There has been a dip in applications to work at the postal service after a package bomb killed everyone in three houses. The supervisor tells me that I’m hired, but she looks more grateful for me than I for them. It’s the first day on my route, and I’m so excited that I forget my headphones. They tell me that it can get really boring, so pretty much everyone has music. But that’s okay with me. When I was a child, I would write short notes to my family and deliver them on a wooden horse. Call me crazy, but I’ve always wanted to work at the post office. As I’m about to head out, one of my new coworkers asks me if I’m doing the Purple Rose route. When I confirm, he chortles a bit and says ominously, “just go through the gate.” Things are going well, until I find a letter with an address that doesn’t make any sense. The houses on Purple Rose Lane start at 4200, then on to 4204 and 4208, but then the next house is 4400. The address I’m looking for is 4256. I cannot mess up on my very first day, so I pull out the map, but it’s completely unhelpful. I seem to be on the right street, on the right part of town, so where is it? Then I see it. A gate. Between two houses. Exactly where the discrepancy lies. I laugh, because my coworkers are clearly hazing the new guy. Which is awesome since it means they already accept me. When I walk up and open the gate, I find myself in a pocket dimension. There is an entire slew of houses that are invisible from the main street, waiting for their mail. That makes more sense. I just hope that I can easily get back out when I’m done. The last time I was in a pocket dimension, I had to solve a riddle before they let me leave.
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Current Schedule
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Sundays (macrofiction)
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Weekdays (microfiction)
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Revised Fables
I have revised some Aesop Fables. For some of them, I feel the originals come with bad moral lessons, while others just seem socially unproductive.
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Saturdays (mezzofiction)
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Dardius
Several people converge on a planet millions of light years from Earth in order to celebrate the life, and mourn the loss, of a man who is still technically alive to watch it all
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- About Me
My name is Nick Fisherman III. It's not my real name, but that's not because I'm trying to hide from my former agency, or something. I named myself after someone I've known for most of my life, and he chose it in honor of his late best friend. I took up writing when I found myself failing 8th grade science, and realized I might never reach my dream of becoming a biochemist, a meteorologist, and a quantum physicist. I started developing my canon after a scouting trip to an island inspired what I thought would be my first novel. I founded this website upon the advice of many people, who told me I needed to get my work out there, and not wait for an agent to accept my manuscript. You can expect one new story every day. Weekdays are for microstories, which are one or two paragraphs long. They're usually only thematically linked, so you won't have to read one to understand another, but they do sometimes tell a combined story. Sundays are for my continuous longer story, The Advancement of Mateo Matic, which I started in the beginning, and won't end until 2066. Saturdays are for long series, most of which take place in the same universe as Mateo, and add to the larger mythology.
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