Search

Category: fiction

Wilber and the Pebble

Posted on by Thadd Presley

Wilber and the Pebble

by thadd presley

In the heart of the town lies a forest where a group of children had gathered for a macabre game they played on new kids. Wilber was twelve and had just moved onto South Laughter Street. Oblivious to the horrors that awaited him, he agreed to go into the woods and bring a pebble back from the stream.

Even from the end of the cul-de-sac, the air smelled of moist decay, and the ground squelched beneath his feet, as if it were soaked in the blood of countless soldiers the group said were buried here during the war.

Suddenly, Wilber stumbled upon a grotesque image. He started to laugh, but it wasn’t a joke. It took a moment for his brain to realize he was looking at a mutilated corpse. Its entrails spilled out like a grotesque tapestry. Flies buzzed around the black, putrid remains, feasting on the decaying flesh. The sight was enough to make even the bravest of souls retch in disgust. But Wilber, driven by shame and the need to be accepted, pushed forward. He walked way around the deer carcass, but didn’t dar tear his eyes away, out of fear it might bolt upright and start after him.

Meanwhile, those who had initially reveled in their cruel dare to send the new kid into the haunted forest in search of a smooth creek pebble, began to worry. Anxiety gnawed at their hearts as minutes turned into half an hour. Then, fear crept into their voices as they called out his name.

Their once playful banter about him shitting his pants when he saw he dead deer replaced by genuine concern. Little did they know, their innocent dare had led their friend into a nightmare from which he would never return.

The guilt gnawed at Sarah’s conscience and she was the first to suggest they go in and get him. “He’s lost, that’s all. We can find him and bring him out. He’s probably sitting at the big tree.” She knew they had pushed Wilber too early. They didn’t know him well enough to play a joke like this and now they would have to go in the forest too.

Jake’s face paled, his bravado crumbling under the weight of their actions. He knew Emily was usually the voice of reason, His voice trembled with fear, her eyes darting around as if expecting the forest itself to close up against them, “I don’t know. Maybe we should just say we were all in the forest and he got lost.”

Driven by a mix of guilt and desperation, the trio walked into the opening of the forest. Immediately their voices lost all power as though the desolate woods absorbed them. They continued to call Wilber’s name until they heard an owl.

The air grew heavy with an oppressive silence, broken only by the distant call of the owl. Shadows danced around them, whispering secrets of unspeakable horrors.

As they argued over going further in or lying, the hours became darkness.

South Laughter Strret parents were called in to continue searching the forest in groups, but come morning there was still no sign of Wilber.

“Wasted Time Travel” by Lola Ellen LaForge

Posted on by Thadd Presley

Wasted Time Travel

by Lola Ellen Laforge
 

Every day was like the day before. Get up, wash, eat, read, go outside to exercise. Wait to die. What were the things he had most wanted? How many years had passed since he’d planned to go anywhere or dreamt of anything beyond the sequence of events that brought him here? Could he have taken a different path? Sure. The trajectory of a human life can shift with a solitary choice; even a simple one like where to eat; turning left instead of right; shifting one’s course on a whim. Any plans he’d had beyond July 21, 2010, were obliterated in the wake of a single action. Was it a moment of passion? Could it even be called that? After all, the writing was on the wall long before it was spattered with blood. In retrospect he could see how change is less of a choice than it the consequence of making one. There is no going back.

 

Every day was like the day before. Access to the extensive library permitted him to read up on subjects that interested him – the collective consciousness, epigenetics, cause and effect, and time-travel. ‘I always wished I had more time to read’, he muttered under his breath, flipping through an old edition of Popular Mechanics. If millions of people had stood in awe of the Eiffel Tower, did he really need to see it with his own eyes? Seeing the Eiffel tower was transmitted in his genes. The tower was as near to him as his grandfather, who had spent three years in Paris working as a bellman. He asked himself why he should need to own a Ducati when thousands of cycle enthusiasts rode them. The experience of riding a Ducati was in his soul’s DNA. Every possible experience was somewhere recorded in the Akashic records; stored in a supercomputer on the ethereal plane. There was no need to go back.

 

Every day was like the day before. Although travel was still his passion, he had come to see how reading could take him anywhere he wished to go. From what he had read, his vivid imagination was suited to time travel. Prior to that fateful night he had imagined in fifty ways how a crime such as his would unfold; never certain that he could commit it. Not right up to the moment when he thought she had left him the only option what would force him to abandon all his wishes. Now (if he was honest) he’d have to admit that, since his arraignment, his wishes were starkly different. All he wanted now was to do the things most men took for granted. If he could do anything tonight, he would drive his old Mazda pickup down to the am/pm, pick up a couple of stovepipe 40s, sit out at Widow’s Peak and drink the sun down. He’d take his little brother fishing; stopping off at Fosters for burgers. Or sit at his mother’s kitchen table for tea. She loved it when he came around. He’d fix this or that, take out the trash, make her laugh. She always had something that needed repairing. He could almost smell her kitchen right now: simmered lemons, vanilla, strong coffee. And he could predict with near certainty his mother’s every query (and rebuke) while they sat for tea.

“Has that girl left yet? Are you still giving her money?”

“I worry about you getting yourself caught up with drifters and troublemakers. You trust people too easily and get taken advantage of”.

She would look at him with a depth of concern; her eyes pleading for some sign that she was reaching him and that he would comply. He would never go back.

 

Every day was like the day before. If a bucket list were things a man would vow never to do before he died, well that’d be easy. He’d never have left the military which had given him structure and purpose, and a steady paycheck. He’d never have walked into the Orange Twist that summer afternoon. And he damned sure wouldn’t have spoken to her; or wanted her… or loved her. He’d harbored doubts about her from their very first meeting. She had been so responsive to him, though. Her easy laughter; encouraging him to keep talking. Her willing body; luring him back again and again. Right up to the last time he had heard her familiar footfalls echoed across the wooden planks of the dock. That night her laughter had turned to a derisive cackle; her responsiveness, mocking. Her fists clenched tight in a rage, pounding against his face and neck. Through liquored lips she had spat out what he could not bear to hear her say. Things he did not want her to know about him. Things he himself had told her in moments of weakness. All that he had harbored inside to armor himself had spewed from her whiskey-soaked mouth. He had so wanted to trust her, but she was never the one he could trust; and he knew it. This knowledge haunted him now; that he could not trust himself. That night when he had finally quieted her she stood staring at him; emptiness filling her cheeks and forehead. Emptiness that didn’t spread up from the neck where the puncture wound seemed to be gasping for air, but from the center of her face, moving up and out toward her ears and forehead. She was like a blooming flower; neither her mind nor body able to process the fatal injury. He had shoved her away and she had tripped backward toward the edge of the wall, onto the boat hook that entered through the side of her neck and protruded from her throat. He couldn’t see her well in the dark night. He grabbed her and yanked her forward and she slumped over his arm. He quickly released her, and she slipped on the puddle forming at her feet, her neck twisting up and back as she fell to the side, smacking her chin on the dock before splashing down into the rotting water. He didn’t want to go back.

 

Every day was like the day before. Get up, wash, eat, read, go out to exercise. Wait to die. If a bucket list was a list of things a man would do instead, he would have walked right past the Orange Twist on his way to his mother’s that afternoon, not even looking through the faded window of the pub toward the now familiar laughter. He would’ve shifted his course that day, and even the subtlest shift would have taken him a different way. He would have visited his mother for tea and, over tea, made her laugh instead. The single item on that backward bucket list of things he would never do was time travel. Instead, he would travel every day in his mind to the places he knew for sure he would avoid at all costs if time travel were possible. Those few places where fate had lurked, disguised as opportunity, waiting to steal his life: the Orange Twist, the harbor, her bed. There is no going back.

After the Ambush

Posted on by Thadd Presley

After the Ambush

by thadd presley

Over the next few days, Victor slept through the day and traveled at night. He picked his way through rubbish and broken remains littering the gutters and alleys. He searched for anything he could use for bait or possibly barter. Anything to make life easier. All he had come across alongside the streets and avenues of the city were burnt husks of automobiles. They lined the roads in both directions.

Besides that, and worse in all the ways imaginable, were the staggering heaps of what he hoped were failed funeral pyres. When he saw the fifth or sixth heap of human bodies, some ashes and cinders, some only got hot enough to melt, while some were clothed, most were not. Yet, there they were, all together, holding up their part of the final conglomeration, marking their place in the long line of human development.

Moving deeper into the city, the buildings became more deserted than he had expected. Perhaps, the news of him had spread this far and he was being avoided. But, also, it could be the area which people were avoiding.

Sudden bangs echoed out of the night, along with them voices of men working. It wasn’t until he sat long enough to see the silhouette of a crane on the brightening horizon that he realized he was close to a shipping container yard. It brought two startling facts to light. He was traveling east, when he thought he was going west. Also, he was closer to a river than he thought. This was all good and bad news.

He was cautious as he made his way through the maze of towering metal crates, a chilling wind blew off the water, sending shivers down his spine. The long rays of morning light cast eerie shadows, adding to the sense of foreboding. Suddenly, a faint whimper reached Victor’s ears, drawing him closer to a particular container.

“Can you hear me?” A young voice called. Then, there came a light tapping. “I know someone is there.”

With tremendous trepidation, Victor quickly walked across an aisle, closing the distance between him and what he thought had to be a girl’s voice. It was coming from a container. He would have never heard it, if it hadn’t been for the thick steel door being left open.

Then, he felt really dumb. He knew he’d walked into a trap. Fear gripped him and he tensed. His body and mind awaiting the blow that would surely come.

But, when it didn’t, he realized he’d been holding his breath. Slowly, he told himself, stand up and get a look.

Slowly he walked toward the gap in the container doors. To steal a glance inside would be asking for trouble and possibly closer to suicide than he’d ever been. But, he had to do it. He had to know.

Total darkness, of course. But, that wasn’t all. The air blowing through the gap was cold. Really cold. Upon touch the metal of the container was even colder. How had he not noticed the condensation before now? Whatever was inside was meant to be fresh and kept that way for a long time.

God, bless who ever left this door open. It was food. Inside would be pounds of meat and fruit and …

But, the voice…

Victor worked up his courage, deciding if he were going to die it would be to helping someone… not because there was a possibility of fresh food.

Easing his way through the gap without touching the doors, he stopped to wait for his eyes to adjust. It would take a few minutes, but the dim morning light wasn’t enough to help without it. Part of his plan was to stay quiet and still only until he heard the voice again, but even that took too long.

The unimaginable loudness that a scratch of a match makes in total silence is deafening. The darkness sprang into light showing a mostly empty container. Only six wooden boxes in the whole place. Three lines against the walls of each side. From one of the boxes on the left side wall, the voice called. “I see your light. Please, help me.”

Every nerve in Victor’s body jumped at the sound of her voice. He was sure about it being a girl. He stepped quickly and bent down to the wooden box. The tapping started again.

“Quiet now. I’m here now.” He pried the lid up enough to get his fingers under the wood. Lifting it up in one motion, he revealed a haunting sight. She was laying in a bed of hay and wet sawdust. Couldn’t be more than 14 years old, maybe older because she was so starved. But, she was just a young, helpless girl.

Her small face was so pale and fragile. Victor’s heart sank as he realized he was too late. The girl was motionless, except for her eyes. Her body was nude, but covered with the straw. The parts he could see were smeared in a thick, dark, and oily mixture, like dirty engine grease. He reached down, his hands trembling, and gently touched her cold. It was cold, but not too cold.

Her eyes blinked then and brightened. “Are you real?”

Victor nodded. “I am.”

The Late Night Knife Fight

Posted on by Thadd Presley

The Late Night Knife Fight

by thadd presley

Victor stood in the dimly lit alley, his heart pounding with anticipation. The air was heavy with tension as a man had just demanded money. Slowly Victor turned and saw the menacing grin grow across the face of a very fat man. There were thick patches of scars crossed his chest and neck. A single flickering streetlamp cast deforming shadows across the muggers lumpy face. The strobe effect adding another level of danger to the ambush.

The sweaty flesh was lumpy with cancerous lesions and bacteria filled boils, a grotesque sight at anytime, in any place, but here in a dark alleyway, during the middle of the night, it meant that Victor was in more danger than just being robbed and killed. Even a light misting or splatter of blood meant a infection. The strongest antibiotic wouldn’t be enough to kill the bacteria. There was a very smaller chance that the virus would mature and develop into cancer, but coming into contact with the man’s blood would guarantee a long, painful decline into the crushing mouth of infection and disease.

Victor measured the distance betweent them. Eight feet was close enough to demand money, but not close enough to take it. He could outrun the threat. Maybe. But, it would leave this scum to target and steal from someone else. And worse, even.

Victor tightened his grip on the handle of the curved blade, feeling its familiar weight and balance. Then, he loosened his grip. He swung the cold steel out in an arc, making sure the man could see it. He half expected the man to give up, considering his weight and miserable state of health, but the grin widened across the man’s face and opened into a wide gaping, toothless maw.

With a sudden burst of energy, the fat man lunged forward. The speed of the double-edged short sword came from the need to surprise and the painful anger of desperation.

Victor swiftly sidestepped the attack, his reflexes honed by countless battles. He countered the wild stab with a swift double slash, aiming first for the wrist, then for the soft skin just below the man’s ribs.

In a moment of shuttering disbelief, their blades clashed, the clang of metal on metal echoing through the alleyway and reverberated in Victor’s bones. The sudden halt of his swinging arm made everything clear. The fat man could not be under estimated. He was fast and he was strong.  Adrenaline rush into his blood, coursing through his veins like rocket fuel, drowning out everything except the fat man, heightening his senses and sharpening his focus to a level unknown to most people.

The following attacks turned the alley into a battleground of swirling shadows and slashing steel. The mugger out matched victor in brute strength. It was evident that if not for technique and skill he would already be wounded or dead. But, because of his practice and agility, he was able to time his strikes with precision, exploiting the man’s soft belly and hanging side rolls.

Victor noticed the fat man’s pacing and patterns slowed. As he lost his breath and strength his attacks grew more wild and erratic. Pain and desperation still motivated him. Victor knew he was very dangerous and to stay alive and unharmed he must force his mind to be clear and focused. He had to anticipate each jab and swing of the blade. While trying to only dodge and not parrying because a little slip could slide and cut his thumb or arm.

The chance of catching his disease from the fat man was probably enough to scare anyone from wanting to fight. Resisting him meant infection and infection in this place meant a painful death.. But, this was not the case for Victor. Knowing the man would target others only made him want to defend himself more.  It made him faster and smarter than the fat man.

With a final surge of strength, Victor seized an opening. He swiftly disarmed the man, sending his blade clattering to the ground. The man stumbled backward, his eyes wide with disbelief and defeat.

Victor stood tall, his chest heaving with exertion. He looked into the man’s eyes, a mix of pity and triumph in his gaze. He had won the fight, but it was not over.

There was no joy in victory anymore. The violence had taken its toll.

Victor’s blade found its final mark, opening a deep, bright-red gash under the man’s chin. Blood squirted and spewed like a liquid arrow directly toward Victor’s face, but by some miracle of muscle memory he managed to twist clear of the fountain.

First, he heard it and then he saw the blood pattering the ground. The fat man held his neck and turned from side to side, painting the final picture of his life. Death’s red graffiti bloomed and ran in jagged lines through the cracks of the filthy asphalt at the end of a stinking alleyway. A fitting masterpiece that perfectly described the brutal finality of their struggle.

As the first rays of dawn began to break through the darkness, Victor turned away from his fallen opponent. He knew that his nightmares were far from over, that more battles awaited him in the shadows of nearer the heart of the city.

With a heavy heart, Victor disappeared into the early morning mist, his steps echoing the weight of his choices. The knife fight had come to an end, but the red painting would forever remain in his mind as a reminder of the price for desperation and fear.

Sea of Love

Posted on by Thadd Presley

As We Cast Ourselves Onto The Sea of Love

Thadd Presley

Anyone who talked to, or knew anything about, those who went out onto the sea and over the horizon in search of the elusive dream, must imagine crossing that strange ocean and how it will feel when first they set their feet and plant their flag somewhere in the pristine sands. Stories told of warm beaches and  hinted about the many ways it changes a person’s life.  No one knew for sure what lied out in the depths nor could they name the island.  No one ever dared a guess as to what it would be to go there and no one thought to ask the best way.

It was enough, only, to have hope and strength enough to set off alone into the vast ocean with nothing but a small boat and excited expectation. Arriving alive upon one of the sandy islands with a face full of sun during the day and eyes filled with countless stars at night was more than most would ever acheive.

“I’m going to that place lovers go,” one young man burned into a small piece of leather and that was enough, that was just the way of it.  All the directions around the compass and all the destinations on the world map meant nothing if love didn’t set the wheel and drive the vessel.

No one took provisions or asked for a map, no first mate ever boarded with the explorer.  It was a lone voyage.  On occasion, there were a few words quietly spoken by some who cared to announce their departure, but it rarely surpassed: “Bon voyage.  If I don’t return just know I am happy and I did as I knew best.”

An endless blue sky sat above a never ending ocean, indistinguishable except for sliding wave or a floating cloud. Then, with a pull of anchor, onto the sea of love they went.  Just a hope and a prayer.

Medicine People

Posted on by Thadd Presley


Medicine People
by Thadd Presley

 

The man pushed the needle under her flesh and smiled when blood spurted into the chamber. He whispered into her ear, as he pulled the plunger back. “Drugs aren’t good or bad, you know?” Her blood mixed with the thick, brown liquid, delighting the man. “You’re like a medicine man,” he mused. “You’ve heard of medicine men haven’t you?”

“Yeah,” she mumbled. Already able to feel the strong concoction. “They’re like Indians…”

“Yeah, well kind of, but many cultures have them. They’re the people who had the guts to try things the others were too afraid to do.”
She nodded. “Like shaman?” She pronounced it slowly: “Shay-men.”

“Exactly. They’d go into the spirit world and come back with knowledge that can only come from the other side.”

She liked the idea of that. It made her smile. “Like wisdom.”
“That’s right! And it changed everyone’s life? The medicine people found out things from the ancestors and from the angels. Things that never made sense to the people at that time. The ideas were decades and centuries ahead of the time. Thousands of years, sometimes.

“Yeah.” She was mumbling, her eyes were only pin-pricks between a sliver of eyelids.

“Are you afraid?”

She laughed. “Not even.”

He pushed the plunger and the liquid slid effortlessly into her vein. Numbness flowed up her left arm and across her chest. As it slowly crept up her neck, her eyelids closed out the world. Then, peace engulfed her. All the stress and worry stopped as she slipped from this world and entered the spirit world.



Copyright Thadd Presley — All Rights Reserved

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Thadd Presley’s Terrible Two: Issue One

Posted on by Thadd Presley

You can help support an independent writer by purchasing Terrible Two: Issue One for $1.99 Also share the link with someone you think would be interested. Anything you do goes a long way in the digital world. Any thoughts of kindness and motions of support is appreciated.

 

Reader Review: “These action packed short stories are surprising. They piqued my interest from the start with their onset dialogue and quick moving plots. In short order the writer brings to life the terror of drug lords and back alley thugs, and a military lineup gone horribly wrong. The flash fiction stories are believably sorrowful. The author employs vivid descriptions and dreadful characters; or those who are experiencing dread in a relatable and engaging way”.

 

Galaxy University (part 2)

Posted on by Thadd Presley

Galaxy University
(part 2)
by Thadd Presley

 We walked quickly through the over-capacity cafeteria. Her carrying a stolen tray and I hoping no one recognized me as the Compu-Server Attendant. I had shed my green and brown shirt and tried to keep from running. I felt much better once we got outside in the open air.

On beautiful days, the dome is barely visible and the red dwarf shines through like a small furnace at the end of a long hallway. Most people don’t appreciate the clarity of a dirt-free dome and it should be a crime to not hold the Honorable Guild of Dome Scrubbers as a cultural treasure. It’s not many who would go into the harsh elements of a hostile planet and power spray, acid wash, towel dry, and shine humongous domes, some the size of large cities.

The open spaces of the campus were freeing in a way that only an institute of higher learning could make is seem. It lifted my soul to know such amazing architecture of intellect like Campus 514 existed. Not all Campuses were like ours.Just to know that any place could gather together people from across the galaxy and openly share ideas of life and the future in a fearless way made all the hardships of being away from home worth it.

Back on Earth, the people who controlled the wealth controlled the schools and the food and the many of the workers had no choice but to do what everyone else did.Wars were fought and ended at the whim of the wealthy. But here, at The Europa Science Academy, no one had money. In fact, currency had become tied solely with oxygen. All data was encrypted and compiled in a closed computer system that adjusted the oxygen according to the schools placement, ranking, and listing against all other Campuses. It allowed us to be independent from economics of the system and most importantly it loosened the hold Earth had on us.

Only a few families held all the wealth of Earth and it’s Companion Planets. They dictated the cost of ore, goods, foods, and water. For most, oxygen was free. But everywhere the air was free, it was polluted. In places jobs flourished, famine and disease was rampant. Only the cities of theIdle Rich were clean, healthy, and overflowing with abundance.

There was once a great scientist, a man who’s name is only known by few and utterly unimportant to the rest of humanity due to his not signing his research papers. He explained in a lengthy letter to all the Heads of States on Earth and it’s companion planets that the culture of “currency” as we know was soon going to become nothing but a reason for war. When he wrote is paper, he described it as being invented more than 6,000 years ago and was no longer a viable way to distribute resources. He went on to describe a system of a “resource-based-economy” and how it could be initiated. He drew blueprints from what cities would look like and described how everyone would have what they needed and there would be no need of excess. Machines would build, mine, and make everything needed.

His paper was ignored by the powers and unknown to the public due to the media being owned by a very biased, but wealthy and powerful, few. The self-made videos and published books were uncovered long after his death. It was one of his students who brought the paper to light and showed the academic world the amazing promise of a resource based system.

Even as the people of Earth counted their money and scoffed at such high minded idiocy, a team of ship designers and specialist were building the first of twenty“free-ships” which were to go into orbit the very next year.



Copyright Thadd Presley — All Rights Reserved

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Galaxy University

Posted on by Thadd Presley

Galaxy University
Campus 514

by Thadd Presley


“You in a jam,” she asked teasingly. Then, she waited for me to respond. When I didn’t, she continued. “You want if I should help you or something?” I was struck by her thick accent. It was rough and strong and sexy. It had me interested in her from syllable one.

I always wondered how a simple thing like an accent could prejudice someone in our mind. I suppose it was written into our DNA. Either that or I could be a shallow person. But, I felt it was more than that and if she gave me half a chance, I believed I would find many reasons to want to know her.

 “Hey, are ya listenin’ ta me? I don’t have much time for lunch. I need to be –”

“Yes, yes. I’m listening, but give me a moment. I’m thinking on how to –”

“How to What? It doesn’t take this long to laser scan a lunch tray.”

“I was just about to get to that. First, though,” this is when I looked up at her. “I was trying to figure out how you might help me.” She blinked at me and I waited a beat before continuing. “That’s what you asked right? If I wanted your help?”

View Post

“Yeah, OK.” She smiled. “You got me.”

I melted a little bit.

“So, tell me how I can help?”

My mind whirled. Just her playing along with me was more that I would have dared dream about with a girl like her. “So many things come to mind.” I opened the top of the Compu-Server and unplugged the motherboard from the power supply without looking up at her. I knew if she saw how nervous I was the illusion would be broken. I wanted it to seem as if I could talk to her this way for as long as she wanted. Because, we all knew that I talked to girls all the time and innuendo-laden banter was natural for me.

NOT!!

The cafeteria was full as usual.The eleven-fifteen lunch crowd was already cramming themselves into every possible inch behind the eleven-oh-five crowd. Which was usually not a problem, but today the new Compu-Servers were glitching and not accepting the Meal Card.

Already chaos had erupted in line.People were cramming their face with macaroni salad and hamburgers before paying, the school’s security drones were buzzing in all directions getting video of every infraction, and the human security was just beginning the mistake of physically taking food from hungry people.

Just as a drone passed my station. I got an idea. “I know how you can help?”

“Yes. Yes. Anything” She was not comfortable with the break down of lunchroom etiquette.

“Come with me. We will eat off campus.”

“You could do that?”

“Yeah, I can eat anywhere I want after my shift ends in nine minutes.”

She smiled. “I mean leave these people here with no chance of paying for the lunch they’ve eaten?”

“Oh yeah. I wouldn’t worry about that. There’s nothing I can do about the glitch in the Compu-Servers anyway.” I casually slapped the base of the computer and watched the touch screen wobble. “There’s nothing in here except cables. All the software is in the…” I pointed up. “You know.”

“Be careful.” She touched the screen and settled it’s wobble. “That’s not yours.”

A drone flew close to my head and someone spoke to me from the speakers. It was a male voice. “A level three infraction has been documented. You are charged accordingly and will report to the Commons Area for sentencing at Eighteen hundred hours.”

I smiled at myself and tried to look unworried. “I’d like to report a problem with…”

The drone spoke in anticipation. “I have informed Control that you are having problems with the interface. A two hour mandatory community service of Compu-Server training has been scheduled.”

I looked back at the girl and asked. “Would you like to go eat with me?”

“Right now?” She smiled. “No. I couldn’t.” She blushed a little and smiled again.

I reached under the small podium that held the Compu-Server and reached for Standard Procedures Notebook. Once I had it, I opened it to the first page and read the scripted announcement to the starving students. “On this notebook,right here, you need to Print your name, School Number, and list all that crap you just ate. On this, right here.” I raised the notebook over my head and shook it. “If you fail to do so, the drones will know and Control will charge you with theft. Remember, it is Station Five-Fourdeen Policy to prosecute any and all infractions. If a cartoon milk is missing at the end of the day, the oxygen to air ratio will be reduced to make up the difference in cost.”

The crowd booed and the drones buzzed. I saw it as a good chance to make my get away and took the woman’s hand. My actions were not my own. I was just feeling it, feeling her, and coupling it with the emotions her accent gave me. I felt chills up and down my spine. “Are you ready?”

“What?” Her eyes got wide and I saw a gleam of excitement in them.

“If they get hold of me, I’ll be trapped her all night making reports and looking up Student Numbers.”Of course, I’d have to do it all in the morning. There was no getting away from the responsibility, but it seemed rebellious to leave in the middle of a panic and take her with me. It was a spontaneous way to make the day more interesting and a good excuse to hold her hand. “I’ll take you to a five-star restaurant with an unfiltered window looking toward the galactic center.”

“Alright. It’s a deal.”



Copyright Thadd Presley — All Rights Reserved

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Rubbish Day (part 3)

Posted on by Thadd Presley

Thadd Presley

For a while, Jerald allowed them to race with him side by side, speeding at nearly eighty on the newly black-topped road towards Crossville through the community of Deer Lodge. When the Honda’s wheels lost traction, it spun the car into the shoulder where it began to fish tale wildly.

Jerald’s heart leaped into his chest.

Just when it seemed the G-forces were going to take the car over into a roll, a stroke of remarkable luck sat the car down hard on all four wheels. It swerved back into traffic, not far behind Jerald.

That was close enough for Jerold. Too close. All he wanted to do was scare them a little. But it couldn’t take him away from getting to see his daughter. He slowed the Porshe to the posted forty MPH and said her name. How had he allowed these kids to get him so out of control? It nearly ended the very important things he had to do.

This visit to his daughter’s new house in Crossville was already going to be a bad situation. One that would require a good helping of courage and decisive action. It was imperative that he remained calm and clear-headed. Not a word of his introduction could be out of place or his daughter would suspect that something was wrong before he got the chance to fix her situation once and for all.

Once and for all, he thought.

Yes. It would be just that.

 ONCE because it would only take once; and, FOR ALL, because he wasn’t doing it for himself. He was doing it for his daughter, his wife, and everyone who might have to interact with the man. Jerald was doing this FOR the benefit of ALL.

Suddenly his nose began to burn and tears blurred his vision. Just the thought of his daughter being mistreated was more than he wanted to know.Also, the shock of the near accident possibly had something to do with the rush of emotion. He allowed it to wash over him.

It was enough to cement the fact that he couldn’t get sidetracked by distractions. Anything that might cause a show of emotion at his daughter’s house would ruin everything. Hiding the immense and deep anger he had toward his daughter’s boyfriend, would be hard to control on it’s own.

He shook his head, as if scrambling the thoughts that were beginning to stack in his frontal lobe. He saw no need in letting the idea of consequences gather against him. Nor could he allow the idea of his daughter’s freedom psyched him up before he actually had accomplished something.

He knew then that he needed a moment of peace before he went any further. He had to take a breather.

He pulled off the highway onto a familiar dirt road the locals called Rocky Hollow. The road was rough on his Porsche, but he’d been down it many times before and was sure he could get in and out without much trouble.

 Jerald enjoyed swerving around big ricks and through the mud puddles. Above him dark clouds began to blow from over the mountains giving the woods a dark, fairy-tale atmosphere. At the end of this road was a deep rock quarry where he and his friends used to swim as teenagers. But he hadn’t been all the way to the ledge in more than twenty years. He’d smoked his first cigarette on the ledge and drank his first swig of whiskey there.

Jeez, that was over forty years ago.

He knew the area well and was looking forward to seeing the water again.He made so many memories in this one place, it seemed wrong that he never brought his wife her and had a picnic. But then, perhaps that wasn’t wrong. He had the right to keep it a secret if he wanted.Maybe something in him didn’t want to tell her about the quarry.

 It was his secret place. No one from his adult life knew anything about it or the things that happened there.

Just as he got to where the trees opened up enough to see the ledge, he saw that all the water had been drained.



Copyright Thadd Presley — All Rights Reserved

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.