Category Archives: Stories

The Visitors

 

I opened the window long before sunrise. Then I walked through the whole house, looking for anything that they might use against me in the light. A piece of hard candy on the floor could be a fatal mistake.

I had to placate them.

Even though I hadn’t told them anything, my children were on edge. They knew something was wrong. Kids are good at reading their parents.

A small sound in the hallway made me jump. But it was only my youngest daughter, in her footie pajamas, her face screwed up in childish misery.

“Mommy,” she said. “What is that smell?”

“Quiet, baby. It’s just the Visitors. Go back to sleep. I love you.” I held her close so she wouldn’t see my tears. I love you.

By the time she went back to sleep, the daylight was upon us in full force. I hadn’t begun the sacrifice. I hadn’t done enough. It didn’t matter; no matter how much I did, it was never enough.

I hurried to the kitchen and got out the eggs, the bacon, the butter for the sacrifice. They must be appeased.

A fatty thumping on the stairs.

Oh my god oh my god.

And there in the kitchen archway stood a harbinger of the apocalypse, my mother in law, cigarette in hand. She wore a puffy pink robe, which had fallen open, exposing her grotesque choices in underwear and in self-care.

“Where’s breakfast,” she snarled.

The other one would be down any minute. Soon our home would become a hellscape.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

Defied

Just an exercise. Trying to get bigger, more interesting words back into my active vocabulary.

Does this sound stodgy to you, or is it nice?

 


 

The cat looks intently at the edge of the table. Her bronze eyes bespeak her intentions: she would try her reign from this elevated place. Coiling springlike energy down into her haunches, an instant of quiet tension and calculation. Then, in one powerful movement, she launches herself three feet into the air, hooks her paws on the edge and forwards herself even higher, a leap of such precision and delicacy that might put any prima donna to shame. By the time gravity catches up with her, it is too late; she has already gained purchase of her goal with all four paws. A wondrous maneuver, brilliantly executed.

Unfortunately, she cannot stay.

You scoop one open hand under her belly, lift her scant weight with hardly an effort, and transport her to an area which is more convenient for you. The instant you pick weight up off of her legs, they become silken fluid. She droops, either extreme of her small form dangling, limp as wet seaweed, from your unyielding support. Her apparent power has been shattered. She knows the futility of struggling in this gargantuan grip. Instinct and training directs her to wait until she is liberated, as struggle will only injure. The cat has been effectively paused.

Once you arrive at an adequately removed location, you deposit her back on her dainty feet with a inconsequential drop of a few inches. She absorbs the concussion with all the grace of a liquid creature.

Her coat is ruffled from your handling of her, and from her discontent. The tip of her tail indignantly flicks. This goddess, a miniature incarnation of noble wilderness, in whose eyes still blaze the sands of ancient Egypt, has had her will defied.

Disoriented, she sniffs, acquainting herself with the alternative locale, and selects for herself a new throne. She will not spare a glance in your direction.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

Garlic breath

 

“Kiss me,” she said.

He wasn’t sure. He could smell the garlic from here, and it wasn’t pretty.

“I have an idea,” he said, leaning away. “How about we whip up some mint milkshakes?” It was a good idea, but she wasn’t biting.

“I’m fuuuuuull,” she pouted. The garlic rolled by him as she whined the word, an invisible tsunami that hit him with nearly physical force. It was all he could do to keep himself upright.

“I can’t,” he murmured. “I just can’t.”

“What?”

“I SAID I CAN’T,” he cried out desperately. “I’m sorry! You’re just too garlicky!”

Her warm, cozy expression shattered. “What?”

“I’m so sorry! I can’t be in this room with you any more!”

He ran like the hounds of hell were after him, burst out the door, stumbled down the stairs, and zoomed away in his car.

She leaned back in the couch, nonplussed. She never got a reaction like that from a man. Garlic odor? What an odd way for his fears to manifest.

She grabbed her phone and sent a group text to her coven.

Sorry gals. He was a sensitive, sensed something wrong and ran. I’ll get us a fresh one tomorrow night, I promise.

 

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The Bag Boy

 

This is another old one, from years, eons into the past, back when I was young and beautiful and full of shit. I actually don’t remember when I wrote it… that’s how old it must be.

 

 


 

“I don’t think so,” she said with marked finality.

The grocery boy paused in his bagging before he realized that she had an earpiece in and was speaking on the phone.

“No, no, I–yes, that’s mine, just put that — NO, I can’t let you do that…”

The grocery boy slipped a black cat into one of the plastic grocery bags and tied it off while she was distracted.

“Because it wouldn’t look good… because it’s stupid.”

The grocery boy slipped a dachshund into the other plastic bag and tied it off.  This was a little harder, as the dachshund was wily.

“No, just put it– yes, put it center, like I asked.  …center, like I told you. This conversation is over.”

She clicked off her earpiece, grabbed all the bags without acknowledging him, and headed for the door.

Then her groceries exploded into action.

Lean Meal Frozens skittered across the floor.  Peaches sailed through the air in a flurry of barks and yaps.  An otherworldly scream sounded from within the second grocery bag, and a bag of frozen french fries went straight up into the air, pirouetted, and plummeted straight down onto the startled woman’s head.

The cat and the dachshund clawed their way free from the bags she dropped, and streaked out of the room after each other in a blur of primal fury.

Lemons stopped rolling.  Graham crackers skittered to a halt.  The woman collapsed, dead with fright.

The manager poked his head out of the staff room and quickly appraised the scene.

“Goddamnit!” he said.  “Who keeps putting animals in the groceries?”

Nobody said a word.  

The bagboy smiled to himself and surreptitiously slipped a ferret into a distracted woman’s purse.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

Ricky the Elephant

Once upon a time there was an elephant named Ricky. Ricky had asthma and couldn’t go through the tall grass without sneezing and his throat seizing up. His mom got him an atomizer with a special elephant mask, and it helped, but he got bored missing out at the atomizer while the other elephants romped in the air pollution and irritants.

He decided to move to the city, where he could be an indoor elephant and breath only air that was conditioned, filtered, and purified. He called ahead and got himself an office job via phone interview.

When he got there for his first day, he was dismayed to find that the elevator wasn’t designed to capacitate his size.

Okay, he thought, I just have to take the stairs.

But when he opened the stairwell door, it was too narrow. He couldn’t even fit through it, and just looking up that skinny stairwell gave him claustrophobia.

Ricky decided to go outside the building and see if there were any alternatives. He saw a window washer’s lift. It was the best option he’d had yet.

Climbing in, Ricky felt a wave of vertigo, but he pushed it away with sheer willpower. He wanted this job. He found the remote and pushed the button. Up he went.

As he ascended, the engine started to make a strangled noise. Ricky looked at the sign and saw the weight capacity was thousands of pounds below his own weight. This made him dizzier than before, but he was nearly there, so he kept on.

When he got to the eighteenth floor, he found, to his horror, that the window was smooth glass,  unpunctuated by latch or hook. The vertigo was setting in strong. He couldn’t take it. He swayed into the glass and shattered the pane, tumbling into the room with a frightened trumpet.

“GAH! An elephant just broke in!” Someone yelled.

People screamed and scattered in all directions.

Ricky opened his mouth to explain that this was an accident, he was here for an interview but the building lacked sufficient accommodations, but his stress levels were too high from the vertigo and the social ostracism. He had an anxiety attack and an asthma attack, all at once, and all he could do was make wretched zombie noises. This only served to heighten the atmosphere for the humans.

A man in puffed sleeves had a harpoon hanging over his cubicle. The office man who wanted to be a sailor, at last his time had come. He pulled the harpoon from its fastenings, aimed, and launched it at the elephant.

The impact drove it into Ricky’s shoulder, where it didn’t do much damage, but stung quite a bit.

“Take that ye land whale!” the would-be sailor shouted proudly.

Ricky had had enough. The interview was not worth this. He took the stairs down. The less said about that the better; it was a whole new kind of nightmare, especially the corners.

Work sucks, Ricky thought. I’m moving back into mom’s savanna. At least there, I only have ONE thing wrong with me.

So he did, and lived happily ever after for the perspective.

 

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