Short Stories

@ Rydog57

The Forest
Battle not with monsters, lest ye become a monster, and if you gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes also into you. Friedrich Nietzsche An old man inhabited the back of the forest, which mirrored his gloomy reality. His crude brick shelter was covered and ensnared in the arboreal appendages of oaks, firs, and nameless others that eclipsed the sun. Only a few blotches of sunlight stained the tree branches and hanging vines. The elder enjoyed the paced lifestyle of plants. He had lived in the urban jungle for a belaboring eternity of neurotic scurrying about. He had hated the hypocritical smiles of daggers in the business world and the unforgiving stone faces of the gargoyle superiors and bosses. He now embraced the darkness and all of its inherent tranquility. It was soothing, sensuous - a welcoming home. The darkness was freedom. The abyss was tabula rasa, a blank slate, which stirred his fancy, collected his memories, his dreams, and his fantasies. He was the master of the void, spending hours at a time perfecting his play, a hidden dreamscape from the true nycthemeron of shadows. The darkness was only blank once, but as he built his Eden, the world flourished with vast oceans of treasures and riches, beautiful women who shamed Aphrodite, and kind men who never heard of finances or business principles. Sometimes, the forest tortured him. A ray of sun would hit his eyelid, illuminating his mind to the harsh reality he tried to escape. The seven seas swarmed with chthonic creatures and monsters, while demons surrounded him menacingly. But he would retreat from the light into the darkness once again. His heart raced from the terrible excitement of his exposed lies. He returned to his false realm, relinquishing his body for mind and soul. The man in the shadows' cold embrace talked to the darkness without speaking a single word. And the darkness responded. They knew each other intimately. Darkness became the man, and the man became darkness. And when light was shed on them by the mischievous branches, they were both gone.

Vicarious
Je pense donce je suis. Ren Descartes Jack just died. He will be remembered by his wife Wendy and his young son Danny. But this was nothing new to Jack. He had died a thousand times before. He was Napoleon and his dynamite counterpart. He sinned through Alex DeLarge and found happiness through George Bailey. He was the savior, John Connor; he had jumped on grenades for his blood brothers and killed through the eyes of the Vietcong. He had suffered as Jesus Christ and yet survived as Barabbas. Every morning started off like American Beauty. This was the best part of his day. He put on his button-up shirt, clipped on his tie, and headed to the kitchen. He flicked on the coffee machine and stepped to the window. On a murky day like today, hed stare outside, contemplating the dreary weathers metaphorical connection to his own mind, so he could stir up some pity. Oldest trick in the book. The audience looked at him with their heart strings pulled taught, and wondered what this man had endured. The opening scene and he is already wallowing in his own pity? He soaked up the attention like a sponge. He glanced over at the coffee machine, and turned it off. He hadnt even added any coffee beans it was only a prop. He grabbed the navy jacket off of the chair and strolled out the door. He reached for the keys in his pocket the keys, wait Patting his pockets with his right hand, while holding the jacket in crook of his left elbow, he rolled his eyes at the sky. They were on the counter next to the microwave; unfortunately, these werent a prop. After the struggle, he turned on the car, pulled out of his one-car driveway, and hurried on his way to work. The rolling hills surrounding the car comforted him. The quirky driving-to-work music hummed for the duration of the ride, but faded as the camera panned onto the car pulling into a parking space. He checked his appearance in the mirror, turning his head slightly to either side and running his hands across the sides of his head. Opening the drivers door, he paused and looked back at the glove box. A camera inside watched him peek in for a moment, grin, and promptly shut it. He made his way into the elevator, where he had to cross his hands in front of him as he rocked slowly to-and-fro anticipating the ding of his arrival. He was a white-collar employee of a major automobile company. He didnt fly around the country due to his air sickness, so another man, an off-putting insomniac, from his office, Tyler, had to take his position. He approached his work station and with a loud huff, sat down at his desk.

The workday was just a long, dry scene that even a montage couldnt make bearable. But, he had made it to his lunch break. He had the privilege of sitting by himself everyday due to his peanut allergy. And every day, Barry, his boss, brought a sandwich with a thin layer of raspberry jelly and a hefty helping of JIF peanut butter. He hated Barry, and Barry didnt care much for his movies, his antisocial behavior, or his attitude around the office. Barry didnt own a television set; therefore, he despised Barry. The other coworkers were soso, no real transgressors among them. Whatcha eating today? Barry asked, leaning back on his chair next to the vending machine. Tomato basil soup. He humored him. Ahh. Good deal. Watch a movie last night? Barry grinned. 8 mm. Its mediocre at best and - I asked about you about movies, not about your dick. Fuck. The group of employees chuckled with one rather chubby woman nearly choking on her ham sandwich. He looked down at his soup and dropped the spoon. The snickering drove him out of his seat. Oh, sit down It was a joke. It was more than that. It was the last straw. He stormed out of the room, hands sternly at his sides, shoulders stiff. Jesus Christ Calm down! He stomped out to the car and reached in the glove box. He returned a minute later in the doorway of the break room. His left hand was tightly clenched in a fist; his right was shoved in his jacket. What the hells wrong with you? Barry said, exasperatedly. Seriously! What - was all that Barry sputtered out before a .32 was drawn on him and aimed at his head. The gunman let his finger pull the trigger, which sent a bullet through the Barrys forehead. His brain matter was the only visible option on the vending machine. The audience shrieked. Exit stage left. He dropped the gun and paced back to his car with a newfound swagger. He took a leisurely drive back to his house, removed the keys, and walked to the doorway. He heard a new voicemail recording as he entered. He walked into the kitchen to finish his lunch that was so rudely interrupted. Please leave your name and number and Ill get back to you as soon as possible. This is Barry. He pulled his head out of the fridge in an instant and stared at the phone. Dont come back to work again Youve missed the last four days without even answering one call. Have a nice day, asshole. His jaw hit the floor. The audience gasped and To Be Continued appeared on the bottom of the screen.

Misinterpretation
Nothing in the world is more dangerous than sincere ignorance and conscientious stupidity. Martin Luther King, Jr. In an Spanish village, atop a hill,

Lived the kin of Quodsi; morals instilled,

Diligent too were those twin sons: Errar

And Verru. They kept the land in care,

Working day and night, without respite.

The father, noting their vigor, began:

"No longer toil in tedious tasks,

Travel to new lands, exotic and vast.

One day, you shall raise me a great city.

And all will look upon it with awe."

Whence forth, both voyaged to a great new world,

Hoping to accomplish what had been planned,

Where great civilizations have been brought up by hand.

Alas, Errar was distraught and wrote

To his elder about the desolation in the land:

"Nothing but siroccos sweep the dry soil.

There is no great city to be had."

However, Verru sent a message:

"So many resources just beneath the veneer;

Our land is untouched; no enemies to fear."

Future to present, and present to past,

Verru had constructed his city at last.

Crowned himself king and ruler of town,

His father's wish was complete;

He'd obtained riches abound.

When Quodsi received word, he quickly rode

To see his son and his dream fulfilled.

He arrived to witness the prominent land,

But no city in sight; only rubble and sand.

Errar approached him, "Father, are you not proud?"

He spoke: "What has come to pass? A tremor, a drought?"

"No," the son smiled, "I have waited to

See a great city sprout up from the earth,

As I could not find one so grand in a place of such dearth.

Nonetheless, I have carried out your most heartfelt desire."

Verru cried, his tears began to stream,

"Why, oh why, have you ruined our father's dream?"

"How could you speak such wicked words?"

Errar exclaimed, "I was the one to carry out his will.

I remember the day when I had taken that vow,

I can recount his words even now:

'One day, you shall raze me a great city.'

The Ballroom
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before. Edgar Allan Poe As I entered the abandoned ballroom, the phantasms stepped into a solemn gavot, lithely gliding, hovering just above the floor. Underneath the spectres was an ominous fog, swirling around an inert translucent figure in the center of the room. It appeared to be receding into the darkness, only to grow as I approached. The silhouette was suspended in a dense fog, yet it engrossed my imagination. I sauntered forward, my mind focused on that shadow spawned from darkness, not light. My attention was directed away from the sullen, yet smiling spirits waltzing throughout the room. Passing one-by-one, they vanished into the unlit corners of the dance hall; slowly, yet precisely they maneuvered their ghoulish dance until we were alone. Breaking through the intimidating miasma, I reached my hands out to grasp the figure before me. My hand tingled as it cut the moist air, and finally made contact with mass, only to feel a cold, shattered slate of glass. The vapor dissipated, and I looked upon a formidable mirror with a deep engraving. "For those who see, but do not understand; and those who know, but do not accept. I am Grief, Regret, Fear of the Unknown, and Repression of the Forgotten." As the final smears on the glass cleared, I saw that it was not I who was reflected. In my stead, it was a sad, grim, lifeless man attending a ball. The others were gathered in the corners of the room, while the motionless man remained. I looked deeply into the mirror, only to witness myself, not another. I imagined what could be on the other side; perhaps, it was a portal, a picture of my emotions, my heart and mind. I removed myself from the room, removing my being from that other side, destroying the world of pain which might have been - a ghastly glimpse at my thoughts and my soul. My twin wouldn't understand the vessel that contains him. My twin wouldn't accept this life if he had the choice. He is created solely from my grief, my regrets, my fears and anxieties. He is forced to always forget and repeat the search for meaning in the otherworld from my induced amnesia. Nevertheless, he is gone, lost in a haze of another memory which will soon be hidden and stored away. The figure in the mirror faded, and disappeared.

Below
Do not be afraid; our fate Cannot be taken from us; it is a gift. Dante Alighieri Dost thou retain any will? The man says, yet I remain still Hearing my mortal clock Slowly ticking to a stop The audience offers no mercy, only does Christ. The executioner wields not an axe, a scythe, A placid hand reveals a skull, not a face The chill of the wind, Death's cold embrace There, eyes lie on the newly-bloodied snow. The crowd applauds. Darkness beyond, Nay Hell below.

Beyond
When ships to sail the void between the stars have been invented, there will also be men who come forward to sail those ships. Johannes Kepler In 2057, we left Earth to inhabit the closest planet outside of our solar system, Alpha Centauri Bb, or the Exoport. The spacecraft Santa Maria had main booster ignition from the Westminster launch pad in Colorado at 12:35 on Saturday, August 18th, 2057. The day was beautiful, not a figment of imagination produced from self-denial. It shows in the crafts record: The temperature was 82 Fahrenheit, the wind speed was 5.65 knots, and the humidity level was 12%. Our last day on Earth. We, the crew of the Santa Maria, understood that we could never return to our home planet again. Firstly, the craft was aimed directly for the goal with no abort button. We boarded a ship sailing through the ocean of dark matter without a paddle. Secondly, if we were able to reroute the course back towards Earth, the world we knew would be gone due to the time dilation effects of special relativity; although, the we werent traveling fast enough to reap the full consequences of time dilation. I assume we were told this in order to keep the crew from becoming enraged and regretful while on board at the lack of a true human experience. We were chosen to go as we had taken vows of celibacy while on Earth in preparation for the mission, which we were informed would last 34.9 years, even though the Exoport is approximately 1.34 parsecs, or 25.69 trillion miles, away. It was the first shuttle to feature fission rockets, PIPE system (Photon-Ionic Propulsion by Electromagnetism), and the traditional rocket propellant. The PIPE system relies on a laser beam of focused photons from a source on Earth to excite the electrons in the atoms of the spacecrafts propellant, allowing for the atoms to become ions and repel a powerful magnet attached to the stern of the shuttle. These advancements enabled the shuttle to travel at a constant speed of 37,524,651 meters per second, or 23,316.74 miles per second. The projected time of entering our new homes orbit was determined to be Saturday, July 12, 2081 at 5:37 am. This was the time aboard the shuttle at least. We lost communication with Earth over three years ago on May 9, 2078, but this was expected. In fact, it was expected to lose the signal over five years ago. A morse code message from Earth took nearly four years to reach us in these final few year, which was sent through the photon beam (the PIPE system being needed no longer after the first fifteen years). Before the PIPE system was deactivated, radio waves were able to contact us, but soon the message was scattered. This was a foreseen problem, and I had proposed a series of satellites to be stored in the hull of the Santa Maria, which could be released every so often to convey voice and video messages far into the depths of space; however, the idea was considered too costly to be initiated. Nevertheless, such thoughts are in vain now, as the craft will begin to orbit Alpha Centauri Bb in less than 14 hours. Nearly 35 years of my life have been spent aboard the Santa Maria nearly 1.5 times more than I was alive on Earths surface. Only six of the 178 adult crew members succumbed to the foreboding dimensional psychosis, in which the mind relinquishes sanity to attempt to

comprehend the lack of concrete spatial planes in the celestial void of space, and/or cabin fevers degenerative claustrophobia. With their sacrifices, we now understand how to cure the minds aches and the souls ails during extensive missions. We will rebuild a new society on this planet, so that future generations may prosper from our labors. A broadcast has just reached our shuttle, the first in three years as I stated before. The signal is very clear, much more so than those we received years ago. Actually, it appears to be a timed recording loaded within the spacecrafts computer. It repeats: Welcome. You have now arrived at Alpha Centauri Bb, the New Frontier. It has said this message five times, but at varying speeds of playback. We have not yet responded since we just received another communication identified as being emitted from a source on the planet itself. This is Icarus Asimor, Administrator of the Exoport Harbor. Were glad the Santa Maria has arrived safely and hope the crew is alive and well. You may be in a state of fatigue at this moment, so a guidance team will be sent to your shuttle to see that you land safely. Congratulations, and welcome home. I stared off into the darkness of space; even though the goal I had been waiting over a quarter of a century to see was right before me. We werent the first. Our legacy, our story, our time washed away with this worthless ship. There were members of the crew who rejoiced that they could return to civilization. They cared not that people who left after us arrived before us. They could care less for the sight of a new beginning, a fresh start to lay the foundation for the New World. I sauntered to the bridge and made me way onto the observation deck. Another message rang through the shuttle explaining the rapid advancement of technology after our departure and the increased velocity at which space vessels could travel. The voice explained how the ten dimensions of space must have inhibited out perceptions of reality and why we didnt notice the shuttles that passed us in less than a second. It was true. My perceptions of space and time had vanished with my imagination and hope. There I stood, the seventh case of dimensional psychosis, waiting - lost in time once again - staring at the metropolis on the New World.

Vultus
Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds. J. Robert Oppenheimer

Incomplete Summary: In a world fearful of progressive experimentation, failure is the only path to change. Dave works around mechanical instruments ubiquitously as a car mechanic and the automated-response robots in present society, unable to attain the success of his late engineer parents; however, hes willing to flesh out his fathers incomplete masterpiece. The year is 1957 in New York City, and the mass system of transportation is the floating fortresses, zeppelins on thick cable lines stretching wide distances to sky stations. These literal airline services cover the sky over large cities. Immigrants no longer spot Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty from water level, but from an aerial view. Large aquatic vessels were put out of production after the Titanic disaster. The monopolized company, Zephyr Co., which controls the airline industry, releases a new airline called Montresor. This eventually becomes immured in a mountainside when anarchists cut the cable, which the fortress was bound to. This is the sign that the world is ready for a change, and the protagonist returns to his workshop to finish testing his transportation device. After testing, he goes back to the bar to celebrate and unintendedly reveals his project. It is taken as a drunken speech by everyone, except for a Zephyr worker sitting at the bar, trying to wash away his frustration with booze. The next day, Dave is visited by a Zephyr hitman who wants to retrieve the device from him. Dave doesnt reveal where it is, so the hitman shoots him in the kneecap. Dave finally breaks down and tells the hitman that hell show him where it is. They go to the workshop on the second floor, and when the hitman looks at the device, Dave defenestrates him, killing him. Dave realizes that no matter what his invention does, it will be harnessed for evil, so he brings it underground to the sewer to be destroyed. ****(This is where I really dont know what to do)**** Once in the junkyard, he begins to disassemble the device. For some reason (which I have yet to think of), he becomes extremely jaded and drops the volatile element down into a sewage drain, effectively poisoning all of New York, exclaiming: Ill leave this world not as a monster, but as a ghost. o (Said as he disarms the bomb (called the Orochi), as he contemplated the evil of human nature, and drops the volatile element into the sewer system [He is in the Heart of Darkness in the sewers], gradually killing the population of New York.) Heart of Darkness refers to the book by Joseph Conrad, and the quote above parallels Kurtz saying the world would end not with a bang, but with a whimper. o Only destruction leads to creation. Let this be a new beginning.