Back with another short story. After a slow start it gains momentum and begins to make sense…or not.
The Discovery
I awoke that morning a little late. Still sleepy, I sat up drowsily and pushed the pillows behind my back. I sat like that for a while collecting my thoughts, then decided to get up, but the farthest I got was to sit on the side of the bed, my feet on the floor. I reached over to the night stand, took a cigarette and smoked it, just looking around my shabby apartment. In thirty ye
I wrote this a few years ago. It actually was a dream I had, from beginning to end, so I thought I'd write it down as a story. It appeared in my old deleted blog and was fairly popular. I keep posting older stories because I'm not sure I can write new stories anymore. But if you haven't read it, it's new, right?
The White Birds
Mom and dad and me were in the motel room when there was a knock on the door. I was standing by the door so I opened it, and Joey came in. He had a gun in his hand, poi
I was scared when I heard those footsteps, I can tell you. I looked over to Henry and his eyes were wide and staring. The sound of the steps were moving to our right, and I figured pretty soon they’d reach the start of the wavy pillar we were hiding behind.
I looked that way, expecting to see whoever was walking to appear. I sort of scrunched down, but I knew that wouldn’t help if whoever it was peered around the pillar. He’d see us. All of a sudden the footsteps stopped a little way past us. I
Henry and me carefully moved through the doorway of the vent into the room beyond. It was a really big room with a high ceiling way up there. There were a couple lights high up, but they didn’t shine too bright, so the room was pretty gloomy. There were big grey machines hulking around here and there, and pipes and tubes running overhead everywhere.
We shuffled about a bit, being cautions. I was real nervous about actually being in the Dome, but excited, too. We didn’t know if there was anybody
Inside the garden it was more beautiful than I had imagined it would be. The warm breeze fluttering delicate leaves on the tall trees, the fresh scent of flowers blooming in all their colors, the green of the soft grass underfoot, the pure blue of the clear sky above and the warmth of the yellow sun embracing all.
I strolled for a while in the garden among the people of the Dome. Everyone seemed happy in their leisure, in their comely youth, quietly chatting among themselves enjoying the lovely
My Spirit Guide
I was doing some automatic writing. My spirit guide, George, was reporting some gossip he had heard on the Ethereal Plane. Something about something or other somebody was doing that had not met the standards of etiquette considered proper in that heavenly realm. He mentioned some names, but I didn’t know who he was talking about so I lost interest, although my pen was still writing vigorously. I often loose interest in what George has to say. He has a tendency to go on and o
I am coming to the end of this life of mine. I have dropped my seed some time ago, and by now the thing that it has become is hunting me. I have been clever in hiding, but I know it is only a matter of time before I am discovered.
I think I do not mind death so much now as I have grown old and feeble, and it has become more and more difficult to sustain myself. This is the natural way of life and I cannot complain. I have led a full life for a very long time. Soon I will join my esteemed ancest
I walked out the front door of my shack and faced the morning. It was hot as usual. The rains had ended a month ago, and now the prospect was for dry weather. I kicked the ground and dust rose to my ankles. “Oh well,” I thought to myself, “another summer.”
I looked out across the village. Sooty smoke was rising from various tin chimneys slowly congealing in the thick air. I was hungry, and it was breakfast time. I had eaten all of whatever I had scrounged the day before. I don’t even remember w
The crippled Thing whimpered once more piteously in its corner and was silent. It lay motionless. I looked to the Bio. He was watching it intently, as well. “Is it dead?” I asked. The human said nothing. I turned back to the crip. I took a few steps toward it, and the Bio said quietly, “Leave it alone.”
I backed away. “What is happening?” I asked. “I thought you could cure the poor Thing of its troubles and pain. You haven’t even spoken to it. I know you have no sympathy for us Replicas, but wh
The Machine Age
I stand on the shore looking out over the water; the dim sun low on the horizon. Soon the sun will set in subdued glory, but not in the glory it once held. Soon the sand under my feet will be bathed in a warm, orange glow, and the gentle ripples of the water before me will be dappled with this peaceful color. How I had loved these moments in the past.
I swivel my head to look at the city behind me. It had also a metallic tinge of orange, it’s curved and twisted metal caught in
This is kind of an old story, but for some reason it's one of my favorites.
My Name is Jack
My name is Jack, and I’m supposed to tell you about places I’ve been and things I’ve done. What I can remember, anyway.
Well, for one thing, I remember I live in the suburbs, and there’s this big hill about five miles away, I can see it real good from my second-story bedroom window. It’s about maybe two hundred feet tall. It’s more like a big mound, really.
Around it is a sort of park where people con
And so we sat on the scaffolding high above the floor below. The light was brighter up there as we looked around us at tubes and pipes wandering away in all directions, wondering what it was all about. Below were the big machines, gray and shadowy.
After a while, Henry turned to face me. “Let’s go get this guy,” he said, like he’d maked up his mind. I could see his eyes dancing in his head, a look on his saggy face I didn’t like to see. “We got no choice. We gotta move him outta the way to get
I think I have one more story to post. It’s in several chapters, and I’m not sure it will interest anyone, as I’m not really a very competent writer of fiction. I want to thank you who have read my poor efforts, or tried to. They’re all just ideas, really, written out in fictional form. Ideas that interest me, and not necessarily anyone else, of course.
This last one is The Dome story, which I posted a couple years ago or whatever, but never finished. My brain rebelled at all the thought requir
For myself at the moment Sasha was the main attraction. Sasha, all in red, was leaning against a purple Rolls Royce. Her major interest at the moment were her nails, which were red, also. She looked good leaning against the Rolls and looking at her nails. Sasha looked good leaning against anything looking at anything.
I never saw her actually do anything, though. I suppose she didn’t need to. I’m not sure what Sasha’s talents were, besides the obvious. She was just well connected. In our world
We know there are Laws, but no one knows what these laws are. This peculiar situation leads to a life of anxiety, especially if one is a curious person, and I am perhaps more curious than others. There is a danger in being curious, but I have felt this way my entire life, and I can not stop now.
As no one knows the Laws, one never knows if one has broken one of them. Being of an inquisitive nature, this constant uncertainty is always lurking in the back of my mind. Others do not seem to be over
The village I am presently in is not much to look at, but it has the usual Hostel, and here I have settled in for the night. It’s a difficult life for us Travelers, always on the move. I sometimes envy the Dwellers, their stable life with family and friends, but I wasn’t born to that kind of life.
I have spent all my life on the Path from my youth, as many of us have. We travel sometimes in groups, sometimes alone making our way as best we can. The villagers look on us as fools. We endure their
So I walked quick, trying to get to the other side of the Dome, far away as it might be. I kept looking up and looking around. I thought maybe this dome was more scary than I thought, me being alone and all. I finally reached where this part of the dome ended and stores and stuff stopped. I didn’t know what there was around here. Just doors and empty walls. I walked along these empty walls for a while. There wasn’t too many people in this area, so I felt a little better.
I relaxed some. Maybe m
Thunder rumbled somewhere in the troubled distance that night for eight men in a hidden laboratory. Three wore white gowns, three lay on hospital tables while one hovered over them anxiously. Another distinguished looking man, the eights, a certain Professor Moritz, sat to the side in a chair, observing.
The three lying on tables had metal helmets covering their shaved heads. Many, many wires, thin as spider’s silk, ran in bundles from the helmets up, up to complex connections in the ceiling. F
The Library is situated in a grand park in the center of the city. It is a most conspicuous structure, a giant cathedral, really. It is constructed of stone, and as it towers over all others and can be seen from great distances.
On my first visit to the Library I was naturally awed by its immense interior. The large multi-colored windows on every side allowing streamers of radiant light illuminating the vast shelves of books were very impressive. But, what really struck me was its labyrinthine
So I wandered around aimlessly for a while, thinking things over. What Zara said could be some of the answers I was looking for, but Dirth didn’t seem to think much of him. I didn’t want to get caught up in something that was phony, just a lot of gibberish. Zara was okay, but was he telling the truth or just jabbering about his imagination?
I wondered where Henry was. The dome was so big I didn’t think I’d just run into him someplace by accident, and looking for him was just as pointless
So the next day me and Henry set out through the dust for the little hill. He had his gas masks tucked away in a little cloth sack slung over his shoulder. As we walked he kept looking at me and grinning, grinning his gummy, toothless grin. A horrible sight, I must admit.
The dust puffed up around our shoes as we walked like little explosions. I studied them for a while as we walked. I study a lot of meaningless things, like dust and the grey formless sky. I always hope I see something differen
After all the Clerics had left the room, I stood and quietly followed where they had gone. They had passed through a door on the side, to the right of the entranceway. I wanted to see where they were, maybe to talk to them. I paused at the door, wondering if I would get into trouble being someplace I wasn’t supposed to be. The Cleric guys didn’t even notice me as they passed, so I figured maybe they didn’t care me being there.
So I slowly opened the door and went through. I was in
The street was dirty, of course, as Khazi and I strolled along, tumbled down buildings on either side, refuse everywhere around us. The wind was picking up dust and flinging it in our faces, the usual dregs lay about, mostly oblivious to us and pretty much everything else. Khazi was carelessly whistling some old forgotten tune, hands in pockets as usual. The way you walk with your hands in your pockets I think is nice in its gate. Maybe that’s one reason I like Khazi so much. Khazi has style, ju
With a smile and a wave, the man was gone. Henry and I looked at each other. “This better work,” I said. “Let’s get to the machine room and hide down in the darkness.”
So we snuck out from behind the wavy pillar, peeked around the corner and walked through the door to the machine room, past the glass room with the silent man still sitting in it, down the metal steps and hid behind a great, grey machine.
When we got good and settled, I asked Henry, “You think this guy will come back?”
“He bett
Professor Schmaltzenberger was pacing back and forth in his office when the telephone rang. He picked up the receiver and said, “Hello?”
“Hello, Professor? This is Dr. Reinhold.”
“Dr. Reinhold, I’m glad you called. I’m afraid I may have some bad news. Do you know that our friend Otto is dead?”
“Dead?” Dr. Reinhold replied in surprise. “How and when did this happen?”
“Last night,” the Professor said. “The police were just here. He was shot. Who could have done such a thing?”
“I don’t
