Tag: mystery

Jonah

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Looking back, I guess it’s a bit disappointing that man never invented a faster than light star drive.
The Jonah, on the other hand, was just sitting there on Io, waiting for God knows how long.
It took a few years, but we eventually figured out how to use it. Even managed to make functional copies of it.
But we still haven’t figured out how it works or why it works. We just make it work.
That’s good enough for me, I think as I step into the space-whale’s mouth.
Take me to the Heavens. I’m late for a meeting.

Nanny

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Just as Nanny raised me, she raised you. And just as she raised you, she will raise your daughter.
Nanny has raised the children in our family for five centuries now.
Why would you refuse Nanny’s services? After all, part of her regimen is to instill the simple truth that Nanny must raise all generations of our family.
It has always been that way. It always will.
Why you would rebel against this simple thing can mean only one thing: you are not actually my daughter.
Tell me what you did with her, and I promise you won’t suffer much.

Compass Rose

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My staff travels the globe, searching for plants to send back so I can add them to my garden.
Some years, they don’t find much. Other years, I can barely keep up with the acquisitions.
This past month, all I’ve received is a packet of seeds with the label “Compass Rose” on it.
No pH readings or sunlight profiles. Not even a soil sample.
My people know better. I can’t just plant blindly. Such fragile specimens they are, some don’t even survive shipping back to me.
I’ll plant them anyway. Neutral soil, light, and water. We’ll see what comes up.

Zorro

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Every society has its zorro, a man who rises up and fights for the people.
In Zambia, he is known as Paktuku, Defender of the Wells, and he is armed with a golden spear.
In Estonia, he is Gabt, a mighty one-armed woodsman with a gnarled axehandle.
In Paraguay, the zorro has no name that is spoken aloud, but the people hint of “He who glides like a feather.”
But compared to all the other zorros of the world, I like the sissy in the black cloak and sword the best. Maybe it’s the big black horse he rides around.

Loyalty

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When Oscar needed to travel, he stuffed himself into a crate and had himself shipped.
He didn’t mind the cramped quarters. He was a master of Yoga and liked the challenge.
His secretary pled for him to travel business class, but he insisted on the crate.
One day, the crate vanished. The cargo company said it was lost. The databases drew a total blank.
Despite top-down searches of every warehouse, Oscar never reappeared.
His secretary refused to give up, searching for years.
She stuffed herself into a crate, shipped herself, and vanished, too.
Maybe they’re together somewhere?
I hope so.

The Roar

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All he could remember from the speech was saying “Thank you” and descending the steps from the stage.
“Great speech!” said his assistant. “Inspiring!”
He thought for a moment. Still a blank.
“What speech?”
The audience, applauding even louder, shouted for more.
He looked at his notes.
Blank.
“Go ahead,” said his assistant, pressing a sheaf of paper in his hand. “Give them an encore.”
“An encore of what?”
He looked at the new set of notes.
Also blank.
He shrugged, stood up, and raised his fist in the air as he walked back up the stairs to the stage.

Sammy was the Sole Survivor

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Five kilometers past Strayhorn Reef was where the map said the lost freighter exploded and sank.
Bits and pieces of the vessel littered the ocean floor, if 2-ton glowing chunks of iron and steel could be described as a bit or piece.
The only survivor of the wreck was a one-legged parrot. All it said was “Sammy!”
The investigators tried to coax more out of the parrot, using crackers and peanuts, but all it ever said was “Sammy!”
Divers went down, but never came up. Even when tagged, their signal would vanish.
And so did they.
“Sammy!” shrieked the parrot.

Scenario D

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“Scenario D,” said a voice.
Darkness everywhere, his ears ringing.
Was he indoors? Outdoors?
Ed thumbed the switch on the flashlight.
Dead.
He twisted off the top, rattled out the batteries, and felt for the poles.
He put the flashlight back together, and flicked the switch again.
Still dead.
Ed felt around the ground, but it felt somewhere between concrete and pavement.
No ambient noise. The ringing.
“HELLO!” he yelled.
No echo. Or…
“HELLO!”
The ringing wasn’t helping.
He got down on the ground and crawled around Scenario D for what seemed like hours.
“My name is Ed,” he mumbled.

Dragon’s Hoard

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Nobody knew why Dragon’s Cliff was named as it was.
Except Arthur. He knew.
Arthur clutched Captain Dragon’s treasure map and laughed.
“Fifty more paces, and I’ll be rich,” he mumbled.
As his feet walked the final fifty paces, his mind raced through all the wonderful things he’d buy with the gold.
Or diamonds. Or whatever Dragon had buried.
It was after forty-five paces that Arthur encountered two forces of nature at once:

  • Erosion had worn away the cliffs in the three centuries since Dragon made his map.
  • Gravity yanked him the seventy feet down to the rocks below.

Thud.

The Sea of Lost Children

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The Crown Prince put down his teacup.
“There is no abortion in the Kingdom,” he said.
He smiled. We smiled.
Ten hours later, the GPS unit told us to stop.
“Welcome to the Sea of Lost Children,” said our guide, pointing at the dunes.
We took turns digging.
Eventually, we found them.
“Suffocated in plastic,” said Bob. “Postnatal. No abortion.”
“Just plain murder,” I said. “How convenient.”
That’s when we heard choppers.
We tried to run, but soldiers surrounded us.
“Keep digging,” commanded an officer. “You sought them out, so join them now.”
Ever breathe plastic?
I don’t recommend it.