Tag Archives: short story

The Three Simple Facts Of Writing

Posted by Madd_Fictional on

 

Today’s entry is a shortie because I’m busy wrestling with a wordy bastard of a story that refuses to be tamed but I’m in a particularly stubborn mood, so challenge met!

That said, I offer you my three simple facts of writing:

  1. If you do not write the story you truly want to write, it will never be read. You can’t have the unwashed masses confirm your greatness when you haven’t given them anything to be in awe of.
  2. If you don’t submit your work—–for review, publication, employment, or whatever—–the answer will always be no. The cruelest rejection you can ever receive is from yourself, the toughest critic you’ll ever know. If you never show your work, you never give an editor, publisher, prodco, or whatever, the chance to say yes (exercise caution, of course, and protect your writing before letting it fly out into the world).
  3. If you don’t write, you’ll never be a writer. Plain and simple. Also, many, many, many years from now, when you’re lying on your deathbed, do you really want a box of regret—–filled with all the unwritten stories of your life—–hanging over your head like the sword of Damocles? I think not.

Sally forth and be writeful.

— Rhyan Scorpio-Rhys

Space Case

Posted by Madd_Fictional on

Everyone I knew wrote me off as a space case, as if I was insane or some sad eccentric with little grip on reality but none of them, not a single solitary person, bothered to get to know me, to peer beyond this veil of all too fragile flesh in order to witness the infinitude that lay within.

©2020 Rhyan Scorpio-Rhys

Having Heaven 12 – The Scan

Posted by Madd_Fictional on

Researching on her tablet, Mayra discovered the first functional fetal organ to develop was the heart, typically eighteen to nineteen days after fertilization which began to beat and pump blood around day twenty-two. But when it came to ensoulment, the closest thing she found to a specific answer dated back to the time of Aristotle, where it was believed the human soul entered the forming body at forty days for boys and ninety days for girls, which was of exactly zero use in explaining why there had been no sightings of child or baby spirits and if her as yet unborn child currently had a soul.

“How long do you think you’ve been pregnant?” Bethany asked.

“Um, I don’t know,” Mayra said, counting the days back to when she first took the test.

“At least six weeks?”

“Sure, I think. Maybe? Why?”

“Because six weeks is the earliest you can get a dating scan.”

“A what now?”

“An ultrasound to find out how far along you are and detect the presence of a heartbeat. Don’t you want to hear your baby’s heartbeat? I know I do.”

Mayra felt slightly ashamed that Bethany had taken the reins with regard to the clinical aspects for the pregnancy while she was preoccupied with the metaphysics of soul creation and death.

“It’s been over six weeks since I missed my period,” Mayra said.

“So, should I book us an appointment?” Bethany asked, and received no response. “What’s up with you?”

“You’re not going to like this,” Mayra sighed. “But I think Gavin might be right.”

“About what?”

“Maybe it’s not right to bring a child into this new world.”

Bethany sat across from Mayra in complete silence, lost in her thoughts for a long while before saying, “I don’t know how to respond to that. I mean, if that’s Gavin’s voice in your head, I’d tell you to tell it to fuck off. If you’re thinking it because you’re nervous, I can totally understand that but like I’ve told you a hundred times, you are not alone, and I’ll keep telling you until it finally sinks in. But if this is truly how you feel, then I support you and your choice and I’ll be here for you however you need me to be so don’t feel guilty because you have to do what’s right for you.”

“I have to admit, Bethy, I have no idea what’s right anymore.”

***

It was an odd thing but being in the hospital to get the ultrasound made the situation real. Mayra was going to have a baby, she was going to be a single mom which meant she had some growing up to do. She was afraid the sonographer was going to make assumptions about her since Bethany was at her side instead of Gavin but it was one of those childishly foolish notions that she needed to push out of her head.

“At this point we should be able to see the baby take shape,” the sonographer, whose name was Gloria, smiled. “Your little one is slowly becoming a person and I have to admit this is the point I find the most exciting. Nine months might seem like a long time but it will fly by. Make the most of this experience because once you hold your baby in your arms everything will be different.”

“Do you think this is something I can do alone?” Mayra had no idea why she asked the question. The words just slipped out before she was aware of what she was saying.

“Yes, even though it’s obvious to me you aren’t alone,” Gloria said without missing a beat and nodding a smile at Bethany. “Somehow I can tell there are always going to be people around to help you. Pregnancy can sometimes make you feel like you’re in it by yourself but you’d be surprised at how people will step up to help.”

“That’s a curious bedside manner you’ve got there,” Bethany said.

“So I’ve been told,” Gloria replied and to Mayra she said, “The scan usually takes about twenty minutes.”

“Twenty minutes?” Mayra said.

“I know your bladder’s full but we’ll get through this as quickly as possible,” Gloria held up a squeeze bottle and a small hand-held device. “First I’m going to apply some ultrasound gel to your tummy and move this transducer over your skin to get views of your baby.”

Mayra looked down at the gel being spread over her stomach. Her body was still in the same shape it had always been, something the baby would soon change and she wasn’t quite sure she was ready for it. When she glanced at Bethany, she saw her friend was staring across the room at a ghost midwife standing nearby, watching the monitor, waiting patiently. It was impossible to pretend she wasn’t there but a strange phenomenon was taking place where people began ignoring the spirits, they had become so commonplace. Exhaling deeply, she turned her attention to the screen. Being able to see her growing child was the whole reason she was there, and she wasn’t about to let the dead spoil this moment.

“Okay, Mayra, this is going to feel weird, but I promise you it’s truly worth it,” Gloria said.

Mayra said a silent prayer that the scan turned out normal and the baby was healthy but the moment the transducer made contact with her belly—everything changed. Her vision filled with starbursts. A million points of light filled her mind and she was overcome with a sensation that was simply too good, too pure to exist in this imperfect world. Her sense of existence expanded beyond the limitations of infinity and for one brief moment the edges of her mind brushed against the minds of every person, living and dead, linking together like a jigsaw puzzle of peace and all was right in the universe for a nanosecond before infinite knowledge avalanched onto her mind sending shards of information into her brain and out through the back of her skull over and over eternally and existence filled her mouth, filled her throat, filled her lungs, suffocating her with its presence and it would not let up, would not let her fight, would not let her scream as she was engulfed by the unending blinding whiteness of everything until she became nothing at all.

The bits and pieces that made her unique no longer existed in this pearlescent void and how could it? The totality of everything had pushed everything she had ever been out of her. She was now a hollow lifeless shell—until she wasn’t. Reality, her reality, the only one she personally experienced, had begun reknitting itself, stitch one, purl two until she was back in the examination room with the sonographer and Bethany. Both women stood stock-still as if they had been turned into stone by a basilisk, mouth agape, staring at the monitor. What they saw on the screen looked nothing like a baby at all. It looked more like a blob, a swirling mass that resembled a distant galaxy viewed through a space telescope.

When Gloria recovered enough to form words, she said, “Let me get one of the doctors in for a second opinion,” and bolted out of the room before Mayra could ask a question.

Mayra turned to Bethany who was gathering their coats and bags in a hurried fashion.

“Bethy, what are you doing?”

“Sweetie, we need to get the fuck out of here, now!”

To Be Continued…

©2017-2020 Rhyan Scorpio-Rhys

No Clowning Around

Posted by Madd_Fictional on

I thought I could handle any trouble that came my way but the murder investigation had gone riotous way too fast and I was caught at ground zero.

I tried to beat a hasty retreat to call for backup but standing between me and the Big Top’s only egress was the Circus Authorities, a bundle of fast-moving, nimble as fuck, acrobatic clowns armed to the teeth with corrosive acid pies and rubber chickens filled with ball bearings.

There was no way this was going to end well.

©2020 Rhyan Scorpio-Rhys

Earth Day Isolation

Posted by Madd_Fictional on
Photo by @SteveAllenPhoto

The loamy smell of rain-damp soil fills the air of my Earth Day isolation. Birdsong twitters through the brick and mortar forest lining the long abandoned streets, and I sit on my doorstep patiently waiting for the day when I can appreciate nature and the life it gives so freely without hiding behind a mask and latex.

©2020 Rhyan Scorpio-Rhys

Having Heaven 10 – The Hail Mary

Posted by Madd_Fictional on

It was a twenty minute wait from the phone call to when Bethany arrived and in that eternity the sky darkened and it began to drizzle, water droplets beating a soft rhythm and running rivulets down the clinic’s front window. The change of weather had not deterred the protesters, who came prepared, some sporting rain ponchos and others toting umbrellas.

Bethany was in a right state when she burst into the clinic, causing alarm to the receptionist and the people seated in the waiting area, all except the spirits who patiently waited their turn for a call that would never come. Mayra was struck by a sad reality that this spot might have been the last place some of these people saw while they were still alive, either through natural causes or by violence or by complications brought about by the procedure. There were no babies, though, she was thankful for that. Come to think of it, she could not recall having seen any child spirits. A fleeting thought that was pushed to the back of her mind.

“It’s all right, she’s with me,” Mayra said, rising from her seat, catching the eye of Cynthia the receptionist and the two plain-clothed men stood near the front door whom she had not noticed before who were obviously security. To Bethany she said, “You can’t be busting in here like that. It’s not safe.”

“For who, me? Let them try their luck,” Bethany said, catching her breath. “Sorry I’m late, I had a hell of a time getting out here.”

“No, I’m the one who should be sorry for pulling you out of work. I must have sounded frantic but I didn’t know who else to call.”

“Who cares about that job? I’m more worried about you.”

“Thanks for coming,” Mayra paused and it was pregnant with uncertainty and a touch of shame. “I guess you’re wondering why I’m here.”

“No, actually, I can work that bit out. Between this and that thing you needed to discuss with Gavin before you told me, I think it’s fairly obvious. I only have two questions for you: first, Did you? No judgments, I just need to know what sort of support I’m offering here.”

Mayra shook her head.

“Okay,” there was a note of relief in Bethany’s voice. And if Mayra was being honest, she felt it too. “Second, where’s the prick?”

“I don’t know and he’s not a prick.”

“Did you try calling him?”

Mayra nodded. “Several times but it goes straight to voicemail.”

“He’s not going to answer because he pulled a Hail Mary on you.”

“A what?”

“A Hail Mary. It’s when a guy talks a girl out of having a baby then celebrates by breaking up with her.”

“That’s not what happened.”

“Oh yeah? Tell me if this sounds familiar: I love you very much and would like nothing better than to have kids with you. But, if we have a kid now, that’ll ruin our chances of having a huge wedding, buying a home and raising a big family together. If you do the right thing now, I promise we’ll have as many kids as you want later on.”

“This–this is a thing?”

“A thing that comes prepackaged with a script. I wish you told me about this first, this way we could’ve caught the prick red-handed and stopped him dead in his tracks,” Bethany said, gathering up Mayra’s coat and handbag. “Are you ready to go? I have a cab waiting outside.”

“But how do you know about it?” Mayra asked as Bethany hooked an arm around her elbow and tugged her toward the exit.

“Ain’t my first time at the rodeo, sweetie. Now, where are we headed? Your place? Mine? A bar?”

“My place.”

“Good. If we’re quick about it, maybe we can catch him before he clears out. At least you won’t be alone. Give me the sign and I’m throat punch him for you.”

Mayra let out a small, mirthless chuckle, more out of habit than anything else.

“You’re laughing but I’m serious, one quick rabbit punch to his Adam’s apple—”

They made a mad dash for the taxi because the rain was coming down hard enough now to render windshield wipers and high beams virtually ineffective. Not that Mayra noticed. She sat silently throughout the entire ride mulling over the concept of the Hail Mary while trying to give Gavin the benefit of the doubt. There was simply no way he could have done something as devious as that to her.

When they arrived at her house, Mayra half-expected to see Gavin hunched over the keyboard with his face buried in the computer monitor, apologizing and offering some lame excuse about stopping by the house to catch up on a little work and losing track of time, but he wasn’t there. Neither was the computer.

The apartment had an unnatural quietude when they entered. It turned out that Bethany had been spot on in her assessment and Mayra’s worst fears had been realized. All of Gavin’s belongings were gone. He cleared out everything he owned, including that damned computer, which they bought together. There was no way he could have packed everything up and moved out so completely during the time Mayra spent in the clinic, so it was obvious he had been planning his escape ever since she agreed to go along with his plan.

She walked through the living room and into the bedroom. The closet door was wide open and Mayra stood staring into it and now filled with only her clothes it seemed far too big. She pressed her lips into a tight line of defiance, holding back the tears welling in her eyes, as a tightness in her chest constricted her ability to take in air.

“Don’t do this to yourself, Mayra,” Bethany said, gently rubbing Mayra’s shoulders. “The prick isn’t worth it.”

Mayra nodded and turned to Bethany. “I know, I just can’t believe it, is all. I mean, how naïve could I have been not to see through this? He packed his stuff under my nose and I didn’t notice a thing.”

“You had a lot on your mind with the heaven thing, seeing your mother again and being pregnant on top of that, hell, Sherlock Holmes would have missed the clues under those circumstances,” Bethany said. “I could never understand what you saw in him and even I didn’t think he was low enough to pull a Hail Mary. There’s a level in hell for pricks who do shit like that, and if there isn’t, I’ll build one personally.”

“He wasn’t always a prick.”

“Yeah, sometimes he was a cunt, too,”

Mayra smiled despite herself. “I’m serious, Bethy, he was always there for me when things got bad, and not having him here,” she sighed. “I guess I should have known something like this was coming. He’s been disconnected since this whole mess began but I didn’t think he could be callous enough to manipulate me and simply walk away.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to defend him but the world’s been turned upside down and everyone’s different now. The best thing you can do is put him in your rearview mirror and try to live your life as normally as possible. If you let his cowardice and stupidity get the better of you, you’re going to end up not living at all.”

Mayra sat down on the corner of the bed, her mind whirring. The thought of what lay ahead if worst came to worst put a shudder of nerves through her. “I need to work out how I’m

going to have a baby all alone when I can’t even make the rent on this place on my own.”

“What am I, chopped liver?” Bethany sat beside Mayra on the bed.

“What?”

“It’s something my grandma used to say,” Bethany explained. “My lease is up the end of this month, so if a certain someone was looking for a roomie, say, someone they could trust, I might know someone who would be happy to help out, if needed.”

Mayra smiled and laid her head on Bethany’s shoulder. “Thanks. No promises, though. Not until I get in touch with Gavin and sort this out, one way or the other.”

“You’re better than I am. After what he’s done, he’d be dead to me. Emphasis on the word dead.”

“I just need to talk to him, Bethy, to find out why he felt the need to handle things this way. He owes me,” Mayra placed her hand on her belly. “Owes us an explanation. And if it’s over, truly over, I need to know for sure so I can move on.”

“You do realize that if you take him back after all this, I’m never going to let you live it down.”

“I know.”

“I mean, never.”

“Got it.”

“Super passive-aggressive shots fired every time I see you two together.”

“Understood.”

“And if I ever catch him on his own—”

“A rabbit punch to the throat,” Mayra put her arms around her friend. “I love you, too.”

“Well, you’ve been put through the wringer today so I think you should try to get some rest,” Bethany said.

Mayra sighed but didn’t argue when Bethany had gotten her into bed and sat beside her.

“If I fall asleep, please don’t leave,” Mayra said softly, her eyes fluttering. “I don’t think I can take being alone right now.”

“Just try getting rid of me,” Bethany said, running fingers through her friend’s hair until she eventually fell asleep.

To Be Continued…

©2017-2020 Rhyan Scorpio-Rhys

Some Assembly Required

Posted by Madd_Fictional on

In the midst of a tantrum burst of emotions, Robson stomped into his room and slammed the door shut so hard the picture on the wall to the right came free of its hook and crashed to the floor. It was one of his favorites, a print of a painting depicting a young boy and girl building a snowman with the caption “Snowmen fall from heaven…unassembled” across the bottom. The glass and the frame were cracked and now it was ruined just like everything else in his life! He kicked over his wastebasket, the plastic one with Captain America and all the other Marvel’s Avengers on it and discarded candy wrappers and other bits of broken junk he no longer had a use for skittered across the floor which only made him angrier.

He threw his head back and screamed, “Why can’t you give me what I want? Why can’t I eat what I want to eat and watch what I want to watch on tv? I’m sick of this stupid house and I hate you both! I can’t wait until I get older and leave here forever!”

And the rage kept spilling out until he had expelled all the air from his lungs and the rant became a coughing fit, but he didn’t care. He pulled in a deep breath of new air and let out a frustrated and sustained, guttural bellow so loud it vibrated his eyeballs.

When the red mist of fury lifted from his vision and he was left with nothing more than the fatigue of ages pressing down upon him, he heard a soft rap on his door. He had no desire to respond, so he didn’t but the door handle turned slowly and his father pushed his head inside.

“Got it all out of your system?” his father asked with no trace of anything being out of the ordinary.

Robson didn’t answer, he couldn’t answer, the fatigue wouldn’t allow it. But as his father entered the room and surveyed the damage, the young boy stood firm, and let his breath out through his nostrils in a defiant hiss.

His father picked up the cracked picture frame and examined it as he walked past Robson to sit on the bed. He patted the full-size mattress, indicating for his son to have a seat but the boy didn’t move. “Come on, it’s not going to kill you to sit next to me. I just need you to listen to what I have to say and then I’ll leave you alone to continue being mad at us.”

Reluctantly, Robson dragged his feet as if the gravity in the room had suddenly increased and plopped onto the bed as far away from his father as he could manage.

“A shame about this picture,” his father said. “Your mother and I bought this for you because it was the first thing you actually asked for. You pleaded with us and made your case so succinctly that we had no choice. At the time, we didn’t have the funds to spare but sometimes the happiness of the people you love is worth more than money.

“The reason I’m bringing this up is to talk to you about sacrifices. You’re too young to fully understand this but everybody in the world has to make them, no matter how young or old they are. And you may think the things we ask or tell you to do is unfair but that’s only because you don’t see the bigger picture and there’s no real reason you should at your age. Our job as your parents is to take care of the big important stuff so that you can live the easiest life we can manage to give you. But it’s also our duty to prepare you for what’s to come and we planned to wait until you were a little older but since you’re so eager to grow up, let me tell you what life holds in store for you.

“As you get older, you’re going to learn that even the people who were never supposed to let you down probably will and someone who has the same opinion about you…you will let them down, as well. That includes the three of us, champ. We’re eventually going to let each other down.

“You’re going to fall in love one day and your heart will get broken and it will probably happen more than once and it will get harder to love with each passing break. And most likely you’ll break a few hearts yourself even if you remember how it felt when yours was broken and try to avoid doing it to someone else, it’s going to happen.

“Despite your best intentions, you’ll fight with your best friends, blame a new love for things an old one did, complain because time is passing too fast, wish you had your childhood to do over again to get things right, and you’ll eventually lose someone you love which includes me and your mother.”

Robson sat motionless, staring at the cracked glass and broken frame, unable to meet his father’s gaze because he felt the sting of tears in his own eyes. “What do I do?” he said in a small voice.

“What do you mean?”

“To stop all the bad things from happening. What do I do?”

“Well, you can start by not taking the good things and times for granted but do take too many pictures, laugh too much, and love like you’ve never been hurt…because every sixty seconds you spend upset is a minute of happiness you’ll never get back. But before any of that, you should go apologize to your mother, she was really upset by some of the things you said.”

Robson hopped off the bed, turned his back to his father and wiped the tears from his eyes with his shirt sleeve. He walked to the door with a purpose but stopped at the door jamb and said over his shoulder, “I don’t really hate you, you know.”

“I know, kiddo,” his father smiled. “Now, go give your mother a great big hug and kiss and shag your butt back in here so we can straighten this room up.”

The little boy took off like a shot out of the room yelling, “Mommy! Mommy! I’m sorry!”

His father stood up, righted the wastebasket and carefully tilted the broken glass into the little plastic bucket. He caught sight of the caption on the picture and thought, Snowmen aren’t the only things that require assembly, sometimes family bonds do too.

©2020 Rhyan Scorpio-Rhys

The Blessing

Posted by Madd_Fictional on

“Do you even have the faintest idea why you’re still single?” my mother asks. Questioning me out of the blue is the way she offers her unsolicited and always unwanted opinions.

“I don’t know, Mom, because I just watched The Exorcist and cried through the entire thing?” And this is the way I try to dodge the conversation. “I mean, I know how it’s going to end and I feel terrible for Pazuzu. When it’s all over, Chris has Regan, Father Karras and Father Merrin ascend to heaven but what does Pazuzu get? Bupkis. Nada. Nothing.”

“You’re an odd duck.”

“A sentimental odd duck, let’s not overlook my ability to empathize and emote.”

Mom doesn’t take the bait. “I just want you to find someone so badly. You’re such a wonderful, albeit weird person and you deserve to meet someone really special,” she says.

And then, on cue, Dad pokes his head into the living room and in true man-fashion, tries to fix the problem.

“You attract more bees with honey than vinegar, pun’kin. Maybe if you spruced yourself up a bit,” he says. “Not that there’s anything wrong with the way you look–“

“Shut up, George!” Mom punches Dad in the arm.

“What? I’m just saying some fellas need to see the car polished before taking it out on a test drive, that’s all.”

“You want strangers test driving your daughter?”

“No! Of course not!” Dad waves the notion away as if it was a wasp. “What I mean to say is would it kill you to maybe wear a dress and some makeup once in a while and socialize with actual people in the real world in a social setting instead of throwing your youth away on the internet in chat rooms?”

“Dad, I know you mean well but you’re old–“

“I’m 56.”

“And that’s ancient, so is your way of thinking. Women shouldn’t have to gussy themselves up–“

“I never used the word gussy.”

“–in order to attract a mate.”

“We’re not talking about mating we’re talking about dating.”

“Same difference, Dad. If I met someone and we were into each other we might just hook up. It’s only sex.”

“Not in my house, it’s not! There’ll be no it’s only sex happening under my roof, young lady!”

“Which answers your question, Mom, as to why I’m still single.”

“What?” Mom looks confused. “How did this come back on me?”

“Not that it’s any of your business but I still have my V card.”

“Your what?”

“She’s still a virgin, George.”

“Well, thank Christ for small miracles, I suppose,” Dad breathes a sigh of relief.

“And if and when I hand in my card, I want it to be with someone who gets me, someone on my level and I want it to happen in a place where I feel safe and that’s here, with you guys.”

“You’re not asking us to watch, are you?”

Mom punches Dad in the arm again. “George!”

“Ewww, Dad, don’t be gross!” I decide to make one last attempt at explaining my reasoning. “This place isn’t the fanciest but it’s lived in and it’s filled with love—your love for each other and for me and my love for you. I want my first-time love to exist in the same place.”

“Seeing as it will be your first time, it might not be filled with as much love as you think,” Mom says under her breath and it’s Dad’s turn to punch her lightly on the arm.

“Hey,” he says. “Don’t spoil her fantasy.”

“So,” my voice turns sheepish. “Do I have your blessing?”

They stare at each other for a long contemplative moment and to my surprise, Dad is the one who breaks the ice. “Yeah, kiddo. It’s okay.” And Mom nods in agreement.

“Great!” I snatch my laptop up as I bound off the sofa and race past them and upstairs to my room.

“Where are you off to?” Mom asks.

“To get ready! Tommy’ll be over in a little while and we’re totally going to do it tonight! You guys are the best!”

Mom turns to Dad, “Who’s Tommy?”

“Dead meat if he knocks on this door,” Dad says cracking his knuckles.

©2019 Rhyan Scorpio-Rhys

The Randomness of 16

Posted by Madd_Fictional on

Kymmie Blanchette, now Kymberly Marshall had a life plan instilled in her by her parents which she followed to a T. She was a good kid, did well in school, had a core group of parent-approved friends, enjoyed spending time with her parents even as a teenager. She grew to be an outstanding adult, a high functioning, informed citizen who contributed positively to society and her parents’ careful planning led her down the predictable path of a solid career and a faithful marriage. She was a devoted mother to two children who also grew up to be successful in their respective fields.

But as her body became tender to the touch and the constant pain once relegated to the background pain stepped to the forefront and her body cooled and the pattern of her breathing began changing frequently and spontaneously—a delirium clouded her mind and she slipped down the corridor of her youth, back to her only bout of rebelliousness, back to the randomness of being 16.

A few days after her birthday, Kymmie made a friend all on her own, secret from her parents and other friends, secret from everyone. Insomnia—birth name Ines—was everything Kymmie never had the courage or confidence to be. She was what her grandfather would have called a spitfire, who always spoke her mind to teachers, her parents, everyone. She constantly went toe to toe with the abusive jocks and snarky queen bees without ever flinching or backing down and couldn’t care less about people’s opinions of her.

Why they became such close friends was anybody’s guess but they first met when Kymmie caught Insomnia secretly watching hentai in AV Club. Somni—her nickname of choice—cool as a cucumber said, “You got me dead to rights. Ball’s in your court so what’s it gonna be? Narc me out or become otaku?” Kymmie had no idea what otaku meant and she really wasn’t into animated tentacle pornography but this raven-haired edgy girl had given her something no one else had up to this point: a choice.

Kymmie became Somni’s sidekick, her partner in crime and together they tried all the challenges—the cinnamon challenge, the choking challenge, the salt and ice cube challenge, the fire challenge—they even hotwired a very large Oldsmobile in a Walmart parking lot and took it for a joyride with nary a driver’s license between the pair of them. And down by the abandoned factory they took turns surfing on the hood, roof and bumper of the car while the other drove. Kymmie did more driving than surfing but Somni gave her props for making an attempt.

One day they even raided Somni’s parents’ medicine cabinet for unused prescription pills, created a drug cocktail and washed it down with cooking wine and cough medicine in basement.

When they were properly buzzed, they began to talk, about themselves, about their feelings, about how lonely life can be sometimes, how hard it was to bridge gaps between the people you liked most in the world. People who weren’t blood related but were closer than family. And Somni, usually tight-lipped when it came to expressing emotions, opened up a little and shared her secret wish to be a vampire so she could exchange blood with another being and become one with that person.

Was it the drugs or the cooking wine that made Kymmie brush the hair away from her neck as she told Insomnia, “Ball’s in your court so what’s it gonna be? Whine about your loneliness or become one with me?”

“You’ve got no clue what you’re doing,” Somni said.

“Neither do you, which is why you had to get high in order to tell me how you feel about me.”

“Who said this is about you?”

“It’s not about me? Then why are we in your basement, Ines?”

“Don’t call me that!” Innsomnia snapped.

“Why not, it’s your name, isn’t it?”

“It’s my mother’s name!”

“No it’s not, your mom’s name is Brenda.”

“That’s my stepmother, bitch! My mother left to be with some asshat and his family because we weren’t enough! Because I wasn’t enough!”

“I-I’m sorry, I had no idea,” Kymmie said. “But you not being enough…that’s just crazy thinking. I don’t know her but if she abandoned you like that then your mom is the real asshat here.”

“Shut up.”

“No, and you can’t make me.”

“Wanna bet?”

“What are you going to do…hit me…beat me up? Go ahead, if that’s what it takes to get it out of your system. I’m not afraid of you.”

“Really? Why are you shaking, then?”

“Because you terrify me, not because I think you’ll beat me up because I don’t think you will, at least I hope you won’t. You’ve terrified me from the moment I first saw you.”

“Hey, I’m straight.”

“So am I, I think, but does that mean I can’t be in love with you? I mean, something’s there and I know you feel it, too,” Kymmie said. “Even if this doesn’t end well, we have to air it out before one or the both of us hurts ourselves by keeping it in.”

“What part of I’m straight don’t you get?”

“This isn’t about about sexual preference. Somni, so stop freaking out about labels, I mean you of all people, you should know better than that.”

“I just don’t want you getting any wrong impressions. You’re cool to hang out with and all but, you know, as a friend.”

“Oh my god, why are you so guarded right now? A minute ago you were spilling your guts to me…”

“Yeah, well, a minute ago I wasn’t under a lesbian microscope.”

“I’m not calling you a lesbian, we’re not doing labels, okay? I just want you to admit you feel a certain way so that I don’t feel like an absolute loser for feeling the same way.”

“What way do you feel?” Somni asked.

“Really? Are we doing the whole ‘No, you go first’ thing?”

“You started this.”

“No, you got all vampiry and wanted to suck my blood so you could feel closer to me!”

“Okay, psycho.”

“I’m the psycho? How about the person who doesn’t like to be touched always being so affectionate with me? You let me lay my head in your lap and stroke my hair when I need a nap. You sit on my lap and whisper secrets in my ear.”

“That was one time.”

“Okay, but you still did it!”

“Why don’t you just woman up and tell me how you feel, you drunk lesbian.”

“I’m not a…okay, so maybe I’m a little drunk, can you get drunk off of cooking wine? or high off the pills, what did we take again? anyway, I don’t know what I am because i i haven’t been with anybody yet but I’m not attracted to girls. It’s just you. Whenever you’re around, I just want you to notice me.”

“Of course, I notice you, doofus, we hang out all the time.”

“I think you’re my soulmate.”

“Okay. That wasn’t awkward.”

“Can you be soulmates with a same sex person? Does being a soulmate mean you have to be a sexmate, too?”

“Okay, we need to sober you up because it’s time for you to leave and I can’t send you home like and risk you narcing on me.”

“I’d never narc you out.”

“Not intentionally, maybe.”

“And why aren’t you as fucked up as me?”

“Not my first time at the rodeo,” Insomnia draped an arm across her shoulder and helped Kymmie to her feet. “Coffee time. Let’s go.”

“No,” Kymmie resisted.

“No?”

“I’m not going anywhere until you kiss me.”

“What?”

“You heard me. On the mouth. Right now. Let’s go. Take the leap. I dare you. What are you, chicken? Bwak! Bwark! I double dog dare you!” Kymmie continued to squawk like a drunken chicken.

“Keep this up and I’ll street you and let you find your own way home.”

The taunts came to a halt and for a moment Kymmie seemed to sober up, “Please. Somni, please. I have to know. It hurts so much. Show me you care. Make me feel wanted.”

What went on in Insomnia’s mind, Kymmie would never know but her friend relented and the two girls. kissed. It lasted only a few seconds before Kymmie broke the wet kiss and wiped her mouth, saying, “Uh-uh. No, no.”

“That’s what I’m been trying to tell you, asshat!”

“I’m not an asshat, your mom’s an asshat!” and what could have been an uncomfortable and awkward moment was broken by the two girls bursting into a fit of uncontrollable, uproarious laughter that was only interrupted by Kymmie throwing up the entire contents of her stomach.

“You are such a fucking mess,” Insomnia said as she pulled Kymmie hair back and led her to a small rusted metal trash pail. “But I love you.” The words were said it in a soft voice that was hard to make out over the din of her own retching but Kymmie heard them clear as day.

They remained friends after that, never discussing the basement conversation again and continued doing stupid random teenage things that should have led to one or both of their deaths several times over but sometimes God watched over idiotic teenagers so they managed to pull through unscathed. Then, near the end of the year, Insomnia’s parents were forced to move because of the scarcity of job opportunities and the girls tried keeping in touch but long distance relationships required an attention that adult life seldomly permitted.

Kymberly chuckled at the memory which appeared more as a rasping cough to those sitting bedside and as the end approached, she whispered “Goodbye” and her family thought it was meant for them but she was actually saying farewell to her old friend.

©2020 Rhyan Scorpio-Rhys

My Name Be Entropy

Posted by Madd_Fictional on

I was never what anyone would have called creative by any stretch of the imagination but my parents, my loving mother and father taught me how to appreciate creativity when I encountered it especially when we gazed up at the night sky.

They schooled me on using my imagination, on connecting the dots to form pictures and manipulating those images in my mind to construct the most beautiful art imaginable. I was alive with a raw energy that I could not brush onto canvas or mold in clay. Nor was I able to express in song, speech or written word the joy I felt standing with those whom I loved most dearly beneath a canopy of loveliness brought to life by divine hands.

But that was then.

Now I serenaded the twilight every night, luring stars close enough to be plucked from the sky, one by one, and I saved their beauty in my clutch bag for the day my mother and father, who grew bored with me and succumbed to wanderlust, decided to finally return home.

“Why do you continue doing this thing, Enny?” my neighbor, the Spinster Wainwright, once asked in a tone that was more condemnation than curiosity.

“Because my mother once told me that stars used to inspire wishes,” I replied. “And I will continue to do this thing until my wish has been granted.”

To this, the old woman had no response. She simply stood at my side, watching the night sky grow darker as one by one the stars were plucked from the heavens and placed into my purse, causing galaxies to shudder.

Eventually, our star, our sun would join the others and this lonely existence would be eaten by the dark motes that share my name.

©2019 Rhyan Scorpio-Rhys