*UPDATED* The Sultan of Salton

The Sultan of Salton

1:1

The small beach side town of Bombay Beach is anything but picturesque, located on the Northeast shore of ‘The Salton Sea’. The average temperature is ninety-six degrees. The landscape, as it appears, has a post-apocalyptic feel about it, stark white sand, abandoned homes in every state of dilapidation covered with salt. Vehicles and motor boats left behind and scattered about, covered in salt and rust stripped of anything that may have held value.

The small town is one of several that popped up around The Salton Sea in the 1950’s into the 1960’s. Resembling a gorgeous glittering sapphire on a bed of white satin, The Salton Sea was dedicated as “The West’s Greatest Playground” and developers planned to have it rival nearby Palm Springs. Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Sammy Davis Jr. performed at the North Shore Yacht Club. Boat races were held in the summer months and developers invested money into The Salton Sea and the towns and cities that popped up on its shores. The town of Bombay Beach, Salton City and North Shore were designed, and big plans were laid out for their prosperous futures on the ‘Sea Surrounded by Desert’. 

However, unlike most fairy tales an unfortunate circumstance happened in the sea by the late 1960’s. The salinity in The Salton Sea began to increase; so much so it out number the Pacific Ocean salinity by 25% by the 1990’s. The increase in salinity caused the sea to turn from a gorgeous clear sapphire blue into a murky, cloudy alga blooms all throughout the sea. Along with the algae came a stench that when mixed with the desert heat became unbearable to stand next to. Development stopped. People moved away.

Contrary to the written accounts of The Salton Sea and its bleak history, vibrant communities have developed and flourished. Bombay Beach became one of the most developed around The Salton Sea. Laid out in the traditional grid, Bombay Beach had nine avenues which ran north to south and named “Avenue A”- “Aisle of Palms” (Avenue I). The avenues were intersected by five streets which ran east to west and named 1^st Street- 5^th  Street.

Salma arrived at ‘The Salty Shack’, the corner of Avenue C and 5^th Street, a little after eleven in the morning on a Thursday in July. A thermostat that hung on the front porch of the shack read 107. She didn’t need a thermostat to tell her the temperature; from the smell of the sea Salma easily declared the temperature closer to 115. Unlocking the door to The Salty Shack, Salma had to give a nudge with her shoulder twice as the door would stick. Salt build up overnight was common with the building being so close to The Salton Sea. The door popped open with a haunted house style creak. Salma started to walk inside when she heard a shuffle and an incoherent muttering in the distance. Turning she saw Crazy Carl walking toward The Salty Shack along 5^th Street.

“Morning Carl!” Salma said waving.

Carl didn’t acknowledge Salma and chatted to himself walking toward Avenue A. Salma picked up on the usual words Carl muttered “silver” “crash” “splash” “wet” “eat” and always “absorption” ending his chant before starting over. Salma forced a smile and felt the usual pity/helplessness for Crazy Carl who seemed lost and in search of something as usual.

In The Salty Shack Salma’s eyes looked at the index cards thumbtacked to the wall behind the register. “silver”, “crash”, “splash”, “wet”, “eat” and “absorption’ were written in her hand writing. She had written down the words Carl said since she moved to Bombay Beach and there was never an unfamiliar word or different order to the words Crazy Carl spoke.

Salma looked out The Salty Shacks front door as Crazy Carl passed on the same walking/shuffle loop; walking down Avenue E turning right on 5^th Street walking to Avenue A turning right to 1^st Street and ending back at his home on the corner of 1^st Street and Avenue G. A big square that started and finished at the house Carl lived with his aging mother since the early 1960’s.

Salma turned on the lights and got the day underway. On an average day at The Salty Shack only the locals would come in. Come in for a soda, a six pack or an ice cream. The air conditioning in the shack also provided the locals with an oasis away from their homes. Salma loved this part of the job, talking and catching up with everyone who lived in town. Getting the gossip, seeing if any tourists attempted to swim in the sea or the worst, if any tourists decorated the many ruins of Bombay Beach with spray painted graffiti. The spray painting and people further destroying Bombay got under Salma’s skin. When she moved to Bombay Beach she enjoyed the fact that the town looked apocalyptic and decayed. When out of towners came and desecrated ruins, she became vigilant.

Once, after first moving to Bombay, Salma was walking home down 5^th Street toward Aisle of Palms and saw a tan Dodge Shadow parked precarious on the side of street. Walking toward the Shadow, Salma saw two young men in what was left of a streamline style trailer spray painting their names with what looked like a cat. It was dusk, the sky burnt orange, the Salton Sea a gorgeous blue and that same familiar fish stench permeated the air.

Salma yelled, “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING IN THERE?” before sprinting towards the streamline.

The boys looked at each other, dropped their spray paint cans and ran further into the trailer looking for escape. Salma ran into the open section of the trailer screaming like a banshee about disrespecting property, calling the police and calling their parents. She stopped for a moment to catch her breath and heard giggles from a closed door in the front most portion of the streamline. Walking quietly toward the giggling, Salma opened the door in a dramatic display and began reciting Shania Twain’s “Man, I Feel Like A Woman” in her native Turkish tongue while waving her arms in the air above her head. The situation played out with Salma looking and acting like a crazed person reciting a curse. The young men had no idea what to think, panicked and ran past Salma out of the trailer, to the Dodge Shadow and sped out of Bombay Beach. Salma continued her walk home laughing to herself of her heroics of the evening. “This is my town. Ain’t no one going to mess with it. Wanna make some noise, really raise my voice. Yeah, I wanna scream and shout. Man I Feel Like A Woman!” she sang to herself.

It was just after 1 when the first customer of the day came into the shack. The tiny bell nailed at the top of the door jingled. Salma was sitting behind the register and looked up from her sketchbook. A man in his late thirties, balding, wearing black slacks, a black button-down shirt with exotic flowers and shiny dress shoes with tassels stood in the doorway looking up, down and around The Salty Shack.

Salma cleared her throat and forced a smile and asked, “May I help you?”

The man turned and stared at Salma and asked “an ice cream sandwich. It’s quite hot out there.”

“Yes, a normal July day in Bombay Beach. Not a cloud in the sky and so hot the smell of the sea makes your stomach turn! Ice cream sandwiches are the third freezer down.”

The balding man looked at Salma over the rim of his glasses puzzled by her comment and said “Th-Thank you” and walked toward the third freezer.

Salma faked smiled again and turned back to her sketchbook. She was shading a sketch of a fairy tale tower surrounded by a lake when the balding customer reappeared at the counter with 6 ice cream sandwiches in his hands. He dropped the sandwiches on the counter in front of the sketchbook.

My name is Bob. I just moved here from Schenectady.” The balding man introduced himself.

Salma picked up and closed her sketchbook with an annoyance. “Welcome to Bombay Beach. You’re a long way from Schenectady. Where abouts’ are you putting down roots?”

“Avenue H in between 3^rd Street and 4th. Same block as The Sea of Life Church” said Bob.

“So what brings a man in all black twenty seven hundred miles from New York?” asked Salma

“I’m seeing Dean Martin at the North Shore Yacht Club Saturday night”.

Taking aback by the comment, Salma asked “Dean Martin? At the North Shore Yacht Club?”

Bob stared at Salma, tilted his head to the right, neck bones cracking his face displayed a manually processing question look. His head popped upright and commented “apologies, I’m going to listen to Dean Martin while I unpack; now through Saturday night”.

Salma stared at Bob and shifted her eyes left to right trying to understand what was going on in The Salty Shack at 1pm in the afternoon.

“$4.25 for the uh, um…”

“Ice cream sandwiches. They are so delectable I can eat two at a time.” Bob responded

He handed Salma a five-dollar bill and she gave seventy-five cents change. She asked if he needed a bag, forgetting the ten-cent state fee.

“No need! Ill finish these before I get home!” Bob responded and walked out of The Salty Shack.

Salma took a minute to replay everything that happened over the last 10 minutes to reassure herself she was not crazy. A balding man in all black came into the store and bought six ice cream sandwiches, said he was seeing Dean Martin Saturday night and he would finish all ice cream sandwiches before he got home.

“Another day in Bombay Beach! Another day in this oddity paradise” she said to herself.

The Sultan of Salton

1:2

Refocusing, Salma went back to her sketchbook and opened to the sketch of the tower surrounded by a lake. Her focus was the shadowing around the base of the tower where it met the water. Her mind drifted; who is in this tower? Why would someone lock a person away from any human contact? Why make them a prisoner or why are they being protected?

 Thoughts drifted through her mind as she shaded up the tower. Salma was so focused in the tower surrounded by water she didn’t hear the little bell nailed to the door jingle. It wasn’t until a high-pitched giggle brought her back to reality with a snap as her pencil broke against the sketchbook paper. Shaking her head, Salma reacquainted herself with her surroundings. A young couple had entered The Salty Shack, tourists EOTWS by the looks of them, looking at the dried petrified tilapia bodies mounted to wooden plaques. The wooden plaques had brass placards that read: Best Catch At The Salton Sea, Fishing Is Cheaper Than Therapy, Fishing: It’s All About How You Wiggle Your Worm and Fish Come In Three Sizes Small, Medium And The One That Got Away. The man of the duo just chuckled away at the witty sayings under the mounted fish. His girlfriend looked on at the coolers of drinks and freezer of different ice cream selections.

“Can I..” clearing her throat “Can I help you folks? Questions about the tilapia? Friends will be jealous if you take one back to where you’re visiting from!” Salma said trying to sound like P.T. Barnum with a sale pitch.

The boyfriend responded “nah we’re here to see the sad dilapidation and the former glory that

Salma, without missing a beat, slid a quick grim grin across her face and began a history of Bombay Beach and The Salton Sea. The communities that had developed and flourished in the sea’s aftermath. How The Salton Sea is a prime example of global, ecological impact and the effects of human interference and how the younger generation such as the young couple in The Salty Shack have no respect for Mother Earth, the environment around them, the community in voice this community needs to yell we are living and we will thrive, and you know what you both need to leave. Now.

Salma stared at the young couple her left eyebrow raised to the ceiling and fire in her eyes. Her heart raced, and adrenaline pumped as the young couple exited. The door to The Salty Shack closed silently and her heart began to slow to a normal pace. “Morons!” she said aloud.    

Salma closed The Salty Shack at seven in the evening. Pulling the door closed with a thud and locking the dead bolt. Salma inhaled a deep breath, mentally blocking out the dead fish smell, and crossed 5^th Street walking up and over the sand barrier to the stark white sandy shore of The Salton Sea. Salted petrified bones and bodies of tilapia crunched under her Doc Martens as she approached the water. Salma stopped at a rusted-out oil drum. The drum had been cut open and fashioned into a make shift chair. Complete with outdoor cusion.

Salma sat in her make shift chair and stared out across the sea. The sea was calm and resembled a mirror reflecting the evening clouds, sky and Mount Lagoon on the opposite side of The Salton Sea. Oranges, reds, pinks and purples were painted overhead, and Salma enjoyed that it was all for her. There appeared to be no soul around for the entire stretch of the beach.

As Salma stared across the sea admiring Mount Laguna, the first star appeared to the right of its peak. Faint but there. Maybe it was Venus she thought to herself as she became more relaxed in her make shift beach chair. In a state of Zen, Salma closed her eyes.

Salma dreamed she was young about seven sitting on a sofa watching television. The living room was dark except for the television light. Another faint light came from the right toward the kitchen and a smell of hot chocolate. Salma looked left out the living room window and saw darkness then snow falling around a street light. She focused back on the television and noticed The Snowman playing on the screen. Her mother now joined her on the sofa, both sharing a patchwork quilt. Hot chocolate now in her hands as well as her mothers. “It’s going to be a snow day for you Sally Doll. No school!” Her mother said with excitement. Salma smiled and watched the television screen smiling. The happy dream turned into a nightmare quickly when a hot breath crept across young Salma’s face. Turning her head right her mother’s face had turned demonic. Round ping pong ball size eyes protruded from their sockets locking sight with Salma’s eyes. An extra wide grin of serrated teeth that dripped saliva stretched across her mother’s former face. She felt a scream building from deep within and Salma closed her eyes.

Shaken…

Salma opened her eyes slowly. In a blurred vision a wide, thin mouth with serrated teeth appeared inches from the right side of her face. The mouth opened, as if inhaling, and leaned closer to her cheek. Salma awoke in a spasm of fear, lurched out of her chair flailing both arms at nothing. Settling back into her beach chair, Salma rubbed her eyes now fully awake.

“That was odd. Normally Mom dreams leave me feeling at peace” whispering to herself.

Salma had napped for about an hour she gathered. The sun had set and left the sky deep purple with a few scattered clouds. More stars had joined Venus in the early night sky. Salma stood, stretched, raised her arms over her head and twisted her body to the right stretching. Next to her barrel chair a pile sticks she hadn’t noticed before. Lowering her arms, she looked at the pile quizzically. The image of that serrated tooth grin crept back into her mind. She shook her head and the thought of that heinous grin left her mind. At least for the moment. Salma gathered herself and began her walk home.    

                                                     The Sultan of Salton

1:3

The Salton Sea 1966, a summer evening in July, a cool breeze came off the sea giving the party goers at the North Shore Yacht Club a cooling reprieve. After a very relaxing day on the Salton Sea’s shores, vacationers danced, drank, and danced some more. Dean Martin had been billed and the yacht club had sold out of tickets. Even the VIP tickets for the exclusive Compass Room had sold out. It seemed everyone around The Salton Sea was at the North Shore Yacht Club.

In Bombay Beach 10-year-old Carl Bond watched Flipper on a small thirteen inch black and white television. His mother, Elaine, won 2 VIP tickets to the North Shore Yacht Club to see Dean Martin that evening. It didn’t take much to persuade her girlfriend, Helen, to go. Helen had seen Dean Martin in concert 9 times, had all his records and even a lock of his hair she obtained from when she was in his “unauthorized” fan club. Asking Helen to go had the added advantage of Helen’s daughter Tabatha baby sit Carl.      

Elaine kissed Carl on the forehead and wished him good night then left with Helen for the North Shore Yacht Club. Tabatha was quick to rush Carl off to bed as soon as the ladies were out the door. “Not until Flipper is over” he demanded. Tabatha rolled her eyes and looked at the clock on the wall. 7:45, she can wait 15 minutes.

Flipper ended, and the credits began to roll. “Ok, bedtime!” said Tabatha. “You don’t have to fall asleep, but I want you in your room not making a sound”. Carl obliged and sulked off to his room. He changed into his Flipper pj’s and crawled into bed. Tossing and turning he couldn’t keep his mind from racing. Tonight’s episode was too exciting. Flipper’s adventure contained; sharks chasing the adventurous dolphin, swimmers in danger, and caused Carl’s adrenaline to flow! Laying in his bed he got an idea, ‘are there dolphins in the Salton Sea?’

Carl quietly stepped onto the floor. Tip toed to his bedroom door which was left slightly opened. He heard Tabatha chatting on the phone, giggling and talking about a boy she met on the beach. Carl put socks and his Converse on and lastly his LA Dodgers baseball cap. Sneaking out of his bedroom, down the hall to the kitchen Carl grabbed a flashlight from the pantry and quietly stepped out the backdoor into the backyard.

Elaine and Carl’s house was located on Avenue G and 1^st Street in Bombay Beach. Four blocks away from the beach and the gorgeous crystal-clear Salton Sea. Carl crept silently along the side of the house; hearing Tabatha’s voice through the open windows. Walking down Avenue G he began to sprint to the sea after crossing 2^nd Street. Carl reached the beach and collapsed to catch his breath. After a few minutes he was back on his feet and walking toward the waters edge. A full moon hung in the evening sky and gave the beach a faint ghostly glow.

Carl walked along the sand then stopped and looked out onto the sea for any slight movements that could be a dolphin. There was no movement and The Salton Sea was calm and still as if a piece of glass reflecting the moon and the stars overhead. Carl continued walking along the beach and came across a paddle boat vendor stand. Closed for the night, that paddle boats were lined up waiting for customers the following morning. Carl got an idea and looked for a small paddle boat in the lineup. He found a small paddle boat, white with a red stripe two-seats that gleamed in the moon light.

Dragging the paddle boat to the water’s edge, Carl hopped in and began paddling out onto the calm Salton Sea.

Paddling a paddle boat by oneself and looking out over the sea for dolphins, proved a little difficult for Carl. On the opposite shore, the lights of Salton City reflected on the sea’s surface. The silhouetted shape of Mount Laguna towered behind Salton City in a void of blackness. Carl turned his head back toward Bombay Beach and realized he had paddled farther than he had wanted. Using the rudder handle, he began paddling back toward the beach. Being only one paddler, it took careful maneuvering to steer and paddle the boat safely.

As Carl began to paddle closer to shore, a crack of thunder roared from the direction of Mount Laguna.  Turning to see what the noise was, Carl saw a fireball moving fast and aimed right for him. Panicked, he began to peddle faster almost at a running stance. The little paddle boat chugged toward the beach inch by inch. Tears began to run down Carl’s cheeks.

A second thunderous roar echoed over The Salton Sea followed by a shock wave that raced across the surface of the sea creating turbulent waves. The waves capsized the small paddle boat sending Carl head first into the sea. Surfacing, gasping for air and watched the fireball crash into the Salton Sea. The fireball quickly extinguished Carl gasped for air. Waves crashed and smacked against him, he screamed for help. During his screams, the fireball crashed into the sea with a massive splash! A deafening hiss came next and a silver craft was exposed through the steam cloud. Carl blinked twice then a blinding light exploded from the silver craft and grabbed at Carl like two hands. Carl’s vision went black and he passed out.    

The Sultan of Salton

The Sultan of Salton

Chapter One

The small beach side town of Bombay Beach is anything but picturesque, located on the Northeast shore of ‘The Salton Sea’. The average temperature is ninety-six degrees. The landscape, as it appears, has a post-apocalyptic feel about it, stark white sand, abandoned homes in every state of dilapidation covered with salt. Vehicles and motor boats left behind and scattered about, covered in salt and rust stripped of anything that may have held value.

The small town is one of several that popped up around The Salton Sea in the 1950’s into the 1960’s. Resembling a gorgeous glittering sapphire on a bed of white satin, The Salton Sea was dedicated as “The West’s Greatest Playground” and developers planned to have it rival nearby Palm Springs. Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Sammy Davis Jr. performed at the North Shore Yacht Club. Boat races were held in the summer months and developers invested money into The Salton Sea and the towns and cities that popped up on its shores. The town of Bombay Beach, Salton City and North Shore were designed, and big plans were laid out for their prosperous futures on the ‘Sea Surrounded by Desert’. 

However, unlike most fairy tales an unfortunate circumstance happened in the sea by the late 1960’s.The salinity in The Salton Sea began to increase; so much so it out number the Pacific Ocean salinity by 25% by the 1990’s. The increase in salinity caused the sea to turn from a gorgeous clear sapphire blue into a murky, cloudy alga blooms all throughout the sea. Along with the algae came a stench that when mixed with the desert heat became unbearable to stand next to. Development stopped. People moved away.

Contrary to the written accounts of The Salton Sea and its bleak history, vibrant communities have developed and flourished. Bombay Beach became one of the most developed around The Salton Sea. Laid out in the traditional grid, Bombay Beach had nine avenues which ran north to south and named “Avenue A”- “Aisle of Palms” (Avenue I). The avenues were intersected by five streets which ran east to west and named 1^st Street- 5^th  Street.

Salma arrived at ‘The Salty Shack’, the corner of Avenue C and 5^th Street, a little after eleven in the morning on a Thursday in July. A thermostat that hung on the front porch of the shack read 107. She didn’t need a thermostat to tell her the temperature; from the smell of the sea Salma easily declared the temperature closer to 115. Unlocking the door to The Salty Shack, Salma had to give a nudge with her shoulder twice as the door would stick. Salt build up overnight was common with the building being so close to The Salton Sea. The door popped open with a haunted house style creak. Salma started to walk inside when she heard a shuffle and an incoherent muttering in the distance. Turning she saw Crazy Carl walking toward The Salty Shack along 5^th Street.

“Morning Carl!” Salma said waving.

Carl didn’t acknowledge Salma and chatted to himself walking toward Avenue A. Salma picked up on the usual words Carl muttered “silver” “crash” “splash” “wet” “eat” and always “absorption” ending his chant before starting over. Salma forced a smile and felt the usual pity/helplessness for Crazy Carl who seemed lost and in search of something as usual.

In The Salty Shack Salma’s eyes looked at the index cards thumbtacked to the wall behind the register. “silver”, “crash”, “splash”, “wet”, “eat” and “absorption’ were written in her hand writing. She had written down the words Carl said since she moved to Bombay Beach and there was never an unfamiliar word or different order to the words Crazy Carl spoke.

Salma looked out The Salty Shacks front door as Crazy Carl passed on the same walking/shuffle loop; walking down Avenue E turning right on 5^th Street walking to Avenue A turning right to 1^st Street and ending back at his home on the corner of 1^st Street and Avenue E. A big square that started and finished at the house Carl lived with his aging mother since the early 1960’s.

Salma turned on the lights and got the day underway. On an average day at The Salty Shack only the locals would come in. Come in for a soda, a six pack or an ice cream. The air conditioning in the shack also provided the locals with an oasis away from their homes. Salma loved this part of the job, talking and catching up with everyone who lived in town. Getting the gossip, seeing if any tourists attempted to swim in the sea or the worst, if any tourists decorated the many ruins of Bombay Beach with spray painted graffiti. The spray painting and people further destroying Bombay got under Salma’s skin. When she moved to Bombay Beach she enjoyed the fact that the town looked apocalyptic and decayed. When out of towners came and desecrated ruins, she became vigilant.

Once, after first moving to Bombay, Salma was walking home down 5^th Street toward Aisle of Palms and saw a tan Dodge Shadow parked precarious on the side of street. Walking toward the Shadow, Salma saw two young men in what was left of a streamline style trailer spray painting their names with what looked like a cat. It was dusk, the sky burnt orange, the Salton Sea a gorgeous blue and that same familiar fish stench permeated the air.

Salma yelled, “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING IN THERE?” before sprinting towards the streamline.

The boys looked at each other, dropped their spray paint cans and ran further into the trailer looking for escape. Salma ran into the open section of the trailer screaming like a banshee about disrespecting property, calling the police and calling their parents. She stopped for a moment to catch her breath and heard giggles from a closed door in the front most portion of the streamline. Walking quietly toward the giggling, Salma open the door in a dramatic display and began reciting Shania Twain’s “Man, I Feel Like A Woman” in her native Turkish tongue while waving her arms in the air above her head. The young men had no idea what to think and ran past Salma out of the trailer and to the Dodge Shadow and sped out of Bombay Beach. Salma continued her walk home laughing to herself of her heroics of the evening. “This is my town. No one going to mess with it. Wanna make some noise, really raise my voice. Yeah, I wanna scream and shout. Man I Feel Like A Woman!” she sang to herself.

It was just after 1 when the first customer of the day came into the shack. The tiny bell nailed at the top of the door jingled. Salma was sitting behind the register and looked up from her sketchbook. A man in his late thirties, balding, wearing black slacks, a black button down shirt with exotic flowers and shiny dress shoes with tassels stood in the doorway looking up, down and around The Salty Shack.

Salma cleared her throat and forced a smile and asked, “May I help you?”

The man turned and stared at Salma and asked “an ice cream sandwich. It’s quite hot out there.”

“Yes, a normal July day in Bombay Beach. Not a cloud in the sky and so hot the smell of the sea makes your stomach turn! Ice cream sandwiches are the third freezer down.”

The balding man looked at Salma over the rim of his glasses puzzled by her comment and said “Th-Thank you” and walked toward the third freezer.

Salma faked smiled again and turned back to her sketchbook. She was shading a sketch of a fairy tale tower surrounded by a lake when the balding customer reappeared at the counter with 6 ice cream sandwiches in his hands. He dropped the sandwiches on the counter in front of the sketchbook.

My name is Bob. I just moved here from Schenectady.” The balding man introduced himself.

Salma picked up and closed her sketchbook with an annoyance. “Welcome to Bombay Beach. You’re a long way from Schenectady. Where abouts’ are you putting down roots?”

“Avenue H in between 3^rd Street and 4th. Same block as The Sea of Life Church” said Bob.

“So what brings a man in all black twenty seven hundred miles from New York?” asked Salma

“I’m seeing Dean Martin at the North Shore Yacht Club Saturday night”.

The Day of the Drinking Birds

The sun was high in the sky on a Wednesday in June. The Cibolians went about their normal everyday lives. High above the chasm that surrounded Cibola City a dirigible drifted in from the western horizon. As with other fantastical elements in Cibola City, no one noticed the dirigible as it gently floated closer and over the city center.  

The dirigible slowed and became stationary above Cibola City. Bombay doors opened underneath the gondola and bright red egg shapes fell toward the city. A few Cibolians looked skyward and saw these red eggs falling. The Cibolians had looks of confusion on their faces as they had no idea what was going on. Crowds started to gather on sidewalks and watched the red eggs fall from the dirigible.

Midway through their descent, the red eggs opened and revealed giant drinking birds wearing bright red cone hats. The eggs turned into parachutes and the giant drinking birds drifted slowly toward the city. On the dirigible, the nose cone hummed and clicked opening and formed into a dish with a transmitter in the middle. The dish extended out and aimed itself down toward the falling birds over Cibola City.

As the birds fell closer to the city, the Cibolians began to smile. Was this some sort of new circus coming to town?

On the dirigible, the transmitter beeped to life. The cone hats on the drinking birds responded, and the birds began to float into different directions over the city.

The Cibolians saw that the birds were separating and the sidewalk crowds moved to follow the birds and watch where they would land. A crowd on the sidewalk of Scoville Street watched as one of the drinking birds landed in front of The First Bank of Cibola City with ground rumbling thud. The parachute reeled itself into the bright red cone hat. The Front Street Cibolians had a front row seat to a drinking bird. Standing 40 feet high, 45 with the cone hat, its head and neck had a titanium look that met a clear round glass body. A strange bubbling red liquid filled half the drinking bird’s bulbous body.

The drinking birds continued their descent over the city from Grand Concourse, to Heppy Peppy Way to Front Street. Twenty birds in all landed in front of 20 different bank buildings. The 45 foot tall birds stood and faced their buildings the landed in front of. The crowds of Cibolians clapped, oohed and awed at the giant spectacles all over their city.

On the dirigible, transmitter transmitted again down toward the city. In unison the drinking birds began to sway front to back. The red liquid in their bulbous bodies moved as well as the birds movement gained momentum. The drinking bird’s momentum increased dramatically and the ground under the birds began to shake with tremors. Twenty drinking birds fell into the city and each contributed to the cities minor shaking. The crowds began to step away from the drinking birds as they started feeling something was wrong.

That something came when each of the drinking bird’s beaks hit the wall of the building they were standing in front of. In a single moment, each bird hit a wall with their beak and a

shock-wave followed by a noise piercing scream rocked the city. Anyone standing fell to the ground and covered their ears. The birds retracted from their walls and went forward to hit them again and again. The ground rumbled and buildings shook as the drinking birds attacked the bank buildings. On Front Street, the front wall of the First Bank of Cibola City fell into the street. Glass and rubble fell into a pile at the feet of the drinking bird. Across the city some front walls fell others stood but took massive structural damage as gaping holes tore open the banks.

Cibola City became a panic and its citizens ran for help and to protect themselves from the destruction. The Cibola City police descended onto the areas where the drinking birds landed. A group of officers raced to Fell Street where The Great Bank of The West building took heavy damage but was still standing. The officers drew their batons and raced toward the drinking bird. In mid sway as its beak hit the wall the officers ambushed the glass body. Two officers were on top of the bulbous body in a scene that looked straight out of a rodeo. The other two officers stood next to the legs of the bird. All four began hitting the glass body with their batons. Strangely enough the body was not as tough as the head and neck and started to crack where the batons hit. One of the officers on top of the drinking bird broke through the glass and was met with extraordinary heat.

The hole in the glass that the officer had made began to crack. He yelled to the other three officers to run. The drinking bird continued its sway motion forward but started slowing. The officers on the back of the drinking bird jumped and ran just as the glass body cracked and exploded throwing the hot liquid onto Fell Street. A blast of heat hit the officers back as they ran from the remains of the drinking bird. The drinking birds head and neck fell into the liquid and melted immediately.

The red liquid flowed toward The Great Bank of The West and began melting the front wall! The police officers watched in horror as the front of the bank building collapsed, fell and melted into the red liquid. The police officer who cracked the drinking bird ran to the closest Police Call Box and phoned headquarters. He told the dispatch officer they needed the fire department to Fell Street immediately. He had an idea of how to stop the drinking birds.

The Cibola City Fire Department hook and ladder Unit 515 raced to Fell Street. The fire fighters wasted no time and connected a fire hose to a fire hydrant. The unit raced and ran toward the bank building as more of the building fell into the red liquid. The fire fighters turned the hydrant on and aimed at the red liquid. The water met the red liquid and hissed and steamed. The heat coming off the red liquid began melting the road and sidewalk from its intensity. The fire fighters increased the water pressure and this caused the red liquid to scream and hiss louder then fell silent.

The steam cloud dissipated and the red liquid was no more, it had solidified into a grey black rock. The fire fighters turned the pressure down but kept watering the grey black rock. The fire chief came to the conclusion they were dealing with magma. The fire chief went to the cab of Unit 515’s and talked into dispatch on the cb. He told dispatch to send all units to the drinking bird’s vicinity and hose them down with the highest pressure. We’re dealing with a lava situation.

Back in the dirigible, a warning light lit on a panel. The mystery man behind the chaos down below went to the panel. His eyes grew big when he saw that one of his birds had been defeated. His brow furrowed and he grew angry. For months he had planned this disaster, to cause chaos so he could focus on his deep laid plan. As he stared at the panel, another light lit up. Another bird defeated. He closed his eyes and yelled a very angry scream. Another light lit up on the panel. The 4 foot man left the panel and raced for the telemotor at the front of the dirigible.                 

Down in Cibola City the drinking birds fell one by one. There was only one left, the drinking bird on Front Street. Three fire units appeared and began dousing the drinking bird in water. This drinking bird seemed tougher than the others.

At the Northern part of Cibola City, the police department had a fleet of 3 helicopters. The 3 Air Captains fired up their choppers and raced toward into the sky. Their goal, bring down the dirigible.

The drinking bird on Front Street kept its momentum going. The drinking bird, after breaking down the wall, was now destroying the ground on which the First Bank of Cibola City sat; as though it were its mission. The ground shook as the Front Street drinking bird pecked into the ground under the bank. Two more fire units appeared on sight to help destroy the Front Street bird. The 5 fire units had the max pressure flowing through their hoses and onto the bird to try and stop it. Nothing was working.

The 3 air captains reached the dirigible; one at the front and one flanking each side. The 4 foot man saw the choppers and furrowed his brow. The chopper in front of the dirigible made and announcement though a bull horn telling the person in the dirigible to surrender. The 4 foot mans eyes rolled from side to side in an annoyance from the 3 choppers outside. Standing behind the telemotor, he reached to a control panel to his right and pushed a yellow button. The back of the dirigible hummed, engaged and a series of panels opened. The 4 foot man then pushed a blue button which caused the transmitter on the front to        re-position itself straight ahead toward one of the choppers. The transmitter ignited in a spectacular web of blue light. In between dirigible and the front chopper a magnificent vortex appeared. The 4 foot man pushed a green button and the dirigible launched forward at a blinding speed. There was a crack of thunder a brilliant flash of light as the dirigible entered the vortex. There was a follow up thunder crash as the vortex disappeared as the dirigible disappeared. The 3 air captains watched in amazement as the ship just, disappeared.

Back in Cibola City, a piece of concrete fell cracking open the drinking bird’s body. The water from the 5 fire units met the lava and the bird exploded where it stood. The explosion destroyed what was left of the First Bank of Cibola City bank building, reducing it to a pile of rubble. The steam cloud dissipated and a grey black rock could be seen peaking from under the rubble.

What were theses drinking birds and who created them and why? The investigation would fall into the hands of the Cibola City Police Department to find the person responsible. Meanwhile, the city would recover and rebuild from the destruction. The Cibolians would continue their everyday lives and this day would fall into a distant memory. Cibola City has a way of clouding its past to events that have happened. The drinking bird’s invasion isn’t and wouldn’t be the last unique story this city must tell.  

     

The Empress of Cibola

Journal entry of Robert Holcomb describing his travel to Cibola City

The Empress of Cibola

Cibola City lies West of Santa Fe and Albuquerque on highway 315 that spurs off Route 40. Surrounded by reddish hues and browns of the Colorado Plateau, a bright yellow, orange beacon silently guides folk to the city. The bright yellow, orange that Cibola City shines with is a combination of the sun and The Colorado Plateau which stretches for miles in all directions reflecting off the glass of the buildings in the city. A pyre oasis in the desert.  

   

There are two ways to reach Cibola City, by car or bus along Route 40 to exit 26 for Highway 315. Highway 315 leads across the Joseph Roberts Bridge and into the heart of Cibola City. The second way into the city on The Empress of Cibola. A unique train powered by a rear mounted propeller that whisks travelers from Santa Fe to Cibola City in about two hours.

The Empress of Cibola glides on her tracks across the flat desert landscape at incredible speeds. Travelers look out her windows and get an uninterrupted view of the vast landscape that is the Colorado Plateau. The colors of the cliffs that rise into the sky from the desert floor show oranges, reds, pinks and browns. The sapphire blue of the sky overhead with an occasional white puff of cloud makes for a very calm relaxed trip.

As The Empress of Cibola approaches Cibola City, her tracks run parallel with Highway 315. The Empress runs alongside Highway 315 road for a bit then disappears into a tunnel that goes underground and under Highway 315. The Empress of Cibola, a unique style of train as described, actually rotates 180 degrees on its rails when it enters the tunnel. As she enters two things happen, first the train rails follow the floor, walls and roof of the tunnel. Just like a roller-coaster. Second the engineer engages the rotation mechanism on the Empress allowing the body of the train to stay level as the rail wheels and trucks follow the rails up the wall and onto the tunnel roof. The Empress continues on the rails in the tunnel that now is directly under the main road above.

The end of the tunnel approaches and here’s one of the best views on the planet. The rails continue from the tunnel and under the Joseph Roberts Bridge. The Empress, after her 180 degree rotation, resembles a small zeppelin with her oval body and propeller pushing her forward. The Empress zips under the bridge giving the travelers a view of the gargantuan chasm that surrounds Cibola City. The view from the train gives travelers a view of the chasm floor and the sheer cliffs that surround the city. From the Empress’s view, it shows that Cibola City is built on a very large ‘Mesa’. The Empress  of Cibola reaches the end of the Joseph Roberts Bridge and enters another tunnel where the Empress undergoes another 180 degree rotation becoming upright with rail wheels underneath the train.

The Empress of Cibola makes her final approach into the Cibola City train station on the western portion of the city. The train station is is absolutely stunning inside with cast iron arches reaching one hundred and fifty feet overhead. The iron arches support a glass roof that is letting in all natural light to the main concourse. The main concourse is a vast open space where voices and sounds disappear upward. Hanging in the middle from the junction of cast iron arches, a four faced clock to keep travelers updated when their trains depart. The main concourse has a few cafe's, three newsstands, a shoeshine stand and plenty of benches for travelers to relax before leaving the city. The main concourse leads to exits which place travelers into the streets of Cibola City.

 In the distance, along the horizon Peter saw a spectacular sight; more spectacular than the moon even more spectacular than the shooting star. Against the blackness around him, a collection of bright colors lay ahead; yellows, reds, blues, and purples. ‘What on Earth is that?’thinking to himself. Peter started walking again, much faster this time. The colors grew brighter as did the structure they were connected to. Reaching the end of the side walk Peter made out the shape of the color structure, a stained glass bear. The glass bear structure stood on all fours and was easily twenty feet high. With no other lights around the bear was the most colorful object seen for miles.

Cibola City

My blog is titled Adventures in Cibola City. I chose this title since Cibola City is where I like to retreat when I want to get creative. There is a Native American legend of a city called Cibola that was made entirely of gold. This legend intrigued me and thought what if the city held other secrets beside gold. Lots of personal thinking and historical research lead to my creation of my Cibola City. Instead of gold my Cibola holds the secrets to the worlds Seven Ancient Wonders. For me, the creation of this Cibola City is where I turn for inspiration. In my mind it is a thriving metropolis. For me in the real world I turn to Cibola City for sketching or writing a short story inspiration.With this inspiration the city continues to grow with and through me. I have even created an entire story based around this fictitious city and retreat to here when I need creative inspiration. There are many mysteries to Cibola City mainly its architecture, strange buildings and strange history that seem to stem from ancient Greece, Egypt or Roman times. Below is an aerial view of the city that has literally taken over 5 years of thought and planning. Some key buildings are borrowed from history and some buildings are my own creation. The buildings borrowed from history hold powers beyond comprehension and can have catastrophic consequences if they fell into the wrong hands. Be on the look out for more detailed Cibola City scenes in the future. Has it also been mentioned that Cibola City is balanced on a piece of land that resembles a 'spinning top'?

A Peek at a Villain

Let's take a peek at a villain of Cibola City, a strange being from another world Kladaugh. Using an ornately inscribed metal stave topped with a crescent shaped emerald allowing him to control electrical currents, In this case APPLIANCES! Running amuck over Cibola City causing trouble and mayhem they hunt for Squibble and his band of friends. Kladaugh needs Squibble as he is the only one who can harness the true power and majesty of Cibola City, even though Squibble may not know it yet.

Squibble, out with Rattles, notices some odd happenings across the street.

Kladaugh and team corner Squibble.

Kladaugh

Dee-Frost is Kladaugh's second in command of the electrical current.