Tag Archives: fantasy

Superdad

This is the first time in a long time that I’ve had the time, energy, and Internet access to do the Sunday Photo Fiction story. Hopefully, though, I can continue this from now on though.

copyright Al Forbes

copyright Al Forbes

Superdad

“You know, Harry,” I said, sitting down on a bench overlooking the lake. “This is where I went to camp when I was young. That’s when I found I had powers.”

“Is this like how you say you have eyes on the back of your head?” my son Harry asked.

“Kind of,” I said. Except I could use my mind to move things. I was out one night and suddenly—POW!—a boulder almost fell on me. I picked it up with my mind and threw it in the lake. SPLASH!”

“So, you’re like a Superdad?” Harry asked, skepticism oozing from his expression. “Well, do something now to prove it.”

“Ooh sorry, I’m retired now. Being a father and all, you know.”

“Yeah. Can we get ice cream now?”

“Sure,” I said. Harry stood up and walked towards the roadside ice cream stand.

“You almost had him there,” a middle-aged man sitting nearby commented.

“I don’t know; kids are pretty shrewd these days. Excuse me for a moment.” I could see a swimmer across the lake struggling in deep water. I pulled him into the shallows, turned and nodded to the man, then followed Harry to get ice cream.


Bruised Heartwood – Friday Fictioneers

I’m currently on the road and writing this in a hotel. As always, I wish I could read more of the other stories but I should be able to pretty soon in the future.

copyright Madison Woods

copyright Madison Woods

Bruised Heartwood

The gnarled old oak tree on the hill loved Jenny. He loved watching her spread her picnic blanket in his shade.

“I’ll dress up for Halloween,” he said, and propped a goat’s skull in the crook of his branches.

But no one saw or cared, even Jenny who was at a party.

His heartwood was wounded deeply, and tearing up roots long planted, he rampaged through the town.

They caught him, cut him down, chopped him up. “Trees go bad,” they said.

But Jenny didn’t dance around the fire they made and her heart ached, although she didn’t know why.

 


Standing Between Realities – Friday Fictioneers

Copyright Jennifer Pendergast

Copyright Jennifer Pendergast

 

Standing on the Edge of Realities

“I’m such an idiot! I walked through that arch, back to this world, and I find her sleeping with my co-worker. I came back—gave up paradise—all for her! Stupid! I can’t go back now—the magic’s all gone—and I’m stuck forever in this tepid modern world. I just want to belong somewhere: I’m only an outsider now.”

The cop was having a heck of a first day on the job. “That’s terrible, sir. Really. If you’ll just step back from the edge of the bridge, I’ll buy you a coffee and you can tell me more about it.”


Waxy Wolly – Friday Fictioneers

Well, I’m back from the hospital and back into my routine. My apologies for not being able to read many stories last week, but I’ll make up for it this week, I promise. Also, although my Monday post, Drowning Day, was supposed to be humor, it was rather dark, so I’m sorry (to those who prefer my lighter stories) for another dark story today. I have a funny one coming up on Friday this week.

Also, since this is a horror story, I will dedicate it to my friend, K.Z. Morano, whose book 100 Nightmares just came out.

copyright Renee Heath

copyright Renee Heath

Waxy Wolly

Do you know Waxy Wolly, that goblin with the soft, melty face, drooping eyes flickering like malevolent candles? May he never come to your house.

Many a mother has looked into a cradle to see her baby staring up, a living effigy of that happy, laughing soul of only an hour before. And then when she washes it in hot water or puts it near the fire . . .

No one believes me. They all think I killed them. But there are no bodies to convict me. Just a waxy stain in front of the hearth, like someone spilled a large candle.

 


What if…?

 

What if…?

Rick Forrest was driving the Number 45 bus, empty, back toward the garage when he saw a man waiting at a lonely bus stop on the opposite side. There were no more buses that day, so he slowed and slide open his window.

“Hey buddy, no more buses today!”

The man looked up. “I’m not waiting for that bus.”

“This is the only bus route out here,” Rick said. He was about to drive away, when the man stood up and took a step into the road.

“The bus will be here any moment. Do you want to take it too? There’s room.”

You’re crazy! was on the tip of Rick’s tongue, but something in the man’s intent look made him pause. “I have to finish my route.”

“Come on, there’s room. It’s worth it.”

Rick suddenly had an insane vision of himself parking the bus by the side of the road and getting out to wait with the man. Crazy. He stepped on the gas and drove off.

A dark red bus was approaching. He watched it in the rear view mirror as it stopped and the man got on. Then the bus vanished into thin air.

Rick finished his route and went home, but every single day for the rest of his life, the same question went through his head: What if I had gotten on that bus?

 


Snowing in Summer

The Snow Tree

“Daddy, let’s go! Let’s go!”

My youngest daughter Terri was bouncing up and down with impatience. I could understand. The weather was broiling and the whole world was sunnyside up.

We walked to the cemetery slowly, keeping under the shade of the trees. Then we saw it up ahead, the snow tree, gently shedding its delicate frozen blossoms.

It seemed like half the town was there already, making snow cones and throwing snowballs that melted with a hiss as soon as they left the shade of the tree.

It was amazing how incurious our town of Gooseneck was. The tree was obviously magical, but there it was, dropping snow all year round, so what were you going to do?

Terri and I played under that tree every day that summer. But it was the last. The town ran into budget problems and sold the tree to a casino for fifty million dollars. We were sad to see it go.

Although, not as sad as we were when we realized that the tree had been planted to keep a pack of ghouls that were buried in the cemetery frozen for all eternity. They were pissed when they thawed out.

Nobody saw that one coming.

 


My Father is Dying in the Desert

 

My Father is Dying in the Desert

The Stone Emperor was dying. It was just the two of us now, wandering across the burning expanse of desert, towards the far-off dream of the ocean. I staggered along in his shadow as he towered over me. The sand trembled as he walked—one step for every fifty of my own.

“I must stop.” He sank down slowly onto the sand. More rocky scales fell from his skin; more of his molten blood oozed out.

“We are almost to the ocean, Father!” I shouted up to him. Ever since he had adopted me when I was little, I had ridden on his high, craggy shoulder, but not now. Now he literally glowed as his life’s magma seeped out through a thousand cracks. Humans could not know the diseases that afflicted a rock giant.

“This is the end,” he rumbled. “You have been a good son, more faithful than any of my own strata. Stay with me, until the end.”

The sun went down slowly and although the air was cold, the escaping life of my father kept me warm.

“God in heaven,” I prayed. “Keep him alive until we reach the ocean.”

During the night, I awoke to rain falling, hissing and spitting as it cooled and healed the Stone Emperor’s skin, sealing in his heat. God had not brought us to the ocean; he had brought the ocean to us in the desert.


The Sun Blossom – Visual Fiction

Visual Fiction is back, although I’m sure most people did not realize it was gone. This is a story based on a picture that I took myself. The point was originally for other people to take the picture and write their own story as well, although not many have. Still, you are more than welcome to write your own story if the mood strikes you. This story is dedicated to my dad and mom, since I think they’ll like it.

taken in Jeonju, Korea

taken in Jeonju, Korea

The Sun Blossom

What do you do with something so wonderful, so precious that finding it is the highlight of a lifetime?

Rex found the sun blossom when he was going out to drown himself. It wasn’t because of one big thing–no divorce or financial catastrophe–just years of tiny negatives that built up like a black hole under him, undermining all his hopes. He planned on walking into Carson’s Bay and not coming out, until he saw the sun blossom, shining with the unbearable intensity of the tiny star that it was. The impossibility of something that marvelous existing, while at the same time being without a doubt right in front of him was shocking. It hit him like a sledgehammer of hope, right in the heart. He could almost hear the shower of tarry despair tinkle down all around him. He had to take the sun blossom with him, so he carefully dug it up and carried it home, getting second-degree burns all over his face in the process.

He took pictures, video, even called his friends over to see. No one believed him, of course. “Fake,” they said. “Photoshopped, clearly.” They even called it fake when they were looking at it with their own eyes, which confused Rex a bit. After a while, he stopped telling people.

It was like nothing he had ever seen before, so otherworldly, yet so comforting; so perfect, yet so fierce and wild at the same time. He left the plant in a pot on his window sill one day and came back to find the house burned down. All that was left was the sun blossom, still glowing in its pot and surrounded by a house-worth of ash and soot. Rex was a little perturbed, but the sun blossom was unharmed, so what was one house compared to that,  really?

He loved it and never wanted to leave it anywhere, but at the same time, he felt bad for keeping it all to himself. Finally, he went down by Carson’s Bay and built a shack out of driftwood and replanted the sun blossom by the shore. He put an ad in the local paper: “Want to commit suicide? Carson’s Bay is a great place!” A few people showed up and then more and more. Some days there was a line of potential suicides twenty people long, coming down to the bay past Rex and the sun blossom. Not one of them made it to the water but more than a few hugged him with tears in their eyes and thanked him for his ad.

The sun blossom soon became big news. People in expensive suits began showing up at Rex’s shack, offering him endorsement deals for the use of the sun blossom in their ads (“Drink Redbull! You’ll glow like the sun blossom!”) The city adopted it as their symbol. Some people began claiming it cured cancer and athlete’s foot. One person said it whispered the future to him. Rex was sure this was all nonsense. But he didn’t own it; he had only found it. There was a lot of confusion and lots of money being thrust at him, but in the end, Rex stayed in his shack. He talked to anyone that wanted to hear his story and he listened to others’ as well. They met around a fire on the beach and everyone talked and had a good time together. No lies were allowed, just open honesty.

Rex wants me to pass on a message (he ran out of money for newspaper ads). If you’re lost in the darkness of despair and keep banging your nose on unseen walls and stubbing your toes on hidden obstacles, swing by Carson’s Bay. The sun blossom is waiting.


Xerxes’ Dinner

Xerxes is one weird guy. He lives in a house in an empty dimension, with some very eccentric characters like his sentient walls and his courier, Prescient Pigeon. Read the preceding stories here if you want: 1. Xerxes’ House 2. Xerxes’ Neighbors

house

Xerxes’ Dinner

Xerxes was about to go out to a social occasion for the first time since he had moved to the empty dimension where his house was. He had moved there to be alone, but the real estate agency had moved other houses into the dimension and now he was about to go to a neighboring house for dinner. He didn’t particularly want to, but his ex-girlfriend Penelope, who was now his laundry room wall, was dating the dining room wall of the other house and Xerxes wanted to investigate.

At six o’clock, the neighbors’ Obsequious Otter appeared at the front door. “Wonderful ensemble, sir,” it gasped. “I see you are truly ready for this evening.” Xerxes was wearing chain mail, with a bathrobe wrapped around it. “If you would, follow me.”

Xerxes had been curious how this was going to work. He had not been out of the house in the year since he had come to this dimension. Of course, it was an empty dimension, which meant that there wasn’t supposed to be anything in the whole universe except his house. That was the point. The animals, like his Prescient Pigeon or Obsequious Otter, could come and go but they were animals and he didn’t know or care how they did it.

He took a step out his door and immediately stepped onto another porch. For a moment, he had a horrible feeling the two houses were connected, but that wasn’t right. He’d looked out his door before and seen only grey nothingness.

The door opened and a man in a green sweater opened the door. “Mr. Xerxes!” he said. “My name is Ralph Henderson. Welcome to our home.”

“Dr. Xerxes,” Xerxes said. Xerxes wasn’t his last name and he wasn’t a doctor, but he still considered this his dimension and here he made the rules.

“Ah, I’m so sorry. Medical doctor?”

“Occasionally,” Xerxes said, still determined to be as hard to get along with as possible. He stepped inside, took off his bathrobe and hung it on the hat stand.

“Ah . . . can I get you something to drink?” Ralph Henderson asked, his etiquette compass wobbling slightly off true north.

“Do you have mead?”

Ralph frowned. “I do believe we do, in fact.”

“Okay, anything but that. Where’s your dining room?”

“Um, it’s in here, although my wife Heidi hasn’t quite finished with the meal—”

“That’s fine, I just want to talk to the wall.”

“You mean Bumble? How do you know him?”

“He’s dating my ex-girlfriend,” Xerxes said and walked into the dining room. Heidi Henderson was there, setting the table.

“Ah, you must be Mr. Xerxes—”

“Doctor, actually,” Xerxes said, not looking at her and giving a sort of half-wave. He faced the wall. “You Bumble?”

“Um, uh, well, if by that do you mean is Bumble my name, then, then yes. Yes it is,” the wall said. A tremor went through the china hutch pushed up against it.

“I hear you’re seeing my wall Penelope.”

“Yes, she is your mezzanine wall, is . . . is that right?”

“Laundry room, actually. Two industrial washing machines pushed up against her; big old shelves with detergent and fabric softener on them. That’s her.”

“Ah . . ah, I see,” Bumble said. Another tremor shook the china hutch, almost knocking over a decorative plate.

Why am I doing this? Xerxes thought. It wasn’t even that he was jealous. He sure didn’t want to get back together with Penelope, so why was he trying to sabotage things for her? I think I’m just a terrible person, he thought.

Xerxes turned to see the Hendersons standing in the doorway, apparently unsure what to do next. “It’ll still be a few minutes before dinner,” Ralph said. “Do you play chess?”

“No, I only play one game. Do you know strip Russian roulette?”

“Strip Russian roulette…”

“Yeah, it’s just like normal Russian roulette, but when you lose, you take off a piece of clothing. If you don’t have a gun, I could go get mine.”

The two Hendersons were looking at him as if he were a maniac. The problem was that Xerxes said everything in such a serious way, that no one ever knew if he was serious or not. Even Xerxes wasn’t sure sometimes, which was why he preferred to be alone. That way, if he wasn’t joking about something, it was only Xerxes that found out.

“Let’s just watch some TV,” Ralph said. Xerxes nodded and followed him out to the living room, his chain mail clinking slightly.

During dinner, Xerxes tried to keep as quiet as possible. He had a vague feeling he was doing everything wrong and while he didn’t care, he had another vague feeling he should care, for some reason. So, he was just trying to get through the meal and go home. At least the roast beef was really good. Everything would have been fine, but the Hendersons kept insisting on talking.

“So, Dr. Xerxes, how long have you been in this dimension?” Heidi asked, refilling his wine glass.

“Since the beginning,” Xerxes said. “It’s mine.”

“Ah, well we appreciate you sharing it with us,” she said. “We really like it here, so peaceful and serene.”

“I didn’t agree to share it. I think you’re invading my space.” There was an awkward silence. Xerxes helped himself to some more roast beef.

“I know this used to be an exclusive dimension,” Ralph said gently. “But the government ruled that exclusive dimensions weren’t allowed. A waste of the multiverse or something.”

“Well, I don’t want any company. I just want to be by myself,” Xerxes said.

“Then why did you accept our invitation to dinner?”

“I wanted to see your wall Bumble, to annoy my ex-girlfriend.” The atmosphere had gotten almost frosty. Maybe I shouldn’t be so honest, Xerxes thought. That was another reason he hated social situations. Sometimes he had to tell the truth, sometimes he had to lie and he couldn’t keep track of which was which. He could see the Hendersons looking at him with an expression close to disgust and for a split second, he didn’t like himself.

“I’m going to go now,” he said. “I’m sorry. I’ll take the rest of the roast beef home though. It’s very good.” He picked up the plate and walked out the front door. It wasn’t until he got home that he realized he’d forgotten his bathrobe.

To be continued…


Fructocidal – Friday Fictioneers

After the creepy story last time, I decided for something a little lighter…kind of. I had a few people last week ask for more of the story, Jasper’s Lamp, so I wrote it. You can read the longer and creepier version of Jasper’s Lamp here, if you’d like.

copyright Janet Webb

copyright Janet Webb

Fructocidal

“I heard they found him with a bag of apple seeds. Then they discovered a banana in his basement, peeled and sliced lengthwise.”

“Come on, you’re gonna make me hurl.”

“You know what was in his pantry? Hundreds of jars . . . of jam.

“Stop, or I’ll tell Mom.”

“They say he ate it on toast.”

“Quit it!”

“You don’t even want to know what he was drinking, but it had chopped up strawberries and oranges in it.”

“I’m gonna have nightmares now about getting picked.”

“Way up here on the top branch? Don’t worry, you’ll live to a ripe, old age.”


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