The real and imaginative adventures of Dennis Spielman

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Imaginary Adventures

Testing Predictions on an Abandoned Village - art by Mikey Marchan at Design Pickle

Testing Predictions on an Abandoned Village

After overhearing an urban legend about an abandoned village, Haley “The Sounds” Riot and Robin Bee set off to test Haley’s future predicting music player to uncover the mystery behind the community.

* This story takes place after Body Drop, however, I wrote this to stand on its own.


Haley Riot pulled on the purple musical note attached to the retractable band around her neck. The networker designed to look like two beamed eighth notes brought life a three-dimensional map of their position in the woods. Beside the map were a few postings and news clippings about the Babylon Sisters Village. Some of the posts talked of treasure, murder, and ghosts but offered no evidence other than stories of people going missing who explored the area.

Haley was determined to solve the mystery and had a secret weapon on her side: a device that predicted the future and revealed truths through song titles. 

Robin Bee took a seat on a fallen tree as Haley reviewed the map. Once she caught her breath, she asked her girlfriend, “Are we on track?”

Haley swiped away the map. “Just down this hill, and we should be there.”

“Good,” Robin said as she laid down the log. “I didn’t expect this journey to be such an exhausting hike.”

“It wouldn’t be an abandoned village if it was next to a subway station.”

Robin sat back up. “Yeah, I know. Does your music player have any advice for approaching the village?”

Haley couldn’t tell if Robin was facetious or genuine. She had only helped solve one murder thanks to the music player, and Haley wanted to put it through a test on this urban legend she heard. Haley also often had difficulties reading Robin’s facial expressions, but she learned to default them all to seriousness. She decided to pull out the device to answer Robin’s question.

“What should we be aware of as we approach the village?” Haley said to her music player. She pressed the shuffle button. “Endless War.”

Robin sighed. “That’s helpful. Anyway, I’m ready to go.”

Haley pondered the meaning for a moment before letting out a frustrated moan as she returned the device to her short’s side pocket. “Yeah, let’s go.”

Haley led the way down the hill. The incline was steep enough for Haley to be mindful of her footing but not steep enough to slow her down.

“Ouch!” Haley mumbled, feeling a scratch across her tanned legs.

“You okay?”

“I felt something scratch my leg.”

“Told you you should’ve worn pants like me,” Robin said and then felt a scratch across her leg. “Ouch! Something scratched my leg too.”

When Robin got scratched, Haley knew it wasn’t her imagination. While Haley was human, Robin was a ghaukvoi, and her thick, blue skin was tougher. Before they could think about it, a bunch more scratches cut across both their legs. Haley cussed, and they both ran down the hill, slapping at their legs to brush aside whatever was scratching them. As Haley rubbed her ankles, Robin looked back to where they once stood. Gusts of wind cut across the grass and plants, and she found the source.

“Wind ants,” Robin said.

“Wind ants?” Haley repeated.

“They’re territorial insects that can fling sharp gusts of wind at their enemies. I did some reading on the subway on our way,” Robin explained. “Anyway, from the looks of it, I think I see two different groups fighting each other.”

Haley’s face lit up. “Like they’re in an endless war!”

Robin’s eyebrows squinted down. “That’s a bit of a stretch.”

“But it makes sense,” Haley said with an optimistic wink. “Come on. We’re here.”

Nature had reclaimed most of the tiny village. According to Haley’s research, the cobblestone community consisted of about 25 people living an off-grid lifestyle. A dozen dome-shaped homes surrounded a large community center building also fashioned out of brown cobblestones.

“You know, this place is kind of cute,” Robin admitted as she took in her surroundings. “Not sure if I would say that at night, though.”

Haley laughed. “We got plenty of daylight left.”

“What do you want to investigate first?” Robin asked. 

Haley took a look at the houses, inspecting them for any activity. “Let’s try some of the homes first and make sure this place is abandoned.”

Robin nodded. “Sounds good.”

Haley and Robin walked over to the nearest house, where Haley knocked on the door and called out hello. The wooden door crept open with a sharp squeal. Haley looked around and opened the door further, calling out hello again as she entered. Robin stayed behind, keeping watch.

“Anyone here?” Haley shouted.

The house was the same small size on the inside as it was on the outside. The lights did not automatically turn on, so Haley turned on her networker’s flashlight function to see. Instead of electricity, she found candles scattered around. The home was one room with furniture creating dividers for different sections. The place’s brown wood design had a warm, rustic atmosphere that Haley would have found calming if it weren’t for all of the belongings left out and covered in dust, leaving her with an ominous feeling. She returned to Robin outside.

“Anything interesting?” Robin asked.

“It’s weird.”

“Weird how?”

“It’s like someone lived there, but they left years ago without taking any of their stuff.”

“That is weird. Do you want to head back?”

No,” Haley said without hesitation. “I want to see if it’s the same story with the other homes, and then I want to check out the big building.”

The couple visited three more homes, each with the same story. Clothes, food, and keepsakes were all left to gather dust. Inside the fourth home, Haley found a crimson wooden spoon resting on the kitchen counter. The spoon reminded Haley of the one Robin used to shove a rainbow muffin into her mouth when they first meet. Upon seeing Haley’s rainbow hair at the coffee bakery shop Robin worked at, Robin thought Haley would be a perfect test subject for a new recipe. Robin pocked the spoon and left the abandoned house.

“Same story,” Haley said to Robin as she closed the door.

“I’m curious. If everyone here suddenly disappeared, then how did you hear about this place?”

“I overheard this conversation at a bar, and they were talking about unexplained stuff, and this person was talking about the Babylon Sisters Village. Apparently, they came out here to deliver stuff for a wedding, and no one was around. I did some digging as I wanted to know more, but there wasn’t much to be found as it’s a small community. There were some posts about people saying they were going to explore this place for themselves, but they never did follow up.”

“Did they just not go or something?”

“No, it’s like they said they were going, and they disappeared.”

“And you’re not worried about disappearing?”

“Not when I got this,” Haley said, shaking the music player. Robin scoffed, and Haley quickly added, “And you too, of course.”

“Smooth save there, muffin. That thing tell you how this all got started?”

Haley asked the music player the reason that caused everyone to disappear and tapped the shuffle button.

“My Heart is Burning,” Haley said, confused.

“That’s—”

“Don’t finish that thought,” Haley interrupted. She held up her music player. “How does Robin feel about that news?” Haley tapped shuffle. “Okay, now finish.”

“Spooky,” Robin finished.

Haley smiled and showed Robin the exact song title.

Robin rolled her eyes. “You set me up.”

“What? No way!”

Robin turned away and faced the community center. “How about we go check out this large building now?”

“Yeah, let’s do that.”

Blocking the wide double doors rested a large wooden crate with the retailer’s name, “Journal of Ardency,” stamped in black ink across the sides. Haley peeked inside through the opening. The container was empty, save for a few bits of red fabric hairs. Despite nothing being inside, Haley requested Robin’s help after trying to push it aside as it was heavier than it appeared. With the door clear, they both went inside this time. There was no need for additional lights as the windows filled the space with warmth and light. Both girls’ jaws dropped at the simplistic charm of the wooden reception area. They slowly walked into the room, soaking in the place. Haley could see the site as a perfect venue rental for events with its open floor plan and natural lighting. 

“There’s nothing here,” Robin said, surprised. 

“Except for that big old rug,” Haley added. In the center of the room was a fluffy, red rug several times their size. “Wait. I wonder if something is under it.”

As Haley stepped off, Robin yanked on her arm and pulled her back. “Hold on. Something is off about this place.”

“What do you mean?” Haley asked.

“You said all the homes were dusty?”

“Yeah.”

“There’s not a speck of dust here.”

Haley looked for confirmation. The place was immaculate. Haley asked her music player, “What danger should we be aware of in this building?”

“Well, what did it say?”

“Quicksand,” Haley spoke with gentle reservations.

She pulled out the wooden spoon she found and tossed it at the rug. The rug snapped on the spoon, like the jaws of a giant beast. Haley and Robin both shrieked and jumped back. The carpet slithered toward them, and they both bolted out of there. They didn’t bother to look back to see if the rug was following them or not. They ran as fast as they could, slammed the door shut, and moved the wooden crate back over the door.

As they caught their breath, a tall, brown fur sasquatch yelled, “Don’t go inside there!”

“Too late,” Haley snapped back as the sasquatch came racing up toward them. “What the hell was that thing?”

The sasquatch didn’t immediately answer.

Robin repeated Haley’s question with a threatening grumble. “What was that?”

“A carnivorous carpet,” he confessed.

With a gentle tone, Haley asked, “How did this all start?”

“You could say it was because my heart was burning with pain.” The sasquatch took a seat on a rock, putting him more at eye-level. “The woman I was in love with was getting married to someone else, and I got that rug, thinking it would scare them as a bad omen. Instead, it ate everyone in the village. I’ve been sticking around for the past few years to make sure it got no one else. I was hoping it would’ve starved to death by now…”

“But it’s still kicking,” Haley said.

The sasquatch nodded.

Haley pulled out her music player and asked it, “How do I kill the carnivorous carpet?”

She tapped the shuffle button. Upon seeing the result, she nodded.

“Simple enough,” Haley said as she strolled off. “Be right back.”

“What’s is she doing?” the sasquatch asked Robin.

Robin shrugged. “Her thing. I’m Robin, by the way.”

“Francesco,” the sasquatch introduced.

About a minute later, Haley returned with a rag stuffed inside a glass bottle.

“Open the door and get ready to close it,” Haley said to both Robin and Francesco.

Haley struck a match, lighting the rag on fire. Without questioning her, they promptly opened the door. Haley tossed the flaming bottle at the rug. It snapped the bottle in its clutches. Robin and Francesco slammed the doors shut as the carpet howled in pain. Robin covered her ears while Francesco squinched in pain. Haley hummed and moved her fingers like she was conducting an orchestra until the cry stopped.

After a moment of silence, Haley consulted her music player.

“It’s safe to enter,” Haley announced.

“Are you sure?” the sasquatch asked.

“See for yourself.”

Robin stepped back as Francesco opened the door. In the room was a smoldering pile of ash from the burnt carpet. The sasquatch bent down and picked up some of the remains. They blew out from his hand as a tear formed.

“It’s over,” Francesco said.

Night had fallen when Haley and Robin returned to the subway station to get home in Aequus. Francesco insisted on staying in the village as he didn’t know where else to go, but he assured them he would give his future some thought. The car Haley and Robin entered only held a few other people, but they knew it would fill as they got closer to the city. They used the opportunity to spread out and relax. Robin rested her head on Haley’s legs.

“What does that thing say about how I feel about you?”

Haley asked and pressed shuffle. “Really love you.”

Robin smiled. “What about our future?”

Haley consulted the device.

“Champagne,” Haley lied as she closed the music player, hiding the answer, “Can’t Cheat Death.”


Testing Predictions on an Abandoned Village - art by Mikey Marchan at Design Pickle

Thank you for reading my February 2021 short story!

After writing about Detective Psychon last month, I knew I wanted to feature another story about Haley “The Sounds” Riot where she was solving some sort of mystery to test the music player. I got inspired by the writing prompt, “For years, people go missing in the nearby abandoned village, sparking dozens of theories about treasure, murder, and ghosts. The culprit? A carpet that traps and drowns them like quicksand.”

Like I did for Body Drop, I also solicited song suggestions from friends that I incorporated through the story in different ways. Those songs were: Journal of Ardency by Class Actress, Spooky by Classics IV, Babylon Sisters by Steely Dan, Don’t Call Me Back (feat. Francesco Yates, DJ Lux & AJ McLean), Really Love You by Paul McCartney, and Mein Herz Brennt by Rammstein. I also tossed in a few of my shuffled songs.

Story artwork brought to life by Mikey Marchan at Design Pickle. Get a discount off your first month of Design Pickle via this affiliate link, which full disclosure, I earn a small commission as a discount for me as well.

I hope you enjoyed this story!

Script Thief

Detective Psychon arrives on The Glimmingdrift where he works with a client to solve who has been leaking their play scripts to the press.

NOTE: This story takes place after Who Killed The Toymaker Aboard Starbringer II? and at the same time as A Rescue Request to Santa. However, I wrote this sci-fi story to stand on its own. Enjoy!


Every piece of media and publicity Detective Psychon found about The Glimmingdrift recommended seeing a live show in the Dionysus Circle district. Spawning from a shady gambling past, the current captain revitalized the spaceship city to be a theatre lover’s paradise. Performing arts venues replaced the twelve casinos, keeping the flashy neon aesthetics and repurposing them for the arts. A neon blue holographic billboard promoting, “‘A Disastrous Carol’ Written and Directed by Scourge” briefly caught the detective’s attention as he walked deeper into the district.

Pairing with the performing arts, visitors also knew Dionysus Circle for its eclectic culinary collection of food vendors. Each booth was a work of art, often embodying the dish they best served. While the detective had no use for food, in a past life, he would’ve had a hard time picking something to eat based on all the tantalizing aromas as he strolled past them.

All the detective planned to do during his visit aboard The Glimmingdrift was to see a client.

Vertically, the district was only two to three levels tall, allowing people with wings to fly around, but no need for upper-level pedestrian walkways. The detective stopped in front mini-tower consisting of an elevator base to a circular observation deck. At the top was a penthouse suite that doubled as a living and rehearsal space for the prestigious writer and director, Canopus.

“I’m here to see Canopus,” the detective said to the private guard.

The muscular brown sasquatch with a black hoodie and jeans sized up the short-by-comparison human vampire. “What’s your business?”

“I’m the new hat designer,” the detective lied as requested by the client.

The guard looked at Psychon’s ragged black pointy hat with various hand-sewn patches adorned on it. The guard shrugged and stepped aside from the door. “Canopus is waiting for you.”

The door automatically slid open, and the detective stepped inside the freight elevator, which was large enough for a few dozen people. The elevator walls and ceiling were covered with living flowers and ivy, smelling like a spring meadow. A few of the flowers had a metallic sparkle to them. As the door closed and lifted him to the only destination, Psychon recalled his initial conversation with Canopus. They spoke on a holographic video call via their networkers.

Canopus patted her forehead with a towel using one tentacle while the second used her flower sewn hat as a fan. Her third tentacle held the networker as the last one raised a glass of ice water to her mouth. She took a sip through the rainbow swirly straw.

“Look, I need you to find out how my stories are getting leaked to the press,” Canopus said as she sat the glass down. “I don’t want to accuse my troupe falsely, and I don’t want to come across as unhinged.”

“Is it one media outlet that gets the inside details?” Psychon asked.

“No, it changes every time, but whoever gets it, it’s an exclusive.”

“That rules out any media outlet. Do you have any suspects on your team?”

“My troupe is loyal,” she said with a hateful glare with her large eyes.

The detective opted not to question her statement further and went with a different approach. “I’ll need to infiltrate your team to be sure. They may be unknowingly or unwittingly helping.”

Canopus tossed the towel aside and put her hat back on, which gave her an idea. “You could be my new hat designer.”

Psychon adjusted his pointy black hat he made himself. “I can pull that off, and I now know how to solve your problem.”

The elevator dinged open with a gentle musical melody. Like the elevator, plants covered every inch of the ceiling. Most of the walls were transparent or were windows to the outside, making the circular penthouse feel larger than it already was. Before walking on the plush green carpet, Psychon took off his boots and placed them on the shoe rack with the others.

The detective only took a couple of steps when Canopus ran up and greeted him with a tight, warm hug that lifted him from the floor. If Psychon needed to breathe, he would’ve been struggling at the moment. Instead, he grumbled, and Canopus carefully returned him to the ground.

“I’m so excited to see you,” Canopus apologized.

“I’m excited to be working with you too,” Psychon said as he straightened out his black trench coat.

Canopus turned back to her troupe of eight people working together for their latest show. Each person sat in a plush pod hung from the ceiling that formed a circle, so everyone was equal in discussion and rehearsal. All nine pods were large enough to fit Canopus, who was the largest person there. The detective noted the diversity of the troupe. From the reviews the detective gleamed about the company, the mix of ideas and cultural backgrounds was a favored trait.

Canopus returned to her pod. “Everyone, before I give out the scripts for tonight’s show, I have a special associate who I commissioned to design you each a special hat for this production.”

Psychon took off his hat, then one by one, he walked around the room, pulling out a hat from inside his hat, which was bigger on the inside. Each black and red striped hat was similar in appearance as not to cause any jealousy. However, they were different enough in size and strip width to tell each one apart. After the detective passed out all the hats, he returned to Canopus.

“I hope everyone enjoys their hats,” Psychon said as he gave the last one to Canopus.

“These are exquisite,” Canopus genuinely praised as she put on the hat. She took a rolled-up poster from her pod and unraveled it to show only Psychon. “This is for you as a thank you. You’re the first one to see the poster for tonight’s show.”

“Thank you,” Psychon said as he rolled up the poster and put it in his hat. “It’s been a pleasure working for you.”

The detective tipped his hat and returned to the elevator. Everything was going according to plan.

The detective made himself comfortable in the corner of an underwater themed bar. He sipped on his glass of blood while his networker projected live feeds from the hidden cameras placed in each of the hats. With the show starting in a few hours, no one attempted to leak any details about the production. With tentative diligence, he watched for any sleight of hand tricks as well as any outsiders who might be spying on them.

When a news alert with breaking details about Canopus’ latest show popped up on his feed, he almost didn’t want to believe it. Earlier, he scheduled his networker to push any news about the show to him. He tapped on the news box from The Daily Cork. 

The article revealed exclusive details about the plot. The story even mentioned the wardrobe and hats for the show. It included several suggestions on what to eat that paired with the show. Then down at the bottom was a witness sketch of the show poster, which Psychon plotted with Canopus to make sure only he saw it.

Psychon closed the networker video. “Time to pay The Daily Cork a visit for answers.”

The Daily Cork was a one-person operation specializing in culinary news and reviews, with the occasional story about performances, usually with food recommendations. Luckily for the detective, they had an office aboard The Glimmingdrift, but it was a private residence, which meant he couldn’t barge in.

The detective learned the residential hallways were designed without any decorations so people would get to and from home quickly without any distractions. The bright purple walls did give Psychon a sense of luxury despite the minimal architect. He knocked three times on the white door to Room 289. 

The door slid open, revealing a young 28-year-old human woman, although the snakes in her hazel hair exposed she was half-gorgon. She wore a thick, white sweater and a pair of tight red leggings. 

“Hello, Alaia,” Psychon said, forcing a warm smile. “I saw your article about Canopus’ latest show, and I wanted to see if you be interested in interviewing me about the hats I designed for it.”

Alaia beamed with excitement. “Yes, please come in.”

With the invite, Psychon stepped inside. “Thank you.”

The detective studied the white minimalist zen studio apartment room. If Alaia was hiding anything or anyone, there wasn’t much space to do it. He didn’t spy any surveillance equipment, and Alaia didn’t seem to recognize him either.

Alaia took a cross-legged seat on a mattress on the floor, which was the only piece of furniture. She sat up with an immaculate posture.

“So, tell me, what’s the story behind this show’s hats?” she asked. 

“Well, Canopus hired me to find out who was leaking details about her shows to the press, and so I made special hats with surveillance equipment to track her staff.” The snakes in Alaia’s hair rattled with nervous restlessness. Psychon held up a warning finger. “Don’t even try to turn me into stone. Vampires are immune. Now, tell me, how did you learn about the show when I saw no one contacting you?”

Alaia’s posture slouched. “I got an anonymous message. They said if I brought them some stuff, they would give an exclusive. I’ve seen other publications get exclusives, and so I took it. I thought it was a publicity stunt at first…”

“What did they want in return?” the detective questioned.

“I can’t pronounce it, but here’s the message. They want wanted me to deliver it to a dumpster out back Canopus’ place.”

The journalist brought up the demands on her networker.

The detective swiped away the screen. “That explains everything.”

Canopus and her troupe stumbled up the penthouse entrance with celebratory bottles of wine and high spirits from a successful performance. The detective stood outside with the personal security guard.

“Psychon, it’s so good to see you,” Canopus said. “Do you have good news for me?”

“Yes, I’ve learned that your troupe is loyal, and you don’t have to worry about your shows being leaked to the press again.”

“Really?” Canopus said, about to drunk cry with happiness.

“Wait, I thought you were a hat designer?” one of Canopus associates asked.

“Detective is my proper title,” Psychon said.

“How’d you fix it?” Canopus asked.

“I set it on fire.”

“Set what on fire?”

“All of your plants, specifically the aglowies. Fun Fact: aglowies are native to the Yellow Planet and illegal on all the others. They are notorious for fusing with technology. They’ve been getting fertilizer in exchange for exclusive information about your shows.”

Canopus paused to take everything explained to her. “I got that plant as a souvenir when I visited the Yellow Planet for inspiration. That’s about the time when small little details started to leak to the press.”

Psychon nodded. “And as the plant grew bigger, it was able to expand its reach.”

A realization hit Canopus. “But the aglowies covered my entire place!”

“Yes, your whole penthouse suite is currently in flames. I had to get special permission from the ship’s captain, but once I explained the danger, she gave me access.”

The detective’s client took a big swig of wine. “I guess it was time for a remodel anyway.”


Script Thief - Dionysus Circle Scene artwork by Chen Kang at Design Pickle - black and white

For January’s short story, I wanted to reveal the case Detective Psychon was heading to that he referred in Who Killed The Toymaker Aboard Starbringer II? I thought it would be fun to explore more of The Glimmingdrift featured in A Rescue Request to Santa, having both stories take place at the same time. In the Santa story, I did mention Starbringer II landing there, so I’ve planned this idea in advance. I was also inspired by a bit of dialogue from a writing prompt, which I incorporated. The prompt was, ““How’d you fix it?” “I set it on fire.””

I got to work again with Chen Kang at Design Pickle to bring Dionysus Circle to life. I incorporated the tower in the background Chen drew as Canopus’ penthouse. Huge thanks to Chen for the fantastic art!

I have to say, I love writing a detective story in a speculative fiction world with Psychon as I can give him such weird and unusual cases. If you liked this story, be sure to click on the Detective Psychon tag for more with him.

Be sure to join me on Patreon to read my works first.

Curious Dream Beginnings

A conversation with a philosophy professor about a repeating dream beginning prompts a revelation. 


For the past three months, my dreams began with waking up in my own room with a man in a white suit with pink accents on the end of my bed. He would encourage me to go through my bedroom door where I would be in some alternative reality for the rest of the dream. Regardless of what happened, I woke up refreshed. Still, with the way the dreams always started the same, it began to bother me.

I considered taking a psychological or a dream interruption class, but while doing some research I stumbled upon an online philosophy class taught by a fellow journalist, Hank Williams. In the sample lesson, he spoke with such wisdom and insight one would gain from interviewing numerous people. I was hooked.

Eventually after several classes, I got to have a one-on-one videoconference session with my professor. I started out by asking him course related questions, but the conversation drifted over to the subject of dreams and I solicited him for his thoughts on mine. He asked me questions I never considered and he seemed particularly interested in the man and the door I would go though.

“Do you recall seeing this man in your life before you started to have these dreams with him?” Hank asked.

“I don’t believe so,” I replied.

“Is this man always alone or is someone with him? A woman perhaps?”

“No, it’s just him.”

“Have you ever tried to touch this man to make sure he was there?”

“No, I never thought to do that.”

“This door you would go through, are you sure it was your door? Did the weight and movement of the door feel different from your real door?”

“I didn’t really notice anything…”

“How curious.”

Our conversation ended with him saying he would like to discuss the subject further tomorrow. He was curious if our chat would alter my dream. I didn’t think it would, but I said I would be glad to talk to him again tomorrow. 

Upon waking up in the dream, my philosophy professor sat at the end of my bed. He wore a dark brown suit under a light brown overcoat, being a stark difference between the man in the white suit who would normally sit there.

“Strange, isn’t it?” Hank commented.

I took a moment to startup my brain to process some words. “Hank?”

“Please, call me Quis.” He walked over to my door. “This isn’t really a dream and neither were those dreams you had.”

With those words, everything suddenly felt so real. It was like a fog had been lifted from my brain. My face got red with awkwardness, but Quis wasn’t paying any attention to me as he turned the door knob. On the other side was a sunny forest. He closed the door like a person who had gotten what they needed out of a fridge.

“When did you get this door replaced?” Quis asked, like he knew it was new. 

“About a few months ago, actually,” I said, shocked. 

“Then the dreams started, didn’t they?”

My jaw dropped. “Yes, they did.”

“Do you remember what the person looked like who installed it?”

“I do. I only remember her because she wore a red dress, which I thought was unusual, but I hate fashion criticisms myself.”

“Black hair, right?”

“Yes!”

“That would be Raven.” Quis gripped the door knob and yanked it out from the door. “That should put an end to their work. If you do run into my siblings, send them my regards.”

He tossed the broken pieces on the floor and left my apartment. I knew I wasn’t dreaming because I didn’t fall back asleep.


The final weekly short story for the year was inspired by the writing prompt: “You wake up from one of those dreams again. It starts in your own bed, in your real room, only outside the door is an alternate reality every time. The man you see in every dream was your Philosophy teacher this time. Who is he? ‘Strange, isn’t it?’ He says from the end of your bed.”

I thought this prompt would be a fun way to feature Quis again as I only wrote one story, Interview Spoilers, about the end-timer. I got to show a different side of him as previously he was portrayed as just a journalist, but like all the other end-timers, he does take on other roles. 

I hope you all have been enjoying the weekly stories this year! For the most part, I did keep up with my goal of releasing a new story every week with the exception being around A Killer Among the Spaceship Game Show, which took me two weeks to write part one and another week to finish it with part two.

I’ll talk more about my plans for 2021 later, but fun fact: The total word count of all my short stories this year (at the time I’m writing this) was 47,518 words. I do plan to revisit all of my stories, send them to an editor, and publish them as a book. 

If you’re on Reddit, I have a forum for my fictional universe so join the community today!

Thank you for reading!

The Cat’s Warning

While preparing for a hot date, the visiting cat warns him that his date is going to kill him.


“She’s going to kill you tonight.”

My heart sank – not because the cat spoke in a deep, ominous tone to me as I had gotten used to that, but because of what I already had planned for tonight. Before I get any further, I should back up a little bit. You see, when I signed the lease for my duplex at the beginning of the month, my landlord asked me to take care of her cat, Phineus, any time he visited. Since I felt like I was renting the place for a steal, I agreed.

From time to time, the cat would pop in and I made sure to have bowls of food and water for him. I had no clue how he would get inside, but I became accustomed to randomly seeing or hearing him.

After the first week, Phineus started to warn me of danger. The first time this happened, I dropped my coffee mug. The cat told me to take another route to work. I did and later found out about a deadly multi-car pileup. I asked my landlord about her talking cat, but she laughed me off.

“Is she going to kill me like accidentally or on purpose?” I asked the cat as a I put a holiday album on my recorder player.

Phineus licked his paw. No surprise, the can’t didn’t respond. The cat never responded to any of my questions. He would occasionally repeat himself, but he only spoke to give warnings.

The doorbell rang.

“Fuck it, I’m going to roll the dice.”

As I walked to the door, the cat ran and hid behind the Christmas tree. I decorated my duplex just for her. I even went out and bought the biggest Christmas tree that would fit and that I could afford, even though I lived alone. The cat seemed to enjoy it and the smell of the tree was nice, but I only got it for her.

I opened the door. Her long, curly brown hair danced on her bare shoulders. She wore a sparkling black dress and not much else. She was more gorgeous than her photos. If her stunning looks could kill, I would be dead. I didn’t see any weapons on her, so maybe I can prevent her from accidentally killing me?

“I’m going to take your silence as a complement,” she said with a smile. “May I come in?”

Mentally, I slapped myself and stood aside. “Yes, come inside, Iris. You must be freezing.”

Iris shrugged. “The cold never really bothered me.”

As she stepped a foot inside, the Christmas tree came tumbling down at us. I grabbed Iris, spun her around, leaving us with only a slight brushing from the crashing tree. The cat stood where the tree did.

I lifted the tree back up as I scolded the cat. “Phineus, what is your deal? I’m so sorry.”

“It’s cool. Phineus is an interesting name for cat,” Iris said as she entertained herself by browsing though my vinyl collection.

“He’s technically my landlord’s cat. He just like to hang out here.”

“Ah. Well, did you know in Greek mythological, Phineus was a king and a seer?”

“No, I didn’t,” I answered.

I made a note to ask my landlord about the cat again. Once I got the tree situated, I walked over to the kitchen. I liked the open modern concept of the duplex as it was great to keep connected with guests while I was in the kitchen.

“So, what movie did you want to watch?” I asked as I poured us some wine.

“I thought we could browse together,” she said as she took a seat on my couch.

I handed her her glass. She took a sip and sat the glass aside. The moment I took a seat, she saddled up on me, kissing my neck. I looked to the side to find a safe spot to place my glass when I caught a glance of the cat looking down at me from a tiny door in the ceiling that I’d never seen. Behind Phineus, it looked like he was in a city colored with a purple sunset. Before I could say anything, the cat jumped down from the hole, landing on my head, causing me to spill my drink all over my shirt.

Iris pulled herself off me. Thankfully, the drink only landed on me. I apologized and excused myself to my bedroom. Phineus raced ahead, beating me inside. I stripped off my shirt as I walked over to my dresser. The cat jumped on the dresser and sat next to a small black box with a red button it that was placed in front of the dresser mirror. I tossed the shirt in the clothes basket and picked up the device, looking it over.

“You know, I don’t mind if you leave your shirt off,” Iris said from the doorway.

I looked up at the dresser mirror. The mirror was half the size of the wide dresser, which meant it was large enough for me to see Iris standing in the doorway, however, Iris wasn’t reflected. I turned around to check and Iris was indeed leaning against the doorway, waiting for me. I looked back at the mirror and she wasn’t there. I think Iris caught the look of confusion as when I turned around, a set of fangs protruded from her mouth.

“Push the button,” Phineus ordered.

As Iris leapt at me, I pressed the red button. The room filled with a bight, warm light that made me feel like I was on a beach during a sunny day. Iris screamed. I closed my eyes and held onto the button until she was silent. I released my grip and the warmth and light faded away. With hesitation, I walked over to where Iris stood. There was only a pile of ash and clothes.

I sat the device on the dresser and collapsed onto my bed. The cat jumped over and walked to my face. He bopped me on the nose with his front paw before giving me a warning I had heard before.

“Don’t think with your dick.”


This week’s short story was inspired by the writing prompt: “You’ve just signed a new rental lease, but the landlord makes you agree to care for the cat that lives there. You agree, but within one week that cat starts talking and giving you ominous warnings.”

Story Artwork by Janine De Guzman at Design Pickle. Get a discount off your first month of Design Pickle via this affiliate link, which full disclosure, I earn a small commission as a discount for me as well.

Loyalty

A detective morns their partner.


Never in my life did I want to hit my boss harder than any criminal I encountered. To me, you were not replaceable – far, far from it. People thought you would be useless, a waste of time, a money pit, but you proved them wrong case after case. You became my best friend, helping me on the job with your keen senses and in other coincidental ways like meeting the woman who would become my wife because you needed a custom uniform.

From the first case we solved together where you found evidence no one else wouldn’t have been able to find, I knew we would be together forever. Hell, I honestly figured I would go before you, and you would become someone else’s partner. At least, that was my intention when your eyes flicked to life for the first time.

Then today, for some reason, you burst into the room – without my authorization – triggering the bomb. Was there a bug in your code? Was it a malfunctioning sensor? Or did you know it was a trap and you sacrificed yourself?

There was nothing left of you, so I’ll never know for sure. I wish I could transfer your soul into my next model. Instead, I’ll just pour my heart into it, hoping to get the same results. 

Then, for you, I will solve this mystery.


From a Theme Thursday prompt, the challenge was to write a 100-500 word story on the theme of “Loyalty” without using the word. I hope you enjoy my sci-fi angle to the challenge. 

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