She washed her rhino in the sink. But it wasn't what you think, you dirty mind. It was her rhinoceros that she washed!
As you can imagine, it was not the easiest thing to wash such a large animal in a normal household sink. Especially, for such a frail woman as her. But she already had in place a very effective system of pulleys that she used to wash her ex-husband and the job was not nearly as monumental. And the rhino was fairly cooperative, sympathizing instinctively with the troubles of lesser creatures.
Posted at 01:06 AM in short story | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
They lived on the opposite sides of the gorge. Not an ordinary gorge like the one in your park, but a gorge that reached down to the bottom of it all, splitting their world in two. And on one side of the gorge lived she. And on the other side of the gorge lived he. And they loved each other. And they could never be together.
Posted at 01:01 AM in short story | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
He was really tired and lost and didn't notice anything unusual about the house he broke into in the middle of the night to try to get some shut-eye. He was on the run from the cops for stealing a car, which wasn't something he wanted to do, but his girl missed the bus and didn’t make it to the auditions several days ago and made it very clear that there was no valid reason for why she was still with somebody who didn't have as much as a car to his name. So he stole something shiny, and thanks to the uncalled-for overeagerness of the police department's new psychic cat, he was now a fugitive, spending a night in some shady bungalow in the woods, very much without the same girl who helped usher in this part of his life.
Posted at 12:50 AM in short story | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
He had a head like a dandelion, with hairs that could fly off with the laziest breeze. To prevent this from happening, he always wore a cowboy hat that he carefully strapped onto to his noggin at the chin. He did this to try to prevent worldwide extermination of all life, even though that was certainly a hopeless task and was bound to happen the moment his hair was to fly off.
Posted at 12:41 AM in short story | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
Not everything means something. Some things do, of course. Like the enourmous leg we see every night in the sky. It replaced the moon recently and glows with a much more sinister tint. It must mean something.
There's also the broom came out of the ocean the other day. It is larger than our tallest buildings, speaks six languages and keeps trying to convince us that it's not here to take our women, while its bristles shake ever so slightly, dropping down a rain of small crabs, who immediately scatter around and disappear amidst our stuff. We suspect this must mean something.
Posted at 12:37 AM in short story | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
There were two girls working on the third floor, two sexy bunnies. One a long-legged dark diva, with slits in her blouse that made you want to look in so much deeper. The other – a busty blonde who licked her lips absend-mindedly. They made copies all day long, but when the office closed, they laid out all the blank copy paper on the floor and the tables and made love to each other right on top of it. They wouldn’t take off all their clothes - just enough for what they needed. And they’d go into each other with the mouths and the fingers and the permanent markers and the staplers. And when they’d orgasm, their juices would soak the paper beneath, marinating it in desire.
Posted at 12:31 AM in short story | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
Instead of eyes, he had two gnomes living behind his eyelids. It was a convenient arrangement because he got the benefit of their powers and they got free room and board. They fed on the parts of his brain that were never used -occasionally planting some new tissue - something they enjoyed doing for stress relief as it was like tending a garden. And the powers they provided were an istant analysis of any situation based on thousands of years of gnome knowledge. As such, he didn't really have to use his brain as much but still did - mainly in moments of mistrusting the gnomes or when they slept or got drunk.
Posted at 12:09 AM in short story | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
She was the best actress in the world - the star of the silver screen - the sun of the golden stage. She was so exact, so convincing in disappearing into her characters that the imaginary world she created became more precise and real than the real world she lived in. And eventually the regular world had no reason to continue existing at all - it was just a shallow reflection of the rich realities conjured up by her performances.
Posted at 12:07 AM in short story | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
When called upon by the will of her telepathy class, she came up to the front of the room and held her breath for at least a full minute before blurting out the following announcement:
"There are certain topics that are not frankly discussed in polite society and are considered to be the worst of taboos for reasons that somehow confuse our conclusions about what nature is all about with what nature is really all about.
One such topic of misunderstanding is sex with birds.
Posted at 11:57 PM in short story | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
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The International Day of Laziness was once known by several names, including the International Day Of Doing Nothing Nothing or IDOANN. But the other names thankfully fell out of use because it was difficult enough to remember one and dealing with clever acronyms and, in fact, any ideas at all seemed to defeat the purpose of such a day. So only Interbational Day Of Laziness stuck around, monikered soon just as IDOL by the lazy public (which of course didn't see the irony and was comfortable to not have to decipher the name further once it forgot the original version).
Posted at 11:52 PM in short story | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
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The road led directly through a large field of yellow flowers. But the woman knew better than to trust their unnerving beauty and tried to turn around. Unfortunately, right behind her the pompous storm was closing in - black clouds, lightning - the works! She had no choice but to get back to the flower road.
The early going was easy. Just chugging along, trying not to attract any attention. Then everything unraveled in a matter of minutes.
Continue reading "42. The Unnerving Beauty of Yellow Flowers" »
Posted at 11:50 PM in short story | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
He had a fear of knowing everything. Some day it was bound to happen. All the questions would get their answers. All that is unpredictable would fit into narrow and well-defined boundaries. Everything would be sorted, categorized and available for reference within a mere blink of thought.
And once everything unknown became known, he would might know everything about her.
Posted at 11:35 PM in short story | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
For the past half hour he's been looking at the lump of flesh laying next to him on the bed. It belonged to his girlfriend. In fact, it was his girlfriend. She wasn't murdered and chopped up into pieces or anything of the sort. He just liked to think of her in this way some times - as an amazing configuration of flesh that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.
Posted at 09:05 PM in short story | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
Instead of getting a haircut, she became invisible. It was going to be cheaper in the long run if no one saw how she looked. The only disadvantage was in how her personal life got affected when men could not see her. The conversations and the sex were still good, but problems inevitably arose, when she wanted to go out and the men felt too embarassed to sit across from her in restaurants or to introduce her at office parties since others thought they have gone crazy. This was also how she knew they didn't really love her.
Posted at 09:01 PM in short story | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
She shook a little in her sleep. He would be still awake and notice a brief tremor come over her body every once in a while. He wondered what it could mean and hoped that she was at peace. He held her tighter, kissed her gently, but she still shook several times a night.
He tried to see if there was a warning before the shakes came. But there was nothing. One second she`d be laying quietly lost in some dream - the next she'd suddenly tense up and hit him slightly with her head, then pull away far as if upset but still fully asleep.
He became convinced that a demon has entered her. Maybe not a big one, but some homeless spirit has surely found a home in her head. To fight it he washed the sheets she was sleeping on with holy water and hid a large wooden cross under the bed.
Posted at 08:56 PM in short story | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
He made her with his lungs. He could do anything with glass. And he was dancing as he blew out her body in the shape of his soul…
It was the greatest masterpiece of his life. She was perfect. One curve melted into another. Light lost its mind when it found the shine on her breasts.
And when she came to life, he was not at all surprised. He always waited for the day when his art would reach its utmost expression and become as real as anything.
Posted at 08:45 PM in short story | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
She must have crossed this bridge a thousand times without noticing the beggar. But today she got yelled at by her boss and felt like taking in the evening city from the old bridge. It was full of people, but still her eyes quickly gravitated to the dirty man on the ground.
He was sitting on his knees by the stone parapet, head hung real low, as if bowing to the passersby. His outstretched hand shook slightly as it clutched a paper cup.
She never gave money to such people because she believed that as she worked hard to make a living so could other people. And this man seemed strong enough - there was nothing preventing him from getting a proper job. It was just a matter of will.
This thought actually made her angry enough to come up to him and rebuke - "Why can't you go work for your money like everyone else?"
Without raising his head, he muttered - "But I have a job... I am waiting for you…"
What nerve! She did not hesitate - "I am not giving you any money... Get a real job!"
But as she started to walk away, he looked up and she saw his face. A face where pain has clawed into every pore, every heavy blink of the eyes… A face she had seen once in a childhood nightmare…
"I am waiting for you" - he repeated softly. "You are the love of all my lifetimes."
There was such simple truth in his words that a shudder went through her whole body. "You are just a beggar!" she cried out and ran away.
He watched her disappear into the city and put his head back down onto the cold stones of the bridge.
"I am a king and I will wait for you always" - he said to let the devils that lived on the bottom of the river know that he will never give her up.
But the devils did not remember him any more... There are too many kings looking for forgiveness...
Posted at 08:41 PM in short story | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
Not everyone in the world needed shoes. This was a fact she did not understand clearly until fur started growing on her feet. It was not anything gross. Just some soft brown fur that was nice to run the fingers through and soon made all her footwear too tight. She bought some larger sneakers but even those were quickly made obsolete by the spreading fur.
Posted at 05:54 PM in short story | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
He counted and there were only five people in front of him. It`s not that he normally had to count such things as he was a professor of mathematics and could usually estimate up to five of anything with just a quick glance. But he realized he was standing in this line for the past half-hour and the number of people ahead didn't seem to change.
Posted at 05:52 PM in short story | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
He was too tired to understand where exactly he lost his head. He was running for hours and only in the last four minutes started to feel like he was missing something crucial. He stopped to assess the situation and realized something else - he didn't know at all where he was! All around were most amazing fireworks - explosions of color and shapes... Nothing was solid or formed... Like an unending shower of the most brilliant meteors!
Posted at 04:00 PM in short story | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)