Tag Archives: Short Stories

fiction, writing

District 21 Part Five


Cloning facility by adamkuczek on DeviantArt

Read all of the episodes of Kain’s story here.

Kain and Lilith walked for what seemed like four or five kilometers, taking twists, turns and in one case another ladder. Finally, she placed her pale hand against a palm lock on the corridor wall.

Kain wouldn’t have even noticed the lock, much less the hairline cracks which made up the outline of a door. That was, unless ze was looking for it specifically with zir senses turned to max. Ze chuckled at the cleverness of it. “Why in the void would anyone make that?”

Lilith walked into the space beyond and lights came on. The room was large and looked like a disused shelter of sorts. There were three sets of bunk beds three levels high. Storage cubbies on each of the side walls were filled with sealed plastic boxes. Their contents were a mystery due to the opaque material. A few cobwebs fluttered in the corners of the room and it smelled of neglect. “This is why. There are rooms like this all over the city and everywhere the population was over a certain amount when they were made. We’ve since turned them to our own uses.” She made a pass with her hands and the quality of the light changed, becoming more diffuse and blue rather than white.

The bunks disappeared, nothing more than a high quality holo. In fact, the cobwebs and even some of the dust vanished. In their place was a room you could operate in and a wall that was more of a vid screen. Or perhaps a window? Ze couldn’t be sure, but none of that mattered for the moment. The view ze now had was of a series of cylinders with one body floating in each. After staring closely for a few seconds, ze could tell it was a projected image from somewhere else. “I could run up a vid like this in half a day. It proves nothing.”

Lips formed a moue of annoyance. “This is real. I know, you don’t want to take my word for it, but we must make sure you’re on board before we actually let you join us.”

“So before I can receive the reward, one I don’t know is real, I have to put everything on the line.” Ze held up a hand to stave off protests. “I told you, it’s not about the money, or even the new body. It’s about the fun. You want to unmake our current society. You’ve gone to great pains to make it happen. That’s almost enough.”

Lilith snorted, more like a bull than a laugh. “What would put the fun over the top for you?”

“To get back to my people, without them chilling me en route, they require a pound of flesh to know it’s righteous. I don’t have proof, won’t be any me left to help you. And they might decide to strip mine my core processor, take the memories, and use them to find and blaze you off the map.”

Her pale skin turned a shade of green. “What’s to stop them from doing that even if you do bring them this proof?”

“They’re business types. I’ve done too much for them to cut any ties without provocation. There will be other jobs.” Something near zir forearm clicked and whirred. “Besides, can’t you just grew a replacement?” A thin rod slid out from under zir sleeve. As it got longer it tapered to a nearly invisible point. The steel whip looked rigid enough, but ze could use it to remove head from neck or hand from arm.

“I can, but I’d prefer not to. If that’s the only way.” Her pallor and slumped posture spoke of fear and subjugation. Emotions she likely hadn’t felt in a while.

Kain brought his hand back and down, aiming for the spot above her wrist bone.

Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four

 

fiction, writing

District 21 Part Four


Background design : corridor by ThoRCX on DeviantArt

Read all of the episodes of Kain’s story here.

Kain couldn’t smile, per se. That was more of an advantage than one might think. Ze still grinned on the inside. A hump, where zir right shoulder would be, exploded like a giant zit. If, that is, zits were filled with dozens of tiny darts. In case a face full of metal wasn’t a deterrent, each one was tipped with a virulent strain of flesh eating bacteria.

The scream, cut short by the hail of flechettes, indicated the being on the receiving end might not have to worry about the bugs.

“I don’t like being ambushed.” Kain took a couple of steps forward, enjoying the mix of horror and anger on the woman’s face.

To her credit, Lilith kept her hands where they were and more or less maintained her composure. Once she adjusted her attitude. “I can see that. Fortunately, he can be replaced.”

“Can you? I asked you before, and if there’s a thing I hate worse than being jumped, it’s repetition, why should I listen to you?”

“You’ve come this far, and if you try and leave without me, you won’t breathe fresh air again. No matter how many nice tricks you have under your raincoat.” Fear had been replaced by a steely determination.

According to the readouts flickering behind zir eyes, she wasn’t lying. The why of how of her threat didn’t matter. Ze did so love to feel the rain on zir skin. What was left of it. “Go on, then.” The mass driver went back to its home.

“Everything I’ve said is true. And we have enemies, as is apparent by the contract you have.” Lilith licked her luscious red lips. “I want you to take care of those problems we have. We’re not without resources. Since I wasn’t able to beat you, as I was the ones who came before you, I want you to join us.”

Kain squinted. “You want to pay me off to double cross my employer? I’d have to be careful. It would take a lot of money, but also a compelling reason. I don’t believe in your cause. Humanity as it was, proved to be weak and full of itself. We’re better off as we are.”

Lilith stepped forward and placed her hand gently on the plate on Kain’s lower face. It was smooth, warm, and made of flexible scales so small as to give it the illusion of being one piece. “You are? Wouldn’t you love to have everything back that you’ve lost? While I see merit in the improvements made to your form, I know enough to be certain most of them weren’t your idea. The ones I’ve seen are all military grade. You have more than two legs, don’t you?”

Kain nodded. He couldn’t feel her skin on his face, but could sense the pressure. She was barking up the wrong tree. Mostly. There was potential to what she was saying for other reasons. “You can reverse the changes they’ve made to me?”

“Better than that. I can regrow an entire new body for you. Then we can take that beautifully murderous mind and move it into its new home.” Lilith leaned in close enough to kiss Kain on the cheek. “How does that sound?”

“You have my attention again, Lilith. Try anything like you did with your boy back there, and they won’t be the only one who eats it.”

She pressed her lips to a small patch of skin that could still be thought of as original. Bristles of hair brushed her lips. She shuddered, though whether from delight or disgust it couldn’t be said. A bit of red was left behind on the greenish white surface. When she backed away, her smile was firmly in place. “I’ll keep that in mind. Let’s finish our little journey and we can talk about the details.”

Part One
Part Two
Part Three

 

fiction, writing

District 21 Part Three

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Blue Eyes by Zurh on DeviantArt

Read all of the episodes of Kain’s story here.

Lilith. Ze had enough knowledge to find the name amusing. Given zir name, ze’d certainly been the recipient of zir own set of jokes and comments. Perhaps this one chose the name on purpose or maybe it was just a happy accident. “So, Lilith, we can talk about why someone would want to chill you. Then maybe we can figure out a way to make this fun for the both of us.”

“Fun?” Her full lips curled into a smile. “What about the money? Or the reputation?”

Ze shrugged misshapen shoulders. “I don’t need either. They both serve their purposes, but may have a lower priority.”

Lilith shrugged off the red rain slicker and let it slump to the floor. The black catsuit she had on underneath was made from some diamond nanotube weave. it let scans through and was breathable, but would stop nearly any kind of penetration. Kinetic energy was still an issue. It also did interesting things to her full figure, hiding nothing but revealing nothing fully. “Fair enough. Where we’re going, we’ll have the privacy to talk business.” She reached down and pulled back a section of the thin flooring squares used in these sorts of hotels. The metal underneath was stained, but solid enough. After pressing hard for three seconds and releasing, the section popped up enough so she could pull at it and lever it open.

If ze had eyebrows they would be crawling up zir head. But, ze didn’t and that made for an excellent poker face.

Lilith went down the ladder first, into the pitch below. If the darkness bothered her or slowed her down, she gave no sign.

Kain adjusted zir eyes with a series of rapid blinks to be able to see what awaited zir. It looked like nothing more than some kind of service tunnel. Fitting into the hatch with zir oddly shaped body was a challenge, but ze managed it with a few wiggles. Ze was even able to pull the panel closed behind zir with a click. It would leave the carpet square off to one side, but there was little to be done about that.

Once at the bottom of the ladder, she lead them through a series of tunnels. Wide enough to drive a small car through, navigating it wasn’t hard. It was still pitch black, but she moved with calm assurance.

Kain rethought the notion that she wasn’t an upgraded human. She’d have to have some kind of eye mod to be able to see, unless those blue eyes were some sort of lens. Ze pulled the mass driver free and held it, more for comfort than anything. Ze was nervous, but it was the kind of nervous you got right before you opened a present.

After at least three minutes, she stopped. “Here’s good.” Her voice echoed softly in the dark. She reached into a pocket on one sleeve and twisted something. Soft reddish light streamed from where epaulets would be on her armor.

“Talk to me about why I shouldn’t chill you or you me. I don’t mind an interesting trip, but I’ve got places to be.”

“You’ll like this, Kain. I’m part of a small group of beings who wants to return the human race to what it once was.” The smile on her face was brilliant, even in the low light. “We are all fully human, and I’m their leader. The ones who want me dead are the ones responsible for the world being what it is.”

Kain didn’t think the world as it was was such a bad thing. Ze was tempted to shoot her in those crazy teeth. “How so?”

“I know the official story is there simply isn’t enough pure human genetic material left to re-populate. All we have are genetically modded people and a large chunk of mutants. That was no accident.”

“Part of the sodding hyper-war, wasn’t it?” Kain was once sure of that fact, but this Lilith had a quality about her that made zir want to believe what she said. A charisma that insinuated its way into a beings’ bones.

She wagged a finger. “Official story says yes. My story says, there was no hyper war and the leaders wanted sentient life on Earth to be beholden to the government to reproduce. The war, such as it was, was a sham.”

Kain chuffed. “A little too much to believe. And if I did, why should I care? I ain’t planning on doing any reproducing.” Ze pointed the mass driver at her forehead. “One more time with feeling. Why shouldn’t I chill you right now and claim the bounty?”

“You do, and your dead.” The male voice was deep, but smooth rather than gravelly. It came from more or less behind and above Kain. The whine of a large energy discharge ramping up couldn’t be ignored.

fiction, writing

District 21 Part Two

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Cyberpunk by vladimirpetkovic on DeviantArt

Read all of the episodes of Kain’s story here.

Kain continued to track the woman through the streets of the district. Whoever she was, fear didn’t appear to be on her screens. No one approached her, not strange in itself, since most beings tended to keep to themselves. Still, there were other dangers on the street. Everything from king rats to the five-oh could take you down.

Finally, they arrived at a hotel Kain was familiar with. Ze had never stayed there zirself, but ze had done business there more than once. The red script on the sign was neo-kanji and proclaimed the building was dry and possessed clean sleep cells. Both of those claims were likely false, but anything to get out of the persistent drizzle.

When ze stepped into the lobby, ze wasn’t surprised to be met by a weapon. That it was a vibro-stiletto in the thin fingered hand of his prey, rather than a slug thrower or a shocker, was the surprising bit.

Her black hair, undaunted by the moisture, stuck out in all manner of directions. In the buzzing yellow light of the hotel’s lobby, her eyes were no less haunting and blue. Her lips were just as full and crimson. She wasn’t zir type, but Kain would be hard pressed not to call her a beauty under most being’s standards. “Why are you following me?” Her voice was a dusky contralto. It wasn’t electronically modulated and was probably her natural voicebox.

Did she not have any implants? Fascinating. “To kill you. Eventually.” Kain was many things, but ze was no liar.

“What’s to stop me from killing you?” Her gaze roamed over the bits of flesh visible on Kain’s face, seemingly unperturbed by the amount of exposed circuitry and scar tissue. Not to mention the metal plate bolted over the area where a mouth and jaw should be.

Ze spoke again, voice emanating from the vox-box at zir throat. “Nothing. Curiosity?” Ze shrugged. “Maybe we could both not chill the other, for a few seconds?”

The tip of the stiletto dipped, and it ceased its low hum. “Maybe. Tell me who hired you.”

Kain chuckled, the sound like an ancient gearbox failing. “Professional courtesy keeps me from that. I can tell you they don’t like you very much. Me? I’m beginning to appreciate you. I can also tell you, they want you dead for a nice chunk of cred and no one else in the Districts wanted to do it.”

The woman smiled. “I can imagine. That means you’re stupid and greedy.”

Kain shrugged, zir own slicker a misshapen set of lumps. “Also ugly. Call it how you see it. But I’ll chill you if I want to. You would have already been dead a bit ago, if I’d pulled the trigger.”

“Your mass driver would have misfired. I spotted you early on.” She slipped the blade under her left sleeve. Her head cocked to one side, she smiled. Her teeth were bright and even. “Maybe we’re both just that good. I’ve heard things about someone like you who calls themselves Kain.”

“Only one of me. They didn’t give me a name for you. What can I call you?” Ze glaced around the lobby, surprised the Otto who manned it wasn’t chattering at them. Then he saw the poor glitcher’s robotic head was separated from its body.

“Lilith will do.”

 

writing

Free Ride

camaro Melanie couldn’t remember ever having a more miserable forty-five minutes. She came back into the foyer of the police station every ten minutes to warm back up, but it wasn’t the cold as much as it was the feeling that she was completely alone. She’d killed a woman, though she didn’t know it would happen. Whether she’d ever be convicted of any wrongdoing didn’t matter. She’d carry the guilt with her forever.

Finally, the dark blue Camaro pulled up in front of the station. Rage Against the Machine belted out from the speakers, audible even five feet from the car. The screaming died down mostly. Elard climbed out of the driver’s side and looked around. When he saw her he smiled. “Come on and get in before we both freeze our nuts off.”

She smiled back at him, a weak and watery grin, but it was still there. “Our boobs in my case. Though they’re about the same size.”

He got back in the car and she heard the lock disengage.

She opened the door and climbed in. The car smelled of cigarettes, fast food, and farts. It wasn’t the most pleasant combination, but it was familiar. She’d gotten a ride from him more than once and the conversation always made it worthwhile. “Thanks for coming to get me.”

He threw the car into drive. “No worries, Mel.” He pulled into traffic. “You just make sure and return the favor some day. So, what happened? If you feel like talking about it?”

Melanie looked over at her friend. They’d known each other for the last two years. That didn’t seem like much, but they’d packed a lot of living in that time. They moved in together six months ago and there had been no creeping or hanky panky on his part. She still wasn’t sure if he was straight, bi, trans, or what. “I don’t know. It was bad stuff.”

Elard looked over at her. “It’s cool. You tell me what you want, when you can.”

They rode in relative silence for a few minutes. “Someone is dead.”

“Okay.”

“I didn’t kill them, or at least if they’re dead because of what I did, I didn’t know that it was going to happen. Someone hacked into my computer at the library and gave me money to deliver a package.” She took a breath.

Elard reached into the space between them and pulled out a cigarette pack. He shook one out and stuck it in the corner of his mouth. When he put the pack back in its place he pushed in the cigarette lighter. “Hacking isn’t the right word for getting into those PCs. They’re more wide open than a Thai lady-boy all grown up.”

Melanie didn’t know if she should be surprised that he didn’t mention the killing. She pulled a long face at the analogy.

“You did something you shouldn’t have. Question is, what are you gonna do about it?”

She squeezed her eyes shut. There were no tears forthcoming. She worried about that. She hadn’t cried yet. “I don’t know. Fuuuuck. I don’t know.”

“We’ll find this guy. Then we take him to the cops.”

Her eyes popped open and she looked at him. “You can do that?”

The lighter snapped out and he lit the cigarette. “We can do that.” He puffed smoke out. “I can have a look at the computer. We can find out how he paid you. We’ll build a case.”

“Just like CSI.” She chirped. She actually chirped.

Paul chuckled. “Nah. It’ll take more than an hour. And we may not get everything we need. But I think we can. You better think about being honest with the cops though.”

“How do you know I haven’t been?”

“You’re sitting with me. You tell them that you got paid, and they’d crawl into your life so deep you’d wish they’d bought you a drink first. Still, you need to know that honesty’s almost always the best policy. Except when it isn’t.”

She wanted to punch him in the shoulder. Instead, she started to cry. Her vision tripled and quadrupled like one of those dragonfly kaleidoscopes. She sobbed and clutched her stomach. She wasn’t alone, but she still felt lonely.

writing

What’s in the Box?

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Continued from yesterday’s story.

Melanie stood in the chill air, rubbing her arms and generally wondering why she was here. “Five hundred dollars. Five hundred dollars.” She waited next to a toy store that had gone out of business about ten years pre-Brony. Nobody, sketchy or otherwise waited for her. “Maybe I got the location wrong?” She pulled out the folded square of paper, wishing she’d taken her brother’s offer of a smartphone instead of the stupid flip phone she had. The little gold star put her right on this street.

“Five more minutes and I may go see if I can beg a slice from Elard.”

Lights flashed at the corner. They were headlights, belonging to a relatively new BMW. She was no judge of what model it was, but it meant money. She stepped to the curb and waited, hoping she didn’t look like some towny street walker.

The car slowed and pulled to a stop beside her. Its window buzzed down. A woman, judging by the puff of perfume she got, leaned over. She wore a scarf around her head and a pair of sunglasses in spite of the hour. “This box is for you.” Her voice was one of those throaty purrs that made most men go weak in the knees, between Eartha Kitt and Kathleen Turner. It even affected her a little.

She held out her hands. “How do I get my money?”

“He’ll give it to you.” She put the car in park and stretched out with a brown paper wrapped parcel. “He always gives what he promises.”

She grabbed the box, noticing that the woman wore skin tight leather gloves. They looked like fine leather. Only when their hands brushed did she realize that they weren’t gloves. She shuddered and almost dropped the package. They both gasped.

“Don’t drop it for god’s sake.” The woman almost screamed the order, purr moving towards shriek. “And whatever you do, don’t open it.”

“Alright, I won’t.” She started to ask where she needed to take it when she saw the address. It was for some place here in town. And not too far away.

“Get it there in the next thirty minutes or don’t bother. And put it in the person’s hands.”

She started to ask how the man would know when she’d done it. The window buzzed up and the car actually squaled tires as it moved away from the curb. Melanie took a step back and looked at the package’s address. “Two-thirty Healy Boulevard. That’s at least a mile away.” The address seemed familiar. She started walking, thankful that everything had so far been in walking distance. She didn’t have a car.

As she walked she shifted the box back and forth. It was about twelve inches square and six deep. She shook it slightly and there was a sloshing sound and a light rattle. It must be fragile. “Maybe it’s a liquor bottle. Got to be someone’s birthday present.” It was heavy, too. Maybe a brick in there to through the birthday boy off.

She took a left onto Healy. The address was only about a half mile down if she remembered right. Then she remembered what the address was. It was either the free clinic or very near it. She’d gotten her flu shot at the clinic a month ago. She couldn’t remember the precise address of the place, but she thought it was in the two hundreds. She stopped when she saw two-ten and saw that the free clinic was two-twenty.

It turned out that two-thirty was a thrift store. It was late, but she could see that there was a light on inside. She put the box down and started to knock. Then the first misgiving kicked in. What if it’s some kind of practical joke? She wouldn’t get her money and someone would be pissed at her. “I should just knock and run.” Then she remembered the woman’s words. She had to put it in the person’s hands. If it wasn’t a joke, she wouldn’t get her money.

She picked up the box and held it underneath with her right hand. She knocked with her left.

“We’re closed.” A muffled voice yelled from the other side.

“I have a package for you.”

There was a pause. “We don’t take deliveries at night.” The voice was closer, but still muffled.

“Look, I don’t get paid if I don’t give this to you and I could use the money.”

The door opened a bit, a chain holding it closed. The woman on the other side wore skinny jeans and a tie-dyed sweatshirt. She had a nice figure, but had to be at least as old as Melanie’s mom. “Can you fit it through the door?”

Melanie held it up. “It’s kind of too wide, and I’d hate to break it. I think it’s fragile.”

The lady looked at the top of the box and Melanie could swear she gasped. “Damn it.” She closed the door and there was a rattle as she undid the chain. The door opened wider. “Give it to me.” There was heat in her voice.

Melanie handed it over. “I hope you enjoy… whatever it is.”

The lady took it gingerly. “I doubt I will.”

“What?” Before the drawn out syllable ended the door slammed. “Well fuck you very much.” She turned and walked a few steps away. Her pocket vibrated. She took out her phone and saw that she had a text.

“Thank you. Your money has been deposited.”

“How the hell did you get my?”

Before she could finish the question, there was a muffled thump and a drawn out, warbling scream from inside. Melanie spun around and went back towards the shop. The light coming from the windows flickered.

“Oh my god.”

pimpage

Interview With Jeff Hite (Three Questions)

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Jhite (This is part  “Three Questions With Xxxx”. If you’re interested in taking part click here and fill out the form.)

Jeff and I have been friends for years. He was part of the staff at Flying Island Press and his love of the short story form is nigh legendary.

1) You’ve written a lot of short fiction and have been an editor in the short fiction market. That makes you something of an expert in my book. What is it that you love so much about the format?

Short fiction gives you just a glimpse, just a taste of a world, but when it is done right, it gives you the whole story, in a format that you can easily digest in one sitting. I really enjoy that part of it. I think some of it comes from having a busy life, some of it comes from my short attention span, and some of it just comes from being able to get the whole story in one shot. Make no mistake I like really in depth stories, and really enjoy novel length stories but there is just something about the shorter stories that draw me to them.
Why do I write them? Well, I think that is simple, because of all the reasons above, and one more, they challenge me to fit an entire story into a small package. I have to cut all the fluff, and all the extra stuff, and just tell a story, and I like doing that.

2) It’s not a great paying market these days, though there are ways to sell them. Why do you think that is?

It really comes down to delivery method. The short answer is ebooks and podcasts. It is more complicated than that, but really it is the ability to publish a single short story and get it out there, that was really not available 10-15 years ago. Before the popularity of ebooks and podcasts, if you wanted to sell a short story you had to go to a magazine, Of which there were very few, and their slush piles must have been huge, because publishing and printing a short story yourself just didn’t make any sense economically. Now you can write a short story and publish it yourself in ebook format. To the end “user” there is no difference other than cost, between buying a short story or buying a novel length work. Now that these outlets exist, there is a market for them, and you can see that in the rise in the number of emagizines, that just didn’t exist 15 years ago, and short fiction podcasts such as the Escape Artist series, The DrabbleCast and even Cast of Wonders, they, while “free” to the consumer, are paying markets.

3) In moving from writing short fiction to longer form fiction what are the challenges you face?

I really like longer stories. I love the way that you can dive into someone else’s world and get completely lost. That is the great thing about novel length works. And short fiction is not just a shorten version of a novel length work. I think that idea has been the hardest one for me to over come. As I have said many times before, I am a, “by the seat of your pants” writer. I very often have no idea of what a story is actually going to be about when I start writing it. That presents a real problem when you start to write long works. You have to not only know where the story is going, but also be able to hold all of those ideas in your head while you are writing. See my above note about short attention span, and just repeat that here about 5 times. Most of my short fiction works are under 10,000 words. That length I can keep in my head without notes, longer than that I have to keep some sort of notes, and referring back to those notes while I am writing or editing, really kills my momentum. So learning to control a story, and plan it out have been my biggest challenges when working on longer works.

I am a little busy right now, please leave a message at the beep?
[beep!]

No?

But I am really busy..

[Beep?]

Still not buying it huh?

Ok then I guess…

Jeff Hite, A.K.A. The Dark Lord Hite, A.K.A. Dr. Evil-n-Carnate, A.K.A. Steve Wolencheck, current occupant of cubical 3257J, affectionately referred to as “that jerk who eats lunch in his cubicle even though we have a lunch room and he really should eat there,” is first and foremost a husband and father. He and his wife and their ten minions I mean children, live in their orbiting space station. No, that burned up in the atmosphere last year. They live in their undersea lab. No, that is not right either, it fell to crush depth three months ago. Well where ever they live that is where you can find them.

By day he is an IT professional, by night When he and his partner in crime, Alex the 486 Beowulf Super cluster are not trying to take over the world they run the “sheep dating service,” also known as sheep breeding, for the local farming cooperative. When he can fit it in he writes short fiction about the fantastic, is a reader with Cast Of Wonders, and an assistant audio producer for Get Published.

He and his alter ego Michell Plested are Co editors of A Method To the Madness: A Guide To the Super Evil and the forthcoming book There is a Magic Portal Under My Sink.

He and his wife home school their minions, I mean kids and teach NFP to anyone who will listen. The rest of his life is devoted to his first love, his family, their chickens, sheep, dogs and now to appease the cat owners, one of those as well.

Other projects:
A Method To the Madness: A Guide To the Super Evil
There is a Magic Portal Under My Sink
Cast of Wonders
Get Published (Audio Production)
Flying Island Press