Nanofictions

First in a (short) series of posts where I'll be posting content here I've written elsewhere, in an effort to put all my wordage in one place.


"What," I asked eagerly, "Is Good? What is truly the antithesis of Evil?" My companion thought for a bit, then responded - "Buying ice cream for a little girl." I brightened. "Ah! So Good is found in acts of selflessness and - " My companion shook his head. "No, no, not that. Just ice cream for little girls. Nothing else."

--- From Curious Journeys, by Kellydoc Tabaddon

My nemesis stood between myself and the door I sought. I changed into a wave to flow past him, but he possessed the Egg of Opposition and so became a wall that blocked me. I turned to soaring flame; he countered with freezing water. I transformed to Life and he mocked me with Death. I donned the form of Love, and he stopped me with Hate. I could not get by him to reach the portal. So I became him, and he became me, and I turned around and walked through the door.

--- From Walking Roads, by Amber Bohn

"I thought... that Rose... was just your name," he gasped, as her thorns ripped him apart. The girl's brow furrowed in confusion. "My name?" she asked. "What's a 'name'?"

--- From Curious Journeys, by Kellydoc Tabaddon

"Actually," Tom explained patiently, "There once was a god of Reason. But he quickly became an atheist, and that was the end of that."

--- From Why the Dragon Cried, by Amber Bohn

He was a being of unimaginable fury and power, the Lord of the whole of the Earth, Entropy incarnate, a tyrant whose wrath was feared above death. He decreed that love was a weakness and a lie, and thus forbidden. So of course I had to seduce him.

--- From Three Days and a Night, by Jassifer Yeh

"You are not a man," he sneered as he stood atop my chest. "You are lowly and honorless, and your soul crawls in the dust. You are a snake."

He was right, of course, so I bit him and let my venom do its work.
--- From Lessons Learned, by Jeffrey Hollingsworth

For three days they argued over whether Love truly conquers all or whether Death is the greatest absolute. It is said that the Walker of Roads listened to them for an hour, then seized a comely young maid from the crowd of onlookers. He laid his lips upon hers in a kiss the likes of which have shattered mountains; saved and slain empires; humbled gods. Then he held the kiss and held it longer until the girl fell to the ground, suffocated. It is said that the crowd then began to laugh, and that to this day, neither of the debaters has realized that they laugh at him.

--- From Walking Roads, by Amber Bohn

Many men write of things that could have been or might be, but I sneer at their incomplete understanding of the possible. I write of things that could have been using pens that might exist, scribbled onto paper that would have been. I speak of possible cities, describing them with words that are themselves only a figment of probability. I describe hypothetical women with adjectives so ephemeral that reality refuses to fully admit them, words taken from languages that may or may not exist. The purity of possibility must remain inviolate.
--- From The Codex of Shattered Dreams, author unknown

Arthur's words came slowly and calmly at first, then with increasing rapidity and fury. "I came here for Excalibur, the sword given to me by the Lady of the Lake. What the hell - " he demanded of the elfin-featured woman who stood at his side, "is that?" He jabbed his finger accusingly at the object on the slim white pedestal before him.

The woman spoke softly. "Four hundred years ago, its form changed to that of a fountain pen, for that shape had become mightiest. Now its appearance is altered once more - but make no mistake, Pendragon. Its power is not lessened - if anything, its puissance has increased since you wielded it last."

Arthur blanched. "I am Arthur Paendrag, son of Uther Paendrag, rightful King of England and Lord of Camelot!" he snapped. "I am not riding to war against Morgaine the Dark with a bloody keyboard in my scabbard!"

--- From Why the Dragon Cried, by Amber Bohn

He ran down the hill towards us. His eyes were like rubies; his blade was like a shard of frozen flame; his arms were strong as oak trees and his legs fast as lightning. This, then, must be the foe my mistress was sworn to slay - the Similar Man.

--- From the Thought-Record of Carter Dubois

We cut him open - slit his skin with the sharpest knife we had, but no vital fluid spilt out. We peered inside and found that a solid mass of conviction filled his whole body. Opinions served him where organs might be found; beliefs rather than bones gave his body structure; ideology swam through his veins in place of blood. Jassifer gave a rare smile. "Well," she said, "That explains one hell of a lot."

--- From the Thought-Record of Carter Dubois

They laughed in my face and told me to return only when I could bring them a pizza with Everything on it. They were speaking literally, of course, and I suppose they think I'm still on the job. But once you've got a pizza like that, how can you not take a bite? And once you've taken a bite of a pizza like that, how can you not eat the whole thing?

---From Lessons Learned, by Jeffrey Hollingsworth

Kendall gestured broadly at the heaping table. "Tonight, my love, we shall feast on boiled physics, communism on a bed of rice, and heroism au gratin. For drink I have procured an excellent '78 vintage of wit."

My mouth dropped open. "That... that can't be possible!" I sputtered.

Kendall seemed confused by this. "Well, no, it isn't. Possibility is usually considered more of a breakfast than an entree."

--- From Three Days and a Night, by Jassifer Yeh

The first generation of portable CD players was notoriously unreliable. Many companies sought to address the issue with advanced engineering, but most of these experimental models proved to be extremely aggressive and territorial. By the early '90s, most corporations admitted defeat and returned to more traditional breeding methods.

--- From Thrashing Dragon: The Japanese Economy in the Late Twentieth Century, by Hiroko Heideki

I don't regret summoning Death. I don't regret imprisoning him within a prism of seven sides. I don't regret talking to him, trying to get to know him. I do, however, regret asking him to tell me a joke. Not because he's unfunny - quite the opposite, in fact. I mean, I did laugh myself to... well, death. I suppose, in hindsight, I should have seen it coming.

--- From "The Rising Cost of Afterliving," by Ander Lee

It sits there, on my keychain, between my house key and the one that starts up my '93 Corolla. It's not much to look at, mind you, but looks are deceiving. It looks like a simple key for a simple lock, but if you examine its teeth every day, you'll begin to notice that they're moving, twisting. A tiny bit, each day, they shift.

It's become a ritual for me. I wake up in the morning, I shower, I dress, I eat cereal. And then I take the key from my pocket and try it in the lock on the closet in my bedroom. It hasn't gone in yet, but it slides further in every day.

I simply have to be patient. One day the key will fit in all the way, and I'll turn it, and open the door. And I'll reach in, and take the old red shoebox off the top of the shelf, and open it, and let out Hope from it.