Microstory 28*: (Excerpt from my novel)

*This is an excerpt from my novel, entitled The Last Refuge. Chris and his friends have just met a man named Gavix. They get off on a bit of a tangent once he reveals something special about himself.

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“You’re immortal.” Chris’ darkened eyes widened.

“That’s why they call me The Only.”

“You're not the only one, though. So is Peter Fireblood.”

“Yes, but he's different,” Gavix agreed, evidently pleased to hear such a thing. “And I'm sure you've noticed that only certain people are even capable of recognizing how long he's been around.”

“What the hell are you two trying to say about Peter Fireblood?” Cody asked in mild anger.

Chris laughed along with Gavix and pointed at Cody as an example. “I've yet to meet anyone else who sees the timeline discrepancies.” Peter Fireblood is a famous musician who appears to have no single birth date, and is not tied down to one time period. When two people who have a sufficiently large enough difference in age discuss him, they will refer to his history with conflicting or paradoxical information. Neither of them will notice the variations, as if they hear what they expect to hear, rather than what the other is actually saying. It’s like he lives in this sliding timescale that necessarily prevents him from aging. As far as Chris has been able to work out, Peter Fireblood has been famous for centuries, and no one seems to notice this about him.

Cody and Cordelia shook off the last moments of the conversation. Anyone who Chris tries to explain this to will quickly forget what he said and go back to the issue at hand. “Do you know our situation?” Cody asked.

“No idea,” Gavix said plainly. “You’ll have to get me up to speed. I only arrived a couple days ago. I haven’t been to the islands since they fell asleep.”

“Wow,” admired Cody. “You’ve been walking around out there for the last thousand years.”

He laughed at this. “Yeah. One thousand years. Long time.” There was a hint of sarcasm in what he said.

Microstory 27: One Table

Ben and Mark walked into the restaurant around the same time. They were both exhausted from working a few hours of overtime, neither of them wanted to have to go somewhere else, and the place was packed. The host smiled at them and asked if they needed a table for two. When Mark told him that they weren’t together, the host informed them that it would be a forty-five minute wait for one of them. That was too much, but it was a busy night. If they wanted to avoid fast food or leftovers, it would be the same story anywhere. Ben offered to play rock-paper-scissors for it, but the waitress jumped in and suggested that they just sit together. After a few awkward half-exchanges, they both finally agreed to the arrangement. The two sat at their one table quietly while looking over the menus, and the thermostat must have been turned up too high. After ordering, Mark sighed and announced that the whole dinner would be uncomfortable unless they found something they had in common. So, they basically turned the night into a date; asking each other about their work, hobbies, and friends. Two hours in, the waitress walked over to note that several tables had opened up. Ben and Mark made more half-exchanges, making up nonsense about the other tables being too far from the window, and not wanting to deal with moving their plates. After dinner, they went for a walk by the river in the freezing cold, each one trying to one-up the other with tales of their crazy ex-girlfriends. Three years later, Ben and Mark were married.

Microstory 26: What Does the Fox Want?

While Linda Carnegie was in the middle of setting the table, she looked up and saw a fox staring at her from outside her door. He watched her intently, like he was waiting for an answer to a question asked long ago. She was entranced by him. The patio outside of her apartment was closed off by a fence and thick shrubs, so he would have needed to make a concerted effort to get through it. He couldn’t have just been passing by. He moved his head to one side, which she interpreted to be an invitation. She had no choice but to accept this invitation. It was more of an order, and less of a request. Still in her slippers, she opened the glass door and got down on her hands and knees to crawl through the brush. One of her neighbors was outside waiting, not for Linda, but for the magnificent creature who had already invited him out. The fox started running away, but kept one eye on the two of them, slowing down as needed. The more she followed it, the more urgency she felt. They looked to the right and saw a few of their other neighbors, running after a squirrel. Up ahead, they were closing in on an elderly couple who were following a rabbit that was hopping every once in a while, keeping its dependents moving as fast as they could. As they continued the pursuit, they could see more people, in groups of at least two, each chasing their own animal. The ground shook and they ran faster, until they felt safe enough. Linda turned back and watched as a fiery mid-sized aircraft fell from the sky, and demolished the apartment complex.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: March 23, 2016

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The time jump caused Mateo Matic to wake up. He heard footsteps running up the stairs. His father, Randall burst into the room. “Oh, thank God you’re back.”

“Has it been another year?”

His mother, Carol appeared in the doorway. “It has. This is not going to stop on its own. We already have an appointment set up for you. I don’t want to spend what little time we may have together at the hospital, but—”

“I know it has to be done,” Mateo interrupted. “We’ll have all the time in the world if we can figure out how to stop it.”

The appointment wasn’t until eleven in the morning. So after eating fourth meal, Mateo went up to the attic to look through some of the family belongings passed down through generations. He sat up there for hours, combing through everything he could find that had anything to do with his biological family tree. Most of the journal entries were mundane, and it wasn’t like his family kept records of absolutely everything they did. He had just gotten to a journal written in the mid-19th century by his great great great great grandmother when Carol called him down for the appointment. He stalled her, needing to learn more. The journal talked about when she first met her husband. He had appeared out of nowhere one day, dressed in outdated attire. Carol called him again, and he was forced to put the journal away for another time; perhaps for an entire year.

He spent the rest of the day undergoing medical tests. They drew blood, put him in machines, and asked him a lot of questions. Of course, he couldn’t reveal to them why these tests were so desperately needed. In the end, there was no conclusion. None of the preliminary results showed anything abnormal. It would be a couple weeks before they had all the information, which meant that his parents wouldn’t be able to discuss it with him for a year.

He was sitting in the waiting room for urgent care while his parents confided in a family friend who was a nurse in that department. A teenager came in with her father. He set her down in a chair across from Mateo. “Sit here while I check you in. Maybe you won’t drink after tonight.” The girl looked completely miserable. She was holding a plastic grocery sack, clearly filled with vomit. She was dry heaving and moving her head up and down, trying to find a comfortable position that didn’t exist. She wasn’t crying, but her eyes were teared up, probably from the strain.

“First time?” Mateo asked.

She massaged her forehead. “No, but he was right. It’s probably my last. I think a guy put something—” She couldn’t finish the sentence. Vomit rolled out of her mouth and into the bag. On the other side of the room, a guy vomited into his own bucket, as if it were a response to her. Illness was trending. As the girl tried to cough up more, the bag slipped from her grip and fell to the floor, spilling its contents. She instinctively pulled her head away from it. “Oh my God!” Before she could do anything else, though, more came up suddenly, much of it landing in Mateo’s lap. She just stared at him in horror, having no idea what she could say to him. After several days, and many years, it would turn out to be their meet-cute.

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Short Story: Day Hiker

Sweat dripped off of Archer Steuben’s forehead and fell to the dirt. The wind was still. The sun burned into the back of his neck. He pulled his hat farther down but made sure to keep his eyes covered. He was lost. He shouldn’t have even gone out today. The weatherman probably said something about the heat but he wasn’t listening closely enough to remember. No time to stand around, though. The only way he was going to find his way back was to continue.

A small brown bird flew quickly from a low branch to the ground. He was probably as hungry as Archer was. Why didn’t he pack extra food? He was usually more careful about things like that. He looked up ahead and saw an area crowded with trees and decided to take another break in the shade. He took out his white water bottle and drank. Before he could close it, the bottle slipped out of his hands and began spilling out water. He picked it up before losing too much but there was now a smear of mud on the tip of it. “Perfect.”

Archer wiped off the bottle, put it in his bag, and stood up to look for signs that there was a trail somewhere nearby. There was nothing so he moved on. As he walked, he thought about the previous day’s meeting. The client had told him that they no longer needed him as a consultant. They had found a larger company with more experienced employees. Archer had been in human resources for sixteen years and they didn’t think it was good enough. He asked why they couldn’t have told him on the phone instead of making him fly all the way out there. They said that they had just decided. People were always doing that to him. They never seemed bothered by his disappointment.

The trees were getting shorter and thinner now. He figured there would be something of importance ahead. There was. Several meters away, he could see a dilapidated fence; the paint chipping off. Three horses turned their heads and looked at them. One of them was a foal. Archer slowly approached them, hoping to see a barn or a farmhouse as well. People in Montana were not nice to him so far but maybe the owner would lend him a phone. After all, the only experience he had with people here was with the client.

“Stay away from my animals,” said a man standing behind the horses, evidently trying to fix another part of the fence.

“I was just wondering if I could borrow a phone from you,” Archer explained.

“I thought all you kids had them mobile phones that you can put in your pocket,” said the man.

“I do but I’m not getting a signal,” Archer said.

“I ain’t either. Now, git off my property before I git my scattergun. I know it’s around here somewhere,” the main mumbled the last few words.

Fearing the man would find his gun sooner rather than later, Archer moved back a little bit. “Okay well could you just tell me—?”

“I said git,” the man replied. He spit some sunflower seeds into the grass.

Archer turned around and headed back through the forest. Not much later, he passed out of the woods and into a field of tall grass. The sun was harder on him here but he felt less trapped. Perhaps now he’d be able to see a building or a road. He was right. Far away in the distance, he could see a one lane road slope up on a hill then disappear behind it. What was more exciting was the truck he could see parked on the side. He started running but grew tired and slowed his pace.

The truck was red and dirty. He could see a couple of dents along the side of it. One of the tires looked a little flat. As he got closer, he could see that the hatch was down and two legs were dangling over the edge. His heart beat faster. After all this, he did not want to see a dead body. Archer tip-toed towards it. Before he could see anything more, a little boy with blonde hair and a striped shirt rose from the bed. “Uncle?” the boy asked.

“What is it, boy?” said another voice.

“There’s a stranger,” the boy answered.

The man jerked his legs and sat up, peering at Archer. “Hi there,” he said. Can I help you? The name’s Jack. This is my nephew, Aaron.”

“Do you want some pizza?” the boy asked. “It has mustard in it.”

Archer hated mustard. He had never heard of it on a pizza before. On the other hand, he was so hungry. Maybe he could stomach through it just this once for survival reasons. Maybe not. “I’m not sure. Do you happen to have a cell phone on you, Jack?”

“I don’t have one of those,” Jack said. “Wish I could help.” Jack lay back down on the bed and covered his eyes with his straw hat. Aaron mimicked him.

“Well do you think later you could give me a ride to town or something? I’m kind of lost and out of food,” Archer said.

“My boy offered you some pizza. It’s still hot,” Jack said with a laugh.

“I know. I appreciate that but I would much prefer a ride,” Archer said.

“I can’t help you with that either,” Jack said. “My tire blew out.”

Before Archer could speak, Jack continued, “I don’t know my way to town anyway. We’re not from around here.”

“We is from Wyoming,” Aaron said excitedly.

Archer didn’t know what to say. These two appeared to be in a similar situation as he was but they were just sitting there. He was afraid to ask about it so he didn’t. Instead he turned around and left saying, “okay…thanks anyway.”

Microstory 25: At Odds

Robert Mathers opened the door to the roof and switched on his favorite song. He slowly walked over and stepped up onto the ledge. He had to wait until he got to hear the best part of the song one last time before jumping. As he was standing there, he saw something in his peripheral vision. It was a woman, standing on the ledge and crying. They made eye contact. What are the odds? He slipped off his headphones while they stared at each other, neither one knowing what to do in such a strange situation. If they both jumped, it would look like they were connected. The police would handle the case incorrectly. Robert stepped back down and bowed, opening his arm to graciously give this moment to her. He would have to find another roof. He started to walk away so that he wouldn’t be there when it happened but was stopped by a scream from the building across the street. He turned back and saw a man and a woman fighting in an apartment. They watched as the man grabbed the nearest heavy object and struck the woman across the face, dropping her to the floor. Robert and the other jumper looked at each other again. Things had gotten even more complicated. They looked back and saw the attacker prepare to hit her again. Before he could, sirens flared up in the distance, getting closer. The man stopped when he heard it too and ran out of sight. "There," the other jumper said. She was pointing toward a different window in the other building. Another woman was watching them, talking on the phone. The police cruiser pulled up and nearly struck the other man as he ran out of the building, still holding the weapon. They all lived.

Microstory 24: Japanese Puzzle Box

The cashier at the Asian Fusion restaurant gives me this weird smile as she hands me my change. I shake it from my head, grab my food, and leave. Once I'm finished eating, I look in the bag to see if there's a fortune cookie. Instead, I find a miniature Japanese puzzle box. A few minutes later, I manage to reach the final step. As I slide the piece over, the box explodes. After recovering from the shock, I look down to find a larger puzzle box. How did it fit inside? The urge to open this next box overpowers my fear of what might happen at the end. A half hour later, I  can tell that I'm nearly there. I grab a meter stick from the closet and use it to move the last piece. Just like before, this box explodes to reveal a box that is larger still. I laugh with excitement. How many are there? I spend the rest of the night opening boxes, eventually wearing gloves, safety goggles, and a heavy coat for protection. The largest box yet is about two feet wide and three feet long. It takes me hours, but I succeed. This time, it doesn't explode. The boards fall away, revealing a man curled up in a ball. He breathes a sigh of relief and hands me another miniature puzzle box, apologizing for it having to be this way. Before I can react, the box breaks open, stretching and unfolding until it’s large enough to encompass my entire body. It closes up and begins to shrink back down. I’m trapped.

Microstory 23: Three Dimes

When I arrived at my friend’s apartment complex, I discovered there to be no more free parking spaces left. The only ones available were at meters. I tossed my car, looking for change, and was fortunate to find three dimes, hashtag-thestruggle. This would get me to the three-hour limit, which was still a problem. “Feeding the meter” was illegal. I had to finish up there in the allotted time, or I would go to jail. As soon as I got upstairs, my friend asked me if I would drive him to a chick he met online who was getting rid of her old TV. I did as he asked, but hurried him along, fearful that I would lose my precious parking spot. But luck was on my side. When we got back, the space was still open. We stopped by the door to get the TV out. Just then, I looked over and saw someone park next to my spot. When he got out to pay his meter, I could tell that he saw that my meter was already running. He stepped back into his car. I dropped the TV on my friend’s foot, breaking it in two places, and cracking the TV screen. I then jumped back in my car and raced across the lot, slipping back into my birthright! The guy who wanted it was disappointed. So he stabbed me. I was arrested at the hospital for parking illegally.