Category: My stories

The Gliders

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Observer gliders soar through the clouds, spreading the latest batch of chemicals cooked up by the Weather Division.
“Rain will be purple today,” they said.
The chemicals are meant to turn the rain purple, but the rain is more pink than purple.
And when we catch it on our tongues, it burns.
Everybody runs for cover, and we watch the streets sizzle with acidic fury.
Then, the storm passes, and we wander the pock-marked streets stained with the melted-off paint from cars.
The Weather Division promises orange rain tomorrow morning.
We put on our gas masks and go to sleep.

Vagrant

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Of all of Zeus’ guises, he enjoyed taking the form of a vagrant the most.
There was something strange about having a body, but still being invisible to everyone around him.
Nobody sees what they don’t want to see.
People would pass him by, only noticing him if he were in their way, blocking their progress through their pointless mortal lives.
“Get out of my way, you bum!” growled a merchant. “Can’t you see I’m busy shopping for my wife?”
Leda, isn’t it? thought Zeus.
He smiled a rakish smile and took the form of a swan.
A well-endowed swan.

the Needle

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I prefer analog to digital displays.
There’s just something about watching a needle pulse inside a dial, crawling slowly up the scale into the red.
You don’t get the same sense of urgency when you see a bunch of numbers laid out on a console. Or a set of colored LEDs, lighting up in series.
The needle throbs and twitches, like it’s alive.
You forget it’s just a measuring device, wired through miles of circuitry.
That’s what happened to me and the temperature indicator in my capsule.
Down…
Down…
Down…
How could you betray me, needle?
You were my friend.

The Music Man

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Don Music was a puppet on a children’s show who’d get so frustrated trying to compose a song, he’d bash his head against the piano keys and give up.
Sadly, some children got the crazy idea that the proper response to frustration is to bash your head repeatedly against it.
These kids would bash their heads against their desks, balefully moaning “I CAN’T DO IT!”
One was the son of a florist, and after school he’d help out in the shop.
No matter what he tried, he never could keep a cactus alive, so he-
On second thought, don’t ask.

Beating

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My stomach is growling.
But I just ate.
I just ate a dog. And the dog is growling.
It’s a small dog, so I could still be hungry.
And if my stomach is growling because I am still hungry, the dog might be growling back at my stomach.
I will beat it with a hammer until it stops growling.
(The dog, not my stomach)
(Although if I beat the dog, I beat my stomach, since it is inside my stomach.)
I should never have eaten the dog.
But I was hungry and my stomach was growling.
Like it is now.

Troll

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Every time I need to cross the river, I look forward to crossing the troll’s bridge.
He does a fine job of keeping the bridge maintained, and has recently strengthened it for heavier cart traffic.
Commerce and trade are booming now.
Today, I’m delivering kegs to his tavern.
“More ale!” cheers the troll.
Every patron stands up and raises their flagons in respect to the host.
Hungry? His wife bakes the most excellent pies. Sometimes I come here just for the pie.
We unload the kegs and unhitch three goat from the front of the cart.
Love those goat-meat pies.

City of Smoke

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The smoke came gradually, over decades.
At first, people could go around with a wet handkerchief on their faces, but after a while we needed full facemasks and breathing filters.
Eventually, nothing but air tanks would suffice.
Travelers say the Five Cities have also been swallowed by the smoke, and it has almost reached the Sea of Sorrows.
Warlock Sturgis once kept the smoke at bay, but he and his apprentice vanished years ago.
He left his library behind, but none of the sages and scholars can comprehend his writings.
Maybe one day he’ll return.
Until then, we breathe uneasy.

A Medical Issue

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The minister’s absence was explained as a “medical issue.”
He sat in the morgue, waiting for the coroner to find a body similar to his for substitution.
“What about DNA?” asked the coroner.
The minister rolled up his sleeve. “Take blood from me now, compare it to itself when they bring you the body back.”
The coroner nodded, took a needle from the supply closet and swabbed the minister’s arm.
The minister smiled, and then his strange face went slack.
The new minister entered the room, patted the coroner on the shoulder.
“Poisoned needle?” he said.
The coroner destroyed it.

Mirror Mirror

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What?
Yes, my name is Mirror Mirror.
My parents had a sick sense of humor.
The Queen was just plain sick.
When she found out about my skill with poetry, I was dragged to the castle so that I could heap praise upon her beauty.
Well, until that beauty faded.
Then, one day, I caught a glimpse of a beautiful girl walking down the road outside the castle.
“Snow White,” the scullery maid said her name was.
I was left speechless.
The Queen asked me who the fairest of all was.
I answered, and was chained to the dungeon wall.

Keep Warm

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Winter is coming, and we watch the nearby islands raise their sails to catch the tradewinds for warmer seas.
But ours will not join them in the Great Migration.
“We stay,” says the tribal chief. “We have plenty of food, warm houses to live in.”
“But it will be cold!” the people say. “We can be warm all year round like the others.”
“Then go join them,” said the chief. “Get in your canoes and go to them.”
Many leave, but even more arrive from other islands.
“We will help you stay warm,” they say.
The chief winks and grins.