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This blog contains short stories and novel excerpts intended for adult audiences.
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Most of the images on this blog are PG13, but occasionally there is a picture on a specific post that might be more sensual in nature.
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The stories are primarily science fiction and/or romance and may have sexual themes and scenes.
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Galen watched as Moose and Marie mounted the horses and rode on ahead of the carriage. That was unusual… Marie rarely rode. But nothing seemed amiss, and they rode away from Anne and Clovis’ house at a leisurely pace. As they neared the edge of The Town, Galen let Moose see him. If there was anything wrong, a simple signal was all it would take. But Moose simply continued talking with Marie, riding along as if they hadn’t a care in the world.
Galen turned his horse directly away from The Road, straight into The Woods. “Homer! Let’s go see The City,” he ordered. The horse nickered obediently, then headed into the trees. The branches grew more dense, then less again after just a short time. Soon, he saw The Road again, and in the distance, The City.
He let Homer graze while he made himself comfortable on a fallen log not far from The Road. The Castle glinted in the distance, all pink and purple today.
The girls will like that. I’ll have to make sure they see it.
Galen only had to wait about half an hour before the carriage rumbled over the horizon, approaching the outskirts of The City. Both Moose and Marie waved and he fell in with them. “How was your visit?” he asked politely. Marie launched into a monologue about everything from tea and biscuits to how quickly the girls were growing. “Speaking of the girls, they should see The Castle today. Look…” Galen said gesturing towards the gleaming pink and purple towers in the distance.
“Well…isn’t that fanciful?” said Marie, admiring the spires. “They’re napping in the carriage. When we get to the last rise before home, I’ll wake them so they can see.”
Travelling through The City seemed to take forever. There was some kind of awkwardness between Moose and Marie that Galen didn’t understand.
These people…my friends… are from another time. Sometimes I have no idea what it is that goes on in their heads.
It had been weeks since The Madwoman had removed the force that pulled all the others. Sometimes Marie, Nyota, and Moose all seemed to understand something that Galen did not. He was never sure whether it was because he was from a much earlier time, or because they could be pulled while he was not.
It set him apart.
“Let’s go by The Tower on the way home. The girls can see The Castle from there.” Moose suggested when they reached the far side of The City, close to home.
Lark was awake when they reached The Tower, but a sleepy Sophie clung to Galen as he carried her up the steps to the lookout place. “Look! See? The Castle is Pink and Purple today.”
“I cold.” Sophie insisted.
“Here…” Galen said, and wrapped his riding cloak around both of them. It was a bit chilly at the top of The Tower, where the wind could whip by unobstructed. Sophie snuggled against him, and only peeked out from under the cloak to see the pink towers in the distance. She seemed more interested in being held than in seeing something fantastic.
Of course, to her, the changing colors of The Castle are no more fantastic than the fact that a sheep named Radish likes to follow her around the meadow…
Galen smiled at the thought, and pressed his lips against the little girl’s forehead. His mother had yearned for more children, but his father died when he was still a boy. A gladiator, though having gained his freedom, he had been enslaved to the arena because he knew no other trade. His mother, being enslaved to his father yet no less loved than any other gladiator’s wife, wanted nothing more than to raise a family with her owner husband.
There are no Roman guards chasing me here. No boy king to throw a temper tantrum and demand my head on a platter. I have no reason to leave, and every reason to stay.
He glanced up, his lips still pressed to the tiny girl’s forehead, and his eyes caught Marie’s. She was watching him, but for the life of him, he could not figure out what might be going on in her head.
I’m not sure I want to know…
He glanced away, rocking the sleepy girl back and forth, pretending the meeting of their eyes meant nothing.
It meant nothing. She was watching her daughter, and I glanced up. That is all.
Much about Marie disturbed him. At times, it was obvious that she was born to be a queen. She cared deeply for all those around her, even those she had just met. But there was also a raging insecurity inside her. He knew that her own subjects had demanded her head and got it, but there was something more…
Something that had nothing to do with being a queen, and everything to do with being a woman.
What Would Have BeenWhat Would Have Been is a short story (or novella… who knows?) that I am publishing one chapter at a time… as I write it. It’s a fun exercise for me, and hopefully a bit of entertaining reading for you! At this point, on chapter 23, I’m asking myself “Great googlie mooglies, isn’t it done yet? I thought this was a short story!” So I’m working towards tying things up and moving to the end. But not too soon… a few things need to happen first…
This story is dedicated to the Janes. The real ones and the fictional, the ones who survived, and the ones who didn’t. For all of you.
The shortlink for this post is http://wp.me/p1rMYd-k2
Herb propped his feet on the coffee table without taking off his shoes because there were no wives around to nag him.
Wife, not wives.
He reached out an arm to ask his husband to hand him the extra pillow that their wives kept moving back to the fancy-chair-no-one-sits-in, but Raj wasn’t there.
One wife. One husband. How old fashioned. How Earth-like.
Allora wasn’t home, or if she was, she was being quiet somewhere. He didn’t know, and largely didn’t care.
It’s not like she’d seek out my company…
“Herb?” he turned to see Allora in the doorway. Her arms were crossed over her chest, her eyes were red and puffy.
Wait… what does that mean? I think she’s… sad. Of course she’s sad. It’s only been a few months, but… what does she want from me?
“Yes?” He sat up in his chair and twisted around to see her.
He didn’t get up.
Allora glanced around the room. What she was looking for, he had no idea.
Yes I do. She’s looking for someone who knows what’s going on in her head without her having to say it out loud. Someone who died three months ago.
“I was just wondering… were you going to bed soon?” she asked quietly.
That sounds like an easy question. It must be a trick… a trap… Allora never really says what she means. I’ve gone to bed at nine every night of our marriage. Twenty years of habit, and she doesn’t know that?
Herb glanced at the clock. “I’ll be going up in about a half hour.” He hesitated to add one last word but something in his wife’s eyes made him want to at least try to figure out what was wrong with her. “Why?”
“I was just wondering… we probably don’t need two beds anymore.”
This was written for the Write On Edge prompt to write from a man’s POV. I regularly switch back and forth from male to female as I write, but it is true that I’m more comfortable with the female POV. We only had 300 words.
The story of Allora and Herb is one I began several months ago and never finished. At 300 words, this is really is just a scene, not a story. I’d like to finish it someday. Writing about a world where group marriage is common opens up all kinds of interesting scenarios… in this case, Allora and Herb lose their “better half” in an accident, and realize that over the twenty-some years they’ve been married, the two of them have grown apart. The two spouses who died were the two that kept the union going. Now that it’s just Herb and Allora, they have to figure out how to get along when it’s just the two of them.
The shortlink for this post is http://wp.me/p1rMYd-jW
Moose mounted Manny with minimal help from the groom. He was getting used to sitting in the saddle, using the horse for his primary transportation. The horse fit in no matter where he traveled, although he was still trying to figure out if he could acquire a more modern mode of transit. Although cars and skimmers could be seen in The City and even The Town, he failed to ever actually see one parked, and he wasn’t quite desperate enough to walk out into the street and demand that one stop so he could question the driver.
“It’s a lovely day for a ride,” Marie said, sitting sidesaddle on what he assumed was one of Anne and Clovis’ horses. “Nurse is going to let the girls nap on the way home, since they’re already half asleep. I thought I’d ride along with you.”
Her face seemed unusually bright. Moose assumed it was from the long talk she’d enjoyed with her old friend. He had no idea what the women had talked about the whole time, but Clovis was very enlightening. There was no real history of The Place, but various people had stories of when their grandparents had mysteriously arrived. Curiously, no one claimed to be anything more than a third generation citizen. Everyone had a story either of their own arrival, their parents, or grandparents.
Clovis’ other, darker anecdote was even more disturbing. “There have been some… not many, you see, but a few, who have been unable to reconcile their fate. They could not let go of their previous life and create a new one here. They… faded. We saw them less and less. We thought of them less and less. Then one day, when we passed what had been their home and realized someone new was living there, no one knew what had happened to them. The next time I realized an arrival was having difficulty, I paid more attention. I had to write notes to myself, because my own mind seemed to defy my wishes. My mind wanted to let them slip away. But I kept a journal, and I continued to visit. I encouraged him, but he simply took the food that his housekeeper prepared for him, then he sat, wondering and wishing, never doing. Towards the end it was a struggle for me to see him. There always seemed to be something else I’d rather do, but I forced myself to go. And in his last days, he seemed to be nothing more than a ghost of himself. To this day I am not sure whether it was a trick of the light, or if it was my feeble imagination, but I swore I could see right through him, as if he was a ghost already. Or perhaps he was a ghost from the moment he arrived, and never learned to live again. I don’t know. But the next day he was gone, the house empty, the housekeeper poofed into thin air like all the magics.”
Apparently, “magics” was the local term for what Moose knew to be artificial intelligence. Majel was one, and there were several others sprinkled here and there. No job went undone, yet no person went without a job.
It was a perfectly functioning society, a Utopia.
The problem with Utopian societies is that they tend to be that way because anyone who disturbs the perfection is dealt with quickly and severely. I wonder if I would start to fade away if I fought against the pull that keeps me close to Marie? If I don’t do what some unknowable force wants me to do, will I disappear?
“…and Anne hopes to be a grandmother soon…” Marie was saying. Without thinking, Moose had nodded and smiled and pretended to listen when he’d really been wrapped up in his own thoughts.
“A grandmother! Well, I think Anne will make a wonderful grandmother. And Clovis will be an admirable grandfather, the kind of man his sons and grandsons can look up to.”
Marie beamed, seemingly pleased with his answer. She continued on with talk of the young bride-to-be, and what the wedding might be like.
Moose realized too late that he hadn’t been nodding enough. Or perhaps Marie had asked a direct question and he’d just “uh-huh’d” like he usually did when one of his female relatives was rambling on. But she was no longer beaming, or talking. When he caught her eye, she produced the dazzling fake smile that proclaimed to the world “Everything is all right.”
There was so much of his grandmother in her. He decided to do exactly with Marie as he’d learned with his grandmother. He apologized.
“I’m very sorry. My mind wandered off. I know I wasn’t paying attention. What was it you were saying?”
Marie seemed to consider him for a long moment. She began to chew her lip, but stopped herself. It was a gesture he’d find sexy and alluring from any other woman…
But not Marie.
“I was just wondering where your mind was. Whether you are of a mind to accept this new life we’ve been given… to stay, with us, or whether you are determined to escape, to find your way back to the moon.”
Moose told her where his mind had been, about what Clovis had said about people who did not accept their new life.
“I’ve known people who faded like that. Not literally, of course, but… people who simply gave up on living.” She paused as the horses trotted over a pretty bridge on the outskirts of The Town. “I believe you. I believe Clovis. But it seems unreal, that such a thing could happen.”
“There is a lot here that is unreal…”
“And there is a lot that is very real indeed.” Marie insisted. Moose knew she was talking about Sophie. Sophie was both an anchor and a kite for Marie… the little girl kept her mother grounded, and set her free to fly. Sophie was Marie’s reason for living.
They rode on in silence for a few minutes, but Moose kept part of his attention on Marie. He didn’t want to make her feel that he was ignoring her, but something else had caught his eye. Smiling at her, giving her the reassurance that he wasn’t drifting off into his own thoughts, he waited until her gaze naturally fell to the side at some pretty bit of scenery. Casually, he glanced behind them, spotting the rider in The Woods who was not doing a very good job of hiding himself.
Well, I guess I’ll get a full report on how well I did in the saddle when we get home tonight. Apparently my teacher is watching.
It wasn’t unusual for Galen to appear in the background. He let Moose see him, but by agreement they never let Marie know she was being watched. She seemed to feel safe with Moose as her escort and guardian. She didn’t need to know that Galen was her true knight, the one who moved in secret and kept watch from afar. Moose felt more like a security blanket, like one of those men from… well, Marie’s time who was required to escort the women in his life everywhere they wanted to go.
“Moose…”
He looked up, meeting her gaze. She had begun with his name, and obviously wanted to make sure she had his full attention for whatever it was she was about to say. “I want to thank you for all you have done for me. I know that it is… not entirely your own will that binds you to me, but I am grateful for your presence, both the protection and the company.” She smiled a bit more brightly than necessary, a quirk he recognized as nervousness. “I think very highly of you.”
Oh… she… is she…?
Moose forced himself to breathe calmly, listening carefully to every word, making sure he wasn’t misinterpreting her, but looking for a place where he could interject some ice water on the conversation without causing her embarrassment or hurt. “…I know that you might find a way to leave us. Although I hope you don’t, I want you to know that… that you should not hesitate to form… attachments… with us…”
Damn it, she’s used to men falling all over her feet! The only flirting she’s ever had to do was with her own husband, and that probably left her even more insecure than… well, any woman I’ve ever met.
“I’ve mourned my husband. I miss Louis, but I think his grave is here because I need to move on.”
It was not a natural break in conversation, but Moose dove in. “I wish I knew what happened to my family. I wonder if they all think I’m dead? I wonder if they had a funeral and everything.” There was no natural segue, but he plowed through with his ace in the hole. “Did I ever tell you about my family’s legend about ancient France? I mean, not ancient to you, but about your time?”
Marie was politely listening. He purposely only paused on a direct question so that she would not interrupt, as well-trained as she was in conversational politeness. “When you told me that you had faked your sons’ deaths and sent them into hiding, I couldn’t believe it, because my grandmother had always said the same thing! Actually, we’re supposed to be descended from one of them. Imagine that! You could be my very-great-grandmother.” Moose made sure his tone matched precisely the “Isn’t that interesting?” modulation he was attempting.
Marie, whose face had been entirely bright red and flushed with what he now knew was amorous intent, had gone white as a ghost. At first, she just stared at him, her jaw agape. But she recovered quickly, and her royal mask was instantly in place. “How fascinating! I wonder if there’s any way we could know for certain?”
Marie continued to chatter the rest of the way home. Moose made sure to not only nod and smile, but give actual words as answers. It was hard work, pretending no awkwardness existed.
It was a very long ride home.
What Would Have BeenWhat Would Have Been is a short story (or novella… who knows?) that I am publishing one chapter at a time… as I write it. It’s a fun exercise for me, and hopefully a bit of entertaining reading for you! (Hi Sarah!)
This story is dedicated to the Janes. The real ones and the fictional, the ones who survived, and the ones who didn’t. For all of you.
The shortlink for this post is http://wp.me/p1rMYd-jM
Marta took her last breath of fresh air as the lift doors closed. Her next inhalation was tainted with the sweat of other workers who, like her, had indulged in a few hours of exercise and activity before returning to their homes in Cheapside. One young man added to the fumes with his own loud flatulence, but at least he had the civility to blush deeply and mumble an apology.
Fortunately the doors swept open moments later, and the stale recycled air of Cheapside replaced the eau de humanity. With practiced ease Marta and the other denizens half floated, half danced down the nondescript corridor, saying a casual goodnight to neighbors and friends as they found the numbers on the doors which were the only differentiation between the individual spaces.
The steam shower felt heavenly. She had splurged on a little bottle of lilac scent, and she left the door separating her bathroom from the rest of the apartment open so that the smell would fill the small space. Wrapping herself in her best fluffy towel, she dialed her window to look out from an earth-side farmhouse window at a row of familiar lilacs. She watched the pastoral scene as she combed and braided her hair. It was hard to catch, but she knew exactly where the loop restarted. The slightest breeze ruffled the bushes, and there was a split second where the sway was ever so slightly interrupted.
Two more months. Soon, very soon, I’ll feel that breeze again.
This was written in response to the Write on Edge prompt about location. We only had 250 words, and I used every last one of them!
The shortlink to this post is http://wp.me/p1rMYd-jI
“His? You mean Tesla’s?” Cole asked, trying not to let the incredulous tone come out in his voice.
Sanjay pushed up to his elbows. His face was white as a sheet; the bags under his eyes showed that he’d been crying, and had probably been awake all night. “It wasn’t our childhood. It was old… seventeenth century old. And it was Croatia… I knew it was Croatia.”
Cole tried to be helpful. “We’ve been to Croatia several times. Are you sure it wasn’t a flashback to something we saw?”
Sanjay shook his head. “No. There was a cat. The cat was important, somehow…”
That was significant. Their predecessor, their donor, the great Nicola Tesla had been fond of all animals, and had especially enjoyed the companionship of a cat during his childhood. Cole and Sanjay’s family were die-hard dog people. A cat had never entered their house. Although friends had cats, there was certainly never any great connection between the twins and their friends’ pets.
A week later, Sanjay was still disturbed by the vision. He refused to talk to anyone but Cole about it, with the exception of the psychologist who had been both studying and counseling the boys all their lives. But then it was simply a report. Sanjay wasn’t ready to be named a nutjob. The great Tesla may have dipped into the loony bin a bit deeper than necessary late in his life, but Sanjay was still very young, and they had the advantage of knowing all about the illnesses that had plagued the man from whom they were cloned.
“You guys need to come to the bar with us tonight. It’s karaoke night.” Glorianna announced. Sanjay just continued staring at the figures on the board he’d been staring at for the last hour. Cole was making paper airplanes. He recognized the implied imperative behind their little sister’s words. She was, after all, best friends with both their girlfriends, and the girls were probably feeling neglected since the twins had turned down every opportunity to go out for the past week.
“We’ll be there. Do you need a ride?” Cole answered.
“Eileen said she’d drive, since she’s not old enough to drink yet.” Her next question was asked completely with body language and silent mouthing.
What about grumpy over there?
“We’re conjoined twins, remember?” Cole joked, earning an actual “look” from Sanjay. But at least he didn’t protest.
Cole lectured his twin about how twenty-year-old women didn’t like to be ignored and how they were both incredibly lucky to have girlfriends who loved them for who they were, not who their predecessor was. Sanjay seemed to perk up a bit, but Cole could tell it was simply an effort on his twin’s part to do the mental exercises their therapist had taught him to help deal with the aftereffects of his visions. Sanjay wasn’t one to mope.
The bar was loud in a friendly, happy way. Karaoke was already starting, and a young couple was doing justice to the classic “Don’t You Want Me Baby” on stage. They found a table and ordered dinner and drinks.
Cole watched his twin struggle to smile and interact. The three girls got up on stage and performed “Hold On” by Wilson Phillips, and actually managed to harmonize nicely. Sanjay applauded loudly, but his face was pale, and his hands trembled slightly.
Something drastic had to be done. Cole found an excuse to kidnap their little sister, leaving Sanjay with their girlfriends.
After a quick consultation and change of clothes, Cole took the stage. He watched his brother’s confused look at Glorianna returned to the table wearing Cole’s clothes, and then at the raucous round of laughter, cat-calls and whistles from the other patrons of the bar Sanjay finally looked up at the stage to see Cole there, looking gorgeous in their little sister’s little black dress and bright red high heels. He belted out “I Will Survive” with all his might, as his twin doubled over with laughter along with their girlfriends.
Cole finished his performance by falling down the stairs from the stage when he became overconfident in his ability to walk in high heels that were several sizes too small. Kicking off the footwear, he quickly jumped to his feet and declared “I’m all right!” to resounding applause.
Glorianna insisted on keeping her brother’s clothes for the night, as she was garnering quite a bit of male attention wearing a man’s dress shirt and tie. Cole didn’t mind. Sanjay was relaxing at last. That made karaoke in drag more than worth it.
“I just can’t figure out the last part… it was like the vision switched to the cat’s point of view. I ran along the fence, and there was city, lit by sunrise, spread out before me…”
“You saw that too? I love that movie!” an unidentified man said from behind them. Glorianna looked slightly miffed that the hunk who had been paying attention to her was suddenly talking to her brothers instead.
“What movie?” Cole asked.
“I think it was called “Ignacio,” let me see…” the man moved his thumb around his mobile briefly, then showed it to the twins. Sure enough, there was a scene that showed a cat, looking sad and forlorn, then it switched to the cat’s point of view as it ran along a fence.
“That’s it! That’s exactly what I saw!” Sanjay was beside himself. If Cole didn’t know for certain that they’d each only had a couple of drinks, he’d swear his twin was drunk. “That’s exactly what was in my vision! But when did I see that?”
Sanjay’s girlfriend Nikki answered for them. “Ignacio? That was last month. We went to the drive-in, remember? It was the second movie. Right after “Arpeggio”. You weren’t very… um…” she blushed prettily “…interested in the movie by then.”
Cole had fond memories of that night. The drive-in wasn’t exactly private, but it allowed for a little bit of making out. They both had an eidetic memory… even if they weren’t paying much attention to the movie, Sanjay must have picked up enough to remember it in a flashback later.
“I’m not nuts!” Sanjay announced.
“That’s still open for debate.” Glorianna countered, but Sanjay didn’t seem to care.
“Sanjay…” Nikki said gently, “I think it’s about time we had a serious talk about these visions you have…”
Cole put an arm around Eileen, who snuggled naturally just a bit closer.
Yes. It’s time to talk about the visions. And it’s time for us to get a place of our own.
The End
After reading the answers to my SciFi Question of the Day about cloning Nicola Tesla, I decided to expand on the idea. This story is broken up into 3 parts, about a thousand words each.
The shortlink for this post is http://wp.me/p1rMYd-jp
By age seventeen they had been half working, half studying for several years. Although they had the equivalent of the highest degree of education possible, their parents had not allowed them to take traditional college courses. Of course, the greatest minds in education were eager to personally tutor the boys, and they usually took just a few weeks to cover material that most students learned over the course of a semester. But when they turned seventeen, their parents decided it would be good for the boys to take classes…separately.
Both twins were initially aghast at the thought. Even though they had separate rooms, almost every other aspect of their lives was spent working side by side. But when they started looking at the college catalog, they grew excited.
“We can’t take both Music Theory and The Art of Translation…”
“…because they overlap by a half hour…”
“…and they’re across campus from each other…”
“But if we split up, we can each take one, and share with the other!”
This decision was met with applause by their mother, and a certain amount of dread from Eshana who had decided it was her job to show her brothers around campus. Of course, there would also be the usual curious onlookers who would have to be kept at bay, and certain security precautions.
Cole remembered absolutely nothing from the first day’s lecture. He and Sanjay were taking Dante together. Sitting a few rows in front of them, and a little farther from the center were a couple of girls who were obviously twins. They were the most gorgeous women he’d ever seen. Usually, Sanjay would have poked him and brought his attention back to the instructor, but for once Sanjay was just as distracted as Cole.
Dating was heaven and hell all mixed up. In spite of all their parents’ efforts to give the boys plenty of interaction with peers throughout their lives, the simple fact was they were outsiders. They were socially awkward, and even Eshana’s best efforts were for naught when it came to the more subtle social interactions. Fortunately, there were plenty of girls who were willing to overlook the innate geekiness of the twins for the sake of not just their brilliant minds and celebrity status, but for their genuine capability of and desire for warmth and human companionship.
They stayed with their parents well past their eighteenth birthday. Both sisters were still living at home, although Eshana was considering spending her senior year at the University sharing a flat with some friends.
“We should move out too. We make plenty of money, even going to school part time. And since we turned eighteen there’ve been all those other offers for interviews and appearances and stuff like that…” Cole said to his brother.
Sanjay was quiet, and he didn’t meet his brother’s eyes. They were both busy in the lab, and it didn’t seem too strange to Cole that his brother didn’t immediately reply. When he did, his voice was soft. “And my visions? What do I do about those?”
Cole had envisioned maybe actually having a love life that consisted of something more than frantic groping in the backseat of a car. He’d lost his virginity to a girl who apparently had just wanted to have that claim to fame. It was humiliating, but it didn’t make him want to give up on the idea of romance completely.
He selfishly had not taken into account his brother’s illness. There was no question in his mind that the two of them had to be together. It might be their mother who rocked Sanjay until his head cleared, but it was Cole who was the receiver of the randomness that spilled out afterwards. More than once, he’d traced some of the solutions or discoveries they made back to something from either the vision, the monologue, or Cole’s post-monologue dreams. It was part of how they worked, although it was a burden Sanjay bore with only the superficial help of his twin. If Cole could take the burden from his brother, even only for a short time, he would.
So they stayed. Of course, the other advantage to staying at home was Glorianna’s friends. Often they would meet girls who had no idea they were famous; they were just Glorianna’s geeky big brothers. They celebrated their twenty-third birthday with girlfriends whom Glorianna only reluctantly relinquished under a very specific social contract.
“They were my friends before you guys started going out!” she was fond of reminding them, but she did so with love. Cole was only too happy to thank her profusely over and over for bringing Eileen into his life; he was completely besotted. Sanjay was equally in love with Nikki, who didn’t seem to mind the thousand times a day her boyfriend put his foot in his mouth about one thing or another.
The night of their birthday, Sanjay had a vision. Cole woke up not because his brother was sitting on his bed, but because daylight was breaking and his brother had not come to him. Worried, he climbed out of bed and knocked quietly on his brother’s door.
“Yeah?” came the muffled voice, so Cole crept in quietly, hoping not to wake their parents.
Cole sat on the end of Sanjay’s bed, just as Sanjay had done to him a thousand times. “Are you OK?”
Sanjay didn’t immediately answer. Cole waited.
“I’ve had flashbacks before. Sometimes the visions are just flashbacks.”
“OK… so this one was a flashback. Was it a scary one?” Cole tried to remember something scary that happened to them. The worst he could remember was lightning striking a tree in the back yard. It was incredibly loud and startled everyone in the house, but he remembered them both being hyper-excited about the event. It was the most exciting thing that ever happened to them.
“It wasn’t my life I flashed back to.” Sanjay took in a gulp of air, and it sounded like a sob. “It was his.”
After reading the answers to my SciFi Question of the Day about cloning Nicola Tesla, I decided to expand on the idea. This story is broken up into 3 parts, about a thousand words each.
The shortlink for this post is http://wp.me/p1rMYd-jn
The boys bent to their work. No more special guests for the afternoon; it was a work day. Schoolwork, that is. Dr. Tyson visited frequently to see how they were doing. Cole liked him. He didn’t treat them as geniuses, he treated them as…well, kids.
Sanjay was frozen in place, pencil in hand, eyebrow raised, chin down, staring at his twin. Cole knew the look. Stop daydreaming and get to work! They’d shared a womb for nine months, and hardly ever been separated in the nine years since. Cole met his brother’s eyes just long enough to admit that he’d been daydreaming and promise to give his full attention to the calculus worksheets.
Their math tutor looked over their work when they finished. That was the part Cole hated the most, although Sanjay reveled in it. Being compared not only to each other, but to their predecessor.
Compared to their own potential.
“Thank you Cole, for showing all your work. I can see the same wrong turn you took on several problems…” Cole couldn’t help but pay attention. He wanted… he needed to know what that mistake was. He felt like he understood the material, and was surprised that there was something he was doing wrong.
The tutor turned to Sanjay. “Sanjay, you need to show your work. You only got two problems wrong, but I have no idea whether it’s just some silly little typo, or whether you’re misunderstanding one of the steps…”
Sanjay grabbed the paper from their tutor’s hand, glanced at the two problems marked wrong, and quickly fixed them. “It was nothing. Just a little glitch. I fixed it.”
The tutor didn’t look happy as he looked at the math sheet. “Yes, that’s correct. However you do need to show your work.”
Sanjay heaved a heavy sigh and nodded noncommittally. They had this argument all the time. Sanjay insisted that he could do all the work in his head in the blink of an eye, so why bother slowing himself down to put it on paper just so the tutor could see?
Cole liked slowing things down. He often wished he could slow down life itself, freeze a perfect moment in time and live in it for just a little longer…
Like last Sunday, when their Dad had spent the entire afternoon throwing and catching with them. Cole was just happy to relax and swing at their Dad’s throws, and soon he was hitting every pitch. But Sanjay wouldn’t let their Dad throw the ball until he had adjusted his grip and stance to compensate for whatever imagined mistake he had made the past ten times he failed to hit the ball. He didn’t give up… he didn’t even get upset. He just shrugged when it was all over, as if it was simply one more requisite activity on their schedule.
Cole had watched his Dad’s strong shoulders flex under the late afternoon sun. He wondered what his life would have been like if he’d inherited his Dad’s DNA instead of the donor’s.
I could be a baseball star instead of a genius…
There was no transition to college. High School diplomas were awarded at filed at a young age; just another formality in their formal education. The boys continued to breeze through the math and sciences, absorbing the subjects like they had been born to them.
And they had. By design, they were born to fulfill the potential of their predecessor, the donor. Their education included writing and communication, necessary skills to be able to share their genius with the world. They both enjoyed art, especially when it was something messy like clay. It was also one of the only times they got to interact with kids their own age, on equal ground. The two of them were far too valuable to let them go to public school, or even a private institution. No, their education was finely tuned and tailored to maximize their potential.
Cole began to hate the word. When they turned fourteen and the orneriness of teenagedom asserted itself, he announced that he wasn’t going to be a great scientist after all.
“I’m going to be a fighter pilot. Maybe even an astronaut! And not one of the scientist-astronauts… I want to fly the thing!”
“That sounds like a terrific career.” His mother said calmly. The worst part was, he knew she meant it. He knew she loved him and would enthusiastically support him in anything he did.
But will “they” let me?
“That’s stupid.” Sanjay said. Their Dad gave him a look, and would have spoken up if he hadn’t just taken a rather too-large bite of Mom’s fabulous lasagna. Sanjay had the manners to look contrite. “Sorry. But it’s still not a good idea. I mean, we’ve got such potential, we’ve got the genes of one of the greatest men who ever lived…”
“…and every day of our lives we’re reminded of it! Pictures from his life and his achievements all over the school and lab. And I see it in the eyes of every mentor who comes through. I know these men and women… they’re accomplished scientists, mathematicians, engineers and everything without the benefit of someone else’s extra-special genes! Yet they practically worship us. They treat us like celebrities.”
Their mother quietly interrupted. “You are celebrities.” She said it like it was an unfortunate fact, a burden they had to carry. “And you do have potential. You weren’t given a choice. You were brought into this world as an experiment, but I’ve never regretted that a single day of my life.” She captured Cole’s eyes, and he felt the weight of her sincerity pierce the angry bubble that he’d worked up. “You’re mine.”
Laying in bed that night, Cole wondered about the gifts his mother had given him. Not the toys and mementos scattered around his room, but the more personal gifts of self. Their older and younger siblings were both girls. He didn’t know if that was by design, to lessen the inevitable comparisons, or whether it was simple chance. He did know that the scientists had argued for years before their conception regarding what the ideal family would be like. They wanted the boys to have a nuclear family, and they wanted that family to include other children.
Children who were not test subjects.
Glorianna looked most like their Dad. But as a younger sister, she had picked up a lot of quirks her big brothers exhibited, as well as an impressive vocabulary. There was no doubt she was their sister, even though genetically they had almost nothing in common. Eshana, older by only just over a year, doted on them like she was an extra mother, even trying to help them with their homework long after they passed her academically.
A familiar thump came from the room next door, and Cole was up in a flash. The one thing… the thing that could be the key to everything… was also the biggest difference between the otherwise identical twins.
Sanjay had the visions. Cole did not.
Sanjay hated the blinding flashes of light, and flatly refused to talk about what he saw afterwards. But late in the night, he would come to his brother’s room and sit at the end of the bed, delivering a monologue that often made no sense. It gave Cole strange dreams, but if it helped his brother unload his burden, it was worth it.
Cole found his brother sitting up in bed, his hands over his eyes, rocking back and forth. As was routine, Cole went to pick up whatever his brother knocked off the night stand while their mother breezed past and gathered her baby in her arms. No lights were turned on. The household customarily slept with next to no light… just the tiny safety dots in the hallway, and in each doorway. But eyes that were already adjusted to the absence of light found that tiny bit more than sufficient to find their way around the house, and to each other.
Cole heard Eshana in the hallway, asking if Sanjay was all right, and their Dad reassured her that he was fine, just another flash episode. Soon, Mom got up, leaving a lump of blankets over Cole’s twin. Cole retreated to his own bed, only to be woken moments after he finally got to sleep, his brother delivering the usual monologue at the foot of his bed.
After reading the answers to my SciFi Question of the Day about cloning Nicola Tesla, I decided to expand on the idea. This story is broken up into 3 parts, about a thousand words each.
The shortlink for this post is http://wp.me/p1rMYd-jl
Marie had no idea what Moose and Clovis were discussing, but whatever it was, both men were engrossed. She was enjoying an afternoon with Anne, and Moose, as usual, had accompanied her. Both girls had also come to The Town with them, as well as a maid. Nyota was spending the day by herself; Marie wasn’t exactly sure what she was doing, but her friend had embraced their new life enthusiastically and was constantly doing things to benefit both their little family and all the new arrivals it was their job to welcome.
Galen was off exploring… somewhere. Again.
“Clovis misses having the boys around, but they all have lives of their own now. Of course, they come back to visit all the time, but it’s just not the same.” Anne said, sipping her tea delicately.
Marie was constantly aware of the duality of her friendship with Anne. They had grown up in similar situations… Anne the daughter of a duke, Marie the daughter of an Emperor. But although they had been born mere months apart, decades had passed for Anne in… The Place… while for Marie it had been only a few months.
Sophie walked up and took two cookies from the plate, watching her mother’s face carefully as she did so, trying to look cute and innocent. Marie tried not to smile, and said in her sternest voice “Sophie, you’ve already had two cookies…”
Sophie looked very serious. “Lark wants a cookie!” Sure enough, Lark was sitting at the tiny table Anne had brought out for the girls, her eyes wide and watching to see if Sophie could successfully coax an extra sweet for them both.
Marie sighed, and looked at Anne. Her friend had a wistful look, watching the two little girls. “All right. But that’s the last cookie for each of you now.”
“I do look forward to being a grandmother. I hope at least one of the boys has a little girl. I would so love to dress them up and spoil them as only a grandmother can!”
Sophie and Lark were already the beneficiaries of Anne’s talent with clothes, wearing dresses reminiscent of the most elaborate fashions Marie had once loved. They loved dressing up “fancy” as Lark called them, although after a couple of hours there were several stains and at least one tiny bit of ripped lace. Sophie had cried over “breaking” her “bootiful” dress, and Lark had worried over her, crying in sympathy. Marie had gathered both girls in her arms and promised that it was all right, and the bit of lace would be fixed for the next time they dressed up fancy.
“A grandmother… I can hardly imagine it. I…”
“You’ve only been here a few months, Marie,” Anne said. All honorifics regarding their previous titles had been quickly discarded. Even though everyone else in the room was ignoring them, Anne lowered her voice. “Your marriage to Louis was more…friendly than passionate. And it is over; you have mourned both in your previous life, and here, at Saint Denis. Perhaps it is time…” Anne let her sentence trail off, but her eyes went straight to Moose.
Marie’s lips curled ever so slightly. Moose was wonderful. He was a handsome specimen of man, kind, protective, and coming from a time centuries beyond her own, he knew things and understood things that were beyond her. She depended on him.
Yet even though he remained close to her almost every day, her self-appointed guardian, he never gave any hint that he was attracted to her. Certainly, she had caught his gaze straying to her bosom more than once, and she was fairly certain that he had become hard at least once when they had brushed together more closely than usual.
He is honorable. That’s why he hasn’t responded to any of my flirtation… if you can call it flirtation. There’s definitely a gap between society as he understood it and the society in which I lived…
“…and society here is fluid. It changes…” Clovis was saying to Moose. The former duke’s raising with enthusiasm.
Anne was going on about her boys again, and how one of them had a lady love and might decide to marry soon. Marie listened, but her gaze kept wandering back to Moose.
It is time I figured out what flirtation means to a man from the moon.
What Would Have BeenWhat Would Have Been is a short story (or novella… who knows?) that I am publishing one chapter at a time… as I write it. It’s a fun exercise for me, and hopefully a bit of entertaining reading for you!
This story is dedicated to the Janes. The real ones and the fictional, the ones who survived, and the ones who didn’t. For all of you.
The shortlink for this post is http://wp.me/p1rMYd-jf
“We can go to Wendy’s and get a Frosty, or we can go to the park and play dinosaurs and cave-men.” The therapist was the picture of patience.
Drew squirmed. His mouth turned into the wide grimace that meant he was trying desperately not to cry. He breathed heavily, almost gasping.
His foster mother watched calmly. Decisions were always like this for the boy. Even though both alternatives were fun, some of his favorite things to do, he knew that saying “yes” to one alternative meant that he would not get the other.
If he gave in to his desire for sweets, he wouldn’t get to play dinosaurs and cave-men with John. John was the best at playing dinosaurs and cave-men. If he decided to play dinosaurs and cave-men, he wouldn’t get the frosty, and he knew that if he didn’t eat his dinner he wouldn’t have any sweets at all.
The decision was killing him.
John put a steady hand on Drew’s shoulder. “Take a deep breath, and blow it out. It’s OK. Either way you decide is fine, but you can’t have both.”
Tears were squeezing their way out of both Drew’s eyes. The first breath came out in a shudder. The second was a little calmer.
Drew’s eyes went to the clock. He only had an hour with John. If he took too long to make his decision, it just ate into his time with his friend.
“Dinosaurs and cave-men.” Drew announced.
John smiled and stood. “Great. Let’s go!”
Drew’s face broke into a wide grin, anticipating the fun they’d have in the park. The tears instantly dried, and he happily waved to his foster-mom as he and John headed to the car.
That was what it took. The decision had to be made. It tore him apart, every time, even the little choices. But once he had decided, it was all over. He could relax, and all was well.
This was written in response to the Write On Edge prompt:
In 400 words or less, write a story or memoir which relates to choices and/or consequences. Because of the word limits, you may choose to focus just on the choice, or just on the consequence. Remember to capture a moment using dialogue, action, and reaction.
The concept of being able to write either fiction or memoir has been freeing for me. This one is a fictionalized memoir… there really was a boy who would go through intense anxiety over the simplest decision. Watching him go through this made me realize that we all have choices like this… sometimes we give up one thing we like in order to have something else. It’s not a loss… it’s a choice.
The shortlink for this post is http://wp.me/p1rMYd-j9
“Maximus?” Galen suggested.
“Too Roman…” answered Moose.
“Mary?”
“Hey… you checked, didn’t you? He’s a he, right?”
Galen chuckled. “How about Man, then? You’re a man named Moose, he can be a horse named Man.”
Moose considered that. Sitting on the horse while it walked around was easy. Telling it where to go was a different matter entirely. But Galen was a patient teacher, and soon Moose was able to convince the beast to go left and right, start or stop when he wanted it to.
“Man… how about Manny? I had a friend named Manny once…” the thought of old friends stung. He still had no idea where he was, or how to get back home, but at least he was safe and well-fed, with a roof over his head. He would play along until he figured out what else to do.
He’d grilled Galen about his trip to The Castle, and Galen was forthcoming with every detail. Another trip to The Castle was in order, but he would learn to ride first. And perhaps accomplish a few more things…
They were riding in circles around The Meadow when the bell rang out. The men looked at each other. “A new arrival?”
As if in answer, a man wearing a three piece suit sat up in the grass only a few feet ahead of them, and began to scream.
Moose slid off his horse and approached the man cautiously. The new arrival’s clothing meant he was closer to Moose’s era than to Galen’s.
Looks like Nyota’s time, but not her country…
“It’s all right, you’re safe here. I know you probably went through something pretty traumatic just now, but you’ve come to a safe place.”
The new arrival eventually calmed down, and they walked back to The Trianon where Majel took charge.
“You found him?” asked Marie, hurrying towards them, Sophie bouncing in her arms.
“We almost tripped over him,” answered Galen. The younger man kept his eyes on the little girl instead of her mother, as if reluctant to lock eyes with Marie. He wondered at that.
There’s some kind of conflict there, but I’ve no idea what it is. Then again, he’s probably dealing with future shock while I’m experiencing just the opposite.
“Horsie!” Sophie squealed and reached towards the animals.
Moose took the little girl from Marie. “Do you want to help Galen and me pat the horsies while your Mama takes care of our new guest?”
He felt a warmth on his arm, and saw that Marie had laid one hand on his bicep. As he watched, she lay her cheek on his arm as well. He froze, uncertain what the intimate touch meant, but she only had eyes for Sophie. “Do you want to go with Moose and pet the horsie?” she asked her daughter. A squeal of delight was her answer, and Marie detached herself, turning to the new arrival.
Moose watched Marie walk away, the sway of her hips catching his eye. If he remembered his history correctly, she died a few years before she would have been forty. That meant she was only a couple of years older than him.
Moose looked up at Galen, who was still sitting on Homer. The younger man’s mouth was open just slightly, not agape, but close to it. He was also watching Marie’s sway.
“She’s a beautiful woman.” Moose said quietly, conscious of the fact that he was holding the woman’s daughter.
Galen barely nodded, then slipped out of the saddle. “You know her from history… tell me, what kind of a queen was she?” he asked as they led the horses to the stable.
“A very young one. She was from a country called Austria, and her brothers and sisters married other princes and princesses from neighboring countries. She was married by proxy when she was still a child…”
“Still a child? And what is “by proxy?”"
“Well, still a child… um… she was actually delivered to her husband at age fifteen, but they were officially married sometime before that.”
“Is fifteen considered a child?”
“Well… in my time it sure as heck is. And it has been for ages… but I guess in her time it wasn’t so unusual.”
“What do you mean she was “handed over” to her husband’s family?”
“Oh, her husband was Louis the Sixteenth of France. His grandfather was the King when they got married, but his older brothers and his father were all dead, so he was the King’s heir. In those days, the French had very rigid rules and ideas about how royals must behave. So, when she was fifteen, she left Austria, literally leaving behind everything of her own, everything that was Austrian. At the border, the French gave her new clothes so that absolutely nothing remained of what they called a “foreign court.”"
“Was she a hostage?”
Moose laughed. “Yes and no. She was a princess both ways, from her birth and from her marriage. She had all kinds of official titles. She was incredibly wealthy, and lived in luxury. But like I said, the French had very rigid rules, and even after she was queen she was tightly constrained by those rules.”
“How soon after becoming queen was she…” Galen looked at Sophie, then reworded his question. “How soon after becoming queen did she arrive here?”
Moose watched Sophie peek through the slats at Xote, who simply lay in the hay watching her from the opposite side of his stall. “Her husband became King when he was nineteen. Marie was a few years younger. He openly acknowledged that he was too young to rule, but he did his best.”
“It was a boy King who strung me up and…” he glanced at Sophie again “…sent me here. But although I hardly consider a man of nineteen years to be a boy, you’re right, it is rather young to become the ruler of a country. Especially if he expected his father and older brother to hold the position, not him.”
Moose nodded. “So, to answer your question, it was about twenty years.”
“And…although young, were they popular? Marie and her husband King?”
Moose scratched his chin. He’d found an old-fashioned razor and shaved with it, but it wasn’t nearly as close or long-lasting as the modern implements he was used to. “They were caught in a flood. It started long before their reign, and even if he’d been a stronger King, I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t have been able to stop it.”
“Stronger?”
“Louis the sixteenth was a good king as in… he wanted to do the right thing. He was conscientious and responsible, but also easily influenced. He wanted to make everyone happy, and that just wasn’t possible. The French nobility desperately clung to their privileges, while the common people began to grumble louder and louder about their plight.”
“Was their plight terrible? Did Louis know?”
“I’m not really sure just how bad it was. Certainly, the common people lived in relative poverty while the nobility enjoyed all kinds of wasteful luxury. But there have been other societies in history who have suffered worse and not…” Sophie wasn’t listened, but still, he was careful about his words. “…and not taken such drastic measures.”
“Mama!” Sophie called, but it was Nyota, not Marie who came into the stable. Lark let go of her mother’s hand to toddle over to Sophie. Moose had noticed that both girls frequently called both women “Mama,” probably because they had formed something of family together. Nyota and Lark had their own home, but they spent all their days with Marie.
“Am I interrupting?” she asked, approaching the men with a smile. “I can take Sophie off your hands if you like.”
Moose observed the silliest goofy grin on Galen’s face. “No! She’s no trouble at all.” Galen’s face looked every bit the doting father, and Moose wondered if the young man had left any family behind. He was from an era where a man in his early twenties might already have several children.
Nyota walked over to the girls, and coaxed Xote to his feet with the promise of a carrot. “I need to go talk with our new arrival. He’s from our time, and I’d like to find out what I can from him. Do you want to come back inside with nurse? Or stay out here with the horsies?”
Moose didn’t exactly hear a coherent answer from the girls, but their jumping and squealing made it clear that they wanted to stay. The jumping and squealing also had the effect of sending Xote off to the far end of his stall again, where he lay down facing the wall, ignoring all the humans. Moose also didn’t catch what Galen said, but apparently he promised they would look after the girls for a while.
Moose thought about all he had to do. He had to see if he could get the various components of his suit to work. He had to visit The Castle and find whoever was flying the shuttle. He had to…
He had many things to do. But apparently, his most urgent task was to teach a couple of one-year-old girls how to stay calm enough to coax a donkey to eat a carrot.
What Would Have BeenWhat Would Have Been is a short story (or novella… who knows?) that I am publishing one chapter at a time… as I write it. It’s a fun exercise for me, and hopefully a bit of entertaining reading for you! At this point, if each chapter averages a thousand words, that means it’s about 20k. Half a novel. If this is the halfway point (I’m not sure… maybe 3/4) then it will end up novel length.
This story is dedicated to the Janes. The real ones and the fictional, the ones who survived, and the ones who didn’t. For all of you.
The shortlink for this post is http://wp.me/p1rMYd-iZ
