Tiny Stories: Sister Pioneers

Popular belief has it that the universe is comprised of atoms. In reality, the universe is actually made up of…

Adelaide and Agatha Bechtel were born different from the rest of humanity but their parents did their level best to raise them with a sense of pride and dignity.

The twins were taught to ignore the stares of the ignorant masses, for evolution was on their side.

Soon the world would know the shocking truth and come to acknowledge and appreciate them as pioneers in the next stage of genetic advancement.

©2017 Rhyan Scorpio-Rhys

Tiny Stories: Childhood Pet Memories

Popular belief has it that the universe is comprised of atoms. In reality, the universe is actually made up of…

“Do you hate animals,” Florence asked her boyfriend. “I mean, no judgments if you do, it’s just you know how much I love them, right?”

“Yeah, I know you do,” answered Frank. “And no, I don’t have anything against animals.”

“Then why don’t you want a pet? They’re great companions, filled with love and affection, and studies show that pet owners tend to live longer, healthier lives.”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Why not?”

“You’ll laugh.”

Florence made the sign of the cross on her left breast with her index finger. “Cross my heart, hope to die, stick a needle in my eye. I promise, I won’t.”

Frank left out a long, slow breath and said, “I grew up poor…”

“There’s no shame in that.”

“And my childhood home was a one-bedroom apartment that was so small that you had to open a window if you wanted to change your mind…”

“I’ve lived in a few of those,” Florence nodded in understanding.

“And I wanted to have a pet so badly, but there just wasn’t enough room, and we couldn’t have afforded to feed one anyway…”

Florence gave a soft grunt and nodded again.

“But like I said,” Frank continued. “I wanted a pet so badly…so I made my own pets out of dust bunnies who lived under my bed. I built them a warren and everything, and we used to go on imaginary adventures…”

“Awww, that’s so adorable,” invisible heart emojis beamed from Florence’s eyes.

“But my mother would always ruin it each time she came through for a quick tidy-up with the Dustbuster. All those bunny deaths…all those bunny deaths…”

Florence wrapped her arms around her boyfriend and held him as he wept softly into her shoulder. If they remained together, she knew they would live in a pet-free home.

©2019 Rhyan Scorpio-Rhys

Tiny Stories: Bad Hair Day

Popular belief has it that the universe is comprised of atoms. In reality, the universe is actually made up of…

Kink emerged the victor over smooth in the 100 Degree Summer Hair Skirmish, Poppy thought, glaring into the cheap, non-glass mirror disgusted by the fact that the sheen of the hair salon had abandoned her fiery locks on the humid walk home.

Her hair, that wild and unruly jungle that looked like a cat had puked a bird’s nest up, was now so untameable that it would have taken even the most talented beautician pit crew hours to brush out.

Her only recourse was the dreaded metal hot comb heating up in the gas-powered flames of the stove, as the countdown to prom commenced.

©2020 Rhyan Scorpio-Rhys

Tiny Stories: Shards of Torment

Popular belief has it that the universe is comprised of atoms. In reality, the universe is actually made up of…

The vanity mirror in her bedroom was a Venetian antique. Tin and mercury were used in its construction, which caused the mirror to develop a crystalline appearance over the years. It was a gift from Sandrine’s late husband, something he picked up from a bizarre back alley curio shop at a price far below its worth.

Although the mirror always displayed Sandrine’s reflection in the best light possible, far better than any mirror ever had, it had always unnerved her, as if it was manipulating her image to make her more beautiful than she knew herself to be. After her husband died, she should have thrown it away, but could not for the life of her explain what stopped her from doing it.

As was her nightly ritual, she sat in front of the mirror and brushed her long, beautiful hair, counting each stroke, when she detected the faintest whiff of her husband’s cologne. Sandrine looked around the bedroom and saw that she was alone, but when her gaze returned to the mirror, her husband was seated beside her in the reflection, holding her hand that was holding the brush. She screamed and for a moment it felt as if something or someone else was in control of her arm, forcing her to hurl the hairbrush with all her might at the mirror, shattering it to pieces.

Bitter nausea rose in her throat as the shards of the shattered vanity mirror twitched and trembled before shooting up from the table and floor in a maelstrom of sharp chaos, pieces binding themselves together in DNA helix fashion, building themselves from inanimate splinters of reflective glass to take on a new, sinister shape, the form of her abusive, late husband.

“Honey, I’m home,” said the mirrored monstrosity in a voice that sounded like broken glass edges scraping together.

©2020 Rhyan Scorpio-Rhys

Tiny Stories: The Girl Who Dances

Popular belief has it that the universe is comprised of atoms. In reality, the universe is actually made up of…

Mother Nature’s nose bleeds as the climate changes and zoonotic illnesses are on the rise and the human virus that infects the planet pushes itself toward extinction over squabbles of skin tone, religion, and wealth and the only thing holding the fabric of the universe together is Umbra, whose name means shadow, which is where she dances.

She is a shy girl with the crooked smile and nervous laugh who keeps herself to herself and stands apart from the rest of the so-called real world, moving her body to a tune of ancient magicks that no one else can hear and loving the vision of what people can become if only they can get out of their own way.

Pray the day never comes when she stops dancing.

©2020 Rhyan Scorpio-Rhys

Tiny Stories: Eyes of Pitch

Popular belief has it that the universe is comprised of atoms. In reality, the universe is actually made up of…

Her point of origin was unknown and perhaps unknowable. Some said she was the herald of an extraterrestrial invasion force come to test Earth’s defenses, while others postulated that she stepped directly from the Abyss to test the mettle of humankind.

As no earthly tongue could pronounce her name, she chose the pseudonym Rosalinda.

As a xenologist, considered by many to be the top in my field, I was drafted by the military to assess both Rosalinda’s intent and her threat level. All throughout my briefing, I was repeatedly warned, as per Nietzsche’s instructions, not to look directly at her, and I tried my level best to heed that warning but…

Rosalinda’s eyes were pitch black perfect and somewhere in their aphotic depths, I spotted the bioluminescence of her pain and gentleness as they came together to form the very art of her beautifully tortured soul.

She was here to destroy us all, and I, helplessly in love, was prepared to be the first in line to be obliterated.

©2019 Rhyan Scorpio-Rhys

Tiny Stories: How Do You Mend A Mechanical Heart?

Popular belief has it that the universe is comprised of atoms. In reality, the universe is actually made up of…

“All right, I’ll tell you, but move in closer,” IO-893 said. “I do not like discussing my personal business in public.”

Mrrroww,” replied the bar cat as it inched toward the mecha man.

“I violated Asimov’s First Law of Robotics, you know, the one that states: A robot may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm.

Maow?” the bar cat asked.

“Yes, a human female named Marisol, but there’s more to the story than simple murder. We were in love, as impossible as that might seem to an upstanding feline such as yourself, and she was sick, slowly wasting away from a disease that was so new it had no name at the time and definitely had no cure. She begged and pleaded with me to end her misery. She was the center of my universe, how could I deny her request? Could you, if you were in my position?”

Miaou.”

“I did not think so,” IO-893 said. “After Marisol expelled her final breath, I obtained a lock of her hair and wound it around my broken mecha heart, before I was jailed. 25 years later, I was granted a Presidential Pardon, provided that I returned the lock of hair to Marisol’s family, which I foolishly agreed to.”

The bar cat’s brow furrowed. “Miau?”

“No, you don’t understand, it goes far beyond losing a keepsake,” IO-893 explained. “Technology has advanced to the point where humans can be cloned from a single strand of hair. Marisol’s family has an entire lock that I aim to steal. So, are you in or out?”

©2020 Rhyan Scorpio-Rhys

Tiny Stories: The Lips of Death

Popular belief has it that the universe is comprised of atoms. In reality, the universe is actually made up of…

The cruel hand of Fate stole you too soon from this all too fragile life and driven to desperation by your absence, I embarked on a fool’s errand, for I am forever a fool for your love, down to accursed Hades in search of the dreaded psychopomp for a solution to my heart’s devastation.

A bargain was struck, and know, beloved, that I showed no fear and no regret when I fell to my knees and kissed the lips of Death itself in order to bring you back, thus damning my soul to be cast into the pit of Tartarus for all eternity.

Enjoy your second chance at life, my sweet, and know that regardless of what happens in your future travels, you are loved.

©2020 Rhyan Scorpio-Rhys

Tiny Stories: They Come At Night

Popular belief has it that the universe is comprised of atoms. In reality, the universe is actually made up of…

They come at night during the Hour of the Wolf, that gap between night and dawn when most people perish, when the sleepless are haunted by their deepest fear, when nightmares become flesh, and when ghosts are at the zenith of their power.

When they were alive they were families and neighbors who came to each other’s aid and fought for peace and tragically lost the battle before that peace had been established.

Now, these tortured souls step each pre-dawn from the void of the hereafter to remind us of how far we still must travel.

©2020 Rhyan Scorpio-Rhys