Category: Fiction Page 1 of 23

Fiction Fragment Friday

I’ve been debating on changing the name of Fiction Fragment Friday. When I named this weekly post I intended to have snippets of fiction included along with flash fiction. A scene or paragraph for example could have been posted on a week. That isn’t really how I have used it though. I think Flash Fiction Friday or Free Fiction Friday might be a more accurate title. I’ll have to look around and see if anyone else is using this name.

For this week I have three writing prompts that I have written stories for. These are all smaller flash fiction, but they were written for a writing discord so I needed smaller stories to post in a single entry. I thought putting three together for one Friday post on a holiday week would be a good way to share some current writing.

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Prompt 1:

You’ve defeated the Dark Lord, just as you were prophesied to. As you walk back into camp, you notice everyone is looking at you, shocked. “There is no prophecy. We only told you that for confidence. How on earth did you manage to kill an unkillable sorcerer?”

My legs buckle as my knees finally give out.  There is no energy left in me to continue, yet somehow pushing against an ancient elm I manage to stand once more.  I have never in my twenty years of life felt exhaustion to this degree.  Just a little bit further and I can finally rest.

               Rays of light from the returning sun hit my face reminding me of my accomplishment.  It is finally done.  The prophecy has been fulfilled, and the Dark Lord is dead.  For the first time since my eighteenth birthday my future is my own.  If I choose to sleep for the next week that is my prerogative. 

               As I stumble through the town gates, I feel it is almost as great an accomplishment as striking down the Dark Lord.  My neighbors are all staring at me and I can’t really blame them.  I must be a horrible sight.  My left arm is broken in multiple locations, hangs loose at my side.  Cuts cover my body and blood drips from me with every step.  It is not all my blood, but they have no way of knowing that. 

               “Why do you not cheer?  The Dark Lord has been slain.  The prophecy is at long last fulfilled.”  I point to the sky with my one good arm.  “The sun once again shines on this land.” 

               One of the town elders finally speaks. “How?  How have you done this?  He was unkillable.”  The others all murmur and whisper to each other words I cannot make out.  They are either being quiet or I just am too hurt to focus properly. 

               “Did you doubt the prophecy?”

               “There was no prophecy.  We just wanted to give you solace and confidence.  The Dark Lord required a sacrifice every twenty years or he would destroy the village.  A child born during a full moon.  You were a bit old for the task, but all we had.”

               “You all sent me to die?”  The shock of the betrayal overwhelms me.

               “It is our great shame, but you prevailed so our consciences can be clear.”

               “You sent me to die.”  This time it is not a question.  It is a statement made in anger.  I want to strike my elder down, but in my current state I’m not sure if I could even reach him. 

               “You must tell us how you managed to prevail.”

               I think back to the fight.  Dodging fireballs and using his own minions as living shields.  Finally running him through with his own sword and watching the body wither away turning to dust under me.  I smile at my elder and manage one last response before passing out.  “No,  I’m not going to tell you.”           

Prompt 2:     

An agoraphobic princess is sick and tired of knights breaking into her castle and trying to slay her emotional support dragon.

“The stupid Dragon’s asleep.  This is going to be a piece of cake.” 

               Why do all these idiot knights feel the need to talk out loud to themselves?  I know that Mr. Cuddly Von Smokey Breath is a sound sleeper, but they can’t know that.  The first rule of trying to sneak up on a sleeping dragon should be to actually sneak.  You know by quiet and try not to make any sound at all.  These egomaniacal morons just can’t go ten minutes without hearing the sound of their own voice.  You don’t hear me talking as I stalk them. 

               “That’s it.  Just a little bit closer.”  The knight lifts his sword above his head ready to stab down into Smokey’s neck.  Dragon scale is tough, but I can’t be sure it can withstand a strike from that close.  It is a risk I’m not willing to take. 

               From my hiding spot in the corner shadows, I raise my crossbow and fire.  There is a spot right at the armpit on most armor suits that is open to a precise shot.  A shot I have never missed.  I hear the reassuring sound of pain followed by the clanking of a sword against the stone floor.

               If I were one of them, I would yell out some blustering garbage to make myself sound tougher.  I’m no knight though.  I’m just an agoraphobic princess trying to defend my best friend and primary source of comfort.  Well maybe not just.  I’m also far smarter than a knight.  Yelling is their tool.  I put two fingers in my mouth and use my tool.  A whistle.

               The roar is so loud it hurts my ears even though I was prepared for it. 

               “Why Princess?  I was here to save you.”

               Part of me wants to scream out my frustrations.  I never asked to be saved.  This is my home, and it is far safer than the world outside.  He wouldn’t listen though.  In the beginning I tried talking to these would be heroes, but they never care about what I want.  They just want glory for themselves.  Yelling at them is a waste of my time so I don’t bother with it.  I just smile as Smokey eats his snack.  I wonder since my arrow is made out of wood if it could be considered a Knight-kebab.         

Prompt 3:

Ten years ago, your mentor said, “Kid, there’s a little secret when it comes to magic. You can literally make shit up and it’ll usually work. Makes the guys who actually take it seriously really mad.” Today, you’re one of the least respected, and most powerful, mages in the land.

Let me tell you a little secret my mentor shared with me ten years ago.  You know all those incantations, runes, and rules that are required for magic?  Well, you don’t need any of them.  If you think you need them then you do, but if you know you don’t then you don’t.  You can pretty much make up anything and it will usually work.  The old wizards don’t want the world to work that way so for them it doesn’t.  They have spent so much time imposing their will on the world that they have shaped these rules into reality.

               “Hey Franky, what does this symbol mean?”  The teen holds up a crude drawing of a penis.

               “I already demonstrated to your mom last night,” I shout back.  I know he is going to charge me before he even consciously decides to.  With my own personal magical gestures of two raised middle fingers, I call roots from beneath the ground to wrap around his ankles.  His face hits the dirt so hard I almost feel sorry for him.  Almost.

               “Good one Franky.  What were you actually trying to do?”  This one from a teen girl on the other side of the street.

               “I don’t try anything.  I just do.”  I wink at her and watch the look of disgust come across her face.  I’ll never tell her that I was really trying to wrap him completely in vines, but at the last second was too afraid of my power going wild and killing him. 

               That is the secret I keep.  Sure, you can pretty much do anything you want and create magic, but that doesn’t mean it is easy to control without all those rules I never bothered to learn.  I’m more powerful than any other wizard I have ever met but can’t control that power.  That is why I’m a joke to everyone in this town.  Little do they know I could wipe them all out with a thought.  As someone’s spit lands on my nose I wonder not for the first time if that wouldn’t be a thought worth having.                 

Fiction Fragment Friday

This story is actually a sequel and let me tell you it is one I NEVER imaged I would ever write. I would say I have no words, but I had about a thousand of them for this story. I started with a sentence that popped into my head. Some of my favorite stories have been ones where I had a weird concept to start them off and just leaned into explaining it. Well as this weird concept got fleshed out I needed motivation and an ending. That was where it twisted into a sequel. No more clues though, you have to wait until the end to see what it is a sequel to.

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               I don’t normally pick up hitchhikers, but I knew that a mermaid on a unicycle had to have a story worth hearing.  Now I know what you must be wondering.  How does a mermaid pedal a unicycle?   Well, this mermaid was woman on bottom and fish on top.  I’m sure that created a huge list of additional questions.  Well now you can understand why I pulled the car over to the side of the road to offer her a ride.    

               “Hey, you need a lift?”

               She looked at her scaly thumb held out.  “I’m not holding this thing up for my health.”  Yes, this reverse mermaid had arms with fins along them and one giant fin on her back.  Even more impressive though was that the fish mouth moved perfectly with her words.  I had seen high budget science fiction movies with less convincing costumes than hers.  Once again, I was reminded of the passion a cosplayer could put into their art.    

               As impressed as I was, I couldn’t help but think her response to someone offering her a lift was extremely rude. The curiosity outweighed my annoyance though, so I hit the button to unlock my doors.  “You can put the unicycle in the backseat.”

               “Thanks so much.  I really appreciate this.”  She didn’t take any care tossing the unicycle in telling me that it held no sentimental value for her.  I watched carefully as she slid into my passenger seat.  The fin on her back folded to the side pressing up against her.  She did struggle with the seatbelt a bit, but got herself fastened in. 

               The fish scales blended to skin so seamlessly I couldn’t tell for sure where the prosthetic and make-up ended and the actual skin began.  Also, no she wasn’t naked so just get your head out of the gutter now.  She had a cloth bikini on top and biker shorts on bottom.  I was taken aback at her lack of shoes though.  I certainly wouldn’t walk along the side of the road without something protecting my feet.       

               “So, where you headed?”  I figured that would be a safe starting question that might answer some of the things I was wondering about.

               “Las Vegas. “

               That made sense.  If she wasn’t heading to San Diego, then Las Vegas was the next most likely place for a convention.  This made me wonder why she didn’t have any luggage though and didn’t wait until she got there to put the costume on.  It was almost six hours away after all.  “Some kind of convention out there?”

               “Probably.  Always a convention or conference from what I hear.  Not really my scene though.  Too many gawkers.” 

               “What does take you out there then?”  I knew it was way too direct a question, but I just couldn’t help but ask.  She was wearing a reverse mermaid costume and yet didn’t want people looking at her.  That just didn’t make any sense at all.

               She pointed to the back seat.  “Well, that thing until you picked me up.  Not gonna lie I was getting a bit dehydrated already.  How far do you think you can take me?”

               “Well, it just so happens I’m heading to Vegas myself, but I need to make a stop in San Bernardino first.  If you don’t mind a 30-minute delay, I can take you all the way there.”

               “Really?  Thank you so much.”  She was excited and the gills on her neck fluttered with excitement, and she tried to reach over to hug me.  I say tried because she moved too fast and choked herself on the seatbelt when it snapped tight.

               “You, okay?”

               Her voice came back a bit pained.  “Yeah, just not used to these things,” she said as she pulled on the seatbelt. 

               “Don’t take many car rides?”

               “You could say that.  This is my first time in a car.”

               “Really.  How is that even possible?”          

               She looked at me and I could see she was weighing just how much she could share.  “We don’t really have them where I come from.”

               “Where’s that Atlantis?” I asked with a chuckle.  She didn’t return my laugh and instead got very quiet.  That was when I started to get a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.  “You’re not from Atlantis, are you?”

               She fidgeted in her seat, and I realized that I had let a bit of anger slip into my tone when I said the name.  She isn’t him I told myself.  Even if she comes from Atlantis, she isn’t the one who destroyed my life. 

                 “Uhm, not exactly.  More of a suburb of Atlantis.” 

               Despite it glaring at me in the face the whole time it wasn’t until that moment that I finally accepted she wasn’t a cosplayer.  She wasn’t wearing a costume at all and now she looked extremely scared.  I could see tears forming in the corner of her fisheyes.  “Hey, hey, hey it’s ok.  No need to be scared.  I’m sorry about my reaction.  I just had a bad encounter with someone from Atlantis a year ago.”

               “You and me both.  Damn con man tricked me out of a coral-carved surfboard that’s been in my family for generations.  He was supposed to win some stupid tournament and split the winnings with me.  Instead, he hopped on the first bus to Vegas.  It’s taken me a year to track him down.

               “You don’t say.  He wouldn’t by any chance be a Vampire, would he?”

               “How did you know?”

               A smile came across my face.  “Well little lady my name is Noah ‘Backbreaker’ Minnow.  Let me tell you how I got second place in the Twelfth Annual Northshore Big Wave Invitational.  After that we’re going to get your family board back, and me some vengeance.”  We drove off into the night forming a friendship forged in mutual hatred of a certain Glittering Vampire Surfer From Atlantis.    

Fiction Fragment Friday

This story started with the first two lines. I woke up and they came into my head. The story that grew from them is one that I could have never imagined intending to write. It had to grow organically from the writing. Readers may find the main character sympathetic or they may find him irredeemable. I don’t disagree with either view. He is a broken person, but there comes a point where everyone must accept responsibility for their own actions.

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                It’s been fifteen years since the first dead person stood up and started walking again.  There are those among us in the community who have never known a world without them.   In my youth, technology grew so quickly we would talk about how the next generation would never understand what the world was like before it.  Little did we know that the very next generation after them would never understand how integrated that technology had been with society. 

                “Jay.  Are you listening?” 

                I had, in fact, not been listening.  Instead, my mind was lost in thought, focused on all the things that the dead had taken from us.  After fifteen years, we had a secure community with walls, electricity, and food.  It was practically a paradise compared to how we lived in the first few years, but the youngest among us didn’t know how much better it had been.  There are the obvious things like the internet and cell phones of course.  It was the less obvious losses that hurt the most. 

                Before the dead there was a global supply chain.  The variety of food and entertainment would overwhelm these kids.  They would never travel from city to city because it is still too dangerous to do so.  Medications have become rare and treatments for long-term illnesses are almost unheard of.

                “JAY.”

                “I hear ya, I hear ya.”  I put down my binoculars on the table and turned to look at the recruit.  “What do you want?”

                He shuffled on his feet, a bit obviously nervous to deliver his message.  “I’m here to relieve you on watch, sir.  General Michaels said you needed a break and to tell you to get lunch.” 

                “General Michaels.  Well, you can tell my daughter that I’ll eat when I damn well decide it’s time.” 

                “She said when you said that to tell you it’s an order.”

                I groaned audibly at hearing that.  Of course, she would know how I would react.  I hate that she can predict me so well and I don’t feel like I even know her anymore.  It makes me feel like a failure as a father.  We were supposed to leave them a better world than the one we were born into, but that didn’t happen.  Our scientists just had to experiment with fungus, virus, and nanotech.  I have no idea which one or blend of them caused the dead to stand up and start killing us. 

                I see the recruit hasn’t budged.  “Fine, I’ll go.”

                He took my binoculars and began his watch.  I could tell right away that he would be more focused than I was.  Not for the first time I wondered if my inability to prevent my mind from wandering would someday cost lives.  Maybe I really shouldn’t still be on watch duty.  I hated admitting my daughter was right.  It is hard to let go and admit your child is more capable than you are.  More accurately, you are no longer as capable as you used to be.

                I entered the cafeteria, met by the scent of corn, potatoes, and chicken.  I would give anything for a good steak, but we don’t have many cows.  Half the people in the community have never even tasted beef.  As my eyes adjusted to the lighting, they focused on my daughter sitting at a table by herself patting a chair for me.  She already had a tray of food waiting.            

                “I’m not helpless, you know.  I’m fully capable of getting my own food.”  My voice came out more harshly than I wanted it to.

                “I know.  I figured this would give us more time to talk, though.  Her voice was gentle, and I knew she was trying to avoid upsetting me.   

                “Is that an order, too?”  Damn it I don’t want to fight with her, but I just can’t help myself.  I saw the hurt on her face and hated myself for putting it there.  Pride and shame are horrible feelings that drive a wedge between you and those you love.  “Sorry.  I didn’t mean that.”

                “Yes, you did, but I understand.  You have to know I didn’t want to take your job.”

                I did know.  The town voted her in charge of the town guard.  They felt I was too old and out of touch.  It doesn’t hurt that she accepted the role.  She is good at it.  It doesn’t even hurt that the community doesn’t trust me.  That isn’t true.  Both do hurt, but they are not what hurts most.  What hurts most is that the community was right.  I’m not the man I used to be.  Too much loss, too many injuries, and the weight of too many years.  The fact that I’ve been so petty and let it come between us says more about my not being fit for the position anymore than anything else does. 

                “Your mom would be proud of you.”  It isn’t what I want to say.  I wanted to tell her that I was proud of her.  Why is it so hard to say what I’m really feeling?  I look up and see the tears in her eyes.  She will not let them fall.  Not in public. Trying to bury her emotions is one of my many negative traits that she inherited. 

                “I need to tell you something and considering how much you hate my husband, I’m not sure how you are going to feel about it.”

                “Did he cheat on you?  I’ll kill him.” 

                “No dad.  He’s a good man, damn it.  You just can’t see it.”  The anger is so obvious in her voice that even I can’t miss it.  She is right to be angry.  Her husband is a good man, but he took my baby girl from me.  They were too young to get married.  In this modern world of the dead, that isn’t actually true and I know it.   I can’t help that I grew up in a different world.  I don’t like him, but he makes my daughter happy.  Why can’t that be enough for me.

                “Sorry.”  I say it, but there is no conviction in my voice.  I do mean it, but I can’t bring myself to get over the bitterness.  “What do you need to tell me?”

                “I’m pregnant.  You’re going to be a grandpa.” 

                My heart was filled with joy, but my head was racing in many directions.  What kind of world was this to bring a child into?  How can she lead the town guard while she is pregnant?  Is my good-for-nothing son-in-law going to be able to take care of them?  She saw something in my face that she didn’t like.  I’m not sure what the expression was, but I didn’t hide it well enough.

                “I told him.  I told him, but no Jeremy said that you would be happy for us.  He still thinks he can win you over.  After everything you have said to him over the years, he still thinks you have a heart in there somewhere.  I tried to tell him any heart is a shriveled-up husk, but no he still defended you.”

                Her words hit me harder than a punch to the gut.  My son-in-law still defended me. He had hope for me that I couldn’t even generate for myself.  “I am happy for you,” I say trying to put as much sincerity into my words as I can.  “I’m just worried too.” 

                “Forget it.  I’m done.  Maybe once you hold your grandchild you can become human again.”  She stood up and loudly bussed her tray. 

                I sat there and ate the rest of my lunch in silent self-loathing. 

Fiction Fragment Friday

I decided this week I wanted to do a story in second person present tense. This was partially to get outside of my comfort zone, but more because I had a scene and delivery in my mind to start with and it just demanded to be written. I don’t think I have to say that with this being outside of my usual tense and perspective this story will be different for me. I think the story has an extra punch to it not just because of content but because of the perspective choice.

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               It’s cold and dark with a faint humming sound all around you.  The sound agitates the throbbing pain of a sinus headache.  Damp air is difficult to breathe through stopped-up nostrils, so you gasp in deeply through your mouth.  The movement causes your arms to hit walls one either side.  You feel tugging on your forearms and realize that there are tubes running into them.  This and the hard flat surface you are laying on are the only sensations on your skin.  You are completely naked in a container that is barely large enough to hold you.

               You have a moment to feel grateful that you are not claustrophobic.  The moment the very concept of claustrophobia enters your mind you feel it take hold.  Your heart starts to pound in your chest.  Uncontrollable shaking overtakes your body, and your efforts to curl into the fetal position are thwarted by the lack of space.  Already struggling to breathe you begin to hyperventilate gasping in panic.  Every sense in your body tells you that you are going to die.

               The panic has your complete attention, so you don’t notice the hissing sound that starts around you.  The lid of the container imprisoning you slides down.  Fluorescent light feels like knives made of fire stabbing into your eyes.  Without making conscious choices you lurch to a sitting position wrapping your arms tightly around your chest as you rock back and forth.  The sudden motion ripped the tubes from your arm and drops of blood smear across your chest as you shake.  Your vision has dark splotches over it, but the room slowly starts to come into focus.

               The walls are grey with textured surfaces and the floor has a rubberized mat over it.  Computer monitors built into the walls are flickering, indicating that they have power, but nothing is being displayed.  Your open rectangular pod is the center of a row of three.  You can tell the other two are occupied, but the people in them are not moving.  The opposite wall next to the only door is lined with cabinets.

               Giving yourself only a few moments to slow your breathing and try to calm your heartbeat you climb out of the pod.  An intense sense of modesty fills you knowing that you are standing there in the middle of the room naked.  You cling to the small comfort that the others are still in their pods and there are no visible cameras watching you.  It still gives you a sense of urgency as you approach the cabinets.  Each step is difficult with your muscles aching.  Your legs shake under you and your body feels weak. 

               Vertigo and nausea overcome you just steps away from the cabinets.  Your arms wrap around your stomach as you bend over and vomit onto the floor.  Pain wracks your body with every sore muscle protesting.  There is no food in your stomach to come out so you heave until stomach acid works its way up your throat burning as it goes.  Once again you are gasping for breath, but this time tears have filled your eyes.  You just want to curl up in a corner, but you know that you can’t do that.  You have to push forward. 

               Opening the cabinet, you find a selection of grey jumpsuits with white trim.  They are organized by size, and it only takes you a moment to find one that will fit you.  A sense of relief fills you when you zip the jumpsuit the front and are covered.  A tingling sensation runs across your skin everywhere the cloth is touching it.  Your fingers instinctively move to the zipper ready to rip it off but the sensation fades before you act.  On one of the wall mounted screens, you now see your own vitals being displayed.  Your mind tries to recall what normal is, but it is still so hard to think straight.

               Having addressed modesty concerns you decide checking on the other two pods should be your next priority.  Perhaps one of them will know where you are and what is going on.  On still shaky legs you make your way to the first pod.  You reach out and grip the rim to help stabilize yourself.  It takes a moment to compose yourself before examining the pod’s inhabitant. 

               Laying in front of you is a middle-aged naked man.  A scar runs across his upper chest with a perpendicular one going down to his groin.  His left arm is missing above the elbow with a tube sitting loose in the pod below it.  Another tube is running into his right forearm.  You feel an aching where your own tubes had been ripped out now that you are consciously thinking about them.  The man’s face has an expression of sheer terror on it that you suspect will haunt your nightmares for the foreseeable future.  He is not breathing.  The final detail you notice is that the top of his skull has been removed, and the brain cavity is empty.  Once again you vomit on the rubberized floor.

               The other chamber holds a naked woman you estimate to be in her twenties.  Her body is intact and does not have any noticeable incision scars.  For a moment you hope that she is still alive, but she does not appear to be breathing either.  You notice that the lid of her pod has a screen on it with a flashing red light.  Leaning closer you can make out words.  “System Failure.  Specimen Lost.”  Glancing over your shoulder you make note that the other pods have a similar display, but they are blank. 

               You look closely at the girl’s face and feel her dead eyes bore into you.  It feels like she is judging you for surviving while she did not.  Not knowing who she is or even who you are doesn’t prevent the irrational sense of guilt that fills you.  “I’m sorry.”  Your voice is raspy and even these two words hurt to say. 

               There may be supplies or answers in this room, but you cannot bear to stay in it any longer.  It is a tomb now and the dead judge you for not being one of them.  You do not belong here and are not welcome.  Staying longer will just bring more horror and nausea.  The pain in your stomach muscles is already almost more than you can stand.  Across the room the door stands as a beacon of hope.

               Step after exhaustive step you move towards the door.  It does not have a handle, but there is a control pad mounted on the wall to the right.  With a hiss the door slides to the side at your approach.  Beyond is a hallway with doors lining both sides.  Behind each door could be salvation or more nightmares.  You cannot bring yourself to find out which so instead you continue to walk forward wondering why you have not seen anyone else living. 

               Ahead the hall comes to an end.  There are halls going to the left and right but it is the large window in front of you that has your complete attention.  You lean against the wall for support, but your shaky legs finally give out under you.  With your arms wrapped around your knees you just sit there against the wall rocking back and forth.  Outside the window the Earth moves farther away from you.  Even from space you can see the fires burning on the dying planet.                         

Fiction Fragment Friday

This week’s “story” is a bit short because it makes sense for the format. I decided to write a flash fiction in the format of an Airbnb listing for a haunted house. I didn’t want it to come out and say that it was haunted though I wanted to build the story around the format of a listing with subtle and obvious clues.

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Entire House in Eureka Missouri

Hosted by Victoria

Overview:

Come stay in an adorable 3-bedroom House nestled among the rolling hills of Eureka Missouri.  A quiet home surrounded by 4 acres of woodland will ensure you the utmost privacy.  Two bathrooms, a living room, and a finished game room in the basement round out this prime location to get away from everything.  You will love the original hardwood floors and brick fireplace. 

You will have full access to the home and no direct interaction with the owner.  Should any issues arise, please contact us immediately.  We will arrange for cleaners, a handyman, or religious services to come on site. 

Our guests have all had a very memorable experience. 

Amenities:

• Plenty of onsite parking
• Keyless entry with doors that sometimes open for you
• A 1919 phonograph player
• Antique Piano
• Fully stocked kitchen (includes standard appliances and ceremonial cutlery)
• Antique rocking chair

House Rules:

• Do not ever go into the attic.  It is unsafe.  
• Follow all checkout cleaning directions, as we do not go onsite for any reason.
• Do not use or move the rocking chair, it is fragile.
• While the paintings may appear to have eyes that are following you, do not attempt to cover them.  They are original to the house and extremely valuable.  

Other Things to Note:

• The house is old, and creaks are perfectly normal.  Some guests have described the sounds as resembling crying or wailing at night.  This is simply wind through the hills.      
• Some guests have reported waking to breakfast already being made in the kitchen.  Please rest easily knowing that we will not be entering the house while you are there or otherwise.  These instances are likely sleep cooking or romantic gestures by guests that did not want to claim credit. 
• Writing on mirrors with what we assure you is just red lipstick despite the metallic scent can easily be cleaned off with the wipes provided in the cabinet under the sink.  There will always be a case of them ready for use. 
• Being surrounded by so much nature some visitors find they wake up at night struggling to breathe and feeling a heavy weight on their chest.  Allergy or sinus medication should clear that right up. 
• There are extra blankets in the hallway closet.  Being an older house there are drafts so you may find that a warm room can very quickly become chilly.  It is just a great excuse to snuggle up with your loved ones. 
• You may hear the piano playing softly overnight.  Please enjoy the sleep ambience.

Cancellation Policy

        No cancellations accepted after check-in.  Early departures will not be granted partial refunds.

Fiction Fragment Friday

This is where I usually tell you what inspired the story you are about to read. I honestly have no idea where this one came from. The idea just materialized in my head and demanded to be written.

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                     50,000 Volts of electricity coursed through Stephen’s body the moment he touched the doorbell.  Two tiny metal prongs hidden inside the button pierced his skin completing the circuit.  His body stiffened before dropping to the ground along with the ByteBites Food Temperature Preservation Container he had been holding in his left hand.  He hated calling an insulated bag by such a ridiculously grandiose name, but it was strict company policy.  Even gig jobs like food delivery had requirements you needed to follow or lose access to the app.    

               From inside the house came the sound of paws running down the stairs accompanied by wild barking and snarling.  The front door of the house shook with the impact of something large slamming against it.  Still struggling to regain control of his motor functions, Stephen crab-walked backwards on the porch feeling his heart pounding against his chest.      

               “Back, Back, GET BACK!”

In the moment the yelling man opened the front door Stephen could see the dog fighting to slip out onto the porch.  It was a single dog, but the dog had three heads each with a different colored collar and nametag.  The man barely managed to get the door closed behind him and it continued to rattle as the dog made impact. With wild white hair, goggles, and a long white lab coat the man towered over the prone Stephen.

               “I have your food order?” Stephen said with his voice cracking and the statement sounded more like a question.  His mouth was dry, and muscles were still too weak to support him.  He barely had the strength to hold the food back up towards the man.

               “Did you even bother to read my instructions?”  He grabbed the bag from Stephen’s hand and started digging through it.  “If you crushed my nachos when fell I’m going to reverse charges on my tip.

               Stephen pulled his phone out of his pants pocket and opened the ByteBites app.  He was thankful that the shock and subsequent fall didn’t damage it.  There in the delivery notes was a message that he indeed had not read.  Leave food on bench by door.  Do not knock or ring the doorbell.  It upsets my dog.  “S-Sorry sir.  I m-missed the instructions.”  It was hard to focus and put the words together with his head in a fog.  He also noticed on the app that the man had only put in a two-dollar tip to begin with.

               “That’s the problem with you kids these days.  Can’t even bother to read simple instructions and if you do ya still screw them up.”  He pulled his food from the ByteBites Food Temperature Preservation Container and tossed the bag onto Stephen’s chest.  “Worthless the lot of you,” he said as he opened the door to go back inside. 

This was what the three-headed dog had been waiting for.  It lunged through the crack in the door and pounced on Stephen.  With his vision filled by the furry beast he braced himself for the pain of being violently ripped apart.  Instead, he found himself coughing and choking as two of the three heads relentlessly licked his face trying to get into his nose, ears, and mouth.  The other head pointedly did not lick him but kept stealing glances to see if Stephen was looking at him.  Unfortunately, the head was disappointed because the other two were not allowing the human to see anything. 

“Snuggles, Bitey, Steve, get back.  Come on, inside.”  The older man stood on the porch pointing towards the open front door and stomping his feet to get their attention.  “You are the worst guard dog ever.”  The dog lowered its heads and whined.  “No, those sad puppy dog eyes do not work on me.  Inside.”  He punctuated the word with another stomp on the porch. 

Stephen gasped in relief as the heavy dog climbed off him and entered the house.  His ribs hurt from the impact and his heartrate still had not returned to normal. 

“Where’s my drink?”

“Oh, sorry sir.  I forgot it in my car.  I’ll get it now.”  Stephen managed to rise on shaky legs and stumble towards his car.

“You didn’t read the instructions, did you?”  Blocking his way at the yard’s front gate was another ByteBites driver.  Instead of the typical Food Temperature Preservation Container she had a large back of dogfood under his right arm and a small paper bag under her left.             

            “Hey Doctor Splicer.  Hope you don’t mind I picked up a couple treats for the babies at the pet store.  My treat, not extra cost.” 

               The man’s face lit up seeing the new driver.  “Jennifer how many times do I have to tell you?  Call me Gene.”  He turned to look at Stephen.  “You could learn something from her young man.  She knows how to follow instructions and would never forget my drink in her car.” 

               She looked down at Stephen shaking her head at him.  “You forgot his drink too?” 

               “And he crushed my nachos,” he said holding his food up for her to see. 

               “You aren’t going to turn him into some kind of mindless slime creature, are you?”

               “No, no, no.  Well not now that you’re here and have seen him.”  He turned back to Stephen.  “Thank her now, you miserable waste of flesh.”  The words were sharp and had a command to them. 

               Stephen found himself babbling before he even knew what he was doing.  “T-Thank you miss.  I’m very grateful.” 

               Stephen reached his car and collapsed against it.  He tried to calm his breathing.  His hands shook as he retrieved the drink from his cup holder.  The ice rattled in the cup.  With great trepidation he returned to the front door where Dr Splicer and Jennifer were laughing. 

The dog was back on the porch sitting back with its front two paws lifted.  “Stay, stay, stay,” Jennifer repeated as she put a treat on each head’s nose.  “Get it” All three heads in unison tossed their heads up flipping the treats and catching them in snapping jaws.  “Good boys.”

“Here’s your drink sir.”  Stephen was proud his voice didn’t crack this time.  All three dog heads turned towards him making him fight the urge to run for the gate.  The cup was still shaking as he held it out.  The dog moved to put itself between Stephen and Jennifer, growling at him. 

“Oh, her you protect.”  Dr Splicer shook his head again.  “Worst guard dog ever.”  He took his drink and then addressed Stephen.  “Learn from this.  Do better.”

Without another word Stephen ran for the gate.  Moments later the sound of squealing tires could be heard as the young man left the house as fast as his car would take him.     

Fiction Fragment Friday

This weeks story hopefully hits hard. I was struggling for inspiration and took a concept prompt and completely turned it on it’s head. It is interesting how far from an initial prompt some of these stories go. This story I feel is one of my stronger concepts and I can only imagine what will become of it after another edit pass or two. There is no way it will not be on Bite Size Tales someday.

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                “Elana, I am detecting a distress protocol signal.”   My ship’s AI announced shortly after we jumped into the system.  A system that all records said was supposed to be uninhabited and only explored by an early probe a century ago. 

                “How is that possible?”  I brought up the details of the signal on my console. 

                “Unknown.  The transponder code included in the signal identified the source as Escape Pod 12 from Station Eden-4.  I do not have any such station in my databases.”

                “Do we have room to bring the escape pod onboard?”

                “Yes, the dimensions are within safety margins to bring into our cargo bay.”

                I hit the broadcast button to respond.  “Escape Pod 12. This is Elana McDaniels aboard the survey vessel Serif.  I’m going to bring you onboard.”  I waited a few moments, but there was no acknowledgement of my message, and the pod was now within range.  “Ok, bring it aboard.” 

                My AI opened the external cargo ramp and engaged the gravitic guide beam to direct the escape pod onboard.  Once the magnetic clamps held it to the bulkhead, the ramp closed, and the cargo bay pressurized.  I set the ship to do a deep scan of the system before changing into an environment suit.  I didn’t know who or what was inside the escape pod, but there was a risk of contamination. 

                The pod was a small one-person unit with just enough space for a seat and a computer console.  I had seen the type before.  Just enough to get clear of a ship experiencing catastrophic failure, but you better hope someone comes along to pick you up quickly.  They couldn’t keep anyone alive for over thirty-six hours.  As I keyed the commands to open the pod, I found myself doubting that I had arrived in time to save this unlucky soul.

                As I expected, the person inside the pod was dead.  She was not wearing an environmental suit or even a helmet.  This told the story of a rush to get into the escape pod and eject.  The readings from my medical scanner were extremely confused.  It indicated that she had died weeks before my arrival while also showing my own health readings superimposed.  It was like the system couldn’t tell the two of us apart.  This matched my confusion, as the emaciated face in front of me was indeed my own.  The scanner finally calibrated to show separate results, but noted that DNA signatures were identical except for minor variations that cosmic radiation from space travel could account for. 

                “Elana, you have never mentioned a sibling and your service records do not reference you having a twin.”

                “That’s because I’m an only child.”

                “I do not have the frame of reference to understand the readings I’m receiving.”  My AI had a very limited vocal range, but it was maxing out its ability to sound confused. 

                “Yeah, I don’t think I do either.  Have the system scans completed?”

                “They have.  The readings from the third planet do not match what we have on file from the probe.  The differences are greater than could be accounted for by one hundred years of natural processes.  There also appears to be a space station in a failing orbit with a transponder indicating that it is Eden-4.”

                “Well, I think that is where we are going to get some answers.”  I closed the pod door, not wanting to see any more of my own dead face.  “Set course for that station.”  I felt the inertial dampeners adjust to the ship’s acceleration in the pit of my stomach.  Newer ships transition so smoothly you can’t even tell that you are moving.  The Serif is not a new ship, but personally I prefer being able to feel my ship.  I think you lose something when you become so disconnected you can’t feel problems or misalignments.  They can say that makes me old-fashioned all they want, but I just like things my way.   

                Back at my command chair, I started evaluating the data coming in.  The station wasn’t in a naturally decaying orbit.  Thrusters had pushed it into the optimal orbit for it to break up and mostly disintegrate in the atmosphere.  The calculations gave Eden-4 less than a month before complete destruction.  I couldn’t be sure about the state of systems onboard, but all analysis pointed to nobody alive and life support being offline. 

                “Elana the station is not responding to my efforts to interface.  I’m afraid I cannot get any additional information without a hard connection to the central computer system.”

                “So, I need to go over to the station that my dead doppelgänger called home.  Great, that’s not creepy at all.”  I felt myself shutter at the thought.  All signs pointed to the station being a tomb.  I was already on the verge of panic, having found what seemed to be my dead body in an escape pod and wasn’t sure just how much more I could take without breaking down. 

                “I am sorry.  Additionally, the station is not responding to docking requests, so you are going to have to enter through an emergency hatch.  I do not recommend putting yourself at that great of risk.”

                “Thanks for your concern, but by the time we got to a populated system and convinced someone to come back with us, the station would be gone.  This is the only chance to get answers.”  I set the ship to match speed and orbit with the station and headed to my air lock.  The soft environmental suit was not enough for a spacewalk and didn’t come with any sort of maneuvering propulsion.  I hated the bulkier units because of how badly they constrict my motion, but it was a necessity. 

                I stood in the airlock, staring out the window at Eden-4’s emergency hatch.  “What am I doing?”  I asked myself as I hit the button to open the outer hatch.  I crouched against the inner door and pushed off hard to propel myself from the ship.  If you have never gone on a spacewalk before, the experience can only be described as terrifying.  Space is huge and you suddenly find yourself out in it with no solid ground under you.  It feels like being in a giant directionless void, and if you make the slightest mistake, you could drift away forever.  Logically, I can tell myself that the maneuvering thrusters give me control and that my ship’s AI could come to rescue me.  Logic can never overpower the sheer natural reaction your body has at being made to feel so small and insignificant.  Anyone that tells you they don’t have to fight the panic is lying or insane.  Either way, don’t trust them.   

                I fought to keep my mind under control until the moment I contacted the escape hatch rail and wrapped my gloved hands around it.  Being able to grip onto something solid is a relief that words can never fully express.  It gives you context again to what had just moments ago been an endless void.  Only giving myself a moment to catch my breath, I manually triggered the emergency hatch and climbed aboard.  After compressing the airlock, I opened the inner door and got my first look at the station known as Eden-4.   

                The station hall had a utility look to it with very little effort given to appearance.  The only lighting was dim red tinted emergency lights.  Artificial gravity was offline, but there was very little floating.  They secured all visible tools and other objects to the walls or counters by Velcro as if they expected gravity failures.  That was common practice on most space stations I had been on.  Using handles built into the walls, I pulled myself along towards the central computer system. 

                Equipment might not have been floating around, but one thing there was no shortage of floating was dead bodies.  My suit’s external environmental analyzers were showing an extremely toxic air mixture.  It would be enough to kill me in minutes without my helmet.  The first body I found I recognized and felt sick to my stomach.  Calvin Chambers had gone through the academy training to be an exploration pilot with me.  Dating was strictly prohibited, but that didn’t stop us from having a pretty wild fling before graduation.  It was a great way to relieve stress.  Last I heard, he had gotten married and settled down on some planet in the core systems.  They were expecting a kid.  I resisted the urge to vomit, knowing from experience how bad that can be in a helmet.

                Before I reached the central computer, I found four more of my graduating class.  One of them I knew for a fact had died a few years prior.  I attended the funeral.  My brain screamed that it couldn’t take much more without breaking.  “Serif are you getting this?” I said triggering the communication systems built into my suit. 

                “Yes, Elana, I am receiving your video and sensor data clearly.  I am not sure what to make of it other than concern for your well-being. Please be careful over there.”

                I stopped in front of the console and plugged a small communication device from my pocket into it.  “I will.  Plugging you into the central computer now.”

                “Oh my.  This is not good.”

                “What’s not good?  Talk to me Serif.”

                “Well, it seems that this station was here to terraform the planet.  When it reached a threshold for habitability, the system automatically launched a communication probe to report the results.  The same probe returned a month later and triggered a dormant kill program.  Poison gas flooded the station, and it began the process of a controlled deorbit.”   

                “Someone killed them?”

                “Not just someone.  The Interplanetary Commission on Expansion.  Someone in our own organization is responsible for this massacre.  I’m still downloading the logs and personal journals from the crew.  Elana, I cannot explain it, but you are listed on the roster.  According to these files, you have been stations here for the past fifteen years.  Since just after graduation.  I’m still fighting with the encryption on the station manager’s logs.  Perhaps he can provide some context.”

                With my mission on the station complete, I wanted off it and back in the safety of my ship.  I made my way to the emergency hatch in a rush, trying not to look too long at any of the floating bodies.  At the hatch I could see that Serif was still in position with the airlock open and waiting.  I launched myself out of the dead station and this time used my maneuvering thrusters to hasten the process. 

                Once onboard my ship, I ripped my helmet off and immediately vomited in the nearest waste disposal.  My knees shook under me, and I felt tears fighting with anger.

                “Elana, are you ok?”

                “ No, I’m most definitely not ok.  I’m going to have nightmares from what I just saw for months.  What the hell?”

                My ship’s AI stayed quiet for a long time while I recovered.  Finally, in a soft tone, it spoke up again.  “I have cracked the encryption on the station manager’s personal files.  I have answers for you if you are ready. You will not like them.”

                “Please, whatever they are, it has to be better than not knowing.”

                “Do you remember the health screening they did just before you graduated from the academy?  The physical and mental health scans?”

                “Of course.  Blood tests and a two-hour brain scan.”  Memories of the helmet and feeling like static electricity shooting through my brain came to me.  It was the weirdest sensation I had experienced in my life.

                “The Eden program uses lab grown clones of recent graduates and uploads memories based on those brain scans.  The people who died on that station did not know they were clones.  They believed they were the originals and knew nothing about the program.  Only the station manager knew.”

                “Why?  Why would they do that?  There are plenty of people who would love to work a terraforming project.”

                “Perhaps, but would they be comfortable if they found out the planet had life already that the terraforming would eliminate?  Would they stay quiet about what they had seen?  Would you?”

                I tried and failed to speak twice before words finally came.  “They knowingly destroyed a living ecosystem?”

                “Most of the crew did not know until it was too late.  They could not keep the secret forever.  Not without eliminating everyone who knew that they could not trust.  That is why they create clones.  An entire space station crew that will never be missed.  Your clone was close to an escape pod when the gas started and overrode the lock to manually eject. She figured it out and had all the proof in the computer systems of the escape pod.  She knew she wouldn’t survive but wanted to make sure that someone out there knew what had happened.”    

                The next month passed in a blur—part staying busy, part drowning in a fog I couldn’t shake. Serif and I compiled the logs, encrypted them, and launched communication probes to multiple systems.

Planetary scans confirmed what the station had died to make real: a world raw, but livable. I kept thinking about all the other planets I’d surveyed.  How many of them had been the resting place for previous clone crews? 

I had been six months ahead of schedule on my workload.  If I had gotten here on time, the station would already have been gone.  My clone’s pod would have still been there broadcasting, though.  She was a hero in my eyes and deserved better.  I buried her on the world that she had unwittingly helped kill.  I don’t know if that is what she would have wanted, but it was the best I could do for her. 

I didn’t know if it was safe to go home after sending the probes. The assassination attempt a week later answered that for me.

I thought the nightmares would be about the dead. The floating bodies. My own face staring back at me, hollowed out. But those aren’t the dreams that keep me up.

It’s this:

She didn’t know she was a clone.
How do I know I’m not one too?