Category Archives: Stories

The Ice Skater

 

This is a collaboration between Cowdog Creatives and myself.
It didn’t go perfectly… there was some confusion as to the exact nature or species of our hero, but after we embraced the mystery, it just added to the charm. I suggest you don’t overthink this one. Unless you really want to. If so, I will accept your fully fledged literary criticisms.
Enjoy!

 


 

Once upon a time there was a time traveler named Mickey. He decided to go forward to the future and see how his kid would grow up.

His kid was an honor student in present, but in the future he was sassy figure skater. Not that this was a bad thing… but their grandfather had been tragically killed while watching a figure skating competition, and Mickey was AGHAST. He ran out onto the ice and tried to stop his kid from competing, but he got run over by the skates of a one-hundred-competitor-parade. He lost a head. He ran to catch it as it slid across the ice but it was punted by Mickey’s son while he was performing his last spin. The head landed in a stroller and the mom mistook the head for her baby and left. Mickey and his kid now had to take care of the baby, but this was tough for them since it was a human baby.

Mickey was now a Headless, and he couldn’t really see well. Everything he saw was the other doting parents. Sometimes he would stub his toe and scream profanities at them and they would be startled. Often he had to eat baby food. They always babbled loudly over him when he tried to explain anything to them.

Meanwhile, his body had to be led around by his sassy son, who frequently grew impatient and abandoned him to get lattes.

One time he abandoned Mickey’s body in the bad part of the neighborhood and a pimp found him. His body was forced into prostitution and he was very popular since everyone wanted a good time without any judgemental words. Mickey’s sassy, figure skating son had to use his masculine wiles to entice them to let him go.

But it was too late. The Headless already had syphilis.

The parents of the head watched horrified as its nose decayed off.

“Syphilis,” said the doctor.

Syphilis.

The son put the body out pasture, where it could die a peaceful death in the grass. It leaked many fluids.

On the bright side, the leaked fluids from the Headless fertilized the pasture and a beautiful, large tree grew…it was vaguely shaped like a hydra.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

Still There

 

Anthony touched the pendant around his neck. It had been made for a girl, but he kept it under his shirt and nobody seemed to notice

He felt the reassuring carved pattern. It was still there.

Last month he had almost left it at a friend’s house after using her shower. When he’d noticed it missing, he felt physically ill. Fortunately his friend had found it. She gave it back to him without questions. She hadn’t needed an explanation. She knew.

He rubbed his thumb over the pattern. It was wearing flat already from his constant fidgeting with it. He had to stop or it would break. He sighed. He couldn’t wear the necklace forever. It wouldn’t last. It was just a cheap dollar store necklace.

He could follow her.

He watched the blood pulse in his wrists. He felt the thumping of his heart. He relished the feeling of his active brain and functional, painless eyeballs.

She wouldn’t have wanted him to.

Tink.

The charm fell off of the necklace, and he caught it in his absently fiddling fingers without thinking. He fished it out of his shirt and examined it.

Bright red flowers. The small plastic loop which connected it to the chain had finally torn through.

He would never be able to repair it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

The thing outside

A little horror story.

Alfred Hitchcock said, it’s the things you don’t see that scare you. I wrote this a few years ago as an exercise on that concept.

 

 


 

We shivered in the dark, listening to it scratch against the door. Turning the lights out had not tricked it. It could smell us.

“Let’s go out the back,” my little sister Anita said, casting a nervous glance behind her.

“It moves too fast,” I said, but I glanced behind me as well. It was worth a shot.

Slowly we made our way backwards, feeling behind us, not taking our eyes off the kitchen door. We could hear it outside, scrabbling against the old grainy wood softly, insistently. We got halfway to the back door and then the scratching stopped.

Anita froze. We stared at the door, waiting for it to do something, but nothing was happening.

“We have to shut it inside. Then we can get to the car,” Anita said, pulling the car keys off of the counter and handing them to me.

“Are you crazy?” I whispered back, risking a glance her way. “That means one of us would have to open the door.”

She didn’t flinch. She stared at the door, her long braid resting on her shoulder, her eyes focused, waiting for some noise or indication of what it was doing now. All scratches had stopped. The other side of the door was silent. Too silent.

“Do you think it’s going around to the back door?” Anita whispered.

Suddenly I couldn’t move. I heard a desperate sort of gasp escape my throat.

“What?” She turned to look at me, alarmed.

“The back door isn’t locked,” I choked out.

Anita never hesitated. She dashed to the back room, and I watched her as she raced, her feet thumping loudly on the hardwood floor. It would hear that, I thought. It would hear that and circle around. I could see everything happening in crystal clarity, but was stricken by a horrible paralysis, unable to speak or move fast enough to prevent her from doing what she was doing.

Anita was a yard away from the door when it clicked open before her. Something pale was coming through. Finding my feet, I turned, unable to look, and ran toward the kitchen, toward the door, toward safety.

Anita screamed and screamed.

I burst out of the kitchen and slammed the door shut behind me, but the thick wood only slightly muffled the sound of my little sister dying.

I called her name through the wood. I cried out into the blank night. I kicked the door and pounded until my fist was bloodied with splinters. All this I did. But I could not make myself open that door.

When I paused for breath, there was a wet noise from within the house. It was lingering, distracted by the blood.

I still held the keys in my shaking hand. But I didn’t want to drive away from here, not if she wasn’t with me. Next to the car key was a smaller key with a cheery owl key cover which Anita had bought ages ago; the key to the shed. Where the power tools were kept.

I smiled joylessly.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

Nerd Love

Um, I just wrote this for myself and it’s really silly. I’m posting it unedited because something in me says if I don’t post it now, I won’t post it at all.

Every time I talk shit on romances, I immediately try to write one. This is the closest to a real romance that I’ve probably ever written.

 


 

Maura was allergic to everything. Gluten, dairy, eggs, barley, tomatoes, and of course peanuts. She had so much EpiPen, she started to get high off it. When forced into social situations, she would sometimes take an allergen just so she could stick herself with the EpiPen. She was also a cutter and an alcoholic and an asthmatic.

Being thin and pale and unable to leave her filtered house without all kinds of defenses, she spent a great deal of her time playing video games inside. She was amazing at video games. She was top level in her RPG, high man in the FPS, and a real whiz at MineSweeper.

One day she heard about a new game called “Knock Your Socks Off.” She wasn’t sure what it was, but it got good reviews, so she downloaded it and started it up.

An electric shock from her computer jolted through her, she kicked spasmodically until her socks went sailing clear across the room.

When she woke up, a beautiful man was leaning over her. He had chromium gray eyes, a steel cut chin, and a build like… Shrek. Hm. “Are you okay?” He said.

She let him help her up before she realized he was in her room. “How did you get here? Who are you?”

“Oh, I’m sorry! I’m your neighbor Ralph. I just moved in.”

She looked around. Her computer was dead.

“Did the power go out?”

“Yes, I think there was a massive surge. I saw lightning flicker across my ceiling. Then I heard a loud crash from your room next to mine and when I came out to see, your door had blown clean off the hinges.  What do you think could have done this? Does your computer draw a lot of power?”

“Oh… no…” she said weakly. Her computer was a Behemoth 10,000, top of the line, and waayy over the building’s electric capacity. She had saved for two years just to afford the payments.

Her throat felt itchy. Wait.. no door!? Oh no. She hadn’t taken any antihistamines or otherwise prepared for this attack on her respiratory system. Her face was already swelling up. She was going to die. She was getting delirious on the fear and adrenaline and lack of oxygen. Losing to delirium.

“Kiss me you mad impetuous fool,” she said thickly, and pulled him into a kiss.

Peanuts. He tasted of peanuts.

She was definitely going to die.

“WORTH IT,” she managed to choke out as everything went chromium gray.

 

The next thing she knew, she wasn’t dead. The EpiPen high was flooding through her. Her mouth tasted of  strange lip balm. And peanuts. And misery. And climate control? Whence came this life-giving air filtration?

She shook her head to clear it, then regretted that move when a headache slammed into her like a Mack truck.

“Oh my god, you’re awake!” A magnificent baritone took the edge of her pain. There he was. Concerned gray eyes. High gloss full black hair. And… well, she’d always been fond of Shrek anyway.

“I realized your climate control was gone so I brought you into my place. I hope that’s okay.”

“You administered the EpiPen?”

“I’m a diabetic. I know how to give a shot.”

A diabetic… with climate control… EpiPen anytime..?

All of the sudden Maura couldn’t talk to him anymore. “Thank you,” she managed. “If you ever want a sugar free dessert… I have a lot of sugar free jello in my cabinet I didn’t know what to do with.”

His eyes widened. “I… love jello,” he said.

That was their first awkward moment together.

 

So they got married and lived together in nerdy bliss and rarely had to leave their house. Ralph invited a lot of people over though, and Maura was forced to make more friends.

 

The end

 

Mystery Albatross

 

Where did this albatross come from.

It’s dead on my living room rug. We don’t even live near the ocean. Could this be a prank? It’s fresh. Do I know anyone who went to the sea recently?

Albatrosses mean something, don’t they? I can’t recall.

Well, I’ll just have to throw it out with the rest of the dead animals in my living room. I really need to get around to that.

 

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