52stories

(2 votes, average: 2.5 out of 5)

 Loading …

Rain splattered irregularly on my windshield. I couldn’t find the right setting of intermittent speed for the wipers. To fast and it was annoying, too slow and they screeched loudly without water to lubricate their way. Again, annoying. The strong winds of the day’s storm were finally letting up. Starlight couldn’t make it’s way through the cloud cover, but the silence was the worst. My wife was giving me ‘the silent treatment’ despite my earlier attempts to talk it out. She was too mad for that. My mind drifted back to what I’d heard on the radio, about women’s brains physically ‘wired’ to be madder longer. A fat lot of good that did me now, as just knowing a fact doesn’t help make it untrue. And just wishing you could take back the last hours of your life doesn’t mean it will happen.

She moved, although still looking out the passenger side window, then returned to her previous pose, fingertips on her lips. I think she was wiping away a tear, but it so quickly, I really didn’t get a good look. I was a second-grader again, scared, and sad, waiting for my punishment. Except this time I hadn’t cut Sally Jenkins hair with scissors, or glued a book’s pages shut. I had, I just realized, ruined lives! Well, was it that bad?

I signaled my approaching turn off the road, the click-clack sound the only thing louder than our breathing. It wouldn’t be long, we’d be home. I thought I knew how it would play out. She’d go to our bedroom and shut the door. I’d wait, just wait, not daring to enjoy myself with TV, or the computer. Our boy would might be sleeping anyway. Where would I be sleeping?

The rain decided to stop, as did the wind, just the time I pulled into our driveway. She spoke, “Lou… I want a…” Her words stopped, her focus now on something else entirely. “SAM!” She opened her door, well before I could put the car in park. Running through the sloppy lawn, she screamed our son’s name over and over again. “SAM! SAM!” I saw what triggered this burst of energy, a tree had fallen on our son’s play set. Large splinters were everywhere, branches, leaves, all littering the grounds. Seeing Linda stagger around the area, coming up with nothing, I bolted inside the house. It was my turn to yell, “SAM!”

Continue reading ‘Timber’

(2 votes, average: 4 out of 5)

 Loading …

Dean Stanton sat in the floor of the skiff, his eyes closed, his lips mumbling continually.

“Relax, Pal”, Will Cubit touched the man on the shoulder, but the accountant still jumped, and continued to shake. “We’re almost there. Look!” Will’s finger pointed south. Dean dared open an eye, his flesh and fat vibrating furiously from each wave they crested. “It’s Rainbow island.” Stanton resumed his frightened mode, and Will continued navigating their way to the shore.

Once they arrived, Will half expected the suit to kiss the sand. Instead he pulled out a camera, and began taking video of the abandoned features. Only these two men occupied the island. “You do know my employer wants a citadel, a head-quarters. This looks like… an amusement park.” The tone indicated to Will his commission was in serious jeopardy.

“Oh, of course, but that’s the beauty of this place. Everyone thinks it’s all jolly-fun-time here. Who would suspect a super-villain…”

“My employer prefers the term, Renegade Genius.” Stanton corrected instantly.

“Okay,” Will had no qualms about the semantics, “Who would suspect anything nefarious to come from such a wonderful locale? People don’t see biological weapons factories, they see mass-market treats. They don’t see weapons assembly lines, they see thrill-rides being repaired. Even the name, Rainbow island sounds so harmless, who’s going to look for a evil, er, Renegade Genius here? You buy Skull-crusher Mountain, or Castle Grey-Skull, or anything with skull in it’s title, and the do-gooders will be tipped off from day one.”

“You either make a good point, or are completely nuts.” Stanton said pulling on the merry-go-round, testing it’s resistance.

“I know, that’s why it’s the company slogan.” Will smiled, pressing his card into the man’s suit pocket. “Tell you what, try out a few of these rides with me, and if you’re still not sold, you at least got free admission.”

Like any adrenaline junkie, Dean began enjoying each new thrill-ride more and more. The catapult, the spleen bender, and the RNA de-coder where his favorites. Add to that a large swirl of cotton-candy, and the deal was closed before closing time.

(2 votes, average: 4 out of 5)

 Loading …

Blue Streak swam under the cover of the large plants, their flat pads bobbing with the water surface. Only the silvery ball pierced the darkness, the larger more powerful orb gone for now. Blue considered pushing through to the air again, but the memory of his prior attempt, made him rethink such an endeavor. The pink things were about, large and clumsy. At this point they were all on shore, sitting around a glowing, changing… thing. It was fire, but Blue did not know such a word. He knew nothing of it, but it intrigued him so much. How did it work? Could he ever know such a glorious site in his world? Was it hot or cold?

Movement below made Blue snap back to his work. With a predilection to gliding high above the layers below, Blue found his work of scouting and patrolling satisfactory. Five times he raised alarm, sending his fellow eels away from their home, just before the enemy descended, massacre and death to follow. Two generations owed their lives to Blue and his diligent surveillance.

Once Blue had tried to communicate they should fight back, yet no one joined him. The evil descended with claw and armor impossible to break or snap open. The bite of Blue and his kin was something feared by most flesh, but the enemy was
not flesh. The enemy was hard, fearless, relentless. The spiked ones scurried over the surface of the dirt, greedily slaughtering, absorbing the resources and young, the food piles and land.

Now using the shadows afforded by the large canopy pads, Blue closed in on the movement. Sure enough it was a crab scout, looking for families to feast upon later. He was close enough to stumble upon the clan. With all his speed, Blue surged downward, silent as a prayer. He looped around the scout, trying to create a swirl and lift it from the seabed. If done, a crab was much less graceful upended. The scout wanted no part of such nonsense and gripped a rock with one claw, and began lashing out with the other.

Continue reading ‘Is Fire Hot Or Cold?’

(3 votes, average: 4.33 out of 5)

 Loading …

Water rushed up the beach sand, the eternally shifting tide making it’s way inland once more. The foamy flow spilled onto Kate’s hair, and another wave surged enough to splash her face. The ebb and flow of the water stirred her to consciousness, waking her to a world of pain.

She instinctively screamed, and got a mouthful of ocean water for her trouble. The pain from her legs, more accurately her kneecaps, throbbed and burned like fire. The endless intensity threatened to send her back into nothingness, but passing out now, with the tide coming in so quickly meant death. The gritty sand gave way many times as she tried to prop herself up with her arms, to at least draw one full breath.

Blinking away the salty water from her eyes, Kate could see it was nighttime, no moon in the overhead bejeweled sky. The fierce wind blew so loudly her screams were lost in them, and the strong pungent smell of the ocean flooded her nose. Her mind presented many questions, but the pain overrode all logic. Her legs were broken, at least her kneecaps were. She had never felt such pain before.

Clawing the wet earth, Kate worked herself around, and began to move up the beach. Flipping onto her stomach, without the use of her legs, was difficult and painful. The added weight to her knees sent new flares of pain all through her body. Despite all that, her mind told her something key, she knew this place. This beach was actually not that far from her home, the last place she remembered. The juxtaposition of high rock face abutting the small beaches at first made them undesirable properties. However, once the remainder of private beachfront was scooped up, even these irregular coast lines helped real estate agents like Kate turn a small fortune but selling to the Hollywood and Business elite.

Continue reading ‘99 Steps’

(4 votes, average: 2.75 out of 5)

 Loading …

“Money doesn’t necessarily have any connection with happiness. Maybe with unhappiness.”

- J. P. Getty

The social policies of students in Clemmons High School, North Carolina, mirrored the time honored tradition of a social caste system. Jocks and pretty people enjoyed popularity, while smarts and integrity held much less influence.

Lucas Timberland and Aaron Ringus sought a quiet place to eat lunch, away from the boisterous cafeteria, prying eyes, or cheerleaders ready for yet another joke at their expense.

“Oh, I have something cool to show you.” Aaron said sitting down on concrete curb. Technically not off school grounds, the duo retreated to their own semi-imposed solitude. “I know what I’m going to buy first.”

Continue reading ‘Fire Sale’