Short Stories Archives - The Cracked Door

Covering for a Flight (Short Story)

Putri quickly uncovered her face. The security officer needed to see her face to compare with her Indonesian ID card. She rushed to cover herself back off with her niqab before anyone else could see her, but she struggled to tuck the fabric back in place. She had never really worn a niqab before and struggled to get it just right.

Ok, done. She did a doubletake around to see whether anyone had spotted her.

“That’s all,” the officer said. “Have a safe flight.”

She walked over to her gate, worried that she be spotted. She hoped no one was around who might recognize her. Her family didn’t know she was taking this trip, and she wanted to keep it that way. The airport was small. Only a couple gates as it was a small town.

She began to look for her gate, but her stomach started to growl. She still had an hour before her flight left plenty of time to grab lunch. She walked up to the line to order some food at a nearby counter. After she told the lady what she wanted, she turned around to find a table. That’s when he spotted her.

“Hello Putri, is that you?” a voice called to her from behind her in the line after ordering her food.

She turned around, and there was Ismail in a casual yet professional suit jacket and button down shirt. What was he doing here?

“What are you doing here?” he asked. “Or, I guess I didn’t know you were going on a trip.”

“Yes sir,” she replied.

She got a better look at him when she turned around to find a seat. He looked like he was wearing nice clothes that he hadn’t tidied up yet, almost as if he was flying to a business meeting and would button his collar and apply his tie after he arrived. He smiled at her as she walked by.

He approached her table a few minutes later after he had gotten his food, “Funny thing seeing you here,” not asking if he could join her.

She said nothing. “You look nervous,” he said to keep the conversation going. “Have you never flown before?”

She nodded yes.

“I see. I was nervous the first time as well,” he tried to reassure, but she got the sense that he had been too young the first time he had flown for him to remember. From a wealthier family in the town, he was now a business man. He was always going somewhere on some trip.

“Yes, my flight heads out soon,” she replied, hoping to use this as an excuse to leave the conversation.

“Where are you going?” he responded.

She had been so anxious she had completely forgot where she was flying to. She got out her ticket from her pocket, which read that she was flying to Bali. Too frazzled to say its name, she showed him the ticket.

“Oh, that’s a fun place,” he replied. “Today, I’m going to Manila, but I wish I was going there, though. It’s much more fun,” chuckling.

“Are you traveling alone?” he filled the resulting silence with.

What an unfair question. She had never been able to lie, so she simply nodded her head yes. He looked at her like one coming upon a nice cake at the shop of a bakery.

“And are you meeting anyone there?”

She nodded no.

“Wow, have you traveled alone before?”

Again, she simply nodded no.

“That’s very brave of you.”

“Thank you,” she murmured politely.

Never mind that he traveled alone all the time. She leaned back in her chair as if to get away from him as much as possible. He now saw her as available.

“You know, it’s very nice to get out of this town every once in a while. It puts things into perspective. To see new possibilities.”

She eyed the clock and checked the time of her flight. She was about to say that she had to go catch her flight, but he came in too fast.

“When is your flight?”

She read him the time.

“That’s not for another hour. You don’t have to worry about it now. As the first time you’ve flown, you must be a little nervous, but trust me, it’s fine. You have plenty of time.”

Ugh, why won’t he let me leave?

She looked throughout the hallway of the terminal to think about her options. How could she get away from him? She saw a sign for the toilet. That would work.

“I have to go to…” she began, but before she could mention the toilet, he came in again.

“I was talking with your mother the other day.”

She paused and sunk a little into her seat. This wouldn’t be good. She couldn’t leave whatever he was about to say unsettled. She would have to stay.

“She said you have an exciting interview coming up. That’s amazing. Congratulations!”

He paused, clearly anticipating something from her other than the blank stare she gave him.

“I didn’t know it was in Bali, though. I thought it was somewhere closer.”

That was the lie she told her mom about this trip. That she was heading to a nearby town for a few days for an exciting job interview. Her mom even took drove her to the bus station. Instead of catching a bus, though, she took a taxi to the airport to head to Bali. When she got back, she was going to say the interview didn’t go well and that she didn’t think she’d hear back from the employers. This was the only way she could think of to get away from it all. Her family would never have approved of her taking a trip alone so far away.

“Yes,” she finally spoke. “It’s in Bali.”

“I kind of wish it was somewhere closer to here. Maybe then we’d be able to see each other more…”

“I know,” she said. She couldn’t have him go blather to anyone that he saw her at the airport, but how could he convince him of that without explaining that this was all a lie?

“Are you considering moving to Bali?” he asked.

“We’ll see.” She was just going on a trip to get away from it all here, but she didn’t need to tell him that. Part of her would love to move to Bali. She’s seen all the pictures, but deep down, she knows that would never happen. She’s just taking a trip. He didn’t need to know that.

“Don’t you have such a nice life for yourself here?”

Absolutely not. She hated this small town, trapped in the same set of relationships with the same people, far away from any semblance of a good economy, but instead she just sat there and said nothing as he continued. He knew he had his life set here with his family business, so of course, he’d prefer if she stayed too.

“What are your plans?”

“I don’t know yet. I am just going for a single interview. I don’t know if it will even work out. If it does, I will figure it out from there.”

“I wish I had known you were going to Bali. I had friends there who you could have stayed with. What are your plans after your interview? You still could hang out with them if you’d like. They could show you around.”

“Thanks, but I won’t have time. I have a tight schedule.” She wished she could stay with someone she knew. It would have saved her a lot of money, but she would never stay with any of his people.

“It’s not a problem. I can text them right now…”

“No!” she shot back. He looked almost taken aback by an assertiveness in her voice that she had not before in the conversation. “Don’t tell them!”

He looked puzzled at her sudden conviction. “Why? It’s not like you visiting there is a secret? Do you…”

He saw her look of horror at this statement.

“You haven’t told anyone in town that you are going to Bali. Have you?”

She didn’t say anything but just looked at him dejected. Her secret has been found out. “I just don’t want anyone back home to think of me differently, as someone with such an opportunity, unless I actually do get the job.”

“That’s fair. You may have to tell them eventually, though, but I’ll keep your secret.”

He agreed to keep it under wraps. She no longer had a reason to stay in conversation with this man.

“Thank you,” she murmured. “Now if you would excuse me, I really have to use the toilet.”

She left too quickly to look at him give an excuse for her to stay. All she heard was him faintly calling back that she hoped she had a good time. She didn’t care. She was free. Would he actually spill the beans? That was a problem for another day. After the toilet, she’d find a different place to wait in the airport, one where he was unlikely to be.

The Box’s Joy (A Short Story)

There once was a box. It packed a toy truck that a mother bought for her little boy for his second birthday. The box was excited to be taken home to see what his life would entail now that he was leaving the boring store.

The boy tore open the gift wrap surrounding, ripped him open, and took out the truck. He ran it around the home for a few minutes, but then he ran up to the box.

The boy gazed at him excitedly. The box got to be a rocket ship that day, blasting off to Mars. Then, he was a time machine, taking the boy back to the days of the dinosaurs. They played for weeks, and each day, the box was thrilled to become new things.

Soon, however, the parents put the truck back inside him and stuck him in a closet, where he sat for years. Eventually, the boy took him out. He was much older now. All he did was put some clothes and items into the box to take off to college.

There, he sat for many more years in the dorm closet, only to be moved a few years later when the man got his new home. Again, he gathered dust as he aged, remembering the time when he could be a rocket ship.

One day, a new person opened his closet and gazed upon him. It was a young girl.

She looked at him dazzled and dragged him out. She threw open all the stuff inside him. He got to be a castle, then a throne, then a tall mountain, and the vastness of space itself.

He was older now; some of his walls started to fold. After she was done playing, her parents took one look at the box with his sags and new holes and carried him out to the curb.

The next day it started to rain. His skin fell apart.

The girl ran up smiling with delight. She picked him up with his sagging wetness and danced together in the puddle. He dripped with tears of joy as he got to be a prince in his final moments before the garbage collectors came and took him away.

The Freezer (A Short Story)

There it is, the Cooler. The place I’d have to go. My boss asked me to do an inventory to count every single thing in that cold dark room.

I walk into the huge fridge. The door automatically snaps shut behind me. It’s a long corridor with one bend, which leads to another narrow sliver of a room. A passageway to nowhere. On all sides are piles of boxes of frozen foods, almost squeezing me shut at any moment. No matter how many times I come I can never get used to this space.

I begin my inventory count with boxes of canned peas. For each box I see, I make a mark on my little notepad. Then I move onto the next item. It’s pretty boring. Why did I even accept this job? I had little choice at the time. It offered a paycheck after I graduated, the only way I could find to pay my student loans and afford rent. I can still picture my father’s dejected expression when I told him about the offer. My dad was too polite to say what he thought, and just gave me a blank congratulations, but I could tell he was realizing that all his dreams for what his son would amount to would come to nothing.

Anyways, where was I? I was now counting ice cream carts. If only I could eat one. There’s a new cart. I mark a check on the page, but wait? I check where I marked it. Was that the group for ice cream or one of the other foods? I can’t remember. My little notepad is becoming filled with little groups of marks, too many to remember which is which.

I’m such a fuck up?! I can’t even count carts of ice cream. No wonder I can’t find a good job. I’ll be stuck working here until the day I die.

I guess I never really liked my job anyways. It’s so boring. That is the real reason I can’t keep anything straight. I just don’t care. If I had a real job, I would do it well, or at least, I hope I wouldn’t find a way to mess that up too.

A loud crash in the other passageway snaps me back to reality. What on earth is that? Something must have fallen. Was that me? I’ve been shifting boxes around to do this count, but I hadn’t touched anything over there. Why would something have fallen over there?

I place my clipboard down and walk over to see what happened. There’s nothing. No strewn boxes. Maybe I just heard something. Maybe someone dropped something on the other side of the wall.

I come back, and I can’t find the notepad. I thought I had just set it down on this one box. Where could it have gone? I look around. It’s not on the other boxes. Did it fall somewhere? I start rummaging through a few boxes, moving some around and looking through them. No notepad. I can never seem to find anything anyways.

Kneeling before a box, my butt accidently knocks the stack of boxes behind it. A couple of them crash loudly onto the ground. Just another example of me failing. I begin to look over to see the damage.

But several more boxes fall. This time, they’re in the other room. I shoot straight up. That can’t be me. I hear a growling noise. Something is there.

I don’t have time for this, and I run straight to the door, but it’s locked. I try to pound against it, but no one is outside. The door is pretty thick to seal in the cold. It’s not like they could hear my knocking anyways. My phone has never worked in this deep part of the basement. The creature moves as I knock, as if the noise is stirring it.

This can’t be happening. I do the only thing that makes sense, and that is to go back to work. It’ll keep my mind off of whatever is going on on the other side. That’s all I am here to do. I count the boxes of items. I don’t have my notepad, but that’s okay. I can keep track of the numbers in my head. I hear it moving about. It knocks over boxes, and its breathing grows strained like it’s choking on its own droll. I desperately cling to counting my canned mangoes.

WHACK! It sounds like an entire shelf of stuff has fallen over there. I completely lose track of my count. The bang seems to dig into my very bones. “I’m so dumb?!” I shout reflexively. The creature stops for a few seconds of eerie silence. Then it makes its way towards my room. It must have heard me!

I instinctively dive behind a set of boxes in a vain attempt to protect myself. I’m too much of a wimp to take it on. This is why I deserve death. I wasted my life; why wouldn’t I also waste my death, just sitting here waiting for it to come pounce on me. And what a way to go? In the very bowels of my employer, who doesn’t care enough about me? I bet they’d just clean up my body, make an insurance claim about the goods my blood got spilled on, and move on like nothing happened. Why did I waste my life here?

I hear the monster on the other side of my tower of boxes, gurgling and foaming. That’s it. If I am going to die, I might as well do something. I knock over a box of cans on the top of my stack so that it falls directly on top of it. I hear it whimpering in pain. That slowed it down, but it’s still making its way up my tower.

I plunge my hand into another box and the first thing I can find. It’s a small metallic can of tuna about the size of a fist. This will work. I can use it to punch the beast. Its ugly head rears the top of my fortress as it climbs down, coming straight for me.

I draw back my fist when I realize that it nuzzles its head against my leg. What does it want? I don’t know, but it seems friendly. It looks at me, whimpering in a high pitched voice at my shaking body that I have curled up in the fetal position. I feel an immense compassion towards it: it was simply trapped in this dungeon just trying to get by, like me. When it realizes that I’m not going to give it food, it wanders over to the puddle of food that fell out of their packaging all over the floor in another part of the freezer, slurping it up desperately.

I seize the moment and rush to the door, trying to jiggle it open again. It turns out it was unlocked the whole time. I guess in my panic before, I couldn’t get the latch at the proper angle. I rush outside and don’t look back.

Screw this job. I’m going home.

The Walking Dream (A Short Story)

I woke up groggy from a long night, my muscles sore and my head still tired as if I never really slept. I felt the dream cascade on top of me. It’s feeling looming over my mind with omnipresent vividness, but I could not remember exactly what happened.

I was there when he did it all to me. That’s what I could feel. Who was he again, and what did he do? My memory retreated like a wave. I just had the feeling of standing there.

Except I couldn’t move. I just stood. I just remember standing at attention. For what though? I stood in some kind of line; that’s what it was. A line of other bodies.

While standing there, I woke up for some reason. Well, sort of, I became aware of my presence, of my body, but I could not move. He controlled my body; he controlled all our bodies. We stood in formation at his command. But who even was he?

The part of it that doesn’t make sense is that it felt like I was actually there. It didn’t have the fuzziness that dreams normally have. I felt like I was seeing with my actual eyes, feeling the sensations of my actual body, and moving with my actual limbs. I could still feel it in the way my muscles twitched now from exhaustion just thinking about it. It didn’t feel like a normal dream. No haziness in my perception. I swear I was actually there.

And who were the others? They were countless other bodies; other drones to his will. I guess the more important question remains, who was he? I have a vivid impression in my mind. Of him looming large before me. He did it. He felt like an evil monster bearing down at me from above. But I have no face, no body for him.

And what did he have us do? I can scarcely remember that either. He had us march. He sent us to do his bidding. As he did so, I saw that he saw that I could see him; that even though my body was still under his control, that my sensations had somehow woken up. He brought me back into a deep sleep, and I lost the ability to remember anything at all.

I felt like I had barely slept at all. My mind rushed trying to remember it all yet the air of my memory is quickly evaporating. How was I going to go about my day today? How would I survive work? Exhausted, I feel like I can barely move, even though I just woke up. If I had too many of these restless nights, I would have to see a sleep doctor.

Who was he? I couldn’t get this thought out of my mind. My thoughts felt like ropes that I pulled and pulled until they faded away into nothing. Whoever he was, I did not like him.

I got up and followed the rhythm I had always known to get ready for the day. I was on autopilot, too tired to do anything else. Eventually, I skated out the door, and the dream just remained as a faint feeling. I could not decipher any details. When I thought back, I only felt a looming terror washes over me. My body convulsed with anticipation. I felt the sensation of standing, of marching, of someone staring down at me. Nothing more.

When The World from Under Rebels (A Short Story)

Every several years, the moon successfully ascends to dethrone the sun. That is when the worlds invert, and night invades the day.

The moon absorbs all the dead spirits that fall down into the underworld. This gives them a home while the courts of the sun prepare for their trial at its appointed time so that these ghosts don’t muck up the earth too much. Every night, the earth flips over, facing the moon, allowing some of the spirits to transcend to the world and find their kin or take care of some unfinished business.

But this is not always enough. Every once in a while a contingency of the moon ghosts make a climb up to the heavens during the day to supplant the sun and finish its job filtering ghosts from the earth. We call these an eclipse.

The moon turns the earth into night. The animals know what is about to happen and freak out in horror. The humans, mesmerized, simply stare up at the sun.

Like bats, thousands of spirits pour out from the moon and make their initial jump into the earth. You can hear their strange whoosh in the air all around. They take the spirits of the most persistent ghosts who refuse to sink down and join them below.

They can only hold back the sun for a few minutes, though, and eventually, the sun throws them back down. These ghost soldiers know this and go straight after the ghosts they are set to capture to bind them up. Some soldier ghosts, though, once free secretly remain on the earth, often the first deserters to be sought after next time around.

Through all of this, they cleanse the earth of the spirits of old, that is until more spirits can accumulate. The earth’s environment must adjust to having no spirits. You’d think this would produce consistency, but our ecology systems were built around the presence of these ghosts and spend the next several days readjusting. Eventually, however, it instills a brighter world until too many spirits accumulate again, and another cleansing is needed.

The Tower of Hattan (A Short Story)

One day a man of Hattan said, “We should build a giant skyscraper up to the heavens. It would be the perfect city, heaven on earth, with everything we need all in one place: our homes, our businesses, our shopping, our schools, our worship, our recreation. We would be able to do everything inside without ever having to leave.”

Many people in Hattan liked this, so they elected him mayor. They began construction immediately in the city’s center.

God saw their desire to build a wondrous tower just like the heavens and decided to help them. As construction demands grew, they needed more and more workers, so God brought people from all corners of the world to help create, build, and dwell in this new heaven, and they settled in the areas surrounding the tower.

As these workers started to build, some became weary of how these foreigners were hurting the city. Even worse, they started to incorporate their own thinking, their own concepts into the building. As the building became larger, these became parts of the foundation of this skyscraper.
The mayor tried to counter with an even more ambitious, unified plan to build over and around the deviations, which had become too embedded into the tower’s structural integrity to remove.

This required even more people with even more language and ideas. They moved into the ever-expanding communities surrounding the tower. Eventually, these peoples became weary of constructing the tower for the ungrateful inhabitants. Instead, these communities elected a new mayor who cancelled its construction once and for all to focus on the economic development of the now sprawling city and its residents.

At a press conference after her inauguration, she announced, “We will preserve the remains of this site as a memorial to our attempt to build a tower over the heavens.”

“The past mayor promised to build a heavenly place for us to live. What do you say to criticism that you are stopping this attempt to construct this heaven?” A journalist inquired.

“We are still going to try to make this city into its own heaven,” she replied. “But God’s Heaven is just wide before it is high.”

The Woman in the Green Dress (A Short Story)

I stood there transfixed. I didn’t know why. I hadn’t been dumbfounded like this before for a long time. What was it about her?

She stood in front of me smiling. She had long, straight black hair down to her shoulders. There her hair ended with a slight fold like a J on her shoulder, and the straps of her green dress started. It was an elegant green shawl with a matching green gown that extended all the way down to her legs, where it seemed to almost transition into the green from the forest.

“Why are you dressed so nicely to walk through the jungle like this?” I asked. And at like 6:00 am, I thought to myself.

“Oh thank you,” she chirped back. “I’m on my way home from my night out.”

“Where do you live? I see nothing but banana trees.”

“Come. I can show you.”

She grabbed my arm and started walking. I hesitated at first, but I had nothing better to do. I wasn’t really feeling my morning jog anymore anyways.

As she walked, it seemed more like she was gliding through the shrubs rather than taking steps. She moved with the ease of someone who was at home in this place.

“Where are you from?” she asked.

I explained how I am an American on vacation to Chiang Mai, needing a break from the constant churn of work.

“Humanity just constantly spins in an endless cycle,” she replied.

“Where are you from, and what do you do?” I asked, but she just grabbed my arm.

“I’ll show you,” she beckoned. I got confused as she took me deeper into the forest, where it seemed even less likely someone would live.

Suddenly, she stopped, in front of a massive banana tree.

“This is my home,” she explained. I began to reply, “Where? In the tree?” There was nothing here, just the forest. But as my words came out, she waved her index finger in front of my mouth, whispering “Shh.” I got really sleepy all of the sudden and collapsed into her arms.

Next thing I remember, I woke up on a bed in a bedroom with yellow walls.

“Where am I?” I screamed.

She walked over and sat on the bed next to my feet. “This is my home.”

“What?! Where did you take me?”

“This is my home, inside the banana tree.”

I screamed confused, but she whispered to me to go back to sleep saying she would explain when I was ready.

That was how I first came here. When I woke up next, I learned that she lived many many years ago but now inhabited this tree.

She said she once was a living person, but after her death, she realized how much humans stress themselves with the constant churn: to produce more, build more wealth, gain more status. Like a wave constantly hitting against the shore in an endless cycle. Now, she lives in the banana tree in peace and tranquility. She can go out and visit the humans when she wants to watch our flurry of activity, but she has mostly just enjoyed the peace of being in the forest.

“You sound like you need a break,” she explained. “So, you can stay with me as long as you’d like. I have everything your mortal body could possibly need here: food, water, a bed to sleep. But you can leave anytime you like.”

Sometimes I do go out for a few days to see the human world again. But mostly, I find peace in the tranquil state of existence under the banana tree with her by my side.

When I do go into the city, I find signs with a picture of my face labelled as a missing person. By this point, the humans must presume I’m dead. But they can only view “living” as producing within their system of constant churn, so it makes sense they would view my existence as a type of death. But I have really never felt more alive in my life.

Ghosts at the Window (Short Story)

As she was drifting off to sleep, she heard the tap on her window. It jolted her awake. At first she thought it was just a tree swaying against the glass, but then she realized, “No, someone was tapping on her window.”

She knew not to look. The ghost is looking for a soul. If she gets up to examine what it is, it’ll know she was there. The best thing to do is to lay still. Not to even open her eyes. If she could lie perfectly still, it would be able to tell there was a living person in this room.

Tap tap tap. Why did it stay here so long? She remembered. The last resident of this home was fascinated with the world of the ghosts and would talk with them, until eventually getting sucked into their realm forever more. The ghost must have frequently come to visit her at night.

The ghost let out a moan sounding just like the howling wind. It was calling for her friend. The ghost must have done this every night since she left. Did it not know that she was in her world now? Why was it looking for her here? Maybe it was returning to this familiar spot, hoping that she could find another participant there to hang out with.

If so, what was the ghost like as a companion? Some learned a lot from the ghosts, reporting that the ghosts gave them a different perspective on the cosmos around them. Others grew paler and paler from the encounters until they too roamed the streets at night looking for new souls.

She did not care to learn about these ghosts. It was too risky. Instead, she lied there with her eyes closed as other worlds knocked on her window, hoping it would all go away soon.

The Rabbit amidst the Flood (A Short Story)

I am going to bring floodwaters on the earth to destroy all life under the heavens, every creature that has the breath of life in it. Everything on earth will perish. (Genesis 6:17, NIV Translation)

“We aren’t enough,” the rabbit cried to the others. They all looked equally perplexed and hurt.

“But why?” One stammered.

“I don’t know. God wants to do us all over again. That’s what he said. I was there when he spoke to the human.”

“But how would he expect to do that?”

“A giant flood.”

The statement washed over them. No one knew what to say. The rabbit sat there, but he could tell they couldn’t handle his presence anymore, so he left.

He stared out into the great vast night thinking about what would happen. Was God really going to drown them all? Did he do something wrong to deserve this? Was he or those he loved really so bad to deserve this?

God had said this newest species, the humans, had done something wrong, and he now regretted making them and all the other animals. But why single out all other animals as well? God couldn’t have been giving the whole story to this human. Maybe God only mentioned human wrongdoing to this human. The animals must have been something bad to get lumped in with the humans like this, and that was what he was going to find out.

Over the next several days, the rabbits spread the message of doom among the other animals.

The rabbit tried to work with the other creatures to form an action plan, but at first, the other animals just freaked out. They tried to think of as many ways as they could to pacify the deity and to convince him that their lives were worth continuing. They built altars to self-conflagrate, hoping this would appease God. Some even offered themselves to be sacrificed on the hope that their deaths might save all the other creatures.

Others turned to asceticism, convinced that we all must be too involved in the pleasures of the world. That must be why God is doing this. If they denied these to themselves, they thought they could save themselves or maybe even all the creatures of the world. Some predators even renounced eating their fellow animals entirely, until they withered nearly to the point of starvation.

God remained silent, never seeming to budge or care about how these animals harmed themselves on his behalf, but the rabbit could not get them to sit down and listen. So, he decided he needed to move on.

He went to the ocean, maybe the creatures of the sea had ideas on what to do. He sat at the edge of the water, striking up a conversation with a few sharks. As the rabbit asked for advice, they just laughed.

“There’s nothing you can do,” one shouted back. “Whatever you did wrong; you must accept your fate. Soon enough we will feast on the bounty of your corpses.”

He couldn’t get anything useful from them. The lucky freaks were immune, which they had come to see as a type of ordained privilege, as if they deserved to survive unlike these damned landed creatures. The fish did not see their land as kin but simply as an upcoming harvest.

These fish had given him an idea. They felt fine because they did not think they would be hurt by the danger. With proper hope for survival, his fellow landed creatures would be able to keep going. As a community, if they worked together, they might be able to influence the mind of God.

When he returned to his neighborhood, things had changed drastically. Anger had swept the terrestrial creatures. How could this god smite them for the evil the humans had done? They had each found their own way to curse God and die. Some retreated to their own worlds, where they could be by themselves. Even creatures that usually lived in flocks turned on each other and left for their own wildness.

Others sought to destroy the world around them. It was all going to wash away anyways. Who cares? They attacked other animals without thought or concern, seeming to revel in destruction. A few channeled their anger at the human building the ark, attacking him, his family, and the ark itself. He and his family were always able to hunt down the creatures that went after them, though, like God was protecting them.

Evidently, the other humans did not believe him about what God had said and criticized him for building the ark, but these animals strategically attacking him seemed to convince them that some unforeseen divine initiative was afoot. He thought some supernatural beings were sending him waves of animals to try to prevent him from fulfilling God’s command. This caused the humans to leave him alone and let him face his fate with the divine alone. For them, the gods must be having an argument, and they would wait to decide which side won.

The rabbit developed the idea to try to build his own ark. He organized a group of creatures with different sizes and skills, and they started by watching the human see how to build one. But they were never able to replicate his tools. They had no thumbs to hammer or even form the hammers and nails in the first place.

What they constructed never got off the ground. He could only compare his failure with the providential success of the man’s even more massive boat. He slowly realized all hope was lost. He was going to die. This God had decided to kill them, and there was nothing they could do about it. And for what? For the evils of some humans beyond their control. He really hated these humans.

He sunk into his burrow refusing comfort. As his daughter, I tried to get food for him to keep him going, but there seemed little point. He had already accepted that he was going to die, and nothing would change his mind.

In the process of finding food, the ark-building human found me. I had been chosen, as one of only two rabbits to survive on his boat. I desperately wanted to be with my father, but I guess I had another calling. God himself seemed to pick me, because no matter how much I tried to escape to see my father in his last moments, I could not.

As the waters engulfed the earth and we remained in our protective kiln of ark, I looked at the darkening world. As the waters rose, I could see my father salvaging the last bits of his makeshift boat, trying to keep his raft together on top of the coming storm, only for one extra-large wave to sink him into the depths.

This is the story I tell to you my children. Tell the story of your Great Rabbit Father. Remember the loss that God wrought onto us animals because of the humans. Trust no one. Humanity and their God least of all. Once we hopped in pride, but we must be vigilant. The world is dark and horrifying, and all we can do is try our best to survive.

Fly Away from Work (A Short Story)

A man sits in his office, bored at the task he has been given. As he types, he gazes out the window and notices a flying pink elephant looking at him.

Confused, he walks over to the window to investigate, but as he approaches, the elephant disappears. But once he got to the window, he noticed her at the corner of the building across the street waving for him to come join her.

He opened the window and left. He could fly. He flew far away from his job, never turning back.