Bizarre Worlds and Other One-Shot Stories

Life & Death

Clack, went the typewriter as a man's ten fingers typed words on a piece of paper that was more complex than a "once upon a time", instead, it read like "A new life..." and the typewriter went ting, and the man pushed the typewriter back and he proceeded to the next row of his paper.

Then the man pulled his hands away from the typewriter. He leaned back in his wooden, cushioned chair by a wooden desk that only had his typewriter and a bunch of stacked paper inside a windowless, white room.

He folded his arms over his navy-blue formal coat, an orange-striped red tie, a dark-green waistcoat, and a white button shirt. He was tapping his beige derby shoes under his navy-blue pants. His hazel eyes were focused. He was thinking heavily while allowing his imaginative and inventive brain to take a breather before proceeding with his next story.

A gentle, rhythmic knock that almost sounded like rapping was sounded among the walls of the room which caught the attention of the strange author. "Come in." yelled the man.

An outline of a door suddenly appeared, and it slowly opened, revealing a deep, never-ending void of blackness, and a young woman wearing an article of all-black clothing that consisted of a top, a jacket, and jeans, over her pale skin, oddly paler than any human being, stood between the door's frames. "Hey, Bro." greeted the woman with a warm smile, she walked through the door and closed it, which disappeared into the walls.

"What is it, Sis?" he said, blankly.

Sis walked by his desk and sat on the spare chair on the other side of his desk. "Mom and Dad got aware of your "problems" with your work right now," she said. Their Dad was a self-proclaimed sculptor, having created some realistic, gorgeous art. Sculptures made of clay. The Mom then displays Dad's work on her miniature land. Sis was then to collect the sculptures once the 'play' was done. Bro was His writer, having previously written a story for his very first sculpture about a man and a woman being the first of their kind. With the woman being tempted by an evil creature to eat a forbidden fruit.

"And?" he said, this time he was a bit more inquiring.

"Well, Dad had a teensy bit of an idea." she said, with an emphasis on the "teensy" part. Bro raised his eyebrows in expectation. "He said he wants your story to begin with a savior. A savior of a people or a civilization based on a sculpture he just made."

"And?" he said, expecting more from her.

"And that was it." she said, "Maybe He'll leave the rest to you. He said maybe giving you some ideas would help you get more greater ideas that He may or may not like. He didn't say the last part, though. Just an assumption. Think of it like a promotion, or something like that."

"Well, what about you? Any suggestions?"

Sis winced her eyes and had a moment of thought. "How about crucifixion as the ending?" she said.

Bro lightly nodded his head, seemingly appreciating and liking the idea. He then leaned forward and resumed typing his story, re-titling it as The Savior. Sis sat up, carried the chair, and sat next to Bro, watching him write a beautiful story that just hatched spontaneously. Sis watched as her brother wrote a story about a man who grew up as a savior of civilization, gaining a few people's trust and a higher organization's hate. Shunned by them for claiming to have higher power than a powerful entity that they worship. And thus, was punished by being crucified on a mountaintop and died. But he rose again a few days later after being buried.

He was typing for hours, but time did not seem to matter in their house. The story was 512 pages. And the papers on the desk didn't seem to change in amount It was still the same quantity as before. He handed the last page to Sis. She sat up. "Oh, and just so you know," she said, "he didn't like half of your "Apple" story. The ending's very underwhelming, he says."