Category: Unfinished Short Stories

One of the things that gets me about the modern world is hoe insanely complex we have made everything. Commerce, politics, sex, raising kids and even communication has been made incredibly more complex and difficult sue to the advent of technology. Take communication. It used to be that one tribe wouldn’t even meet another tribe unless the two came across eachother, in which case there would proably be some cultural exchange, some fucking and maybe even some trading that went into the whole experience, and then people lived isolated in small family groups. But people crave excitement as our brains grew more developed. They needed more stimulation than could be provided from talking to the same people over and over again. So groups got bigger. A bigger group means that the troop needs to find more food. Eventually the group reaches a size as to where it cannot forage enough food to sustain itself, When that happens agriculture and domestication take over. People plant berry bushes and care for them so that they can have a good supply of berries for the winter. Before you know it an agricultural town has sprouted up. And yet again people begin to wonder at things. More mental stimulation leads to larger brain growth over generations and more sophistication within people’s minds. Thus the need for mor einteraction between people. As people begin to interact more with one another they begin to covet what another has. As a kid, you really don’t care about a certain toy so much unless you see another person have it or having fun with it. That is what commercials play off of. You show enough people happy with a product and soon everybody wants that product or something better than it or they steal it. The most stolen product at Traget is not electronics, books or food, but cosmetics. People, especially women are told day and night that they are not complete without haveing a certain style of face through media. But I am getting ahead of myself here. Coveting takes place when someone has a desire for an object or idea ad they have no way to obtain it. Eventually, they take it. Wars are faught over resources initially and then over ideology. One ideological person covets the fact that the other person seems completely content and happy and believing in whatever it is that they believe in whether it’s religion, science or atheism. But in truth that is what the other person sees within them. Thus the coveting begins. Maybe if htey went on a holy crusade or scientific mission to bring down the others that would validate their own beliefs that people cling to so righteously. SO wars are faught. And then when the war is over htey realize that the world is just as empty and hollow and meaningless as it was before. It is hummanity that gives the world meaning, not the other way round. So eventually after war has gotten old, hatred develops, as people grow bitter over their inability to attain the highest ideals of Buddha, Christ or the American dream. And osmehow it is another group’s fault that this has happened, because we would rather destroy another person’s ideology, nation or life than admit that we have clinged to teh wrong ideology our entire lives. Individually that may actually happen, a repentance or conversion of sorts, but as a culture people still grow bitter. This is the development of the communal mind. As people share ideas then they become more homogenized and the same. Sex protocol dictates that we fornicate with people that are different than us in order to keep the gene pool deep, so we become fascinated with something that is completely different than us. Say like when a man has an Australian accent he is sexier than the same man without the accent and if he pretended to come from wherever it is that this is taking place. SO again we have the coveting between the different groups. Only this time it has completely invaded our sexuality. Fast travel by road and cahriot or auto or even airplane changes this. The ability to be anywhere in the world in a matter of hours is a powerful thing. It allowed us to fight and kill people without ever seeing it on american shores. That is why the pictures and images that come back from the war zones make it so real for us. War has become outdated and a thing of hte past. It is the threat of war that is the real communication between nations besides commerce. A nation nowadays that wants to invade another country faces economic sanctions, public denouncement and whatever else happens. I would not be totally surprised if the United STates did not declare war until it falls. And even then it will be a hollow act as it is swallowed up by whatever it is that destroys the nation. Anyways, haivng access to sex from any part of the world literally leads to mroe experimentation. You see people into all sorts of weird (to me) customs, such as bondage, fetishes, and even pain. This is to satisfy he human brain’s need for differentness. In the wild a human has to always be on his toes. A wild animal might be right around the corner to disembowel him, so he has to use his brains to compensate. A human being is in no way a match for a tiger or even a wolf in single unarmed combat to the death. to stagnate was to die. To be bored was to die because it was not stimulation enough. People that move to big cities from teh country change because their mind was opened to sp much more than they had ever thought possible. Their brains literally go on overload and attempt to assimilate into the new world.



The light from the lamps overhead cast a shadow over the entire meeting. Ten men and women sat in a circle around a large stone table, each with a placard in front of them saying where they were from. They read place names like Karnum, Dune, New Phoenix and Bell.
Eyes that had seen too much hardship were sunken into their heads and their skin was pasty and sallow, raggedy clothes hanging off of their skeletal frames. No one moved or said anything, the tension in the room as thick as the sands that swirled along the borders between The Novan Ascendancy and the United Colonies of Earth.
The sullen sun-haired man sitting behind the Canyon City sign was the first to fidget in his seat, and the others turned and glared at him, as if by moving he had shocked them all out of a daydream of a sunny trip to the beach.
The woman with raven hair behind the Karnum sign spoke first. “I think we all know why we are here.” There was a nod from each member at the table. “The mother planets will not help us with this, not after the revolution.”
“Of course the Novans had to attack after we had declared Independence. It was a brilliant bit of strategy that.” said the man behind the Red Cliff sign. “With both of our forces at the height of their power, we probably could have even prevented the Novans from claiming any territory at all!”
A murmur of assent went around the table.
“Yes Harold,” said the woman from Karnum. “That is why we are here. Our current strategy of engaging the Novans in open warfare has not been successful. It is time for a new strategy.”
“What do you suggest?” said the older woman from New Phoenix. “That we leave? Flee to another colony? They would just follow us there and continue to wipe us out until we are nothing but the dust that coats this planet!”
Outraged whispers darted across the room as the delegates of the planet of Ferra considered the possibility for violating their own plan to keep the alien menace fixated on them to spare the other members of the UCE.
“We erased the coordinates of every colony from each ground based facility in every city that the Novans have conquered fro a for a reason people!” shouted the man from Bell. “If they learn that we are just colonists here, they will be able to find Earth! Not only that they would eradicate us as a species! You hear all of their propaganda! They actually believe it! We must be in it for the species boys and girls!”
“And so what?” demanded the woman from Neolith. “So what if they find Earth, Mars and all the rest? Why should we be unhappy that they wipe out our enemies for us?”
“Because,” said Harold, the man from Red CLiff. “We have more to fear form an invading alien force than form out own kind. I believe that we still owe the mother planets for even starting these colonies so long ago. Without them, humanity would surely not nearly have grown as much as it did.”
“And so we end up playing the buffer between them and the terrifying unknown? I think we got the short end of the stick on that bargain.” Said the woman from Neolith bitterly. This statement sent of a cascade of bickering among the delegates, each with their own opinion about what should and shouldn’t be done with the mother planets.
“This is not up for discussion at the moment,” barked a gruff man from Ruby, cutting through the arguments like scissors through paper. “We have convened here to discuss and attend to one problem and only one problem! The Novans are finally settling in!”
That statement brought every person at the table back to their senses. After sieges and temporary bases, the invading Novan Ascendancy had finally shown signs of establishing permanent bases on Ferra.
“The Novans have started setting up what we believe are starship yards and weapons producers along the Brokebone Ridge, which you all know is within spying range of Ruby.” said the gruff man.
“Patrols form Canyon City have confirmed this, it appears that they are digging in for the long haul instead of the quick conquer that they promised us.” said the sun-haired man. “My advisors believe that they are setting them up in full view of our spies not only because they wish to flaunt in our faces that they have us beaten, but also because of the rich deposits of iron and nickel that are to be found there.”
“We must do what no other government has done since the days of the nation states of Earth.” Said the bitter woman.
The entire table was silent, each person thinking about the consequences of such an action. Not since the Wasting of 2105 had nuclear weapons been used, the mere threat of the atomic abominations more than enough to keep a standard of peace throughout the human territories

The officer who arrested me asked me when I knew I went bad. I couldn’t answer him. There were no warning signs, nothing that would signal a complete collapse of the moral fiber of my being. I simply turned into the creature I am from my life experiences.
They sent in scientists while I was in prison. Psychologists and Behaviourologists, all trying to know what is “wrong” with me. Well I say that it is all of these so called “normal” people that are the weird ones, cogs in a machine that cares for nothing but the people who make up the hands of the clock. They go about their daily business without a glance at the future and are surprised when they are on their deathbed having accomplished nothing of significance.
I told them the truth, because I am always honest. I was a normal child. I didn’t destroy my toys or even rough house too much, mostly because I hated violence, even though I always saw it around me. Not at home of course, my family was always loving and supportive. It was the news and the media. All of the cool people killed other people. Indiana Jones, Luke Skywalker and even Jason Bourne all rose to be popular through violence, killing and dismembering. I just would have rather read books, mostly because it wasn’t what looked like real people getting hurt. It was only words.
I am writing this down not just for other people to understand me, but for myself as well. I am in need of discovering myself before I die. It is going to be 4 weeks before I go before the chopping block and I get to see the families of all of the people I killed. I want them to see in letter what I could never explain to them in words. I would just get tongue tied.
This is my diary that I kept for all of this time. I just wanted you all to know that since I am going to die and I won’t need the money, I am donating all proceeds from the sales of this book to the WWF. I love animals and think that the environment should be protected, you should too because we all live on the same planet. So that’s my spiel on that.

Saturday January 15th 2011

Something snapped in me tonight. Monica came by for dinner and I made  smoked duck, which is probably the hardest thing that I know how to make. She was picking at her food the entire night. I could tell something was wrong. So I asked her.

(retrieved from the tape recording of the evening)
“Monica, is there something wrong”
“Huh? Oh not really.”
Several moments of silence.
“You know I can tell when something is bothering you. You know you can tell me whatever is bothering you right?”
“I don’t know I guess it’s a combination of things.”
“Your job?”
“Yeah and other things.”
“What other things?”
“Just drop it okay? I don’t want to talk about it.”
Sounds of forks on plates.
“Come on baby, what’s wrong? We have been dating for 3 months, I would hope that you would trust me by now.”
“Goddamn it Jeremy I said I didn’t want to talk about it so just drop it!”
“Fine, you want to know what’s bothering me? It’s you! You have gone nowhere since I met you. You said you were on your way to a successful writing career, but has that novel been written yet? NO! You stay at home and live off of your inheritance and do nothing all day!”
“I do plenty of things. I go to the gym, I ride my bike and visit downtown…”
“Bullshit! You know that’s not what I mean! You are doing nothing with your life you lazy son of a bitch!”
“Well why do you feel that way? We can work through this…”
“We won’t work through this Jeremy! You told me you were on your way up. That’s why I started dating you! We are so through, you lazy creep!”
Sound of chair scraping and high heels stomping away. A door slams in the background.

I thought we were in love. I guess she was faking it. She was always faking it. She had to be. No person can do what she did to me and be so casual about it. I am not sure that she has a soul. Maybe she was born without one, or she lost it along the way. I just don’t know. I still love her. I haven’t stopped loving her. I need to do something with my life.

Monday January 17th 2011

I sent in my submitted piece to the New Yorker today. I am really excited because this could be my big break. I have been pretty much writing nonstop on this. I am really excited about this. I think that if I can become successful again Monica would come back to me. I want her to come back to me. Maybe I don’t but I think I do. I won’t sleep until I hear back from The New Yorker, I think that everything is riding on this.

Tuesday January 18th 2011

With the quilted landscape laid before him, the angel sighed in contentment. A favourable breeze and clear skies meant for a good day. His name was Kelorius and his long brown hair flowed unfettered around his body as he flew through the blue skies. His face was passive and at peace, with a small smile on his voice at the joy of flying. He slowly turned his attention to the ground with a slight frown on his face, for he felt something out of place in the forest below him.

His eyes of light brown quickly scanned the ground below him for what he could feel was down there. As he passed over the village of Heloraz, he could feel what was down in the forest below, an emptiness that was poised to swallow the town in it’s maw. With a great flap of his wings and fire in his heart he swooped down to where the village met the forest.

Alighting on his sandal clad feet, the angel drew to his full height and bellowed in his most righteous voice. “I Kelorius of the Divine Vanguard demand that you reveal your name, Foul Beast, so that I may send you back from whence you came!”

A low mirthless laugh emanated from the forest and drifted over the town, chilling everything it touched with the coldness of death. Th trees stopped swaying and the birds stopped singing. All was silent.

“I am Ghindoriaz, Pit Spawn of Dark Lord Terazzus and no mere bird man with a stick and conviction shall stop me from claiming the souls of this village for my Lord!” came a voice from the forest.

Kelorius gripped his staff in a defensive position, his feet planted as firmly in the ground as an immovable oak tree. “Ghindoriaz, I shall not yield until one of us is vanquished from this world! I am a protector of the Divine Spirit and not easily defeated! Turn back now and there need be no bloodshed!” Shouted Kelorius.

Answering his cry, the sound of thundering feet and crashing branches came forth from the trees and soon after the dark form of a deviled werewolf ran from the greenery. He launched himself at the stoic angel, his eyes a ferocious red and his enormous claws unsheathed like scythes.

Kelorius waited until the last possible second before the enraged demon could touch him. With a deft side step he cracked his staff on the back of the demon, cracking the weapon into useless halves.

The werewolf demon howled in pain and crashed to the ground in a tumble of limbs. The creature slowly raised itself up, it’s nine foot frame looking impossibly huge next to the human sized Kelorius. The demon looked wary, as if Kelorius might have another weapon.

“Give it up bird man!” Ghindoriaz growled. “You have no more weapons! Fly away to your master and tell him of your failure this day. What is one village in the grand scheme of things? What are a few hundred lives in the chorus of history?”

“Every life is precious demon spawn! I will give my last breath to stop you in your task. Would you lose your life in the service of your slaver?” Retorted Kelorius.

“Then we are truly at an impasse bird man. I refuse to die and you seem eager to.” A smile crept over Ghindoriaz’ canine features. “ I will enjoy tearing the limbs from your body.”

With that the demon dropped onto all four limbs and charged at Kelorius, his great paws kicking up the ground behind him. Kelorius waited until Ghindoriaz was within reach and embraced him with the force of a mountain, his arms wrapped around the werewolf. Using the demon’s own momentum against him, the angel swung the beast around and pinned him to the ground with all of his might, trapping his massive left fore paw with his left hand, the other pressing down on the furred back of the werewolf.

Howling in pain, the great beast thrashed against the vice grip of the divine servant. His massive clawed fist broke free of his body and slashed back at Kelorius, leaving deep red wounds in his side. Kelorius grunted in pain, barely registering the injury.

The angel used one knee to pin the creatures back, and used his mighty right arm to grip the snout of the snarling beast, fingers gripping the massive jaws closed. Pulling backward with all of his might, inch by inch the beasts head tilted ever backwards. With one last mighty exertion, the angel wrenched the head back, snapping it’s neck with a sickening crack.

Ghindoriaz stopped struggling as the red rage faded from his eyes and he grew still, at peace for the first time in his corrupted life. Kelorius stood over the body, breathing hard. The exertion of destroying the foul creature had sapped his strength, and his body now shook from fatigue. His magnificent wings were broken and bloodied and red and white feathers littered the ground around the angel.

He threw his head back, with his eyes closed, breathing hard from his exertions. He slowly calmed his body, and slowly the finely muscled body stopped trembling. He felt the deep dread of death prick along his shoulder blades, sensing the evil of the Shadow behind him.

Slowly, he twisted his injured body to look behind him. Standing at the edge of the forest were 3 more demons, all in the form of werewolves. They snarled and laughed at the exhausted angel.

Kelorius looked to the village, where many of the townsfolk had come out after hearing the titanic struggle between angel and demon. His eyes filled with infinite sadness Kelorius spoke to them one word. “Run.” he said. And then he charged the werewolf demons.

Snarling, the huge creatures ran at the angel, one grabbed each arm and then the last stood before him, a massive brute with the twisted and clawed markings of a minor Warchief tattooed into his chest.

“Little bird man cannot fly away now can he?” said the Warchief with a smirk. “You may have killed the pup Ghindoriaz, but we are stronger than that weakling, aren’t we lads?”

The other werewolves roared with laughter, driving their sharp claws even deeper into Kelorius’ arms as the hoisted him up so that his feet could no longer touch the ground and his broken wings hung limp and tattered form his shoulders.