Strange Sci-fi Tales - The Beginner's Guide to Everything Part 2

Part 1: [link]

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           Previously on the Beginner’s Guide to Everything, Mary Brown, the most normal girl in the multiverse, was shanghaied by local weirdo Ronnie Ray into an impromptu inter-dimensional road trip. Mainly because the universe they were currently in was about to be destroyed as part of a natural multiversal pruning process.

           Unfortunately for Mary, Ronnie was a dimension-hopping fugitive on the run from the law for a string of petty crimes. Ronnie had taken Mary, hoping the girl’s infamous normalcy would cover her escape. It did not, and now the pair were surrounded by a squad of armed soldiers from GOTM.

~--~

           ‘This is not how I expected this day to go,’ Ronnie thought to herself as the GOTM soldiers wrestled her to the ground, their guns trained on the back of her head. ‘When I caught that emergency signal on my radio this morning, I thought it was a poor taste joke,’ the fugitive recalled as she was cuffed. ‘Alas no. My perfect hiding spot universe just had to be pruned away. Plus, those nosy jerks at GOTM just had to keep a close eye on all the interdimensional activity around it.’

           “You have the right to remain silent,” one of the GOTM soldiers exclaimed. “Everything you say, think, imply and consider can and will be used against you in court.”

           “Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard it a million times,” Ronnie rolled her eyes as they yanked her up by her pink hair. Meanwhile, Mary was feeling conflicted.

           At first, the poor woman was terrified. Her whole life and everything she knew had just been destroyed for reasons nobody had adequately explained. Then the sci-fi cops had surrounded her, leaving her to wonder what sort of horrifying prison she’d be thrown in for associating with Ronnie. But now, she was merely confused.

           The brunette had balled up on the ground and started crying, waiting for the cops to cuff her, but they never did. In fact, they outright ignored her and focused only on Ronnie. At first, Mary just sat there frozen, still balled up. Then she thought to ask why they weren’t arresting her. Of course, the woman quickly realized such a question was foolish and kept her mouth shut.

           “Aren’t you going to arrest her too?” Ronnie threw Mary under the bus.

           ‘Damn it,’ Mary swore internally.

           “Huh?” The GOTM soldier dragging Ronnie away looked back at Mary. He squinted in the secretary’s direction as though he was struggling to see her. “Oh, I guess there is someone there. She kind of blends in. Who is she?”

           “My accomplice,” Ronnie lied.

           “Wow, thanks,” Mary sarcastically replied.

           “You’re welcome,” the fugitive grinned.

           “Aghh,” the GOTM soldier groaned. “Well, we were only after the one. I guess she did cross a dimensional boundary illegally, but that’s like another hour of paperwork.” Mary did not dare to make a response. Either out of fear or utter bewilderment was hard to say.

           “Just throw her in the back seat,” another soldier proposed.

           “Works for me put her in, boys,” the GOTM soldier ordered.

           “Back seat of what?” Mary inquired as two soldiers grabbed her by the arms and dragged her away.

~--~

           Before long, Mary and Ronnie were carried over to a large vehicle shaped like a bottle. A row of panels opened along the side, which each soldier filed into. Ronnie was chucked into the centermost panel, while Mary was gently set into the backmost.

           “Can I ask a-?” Mary started as the panel shut behind her. “I guess not.” The brunette looked around. The room she was in was relatively thin. With only inches of space in front of her nose. Mainly because it was lined with so much padding. Along the back wall, the same side as the ship’s rear was a row of seats with over-the-shoulder restraints, kind of like a roller coaster.

           “Please take your seats,” a mechanical voice echoed throughout the vessel.

           “Okay,” Mary quickly sat down and pulled the restraint down over her.

           “Launch sequence initiated, 10...9...” The mechanical voice began a countdown. Mary braced herself, hoping to be ready for whatever was about to happen. “8...6...4....”

           “Wait, what?” Mary was taken off guard by the skipped numbers.

           “3...5...12...192...7...” The voice spouted off random numbers.

           “Is this a joke?” The secretary asked.

           “Yes, just having some fun with you,” the voice chuckled.

           “Oh, okay, when do we-?” Mary replied.

           “3, 2, 1 Go!” The voice exclaimed. Mary quickly rebraced herself, but it was all for not.

           Most would expect the vessel’s back to be where the propulsion comes from. However, the Starford 898 Bottle-Class ship stands in defiance of this concept. Many GOTM pilots were quite frustrated with how much control they have over their propulsion, a very crucial part of interdimensional travel. Thus the Bottle-Class ships place the engines at the front of the ship, right in front of the cockpit. This way, the pilot has total control over their propulsion down to the most minute level. Steering is another matter, but direction, height, and distance are such non-concepts in the boundless void between dimensions that no one seems to mind. Landing, however...

           After a mere twenty-minute voyage, the vessel crashed into the ground, shaking Mary around like a water balloon in a car seat. Thankfully, the padding in front of her cushioned her repeated face plants into the wall. She was woozy but not brain-damaged from the experience.

           “Thank you for flying with us,” the mechanical voice returned.

           “You’re welcome,” Mary saw stars while suppressing the urge to vomit.

           The padded wall in front of her opened up like a sliding glass door. Emerging from the passage was a girl on the short side. She had cybernetic bits in place of ears, her eyes appeared to be lenses, and there was a pair of tiny but angel-like wings on her back. She had short blue hair and a big grin on her face as she watched Mary sit there dazed.

           “Save the vomit for outside the ship, please,” the cyborg stated in the same tone as the mechanical voice.

           “No promises,” Mary groaned.

~--~

           “Are we forgetting anything?” The GOTM soldier wondered.       

           “I don’t think so,” his fellow soldier replied as they dragged Ronnie out of the bottle ship. The pink-haired fugitive was putting up little resistance. Mostly because she was too busy trying not to puke her guts out.

           At that moment, the back panel of the ship opened, revealing Mary, who stumbled out. The brunette tried and failed to walk in a straight line before falling over onto the ground and sobbing.

           “Oh, right,” the GOTM soldier recalled the face that Mary existed.

           “What do you want to do with this one?” The cyborg peeked out of the ship, sparing a quick glance at the ailing Mary.

           “Just take her to the waiting room in the station, A-2,” the GOTM soldier answered. “Give her a glass of water and a cookie or something while we deal with this one.”

           “Roger dodger,” A-2 saluted and picked up Mary liked she was a ragdoll and carried the brunette off.

           “You’re letting her off easy aren’t yeah?” Annie commented, her nausea having faded.

           “Why, who was she?” The GOTM soldier asked.

           “Seriously?” Annie rolled her eyes. “I know she’s forgettable, heck I don’t even remember her name half the time, but I told you she’s my accomplice.”

           “I think I remember you saying something like that a while back,” the soldier admitted.

           “It was twenty minutes ago!” Ronnie pointed out.

           “Whatever, tell it to the judge,” the GOTM soldier brushed off her statement and shoved her forward.

To Be Continued...

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Sometimes you have to make the most of a bad situation, sometimes you're just along for the ride.

Until next time, Read, Comment and Enjoy 

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Strange Sci-fi Tales - The Beginner's Guide to Everything Part 1 [#212]

It's been a long time since I've posted a series of any sort, and even longer since I've posted a fairly long one. Consider this an experimental story, one that I'll be updating for as long as I remain interested. With that out of the way, please enjoy the tale.

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           It was a particularly drab, rainy spring morning. The birds were not chirping, not in this weather, and nobody was out and about in the little suburban neighborhood. That was except for Mary Brown. Alas, that was part of the reason it was such a drab morning.

           Mary Brown was the most normal girl in the universe, some would say. The middle of the road, the 50th percentile. She got average grades in school, got at best 4th in every contest she entered, and worked as a secretary in a glue factory. There was nothing special about her, from her plain, short brown hair, to her frumpy office lady outfit and dull glasses.

           To say she was as interesting as the wallpaper in the office of Blandy McBlanderson’s tax accountant would be of great offense to the wallpaper. So much so that Blandy and his accountant might hire a lawyer on behalf of the wallpaper. Merely to sue you for defamation.

           In other words, she was a fairly boring person. But not so much that it would be to a noticeable extent. In fact, by the end of this paragraph, you’ll have probably forgotten she has even existed. Like her parents, who’ve missed half her birthdays because they can never remember how many kids they’ve had. They’ve only had one, but they’re convinced they had two or three. The problem is the whole stretch of their lives they spent raising their child is nothing more than a blur to them.

           What were we talking about again? Oh yes, Mary Whatshername. She was slowly walking across the sidewalk of her rainy neighborhood. She had a not particularly early morning shift at the glue factory but was in no rush to arrive. It’s not as though anyone would notice if she wasn’t there on time. Then again, they wouldn’t notice her even if she was there, plus there wasn’t (and never was) an urgent need for her to be in the office, so she was taking her time.

           “Another day, another dollar,” Mary said to herself. It was the most conversation she’d had all week, maybe even all month. “If they remember to pay me this period,” the woman sighed. She looked ahead on the gray road, expecting to see nothing more than raindrops and concrete. Instead, she saw Ronnie Ray staring up at the sky.

           Now, Ronnie Ray was a fair bit more notable than Mary. Although that wasn’t saying much. The poor soul behind the counter of your local convenience store is also more notable than Mary by virtue of existing. The difference between Ronnie and that unfortunate individual is that Ronnie was not quite normal.

           Supposedly, Ms. Ray worked as a voice talent for local radio stations. She’d sing, do radio dramas, that sort of work. At least, that’s what Ronnie told everyone. Of course, people did find her hot pink hair that seemed to glow in the dark and her impossibly lean figure, despite the fact she only ate potato chips, to be somewhat strange. That and how she was always on her radio at night listening to “foreign language radio dramas.” Said dramas sounded more like garbled noise being projected through a pair of poorly maintained megaphones than anything else.

           The horrible truth of the matter was that Ronnie was a fugitive, but not a fugitive from this Earth. Yet, she was entirely human, or rather something so close to a human that making a distinction would be pointless to most people. More on that in a moment. As for why she was looking at the sky? Well, the terrified look on her face said it all.

           “Are you okay?” Mary inquired. She’d seen Ronnie quite a few times, even talked with her once or twice. The dull girl never learned Ronnie’s name but was too embarrassed to admit it, so she just fell back on vague language.

           “Fine, totally fine, everything is fine,” Ronnie’s mouth ran at a mile a minute. “You wouldn’t happen to have a seen a particularly dull and boring-looking girl, have you?”

           “That would be me,” Mary admitted reluctantly.

           “Yeah, if you see her, tell her I’m looking for her,” Ronnie’s ears failed to register Mary’s words.

           “I don’t have time for this,” the drab girl stated. “Or well I do, but...forget it.”

           “Uh, huh, yeah,” Ronnie nodded as Mary passed her. “Wait, there you are,” the pink-haired woman exclaimed.

           “What do you want?” Mary sighed.

           “Hey, uh,” Ronnie tried to relax, “you want to get a drink or something?”

           “I have work,” Mary replied. “Also, you’re acting suspiciously friendly. What do you actually want?”

           “It’s nothing like that. I’m just being neighborly,” Ronnie assured.

           “You’re not my neighbor,” the brunette pointed out. “Also, you’re starting to creep me out. I’m going to go before I end up on the news in a missing person’s report.”

           “Wait, don’t go,” Ronnie grabbed Mary’s shoulder. “Just blow off work. Who’s going to care?”

           “I will,” Mary countered.

           “Let me rephrase that,” Ronnie looked back up at the sky. “No one will care. No one will be around to care.”

           “The way you phrased that sentence is concerning,” Mary tried to back away. Alas, Ronnie’s grip strength was unnaturally strong.

           “Okay, I was going to try and ease you into this. Maybe get a few drinks in you to open you up to the idea,” the fugitive stated. “But I’m running out of time.”

           “Where are you going with this?” Mary felt a few dozen pangs of panic as her mind raced with the possibilities Ronnie’s words implied.

           “Hold still, please,” Ronnie pulled out a travel-size red canister with a spray nozzle at the top. With a click of the nozzle, a pink mist emerged from the canister and entered Mary’s nose.

           “Wha...?” Mary’s brain went to lala land as she saw stars.

           “Good thing you’re loopy, or this would probably give you a massive headache,” Ronnie commented. The pink-haired woman readied a small black device with dozens of buttons and switches on it. With a click of one switch, the two women lurched through the fabric of reality, and suddenly they were no longer on the rainy street. They were no longer in the suburbs, their town, or even the Earth. In fact, currently, they weren’t anywhere.

           Ronnie Ray was a fugitive, but not from this Earth. She was from a different Earth that was a few thousand years further along. Medicine and cybernetics had advanced to the point that one could spend their whole life eating deep-fried cookies wrapped in bacon for every meal and feel no adverse effects. They had also discovered interdimensional travel at some point. It became a popular pastime to cross realities for bored people with a disposable income.

           Ronnie was not one of those people, but she did mug a guy who was and ran off into the multiverse. She was already on the hook for poorly filed taxes, “it’s not like I can get in any more trouble,” was her only thought about the act. As it turns out, yes, she could, as the pink-haired woman was soon being charged with petty theft, harassing lower lifeforms, and loitering in the gap between dimensions.

           The fugitive had settled on Mary’s world as a hiding place. It was perfect, being a backwater dimension nobody cared about. That was until now, which led to Ronnie’s hasty escape with Mary in tow for reasons that will become clear in a moment.

           “Where are we?” Mary came to in mid-interdimensional transit.

           “Oops, you weren’t supposed to wake up until we landed. Guess I should have used more spray,” Ronnie shrugged. “Try not to look into the boundless void. It’ll just make your brain explode. I’m not speaking in hyperbole, by the way.”

           “Okay, okay,” Mary shut her eyes and tried to brace herself for the oncoming motion sickness. “So, why are we here?”

           “Well about that,” Ronnie began, right as a massive cross-dimensional event occurred behind them, sending the two into a spiral.

           “What was that?” Mary screamed as she felt herself fold infinitely.

           “That was your dimension being pruned. It happens sometimes,” Ronnie answered.

           “What, why? How? What’s going on?” Mary tried to ignore the sensation of her body twisting in eight different directions at once.

           “I’ll explain later, if I feel like it,” Ronnie was totally relaxed. “Consider yourself lucky. You’re the sole survivor of a whole universe.”

           “I don’t have time to unpack that right now!” Mary hazarded opening her eyes, only to see her own behind in front of her. She quickly shut them again. “Why would you save me then? I’m literally the last person on Earth anyone cared about.”

           “Exactly,” Ronnie smirked. “I’m kind of doing this dimension jump illegally, so I was hoping your dullness would dilute my signal, so the fuzz doesn’t get on my tail.”

           “Then what?” Mary shouted.

           “I don’t know. You could become my partner in crime,” Ronnie shrugged.

           “You mean scapegoat,” Mary guessed her savior’s true intentions.

           “Ah, don’t worry about it,” the pink-haired girl blew off the accusation. “GOTM isn’t going to find us.” As the last syllable exited her mouth, the duo’s transit halted on a dime, and the two were suspended in mid-air. Until physics kicked back in, and they fell to the ground. The two women looked up to see they were surrounded on all sides by heavily armed soldiers of various shapes and sizes. Each was wearing a patch with a logo that read “GOTM.”

           “Why me?” Mary lamented as the soldiers moved to arrest them.

To Be Continued...

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You're whole world can be flipped upside down at any moment and in an instant.

Until next time, Read, Comment and Enjoy 

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Eclectic Narratives - Just Keep on Dreaming [#211]

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I’ll keep on dreaming, no matter what happens.

I’ll keep on seeking, no matter the trials.

It’s an elusive goal, once thought to be no more than a fantasy.

Yet, here I am, with it just out of reach.

I doubt it’ll happen soon.

I doubt I’ll even expect it.

One day though, it won’t just be a fantastical dream.

I’ll achieve, I’ll accomplish, I’ll succeed.

It will all be worth it in the end.

That I can say for sure.

Because it’s not the dream itself.

Not the ever-moving goal.

No the satisfaction of completion.

Nor the pride in victory.

But the journey, the chase, of this ever distant dream.

That’s what makes it worth it; that’s what drives me onward.

Dreams are the goal. Dreams drive me, motivate me to be my best.

But the journey makes it worth it.

The experience is why I’m here.

Once you achieve your goal, things may feel strange.

A whole part of your life may be put behind you.

Sometimes that’s great if it was hard work or painful.

Sometimes it’s sad because you genuinely enjoyed it.

That’s why I love the journey.

Because the path you walk makes the goal at the end worth achieving.

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Sometimes the journey really does beat the destination. A hard days work can be quite satisfying, but a hundred towards a greater goal of yours is all the more fulfilling.

Until next time, Read, Comment and Enjoy 

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Enigmatic Fantasies - The Moth Investigation [#210]

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           “Aren’t you two a little old to be doing this scooby gang investigation thing?” The homeowner asked the pair. The three adults stood in front of an average suburban home on a quiet afternoon.

           “No,” the woman smiled. She had to be in her 30s, yet she was dressed like she was in her early 20s. Her sweater and fuzzy pants combo looked like it might have been fashionable twenty years ago. But now, it made her look like she was trying too hard.

           “Yes,” the man replied bluntly. His wool cap and fleece jacket were well worn and fairly dirty. It made him look street smart in the sense he literally appeared as though he wandered off an inner-city street. His affirmative reply earned him a pout from his female companion.

           “In any case,” the woman shifted back to her smile, “we heard you have a Mothman in your attic?”

           “Yeah,” the homeowner nodded. His uncertainty in the duo was clear as day, and he made no attempts to hide it. “It’s been giving me evil looks every time I try to go back up there. My record collection and my winter clothes are up there, and I don’t want it destroying them. And before you ask, mothballs don’t work.”

           “Leave it to us,” the sweater woman puffed out her chest. “Your record collection is in safe hands.” She marched into the house without even waiting for the homeowner’s permission. Leaving them agape at her sheer audacity.

           “She does that sometimes,” the cap-wearing man sighed. “Give her 30 seconds. She’ll be back.”

           On cue, literally half a minute later, the woman returned with a question, “Which way to your attic?”

~--~

           “I can’t believe you got lost in someone’s house again,” the cap-wearing man stated.

           “Its layout is confusing,” the sweater woman defended herself.

           “The stairs were right there in the front,” the man pointed out.

           “Huff,” the woman pouted again but dropped the subject as they ascended into the attic. It was a simple one-room attic. The ceiling was curved to match the roof directly above, and insulation lining every wall. Stacks of boxes lined the dusty wooden floor, mostly records, trinkets, and seasonal items like snow shovels and beach chairs. However, in the far corner was a chewed open box of winter clothing. A partially eaten sweater dangled out over the cardboard.

           “Well, at least we’ll save the records,” the cap man commented as he flicked the nearby light switch. Sadly, the small light above did not turn on. A quick glance revealed the wires had been chewed as well.

           “That’s one ravenous moth,” the woman stated as she pulled out a flashlight. “Let’s see how big he is,” she ignited her light source. Alas, the attic appeared empty save for the two of them. It was dead quiet, save for the sound of the wind outside. “No Mothman?” The sweater woman whined.

           “No Mothman, but,” the cap man pointed straight ahead. Hovering in the light was a single moth. It was a totally normal moth, albeit a huge one. Its wingspan easily surpassed 30 centimeters, making it a record-setting size. However, it was still just a regular moth.

           “Wow, that’s big, but not quite a Mothman. Does that guy need glasses or something?” The woman wondered.

           “Begone from my lair, or face my wrath,” a booming voice echoed through the room. The duo looked around for the source but could find no mouth speaking the words. “Over here, you nitwits.”

           “The moth?” The sweater woman pointed the flashlight at the moth again.

           “Not the moth,” the voice replied, “Me!” The Mothman emerged from underneath the light, starting the pair. Two bright-red eyes on the insect-like body stared dagger at the duo.

           “That’s a cool trick, do it again,” the woman exclaimed.

           “What a rip,” the cap man sighed and stepped forward.

           “Be gone humans, I said go away!” The Mothman exclaimed.

           “Yeah, no,” the man waved his hand through the creature, revealing it to be nothing more than an illusion. “Get the butterfly net.”

           “Oh, boy!” The woman pulled out a net and an insect cage.

           “No, stay away,” the Mothman continued to scream. At the same time, the moth itself tried to flutter away, only to be caught in the net immediately.

~--~

           “Found your Mothman,” the woman showed the homeowner the captured insect. The moth relentlessly flew around the cage, looking for an escape but found none.

           “That’s not what I saw,” the homeowner replied.

           “Must have been a trick of the light,” the cap man explained. “That’s probably the biggest moth anyone has ever seen, so it’s understandable.”

           “But it spoke to me and yelled at me,” the homeowner exclaimed.

           “It’s all in your head,” the woman assured as she left and her partner with the insect in tow.        

           “So what do we do with the magic moth?” The cap man asked as they walked onto the street.

         “I dunno, release him in the wood or something?” The woman shrugged. “It wouldn’t feel right to keep him.”

           “The woods? That is not fit for my domain. I demand more wool!” The moth exclaimed.

           “Keep that up, and we’ll have you framed,” the cap man threatened.

           “I’ll be good,” the moth squeaked.

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I got no pseudo-philosphy this time, I just had a silly idea and I wrote it. Also, I don't know for certain if 30 centimeters would be a world record size for moths. Everything I found online about the world's largest moths was that they were just under 30 centimeters in size, but I couldn't find anything talking about a specific largest moth (but that's what 5 minutes of research gets you).

Until next time, Read, Comment and Enjoy 

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Strange Sci-fi Tales - Alone at Last [#209]

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           Jeffery just wanted to be left alone, to his own devices. In the vast emptiness of space, one would think that would be easy. Alas, that was not the case. Jeffery thought his career choice as a communications expert, managing intergalactic transmissions, would lead to a quiet life. He hoped to be put on monitor duty on a quiet space station in the corner of some no-name galaxy. Yet, that never was the case.

           Every job he was assigned to by his superior put him on some crowded spaceship with rowdy crewmates. No matter how much Jeffery urged or insisted, he'd always be put on that exact same setup every year. Whenever he was given the privilege to work on a small space station on his own, within a month, he'd be shoved back on another ship. Apparently, someone thought he liked working on teams. Jeffery wished he knew who so he could punch their lights out.

           That led Jeffery to his current job. After a blissful two months working at a communication hub in one of the least populous sectors of space, a 'friend' of his recommended him for a new position. It was a standard communication officer post on a small research and exploration vessel. Jeffery would have refused except said 'friend' had already applied and accepted the job for him.

           Without being able to even speak his own opinion, Jeffery was strong-armed into joining the crew and forced back into his discomfort zone. The job was only supposed to last a couple months, so Jeffery told himself to wait it out. Then the first thing he'd do when he got back was sign a ten-year contract to work on the communication hub. However, he quickly realized it wouldn't be so easy.        

           "Captain's orders, get on it now!" On only the second day, the captain was barking at the vessel's doctor. Jeffery didn't know why they were fighting, just that it was over something petty.

           "What if I don't feel like wasting my time with your frivolous BS," the doctor snapped. Jeffery noticed the two men puffing out their chests and left the area before a fight broke out. Sadly, these interactions became a common pattern. Everyone on the ship got along like cats and dogs, and fights broke out with alarming regularity. Jeffery began to wonder if his 'friend' actually hated him.

           A month in, and Jeffery was at wit's end. He found himself confined to his quarters or workstation at all hours. He didn't eat meals with his crew or even interact with them for fear of getting in a fight. His plan seemed to work, as no one on the crew ever fought with him. But, in the few times he ventured out into the ship's halls, there was always a fight in progress. Jeffery knew it was only a matter of time.

           Then came the mistake. The navigator and the captain got in the worst fight the crew had ever seen. Fists were thrown, words that dug deep were said, and nerves were left raw. Both men were encouraged by the rest of the crew to return to their quarters and cool off. Sadly, both men took this as an opportunity to refuse to do their jobs, likely to spite one another.

           The next thing everyone knew, they made a couple of wrong lightspeed jumps and were way off course. The navigator, who hadn't looked at a map since the fight with the captain, had no idea where they were. The engineer and pilot, who were responsible for the jumps, had all the blame shoved on them. The two were obviously furious they were blamed but held their tongues. They likely hoped their silence would make the navigator and captain actually do their jobs again.

           Jeffery noted the engineer took it a lot harder and was far angrier over the whole ordeal. Which confused Jeffery all the more when they found said engineer dead the next day. The captain ruled it as an accident. Officially the engineer was upset and not paying attention, which led him to fumble with a heavy tool chest that fell on his head. Jeffery never bothered to check the validity of that claim. The rest of the crew got into a massive fight over the situation immediately, and he slipped out to avoid the fisticuffs.  

           Jeffery didn't emerge from his quarters until the next day, only to learn the captain and doctor had gotten into their worst fight yet. It ended with fists flying and the doctor's head hitting the ground just right that he died. This, in turn, sparked a fight between the captain and navigator. The latter believing the doctor's accidental death was too convenient sounding, only the replicate the incident leaving the navigator dead as well.

           At this point, Jeffery was beyond done. He wasn't about to get himself killed in the dinky ship with his crazy crewmates. He snatched one of the engineer's wrenches and locked himself in his quarters. The communication's officer prayed this whole thing would blow over, or at least that he'd escape with his parts intact.

           Days passed, and Jeffery quickly found himself without food or water. He needed to make a food run. The man could only hope the captain or another of the crew members hadn't gorged themselves while he had remained hidden. With hesitant steps, he moved towards the dining area, wrench in hand, occasionally spotting the dead bodies of his crewmates. Finally, he arrived at the dining room door, only to hear a gunshot inside.

           Against his better judgment, Jeffery peeked inside to find the captain, smoking gun in his hands, having just shot the pilot. The captain was shaking, looking ready to vomit, before collapsing onto a nearby chair.

           "I didn't mean to. It wasn't supposed to end like this," the captain claimed.

           "I see," Jeffery nodded as he stepped towards his captain. 

          "I just wanted to be a good captain, a successful captain, but all I did was fight with my crew," he continued. "I killed them, I killed them all, but it was an accident, I swear."    

           "I understand," Jeffery assured, his eyes never moving from the gun still clutched in the captain's hand. "It's not your fault," Jeffery stated as he bashed the back of the captain's head with the wrench, "but I'm not taking any chances." The communications officer wasn't proud of his own action, but he also didn't feel like taking the chance. The captain was not in his right mind and still held onto the murder weapon for dear life.

           With the captain's passing, Jeffery noted how quiet the ship was. All that remained was the idle hum of the engine as the vessel drifted on autopilot. Jeffery realized he was now and truly alone, but he wasn't happy about it. This wasn't what he wanted. This was just sick. With little else to do, the communications officer picked up the remaining food and isolated himself at this workstation. Maybe he could contact a nearby ship or space station for rescue, but he had no idea if any were nearby.

           As Jeffery settled in for the long wait, he wondered if he'd ever get home. Would he die here, drifting alone in space? If not, does he even want to make it back? Returning with a ship full of dead bodies wasn't the best look. In the end, Jeffery shrugged off these questions. Whatever the answer, it was out of his hands. Now all he could do was try to enjoy the solitude.

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Sometimes you just want to be left alone on your own terms, sadly you don't always have a choice in the matter.

Until next time, Read, Comment and Enjoy 

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Eclectic Narratives - Under the Rain [#208]

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           The heavy rain drenched the empty alley, the storm clouds above left the night sky pitch black. Lights and sounds from a nearby road were all that illuminated the area. A girl collapsed on her knees huddled up to the alley's wall, in the driest spot she could find. Her long black hair and pure white uniform were soaking wet. Her face was flushed, and her breathing was haggard.

           "Where am I?" She muttered aloud. "How did I get here?" She asked no one in particular. Her legs were sore, and exhaustion had set in, yet she did not know why. Hazy memories of running trailed across her mind, but she could recall no details beyond that. "Did I pass out?" The girl wondered as she stood up, "no, that can't be. I was just running, I can tell." It was inexplicable, but she was sure that was the case. It wasn't that she had blacked out. Her memory simply stopped.

           "Was I chased? Am I still in danger?" Panic set in as she glanced all around. Yet, the feeling quickly faded as she realized where she was. No persuaders lurked around the corner, nor were there any sketchy figures nearby. In fact, the alley was quite clean, just wet from the rain. A quick glance towards the lights nearby revealed she was actually in a very affluent part of town. Signs of offices, businesses, and labs dotted the buildings nearby. The people walking by looked posh at best and business-like at the worst.

           "This doesn't make any sense," the girl looked at herself. The uniform seemed quite nice, despite being wet and a little dirty. She must not have been out here for more than thirty minutes. An emblem, likely for a fancy private school, was proudly displayed on her chest. Sadly, her pockets were empty, no wallet or ids to be found.

           "Did I go to this school?" She considered. The emblem looked vaguely familiar, but that's about it—no images of a school building, nor teachers or classmates. Blurred memories of public schools came to her mind. But, they were nothing more than basic images, colors, and sounds.

           "Was I drugged?" The girl felt a new tingle of panic in her chest. "I don't feel like I was, but how would I know?" At this thought, she notices just how uncomfortable her body felt like she was a stranger in her own skin. She could not trace the root of why she felt this way. The girl couldn't tell whether or not something was changed or she was violated in some way.          

           "Nothing makes sense. Why can't I remember?" She wandered out of the alley in search of answers. She didn't know where she was going. In fact, she barely knew what she was doing. Her mind was so clouded she couldn't keep track of her own movements. This wasn't a problem until she felt herself trip over a curb and into running traffic. On reflex, she prepared to scream until a hand grabbed her collar and yanked her back onto the sidewalk. The girl looked up to see a woman, a police officer, with a concerned look. She had no time to process this scene as she felt a wave of darkness consume her vision, and the girl finally passed out.

~--~

           "This makes no sense," the officer said to herself as she sat at her desk and looked over the report on the mystery girl. A girl with no memories, wearing the uniform to a private school that was 100 miles away, wakes up in an alley and wanders into traffic. No id, no record of her face or fingerprints anywhere. Even the school had no idea who she was.

           "It just makes me mad," the officer recalled difficulties with the hospital.

           She tried to get the mystery girl checked into a local hospital to receive medical care, but they refused. The only reason given was that "she's perfectly healthy, and there's nothing more we need to do for her." The police were forced to provide the necessary medical care themselves. They did manage to run some tests and confirmed the girl had been drugged. Painkillers mostly, but nothing extreme or illegal.    

           "I don't like this one bit," the officer furrowed her brow. Her instincts flared up, assuring her something was rotten. But, no evidence or even a thread of logic had presented itself for her to follow. "I need to get to the bottom of this quick if I want answers," the officer affirmed to herself. But, she soon realized she was no longer in her office and had wandered into the hallway.

           "That's strange. This case must be really getting to me," the officer shrugged off the memory lapse. However, as she returned to her office, she couldn't help but note how fuzzy her head felt.

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If you can't remember what just happened, then you should be concerned, because that means either you shouldn't remember or you really should.

Until next time, Read, Comment and Enjoy 

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Eclectic Narratives - Ol' Game Shop [#207]

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           Ol’ Game Shop was a moderately popular sight in town, at least with kids. It was a small building that sat on a sleepy corner in the quietest part of town. There was only a single member of staff, Ms. Alice, the owner. The town’s handful of game-loving kids flocked to the place to play uninterrupted. It wasn’t much, it wasn’t fancy, but it was enough for the kids to enjoy themselves, and that’s what mattered to Ms. Alice.

           It was an average afternoon in the humble little shop. Alice watched a handful of kids play a popular trading card game on the big table upfront. The middle-aged woman sat behind the counter with a cheery smile. The shop had done well today, and the kids were having fun. Everything was as it should be in her eyes.

           The front door to the shop opened, with the usual jingle of a bell, in stepped a kid a few years older than the ones playing at the table. He sported a ripped black shirt, worn jeans, and a large bag over his shoulder. The four kids froze when they saw the boy enter.

           Alice watched the scene with curiosity. She hadn’t seen this boy come in often, but something about his description felt familiar. The woman had vague memories of him casing some kind of trouble before, but nothing specific came to mind. She swiped a lock of blonde hair out her eyes as she eyed the boy while he approached the table. The other four kids gave him a wide berth, even as he sat down.

           “You playing? I’m game for a couple rounds,” the boy smiled. The others laughed nervously, but one brave soul among them accepted his challenge.

           ‘Seem fine,’ Alice shrugged. ‘I guess they were just afraid of an older kid.’ The blonde turned away from the game to tidy up the shelves behind her. After tens of minutes ticked by, she turned back to observe the game in progress. The older boy was winning, quite handily in fact. Not a surprising outcome, he likely had a more solid grasp of the game.

           As Alice observed the game more closely, she felt her body tense while the back of her spine tingled. The younger boy looked distraught over losing, but not in the usual way Alice saw. Usually, the kids would get sad, angry, or generally upset. Yet, this one looked so panicked he was trembling.

           ‘Did I miss something?’ Alice wondered before briefly looking away to finish dusting a corner. The next time she looked back, the game had ended, and the younger boy looked crushed. He stood up from the table and walked away, while the older boy slouched back in his chair with a wide grin. ‘Did he just come here for easy wins against little kids?’ The blonde sighed. She hoped the boy would leave so the others could resume having fun.

           Hours passed, as afternoon turned to evening, which meant closing time approached. The older boy had stayed and defeated the other three kids in turn. A few more younger kids and even one the older boy’s age had stopped by. Few of them lingered after they saw the older boy. Most just bought something and left. A couple were roped into a game with him, and each of them left with the same forlorn look.

           With closing time only ten minutes away, Alice prepared to lock up the shop. The older boy sat at the table, giddy over something as he packed up his bag. The younger kids trickled out, except for the young boy who was the first to lose. He waddled up to the counter, scrounging through his pocket for loose change.

           “Ms. Alice, do you have any more of those cheap card packs from earlier,” the boy asked nervously.

           “Of course I do,” Alice pulled out a wrapped pack of cards from behind the counter. She had packed them herself by hand. The blonde had sneaked a few rare cards in them for some of the younger kids as a treat. Alice remembered giving one such pack to the boy earlier. He was so excited with his find that he put it in a unique sleeve Alice gave him. “Not happy with what you got earlier?” Alice asked.

           “No, I liked it, it’s just... It’s nothing,” the boy bit his tongue while glancing at the older boy in the corner.

           “What happened?” Alice leaned down, her tone shifting from warm and motherly to deadly serious.

           “Nothing,” the boy shivered.       

           “You can tell me. I promise you won’t get in trouble,” the blonde assured.

           “He...he,” the young boy began, “he took my card. Halfway through our game, he made me bet the card you gave me earlier, and I lost. He did that with everyone today. He told us only babies complain about it.”

           “Did he really?” Alice nodded. No wonder the boy seemed familiar. She had heard a few parents complain about a boy matching his description doing the same. “Don’t you worry, take this one on the house,” she whispered. “I’ll have a talk with him.”

           “Okay,” the young boy eagerly accepted the pack and quickly left the shop. All that remained now was the older boy, who was taking his time packing his bag. Alice assumed he was still counting his “winnings.”

           “It’s closing time,” Alice announced.

           “Yeah, yeah, I’m going, give me a minute,” the boy did not hurry his pace one bit.

           “Hmm,” Alice glared at the boy. She thought for a moment, and as an idea popped in her head, a smile spread along her face. “Hey, do you want to know a little secret?”

           “What’re you going on about, lady?” The torn-shirt boy grumbled.

           “It’s nothing, I heard you liked rare cards, and I just happened to have a few spare in back,” Alice claimed.

           “No foolin’? Then show me,” the boy’s interest was piqued.

           “Follow me,” Alice opened the door to the backroom and welcomed the boy, and more importantly, his bag, inside.

           “You weren’t kidding,” the boy’s eyes lit up as he saw Alice’s display of valuable cards in the back. The middle-aged woman was quite the collector herself and huffed her chest with pride. “I haven’t even heard of some of these cards,” the torn-shirt boy examined the collection as he dropped his bag.

           “I’ve run this shop for a long time,” Alice explained as she picked up the bag and set it aside on a table. “I’d be willing to part with some of them for a good trade.”

           “I got plenty to trade,” the boy ran up to his bag and pulled out a decent collection of cards, each contained in miss-matched sleeves. Some of which were very familiar to Alice.

           “Oh no, I don’t accept stolen cards, boy,” Alice’s smile faded.

           “What’re you talkin’ about?” The boy snapped.

           “I know what you’ve been doing. I don’t take kindly to thieves in my shop,” Alice stated as she picked a specific card off the table. “I know you took this one from one of the younger boys earlier. I gave it to him, I’d recognize this special sleeve it’s in anywhere.”

           “I won it fair and square,” the boy declared.

           “Oh, is that how you want to play it? How about this then?” Alice’s smiled returned, but it lacked all the warmth and affection it had before. “We’ll play a round. If I win, you give me those cards. If you win, I give you anything out of this collection you want.”

           “Deal,” the boy agreed. The two sat down at a table in the back and shuffled up their decks to play a round of the trading card game. There was little to say on the game’s contents, as Alice defeated the boy in a single turn. “You cheated,” the boy accused.

           “I did no such thing,” Alice took the boy’s bag and emptied all the cards it contained into a box for safekeeping. “You can try again if you like, but only if you have something else to bet. I’m feeling generous, though. If you can win this time, I’ll give you my collection and all the stuff you stole. If I win, you’ll pay the price for theft, understood?”

           “Sure whatever,” the boy’s eyes lit up with energy. They sat down for another game, which lasted much longer than the first. Alice took an early lead, but the boy managed to hold on. Turn by turn passed as the two chipped away at each other. Whenever Alice seemed to have the game in hand, the boy came back with the perfect counter. On the fifth time this occurred, Alice grew suspicious and watched the boy much more closely.

           “How about this then?” Alice played a fairly straightforward turn. She was in a position to win, but as she prepared to play her winning card, she spotted the torn-shirt boy shuffle his cards suspiciously. “Don’t cheat again, or face the consequences.”

           “You’re full of it, lady,” the boy stuck his tongue out and slammed down another perfect response.

           “No wonder you beat those boys so easily if you’re cheating so often,” Alice laughed as she countered with her own perfect response.

           “What, no?” The boy was taken aback. “Wait, I got something for that,” he reshuffled his cards before pulling out an ideal counter yet again.

           “I warned you not to cheat again,” the blonde woman glared.

           “I don’t know what you’re -,” the boy started before his cards slipped from his hands, along with a few others. Spilling from the torn holes in his shirt were a selection of useful, if situational cards. Much like the ones he’d been playing all game. “How’d that happen?” The boy froze.

           “I warned you there’d be consequences,” Alice tapped the table with her nail. The torn-shirt boy felt a shiver go up his spine.

           “This is stupid, I’m out of here,” the boy jumped up from the table and ran for the door. His escape failed when he realized it was locked. “Hey, what’s the big idea? When did you lock this?”

           “I warned you there’d be a penalty for cheating,” Alice didn’t even look up from the game. “But the price for losing is far worse, so you’d better sit back down.” The middle-aged woman placed down one last card, one that would secure her win despite the boy’s cheating.    

           “I don’t get you, lady,” the boy ran for another exit. Yet, each one he tried was a dud. The other doors were tightly locked. The pitch-black windows were sealed shut. Even when the boy picked up a nearby phone in desperation, the line was dead.

           “I win, boy, it’s time to face your penalty,” Alice stood up from the table.

           “What’s wrong with you?” The boy cowered in the corner.

           “I can’t tolerate thieves and cheaters in my store,” Alice replied. “Lessons must be learned,” the blonde’s smile made the boy’s heart stop, “penalties must be paid.” The torn-shirt boy wanted to scream and cry for help, but he felt so short of breath; he couldn’t even gather the air in his lungs. He stared on in silence as Alice approached him with unknown intent.

~--~

           The next day, the young boys returned for another few rounds of the trading card game. They tensed up every time the door opened and sighed with relief when they didn’t see the torn-shirt boy. As the afternoon marched on, Alice decided to surprise the kids with a little surprise.

           “I believe these belong to you,” Alice returned the stolen cards to the kids.

           “How’d you get these?” The young boy from yesterday asked, his eyes alight with pure joy.

           “I gave that older boy a stern talking to, he’s learned his lesson,” Alice’s smile was filled with warmth again. “He won’t be back anytime soon.”

           “Thank you,” the kids said in unison before returning to their game with glee. Her job done, Alice returned to the backroom to tidy up while the kids played.

           “Oops, I forgot to put this away,” Alice spotted a familiar bag on the table. She grabbed it by the strap and carried it to the far side of the back. The blonde popped open a cabinet. Inside was a collection of discard bags, backpacks, and packs, some far older than others. She deposited the new bag inside. “There, now to see what else I can surprise the kids with today.” Alice left the room. The boy’s whimper from last night still rang clearly in her mind.

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In games, theft and cheating are the highest crimes. Expect to pay dearly for it, especially if you're bad at hiding it.

Until next time, Read, Comment and Enjoy 

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