Mile 97
I am hesitant to write any sort of introduction to this particular story, since a portion of it is true. Only a portion. As such, for reasons which I think will be clear upon reading the story, it seemed to me that writing a sarcastic introduction as I am wont to do would be in bad taste. It is only a slight exaggeration to say that every new movie and show is “based on a true story.” And as we all know, most of what happens in these movies and shows never actually occurred. This is why so many of them are now “inspired by true events,” so the filmmakers can bend the truth even further. This story falls squarely into the latter category of “inspired by true events.” Except for one singular occurrence the story is entirely fictional. I am as much in the dark as to the conclusion…
Barkeep
Moving to a new place is always difficult. Moving from one side of a town to another is an enormous pain in and of itself. Moving from one side of a country to another is significantly worse. One of the things that makes moving cross country hard is that it can sever ties to friends in what once was your home. In the digital age it’s much easier to keep in touch with people than it once was. However, there is something to be said about being with friends in person. Moving doesn’t just mean learning new routes to work, or finding new restaurants, it means creating new connections with people. For many of us, meeting new people can be difficult. Every interaction with a stranger brings with it a host of uncertainties. We can never be sure what the other person is really thinking. Two people can have vastly…
Silence is Love
Everyone, or rather almost everyone, wants to leave something behind; to create a legacy that endures long after they have gone. Legacies take many forms. For ordinary people, that legacy can be creating a better life for their children, or it can just be their children. For the egregiously rich, it can be their name on a college building they funded, or a foundation. For the creative kind it may be a particular work, a particular performance, a particular piece of art. In the end no one has the luxury of choosing what they will be remembered for, least of all writers, moviemakers, musicians, anyone who has ever made any kind of material for public consumption. This assumes, of course, that they will be remembered at all. To a certain extent, the moment you enter public consciousness, in any capacity, you lose autonomy. You lose control of who you are,…
Sturm und Drang Frieden und Ruhe
Without over-explaining it, which is the death-knell of any interesting creative work, “Sturm und Drang Frieden und Ruhe” is meant to be representative of contrasting emotional states. “Sturm und Drang” is taken from the late 18th century German music and literary movement of which Goethe was a part of. That being said the music isn’t necessarily meant to reflect what the movement stood for so much as the literal translation of “Storm and Stress.” “Frieden und Ruhe” were the results of Google translate searches. So i’m hoping that I found the correct noun forms of what I was looking for. The title is probably nonsensical in the language that it’s taken from. Nonetheless, the title, at least when translated into literal English, sums up the whole point of the piece. It was put together during a time of great stress, which is why my mind somehow extracted a phrase I…
The Title Comes Later
It’s been a while since I published anything on my site. It seems appropriate that this story would be my triumphant return to the web. Or rather, my return. For the most part, I enjoy writing, which should be obvious. At this point the only reason I post it online is because I like doing it, and some of it’s pretty decent. Even when you like something it can sometimes become a chore. Stories often create themselves, but sometimes they require a bit more coaxing. Sometimes they just become an unfinished Word doc cluttering up your hard drive. A drop in a terabyte bucket. Every once in a while, falling back on a gimmick that you yourself think is kind of stupid is what brings the story back to life.
Gingerbread
October is now essentially over. As such, I’ll be temporarily retiring the Halloween related horror-story gimmick. No more horror stories after this, until the next one I conjure up. This particular story, though there are a number of different themes, deals largely with nightmares. A few of my own childhood nightmares have been woven in. Nightmares are experiences of fears both real and fantastical; fears that our conscious self can’t put into words, that might seem ludicrous to outside observers. In a certain sense, they’re really the origin of the horror genre. They provide a bizarre sort of catharsis, after the fact, after the escape. They’re terrifying, and the really bad ones will linger for days, weeks, or for the rest of your life, but in the end we all wake up. Most of us at least. There are times when I feel a little guilty for what I put…
Fear the Dead
Losing someone you care about is never an easy thing. People try to take the edge off the loss by remembering the different stages of grief, by making familiar statements such as “they live on in you” or “they’re never really gone so long as we remember them,” or any variation thereof. We who are religious look forward to a future reunification. All these considerations and statements can be comforting, and there is nothing wrong with any one of them, but in the end they are just admonitions and ratiocination, both of which can have a tendency to skip off the surface of emotion, like a pebble over water, leaving the underlying feeling untouched. People react in many ways to their loss: Denial, Anger, and so on. Still others can be jealous of the dead. They might not want to share the sense of loss with others. They might come…
Long Walk Alone
Alcohol is a many-faceted substance, most often referred to by it’s various nicknames: social lubricant, truth serum, liquid courage, and so on. It serves many different purposes for many different people. For some people it’s simply a way to relax after a long day, a quiet little escape, harmless. Some people just drink at parties for fun. Others drink because reality is a harsh mistress, and somewhere along the way they lost the ability to cope. Others are just addicts, trapped in a need, one they don’t always want to be free from. Drink is a Trojan horse. The immediate result is freedom, or escape. When the desired effect fades away we find the poison that the drink smuggled in. We become paranoid about things we said and did when we were not entirely ourselves. Poison lingers long after the escape has vanished. Within the drunken consciousness there is often…
The Door in the Ceiling
Parties are strange things. Clubs are even stranger. It defies logic to really think that a group of strangers can have a genuinely good time together. It is possible of course. However, we must acknowledge a certain social awkwardness inherent in the premise. Which is why the lifeblood of clubs and parties tends to be drugs and alcohol. It’s difficult to interact with people drunk, let alone sober. I say all this as an introvert, of course. If there’s one thing introverts like to talk about it’s about being an introvert. We’re very fond of reminding people about this particular aspect of our respective characters. A party is a frightening prospect, particularly without a little help from a strong drink, both as a prop and more importantly, as an anti-anxiety agent. There’s a reason it’s called liquid courage. The problem with parties is that there are people there. People are…
Easy Way Out
It’s October! Which means that it’s getting cooler; everywhere except the south that is. I spent the early afternoon sweating profusely at my favorite local brewery. October also means that Halloween is fast approaching. Halloween means candy, costumes, and for my wife and I, a lot of horror movies. So with the general subject of the horror genre in mind, I’ll be posting a horror short story every weekend in October. Or at least that’s the plan… I do still work full time. The intro to my latest short story “Easy Way Out” is below. Enjoy! Nature is good, but in small doses. The impulse to “go back to nature” in any capacity is a strange one. If you think evolution is correct, you’re wanting to return to something that mankind spent millions of years evolving to escape. Evolution is an escape from the horror of nature. It’s an escape…