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I’d had enough of city living. I wanted to move somewhere peaceful but still close enough to visit my friends and associates occasionally. I made some inquires and eventually settled on what one might refer to as a “gentleman’s estate”. Surprisingly the house had been on the market for a number of years so it was extremely cheap, which was great considering my limited bank account, and came completely furnished.
I explored each of the many rooms in closer detail as soon as I moved in. I immediately felt like I belonged in this place with its treasure trove of antique furniture and secret panels. I happened upon a recipe titled “How to Make a Man” in one of the old chests I found in the attic.
The recipe seemed to show how to make a gingerbread man except there was a very unusual ingredient I had never heard of before. My curiosity aroused I decided I would make the man. I had most of the necessities already in the kitchen but had no idea where to find the missing strange component. I was about ready to give up when I had an urge to look in the attached pantry. Sure enough stuffed in a back corner was the last piece of the recipe. After the prerequisite cooking and cooling time had elapsed I bit into my treat, savoring the spiciness then greedily wolfing the entire cookie in quick order, wishing I had another one.
As I was unpacking my belongings in my new bedroom later on my insides began to churn. The room started to spin wildly and fortunately I fell backwards onto the bed as I passed out into a deep dreamless sleep.
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Devin has returned from an assignment; with a three-day gap in his memory--a stutter they called it. He'd been working with the Chula on one of their warships. Strictly as an advisor, he'd identified a volatile thread in time. While in the field, he saved the life of another solider but almost got himself killed. The Chula had done their best to save him, but their nanogene technology was unstable on alien species. It caused some issues for Devin--skin blemishes, blue and in his opinion disgusting.
He stared at the mirror, and it flickered into life. A red circle in his reflection traced his eye and faded to green. His name flicked up in the mirrors surface, "Agent Devin Reineke." Data scrolled through the display, red lines of redaction etched the stutters in his memory.
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“Hey geek man how’s the weather down there?” Jerry taunted his victim while burying him up to his neck in sand. “Read any good books lately?”
Poor Stan could do nothing but struggle against the sand that held him down. Jerry was a bully. He was very intimidating and he knew it. He also let other people know it, too. Brash and very egotistical, he enjoyed picking on guys smaller than him. It came as no surprise to any of the local beach goers that he was torturing a 90 pound weakling just for the fun of it. Stan, a mild mannered young man, had the misfortune of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Good ol’ Jer’s girlfriend had just brushed him off for some, get this, nobody runt of a guy, preferring the guy’s gentleness to his perfect body. That’s her loss. Stan became the target for his frustration.
“Ah… poor wittle baby gonna cry? You’ll never be a real man loser. And those glasses… what Coke bottle did you get those from?” Jerry sneered, venom dripping in his voice as he swiped Stan’s oversized glasses from his face, leaving him squinting blindly as well as stuck.
“Look at me. I’m a geek. My glasses are just so cool.” He just couldn’t stop taunting his captive, putting Stan’s glasses on and prancing around the beach. When he tried to take them back off they wouldn’t budge. Try as he might they just would not move.
“Harold. Harold it’s time to get up for breakfast. You hear me Harold?”
Harold groaned as he rolled over in his bed. Another day had begun and with it another summoning by his mother. The seventeen year old reluctantly dragged himself from his nice warm cocoon into his bathroom. He sighed heavily, remembering the dream from which he had been so rudely awakened by her nagging. In his own fantasy world Harold wasn’t the typical nerd picked on by all the cool guys. Instead he was the most popular and handsome jock of his school, adored by the girls and envied by the guys. Everyone wanted to be his friend.
“Harold. Stop dallying and get down here for breakfast. You’ll be late for school.”
“Yes, Mother. I’m coming.” Plucked out of his reverie, he quickly got ready and glimpsed in the mirror. He was about as far from cool as anyone could possibly be. After downing his breakfast he headed off to his high school, not eagerly anticipating the day ahead but glad to get away from his overbearing mother.
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