Archive for the ‘fiction’ Category

Marcello and Towen

“Listen, Marcello, nobody wants to do this job. That’s why you are earning twice as much as I am to do it. Do it well, and you will be qualified for a better position next year.”

Marcello listened to Towen’s speach, again. This was the third time today that Towen had lectured him on the importance of diligence.

“All I’m saying, Towen, is that this job is desiccating. I’m less worried about making it through the year than I am about making it through the day.” (more…)


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(I couldn’t figure out how to end this, so I will just post it)

“Jacob is a liar. You can’t believe a word he says.” I could feel Thess’ words drift along the table, turning heads as they went. (more…)

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mare liberum

Plexiglas was invented in 1933 by a man in Germany. (more…)

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The Dimenthesien Gate split the world. From one side, it seemed like a large pyramid, but from the other side, it seemed like a dark doorway. It could not be seen by eyes or photographed by lens and film, but everyone knew its appearance. From far off, it loomed as large as the pyramids at Giza, but the closer it was approached, the lesser it became, until it seemed small enough to be sat on by a child, or to fit inside a spoon, or to dance on the head of a pin. Through it all the problems of the world were sent. (more…)

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This is a short story I wrote. To listen to it in audio format recorded by a friend, click here: http://kundor.org/pub/mammoth.mp3

tap tap tap

The sound came from the window. I looked across the dark room and saw the shadow on the curtains. I knew what it meant. She was here. She had come for me. I slipped out of bed, kissed my husband on the head, and left, forever. (more…)

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this story is from 2007

Elizabeth Barrett Browning
A Short Story

My Drst. Dr. Drnb.
I hope this letter finds you well. As you no doubt are awairs, my name is Elizabeth Barrett Browning, but all my friends call me B.B. I was pleased to make your acquaintance on the night of last one because at the time I was enraptured with discovering the truth about “door-knobbs” and all the little things that can go wrong with them for a book I am writing for my father who is in prison for robbing a little boy from his mother for a few weeks for a month or so for a while and anyway the book is about how to break out of jail but then in the end I just got really interested in doors in general and now I am writing a book about “door-knobbs” and so when I discovered that your name was “Doctor Doorknob” I almost shit myself. Please find inclosed a sample of my story thus far, so you can see what kind of information I need to include into my story from this point onwards.

Purely Enraptured,
E. B. Browning


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The hunters

As you sit around the fire with fresh food in your stomachs, you know that our people have hunted for hundreds of years in the same manner as you did today.  But we have not always hunted.  Hundreds of years ago, the world was different.  We were slaves to the children of the earth. We did not realize that we had no freedom, but thought rather that the luxurious opulence was worth dying for.

It was a difficult choice to make, to abandon that life.  Every man and woman was forced to make that choice, on the back of a bronze turtle.  Atop the turtle the men and women of the world looked down at the forests and the tribes and the people and the animals on the ground.  The men said to one another, “it is good and it is true for men to hunt for their food and for women to care for their young.”  And the women said to one another “Lest we forget the mistakes of the past, let us move the stars to remind us where we came from and where we are going.”  And so it was.

And so in the sky we are always reminded of the past.  To the north lies the hammer and the sickle, a reminder of the failure of creation.  For every good that is created, two more goods must be destroyed in its creating.  Instead, we take what is given to us by the turtle, our constant guardian and protector.  Out of its mouth comes the animals we hunt for, and into its heart go our souls when we die.

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