Category: random

He rushed back to his unit as soon as work let out. JCH720 had a schedule to maintain.

He quickly got on his stationary bike and began pedaling. He had to turn the green light to red before he was finished.

As he pedaled, he thought about how he’d seen his reflection in a large pane of glass. The sight of his boniness caught him by surprise.

“It is unlawful to look at yourself in anything reflective,” a supervisor said over the address system. “Do you understand?”

JCH720 nodded his head sharply and returned to work.

As soon as the light changed color, he went directly to the shower to rinse his body off. JCH720 changed into clean clothes, got his food, and sat on the floor in front of the broadcast screen.

No sooner had he taken a bite than the screen whined to life, and the computer-generated individual began reading news briefs. This was the daily highlight for JCH720.

After swallowing his final bit of food and rinsing it down with water, the news-reader said, “And as a reminder, it is unlawful to view oneself in any reflective object. Violators will be severely punished.”

“Thank you for being a good citizen. Goodnight,” the reader said, and the screen went blank.

JCH720 scooted across the floor to his sleeping pad and laid on it. He had a little more than a minute to think about what sort of punishment he would receive in the morning.

He knew better than to say anything aloud as he was sure that “the walls have ears.” In the distance and growing closer, JCH720 could hear the soft thudding of the switches as power was cut to each unit in the complex.

Fatigue quickly caught up with JCH720, and soon he was fast asleep.

Mag 0.9 earthquake, NW of Walker, Calif., Friday, 6 Aug 2021, 12:47 am
Mag 1.2 earthquake, E of Coleville, Calif., Friday, 6 Aug 2021, 8:07 am
Mag 1.4 earthquake WSW of Coleville, Calif., Friday, 6 Aug 2021, 1:08 pm
Mag 0.9 earthquake, NW of Walker, California, Friday, 6 Aug 2021, 8:06 pm
Mag 1.4 earthquake WSW of Coleville, Calif., Friday, 6 Aug 2021, 1:08 pm
Mag 1.0 earthquake, SE of Coleville, Calif., Friday, 6 Aug 2021, 9:24 pm
Mag 1.2 earthquake, ENE of Walker, Calif., Friday, 6 Aug 2021, 10:23 pm

Mag 0.7 earthquake, ESE of Walker, Calif., Saturday, 7 Aug 2021, 1:02 am
Mag 1.4 earthquake, SW of Dayton, Nev., Saturday, 7 Aug 2021, 2:15 am
Mag 0.8 earthquake, W of Walker, Calif., Saturday, 7 Aug 2021, 3:29 am
Mag 1.2 earthquake, W of Walker, Calif., Saturday, 7 Aug 2021 4:40 am
Mag 1.9 earthquake, SE of Markleeville, Calif., Saturday, 7 Aug 2021, 6:12 pm
Mag 1.2 earthquake, NW of Virginia City, Nev., Saturday, 7 Aug 2021, 7:43 pm
Mag 0.9 earthquake, SSW of Dayton, Nev., Saturday, 7 Aug 2021, 8:26 pm

Mag 2.6 earthquake, WNW of Ruth, Nev., Sunday, 8 Aug 2021, 12:01 am
Mag 1.6 earthquake, NE of Dardanelle, CA, Sunday, 8 Aug 2021, 11:19 am

My Cousin Elmo says, “I like big boobs and small government.”

Have you heard the one where I went on a three-minute date with a time-traveling princess from the Old West?
Brittan makes for a good story.
She arrived forty years too early.
My coffee was still hot, as was she.
Her hand-carved ivory cameo brooch winked and whistled at me.
I was delighted.
This beauty, though, was less than thrilled.
She expected a much younger man.
I was already child-like with my gray hairs and white whiskers.
Our minds tried to meld, but my hands could not grasp the reality she was offering.
In the blink of an eye, she vanished, and I became older than my many years.
I wish she’d left my dog behind.
Loneliness does not suit me in any world, off-or-on.

They were surprised to see me.

Between them sat a large, old-fashioned ribbon microphone. I could not see what it was connected to.

The duo opened their mouths, and as one, they spoke. A deep guttural voice came from their throats as spittle gathered at the corners of their mouths, “You have made it this far.”

“But I’ll have to go no farther,” I returned.

“I’ll burn this house down to kill you!” they screamed.

“No you won’t,” I said. “Besides, we’re not finished with you yet.”

“We?” they demanded.

Picking up and speaking into the microphone, I answered, “Patience.”

“You can’t tell us to be patient!” they shouted.

I ignored them, pushing the heavy red velvet curtain aside, revealing a spiral staircase that I followed upward to a small, unadorned door at a recessed landing.

When I opened the door, I stepped into the parking lot. And as I walked up the hill, I heard their screams and Patience’s laughter as she set about her chores.

“Now, to figure out what to do about this head,” I said, though there was no one I was talking to.

Later, I would realize that I had forgotten to take even one photograph or a single note.

The head was on the third step down from the landing leading to the basement museum.

The plaster dust and wreckage in the narrow stairwell were undisturbed. There was no blood or gore around the severed head and no sign of a body.

Still, I stepped toward it with caution. The stairs quivered slightly beneath my foot.

When I reached the head, I lifted my foot to step over it, and a dry chuckle caused me to pause.

“Turn me over,” came a muffled command.

With the toe of my boot, I did so. I found myself looking into a desiccated, older version of myself.

“How do I look?” the head asked me.

“Dead,” I told him.

The head coughed and laughed at the same time, “Did you think you could ever end up like this?”

“You’re not me,” I replied

“But I am,” the head grinned. “Will you take me with you?”

“Nope,” I answered.

The head glared at me, “Why not?”

Without a word, I stepped over him, as the head swore at me in a cheerful tone, and continued to do so for as long as I could hear him.

He stopped me along Six-mile Canyon to pass on a bit of news.

Bill had been born and raised in Virginia City and, when he was old enough, he had joined the Navy and left town about as quick as he could. When he was thirteen, he had the misfortune of watching a drunken miner kill his saloon-keeping father.

Eventually, Bill returned, and he settled down, but not in VC. He had taken up residence in Dayton, but he did find occasion to come into VC now and again.

I was looking for a news story when Bill pulled up beside me, his wife and their children with him.

“Jus’ the man I want to see,” he said.

“Why’s that?” I asked.

“Passed by St. Mary a few minutes ago,” Bill said. “The doors are open, and it looks like they’ve been open all night.”

“The priest?” I asked.

“No sign of him,” Bill said. “I took a quick look inside, and the place is pretty busted up.”

“Thanks for letting me know,” I said.

Bill tipped his hat and drove off.

I capped my camera lens, felt for my pen and pad before driving towards the historic old church.

My Cousin Elmo says, “My life is entering a new chapter too bad the pages are stuck together.”

My Cousin Elmo says, “I think we’re normalized enough. It’s time we start paranormalizing.”

My Cousin Elmo says, “There isn’t much difference between having a lot of patience and not giving a shit.”