Category: Short Stories

Author’s Note

I wrote this story years ago, but I enjoy the concept. There’s not much to it—no dialogue and no real plot—but it’s still a fun and quick read for anyone who stumbles across it. Enjoy.

The eagle soared far above the surface of the planet. It could see the entire world but gazed closer, seeing each part of the planet in turn. Looking down, it saw a forest. A gigantic forest—the biggest forest out of the only three that existed on the planet by far, in fact—stretched as far as the eye could see. Tall, scraggly trees rose miles above the surface, swaying to and fro, casting the entire ground floor into darkness. A darkness that hid what lay beneath. But with its sharp gaze, the eagle pierced the darkness. Dirt, muck, and rocks surrounded the trees, making up a filthy forest floor. If you ever tried to navigate the forest you’d have to be especially careful to avoid the dangers within. Pools of quicksand, perfectly camouflaged with the ground and with trees growing from within them were scattered here and there, waiting to pull the unknowing traveler to their doom. Stepping here and there, one might find themselves entangled within trees that had fallen, dead, and rotting, to the forest floor ages ago. And then there were the creatures that lived there. Giant, fearsome creatures with eight legs, frightening pincers, and large, round brown bodies, they would devour any human being or lesser creature that dared to enter into their domain.

The eagle let its gaze drift past the forest, where it saw a vast plain. The plain stretched, so far and wide that it would take weeks to traverse it. For the most part, the plain was flat—terribly so. But here and there, jutting out from the plain itself, were gigantic mountain ranges that ran along the plain, stretching to both horizons. Many, many mountain ranges. All shared one unique feature, though. Every several weeks some new ones would erupt, while some old ones would simply disappear. The people living on the planet had never managed to figure out why the mountain ranges changed like they did, but the eagle didn’t know that. The eagle knew why it happened, and what did he care if the inhabitants of the planet didn’t?

His gaze drifted past the planes, where the two smaller forests lay side by side. The trees here were shorter, and there were fewer dangers than the gigantic forest contained. But the eagle lost interest in these forests quickly and allowed his gaze to drift downward, to two oceans which lay beside the two forests. Perhaps the forests grew here because the oceans gave them the nutrients they required to thrive and live. The oceans were gigantic, spanning many miles apiece. On one coast stretched the forests, and on the other stretched plains once again. But here a single mountain unlike any other arose from the surface of the earth. Humongous. Almost unbelievably so, this mountain projected far from the surface of the earth. The mountain ranges that lay on the great plains looked minuscule in comparison.

The eagle looked past the mountain, and saw, almost in contrast, a gigantic gaping crater. Nearly twice the size of the mountain that lay beside it, the crater was easily seen from the height at which the eagle flew. Jagged white rocks projected out of its sides, and it was so deep that the bottom was invisible and had long since faded into darkness which even the eagle could not see through.

Suddenly a motion atop the tallest peak caught the eagle’s attention, and his eyes darted in the direction of the peak. The pace at which he flew slowed as a plume of smoke erupted from an object which looked like it was some sort of a spaceship. Crowds of the little people who ruled the planet were gathered round at a safe distance, watching with mouths agape as it launched. And all around the globe, the people who were still in their homes turned their televisions on and saw the spaceship launch. The ship grew farther and farther away, and the people cheered. The first-ever launch was a success. They could explore the stars which existed far, far away. They cheered for the brave astronauts who had volunteered to go on this mission.

But up through the atmosphere, the astronauts sat stone cold in shock. There was no cheering on the shuttle as it hurtled through space. There had been cheering initially, as they gradually grew farther from the globe which they had lived on all their lives and watched the full planet come into view—but there was no cheering now.

Although none of them said a word, every single astronaut realized what the others had realized. As the full planet had come into view, they all saw it. Almost as if it was a mirror. A gigantic face. A massive forest of scraggly, tall hairs. The gigantic plains with the mountain range—no, those were a forehead and wrinkles. And those other two forests, they were eyebrows. And the lakes which they had once swam in—those were eyes, weren’t they? And the crater. An astronomic mouth, gaping upward toward their spaceship. The eagle watched this all with interest. He saw all the tiny humans that lived upon the other, bigger one. The eagle wasn’t a part of the tiny world—he was a part of the big world. And even though the eagle didn’t know it, his secret was shared that day with the astronauts of the space shuttle. They wouldn’t tell anyone, though. Who would believe them?

And far, far above, another eagle watched a very tiny person and a very, very tiny eagle on a “planet” which was the head of a human being, and the eagle laughed to himself. And above him—another, and another, and another…

Author’s Note

This story isn’t well written. It’s not exceptionally anything, but it does have an interesting premise that I think could be expanded on further, at some later date. I don’t remember where I got the idea for this story. Maybe it was from a movie, or a book, or some writing prompt I found online. Regardless, I found the idea and ran with it, and this is the result.

I actually like this story, even if it’s a bit goofy sometimes, and one of my older pieces of literature (if you could call it that). Enjoy.

The Day of the Upside

Oftentimes, the strangest things happen when we least expect it. When everything appears to be normal, suddenly, out of the blue, a drastic change can occur, sending our world spiraling out of control. But nothing like this had happened in such a long time, especially in Crownhill. The town of Crownhill was, in general, a peaceful place. With a whopping population of 2500 people, the occupants of this town spent their leisure days participating in community events, such as bowling on Saturdays, and bingo every Sunday morning. And sometimes, just sometimes, when they were feeling especially venturous, they went on an excursion down the treacherously thin roads that led from their small town to the outside world, and visited the local theater in the nearby Big City, as they called it.

For Milo, living here had always felt natural to him. He didn’t care for the outside world, it was too busy, and crowded, and clustered. The fact of the matter was that ambitions of any kind had never even occurred to him. He had never had a lofty goal in life or a dream to follow. He merely enjoyed the comfort of his rented home, and working at The Crown Diner (the prominent local diner) as a waiter. His life had fell into a routine that was almost never broken – and he couldn’t have been happier about it.

Every Monday morning, he woke up at 8:00 (give or take how long it took him to convince himself to get out of bed), got ready, ate a bagel with a glass of milk, and was at work by 9:00. When he arrived at work, he prepared for the opening at 10:00. He made sure that everything was in order, swept the floors, wrote the daily specials in chalk on the menu, and did any other odd job that his manager needed help with. As soon as the diner had opened, the people of Crownhill began to trickle in, like everything in their town – slowly, but methodically. This was one of the only two diners in town, and it was the marginally more popular one, seeing as it had been there longer, and the locals liked consistency. After work, Milo would walk home, enjoying the evening air. When he arrived back at his apartment, he would spend the rest of the evening reading a book from what he called his “collection” (a small shelf filled with books he had deemed worthy of keeping, set into the wall by his bed). Once he began to grow tired, he would set down his book, turn off the lamp, which sat on the stand by his bed and go to sleep. On the weekends, Milo would attend the community events, as well as spend time walking through the gorgeous and well-maintained Crownhill Park (which the sleepy little town had been spending a majority of their budget on, seeing as they had nothing else to upkeep).

One Friday, when Milo was preparing to set down his book and go to sleep, he felt a sudden lurch in his stomach. Had he forgotten something? He wondered. His stomach stayed in “lurch mode” for at least 30 seconds, before slowly fading back to its original content and full state. This puzzled Milo. He usually never forgot anything too important. There weren’t even many important things that he had to remember. He went over his checklist several times in his head (”Are the diner doors locked? Are the apartment doors locked? Did I forget to collect my tips…”) before dismissing this feeling as ludicrous and turning his attention back to falling asleep. As he drifted off to sleep, somewhere in Milo’s mind he was aware of this feeling slowly returning.

The Day of the Down

As Milo woke up, he was vaguely aware that his face felt squished and uncomfortable against a slightly bumpy surface. His mind was still foggy, and he tried to figure out why this was. His pillow? What had happened? Had he fallen off of his bed during the night? But no, his floor was carpeted, and the surface that he was lying on was hard…so that couldn’t be it. Maybe he had forgotten to set down his book last night before he fell asleep. As his senses began to sharpen, Milo became aware of the “lurch mode” in his stomach from last night, still there – and if anything, it had gotten more prevalent. This made him much more alert, and now he began to worry.

Slowly, he pushed himself up, turned over, and began to sit up – but as his eyes focused, he stopped short and stared, because this was crazy! He must be dreaming. It had to be a dream. Of course, that would be it. He stood up, mind spinning from what he was seeing, and quickly made his way over to the sink, past overturned desks and scattered books. Any feelings of grogginess had vanished quicker than a jolt of electricity, leaving his mind sharp. Still, he continued to make his way over to his sink, convinced that this would fix it. Once he reached it, he turned both of the faucets on full blast, intending to splash the water on his face and wake himself up.

But it didn’t work quite as he had planned. As he stared wide-eyed at this new development, he began to grow frantic. Even if this was just a dream, it was going too far for him. He turned off the faucets and ran headlong towards his front door, fully intending to step in front of a car and force himself to wake up. After a moment’s difficulty forcing the door open, he started outside – and suddenly, as he crossed into the outdoors, his mind lurched with horror as he realized he had made a grave mistake. But by then it was too late. He felt himself falling down…or was it up? With only seconds to spare, his reflexes kicked in, and he found himself grabbing the frame of the door, where he hung on. Even if this was a dream, his survival instinct prevented him from letting go.

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he now knew that this wasn’t a dream. Somehow, in the sleepy town of Crownhill, the impossible had happened. This was real, and he had to get back inside and figure out what to do. With all the strength he had, he slowly and carefully pulled himself back into his house. When he finally made it, panting hard, he sat down on his ceiling and finally realized to the full extent what had happened.

Gravity had, somehow, been reversed.

The Day of the Great Decision

Still reeling from this realization, Milo caught his breath and tried to figure out what to do next. There was no way he could leave his house without instantly being flung into outer space. Suddenly, he came up with a plan. He could try calling someone! Maybe he could call his boss. He heaved himself off the floor and made his way over to his bedroom, where he began to look for his phone. As soon as he remembered where he had set his phone though, he felt a sinking feeling. Last night, before he got in bed, he had set his phone on his heavy antique bed stand, which was now overturned, sitting upside down on the ceiling.

He heaved the stand-up and looked under it. There sat his phone, smashed into little bits and pieces. As he stared at his phone, he began to panic. He had no way of communication, and he couldn’t go outside of his house. Milo sat down against his wall, trying to think. If only there was a way to get from house to house, he could make his way to the diner, or the town hall, where other people might be congregated. Then he would be able to find out what happened. As the power flickered off, Milo looked around. But of course. With gravity reversed, there were bound to be some problems with the power poles. And suddenly, an idea struck him. A crazy idea, that seemed to go against everything he had ever stood for, but an idea that just might work.

Milo sprang to action. He leaped up and ran to his kitchen window, where the power line entered his house. He opened the window. Suddenly thinking better of it, he ran from room to room, gathering anything he thought would be useful, which he stuffed into his single backpack, that he had owned since he was 15 (which was the last year he had done anything adventurous). Several water bottles, a cheap pocket knife, a few cans of beans and some cans of ravioli, a bit of string, a jacket, and a few other things. Once he had collected everything that he thought he needed, he made his way back to the now-open kitchen window. He stood there for a minute, steeling himself. Then, with a burst of resolve, he began to climb out, and down…

Author’s Note

I wrote this story years ago. While it’s not quite up to par with what I would write today, I still wanted to archive it on this site to really show the progression of my work. I’m not sure of the exact date or year that I wrote this story—that information is most likely lost to time—but I do know I was most likely still a teenager when I did.

Thank you for asking me to expand on what happened that night. I’d be glad to.

You see, my remarkable experiences began on a day quite similar to this. As I am writing this to you, it is a Friday. A Friday evening, to be more exact. The London air is cool and misty, with fog beginning to roll in through the streets while I compose this letter. Almost exactly the same weather as the day I had this remarkable experience.

As I unlocked the door to my house, all I wanted to do was rest. I turned the doorknob and walked in, setting my shoes in the shoe box to the left of the door. I set my car keys on the table to the right and walked into the living room. I sat down on the sofa and turned on the television. Bah. Nothing on but more depressing news. It couldn’t get more mundane than this. I thought I’d go to bed. For that was exactly what I really wanted to do, if truth be told. Go to bed, and sleep in. After all, tomorrow was Saturday. A day of rest and relaxation. No going in to work, no spending all day editing my papers, no constant buggering from my boss to get my work done on time. I wouldn’t even have to check the mail…or do any chores at all, for that matter.

I had gotten all of those done before I left to work today. Slowly I stood up from the brown couch. I felt as stiff as if I had been sitting there the entire day. The kind of stuff you feel after you’ve been moving all day, sit down, and then get directly back up again. I groaned. Well, time to head off to bed. I shuffled to the open door that led to the kitchen. I reached into a cabinet for a cup, and then went to the sink and filled it up with cold water. Afterward, I went back through the living room, into the hallway, and then to my bedroom. I turned on my lamp, put my phone on the bedside table, and then got in bed and turned off the light. I slowly began to dose off. Eventually, I began to slip from the edge of consciousness.

All of a sudden, I jolted. It felt as if a bolt of lightning had surged through me. I sat up and looked around, suddenly as alert as if I had rested a full night. But no – I couldn’t have fallen asleep for that long. It was still dark. I turned towards my clock, hoping for some indication as to what time it was, but it was no use – the clock was flashing 12:00. The power must have went off while I had been sleeping. Maybe hearing all the appliances and the heater go off was what had woken me up so quickly. I reached through the darkness for my phone on the bedside table. I couldn’t feel it. I groped for the lamp switch. I finally found it and flipped it on. The light came on, but it seemed brighter than usual, and it was flickering. My phone was nowhere to be seen, either.

I got out of bed. Maybe it wasn’t screwed in all the way. I reached for the bulb to try and readjust it. Suddenly I was thrown back with incredible speed and force, sprawling out on my bed. It felt as if a bolt of energy or electricity had surged through my fingertips from the bulb. But it hadn’t hurt at all. There was something wrong, and I knew it. I got quickly out of bed again, making sure to not touch the light bulb or the lamp. I walked quickly to the door of my room and opened it. There was my hallway, just like normal. Everything seemed to be normal. I peered through the darkness, progressing along the hallway. The lighted doorway at the end that was the kitchen seemed farther away than usual. I progressed slowly towards it, my hands outstretched so I would not bump into anything.

Suddenly, the light from the kitchen door went out. The power must have gone out again. That, or – I heard a sudden noise from the direction of the kitchen, and my heart stopped beating – that, or there was somebody in the house with me. I reached instinctively towards my pocket for my phone before I remembered that I hadn’t been able to find it. I heard another noise from the kitchen – the sound of loud, yet strangely grotesque, breathing. I had to get out of here and find somewhere to hide, and quick. I slowly backed away from the kitchen, keeping my hands on the walls for guidance. Eventually, I felt behind me (for I still was looking toward the direction of the kitchen door, where the noises had come from), an opening from the hallway into my room.

I was back in my bedroom at last. If I locked the door and stayed quiet, hopefully, whoever was in the house wouldn’t notice that I was there. I turned around and silently began to creep into my room, and then froze. I froze because there was a problem. It wasn’t my room. It was the kitchen. And there was somebody there, with their back turned toward me, looking through the door into the hallway. Looking through the same door I had just been backing away from. This was insanity. My hands felt clammy, and I felt like my heart was hammering in my chest. Perhaps it was a trick of the lighting, but the person looking through the hallway door seemed blurry, almost like condensed smoke. And then, suddenly, slowly, almost as if in a trance-like state, this person – this creature – began to turn around.

Because of what happened next, I’ve had to see several therapists…and believe me when I say, this event changed me forever; because it really did. It’s getting late though, so I’ll end the story here for now. Let me know in your next letter if you want to hear more.

Always your friend,

J. D. Everlin

Author’s Note

I’m extremely proud of this story. It’s undoubtedly not my best work—most of that I’ve done for clients over the years and therefore can’t share it—and it’s one of my older works, but it really encompasses what my goal is with writing. The goal, of course, is the absolute capture of the visual of the world in my story. I want my stories to show the cinema of the world I’m creating, and I think this one does that extremely well. Still, it could be improved on—I wrote this story back when I was a teenager and had much room for improvement.

By the time it reached the decaying bricks and damp asphalt of the cold, dark street, the pouring rain was barely a drizzle. Drip. Drip. The rain slowly formed at the corners of the large neon billboards, which lined the walls and hung facing downward above the street and dripped off, falling to the ground. The billboards and signs, so large and so plenty, protected the street from the elements. Although many of the signs and advertisements were anchored to the wall as one would expect, a nearly equal amount had opted for a slightly different angle. These signs hung above the street by wires attached to bars that ran between the tall buildings, their imagery parallel with the ground. Any human, animal, or other that passed beneath them had simply to glance upwards and would then be presented with the latest artificial intelligence bookkeeper, the latest news from the Robotics Control & Enforcement Unit, or the latest new invention or whatnot. A building code prevented them from being too close to the ground, but nothing limited how many signs could obscure the sky. Hundreds, thousands of brightly lit digital billboards and signs within a stretch of several blocks, covering the sky. Giants stretching from wall to wall. Small ones with simple messages and bright, harsh colors. Large ones with propaganda, messages, and advertisements from larger corporations that could afford them. Video ones, blaring their advertisements for everyone to hear and see.

And although these boards covered most of the sky, they weren’t the only cause of the darkness which covered the streets like a blanket, smothering all sources of light which did not originate from the neon signs themselves. Above the neon lights, between the countless apartments, pathways stretched. From one to the next, covered pathways ran, intertwining. The pathways had been covered long ago to make maintenance and upkeep easier. Now, they proved to be yet another obstacle the sun and rain had to navigate past if they wished to reach the ground. But that still wasn’t all. Here and there giant magnetic railroad tunnels ran, a pulsating field of electricity surrounding the gigantic hose-like structures which wrapped around and through the city like a pile of gigantic snakes. And there and here the two sides of the street seemed to merge hundreds of feet above the ground, seemingly forgetting they were separate buildings.

Down on the ground was where the poorest of the commoners lived. The first 50 floors of the gigantic skyscrapers that lined the streets were considered “down on the ground” for most people. Especially when most buildings reached heights of 400 to 500 stories. But down there even lower than the first 50 stories, down at street level, was where the most interesting things took place. Interesting things of all fashions, things so bizarre and strange that many people would claim didn’t exist till they were faced with the truth, which existed – down at street level. The occasional human who walked the streets was forced to wear an advanced filtering mask to avoid the stale, static air that permeated everything, which had existed unchanging for centuries, and was inundated with the molds that lined the walls and streets. Breathing that air in might not have harmed you at first, but continuous exposure could lead to all kinds of complications. Even, some people said, mutations. But that was just speculation and conspiracy.

And down there, between the walls which were so dark and damp, so clammy and cold, there ran rats. Massive rats, in multitudes. Hundreds, thousands of them, ran in and out of the drains which lined the walls and floors. The drains did some good, at least. They prevented water from building up, stagnating, and becoming poisonous, as nothing could evaporate down here. But ho, the rodents who were their offspring. Massive, quick, vile creatures. Some of the large ones were the size of fully grown cats. These rats ran constantly around preying upon each other, as cannibalism was the only method that provided means for survival.

Walking along the desolate, lonely streets, you might occasionally hear those rodents squealing and screaming as they fought, and would sometimes even see a lone one run past, staring at you with its beady eyes. But they weren’t all rats. Well, you could call them all rats. But they weren’t all alive, strictly speaking. The bottom-dwellers of the human race knew this, but they weren’t in much of a position to tell. After all, who would believe them – them in a state of near slavery, those who existed solely off of the meager rations provided to them by their government in return for long hours of labor, constantly and relentlessly working at the most demeaning of jobs. They wouldn’t – couldn’t tell anyone. None would care, and none would listen.

But they knew that those strange, special rats weren’t rats. Some of them looked different. They felt different when you kicked them out of your way, that was for sure. They still had a type of fur, but a metallic clang sounded from the rats as your boot struck their side. Some people had even claimed they had seen sparks emanating from some of those ‘different’ rodents. Artificially intelligent monitoring robots, those metal ones. They weren’t rats, they were robots.

Nobody knew exactly what they were built for, or why they kept track of everyone who lived down there. But they were built, and they did keep track of you. And sometimes people who questioned too much disappeared. It probably wasn’t the rats. But the only people who could tell us are the ones who disappeared. The ones who have never been seen or heard from again. The ones who just might have seen the rats.