Tuesday, February 4, 2014

The Macabre Tale Of Daniel and Isabel

The Macabre Tale of Daniel and Isabel

By 

Connor Alexander



He was sure that his father had kissed his sister's forehead. Daniel awoke from the dream. It was the same dream he'd had every night since the Terrible Things had happened. The dream wasn't really something from Daniel's imagination though. Instead, it was more like a replay of the events of that fateful night. It was no less surreal or disjointed than a regular dream, however. It played back in his mind the same way it had played out in real life for Daniel. A series of foggy scenes and still images that made no sense to the poor boy no matter how he rearranged them in his mind, which he often did over the years.

But the tangled story in Daniel's mind only reinforced the evidence left in the wake of the Terrible Things. Something horrible had happened in the Hoster's study that night. Daniel's father, Oswald, was never seen from again, nor was there a trace of his passing. Daniel's last image of him was his face contorted and squeezed tight in a grimace. Had there been a stranger in the room as well? Maybe. Daniel's mother was found on the couch, her forearm across her brow, her eyes wide open. The only mark on her was a large bump on the back of her head where it rested against the wooden arm of the couch. She was wearing a silky black nightgown.


Saturday, January 11, 2014

Jelly (A Short Story)

Jelly

A Short Story By

Connor Alexander


Henry emerged from the Jelly. He wasn't sure how long he'd been in it. It ran from his nose, his mouth, his ears, his anus. He blinked slowly as the pine green substance sloughed off of his corneas. He looked around the vat he was standing in and saw that three other people were still submerged. For a solid minute he just stood there and stared. A large glob of Jelly slid from the end of his penis.

After two rapid blinks and a quick shake of his head, he stepped out of the vat and walked down a long hall. On either side of him were more vats. Some were empty, some were partially full, but most had five people completely submerged in waist deep green Jelly. Above him, the warehouse had a combination of industrial fans mounted into the roof and solar panels which provided the small amount of power necessary for the place.


Henry strode past the other sleepers with idle curiosity. Where were they? What lives were they living? The air was cool and there was a slightly fragrant steam coming off of all of the vats. The only sound was the soft whir of the fans thirty feet above. The sleepers neither moved nor made a sound in their jellied wombs.

Thursday, January 9, 2014

Hey Monogamous People - Mind Your Own Fucking Business

Listen folks, I get that my belief that I can love more than one person at a time is novel and quirky (and possibly even offensive) to you and that you're very invested in your serial monogamy. It's important to you, I know. You've pushed all of your chips in on that hand. So when someone else comes along with a different take on things, you're threatened.

But let me be very blunt here: Unless my penis is inside you, my relationship style and status are none of your fucking business. None. Zero. Not one goddamn iota. So keep your fucking noise tube shut.

Why are my hackles up? Well, I met someone the other night at a party. I felt like we had some chemistry even though we didn't get to chat much. I wasn't anything more than cordial though because I was djing at the party and there wasn't much of a chance to flirt or even really get much of a conversation going.
Instead, I asked a couple of people if they knew her and could I get an introduction. Just a chance to say, "Hi, we met briefly at the party the other night. I'm Connor."

If you are asked to make the introduction and you are friends with both parties, you do it and without comment. You don't approach the other person and say, 'Hey, my friend John wanted to meet you. Oh and he has two kids, he's late on his mortgage and he's really into toe sucking.' You know why? Because it's not your fucking business. If that's a problem than just tell John you don't feel comfortable making an introduction so John can ask you about your bigotry.

I want to be introduced as Connor, not The Non-monogamous Guy. You know why? Because it doesn't matter for an introduction. I wasn't asking you for permission to fuck your friend, to marry your friend, or even to date your friend. I was asking for an introduction.

Guess what, geniuses? Most folks are monogamous. I know that because I'm not an idiot. If you think monogamous folks should only hang out with other monogamous folks and non-monogamous folks should hang out with other non-monogamous folks, maybe you should propose shipping us all off to an island where you won't have to be reminded of us.

Also, next time, why stop with my relationship beliefs? Just ask and I can provide my credit report, my dick size, a full breakdown of my ethnicity and a schedule of my bowel movements. That way whomever I'd like to be introduced to can really take stock before they chose to speak to me.

Monday, January 6, 2014

How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Love Television

Once upon a time, cinema was the grand adventure. It was where the pinnacle of storytelling, technology, acting, cinematography, music and craftsmanship all collided to provide an experience unlike any other. Cinema has a rich and glorious history around the world and in my opinion is one of the best lenses into any culture. I grew up with a deeply ingrained appreciation for film and as I got older, my palette widened and I found myself finding excellent films in genres that I never would have considered as a younger man. Cinema truly has something for everyone. Or at least, it used to.

Conversely, television was born as a medium for advertising. It was built to circumvent everything that was good about cinema. It lacked deep narrative, its characters were intentionally milquetoast, its sensibilities as broad and as flat as possible so as to reach a maximum number of viewers. It was small snippets of storytelling broken up by commercial breaks and overlaid with laugh tracks. Television was designed to pacify and mollify. Television truly was made for everyone. Or at least, it used to be.


Sunday, December 22, 2013

Behold (A Short Story)

Behold
by
Connor Alexander


Aaron

I felt his nose break against my fist. I hadn't hit anyone since Stanford. He'd been about to hit me though. I could see it in his eyes. There was fear there. And something more too. It scared me.

Phillip flailed backward, clutching at his nose and trying to maintain his balance. With a thump he landed on his ass. I thought he might try to get up and attack me, but instead, he crawled toward a closet on one elbow, one hand still pressed to his face. He was leaving a trail of thick dark blood on the wood floor.

I looked back at.Candace. Her red curls stood out in the dim light of the entryway. Her hand was to her mouth in shock, but her eyes were fixed in fascination. This had all gotten out of hand so quickly. She'd asked me to come here because she didn't feel safe alone with Phillip. It seemed routine. Who hasn't had to go back and pick something up from their ex? Without a second's hesitation I told her I'd come along.

Phillip opened the door. I'd been surprised by his reaction when he saw Candace. Was it relief? Was he still in love with her? He seemed almost confused. The moment she told him that we'd come for the portfolio though, he changed. His eyes went wild, his fists clenched, he stuttered. I saw him, or at least I think I saw him, start to cock his arm. So I hit him.

Friday, November 8, 2013

The 10th Day (A micro short story)

On my recent trip to New Orleans, I had a sudden inspiration for a micro short story (only 139 words). I typed it into my phone during our descent and now I present it here for your entertainment.



It had been nine days since Kenna's fighter had come crashing down into Mara's wheat fields. On the second day, he felt like he was healthy enough to return to the fight, but no one came for him.

Instead, at night, he and Mara and Jack watched the distant battle from the porch. Jack would rapidly get bored of staring up at the tiny blips and flashes up among the stars though and would turn to play with his toy space fighters.

On the seventh day, Mara told Kenna over dinner that she wouldn't mind if they never came for him. Jack nodded his agreement.

On the eighth day, while they sat on the porch, watching the night sky, Mara reached out and took Kenna's hand. He didn't let go.

But on the tenth day, they came for him.



Wednesday, October 16, 2013

DD-249 (A Sci-Fi Short Story)

A short story that I wrote in prep for NaNoWriMo. Let me know what you think down at the bottom.


DD-249
by
Connor Alexander




Alex woke up feeling Holly's warmth on his back. He kept his body still but craned his head back to get a look at her. Her tight red curls still perfectly framed her face, despite having slept on them all night. Her breath drifted up at him in slow puffs, slightly acidic and bad smelling but at the same time comfortingly familiar. Her breasts were soft against his back and he had to smile. She really didn't like being 'big spoon' when they slept, but she always gave into his pleadings in the end.

He made the decision to try to let her sleep if he could, today of all days. Alex slipped out from under her arm and out of the bed that really was too small for two people. The room was cramped, the air stale. Where a normal window would have been, there was an LED sunlight simulator meant to both fool the brain as well as help Vitamin D production. There was no point in a real window. The view would have just been a lifeless, darkened wasteland.