Six amazing stories

Here are six stories I wrote. Most of them don’t make any sense. They probably aren’t work safe.

Story 1

As Larry approached the shack, all he could think of was how spooky this swamp was. Spooky was a childish word, but then again this swamp looked like something that came out of a first grader’s nightmares. The trees all leaned in toward him, their branches reaching out to grab him. The full moon cast shadows in murderous forms around him. Countless cypress knees jutted up out of the ankle deep water, threatening to impale Larry with the slightest misstep. As he slogged through the mud, he began to make out the old shack in the distance. A dark cloud moved in and obscured the moon’s light. Larry pulled out his flashlights only to discover the batteries were dead. He began wondering if this trip was worth it, but thoughts of thirteen rusty Mason jars packed with money made him stop his worrying. Larry stumbled through the darkness not really sure which direction he was going. Finally he found his footing on solid ground. The clouds cleared and the resurgent moonlight revealed the old shack. It also revealed the true meaning of horror.

Story 2 – “Zen and the Art of Roof Maintenance”

He stood there, hands in pockets, an unlit cigarette dangling haphazardly from his lips. Looking around, the farmer admired the newly built barn. Everything was neat and orderly although this would change once the work got started. The tractor and hay baler sat patiently, waiting for the hay to reach the proper height. Six empty bays, floored with wooden pallets, longed to be filled with the product of the aforementioned pair. The tin walls popped in the heat of midday. The roof…

The brand new tin roof…

A beam of sunlight hit the farmer square in the eye as it shown through a huge hole in the ceiling. The blemish was perhaps eight inches in diameter and rusty around the edges. The farmer stared at the hole in disbelief. How could a hole like that have developed so quickly?

The farmer did not dally long. He hurried off to his shop to prepare the necessities of roof maintenance: a scrap piece of tin, some roofing screws, and a bucket of hot tar. After a half hour of careful work the roof was repaired and the farmer was satisfied. He moved on to finish his work for the day, then he went to the house for supper and retired for the evening shortly thereafter.

The next morning, the farmer went up to the new barn. He wanted to see how his handy work had held up against the last night’s showers. As he stepped into the barn, he could see a small patch of sunlight on the floor. He looked to the ceiling and the hole was back, mocking him with its gaping existence. He stared at it for a moment, then turned and left the barn. He did his work for the day, then he went to the house for supper and retired for the evening shortly thereafter.

Story 3

The farmer was deeply disturbed by the look of his barn. The barn itself was not that much different from any other barn. It had a thickly thatched roof and walls made up of light gray stones the farmer had dug up out of his fields. There was a heavy wooden door on one wall and a small, leather curtained window on the opposite wall. The barn was also glowing green. This was what disturbed the farmer.

At first the farmer thought that he would turn and run as far away as his legs would carry him. Then the farmer thought that he was having a dream. He began pinching himself, but quickly discovered the reality of the situation. The farmer finally just stared at the barn, fear paralyzing his thought processes. As he stared at the barn it seemed to be getting closer and after a few moments he realized that it actually was getting closer. It was then that the farmer discovered the treachery of his feet. His own feet had betrayed him and were now propelling him forward toward the ominously glowing doorway of the barn.

When the farmer reached the door, he stuck out his trembling hand. Slowly he turned the knob as it rattled in his shaky grip. Suddenly he flung the door open and jumped into the room with a ferocious battle cry. His cry stopped short when he saw where the green glow was coming from. In the middle of the floor was a large wooden bowl perhaps six feet in diameter. Its inner surface was giving off the ghostly glow. But more astonishing than this were the two little men who sat inside the bowl. They were only two feet in height, but each possessed the features of grown men. Long, matted beards adorned their faces and broad hairy chests stuck out proudly as the two little men rose to their feet.

“We bring you these items because we thought they would hold some meaning for you,” stated one of the men in a mousy voice.

It was only then that the farmer noticed the items each dwarf carried. The one who had spoken carried a large, bloody battle axe. He seemed to be straining under the axe’s tremendous weight. The second dwarf was holding up a pair of golden dentures and was sporting a goofy grin.

“I’ve never seen these items before,” croaked the farmer, barely hanging on to sanity.

The little men looked at each other, the second dwarf’s grin replaced with a look of deadly serious.

“Oh dear, it seems we’ve made an error in time,” said the first dwarf in a voice even more mousy than before. The bowl and the men then began to shrink. It shrank and shrank as the farmer stared. The second dwarf said, “Sorry about that.” Then the bowl and men shrank into nothingness. The farmer stood there continuing to stare at the spot where the little men had been. His mind was so filled with conflicting emotions that the farmer could not exert any control over his thoughts. Finally his wife’s dinner call brought his mind into an unstable equilibrium long enough for him to reestablish mental control. He left the barn and walked to the house, his mind a complete blank. His wife met him at the door and the farmer looked at her. Her belly was bulging with new life. He got to his knees and held her around her stomach. He smiled and hoped that she would give him a son.

Story 4

“John, they found another one,” said Mary in a concerned voice as she entered the barn. She found her husband working at his computer, making some final programming changes for the upcoming harvest no doubt.

“Found what?” asked John reviewing his work on the computer screen.

“Another one of those humanoid robots,” said Mary wringing her hands.

“Aren’t all robots humanoid?” asked John as he made some corrections on the screen.

“I’m being serious John.”

John looked at Mary over his glasses, the glow of the computer screen giving his face a blue tone. “What can I do about it?” asked John as he took off his glasses and placed them on his desk.

“I don’t know, but this one was the Sheriff in Baxter County. The Sheriff! And not two counties away. I know his wife! I bet she’s heartbroken.”

John looked at her quizzically, “You don’t think she knew?”

Mary looked at the ground and made patterns in the carpet with her toe. She looked like some schoolgirl after her first kiss. She shook her head keeping her eyes fixed on the ground.

John stood up, “What’s this all about?”

Mary stood there in her schoolgirl silence.

John took hold of Mary’s shoulders, “What’s wrong honey? Tell me what’s the matter.”

“I’m scared!” cried Mary.

“Of what?” asked John. “Robots can’t hurt people, you know that.” Mary just stood there in his grasp, tears streaming from her eyes.

John hugged her and said, “Everything will turn out for the best in the end. You’ll see.” Eventually, everything did turn out alright.

Story 5

It had already been a long day for Bessie, and now Farmer Dan was trying to talk to her again. As she lay there on her bed of not-so-sweet smelling straw, she let out a long, tired sigh. When would this dumb farmer realize that she was a goat and she wasn’t going to talk back?

“…so you see Bessie, I just can’t take it any more. She’s driving me nuts!” sobbed the farmer as he looked down at his feet. In a way he was right about his wife. She did have a tendency to drive people crazy. Bessie considered this as she chewed her cud.

“I think she’s finally pushed me over the edge. Bessie, I think I’m going to have to do something awful!” Farmer Dan made these statements with the cracking voice of a teenage prom date. Bessie knew that he was over the edge, and she also knew that he had been that way for a long time. She tried to read the look on his face, but he was leaning on a pitchfork and had his face buried in his arms.

It was at this moment that Farmer Sue walked in… no, she strode in like she was god in the flesh. Bessie looked at the woman in disgust. Farmer Sue was every bit the Hollywood version of what a farmer’s wife should look like. She had moderate length, sandy blond hair, a flawlessly made-up face, a homespun flowery dress of immaculate cut, and a body that could launch at least seven hundred ships. Farmer Sue stood there with her legs spread apart, hands behind her back, and a pout on her cute little face.

“You’re not mad at me are you?” asked Farmer Sue in that pitiful little whine she had perfected for just such an occasion.

Farmer Dan said nothing. He was still leaning on his pitchfork, but now he was bent double with his head near the ground. He looked like a crudely formed capital “N.”

“Pweeze don’t be mad at me honey bunches,” said Farmer Sue as she started toward Farmer Dan. Her hand’s were still behind her back and she was walking in a side to side motion like a toy soldier with no hip joints.

Oh dear lord! thought Bessie. This woman was shameless.

“Leave me alone,” was Farmer Dan’s weak response.

Farmer Sue moved even closer and bent over Farmer Dan’s trembling form. She said in her psychopathic baby babble, “Are oo still my honey bunches of O’s?” She moved a hand from behind her back and placed it on top of Farmer Dan’s head. “Do oo want me to kiss it and make it better?”

“No,” sobbed Farmer Dan, “I don’t want you to touch me.”

Farmer Sue said, “I pwomise I won’t hurt oo again.”

Suddenly Farmer Dan stood up straight and yelled, “You’ll never change will you, you stupid cunt?!”

Farmer Sue and Farmer Dan stared at each other for a moment. Then Sue revealed what was in the hand that had been behind her back. Farmer Dan pulled the pitchfork from the ground and readied himself.

And now for some good, clean fun, thought Bessie.

Story 6

Henry Gould laid in bed as he did every morning. He laid there on his back, head propped up staring down his body which was covered by a single sheet. The sheet rose and fell as Henry pivoted his feet at the end of the bed. He raised the sheet up until it was just under his eyes, then he stared down the green-striped sheet at the twin peaks formed by toes. It looked like a circus big top viewed through a fish-eye lens. He pivoted his feet again and the big top collapsed throwing the circus into disarray.

Henry let go of the sheet and reached over to the nightstand to retrieve a book. It was The ‘Hitler Myth’ by Ian Kershaw. Thumbing through the book he looked at random pages, then turned to the table of contents. Henry read several of the chapter headings then closed the book and looked at the front cover. On it was a picture of Hitler with his arm raised. In the background children looked at him in awe.

Henry rolled over on his stomach and placed the book back on the nightstand. Curling his hands around a pillow, he turned his head to the side and looked at the digital clock on the nightstand. The clock read 8:47 in big red numbers and a little red dot was lit up next to the letters AM. Henry stretched his arm over to the clock and fiddled with the controls on its top side for a few seconds. He turned the volume knob up as high as it would go, then he turned it back down to its original level. He flicked the alarm switch on and off several times, watching the little red indicator light up.

Henry switched the alarm off one last time and grabbed the TV remote. Turning over on his back again, he pressed the ‘on’ button and the TV came to life. The television sat on a TV tray against the wall at the foot of the bed. The picture tube crackled with static electricity as it formed the vague outline of a woman doing aerobics. It was an older woman, probably in her mid to late 50s. Her name was Martha. She was laying on her side and lifting her right leg into the air. Then she stood up and waved her arms about. She had flabby arms and the flab shook with each wave.

Henry changed the channel to PBS. On the screen was a man who looked like a mad scientist. He was lecturing on physics. His hair was wiry and gray and stuck up on each side of his head. He had on a blue short sleeve shirt and a pair of charcoal gray slacks that were pulled up to his chest. He was sweaty and nervous. The scientist moved from demonstration to demonstration stopping only to emphasize a point or to drink from one of several glasses of water setting on the tables. Occasionally he would write a complicated formula on the chalkboard. When he spoke to the audience, he addressed them as “Ladies and gentlemen and boys and girls.”

Henry flipped through a few more channels, then turned the television off and let the remote drop to the floor. He turned over on his side and stared at the computer desk against the wall. It formed an “L” in the corner of the room. It had a light gray top and black legs. On top of it was a Packard Bell computer, a Sony boom box, several compact discs, and various papers. Henry rolled out of the bed and stepped over to the desk in one big step. He pulled a green vinyl office chair out from under the desk and sat down. Picking up some headphones, he hit play on the boom box’s cassette deck. The music played loudly over the headphones and he put them on his ears. It was The Police. They were singing “Don’t Stand So Close to Me.” He listened to the rest of the song then removed the headphones and pressed the stop button on the cassette player.

Henry got up and moved over to the bookcase next to the desk. Most of the books were science fiction classics, but a few were political writings. Henry run his hand along the rows of books. His fingernails made clicking noises on their spines. He rearranged a few of the books that formed series so that they ran in order from left to right. Then he turned on the green and black lava lamp resting on top of the bookcase.

Henry now moved over to the closet. An assortment of worn out clothes hung on a rack over a bureau. Henry opened the top drawer of the bureau and took out a pair of white briefs. He sniffed at them tentatively then put them on his head and danced in a little circle. After a couple of turns he stopped and put the underwear back into the drawer. He open the second drawer and pulled out a pair of silky white panties. He put these on his face so that the crotch ran between his eyes and he could see through the leeg holes. He looked like a humanoid insect. Henry buzzed around in a little circle.

Henry then moved over to the television. Underneath the TV tray were several movies: some in big boxes, some in little boxes, and some in no boxes at all. He picked up one in a big box. It was “Debbie Does Dallas.” All of the movies in the big boxes were pornos. The rest were science fiction movies and home videos. He stuck one of the home videos in the VCR sitting on top of the television. Turning the TV back on he stepped back to see what was on the screen. It was a cute little black lab puppy. It was yapping and running around. Someone threw a beer can across the ground and the puppy went and fetched it. Henry began laughing and that made the panties puff out from his face.

Henry turned away from the television. He stood up straight and stretched his hands above his head. He stretched for a long time and stared at the ceiling as he was doing it. The ceiling was plywood that had been painted white. Some of the nails holding it in place had worked themselves loose and stuck out about a quarter of an inch. Henry jumped up and tried to push one back in, but it wasn’t loose enough for him to push.

Henry turned to leave the room. As he walked toward the door he stumbled over something. It was a body. He looked down at the body and let out a long breath which made the panties puff out again. He looked up and walked out of the room, then out of the house. He took the panties off his face and hung them on his car’s radio antenna. He got in the car, started it up, and roared off down the street. Henry Gould never looked back.