Border Dispute

It was one of those irregularities that crops up when the human need for straight lines on maps comes into conflict with actual physical reality, with an added dash of lawyers getting involved.

The lake was part of the Kingdom, but the island inside the lake was part of the Empire next to it.

This became a humorous little titbit of information, a bit of trivia to be shared over mead and cheese.

And then they discovered The Stones on the island. And suddenly it became the most important dispute in history.

Until the Commonwealth ran over both of them.

Coded In Latin

He had spent the last twenty minutes explaining why it was absolute certainty that we were in fact living in a gigantic computing simulation. Finally, I snapped.

"Ok, and?"

"And, I was saying, the Hooked Fish Hypothesis says-"

"No, no, I mean if you're right, and this is all a computer simulation, so what? What does it matter?"

"It matters because if this is a simulation, then it has code, and if it has code, we can learn how to hack it, and change reality!"

"You mean like a magic spell?"

"Don't be ridiculous, I'm talking about real things here."

Xabo, Zoda

I cast my usual summoning spell, and the demon appeared inside the circle.

"Hey Xabo, I got another few-"

"I ain't Xabo, Human, I'm Zoda."

I stared at the demon for a long moment.

"I don't understand."

The demon snorted.

"There's more than one demon in the Higher Plains, Human."

"Well yes, fine, obviously, but I was quite specfic with the spell, so... Is Xabo dead?"

The demon scratched its head, flakes of skin falling from it.

"Well in a way. But in a more accurate way, Xabo got a promotion, which included more power."

Xabo appeared, outside the circle.

At My Children's Friend's House

I want you to understand that I'm not upset with them.

I know they must think I am, I'm sure that they told you I must be so angry at them and that's why you're protecting them.

But I'm not, truly. I just want them to be safe, I need to know that they're ok.

And I'm in no way impugning your honesty or anything, but I need to see them to confirm that they're ok, for my piece of mind.

Please, can I see them?

Oh, thank you, yes of course I'll wait here.

YOU FUCKING KIDS ARE DEAD!

The Anti-Matter Girl

Her very existence risked destroying the universe, every breath she took risked enough atoms of anti-matter being released to start a chain reaction and destroy everything.

Your natural instinct here is to assume I loved her, and was willing to risk everything for her.

I'm not that stupid.

You might then think I would create a portal or pocket dimension to hold her.

I'm not that smart.

So you're left with the obvious, that she had to die, and that I'd kill her.

I'm not that brave.

I explained it to her, and offered a weapon.

She was that brave.

The Ultimate Swordsman

He was the greatest swordsman I ever saw. He could swing the blade like no-one else, making it dance at the end of his arm like it was alive.

(It wasn't, I checked.

Multiple times.)

But despite this, he never quested, never searched or fought for treasure, he seemed content to teach guardsmen the same four basic moves.

I asked him why, again and again, and he finally told me.

"I know I'm the best. But no matter how good I am, there's always a chance I'll miss something, and end up dead.

The best ain't enough against random chance."

My Cultural Food

I've come to dread the postal deliveries.

Not for the mail capsules, those are useful and often have stuff I've ordered. But the pilot found out a while ago that I was from Earth, an actual grounder, and so he's now thinking I'm his best friend, and every cycle when he turns up, he has another snap-frozen 'Earth Meal'.

But he hasn't quite grasped that Earth has multiple societies and cultures.

Ramen noodle soups and Kangaroo steaks, stuff I've never had, I have to pretend I know if they're good or not.

I just want a good New York pizza...

Saddle Sores

That damn book I read as a child was to blame.

It was some cheap kids book from England written when women were classed as furniture, and in it, the main character had a horse that died at some point, and then he ate part of the horse, to say goodbye.

And ever since, I've wanted to try it.

But it's not something you can pop down to the shops for. I spent years tracking down a legal source for it.

But I got it, cooked it, and the worst thing happened.

It was the best thing I'd ever had.

Part Of The Job

You often hear that paramedics have the worst job, given they're constantly seeing pain and death. And while I don't want to make it seem like I'm downplaying that, repossession beats you down emotionally like no other job.

After all, in my line of work, you see two types of people. You see the desperate and needy, often at their wit's end, and you're making things worse. So you feel like crap.

Or you're dealing with the rich who treat you like crap because you're the first one to impede them in their life.

Crap both ways.

And the blood!

Weaponry

Sometimes, when enough different groups of people with guns hate you, your only option is to lure them all out to one place and hope they end up shooting each other first.

I had the street thugs who I stole the drugs from, with their sub-machine guns. The dirty cops who I refused to hand the drugs to, with their revolvers. The mafia (who I was unsure how they'd gotten involved), with their combat shotguns.

And my plan pretty much worked, they all came for the drugs, and shot each other.

Then the bounty hunter with a sniper rifle fired.

Split, Second

To escape, the only option I had was to go through the air purification system and hope to steal a spacecraft outside the base. The weeks I spent cleaning in the monitoring room allowed me to study the system, and I worked out the pattern.

It would take split second timing, but I was sure I could do it.

I counted the noises, and on the third clank, I started crawling.

I got halfway and was stunned to find a skeleton in the enclave I was supposed to count to five in.

It distracted me for a second too long.

Sticking To It

I finally reared back and punched my father in the face. And he went down really badly, overall.

I'd spent years watching him abuse my mother, and my older sister, belittling them, not letting them have any freedom. I didn't understand what he was doing for a long time, but once I did, I couldn't stand by any longer. So I punched him.

He hit his head on the table on his way down, and that killed him. I didn't intend to, but that's what happened, as my mother will attest, she was there, with her old bloody meat tenderiser.

Miracle Road

At the end of the darkened road, a pair of headlights turned on, and an engine revved.

I could sense i was in danger.

As the car suddenly jerked forward and began to pick up speed, I had maybe five seconds to make my choice.

One side of the road was a sheer cliff face, unscalable. The other side was a sheer cliff face, unclimbable. Although I could leap to my death.

So instead, I just jumped up, hoping to leap the car.

And I did! It was amazing!

But then the car just went into reverse, got me then.

Haunting You

The mystic swirled the smoking incense around the room, chanting softly, then focused on me.

"What is it that you seek from the Great Ausont, child?"

"Five years ago, a co-worker died, and they said they'd haunt me with their dying breath. Since then, I've had weird things happen to me. I want answers."

The mystic nodded, and began a spell.

A short while later, she looked at me, confused.

"The spirit here is pleased you've finally noticed them, but says they've been with you for a long time, they've killed to try and get your attention."

"That... explains things."

I See

The 'map', such as it was, was a large piece of paper, covered in riddles, written at odd angles.

One riddle was about cresting waves when the sun rose, indicating how to find the start.

Another riddle was about how to sight stones when eyes are closed, indicating the direction to go.

More about taking glass from stone, about birds on wires, crosses in streams, and nights spent at sea.

Each one more obtuse and confusing than the last, each one less relevant to anything, but each containing an 'i' and thus a dot to use as a layline indicator.

Damaged

They said a hailstorm was coming, so I headed out to my car, throwing a heavy blanket over it.

"What, it's getting cold?"

I looked over at the neighbour, who had a smile on his face that indicated he thought of himself as the wittiest wordsmith since Oscar Wilde.

"No, there's hail coming, I want to protect it."

"Oh, scared of some cold water? Sure think, Wicked Witch of the West!"

I shook my head and headed inside. I was kinda pleased at the damage his car took in the storm.

I helped it along a bit, to be fair.

Watered Down

The Pond Of Life was nestled at the base of the mountain, hidden in a valley, behind deadly plants and dangerous quicksand.

Once we found it, I counted to five in my head.

On four, my partner pulled his weapon. I had already stepped away from him so I had time to speak.

"Ok, let me guess, only you can have ghis, right? Tell you what, release me, and I'll never tell anyone of this pond. You know, unlike you, I'm trustworthy."

He stared, then let me go.

I quickly climbed the mountain, found the water source, and dammed it.

Misnamed

"Symon Smyth, Ys instead of Is."

I'm sure that of you counted every sentence I ever said, that would be the one I said the most across my life.

"Yes, that's me, but it's misspelled here, twice."

99 times out of 100, it would be wrongly spelt, forms, cards, everything.

"My name is wrong here, I... Yes I'll hold."

I'll admit that I always feared I'd end up buried under a tombstone that had my name wrong. I made sure to triple check it. And the tombstone I was buried under was spelt perfectly.

Just a shame it wasn't mine.

Last Hold

That night, I held her for the last time.

I couldn't let her know, so I wasn't able to make it extra special, beyond the fact it would be the last time she was in my arms.

If anything, she was in a mood, bad day at work apparently, so she didn't particularly want to be held, but she tolerated it for half an hour while we watched a sitcom episode we'd seen a half dozen times already.

Then she went to bed, and I stayed up to clean up.

Which involved starting a fire and leaving for my alibi. 

Choosing Moments

You don't get to pick the most important moments of your life.

You might think the romantic marriage proposal was one, but that was just the outcome of the moment you made her laugh so hard she coughed up her drink in that dirty roadside diner.

Your acceptance speech, your wife by your side, in the hotel ballroom you picked personally? That was just the outcome of the moment your mother broke your heart.

The moments you choose are the outcomes of those you don't.

Unless you choose to break cause and effect.

The moment you do, that's truly important.

Rulers Of High School

The cliche is that the rulers of high school are the quarterback and the head cheerleader, who are inevitably dating.

Our head cheerleader didn't date anyone, which was explained when I met her wife at the ten year reunion. And the quarterback hovered between a few girls, none of whom were able to gain social traction.

So the closest we had to rulers were the running back and the head of the debating team, who were the social rulers, without question.

Although, given they were twin brother and sister, they weren't in the traditional relationship kings and queens usually had.

Destroyed Beauty

Where the two buildings met, there was a tiny yellow flower, growing out from the inch or so gap between the concrete walls.

It was just a little dandelion, nothing too exotic, but the fact it was growing up out of near pitch darkness and into the light was a near miracle in of itself.

But eventually, it was destroyed, as all beautiful and fragile things, by an uncaring world.

If it was by destroying one of the buildings or something, I could understand it.

But no, it was destroyed by a guy standing on it, hiding a smoke break.

Code Injection

It was supposed to be the perfect system. Rather than spend ages working on every minute detail of a new uploaded soul's appearance when we added them to the network, we just tapped into their subconscious and used how they saw themselves as the base of their new appearance.

Sure, we had to adjust those with low self-esteem slightly at times, and there were issues with furries, but it was all working just fine.

Until we got to the guy who, through a tightly monitored drug regime and intense therapy saw himself as a long line of malicious self-replicating code.

Sane By What Standard

I had reached my third month in the bowels of the legendary Lost Dungeon of Bucease, where I'd set up a little shop, a shoppette. 

And I'd seen plenty of adventurers, most of them willing to trade. But then a Knight emerged down the stairs in full plate armor, glinting in the pale light of the dungeon.

"Are you sane, Knave?"l

"Depends."

He swung his sword to point it at my throat.

"I have no times for games!"

I sighed.

"Ah, so you're from Kingdom of Ceneer. Then no, I'm not sane by your standards."

He thrust, I died laughing.

First Meetings

When I got a couple for therapy, after the initial greetings and paperwork questions, assuming the reason for their visit wasn't urgent, I always asked how they met.

Beyond being fairly safe territory for an ice breaker, it's good to get a bead on the dynamics of the relationship. Does one expect the other to remember all the details? Does one not care about it? This sort of thing is usually a good basis to start from.

But of course, the main reason I do it is to try and find something I can use to try and find someone.

Sand In The Hourglass

Death claimed that there was a minor irregularity with my soul, and told me to wait in its office.

Sorry, in the 'metaphorical representation of its office that my soul would construct to try and comprehend what was going on'.

And certainly, trying to focus on any detail made my everything hurt, so I stopped trying.

Especially when I saw my hourglass on its desk, the sand all at the bottom.

So I flipped it over.

And nothing happened.

"Metaphorical representations of incomprehensible items do not work so simply" it told me, before it realised the hourglass and restarted it.

A Friendly Face

The sun had gone down hours ago, but we were still riding along the trail, my companion insisted.

But eventually we came by a small cabin, with a man washing a dog out front.

"Well howdy strangers! It's a bit late to be on the trail! Why not rest a while, my wife-"

My companion pulled his gun and fired, killing the man. Three others charged out of the cabin, one at a time, and he shot them in turn.

"What on earth?"

"Most times, that friendly a family, this far out, they're cannibals."

"Most times?"

"More than half, certainly."

Tenth Street

Due to an election promise running into a funding shortage, there were one hundred streetlights along the road, which covered maybe a tenth of its length.

Due to a need for an afternoon nap running into a hard deadline the following morning, the SUV was travelling at 110 miles per hour, which was a tenth over the limit.

Due to a tire running into an upturned nail, there was a small sedan mostly off the road, maybe a tenth over the line.

Due to the SUV running into the driver of the sedan, they lost a tenth of their body.

Double Jump

"Dude, imagine if we could double jump in real life!"

"How?"

"Like they do in platformers, you know, jump and then jump again?"

"I understand the concept, I'm just trying to work out how you're imagining this is occurring."

"Why does it matter?"

"Look, if air has weight and stiffness like that, we can't breathe it. If humans have fans or something in their bodies, we're radically altered. If it's magic, then we have fucking magic. None of them are positives."

"What's wrong with Magic?"

"Every negative aspect, plus reality being broken, that's a terrible outcome."

"Stop jumping to conclusions."

Biscuit

She would grit her teeth and get through work, she'd tolerate people when she ran errands, she seemed to not mind me, but she doted and absolutely dote on her cat, Biscuit.

Biscuit was a blue patched tabby with bracelets and butterfly markings.

I remember that by heart given how often she said it.

I never tried to make her choose between me and Biscuit, since I knew I'd lose the fight. So I tolerated the cat, until she found out she was allergic to cat hair.

Getting dumped so she could afford the air filters to keep Biscuit hurt.

Spirit Level

The exorcist, sorry, 'spiritual medium and passage champion', had agreed to meet me at the graveyard on the night of October first.

When she arrived, I warned her that this would be a scary experience, which she scoffed at.

But when the spirits rose up, even she seemed spooked, nothing but stammering gibberish falling from her lips.

Once they quietened down, she turned to me.

"Right, so a big spirit removal will be hard but-"

"No no, I don't want them gone."

"You don't?"

"No, I just want it moved to the end of the month when it's actually appropriate."