#shortstory story writing fiction

[incobalt]

"Bear and Bird in the Snow" Released!

Are you looking for a meaty, private eye mystery with a closed-circle setting and a diverse, queer cast of suspects?

"Bear and Bird in the Snow" opens with private detectives Andrew Bear and Zach Bird driving up an icy road to a cabin where a group of friends are gathering to celebrate a 40th birthday. Andrew and Zach have been called there by Roxie Schomer, who received a distressing threat about the event and wanted to be safe.

Under their guise as photographers, Andrew and Zach weave themselves amongst the guests and keep a watchful eye. Unfortunately for everyone involved, their eyes aren't nearly enough.

Read "Bear and Bird in the Snow" and 13 other mystery stories about private investigators in Crimeucopia: Great Googly Moo!, published by Murderous Ink Press!

[penwrythe]

Cover art for Altostratus!

This art was completed months ago back in August, but I wanted to upload this at the same time as my short story, Altostratus, completed and uploaded on writing websites. I still have trouble drawing clouds, but hopefully, they look good here!

Go read Altostratus on Wattpad, Writersky (pending), Royal Road, Scribble Hub, Blogger, and Deviantart! Look for my name: @/penwrythe!

[mxdnxghtraven]

Hurt

!!TW!! : cheating, abuse (emotional/verbal), relationship trauma, toxic relationship

It didn't hurt to be hit. But it hurt when you were fucking your ex and I at the same time and neither of us knew until it all blew up in your face after finals, and I chose to still take you back. It didn't hurt to be hit. But it hurt when you started actively using those apps without talking to me first. Have you not learned?

It didn't hurt to be hit. But it hurt when you blew up at me after my night shift because I wasn't respecting your time, even though I hadn't been had a significant timezone difference in a relationship in 2 years, and was just wanting to talk to you since I was so busy before. It didn't hurt to be hit. But it hurt when you'd vent to me after those shifts when all I wanted was to go to bed. I was still in the parking lot.

It didn't hurt to be hit. But it hurt when you pressured me into a dynamic I hated the idea of, because it was with you. It didn't hurt to be hit. But it hurt when you went on a 10 minute monologue in our messages about how you're a "good person" and would be the person to "take the razor" from someone's hands when they want to cut. I couldn't even bring myself to tell you I relapsed, much that you were part of why.

It didn't hurt to be hit. But it hurt when you wouldn't let me get a word in edgewise. It didn't hurt to be hit. But it hurt when it took me practically breaking down the brick wall you laid for you to admit defeat and were the problem. Not that it was ever genuine.

It didn't hurt to be hit. But it hurt when you told me I wasn't the one you wanted to marry, despite being your "dream man" a few months prior. It didn't hurt to be hit. But it hurt when you dumped me just hours after I handed that promise ring to you. Now I look at my matching one in disgust.

[amoralcrackpot]

For millennia, the sun has scared, confused, and mercilessly killed mankind just for the thrill. It abandons us during winter and abuses us come summer. And due to a seemingly endless, wholly passive-aggressive silent treatment, its reasoning for all this will likely remain a mystery for years to come.

But one mystery is finally solved.

A lack of orifices long left us unable to properly take the sun's temperature, leaving scientists to simply guess. But a collaboration between Apple and Frito-Lay saw the first manned mission to the sun in a heroic search for answers.

Unfortunately for 12-year old Daniel Lamb, from One Toilet, Indiana, and winner of the Doritos "Fun in the Sun Sweepstakes," this was a one-way trip.

"I just wanted a PlayStation," said Daniel in his final message, crying like a little baby.

As any parent who ever left their child in the car during a grueling heatwave so as to pop in for a quick root canal or colonoscopy might already know, children are often too stupid to turn on the A/C or crack a window.

But stupid children aside, there's also the matter of fuel.

"Have you seen how poor an iPhone's battery life is?" said Penny Pincher, Apple's V.P. of Tax Evasion. "And don't even get me started on the excessive cost of bundling our ship with a charging cable."

But while the incineration of a young child left his family mildly upset, scientists now know the sun is, at the very least, hot enough to do the same to aluminum and glass.

[myhauger22]

#story #stories #storytelling #Books #boost #bookboost #boostboost #youtube #contentcreators #contentcreation #fiction #fictionstories #suspense #creepy #drama #shortstories

[billadler]

The White Noise Machine

George thought a white noise machine would help him sleep through the night. He was right. But that wasn't all it did. Find out what happened in my short story, The White Noise Machine.

[theebughead]

JOEL AND HIS SISTER.

Meeting Joel was a blessing and a curse, years later, and it still boggles me. I was in my third year in university, on a fully paid scholarship, paid my tuition, and the hostel rent, the rest I had to hustle for on my own. I didn’t get much help from home, especially after my second year. Now alone in the big city, I’d taken to doing odd jobs here and there just to get by. At the start of my…

[fragileswift1313]

Kia ora, friends!

If you’ve been following along since last year, you might remember a little piece of something I shared in December called Underground. If you haven’t read that, I definitely think you should either before or after this! It doesn’t matter what order, though, either way I think you’ll get some context for details present in the other. This is another very rough draft, but I like where it’s going and it definitely has potential to feed back into the afore mentioned Underground scenario.

I posted on twitter tonight (at the time I was writing this, a couple days ago) about how I have kind of been struggling with whether or not to make every one of my big characters queer; every time I write a new person into existence (or they come into existence for me to write about - I’m not entirely sure!), my instinct is always to make them a lesbian or bisexual or non-binary or trans (or many all in one) and there’s a part of my brain that pushes back on that. I think it really comes down to the deeply internalised misogyny and queerphobia that I have as someone who didn’t always know they were queer and trans and non-binary, so I’m trying to push back against that. I really enjoy writing queer relationships and the people in them, and I think there is a part of me that thinks that excluding cisgender heteronormative relationships is excluding a portion of a potential audience, which is wild because, like, who cares? So, sorry, if you are a cisgender heteronormative person coming to my writing and feel excluded… that’s kind of by design. There are enough stories in the world about those kinds of people, and I want to hold space for stories about not those people.

Anyway, all of that is to say that this fragment of a story is about two new characters named Cassy and Taylor. Taylor is a non-binary trans-fem and Cassy is a gay trans man. They have two children together named Riley and Canada (why Canada? I don’t know, it just came to me!) and they all live together in an underground facility known as a crisis shelter. I haven’t nailed down all the details about timelines or even locations compared to the Underground story fragment, I mean that should be obvious since both are pretty rough drafts, but I wanted to make sure these share some key details. These stories are part of a whole that comes after a form of world-shattering collapse, hundreds of years in the past, where technology is still present and usable but ancient. I could write a whole page about where I got my inspiration for this setting, and if you know me you can probably guess a few, but I have tried to make it my own and I will work on that further as this story, these stories, become more cohesive. But I should shut up and let you get to the part you came here for: queer people!

Let’s jump in.

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“When you were packing up and getting ready to leave, it occurred to me that I couldn’t remember the last time I told you I love you.” Cassy’s eyes darted around Taylor, trying desperately not to look at them, yet somehow always landing on them, even for the briefest of moments. Taylor blushed.

“So, are you going to, then?” Taylor prodded, shyly but playfully. “Uhm, am I going to?” “Tell me you love me, idiot,” they laughed. “Oh… uh, yes… I love you.” “I love you too Cassy. Was that so hard?” “No, I…” “We’ve been together for ages now, it’s okay to say it sometimes.” “I know, I… it’s been a long time since I felt safe.” “I know, and you are safe here.” “I love you, Taylor,” Cassy sighed gently as the butterflies in his stomach took flight. “I love you too,” Taylor reached out to put a hand to Cassy’s cheek, and they responded with a small chuckle and a smile. “Are you ready to go?” “No. I’m going to miss you, I hope you know that.” “I do. I’ll miss you too. But it’s only for a few months.” “Yes.” “And when you’re back, well, you’ll have succeeded.” “I will.” “And we’ll be safe. For good.” “Yes.” “So, are you ready to go?” “Yes.”

Daylight was barely breaking as Cassy watched his love from a short distance as they loaded their saddlebags onto the small courier mech. The two of them had cobbled the mech together from scrap salvaged in the lower levels of the shelter where the life support systems had broken down. It had taken them a year to build, and it was ramshackle but sturdy. Taylor had a lot of gear to bring with them, no one knew what they would find when they reached their destination, or even along the route. No one had been that way for decades, much less returned. Taylor’s destination was an ancient pre-apocalypse crisis shelter, much like Sierra shelter, the one Cassy and Taylor lived in, but long since abandoned and overrun by various flora and fauna. Taylor’s objective was a computer deep within the shelter, hundreds of metres underground. On that computer should be access codes and telemetry data for the dormant communications satellites orbiting the planet. The theory was that if the data on that computer could be recovered, it would be possible to feed it into their own shelter’s systems and reactivate the satellites, reenabling communication between all of the shelters across the planet. And if that theory proved correct, then the shelters could begin to coordinate their efforts against the elements and hostile forces, with the goal of securing the planet and making it safe for everyone to start returning to the surface, to repopulate the world and rebuild it. It was a noble plan, but an extremely tenuous one. There were some in Sierra shelter who believed it was a wasted effort and that the data was lost, or that even if the satellites were able to be spun up again the communications architecture on the ground would still be inoperable. But no one really knew for sure. The consensus was that it would be a waste of equipment, resources, and people. But that was why Taylor was going, and going alone – they knew that if they didn’t, no one else would. And Cassy understood – he believed in the mission.

Once all of the gear was loaded, Taylor made their way back to Cassy. They took Cassy’s hand in theirs and looked into his eyes. “It’s not too late to forget about all this,” Cassy smirked, knowing he wouldn’t change their mind. “You know that’s not true,” they smiled. “This will all be worth it.” “It will. We’re counting on you.” “And I’m counting on you to keep it together while I’m gone. For the kids.” Cassy nodded. He reached into his satchel and pulled out a small circular object and presented it to Taylor. “I found this a few days ago, I kept it from you because I wanted it to be a surprise.” “Is that…?” “…a network beacon. I tinkered with it a little and got it to work with the terrestrial network. It has a solar charger, so if you wear it on your backpack it’ll be charged when you want to use it.” Taylor turned the device over in their hands. “It doesn’t squawk?” they asked almost to themselves, noticing it had no speaker or microphone. “No, it’s an old emergency beacon. I couldn’t get a comms one working. But when you hook this up, it’ll send a ping through the network to the computer in our quarters. I’ll be able to see where you are on the map… and I’ll know you’re still alive.” Cassy averted his eyes, a little ashamed of his insinuation. “I’ll be fine, love,” Taylor reassured him, squeezing his hand. “I know, just… use the beacon? Please?” “I will,” they smiled warmly. “The, uh… kids will be grateful.” “Right. The kids.” Taylor winked at Cassy and squeezed his hand again. “You should get going. Don’t want to waste the daylight.” “Yes. Tell Riley and Canada I love them.” “They know. But I will.” Cassy and Taylor embraced, and then softly kissed. “I’ll be back before you know it.” “Be careful.” “I will.” “I’ll see you soon.” “See you soon.” Taylor turned and headed toward the courier mech and climbed aboard. They briefly looked back and waved to Cassy, before turning their attention back to the patchwork control panel and reacquainted themselves with the navigation system. A few button presses and a couple of switch turns later, the mech lurched into life and began making its way down the dirt path, away from the shelter access tunnel where Cassy was standing, and toward the sun cresting the horizon. Cassy continued to watch until he couldn’t see Taylor or hear their creaking mech lurching across the landscape and returned to the shelter.

Taylor’s expression turned steely as looked to the horizon and absent-mindedly adjusted the mech’s stability switch, trying to find a comfortable balance.

“I swear to the stars, this plan had better work.”

----------------------------------------------------------------

So what did you think? As always, I would love to hear your feedback, and you can hit me up at the social or email links at the bottom of the page. Comments, questions, suggestions? Let me know!

Thanks so much for taking the time to read, I really appreciate it. And if you liked this or any of my other posts, consider telling a friend? It’s completely free and would really help me out - I don’t do any paid advertising of any sort so the best way I can reach more people is by word-of-mouth. Also, please consider subscribing to my Substack to get these posts direct to your inbox every Monday at 8am NZST! It's also free, but I have a couple of paid tiers too if you you want to support me monetarily - or you can tip me here!

That’s it for this week, folks. Take care of yourselves and I’ll talk to you again soon.

Ka kite anō au i a koe. 💚

Socials etc | Twitter | Mastodon | Cohost | Substack | itch.io | Letterboxd | Instagram | Carrd | Email

[shldbwriting]

the kitten and the ball

I love sharing my stories with all of you. Today I've written a fun little story about a kitten playing with a ball. I hope you enjoy it. #amwriting #shortstory #flashfiction #readingcommunity

I cannot believe we are into February already. It seems like just yesterday we were celebrating the new year. I’ve been learning so much at work about programming the lasers that I guess it’s only natural for time to be flying. Here at home, I’ve been working on editing the short stories for a book I’m putting together. I can’t wait to share it with all of you. If you’re wondering what’s…

[thestoryloom]

The Silent Witness

Detective Aryan Patel was known for his keen intuition and unparalleled ability to solve even the most perplexing cases. But the latest mystery to land on his desk had him puzzled. A prominent businessman, Raghav Mehta, had been found dead in his luxurious penthouse, with no apparent signs of a struggle. As Aryan arrived at the crime scene, he noticed that the penthouse was meticulously…

[lornabassiswrites]

The missing beacon Pt.1

Alicia stared at her notes, heart beating fast. There was so much to memorise, and so little time left before morning. She wiped at her brow, feeling increasingly sick to the stomach. She couldn’t fail this test; it was too important. Her first biology test in a prestigious Parisian preparatory class – how well she did tomorrow would set the tone for the two years to come and more importantly,…

[marvelousm]

Kitchen Nightmares

Word Count: 2019

Reading Time: 10 minutes

A/N: This is a dark, violent, horror story; So if you're not a big fan of those genres, please feel free to scroll on. But if you are interested, let me know what you think of the story, this is my first time writing a horror type story. Thank you and i hope you enjoy my story :)

_____________________________________

I attended baking class just as I normally would do on a Wednesday morning not knowing that today would be different. It was during my lab when it happened. I went back to my station after Chef did his first short demo to start prepping my recipe, when Letitia interrupted me.  

“So, first we need to gather all the ingredients, do you--”.  

I sighed at my learning specialist. 

“I know what to do Letita, jeez. And I already told you that if I need help I'll let you know, so please stay out of my way”. 

 With a turn of my heel, I went off to start grabbing the ingredients for the sponge cake, starting with the cream and eggs. But when it came back to my station, Letitia did the unexpected. Suddenly I felt a slim hand in my throat, pushing me up against the back kitchen wall, with a large chef knife in her other hand. 

 “Now I want you to listen carefully you don't tell me what to do. I tell you what to do. I'm your learning specialist and the only reason why I'm helping you is because I'm getting paid well.”.  

Then a devilish grin spread across her face.  

“Though I would get paid more if anything ever did happen to you”. 

 I swallowed nervously as she brought the knife blade closer to my throat.  

“Letitia, please you're making a big mistake; don't do this” I croaked. 

 “You have no idea what will be coming for you if you hurt me”.  

“Aww, is your little boyfriend going to come beat me up. How cute. He ain't gonna do shit to me”.  

Meanwhile on the fourth floor, Micah sat in his Food Science 2 class listening to Chef Allen going on and on about the different sauces that come from the mother sauce bechamel sauce. He was trying to pay attention, but deep down he felt that something was terribly wrong. He wasn't sure what exactly, but he felt like he had something to do with his girlfriend Michelle. 

 I should definitely check on her after class just to make sure she's okay. After all I did accidentally get her pregnant. That will be okay, right?  

“It's not just because of that” I croaked.  

“It's because I'm pre-pre-pregnant and he’ll--”.  

I suddenly felt the cold blade cut into my throat making my red blood ooze out of it, drenching my white chef outfit. 

 “--Kick your ass,” I managed to say, before I went limp and Letitia’s hand from blood loss.  

She let my body drop to the floor and quickly rinsed the knife off, before she set it on the floor next to me and then pretended to panic and ran to Chef for help. 

 ‘Medical team to training kitchen. Medical team to training kitchen’.  

Micah clenched his teeth and a fist as he heard that announcement on the PA system of the college. 

 My wife has a class in that kitchen. Please don't let the emergency be for her. I can't bear to lose her.  

As I laid helplessly on the floor, I felt like the world was speeding fast around me. My hearing went in and out as I heard the commotion. Then the lights fell bright as my vision blurred in and out of focus, before my eyes rolled back in my head and the last thing I heard was the distant sound of sirens wailing.  

Later, Micah was frantically pacing in the waiting room at KGH. With his palms sweaty and heart racing, he couldn't sit still. He didn't want Michelle to pass. 

 I need her by my side. If she leaves me I don't think I could carry that emotional weight. My world will shatter.  

Just then, a doctor came out and called out his name.  

“How-how is she doc?” he asked nervously.  

“She's stable for now. A major artery was cut open and she lost quite a bit of blood” he explained as they walked to her room. 

 “But she’ll live. She just needs to stay for a couple of weeks to heal”.  

The doctor stopped at the door and gestured to him to go inside.  

“She is sedated still because we had to stitch up the cut so she didn't bleed to death. And she's lucky too if she had arrived any later, she would have”. 

 Micah stood next to her bedside watching her peacefully sleep. He gently kissed her forehead before gazing down at a massive bandage on the left side of her neck. 

 “You didn't deserve this dear,” he spoke softly.  

I will hunt down whoever did this to you and make them regret laying a hand on you, he vowed.  

He briefly thanked the doctor before he left the hospital, with determination on his mind.  

I will for sure find whoever did this to my wife. 1st I better question all her learning specialists to see if they know anything about who really tried to kill her. I better start with Tamara. 

The following day, Micah carried out the plan he had in mind. He went up to the fourth-floor tutoring room and Tamara there, sitting alone.  

Perfect. Just what I needed.  

He gently knocked on the door, before he was greeted by Tamara and was let into the room.  

“Is there anything I can help you with Micah?”.  

“Well, yes actually. There is.” He chuckled. 

Micah slammed his hands on the desk and stared coldly dead straight in Tamara's blue eyes 

“Do you know about anything that happened yesterday in the training kitchen that involved Michelle? Are perhaps who was the learning specialist helping her in her Chef lab?”. 

“M-m-me? I don't know anything at all about what went down yesterday. I wasn't there so why would I know?”.  

Micah let out a chuckle. 

“Well, you are one of her learning specialists and second, you talk to the other learning specialists that she has. So, it makes sense that you would hide any information regarding the incident”.  

“So, I’m going ask you one more time; Who the fuck was with my wife during her Chef baking lab,” said Micah, raising his voice at Tamara, before lifting up his hand in the air to threaten her to slap her.  

“Okay, okay fine. I’ll tell you! Letitia was there when it happened,” explained Tamara in a panicked voice. “She did it because Becky threatened to take her job away if she didn’t. There’s not enough money going around to pay all the learning specialists so Becky decided it would be best to eliminate some students from the program. She placed a hefty price on Michelle since she’s independent and she really didn’t even need to take the program”.  

Micah gave a look of shock of horror and disgust at Tamara, before he furrowed his eyebrows at her.  

“Where is Letitia now?” He demanded.  

“She's in the ladies room down the hall. Just please don't hurt me,”.  

Like the speed of light Micah vanished, marching his way down the hall towards the woman's washroom with this face beat red. He slammed open the door and saw that Letitia was in one of the stalls. Luckily for him there was no other lady in there besides her.  

“We need to talk, Letitia. So get your ass out here right now,” he threatened.  

“Micah, is that you?” she questioned.  

“What are you doing in here? You’re not supposed to walk in here. Give the girl some privacy. Go wait in the hall,”.  

“Hell Nah, this is way too urgent for me to wait. And does it look like I give a flying fuck? Get out here now before I make you”.  

He heard Letitia sigh before she came out of the stall. But she instantly regretted it.  

Micah grabbed her shirt by the collar and pulled her up to his face.  

“How dare you lay a hand on my wife. And how dare you try to kill her like that. You're so lucky that she's alive, cause otherwise I will not hesitate to make you disappear and make sure you never see your husband or your children ever again. You're even lucky that I’m not beating your ass in this very moment. The only reason why is because I want to be eligible to press charges against you and Becky as well. However, if I don't win the court case, I will be coming for you. You have no right to touch her and not only would you have killed her, but you would have killed my future child. If you were to ever do something like that again, just remember I'm watching you”.  

Micah finally released Letitia's collar and began to walk towards the exit of the bathroom.  

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I'm off to go down to the police station to file a report and press charges for attempted murder and assault against you”.  

As soon as he came he left, without leaving a trace. Only to leave Letitia trembling with fear and made her rethink her past decisions.  

The following week, the court session was held; With Letita on trial with the charges of attempted murder and assault. The session opened up with the detective revealing the evidence of the chef knife that was used to cut the victim Michelle’s throat open, had Letitia’s fingerprints on it and on Michelle’s throat too.  

“But I’m innocent, he must be lying” she spat.  

“I can assure you your honor, that I am speaking the truth,” replied the detective, holding up high a paper copy of the sample scan results from the fingerprints found on the knife and Michelle’s neck.  

Then Micah jumped up to speak.  

“Your honor if I may; I am here to speak on behalf of my injured pregnant wife Michelle, who is making a recovery at KGH. I have supporting evidence that Letita did in fact did the crime. It also proves that she wasn’t alone in this mastermind plan; The CICE program liaison Becky Thomlinson was also involved. She threatened to take Letitia’s job away if she didn’t kill my wife because there isn’t enough money to pay all the learning specialists. So Becky came up with this crazy plan to eliminate students from the program” spoke Micah.  

“What? That’s crazy. I would never threaten any of my learning specialists to take their job away and I would for sure wouldn’t tell them to kill anyone your honor,” lied Becky.  

“Not only that, but she also put a hefty price on my wife as a reward to whoever kills her because ‘she’s independent and didn’t need to take the program in the first place’. That was the phrase she used, your honor,”.  

“And how would you know about all of this, Mr. Shorts?” asked the judge, he asked curiously. 

“Because I heard it from a witness, Tamara Spearing”.  

Tamara then stood up from a few seats back in the audience.  

“It’s true your honor. Becky said whoever will do the job will get paid over a thousand dollars” replied Tamara truthfully.  

People sitting in the audience gasped.  

The judge slammed his mallet, silencing everyone in the room.  

“I hereby declare that Letitia Graf is guilty and is charged with attempted murder and assault with a weapon on Michelle Thorne. She is sentenced to life imprisonment and will be relieved of her duties effective immediately. And Becky Thomlinson is guilty of forcing her staff to kill students by threatening to take away their jobs. She will also be relieved of her duties effective immediately and the jury will decide her fate later on”.  

The Judge slammed his mallet one last time, before he dismissed everyone. As everyone was leaving, Letitia and Becky were quickly handcuffed and taken into custody.  

Micah let out a sigh of relief; With the fact he won the court case, and that Michelle will be safe from both Becky and Letitia.  

But unexpectedly, his cellphone started to ring. Once he pulled out, he noticed that the caller was from the hospital. He swallowed nervously as he answered it.  

The end.

Photo taken and edited by me :)

-MarvelousM

[mxdnxghtraven]

Worthy

// Author's note: TW for some graphic descriptions & mention of alcohol.

Worthy.

What the fuck does that even mean anyway?

I never have been.

I can say "gimme some time while I work on it" and lose their patience anyway and then it's another failed relationship under my belt that I never asked for. I know I'm replaceable.

I'm just another toy.

Another fun little experiment. I'm that tester put on display above the packaged products in a sex shop.

Violated. Damaged. Used. I can't believe I even considered children with them.

I know I'm not gushed about online like I used to gush about them.

I'm still black and bruised, with formerly kissed scars ripped open by the same person that gently pressed their lips to them, reassuring me it'll be okay and that we'd work through this as a team.

Their wounds are fine. They get to go on their merry way as if nothing happened. I don't think they've even cried or expressed any sadness about the situation.

All while I'm sitting on the floor of my room drinking a high noon on an empty stomach trying to drown out the voices with loud music.

What happened to me meaning something? I guess that ceased when they accused me of being possessive, as if I hadn't been clear about my possessiveness before and even during. I never hid it.

Or bitching about having to pull teeth to have a conversation with me as if I don't have depressive/PTSD episodes that I struggle to recover from as they end.

So much for listening to me.

So much for caring about the person they supposedly loved at some point.

Whatever.

I will not be the one to leave this in pieces. I will leave them with their secrets, regrets and emotions they choose to avoid.

The little things give people away, suddenly you spot the doubt in their faith when the rose-tinted glasses come off.

The hardest part of ending is starting again.

[amoralcrackpot]

For decades, scientists have warned us of the dire consequences of man's inexplicable war on nature: the oceans continue to warm; wildfires overstay their welcome even when you tell them you have work in the morning; and organic life slowly replaced by plastic doppelgangers.

But no study could have foreseen crocodiles spreading conspiracy theories across the internet.

Due to the increased presence of alcohol and fentanyl in the waters in which they live and in the people that they eat, the once fiercely independent crocodiles of Florida are now voting Republican, pistol whipping children at playgrounds, and posting videos to social media in which they claim President Biden is using the postal service to "trans" Americans with gay anthrax.

And while it may be easy to dismiss this as harmless fun by a species not only lacking opposable thumbs, but also the right to vote, researchers aren't convinced.

"As ancient apex predators, crocodiles know better than to attack with reckless abandon," said crocodologist Dr. Allison Gaydor. "They bide their time, luring in unsuspecting prey with talking points about personal liberties, free markets, and small government before striking with a flurry of clips from the Joe Rogan Experience."

And so far, this slower, methodical strategy by crocodiles is working where the "howling, rabid baboons flinging feces at everyone" strategy of modern right-wing grifters is failing. Watching just one video in which a crocodile debates the need for women and minority representation in film and television quickly results in algorithms suggesting similar videos on false flags operations by the PTA, schools providing students with litter boxes, and something about trees causing socialism.

"I can only hope the sea reclaims Florida before it's too late," said Dr. Gaydor.

[insane-asylum14]

Mother and Child

A short story - TW innuendo's of gore, trauma, slight horror

As the chilled morning crept into the cookie-cutter house, each window became glossy with the dew and glistened by the morning sun. Everything was still and silent. Ruth silently padded from her room and looked into her children's rooms as she does every morning, no matter what. Call it motherly paranoia. Each child could sleep heavily and would not wake to an earthquake. However, her youngest, Malcolm, was wide awake staring at his ceiling. She was startled as it was 5 am on a Saturday. She called out to him, 

“Malcolm, are you alright..” 

“Yes Mom, I’m just daydreaming,” he replied without looking at her. 

She shrugged it off and went into the kitchen, brushing past each insignificant detail of the house. While starting with her motherly duties, as her husband always reminded her about, her mind wandered.  Malcolm had been worrying her. He hadn’t been sleeping regularly, his grades in school were dropping, and he consistently had no friends. He was only 8 years old, yet acted as if he was much older.

As the family filed into their respective places later in the morning for breakfast, the youngest, Malcolm, and oldest, Molly, sat on the couch watching the news while their father had his coffee at the table reading the newspaper. 

“President Kennedy’s recent assassination ” 

Ruth heard the low hum of the TV while she cleaned the kitchen from breakfast. The house was glum. No one spoke to each other usually, but especially not this morning. There was no reason for it other than the familiar feeling of neutrality and disinterest between the family. 

Ruth, picking up on her middle son's absence, went to his room where he was no longer in bed. She looked around to see if he was anywhere in the house and finally checked their backyard shed. Michael had recently picked up a filthy hobby that she couldn’t stand, but it made him happy. She knocked on the door, still in her apron, calling out to him. When nothing but silence met her as a response, she pried the door open using her whole body, and let out a huff. She looked up to see Michael in the middle of sewing up one of his newest devices. She averted her eyes and held her hand up to block the image from her peripheral. 

“Have you eaten..?” 

Ruth hesitantly spoke in his direction, still avoiding the sight. Michael sighed and apologized. Removing his mask and gloves he led her out to the backyard and closed the shed’s door to try and prevent the smell from traveling, 

“Yes, I ate earlier. I will let you know if I haven’t. I thought you said you wouldn’t come out here.. Anymore.” 

The middle son avoided eye contact because of the difficult conversations that they never broached, this topic being one of them, “Of course, I’m sorry. Just wanted to make sure you’ve eaten. I'll have lunch on the table at one.” Ruth stated, embarrassed that she had intruded on her son's personal space, something her husband has reprimanded her for doing to him as well in the past. She turned, keeping her hands in her apron pockets, and walked hurriedly back towards the house while Michael resumed his needlework in the shed. 

Ruth saw Malcolm watching her as she reentered the house, he ran up to her, worried,

“Did Michael show you, too?” He said, in a hush. 

Ruth, immediately concerned, “You’ve gone to the shed?” 

“He made me do it. I didn’t want to, please don’t tell Father.” 

Ruth stood, looking above her youngest as rage filled her chest. She nearly stomped back out into the shed. But, she would seek punishment for him later. Malcolm retreated to the couch, feeling delighted at his confession. 

Once dinner time came about, Michael rejoined the family but no one was at the table,

“Oh, Mom, I’m sorry, am I late?” 

Ruth looked up at him with a glassy-eyed look in her eyes, 

“You shall not bring Malcolm out to your house of horrors anymore. He is 8 years old, are you insane?! I have already lost faith in fixing you but I will not have you indoctrinate Malcolm as well.” 

Michael, petrified by his mother's lack of ignorance of the situation, lost any thought he could have to defend himself, 

“Mom, you don’t understand, it’s helping him. If he stops it’ll be bad. Trust me.” 

Ruth turned her head in disgust, appalled at Michaels's cries to try and force his interests onto his brother, she stood, wiping her dress off to clear the disgusting feelings she got from having these conversations. 

Months passed and Ruth kept a keen eye on both her sons, ensuring Michael was clear of Malcolm at all times; never next to him at dinner, in car rides, or on the couch together. She refused any contact between the boys and doted on Malcolm more than she already did. Molly became restless with the lack of her mom's attention and was disappearing for days at a time. Sometimes she was at her boyfriend's, other times her friend's house. Ruth didn’t care, her boy was safe. Her husband became more of a Dad as he had to step in for some aspects of care when he realized Ruth was changing. They fought more often, him claiming that she had lost her motherly instinct, and her snapping back, that being laid-off with no new job was not fatherly either. Ruth kicked him out to the guest room, and the already tension-filled house became suffocating. 

Malcolm found himself outside most days, the neighbors waving at him, and him never waving back. He felt that he shouldn’t be treated as an animal in the zoo; parading around the neighborhood as his mom's golden child. His father, showing him off to his buddies saying ‘this will be a real boy.  His parents fighting more and more caused him to rekindle with his brother. Ruth had lost control of her boys for some time now and did not know about what was happening under her nose. Michael, scared of what his mother would do if she found out, didn’t bring Malcolm to the shed anymore. Only brought his projects elsewhere. In the evening, when all the neighbors had retired for the evening they would hide in the alleyway of their house by the trashcans and perform messy autopsies on roadkill Michael had found. Malcolm had started to get more aggressive, demanding that Michael bring him more and more. He even suggested that he and Michael capture a live one together. From that moment on, Michael ignored his little brother. Scared of what he might have caused he refused to acknowledge anything had happened. 

Months had passed, and Malcolm had stopped aggravating Michael, believing it to be over, Michael no longer kept his eyes on his brother and let him roam to his heart's content. 

The door was unlocked. Malcolm walked right in, holding his favorite stuffy. It was a peaceful Sunday evening. His family was in the backyard preparing dinner when his mother asked him to return some herbs to the neighbor. Malcolm didn’t know this neighbor. He called the neighbor the blind man. The blind man never acknowledged Malcolm due to the child's quiet demeanor... When entering the space, the air was noticeably cold. Malcolm walked through the entryway, the living room, and the kitchen, where the blind man was silently cutting something too high for Malcolm to see. Malcolm accidentally dropped the herbs his mother sent him to return and scared the blind man. The blind man quickly saw what had happened and sighed. Malcolm tilted his head, confused that the blind man acknowledged him and the scene. As the blind man bent down to pick up the mess with Malcolm’s feeble attempt to help. Malcolm then walked behind to examine what previous activity the blind man had been doing. Malcolm picked up the spiked mallet and raw meat on the countertops. Holding the mallet and turning back to the blind man, Malcolm wondered what would happen if he mimicked the meat into his neighbor's head. With all the strength he had, Malcolm swung. He penetrated the skull of the blind man. As he fell to the ground screaming in pain Malcolm continued swinging until brain matter was scattered across the tiled kitchen floor. The black and white tile was poured over with thick deep red blood. You couldn’t see where the herbs had spilled, and you could barely distinguish who the man was before death. Malcolm stood there, holding his teddy in one hand, mallet in the other, unphased at what he had accomplished. Unsure of what to do next, Malcolm returned the mallet to its place on the counter and walked home. 

When Malcolm’s mother saw him enter the house, with drops of blood covering his body, she was mortified. She screamed in horror, prompting everyone else in the family to join them in the entryway. They all stared in horror as Malcolm looked up at them, dewy-eyed and apologetic. Ruth ran to him and kneeled before him. She hurriedly took him to the master bath and started the shower. Ruth ordered Malcolm to strip and place all his clothes in a plastic trash bag she grabbed from under the sink. Despite all the flaws in Ruth’s trials in motherhood, she will always protect her children even if that means breaking the law, or rather ignoring it.