Eclectic Narratives #14 - Consumption [#141]

~~~~ 

           Eat, wait, snack, snack, snack, eat, wait, snack, sleep. That was his rhythm, all he seemed to do every day. Gluttony is a vice often associated with lavish feasts, gourmet meals, or devouring anything one could get their hands on. However, even the sin most closely associated with excess can appear in subtle ways. He was a perfect example.

           His meals were fairly standard, two to three a day. A modest breakfast, a quick lunch, and a large dinner with the family. The proportions were normal if a little above average. He didn’t even finish a sizable portion of his meals either. Yet, he was still gluttonous, someone who didn’t know when to stop.

           It all came down to his favorite pass time, snacking. A candy bar here, a sleeve of crackers there, the occasional apple dipped in peanut butter. Like clockwork every day, he’d eat a snack after breakfast, then another an hour later. If he forgot to eat lunch, he wouldn’t forget to devour another box of crackers. Before dinner, another helping of junk food, after dinner the same, maybe even a dessert was thrown in.

           It was spread out, never did he consume it all at once. He’d heard of people who would consume several boxes of cookies and crackers within an hour, and he’d be disgusted. Then through the course of a day, he’d eat about the same.

           The gluttony was spread out, but it was still gluttony all the same. He knew this deep down, but in the moment to moment flow of life, it rarely crossed his mind. He often wondered how long before his habits would bite him in the ass. Would it be sooner? A sudden health issue that would ravage his youth. Would it be later? A long term problem that manifested in old age.

           He gambled every day with his gluttony, knowing one day he’d drown in his excess. However, it built up so slowly and at such a steady rate, that he might not even realize he had started to drown until it was too late. Such is the life of consumption.

 

~~~~ 

You know what they say, death by a thousand cuts.

How appropriate, a story about eating on Thanksgiving. It's almost like I planned this (I didn't this was honestly an accident).

Until next time, Read, Comment and Enjoy. Happy Thanksgiving.

~~~~ 

Support me on Patreon: [link]

Strange Scifi Tales - The Laziest Space Cadet [#140]

~~~~ 

           Cadet Jones was not an especially astute member of the space patrol; in fact, he was downright awful at his job. This wasn’t for lack of talent but a lack of effort. Jones simply didn’t care much about his career, so his superiors punted him to the furthest, most lifeless corner of the universe. Typically, one in Jones’s position would have been fired, but his superiors didn’t want to pay severance. Instead, they planned to make his work so mind-numbingly tedious, he’d quit in frustration. Unfortunately, they underestimated Jones’s ability to kill time.

           “Oh, I’m putting that on my birthday list,” Jones whistled as he flipped through a magazine on spaceships. He had set his own ship to autopilot, which gingerly flew through his patrol route. He was supposed to be watching for suspicious activity, but he couldn’t be bothered to actually do his job.

           “Maybe I should put some more coffee on,” the cadet mused as he finished his magazine. A tinge of boredom pinched at the corner of his mind. However, the professional slacker was already prepared for this eventuality. “Better yet, time to bust out my secret weapon,” he chuckled to himself as he pulled out a pillow from under his chair.

           “Now time for some R&R,” he nodded to himself before a glint passed across his ship’s front window. “What was that?” His head snapped to attention for the first time in years, but whatever he saw was long gone.

           “Probably nothing,” he assured himself. “But, according to regulation, I must report any mysterious or out of the ordinary activity,” Jones stated in a mocking voice. “Of course, last time I did that the Captain Stern chewed me out for wasting his time.” Jones shrugged and rested his head on the pillow.

           “Meh, whatever it was, it’s someone else’s problem now,” he shut his eyes and began his nap.

~--~

           “Finally,” the alien smiled, “that stupid patrol ship had been following me for three cycles, but I finally evaded them.” The alien flicked a switch on his spaceship’s dashboard, disabling the cloaking device that had kept him hidden. “That pilot must have been a top tier tracker, but I bet they never suspected I’d double back like that. With that roadblock out of the way, the invasion can finally begin.” The alien laughed as more spaceships carrying his people teleported in.

~~~~ 

Sometimes the most mediocre workers are not fired, instead they're brushed aside to be made into someone else's problem.

Until next time, Read, Comment and Enjoy

~~~~ 

Support me on Patreon: [link]

Enigmatic Fantasies - The Fate of the Lost [#139]

~~~~

        Lost in the woods, don’t fret, don’t worry.

        The spirits will guide you, they’ll save you, don’t feel sorry.

        I give you this advice to help you reach safety, but know this as well.

        The spirits are helpful when they want to be, but it is best not to dwell.

        If you take too much time, the spirits may grow somewhat dissatisfied.

        Once they feel that way, you will find they will only misguide.

        Safety will no longer be attained, all you can look forward to is your new prison.

        You’ll drift the woods like a dream, a sleep from which you’ll not be risen.

        Perhaps the spirits may take pity.

        But chances of that do not look pretty.

        So try to enjoy your life as their new plaything.

        The alternative is quite maddening.    

~~~~

When someone offers you help and advice, don't try their patience.

Until next time, Read, Comment and Enjoy

~~~~

Support me on Patreon: [link]

Strange Sci-fi Tales - Weird "Aliens" [#138]

~~~~

           He had been alone for so long that despite being an introvert, the idea of company had become appealing. So when the cavalcade of “alien” girls showed up and made themselves at home in his little space station, he didn’t reject them. They called themselves aliens, but in his eyes, they looked entirely human, except they lack basic commons sense. Besides, they were his type, too bad he was sure they were all a figment of his imagination.

           The first girl, the one with off-white hair, nibbled on a bag of freeze-dried snack food. As in the bag itself, not the food. He’d say she looked bookish if it weren’t for her complete lack of sense.

           “You do realize the food is inside the bag, right?” He pointed out.

           “Makes sense,” she replied, “this part tastes awful.” Her attempts to eat the bag ceased, yet she still struggled to even open the bag. Not for lack of strength or effort, but because she couldn’t even find the right side to open it from. He rolled his eyes and left the “alien” to her devices.

           The second girl, with an unnatural shade of green hair, had engrossed herself in an old magazine. One she held upside down. Even he could see the growing frustration on her face.

           “Your holding it upside down,” he commented.

           “This is not a cipher?” She asked before she finally flipped the magazine back up the right way. “Oh, this is more legible, that explains the pictures.” Her frustration faded and was replaced with a much softer expression as her eyes relentlessly scanned the pages. He shrugged and moved on.

           The last girl, with perfectly normal hazel hair, stared out the window into the vast field of stars. She had stood there for at least an hour. It frankly made him curious about her intentions.

           “Looking at anything in particular?” He asked her.

           “No, just enjoying this intricate piece of art,” she turned towards. “I did not think one could so thoroughly replicate this image.”

           “That’s not an art piece, that’s the window,” he explained.

           “Oh, I understand,” she turned away. He could only imagine her expression, but he had a pretty good guess.

           ‘So this is what it’s like to go mad,’ he thought, ‘I thought it would feel a lot more lonely and tormenting.’

           “Your sanity has not left you,” the white-haired one exclaimed.

           “Uh, did you just read my mind?” He stuttered.

           “Yes,” the green-haired one replied, “you think that we lack some trait called common sense and that we are not real.”

           “Can you blame me?” He stated, “You’re don’t exactly look like aliens.”

           “How many aliens have you encountered before?” The hazel-haired one countered.

           “Point taken, but how am I supposed to know you’re even real?” He inquired.

           “Like this,” the white-haired one moved close to him and slapped him across the face. “We are very real, you should learn to accept that.”

           “Ok, you’re real,” he rubbed his cheek, “then why are you here again?”

           “Is it not obvious?” The green-haired one stared at him.

           “N-no?” He uttered as the three “aliens” glared at him in unison.

           “Do not worry, you’ll understand eventually,” the hazel haired one affirmed.

           “When?”

           “Now,” they stated in unison as they began to circle around him, as he began to break out in a cold sweat.

 ~~~~

Just because something is weird and unexplained, doesn't necessarily mean it isn't real.

Until next time, Read, Comment and Enjoy

~~~~

Support me on Patreon: [link]

Enigmatic Fantasies - Forgotten [#137]

~~~~ 

           Yole was an artificer, a master of magic and machines. He was known as one of the greatest to ever live, but that was all in the past. The old master had perished alone in his workshop in the mountains. He was to be buried alongside his wife Hilda at the academy they had graduated from decades prior. The gathering for his funeral was vast but tightly knit.

           “Yole was a great man,” one of his friends spoke at the funeral. “He may have secluded himself after his wife’s sudden passing those many decades ago, but he never let the tragedy halt his work. Even to the end, he continued to work tirelessly to perfect his creations. Any among you today who possess a prosthetic limb or have a close friend or family member who does have Yole to thank for that miracle.”

           Every speaker at the funeral honored Yole’s accomplishments, no one could speak ill of him, only praise his work. Yet, no one could talk of his latest creation, no one had the heart to reveal Yole’s last gift to the world. Among his final notes, he spoke of activities no sane man should ever consider.

           “I hope Yole and his wife find peace in the next life,” Yole’s friend stated. ‘I hope the last of research never came to fruition,’ he thought, ‘it was unnatural.’ Yole’s friend stared out at the rows of mourners before him and put on a forced smile. ‘Why Helin crystal? Hasn’t it caused him enough pain?’

           Yole had an exceptional connection to Helin crystal. Without it, his greatest creations would never have existed. Without it, he would not have lost his wife so early in life. An unstable magical reagent, Helin crystal is infamous for its volatile nature, but also its phantom limb effect. Once attached, a prosthetic limb created with Helin crystal would trick the mind and body into thinking they had the original limb back. Touch, feeling, and a full range of motion would be restored perfectly a real miracle.

           Sadly, even a single error when handling Helin crystal may cost you life and limb, which is exactly what happened to Yole and his wife. Of course, this never stopped Yole, he believed in the power of the crystals, his notes are proof of that.

           Only a few had the privilege to pour over his final notes and the few who did all agreed to store them away along with his last creation. Within the notes, Yole theorized that if Helin crystal could trick the body into thinking it had its limb back then, what if you took the next step beyond? Could you trick more of the body? Could you just place only the essential organs into a machine powered by Helin crystal? Beyond even that, could you trick a dead body into thinking it was alive?

           Yole would never see if the fruit of his research would come to pass, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try. His friends and former peers were horrified to see what he attempted, but it was likely he didn’t care. Sealed deep within the academy’s storage rooms, alongside Yole’s notes, was something akin to a machine-made human. Found alongside the dead Yole, the academy knew not what to make of the artificial human-made in his late wife’s image. Thus the academy hid it away, hoping no one would ever repeat such a crime against nature. They were relieved that, by all accounts, it seemed Yole had failed.

~--~

           Hilda opened her eyes to be greeted only with darkness, she quickly realized she was sealed inside a wooden crate. In a panic, she pounded on her prison, which broke open like plywood. The confused woman jolted up, but only found herself in an equally dark room. Her body felt strange, she felt no sweat on her brow nor shortness of breath despite her panic. Everything felt right; this was her body; she was sure of it. Then why did it look so wrong? Where was she? Where was Yole?

           Hilda looked down at her hands, uninjured even after breaking through wood; they also seemed to glint from the little bit of light in the room. Upon closer observation, she realized something was off about her hands. A distinct memory of her husband’s work bubbled to the surface.

           ‘Since when did I have prosthetic limbs?’ She thought.

~~~~

Some things are better left forgotten, but that doesn't mean they'll go away forever.


Be sure to read the previous stories in this loose series, Loved, Yearning and Recalled.

Until next time, Read, Comment and Enjoy

~~~~

Support me on Patreon: [link]