Category: short story

Storytime: Calvin and the black (cat) market part two

Taylor BurianLeave a comment

Yesterday got away from me and I ended the moment in a what I felt was a weird spot that didn’t make sense with the title. So, here is a short part two!

The sound of the Admiral’s boots clicking against the steel floor of the hallway were receding as the lights of the teleporter platform dimmed back to normal levels, and Calvin was still collecting his thoughts.

We spent all that time and effort collecting strange golden mice, that I was told was a rare delicacy, for cats… Calvin sank to his knees, reliving the previous 48 hours trapping an exotic animal on a backwater planet and his hands began to twitch, a psychosomatic after affect of having his hands regrown over a dozen times by the ship’s doctor. The snap of a pen against a clipboard made him flinch and grab his hands as if he had just failed to properly set another trap to try and catch thousands of Mirage Mice in a strange alien jungle. Therese cleared her throat to get his attention. “Calvin,” she tried to speak up and give him his next assignment, but being brought back out of the horrified trance, back to the present, made Calvin leap up and chase after Admiral Slodpolk.

It only took a few seconds for Calvin to run through the hallway, his heavy footfalls on steel echoing along, before he caught up to the Admiral. “You said they were an exotic delicacy, the likes of which, when provided to the RIGHT buyer, would yield something EXCELLENT for the SHIP!” Calvin was fuming.

The Admiral stopped and looked the young man up and down, assessing his intern. “Why yes, my boy, and as I recall, you were all to eager to volunteer!”

“I was EAGER to volunteer because after my first month of interning, of negotiating with various angry factions, that we would have a simpler job!”

“And it was a rather simple job, was it not? Besides, you did fine work, and the job went well enough that we may have made a solid friendship with the Void Cats. As I stated before, they developed a special technique for dry-cleaning, and it’s especially useful for old military hats like mine!” He said, brimming with excitement over the retrieval of the hat now adorning his head and what he thought it might symbolize.

Calvin’s eyes slowly drifted up from the old man’s face to look at the hat before snapping back to lock eyes again. “YOUR HAT?! I LOST MY HANDS FOR YOUR HAT?!”

“Well, of course. My hat is special. Do you see the golden braids around it? The Sol Interstellar Military had discovered years ago that Mirage Mice fur was an exquisite material for clothing, but at the time they couldn’t produce enough to make anything more meaningful in size. Their fur offers a special quality that I’m technically not at liberty to discuss as it is classified, which is part of why we had such a short window to collect. The Milky Way Trade Regime took that classified status as a means to deem the planet ‘off-limits’ to protect the Mirage Mice, and the Void Cats needed to get their paws on a large quantity to try domesticating them as a food source.” The Admiral puffed up a bit and beamed with pride. “The black market smuggling industry is very fast paced, so I’m glad we were able to assist them in time. Fingers crossed they call on us again soon, as my coat is looking about due for a cleaning.” He said before spinning on his heels to keep strutting towards his office, leaving Calvin to stand like an angry, vibrating statue in the middle of the long gray corridor.

Storytime: Calvin and the black (cat) market

Taylor Burian1 Comment

Start your story with a character being led somewhere by a black cat.

prompt courtesy of Reedsy

The reflection of the hallways artificial lighting, normally cast upon the pristine finished steel flooring and walls leading to the Admiral’s office, was eerily disrupted by the black cat that Calvin was following to the teleporter room nearby. It padded along silently, a bizarre sheen flitting across its fur every time they passed a light, combined with the near void-like coloring, made it seem like he was following a shimmering hole in space with a tail casually whipping back and forth. Only moments before, Calvin had asked Admiral Slodpolk what the assignment was, but all the crazy old man said was “Follow the cat and bring back it’s goods.”

They arrived in front of the teleporter room, and the cat, now facing Calvin, looked up at him expectantly with brilliant emerald eyes that almost seemed to float in nothingness. Calvin sighed but opened the door. He followed the cat into the room and instructed the computer to beam them down to the planet’s surface. The cat leaped up on Calvin’s shoulder and let out an aggressive, but not angry, meow that caused Calvin to jump back from the console. The void-like cat, now perched on his shoulder, dug in it’s claws to help maintain balance, and then meowed again, this time a little more politely, and the computer lit up with new coordinates that appeared to be a mile below the planets surface. Calvin was wincing in pain for a second before his jaw dropped. The cat gave a slight purr and gently bumped the side of Calvin’s head before jumping off his shoulder to pad over to the teleporter platform. Calvin instinctively rubbed his shoulder where the claws no doubt left some marks in his skin beneath his uniform, all while staring at the computer console.

Another meow caught his attention and caused Calvin to sputter a moment as he realized the computer was waiting for a second entity to join the cat on the platform. He walked over but stopped short of stepping on the platform, looking down at the cat that was watching him. He could have sworn it was smiling at him for some reason. It meowed aggressively again, and Calvin took that as indication he should probably stop hesitating and just get on with it.

The platform lit up as Calvin got in position. He opened his mouth and was about to address the teleporter console when, in a sort of pleasant chirping sound, the cat apparently issued the command to begin transmission. In an instant they were in a dimly lit cave deep beneath the planets surface. Calvin blinked his eyes several times, trying to adjust to flicker torches that lined the walls, and stifled a coughing fit from the dust he was waving out of his face. This cat is sophisticated enough to somehow communicate with our technology, and yet they’re using fire to light up a cave? Calvin thought to himself.

The cat nuzzled against his leg to get his attention before it walked over to a spot in a nearby wall between two torches. Calvin followed along, still confused as to the circumstance he was in by following this cat that almost blended into the very shadows of the cave. It scratched a few times at the wall, and then waited. Calvin picked at his collar, the heat of the cave now apparent to him in his stifling pseudo-military uniform that the Admiral made all crew members wear aboard his ship, was starting to make him sweat. He started fidgeting and looking around at the shifting shadows caused by the torches and realized they were in a very long tunnel. A few moments passed, and an almost child-like voice spoke up from somewhere near his feet. “Don’t worry, I’ll have you back to your ship and it’s precious climate control in a few minutes.” Calvin stumbled back and looked around for where the voice came from. “Holy shit! Who’s there?!”

“Calm down, calm down, it’s just me.” The void-like cat had started speaking, and Calvin started to fan himself in the heat.

“I must be hallucinating. This is probably another of the Admiral’s prank like tests.” Calvin thought he was losing it.

“No you dummy, I’m just forbidden to speak in other languages when off-planet. Our kind have a reputation to uphold.” The cat spoke again, and then before Calvin could ask it anything the cave wall began to shake and slide back. A seemingly normal light source, relative to Calvin’s usual situation aboard The Last Opportunity, issued from a slit in the wall. As the wall continued to slide open with a grinding sound, the cat slid through as soon as there was room. A rush of cooler air escaped and washed over Calvin, his shoulders sagged a little with the relief it brought. He hurried to get himself inside, determined to be in a more comfortable and air-conditioned area. As soon as Calvin was in, the opening began to close behind him, and he realized he was in a much more sophisticated space that was all white. The cat would have stood out in this space but was nowhere to be seen, and Calvin slowly walked through, looking around at tables, chairs, desks, and large, clear plastic cases. It dawned on him that he was in a lab of some sort. The cat leaped up on a desk at the far end of the lab-like space, Calvin finally seeing the hundreds of stations lined up from one end to the other. It took him a minute to cross, but he could hear the cat scratching at something on the desk, the sound of its claws scraping across the surface echoing through the lab.

When Calvin finally stood over the cat on the desk it stopped clawing at a small case and looked up at him. “Here.” is all it said. A button was blinking on the case while a strange cross-hatched pattern faded on a pad next to it. Calvin, more than a little perplexed, slowly reached out to press the button. The cat jumped off the desk and casually padded off to somewhere else in the lab, calling back to Calvin as it went “Tell your Admiral thank you for the food.” The case opened with a pressurized hiss, and some sort of white smoke wafted out with a fresh scent. Calvin waved it away and reached inside to pull out the Admiral’s hat. “Hey wait a second….” was the last thing Calvin got out before he was unceremoniously beamed back up to the ship, where the Admiral was waiting for him in the teleporter room. The Admiral snatched the hat out of Calvin’s hands and popped it onto his hands. “Ah, much better! Those cats are great at dry-cleaning hats.”

Calvin sputtered, still standing on the teleporter platform, and watched as the Admiral strutted out of the room. “You mean we smuggled all that food for cats?”

Storytime: Calvin versus some kind of rain

Taylor BurianLeave a comment

Recently, I hit the one year mark of writing every day here on the blog, and I was using the daily writing prompts provided through the WordPress dashboard. Unfortunately, I’ve now come full circle and been getting the same prompts. Because of this, I’ve been struggling with trying to find things to write about when I feel like I can’t reuse the prompt of the day.

So, starting today, I’m going to try and expand into creative writing instead of just my usual ramblings.

If I see the daily prompt is something I don’t think is worth answering again (because I can’t add on to what I shared the last time) I’ll instead be looking up different creative prompts and trying to throw them at my good buddy Calvin aboard The Last Opportunity. If you don’t know who Calvin is, he is the protagonist from my NYC Midnight short story challenge entry called “The Smugglers Intern“. (I’ve shared the original, unedited entry here, so feel free to read it and possibly provide thoughts or critiques!)

Before I dive into Calvin’s misadventures as an intern aboard a decommissioned military space vessel, I’d like to make sure you know that I don’t plan on these creative writing posts intentionally maintaining any kind of cohesion with each other. There may be some that continue off of others, but it is not guaranteed, as I will be writing entirely off the cuff for the day. At least, that is the plan at this time. Finally, they may be any length I choose. They could be a simple paragraph, or they could be another multi-page short story.

Without further ado, here is today’s prompt for Calvin!

Start your story with it raining… anything but rain (e.g. flowers, cutlery, seashells, running shoes).

prompt courtesy of Reedsy

None of it seemed real, but after several months of helping Admiral Slodpolk negotiate market contracts across the galaxy, Calvin was getting used to his new normal. Except for today. The smell, although cloyingly sweet and nauseating, wasn’t the problem. It was the sight and sound of Yugarth VII’s Root Beer Pigeon’s falling out of the sky like a plague of Terran Locust’s. Thousands of creamy brown and white birds slamming against the ground, against windows and sides of buildings, while Calvin and the Admiral took shelter beneath an awning. Everywhere Calvin looked, they splashed with unsettling squawks like muted fireworks. Cascading rivulets on glass that would then reform into the strange birds, cooing on the sills. Dripping off the corner of the awning, creating tiny versions of them to strut around with the terrier-sized ones that congealed out of large puddles. A few seconds after their “rebirth” they would explode into vapor that hissed almost like carbonation escaping a freshly opened can of soda. None of these things, individually, would have bothered Calvin to such a stomach turning degree, but the assault on his senses was overwhelming. He wouldn’t be able to drink root beer for a while, and the strange rain of exploding carbonated pigeons would likely haunt his dreams for a couple days.

There was an attempt: a writing contest

Taylor Burian2 Comments

A couple months ago I saw an ad on Facebook for a writing contest with cash prizes and writing feedback for all entrants, and since I’ve been on this journey of getting back into writing consistently, I thought I might give it a try. I was a little suspicious of how they were going to afford cash prizes until I saw there was an entry fee, but that only made me more suspicious of the whole thing. Was it actually a scam? Unfortunately, at the time, the deadline for signing up was only a day or two away and I knew nothing of writing contests so I had to do some quick research.

Thankfully this particular contest appeared reputable with a long history, so I signed up.

Anyways, the contest itself, through NYC Midnight, was for writing short stories. According to the rules there would be four rounds, and each entrant would have a limited amount of time to write based on a randomly selected prompt setup, of which the final output would be judged and a certain number from each group would move on. The rules also stated that we couldn’t publicly share our work until ten days after results for the round were announced. So, I won’t be sharing my round one entry here just yet.

Sadly, I did not pass round one, and now I’m just waiting for feedback. Cash prizes aside, that was a big draw for me to sign up, so I’m looking forward to seeing what kind of feedback I get on my writing.

I’m always looking to improve, so I’m not going to let this loss discourage me from continuing to write. Once I get my feedback and the ten days have passed I plan on sharing my one short story here, and then maybe you all can also provide some feedback!

We’ll see where things go from here.

Short Story: Vampires

Taylor BurianLeave a comment

It took quite a while to find the right rhythm to be able to start working on the short story requests that have come in, and I know I’m probably 6 months behind at the time of posting this but I greatly appreciate the patience and support! This post is the first short story writing challenge that was requested of me from my stream as a Channel Point Reward redemption, courtesy of good friend and Twitch user darthzelduh. I originally set the limit for short stories to be between 750 and 1500 words, but once I finally started digging into this one I ended up with close to 2500! I’ve cut some out and saved them for future requests that I just KNOW will come in. Anyways, I hope you enjoy reading this piece!

They say that the night hides many secrets. “They”, whoever they may be, are only half right. Those same secrets can walk around during the day. Cackling as they defy commonly held ideas of what they are, those misconceptions pave the way for the ‘denizens of the night’ to actually reign supreme among the people of this world.

Every year, each vampire around the world feasts upon hundreds, sometimes thousands of unsuspecting people, and sometimes their victims are able to join their ranks. Dozens or more of these ‘lucky’ individuals are given the opportunity to serve and learn from their new Master (the vampire that turned them) so they can quickly adapt to their new lifestyle. In modern society, the Masters have more choices on how they educate the newest generation of the undead. Most Masters make the same choice. They choose to send their Fledglings off to Professionals who can teach them far more effectively and efficiently. They get sent to school.

This is the story of a Fledgling named Sam from a small farm town in the Midwest.

How Sam came to be a Fledgling wasn’t exactly by the normal means that vampires usually conduct their business when feeding on the living. The day he was turned, Sam was just minding his own business, taking a long lunch to go for a walk while browsing through the few shops that were still open in the small two block strip that made up the downtown. It was the middle of the day when everything went sideways for him. Quite literally.

Being such a small town there wasn’t really anyone around to see what happened. As Sam was taking a step around the corner at the end of the first block he was sent flying back into the street by something that felt like a moving brick wall. Everything happened so fast that Sam never saw the three vampires that had been running up the sidewalk. They were a blur, playing a game of high speed tag and almost didn’t notice him as he flew through the air. Sam also never saw the large amount blood that had pooled around him after so quickly hitting both a vampire and the road in quick succession.

Sam’s body bounced twice before coming to a stop near the sidewalk across the wide avenue. The three vampires stopped in shock. They were somewhat familiar with this town, having passed through many times, and knew that nobody would normally be here at this time of day because they would be working. As they watched the blood pool around him, they began to panic.

A tall, lanky vampire with glasses was the first to speak. His scratchy voice shattered the silence of the trio as he quietly exclaimed, “Shit! Albert, what do we do?!” His eyes were darting around looking for other signs of life that might have been overlooked.

As if snapping out of a spell, the stocky Albert jerked at the sound of his name and tried to work his jaw to respond. “I-I-I….I don’t know! Wes, did you see where he came from?! I barely felt him bump into me!”

A tiny, timid voice clutching to the back of the first vampire replied, “Alby, it looked like he was coming from around the corner,” the third vampire had finally worked up the courage to speak around their friend while. “Also, that didn’t quite look like just a ‘bump’ to me. Anyway, I think we need to move him.”

Lying face down in the road, Sam couldn’t see anything. All he could do was listen as he heard three unfamiliar voices bickering from what he thought was across the street, which was odd to him because he could have sworn he hadn’t seen anyone else outside the shops. He was briefly aware of some warm liquid oozing around his face followed by the taste of blood. Sam’s consciousness was fading quickly and all his senses began to feel dull and muffled, but he was able to make out a few words before everything went black. “…poor guy skipped like a rock…”

Sometime later, Sam regained consciousness. He wasn’t sure what was going on but noticed he couldn’t move. Where the hell am I? He thought. Everything was dark around him and he was faintly aware of a pain in his neck while trying to look around. Think…I was just downtown. I ate lunch and then snuck out for a walk…I had just left the Hendersen’s thrift shop and…nothing. As he tried to recall what had happened, those last words he had heard suddenly replayed in his head. Oh shit, he thought. Am I dead?  He realized he was awfully calm as the thought of his demise crossed his mind. Why doesn’t this situation bother me…

A voice from the darkness seemed to cut him off and said, “That’s because you’re not dead. Well, not TECHNICALLY dead.”

Somewhere between a strained grunt and a hoarse gasp, the voice had startled a sound from Sam’s throat before two small pricks of light flared up in his mind. The pain in his neck suddenly changed and the darkness was replaced with a searing white.

“Oh, good. You can at least hear, even if you can’t see right now. That might make this easier. I’m sure you have a lot of questions, but we’ll get to those later. This hasn’t happened to us before, but I’m told this kind of thing doesn’t happen too often. The important thing for you now is to hang in there. Don’t worry, it should be over soon.” The voice tried to sound encouraging as Sam started to feel the warmth draining from his body.

A gruff, uncertain sounding voice said, “Serena could you not, you know, talk to the food?”

The question was met with a cheery, musical laugh, and the encouraging voice of Serena replied, “That’s cute, Albert, but remember that if this works you owe our ‘food’ an apology.”

Fighting through the searing pain to form a solid thought, Sam was able to ask himself, what do they mean by ‘food’? Am I…?

Serena had caught Sam mid-thought and decided to jump in with an explanation. “I know I said we would get to questions later but maybe we owe you this one, considering how much effort it took to get that thought across. Yes, you are kind of our ‘food’ right now. We’re draining the life out of your veins,” she said bluntly, almost as if it should have been obvious to Sam based on the pain and coldness. “But like I said, don’t worry! It’ll be over soon, and then we’ll wait!”

To Sam, that last part sounded ominously happy, but he couldn’t figure out why. His mind was an absolute mess and nothing made sense anymore. The only thing that was consistent now was the pain. After what felt like forever to Sam, the pain finally started to fade away along with his consciousness for the second time.

Not long after Sam was out again, a small voice spoke up. “I think he’s gone now. How long are we supposed to wait?”

Serena sat on a nearby crate, legs kicking playfully at the air. She checked her watch, looking between it and Sam’s lifeless body a few times before answering, “From what my Sponsor Mazel told me, everyone enters the first stage in their own time. Although, she did mention that no one ever comes back after a day. Something about being too far gone into Death’s Domain to pull themselves back. Don’t worry Wesra! I can stay behind to keep an eye on him while the three of you head to the checkpoint. It’s almost time for the next semester, you know!” Serena always seemed to be in a cheerful mood, which was apparent by the way she always finished talking.

“Ah crap… I forgot that break was almost over.” Albert groaned. He was tired of being in school for so many years at this point, and always dreaded going. “Hey Trent, you always keep track of this stuff, how many days we got left before the bus leaves?”

Trenton, the final vampire from the trio, checked his phone and said, “About 3 days, but you know how those bus drivers are so we better get there a little early.”

“Well, that settles it! I’ll stay here and if anything happens I’ll let you know. You three better get going now. Wouldn’t want you missing that bus!” Serena hopped off her crate and, smiling sweetly, ushered them out of the small machine shed. “It’ll probably take you a day and a half to get to the checkpoint, so don’t lollygag too much, okay? The Recruiters will get mad at me if you don’t get there on time.”

After the trio had been pushed out into the night, Serena watched for a moment as their blurred forms vanished. She rocked back and on her heels a bit while scanning the horizon for signs of life, making sure that she, and Sam’s lifeless body, wouldn’t be discovered. When she was satisfied, she walked silently back into the shed and sealed it so that if anyone managed to approach unnoticed that they’d have trouble getting inside. She crouched next to Sam and poked his head to the side. His neck had a few different bite marks where the others had fed on him. It’s not really my style, but maybe there’s a little bit left to snack on she thought, lifting Sam off his back a little bit so she could kneel next to him, mouth poised over the other side of his neck where there were no bite marks. Well, let’s get this over with. She bit deeply and tried to pull whatever life was left hiding in Sam’s veins.

Sam’s eyes flew open. He tried to sit up and scream, his hands reaching toward his neck. A hand clamped down on his mouth before any noise could escape from him, and another grabbed his shoulder and pushed him back down. Panicking, he flailed for a moment and screamed into the hand. His muffled scream came to a halt when he saw the auburn haired woman above him with a serious look in her eyes. As the woman cautiously took her hand away from covering his mouth he realized just how strongly he had been held to the ground. Taking a look around to get his bearings, Sam could see he had been covered in dirt from the waist down. “What. The. Fuck.” Those three words were all he managed when the sky above started to brighten up with the morning sun and he could finally see the edges of the deep hole around him. He lay there in his shocked state trying to process everything he could recall when the woman finally spoke up.

Serena, seeing that Sam had calmed down, breathed a sigh of relief, sat back on the small mound of dirt covering his feet and said, “Welcome back to the land of the light, Sam!” The usual cheer in her voice sounded a bit forced, probably due to the sudden scare she had when the young man jolted back into life, but she still put on a smile. “Congratulations on becoming one of us!”

If you’ve reached this point and I’ve still got your attention, feel free to comment on the piece and let me know how I did. Constructive criticism is always appreciated!

Short Story because of boredom

Taylor Burian

They woke up hearing the sound of decompression accompanied by light that began to fill the chamber. These were the first signs of hope that they might survive the long night.

Felix was the first to regain some motor functions. The cold chambers weren’t kind to their bodies. He stretched his legs and began the struggle of bringing his body temperature back up to normal levels. As he moved around he examined his unorthodox companions. Horatio and Octavia were having troubles of their own. He noticed one of Octavia’s legs was encased in ice, a product of the cold chambers process. Though it didn’t take long to free herself the damage was already done. He pitied her for a moment before continuing his exploration.

With time they began to move better, but progress was slow going. Things were starting to look up again.

It wasn’t long after they woke up when they light finally filled the room enough for them to see their surroundings, and each other, clearer. That was when they noticed something wrong.

Looped around each one were long lengths of some kind of tether. This was their first cause for concern since waking up. The second was when they realized they couldn’t free loosen the loops around them to escape.

Suddenly, a shadow was cast over them and obstructed the light that brought them hope. Following the appearance of the shadow came a deep, reverberating sound and a large object floated in above the occupants of the cold chamber. It was then that Felix and his group remembered how they first arrived.

A voice rang angrily through the house “Damnit Jonathan! How many times have I told you not to put bugs in the freezer?!”

“Mom don’t! I need those for my experiment!” The adolescent Jonathan yelled back, hurrying to the kitchen to save the fly, hornet, and spider he had worked so carefully to catch.