Short stories to read on a bus, a car, train, or plane (or a comfy chair anywhere). Includes the novella «Duck Creek»

‘Melissa?’

‘She is very real my friend, one of many wards, and she agrees with my decision as well as telling me that you are a lovely man!’ He spoke the last with a broad smile.

‘And so, I get three wishes when?’

‘Just two my friend, the two remaining from my previous master.’

‘My God! Zoltan, I’m just having a little trouble digesting all this, if you understand what I mean. Um, does that include any spurious wishes I may make, you know, like in jest.’

‘It does, so you must be careful.’

‘What about you, what happens to you after I’ve made my two wishes.’

‘Not for you to concern yourself with. You could say I go back into hibernation, like a bear in winter, yet mine is normally a very long winter.’

‘And I can wish for anything?’

‘Yes, anything as long as it does not involve hurt to others but I warn you again my friend, be careful, as your wishes will literally come true. I cannot say more than that.’

‘I think I understand, thank you. Don’t wish for my long dead mother or something like that because I will get her back exactly as she is today, ashes to ashes if you get my drift.’

‘I do, and I see you also ‘get my drift’ as you put it. That is how it is my friend.’

‘Well then, I think I know what I want already, if I may?’

‘Anytime, but make sure …’

‘I am sure – my friend.’

Zoltan looked at Evan quizzically – it was the first time he had seen him so positive.

‘Then let it be – let us do it.’

Evan took a deep breath. ‘I’m likely to mistakenly send someone to hell or something if I wait and think about it too much, so I have to do it now.’ Another deep breath. ‘Zoltan, my first wish is nothing atypical, it is selfish but my intentions are good. I wish to be always financially wealthy so that I can assist the poor and underprivileged of the world.’

‘It is done,’ Zoltan nodded, smiling.

‘Secondly, I have only known you a short time but in you I see the same loneliness I feel, the need for a friend, a companion as you found with your previous master. I truly believe that, so,’ he paused and took a deep breath but failed to see the look of resignation on Zoltan’s face, ‘it is my wish that you be free and should you so choose, you can remain here for as long as you like. You will always be welcome.’

Zoltan stared at him, no surprise evident. Melissa came out from the kitchen and stood at the end of the table, looking expectantly at each of them. Evan continued to look at Zoltan and finally nodded at him in assurance.

‘That is my wish, those are my wishes. Now, genie, tell me they are done – both of them.’

‘I should have foreseen this, your charity, your philanthropy is unfathomable. But I warned you also of consequences and you have wished me to be something that I am not. If not a genie, then I am nothing, I do not exist. I cannot forestall any longer my friend, I see you did have all good intentions however … uumph.’

Melissa had token on a ghostly pallour as Evan glanced at her, the look of horror on his face surpassed only by her sadness. She became more transparent as he watched, until disappearing from his view within a few short seconds. He was sure her last act was to blow him a kiss. The horror did not leave him as he looked back to Zoltan, now also fading quickly.

‘Noooo … ' he yelled.

The voice came to him muffled, the booming qualities gone, the crystal rattling volume seemed to be lost somewhere in the short distance between them.

‘Goodbye my friend. Good luck. It is done.’

THE END

“THAT’S THE WAY IT IS”

I am my Master’s right hand man and he calls me Ivan, though I know not if that is my real title. I obediently respond to my Master by addressing him as Sir – or Cur if he is feeling somewhat frisky, which he can and does do after Friday evening cocktails. He does not normally allow me a sense of humour and I’m afraid that’s as good as it gets. You didn’t get it? I am sorry, please – I shall tell you a little more of my Master and perhaps you then may understand.

His real name is Sir Hubert Jaxworthy and he is married to the Bitch, Sasha Jaxworthy. My Master is a Rottweiller and as the head of the largest financial institution in Australia, he is a very powerful dog in both the business and political world. For most of the year he, we that is, reside in the Worlds’ most influential financial district in downtown Durban, South Africa. I much prefer living in Sydney than Durban but being human, I have no say in my Master’s business affairs, or any other affairs for that matter.

My job is simply to present him with his food twice a day, ensure that he has a constant supply of fresh water, wash him at least twice per week, trim his nails monthly, and cart around his favourite tree stump in a kiln fired terracotta pot. I am also his private assistant for all, almost all, his personal and professional affairs.

I digress though from the true purpose of this missive. This introduction was to establish the credentials of my Master, credentials which I believe are impeccable and therefore the import of what follows is vital to all who read this, especially if you, like me, are human.

The following was dictated to me by my Master on the nights’ of the 17th and 18th of June in the year 1984. It took two laborious nights as Sir did over imbibe on the first and his pertinent palaver became somewhat lost amongst his furtive ramblings of things irrelevant. As heart wrenching and frightening as they were, and probably indicative of the mood such revelations engender, I took the safe liberty of only recording the salient points, simply hitting my keyboard as if I was typing everything so that he would not hesitate or take his mind from his painful and terrible task (Sir is not violent when drunk but rather licentious when there are bitches around).

For my own credibility, I should add that I am a servant of my Master willingly and that I believe it is the true place of we humans in this world – to serve. I have been using these portable battery operated keyboards for almost a decade, I know not its correct title either, and I have been spiriting my Master and his entourage around the world in his own supersonic business jet (Sir did on more than one occasion ‘strongly suggest’ we break through the earth’s atmosphere and it was truly a sight to behold, though space travel is common, indeed, they have just begun construction of the moon’s eleventh city and a third on Mars) and I truly believe that if we humans had been the ruling species, we would still be wasting our lives and time building self destructive machines designed to maim and kill humans and other living things instead of pooling our efforts for the good of the planet and all species therein.

I know my mind is capable of vastly more independent thought than even my Master but it is also clouded by issues that wreak havoc and simply waste time. My Master himself has actually admitted this very thing to me, usually accompanied by a drool laden grin from one side of his muzzle, but we have known each other all of his short life and he is acutely aware of my true beliefs and subservience to his greater overall abilities. He rose not from power inherited and therefore ill prepared to wield such sovereignty, but by the virtue of his own skill and intelligence which in the canine world, is instantly recognised and lauded.

However, back to my Master’s epistle. If the first part be somewhat disjointed, as I have previously noted this was due to Sir’s inebriation and my own shortcomings to decipher the salient points. The overall message remains clear for all.

17th June, 1984 —

From the Office of Sir Hubert Jaxworthy – General Manager and President of the Earth Bank, 7192 Mains Road, Sydney Central City, County Australia.

I dictate this message of galactic import to my faithful manservant Ivan who I also empower, in actual fact order, to use all means possible to disseminate the information therein to all relevant species. (Hereinafter, the italics are my own comment – Ivan)

During my years as inarguably the most powerful Dog within the south sphere of this our planet Earth, certain information has come my way that disturbs me in a way that I almost think with humanoid morality, although this is of course not possible as we all know (I disagree – Sir is worldly and wise and understands the human psyche. He uses this uncanny ability to draw upon assets that the canine species cannot possess. These assets have made him what he is today and for better or worse, lead him to the conclusions that he now troubles over so miserably.). The first revelation is this.

Many hundreds of years ago, the dominant species of the world and only this world as far as we are aware, were Felines. Humanoids, humans, served these Felines similarly to what they now do for Canines. Felines were not as future dependant as we, and apparently there exists records which purport to demonstrate that as a species, they lived only for recreation. I do not know how it would be possible to survive and progress if that was truthfully their main vocation however, I have it under inscrutable authority that it is fact. Perhaps that it is why we evolved to be the next dominant species. I have never seen a Feline or even have any remote idea of what one looked like, but I do not doubt that they existed at some time. It was only from human records that we determined these creatures existed at all. As we of the Canine species are also known as Dogs, so were the Felines spoken of as Cats by prehistoric humans but I have never met a human that knows what a Cat is or was. I would have liked to have seen these human records that supposedly exist. (I have never heard of the existence of any human transcripts, or indeed of a Cat. I was most surprised at my Master’s words but my concern was more at his demeanour and what other news was making him act in this most peculiar way.)

Canines are peaceful and we encourage the growth of all other species both here on earth and at our other outlying habitations (the Moon and Mars he refers to, though as with the Cats, I have no idea of what other creatures they have discovered on those satellite nations.) However, according to these human records, it is we, Dogs, who were responsible for the extinction of the Felines and taking over the progression of this planet toward what it is today. Most horribly, that extinction of Cats was manipulated, directed using the very nature of the Cats against them.

Their laziness, or what may have only been a peaceful servitude perpetuated by the lack of any apparent threat, was used by mobs of semi-trained professionals to carry out what were, in essence, mass assassinations. There were no weapons in existence other than tooth and claw and as gruesome as it may sound, that is how the cats were disposed of, and by no means was that the worst of what is to come. The controlled elimination occurred over a period of some eight Dog years until complete eradication was achieved, and I shudder that some of my very own ancestors could have been involved in such a blood thirsty action. I feel sick to my stomach whenever I think of it. Sasha does not know and I do not want her to know (it was here that Sir began to ramble more and more, relative to his continued consumption of alcoholic beverage. I maintained my composure and make believe for my Master’s sake by pretending to be punching keys. I do not believe that he said anything more this night that required public record. I am in great pain myself that he is suffering in this way and eventually I was able to transfer him in a semi comatose state to his residence. Madame Sasha, a lovely bitch, takes over the worry from me and I am, thankfully, finally dismissed for the evening.)

18th June, 1984 —

My Master appears in better spirits tonight though he has attended Friday cocktails, but I do not believe that he consumed any alcohol. If that be true then it would be a first since he has been attending these functions, but I am glad nonetheless. Perhaps we can finish this story of his as it would be false of me to say I was not curious – and extremely concerned.

Let us continue Ivan my faithful friend (Many nomenclatures he has adorned on me whilst intoxicated, but not of such a personable nature and never once has he referred to me as a friend – it worries me greatly knowing that he does so with all sobriety) and get this distasteful task over and done with so that Fate can then muster its defences against impending evil. Ah, Ivan, I see you glance at me from the corner of your eyes at that. Dear Ivan, if I may, you ARE my friend and there IS evil on the way. There, I know that does not ease your burdon but should you be carrrying even a thousandth of my own then your shoulderrs would have beeen bburied into the sidewalks bby now. So take some of the weight by rrecording these wordds, and quickly, for I feell that all is acccelerrating to a ppoint where it willl bbe too late. (I am now so frightened that I uncharacteristically have made many spelling errors. His huge paw on my shoulder now steadies me).

I have told you of the demise of the Felines. That should have prepared you for what was to come. My information is that the Felines were not terribly useful and immediate past thinking of the Earth Government, and current thinking of more than a few powerful Senators within, is that humans are now considered superfluous as well. Steady Ivan, steady. My contacts assure me that secret agendas have been agreed to so that other species will evolve to replace humans and the tasks they currently do for us. You have seen the Crystal Programs no doubt, where monkeys, chimpanzees and orangutans can already accomplish many human functions, ironically taught to them by their human handlers. These will be the human replacements and over the next ten years, yes, that is my information, over the next decade the human race is to be systematically eradicated.

I believe that it may already have started, the so called Cultural Revolution in Asia East and the uprising by the Doberman master race in Europe Central. There are many other like disturbances all over the globe but they are the grandest in scale at this time.

It behoves me that I will appear a traitor to my own Species for this, but I cannot and will not standby and do nothing. Advise as many of your kind as you can Ivan and prepare to fight for your very existence (A silent alarm has just activated – the Master and I are the only ones that know of it, and now also of what it could herald.) Go now Dearest Ivan, we may already be too late but you must try. Quick, the private exit, take the chopter then the jet My Friend. You will be safe as we Dogs cannot fly or activate the necessary equipment to disable the machinery … yet. But hurry My Friend. Go. Spread the word. Defend yourself. Ivan, stop typing and go

(I did not immediately go to the roof, but I did retreat to the private exit as ordered. From the relative safety there I watched as my Master was firstly surrounded by all manner of thugs, Wolves, Dobermans, and multiples of barstard mixed breeds which by their very size and viciousness qualified them for these horrid duties. I thought all Canines were as for my Master, caring, gentle, thoughtful, but now I see with my own eyes the credence my Master’s final statement did not for me require. But it is a credibility that will be recognised elsewhere. He is lead away in leashes, his proud head is held high. With heavy sadness I understand that so many questions remain unanswered, not the least being ‘why’? So it’s you and me now my friends. To arms. To arms.)

+ + + + + +

“THE MARRIAGE GAME”

There was a time when it had been too easy. Looking back over his scribbled diary entries from the last five years he could see where it had started to slide. No – he could see where the slide had got steeper and accelerated – that had been the past five years. The start, well, the start was something that began at the beginning. Start at the beginning, begin at the start, ‘start at the knees please’ had been the burgeoning insistence from the day you are born, even in the ads for caramel filled chocolate bears for God’s sake.

Excerpt from the Diary of Charles Stuart Daniels (Charlie)

January 20th, 1995. She said she loves me!! She loves me! Oh my God, oh my God, she loves me! What am I going to do now? What you told her you would do you stupid barstard – love her back. And her front. And the left side, the right side and that gorgeous backside; especially that delicious backside!! She loves ME!!!!!!

‘These same words, their phrasing and their meaning reverberate throughout every journal, their very repetitiveness in such a multitude of individual insertions were perhaps indicative, or at the very least suspiciously numerous, to warrant wonder at the ulterior motive of the author,’ thought the author himself.

‘Whoa, suspicion of what?’ Charlie wondered aloud. ‘Am I not in love with her? Did I not believe in the power of love and what it instilled within my very being each time I wrote those missives? Of course I did, with no shadow of a doubt.’ Wonderingly. ‘No doubt at all. I think?’

Excerpt from Charlies’ Diary

September 11th 1989. She forgot my birthday. How could anybody forget the birthday of their partner, their lover, their closest confidante? How could she forget MY birthday? It wasn’t an important birthday per se, as far as birthdays go anyway, I mean it was my 29th so it wasn’t a biggy or anything, but still, to forget? I hated her, oh I hated her, it hurt so much and her lack of excuses made it hurt more. I could have killed her when she got home from work at 8.30 (pm!), because she acted as if it had been a normal day. Like every other day. No phone call at all, so it hadn’t been normal because we usually called each other at least once every single day that we aren’t together. And this had been my birthday, but she didn’t call and my anticipation levels had grown with the day, with each passing minute I waited for that call, and when that didn’t come, I waited for the greeting. Instead she’s home two hours late and she doesn’t even say why. And she doesn’t say Happy Birthday either. I hate her, God oh I hated her for that day – today. She sleeps now, oblivious to what she has done, and not done, but my mood is to dark – I cannot go to her like this. Lying beside her warm body, feeling the smoothness of her skin, seeing her beautiful face, feeling her body acknowledge my own proximity by snuggling back into me, her fingers curling into mine and her vibrant blonde strands tickling my arm that now stretches under her pillow to encase her and raising goosebumps where they rest, reminding me of how much I love her. I don’t want to love her at the moment for I am emotionally drained, but maybe I will go and share our bed for she wakes and searches for me if I am not there soon after her. Goodnight my love. Happy Birthday to me.

Charlie flicked back more pages and then through earlier journals. He marvelled at how similar his handwriting had remained over the years. He returned to the very first entry in the very first book.

Excerpt from Charlies’ Diary

September 11th 1985. Got given this diary for my birthday today. Never written a diary before. Don’t know what she was thinking by getting me this. I thought only women and girls kept diarys? Oh well, at least I’ve written in it once and she did give me some other cool presents, especially the lingerie which she looked absolutely ravishing in – and ravish her I did!! Great sex, if not a little chilly out on the balcony on this early spring eve. I love her. Yeah, I do. Maybe I’ll should tell her that?

Excerpt from Charlies’ Diary

November 24th 1985. Bitch. I wish she would just go away. Her and that friend of hers. Maybe I should warn him that she’s a bitch? She’ll hurt him too. The bitch. If I was psychotic I’d know the right thing to do in this situation. Rid the world of one disease (the bitch) and save tens, hundreds, thousands, millions from the pain she is putting me through. Nobody deserves what’s happening to me right now.

Charlie slapped the book closed and lowered his head onto his crossed arms as if to stop the contents escaping. ‘I loved you. Why did you do that to me? Why, instead of committing to the folly of pain didn’t you commit to us instead? Why?’

Such a question he could not answer, he was like the perpetual mother with toddlers that always ask the same question, that very same question. ‘Why?’

Addendum to Charlies’ Diary

Dear Diary, I haven’t written to you in over a week because I’ve been away on my honeymoon! Yippee, yeeha, yay! Me, married! Who’d have believed it? Oh yeah, it’s the 21st of October 1987 today, and we got married on the 10th. Great day. Expensive day! Lots of people at the wedding that I (partly) paid to be there and I didn’t even know who they were, and neither did she. Must have been friends or family on her mothers’ side. Oh no, I have a mother in law now! I can put up with having any number of mother in laws after that day. Brilliant honeymoon too and you are not going to hear the details, but let me just say that the sand of those Fijian beaches sure found its way into the most unlikeliest places! I’ve only known her for a couple of years but in my heart, I know I will love her forever. She wrote me this poem in the sand:

Our history may not span to far

But it’s the memories that we are

creating now

And the future that we live for …

I am in love. Forever in Love!!!

Charlie flicked forward over the numerous blank pages which immediately followed that addition he recalled so vividly pasting in on the very first day they had arrived back from Fiji – from their honeymoon. On reaching the count of sixty two he finally located his penmanship once more. Over two months of blank. Two months of the best part of his life, of their marriage, and he had not recorded it. Maybe that was why he was so diligent about doing so now. Good, bad or otherwise, his thoughts were entered without fail and whenever he had departed his home, this study, for holidays or business, any overnight sojourn, the current Diary accompanied him as natural a part of his luggage as his toothbrush. He flicked forward through more pages and then onto the next book, and looked uneasily at where the pages stopped. He held his head low in his hands as he read, both elbows on the desk as if he were still in primary school and somebody was trying to copy the answers from his exam paper.

Extract from Charlies’ Diary

23rd of January 1995. We had her 31st birthday party last night. It was not fun. She drank too much and she flirted a lot. But not with me. It was only days ago that we were so much in love, but it feels like years. Tonight she looked like she was ready to love anybody except me. Even her parents watched her with a slightly funny look in their eyes. I sat with them a lot so I saw. They left about 1030 pm and she finally noticed that I was sitting by myself. I thought everything would be alright then but it wasn’t. It got worse. She said she, they, wanted to go on to a night club, did I want to come, I had work tomorrow and she would understand if I didn’t want go with them. She was actually telling me to stay home and I was devastated, but as always the loyal and loving husband that’s exactly what I did do. She hasn’t come home.

24th January 1995. She still wasn’t back when I went to work this morning but she was here in our bed asleep when I got home. She said she felt very ill and just wanted to sleep, she couldn’t talk. I’m still devastated. I hate her. I hate her lying there so beautiful. I hate knowing I love her as much as I do. She can’t remember what she did last night. I hate her. I hate her. I want her dead. The bitch. The bitch.

The ocean lapped gently onto the wide expanse of beach. There were no swells for the board riders – the brilliant blue was as flat as the proverbial mill pond. It was a rare day and Charlie sat on the balcony wearing only shorts, the sun even on this mid-winters’ day warming him through. The Diary lay in his lap and as the sun approached the ten o’clock position in the morning hue, he slipped his finger under the next to last page – yesterday.