“The Luck Thieves” joins the bookshelf.
Psyched to release a new novella, and the second in a series. “The Luck Thieves” continues the adventures of Aurelian and Lyita in the strange world of crime and magic that is St. Petersburg.
Psyched to release a new novella, and the second in a series. “The Luck Thieves” continues the adventures of Aurelian and Lyita in the strange world of crime and magic that is St. Petersburg.
Proud to announce a new book! A collection of my many completed short stories to date.
Now available on pre-order, and fully released tomorrow May 15. Print edition available soon also.
And thanks to you all who keep inspiring me to keep on writing. : )
Proudly announcing that I’m a lead Earth correspondent for the intergalactic, interdimensional and multiversal Hyperspace Radio podcast!
[buzzsprout episode=’686706′ player=’true’]
This is a rough draft, a work in progress.
* * *
She decided to read her comment one more time before posting it. It looked good. No, it looked better than good. It was perfect.
It had taken her hours at home on her laptop, when she could have been enjoying many other things. But she had had enough. In the middle of responding to the previous commenter, who had been relentlessly dismissive and insulting, Mae had crafted the perfect response. Through a lucky happenstance, a random typo had led her to thinking more deeply about things she’d never considered. This train of thought had led her nearly instantaneously to musings she’d had in the back of her mind without being addressed, her entire life. In some ways, even before she’d learned to speak and was just beginning to experience her first sparks of awareness.
A bit about existentialism, and awareness, and the place of people in the world and the larger universe, and something that really resolved everything while also telling the other person how wrong they were – in a way that not only proved Mae was right with the universe, but that the other person also simply could not deny admitting no matter how they tried.
She looked it over, and reached forward to hit “Enter” on her keyboard.
A hand reached out from nowhere and grabbed hers before she could complete the stroke.
“What the fuck?” she blurted, shocked. The rest of the hand around her wrist emerged from a … a hole in the air, she realized.
The hole enlarged, and the person leaned through a bit further. He was encased entirely in a grey-green suit of what looked like plastic, with a plexiglass globe for a helmet that showed glowing lights throughout the inside.
“Oh my God!” he said, speaking back into the hole that hung in the air in the middle of her room. “We did it, people! We found her! Oh thank whatever might exist!”
She heard light cheering, coming impossibly from further inside the hole he was reaching from. She looked inside it, to see barely lit cracked concrete walls and a few other people, in similar suits. Their suits were all in some states of disrepair – patched and sewn with material that didn’t match at all.
“Who the hell are you?” asked Michelle.
He faced Michelle, still leaning forward out of a hole in the air in her bedroom. “Listen Michelle,” the guy said, in his suit. “You can’t send that!”
“But it proves I’m right!” she protested. “And – and it could really make things better! It really has – I’m talking about-”
“Don’t tell me!” he screamed. “The rest of us are only still individuals because we didn’t hear it!” He almost looked towards the monitor, and shuddered. He turned off the monitor, and pushed her back from the keyboard.
“Michelle, that’s exactly the problem. You had an internet argument with a jerk, and you found the secret. Whatever it is, somehow you found a way to change his mind and convince him you were right! Then everyone else who read that comment also convinced. Your comment pierced the ego defense mechanism of all human minds, effortlessly.”
“But that’s great!” said Michelle.
“It’s not great,” the guy said. “As a result, as that comment spread, everyone’s egos on Earth just melted. They no longer had a way to disagree with her. And it turned out that our egos were the only thing holding back our consciousnesses merging on a quantum level.”
Michelle narrowed her eyes. “So…?”
“So as that comment went viral across the Internet, the melded consciousnesses snowballed until all of humanity became one mind. We no longer had individual points of view. We became one large wriggling sentient mass.”
“Okay,” said Michelle. “So…humanity then became one being? Almost a God?”
“Maybe that’s what we could have been. But the problem was we were still assholes! We hadn’t worked through how to not be shitty – basically, our crazy. We evolved to the next step too early! Left to our own for even a century longer, we might have become mature enough to handle massive, godlike collective intelligence as one being. Instead, when your comment spread, we became one giant 7 billion-person sentient complete asshole!” He shuddered. “The resulting crazy thing has simultaneously expanded into quantum time and ruined the entire globe! The human race is worse than doomed – it’s become a giant asshole that’s producing nothing but shit!”
“But I…” she looked at the screen and back at him. “But I’m right! Are you telling me I just have to let this go, when I’m actually right?”
“How important is this internet argument to you?” he asked. “How much time is this guy worth? Let alone potentially destroying all of humanity before we could advance to our next level and *not* be a giant asshole?”
“We always have to be quiet though!” she said. “We women have to go along or not hurt egos, all these things…”
“Go ahead and hurt egos!” he said. “I’m just telling you your best-case scenario, actually changing this troll asshole’s mind, is a disaster. You cannot change his mind. He doesn’t want to change his mind.” He reached over with his other hand. “Can I – just so we don’t accidentally…” shielding his eyes from even seeing the comment that she’d typed, he pulled the cord out of her computer keyboard. He sighed with relief, and turned off her monitor. Only then did he let go of her arm.
She rubbed her arm, and frowned. “Well…if it’s so bad, how’d you survive?”
Through his glass bowl helmet, his eyes became haunted. “We escaped the initial barrage of memes only because our cellphones were dead at the time. When everyone started talking at the same time, we pretended we were mutes until we reached the sewers. There we waited until we found ourselves near one of it’s sentient quantum-altering mind-shits.” He shivered, leaned back and heaved a bit, then regained his strength. “That was something you never want to experience. We followed it back here in time and space. I’ve tried many times to stop this moment. This last time I was able to punch through the second before it began. Now that timeline can undo itself.”
His voice became choked.[ argument could start here?] “I only have a little time left before it mentally flushes. Don’t make our sacrifice in vain. Don’t make that comment! Just let that asshole disagree!” The figure faded, as the hole disappeared.
Michelle looked at where the hole in the air had been, and back to her keyboard She reconnected it, turned on the computer monitor, and looked again at what she had been about to send.
She stared at it for a good minute, cherishing how well written it was.
Then she erased it, called the commenter a stupid ass instead, and signed up for some yoga.
This is a short story rough, a work in progress.
* * *
Shelly had the spell for weeks, but it took a long time to work up the courage to use it. The last straw was her brothers teasing her about the boy she had the deepest crush on. His name was Tex, he was new to town and he was dreamy. She had finally gotten his attention, and they’d started hanging out after school. It had been weeks now, but their relationship hadn’t gone to where she needed it go – for him to tell her the truth she hoped for deep inside: that he liked her.
She and Courteney had found the spell in their homeroom teacher’s desk drawer, when trying to get back Shelly’s phone. Their teacher had confiscated it for texting in class, and then died overnight. The spell itself said “This can only be used once.” It was dated from the early 1940s. So apparently their teacher had brought this with her without using it for her whole life.
They chatted on Facebook for weeks until Shelly finally declared she’d use it.
The perfect night came – her parents and brothers left her home to go to a line-dancing competition. As soon as they were gone, she broke into her parents’ liquor cabinet. A few full glass of rum and she was ready to go.
She went upstairs and logged into Facebook. As she did, she saw her butt in the mirror on the closet door. She didn’t know if her butt was too big, just right, or not big enough. She felt like Tex liked it, and her, but she knew she also wanted to believe that. How could she know for sure?
According to her smirking brothers, no guy would ever tell the truth about a girl’s butt to a girl. They were always complaining about no answer being alright for their girlfriends.
Shelly had the support of her friends at least. Most of them were stuck home tonight too, but they could chat. They were interested in this spell too.
Once she confirmed that she was actually going to cast the spell tonight, the news spread like wildfire. It had been a slow night to begin with, and not much news in general. Interest kept expanding for this teenage girl who was about to cast a spell.
She pointed her laptop’s camera for a good view of her, and pulled a folded-over piece of paper from her pocket. She opened it, revealing a torn-out notebook page covered with rainbow sparkles. It contained the spell she’d copied from an old book they’d found, underneath some scraps in the boiler room below the school library.
On the paper, in her purple ink writing dotted with hearts, was the formula of the spell:
I risk the love of my life to know if my love is real! I declare it forfeit, to make _ not lie!
“I’m still not sure if I should put his name in,” said Shelly.
“Does he like your butt?” asked her sassy friend Courteney. “That’s the question here. He should, your butt’s fantastic.”
“Thanks Courteney – but how can I know that if he likes my big butt he won’t lie about it anyway?”
“It shouldn’t be just about him either,” said Shelly’s other close friend Audrey. “What about other guys too?”
Suddenly it came to Shelly. What was that song her brother was listening to the other day? “I got it!” In her rum-drunk state, it seemed like just the thing.
Her eyes closed, she held the note tight and whispered the incantation: “I risk the love of my life to know if my love is real! I declare it forfeit, to make sure people who like big butts cannot lie!”
She pulled out a pink lighter, held her thumb down and lit the notebook paper on fire. It quickly took to flame, and disappeared in a flash of rainbow glitter.
In Shelly’s room, and then astonishingly in every room connected to the Internet around the world, a gathering force rose. It was felt first as hairs raising on the back of the neck, then goosebumps, and then as an electric current within one’s own soul – a feeling amplified by all the people now witnessing this spell. In the olden days, it would have been rare to gather as many as twenty witches for such a spell. But this evening, there were hundreds of thousands.
The spell climaxed, and crashed like thunder.
Shelly thought it was just the rum, as she passed out. But, amplified by her pure innocence, the rum, and Facebook which amplified her spell to millions, the magic’s effects spread like a shockwave throughout the world.
The next morning, and from that day forward, she found that all who liked big butts could not lie. Her brothers, and others’ brothers, could deny. But when a girl walked in with an itty bitty waist and a round thing in their face they got sprung – from the cages of their own deceitfulness.
This shook society to it’s foundations.
Most children could still lie, until around when they hit puberty. For the rest of humanity, politicians and peasants, police and criminals, employers and employees, pastors and flock – whatever their station in life, whether high low or middle, the very large percentage that liked big butts were forced to tell the truth.
Judges were soon selected based on their Internet browser history. Entire political careers became based on candidates selecting the preferred kind of porn. Parties and governments lost favor because of their sudden mass inability to lie to their voters – they could no longer claim there were easy, simple solutions to any number of different problems. On the other side of power, the voters who elected them had to face their own real impulses, because they could no longer lie to themselves. That is, as long as they liked big butts.
After all the social upheavals this brought the world, humanity settled into a deep and lasting prosperity and peace.
There are now full-size statues of Shelly in every major city. Behind these statues people are taken to swear oaths – for none can lie when they look upon her statue from the rear.
The bittersweet irony is, Shelly still didn’t know how Tex actually felt. He was still able to lie, and did so to save her feelings. He revealed years later that he really preferred skinny men.
She did find out that Courteney had some interesting feelings for her, of an entirely different sort.
They were married behind Shelly’s statue ten years later.
This is a short story rough, a work in progress.
* * *
“Can you help me out here?” Mark asked, his face desperate.
Fred realized Mark was talking to him. He took his headphones off, and looked around his cubicle in the vast office floor. Everyone else was eating lunch at their desk.
He looked back at Mark. “I’m actually working on something here. Can you find someone else?”
“We’re interviewing someone, and it’s gone on for a couple of hours. So the big boss said we should break for lunch. He wants to go take some calls, so he asked me to hang out with the interviewee for a bit.”
Frank frowned. “Okay, but why do you need my help?”
“It’s kind of…hard going keeping this conversation going. We want to seem natural. I can’t think of anyone else who could handle this better. Help a brother out.”
Frank sighed. “You know I’m behind here. If you really need my help…”
Frank put down his headphones, logged off his computer and walked with Mark towards the cafeteria. They grabbed today’s menu, what looked like some rather good cheeseburgers and some salad that came with the deal.
Frank coughed. “So what should I know about the guy? The boss must like him.”
Mark’s face froze into a mask of impassiveness. “You’ll see.”
“What do you…”
Mark pointed over to a table where a large child-sized porcelain doll was sitting, motionless. It had a white dress with a light-blue stripe around the bottom, with ruffles at the sleeves. The doll had a laptop next to it. Moving no other part of it’s form, the doll’s childlike head swiveled in Frank’s direction. It smiled.
Frank grabbed Mark’s arm, and pulled him around the corner. “Oh no. Oh you gotta be kidding me. Not again.”
“You promised, man!” Mark whispered back intensely. “I need your help on this!”
Frank shook his head. “Why do we keep interviewing soul-killing possessed dolls?”
“Because they kill at coding, you know that!”
Frank sighed. They walked towards the table, and set their plates down.
“Hello,” said the creepy porcelain doll.
“Hi,” said Mark, and very tentatively shook the tiny doll’s hand. “This is my friend Frank.”
“Hello Frank. I’m Dolly Dollerson!” It said with perfect chipped cheerfulness. “We’re gonna be great friends.” The porcelain beneath it’s eye had the lightest stain of what looked like…
Ketchup. It had to be ketchup.
“Hello Dolly,” said Frank, realizing just as he said it that he was repeating the refrain of the famous old song. He sat down.
“Hee hee,” said the doll.
“So, uh, what do you do?”
“I’m a database engineer. I also drink the souls of those who cross me. You aren’t going to cross me, are you, Frank?”
Frank threw a scowl directly at Mark. Thanks buddy. “No, of course not. I, you know, I mind my own business. It’s all about the work.”
It raised a single mechanical eyebrow. “That’s smart. You stay smart. Hee.”
Mark coughed. “Dolly here has taken up databases after her previous position working for Salesforce. She was already heading up a team before she left. She’s a natural.”
“What were you doing at Salesfo-” Frank began.
“I headed up HR.”
“Of course you did,” said Frank smoothly. “What made you take up databases?”
“I have a good mind for cold precision,” said Dolly. “Also, numbers in databases can make grown men cry.”
“Isn’t that the truth, huh?” Mark forced laughter, elbowing Frank in the ribs.
“Got that right,” agreed Frank. “What made you Oracle?”
“No one MADE me leave. I LEFT.” It moved it’s porcelain face pieces in an imitation of a scowl. “Are you suggesting something?” said Dolly with perfect pinprick perkiness.
“No, no,” said Frank smoothly. “I just meant with your, your obvious skill at precision, were they no longer challenging enough?”
“Yes. Okay, you’re off the hook for now. I’ve got my eye on you.” It kept one glass doll eye focused on him, as that side of it’s face turned a mechanical check upwards in something that was supposed to approximate a smile. “Is this a typical amount of attendance?” Dolly asked. Her other eye moved off of Frank and snapped into sync. Then she looked around, her smoothly swiveling neck covering nearly 360 degrees, like an owl.
“Pretty much,” said Frank. “Some folks are on PTO.”
“We have a lot of food options,” said Mark. “Kosher, Halal, vegan, gluten-free…”
“Do you have souls?” she asked softly.
“Uh…not that I know of.” Mark admitted.
“I’ll have to see what I can do then.”
Frank sorted through his mind, and nothing came to him but the old set of cliches. Better than silence. “What are you looking most for in a position?”
“A place where I can make everyone as happy as me! FOREVER. EVER EVER AND EVER.”
Frank raised an eyebrow. “Doesn’t that…kind of conflict with enjoying how databases can make grown men cry?”
Dolly shook her head, with the perfect smoothness of a plastic joint in a socket. “Good question. Not at all. It instead the best time to DRINK their souls so they can be HAPPY AND HAPPY.”
Frank nodded. “Well, you should fit right in then.” He saw a gleam of hope. “If you aren’t so stuck on the souls thing.”
Dolly Dollerson looked at him with a puzzled glance in its frozen eyes. “Yes Frank? Why do you say that?”
Mark looked over at Frank. “Eh, heh heh, Frank’s still getting over a bit of a breakup. He used to date someone else who was…flesh impaired.”
“A doll?” Dolly asked. “Why did you break up?”
“It was just time,” said Frank.
“So she dumped you, hee!” It swiveled both eyes back on him as it smiled.
Frank was about to respond angrily, and then laughed too, surprising himself. “You’re right.” It felt a bit of a relief to admit it. “She wanted…more interesting opportunities I guess. Anyway, she liked it here while she was here.”
“But…everyone here is still so … living,” said Dolly, puzzled. “Why would she leave before she had made everyone as HAPPY AS HER, FOREVER AND EVER, you know.”
Frank shrugged. It was a mystery to him too. For all her faults as a significant other, Amy had at least been good with his family. “She did say something once about there not being a lot of room for her to grow.”
“Let’s not dig up old negativity now, Frank,” said Mark. “Let’s stay on track about working for us. There’s so many things Dolly can do here.”
“Sure. Dolly, Have you met our current VP’s of marketing and production?” Frank indicated the corner table.
There sat two dolls, in sharp suits. They slowly raised empty spoons from bowls of red, that Frank and many others always hoped were just tomato soup. They were surrounded by several other human VPs, who also stayed quite quiet.
“I…have not,” said Dolly, suddenly somewhat unnerved.
“They came on board last year,” said Mark.
“It’s been a year now, hasn’t it?” Frank inclined his head philosophically. “I didn’t realize it was that long. To be honest, I thought it was kind of bad at the time. But, their expertise in a variety of fields has worked out really well.”
“Absolutely,” said Mark. He seemed more than a bit relieved to be back to talking on a positive note. “Yeah, it seems like they are quite happy.”
“And they’ve been able to get past the whole souls thing, too,” said Frank, a perfectly innocent look on his own face.
Mark’s face froze. “We don’t need to talk about compensation right now…”
“I disagree. Hee. I think we do.” Dolly Dollerson’s eyes narrowed. “What about compensation?”
Frank shrugged. “We had a hard time keeping interns, so we didn’t have a lot of souls to offer. So we cancelled the intern program, and they accepted stocks instead. All about the profits, for the good of the company,” said Frank.
“No souls?” the doll turned to Mark. “You foolish sack of blood. You didn’t mention NO SOULS.” It waved its arms at the cafeteria. “No souls in the dining room, no interns, no souls, only stocks instead?”
“I understand being interested in souls,” Mark responded, “But we can’t really pay in life-force any more. We could pay in happiness, maybe? Like how much enjoyment would you want to suck from each of the living per quarter?”
It frowned and gnashed it’s perfect tiny teeth. “I need a house to keep my form in, so I am not stuffed into a trunk and burned when my soul wanders for new victims. That means I must make good income, especially in this city. But once I have that money, does it bring me souls?” Dolly shook her head. “The best things in unlife cannot be paid for.”
“There’s still things that can be paid for,” said Mark, a panicked edge rising into his voice. “You can still get a lot of nice things. Think of how you can help make people happier and happier, forever and ever!”
“Is there room in the budget for hiring contractors?” said Dolly hopefully.
“I’m sure we can work something out,” said Mark.
“We do also have a general policy against soul harvesting now.” Mark kicked him under the table. Dolly noticed.
“We order food out, when we can’t cook it,” said Frank. “I don’t think there’s a startup offering souls yet.”
“That’s a good idea!” said Dolly. “I think I’ll do that! Want to join me?”
Frank blinked. “Uh…”
“I mean, I’m not working here now. No souls, this is bullshit.” Dolly crooked her finger at Frank. “You have an original way of thinking. You can keep your soul. We will make the green tickets you blood sacks think bring you joy. Just bring lots of other souls to me. We can set up a database. We can even store them in a database, hah haaaaaaa!”
“We can talk about it,” Frank said smoothly. “Send me a proposal.”
“Done.” Dolly got up and grabbed her laptop bag, and leapt off the seat. The possessed porcelain doll stood and turned it’s polished blank face up to Mark. “There’s no need to waste my or your time any further. I won’t forget you tried to hire me without telling me about the souls. Watch your back heee heeee!”
Dolly left as quickly as her doll legs could take her.
“You absolute dick,” said Mark. He sighed. “Now I have to get a whole bunch of protection hexes. Maybe even a damn salt rug and a familiar.”
“All I did was tell the truth,” said Frank. “I’ll be at my desk.”
He spent the rest of the day figuring out if he could begin a startup based on protective hexes. If he and Mark wanted them, maybe there was a way to cut out the middle witch.
This is a short story rough, a work in progress.
* * *
I came home to my apartment, to find my guardian angel.
As soon as I saw him, I knew all the things angels ask us to forget. We’re not supposed to remember them, because we’re supposed to think we’re on our own. That helps us act with the most pure intent possible. Their theory is that without knowing the safety net we can have, we will better learn to balance will and structure before we die and go to whatever’s after. I don’t know if it’s 100% true, but it’s a bit outside of my experience so who am I to judge?
I dropped my keys on my desk. “I thought we’re only supposed to see you angels in the most dire circumstances.”
“That’s right,” my angel said. “You’re driving me crazy! Do you know how hard you make me work? Do you know what it’s like when an angel goes crazy?”
“What are you talking about? I’m just – you know, I’m doing my thing. I’m exploring art, I’m working at my job…”
“You’re courting death, destruction and mayhem every day of your life. Every second! Good Lord, you can’t even be safe sitting at home. The time you spend on the Internet…the scams, the cults…then when you go outside. Do you know how many times last week I had to steer you away from a certain end?” He sighed. “I’ll give you a clue. That girl you got the wrong number from at the bar? It was the right number. I changed it. She’s a runaway with a father in the mafia.”
I blinked. “Okay. But how am I supposed to know that? I mean, what do you want from me?” I let my voice raise a little. Sure, they having nearly infinite power and benevolence tempered by love of God and all His creations, and also all the other angels all trying to do well with everything. But I get to say something. “I’m trying to do the best with my human experience, my, my living experiment that’s me here! The first real talk I can remember, and you’re just going to give me a bunch of crap because I don’t know what I’m doing? Why don’t you tell me what I *should* be doing?”
“Because that’s not the rules!”
I put my hands on my hips, of all things, feeling foolish but not enough to stop. “Should I just live the safest life possible?”
“Of course not!” My angel said, offended. “You just try so many things, and then I put good things in front of you and you just run away! You’re a good-hearted mortal. It’s just so strange how you do and then you don’t listen to yourself. I need you to get on a path and stick with it! You’re making me crazy here!”
“How do I know you’re not a guardian devil?”
It looked deeply wounded, and said nothing. I felt bad now. I knew, without even knowing it was so beyond question – this was a good being who wanted the best for me his whole life. If it was even gendered of course.
“Okay, look.” I sighed. “I’d love to hear from you how I can do better. Okay? I’m trying without a manual here.”
It’s face was tortured. “It’s stretching things just to talk this much to you.” Then an expression passed it’s face, the purest guilt and pain across such a face of clarity, light and benevolence was truly awful to see. It made me want to weep.
“Maybe we can work out a deal,” it said. “If you just…”
I stopped him suddenly. “Don’t tell me.”
“What?” his eyes stricken.
“Whatever you were about to say. I don’t want to hear it. I changed my mind.” I grit my teeth. “Whatever you tell me will mean that I’m not living *my life*.”
It began to cry. “But what will I do? Every – every time, every day, it’s just so hard!”
“I’m sorry I’ve been such a burden to you.” I wanted to make him feel better, but actual bitterness slipped through which surprised me. Was I really that difficult? I realized it probably knew my thoughts anyway, so I might as well hear them. “I’m not out here robbing banks or beating people up,” I said. “I’m just trying to do my thing.”
I looked at the bags beneath his glowing eyes. His hair was a mess. It was supposed to be some glorious glowing mane, but all kinds of stuff was stuck in it. I looked a bit closer, and it looked like twisting clumps of unproductive thoughts.
I felt bad for him. “Look man-“
“I’m not a human!”
“Okay, okay! I believe you. Look…higher being, we’re taking this moment to talk, right?” I pointed him towards my chair. “Why don’t you take a seat.”
“Take a break. Let’s talk it through.”
It looked over at my chair. “I don’t know if I have taken the time to sit down for … three centuries.”
I spread my hands. “I’m right here. You can still keep me from doing harm. Maybe I’ll be safer if you’re sitting, or something? Less chance something will get knocked off a bookshelf?” I nudged him towards the chair. “Just take a load off”
He sighed and sat, closing his eyes. Flaming tears of sunlight came poured from underneath his glorious eyelashes.
On impulse I went to the fridge, brought back a couple beers, and held one out for him. He opened his eyes and looked at it, without raising his hands. I pushed it into his chest until he grasped it. He held it in his hand.
“It feels cold.”
“I understand some humans prefer their beers warm.”
“Yeah, they’re just wrong. Give it a try.”
He took a sip and made a face. “It tastes awful.”
“Okay. Just take a sip any time you feel like disagreeing with me. Now let’s talk about you for a bit.”
The angel took a sip, but said nothing, watching me almost suspiciously.
I sat at my desk chair across from him. “When’s the last time you just enjoyed something for you?”
“I enjoy things all the time! The birth of babies, the growth of a flower, peaceful transitions in to the afterlife, helping keep a human protected from bad paths until they have a chance to grow…”
“No, no. Not things for other people. When is the last time you had a chance to just enjoy a thing because it was something good for you. Not because it was helpful to any other being.”
He thought long and hard. His eyes drifted into a misty glow.
“Several thousand years ago, I was floating over the pacific. There were fewer humans to manage then. In the time between one islander dying and another being born, I was distracted by…the most amazing dawn. It was just after a mighty storm and the sky was almost cloudless, with just a few puffs of clouds to show their beauty against the multicolored sky. The mostly placid but still-moving ocean beneath me. A squad of dolphins enjoying the sun rising before us. They might have even seen me, some nonhuman creatures can have an easier time with that. We all floated in that moment, them in the water and me in the air just about it, as we bore silent witness to God’s creation. A beauty that…”
He took another sip. “That was not for disagreement,” he clarified. “A beauty that it is easy to forget about.”
I nodded. “Alright.” I cracked open my own beer. “Look, you’ve been with me my whole life, and I appreciate it. I don’t even know how many things you’ve saved me from-”
“You have no God-damn idea,” he said. Shocked at his own words, he took another sip. “Hits fast!”
“Sure does. So how about you be kind to you for a bit? Seems to me you’re close to cracking.”
The angel started at me for a second, and then began to cry. Great job, I thought to myself. You made your angel cry. “Alright, come here being.” I held my eyes open.
It looked at me, as if it couldn’t stand to trust me. “Come on, I’m here. It’s okay.”
It came up out of the chair, and I gave it a hug.
I wrapped my arms around it, and it wrapped it’s arms around me, and I could feel a bit of its infinite power. But also, its infinite sadness. I just stayed there with it, trying not to think about how it could probably keep crying until I grew old and died, and then some. I could spare this moment, and quite a few more. So I just gave him the attention he deserved for each moment.
Eventually it separated. “Thank you,” it said. “I’m really grateful. I don’t have many other beings I can talk to.”
“Really?” I shook my head. “What about, you know, other angels?”
“They’ve all got the same things to deal with. They never tire. They can’t allow themselves to wait a moment.”
“How about…” I wondered. “Do you have a guardian angel for yourself?”
“No! Don’t be insane.”
“How would you know? Maybe you would be set to not remember them unless they’re around, like you are for me.”
The angel paused. It took another sip. “This beer does make such an idea easier to contemplate.”
“That’s it’s job.”
“I don’t think so,” it said at last. “We are less of the experience of free will combined with less certainty.”
“Really?” I shook my head in sympathy. “Other angels are largely in the same boat as you, aren’t they?”
The angel considered it. “I guess they’ve all got the same things to deal with. They never tire. They can’t allow themselves to wait a moment.”
“Well, maybe you aren’t as alone as you think? But also, I sure appreciate you. Appreciate yourself too.”
It smiled. “Thanks, -” and it mentioned a name I had never heard before, that I also knew from the depths of my being was mine. Perhaps the name was beyond time. If there was anything to reincarnation, this might be the name of the me that experienced them all.
“You’re welcome,” I said in return.
It moved a bit away from me, and placed a hand on my shoulder. It’s wings spread out, going through the walls of my space.
“You might not remember this, but I remember you. I’ll keep protecting you, and I’ll also find a way to be kind to me. I ask the same for you, of you.”
I nodded. “Easy to say, hard to do, I know.” Not knowing what else to do, I somewhat awkwardly shook his hand. He laughed, wiped away some his streaming sunlight tears, and disappeared.
I woke up, and found myself staring at Facebook. What was I about to write again?
I closed my browser. Maybe it wasn’t a good use of today to have more arguments with strangers.
It was beautiful outside. No matter what the weather was. It was time to take a walk and enjoy all of this life.
But maybe I’d stay inside a couple of minutes more. Maybe meditate or something. I wasn’t sure why, but I felt it might be good to stay in until someone had fully sobered up.
Another short that was very fun to write – the first art show in human history.
A new never-before-seen tale continues my publishing streak!
Enter the shadowy secret world of the Bros, and experience their quandary in dealing with…a whole new kind of bro.
Continuing my publishing streak, I’m so proud to announce a revised and updated version of “My Undead Dad”, complete with a grand new cover.