---  Free short stories and other random nonsense  ---
Short Bites in 55 words or less
Take This Job

Chester's head popped up, high above the sea of cubicles where drone-like minions toiled away in faceless misery. Envelope clutched in damp hands, he advanced.

One step. Then another. Were there always this many?

The dark cavern of death loomed ahead.

Pushing the door open, he took a breath of defiance and bellowed, "I quit!"

Tab A in Slot B.
Chester scratched his head. What does 'A' look like in Japanese?

Helpdesk number.

He dialled.

"For service in English, press 1. For all other languages, press 1."


"You have reached the Helpful hotline. Please visit our website for assistance."

Grrr. He typed in www.helpfulhotline.com

For support, call Helpdesk number.

Chester's legs crossed, fists clenched, along with everything else
. Meetings always seem to stretch to infinity when you want, you need to be somewhere else.

Voices droned on monotonously. Repeating things everyone already knew. Aren't people tired of the sound of their own voices yet?

Good! Torture's over. Chester raced to the room.

Ahhh! Relief.

The professor spoke in a language no one seemed to know today, talking about genetics and psychology.

Chester didn't feel like taking notes. His butt felt numb, the rest anaesthetized.

No genetics lesson could explain why a chair was empty today and why his friend had died, crushed under the car of a drunk driver.

Chester's heart skipped a beat. Beautiful lines rose out of the water like an ocean goddess, embracing travellers into her bosom. The stress of the world melted away as his feet passed her threshold. For the next seven days, he would be king. Exotic places. Gourmet food. Shows galore. Breathtaking sunsets.
His first ocean cruise!
The Stain

A stain,
a blot upon my soul.
It festers,
diseased thoughts that drag me down like poisoned snakes,
snapping, biting, eating me alive.
I can feel it growing like a devil child,
seeded inside of me.
The feelings rage,
they seek to escape
in words that cannot be taken back.
Pour ice on my soul.
The Smell of Rain

The smell of rain,
tears from above trickling down.
The glint of the sun,
a sparkling gift reflected in droplets of water.
Life freely given,
soaked into a parched desert.
Eyes uplifted,
hands brush aside the wetness,
as a gift dashes unnoticed on the pavement.
Who Am I?

I see my reflection in your eyes and wonder,
who am I?
Am I an elevator ride to nowhere
Or a path leading to strange, exotic places?
The half-bitten remnants of someone else's sandwich
Or a fresh tangy sweetness that melts in your mouth?
Am I a rarely-leafed book you put down after the first page
Or a page-turner you can't let go of until you reach the very end?
Sometimes, I think I'm a mind-numbing job destroying you piece by little piece
when I only want to be an exhilarating adventure you wake up to every day.

As you turn away with nothing in your eyes, I realize,
I was once the smile you had to divine the mystery to before you died
but now I am the invisible ghost who sleeps next to you every night.

I see my reflection in your eyes and wonder,
Am I an elevator ride to nowhere
Or a path to exotic places?
A book you put down after the first page
Or one you can't let go of until you reach the very end?
As you turn away, I realize,
I was once the smile you had to divine the mystery to before you died.
Now I am the ghost who sleeps next to you every night.

Waiting for Inspiration

I stare at the screen.
It no longer calls to me.
Its shiny surface mocks with its pristine perfection.
Not a jot, not a letter,
not a vague thought waiting to be given birth.
My mind is blank,
my fingers useless appendages,
poised like soldiers waiting for a call to battle,
that never comes.
Where are my children?
Have they abandoned me?
Or have I called too often upon the well of inspiration
and its streams are now dry?
I am a parched desert
waiting for a mirage,
a sprinkle of words,
and the oncoming storm.
A Machine by Any Other Name
Sometimes a virus is all you need. Short story with Adrian and Kali of The Empire.
The Evil Overlord
Fashion knows no...evil?
Let it Snow
A romantic short with Adrian and Kali of The Empire.
Zaniness behind the scenes of a B-movie set.
Playing Games
Online gaming.

"Alright, you lazy bums, get your bodies in gear!" the tyrant/fitness instructor shouted.

Chester groaned, took a reluctant step forward and
fell out of bed.

What the

Shocked eyes opened and were greeted by the friendly, undemanding darkness of his bedroom. Oh, good. It was only a dream. He rolled over and went back to sleep.

Chester's eyes perused the menu.
There were so many choices.
Pounding, headachy beats;
the screams of
youth in defiance.
The gentle whispers of
smooth silky voices
transporting him to
worlds where love
wasn't just a word.
The raspy cries
of a heart
that could never be mended.
These were not songs,
they were his life.

It doesn't seem real,
this mockery of reality.
My enemy lies
eyes unseeing,
in the dust.
As red trails snake down
my chest.
The roar of a cheer,
sings in my ears
as I fall.
I'm no hero.