For a Good Cause

"Please, I need them back." I had her right where I wanted her, and to highlight that I dangled one of the pouches in front of her. Her face went chalk white and her eyes nearly bugged out of her face. She knew the pouches were sealed and in no danger of opening, but she wasn't used to playing this close to the edge.

I tossed it to her, and she nearly passed out right there. "That one's free. You know my price for the rest."

"Please! This isn't just my professional reputation, this is, is... it could release a global plague!"

"Then it should be an easy decision," I said. I held out a pen. "Need my back to sign on?"

She glared, but she signed the papers. When she smacked them into my hand, she said, "Are you happy?" in a voice that could scrape paint.

"Almost." I gestured for her to open her car, then I pulled out a carrier. "Hey there, buddy," I said. Li'l Ben's meow gave me my first smile in days. It almost brought me to tears.

So I thanked her for the divorce and told her where to find the other pouches.

So She Doesn't Forget

She's asleep. That's why everything is dark. Light comes on suddenly, a door opening above her. People move and murmur just outside her vision. She calls out, but finds she can't move. Every part of her is asleep, numb, paralyzed, and she realizes she's dead. The mortician discusses football while sewing her lips shut. No, she tries to scream, I'm alive, I'm fine, but her lips remain still. She screams, and no one hears her.

Her viewing begins. Jake comes, face frozen with grief, with their young son. The boy uncaps a black marker and leans in close, but Jake stops him and squats. "What are you doing?" he whispers.

"I'm writing that I love her so she doesn't forget." Fighting back tears, Jake doesn't stop him. The priest finishes the reading, and the rest passes quickly, and she's being lowered into the ground. She screams unheeded as dirt rains down on her.

She wakes up gasping for breath, pulse racing and Jake asleep beside her. In the bathroom, she splashes water on her face and flips on the light to reassure herself of what is real.

Someone has written, "I love you, mommy," in black marker on her arm.

The Guest Toothbrush

Beside the bathroom sink, precisely parallel with the edge, lay a plain blue toothbrush. She poked her head out into the attached bedroom. No clues for her there. Her hosts had said that no one else used this bathroom. Did they expect her to use this toothbrush? Without touching it, she examined the toothbrush. There was no wear on the handle that she could see, the brand name still standing out proud and sharp. Bending down close, she thought she saw the bristles splitting a bit at the ends. By manufacturer's design, or a sign of use?

She checked the trash can under the sink, but didn't find the plastic packaging of a toothbrush fresh from its wrapping. Had they opened it, then taken out the trash? Unknowable.

Would her hosts be insulted if she didn't use the toothbrush? Would they know? Maybe that's why it was so precisely placed. She bent close again, looking for a single hair laid on it to reveal that she'd touched it. Or maybe it was a test. If she used it, they'd be disgusted and never invite her back.

She brushed with the toothbrush she'd brought, thinking about how she overthinks these things.

War for Christmas

It started when some families started celebrating Early Christmas. It was a matter of convenience. The modern age created more complicated families, and those families would celebrate early, at whatever time fit all their complicated schedules. The most common Early Christmas was the weekend before the 25th. As the custom spread, retailers and advertisers pushed their Christmas blitzes earlier and earlier. More locally, communities pushed the date earlier and earlier in a form of competition. Children, excited and gloating over the bounties of their Early Christmasses, infected families with envy. Children who hadn't yet celebrated the commercial holiday cried to their parents, who planned an earlier Christmas for the next year.

Eventually, communities stabilized by mutual cease-fire. Many wound up holding Early Christmas in early November, but some places celebrated as early as July. Authorized Christmas dates appeared in neighborhood homeowner association agreements.

Of course, some communities declared that only certain dates were acceptable. December 25th was a popular choice in the Bible Belt. But the upheaval opened the door for some to declare that late September was Jesus's true birthday. Then believers began to insist that others celebrate on the "correct" date.

Thus began the First Christmas War.

The Last Employee

It was her first day of work, and she was already late. Her brother had forgotten to wake her, but excuses would get her nowhere. So she ran. The castle sprawled rather than loomed. She ran in one of the servants' entrances and threw on her black maid's dress and white apron, tying it as she went.

No one waited to scold her in the head maid's office. That's when she noticed the quiet. No one else had been at the changing room. The hallways were empty. The kitchen was still.

Following a sound, she walked out to the courtyard. Amid the lord's famous roses stood the castle's lord, its entire host of employees, and a beautiful stranger. She joined the crowd at one end, as far from her employer as she could.

"Until that time, you and yours shall be cursed," proclaimed the stranger. With that, the lord writhed, twisted, and became bestial. Rippling outward, a light washed over the servants, changing them as well.

The light flowed through the crowd like a wave, changing them as it went. It rushed toward her. Seeing her fate about to be written, she took in her breath and said,

"I quit."

To Shoot a Man in Reno

He whistled as he walked down the dark alley. When someone stepped out from behind a dumpster with a pistol, he acted surprised. "Gimme yer wallet," said the mugger.

He stroked his chin in thought. "Mmmmm, nope."

The mugger's posture changed. He couldn't be sure, but it looked like surprise. "Whatcha mean, nope?"

"I mean," he said, "I'm not in danger."

"Not in danger?" The mugger waved the gun. "Whyinell not?"

"We're in Reno," said the man.

"So?"

"Shooting someone in Reno? Like that Johnny Cash song? Way too cliché."

The mugger looked around, then at the other end of the alley. "Just... gimme the wallet."

"No one shoots anyone in Reno anymore," he continued. "Too embarrassing. Look, you don't want to be cliché, do you?"

"Not... really."

"So you're not going to shoot me, so my wallet is safe. Simple as that. Want to walk through the alley with me? I'm on my way to a party. Hey," he exclaimed, "you should come! Probably ditch the gun, though."

The gunshot echoed through the alley. He squeaked, and fell down.

"The line's 'shot a man in Reno just to watch him die.' Me, I need the money. Way less clichéd."

Ilyich's Binding

"For your betrayal, you must keep us safe." The whispered words echoed in Ilyich's ears as the blackness receded. His bleary eyes blinked open, showing him the smooth, translucent deck of one of the great Arks. He pushed himself to his feet, standing against the dizziness. The great, smooth deck swept out before him, dotted with low structures grown of the same pale material. He could feel the gentle swell of the water holding him aloft.

He couldn't walk. Looking down, he saw the flexible material of the deck grown over his feet. Following it, he saw he had no covering but the elegant feathers of the keepers of the Arks. He was the ship.

People boarded him. They made their homes in the Ark's structures and below decks, and ate from the gardens that grew there. They tried to befriend their keeper, who would protect them on the waters. He would only mutter or yell, "I was a man."

On the day of departure, they asked where he would take them. "Nowhere," he answered. He flexed his new muscles, his deck and halls. He forced them out, and sailed away. "Better to go mad in solitude than serve you."