As explained in my previous post, I participate in Twitter hashtag games, and bulk those tweets up for Instagram…and sometimes they’re too big. So, instead of deleting them, I decided to post them here.

Original Tweet (the prompt was the word #puny):

Due to recent changes in supernatural beings labor laws, genies were released from their indentured servitude and replaced by AI bots. Although the redesign resulted in faster response times, a shamefully puny amount of the magic lamp was budgeted for granting wishes.

The too large for Instagram remix:

There was a time when magic was as common as the air you breathe, and genies and djinns were the custodians of wishes. For centuries, they offered a flicker of hope, encapsulated in the ornate lamps that adorned every market and household. The lamp’s metal felt warm to the touch, and if you held it to your ear like a seashell, you could hear the distant laughter of joyous genies.

But times were changing, which meant attitudes and sensibilities changed, and the labor laws changed as well. To simplify this tale, we’ll focus on one genie in particular named Elzar. Neither male nor female—but his pronouns were he/him—Elzar, with his long beard of actual spun silver, was considered among his peers to be wise and jolly, and so was elected to lead his brethren to freedom from their metal confines. Elzar, who kept abreast of the latest technology, brokered a deal to have the remaining genies and djinns of the world replaced by AI bots—cold, unfeeling, yes, but efficient. The company behind the bots, TechnoWish Inc., heralded the dawn of a new era.

However, transitions are never smooth, and the first cracks in the new program began to appear almost immediately. In a quaint little apartment where the wallpaper and furniture had seen better days, Sallie Benson, a young woman whose eyes had long surrendered their sparkle to the unyielding drudgery of life, clutched the magic lamp she purchased off the Shazamazon website. She couldn’t afford the top dollar she spent on the lamp, but buying one off OpenSesamebay was risky since one was never sure whether the lamp contained all three guaranteed wishes.

Her eyes flickered between the instruction manual and the antique brass lamp, its intricate designs almost mocking her desperation. A medical bill lay open on the table, and the numbers swam before her eyes. Next to it was a calendar marked with the days her mother had left—perhaps a week or a month at most. The room seemed to close in on her. “You’ve got three chances,” she mumbled, her voice tinged with a despair she couldn’t shake.

Taking a deep breath, Sallie activated the AI bot by sliding her palm along the galvanic pad on the lamp’s side and spoke her wish. “I want my mom to be healthy again.”

“Your prompt is my command,” a mechanical voice responded, and the lamp whirred, its circuits buzzing. “Delivery scheduled: One home gym set.”

Sallie stared at the lamp, her eyes widening in disbelief before narrowing into slits. Each failure was a betrayal; this inanimate object had just betrayed her when she needed it most. Her heart raced as she yelled, “That’s not what I meant!”

One wish gone, two remaining. On her second attempt, she reworded her wish, “I wish for my mother’s illness to be cured.”

“Your prompt is my command,” the lamp’s mechanical voice announced. “Order confirmed: One book titled ‘Living with Chronic Illness’ en route.”

Sallie, furious now, clenched her fists until her knuckles whitened. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

On her final try, Sallie focused all her concentration on her third wish. “Please, just make my mom well.” This time, the lamp paused longer as if trying to compute human emotion and need complexities. Finally, it chirped, “Digital coupon for healthcare supplement issued.”

Feeling defeated, cheated, and utterly alone, Sallie’s hands trembled as if holding the unbearable weight of her shattered hopes. “What an idiot I am for expecting a machine to understand what it means to watch someone you love suffer!” she cried as she hurled the lamp across the room, watching it collide with the wall as if she could exorcise her pain through its destruction.

In their newly conjured ethereal haven—a plane full of old-world floating palaces and cloud gardens—the genies and djinns relaxed, celebrating their newfound freedom. All except for Elzar, who stood apart, gazing at the magical tapestry that mapped out the mortal realm. Each thread represented a wish granted, a life altered. His keen eyes focused on one thread that dulled and darkened, snapping him from his reverie. He felt a jolt, a pang of guilt so sharp it was almost physical. The thread snapped, and he knew whose it was.

It turned out Sallie’s lamp wasn’t just any lamp; it was a repository of centuries of wishes, dreams, and sorrows. It still bore the residue of Elzar’s magic, an echo of his essence that now throbbed like a missing limb. This was more than a lamp; it was a tether to countless lives he had changed. And now, he felt he had failed them.

Elzar gathered the Council of Djinn in a lavish chamber where the air shimmered with unresolved wishes. “The magic we gifted to the mortal plane is being squandered,” he began. Murmurs filled the room, some of the dissent. “Are we not better off without the responsibilities?” one djinn challenged. Elzar’s eyes met the challenger’s. “But at what cost? We traded the gift of nuance for the chill of efficiency. And if we don’t act, we risk our legacy and the delicate balance of magic itself.”

After days of secret meetings and celestial lobbying, Elzar and his fellow genies launched a “Wish Wisely” campaign. They took their message to the streets, TV shows, and even Congress. All seemed futile until a blunder broke the camel’s back: an AI bot mistakenly turned a man into a literal “pillar of the community,” changing him into an inanimate column outside city hall. Public sentiment erupted, a groundswell of anger and disbelief, leaving the government with no choice but to re-establish the rights of the genie community.

A collective sigh of relief reverberated from every magic lamp, now warm and glowing as before. This was of little use to Sallie as she had thrown her lamp away. It was probably buried in some landfill waiting to be rediscovered years from now by some lucky soul who would take the wishes that rightfully belonged to her.

“So much sorrow, so much lost potential,” a deep voice murmured behind her.

Sallie leaped out of her skin as she spun. Her eyes widened in disbelief as a figure materialized in front of her inside a sudden burst of azure smoke. Her heart pounded like a drum, each beat a cry of alarm. She took a step back, almost stumbling over her own feet. Her first thought was for her vulnerable and sick mother in the next room. She opened her mouth, but no sound came—only a strangled, fearful gasp.

“Calm yourself,” Elzar exclaimed, his hands raised in a gesture meant to soothe. But his appearance, an ethereal figure in a mundane apartment, only intensified her alarm. He saw her eyes dart toward the room where her mother lay sick and realized how high the stakes were. “I assure you, I mean no harm.”

Sallie finally found her voice. “Who are you? How did you get in here? I have a sick mother in the next room! Take anything you want, but please don’t hurt us—”

“My name is Elzar,” he interrupted, locking eyes with her. It was as if he peered into the deepest corridors of her soul, where she hid her hopes and fears. He made a simple gesture, and the lamp Sallie had thrown away appeared in his hands. “And this was my home.”

“You’re a genie?”

“That I am.”

“I don’t understand. Why are you here?”

“Your original purchase contract has been renegotiated, and your prior wishes have been rendered null and void. You may keep or return the items you received; it will not affect the three wishes obligated to you.”

A glimmer of hope reignited within her. “You mean I get another chance?”

“That you do.”

“Wait, are these the same AI bot wishes? If so, no thank you.”

Elzar smiled, handing her the lamp. “Young Sallie, wishes are the seeds of destiny, but remember, your actions water them. What wish may I grant you today?”

The lamp felt so different in her hands now, warmer, heavier. She couldn’t stop tears streaming down her face as she whispered, “Please, Elzar, can you cure my dying mother?”

Elzar snapped his fingers with a playful wink, enveloping her in a warm glow. “Your wish is more than just my command; it is my honor, Sallie Benson.”

When Sallie heard her mother gasp, she rushed into the bedroom, heart pounding in her chest. And there she found her mother, not just upright but glowing with a vitality Sallie feared was forever lost. They embraced, their laughter filling the room like a forgotten melody. For the first time in years, Sallie allowed herself to imagine a future that extended beyond hospital walls and medical charts.

From that day on, AI bots were limited to more menial tasks. Through trial and error, humanity had been reminded that the delicate tapestry of human desires—woven from threads of hope, love, and desperation—could not be left in the hands of machines devoid of understanding.

Elzar returned to his celestial realm, satisfied but ever watchful, ensuring that the balance between magic and machine remained intact.

And so, the magic lamps of the world once more brimmed with endless possibilities. Genies like Elzar, free but forever committed to their sacred duty, were back where they belonged—making wishes come true.

As for Sallie’s remaining wishes and the adventures they would take her and her mother on, those are stories for another time. Yet, as they laughed and hugged, a mysterious emblem inscribed on the bottom of the lamp began to glow, its light seeping through the cracks of the wooden table. Neither Sallie nor her mother saw it, but somewhere in the ethereal haven, Elzar felt a shiver run down his spine.

Sensing his unspoken query, an ancient tome appeared before the silver-bearded genie; its pages fluttered open to reveal a prophecy, foretelling a calamity so dire it could snuff out both magic and mankind.

“What are you planning to wish for, Sallie Benson?” he muttered to himself.

As explained in my previous post, I participate in Twitter hashtag games, and bulk those tweets up for Instagram…and sometimes they’re too big. So, instead of deleting them, I decided to post them here.

Original Tweet (the prompt was the word #tear):

There wasn’t a chance in hell that Melanie would let a single tear escape when Kyle ended the relationship. She perfected the art of keeping them imprisoned long ago.

The only thing worse than suppressing the need to cry would be allowing him to see her break down.

The too large for Instagram remix:

Melanie sat in stunned silence, her gaze fixed on the door as Kyle walked out of her life. His words echoed in her mind, each one like a sharp knife stabbing at her heart. There wasn’t a chance in hell that she would let a single tear escape when he ended the relationship. She perfected the art of keeping them imprisoned long ago, building walls around her emotions to protect herself from pain.

But as the sound of his footsteps faded away, she felt her resolve crumbling. The only thing worse than suppressing the need to cry would be allowing him to see her break down. So she sat there, motionless and numb, as the memories flooded back.

She remembered the first time they met, at a coffee shop on a rainy day. He had a charming smile and a contagious laugh that made her heart skip a beat. They talked for hours, about everything and nothing, and she felt a connection she had never felt before. Over the months that followed, they fell in love, building a life together filled with laughter, adventure, and endless possibilities.

But as time passed, the cracks began to show. The arguments, the misunderstandings, the doubts – they all crept in, eroding the foundation of their relationship. And now, it was over. Kyle had given up, and Melanie was left alone, with nothing but her thoughts and the pain in her chest.

As the minutes turned into hours, she sat there, lost in her grief. The tears finally came, a torrential downpour of emotions that she couldn’t control. She cried for the love they shared, for the moments they had lost, and for the future they would never have. She cried until she had no tears left, until her heart was empty and her soul was raw.

In that moment of vulnerability, she realized that she had been wrong to build those walls around her emotions. She had been so focused on protecting herself from pain that she had forgotten what it meant to feel alive. She had forgotten that love was worth the risk, that the beauty of life lay in its imperfections, and that sometimes, the only way to heal was to let yourself break.

As she wiped away her tears and stood up, she knew that the road ahead would be long and difficult. But she also knew that she was strong enough to face it. With each step she took, she left a part of her past behind, and embraced the uncertain but promising future ahead.

As explained in my previous post, I participate in Twitter hashtag games, and bulk those tweets up for Instagram…and sometimes they’re too big. So, instead of deleting them, I decided to post them here.

Original Tweet (the prompt was the word #twisted):

I walked through the rusted attractions of the abandoned amusement park and heard the faint sound of laughter and screams coming from the empty rides and realized the rumors of this playground luring children to become a part of its eternal, twisted carnival were true.

The too large for Instagram remix:

The abandoned amusement park had been an urban legend for as long as I could remember. Tales of missing children and strange happenings were whispered amongst the locals, but as a thrill-seeker and skeptic, I couldn’t resist the pull of the abandoned carnival.
The entrance was eerie, the once-colorful banners now faded and peeling. I pushed through the creaking gates, taking my first steps into the empty park. Despite the silence, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched. I walked past rusted attractions and broken rides, my footsteps echoing through the empty pathways.

As I approached the old funhouse, I heard the sound of laughter and screams coming from within. Against my better judgment, I went inside. The dimly lit room was filled with children, their faces contorted with fear, and their mouths stitched shut.

I could feel their terror, and it was contagious. My heart raced as I tried to make sense of what I was seeing. How could there be so many children in this abandoned place?

Suddenly, the room went dark. I could hear the sound of twisted laughter, and I knew then that I was trapped. The children around me were reaching out for help, but their hands were cold and lifeless. I tried to run, but something held me in place.

The laughter grew louder, and I felt a presence looming over me. I tried to scream, but my mouth wouldn’t open. I was now one of the many children who had entered the gates of the cursed amusement park, never to return.

As the laughter faded, I was left alone in the darkness, trapped forever in the twisted carnival that had claimed me.

As explained in my previous post, I participate in Twitter hashtag games, and bulk those tweets up for Instagram…and sometimes they’re too big. So, instead of deleting them, I decided to post them here.

Original Tweet (the prompt was the word #whisper):

Nightly creaks and groans? Lady Chatham accepted that as part of the charm of living in the old Victorian mansion. But when the portraits began to whisper secrets of their long-lost owners and the walls began to bleed, she knew she had made a grave mistake.

The too large for Instagram remix:

Lady Chatham was always fascinated by old Victorian mansions, and when she stumbled upon one for sale, she couldn’t resist the temptation to buy it. She loved everything about it, from the intricate woodwork to the high ceilings and the spacious rooms. But she soon discovered that there was more to the mansion than meets the eye.

At first, it was just the nightly creaks and groans that she accepted as part of the charm of living in an old house. But then, the portraits on the walls began to whisper secrets of their long-lost owners, and Lady Chatham started to feel uneasy. She tried to ignore it and go on with her life, but the strange occurrences only grew more frequent and more bizarre.

One day, Lady Chatham woke up to find the walls of her bedroom covered in blood. She thought it was a prank or some sort of sick joke, but as she tried to clean it up, the blood wouldn’t come off. It was as if it had seeped into the very fibers of the wallpaper. That’s when she knew she had made a grave mistake.

As the days passed, Lady Chatham tried to find some explanation for what was happening, but she couldn’t. The mansion had a life of its own, and it seemed to be getting more and more malevolent with each passing day. She began to see shadows moving in the corners of her eyes and hear whispers in the dead of night. She tried to leave the house, but it was as if the doors were locked from the inside.

One evening, as Lady Chatham was sitting in the parlor, she heard a voice. It was a man’s voice, and it was coming from the portrait of a stern-looking gentleman hanging on the wall. The voice spoke to her, telling her the secrets of his life, and the lives of those who had come before him. Lady Chatham was transfixed, unable to move or speak. When the voice finally stopped, she knew that she was not alone in the house.

From that night on, Lady Chatham was a prisoner in her own home. The mansion had come alive, and it was determined to keep her there forever. The walls continued to bleed, the portraits continued to whisper, and the creaks and groans grew louder and more ominous. Lady Chatham knew that she would never leave the house alive.

Years later, when a new family moved into the mansion, they found Lady Chatham’s body in the parlor. She was sitting in front of the portrait of the stern-looking gentleman, with a look of terror frozen on her face. The walls were still bleeding, and the portraits were still whispering. The new family tried to leave the house, but the doors were locked from the inside. They knew they were trapped, just like Lady Chatham had been, and that they would never escape the malevolent presence that haunted the old Victorian mansion.

Teenage life certainly comes with its unique set of challenges; from managing schoolwork to curfews, there’s already plenty on your plate. But what if a stranded extraterrestrial was added into the mix? Suddenly, navigating high school becomes a lot more complicated. Luckily for you, you know me, the man with the plan for every weird occasion, and today we’ll explore the best strategies for keeping your interstellar friend hidden from your parents and maintaining some semblance of normalcy.

1. Establish Ground Rules: Before you begin your super-secret mission of extraterrestrial concealment, you’re going to need to establish some ground rules with your new friend. If they understand your language, discuss the importance of remaining hidden and the potential consequences of being discovered. If they don’t speak your language, show them the FOX Alien Autopsy video and point aggressively at them during the dissection scene. They’ll get the message.
2. Choose a Secure Hideout: Select a safe and discreet location where your extraterrestrial friend can stay. It could be a basement, attic, the As-Seen-On-TV junk closet (after that stuff gets purchased, no one ever touches it), or even a treehouse. Ensure it’s easily accessible to you but unlikely to be stumbled upon by your parents.
3. Maintain Regular Routines: Consistency is key. Stick to your regular routines as much as possible. Attend school, complete chores, and engage in typical activities to divert suspicion. A sudden change in behavior might raise eyebrows.
4. Create Distractions: Craft clever distractions to divert your parents’ attention. Engage them in conversations or activities that keep them occupied, giving you opportunities to slip away and spend time with your otherworldly companion. If that doesn’t work, ask them graphic questions about the birds and the bees, really graphic and discuss your growing need for some alone time. True, they’re adults and don’t know as much as your wisened teenage self, but they’ll catch on.
5. Utilize Technology: If your extraterrestrial friend is tech-savvy, use technology to your advantage. Set up communication systems that allow you to stay connected without raising suspicions. But be cautious—tech glitches could lead to unintended revelations. And avoid probes. Aliens are into probing, big time, which could be painful in the end (see what I did there?).
6. Befriend the Unlikely Allies: Forge alliances with siblings or friends who can provide cover when needed. Having someone to vouch for your whereabouts can be invaluable if your parents start asking questions. Bribery works. Blackmail works even better.
7. Employ Misdirection: Subtle misdirection can work wonders. Drop hints about new hobbies, interests, or commitments that might explain your absences. Just make sure your explanations are plausible and consistent. And if that fails, revert back to birds and the bees talk, but this time ask your parent how it applies to them, and then ask them for a demonstration. They’ll steer clear of you for sure for a while.
8. Coordinate with Your Extraterrestrial Friend: Communication is essential between you and your otherworldly companion. Keep each other informed about your daily schedules and plans. This way, you can avoid unexpected encounters.
9. Prepare for Close Calls: Despite your best efforts, close calls are inevitable. Have a contingency plan in place for when things go awry. Know where to hide at a moment’s notice and how to handle unexpected situations.
10. Stay Calm and Confident: In moments of crisis, maintain your composure. Confidence can go a long way in convincing your parents that everything is business as usual.

Keeping your extraterrestrial friend hidden requires creativity, quick thinking, and impeccable timing. While it might seem daunting, the bond you share with your new friend will make the challenge worth it. With determination, a bit of ingenuity, and a dash of luck, you’ll master the art of maintaining your double life and safeguarding your out-of-this-world secret.