and rushed inside.  After securing the entrance thoroughly, I rushed up the stairs to the master bedroom, and locked that door as well.  I sat on my bed, and laid the collection of pages about three feet away from me. Sitting there in complete silence, I studied the leather bound pages.  There was something strange about this piece of what I assumed to be literature.  First there had been the voice, which was still afflicting my ears, and then I had experienced the sudden terror on the road home.  What was wrong with this book?

I continued to sit on the bed, staring at the book that lay before me, not opening it, but also not putting it away.  Little did I know that those were the moments leading up to the events that would change my life, turn it upside down, and show me a world that I had never seen before.

It wouldn't be long before another world would be opened to me.

Chrion was awakening.

The Vale Valley Caper

14 year old Jared Tate zoomed down the mountain ski slope on his black snowboard.  Snow and ice sprayed out behind him.  He was rapidly approaching the ski outpost for the visitors from the Vale Valley Ski Resort.  He looked back and saw his pursuer right behind him on his own snowboard.  He tried to pick up speed but to no avail.  The black guy pulled up beside him and grunted, “You’re going down.”  “Not today,” replied Jared and shoved the other guy into a snow drift.  Jared flew into the outpost, slid to a stop, raised his fist and shouted, “Whoo hoo!”  The black pursuer appeared beside him covered in snow. 

            “You pushed me down and now I have snow in my undies, Jared,” Grant joked. 

            “You were in my way,” the boy teased back.  Grant was Jared’s best friend and next door neighbor.              “Well we should probably go back to town and get dry,” he suggested. 

            “Not until Thomas gets down here.  He’s trying to master the art of skiing, but it’s not happening.”  Jared replied with a smirk. 

            “Is that him?” asked Grant.  Down the slope came a skier who looked like he was break dancing rather than skiing.

            “That’s my cousin all right,” the boy sighed.  He suddenly tripped, his skis caught in the snow and he ended up kissing the ground.  A few minutes later, when he arrived at the bottom, he was covered in so much snow that he could have been the abominable snowman.  Thomas was 17 years old and was spending Christmas break with his grandfather and cousin, Jared. 

            On the way home in Thomas’s Camaro, Jared received a call from his genius friend, Matt.  “Hey, Jared.  Are you up at the slopes?” 

            “We’re on our way back.  Why?” 

            “Well, I’m watching the news and I was making sure you weren’t hurt in the accident.” 

            “What accident?” 

            “A ski lift just fell.  I just wanted to make sure you weren’t on it.” 

            “I’ll talk to you when we get back.  Wait for us at my house.” 

            “Okay, bye.”  Jared hung up.  “Hey, Thomas, go back.  There was an accident with a ski lift.  Let’s check it out.” 

            “Jared,” Thomas replied, “I’m freezing and I just want to go home.” 

            “I’ll buy you a box of donuts from Krispy Kreme,” Jared bargained.

            “Deal!” Thomas immediately responded. 

            Back at the outpost a large crowd surrounded the sight of the accident where the police were taping the area off.  A news reporter was explaining what had happened to the viewers, “…the seat just fell off.  It crashed into the snow and if the passengers hadn’t fallen out none would be alive today.  After this commercial break we’ll be interviewing the passengers…”  Just then a sudden movement caught Jared’s attention.  A Middle Eastern looking man with a tangled mess of black hair that fell to his shoulders was standing under a tree to Jared’s right.  He wore a black winter coat and pants and a satisfied smile on his face.  He was staring down at a wrench in his hand, but when he looked up Jared saw that one eye was emerald green and the other…was red.

                                     _______________________________________

            Judas Groat looked at the parcel of chaos he had just delivered to all the people in front of him.  It was only a ski lift this time, but this was only the beginning.  He turned away from the crowd, whipped out his smart phone, and punched in a number.  “Part 1 is complete,” Judas reported, “Prepare to commence Part 2.  In 10 minutes detonate the bomb to start the avalanche.”  He hung up.  Judas suddenly heard a sound behind him.  Judas spun around and saw a sandy haired boy fleeing into the throng of people.  It was apparent that the kid had heard the orders given over the phone.  The boy would pay…with his life.

                                    _______________________________________

            “The ski lift was just Part 1 of the plan,” Jared told Grant and Thomas, “He… what was that?”  They listened and heard a faint rumbling.  They looked up and saw a wall of snow descending upon a distant ski slope.  They glanced at each other eyes wide.  Part 2.

                                    _______________________________________

            Jared and his buddies were gathered together at his house in the game room.  Jared lived with his Grandpa, who had become rich through his wise choices in the stock market.  The house and the adjoining 93 acres had cost $4,500,000 without the furniture and decorations.  Down the street were similar houses.  In the game room there were many classic arcade style games along with an Xbox, Play Station 3, hand-held gaming devices, and a few war simulation games.  Matt was attempting to beat Pac Man, Grant was toying with a 3DS, and Thomas was rocking a simulator.  All the while Jared was trying to think of how to stop the ski resort saboteur with the stoplight eyes. 

            “Guys, we can’t let this creep terrorize this town without a fight,” Jared said hoping, for some support.             “Call the police.  They’ll handle it,” Matt suggested. 

            “Next level,” yelped Thomas. 

            “This game is so cool,” Grant squealed. 

            Jared explained, “The police would never take us seriously.” 

            “Besides, the ski slopes are closed for the rest of the weekend,” put in Grant with a joking smile. 

            “But how would we find the man you told us about?” asked Matt. 

            Jared smiled.  “You know those long range mini tracking devices you wanted us to test?” 

            “Yeah.”

            “Well I was able to toss one onto our mystery man.  Do you have the transmitter?” 

            Yeah, right here in my backpack”, responded Matt, “He’s half a mile east of here.  He’s at the…at the… achoo!” 

            “Gesundheit,” said Thomas who was now stuffing his face with his payment pastries. 

            “Sorry,” apologized Matt, “he’s at the big house for sale, down the road.” 

            “I’ll go get my Taser,” said Grant with a look of pure joy on his face, “even if we die before we get to the front door, better safe than sorry!”

                                    _______________________________________

            Judas Groat was at his hideout brooding about his mistake of letting someone hear his plans.  The boy had probably told the police, compromising the whole operation.  “If I ever find that meddling kid he’ll never know what hit him.” 

            The intercom buzzed, “Mr. Groat?”

            “Yes, Dosh?” 

            “The bombs are ready.  When you give the word the Vale Valley ski resort will be off the map.” 

            “Very good, Dosh.  Go check on security.  Make sure nobody gets in.  And if you see a boy with sandy hair, blow his head off for me.”

                                    _______________________________________

            “So what’s our plan?” asked Matt, “I mean how are four kids with one Taser and a few electronic gizmos going to stop a gang of terrorists?” 

            “If we can take their leader captive we can stop whatever Part 3 is and call the police,” replied Jared.              “Why not just call them now?” Matt persisted. 

            “Because all they would do is yell at the people inside and invite them to put a bullet in their heads.”  “But how are we gonna get in?” Thomas asked. 

            Grant smiled, “Leave that to me.”

                                    _______________________________________

            “Hello, sir, I’m here to offer you some chips,” Grant said.  He was standing at the door of the terrorists’ house. 

            “Chips?  How much?” asked the man at the door. 

            “They’re free” replied Grant, holding up the cylindrical container of chips. 

            “They must be moldy or somethin’.  Lemme’ see em’.”  The man who had only one eye and a “My name is Butch” name tag on snatched the container of chips from Grant.  He ripped off the lid and was hit in the face by a spring propelled snake.  While he was stunned, Grant whipped out his Taser and shocked the living daylights out of him.  Jared, Thomas, and Matt joined him at the front door.  On the way through the house they found a kitchen, where they armed themselves with frying pans and carving knives.  They moved quickly through the hallways, knocking out or tasing anyone who got in their way.  Using Matt’s tracking device the boys were able to find their way to the operations central (master bedroom) in the house.  Inside they saw the mysterious terrorist leader focusing on whatever was on his iPad screen.  “On three we rush in and capture him”, whispered Jared.  “1…2…3!”  The boys rushed in, surrounded the man, and raised their frying pans and Taser. 

            “You’re terribly rude for barging in,” said terrorist dude glaring at them with his green eye and still looking at his screen with the red.  “I’m in the middle of defeating an Angry Birds level.”   Confused, the boys glanced at each other nervously.  Jared was beginning to think he’d been a little too impulsive when making this decision. 

            “We’re here to make a citizen’s arrest and take you to the police”, Thomas declared to the man. 

            “Arrest me?  Well, how will you do that when you yourselves are captured?”  Jared looked behind him and found himself staring down the barrel of a shotgun.  “Simple really, you don’t.  So you’re the brat that heard me giving one of my men orders over the phone,” the man said to Jared.  “Oh, how rude of me not to introduce myself.  My name is Judas.  Judas Groat.  I’m here in this ugly little city to kill hundreds of people that waste their time sliding on snow using flat slabs of fire kindling.  After we’re done here we’ll be going to sabotage the Kentucky Derby and then we’ll attack the White House, where that simpleton, O’Henry, thinks he’s running the country.  With the US thrown into turmoil over their president’s assassination it will be weak and open to attack.  The U.S. will fall within the decade.” 

            Suspicious, Jared inquired, “Why are you telling us this?” 

            “Because,” Judas answered, “you won’t be alive much longer.”  All of a sudden there was a sound of sirens coming from the driveway. 

            “This is the police”, they heard being said through a megaphone, “Don’t do anything dumb.”  Then faintly, “Aw, there goes my coffee.  Bad dog!  Hey, who gave the dog my doughnuts?”  Grant stifled a laugh. 

            Jared saw Matt look around sheepishly, “Sorry.  I called the police as a backup plan.” 

            Judas growled, “Take care of these kids, boys.  Then come help me deal with the nincompoops outside.”  Then he stomped out, red eye blazing. 

            “Now!” shouted Jared.  Every one of the kids turned and inflicted bodily harm on their guards.  In about five seconds terrorists were lying on the ground with cuts, indentations of frying pans on their faces and prong marks from a Taser.  The boys were feeling pretty proud of themselves until they heard - Bang! Bang! Bang! – in rapid succession.  It was the sound of guns being fired.

                                    _______________________________________

            Judas Groat was at the front balcony doors.  They had been glass but a few bullets from some cops’ guns had fixed that.  The terrorist leader grabbed his sawed-off shotgun and blasted away at the police who were cowering behind their cars.  All of a sudden a police car went up in flames.  Apparently one of his minions, who were also firing at the cops, had scored a hit to the car’s contents under the hood.  There came a sound from behind him.  He turned and saw the four kids he’d thought were dead by then run past him.  Judas grabbed one of them, a scrawny kid with glasses, and pushed his gun against his head.  The terrorist dragged the kid, who was flailing all his appendages and screaming for help, to the balcony.  He bellowed, “Take another shot and I’ll put a hole in this boy’s head.”  The cops held their fire.  Still dragging the boy he ran down to the garage where two identical black SUV’s were parked.  Judas called his second-in-command, Dosh, on his disposable phone and commanded him to meet him in the garage.  When he arrived Judas barked at him, “Get in one of the SUV’s, I’ll take the other.  Lose any pursuers and meet up in Littleton.” 

            “Yeah, boss,” replied Dosh, “But what about the kid?” 

            “I’ll throw him into the woods somewhere along the way.”  The kid, who was Matt, tried to yell for help, but Judas clamped a hand over his mouth.  “Dosh, give me some duct tape.  I’m gonna wrap this kid up so he can’t get in the way.”

                                    _______________________________________

            While Judas Groat had been busy taking Matt hostage, Jared, Thomas, and Grant had snuck downstairs.  “We don’t have much time,” Jared explained.  “They’ll probably take a car and drive off with Matt, while trying to lose the police.  If we hide in the back, we can hi-jack the care and turn Judas over to the police.” 

            “I can’t think of anything better,” sighed Thomas.  “Let’s do it.”  The boys walked into the garage and they knew they had a problem.  There were two cars, not one. 

            “Two of us are gonna have to take one car, while one of us takes the other,” Grant decided. 

            “Grant, you go with Thomas.  I’ll go alone,” stated Jared. 

            Thomas was quick to retort, “No, Jared.  Grandpa would never allow it and I think it’s a bad idea.” 

            “It’s okay,” intervened Grant, “I’ll just lend Jared my Taser.” 

            “Well hurry up,” Jared said urgently, “’cause someone’s coming.”  Grant tossed his Taser to Jared.  They all climbed into the back of their decided car, and, as soon as the doors shut, Judas Groat stormed in and the previously recorded events occurred.  After taping Matt’s hands together behind his back, his feet at the ankles, and putting a piece over his mouth, Judas shoved his hostage into Jared’s car and got into the driver’s seat.  Without bothering to open the garage door, the terrorist leader drove straight out into the night leaving an SUV sized hole in the door.  A few cops were thrown aside by Judas’ car with Dosh following close behind his own vehicle.  After recovering from the jolt of blasting through the garage door Jared slowing raised Grant’s Taser above the back seat, took aim, and squarely landed a hit to Judas’ arm.  The terrorist screamed once and then plucked the needle from his skin and threw it behind him.  He turned, his red eye burning with malevolence.  “You’ll pay for that, you little pest.”  He drew a gun and began firing shots without aiming, busting the back window.  One rogue bullet continued flying ending up embedded in Dosh’s shoulder in the other car. His car flew off the road and stopped with a tree implanted in the hood.  Jared took another shot with the Taser, this time hitting Judas in the neck, rendering him unconscious.  However, there was now a dilemma.  The terrorist leader’s foot was still heavily planted on the gas pedal, while his hands were limp at his sides.  They were on the highway WITH NO DRIVER!  Jared scrambled into the front of the car, accidentally stepping on Matt’s face in the process.  “I hope you’ve got your driver’s license,” Jared grunted to the unconscious Judas Groat, “’cause I only got a permit.”  With that he yanked the wheel to the right, pulling them off the road.  But Judas’ foot was still firmly fixed on the gas.  Jared reached down trying to take the man’s foot off the gas, while still trying to keep control of the vehicle.  “Here, hold this,” Jared said to the unconscious man.  He placed Judas’ hands on the wheel, hoping they would stay in place.  The boy quickly reached down and pulled the man’s foot off the pedal.  They had survived. 

            “Mmff Ummff”, Matt grunted.  He motioned impatiently for Jared to remove the duct tape that kept him bound up.  He obliged.  Matt whimpered as the duct tape tugged at the few hairs that he had on his arms and legs.  When it was time for the piece over his mouth Jared asked his muted friend, “All right so how are we doing this?  One – take it off fast, or two – take it off slow and drawn out.”  Matt hesitated and then held up on of his newly freed hands and showed a “1”.  “On three…Three!”  The tape came off accompanied by an “Ooooowwwww!” 

            “You OK?” 

            Matt answered with a groan.

            “I’ll take that as a yes.  Now we need to get our duct tape happy terrorist buddy to the police.”  “Weeeoooooooo,” wailed a police car siren. 

            “That was fast”, said Jared, impressed.

                                    _______________________________________

            Thirty minutes later the 4 boys and all the terrorists were at the police station.  The boys were relaying their experiences, while the terrorists were being questioned. 

            When they finally came out into the lobby, Grant gloated at the terrorists, “Did you really expect to get away with this?  You really thought your evil plans would prevail?  It’s no wonder we stopped you.” 

            “You think you’ve stopped me?” Judas snarled at him, “You’ve stopped nothing.  I had my men plant bombs somewhere in this town.  It will kill thousands of people in their sleep tonight.” 

            “Boss,” asked the guy named Butch, “you talkin’ about the bombs at the resort?” 

            “Quiet, you imbecile!” shouted the terrorist. 

            “Officers,” announced the sheriff, “get to the resort immediately.   We’ve got some bombs to defuse!”  The sheriff turned to thank the boys…but they were gone.

                                    _______________________________________

            Jared said, “Who knows how many bombs are set?  The police won’t be able to deactivate them all.” 

            “If the bombs are connected,” Matt stated nervously, “I might be able to stop them all.” 

            “We have no better ideas,” Thomas decided, “Let’s try it!”  They all piled into Thomas’ Camaro and sped toward the resort. When they arrived they began searching.  Soon Grant found it near the indoor pool.  “Perfect,” exclaimed Matt, “I’ll get to work!”  After a few minutes of working Matt became frustrated.  “It’s too well wired,” he complained. 

            “What does that do?” asked Grant and pushed a button on the bomb. 

            “Grant”, the boy genius wailed as a countdown appeared on the bomb’s tiny monitor, “you just started the timer.  We now have …thirty seconds until it explodes!” 

            “Oh,” Grant replied awkwardly. 

            Suddenly Thomas jumped to his feet and exclaimed worriedly, “Snap! I forgot to lock my car!”  But in the instant he jumped up he had accidentally kicked the bomb.  It skidded across the tile floor…and landed in the pool.  Glub-glub.  The bomb began to spark and crackle.

            “We’re dead…”  Jared saw that the water had somehow affected the bomb and the timer had stopped.  All four boys stared at each other and then began whooping for joy.  The villain’s attack on Vale Valley had been thwarted.

Now that you've read this entire story I want to ask you what you think of it.  Now I'm going to tell you something.  I wrote this four years ago in eighth grade.  Thanks for reading!

The Chrion Legend: The Finding

What was I doing?  I was standing there with my foot stuck in the door, staring what I could foresee as certain death in the face.  The shopkeeper.

"What are you doing?" He growled.  It would be fair to say that I might have gotten under his skin.

"I... uh... I... want to buy a book."  I stuttered, not even sure what I was even doing.

"We're closed."  More growling.

"Well... my... uh... the door is still open a little.  Could I... uh... just look around for a bit?"

More growling.

I almost thought that he was going to drive me off with a broomstick, or possibly something a little more painful, when he said the words that would continue my journey along the path that has led me to write down this story.  It is quite late at the moment, so I might just get off to bed now.  Oh, I need to finish this piece or I'll never get any rest.  Anyways, my foot was stuck in the door, and I had just asked the devil of a storekeeper if I could interrupt his closing to look around for what only I knew to be... well, not even I knew what.

More growling.  "You have five minutes.  And I expect you to buy something."

He opened the door, and I scooted past him as quickly as I could and began to look around.  Throughout the entire series of events that had taken place since I had shoved my foot between the door and its frame, I had heard the voice that had beckoned me to the shop.  It still spoke to me, although in words so soft and muffled that I could not make out a single word.

Keeping my eye on the guardian of the old bookstore, I followed the sound of the voice until I found myself looking at the books that were stacked longways along the wooden shelves of shelf 7 L-R.  The whispers were becoming louder, but still no more distinguishable.  I felt along the unorderly collection of novels, some bound in paper, others with cloth-covered cardboard, until I found one that, although it seemed quite ordinary, stuck out to me like a king in the dirtiest of slums.  Curious that that specific comparison would come to mind.  My own mind must be getting ahead of me in this tale.

Anyways, I pulled the book out from under its companions, careful so as not to damage the fragile subject of my attention.  I held it up to my ear.  The voice was definitely emanating from the leather bound pages of this book.

"Good grief.  He's a loony."  I heard from the other side of the shop.  I ignored him.  "Alright, either buy what you have in your hands now, or get out before I go figure out where my shotgun is."

Knowing I had found what I was here for, I quickly made my way towards the front desk, where the obviously put out shopkeeper was waiting to remove my body from the premises, either with or without legal approval.  I paid the price for the mysterious book, thanked the still scowling man, and scurried out the door.

I had the book.

But why?

Blog Announcement

For those of you following the Chrion Legend series, I already have the next two weeks' sections prepared.  I'm really psyched about releasing them to see what you all think.  Just remember to be ready for the next part on Saturday.  Wow, I'm probably just as ready for it as any of you that were left with that cliff hanger.

The Chrion Legend: The Voice

I didn't know that my life was empty.  I didn't even know that I was missing something.  On the other hand perhaps I did.  Maybe everyone has a small part of themselves that feels hollow, ready to be filled.  It might be possible that every man, woman, and child can feel the depravity of their emptiness.  However, it was on that day that I discovered the remedy.  It was on that day I was... revived.

I was young.  Not too young, but not too old either.  I was walking casually down the lane that lay between my house and the small office that I worked at each day from five o'clock in the morning to six o'clock in the afternoon with a one hour lunch break somewhere in the middle.  It was Friday.  I remember that because I had just received my meager monthly pay from the boss.  If I had known what was going to happen due to using that money, I doubt my walk towards home would have been quite as calm.

It was during my walk to my home, where I had planned to eat a light supper, listen to the radio for a short bit, and then turn in for the night, that I saw what I had always seen during that walk for the past eight months.  It wasn't anything special, or so I thought.  It was a book store.  The sign read Mulligan's.  While none of this slipped my attention, these were not the detail that drew me into the shop that night.  It was the voice.

Soft and soothing were its words.

"Hello?"  I called out.  "Is anyone there?"

The only response I received was a funny look from the shopkeeper, who was getting ready to close up for the night.  I slowly and cautiously walked towards the old store.  Nothing particularly frightening about it.  I had almost convinced myself that there had not been a voice until heard it again.

The shopkeeper started to swing the door shut, to be locked for the night.  My mind told me to head back home, return to my normal routine, to eat supper, listen to the radio, and go to bed, but my curiosity and, dare I say it, my heart, demanded that I keep on going.  The door was almost shut.  I had to make a decision now.

My foot shot out, as if of its own accord, and forced its way between the door and the frame.

Now I was committed.

Blog Announcement

I will be posting a new section of the Chrion Legend each Saturday starting tomorrow.  This means that I will post the second chapter in the series tomorrow.  Thank you for liking my work.  Please share it and help increase followers of the blog.  Thank you.

The Chrion Legend: Just a book (pilot)

"It was just a book."  Leather clothed it, protecting its two hundred some pages from the effects of the cold and of age.  There was nothing visibly different about it from any other book in the shop.  It sat on shelf 7 L-R.  It was so common and plain to look at, in fact, that it had never felt anything but the cool wood of the bookcase on its cover ever since it had been placed there.

"It was just a book."  The pages were faintly crinkled from the stale air that filled the room from the time that the sun woke up and appeared out from behind the trees, to the time that it said goodnight and sunk into the covers of its bed behind the rolling hill to the west.  No one would ever think to choose such a book.  Why would they, when there were mysteries, romances, fairy tales, and other such stories that everyone seemed to want to hear?  There was really nothing special about the book.  It had no letters embossed in gold on its cover.  It did not contain the beloved scent of a new book.  In fact, a tinge of mold could be detected in the smell that it allowed to pervade the air.

"It was just a book."  Or so they told me.  That was before I had heard of Chrion.  That was before I had beheld the glorious sight of a hero, covered in blood, weary and ready to give up, stand against the might of an unimaginable foe.  Before I had known the meaning of real love.  Love of the variety that turns a beggar into a hero, lets a king give up his crown, and the dark become as bright as day.

"It was just a book," they said.

They were wrong.

(This is the beginning of a possible story series that I might write.  Comment to let me know what you think.  Also remember to like this blog and share it on your social media.  Thanks!)

These past couple of posts are just essays that I wrote this year for school.  They're the only pieces of literature I've written that I'm proud of, at least that I can think of.  Anyway, I'll probably write up a couple other things on my own that I'll post on here soon.  For now, just enjoy the few essays I've posted.  Thanks.

It Was All Started by a Mouse

When people hear the word movie, a few other words come to mind as well: theater, popcorn, Hollywood, and, most prominent of them all, Disney.  For almost a century Walt Disney and his legacy have brought magical and exciting adventures to theaters and television screens alike all over the world, while his history still lies buried and undiscovered from many of those that enjoy the fruits of his rich history.  For instance, not many people have any recollection of Walt Disney’s role in the First World War, or have heard of Oswald the Lucky Rabbit, or even know why such a comparatively small man’s company has such a high standing in the movie industry today.  Fortunately, his story is, although often neglected, not completely forgotten.  Disney’s story can still be heard.

When America finally joined the war that had been raging on in Europe for three years, men and boys began clamoring to join up, sail across the Atlantic, and show the Germans that America would not stand by and watch as its allies were defending the front lines.  Even boys at the ages of fifteen attempted to enlist, with some having been accepted while others were turned away.  Young Walt Disney was a member of the latter group, having tried to enlist at the age of sixteen.  Despite his rejection, he was still determined to join the millions of Americans already fighting overseas and decided to join the Red Cross Ambulance Corps, which was less particular about the age of those that signed up.  He was deemed eligible, although a signed permission form from his parents was required for him to enlist.  His father adamantly refused to sign, so Disney forged his father’s signature, with the blessing of his mother, and was accepted.  In the training camp for those in the Ambulance Corps, he met Ray Kroc, who would one day purchase and nationalize the McDonald’s franchise.  Unfortunately for young Walt, the war was ended before he could be shipped out for Europe, dashing his hopes of glory in combat.  Although he would not be allowed to fulfill his dreams of seeing combat, he was still sent to Europe, as one of fifty men, to act as drivers for the Red Cross during the aftermath of the war.  However, he did not end up driving an ambulance, but, rather, acted as a chauffeur and tour guide for important officials.  He was actually in extremely high demand as such.  Finally, in 1918, a lonely, homesick Walt requested discharge, which was granted allowing him to return to his home in Chicago one day later.  It was most likely to Disney’s advantage that he was not exposed to the horrendous events of such a bloody conflict as the Great War, since he was able to return to America with his childlike sense of wonder still intact.  It was this quality that led him to the success that he would achieve in later years.

Before he could achieve success, he had to face many new experiences, trials, and failures.  His first attempt at a career in cartoons began with a small endeavor by the name of Laugh-O-Grams.  It was during this time that Disney decided to try out an idea of his, in which he would merge cartoons with real life.  He called this series of cartoons Alice in Cartoonland, where he placed a real-life actress, a little girl as a matter of fact, in a world of cartoons.  These cartoons, however original, could not produce enough income to keep Walt going, resulting in the company declaring bankruptcy.  A few years later Disney had set up shop in Los Angeles, when he was approached by a movie distributor named Charles Mintz, who had seen one of Disney’s Alice projects and was willing to hire him to make more.  For a while the films did well enough, but not exceptionally.  Thus Mintz suggested that Walt come up with a new cartoon to put into production.  Disney and his co-workers decided that the new series would feature a rabbit, although what his name would be they could not decide.  As a solution they wrote all the possible names on pieces of paper, threw them in a house, and picked one out.  And so Oswald the Lucky Rabbit was born.  The rabbit began bringing in lots more money than Disney’s previous films, which allowed him to start putting more money into them to increase the quality.  Throughout his entire career, Walt’s primary concern was the enhancement of quality, one of the many factors in his eventual success, although it led him to make many decisions that business experts would label as risky, rash, and outright stupid.  Regardless, his quest to drastically increase quality led him to New York in an attempt to renegotiate the next year’s contract with Mintz to allow for more pay per cartoon produced, although he was in for an astounding surprise.  Rather than increase his pay, Mintz told him that he would be cutting it by almost twenty percent and that if he didn’t agree to the new terms of his contract he would hire away all of his employees, leaving him stranded.  He was also informed the he would need to agree in order to be able to use Oswald the Rabbit, since the star had been created under contract and officially belonged to Mintz.  Outraged, Disney ignored his distributor’s threats and quit on the spot.  As promised, all of Disney’s employees were stolen from him, except for his brother, Roy, who stayed loyal to him through the trial.  Disney then hopped on a train and made the long, sorrowful trip back to Los Angeles.  It was during this train ride, however, that a picture began to form in the recesses of Walt’s mind.  It slowly took shape, starting with a head, then a nose, two perfectly round ears, and some red pants.  Unknown to Disney at the time, that image would be the figurehead of a new era of his success.

Although Walt’s success in the film industry officially began around the time of the creation of Mickey Mouse, it was not Mickey himself that created the success.  In fact, the original Mickey Mouse was nothing like the one that the world puts on T-shirts, posters, and television screens.  He was more of a childishly cruel nature, abusing his fellow characters and even his female counterpart, Minnie Mouse, in the first cartoon that he appeared in.  Now Disney’s intent was not to support bullying, but simply to draw laughs through the slapstick comedy.  Although audiences seemed to enjoy the cartoons, they were not of the quality that Disney was constantly striving for, which is why he took a huge leap in attempting to create one of the first films with an accompanying soundtrack.  Up to that time, many theaters would hire musicians to play music in live with the movies to liven them up a little bit, but what Walt wanted to do was a huge risk that cost him thousands of dollars in addition to his already large-budgeted cartoons.  After dealing with many setbacks, including a sleazy dirt bag of partner, the soundtrack was recorded and added to the film Steamboat Willie.  Many people recognize some of this cartoon, not necessarily by name, due to the use of the clip of Mickey Mouse manning the ship’s wheel and whistling an upbeat little tune before the showing of modern-day Disney cartoon productions.  Another innovation that Walt pursued was colored movies, which were classically black-and-white at that time.  He partnered with the company Technicolor, which had much in common with Disney’s own studio in the fact that both, although small in size, were constantly pursuing superior quality in their work.  Walt benefitted extremely well from this partnership, when Technicolor improved the coloring technique.  By that time many other studios were producing colored movies and wanted to use the new method.  But Technicolor stayed loyal to Disney, who had believed in and worked with them for years before anyone else started taking notice.  It was risks like these that made Walt Disney’s company such a success with such a huge name in quality movies for decades to come.

These days the word “movie” is sometimes considered synonymous with the word “Disney”.  But obviously that has not always been the case.  Yes, there was a time without the infamous Walt Disney Pictures logo that appears sitting in front of Cinderella’s castle before the magical cartoon began playing on the silver screen.  Yes, there was a time when nobody wore cute shirts decorated with a smiling mouse, wearing red shorts and yellow shoes.  And yes, there was a time when a man named Walt Disney walked and talked, and worked and ate just like regular people of the 21^st Century.  He was an ambulance driver in World War II, an entrepreneur in the movie industry, and a risk-taker with the will and ability to reach farther than the stars.  And as that man himself said, “I only hope that we don't lose sight of one thing - that it was all started by a mouse.”

The Civil War on the Water

When people think of the Civil War they think about blue and gray uniforms, old-fashioned rifles, Gettysburg, or the six hundred twenty thousand men that lay on battlefields all across America.  But that last fact is not absolutely true.  Not all of the troops lay on battlefields.  Even though the infantry is the most noticed force in the Civil War, there were other men that deserve just as much, if not more, credit as them.  These men are the sailors who set up the blockade along the East Coast, maintained control of the Mississippi river over the course of the entire war, and manned the superior navy in the most consequential war that the continent has ever known.  If it weren’t for those noble mariners the war may have ended much later and with a winner that would not have led to the existence of the America that is the home to millions of people today.  It seems fitting that the men and their tools, ships such as the ironclads, be recognized.  A little background might be necessary though before the actual discussion about the navies of the Civil War commences.

Around the time of the Civil War naval powers in North America were primarily steamboats, which were first invented by John Fitch, despite the fact that he was overshadowed by another man, Robert Fulton, who was given the primary credit for the conception of the steamboat.  Fitch’s steamboat was slow and expensive in contrast to the faster, economically superior model created by Fulton.  The latter man is known better, mostly for his enhanced ability to commercialize the product, spreading his name faster than the inventor himself.  Ironically Fulton didn’t even make his fortune in steamboat manufacturing but in the production of submarines for the British and French navies.  But he did make some revolutionary design changes to the idea, at least one of which was the flanking of the engine and paddlewheels between two hulls to prevent enemy fire from reaching them, making them ideal for naval warfare.  It was not until the Civil War itself, however, that the navy converted almost completely to steam power.

In the years leading up to the Civil War navies were primarily populated with ships made of wood, although they soon transferred from sails to steam.  But thanks to the ingenious mind of John Ericsson, ships began to evolve into more effective machines of war.  To wonder what he could have done that made the classic wooden vessel for the seas change in such a way would not be a dumb or stupid question.  It would actually just be the first step in the direction of learning the answer, which is simply iron.  Again it would not be an unintelligent question to ask why this was so great.  The answer is actually extremely fascinating and, in fact, very extensive, going farther than is convenient to detail.  The basic information, however, is as follows: John Ericsson was the first to design a ship with iron armor, resulting in his revolutionary ships being dubbed the ironclads.  Ironclads bore several inches of armor, which provided quite a bit of fortification.  There were actually two ways to create an ironclad.  The first and more preferred way was to actually construct the hull out of iron, a method that ensured full protection from enemy fire.  This tended to be more reliable and allowed for thicker armoring for the entire ship.  Mostly these were used by the Union in the war.  The second method was to simply apply iron plating to the hull of a typical wooden steamboat, creating ships that became known as casemate ironclads.  These were less effective than real ironclads, sometimes containing oversights in the armoring, grating its enemy a distinct advantage.  Casemate ironclads were typically found in Confederate navies.  But with ironclads on both sides of the Civil War, it begs the question: how would a battle between two of these incredibly powerful warships end?

The answer came on March 8, 1862, at approximately 2:00 p.m., in the shape of a monstrous warship known as the CSS Virginia.  Although not many bring attention to it, this ship has a very exciting story apart from the battle that at the climax of its existence, so first the history of the ship should be imparted.  It was built in Boston and commissioned in 1856 as the USS Merrimack with the purpose of visiting ports in European waters such as those of England, France, and Portugal.  In 1857 the Merrimack was given new orders as the flagship of the Pacific Squadron, which was stationed off of the west coast of South America at that time.  When it had completed its mission there, it was taken to Virginia for repairs and then retired.  Or, at least that is what was planned to happen.  It was during that time that the first Confederate states seceded, throwing the country into chaos.  When the Union forces near the stationary Merrimack heard the news, they burned and sank the ship in hopes of keeping it out of enemy hands.  If their goal had been accomplished, things may have happened differently in the future, but, as it is, they did not succeed.  The Confederates managed to salvage the ravaged vessel and turn her into a casemate ironclad, re-commissioned the CSS Virginia.  By the time March 8, 1862, came around the craft had completed its conversion from a Union flagship to a Confederate monstrosity.  It was on the aforementioned date that the repurposed ironclad attacked two ships that were part of the Union’s blockade on the East Coast, ramming the first with its one thousand five hundred pound iron ram (although it lost the ram, its most powerful weapon during that engagement), and battering the second with cannon fire, while its victim was run aground, until it surrendered.  The next day, on March 9, the Virginia set its sights on the next ship it found, the USS Minnesota.  But when the Confederates began firing upon the ship, a small raft-like vessel maneuvered around from the other side of the ship and began to return fire.  It was the USS Monitor, one of John Ericsson’s greatest achievements during the Civil War.  The ship was ingenious, with roughly ninety-five percent of its iron-armored hull below the surface of the water and a revolving gun turret as one of the few parts of the ship above it.  Although these were not the first ironclads to see action, they were the first to battle another ironclad.  The ensuing battle lasted for several hours without either vessel gaining an advantage.  Out of desperation, the Virginia attempted to ram its opponent, even without it ram.  The effort failed, however, due to the superior maneuverability of the Monitor, which dodged easily.  The battle concluded when the captain of the Monitor, Lieutenant John L. Worden, was temporarily blinded by the explosion of a cannon shell from the Virginia, and the Union ship decided to retreat to shallow water for a brief time to treat the captain and to reorganize the chain of command.  The Confederate crew, assuming that its enemy was fleeing, having limited munitions left, and noticing the lowering of the tide, decided not to pursue and rather returned to the port of Norfolk, Virginia, allowing the battle to end in a draw.  The thing is, the Union could have chalked that battle up for a victory if they had done at least one of two things: 1) if they had used thirty pounds of gunpowder in the cannons, which would have given them enough power to penetrate the enemy’s hull, rather than the fifteen pounds actually used, and 2) if they had fired at the unarmored part of the Virginia’s hull, which had been under water until the ship’s weight decreased by five tons from firing its load of ammunition.  In fact, this battle became the greatest loss for the United States Navy until the attack on Pearl Harbor.  Nevertheless the encounter proved, despite the lack of efficiency in some areas, the power of the ironclad.

Even though many more died on land, the men that commanded the seas during the Civil War are worthy of just as much recognition.  And, although they sailed in ironclads, which were nearly impenetrable, they bore their share of casualties.  They were not invincible and the navy suffered casualties of two thousand one hundred twelve men, the second largest naval casualty count in United States history.  Although many men died due to the bloody Civil War, it was also a time of new ideas and inventions in the area of military armaments, especially sailing vessels.  With the innovations produced by the horrendous affair the United States made an enormous leap towards possessing superior armed forces.  The navy and its ironclads were, one, a deciding factor in the war and, two, a gift to the future of the American military.

Paper Ammo: 10¢ a Pop

General George S. Patton once said that “Wars may be fought with weapons, but they are won by men. It is the spirit of men who follow and of the man who leads that gains the victory.”  Even though weapons are the tools used to win wars, it is the men that win them.  However cliché it may sound, people are living weapons, who must be loaded with ammunition just like any other weapon.  So what kinds of bullets are put in a person?  Fifty caliber?  Nine millimeter?  Three hundred eighty caliber?  As a matter of fact, and of common sense, that is not what men are loaded with.  No, men are loaded with completely different varieties of ammunition, such as justice, truth, and strength.  These are the things that make a man run through a war-torn field, watching helplessly as his comrades fall dead around him, while he dodges the incinerating destruction of artillery shells and realizes that he probably won’t last the night.  These are the ideals that drive civilians to deny themselves any luxuries, any extra comforts, such as gasoline and food from their own gardens, in order that through their sacrifice nations might remain free from the tyranny of corrupt dictators.  It is things like this have held American soldiers and civilians through countless struggles.  There is one example of a way to fill Americans with this ammo, which was most prominent during the Second World War.  That method would be comic books.  Yes, comic books.  This paper ammo inspired and encouraged a generation of Americans, both warrior and citizen, during a time of sorrow and war, securing a future in which wars that span entire continents are just a memory of the past.

One of the first superheroes to be found in a comic strip was the infamous Captain America, who was battling his enemies across the pages of newspapers, even before the soldiers of the United States were entered into World War II.  But once America was involved, Cap and many other heroes were actively supplying moral support and delightfully accepted distractions.  Characters such as Batman and Robin were shown on comic book covers bringing new, American-made weapons to soldiers on the front lines, while others like Bucky were inspiring younger men that had been sent across the Atlantic not to give up.  In fact, one statistic, which was found in the PBS special presentation titled Superheroes: A Never-ending Battle, states that one out of every four magazines sent overseas was a comic book.  Assuming every American soldier possessed at least one magazine of some kind each, that adds up to about four million, twenty-five thousand comic books!  The real-life heroes of World War II could not get enough of the comics about Captain America and his sidekick, Bucky “socking ol’ Adolph Hitler on the jaw” or about Captain Marvel marching straight through barbed wire on a battlefield, continuously being pounded by enemy fire without so much as a bruise.  Or perhaps they wanted to read about Superman or the original edition of The Human Torch.  All of these heroes continued to provide them with a new perspective on what they were fighting for, throughout the brutality of war.  Comics helped inspire them, but also distracted them from the fear that they felt on an almost daily basis.  No amount of justice, truth, or strength could ever eliminate fear.  The fear of dying a cold lonely death in a mud hole in a faraway country, fear of leaving a family behind in America without anyone to provide for them now that he wouldn’t return, and fear of letting down America itself.  Yes, they sacrificed much to secure freedom for their country, but they were always afraid of what new terror the future held next.  It was comic books, among other things, that helped inspire them and distract them from the grim truth of the war, making everything look so easy with Captain America or Superman helping to fight the war.  Comics also were a means of distributing patriotic propaganda in support of the war.  One of the most noticeable examples is the demonizing of Japanese and German soldiers, which depicted them as fanged ghouls and monsters.  For the brave men fighting in Europe, this gave them a feeling of fighting an evil, demonic variety of enemy.  It gave them a sense of fighting an unnatural foe, providing them an extra ounce of conviction to push them on as they charged onto the battlefield to slay the monstrosities just like Captain America had shown them.  While not all propaganda was as negative as this, the positive variation was generally geared towards the citizen rather than at the soldier.  Regardless, it is quite possible that, without comics to encourage the American Soldiers and load them with ammo, the world that is taken for granted today might have never existed.

The effects of paper ammo were also felt by civilians back on the home front in America.  For instance, the previously mentioned character, Bucky, sidekick to Captain America, was a tool used to inspire the youth of America, not only to join up, but also to help with the war effort in America.  Collecting scrap metal, donating used comic books to be recycled for the paper, and other beneficial tasks were promoted to keep the young people of the land of the free involved with the fighting that was occurring in Europe.  A significant example of a young man that was affected by the influence of comic books was Stanley Lieber.  This man himself worked in the comic book industry as an amateur writer, coming up with the dialogue that was scattered throughout the exciting and explosive pages of panels that were turned out by the comic book publishing company, Timely Comics.  But when he felt the pull of patriotic loyalty, he signed up for the U.S. army and was shipped out for Europe.  Now this may seem like a random person to mention, although it really isn’t.  As it were, Stanley Lieber is still very much alive and very famous, having made the comic industry what it is today with the work he did after her returned to America.  However, he is not addressed by his birth name anymore, having legally changed it to his writing pseudonym due to the fame that he had acquired under it.  Nowadays he is known by millions of people across the globe as Stan Lee, the father of comic books.  It is very ironic that even a comic book writer was influenced by his own work to join the fight against the Axis powers.  Another area of influence that comics held on civilians of World War II America was propaganda.  One of the issues that the most propaganda in comics was about was buying war bonds.  Anyone who’s seen the modern production of Captain America: The First Avenger has at least been exposed to this by seeing Steve Rogers stand upon a stage and stutter through the lines of, “Series E Defense bonds.  Each one you buy is a bullet in the barrel of your best guy’s gun,” while girls sing on the platform behind him.  But Captain America wasn’t the only one marketing war bonds.  Superman, Batman, and Robin could be found in booths on the cover of Action Comics’ titles, where they would be selling war bonds to crowds of people ready to support the war effort with what little money they could spare, and sometimes even more than that.  Who could do anything less when a superhero was on the Allies’ side?  But through showing people, both young and old, that they could fight the evil Nazis by recycling, buying war bonds, or even enlisting, comic books played an enormous part in the civilian side of World War II, maybe even more than with the soldiers themselves.

Even today comic books and their more advanced evolutions are still affecting the world that was secured by the unimaginably horrific conflicts of World War II.  As anyone can see, the world has become increasingly worse overall throughout history.  Thousands of marriages have been terminated due to selfishness.  Politicians are using manipulative methods to achieve the passing of ludicrous laws to play to the voters that will keep them in office, thereby corrupting the government.  Abortion is at an all-time high.  The world is falling apart.  And while the only answer to these problems can be found in the truths of the Bible, there are other things that help keep the darkness at bay.  Comic books are one of these defenses against evil.  However, it is necessary to mention that comic books have become less popular than their digital big brothers that take the form of major motion pictures and TV shows.  They still essentially have the same effect though.  They provide depictions of bravery, love, and self-sacrifice.  In the Avengers, Iron Man is willing to sacrifice himself to save Manhattan from a nuclear missile.  Bruce Banner in The Incredible Hulk gives up trying to live a normal life and living in Calcutta to prevent anyone from ever being hurt by the unstoppable rage of the “the other guy.”  In addition to these, in Thor: The Dark World Thor takes on the might of Malekith to protect his world and the woman he loves from the Aither’s darkness.  They inspire people all over the world with their acts of heroism.  Children see role models that show them the values of not just taking a stand against evil, but actively fighting it.  Heroes like Batman and Iron Man reveal the fact that it is not powers that make a hero.  It is their honor, their sense of right and wrong, and their willingness to put aside their own wants for the protection of something greater.  And while none of the heroes are perfect, and no attempt is made to make them so, they can still bring to life epic battles between good and evil, light and dark, heroes and villains.

World War II was an enormous conflict.  And while it was fought with weapons, it was fought and supported by men and women and even children of America.  They were men that had been loaded with the ammunition of justice, truth, and strength, which could be found in comic books, among other places.  They were women and children that were under orders from Captain America to do everything they could to sustain the men that were fighting to maintain their freedom and that of the rest of the world.  And even though the war ended, the inspiration provided by the pages upon pages of action-filled panels has lived on to encourage countless generations of both the 21^st Century, and whatever is beyond that.  Comic books were paper ammo and they were ten cents a pop.