Tag: mystery

Tunnel

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I’ve been walking for hours, but I haven’t found the end of this tunnel.
The walls get narrow, then they get wide.
There’s some phosphorescent rocks and moss down here.
I can make my way around without being totally blind.
The floor’s slippery. I have to walk slowly or I’ll fall.
This map doesn’t say how far I need to go. It’s torn, and part of it is missing.
The part I’m in.
I have no idea where I am going, I should keep going until I find a way out.
Or, I could stay down here.
Maybe next time.

Foil

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Happy birthday, Oliver. Here’s your present.
What?
Oh, I never buy gift wrapping paper.
Instead, I use tinfoil.
It’s bright and shiny. And it’s actually cheaper than wrapping paper when you think about it.
Especially if you give out small presents and not all that often.
Instead of having wrapping paper for every occasional and holiday, the tinfoil serves all purposes.
Plus, when they unwrap their presents, they can wrap food in it and put it in the freezer.
Let’s see you try to do that with wrapping paper.
What? You did?
No wonder why these steaks are badly freezer-burned.

The Black Spot

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I dropped a can of root beer on my foot.
When I took off the shoe and sock, the middle toe was dark red.
No blood, just bruised.
A day later, the swelling went down.
But there was a black spot on the nail.
Over the past month, it’s been slowly growing out.
In another month or two, it will be at the edge, and I can clip it off.
As if it were never there.
All the while, the spot tells me to save it.
“Please cut off your toe,” it begs.
Every day, it gets louder. Desperate. Angrier.

Straight Up

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If you ask a robot where home is, it usually points to its recharging station.
So when the Andersons’ new service droid pointed straight up, I assumed that it meant the attic.
After the survey of Oak Falls was complete, no other robot in my survey had an attic charging station.
Return to Washington?
No. Not yet.
I went back to the Andersons’ house and asked the robot again, but while we were outside.
It pointed up again.
That’s when the lights appeared in the sky.
“Where is home?” The robot asked.
It seems we have our profession in common.

Molly

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By day, Molly Scott’s soul is where it belongs – inside Molly, making Molly uniquely Molly.
If you’ve read her books, you’ll know what I mean. Children’s books totally unsafe for children. “Cooking With Broken Glass” and “Boogertime Blues” are favorite of mine.
At night, her soul wanders and resides in a CPR dummy in Fairfax.
It was during a late First Aid class that I discovered this phenomenon. Five chest compressions, pinch the nose, breathe in, and a slow, faint whisper: this is why I do not dream.
No movement, no animation. Just plastic.
I switched to a cooking class.

The Alchemist

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The world is turning to bright yellow glass.
The Alchemist. I have to see her.
She has the pills I need.
Her blend of phase-anchoring nanobots and cellular dimensional disruptor isotopes aren’t cheap.
What’s your task?
Reach across time for an artifact?
Disrupt the future for a prophesy.
Bring me a Weaver Crystal, she says. Red.
Ah. Materials collection.
Easy.
I reach through space to The Hive, my hand brushing across Clusterdrones from cave to cave.
I break off a shard and hand it to the Alchemist.
Orange will do, she mutters, and my lead-weave pouch is full once again.

Boxes

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I wake up, get out of bed, and walk around the house.
I do this every morning.
Six cardboard boxes in a pile by the door.
No labels on them, no markings at all.
I have no idea what’s in them.
Or where they came from.
Some are heavy, some are light.
Do I shake them? Will I break what’s inside them?
I put my ear to each box. No ticking, no breathing.
Maybe I should open them?
Which one to open first, the heaviest? The lightest? The biggest? The smallest?
I go back to sleep.
Maybe they’ll be gone.

The Quiet Ones

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It’s the quiet ones that kill.
Just sitting there, watching you from across the coffee shop.
“What a beautiful cat,” says a customer.
The owner nods, hands over the mug.
Those eyes follow you everywhere: you walk into the shop, over to the counter, back to your favorite table.
What is it about you that’s so interesting?
“Sasha likes you,” says the shop owner, smiling. “Would you like to pet him?”
You think about it, wondering what that deep orange fur will feel like, so soft, so rich.
“I’m allergic,” you say, leave a tip, and walk out the door.

Frozen Barbie

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My little sister was so weird.
One day, she stripped all of her Barbie dolls naked and wrapped them in aluminum foil.
“What are you doing that for?” our mom asked.
“Cryogenics,” she said, sticking the dolls in the freezer. “We’ll wake them up in the year 3000.”
Late that night, I took out the Barbie dolls and wrapped up some corn cobs in the foil.
The next day, she checked up on her time capsules and screamed.
That night for dinner, we had roasted chicken and steamed corn on the cob.
Sis put hers in a dress and cried.

Was A Rabbit

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A cop fireman-carried the lifeless body into the morgue.
The cause of his death is listed as “Basketball.”
Every so often, the coroner gets bored with Heart Disease and Cancer, so she cuts loose a little with the weirder cases.
“Old man died while playing ball with some kids,” said the cop.
“We all gotta go sometime,” said the coroner.
“I guess so,” said the cop. “Do you have the money?”
“I need another week,” said the coroner.
The cop shot the coroner twice in the head, put the gun in the old man’s hand, and walked out the door.