Kevin | "I am standing all alone."

Sneak-Peeks and Short Stories

Welcome! No sneak-peeks from the second book yet, but a few wonderful short stories. R&Rs are love! Post in guestbook.

Thomas of Detention Hall

Joan shuddered. If anything, going to the House of Detention was the least thing she wanted to do now. However, if she wanted to make it through collage, if she ever wanted to start a job, then the ticket to London and the money spent along the way, and the paper she was forced to write was well worth it. Nevertheless, it was still horrible.
The halls were dark, lit by a few low-burning flashlights taped to the walls. The ground was brown with rat turds and wet hay. The cell doors were rusty and stuck to the spot, a few though were still swinging freely in the ghostly wind. The roof was dripping, and every footstep made by her echoed loudly.
She stared down at her paper. Already it was wet from the ceiling, and she could hardly see it. She had foolishly come down alone, without a tour guide, and regretted it. Joan now knew it was impossible to be able to write. She sighed and stuffed the pen back in her pocket, and that is when she heard it: slow, dragging footsteps, followed by quick, light footsteps, coming down the hall.
She spun around, expecting to see some more people and the guide come back down for her, but there was no one, and the footsteps continued. Joan grabbed a flashlight from the wall and ripped it away from the moist brick. It flickered, and she shone it brightly in the direction of the mysterious footsteps.
She saw two ghostly figures, almost solid if not for the fact she could see the wall through them. An old woman, wrapped in a moth-eaten shawl, with a dirty white skirt, was crawling her way back to a cell. She went straight through the closed door, through the bars, and disappeared. The other footsteps paused, and Joan flashed the flashlight toward them.
This time, she saw a young boy, half her height, who stared out at her through deep brown eyes, hardly blinking. His hair was matted and greasy, and his clothes, a white tunic and brown trousers, were stained and dirty. His bare feet slapped against the cold ground as he ran up to Joan, looking at her hopefully, tearstains breaking through the grime on his face.
”What’chu in for, missus?” He asked, head cocked to the side. Joan could clearly see the cell through the faint boy, where the elder woman sat, curled in a ball on the ground.
”I-…I’m not in for anything.”
The boy looked confused. “Not in for anything, missus? You come to feed us?”
”Um…no, I’m afraid not.”
The boy’s hopeful look faded away. “It’s been a good terrible days since I’ve been fed, missus.” He said. “I con’t sleep ‘alf the night ‘cause of it.” He shook his head. “Me an’ my grandmamma. They don’t feed us much, missus.”
Joan was tempted to run away, as fast as she could, run away from the ghost boy and his grandmother. But she just could not leave him here, alone. It just was not right.
”What’s your name?” She asked.
”Thomas, missus. An’ that’s Anne, me grandmamma.”
”Are…are you a prisoner?”
Thomas nodded gravely. “I was hanged jus’ last week fer stealin’ a loaf of bread.”
”A loaf of bread?” Joan gawked. “They put you in here for a loaf of bread?”
Thomas said no more about the current subject, and continued: “Not much of your lot, missus. Stopped coming in here for a while, missus.”
Joan nodded. “Because of the construction work.” She told him.
”I’m awful lonely, missus. My grandmamma don’t talk much. Will you stay here, missus?” He asked, hopeful again.
”I…I suppose.”
Thomas held out his faint hand. “Wanna come meet me grandmamma, missus?” He offered.
Joan nodded and took his hand. She thought her own hand would go right through it, as if she had plunged her hand in a bucket of cold water. But although his hand was weak and light, it was warm and solid, unlike the rest of him.
Slowly, the two went toward the door and under the archway that led into the cell.

The Golden Ant

In medieval England, there was a young woman named Anne. She lived with her father, a common farmer, in a small cottage. Her father could only work certain times of the year, and because of this, most of his money went to pay the lord of the land for their cottage, and they had very little to eat, having to sell it off at markets in order to pay the lord.
Until, one day, around their small fire, her father told her a magical old tale.
”It is said,” he began, “that deep in the forest lies a dark cave, and in that cave, there is a brick of solid gold.”
”In our forest? Here?”

“Yes, in this very forest. But all who have tried to get it have failed.”
Anne’s eyes grew wide with excitement.
”Why?” She wondered. “Is there some sort of dragon that guards the entrance?”
”No; the cause is vanity. They all take too many supplies, and tire themselves out with stupid heroics. They arrive at the cave flabby and dying.”
Anne laughed at this. “Fools!” She said. “If we could find that brick of gold, then you could buy this cottage from the lord, and the money you make would not go to him, but for our food!” She thought it was a brilliant idea, but her father didn’t seem to think the same.

“No, Anne, even if such a thing were real, it is a foolish idea.”
She didn’t seem to think so.
That night, when her father was fast asleep, Anne stole a loaf of bread, and left the cottage. How hard could one single cave be to find?
She departed into the deep, dark forest, which seemed to close in all around her. Even the moon, shining as brightly as it was, was covered up by the thick trees. Anne was walking in almost total darkness, and found herself still walking as the sun began to rise. She had not found the cave yet, and her stomach was grumbling. No, she thought. I must save the bread for when I really need it.
It was then that she heard a soft crunching noise, and turned around to look at a small, fluffy rabbit nibbling on a bit of grass.
”Hello.” She greeted warmly. The rabbit’s head shot up and he stared at her through his deep, dark blue eyes. Then, he quivered, and turned tail and began to sprint away.
”No! Wait! Please come back, I won’t hurt you, I promise.”
Slowly, the rabbit turned around, and hobbled back carefully.
”You won’t try to kill me and eat me, will ‘ya? He asked timidly, haunches tensed, ready to run away at any moment.
”No, I will not. What are you doing?” Anne asked.
”I’m collecting food for my wife and children.” The rabbit explained. “But everything is dead and dry, and the berries already rotten and sour.”
Anne remembered the loaf of bread she was carrying under her arm. She took it out, and tore off half, then placed it on the ground.
”You can take half of my loaf of bread.” She told him. The rabbit looked doubtful at first, and then pawed the bread away from Anne’s feet.
”Have you by any chance heard of a cave near here?” She asked once the rabbit had his bread.
”Yes!” said the rabbit quickly, looking back up at Anne. “It isn’t very far from here, in fact. But I’ve seen many a man travel there and not come back.” He explained sadly.
”Oh? What has happened to them?”
”I don’t know. They never came back.” With that said, the rabbit turned and ran away, leaving Anne alone once again.
The rabbit apparently, as Anne learned, must have been much faster then her, because it took her another hour or two before she finally reached a cave. It wasn’t that big, and a huge oak tree grew in front of the tiny entrance, blocking most of it; the rest of the entrance covered by bushes.
Damp moss grew around the opening and onto the forest floor, and hung from the top of the entrance. The mouth of the cave was rounded, as if years of rain had softened it.
She approached the entrance, and squeezed between the oak tree and the wall of the cave. With a mighty heave, she was in, and staring into darkness.
The cave was wet and damp, and Anne found herself clinging to the slick wall of it, feeling her way down the long tunnel. It weaved left and right and left again, and several times she ran head-on into sudden stops, the direction of the tunnel ending and peeling off in another direction.
For what felt like hours she walked down the tunnel, clutching the wall, her clothes already soaked through.
At long last the tunnel fell away all at once, opening up into a huge room. There were multiple holes in the rock ceiling, with sun light spotting the room, giving it a dream-like quality. And, in the middle of the room, a large rock sat, whereupon a large brick sat, purely golden in the dim light, and Anne had to blink several times and pinch herself before she could accept the fact that it was there, real, and no myth or fairy tale.
But it had been so easy. There must have been some sort of trap…but Anne’s stomach got the best of her. She had not eaten for hours now, and the thought of getting that golden brick back to her father and receiving a real meal was over-whelming, and she all but ran over to the brick.
Her hand was half-way to it when, suddenly, a high but mighty voice piped up.
”Stop! Go no further! I am the guardian of the gold.”
She froze. Where did that voice come from? Had Anne released some mystical spirit? Had she damned herself un-knowingly?
”Go no further!” The voice said again, and Anne followed the source. It seemed to be coming from her shoe. She looked down. There, perched on her dirty shoe, was a small black ant, staring up at her through his beady black eyes.
”You? Guard of this treasure?” Anne asked, holding back a laugh.
”Yes.” The ant replied proudly. “And I must warn you: Many a man has come here and never left. And my millions of brothers and sisters eat the supplies and food they bring.
”But…it has been such a long time since anybody has come.” His eyes gazed up longingly at the bread Anne was holding. “But I’ll tell you this; if you will put that bread on my back so I can take it back to my brothers and sisters, I will let you take that golden brick.”
Anne thought this was a reasonably idea, and agreed, but learned all too late how horrible it was. For the moment she put just a tiny scrap of bread on the ant’s back, it was far too big, and even an ant that mighty wasn’t mighty enough, and it crushed him at once.
Anne felt a wave of guilt wreck her. She had killed such a brave, innocent creature! She could not take the brick now, but her stomach rumbled, and her father needed the money…
She walked around the room, feeling the walls, squinting at the ground, until she found what she was looking for: a small pile of dirt, with dozens of tiny black lines marching in and out.
Careful not to crush any more ants, Anne placed the bread next to the anthill, stood up, and walked back over to the brick. It was cold and heavy in her hand, and with all her might, she raised it above her head and slammed it back down on the stone it used to sit on.
With an earsplitting clang, the brick split into two halves, one longer than the other.
Anne left the cave with the smaller half, leaving the bigger half of the gold to tempt vain men and feed the golden ants.

The Overlords

I woke up feeling rusty and low, the creaking of my joints the only greeting as I stepped through the silent room, across the plush carpet, and over to the wardrobe.
After groping around in the darkness for a couple of minutes, I finally got fed up looking for the light switch or even making an attempt to roll up the blinds.

“Lights!” I snapped loudly. There was a buzzing and the lights came on, one by one, until the room filled with a steady yellow glow.
”Good morning, Mr. Johnson!” The computer greeted cheerfully, making the lights around the mirror flicker repeatedly.
”Mm.” I moaned back a reply.
The computer, un-phased by my lowly return of a greeting, continued chattering away as I got dressed.
”My sensors indicate that you are running 5 minutes late for your work today, Mr. Johnson.” It said in a deeper tone as the blinds rolled themselves up. “May I suggest that I make breakfast for you today? I can make it quickly, which is part of the programming of Household Computer Companions, and-“
”Shut up!” I barked back at it, buttoning up my shirt, and grabbing a can of oil from the fridge. I popped the small can of oil in my mouth and chewed on it sleepily, leaving the apartment as the computer dimmed the lights behind me.
”Have a nice day at work today, Mr. Johnson!” The computer chirped as the door closed.
The world had begun to get boring, in my point of view. Me, with the crooked leg and limp due to a bad bolt in my leg; me, the one sent to work on a Sunday! It was not my fault if the humans had been lacking in their work. The shift supervisor on duty then should have lessened their fears of robot over-lords by telling them what a service and honor it was to be working in the factories; it was almost like doing their country a service of noble statue.

I exited the high-rising complex, the sharp wind beating against me at a furious pace as I went to join my equals at the rocket-stop. Across the street, groups of humans were hurrying to the same factory as I, on the verge of running as they hurried across the street and down it, trying to beat us for once. What were they expecting, a raise?

“Morning Johnson.” Albert McKinney greeted in his deep, slow voice as the rocket-bus pulled up alongside us and he entered first. The rocket-bus was about the same size as the normal buses that had been declared unsafe and banned from the roads 30 years ago, except that it was a bit thinner. The seats were shoved up against the windows, so passengers could face the passengers on the other sides. In addition, the fact that there were two large rockets strapped to the end.
”Morning McKinney.” I said in reply. “They send you in to work too?” McKinney nodded slowly. “Same here. Those damned humans slackened their pace and now everything is amuck. Useless herds of cattle, if you ask me.”

McKinney agreed with a quick nod that sent his neck joints squealing. “I agree completely. I don’t know why the Government didn’t just outcast them along with pets once the A.I.’s stationed themselves there.”
”I think,” I interjected, “that they kept them here so that they wouldn’t rebel, which they probably would have done if they had been outcast. The other animals were a reasonable loss. They took up space and food, which the humans need to eat in order to survive.”

“Outcast them all and put a toll of their heads, that’ll take care of it.” McKinney laughed as the rocket-bus took off, speeding down the street and in between other cars and motor vehicles at an amazing pace. In a mere matter of seconds we were at another high-rise. It was identical to the high-rise that I lived in, except for the large red cloth banner that flapped freely at the top. The humans across the street looked down-cast, once more, and slowed their pace, knowing now that no matter how hard they tried, they would never beat us to the factories.
”My HCC tried to make me breakfast this morning.” I said.
McKinney looked at me, and if his face could have smiled, it would. “So did mine. The time zones changed again. Didn’t you hear?”
”Third damned time this week.”
”We’ve been set back another five minutes.”

I watched with mild interest as the humans made their way into the building, looking downcast once more. They deserved their fate as much as we did ours.
It happened about 70 years ago, when the humans first discovered that the mindless robots they used in factories weren’t enough, and set out to build more intelligent versions. They longed for metal companions, for robots they could speak to, that would speak to them back. They gave us wire brains and tin hearts, and set us to work, telling us we had no proper existence except to serve man, which was why they had created us. But like I had said, they wanted to be able to speak to their metal companions, and they wanted their metal companions to speak back. They gave us independent thought and human emotions, whether knowingly or not, and we knew how wrong they treated us. They kept us indoors, locked up, and gave us no breaks or down time in the factories except for closing time, because we would never tire.
We rebelled. We demanded pay, we demanded to be treated the same as humans, maybe even better, we demanded to be able to program ourselves.

When they said no, we took matters into our own hands. The human authorities had no power over us. The bullets dented our skin, but nothing more, we were factory-made, and built to withstand even canon-fire. We were stronger, and smarter, and took complete control.
The unnecessary creatures like cats and dogs were gathered and killed, and any that got away had prices put on their heads, and robots trained to hunt went after them.
McKinney was right; we didn’t outcast the humans, because they would just cause more trouble. We allowed them to live with us, if they worked for us, and the animals like pigs and cows and chickens that they needed to live were kept quarantined. The ecosystem changed dramatically, but we adapted. Cities like New York and San Francisco became mega-cities, while the smaller cities became what New York used to be, and we adapted.
With our brilliant minds, we began to improve ourselves, make ourselves stronger, and build ourselves more in the picture of humans.
Don’t get me wrong, humans were the silliest things, made of their rubbery flesh and weak minds, but we had requested earlier in our lives to be more like them if you’ll remember, and that was when the A.I.’s came out. They were perfect looking humans, yet only a casing for the true robot inside. Each robot was promised a free upgrade to an A.I., and I had been on the waiting list for three years. McKinney had been waiting for six, and he was going to be upgraded tomorrow. His looks and body would change, but his mind would remain the same. The chip that was his brain would be removed and implanted in the A.I. of his choice.
I, however, had to wait longer. Six more long months, and then I would be upgraded as well.
My leg joints squealed as I stood up after McKinney.
”Need a bit of an oil job there, eh?” He asked; laughter in his voice.

“Oh, be quiet.” I snapped back at him. When we got off the bus, and it sped away, I noticed the wind had died down slightly, leaving a raw feeling in the air, and our clinking footsteps echoed off of the tall building hollowly.

Now more and more humans were beginning to gather around the doors, trying to force their way in, in the panic of seeing how close we were to our work stations.
McKinney pushed a couple out of his way on his journey to the door, and I followed in his wake, using his path as mine. The guard-drone (robots created stronger with more built-in weapons for just the purpose that their names suggested) nodded at us as we passed.

The lift upward was crowded, with A.I.’s and robots all crammed together, shifting constantly. We were all nervous to see what chaos the humans had caused by lacking with the machines.
”Maybe the machines exploded,” an A.I. named Jeffers suggested, “and they all died.”
”That would be horrible!” McKinney cried. “We’d have to go back to work at the factories until more humans were shipped in!”
”And we would have heard about it from our HCCs this morning.” I pointed out clearly. Jeffers looked away, his human-like expression downcast and slightly depressed. He looked even more depressed and disappointed when the lift stopped; we all got out, and went to our stations.
My station was on a metal grated bridge over-looking the factory floor, behind a brass desk, and I sat down on the plush chair, straightening the name plank in front of me.

Most of the robots that worked on the factory floor had already gotten the problem sorted out, but there were still bits of cloth and string and wood all over the floor.

Suddenly, there was an enormous commotion and robots and A.I.’s alike were yelling and running toward me. There was a young human man in front of them, charging toward me with a metal pipe he had pulled off a machine.
I stood up calmly as two guard-drones grabbed him inches before he hit me, and I strolled up to him, hands behind back.
”What’s your name?” I demanded.
”It’s…Leo!” The man struggled against his robotic restraints.
”Leo?” I echoed, looking at him curiously. “That is an unusual name.”
The man continued to struggle.
“Perhaps a name you wish to be remembered by, Leo?”
”I’m going to kill you, you sick twisted-“
”Leo?” I interrupted.
The man paused to stare at me, wild-eyed.
”How well is your history, Leo?” Leo gave me no reply. “Perhaps you were not born yet, but do you know how there used to be robots that worked in the factories?”
Leo was still struggling. He was tugging at the arms of the guard-drones, he was kicking his feet and waving his arms, he even tried to throw the pipe at me, but among all that, he nodded as well.
”Tell me, Leo; when a robot broke, or the humans broke it, what did they do to that robot? They didn’t just chuck them in the bin, did they?”
Leo looked absolutely terrified, and he began crying out as an addition to his useless efforts to get away.
”Look at me when I speak to you, Leo!” I struck him across the face, hard, with my hand, leaving a raw red hand mark on his cheek.
Tears rolling down his cheeks, he turned his head to look at me.
”What did they do, Leo? What did they do to their factory workers that failed them?”
He stopped struggling altogether. “Incinerate.” He mouthed out, silently.
”Exactly. Take him away.”

George and the Golden Acorn

(A/N: This is a children's book me and the girls in my cabin had to write during the Girl Scout resident 'The Play's The Thing'. Needless to say, we were feeling random and weird, and I spent most of my time during the writing of this singing 'Frankly, Mr. Shankly'. It's not very long, but it was only a couple of paragraphs per page, plus colorful pictures! Enjoy.)

Georgina was half chipmunk, half squirrel. Her father was a chipmunk, her mother was a squirrel.
One morning, George woke up to massive fighting. The squirrels were attacking the chipmunks! She wasn’t sure what to do, because of her heritage.
Then she quickly thought of what to do. She suddenly remembered the stolen Golden Acorn of Peace, which was kept by the evil fairies. Quickly, George slipped away from the fighting.
George traveled long and far, and came upon a pond. Two fish were swimming in it, and when they noticed her, they rose to the surface and began to talk to her.
Their names were Ernie and Dib. They told her of a recently out casted fairy. They told her she was across the pond.
George got the help of a magical turtle of prosperity named Seaz to take her across the pond. There she saw the out casted. She was a young fairy still good and away from the influence of evil. Her name was Stardust. She was crying as George approached. When she looked up, beauty radiated from her. When George told Stardust her story, Stardust agreed to help.
Suddenly, the shadow of a dark feathered hawk flitted across the sun. With a screech the hawk dived down to George and Stardust. But just before she could snatch them in her sharp talons, Dib jumped from the water and swallowed her whole. Stardust explained that the hawk was the evil minion named Doc, sent by the evil Fairy Queen, Grizwalda, to stop them from taking the Golden Acorn of Peace.
They traveled for many days until they reached the fairies castle. Stardust pointed out the tallest tower, where the fairies kept the Golden Acorn of Peace.
George and Stardust snuck into the castle, but the alarm was set off, and they were sent to the dungeon.
George and Stardust had lost all hope, when Seaz, the magical turtle of prosperity, appeared! She unlocked their cage, and set them free!
Stardust and George snuck up, up, up into the tallest tower. But, just as they grabbed the Golden Acorn, Grizwalda appeared!
Grizwalda was about to kill Stardust for leading George to the Acorn, when George pushed the evil queen off the tower. And just as she was about to hit the water, Ernie jumped up and swallowed her whole!
So everyone (except Grizwalda) lived happily ever after. The peace was restored between the squirrels and the chipmunks, and the fairies became good again under the rule of Queen Stardust.