Category: My stories

Hercules

769002

In Greek mythology, Hercules is often credited with performing twelve labors. However, the original poem laying out these labors was lost to history. All we have are poems and stories inspired by the original poem.
Until now.
Reading these ceremonial urns, painstakingly pieced together by my team, it turns out that Hercules was the name of a town, not a single person.
It wasn’t a single individual performing these labors, but a community coming together to get these seemingly impossible tasks done.
So when you look around you, so many impossible problems, look around.
Perhaps, Hercules is already with you.

Neptune

827934

The psychiatrist arrives just in time.
On the rocks, the Sea God is arguing with himself, shaking his trident, raising waves higher and higher.
“Neptune fighting Poseidon again, Sam?” he asks, climbing into the rowboat.
“Yep,” I say, lighting my pipe and pulling the rope from the mooring post. “Poor god’s mind has cracked. His delusions are getting worse.”
The doctor pats my shoulder. “Go!”
I row out into the swells.
Fifty yards out, he puts a needle into my shoulder.
“Just relax” he says, the storm becoming calm.
And, as my eyelids grow heavier, the massive sea god vanishes.

Octoberville

820624

Jenny and I leave the turn-of-the-century town for the woods, watching for signs of Octoberville’s return.
It fades into existence at September’s end, and returns to the void after thirty-one days.
The buildings are worn and run-down, but comfortable.
The residents are the same, shabby but content, shambling around the paths from shack to shack.
Merchants bring food from the harvest.
“What happens when you go away?” I ask the mayor.
“Go away?” he says. “Octoberville doesn’t go away. What are you talking about?”
To them, October is all there is.
Just as to us, the century is always turning.

The Kiss

786766

They were the perfect couple, I swear they were.
They’ll be together until the end of their days, I had thought.
He said “I love you” to another woman, and that earned him a knife in his throat.
She was going to cut out his eyes when the bartender hit her with the bottle.
Now he doesn’t say anything to anyone, just whispers to himself every now and then.
And she just sits by the window, staring at things nobody else can see.
Wrecked and lost, no longer perfect, but they’ll still be together until they end of their days.

Paradise Packed

775697

All of the scientists agree: our species has passed the tipping point.
The ecosystems could no longer sustain our presence. Either our species went, or all species.
So, we took samples of everything, extracted the DNA, and packed them all into stasis pods.
Some of them we’ll launch into space as permanent memorials to our world.
Others will stay in orbit, ready to return when our planet had recovered from our mistakes.
We released the retrovirals at dawn, watching the horror spread across the planet from our bunker.
Then, we opened the champagne, toasted Eden, and swallowed the black pills.

Scarface

744343

Al Capone claimed that his facial scars were a war wound, and his bodyguard would chuckle at the comment.
“What are you laughing at?” said Al, and his bodyguard went silent.
The bodyguard was the one who had slashed Al for insulting his sister.
Years later, after Al died in prison, the bodyguard went out in the streets and found a kid in a gang.
“C’mere,” he said, and he slashed the kid’s face three times.
The kid’s mouth hung open, and then a familiar sneer came over his face.
“Nice knifework,” said Al. “Got a cigar and a light?”

I can’t complain

805164

How are things going?
I can’t complain.
No. Really. I can’t complain.
My doctor got fed up with my constant complaining, so he suggested an experimental treatment.
I now have a microchip in my head that will stop me when I complain.
I absolutely love this thing. I don’t complain about anything anymore.
Life is good when you have no complaints.
Oh, sure, I have problems, mind you. Life’s not perfect, but instead of complaining about them, I try to resolve them.
Usually, I do.
But when I don’t, I get out my chainsaw and fire it up.

The Pipes

723237

No matter where you dig, you’ll eventually reach The Pipes.
We’re miles from where the City Of Steel used to be.
Before civilization collapsed.
And yet, out here, there are pipes.
There are no markings on them to identify what flowed through them.
Nobody can break them open, either.
Some are warm, and others sweat water when the rains don’t come.
Maybe they were part of an irrigation project?
As long as crops grow here and they don’t come up toxic, we are safe.
Sow the seeds, curse the ancestors for their wickedness, and wait for harvest.
We will survive.

Batsignal

715088

I think we need to talk about the Batsignal again, Gordon.
There’s the issue with what merits a Batsignal.
Two Face threatening to blow up a building is a Yes.
Goons robbing a bank is a No. You have SWAT for that, right?
Your crazy daughter Barbara wanting me to read a bedtime story is a Hell No.
And I can’t see it during the day. The Joker and Penguin have changed their capering schedules.
Can’t you just SMS my BatPhone, dude?
Now nod your head like you understand what I said or I’m throwing you off the fucking roof.

Codex

703380

We came across The Codex during our excavation.
It is a stone obelisk with three sides, a different language on each side.
Unlike the Rosetta Stone, we have no idea what these languages are.
We post photographs to JonesNet and wait for answers, but none of the wired archaeologists and researchers in the world have any clue, either.
The shapes and lines and dots resemble no other written language ever encountered.
So, we keep digging, but find no other writing resembling it.
We come to the conclusion that it was a prank by the ancients on future generations of researchers.