The Confabulator Cafe

Category: Confabulation

  • Soul Mate

    Dear P,

    I’ve never written a letter like this. Never really felt the need to, but what we have is special, and I want to put my feelings to paper, regardless of who may see it in the end.

    They will judge us, but I do not care. The things we have experienced together go beyond anything anyone has ever done for me, and I can honestly say that I would be lost without you. If there ever comes a time when we cannot be together in the way in which we have grown accustomed, my life will no longer be worth living, and I will gladly welcome its end.

    Whenever I see you, my day brightens. Even catching a glimpse of you sets my heart beating faster, and to be able to caress your soft, smooth skin is sweeter than any heaven I have ever imagined.

    Thinking about our special moments always brings a smile to my face. Like that time at the park when we spent all day outside together. We played so hard, and you were so sore the next day you could hardly move. But it was worth it, that feeling of freedom as the sun beat down on us and the warm summer air tickled our skin.

    We were careful that day and mostly kept to ourselves, but still that policeman saw us and tried to chase us away. I was scared as we hid behind the bushes, but you loved it. Your excitement was obvious, and I couldn’t wait to get you home.

    I remember, too, that night in the theater. We sat in back and were nearly caught in our moment of passion. I had grown bolder by then, less hesitant, and you never wavered for a moment. You were rock solid. I have always loved that about you.

    You never seem to shy away from the risks, and whenever I hold you, I feel confident and reassured. I have no doubt people will think I’m ridiculous, but you give me purpose and direction, and I never, ever want to let you go.

    A world without you in it would not be a place worth inhabiting. You are my all, my everything, and I put you above all others. You are the driving force in my life, and you have shaped me into the man I am today.

    You are my best friend, and I am so thankful that you are my penis.

    With all my deepest love,

    Me

  • Timber

    http://www.thetortoisetable.org.uk/common/files/catalogue/55/large/falseacacia%20_lr_nov092.jpgI held still.

    The forest all around me soughed with the gentle breeze and I closed my eyes and listened to the symphony of oaks and maples and larch and locust and poplar. Each leaf gave an individual sound, the wind breaking through the different shapes and sizes and positions. I understood the complexities of playing a clarinet or bassoon suddenly even though I’d never picked up a musical instrument in my life.

    Tools I understand. I’m a Builder. That’s why I was in the forest.

    *

    “You have to do this for me,” my brother said. He lay in a hospital bed dying of colon cancer. He was too young for this and younger than me. Life isn’t fair. “You have to.” His voice was not even a fourth what it had been when he was strong. Now it was reedy, full of too much air and almost hollow.

    He held on to my hand with a strength he’d always had but never showed.

    “I will, Ollie. I promise.” I hated this. I was crying and I didn’t want my little brother to see me crying. Our sister would have torn me up for showing emotion like that. Susan was a bitch but I loved her and Ollie more than almost anything. My own family were the only ones above them. I sniffed and stopped trying to hold back the tears.

    “I can’t go until you do, Jamie.” Ollie always had a penchant for gravitas and that’s what made him good at what he did. He could write copy like no one else and he had that shelf of awards to prove it.

    “I’ll go out there first thing in the morning,” I said. I sniffed again.

    Ollie nodded and let go of my hand. The drugs finally took him and let him rest.

    *

    Out in the hall I stopped to hug Ollie’s wife. We both cried and held tight to each other. In another world, I might have won her affection if I hadn’t met Marta around the same time. Charlene chose Ollie, picked him from all her suitors and made sure he knew just how much she loved him. Being a former Miss Texas USA, she attracted all sorts of men – and women – just by being in a room.

    “What does he want you to do?” She hadn’t put on any makeup and her face was blotchy from crying.

    “A small thing,” I said. I looked at the floor. “Tomorrow morning.”

    “Oh god.” Charlene wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand. “Jesus.”

    I took a step back. “He’s sleeping now.”

    “You haven’t told me.”

    “What?” I shuffled to my left half a step.

    The glare she shot me withered away any resolve I might have had. Still, she didn’t need to know everything. I sighed.

    “There’s a tree out on our parents’ property. He wants me to use it in the house.”

    Her face melted from stern reproach to confusion. “I don’t understand.”

    “You don’t really have to, Char,” I said. “This is what he wants me to do for him.” (more…)

  • Last Dance

    This story was originally written for the Story-In-A-Bag contest at ConQuest 45, where it won the Professional Horror category. Unfortunately, being a science fiction and fantasy convention, I was the only entry in that division, but hey, I’ll take the win.

    tumblr_mfpm9irOo51qa6xg1o1_500Cold air blew in the open window, and time stood still as Becky, Janet, David, and I sat circling a Ouija board on the rough, industrial carpet floor of the Clarke County Community Center business office. The metronomic ticking of the Roman-numeraled wall clock ground to a halt. A tie-dye lava lamp sitting half-buried in sloppy stacks of receipts and accounting ledgers froze, its bulbous contents suspended in a glowing blue state of stasis.

    “What the Hell just happened?” I said, glaring at my lifelong best friend Becky.

    (more…)

  • Untitled (flash fiction)

    The server placed Melinda’s stack of strawberry and banana pancakes— with extra fruit and whipped cream— in front of her, and she prepared to dig in.

    “So what happened with Ryan last night?” Bella wanted to know from behind her own stack of cheesecake pancakes.

    “Well, I had called him to come over and help out, right? And when he shows, he’s dressed up really nicely and he’s holding a single red rose. When I answered the door, he was like, you’re not going out dressed like that are you? Dude thought we were going out on a date.”

    “But you weren’t?” Darlene asked. She sipped her diet soda.

    “Oh, come on! Ryan knows the score. There’s monsters to slay, and I’m supposed to do it in pantyhose and heels?” She took a bite of pancake. “I am starving. I’m always hungry after a kill.”

    “Hence the IHOP girls’ night and after action review,” Bella said. “So, Ryan didn’t approve of your outfit…”

    “I will have you know that I picked my outfit very carefully. Also, I did my hair special. I braided it and pinned it up on top of my head– there was no way any fiend from hell was going to be able to grab it.”

    “Good thinking,” Bella said, “especially after last time.”

    (more…)

  • Throwing in the Towel

    I groaned as the last box thudded to the ground. Sweat pooled uncomfortably in my bra. All I wanted was to take a long shower and scrub away the evidence of my hours of physical labor. I’d forgotten how much I hated moving, but when you catch your former roommate fucking the guy from the truck stop in your bed, you know it’s time to part ways.

    Two weeks later I had paid the deposit on a two bedroom house for rent over by the old churchyard. The place was a bargain, it had been empty since the previous tenants moved out in the middle of the night, leaving behind all of their possessions. Some minor trouble with the law, the landlord had said, but he wouldn’t quite meet my gaze when he said it. It didn’t matter. The place was available and within my budget, especially after I had to shell out nearly a grand to get out of my previous lease.

    Six days later, I had packed all of my belongings. Everything fit into the back of my SUV. I’d left the bed behind—some stains just don’t come out—and didn’t have any other furniture to move. She’d already had everything when I’d moved in with her two years earlier. (more…)

  • Genesis

    In the beginning, God created the heaven and the earth, and thought, huh, that was easy.

    He realized that telling the difference between the two in the eternal darkness was trying, so he went to work and created light. And He saw that it was good, so he kept going. Working quickly now, he caused waters to fall and land to rise, giving Him someplace to rest while keeping dry. But the land was barren, and boring, so after a nap, God decided to spruce it up.

    So He made grass, and trees, and fruits, and vegetables, and all matter of plants, and set them about the land. Just for kicks, he put some in the waters too. Wanting a little more change, He created the Sun, and the Moon, and in an act of legendary juggling, He set them all spinning about each other, creating Day and Night. For a whole day He was content with his creations. (more…)

  • Steampunk and Sea Monsters

    I wrote this story for the Story In A Bag contest at ConQuest last year. For the contest, you pull index cards from five different paper bags (plot, character, item, first line, and setting) and you have one hour to compose a story that uses all five elements. This story won me the contest last year. Forgive the silliness – it hasn’t undergone much editing since its inception a year ago.

    My head felt like it was going to explode. I was still suffering from the ill-effects of Sulfur’s spell. I had spent four hours in the form of a rat because, as he explained to me: “Morton, you are a dirty, wretched rat for stealing Isabel’s affections from me.”

    Now to be frank, I did, in fact, steal the evil wizard’s girlfriend, but in my defense, he only ever met her because I foolishly introduced the two of them. Unfortunately “I saw her first” doesn’t carry much weight with a nefarious wizard such as Sulfur.

    You may be wondering what kind of idiot I am, stealing a wizard’s girl, and you’d have a good point. I am a huge idiot.

    (more…)

  • Donation

    There’s supposed to be a rush of euphoria. His heart should begin to beat faster.

    Abram sighs and turns the infant’s metal skeleton over in his hands, waiting for something. Maybe after he adds the muscles and skin, he’ll feel it.

    He reviews the video again, for what must be the hundredth time. There’s blood and fluid — so much that Abram would say the mother is at risk of death — but the woman’s eyes soften when the infant first cries. Its head is malformed. The skin is wrinkled and flaky. But the woman reaches out for it with shaking hands, pulls it to her breast and trembles as she sobs.

    He checks his sensors. No rush, no euphoria, and certainly no tears.

    Perhaps the infant also needs a heart. The human mother keeps the human child near hers.

    Abram walks through the cryo-chambers again, checking the vitals of each sleeping crew member. The first one is too broad, too tall — his tissue would go to waste. The second is too old, her skin thin and her muscles weak. This child will need to sustain Abram for several decades until the crew wakes and begins their mission anew.

    The third is perfect. Sixteen, barely more than a boy himself. He’s the child of the first mate — perfect. Surely the man will appreciate the reappropriation of the boy’s tissues, understand Abram’s need as a father. The read-out says the boy’s name is Stefan.

    Abram pulls the stasis tube from the refrigeration unit, cradling it to his chest as he carries it to his work station. The glass of the tube grows condensation the gel within warms. With the speed and precision he was programmed for, Arbam slides the tube into the treatment bay.

    Stefan thaws in just under six hours, his first noises something akin to the mewl of a kitten. His skin is slick from the gel, but bright and healthy.

    Abram floods the bay with the gasses to treat the tissue for donation. He looks at his own skin as he does so, curious as to who donated these tissues. The programmers had not added the information to the hive. They never did. Stefan would not be erased.

    The tissues are treated and separated from Stefan’s skeleton. First the skin, carefully cut, shaped and hung from clips along the wall. Until it could be connected to the living mechanism, the wall kept it damp. The muscles and organs rest in solution to keep them active.

    Abram first deconstructs the heart — it’s too large to fit into his child’s chest. Then he rebuilds it, stretches and sews the muscles over the pumps that will cause it to beat. When stimulated with a live wire, the little heart flutters to life.

    Abram’s lips twitch with a small smile, until he pulls the electricity away and watches it go dead.

    He rests his hand on the smooth metal of the baby’s skeleton, the whole chest fitting under his outstretched fingers. He tilts it to one side and pulls the saw down from its hook.

    The metal is strong but thin; it only takes minutes to slice through the soldered seams and lift the front of the chest away. The heart fits into the hollow of the infant’s chest, nested in the nervous wiring and connected to the limited network that would be his child’s brain.

    It’s the work of three more hours to wire in the little heart and seal the chest again.

    Abram pulls the infant to his chest, and feels the gentle thump reverb through his being. His own heart stops for a second, a curiosity before it starts again, moves in unison with that of the little metallic thing in his arms.

    The euphoria hits as he stares at gaps where his child will have eyes, the frame made from the same metal of his own. He cradles the head carefully as he sets his child down and begins to wind together its muscles.

  • The Builders

    I wish I’d never seen the things.

    I wish I’d never gotten into this business.

    Now it’s too late.

     

    “You ready for this?” Martin said. (I won’t use any last names. I can’t bring myself to rat out my friends.) He had his hand on the doorknob and he looked dead serious. “Once you go through, there’s not turning back. You can’t unsee this, or unknow it, either.”

    What did I know? He hadn’t told me anything yet. Foolish, I nodded.

    We went through the heavy oak door and into a room that reminded me of a Viking mead hall. Candlelit chandeliers hung from bare rafters and there was only one table. Our footsteps echoed off the stone floor. The hall extended in either direction so far that it disappeared into darkness.

    Around the table were ten men, all looking like they’d come right off the construction site, same as me. Martin clapped his hand on my shoulder as we reached the table.

    “Guys, this is Tom. The one I told you about.” (more…)

  • Going to See the Godmother

    I needed to see the Godmother. The Godmother would fix everything. She would make it all stop hurting. She would make him love me.

    The Godmother grants wishes to those with worthy causes. And what could be a more worthy cause than a broken heart?

    I’d heard about her through one of my friends whose cousin’s boyfriend’s sister had gone to see her. I didn’t know what the cost would be. I didn’t particularly care. All I knew was that I wanted results. I needed results. Desperately. And the Godmother promised guaranteed results. (more…)