100 Words – The Cliff

I stood at the top of the tremendous cliff pulling her up. She wasn’t sure this was a good idea and suggested several alternatives including, “Maybe you should just climb down from there.” I told her not to worry.

This was her idea. She said we needed adventure. Said we had to get out of the house. Maybe this wasn’t what she meant, but here we were.

She repeatedly asked if I was strong enough. I repeatedly said yes. Turns out I was lying. My arms grew tired. The rope slipped. She landed with a sickening thud. I miss her.

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100 Words – Empire of Sleep

I long to become a citizen of the empire of sleep. I’m exhausted and have completed so many tasks, so many challenges. I have earned my sleep. I am worthy. Or am I?

The border guards keep me out with sour memories and invalid tic-tac-toe strategies. The brain races to nowhere. Negative thoughts become ogres that drag me back to the waking world. Like a log jam they clog my brain. Nothing good can get through.

I try to breath. Deep and clarifying. I fail. The guardians of sleep mock me. Perhaps I can bribe them with a couple beers.

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100 Words – Voices

Dr. Spangler thought he had the solution. He removed all sources of noise from Carla’s house. Then he sat with her all night in the silent living room. In the morning she declared that the voices were gone.

A disturbed Dr. Spangler replied, “No, they’re not.” It was just as Carla described. They spoke separately but as one. Chaos and order in weird unity.

Carla sat watching him, relieved that her head was quiet, but guilty that the doctor was now inflicted.

Spengler ran outside. The voices came with him. He wondered why him? They answered, “Because you’re so smart.”

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100 Words – Staple Fight

When Raul returned to the lab George had escaped from the slab. He was huddled naked in the corner flourishing a stapler. Raul laughed as he marched towards George. Then there was a loud click and a staple tore into Raul’s eye.

“Impossible!” Raul screamed as he lunged towards George. Another click, another staple in the eye. Raul was knocked to ground as George ran past.

Later, when the staples had been removed and he was told his sight would return when the bandages were removed, Raul marveled at his adversary’s amazing skill. And also regretted buying a laser-guided stapler.

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Short Story – Alone in a Crowd

People think that being alone is all silence and isolation. For me, being alone is standing still watching the world go around me in fast forward. They don’t perceive me and I don’t dare interrupt whatever they are in such a hurry to accomplish. It must be important. I’m not important.

Not that I don’t think I’m important within the scope of my own existence. I am as important as anyone else. I just don’t think that I’m more important than anyone else. I’m not one of those self-entitled people who think the world should bow down and step aside.

Those people should have their kneecaps broken. My court-appointed new best friend calls that an inappropriate thought. Apparently everyone has them, but the norms don’t act on them. My court-appointed life goal is to become a norm. Doesn’t that sound like a monkey barrel full of fun?

At the time it seemed like letting the court take control of my life was better than going to jail. Now I’m not so sure. This isn’t freedom. I’m not sure what to call it. Whatever it is, I only have to do it for six more months. My brothers are planning a coming out party.

My brothers are not my friends. I was a several years later surprise. Never able to keep up with them physically or scholastically I became the black sheep. My parents were too old and tired to care that I strayed from the norm. There’s that word again.

My brothers are normal. They’re falling down drunk every Friday and Saturday night. I like to drink but not that hard. That’s why it’s been easier for me than the other guys in the circle of chairs. They are normal. They have normal problems. Drunks are OK. I am not.

I wish I had some poetic trigger to my violence. Like, “I see a purple light coming from my head.” But it just happens. Like a car skidding off the road. No, it’s not even like that. Some guy says something insulting, not meaning it, and I’m pounding his face.

That hasn’t happened in a while though. They gave me these pills called mood stabilizers. They make everyone else seem like they are far away so it doesn’t bother me, no matter what they say. I don’t like them, but the name reminds me of the Star Blazers cartoon.

So here I sit in lonely and confused silence with the cult of the circle of chairs. Mood stabilized, unable to express myself. The others take their turns complaining about their lives and repeating the lies they told their parole officers. The facilitator writes it all down on their permanent records.

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