The Confabulator Cafe

Category: Confabulation

  • Wedding Breakfast

    The morning after the wedding, Asa stands at the center of a circle of his kin. Overhead, a startled shout sounds from the bridal suite. It is followed by an audible scuffle and the gathered family laughs. Asa’s uncles are pulling Matthias from his wedding bed.

    Gavin and Griswald, both in their forties and strongest of the Stonehaven uncles, drag the naked and hollering new bridegroom down the inn stairs. His butt smacks each step on the way down. Asa winces for his friend. The chuckling circle of Stonehavens parts to allow the trio into the center and closes behind them. As they reach him, the uncles force Matthias to his knees before Asa.

    The young bridegroom breathes hard, his face red with rage. Asa smirks at Matthias’ tan. The swarthy and muscly farm boy is milk white and scrawny from the waist down. Matthias glares up at Asa, but goes quiet as he notices his friend’s clothes. The anger in his face gives way to fear.

    Asa looms above him, wielding a black, iron sickle. Matthias had always teased Asa about his figure—an overlarge head of shaggy, flaxen hair atop a rail thin body. Broom handle, he’d said. Stickbug. Now, Asa looks predatory. A mantis, clad in the blood red robes of The Witch.

    Gavin and Griswald release Matthias’ shoulders and he slumps from his knees to his buttocks on the cold, stone floor. Griswald, the man’s new father-in-law, ruffs Matthias’ hair before retreating to the general circle of Stonehavens. (more…)

  • The Unbrella

    Emaline looked out at her village and the noticeably dimmed glowstones lighting the streets of their large cavern. The crops had been reaped and it would be another thirty sleeps worth of guided rest and reflection with the Elders before they could sew the next crop.

    Oh how I hate the Yule season. Nothing to do other than watch other people go off on their rites of passage. Her rite wouldn’t be for another two harvests thanks to a promise she had made to her father. He had insisted that she take Kenan with her, and it had seemed like a small thing to promise at the time.

    She watched the procession as the elders guided the two boys to the edge of town and gave them blessings from the gods of travel, speed, and luck. I would have been perfectly safe if I had gone with those boys.

    “Emaline?” Kenan, the object of her irritation, called from the base of her tree.

    “What?”

    “Sheena wants you to come home.” His timid reply echoed up through the branches. “She made nectar seeds.” (more…)

  • Luck and Whiskey

    “Rub the tip for good luck,” Granny said, gesturing to the squat statue perched on the stone table by the front entrance.

    “I know, Granny,” I reached out and rubbed my hand over the well polished tip as I had ever since my first visit to her house back when my father had to lift me by the armpits so that I could reach.

    She watched me with a critical eye, finally stepping aside to let me into the house after she determined I had rubbed off enough luck. “Tea or whiskey?”

    “Whiskey,” I said immediately, “one rock.” I was twelve the first time she asked and had hesitantly responded with tea. I only made that mistake once. (more…)

  • Accidental Kaiju

    Grendela climbed the volcano in the early morning light of her 13th birthday. Thirteen was a magic age. At 13 she would become a fully-fledged kaiju. Grendela: Destroyer of Cities. It was supposed to be a great honor in her family. They had a nice little village all picked out for her to smash into the ground this morning. There would be a ceremony while the villagers fled for their lives. Her grandmother had probably made a cake. It was probably cooling right now, waiting to be frosted.

    She wasn’t going to destroy any villages today, though. Let them eat her cake without her; she didn’t care. Her whole family were kaiju, dating back to the old days of the legendary monsters. But Grendela didn’t want to be a kaiju.

    She wanted to be an environmental scientist. (more…)

  • Working For A Living

    Ethan glanced over to one of the master inbox piles, but it was still empty.  “I can’t believe business is so slow right now,” he said, tapping his pen against his desk in frustration.

    “Well, but isn’t that a good thing?” Benny asked.  “I mean, if we’re not processing any new clients, it means no one is dying… so… if we’re slow, it means people are still alive.”

    Morris rolled his eyes.  “No, Benny, it’s not a good thing.  It means we’re just going to get swamped later.  All people die.  It’s inevitable.  You should know,” he added, as he pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his desk drawer.

    “Hey, low blow!” Ethan said, stepping between his two cubicle mates.  “C’mon, Morris, the guy’s only been here for, like, a week.  Surely it took you some time to adjust to being dead?” (more…)

  • White Collar

    Employment ads on the internet were not to be trusted, Ted thought as he stood outside the strip mall. The sign that said White Collar wasn’t what he expected for a tax office and the blacked out windows gave no indication what was going on inside. Looking at the ad on his phone, he wondered if he got the location wrong, but how many places in town would have that name.  Times were lean for a man with a MBA and he couldn’t afford to be picky.

    It was after five, like the ad specified applicants arrive and inside there were people everywhere. It took a few minute for his eyes to adjust but when they did he thought he might have walked into the wrong doors. Music was playing loudly overhead and the flickering of the fluorescent lights matched its rhythm. Ere was one main stage and two side stage, both with people crowded around them waiving dollar bills.

    “Welcome sir, can I help you?” said a perky blond approaching Ted. She wore no shirt, only a well positioned pair of suspenders  to hold her ample breasts in place and a pair of glasses on her nose for decoration only.

    “I’m here about the job.” Ted tried to keep his eyes focused above her chin. (more…)

  • My Only Human

    Everybody has a death. When a person is born, one of us is born, too, and we stay close to them their whole lives, making sure they stay on the path to meet us in the end. It’s a little like having a guardian angel, I suppose. I like to look at it more as a love story. I am very anxious to meet my human.

    It will be soon.

    I watched her grow from the tiniest baby, to the most adorable toddler, to the sharpest little girl, to an ambitious teenager, then a driven young woman. She’s very successful in her career, although lately she seems lonely and has been trying to find love. She wants a little girl of her own. I can understand. I try to steer her away from those choices, though. I know how hard it is for humans when they have to leave loved ones. She will be with me soon—sooner than I think she’d like—and I wish her to spare the worry of someone missing her. (more…)

  • Old Mother Nitala

    Old Mother Nitala crouched comfortably on her sun-warmed rock, as she had since almost the beginning of days, and prepared to great the next soul. This one approached tentatively, staring about her with wide eyes. When she saw Old Mother Nitala, she stopped.

    Old Mother Nitala gazed at this one thoughtfully. She was dressed in white cloth from neck to her bare toes, and clutched a square brown object to her breast. A “book,” Old Mother Nitala had once heard a spirit call it.

    “Hello?” the woman spoke. “I don’t seem to know where I am.”

    “You are dead, my granddaughter,” Old Mother Nitala informed her.

    “Dead?” Relief bloomed in the woman’s face. “Then I must be on my way to Heaven!”

    Old Mother Nitala nodded gravely. “First you must travel this path and be judged.” She gestured at the trail behind her.

    The woman frowned dubiously at the muddy path. “I’m sorry, but I was expecting something a little different? Saint Peter? Pearly Gates? A host of angels?”

    Old Mother Nitala shok her head. “Down that path lies only your judgement.”

    “How does it, um… work?”

    Old Mother Nitala sighed. “There are three trials, my granddaughter. The first is through the marshes. If in your life you have shown wisdom, you will pass freely. If you have been a fool, the crocodiles will eat you.

    “The second trial is through the forest. If in life you have been generous, you will pass freely. If you have been mean or unkind, the wild dogs will eat you.

    “The third trial is through the plains. If in life you have been brave, you will pass freely. If you have been a coward, the lions will eat you.

    “Pass all three trials, and you will return to the World to guide your children’s children’s children as a beloved ancestor.”

    “WHAT??!!!?? That’s not how it is supposed to work!” the woman shrieked. “I taught Sunday School for years! I know my Bible!” She shook her book at Old Mother Nitala. “There’s nothing in here about crocodiles!”

    “Look,” Old Mother Nitala said patiently. “This was all very clearly explained in the songs of your Mothers.”

    “My mother taught me songs about Jesus, thank you very much, and the Lord our Father who created the world…”

    Old Mother Nitala cackled. “You think a man could have given birth to the world?”

    “Of course! The Bible says it, and I believe it! You’re just a… a… an old witch or something sent to test my faith at the last moment! Lucifer sent you! Well, I’ll show you!” The woman stalked down the trail to the marshes, indignation in every stride.

    Old Mother Nitala shook her head, hoping the woman wouldn’t give the crocodiles indigestion.

    The next soul approached. This woman had shaved her head, and was draped in bright orange cloth. When she saw Old Mother Nitala, the woman put her palms together and bowed respectfully. “Can you tell me where I am, Grandmother?”

    “You are on your way to judgement, my granddaughter.” Once again, as she had since almost the beginning of days, Old Mother Nitala explained the three trials.

    “Oh! So there is no Great Wheel of Transmigration? I cannot be reborn as either mouse or man?”

    “No, my granddaughter.”

    “It seems as though I’ve been wrong my entire life! This is very interesting! You said it’s down this path?” The woman bowed a final time and walked into the marshes.

    Old Mother Nitala smiled. That one would do well, she thought.

  • Shop Girl

    The bell above the door chimed as it opened, letting in a scorch of heat. It hung open for several long minutes and Phoebe considered yelling “in or out” before a robed figure entered. He made a beeline to the clearance rack where last season’s robes hung in a tidy row.

    He held up one robe against his frame, shook his head and shoved it haphazardly back onto the rack. Phoebe slumped against the wall behind the register counter. He was going to be one of those customers. She watched with increasing despair as he pulled robe after robe off the rack until finally he held three options bunched in a sweaty palm and approached her.

    “The fitting room?”

    She gestured to a neon green sign that pulsated over a curtained off room to her right that clearly announced the presence of the fitting room. “No more than four garments at a time,” the words came out long and sullen. “It’s the rules.” (more…)

  • Honour The Dead

    “Emaline! Duck!” Her mother screamed, and she dropped to the dirt without a second thought. Paper thin wings whooshed over her, but their claws missed. A blast of ice chilled her as her mother flung the magic into the beast.

    “Mother!” Emaline cried as she watched the woman fall to the ground as the moth shattered into red shards.

    Her mother’s veins pulse briefly with a faint glow, and she knew that Sheena would never wake again. She knelt next to her mother, and pulled her into her lap.

    “You shouldn’t have done that. The battle was nearly done. If you had just warned me, I could have defended myself. Foolish woman. We could have both made it through this.” She sat with her mother while the last few blasts exploded around her. A few people wailed their grief in the post-battle stillness.

    “Sheena too?” Waldomar’s voice rumbled next to her.

    “How many did we lose?”

    “Four including Sheena.” (more…)