Microstory 45: Lost Colony

In 1587, the island of Roanoke was accidently settled by a group of English colonists. They were led there by John White, but this was not his choice. They were piloted to the unplanned location by Simon Fernandez; a former pirate who was loyal to a man named Sir Francis Walsingham for having prevented his execution. Walsingham was a recruiter from another planet, and had been choosing Earthan humans to be early colonists of a new planet called Persephone. Most of his recruits were individuals; a few were in small families, so the Roanoke colony was his largest venture. Now-Governor John White returned to England to ask for help with the new colony. By the time he he was able to make it back nearly three years later, the entire group had been recruited, and the establishment abandoned. On a fence post, a young boy had carved the word “Croatoan”. True, it was the name of a second island, and also of a supposed American Indian tribe, but this was not why the boy had carved the word. These were not truly American Indians. They too were aliens, posted on Earth to foster the people. They had chosen Croatoan to be their tribe name, because it was originally the name of their spaceship. In 1590, Walsingham’s sabbatical ended, and his superiors requested that he return to the star system. After faking his own death, he picked up Fernandez whose debt from being a pirate had been paid by his work in Roanoke, and they left for The Core. Fernandez was allowed to live out the rest of his life with the colonists on Persephone, and none of them ever saw Earth again.

Microstory 44: A Few More Hours With Sophie

A few weeks before my dog died, she broke out of her fence. She wasn’t trying to escape; she considered the entire neighborhood to be her territory. Since the rest of her pack slept inside, but she slept outside, she thought it was her posting. She thought it was her job to keep watch, and to investigate danger. There’s no telling how many times she managed to find a vulnerability in the fence and go on patrol, then come back before we could discover her missing. I had moved out by this time, but I was staying at my parents’ home because they were on vacation. It took me hours to locate her, and it was very upsetting to me once she passed, because that time we were apart made me feel that much more empty. I regretted every second I spent without her, because she left me too soon, and I wasn’t anywhere close to being ready for it. Several years later, I’ve become successful. I’ve published several books, and produced many television series. I even found myself starting a technology company with a strong Research and Development department. We’ve been working heavily with exotic particles. Not long ago, we accomplished time travel. We followed the necessary precautions, and ran multiple computer simulations and safe tests, but yesterday, it was time for human trials. Despite protests, I broke protocol and tested it out on myself. The mechanisms for navigation weren’t ironed out, and I landed on the night of my dog’s final patrol. After arriving at my old neighborhood, I quickly found Sophie. She was scared that she would be in trouble, but she wasn’t. I spent hours with her, wrestling and hugging her. We even went on a short walk. At the end of it, I said my final goodbyes and secretly released her to the younger version of myself. While he was arguing with her for making him stay up late to search for her, I felt relief. As it turns out, I wasn’t really apart from her during her last patrol. I just hadn’t experienced it yet.

Microstory 43: Missed Connection

A few weeks ago, you were driving a blue sedan, and I was driving a small red truck down 31st street. I thought you were pretty, so I was revving my engine and speeding to impress you. You were smiling at me, so I thought you were interested as well. As it turns out, you were only laughing because there was a police officer behind me. He pulled me over and you drove off. He was pretty young, and seemed to understand what was happening, so he didn’t give me a ticket for reckless driving. He was forced to cite me, however, because I couldn’t find my insurance. I appeared at my court date with my new insurance card, and saw the cop again. We had no hard feelings, and got to talking. We ended up having a lot in common, and later went out for coffee together. We have been inseparable since. If this was you, please contact me. I would like to thank you for making me realize that I’m gay.

Microstory 42: New World

A few months ago, while I was on a road trip, the world ended. I won’t get into specifics about what went wrong, but it happened quickly, and very few of us survived. I’ve encountered a few camps in the area. The majority of them were fine people. Post-apocalyptic films like to show how twisted people will become in dire situations, but most of us are just trying to find our way through this new world. After feeling like I’ve exhausted the resources, I get into the fastest car I can find, and leave. So I’m driving down the highway, going at least 90 miles per hour, when I hear and see flashing lights behind me. Guy doesn’t know who he’s messing with. I speed up and just try to ignore him. He matches my speed and gets on the intercom, instructing me to pull over. I can’t keep this up. I’ll eventually need to get some gas, so I concede to his demands and check my weapons. Then I step out and point my shotgun towards him. He gets out and protects himself with his car door, shouting at me to put down my weapon. I don’t, of course, so he calls back-up. More police cruisers arrive. What a bunch of dishonorable people, pretending to be law enforcement officers in a time like this. Outnumbered, I give in and disarm myself. The first “cop” stuffs me in the back of his car and drives me into the city where I see tons of other cars driving around; far more than there should be, statistically speaking. All I can think is, “dawut?” After much confusion in the interrogation room, I’m finally able to convey to them that it doesn’t matter how fast I was going, because the world’s ended. They look at me like I’m crazy, and end up showing me a park where children are playing without a care in the world.

Another cop finally figures out where the misunderstanding was coming from. “Oh, no,” he says. “The world hasn’t ended. That’s just what Independence, Missouri looks like.”

Microstory 41: Fast Food

Half the crowd at the fast food restaurant aren’t even eating. I guess at some of their motivations, unable to hear them with my headphones on. Many people go to coffee shops and libraries to study, but one college-aged girl is studying anatomy here. I can see the flashcards of the human body. What an odd choice of location. A man who had already finished his meal when I came in sits with his arms folded, watching one of the employees fiddle with the interface for the drink dispenser. An exhausted woman walks in and lets her two children run to the play area, happy to be free from them for a few moments while she orders. A younger man eats with his son who looks relieved to be there. He probably doesn’t get to eat fast food very often. A large family huddles around a small table. Why they didn’t pick a larger table when there are plenty of options, I couldn’t tell you. An elderly woman steps in, takes one look at the menu board, and immediately leaves, as if she didn’t realize how cheap this place was. A young girl moves back and forth from the car to the counter, taking turns with the people established in the queue. They seem to have messed up the order, and are having further troubles fixing the problem. A couple drives by the windows, stuffing their faces. They look like they haven’t eaten for days. A teenage boy uncomfortably stares at the wall, occasionally getting up to throw something away or look through the options of the drink dispenser, without a cup. He looks nervous. Maybe he knows something. And me. As I nurse my soda, I massage the grip of my gun, anxious for what I’m going to do next.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: March 26, 2019

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Mateo gently removed his face from Leona’s. She gave him her best evil smile. Then she turned around and grabbed an infant from Carol’s arms. “Mateo Matic, say hello to your son, Theo.”

“What!?”

“I’m kidding,” she laughed. “He’s my baby brother. Half-brother.”

Carol pursed her lips. “Wasn’t funny when you told us you were going to do that joke, and it isn’t funny now that you’ve actually done it.”

Leona handed Theo to Mateo. “Funny from this side. How was your trip, honey?”

“Instant,” Mateo replied. “Theo does sound like he’s named after me.” He lifted the baby’s hand with his finger and shook it politely. “Little odd.”

She took Theo back. “It’s a family name. Er...well, not really. But my dad says he was incapable of naming him anything else; like it was already his name, and we were just discovering that fact.”

Everyone went to bed. Leona’s father and stepmother were on a vacation, so Carol and Randall were taking care of little Theo. He was technically Leona’s responsibility but she, of course, had classes to worry about. They were more than willing to pick up the slack, having felt a deficit since the onset of Mateo’s condition. Frida’s father passed not long after Mateo’s last departure. He lived long enough to see Frida’s engagement to her now-husband, but not long enough to be there for the wedding. Kyle was better than ever, and had all but moved on with his life. He was back to being a lawyer, and was rumored to be a far more genuine one than before.

Upon waking, Mateo snuck out of the house again. He needed some alone time. It was selfish of him, but he had just spent the last several days dealing with all this. It was true that he would be completely alone in only a few weeks when everyone would be dead, but he couldn’t help it. He and his friends liked to hang out at the large cemetery on the edge of town, but there was a smaller one in the middle of nowhere that only he knew of. That was his secret hiding place. There, he could find some of the oldest graves he had ever seen. There were those who had died in the early 19th century. It was peaceful and calm, and not just metaphorically. It was literally calm. Something about the formation of the trees, or maybe by divine choice, made the air milder than just outside of its borders. When it was cold outside, the secret cemetery would be warmer, and during the summer heat, it would be cooler.

He leaned up against a headstone and began to pray with his birth mother’s rosary. “Sorry to disturb you,” came a voice from the side. He opened his eyes and saw a middle-aged woman dressed in two coats. It was much too warm for that. She took the first one off and stuffed it in a bag. “Could you tell me where I am?” She removed a bottle of water from her bag and took a long drink from it.

“I don’t think there’s a name for this graveyard,” Mateo answered.

“No, I mean...I mean the city,” she clarified.

That was an odd question, but she was dressed in more layers than necessary. She must have been a nomad. “We’re a few miles Southwest of Sherwood Lake. In Topeka, Kansas.”

“Oh, wow,” she said. “That’s not far from home.”

“Where do you live?”

“Kansas City. I don’t suppose you were driving that way.”

“I wasn’t.” She was deeply saddened, clearly having been far from home for a long time. He had selfishly left his family at home and come to cemetery to pray. This was a sign. It was a very Catholic sign. She needed help, and he was the only one around. The chances that she would be here at this special place during the one day of the year that he was in the timestream were too low. She needed to get to Kansas City, so he was going to take her there. “But I am now.”

They stepped into the truck and headed out. She introduced herself as Daria. When he introduced himself with his full name, she laughed. “Are you joking?”

“No, why?”

“That’s my name too,” she claimed. “I’m Daria Matic.”

“Ah, well. It’s my birth father’s name. I never met him.”

She sat in silence for a good long while. At a glance, it looked like she was working something out in her head. “His first name wouldn’t happen to be Mario, would it?”

He freaked out, and his first instinct was to stop the car. But he remained calm, and kept driving. There were very few things that Mateo knew about his father. One was his first name, one was his last name, and the other was that he hated pickles. That’s all his birth mother had ever said. In fact, the third one had slipped out in the middle of dinner once, and she treated it like a matter of national security; like she had just committed treason. He tried looking for him, only for intellectual reasons, but he could find no trail. Mario Matic was a ghost. “Oh, my God. Are we related?”

“Looks like it. Are you a traveler?” she asked. She emphasized the word in a way that made it seem like she wasn’t just talking about a person who goes to other places. Traveler was a category. It was a species.

This time, he did stop the car. “On my 28th birthday, I traveled forward in time exactly one year. I get one day every year, and then I’m forced to move on. My girlfriend...I mean, my friend calls it a timeslip.”

“Oh, interesting,” Daria said thoughtfully.

“Do you do that too?” he asked, not sure what answer he was looking for.

“I’ve never heard of any time travel. I’m a teleporter. Like you, I can’t control it. But there doesn’t appear to be a pattern. When I start having dry mouth, I have a few minutes to gather my things, and then I’m gone.”

“I don’t get dry mouth. I get really tired before it happens, but it’s always at midnight anyway, so I don’t know if that’s part of it.”

“Yeah, I call that my indicator. Speaking of which, I’m really thirsty.”

“Well, we can stop somewhere. Oh...” He realized what she meant. She was about to leave again. “We’re not done with our conversation!”

She rummaged through her bag to make sure she had everything she needed. “I am certain that we will see each other again. These journeys are controlled by someone, and they know we didn’t have enough time. That was surely done on purpose. But I have to get out of here. If someone is too close to me, I risk bringing them along. It’s not uncommon for me to end up in Antarctica.” She tried to open the door.

“Oh, it gets stuck,” he apologized. “You have to—just...here.” He leaned over to get it for her.

“No!” she screamed, but it was too late. They disappeared.

They were still in a sitting position when they teleported out, so they fell to the concrete upon arrival. “Had a little too much to drink?” a stranger asked jokingly as he passed by with his friends. Mateo got to his feet and looked up to where he could see the Eiffel Tower. “Heavenly father, we’re in Paris,” he exclaimed.

“No,” Daria said. She moved his head over so that he could see the Arc de Triomphe. Those two landmarks were not that close together. And they weren’t that small. No, they weren’t in Paris. They were Vegas. Either way, he wouldn’t get back to his family for another year, at least.

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Siftens Landing Part IV

Click here for the first installment of this series.

Click here for the second installment of this series.
Click here for the third installment of this series.

Allison Siften’s younger brother, Junior would turn out to be the cause of the explosion. While all six of the parents went out to search for Moe, he and Libby Lander were asked to keep the two youngest children from the new family company. They had a lot in common with Sandra and Johnny Kapka. They liked playing video games, they hated conformists, and they couldn’t care less that their families were in this weird unspoken feud. While Libby and Johnny played against each other in a racing game, Sandra watched with an air of superiority, and Junior sat restlessly. He wanted to do something interesting. He wanted to do something fun. He wanted to do something dangerous. “I have some firecrackers,” he announced.

The other three stood up from the couch immediately. “Let’s go!” Johnny said excitedly.

They spent the rest of the day shooting off fireworks clear on the other side of the forest, so they wouldn’t get caught. They had found another thing in common; a love for destruction. They were quickly unsatisfied with the firecrackers themselves, and started rigging them to blow up other things. A computer monitor here, a bottle of cola there. They tried to use a pile of dead grass as shrapnel, but it wasn’t as glorious as they had hoped. Once they had depleted their supplies, Junior said, “We could always get the Ferocity Sunstrikers.”

“What are Ferocity Sunstrikers?” Sandra asked.
“They’re the biggest firecrackers ever created by human man,” Libby explained. “And they aren’t his. They belong to my dad.”“They’re basically legal bombs,” Junior continued. They went back down to the houses to retrieve the legendary fireworks from the Landers’ garage. The box got caught on some rope that someone had put in front of it. Junior tugged and pulled, trying to get it out. He was always so impatient and thoughtless. After one last try, he fell to his back. The box opened, spilling the Ferocity Sunstrikers. One of them started rolling down the garage and out to the driveway. They tried to catch it, but it was too fast. Junior had no idea how, but the Sunstriker activated and shot across the lawn. They watched as it flew right into his own garage, and exploded, sending a massive plume of fire up through the house, and out of the roof. Click here for the final installment...

Microstory 40: Take a Hike

Yesterday, I was in the middle of my four-hour walk when a girl suddenly came down a hill and sidled up next to me to ask what I was doing. Not really something you do in a civilized society. People tend to leave me alone during my hikes. When I told her what I was doing, she asked if she could walk with me. I reluctantly agreed, ya know, in case she too had a knife. I politely answered her questions, and asked her a few of my own; which is against my nature. It felt less like a conversation, and more like an interview. Nearly a half hour later, I tried to turn to the left, but she stopped me and asked where I was going. I was heading toward an industrial area, and she was clearly perturbed by it. But that was my plan. I’ll go out for an hour, maybe two, with no idea where I’m going. But I map out my longer hikes since I may have to make sure I get to a road that safely goes under a highway, or over a stream. And we were past the point of no return. If I took any other route, it would be too long before I reached home. She said that there weren’t any restaurants in that area, and she was hoping we would grab a bite to eat. I cautiously asked her if she was homeless. She nodded and hung her head. “If you needed money, you could have just asked. You didn’t have to walk all this way with me.”

“I was hoping to pretend like it was a date, and you would pay for a meal anyway,” she answered. I considered my options for a few moments. I explained to her that she would be risking coming home with me, but that I would be risking letting her into my house, and that I could either give her twenty bucks and walk away, or we could risk it together. She hesitantly agreed. I woke up today half-expecting my television and computer to be gone, but everything was fine, so I guess I just have a roommate now.