Tag: Short Stories

Let’s Look at African Escape

Originally, I had thought of African Escape as being a kind of prison break or a breakout from a POW camp. But after leaving it for over three years, I came up with a somewhat different, darker plot. Although the ending is somewhat hopeful.

Somewhat. Kinda.

I started this story during the third quarter of 2021. But I didn’t finish it until the second quarter of 2025.

Background

The original prompt word was Zanzibar. But I honestly had no idea what to do with this prompt (even though I was the one who wrote it, heh). I even had to look up where Zanzibar is on a map.

FYI, it’s an island in the Indian Ocean, and it’s part of Tanzania. Because it’s around 22 miles off the coast of East-Central Africa, paddling a boat there isn’t too unrealistic. But it’s just south of the equator, so it’s hot there a lot of the time.

Plot

Doctoral candidate Alicia Price has just started wrapping up a trip to Tanzania to find fossilized artifacts of the oldest humans ever. Her guide, Vic Van Maas, isn’t exactly one for doing everything perfectly legally.

And so, it comes as no great shock when Tanzanian residents start to object to their taking the artifacts.

Complicating matters is Alicia’s lover and mentor, Dr Philip MacLachlan, who sent her on the trip in the first place. And when Vic is killed as they try to flee with the artifacts, Alicia has to find a way to get back home to Philadelphia, preferably with the fossils.

Dr. MacLachlan is in Philly. But so is his jealous wife, Hazel.

With a clever talent for being able to assume just about any persona she can think of and putting on a fake name as readily as some people put on their shoes, Alicia just might make it.

Maybe.

Characters

The characters are Alicia Price, Vic Van Maas, Dennis Van Maas, Dr. Philip MacLachlan, Hazel MacLachlan, Godfrey Achebe-Makamba, Dr. Rose-Lynn Carter, and Captain Myron Juma. There are also Vic’s ex-wife Laura and their daughter, Kim.

Memorable Quotes

Once she was released, Alicia got herself a room at the smallest, cheapest, and most out of the way guest house she could find but could still walk to the beach. Her sole task was to retrieve the duffel. Returning to the scene, she found fishermen loading trawling nets onto a decent-sized motorboat. Alicia hiked up her skirt, wrung her hands, and did her best to play dumb tourist.

She approached the oldest guy she could find. “Excuse me, sir, but I was wondering if you could help me, please?”

“With what, Miss?”

“Well, it’s a little embarrassing, see.”

“I have no need to judge you, Miss…?”

“Marcia Ferndale.” Just in case you and my old pal Godfrey are buddy-buddy. “I was on one of those boat tours of the channel, you know the ones I mean?”

“Yes, of course. My first wife, she of blessed memory, used to work as a guide on those tours.”

“Oh, well, I am sorry for your loss, sir.”

“Captain Myron Juma.”

“Captain Juma, then. I had my duffel with me, and I was holding onto it. I really should be more trusting. It’s from living in cities for far too long, I believe. Anyway, I was holding it and leaning over the side when I spotted sharks! It frightened me so badly, that I dropped my duffel right into the channel.”

“Goodness, how dreadful,” said Captain Juma, but he didn’t sound convinced.

Rating for African Escape

The story has a K+ rating. There’s an onscreen death and a couple occur offscreen.

Takeaways from African Escape

Alicia isn’t Superwoman. She’s just trying to get from one point to another and then another. But just like a cat with nine lives, she kept coming up with a solution and landing on her feet. Does she finally make her African Escape?

Maybe.

Want to find out? You’ll have to read the story, of course.

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If this story resonates with you, then I hope you will check out some of my other blog posts about my shorter works.

Short Stories

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Let’s Look at Uninformed

A few years ago, as a sort of a dedication to any number of uninformed opinions masking as debate, I wanted to gather them all up. I was hoping to be able to just laugh at their absurdity.

But now? Now, I’m just more or less permanently dismayed at the state of public discourse.

Please, somebody help me, or my face will freeze into a snarky, skeptical, one eyebrow-raised mess.

And, frankly, I fear the same fate awaits many of us, as this kind of dreck continues to take over.

I wrote this story during the third quarter of 2021.

Background

The original prompt word was just the word that became the title.

Plot

Without too much of a plot to speak of, this ‘story’ is more of a collection of conspiracy theories and internet in-jokes taken far too seriously than anything else.

When I wrote this story, these so-called ‘theories’ were already the hallmark of the easily duped. But now, a few years later? These are almost tamer examples of the genre.

After all, who wants to tell folks that raw milk, ivermectin, and essential oils are nowhere on the same planet as effective treatments. Particularly when we have vaccines, which are actually effective.

But you, reader, I’m sure you were already well aware of all of that.

Characters

The characters are never truly named. But it should be relatively easy to spot the kinds of people they are.

Memorable Quotes

“The earth is flat. It’s just like a big old pancake.”

“Australia? Not real.”

“The earth is what, 6,000 years old?”

“Birds are a myth.”

“Contrails are poisoning our air with mood-altering chemicals.”

“Fluoride is destroying our water.”

“There’s no such thing as climate change.”

“Evolution is a myth.”

An Uninformed Rating

The story has a K rating. I suppose it’s really saying something when you realize that many conspiracy theories are truly dangerous. But for the most part, these are kind of tame.

Comparatively speaking, that is.

Takeaways for Uninformed

With today’s fairly constant bombardment of more and more aggressive ‘suggestions’ to use AI in every aspect of our lives, it is fairly well obvious that this kind of misinformation will just spread even more rapidly.

And with the current administration pushing fringe conspiracies and deleting or hiding discourse that does not agree with them, things are only going to get worse.

Put the two together, and our civilization just might be running, face first, into a buzz saw.

Now, there’s an image for ya.

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Let’s Look at Skating

When the human race really gets onto thin ice, we may end up realizing that skating was to blame all along. But this form of locomotion has nothing to do with ice or roller blades. Rather, it’s performed on air.
I wrote this story during the first quarter of 2021.

Background

The original prompt word and the title are the same word. Rather than write about hockey or the like, my brain decided to take a bit of a left turn. Sorry, not sorry.

Plot

While there isn’t too much of a plot here, the bottom line is the narrator can see the nasty endgame which a supposedly marvelous new invention may lead to. She doesn’t want to help usher in our eventual demise and returns the product.

But, of course, there are billions of people who do not share her sentiment. Hers is but one small voice against a roaring tide. And that should be kind of troubling to all of us, I would say.

Characters

The characters are the unnamed narrator and their grandson.

Memorable Quotes

I don’t even know why it’s still called skating. It’s more like hovering. Fast and slow hovering.

It’s an intriguing invention. Because your shoes never touch the ground, you could technically keep the same pair of shoes for decades. It’s only fashion or preference or growth—or, I suppose, dieting—which would make one ever want or need to change.

No more high impact walking or running, so our all-too fragile knees and ankles get a break.

No touching the outside ground, so there’s no need for sidewalks. When the larger version for cars comes out next year, there won’t be a need to ever pave a road again. I suppose we’ll keep some form of pathways and signage. Otherwise, we’d all become perpetually lost.

Rating for Skating

The story has a K rating. While the language is utterly fine, the end of humanity should give the reader at least a little pause. God, I sure hope so.

Takeaways for Skating

I really love the idea that something that could seem innocuous and even (perhaps) wholesome could lead to our eventual end. I wrote this story long before AI so much as existed.

But if you want to see it as being about artificial intelligence, well, I will not be the one to stop you.

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Want More of my Short Stories and Novellas?

If this story resonates with you, then I hope you will check out some of my other blog posts about my shorter works.

And finally, for a complete list of my shorter works, please be sure to check out the Hub Page—Short Stories as well.

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Let’s Look at Cave Canem and Cave

The title Cave Canem and Cave is a play on the Latin term, cave canem, which means ‘beware of dog’.

I wrote this story during the first quarter of 2021. The prompt word was huntresses.

Background

I kind of like the idea of writing about what are clearly major human milestones where the details are lost to the ages. So, why not fill in those blanks?

Plot

When a woman living in a cave during prehistoric times is the sole survivor of a fever, eventually a pregnant wolf comes to share her fire. Through time and trust, and uniting against a common foe, this small act of connection leads to the eventual domestication of dogs.

Characters

The characters are the narrator, the wolves, and the people of the intrusive tribe.

Memorable Quotes

They all died. Some from, I think, a cough. Others from the cold, or from hunger.

I am the only one left, and as a female I was never taught how to hunt. But I have watched. Watching is a great teacher. And so, once one of the old ones was dead, I took his spear. It took me many tries—more tries than I have fingers and toes—before I got anything. Hunger is a guide. It keeps you working toward your goal. My goal is to survive. It is the goal of anyone, I suppose.

I only had a little of the cough, and then I was better. But none of the others ever got better. I could tell they were suspicious of me. It’s easy to be skeptical when but one person seems to shrug off what, to everyone else, is an unmitigated disaster.

Rating for Cave Canem and Cave

The story has a K+ rating. One death is pretty chilling. With nature red in tooth and claw, this story is not exactly for the kiddies.

Takeaways for Cave Canem and Cave

Were dogs domesticated in this exact, precise way? Well, of course not. For one thing, I am most likely compressing events into a timeline that is far too short.

But it is entirely possible that I am not so far off the mark. Hear (er, read) me out, will ya, please?

Given dogs’ close genetic kinship to wolves, their forebears were likely hunters or scavengers or both. Therefore, being able to get a meal quickly, and with very little effort would be extremely appealing.

Yes, laziness is a kind of evolutionary advantage.

Plus, a weary yet fundamentally sociable animal might have found the warmth of a controlled fire to be appealing.

With the smell of some form of food nearby, an ancestor to dogs could have made a primitive cost-benefit analysis. And they would have found that the benefits most likely outweighed the costs.

In addition, the arrival of oh-so cute puppies would have sealed the deal for a lot of humans. This would be the case in particular if there had been any surviving children.

But our full connection to puppy dog eyes comes later.

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Short Stories

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A Review of The Shimmering Wasteland

I think my favorite part about The Shimmering Wasteland is that I can absolutely see something like this happening in the future.

I wrote this story during the third quarter of 2018. However, I do not believe there was any sort of a prompt word or phrase for it.

Background

The idea for this story came from the 25th anniversary of the deaths of David Koresh and the Branch Davidians in Waco, Texas.

Plot

Much like really happened in the United States in 1993, the government tries to work with a fringe group. In real life, in Waco, it was all about an illegal arms cache. But in this story, it’s all about aliens who refuse to pay their taxes.

Characters

The characters are the narrator, who is a human woman. But I don’t name her. There’s also her Briniq (more or less rhymes with unique) partner, 11721. Then there are nine Briniq tax scofflaws, including a female, 42753, and a male, 35235.

The other scofflaws are all younger Briniq, presumably the children of the two named ones.

Plus, there’s backup.

Memorable Quotes

We’d been driving for hours, or at least it felt that way. But the reality is that it’d only been minutes. But I was starving and parched as if it really had been hours, and the car was flirting with Empty.

It was just my traveling companion who was okay. But that’s no wonder, as he’s not human at all. He’s Briniq. They don’t sweat. They rarely drink or eat. They don’t expel waste too often, either. There’s just one day during their year – which is around three-quarters of one of ours – when they engage in any of those bodily functions. It’s rather unimaginatively called The Day and that data is in their archive of course.

That is to say, they do it all in that one day. My companion says it’s more or less a riot that day. All everyone does is consume or try to, and defecate. Or they try to. I’ve tried not to judge such things – and I’ve failed rather miserably.

But I’m going off topic, and 11721 wouldn’t like me talking too much about his tribe, anyway. I did tell him that his personal designation matches a ZIP code in southeastern Pennsylvania. He shrugged as much as he can with those alien shoulders of his. It’s an approximation at best.

Rating for The Shimmering Wasteland

The story has a T rating. While much happens off screen, it should still be plenty obvious to all readers that these Briniq are ready to do violence no matter what. And, at the same time, a governmental screwup makes things far, far worse.

You know, just like in the real Waco.

Takeaways from The Shimmering Wasteland

I like this idea a great deal, but some of the execution should be updated. In particular, with no description of the Briniq, there’s nearly nothing a reader can truly hold onto. Are they tall? Powerful? Winged? Grotesque?

Even I have no idea. Yet.

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If this story resonates with you (or if at least you can see some potential in it), then I hope you will check out some of my other blog posts about my shorter works.

Short Stories

Finally, for a complete list of my shorter works, please be sure to check out the Hub Page—Short Stories as well.

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Let’s Look at The Escape Violinist

The Escape Violinist is an exceptionally odd story. But reading it again in 2025, after leaving it fallow since maybe 2018, showed me how sweet and surprising it is.

I wrote this story during the first quarter of 2017.

Background

This story comes, at least in part, from a dream. Although I can’t exactly recall the sum and substance of the dream. But at the time, it had to have been compelling enough for me to go ahead and write a complete short story.

Plot for The Escape Violinist

Dying in a hospital bed, the narrator sees a violinist, a strange man she has never seen before. He plays some familiar music, and she is whisked away.

In the next locale, they’re in a car plunging off a cliff, when the violinist plays a different song, and then the scene shifts to a bar. Just before the narrator can be hit on the head with a beer bottle, the violinist plays again.

The cycle repeats itself: recognizable violin music, a scene right before what will apparently be someone’s demise, and then a shift to another place, but right after another song.

But the only experience that really stands out is Gloria, a young mother, who sacrifices herself.

Characters

The characters are the narrator, the original violinist, Gloria, Miguel, and various other people at the ends of their lives.

Memorable Quotes

I don’t know where he came from, and I don’t even know if he has a name.

But that’s all right.

Here; I’ll start from the beginning.

The truth is, the beginning is a little fuzzy, and it gets blurrier all the time. The main thing I recall is that I was in a hospital bed. It was the old Hollywood cliché of a bunch of wires and tubes. I was alone; I know that much. I think.

It was one of those rooms that doesn’t really have a door. So rude! You know what I’m saying? I mean, seriously, how’s a gal supposed to go to the bathroom in peace? It wasn’t too far from the nurses’ station. So they had to have seen him. And when he started playing, they had to have heard him, right? I mean, am I right?

He was just standing in the front part, where there’s a curtain on rollers and he had a violin and bow and he started playing. I suppose he was aware that I haven’t got a classical bone in my body and my tastes tend toward the pedestrian. So he played me the opening fiddle part of Dexy’s Midnight Runners’ ‘Come on Eileen’..

Yes, I have always been a Philistine.

Rating for The Escape Violinist

The story has a K rating. I definitely wrote this one before I got really prolific in 2018, so in some ways I think that gives it a fighting chance of being a better story. That is, I wasn’t wracking my brains half the time, trying to come up with something original every single day.

Takeaways

It’s a wacky kind of a story. But I think with some work, it could really be something good. Hmm. This one may very well be worth dusting off and polishing a bit.

What if there’s some true potential under all that pop music?

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Want More of my Short Stories and Novellas?

If this story resonates with you, then I hope you will check out some of my other blog posts about my shorter works.

Short Stories

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Let’s Look at Peddler

The idea of a peddler, to me, immediately brings to mind either drug dealing or an old-fashioned means of making a living. So, I kind of went with the second meaning.

Well, kind of. Sort of. I imagine you will see what I mean in a moment or two.

I wrote this story during the third quarter of 2021.

Background

The original prompt word was just the title. But this little story takes a dark turn and it ends up with what is essentially a ‘record scratch’ moment.

And so, in one rather small way, it has a little bit in common with the far sweeter A Kitten. But only a very, very little bit. For A Kitten is not a distressing story, not really.

But this one? Heh,

Plot

Ancha is a food vendor and is far from wealthy. The day is about to end without any sales, which would be disastrous for her and her poor family.

Characters

The characters are Ancha and various other vendors, plus a customer and her son. But the only character who I actually give a name to is Ancha herself. And please keep in mind: I never mention which species Ancha belongs to. Except it should become abundantly clear that it simply is not our own.

Memorable Quotes

“Fresh! Fresh!” Ancha hollered over the din of the marketplace.

“Sweets!” yelled someone nearby.

“Meat!” “Grains!” “Beverages!” “Bitter fruits for a sophisticated palate!”

It was all so much cacophony. Ancha couldn’t hear herself think. She’d have to sell quickly. Her wares wouldn’t be fresh for too much longer. Her family was poor. Throwing away what should have been a day’s worth of profits? It would be far too depressing.

Rating for Peddler

The story has a K rating. But do not mistake that for this being any sort of sweet or pleasant story. Because God knows it is anything but that.

Takeaways for Peddler

If things ever go really, really badly for us as a species, don’t ever count out something like this happening. It is all-too possible for the human race to, essentially, turn into cattle for another species. Hopefully, things don’t ever get that dire for us.

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Want More of my Short Stories and Novellas?

If this story resonates with you, then I hope you will check out some of my other blog posts about my shorter works.

And finally, for a complete list of my shorter works, then please be sure to check out the Hub Page—Short Stories as well.

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Let’s Look at Never

The prompt word reminded me of the game, Never Have I Ever. Except I have absolutely conflated it with Truth or Dare here.

Eh, no biggie.

I wrote this story during the third quarter of 2021.

Background

The original prompt word was just the title. It’s another quickie vignette.

There Was Never a Real Plot

Four girls in a summer camp in the 1970s play a game together. Given the time frame, it is entirely possible that they’re at the same camp as Harmony in the short story, Camp.

The only girl missing, then, is Didi. Or Harmony herself, if you want to get technical. But this is the sort of activity that campers most likely would not want to be doing in front of any sort of authority figure.

This even includes a teenager like Harmony.

Characters

The characters are the girls in the bunk, Karla, Natalie, Beth, and Rhonda.

Memorable Quotes

“Never have I ever…” Karla’s eyes lit upon the new girl in the bunk, “wet the bed.”

“True,” said Natalie, the new girl. “Never have I ever kissed Chris Statler.”

This time, Rhonda took a moment from chewing bubble gum and piped up. “Sadly, that’s true. Never have I ever written a fan letter to Bobby Sherman.”

“False,” said Beth.

It Never Had a Rating Before

The story has a K rating. While games like Truth or Dare can often turn nasty or become highly charged sexually, this one doesn’t.

Takeaways

This is a harmless little story and never (see what I did there?) really needs to be updated. Camp is really the better story, when it comes to reminiscing about my earlier days at summer camp.

Ah well, they aren’t all terrific, you know. And I imagine that if you did not live through that time, or attended summer camp, or played such games, you may be a bit lost.

You may even be wondering just what the point is about the whole thing.

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Want More of my Short Stories and Novellas?

If this story resonates with you, then I hope you will check out some of my other blog posts about my shorter works.

Short Stories

Finally, for a complete list of my shorter works, please be sure to check out the Hub Page—Short Stories.

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Let’s Look at Beauty is Only Earth Deep

Beauty is Only Earth Deep is kind of a small snack of a story. It’s a little better than a vignette, and I suppose I could expand upon it. Or not.

It might even be the kind of thing that could end up as a drabble or in a collection of flash fiction. It’s kind of the ultimate cut to the chase story, I suppose you could say.

I wrote this story during the third quarter of 2021.

Background

The original prompt word was iris.

I love irises, and I grow them in my yard. I even carried them in my bridal bouquet!

Plot

Humanity’s first contact with unnamed aliens comes with a demand for the most beautiful things we can muster—in ten minutes. And if we can’t do as they require, then we’ll be destroyed.

No pressure.

Can Colette, her neighbors, and everyone else on the planet ever hope to satisfy the aliens’ demands in time?

Characters

The characters are Colette and her neighbors, who I do not name.

Memorable Quotes from Beauty is Only Earth Deep

Colette stared at the aliens’ instructions for a moment.

Bring the most beautiful thing to us in one one-hundredth of your planet’s rotation or be destroyed.

“Pretty damn straightforward,” she muttered. “At least everybody got the same message. Those aliens are going to end up with seven billion roses is if they don’t watch out.”

Rating for Beauty is Only Earth Deep

The story has a K rating. This story is very short and does not have the time to get into anything nasty, messy, or unsuitable for mixed company.

Much like Colette, I had to find what I wanted post haste.

Takeaways for Beauty is Only Earth Deep

Like the vast majority of the one part, quickie stories I wrote in 2021, this one is more of a fragment than anything else. Still, I like the idea of making it so our last, best hope of survival can come from just giving up something beautiful.

But if the aliens would prefer velvet Elvis paintings or AstroTurf or dumpsters, then I guess we’ve had a good run.

And maybe, when I want to add some more depth to this one, I could make something more of it. After all, who are these aliens, anyway? And who are they to dictate such terms to us?

Besides, if beauty is in the eye of the beholder, then how the hell are we supposed to ever know what they would think is beautiful?

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Finally, for a complete list of my shorter works, please be sure to check out the Hub Page—Short Stories.

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A Review of Prom Night was Never Like This

It’s time to look at Prom Night was Never Like This.

I wrote this story during the second quarter of 2021. The original prompt word was just the word kick.

Background

The prompts are more or less random. My only requirement to myself was to keep them in alphabetical order in 2021. But once I fulfilled that need, the idea was that I could do with the prompts whatever I pleased.

In this case, my first thought was about Kathleen Kennedy, who was known as Kick. And I mean the older one, the one who died in the 1940s. But I didn’t really want to write about her, per se.

However, one great idea that came out of this story is the one about translating programs assigning almost random words for unpronounceable alien names. I pick this idea up again in Alien Allies from 2023 and The New Kid from 2024.

I truly love this particular idea of our translator program just sort of doing this, so I will undoubtedly use this method again.

Plot

A young Yttrianite known as Kick buys a diary to record their innermost thoughts about a human teenaged boy asking them to the prom.

The details of a prom date are causes for confusion in Kick. These details include whether they should wear a gown or a tux or something else. And, what should they do with their vestigial wings?

These are just so many puzzlements for an exotic yet extremely friendly species.

Characters

The characters are Kick, a Yttrianite, and human Kevin Chandler. But I never show Kevin, and Kick doesn’t describe him in their diary entries.

Er, sorry, Kev.

Memorable Quotes

I’m called Kick, just like Kathleen Kennedy was. But my real name isn’t Kathleen or anything like it. And I’m not human. And I’m not even what humans would call female. Or male.

I’m just … Kick.

The whole Kennedy connection comes from our ancestors landing in the Charles River, lo these many centuries ago. I know that in the nineteenth century, Boston was called the Hub of the Universe. But I think Oliver Wendell Holmes was just joking around.

Except now it really is.

We had to study all that junk in school. Brahmins and Yttrianites like me. The name stuck—we’re the same color as Yttrium. Silver and black. I guess humans wanted something that sounded kind of alien to their ears, as our real native name is impossible for them to say. I think they also chose it because Yttrium is toxic to Earth life.

And I guess they were afraid of us. Little did they know that we’re harmless, really just exploring. Cosmic creampuffs. A bunch of us settled here, a bunch of them settled there, and we’re kind of the species equivalent of peanut butter and jelly these days.

That reminds me, I need to get a snack.

So, diary, I bought you—old-fashioned paper and cover with a lock and all—because I need a place off the grid to record my inmost, deepest thoughts.

Which are—Kevin Chandler asked me to the prom.

What am I gonna do? It feels so… weird. More later.

Rating for Prom Night Was Never Like This

The story has a K rating. Even though Kick’s gender does not correspond to any of ours, nothing untoward or even terribly odd happens.

In fact, about the only thing that’s strange is that I say Kick is a Yttrianite. But otherwise, these could pretty much be the diary entries of any teen or tween human.

Except for the wings.

Takeaways for Prom Night Was Never Like This

If we are ever in a position where we humans are more or less equivalent in technology and understanding to an alien species, then issues like Kick’s could become almost commonplace. And if those are our toughest problems to solve with aliens, then we would be exceptionally lucky.

I like Kick, and I think the story could have had some potential. There is a lot that’s undiscovered here. But unless I want to write more in this universe/scenario, then I have no idea how I’ll revisit them.

However, it is kind of cool that Kick references the hub of the universe, thereby neatly dovetailing with Ceilidh’s world.

And there’s no doubt that prom night was never like this before.

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Want More of my Short Stories and Novellas?

If this story resonates with you, then I hope you will check out some of my other blog posts about my shorter works.

Short Stories

Finally, for a complete list of my shorter works, please be sure to check out the Hub Page—Short Stories.

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