short story

600 Second Saga: The Test

The Test

It was beside me on the bed when I woke up — the little bag to pack my most cherished belongings before leaving to take the test. Our dorm has eight living in one great room and none of us heard anything in the night. No one ever does. This is the second time this week. The other bed is still empty. The news of my test spreads like lightning. People are differential, but mostly avoiding me. What can they say? “Good on your test, bud. Wish it was my turn…not.” We live for the test. Years go by, sometimes, before a person gets visited in the night by the bag messenger. We’ve all heard stories of people spending their entire lives without taking the test. That’s the worse fate, I guess. But it’s not mine. I’ll take mine today. I have a whole day to myself to say goodbye to my friends and teachers, to the only family I’ve ever known, to the only place I remember ever living. I don’t have much to pack. We are all issued identical uniforms and supplies. That’s why the bag is so little — I can only take a memento or two…

Another Wave of Refugees

Refugees

“Another wave of refugees is arriving,” the TV news announcer said in a grave voice. George Tiggleson, the news anchor for XWTZ Christian Voice of Americas, has been practicing this voice — deep, resonant, with a slight lamenting quality — for almost twenty years. This voice got him this job. “Are we as a nation ready to take responsibility for thousands of new souls? Can we feed them? House them? Educate them in our ways?” He paused for dramatic effect. His viewers were 90 percent against accepting more refugees. He’s been hammering home the message of astronomical costs of dealing with them. And it’s been working. “But we can’t just turn them away, George,” said George’s News Hour guest, Dr. Varsaad Volhard. “Where will they go? It’s a death sentence–” “Hold on there, Dr. Volhard.” George didn’t let her finish. His viewers hated her “hollering”. The more he put Dr. Volhard down, the higher his ratings got. “We’ve accepted into our bosom almost twenty-five thousands souls so far. That’s more than any other country in the world. Haven’t we done our share? Why do American people have lay out their hard-earned money over and over again? Where would this end?”…

Flight #008: Miss

Miss

“Sir. Sir.” “What?” I am having a hard time opening my eyes. I always take a sleeping pill before getting on a plane. I’m a light sleeper, and Tokyo to San Francisco is an impossible flight for me without a little pharmaceutical assist. My throat hurts too — dehydration. “Miss,” I try to wave off the insistent flight attendant. “Do you mind bringing me a glass of water please? I’m feeling a bit off.” “Sir?” she tries again. I make myself pay attention to her. “Water?” I make my face and voice communicate the urgency of my request. “Unfortunately, sir, I can’t do that right now.” “Oh.” I rub my eyes clean of the sleeping gunk and look at the woman. She doesn’t look familiar. I usually make it a point when I fly to get to know the flight attendants in my area of the plane. It’s just a polite thing to do. And then I take my pill, and off to the lullaby land for me. “Sir? Unfortunately, I can’t give you water right now. But I do need to do a few basic neurological tests–” “What?!” Well, I’m up now. I fly all the time on business;…

600 Second Saga: Toy Maker

warrior queen toy

I am very happy to share a performance by Mariah Avix of one my short stories, Toy Maker. Mariah is an author and reader — her voice adds an amazing dimension to the telling of a tale. I feel like she brought my characters to life. I hope you enjoy her performance as much as I did. And please listen to her other readings of science fiction and fantasy — 10 minutes per week to listen, yet enough joy to last much much longer. *** This story is dedicated to little Ian — may you grow up strong, smart, and perceptive.

A Short Radio Story

Hitler Baby

Over the weekend, I’ve created two short audio pieces: “Baby Killers” and the first chapter of “The FATOFF Conspiracy.” While you will have to wait until Friday for the Speculative Fiction Cantina hosted by author S. Evan Townsend to hear the beginning of my dystopian novel about fat, “Baby Killers” is now available. Feel free to read the story along with the video. Enjoy!

Baby Killer

Baby Killers' Dinner

Baby Killer Brian was running away. He dumped his laundry basket into the trunk of his car, wrapped his computer in a towel and stuffed it underneath the mixture of dirty and clean clothes, and took off North. His college midterms went poorly and the paper he wrote for the world philosophy class was just dreadful. He was tired and haven’t slept in a very long time. Life had gotten to be too much lately and he had enough of it. He drove into the night. He liked staring into the passing lights, it was easy to lose oneself in the monotony of the highway in the dark — nothing to really see, just the passing the headlights, reflectors, and the lit highway signs. He drove most of the night. In the gray pre-dawn, he noticed a small billboard for a rest stop, offering hot coffee. Without making a conscious decision, Brain found himself turning off on a small side road and then into a parking lot of a medium-sized diner. Quite a few cars were already parked in a cluster around the front entrance. Soft yellow light spilled out of the curtained windows. Brian parked his car in the…

100% Life-Light Child

Life-Light

“Order! Order, Honorable Educators!” The lights and devices flashed again, as the power was cut and restored in rapid successions to bring the room back into a productive discussion mode. The screaming and arguing had gone on for at least two minutes now — unacceptable, life-light dimming behavior. “The school haven’t had a perfect child in over two decades,” Educator 1 said. “This is our chance to regain our standing in the World School Rankings.” “Be careful, Educator 1, envy is punishable by bedimming,” said Administrator. This was the second reminder during this session alone. Some teachers were sure to have their life-lights bedimmed before this incident was over. “Twenty three years!” said Educator 2. “I wasn’t even a teacher at the school back then.” “It’s unfortunate that the latest generations are not as bright as they were during our own time,” said Administrator, gently rubbing her own life-light still at nearly 75% after all these years. “But the question stands — do we accept Addam’s account of the incident and allow the dimming of his life-light? Or do we reject it as a bias story, told to save a friend from becoming a darkling?” “I understand Addam’s desire to…