Category: My stories

Perpetually Dying

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My friend, far away.
Perpetually dying, a tired wall of sickness spreading and suffering, each day worse than the last.
No hope but for the next moment.
In time, the end comes to us all, but we live by denying it.
Until it approaches.
Or comes suddenly.
But her, every day, growing worse, she lives in defiance of it.
For her son.
He is young, but he sees not the crippling pain, closing in on itself, but someone staying strong.
For him.
Hold on just a little longer.
And when he’s strong enough, your gift to him, you can rest.

Haircut

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The amazing haircut machine made barbers obsolete.
All you had to do was stick your head in a box, and the computer-scanners would figure out the perfect haircut for you.
Five seconds with a series of lasers, and you were done.
Okay, so there were a few glitches in the system’s development, but those prisoners were too dangerous to have their hair cut by any other means.
No matter how well you chain them up or incapacitate them, putting a prisoner in close proximity with someone wielding a sharp object is a very bad idea.
A little off the top?

Anonymous

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I prefer to think of myself as famously anonymous.
The bigger I get, the less people recognize me on the street.
I barely recognize myself in the mirror. When I go to brush my teeth or comb my hair, for just a moment, I wonder how a stranger got past my bodyguard.
I don’t even look like my ID anymore. Not even my shadow recognizes me. It still follows, but not quite as confidently as before.
Maybe my fingerprints have changed, too? My DNA?
If I’m going to commit this crime, I’d better do it before I change my mind.

Stop The Presses

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Stop the presses!
Stop the elevators, too!
Might as well stop the air conditioning.
Oh, and the copiers. Can’t forget them, too.
Have you got a coffee machine?
Yup. Stop that sucker cold.
Stop everything right now.
Okay, now listen. Listen for a minute.
What do you hear?
You hear yourself breathing. And maybe your heart beating. Are your ears ringing, too?
That’s what’s real.
Now turn everything on.
Flip switches, one by one.
Bring it all back to life.
Make some noise.
Yell. Scream. Shout.
Just because you can’t hear your heart beating, it doesn’t mean it isn’t there.

When the music’s over

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When the music’s over, turn out the light.
That’s what Jim Morrison said, but what happens when the music’s still going, but you need to turn out the light and go to bed?
Do you really want to be alone and in the dark with the music?
I end up turning on a light in another room so the music goes in there. Then I turn out the light in here and close the door.
The music tries to creep in under the door.
And so does the light.
I put a towel under the door and go to sleep.

Repeater

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Billy The Repeater is in the neighborhood, repeating everything that everyone says.
It used to be cute how he did it, but it’s gotten really annoying.
I can tell Billy is exhausted, too. The strain on his face as he mimics everything I say shows his exhaustion.
We tried to cut his tongue out, but now he mumbles and slurs everything.
That’s not so great, especially when I really need Billy to repeat something I can’t remember saying, but Billy remembers.
“What did I say, Billy?” I ask.
“Whafff di Ah sehhhhh Buhhhhhheeeee,” he mumbles.
As I said, really annoying.

Please

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I looked at the note in the victim’s hand.
“Please…”
One word, three dots.
That’s all that was on the note.
Nothing else.
“Please… do what?” asked Sam.
“I have no idea,” I said. “The rest’s blank.”
“At least they’re polite,” said Sam. “Want a beer?”
“Yeah,” I said.
So we went to the bar.
The bartender asked me if I wanted the usual.
“Please,” I said, nodding.
Sam looked at me. And then…
“No, that’s not it,” he said.
We never did solve the mystery of who wrote the note or what it meant.
The victim’s just as dead.

With Everything

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I didn’t feel like cooking, so I called the local pizza joint and asked them to send me a large pizza with everything.
“Everything?” they ask.
“Yes, everything,” I reply.
They pause a moment, I hear… breathing.
“Everything???????”
“Yes! Everything!”
The voice on the other end of the line is crumbling with fear and rage. “Oh… my… God! You sick monster!”
And then, the sound of a heavy metal blade hitting wood and a piercing scream.
I hang up quickly.
What have I done? What exactly is everything?
I need to lock the door. I need to hide.
Stay…. away!

It comes with the territory

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It doesn’t matter where you go.
Right around the corner.
Paris.
The Moon.
There’s always drama.
You get two folks together, best of friends, and something’s going to happen between them
Heck, you could be the last person in the world, and you’ll pull off a sock, put it on your hand, and have drama with Mister Socky.
On the other hand, quite literally, that’s what Mrs. Socky is for. She’s there to keep Mister Socky in line.
See? Just the three of us, enjoying the end of the world.
My feet are cold. But that’s okay, because we’re together.

Shopper

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Susan held the can of peas in her hands and thought for a moment… how did she know that there were peas in there?
She grabbed a can of corn from the shelf and looked at it. Was she certain it contained corn?
She took a razor blade and peeled off the labels from the cans, switched them, and smoothed them over the dribble of glue on the can’s seal.
What was in each can now? Was there corn in the corn can and peas in the pea can?
She put them back on the shelf to maintain the mystery.