Three Minute Fiction

I've been here for two years now. I can't remember my life before that. We don't have names, just numbers; mine is 00718. I spend most of my day in a soundproof glass room. 90% of my room is a pool of water, my biggest fear. I've never even been close to it. Next to me is 00719; we both got here around the same time. We spent the first year just staring at each other until we developed a way to communicate by moving different parts of our body. Spiders covered her room. She has barely had any sleep because she can't cope with them crawling all over her.

We only get to leave our rooms once a day, but it's not something any of us look forward to. The scientists in white suits come and take us to do tests and inject us with some mysterious liquid. We spend a great deal of time doing measurements on all parts of our body, including the brain. The scientists never speak, not even to each other; they give an occasional glance at one another and write notes in their books. Once, one scientist dropped their notebook in front of me. He scrambled to pick it up, but I had seen what was on it. It was about how the only way to gain freedom is to conquer your fear.

Every night since I have been here, I slept in the corner of the room. That night I was on edge about what I saw. What if that scientist reported me? Is that the only way out of here? That night I had a tough time sleeping; I couldn't get what happened off my mind. I lied in the corner, shut my eyes, and tried to make myself fall asleep, but I felt a tingling sensation, like something was crawling on me. I looked down: it was a spider. The glass wall had a crack in it! I knocked on the glass to get 00719's attention, who was obviously awake. She noticed right away. I used our made-up language to talk about what I saw. Without reacting, she punched the glass wall. Glass was everywhere, a loud alarm went off, I was bleeding, she was bleeding. She pushed me into the pool and said, we are going to get out of here.

Artwork by Forest Golub

The man who keeps the secrets lives at the very top of the mountain. One by one, day by day, visitors climb the carved-out stone steps on the side of the mountain to tell the man what they have told no one before. They tell secrets of love and loss, of passion and pain, of peace and of sorrow. They empty their souls and open their hearts, pouring out the stories that ache to be released.

At the dawn of each day, when the sun starts to slide between slivers of cloud, visitors embark on their journey to the cottage at the top of the mountain. Most come alone, bringing only a warm meal and an occupied mind; for the journey is nearly as therapeutic as the destination.

Step by step, breath by breath, the air becomes cooler and the mind becomes freer. The stairs are steep, but there is comfort to be found in the walk itself: the snowy evergreen trees, the whispering winds, the mossy grasses. Tiny birds hop from tree to tree, carrying tales of their own adventures; their own secrets. A blanket of snow rests atop the mountainside, but the steps are never snowy nor slick with ice. They never crumble with age or wobble under the weight of travelers. They are sturdy and grounding. Predictable.

At the tippity top of the mountain rests a small cottage; its wooden panels a rich, welcoming shade of brown. A stone chimney protrudes from the slanted roof, and a brass door knocker invites visitors to knock on the little brown door.

The man who keeps the secrets greets each visitor with a gentle nod, silently leading them into his home. Setting down their belongings on the dusty wooden table, they begin to unravel the tangled tales of their lives. They unpack their worries and pass them off to someone who will guard them, who will keep them safe until it’s time for them to be released. Some weep and some whisper, some are quick and some are quiet, some rejoice and some repine.

But the man who keeps the secrets never speaks. He does not offer his advice or his condolences. He does not tell tales or spill stories. The man who keeps the secrets simply listens, with his kind eyes and compassionate smile, and that is enough.

Once the night is dark and the man’s day is done, he picks up a leather-bound notebook and begins to write. He pours his own sorrows onto the faded yellow paper, sealing the stories of strangers and letting their secrets seep into the walls, the wind, the world.

Artwork by Robbie Kern

The world has been filled with the truth and I don’t know how to abide. Ever since I was little, the Humanity Panel enforced the golden rule of “truth is the best possible solution to a world created by mistrust and evil.” Is there some way to lie? What is the harm in lying? I’ve read pages upon pages of the history of the world before the dark ages where society followed a different path. They didn’t have chips installed in their wrists at birth to make sure you don’t lie. The truth was only a suggestion to them, and I wish it still was. My house looks just like the other houses in the neighborhood: two-storied, four bedrooms, one bathroom, and grey walls that make the world look dull. I used to paint on my ceiling to give the house at least some sense of color but once my mom found out she was not happy. She hated upsetting my grandfather. My grandfather, who is on the Humanity Panel, was always strict about following the rules of society, especially the golden rule ever since my grandma was taken away. I thought she was strong to be able to lie to the government to cover up the tracks of my uncle. Me and my best friend, Gemma, would always sneak out past curfew to glimpse at the amazing and invigorating inventions that my uncle would create. Even though the government did not approve of his wild thoughts, I sure thought it was incredible.

Eventually, as one does, Gemma and I grew up and started to develop different feelings about the Panel’s rules. “Why do you always feel the need to be curious Lucy?" she’d say. “The world is perfectly fine! Stop worrying about the past and focus on your own future.” It upset me how torn we were about this since she was the one I told about my grandfather’s history books. I was old enough to make my own decisions, but she and the law did not believe so. The books, I thought, must have an answer. On my 16th birthday, I woke up feeling like today was going to be the day I change for the better. I grabbed the closest letter opener, hurried to the bathroom, and locked the door. Biting my lip, I slid the letter opener through my skin which made me feel as if I was being stung by bees. I finally dug the chip out as my mother pounds on the door yelling for me to hurry up. I flung the door open and rushed downstairs, through the front doors, and sprinted for the treehouse that laid in the forest behind my house.

I was so excited yet scared to learn more about lying that I didn’t realize I was flipping through the pages of the forbidden books. I’ve read these all, there has to be something in here that could help me, I thought to myself. Gosh, I’ve been searching for hours. How can there not be a how-to sheet or something? Giving up, I closed the book and stared at the cover. I never noticed, but there was a small opening under one of the letters. I quickly ripped through the cover and lying underneath the neat scripted characters was a small letter. The letter was written by my uncle, how peculiar. He spoke of the world before our society and the many wonders of independence. But there, at the very end of the letter, he told me the truth. He told me the truth about lying.

Artwork by Frances Del Rosario

I woke up in an empty warehouse. Unable to think clearly on how I got here or where I was. The emptiness around me felt cold. Dark. Vile. I walked around in the darkness unable to find an exit, feeling as if I was going in circles. Was I dead? Was this my eternal damnation? I thought to myself. I sat in the middle of the empty room for what felt like hours. Click. I hear. I turn my head and see what seemed to be the light. Was this my end? I thought. I walked towards it only to be greeted by the silence of the outside. No birds. No sounds. No humans. I walked further out only to realize that I was near an empty highway. I looked around to find nothing but miles of emptiness. At least the sky looked pretty, I thought to myself. It was a mixture of orange and pink but the sun was in the middle of the sky. Where was everyone?

I walked and I walked for what seemed to be eternity until I came across a gas station. I was hungrier than I had ever felt before. I rushed towards the building and grabbed as many Items as I could so that I would be able to survive. Blankets, backpack, food, water. I had to find shelter. Where was I to sleep? What danger was out there? And who was to protect me from those dangers? I left the gas station unable to think with a clear mind. I set trail to be able to find civilization as soon as I could. I followed the highways for what felt like forever. Then I saw what I had never imagined to see. A man. I was too ignorant to grab a weapon, so I hid. He was a tall pale skinned man with light gray eyes and blonde hair. His clothes seemed brand new but his presence felt old.

“I can see you , you know?” The man said. I jumped, unable to think whether his next moves were to hurt me or to help me. Before I could think to run, he tackled me to the ground with both of us wrestling for dominance. In the end. He won, with his face inches away from me, his breathing was heavy. “Who are you?” Who was I? That was a good question. Ever since I had awoken I had no idea who I was, where I was , or where I’m from. “I-I don't know”.

The man had a false look of confusion on his face as if he had seen a homeless man on the side of the road begging for money to use for drugs. “How do you not know your name?’ he said. I hadn't thought of my name much ever since I had awoken, all I knew was that I needed to survive .” I just woke up in a warehouse unaware of my surroundings, I don't know anything about myself.” I had responded. “Im Vovin. Vovin Aiku” the man responded. “Are you gonna hurt me Vovin?” I had said in such a shaky tone. I was scared and helpless, but he looked as if he was hurt by my response. It wasn’t my fault. He lifted his arm. I closed my eyes and prepared for his hand to land on my face on impact, but it never came. I opened my eyes to see Vovin helping me up. “Why are you helping me?” I said . “Because we are the last two people on Earth” What. The. Hell.

Two weeks later.

After two weeks of spending time with Vovin. I began to realise how good looking he was. What was I to do? Not look? He had his difficulties at times. He was cold most of the time , and kept much to himself, but at night I could hear him crying, hurt about what had happened. He was hurting. And I wasn't. I wasn’t sure what my life was like before, but after a few days I began to regain memories of my life bit by bit. It had seemed as if I had a dog, and a lover, but couldn’t recall their names nor the memories of them. Vovin had begun to open up to me on how he had a wife and how much he had loved her and that he would die for her. But she beat him to it.

After three weeks of traversing the country, we began to unravel that we had made it to the city of Portland, Oregon. We had found a nice home in the middle of the woods, it was peaceful and a perfect place with lots of land. It seemed as if the owners had a dog but also had disappeared with them. After a month I had begun to realize that I had lived in Oregon. Vovin had been sweet and caring towards me and I had begun to fall for him and his cheesy charms. Was I in love?

I was sitting in the middle of the living room reading a book called Pride and Prejudice while Vovin was making us lunch. I stopped at a word in the middle of the page that had said survive. It had hit me then. Like a boulder falling down a mountain and hitting you straight in the gut.

I was twenty four with a husband and a dog, and a house in the middle of a forest in Oregon. I was dying. My husband had taken care of me until I was running out of options. One day a man came to our door offering an experimental way of curing my disease. I had no other options, so I said yes. Next thing I know was that I had been in surgery when everything went wrong. It was blank after that. But I had realized.

My Name is Natasha Aiku. And my husband's name was Vovin Aiku, and that this wasn’t real. He wasn’t real. I had been alone in a dark warehouse that felt cold. Dark. Vile.

Artwork by Frances Del Rosario

Jim’s eyes snapped open, feeling the cold metal of the gun on his forehead. Blinking, he stared up at the face of the gun’s owner. It was Tuomas, his coworker, and the man who he had been sharing an office with for ten years.

Tuomas’s eyes seemed to be made of stone, gray and emotionless. His hand was steady as he held the gun against Jim, his finger unmoving as it sat on the trigger. Jim noticed his other coworkers standing behind Tuomas. His eyes scanned the hotel room. Emanuel. Sarah. Alejandra. Christian. They were all there, awaiting his death.

The last person he saw was Carlos. His best friend. Jim narrowed his eyes. Carlos noticed and quickly looked down, avoiding eye contact. Jim turned his attention back to Tuomas, whose eyes were fixed on Jim’s forehead, exactly where the gun was touching.

“Tell us,” Tuomas growled. “And we’ll go.”

“Tell you what?” Jim asked, trying to sound scared.

“Where Rafael is,” Tuomas said.

Rafael. The newest employee. Young, charismatic, and outgoing, he immediately befriended everybody, including Lynn, the cold and distant boss, who no one could get close to, not since Henry, who had mysteriously died alone in his apartment three years ago. Jim knew from the moment he saw Rafael that he would have to go. And now his body, twisted and broken, lay underneath an overpass miles away from the hotel. It would take a while for them to find him.

“I don’t know,” Jim said. “I’m not sure why you would even think that.”

“Well, who else would it be?” Tuomas said.

Jim knew exactly what he had to do. He blinked and in only a few moments, felt tears streaming down his cheeks.

“What is it?” he heard Emanuel say. “What’s wrong?”

“Lynn,” Jim choked out. “She knows. She knows.”

“How do you know that?” Tuomas demanded.

“It’s the same thing that happened with Henry,” Jim said. Tuomas’ eyes narrowed at the mention of Henry’s name.

“What do you mean?” he hissed.

Jim stayed silent.

“What do you mean?” Tuomas repeated, shoving the gun into Jim’s forehead.

“I...I can’t,” Jim whispered. “I can’t say it. It’s too terrible to even think about.” He heard Sarah gasp.

“Where’s Lynn?” Christian asked. “We need to talk to her.”

“Why do we trust him?” Tuomas retorted, but Jim felt his grip on the gun had loosened.

“Because he’s my friend,” Carlos cried out. “Please, Tuomas. We need to find Lynn.”

Tuomas was silent for a long time before he nodded ever so slightly. “Okay,” he sighed in defeat. “But one of you must stay here.” Carlos stepped forward, but Tuomas gestured for him to get back.

“Not you,” he said to Carlos. “You are too close with him. Alejandra will stay here.” He took the gun away from Jim’s forehead and whispered something to Alejandra before turning around to leave the room. He glanced one last time at Jim, and for a moment, Jim thought he could see a flicker of realization in his gray eyes, but they returned to their normal, stony selves as soon as he noticed it. It must have just been a moment of paranoia.

Artwork by Kevin Jie

It was a gloomy day and everyone could feel it, although it wasn't as different as any other. Daphne Smith has an overwhelming fear of being in love. She fears this however it has been her lifelong dream to find love. She counts every hour of every day that she is single. She longs to have someone by her side. Daphne is one of eight children so being surrounded by loved ones was no stranger to her. She loved all of her family very deeply however she wanted a different type of love. She wanted a love that consumed her. As much as she wanted this, even just the thought of it drowns her in fear. In this town, she was not the only one with fears.

Everyone in this town had some type of fear. Mrs. Baker who lived near the church had a fear of heights. Her husband Mr. Baker had a fear of the ocean. Thomas Jacobs had a fear of spiders and his twin brother George had a fear of sharks. This town had so much fear in its soul that the weather reflected it almost everyday. Only on days that people overcame their fears would it be sunny.

Oliver Hastings was a young boy that had an intense fear of never finding love. He doesn't want to be grown and never know what it's like to love someone. He has had countless nightmares about being old and grown with no family of his own and this only pushes his fear farther. He wants to find love and have a family and live into his old ages with someone that he is in total love with.

Today Oliver’s mom asked him if he would run down to the market to pick some fresh vegetables for dinner and so without hesitation, he was off. As he was walking past the fruits, suddenly he bumped into this lovely girl his age. He was a gentleman and helped her up. He asked her what her name was and she told him that it was Daphne. Taken back by the beauty of her and her name, he stood there in awe. Daphne then followed up by saying “ and your name is” to which he replied “ oh my apologies miss. My name is Oliver. I'm sorry for not paying attention to where I was walking”. She went on to tell him that it wasn't a big deal. He began to admire her kindness and did not yet realize that he was developing feelings for her. He spoke to her saying, “ I must make this up to you somehow. I was about to go to my favorite spot in town. Its the mountain over there. Its quite a gorgeous site. Would you like to come with me?” to which she replied “ yes of course”. She was scared and excited at the same time. She started to find a liking to this boy but her fear was very powerful and kept her in line.

They arrive on this mountain and he shows her this breathtaking view. He explains that this is the place that he loves to go to because he can see the whole town and find such beauty in so much fear. They then stared into each other's eyes for what seemed like an eternity and then they knew. He leaned in for a kiss but she stepped back. She said, “ Im sorry, but I can't. I'm too scared. I am quite afraid of falling in love. It is my dream but nightmares are encased in my joy” he tried talking to her by saying, “ its okay. I understand. Love can be a very scary thing. This is why I love coming here though. Seeing this magnificent view reassures me that life goes on whether my fear stops me or not. My fear is of not finding love and this is why I brought you here. Daphne, I think I love you and this place is very special to me in that it has helped me get through my good days and bad of fighting my fears.” She then had a look of realization and then suddenly kissed him and said “ I think I love you too. This scares me so much but when I look at you, I find a disturbing sense of peace. I am going to do my best to fight the terror in my head and to just embrace love the way I've been longing for”. Then for the first time in a while, the sun miraculously came out on this very gloomy day.

Artwork by Simone Henix

Amidst the coronavirus pandemic, I was reading a book to occupy my time in quarantine. The book was titled, “The Future for our Children''. As I turned open the first page, a gust of wind abruptly closed the book shut. I walked downstairs, where I saw my daughter Lily, with a young girl. I did not recognize her and was confused why she would be in my house during my two week quarantine. I opened my phone to call my husband, when I saw the date on the calendar. The date was January 6th, 2060. I dropped my phone, and it shattered into a hundred pieces. I ran downstairs, and went to talk to Lily. She could not hear a word I was saying. That was the moment I realized that I have traveled into the future.

In 2021, I wrote down on a napkin what my hopes were for my daughter’s future. I intended that the pandemic was over, and Lily was living a healthy life with her family. To this day, I still carry the napkin with me in my coat pocket.

Lily walked outside with the little girl, which I assumed was her daughter, since they had similar features. Lily said to her daughter, “Wait, don't forget to wear your mask”.

A mask? People are still wearing masks? I am shocked. Perplexed. Is my daughter still living in a pandemic?

As I followed Lily outside, the roads were completely different than what I could have imagined. People were still socially distancing and wearing face masks. Was there another pandemic, or do people not trust to live in a world without masks?

I followed Lily down the long twisted road, where it led to a hospital. Lily walked in with her daughter and got tested for the coronavirus. I sat on a bench and took a moment to think. I could not process this information. Did the vaccine not work in 2021?

I cannot believe that the world hasn’t changed in forty years. What could we have done in the past to help prevent the prolonging of this virus? I have so many unanswered questions that may never be answered.

I walked back to Lily’s house, and went upstairs to the reading room. I opened up the book, “The Future for our Children”, turned to the first page, and traveled back in time.

When the book closed, I checked the date on my phone, and it was January 6th, 2021. I went back to work at the hospital, like it was just a normal day. It was not a normal day. I realized that the virus might still last into the future. Although the future of my daughter did not look bright, I can only hope. Hope for researchers to find out new information. Hope for an effective vaccine. Hope to change the future. Hope for a better life.

Violet woke up to the blaring sound of her alarm clock. She gloomily looked out the window. Another dreadful day was ahead of her. She hopped out of bed and started to get ready for work. Zipping up the restricting pants she had about three pairs of, she sighed. A beautiful young woman, aged by the gloom of her life. She didn’t bother saying good morning to Jason, in fact she would rather him be asleep when she leaves so she could avoid a hostile interaction so early in the day. She got in the car and drove her usual route to work, getting so lost in her thoughts her body was on autopilot.

Violet drove the long way to work, which was double the time, but it was an escape. She longed about what could have been. What could’ve been if she had married for love, if she had chosen a job that actually fulfilled her, if she had stood up for herself a little more. She wanted to travel, but Jason didn’t have the same goals. She was intelligent and ambitious, but she was caged.

In this particularly notable drive, Violet had become a bit distracted. Neglecting to look before turning, she got hit head on by a car on the thruway.

Beep, beep, beep. Violet fluttered open her eyes, she saw herself laying in a hospital bed, mangled but still alive. Only she wasn't in her body. She was floating about a foot above where “she” was lying. She felt light, and in her true form. She was worriless. But then she heard the beeping stop. “No, no, no, no, no. I can’t die now”, she thought. Nurses and other personnel frantically flew to her bedside. She would go before she got to travel, before she got to stick up for herself, and before she got to live happily. She was a sad woman, who would die a sad, lonely death. Miserable was the word that comes to mind. A life of longing, and a life of disappointment. That was what Violet dealt with everyday. Maybe this was actually a gift, she thought.

Violet, or Violet's spirit, realized she could move. It was like floating, or flying. She had always wanted to fly. She traveled down the hall. Maybe this death thing wasn't so bad. She flew to the window. The sky was still gray, but the sun was desperately trying to emerge from the clouds. She was never a spiritual person, (well technically ghost now) but she felt particularly moved by the sight of the sky. It was almost as if she saw herself in the sun, when she realized that her initial reaction was right. She wasn’t ready to go. She hadn’t been truly happy in years. If the universe would allow her to stay, she would live her remaining life vibrantly. What she was doing wasn’t living, it was just existing. She was going to live passionately and happily and colorfully.

All of the sudden, Violet felt a blinding light behind her eyelids. She slowly opened her eyes as the sun emerged defiantly from the clouds. She looked down, her body was there! She felt her hair, her eyes, her ears. “I am the luckiest person in the universe!”, Violet exclaimed loudly to the doctor who was sitting at her bedside. Blah blah blah, accident, blah blah blah. Her heart had stopped for ten minutes. Old Violet would have been completely devastated, but this experience moved her soul. She had to stay overnight at the hospital, but first thing in the morning she left to start her new life. She hopped on the bus, beaming as the sunlight illuminated her face. She was a new person. Her first goal: Get out of these uncomfortable pants. She went to the nearest store and bought baggy jeans. She quickly went home, started clicking on her computer, and booked a one-way ticket to Italy. She would leave her gloomy life, and finally live in color. After leaving Jason, and packing a backpack, she looked out the plane window and saw the sun peeking over the horizon.