Category: Short Story

The Storm Doc’s Guests

Out of that hall in that stormy prelude.
Came a vast man cover in Jewels.
Holding a cane, likeness of shrewd.
Standing on a hill in front of the school.
He grabs that great cane with both knuckles;
then he proceeds to strike doubles,
Each strike to the ground causes a huge shock.
The sound causes all the land to caulk.
All of the folk move from their nest.
They all gather in front of that new Doc.
And he spoke with grand vigor and mirth to all of his guests,
“Come gather for a storm of magnitude,
In the halls where workers pile their tools.
We will cook a glorious stewed,
As we watch the storm frenzy from our stools.
Will light an inferno and snuggles,
each lighting raid, there be guggles.
While will tell stories and become a flock.
Do not disregard to bring your smock,
Never know when Storm comes to rests.
It will be an event for all the block.
So, the terrific storm is coming near, gather my guests. “
As we watch the storm there is a grand mood,
The night is great, and our eyes are pools,
And the hall’s full of stacks of food.
As the storm rage, appears a group of fools,
The jesters are performing juggles.
The raging storm took our struggles.
Then the storytellers begin to talk,
and all we could manage is to gawk.
Oh, this stunning night is the best.
Sadly, our host lift his great cane and knock.
He shouts, “The storm is over and it’s time to leave my guests”

We left that great hall; felt that disquietude.
For no stormy night could be as cools.
It’s a saddening and dull mood.
It’s sunny outside but we walk as ghouls.
 For the storm is gone thus we struggles.
We recall all of our troubles,
But we are of a strong and sturdy stalk,
For no great storm can sojourn our walk.
All folk here is jammed with grand zest,
To go on to see the end of the clock.
That cane hit soil, one last time by our host to farewell his guests.

Our homes are where this tale comes to conclude.
For Storm is gone but we will weave spools,
For all that snoop with their ears glued.
For those folks who can’t stop the endless drools.
For one’s that takes magic by smuggles.
For all of us lowly muggles,
Let’s meet in a tale told with winged-hawk.
For those who hear, magically rock.
For we are the ones that are test,
By the storm and thus is forever lock,
In that hall, with that man, with that cane, for we are his guests!

A Storm Doc came from an epilogue hall, cover in a smock.
His skin is a dark brown and he is holding a cane that thwack.
Under his smock, he had a jewel cover vest.
Every step he takes causes a shock.
For he is looking for his guests.

By M.I.D

Welcome Shelter

Welcome Shelter Thomas Kinkade #film volumetric lighting

The lonely old building stands in a nearly forgotten neighborhood in a rundown ghost town. The building is falling apart, it’s attacked by thousand’s species of flora. A simple house made from old red bricks.  The door frames leading into the building are long gone letting anyone who is seeking refuge to enter. Which a person did his name is Sidle Cael he is a man in his early forties and all vigor from him is gone. The man didn’t appear to even try to keep up an illusion of his youth. A long unkempt beard covers his face, his hair wild and barley and is cover by a broken dirty old hat. Sidle is in the old wine cellar of the ruined building; it appears whoever once owns the home had a pinch desire to store their wine and when they vacated the premises, they appear to leave their drink behind. The very drink that was almost completely pillaged by the vagabond.

The drunk man was clever and hardworking, he fixed what he could in the broken building to make his new home as livable, as he could make it. Sidle did have a good viewpoint on his life he thought (one can question this point). He strongly believes that somebody will eventually come through the broken door and tell him that it was all over. That he didn’t need to scavenge for food like a stray animal. That he was mad for building dozens of traps outside his house and need to get help. That there something wrong with him and not the world.

So, when he heard footsteps in the ramshackle building coming from above him on the first floor of his home, it appears whoever it was searching for something. Sidle snatches the machete behind the corner of the cellar near the place he keeps his bed and supplies. Normally, he would consider trying to talk to the entity entering his home first before assuming the worst. (though sometimes has pass send’s he tried this approach) But repeated betrayals and attacks from monsters had made him over years less inclined to do so. So, Sidle made traps around his house. Typically, the traps cause most of the monsters, and all but the extremely motivated individuals to leave him alone. There was nothing here but him and the derelict houses. The monstrosities have long sent scare off or have eaten the remaining inhabitants. The pillagers and scavengers (including himself) as long taken all the items that have value, leaving the only building with food and valuables is the lone building with the cellar.

The subtle sound of the door to the cellar was heard opening bringing long-forgotten light to the cave-like room. The wood creaking could be heard as a person made his way down the stairs. Sidle huddling in the corner holding a rusted machete stare at the intruder. He is a young man in his early twenties with a clean-shaven face. He is wearing what appears to be a navel uniform with the hat included. The uniform instead of being blue or black, it was a dark shade of purple.

The young man is grinning at Sidle and said with conspiracy, “is there any left.”

“Huh.”

“Man, you didn’t drink it all, did you. Fuck I came all this way because that rat Wessie said that his family had a cellar filled with pre-Alcohol!  And after seven days of travel, I found some crazy old man drunk it all!” The young man is shouting loud at this point which frightens Sidle. His first thought is the young man wanted the monsters to come to get him. His second thought is of pure joy though, it was that he was crazy this hold time. When looking at the clean-shaven well dress man, it wasn’t possible that the boy spends days fighting humans and monsters. To get some wine it was more likely, that he was insane, and the young officer will take him away to get help.

But before Sidle could reveal his revelation to the young man, he pulls up his risk to divulge what looks to be a smartwatch before typing it and lazily saying, “This is explored B2 reporting a code 2662032. Area coordinates are 52-52-66.”

Sidle enviously asked, “Is that a smartwatch?”

The young man looks confused but replied, “This is a radio, I know what it looks like. Even the Shelter engineers aren’t that good yet.”

The young man pauses when there was no reply he sighs and mutter, “Are you going to put down that knife, it is making me a little bit nervous. Oh, sorry about the screaming a little bit ago. I was indeed looking forward to booze.  You know a long week.”

Sidle lower his machete but kept it in his hand. The young man continues talking, “My name is Rigger Smilax. How is your day going?” The young man walks over to the corner where Sidle was and raised his hand.

Sidle was looking at the young man like he was insane, and after a moment of silence, he shakes the hand of Rigger. But he didn’t reply to the youth greeting. Rigger smiles again and said, “I figure you were the person that was trying to kill me for the last three days. My favorite part was the trap that shootout poison darts where do you even get darts nowadays.”, He said the last part with a friendly chuckle.

Rigger started to walk away and begin looking around the cellar. Sidle hesitantly said, “Mr. Cael…And you can say Sidle Cael didn’t drink all of the cellars. There still three bottles left of Mayacamas Vineyards.” Rigger stops his searching and gave him another smile that was gradually becoming annoying to Sidle. “Truly, how about this old man. I know of a place where things don’t try and kill you 24-7. And their bunch other people consecutively around with running water and food aplenty. And out of my generous heart, I’ll escort you to this paradise and all it will cost you is three bottles of wine.”

Rigger appears to have a jeep. The jeep deeply disturbed Sidle. It’s wrong to him there something off about it. He figures it’s the shine that covers the jeep like a new cover of paint had been applied. It’s purple which was strange to him as well. After a lot of talking with Rigger.  More conversation then Sidle had in years (most of the talking was done by Rigger). The conversation revolves around the life of Rigger. He claims that he came from a place called the Shelter. Which is in his eyes was the last great bastion of humanity. He talks about his friends, family, and loved ones. Which brought out sad memories for Sidle of his deceased daughter and wife.

Sidle still wasn’t sure about his sanity, in fact, he drew the conclusion that Rigger with his weird name and attitude must be a figment of his imagination. At first, he thought the man was a normal person trying to steal his wine, but as he spent time with Rigger. He noticed a few things about the man he had a weird habit of disappearing and reappearing when he wasn’t looking at him.  He often knows things that he shouldn’t have known about Sidle. He is slightly embarrassed that he is making imaginary friends at’s his age. But that could be the only possible explanation…

Rigger violently stops the jeep and pulls out a gun from his belt and crack open the jeep’s window and; begins firing at a large bug-like creature. After several shots, the giant bug dies. Sidle thought almost all the guns were either broken or didn’t have ammunition.

Rigger started up the jeep again and call back to Sidle

“Hey old man, are you still alive in there.”

“Yeah”

Sidle’s mind begins to drift to the odd man driving the vehicle. As the jeep started to move forward it came to a stop again. Sidle looks across the seat to asks Rigger what was going on, he found the man gone. Once he looks out the window, he sees him again standing over the giant bug digging through the insect corpse with a knife and his fingers with the hope of finding something inside. Sidle tries not to remove his eyes from the man with the hope of insuring his sanity. Rigger didn’t teleport this time he walks over to the jeep and opens the front door to the drivers’ side.

“What were you doing to the bug.”, he asked Rigger.

“Plucking its eyes out. My younger sister collects them, I know it is weird. Please don’t ask”

“Oh. But…”

“Please don’t ask”

The jeep speeds up again moving across the broken roads. After a short period Sidle decides to engage in a conversation again. “Rigger if you don’t mind me asking how old you are?”

Rigger sighs again and looks at him and said, “I think nobody really knows the answer.  To the real question, you are asking. We all lost track of time, I know I was six. That was when I had the last birthday that was celebrated. That about it.”

Rigger stops the jeep when he sees the old warehouse in front of him.  The warehouse had a sense of solace to it. It was purple like the jeep and Sidle felt like it shines like it as well. He couldn’t help but asked, “Why purple?”

“Huh.”

“Frist your uniform, then jeep, now the warehouse. Why purple?”

“Oh, purple is the color of the home.”

Rigger gave the annoying grin of his and spoke, “You know when I told you that I was going to bring you to paradise. Well, that wasn’t exactly true…”

Before Rigger finished his sentence, Sidle jumps the man forgetting he had a seatbelt on stopping his lung halfway. Rigger appears to expect the attack and didn’t even blink at his attempt strike before giving a sigh, rustle, and said, “Thought so, they aren’t going to let you in like that Sidle. Hell, this is going to be hard. We have six-day to acclimatize you to Shelter’s life.”

Sidle looks confused and wearily at Rigger. At some point when he wasn’t paying attention to Rigger he got out of the jeep, and he is now looking up at Sidle through the window. Sidle unseated his seatbelt and open that door to the jeep.  He begins to leave the jeep when Rigger extends his left foot tripping him while he exited the vehicle. He fell and found a gun pointed at him. Rigger is humming a weird tune at him.  Sidle was about to counterattack him, but the young man gave that annoying grin of his. “Paradise doesn’t like crazy people. I know it is sad but true. But we need people. Good people. To help us rebuilt the world. So, the Shelter sends people out like me to find good people to bring them back. So, Mr. Cael are you a good person?”

Sidle looks back at the adolescent gentleman that is pointing a gun at him and for the first time in a long while he smiles at him and said, “I don’t know. But pretty sure I am mad. Giant bug, zombie, man-eating plants and all other crazy shit that old Sidle has seen cannot… cannot be real. People can’t be that awful. Matters that I have experience and Events I have a watch. People cannot be that terrible. So, if paradise doesn’t like insane people. I probably won’t fit in.”

Rigger put back his gun on his belt and smile and said, “Welcome to the shelter rehabilitation center. It’s a place that helps people to deal with the end of the world. Mr. Cael.”

Sidle looked at the man like he was crazy. “Oh, Thank you, old man, for your three bottles of wine. I’ll see you in six days to take you to the Shelter. The people inside are really, really nice.”

Somewhere when he wasn’t paying attention to the youthful bloke. He had gotten in the jeep and then he plunges away from the lost man without looking back.

By MID