The Confabulator Cafe

Category: Confabulation

  • The Last Christmas Tree

    Needle grew up like most trees. He started as a seed from a pine cone. He was raised in a greenhouse until he was big enough to survive outdoors, where he was planted in the ground.

    As Needle grew, he heard rustling amongst the other trees, who had been planted in neat rows alongside him, that they lived on what was called a Christmas Tree Farm. Silver, Needle’s sister at the end of the row, tried to point to a sign one windy day, where she swore there was neat lettering that said so.

    Needle didn’t know what a tree farm was, but he was happy. He got plenty of water, and humans came by and made sure to keep all of them pruned and healthy.

    Trees have no concept of time. Time is a human construct. All Needle knew was that he lived for a time in what humans might call contentedness.

    But as the weather turned from hot to cool, there was the horrifying sound of machinery and the wailing of trees in the distance. Rumor flew on the wind, and all the trees near Needle held their collective breath.

    But the danger seemed to pass, and life returned to normal. Snow, rain, pollination, and heat. Needle continued to be content, except for every now and then when the sound of horror came around again.

    The rest of the time, the trees didn’t think about it.

    Until the day they had no choice. (more…)

  • Frozen Reflection

    The windowpane was cold against her nose. Her breaths puffed against the glass and the condensation caught and froze. Outside the snow piled deeper and deeper with each passing moment. She drew a finger through the newly formed frost. Please. She mouthed the word as she spelled it out.

    She pressed her forehead to the pane and her hands on either side of the word. For a moment all she felt was the chill of the glass and then slowly she felt the soft touch of icy fingers brushing tentatively against hers. She pushed through the glass and clasped hands with her reflection.

    And then her reflection was upon her. A tangle of frozen limbs as they toppled over.

    “You’re so cold.” (more…)

  • It’s Snow Problem

    Karen woke up with dreams of home spinning around in her brain. A planet, a city she hadn’t seen in two years now. They bothered her as she sat in an alien marketplace, watching the hustle and bustle of the day. It was 80-degrees Fahrenheit in the area and she’d pulled out her t-shirt collection.

    Her friends Yarley and Lolali sat beside her. Lolali picked at a mat in her fur while Yarley tapped her fins on the low table.

    “Don’t you have snow here?” Karen asked. “I know we’ve had wind and rain. But I never see snow.”

    “Snow?” Yarley asked.

    “Who would want it?” Lolali asked, dropping a bit of fur on the ground. “The climate control is very good here. Rain helps the plants and the atmosphere. But snow? That’s just a nuisance to everyone.”

    “I like snow,” Karen said. She was a great lover of all things that others found a nuisance. She felt she had to speak up for it. “Besides, it’s traditional at Christmas. At least on my part of the planet back home it’s traditional.”

    “It’ll never happen here,” Lolali said.

    “Why not?” Karen asked.

    “Because your people don’t have the political clout to convince someone to reprogram the climate control system just for you. Your snow holidays happen at the same time as another race’s monsoon days, and still another’s dry days.”

    “Besides, snow is awful,” Yarley added. “How can your people like to be cold? Is it the fur?”

    “Well I have to do something,” Karen said. “I need Christmas-ish things around.” (more…)

  • Betwixt Hearts

    The woman may have come into Wendy’s tent trying to look common, but she had wealth written all over her. Even dressed down in dark trousers and a blouse, Wendy could see that about her. Her clothes fit too well. Her hair was too clean.

    “Do I have something you need?” Wendy asked as the woman sat at the opposite end of the rug cover the dirt inside the tent.

    “I reckon you do.”

    “And you are?”

    “Elizabeth Wagner.”

    Ah, Wendy had heard the name Wagner around the town, in the weeks she’d been doing her work on the outskirts and nearby farms. It seemed that Daddy Wagner owned about half the town, and wasn’t all too well loved. She hadn’t heard anything about a family, but rich men usually had a few daughters to barter.

    “Well, Miss Wagner, what brings you to me under the cover of night?” (more…)

  • The Whispers Within

    When she said “I love you” I knew she was just saying it to make me feel better. She didn’t know how to respond to me. She knew I liked her—loved her—and she thought it would simplify things to say she reciprocated. Her words were a kindness not fully meant. And every day I resented her more for not having the balls to tell me how she hated me to my face. I didn’t need her to hang around me out of pity. I didn’t need her empty encouragement. She didn’t actually mean it.

    No one could.

    I wasn’t worthy of her love. I wasn’t worthy of anyone’s love.

    Every night I stared at the bottle of sleeping pills in my bedside table. And every night I ignored the whispering voice that told me things would be so much better if I never woke up.

    I didn’t know what would be worse, to come back as a ghost and find that nobody missed me. Or to find that they still kept up the facade of pretending to care.

    So every night I closed the door to my nightstand and told the pills that I was stronger than them. (more…)

  • The Crow Keeper

    Emmaline hesitated to ask the girl what was wrong. Far too often it led to a game or trick being played on her, but Nadia’s distress appeared to be quite real.

    “What’s wrong?”

    “Claudia has been gone for nearly two weeks. She should have been back by now.”

    “She’s a clever girl. I’m sure she’s fine.”

    “She’s not. I can feel it.” Nadia shook her head vigorously as she searched the dark void above them.

    There was no use arguing, a crow keeper and their wards were bound together in a union created by the glowstones. If a keeper said their ward was in danger, it was simply a statement of fact.

    “Then we should go.”

    “You are going to help me?” Nadia’s question was full of suspicion.

    “If I don’t who will?” (more…)

  • Cat in Heels

    Cat pegged the young man as a sucker even as he approached the gate to the Magic City. He’s my mark for sure, she thought, regarding his honest face. Then he opened his mouth and removed all doubt.

    “You can’t come in without life insurance,” the guard said to the honest-looking farm boy.

    “What?”

    “Life insurance, pal. You want to seek your fortune? You gotta be insured. Otherwise, you better go back to the provinces.” The guard paused. “Actually,” he said in a softer voice, “You’d be safer if you did go back.”

    The young man looked so darn lost and sweet and innocent that most decent folk would feel compelled to help him.

    Dammit, thought Cat. Now everyone’s going to target him.

    She moved fast. She clipped toward him on her four-inch high heels, hoping the kid fancied girls.  Cat’s looks were her third greatest asset. (more…)

  • The Dragon Lore

    I wonder how much longer we can go on like this, Elder Eidald thought as he surveyed the town bathed in the soft orange light cast off from numerous glowstones. He stood and massaged the stiffness out of his shoulder. With the dwindling supply of glowstones, the moths are venturing closer and closer to town to get the fruit.

    Reports from those attempting the coming of age trial were grim. Some reported as few as a dozen of the life-giving fruit growing from the Great Vine.

    Waldomar refuses to listen to reason, but I fear that soon the decision will be made for us… His dark musings were interrupted by a tug on his cloak.

    “Kenan, my boy, what brings you to my gardens? Have you come for some of Emaline’s favourite nectar?”

    “No.” Kenan folded his chubby little arms over his tiny chest. The boy was just six cycles old, but he could be oddly serious at times.

    “Have you two been fighting again?”

    His frown was out of place on a child so young. “Tell me a story.” (more…)

  • My Half Hour Child

    There it was again, the ghostly tug at my skirt. Every day at precisely half past five, it was there. I could set my watch by it—and I had before after a power outage.

    “There’s a glass of milk on the counter along with a PBJ and a banana.”

    The pressure relieved on my skirt and a few minutes later I heard the heavy scrape of the chair and the clatter of dishes. The sandwich raised and lowered without any bites disappearing. The milk sloshed over the edge of the glass, spilling onto the chair and dripping down to the floor each time my ghostly child tipped it back for a drink. (more…)

  • Find Me Tonight

    The boy watched the pink foil helium balloon hover listlessly in the moonlight. It was the last remnant from his sister’s birthday party earlier that day. During the party, it had been perky, dancing happily in the breeze. Now, enough helium had escaped that it had begun its inevitable slump toward the ground.

    It had been a lovely party. Full of sunlight and laughing, presents and cake, and kids running around in the grassy field playing ball. Or tag. The boy didn’t know.

    He had been distracted by something else.

    Behind the park shelter was an old railroad track choked with dense trees and bushes. He’d seen a glint, though. Something shiny was calling to him from the dark undergrowth. His mom and his aunt were too busy wrangling all of the other children to notice him, so he hopped off the bench and made his way over.

    When he got close enough, he heard laughter. He looked over his shoulder, to his sister and her friends chasing each other around the playground. Had one of the older kids slipped away? The boy wanted to play with the older kids rather than his sister and her friends, so he chased after the laughter in the trees.

    Once he ducked through the tree line, he immediately tripped and landed hard on the old metal tracks. Tears stung his eyes as he looked at his hands, scraped on the rotting railroad ties.

    “Get up, boy. Those scrapes won’t kill you.” (more…)