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.

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.



On the first day 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 rapidly bored of staring up at the tiny blips and flashes 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.

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.

The Gravity of Gravity

*A Spoiler Free Review Of Gravity*

When this summer began, I had sort of a mental list of films that I wanted to see on the big screen. Being without regular income as well as having a decent home entertainment system means that going to a cinema is like going out for a fine dining experience. Summer can be extra tough because they tend to pack in a lot of blockbuster big budget films that tend to look better on a larger screen. So I chose the films that I would see in advance, noting director, subject, cast and potential big screen pay off.

In wrapping up my summer viewing, I've decided on a fine dining analogy. Each film being compared to a portion of a nice meal. The opening cocktail was Iron Man 3. Not bad. Listed as a house special. It more or less confirmed my expectations and set me up nicely for the appetizer. The Wolverine was that appetizer. Better than it's predecessor but nothing to really rave about. It was good enough to whet my appetite. There were side dishes of Elysium and Star Trek Into Darkness. Elysium was like some finely done broccoli. It was great broccoli, but in the end, it's still just a vegetable. You can only get so much out of it on it's own. Star Trek though was like some kick ass mashed potatoes infused with garlic and thyme and topped with fresh sour cream. Doesn't matter that it's full of carbs and fat, you want more. For dessert, Pacific Rim was like an amazing banana split, covered in whipped cream, cherries, fudge, caramel and strawberry sauce. It was a ridiculously overloaded sugary mess devoid of nutritional value. I ate every single bite with a stupid smile on my face.

But I left out the main course. That main course was Gravity. Gravity was like a filet mignon and when I walked away from my meal, it was the only thing I really ended up remembering (well, that and the dessert). Gravity is a film like few others and it makes total sense that it comes Alfonso Cuaron. The man is quickly ascending a list of crucially important directors that are taking the torch from the last generation of epic filmmakers like Scorcese, Spielberg and Kubrick. With Gravity, Cuaron took a bold step into rare narrative territory and thankfully, the studio execs gambled on that step. Gravity is the kind of film that when you finish it, it's easy to wonder how it ever got released in this Transformers/Romantic Comedy/Miley Cyrus culture.

24 Days Of Corporate Greed

I lost my job in March of 2012. I had two credit cards, a student loan and a mild balance on all of them. I paid more than the minimum payments every month and a rarely used the cards. My credit rating was pretty damn high.

I didn't used to get much junk mail. But slowly, over the last year and half, a trickle turned into a waterfall.

But more than just junk mail, I began to notice that it was specifically offers for credit cards. Low APR! Cash back! No interest for the first six months! Every bank and issuer had an angle. And they didn't stop.

Last month, I decided that rather than just throwing them right into the trash, I'd keep some of them. I wanted the project to go on longer, but I got sick of the sight of them. This is 24 days worth of credit card offers:

At first I attributed this to stupidity. I'd say things like, "Don't these idiots know that I'm unemployed?" The ridiculously obvious answer to that question is "Yes, of course they do."

This folks, is evil at it's most refined and potent. Dante couldn't come up with a version of the Devil this sophisticated. These evil banking fucks are sending me these offers because I'm unemployed. Think about that. Think about how goddamned predatory that is. Not to mention, look at that waste! How much paper, money, man power and time is going into sending us all of this, just so that it can end up being recycled?

I'd really like to bundle these up with some rubber bands and slap someone across the face with them. But there really isn't any one person to slap, is there? So I guess the best I can do is just scream out into the void: "Fuck you."

Dead End

If you haven't read this column and you're feeling either perky and don't want to stay that way or are depressed and want more fuel for the fire, go check out Unemployment Stories over at Gawker:  http://gawker.com/tag/hello-from-the-underclass

It's an amazing compilation of letters from real Americans without jobs. How they got there, what they're doing and how it has affected them.  I deeply connect with many of the writers and sometimes have angry reactions to others. I even submitted my own letter to them awhile back. It's a grim view inside the carcass of America.

The reason I'm writing this today is that the hammer has finally fallen for me. My unemployment insurance has run out. My savings are dwindling. I just notified my credit card companies and student loan offices that no more money will be forthcoming. I'll be selling my car since I can no longer afford insurance or gas.

It's been 15 months since I was laid off. While I have a huge burning hatred for the owners of the company that laid me off, I don't blame them for my situation since then. There's no one thing or person to blame really. I could blame the government or the economy or corporatism or my parents or myself - but to no useful end.

I've done my best to be responsible since then - financially, socially, emotionally. But there's no doubt that it has taken its toll on all fronts. Intellectually, I find it truly sad. While it's impossible not to take a hit to your ego, to your self-esteem, in a situation like this, what hits me harder is that this entire country is hurting and I'm a resource that's going to waste. I'm a healthy, hard working, intelligent adult. There's no reason that I shouldn't be part of the work force.

Instead, after more than 200 applications to everyone from Microsoft to an adult bookstore, I got this from Target the other day: "Thank you for taking the time to apply with us. We are unable to offer you a position at this time, but we do appreciate your interest in Target." Which sums up everything pretty nicely.

I'm still writing fiction, and I'm happy to say that writing has become a huge part of my life in the last year. I'll probably continue to do it for the rest of my life now. But it's not going to pay the bills, probably ever. Which leads me to the last question:  What do you do when you're out of options?

I Did That?

Just a quick note of amazement. Last August I began writing a blog under a pseudonym that by November, I'd decided to turn into a book. That same November, I jumped into National Novel Writing Month with both feet and began writing Five's Fate under my own name.

By January, the book under my pen name was out (more than 400 pages!). By April, Five's Fate was out (more than 350 pages). I also have begun two new books, one under my pen name and one under my real name. The pen name book has close to 50,000 words already and the book under my name is at about 33,000 words.

Both books I plan to have finished before August, or at least into the editing process. The fact that I might have four books published in a year is kind of surreal to me. Every few days, I stop and think about it and say, "I did that?"