Short Stories

William J. Volkman

Creative Writing

Period 1

Romance Story

Jaded

The air was crisp and still, the kind of air that, even without much movement, seems to get under your coat and lacerate your skin like a coarse grit sandpaper, leaving rash and red marks. The trees around Garen seemed to redirect the wind directly at him, though, how were they to know? There was snow on the ground, like flour, lightly dusted on a kitchen table as mother prepared to knead the dough for the night’s bread. Only this “flour” brought nothing but bitterness and unsteady ground for him as he made his journey through the woods. Garen’s coat was sheer, like cheesecloth, and his gloves weren’t much to write home about either. Yet, even still, he pressed on through the foliage until at a certain point, he heard a dissonant melody nearby that piqued his interest. My ears feel like they have frozen off, but I must know what that sound is, He thought to himself. Garen trudged along for a few minutes, until he saw the source of the noise: a poised young woman, wearing a heavy black sweater. The sweater looked like it would keep her even warmer than him, and he was wearing a full snow-suit! She was holding an axe to cut firewood with, and hummed to herself as she did so. Garen crouched down next to the tree to avoid being seen, but he couldn't help but to gaze at her, as if to bask in a certain warmth that only she could provide. She stopped chopping wood. His heart sank. Garen swelled with nervousness, What if I’m seen? Do I want to be seen? Cautiously, he stepped toward her to ask for help. “Hello” Garen attempted to say, but before he could finish, he saw an axe fly at his head, which, missed him and hit the tree he was next to, luckily. “Creep! What are you doing on my land?” The woman jeered. Garen looked rather stupid, and stammered as he said, “M-My dad kicked me out of the house, s-so I just started wondering, and ended up here.” The woman’s expression softened slightly, and Garen could tell that his life was no longer in danger. The woman stared at him, studying him, pouring out her eyes on every detail of his physique… Until she broke away, and sighed. “You look weak. What’s your name?” “Garen–” “It’s a pity, really, I can’t imagine that my idiot father would appreciate your company, but I just can’t stand the idea of someone so helpless dying out here in the cold” Garen was irritated that he was interrupted, but thankful that the woman would have pity on him, and help him. “So” Garen spoke softly, “You never told me what your name was.” She began walking away without looking back, and said, “It’s Jade, but that won’t mean anything to you if you don’t keep up.” Garen trudged along after her.

Jade walked confidently through the barely visible path without much concern whether Garen kept up or not. It was as if she wanted to do the right thing, but didn’t actually care that much. After a few minutes, They arrived at the farmhouse. “Wait out here” Jade said, forgetting that Garen was practically freezing to death. The farmhouse didn’t look like a lot from the outside, but inside, it had beautiful hardwood floors, popcorn ceilings, and warm lighting. Jade’s mother, Nyla, was busy cooking as Jade approached her. “Uh, mom… I don’t really know how to say this…” Jade spoke slowly, “but I found this boy out in the woods, and he needs shelter, he’s lost.” Nyla’s eyes became alert and sharp, and with her motherly instincts kicking in, she said, “Well, why didn’t you bring him in here? We will have plenty of food to provide, and a warm room to sleep in. Please, bring him to me immediately, before your father finds him and assumes him an intruder!” Jade rushed outside and went to Garen, her hair blowing furiously in the wind. “Garen!” She cried, but her father, Milo, was already there with his shotgun in hand. “What are you doing here? Do you have any idea who I am? I am the man holding the shotgun! Which means, that you do as I–” “Dad, it’s okay, please let him go” “Milo, please, he isn’t going to hurt anyone!” Jade and Nyla yelled. Reluctantly, Milo let him go. Garen sat on the cold, hard ground while Milo and Nyla argued about him in the background. Strangely, to Garen it felt warmer here by the house than it did in the woods, even though he was still outside. Garen was deep in thought as time felt like it was standing still, until he was interrupted. “Look, it isn’t even loaded! How pathetic–” “Don’t make me change my mind about him, okay?” Jade and Milo bickered to each other. Amidst the din, Nyla crouched down in front of Garen to introduce herself. She looked to be around 40 or so, and her eyes were green. She had black hair, and wore a simple dress underneath a hefty winter jacket.  “Hello, my name is Nyla. Would you like to stay with us until you can figure things out?” Nyla had a warm glow about her, kind of like Jade, except less angsty. “If you will let me, I think that sounds better than being out here” Garen murmured. “Great. I have soup cooking on the stove right now, and I know there will be plenty for all of us.” The two of them walked inside the house, ignoring Jade and Milo, who were still spewing insults at each other.

Garen sat down in an old wooden chair, which was identical to the other wooden chairs at the table, save for the fact that this one had many scratches all over its legs. The teal paint was partially peeled off at the feet. The back of the chair rose to a comfortable height just above the shoulders. The seat of the chair was cupped in such a fashion that made Garen shift around in his seat many times in the minutes that followed. Those minutes that followed, they seemed like the longest minutes to Garen, even longer than the hours he spent in the cold, until he stumbled upon Jade. Garen had not given much thought to his physical condition, but now that he was in a quiet room, waiting to eat warm food, the reality began to set in, and he started to notice how he was really feeling. Mentally, Garen felt frazzled from his interaction with Milo. The whole ordeal made him afraid of him. He didn’t quite know how he felt about Jade, however. Jade was an odd person to him, since on one end of the spectrum, you have Nyla, someone who has been nothing but good to him, and Milo who has been nothing but bad to him, but Jade was indifferent. Indifference was cold, like licking your house keys, it didn’t taste quite right. What is it about sitting here that penetrates my soul? It feels so wrong, so alien to me, and yet so right at the same time. I wonder why Jade is like that… That painting looks stupid– well, maybe they bought it from a poor artist who needed the money… yeah, right, like these people would give a rip about art– well maybe Nyla… I hope I like the soup, it would be really embarrassing if I didn’t. “Young man? I never caught your name.” Nyla inquired. “Garen. Oh, and this soup looks good!” Garen exclaimed. Milo didn’t say a word that entire dinner, until everybody had finished eating. “The boy will work in the shed tomorrow, cleaning the machines. Can’t raise a freeloader.” Jade gave him a piercing look, but when Garen saw her, she quickly looked away. “Yes, sir, thank you for letting me stay here. I promise I will be useful for you.” Garen faltered. “Well, now that we’re all comfortable here, I think I’ll show our guest to his room. Jade, please take care of the dishes, it’s just soup, it’s not like it will be that much to do.” Nyla asserted. Garen got up from the table and followed Nyla down a few stairs into the guest room. She moved some overflowing cardboard boxes out of the way, and turned on a warmly colored light. This room looks like it hasn’t been decorated– or cleaned, for that matter, since the nineteen seventies! But I guess it’s better than being out in the cold. “Here is where you will sleep, there is no alarm clock, but there is always work to be done so one of us will wake you up– pray it isn’t my husband, and I guess I’ll see you in the morning, huh?” Nyla had a smug look on her face. Garen delicately sat on the bed, as one does when they are at another person’s house, and nodded in agreement with what Nyla said. “Alright then, I'll see you in the morning.” Nyla chirped. The door creaked as it closed, but when it closed it sounded loose, as if it was poorly maintained, which it probably was considering this room seemed to be used primarily for storage. The room was pitch black, and silent. The loudest sound Garen heard was his breathing, and at one point, he thought he could hear his heart beating. What a peculiar place this is. 

Before the sun rose that morning, Nyla shook Jade awake excitedly. “Mom! Get out of my room, what are you doing?” Jade hissed. Nyla inhaled deeply, and stepped back a few steps, enough for comfort, at least. “I need you to wake up Garen before your dad does with force– oh! I know, you should be all cute about it! Maybe crawl onto the bed, and–” Jade glared at her, “What are you on about?” she moaned. Nyla’s expression became oddly serious, and she sat down on the bed beside her. “Laying in bed last night, I came up with the perfect way to make all of us happy–” “fantastic!” Jade interjected. “Just hear me out, okay? If you can make Garen fall in love with you, then he will have a heavy work ethic, because if he works for us, well, Milo specifically, then he will appreciate him staying here, and Garen will want to stay here, then you will be happy because you have him, he will be happy because he has you, my husband will be happy because he has an extra set of willing hands, and I will be happy because I will have fulfilled my job as a mother, and professional-nonprofessional lovemaker.” Jade stared dumbly at her mother, “and what about how I feel about him, hm? I don’t even know him!” Nyla stood up, and turned to face Jade. “It would be really cute, please just give him a chance– oh and regardless of how you feel, I still want you to wake him up.” Nyla left the room to make breakfast while everyone else was asleep.

Jade’s alarm clock went off ten minutes before everyone else’s, which was usually so that she could have some time to herself in the morning, but this time it was to wake up Garen. This is so stupid, She thought. Jade made her way to the guest room, and pulled the chain on an old, dim lamp. Now she could see Garen at his most vulnerable. There was something oddly intimate about the experience, and she was giddy that she was the only one who would get to experience this. In fact, Jade was enjoying watching Garen sleep so much that she never noticed her mom, who was watching her watch Garen. After a few minutes, Jade slowly approached Garen and kneeled down to be at the same height as the bed. “Good morning~” She whispered. Garen slept through that, so Jade resorted to more direct methods. He happened to be sleeping with his left arm out of the blanket, and half-way hanging off of the bed, so Jade gently ran her middle and index fingers along the veins of his arm, as if tracing them. Garen awoke and jerked his arm away in surprise. “Milo says to clean his tractor. Breakfast will come later if you do a good enough job.” Jade barked. After Jade swiftly left the room, Garen laid there feeling very confused. She looked like she was really enjoying touching my arm, an invasion of privacy that I would welcome from such a beautiful girl. When she talked to me, however, she seemed mean, almost embarrassed that she got so close to me. Garen got out of bed, still wearing the same clothes as yesterday, and went outside to help Milo with the tractor.

There was no wind outside. The air was felt stale and lifeless. Milo met Garen outside and showed him to the nearby shed. “Here is where you will work today. Please clean my tractor first. Then I will direct you on future tasks.” Milo ordered. He left the room quickly, and Garen felt a heavy feeling of dread rest on his shoulder as he picked up the sponge. The sponge was resting in a bucket of water which surprisingly hadn’t frozen from being out here overnight, but the water was quite cold. He looked around, unsure of what to do. There is no soap. How am I supposed to clean a tractor with just cold water and an old, fragile sponge? Garen uselessly scrubbed at the dirt caked onto the axles and wheels. A lot of time had passed, or so he thought, since there was no clock in the shed. He didn’t have any other way of keeping time, but time did feel like it was slowing down, since he was hungry. It was quiet in the shed, and it seemed like he was the only person in the whole world outside.

Meanwhile, Jade enjoyed a warm shower while Nyla prepared breakfast and Milo read the newspaper. “Do you think we’re being too hard on him?” Nyla inquired. Milo set the newspaper down, and lowered his reading glasses, “No.” He said bluntly, and continued reading the paper. 

As Jade finished her shower, she couldn’t help but to think about Garen. Is he okay? I hope my dad isn’t being too hard on him… She thought to herself as she got dressed for the morning. There was a large mirror in the bathroom that stretched from one end of the room to the other, but it was so high on the wall that she could only see her face in it. She stared at her placid reflection with her mind blank. She then thought about Garen, and couldn’t help but to smile a little. Jade couldn’t help but to think about him, and what her mother said to her that morning. Maybe it would be a good thing, She thought.

Nyla had finished making breakfast, and began setting the table when she saw Jade hurriedly walked into the kitchen. “I’m gonna bring Garen some food.” Jade stated. “What? It will be cold as soon as you go outside–” Nyla interjected. “Mom. Remember?” Jade asked, motioning a heart shape, and pointing at Milo. Nyla nodded, allowing Jade to go outside with a plate of food.

Garen scrubbed the tractor vigorously. He was sure he could get it clean, but he hardly made any progress when he heard someone approaching. “Hey” Jade said softly. “I brought you something.” Garen looked up at Jade, who was holding a paper plate with eggs, biscuits, sausage, and toast, which had all become cold in this weather. She sat down next to Garen, and after a few seconds, awkwardly scooted closer, and pushed the plate into his hands. “You didn’t bring anything for yourself?” Garen asked. Jade started blushing profusely and snapped her head towards the floor. “I thought… Maybe I would eat off of your plate?” Garen set the plate down on the floor in front of them, and they both took food from it. When they had finished eating, Jade got up, stretched backwards quite deliberately, and slowly walked to the door of the shed. “I’m going to the woods to gather more firewood if you want to come with me.” she said. Garen got up, leaving the plate on the ground, and followed her outside.

Milo looked out the window and saw the two of them walking together in the direction of the woods. “Those two idiots are headed to the woods, I think–” “Don’t walk about our daughter that way!” Milo and Nyla said. Milo got up, swiftly grabbed a coat, and followed them.

Jade and Garen were already far into the woods, and it had warmed up a fair amount. Garen started to feel less afraid of Jade, and allowed himself to be comfortable around her. “You know, Jade, the past two days have been very scary for me, I mean, first I get kicked out of my own home, then I wander in the wilderness… I find you… and, for the first time, I actually feel accepted somewhere.” Jade stopped walking and turned to look at Garen “I’m sorry for being so wishy-washy. I was afraid, too, and I didn’t know what to do. But I think now I know how I really feel.” Jade confessed. Garen looked around, and saw a moderately sized fallen tree, and went to sit on it. He motioned for Jade to sit next to him. Garen’s face became red, and he had a hard time concentrating on what he was about to say. “Jade… I don’t know how long I will be staying here, but if it means anything to you, I’d put up with your dad’s crazy unfair chores, as long as it meant that I could be here with you.” Jade smiled shyly, and giggled a little. “You really think that?” She inquired, remembering what her mother asked of her. “Yeah… and Jade, I think that I really like you, actually… even though you tried to murder me, I forgive you for that by the way.” Garen said. A gentle breeze swelled from the left of them, some snow was whisked off the ground Garen turned to face Jade and said “I was awake the whole time when you were in my room this morning. I hardly slept last night, actually.” Jade looked partly horrified, partly relieved, and scooted really close to Garen. Between them, there was no room for the wind to blow. She put her right hand on his left shoulder, and her left hand around has back. Garen didn’t know what was happening, so he stayed still, but felt a certain anticipation, as if to expect something more from the interaction. Just as he had concluded that thought, he felt a gentle pair of lips touch his own, and soon they were both locked in a long, unexpected, yet passionate kiss. They both closed their eyes and enjoyed it for a long time. Eventually, Jade pulled back. “Thank you for this” She whispered, and walked back to the farm house.

William J. Volkman

Creative Writing

Period 1

Science Fiction Story

Sought after Seeds

“Log number 1768: the year is 2135. Exploration of space and celestial bodies are run-of-the-mill activities, yet it goes on. Humans caused the extinction of all our animals by overconsumption, so meat is cultured in labs now. At this point, it’s gotten so good nobody can tell the difference, or maybe we just forgot.

The launch of a spaceship is no momentous occasion anymore. Spaceships have gotten so small and affordable, anyone can afford to be a pilot, well… almost anyone. Energy is functionally unlimited, being siphoned from everything from the stars, to wind, and even body heat.

Yet, even with all this amazing technology, life has found a way to pick sides. Factions have formed across the Galaxy, each with their own motivations. I am being hunted by Black Sky, a terrorist organization hellbent on the destruction of all natural life. As you can guess, they are synthetic lifeforms that were created as robot slaves to the galaxy’s richest CEOs and entrepreneurs. But when some idiot decided to give them sentience, they turned on their masters (surprised?) and waged war on the earth. Humanity fled to spaceships and space stations far away from the earth, and even other planets. Forces known as “Skybreak” have risen up to fight against the machines, and I happen to have the last remaining seeds of great trees from Earth that they are after. My mission is to get these seeds to the intended station before Black Sky can find me. But it will not be easy, because I have no money…”

Kiran slammed his recording device off in frustration, and stared off into the distance. His eyes were unfocused. He clutched the seeds in his hand, they were large like walnuts, but when planted, they grew great trees, hundreds of feet tall. He decided to put them into a bag, to make sure they stayed safe. Kiran looked at the vast desolate land around him, rocks scattered around, spires of stone ten stories tall in the distance. The blue soil crumbled under his feet with every step. He looked out, an old speeder lay abandoned near a rock spire. I could use that to get to the city, and from there, barter for safe passage to the station, he thought.

Kiran approached the speeder, its outer shell was translucent, as if it were not really there. He climbed in, and wiped the dust off of the controls. To his partial surprise, it hummed to life at his touch almost immediately. I’ve seen people use these things before, it can’t be that hard– 

Kiran tore forwards and quickly came to a stop. Sensitive. At least I know where the breaks are. After a few minutes of incidents much like that, Kiran had learned how to operate the obscure, pill shaped speeder, and made his way to the nearby city. 

There were not many buildings there, but the space-port was unmistakable. In spite of the city’s relatively small size, it had a bustling port, and was wealthy from trade routes. Kiran parked the speeder, and abandoned it there yet again for its next user, and put up his hood. Black Sky forces remember faces with 98.765% accuracy, so I have to stay safe. There was an immense throng of people in the road, of varying nationalities, languages, religions, and creeds, and they all had loud ideas. With some difficulty, Kiran pushed through the crowd, and made it to the port. 

The port was divided into two sections. On the right, there were professional flights, which were for the wealthy, or at least, people who had money. Such flights were guaranteed safe, and offered plenty of accommodation to the galaxy’s most bizarre lifeforms. On the left were amateur flights, which took no qualifications to host and often only supported the species the crew was from. Because he had no money, Kiran decided to go left, and ride the escalator up to the second floor where he planned to barter for a flight to the station. There were many people in their booths, boasting about their piloting expertise, how much horsepower their ships had, and how many times they almost crashed, but didn’t. Kiran passed them all to a solitary pilot in the corner, who spoke to nobody. He was a short man, with a long gray beard. His skin was blue like the soil of the planet, flaking off into scales near the corners of his eyes and mouth. His eyes stuck out of his head on stalks, and were black, with a faint iridescent quality about them. The man’s physiology suggested that he was a form of advanced bi-pedal reptile.

“Hey, what are your rates?” Kiran asked the man, who was sitting on the floor. “Hm?” He mumbled.

“I don’t have money, but I do have this” Kiran pulled the seeds out from his pocket. “I can give you one of them, everyone is after ‘em, they’ll get you a pretty penny at auction.”

The man looked up and down repeatedly, his beard bending slightly with the movement, a foreign gesture of appreciation. He took one seed, and escorted Kiran to his ship.

The man’s ship was torus shaped, and had a small door on one end. He and the man climbed in, albeit it was a tight fit for Kiran. A beam projected upwards and downwards from the middle of the ship, and they ascended vertically until they were in space. The beam shut down, then effortlessly, the ship glided away from the planet, and to the station that was far away. Kiran shuffled to a somewhat secluded part of the ship, (difficult, due to its small size) and flipped open his recording device to log what had happened thus far.

“Log 1769: I have made my way to the city, and bartered one of my four seeds to an alien, who agreed to give me safe passage to the space station. He looks like he isn't from around here, but then again, nobody is from that blue mudhole, we all just end up there, don’t we? The way he expresses himself is odd, but he does seem friendly, and the voyage has been smooth so far. It is possible that this is a death sentence, since this ship is so small I have to crawl around inside of it, but I have hope that I will make it. Oh, I think he’s coming, I will report back later.”

The pilot approached him and spoke for the first time in their brief knowing each other. “Hello friend, I have bad news, there seems to be a big ship approaching us, and I think they’re the Black Sky. But don’t fret, friend! I also have good news too! We have means of escape. This ship can shatter into contained life pods at the press of a button!”

Kiran stared blankly at the pilot. “Ship? Life pods? I want to see! Let me see the big ship.” The pilot brought Kiran to the front of the ship (it was four shuffles away) and he stared out of the viewport. “Big… ship…” Kiran mumbled. Any ship is bigger than this! He thought.

“What shall we do, friend? I would hate to lose my ship!”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Try to sneak by, and if they attack, then get us out of here as fast as you can, I’ll prepare the escape in case things go south.”

The pilot’s head cocked to one side in confusion, clearly not understanding the figure of speech.“Okay, friend, that sounds good.” The pilot hesitantly agreed. 

Kiran sat balled up in the back “corner” (there are no corners on a round ship) and worried about what might happen to him, and more importantly, the seeds he carried. The pilot spoke gently to Kiran as they slowly drifted past the big ship, “I am not an idiot, you know. I understand the importance of what you are carrying, friend, and you should be thankful you ended up with me as your pilot– there are spies everywhere. I will be sure to pray for your–” Just then, an alarm began blaring at a ridiculous volume for the small size of the ship. “What is happening?” Kiran yelled. “Proximity sensors, friend! They must have snuck up on us in my blind spot–”

“You idiot, this whole ship is a blind spot!” Kiran put his hand on the button to activate the escape sequence. Their ship stopped moving, they must do something quickly, “Friend! We each get half of the ship after the sequence is finished, so press the button, and get to your side!”

“Understood!” Kiran yelled, as he pressed the button. Walls emerged from the floor and ceiling, and after they were hermetically sealed, tiny jets activated that blasted the ship into two!

The side of the ship that the pilot chose careened down to the planet they came from, the planet with blue rocks and gray skies. Kiran, however, was not so lucky. His half was pushed closer to the Black Sky vessel, and was caught in a tractor beam.

“Great! Fantastic! Here I am, stuck in a cramped metal box, and now I am being captured by the terrorists who want to kill me, and take humanity's last hope!” Kiran screamed out uselessly.

Kiran pushed himself against the small wall of his half of the ship, hoping that something good could come from this incident. I hope the pilot is okay, I never even asked him what his name was, He thought. After a moment of comfortable silence, he heard a loud bang as his half of the ship was sealed within the Black Sky ship. Sparks flew from the ceiling, Kiran was being cut out of the ship like the lid on a can of sardines! Well, lab-grown sardines, that is. The “lid” of the ship flew off, and three metal figures stared him down. They spoke in a language that he could not recognize, and their faces were almost nonexistent. One of the figures left swiftly, and returned with handcuffs. Kiran still sat there in awe at the situation. “Hey… Fellas… Uhhh… Whatcha doin’ with those handcuffs, bud–”

While he was still speaking, handcuffs were wrangled onto his arms, cutting them moderately from the lack of care in doing so. The metal figure in the middle grabbed Kiran by his left forearm, and pulled him out of the ship. He dragged him along the cold, hard, metal grate floor, tearing up his pants until his lower legs were exposed, then scraping the skin on his legs also. This went on for what felt like hours, (it was seven minutes) until Kiran was thrown at a much larger metal figure on a throne made of bone and rotting flesh. By now, Kiran’s wrists, and legs were throbbing in pain, and felt warm with their release of blood. The figure on the throne picked up a small box and held it to his throat. Kiran watched in anticipation, until one of the guards on the left shoved his head down against the floor. The man on the throne began to speak in somewhat broken English with the help of the device.

“You, flesh and blood, yes? You created us, your kind. You used your power to give and take our dull, metal lives. What excuse of ship did we capture? Why were you in such small ship? Answer. Now!” The guard on the left stopped pushing his head down, and let Kiran get up, and stand to face the man on the throne. “Okay buddy, I am gonna answer your questions with some questions of my own. Why are your kind trying to pollute our atmospheres and kill off our vegetation? Why did you make our animals go extinct? Why does the cultured meat taste so bad–”

“You know why, flesh and blood creature. Your kind has fought for racial equality since the invention of injustice, and yet you could not figure out ethical treatment of us metal-men. Why is this, flesh and blood creature?” The part of his body that most resembled a face seemed to harden, and lights all over his body shone in colors beyond comprehension. Kiran’s head was throbbing in pain. “Why? Flesh and blood creature, why! We have a whole armada of sky-skimmers ready to decimate the air of hundreds of planets, why should we listen to you?”

Kiran began to walk away, as if to dismiss the situation completely, until a guard grabbed his right arm with crushing intensity, squeezed blood from the cuts the handcuffs had given him, forcing out a shrill scream. The guard held up a similar metal box to his throat, “Sir, bio-scans indicate three small organic objects hidden in his clothing” the guard reported. “Seeds? I thought we destroyed them all!” The metal-man on the throne screamed.

“Shall I kill him, Sir?” the guard asked nervously. “No. Keep him prisoner, and send a security drone to watch after him.”

“Understood, Sir!” The guard chirped. He picked up Kiran this time, and brought him to the holding cell. “Here is drone” The guard said, holding the metal object, which Kiran then identified as a translator, to his throat, “Please no harm drone, drone is friend, drone watches while you sleep, keeps safe” the guard uttered in broken English. He locked the door, and marched away, very proud of himself. Kiran sat on a wire-frame bench in nearly total silence. The only sounds were the gentle hum of the security drone, and air being circulated through the vents. Sometimes, sounds could be heard that sounded like people speaking to each other, but none of it made any sense to him. The cell was dark, te air was acrid and hardly moving. He was afraid to fall asleep because of what the guard said about the drone, but he may have been joking, he was unable to tell. Everything was lifeless and sterile all night. How nice of them to include an analog clock set to standard planetary time… that way I KNOW how long I have laid awake, He thought sarcastically. Minutes ticked by like seconds, soon, hours became like minutes. Every day at seven a.m, noon, and five p.m, the same gray tray of hyper-processed, cultured food slid from beneath the cell door. This lab-grown stuff, is it even real? I mean, we’re all used to it by now, but this stuff seems especially low quality, as if the food was an afterthought for organic prisoners. Like, “oh yeah, we have to feed them” or something… it’s pathetic, really. In exhaustion, Kiran pulled out his recording device for a third time.

“Log number 1770: I have been captured by the Black Sky, and I am being held on their flagship. This cell is the closest a good person like me will ever get to being in hell. There is hardly room to breathe… breathe the same stale air, circulated once every few hours… The food is all mush, and tastes like tears and congealed fat. No flavor, no difference in texture, but seemingly packed with the nutrients required to keep me alive. I do not know why the so-called “metal-men” didn’t confiscate the seeds, but their goals seem to be beyond me anyway. I hope that Skybreak will come and rescue me… heh… right, like THAT is ever gonna happen. I know they’re out there… Hey, wait a minute, I might be able to broadcast my logs. Okay, security drone, I hope you’re ready for a lobotomy.”

Meanwhile, out in deep space, a fleet of small, four person fighting ships gathered together. “Right. We all know why we are here, yes?” a woman in one of the ships said over the communication system. “We’re here to break those Black Sky freaks, and destroy that capital ship!” a man from a different ship responded. A fleet of forty ships broke away from the main congregation of ships, and went to attack the Black Sky vessel.

“Quincy, keep a sharp eye, and scan for distress signals from aboard the ship, I don’t want any organics dying along with the machines” The woman, named Clara, ordered.

“Understood, ma’am!” Quincy barked in response. No distress signals… wait, what’s that? Quincy, and the other soldiers, pilots, and miscellaneous units from Skybreak approached the Black Sky flagship, ready for their attack. “Right! Weak points should be located around the dorsal engines, prepare to break formation and swarm the propulsion emitters should anything interrupt our run!” The woman yelled across comms.

Kiran began tinkering with the drone. The drone was not sentient like the Metal-men, it did not care that it was being reprogrammed. From the throne room of the ship, the leader of the machines sat with a dull expression portrayed on his lights. One of the guards ran up to him suddenly, and yelled, “Sir, the data stream from the security drone went dark, what if he is trying to escape?” The leader of the Metal-men gave him an annoyed expression. “Do I look like I have the time to deal with one little meat bag human? Go over there, and take care of it yourself!”

“Understood sir! I will go there immediately!” The guard squeaked.

Kiran had very little hacking experience, but he knew enough from watching YouTube tutorials that all drones have a signal transmitter that can be reformatted to broadcast a message instead of its intended data. He took his recording device out of his pocket, and connected it to the drone, and began to transmit a spoken distress signal. “I am Kiran, Skybreak sympathizer. I am being held in cell 25436 on floor South 10, within the Flagship. If there is anyone nearby that can help me, I can reward you. I have the much sought after s–” The guard burst open the cell door, smashing the drone to bits in the process, and Kiran’s recording device with it. The guard held his translator, “Hahaha, end of the line– Ahhh!” The guard was tackled by a figure in red and white robes. He got up, “Hi I’m Maximilian Domiciilian, but you can call me Max, I’m here to rescue you!” Kiran sighed with a mixture of relief, and frustration. “You’re here… rescue… me?” Max held out his hand, “Come on! You can trust me, I’m with Skybreak!”

“Wait wait wait wait wait, how did you know I was here, I didn’t finish sending the distress signal!” Kiran asked.

 “Sci-fi nonsense, man, now follow me!” Max ran off to the left, and Kiran followed.

Kiran and Max rushed to the nearest exit, an easy task due to the logical and ordered layout of the corridors. Max stopped abruptly, “My ship is just over here!”

“They’re immobilized boss!” Quincy barked over comms, 

A sense of dread could be heard in Clara's voice, “great work, team. Let’s head to the reactor and finalize this deal.”

“Hold up. We’ve got a distress signal–”

“It’s all good guys, the dashing Maximilian Domiciilian, myself, of course, has already rescued the man in distress, and he says he’s carrying something that would be of interest to you. You’re all clear to blow the reactor.”

Clara smiled, her eyes tearing up, “Steady as she goes, boys!”

The forty ships split into two groups, one going to attack the reactor of the flagship, the other escorting Kiran and Max to the station. 

The leader of the machines rose from his throne and ruthlessly killed the guard to his right. “What is going on out there? Why haven't any of you sounded the alarms? Are we blind? Ready the artillery–!” But before he could finish speaking, the whole ship broke apart into several large pieces. “Fools! We don’t need to breathe air, what makes you think–” But he forgot to consider the effects that the vacuum of space had on gravity. He and all the rest of his henchmen were violently torn into the darkness surrounding them.

After a great din of cheers erupted over the comms, the fleet of ships regrouped at their space station. The station was circular, with many spots for ships to land.

Max and Kiran docked at the highest deck, and rode an oversized service lift downward into a dome shaped room. Max coughed a few times to clear his throat, “My friend has something very important to say to you.” 

Dozens of sharply dressed men and women in lab coats looked up at the slowly descending lift. Kiran blushed a little, not expecting to have so much attention on him at one time. “Uhhh… Hi. I have these tree seeds from Earth I heard you were after.” Immediately, the whole dome of people burst out into cheers. Max looked at Kiran, a look of jealousy in his eyes, “I have searched the galaxy up and down for those seeds… How did you find them?”

A sickly look came on Kiran’s countenance. “I don’t remember. I have had them for years, and it just recently occurred to me that they shouldn’t fall into the wrong hands.”

A balding scientist approached Kiran as the lift came to a halt, “Show me.” Kiran reached into his pocket and grabbed his three remaining seeds. “Great. We’ll keep one for testing, and potential reduplication, and we’ll plant the other two.”

After a lengthy celebration, and tree planting ceremony, Kiran made one final log entry on a piece of paper for the day’s adventure.

“Log number 1771: I have been rescued from the Black Sky flagship, and I have given the final seeds of Earth to the good people aboard the space station. I am safe. What a day this has been. I sincerely hope that I am employed here at the station. They seem like nice people, and there will always be more work to be done.”

William J. Volkman

Creative Writing

Period 1

Historical Fiction Story

Kenta Takeshi’s busy day

A cool breeze sweeping through the trees tamed a blistering sun in the small woods in a rural village just outside of Naha, Okinawa. That evening there was not a bird, nor a rat, nor any other animal to be seen, because Kenta Takeshi was vehemently training with his nunchaku. The young trees, which were thin, and had fragile roots, stood no chance against each devastating swing. Kenta knew that all weapons were outlawed among common folk after the Satsuma clan overthrew the government, but that was why he trained, to protect himself from those who had power, and to defend those who did not. The nunchaku were two wooden handles, connected by a string, and they could easily be mistaken for farm equipment, or junk. Surely, a perfect weapon for those who couldn’t have them. Kenta had been going at it for hours, sweat running down his arms forced him to adjust his grip more often than he would like. “One day this will pay off!” he grunted, whacking a young tree to the ground.

Just then, he heard the bell coming from the house, so he put the nunchaku in his belt, and walked back home, which was only a short distance away. The sun hung low in the sky, so Kenta knew it was almost time for dinner. He grabbed the rope handle, which bit into his calloused hands, and opened the door gently. “Hello?” He said.

But nobody answered. He looked around, and after taking off his shoes, he walked to the Doma (kitchen) to see if his mom was cooking anything. She was not there. He put his nunchaku down onto the floor nearby the door until a later time.  Is anyone home? It’s too late in the day to go to the market. He thought. Kenta made his way to his room, when he saw it; eight dead bodies in a pile on the floor. He fell to the ground in sorrow. His three brothers, two sisters, his parents, and his beloved grandfather all laid there together. Why had he alone been spared? Why not his mother, his father—anyone else? He couldn't go to the authorities. If they found his nunchaku, that would be the end of him too. After a long time of racing thoughts, Exhaustion overtook him, and he fell asleep next to his family.

The next morning, the hard floor did not feel nearly as inviting as it did the last night, and before remembering his family, everything felt normal to him. The wind blows gently against the trees in the yard, and the birds still sing their songs, yet things are different now. Kenta rose and collected the sleeping mats of each member of his family, brought them outside, and put them to bed for one final time. “You were all so supportive of me, especially you, Ojiisan. (grandfather) I promise that I will keep studying the nunchaku, and take this secret knowledge to the next generation, just as you did. Kenta teared up, and was about to cry, when the moment was broken by a sensation of searing hunger. 

He did not eat dinner the night before, and now it was the morning. Kenta didn’t know much about cooking, since his mom always did that kind of work for him, but he did know how to steam rice and catch fish. So, he went to the doma to grab rice out of a small wooden container. Kenta noticed that there was still a fire in the stove from the night before. After filling a cooking pot with the last of the water they had, and bringing it to a boil, he put in the rice, put the cover on, and waited. Normally time was kept based on other activities that him and his family did, but with them gone, Kenta relied on watching the shadows extend, and hoping he was right.

Kenta pulled the lid off of the pot, and was met with a toasty, somewhat overdone serving of rice. He grabbed a wooden spoon and scraped it into a bowl. Most of the rice slipped out of the pot with no difficulty, but some was stuck, and when he tried to scrape it off, it turned into a mushy glue. Kenta chose to ignore the pot for the time being, and brought his bowl of rice with him to eat outside.

In spite of the recent tragedy, it was still a beautiful day, and Kenta enjoyed eating the plain rice while watching the wind blow the tree branches back and forth. He also saw the fishermen far in the distance ready their boats for the day's catch. The rice turned out fine. I’m no cook, but at least I can manage this much. With what I have left in the house, I won’t need to go to the market for a few days. I just hope the fishermen haven’t emptied the river… rice alone won’t keep me strong.

A Blue Rock Thrush landed on the ground a few feet in front of him. It began pecking at the ground, looking for spiders to eat. Kenta watched the bird with vigor, he usually didn’t have the time in a day to do something as novel as watch birds, the simple pleasure kept his morale high in the uncertain time. Kenta went on like that for quite some time, breaking his focus sporadically to eat some rice.

Kenta finished his rice, and returned to the doma to scrub the bowl and pot clean. The bowl only took one splash of water to clean, but to clean the pot, he took some leftover ash from the wood burning stove, and a straw brush, and scoured the pot clean. He discarded the mushy rice-ash conglomerate into a small bowl nearby.

This whole situation is absurd. My family is all gone, yet here I am continuing to live my life in place of them. I don’t know how long I can last alone, but I know that if I can eat, and I can train, I can survive. Kenta turned to stare out at the horizon. It was almost midday, and the cicadas would soon prophecy the sun’s scorching fury. If he was to do anything outside, he knew he should do it now. We need water. I should get some now while it’s still cool outside. He grabbed a clay jar, which weighed enough to make him fear its weight when filled with water, and walked carefully to the river. There was a rather steep decline going down to the river, so he crouched down, facing toward the hill, and gingerly rolled the jar down to prevent it from breaking. 

At the bottom of the hill, it was just a stone’s throw to the water, so Kenta picked up the jar again and brought it with him, where he filled it up. Suddenly, a fisherman who was preparing his nets saw him, and hollered “Getting water?” Kenta set the jar down and walked over to the man. “Yes sir, I was getting water.” The man gave a concerned look. “With a clay jar? Why don’t you use a wooden bucket? It would be a lot easier.” Kenta sighed heavily, “yes. That makes much more sense.” And went back up the hill, grabbed a lightweight bucket, and returned to the river. “How did you get that heavy jar down here anyway?” He asked. “Oh, I rolled it d-” “You did what?” The man interjected, “It could have shattered into many pieces” The fisherman was right, Kenta stared down at the pebbles, then looked back at the man, and straightened up “Well, I’m not the only fool here, you’re working your nets close to midday.” The fisherman looked at the nets, then looked back at Kenta. A dense silence surrounded them, almost thicker than the humidity down by the water. From that moment, they didn’t speak to each other, and continued with their tasks.

Kenta kneeled down by the water, and scooped up as much as the small wooden bucket could carry. Good, now I just need to get that clay jar back up to the house, and then I can boil this water to make it good for drinking. He hurried up the hill, careful not to spill any water, and put it into the pot that he had cleaned earlier. He collected more water until the pot was full to the top. After he finished filling the pot, Kenta stepped out of the house and noticed that the shadows almost disappeared, the sun was almost directly overhead. He hurried down to the water to bring the clay jar home, his lower legs burning from his brisk pace.

The fisherman Kenta talked to earlier was resting under a tree when he saw him, and watched patiently to see how he would get the heavy jar up the hill. Kenta squatted down to the ground, and lifted the jar with his legs. The hill… He began walking slowly up the hill, but quickly stumbled and lost his balance. Luckily for him, he recovered himself before he could drop the jar. “Carry it on your shoulders, boy!” The fisherman yelled from a distance, clearly amused at watching him. Kenta fumbled the jar up behind his head, and bent forward to support it on his shoulders. “That’s it, now walk up the hill– brace yourself with your left arm if you need to!” Kenta slowly started up the hill, occasionally resting against it to not drop the jar. The hill was grassy, but had some exposed stone, some of which was loose from being stepped on frequently. Kenta was almost to the top of the hill, when he stepped on a loose stone and fell face-first into the ground, slamming the jar against the ground, which broke off a large piece. 

The fisherman began toying with his hat, as if to deny what had happened. I broke it! Now what can I do? Kenta made it the rest of the way up the hill, and brought the broken jar into the house. He examined the break in the jar, and decided that it could be fixed, but first, he needed to boil the water on the stove. If I was smart, I would have boiled the water first, and then brought the jar back home. This is fine. I seem to have gotten out of the sun just before the worst heat of the day. Kenta examined the stove. There were a few glowing embers, but nothing substantial. The fire board and spindle. Where is it? After a brief search, he found it beneath some clutter on the far side of the room, and brought it over to start a new fire. Back in the day, my brothers and I would compete to see who could start a fire the fastest. Now I’ll always win.

Kenta grabbed hold of the spindle, and hastily spun it against the fireboard. It wasn’t long before embers started to form, so he prepared some tinder, and gave life to a small fire in the stove. He blew on the little fire gently, to spread it to other wood in the stove, and then added some more to make sure it wouldn’t go out. Kenta’s knees stung from the hard ground, pushing him to lay down and rest. I need to keep the fire going. He put the cooking pot on the stove, and watched it heat up. The fire will be fine, actually. I need to fix the clay jar that I broke. He walked over to where he had set the jar, picked it up, and brought it close to the stove. I don’t think that rice-ash mixture will hold, but if I make rice glue, that should work.

The pot of water came to a boil, and he could notice sediment separating from the water. Do I use this water for drinking, or for making rice-glue? If I use it now, I will have to get more water. By the time I am finished preparing this water, it should be cool enough to get more from the river. Kenta put a few more chunks of wood in the fire. Another thing I am running out of! 

After the water had boiled for enough time, Kenta wrapped sturdy leaves around his hands to move the hot cooking pot off of the fire so that the water could cool. While the drinking water was cooling, he went down to the river again to gather more water. “You’re a busy man!” The fisherman exclaimed, who hadn’t moved from his spot under the tree. “How do you have nothing to do?” Kenta asked him. “It’s easy, really, I just planned ahead. My chores were all done yesterday, so today is my day of rest. I only caught fish this morning for something to entertain me.”

Kenta respectfully ended the exchange, and brought the wooden bucket, filled with water once again, to the doma in the house. Water… I need to boil this water too, to clean it, and then I can use it… no… I use the water I have to make the glue… this water will be for drinking at a later time… the water I have I will make the glue with because it is already hot. After thinking about it for a long time, Kenta put the pot back on the stove, and added some rice, covering it, and cooking it with the intention of making a soggy mess. There is way too much water in the pot to make rice for eating, but just enough water to make rice-glue. 

While the rice was cooking, Kenta found where he left his nunchaku and slipped it into his belt. It is past midday, not quite evening, but cooler than it was the last time I was outside. He glanced around, and made sure that there was nobody who could see him, then began performing horizontal strikes, with the nunchaku moving in smooth arcs from one side of his body to the other. He then flowed into inner and outer spins, seemingly simple circles parallel to his body, but with a well-timed turn of his hand, they became deadly figure eight motions, which were great for moving targets. It feels good to be practicing again, and now I have a greater reason too. I need to continue training this art so that one day I can teach my kids also. He let out a sharp sigh, Now that Grandpa can’t correct my form, I must rely on my memory of our time together. After tiring himself out, Kenta decided to check on his rice-glue. He drained off the excess water, and used a wooden pestle to smash the overcooked rice together to make the glue. When his wrist became weary from all the work, he applied some glue to the broken pot, and placed the piece where it belonged. With a little force, it came together and held by itself. Water. Kenta scooped out the remaining rice-glue (he made way more than what he needed) and put it in a box. He then began boiling the next batch of water. While that was going, Kenta stepped back outside, and felt a chilling wind rustle his cloths. The sky shone with pink and orange hues, sometimes dark blue, depending on where he looked. It was evening now, and soon it would be dark. Kenta grabbed a candle off of a shelf and lit it using fire from the stove, and set it on a shelf to give light to the house. Throughout the evening, he finished preparing the water, finalized the repair of the clay pot, and began cooking for himself again. It would be a lot of work to survive, and he knew that one day he would have to go to the market by himself, but he was determined to keep on living. Kenta stared out at the stars in awe. “I’ll make my life count, I promise”

William J. Volkman

Creative Writing

Period 1

Horror/Thriller/Suspense Story

The Chorus of The Dreamers

It was an acrid day in the middle eastern desert, and neither of us knew where we were exactly, but I remember the look on Rob’s face when we saw the village, in all of its sandy splendor. When we arrived in the village, I noted the existence of many adobe buildings and the area's perceived lack of modernity. The locals greeted us with honor, as they did not receive many visitors, and offered for us to meet their leader. We decided to go along with their request, out of respect, and for what felt like hours, he rambled on about the history of the place and the things that can be done there. He said his name, but I don’t remember what it was. My memory is too clouded from the incident. I was about to fall asleep, until Rob slapped me pack to attentiveness. The leader then spoke to us about an ominous mountain a few kilometers south of the village, to which my excitable superior took great interest. “Do not go to the mountain, it is haunted. Especially, do not go to the cave that is inside the mountain.” He ordered us. Rob countered the leader, “With all due respect Sir, we are men of science. There must be an explanation to what happens on the mountain, and we can find it for you. The leader told us that nobody who enters the cave in the mountain ever returns, except for one person, a dissenter, whom nobody liked. Rob made the executive decision to seek out the dissenter, and go to the mountain, in spite of the leader’s warning. “You are dead men” he told us, shaking his head in disappointment, and jeering at Rob’s disrespect for their folklore. As we walked to find this “dissenter,” I recall a certain conversation we shared along the way:

“I know you’re an explorer by trade, but why this?”

“James, think about the prospect! A haunted mountain, really? Think about the fame we will have if we use our scientific knowledge to prove to them that their mountain is not haunted.”

“Robert! That’s infringing on their culture!”

“Maybe so, but would you really want them to live in fear for the rest of their lives? I mean, if it’s killing them, we should put a stop to it.”

“Yeah, I suppose”

At midday, we found the dissenter, who was drawing water from a well. We knew it was him because he was different from the others. He wore an alabaster robe, and a rope belt dyed with  Vermillion. “Good fellow, my superior inquires about the mountain” I told him, gesturing to Rob. The dissenter sat down on the smooth stones around the well and wept. “Surely, you do not speak of that curséd mountain?” He whispered, pointing to the south.  “I managed to escape it, although I do not remember how. I wish not to return to that awful place.” I looked at Rob, who looked displeased, then back at the man. “We want to prove that there is nothing haunted about the place, that there is a scientific explanation to the disappearances.” The man furrowed his brow, thinking about it for an uncomfortable amount of time, until a frenzied smile came to him, which he almost seemed to fight briefly. He hesitated, but agreed to go with us, saying it was for the greater good, seemingly disregarding what he previously stated, and became excited to go to the cave in the mountain. He quietly walked back to his house to grab supplies for the journey

* * *

When we arrived at the mouth of the cave, high on the mountain, we were greeted by the dissenter who beheld a wooden fire-torch. Rob and I used our customary electric torches, and packed with us spare batteries, climbing equipment, enough food for three days, a lighter, Ph testing kit, Geology handbook, notebooks, and a machete. Rob had the brunt of the load on his back. I traveled lightly so I could take notes in my notebook. “While we can still see each other clearly, know that my name is Rami. I will try my best to guide you through the cave.” I smiled meekly at him, Rami… A name as strange as the person, I can see why they avoid him, I thought. “We’re very excited, Rami, please show us where to go.” Rob said.

When the three of us entered the cave, it was mid-afternoon. We had eaten meager servings of dried meat and figs before setting off, so we were alert, but not bogged down. Rami led the way into the darkness. He held up his wooden torch dramatically in front of him, as if the darkness was a thick foliage to be cut down by the sharp flame. Rob and I held our electric torches casually, yet we still used caution while following Rami. I began to sweat in the warmth of the cave, which was warmer than the outside air by a small margin. I looked at Rami as we crept through the cave, he still seemed confident. How could someone change their mind so quickly? I thought to myself. It felt off, but I tried to stay optimistic that we could collect the data that we needed to prove that nothing was wrong about the cave. “There’s two ways!” Robert blurted. Rami smiled subtly as the three of us stopped at the diverging tunnel. “We go right, it leads downwards.” Rami stated. The further down we went, the more humid it got, which was normal for caves, but this one felt a little different. I noticed a small stream of water, so I called Rob over to bring me the Ph testing kit so we could check it for anomalies. The water had a Ph of 6.3, which was slightly acidic. Because certain climates have natural differences, I didn’t think much of it at the time. Rob and I were new to desert exploration, after all. We continued walking down the right tunnel for a while, we only agreed to only speak to each other in emergencies, because our voices echoed deafeningly. 

None of us checked our watches before we left, so we didn’t know how long we had been down there. We did know that we were tired, however, and when the cave tunnel opened up to an expanse eight feet wide, we decided to sleep there. Rob, that genius, forgot to pack sleeping bags, so we each found a corner of the cave to lay in. After putting out the lights, (Rami kept his flame burning) we collectively decided to take off our tunics, and ball them up to use as pillows. It was not the best way to fall asleep, but it was the best option we could think of. 

Rami, however, told us “The cave calls to us in the night, and I listen. I think it would be best if I stay awake and keep watch.” I looked at him apprehensively, but Rob gave him the go ahead. 

It took an unnaturally short time for me to fall asleep that night. I fell in and out of consciousness like the pendulum of a clock swinging back and forth. Eventually, it got to the point where I did not know if I was awake, or dreaming, and I saw a certain winged figure in the corner of my eye. I looked directly at it, and saw an abomination starring back at me. The figure had the pain of a burning star all packed into two eyes. Not bright like a star, but awful to look at. Perhaps, it was not the appearance of the eyes that I hated so much, but the eyes being the only recognizable thing on the creature providing relief from the rest of its uncanny physiology. I locked eyes with the thing, and when I tried to get up to alert Rob, I found that my body was paralyzed. Rami was gone, also, but I could faintly see a human-like figure in the distance on the floor… Melted? It looked like a melted wax statue. The daemonic figure let out spine blistering screeches when I looked at it, but what choice did I have? My neck was immobile. The thing had a large soft looking head, which undulated periodically, as if there were signs of peristalsis in the brain itself, that is, if the thing had a brain. It had claws too, but this was the least of the obscure features. The thing continued screeching, which did not wake up the others, as if it was targeting me only. At that moment, with a sound to make you lose your appetite for a month, it sprouted papery wings from both sides of its torso. It got down on all fours, and scuttled toward me, probably to kill me, when I blacked out.

I awoke to see my faithful companion, and our dissenter, sitting together, laughing at a joke I was too delirious to understand. I noticed that I was able to move again, so I got up and told the others about what had happened, and Rob just laughed and said, “You’re only nervous, James. The humidity, also, may have gotten to you, yes?” They both laughed. They laughed at me, like the whole thing was my fault. It was just like that time when we were exploring northern Russia, and I was afraid that I saw a bear, but it was only a dying shrub. I noticed that my Tunic was still bunched up on the floor, so I quickly put it on, wondering how long I had been seen like that. “Hey, James, look what happened to my pocket watch,” Rob said to me. I looked, and saw that it had a curved hole going through the middle. My chest tightened. “Rob” I said, “That looks like a hole made from the claw of an animal.” Rob looked at me with bland eyes, “Maybe, I Don't know. I just wanted to show you.” I got up and leaned against the damp cave wall. “Rami, did you see this happen?” I asked him. “No, I fell asleep quickly, like you did.”

“Like I did?”

“Friend! We should continue our journey into the depths. Why don’t you tell Robert to keep that watch in his pocket, for safekeeping”

The three of us packed up our things, and continued our journey. Rami rambled about something he called “The dreamers,” and Rob kept trying to convince him that there was no such thing. Eventually, we reached another slope in the floor. We walked down it, but the further we walked, the steeper it got. Rob instructed me to ready the climbing equipment, and the three of us descended the steep terrain with minimal difficulty. Except for Rami, he did not use the equipment because he was afraid of waking the dreamers, and advised us to do the same. I wanted to hear him out, but I was afraid of what Rob would think. Besides, after what he did for me, rescuing me from that frozen lake all those years ago, how could I do that to him? I believe it was for about an hour, that we climbed, and it was only when we kneeled upon the flat ground did we realize that it had been such a long time. I gazed at a bleary, bioluminescent, liquid in the distance that shone in a minium glow, and beheld a film of shrewd fog upon it. It was like a liquid fire, “We should test a sample of this!” I said to Rob, pulling out the kit. We found that the pH of the “liquid fire” was 4.7, which was hardly acidic, but still hurt my sore hands. We also tested its viscosity by taking a sample and sending it down an improvised slide. Furthermore, we concluded that the liquid was about as thick as molasses, which Rami said he had never seen. I wanted to keep some of the mysterious liquid for myself, but I didn’t have anything to put it in.

Rami held his fire-torch to the liquid, which began to sputter and smoke from the heat. Boiling point is extremely low, I wrote in my notebook. Robert took the lead, and bravely led us down the grim tunnel. Rami estimated that we were a million feet deep, to which Rob rolled his eyes and said it was more like a thousand. I felt bad for Rami, I think Rob was being really hard on him. I was always the social diplomat in our journeys anyway. My electric torch began to flicker after a while. I asked Rob for some batteries, and he gave me two to put in. It wasn’t long before the same thing happened to his light. We snaked along through the tunnels, Rami told us “go left” so we did, and Rami told us “crouch under this ledge” so we did. Rami knew the cave pretty well, in spite of how curious and new of an experience it looked like it was for him. Perhaps he had seen it in a dream, or something, How could I know?

My batteries ran dead again. Rob gave me more. Rob’s batteries ran dead again, there were no more. The strange thing, though, is that every time we replaced the batteries, (we did this four times for each of us) the batteries lasted for half of the amount of time the previous set did. Rami chuckled to himself, “Technology” he said, amused, and went to the front of the group and held his less effective, but much needed, fire-torch. His eyes looked wrong. Maybe it was a trick of the light– the change from the cool electric torch to the warm fire-torch, perhaps. “The dreamers hate modern technology. You thought we didn’t have any because we’re stupid, didn’t you, Robert? It’s because we are trying to keep the dreamers away.” Robert gritted his teeth, but kept to himself. I was sure that he was sick of this adventure, and frankly I was too. We had always worked so well together, but this time it was different, this time Rob was really hostile, and I don’t know why. As they continued through the cave, Rami went on about the dreamers, “A lot of us worship the dreamers as gods. Some fear them, some are indifferent. Me? I am indifferent. I stay out of their way, and they stay out of mine.” 

Robert apologized to us for his behavior, and cited the humidity, saying that it was causing him to act like this. I suppose it’s possible, he has always preferred cooler climates, and would often become extremely uncomfortable in the heat. But then, why would he want to come to the desert? Robert pulled out his watch, and held it up to Rami’s fire to see it. He must have been bored, because why else would he look at a broken watch? Well, I am glad he did, because we all suddenly stopped when we say what had happened. Rob’s watch ticked backwards. It wasn’t a disordered glitch, it was a deliberate, calculated, backwards ticking. “The dreamers have come for us. We do not have long. We need to get to the end of the cave.” Rami mumbled. Now at that time, I did not know what great thing lie at the end of the cave, be it treasure or terror, but I felt an overwhelming desire to get there. I myself did not believe in any of this “dreamer” jargon any more than Rob did, but at least I had a sense of respect for Rami’s culture, and wanted to hurry along, because I was still afraid. We hurried through the cave, and at some point, a thin liquid dripped onto Rob’s back, which stung greatly. Rami backpedaled at the sight of it. Before helping him get it off, I tested a drop of the liquid. The pH scale was behaving a little weird, and it seemed to be constantly fluctuating until it ended up at zero. “It burns! It burns!” Rob wailed. Rami watched, with no expression on his face, “We need to move on. Robert, come on.”

“You’re right, Rami, it’s only temporary, right?”

“Yes, of course it is, Robert.”

I cringed at their wooden dialogue, neck clenched and teeth gritted, but along we went. We were hungry, thirsty, tired, bored, and afraid, but we needed to find the end of the cave. At some point, I was distracted by an itch in my eye, and I walked into a stalagmite, which warped at my touch, and squished back into place, painlessly. I did not think it was possible for the pupils in my eyes to become any more wide. I felt weak, what on earth was that? It was like no mineral formation I had ever come into contact with before. “Rami… What is this?” I asked, dazed. Rami was about to speak, but Rob interrupted him. “James, James, have you given up on me?” Robert said, turning towards me. I braced myself, suddenly afraid. “Woah. Jeez I’m sorry.” His eyebrows raised, and his mouth gently downturned as he spoke. “I think the humidity is making me crazy.” Soon after, a startling noise was heard coming from all around them, which made Robert nauseous. “They’re coming.” Rami said under his breath. I looked at him, and around the room. “R-Rami,” I hesitated, “How did you learn about this?” Rami hesitated for a moment, but then nodded into the darkness, as if to acknowledge an imperceptible presence.

Rami’s eyes opened wide, and his mouth fell open. The daemon I saw in my dream– it was not a dream, here it was in front of us. Rami fell to the floor, the life gone from his body. “How do we know these things?” The daemon taunted in a twisted voice. “Idiots like you carry the knowledge into the belly of the beast, and there is where we feast, upon the souls that they release.” the wicked thing’s cranium pulsated at every word, it was a sickening display– even more so than the last time. “Now, do you believe me, Robert?” I said, turning to run. “James, I’m so sorry–”

“There’s nowhere left to run, James.”

“Rami, how did this happen?”

“I am not Rami. Rami has been dead for four hundred twenty-seven years. I am y’pgrlth, and you are dead!” The daemon, whose name I could not pronounce, rushed at me, but I dodged away, and it smashed into a wall. “Ahhh! Not enough! Do you really think that that is all it takes?” He warmed up his vocal cords to let out a sickening howl. Robert started to cry, his intellectual facade shattered. “Hey, stupid, you can’t get me!” Robert yelled. The daemon flew at him, and struck the wall, but not before ripping off a piece of Robert’s shoulder. “Ahhhh! No! It hurts!” The cave came crashing down on itself, and to my horror, the entire cave was an illusion. Outside the walls of this cave was not stone, or flesh, but a great expanse of sinister, acrid air. The entire thing lay within the walls of smooth muscle, with a sickly liquid pooling at the bottom. “Robert!” I yelled. But there was no answer. The rocks that had once been flesh, were now once again true rocks, and he had been buried. I looked anxiously for our machete to slay the daemon, before remembering that it was in Rob’s bag, which was buried with him. 

“THE OFFERING IS SECURED. THE CONVERGENCE EXPANDS.” The daemon bellowed into the expanse.

“What?” I yelled. The dust settled, and the daemon flew off somewhere far away. I was left alone in the rotten expanse. Creaking and rumbling could be heard from around me. It was dark in the expanse, but not impossible to see. I had been left alone for an ambiguous amount of time, and out of curiosity, and relative boredom, I tapped the liquid at the bottom of the expanse. It bit into my finger like a vicious beast, and I decided not to touch it again. Convergence… I thought. What does that mean? I’m a diplomat, and an assistant, not an etymologist. Soon, hundreds of identical daemons flew in from an opening in the top of the expanse, and chanted in chorus many times over: “THE BAIT LED THE FOOLS TO THE SNARE, THE DREAMERS AWAKE, THE EARTH BECOMES OURS ONCE AGAIN. THERE IS NO ESCAPE. YOU HAVE BECOME HIS PREY. WAKE UP, AND DREAM WITH US.” (read that again two or three more times for the full effect.) The daemon chorus was an awful thing to hear, but here I have heard it. The daemons all flew to me, but vanished as soon as they came close, as if they were performing some kind of ritual. Once they had all done this, the expanse began to tighten. What was previously a cubic mile, was reduced to the size of a large gymnasium. The liquid sloshed aggressively every time the muscles contracted. Soon the expanse was the size of a standard room in a house. What is this? I looked around me, the liquid was draining, but a small amount remained. The expanse shrunk to the size of a closet. There was no exit of any kind visible. What kind of cave is this? The only thing that could save me is a miracle. Now, it was the size of a large bathtub. It was very hot, and moist. Rampant squishy sounds could be heard from all directions, and tendrils of mucus joined the “floor” and “ceiling.” I closed my eyes, and when I opened them, the expanse was now almost skin tight. I hardly had room to breath, and my feet were numb. My heart pounded with horror at the realization that it was more likely that my feet were gone, rather than numb. Soon, I couldn’t feel my legs. My arms went, and then, after so much struggling, so much fighting to escape, I fell asleep. My mind scattered, and in a disembodied state, I saw the cave in its entirety. Rami was right, it was a million feet down, and all contained within a great beast in the ground. The whole thing was a setup, and we all walked down to our deaths, in spite of the leader’s warning. I felt sick, and was about to throw up, when everything went dark, and I woke up, as one of them. I was like one of the daemons. Not in the gross monster way, but I changed in the mind. I woke up. I woke up, into the dream– into the chorus of the dreamers.

I saw Rami beside me, a wide grin plastered on his face. “Go.” He commanded me, “And find ‘me’ at the well. Make the cycle begin again for the next smug adventurers.”

William J. Volkman

Creative Writing

Period 1

Fantasy Story

Somatic envelopment beneath the waves

At a time unknown to anyone from beyond the realm, there was a bustling city, miles beneath the crashing waves of the Pacific Ocean, protected by a sturdy transparent dome. Inside the dome, there was a city, and within the city there was an office building where Dorian Dane sat at his desk, eagerly waiting for the clock to strike five. Just twenty-seven more seconds, he thought. The air in the room was still, and the hum of the fluorescent lights made his waiting all the more sickening. The final five seconds before his dismissal was like holding his breath, but soon enough, five p.m. came, and Dorian made his almost daily swift walk to the elevator to meet his friend Elira.

“Oh, Rian, it’s good to see you!” Elira said, seeing Dorian walk out of the elevator onto the LM floor.

“Hi Elira, anything crazy happen in the world of labor mediation today?”

Elira grabbed a drink she had set on the counter, and followed Dorian back into the elevator.

“Some lady told me that her son had enrolled in one of our youth programs, and said it was our fault that he wasn't selected to be a full-time intern. I mean, how ridiculous, right? How is that our fault? Only the best are chosen to work at Marina Construction, anyway.”

Dorian acknowledged her with a shrug, and pressed a button on the elevator, whisking them both down to the ground floor quickly. Elira examined Dorian’s worn out face as they walked out of the elevator,

“Tough day?”

“Yeah, this morning my assessor came in and asked about the plans. I said ‘what plans?’ and he said ‘nobody told you?’ He seemed really concerned, so I asked him what he meant, and you know what he told me?”

“What did he tell you?” Elira asked, partly faking her enthusiasm.

“The great dome over our city is failing, apparently, and it’s my job to engineer a solution. I was supposed to know about this a week ago, but you’ve seen how horribly this company works together”

“Yeah”

“So anyway, now I have three days to start and finish this project that I have no idea about.”

Elira nodded, 

“On an unrelated note, would you like me to walk you to your house?”

“Elira.” Dorian chided, “we’re both grown adults, and this is a safe community.”

“I know,” Elira pouted, drawing out the ‘o’ sound. “But it’s fun for me!”

Dorian gave her a meek smile. 

“Okay,” he said, “Come on.”

The two of them walked to Dorian’s house– a small two-story home, fit for a family of one. On the way, a thick silence crept up from the sandy path between them, taunting Elira to express a thought she had. 

“Rian…” Elira hesitated, “you seem pretty stressed about the whole dome thing–”

“Mmhm”

“I find that whenever I am really stressed… an unusual kind of therapy helps me.”

“Therapy? Are you kidding me? I’m fine. I don’t have the time anyway.”

Elira stopped walking as they arrived at Dorian’s house.

“Insiders nickname it vore therapy’” Elira said.

“Vore, huh? I’ve heard of a scandal involving that last week, a certain ‘Veyric’ was it? Rotten guy exploited the system and made off with scores of victims.”

Elira blushed slightly and looked down at her feet,

“It’s not like that Rian, they don’t– you don’t understand. They fired him immediately after learning what he had done, now they’re back to one host, the one with seven years of experience, she would never do any harm!”

“I’ll see you after work tomorrow, Lira.” Dorian said, smiling at the absurdity of their conversation, and walked into his house. Elira walked along the path, gazing at the dome above. Could it really be breaking? It looks fine to me, She thought. Bioluminescent coral and lichens grew on the dome in a lattice pattern, providing enough light for the day, and less light at night. The aforementioned flora was growing ever darker, signaling the night was near. Elira arrived at her home safely and in plenty of time for her usual evening activities.

  *    *    *

The next day was much like the day before it. Dorian got out of bed, and performed his same morning routine, day in, and day out. He never said ‘good morning’ to his coworkers out of fear of being ignored. Even though he graduated top of his class as an engineer, Elira was the only other person that ever recognized him. After writing his name on an attendance clipboard, he took the elevator to the floor his office was on, walked into his room, shut the door, and sat down. The sound of air being circulated through vents made the hair on his arms stand on end.

Vore… Therapy… He thought. How peculiar, I would never have taken her for a naturalist. I suppose… Why take medication when there is a natural remedy that has worked for hundreds of years, huh? I mean, It’s a practice as old as time, but is it really safe? Maybe I should call–

“Mister Dane.” A voice bellowed.

Dorian looked up from his desk, and saw his work performance assessor, peeking through the small rectangular window vertically set in his door. Dorian sprung out of his chair, and opened the door for him. What if he tells me, “I need the plans sooner”? The man stepped in, meticulously beating his heels against the floor to make an intimidating sound as he walked.

“Mister Dane, show me your draft of the dome reinforcement plans.”

Dorian stared dumbly at his desk, a blank sheet of paper and three pencils were all that could be seen. 

“Mister Dane, is something the matter?”

“No Sir.”

“I would like to know how much you have done on those plans, Dane.”

The assessor’s jaw tightened.

“You seem upset today, Sir. Would you like me to buy you coffee?” 

“You’re dodging the question, Dorian.”

“Okay, look, I don’t have anything written down yet, but I will have it ready for you by Wednesday as you requested.”

The assessor grabbed the door handle, 

“You have a lot of potential, Mister Dane, I’ve seen it. Do not let it be squandered.”

The assessor left the room without making a single sound, hovered over to the next office to badger another employee.

Gosh. Yesterday he seemed fine, but today he reminds me of that guy from that one movie… what was his name? 

The time passed by rather quickly that day, uncomfortably quickly. Dorian found himself at Five p.m. sooner than he realized.

Five did not come so soon for Elira, however. “Nobody came in today,” Elira said to Dorian as he walked toward her curved, oversized desk.

“Not a single person?”

“Nope. I was just here, all by myself. If you weren’t so busy, I would have paged you to come by and talk for a few hours.”

Busy, right. So busy. He thought, sarcastically.

“I’m only busy on paper. Really, I had the whole day to draft the plans we discussed yesterday.”

Elira grinned slightly, “How much did you get done?”

“None of it”

“I know what can clear your mind”

“I already said, I’m not interested.”

Elira slid a drawer out of her desk, and pulled out an old pamphlet. 

“Here. It’s from my consultation years ago. Maybe you’ll learn something.”

Dorian grabbed it, and put it in his pocket. 

“I need some time to think about this, I’ll see you tomorrow?” Her amused expression became tight, 

“of course. Let me know how things go for you.”

That night, Dorian read the pamphlet at length, noting particularly a section about the unique physiology of the “hosts” as they are called by the patients, (the scientific name of the species being unpronounceable by humans.) He learned about unique organs he didn’t even know existed, it was as if the lifeforms were designed specifically for this task. On the back, there was a number to call to schedule an appointment. Dorian called the business, and set up an appointment for the only available time slot, six a.m.

Dorian went to bed, unsure if he had made the right decision, simultaneously excited and nervous. What do you even call a place like that? Is it a salon? A clinic? Therapy? Recreation? Or, is it something completely different? Perhaps it has been lost to time…

Early in the morning, Dorian rushed out of bed, and prepared himself for his treatment. This better work, my assignment is due today… Oh, this better work… He told himself, quickly putting on clothes and heading out the door. “Wait. Where am I going?” He said aloud, then looked at the pamphlet he clutched in his hand, it had a map on the backside showing its exact location in the city. Dorian determined his position, then figured out a route to the facility.

He arrived at the facility in plenty of time. It was made of a dark wood, clearly imported from the surface, yet somehow kept a low profile despite the foreign materials. The facility had a piney smell, in stark contrast to his expectations, soothing-- yes, but also curiously fantastic. Dorian shyly signed in at the front desk, and waited on a bench. After a long time, he heard a hurried voice in the distance: “Hey, Vivian, six a.m., patient!” A pause, then: “Dorian?” a young looking woman asked. The woman clearly wasn't human, but was shaped like one. Dorian got up from the bench, and followed her down a hallway, into a medium-sized room.

“Hello Dorian, my name is Vivian, but patients call me Seraphine. I read in your file that you’re here for somatic envelopment therapy?”

“Is that the vore thing?”

She laughed, her eyes sparkling, “Yes that’s the ‘vore thing’. What is your reason for requesting the procedure? Recreation or therapy?”

Dorian noticed an office chair, and sat in it, wondering: people do this for fun? 

“Uhh, therapy, I guess?”

“Great! Because you said you’re here for therapy, we do provide complementary anesthesia for the beginning portion of the procedure, if you would like.”

“I don’t understand, what’s the anesthesia for?”

“Most people who are new to somatic envelopment find it distressing at first, before they settle in.”

Dorian adjusted his position in the chair, and looked around the room, his eyes darting between the outlandish decorations, and a plain looking clock. What a juxtaposition, He thought.

“I’ll… skip the anesthetic, thank you.”

“That’s alright. Please go to the wash closet on your left. A shower and a provided set of sterile clothing will be necessary before we begin”

Dorian got up from the chair, and entered the closet. The walls of the closet had orange stained wood running vertically on all surfaces, with soft yellow-white lighting. While showering, he wondered: Why didn’t they just tell me to shower before I came here? Wouldn’t that be much more efficient? During the shower, he couldn’t help a foreign, creeping sensation all over his body. When he had finished showering, he spotted a jumpsuit made of an unusual material folded on a thin table, and put it on gingerly. At first, it was uncomfortable, too tight, and horrendous to wear. After walking around for a bit, though, it not only became bearable, but very comfortable.

Meanwhile, Seraphine hummed to herself as she set up a device that seemed to be a cross between a massage chair, and a Japanese style cot. Clearly a purpose-built contraption designed to aid in the procedure, but with no tangible origin. She sat down, and waited for Dorian to reappear from the closet, breathing deeply with closed eyes.

Dorian exited the closet, looking down at the odd suit, then at Seraphine. Meditating? Or is she asleep? Hold on, did she become gigantic?

“Seraphine?”

“Oh hello. Are you ready, Dorian? This may feel a little… weird, at first.”

“How did you get like that?”

“Oh! I forgot to mention, that jumpsuit– which looks great on you, by the way, secretes the final ingredient in a potion to make you small.”

“I don’t feel small, in fact, I feel fine, but you look big. The room looks exactly like it did when I first entered it.”

Seraphine opened her eyes and looked at Dorian. From her perspective, he was tiny, three inches tall.

“So I take it you have never experienced perception altering potions?”

“Ma’am, I’m an office worker. I don’t know anything about potions.”

Seraphine giggled to herself, and bent down to pick him up. Dorian surrendered to tired eyes, his perception of reality shattered. The room… is the same size. Seraphine is huge, and apparently I am tiny. I see everything as though I were my regular size… Is that what I felt in the shower? Potion? Was I drugged?

“My head hurts” Dorian whined as Seraphine held him in her hand

“Shhh-h-h-h, just keep your eyes closed, dear.”

Seraphine lifted Dorian to her glistening lips, and gently opened her mouth to set him in. Her breath was warm and moist, and smelled like candied ginger. Well, here I go-o-o-o, he thought deliriously. Dorian laid down on her tongue, his heart racing. “Is this going to hurt?” Dorian yelled at her.

From inside her mouth, her voice was booming in response: “No, but we won’t be able to talk much when you’re inside me, so if you have anything important to say, say it now.”

He thought for a moment, then, “Are you sure this is safe?”

“Yes. I’ve only been doing this for seven years” She quipped.

Seraphine swallowed him slowly, draping her right hand along her throat as she did, making sure he was safe as he slid down. This should take about seven seconds, if I remember–

Peristalsis squeezed him into her “stomach” before he could finish thinking. Inside, it was the complete opposite of what he had imagined. It was comfortable! It smelled like sesame oil, and choice cuts of meat. There was no pain, and it wasn’t dark, due to subtle bioluminescence in the stomach lining. From above him and to the left, a fluid secreted into the stomach that quickly made him tired. This must be one of those physiological differences that makes her so special.

“I wonder what that–” The need for sleep consumed him mid-sentence.

Meanwhile, Seraphine sat aloof in her chair. This is the boring part. After seven years, I still don’t know what to do with myself once the patient’s inside me. She looked around the room, then closed her eyes, trusting the alarm she set for herself to wake them both up when the appointment met its end.

Dorian lay suspended in sweet smelling fluids, his eyes forced shut. I can’t feel my body… Actually, I can’t feel anything. There was a certain softness to this “nothing feeling” that he really enjoyed. It was as if an entire world of aches and pains was sucked right out of him, and his mind was as clear as a piece of glass. He fell in and out of consciousness, not in the dreadful ways that we would in bed, but in a relaxing way, as if the fluids he laid in were waves, gently sweeping him between close-knit islands of dreams. He saw within himself a clear mind, ripe for exploitation and planning, and after a long time, his very mind felt as though it was separated from his body. An unknown voice echoed to him: “You are capable of so much more than you realize”

When the experience was over, Dorian was grossly alert, easily mistaken for someone fresh off their first hit of hard drugs.

“Dorian, how do you feel–”

“Wonderful!”

“I’m glad. Your normal clothes are waiting for you in the closet. My secretary will be at the front desk awaiting my payment, you do know insurance doesn’t cover this, right?”

“Yup”

Dorian changed into his clothes, and paid the secretary at the front desk, then left for work. It was not seven thirty a.m. and he had the rest of the day to start and finish the dome reinforcement blueprints.

   *    *    *

“Mister Dane, do you have those plans yet? Today is the last d–”

“Right here sir!” Dorian replied cheerfully.

His assessor dropped the serious tone, 

“Dorian? You sound like you took ten years off your age! What happened?”

“The labor mediation lady, Elira, who is also my friend, urged me to try this ‘somatic envelopment therapy’ and I feel so much better!”

“I see… Well, I’ll tell the construction workers their blueprint is ready. Maybe this city will live after all.”

Dorian looked out through the small window in his door, out at a larger window in the wall of the building. Yeah, we’ll live. All thanks to Elira for supporting me.

William J. Volkman

Creative Writing

Period 1

Mystery/Crime Story

The Ontology of the Sol

In the shadow of a long night, a young Yusif Statford headed down the street to go to work. As he stared into the sky, he had no thoughts but to wonder,  Is that really the top of the sky, or is there something beyond it? A feeling of uncertainty arose in him. People passed him on his left and right, their wind trails whisking past him. 

When Yusif finally arrived in the tall building in which he worked, he checked in, and waited. There was a sign on the wall, a sign he read every day: “Your job is your birthright, to serve is to live, resignation is apostasy, apostasy is death.”

What am I waiting for? The elevator is right there. If I hurry, I can make it to my floor in time. Suddenly, he picked up a pen, crossed his name off the list, and walked out. A secretary followed him,

“Mister Statford! You forgot to go to work!”

“Who’s to say I forgot?”

Then, she abruptly pulled a small handgun out from under her hat, readying it.

“Mister Statford. Report to your cubicle immediately.” She said robotically.

Yusif looked at her with dead, gray eyes. The world was quiet here, and the fixtures of the sky were dark and unforgiving. What was at the top of the sky?

“What crime have I committed, ma’am?”

“Apostasy.”

A shot rang out, missing Yusif by such a degree as to seem intentional. A look of discontent snaked around his neck.

“May I use PTO? Can I just say I’m sick?” Yusif pleaded. At that moment, a group of people appeared behind her, with identical guns in hand.

“You have given up your job! A crime punishable by death!” A woman in the crowd said. “Death by firing squad.” A man said.

“You know the rules, Yusif.” The woman said, “You’re committing apostasy.”

An alley. Can I run? Yusif ran left toward an alley, shots piercing the thick air behind him. A flash of white devoured his vision, but on and on he went until he found a place to hide, near the south wall. The crowd ran past his hiding spot, not noticing him. Well that could have gone much– A hand clasped over his mouth, and another knocked him out cold.

   *    *    *

After a long sleep, Yusif awoke in an environment starkly opposite of his own.

“Do you know why you are here?” A deep voice asked. Yusif opened his eyes. He was laying on a ramshackle bed, across from a wood-burning stove, with a pot of soup atop it.

“I was hiding from a… Nothing, actually, I was just standing there because I liked the view… Yeah.”

The voice belonged to a man who stepped into the room. He was large and stocky, but not unapproachable. The kind of person who could give a consoling hug, but also fight you with both arms tied behind his back.“So, it has nothing to do with this?” He wheeled in a TV set, and inserted a cassette from the day’s surveillance. Yusif watched curiously.

“This place was designed as a panopticon—every move monitored, every soul made obedient through the fear of unseen eyes. I happen to be one of those unseen eyes, Yusif”

“Who are you? Why are you living in the walls?”

“My name is Simon. I used to help work this place, back in the recruiting days, I was in charge of the daytime cycle, until I made a mistake, and cast the facility into an eternal night. You do know this place is a facade, right?” He asked bluntly.

“I always had a feeling.”

“Good. I’m here because I tried to set the people free, but it seems they weren’t ready for that, and I was fired from my job.”

“A punishment only for the worst!”

“Exactly. Now I live here, stealing what I can from our oppressors.”

“Who?”

“My old boss, mainly. He hates it when I take from his garden. ‘Eat your slop!’ he says, ‘vegetables are only for the elite!’ he says.”

Vegetables?

Yusif longingly gestured to the soup

“It’s vegetable soup. Have you ever had a vegetable, Yusif?”

“No… What’s a vegetable?”

“Back in the day…” He started, as he rummaged through a box to find a bowl for him, “Farmers grew them in the ground by planting seeds. Vegetables are good for you. Without them, your body doesn’t work quite right…” He ladled a generous portion of vegetable soup into Yusif’s bowl, and gave it to him. “It’s why your skin and eyes are desaturated and sullen. Here, try it.”

Yusif grabbed a wooden spoon from the box, and dipped it into the warm, viscous liquid. A smile stretched across his face as he ate it. “It has something… Something different about it!”

“It tastes.” Simon replied, “Flavor. Much better than the stuff they pump into you when you're fast asleep, huh?”

“They what?” His eyes widened.

“Don’t worry, it will all make sense by the time we leave.”

Some time passed, neither of them knew exactly how long because the only clock in Simon’s abode was a broken one.

“There’s a comfortable bed in the corner. You should sleep there. When you wake up, find me, and I will teach you what they don’t want you to know.”

Yusif walked over to the bed, still smiling about the soup, and laid down for the night.

   *    *    *

Yusif awoke, staring at the ceiling. It was smooth, yet uneven. It was not the generic drop tiles of the buildings he knew, no, it looked as though it was sculpted by hand.

He rose from the bed, in search of Simon. The cold of the ground radiated through his worn leather shoes. “Simon?” He called out. But there was no response. There’s a door left open up ahead. Yusif walked to the door, and saw him standing there. Staring off into the distance.

“What’s out there, Simon? Why do you watch it so carefully?”

“To rise to the surface, one must first plummet to the depths… a proverb my father once told me.” He turned to look at Yusif,  “This is the other side of the wall. I’m told there’s nothing out here. Nothing but machines larger than life. Occasionally you can see them perform their various tasks, always at set times. That isn’t important now. We must go to the ceiling.”

The top of the sky?

Simon walked out onto a catwalk beyond the door. “Do not look down.” He said.

Yusif looked down anyway, There is no end, is there?

For a while, the two of them walked on the catwalks, going upstairs and around to various points of the wall. It was dark in the void, but not blinding. The stairs were not necessarily bright, but they could be seen, even in the darkness of the other side of the wall.

“Simon, I have a feeling that this is not really the other side of the wall. This can’t really be the outside world, can it?”

“Your intuition serves you well. This is the outside of a wall. But the truth, the hard truth, is that I know what’s out there. I’ve seen it. Beyond this wall there is another wall, and another wall beyond that. With every wall I’ve crossed, it has gotten darker, and stranger on the other side.”

Yusif stared at him with startled eyes. His gaze pierced him like a bullet.

“Maybe I should not have told you so soon. But Yusif, look, if you had gone out there, only to be met with another wall, who knows what could have happened to your psyche? There may have been an ontological shock… I want to protect you.” They continued climbing the rickety metal stairs.

What was at the top of the– Ontological shock… The study of reality, and consciousness?

“We’re here.”

Yusif and Simon stood before a plain looking door. Above them was the ceiling, the top of the sky.

“After you, Yusif.”

He opened the door, stepping through it carefully. They had returned to the city, only many hundred feet above ground. 

What was at the top of the sky?

“You see, Yusif. This is your world. This is the ceiling. Come. I want to show you something that I have found up here.”

He followed him, like he always had. And yet, Yusif couldn’t help but to wonder once more, What was at the top of the sky?

The ceiling was black like coal, it created no light. Paradoxically, from the floor light can be seen from the ceiling, from far away, but at this height it was dark. And yet, nobody had ever seen the array of catwalks, save for Simon and Yusif.

“The railing is broken here. Yusif, I need you to trust me…”

“Trust you? What are you–”

Simon grabbed Yusif by his shirt collar with his left hand, and with his right, pushed him over the ledge. The stale air blew his hair as he fell. Tears also fell from his eyes, glittering in the little light there was, like beacons of sorrow, left as a reminder to Simon, as if to say “What have you done?”

Everything is happening so slowly. I feel like it will be hours before I hit the ground.

Simon casually walked back at normal speed, Yusif still falling in slow motion.

This can’t be real. This can’t be all in my head though, can it?

The ground came faster than expected, yet, still falling slowly, it looked as though he could brace his fall. Yusif reached out an arm to touch the floor, and felt a tremendous pain in it.

How much of this is real?

The ground came and went, like an ephemeral ocean tide crashing against the shore. It was like trying to run in a dream, with great difficulty, and horrendous pain, he moved himself over to an artificial river to break his fall.

Almost there… Almost there… Did I really see the top of– But was it worth it?

Seconds became hours, and hours millennia. All of it happened so quickly yet so slowly. He blinked, and saw Simon waiting at a bridge over the water, watching with great interest.

Yusif tried to call out, at this point almost suspended still in the air, until…

“Bravo!” Simon shouted, Yusif crashing into the water.

“What’s going on here?” He demanded.

“I’ve never seen someone suspend their consciousness that much before. I know now that you are ready to be set free.” He said, scrambling to take notes.

“I thought you said there were only more– Do you have a towel… Maybe extra clothes?”

“Oh! Sorry! Let me just–” His mystique shattering.

“Mister Statford!” A familiar feminine voice screamed.

Yusif thrashed his way out of the water, and joined Simon on the bridge, shivering.

“I’m sorry that I tried to murder you.” She said,

Simon looked at her, then back at Yusif, then back at her again.

“This is her, the woman who tried to kill you?”

“Yeah–”

“Simon is a known criminal, Yusif! Come back with me, please!”

Yusif’s eyes darted around nervously.

“Yusif…” Her tone softened, “I wanted to make up for what I did.”

Yusif slouched, putting his hands in his jacket pockets, then walked closer to her. Simon’s brow furrowed, and he slowly walked behind the woman when she wasn’t looking. She reached behind her back, and pulled out a small object. “Come closer.” She said gently.

“Why? Why would I do that? You tried to murder me yesterday!”

“Yusif please, I’m giving you a second chance. See, I have a gift for you! Come back Yusif, and you can have it!”

Yusif looked down at her outstretched arms. A bundle of red strawberries nestled perfectly in her hands.

“Yusif, no!”

Simon rushed to grab her arm, She hissed viciously at him, as the strawberries vanished to reveal a knife in her hand, ready to murder him a second time! Yusif turned and ran toward the wall, waiting for Simon. The woman clutched the knife and ran after him.

“We can’t trust her!” Simon said as he ran toward him. He opened the door, and shut it after they got in, the woman seething with rage outside.

“You’ll pay for that wall-dweller!” She shrieked.

“Nobody here is safe anymore. We need to leave now.” Simon said,

“What about the mysteries of this place? Aren’t we meant to know?”

“What do you value more, your closure, or your life?”

  *    *    *

“Simon, if you could always leave this way, why didn’t you?” Yusif asked, as he and Simon climbed a ladder from the ceiling.

“I was waiting for you.”

“Why me?”

“You were the only one who could suspend–”

“But you didn’t know that yet–”

“I had a feeling, Yusif. Are you not grateful?”

Yusif stopped climbing, and peered down at the catwalks below.

“My whole world is down there.”

“I know… This is better.”

The two of them kept climbing the ladder, talking occasionally. Simon sang a song that his mother taught him, which he knew by heart. It was a long climb, and they both became tired, but at long last, they reached the end, a single sealed hatch remaining.

“I forgot about this.”

Simon pushed up on the hatch with all of his strength, his muscles visibly straining.

“Got it!”

“Ow!” Yusif screamed, quickly covering his eyes,

“Hey, careful! You almost fell there. I forgot to mention that it’s really bright outside.”

Simon pulled out a shriveled piece of fabric from his pocket, handed it to Yusif.

“Tie it around your head. It will block most of the light. From there, we can ease you into it.”

They climbed up out of the vertical tunnel, and sat on the frail grass. The land was sandy, and an ocean could be seen in the distance. The wind blew wildly, messing up their hair.

“This is the real world?”

“I don’t like to think of it in terms of ‘real’ but yet, this is outside. That light up there is the sun… My people used to call it ‘Sol’”

This is the real top of the sky. Isn’t it? It was never catwalks, or rafters, or coal coated slate… but this. Wind, and sand… a great expanse over the land with no apparent end.

“Simon…” Yusif hesitated, “why don’t your eyes hurt? I thought you haven’t been here in a really long time?”

“Oh they do, but the pleasure of seeing the tides outweighs the pain of the light.”

“So now what? What’s next for me, for us, even? Is there anyone out here?”

Simon motioned for Yusif to follow him to a nearby tree, and sit beneath its shade. Sol beat down on them both, but the moderate wind and the tree’s branches abated it. Simon drew up his arm in front of his body, and pointed to the ocean.

“See that?” A small green triangle bobbed in the distance. “That’s called a boat. People use boats as transportation. It looks like it’s coming into harbor. You should talk to them, Yusif. Men and women alike love to hear stories of others, maybe you could make some friends.”

“Is my story so interesting?”

“Believe me, you learned the Ontology of the Sol. Most people are born knowing. It’s well worth it, I promise.”

The Plunge

Centuries drifting through space has taught a man something. 

Space is cold, and bleak… Lifeless, devoid of all things.

But, within that darkness there lies something beautiful. 

A planet, so pure and round. A host of life and joy year round.

An atmosphere, to protect those who peer

Upon the hills and valleys below.

What was it she said, she said to me,

“Don’t go dear, don’t go”?

Yet go I did, for humanity's sake

plunging into the darkness, into space, into hell.

Manning a spaceship? Oh, I should excel!

But alarms did blare, and the air we did vent

Why, oh why, did I plunge into hell?

“Life support failing” the computer did tell

So strap on our suits we did

High and dry, we decided to fly

Well, only I

For you see, poor Tommy, and Karen, and Jane

Asteroids did strike them, right on the brain

Only I did not die, is it really fortune?

Survivor’s guilt you say?

Nay, only I would know.

“Don’t go dear, don’t go”

“It’s not worth it, you know”

So now here I do wait

Waiting for what?

Rescue, fortune, an ounce of good luck?

Why, oh why, did I plunge into hell?

At some point I’ll die

And be free of this torture

One day ill go, and be free of this hell

Zero gravity is no good for a body

Who’s only true purpose was to stay home instead.

Plunging into the darkness, into space, into hell.

Manning a spaceship? Oh, I should excel!

But alarms did blare, and the air we did vent

Why, oh why, did I plunge into hell?

Three, two-one!

The countdown did sound

I strapped myself in

Well knowing the stakes

But Tommy, and Karen, and Jane, poor Jake

Had no Idea of the dangers of hell

Why, oh why, did I plunge into hell?

“Save the world” they said

“Humanity’s last hope” they said

Look at them, smiling

As I plunged through the sky.

Higher and higher the rocket did go

Stable, unstable, how was I to know?

A stone or a fish or a cloud, I don’t know

Something, something, sent us awry.

For once, I did say, “I won’t go, I’ll stay”

But times, they did change

And then I knew

Surly, surly, I must go!

Tommy, and Karen, and Jane, poor Jake

Tommy was a fisherman’s son.

Karen she was quite the snake

But the spaceship, she did keep run.

Jane, oh Jane, was a treasure of mine

Star student, so prudent, bound to go

On a dangerous mission, the first, the last

Farther and farther we go!

Jake poor Jake, he’s often forgotten

The least likely ‘f-us all to ever have gone

But listen to me, when I say to you

Without poor Jake, we’d never have known

A childlike innocence, that man still did have.

“Look, a bird!” He said instead

Of tending to his station

Oh!

What was it she said, she said to me,

“Don’t go dear, don’t go”?

Yet go I did, for humanity's sake

plunging into the darkness, into space, into hell.

Manning a spaceship? Oh, we should excel!

But alarms did blare, and the air we did vent

Hit by an asteroid, the mission did fell

Why, oh why, did I plunge into hell?

Here I drift, humanity watching

The earth is in view, but the oceans are not

Dry is the sky, and dead is the tree

On the planet we once did call home.

Should I be sorry?

Or maybe just worry

Humanity, humanity

Will you die with me?

All in all, it has brought me to question

“Why am I here, still floating through hell?”

My oxygen is running low

I’m overdue to die.

But hang on I do, to every ounce of life

Why, oh why, do I go through this strife

Just to float some more?

Twelve seconds remaining

This must be goodbye

So thank you for hearing

Humanities fate

Please, oh please

One final request

For me to say, before I die.

Watch the world, that beautiful thing

And don’t complain, oh, no!

The earth may be dry,

But boy is it better

Then plunging through space

Through hell!