This Isn’t Personal

Listen. Please, listen.

We’ve been friends for awhile and I want you to know that I don’t want to do this. I know it isn’t ideal, but I want you to know that it isn’t what I want. Honestly, it’s a little bit your fault. It’s my fault too. We share the blame really.

I should have hidden this better and you should have listened when I told you not to go snooping around. I told you not to look in the trunk ages ago, didn’t I? And you just went and looked in it anyway. I suppose it’s really all my fault. I’m the one who tried to hide it in plain sight. I should have warded it when I saw you express interest.

I know far too well the draw that the trunk’s contents can have. The effect that they have on people. I’m used to it, I’ve learned to resist. It wasn’t fair to expect you to as well, not when you had no idea what is inside.

But that’s all in the past. Water under the bridge.

I really wish I didn’t have to do this.

Dying from a knife wound isn’t so bad though. It’s definitely one of the better ways to go. I’ll just slide this blade through your ribs quick and then you’ll be gone. Poof. Quick.

If anything, this is going to be worse for me than it will be for you. I’m the one who has to hide your body afterwards. It will probably eat up my entire weekend. Before I do that, I need to make sure that what’s in the trunk wasn’t trying to hitch a ride on your psyche. I’ll have to perform some particularly tricky incantations to make sure it doesn’t gobble up your soul.

Actually, you know what? We’ll do those first, it’s safer that way. I may have to kill you, but that doesn’t mean I want to send you off to eternal damnation. We’ll send you off the right way.

Let’s get started…

What? Look. I don’t know what you want me to do. Neither of us have a choice here. The thing in the trunk is just too dangerous. You’ve seen it and now you’re vulnerable. As long as you know it’s in there it could use you to help it escape.

There. Is. No. Other. Way.

You are my friend; I don’t want to have to gag you, but I will if you make me. If you keep talking like this you will mess up my spell casting. If I get distracted it won’t be good for either of us. So be quiet, please.

Like I said. Knife is hardly the worst way to go. I’ll make it quick. And for what it’s worth, this isn’t personal. It’s just something I have to do.

Gravity Wells Are Best Avoided

Jack hated landings.

He had been born in microgravity. He had grown up in microgravity. He had enlisted and spent, not accounting for relativistic effects, fifteen years Ship Time serving in microgravity. His job was simple, he went places, and he killed things. He had become an expert in boarding actions and close quarter combat in microgravity. For him, zero gravity was the default.  

Ships? Great. Space Stations? Perfect. Asteroids? Sure. Moons? If he had to. Planets? Hell no.

Planets had forests and animals and germs and far too many variables. He preferred the close, cramped struggle to the death where he could see his enemy and they could see him. Where all that would determine the outcome of the fight were his own skills pitted against those of his opponent. Planets had snipers and alien viruses and storms and earthquakes and well, you get the idea. In Jacks mind, gravity wells were something that humanity had evolved beyond and returning to them was pointless.

So basically, he really fucking hated landings.

He especially hated landings made in boxy little shuttlecraft that handed likes bricks in atmosphere while he was crammed into the shuttle with fifty other marines all of which were not suited at all for ground combat. He especially hated being sent down a gravity well as part of some hair-brained rescue scheme to protect some random colonists from an unknown assailant of unknown strength.

And he really, really hated landings made in a boxy brick-like shuttle that was hit by a surface-to-air missile that killed both of the pilots instantly, decapitated three of the soldiers sitting across from Jack, caused the shuttle to rip in half as it hit a low-lying cliff and come to rest in an alien corral forest in hostile territory far away from any possible backup.

When Jack came to he was hanging from his restraints inside the shuttle next to those of his fellows who had either been kills or incapacitated in the crash. He heard gunfire outside and from the sound of it someone had gotten the shuttle’s autocannons working and was making extensive use of them. He had no idea who they were fighting, no idea what was going on, but he knew what his job was. He undid his restraints, grabbed his low-velocity carbine designed for shipboard actions, not ground combat, and went outside to see what they were dealing with.

Jack hated landings.

A Fondly Remembered Abduction

I responded to another writing prompt on reddit. The original post can be found here: https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/9jowun/wp_you_lie_in_a_grassy_field_on_a_sunny_day/e6u5dos/?context=3

When most people imagine being abducted by aliens they imagine being woken up in the middle of the night by little grey men who poke and prod them. The reality is really quite different.

I had just left my friend Tom’s when I met them. It was Tom’s birthday and he had decided to throw a rager. I’ll admit that I had a bit too much to drink and on my walk back I tripped and fell into the path of a moving car. My head hit the pavement, and everything went black. I was sure that this would be the end. But they saw.

I woke up in an examination room. Everything was grey, cold, steel and plastic. I’ll admit that at first, I had a panic attack. I thought that I woke up in the morgue. That someone had mistaken me for dead and that I was about to be cut open. In my muddled state of mind, I searched around for something that I could use to defend myself. A pair if scissors on the counter was all that I could find.

I waited there for what seemed like forever. I was convinced that at any moment the morticians would rush in and tie me to table before cutting me open while I was still alive. But I couldn’t have been more wrong.

When the door finally opened I was greeted by a diminutive figure, who by my guess was only about four feet tall. Its big amber eyes looked at me, and then down at the scissors that I was holding out like a cross as if I was trying to fend off Dracula.

“You,” it began. “You know that isn’t really needed, right?”

I kept the scissors pointed towards the creature. “What do you want with me?”

“Want with you?” It seemed confused. “You just looked like you needed help. That car was about to squash you. So, we teleported you here to our medical bay. I can promise that you are in good hands.”

My body wouldn’t stop shaking but going against every instinct I had I lowered the scissors. I remembered the car, but why would they help me? Why wasn’t I dead?

“Why?” I asked tentatively. “Why would you save me?”

“Normally we wouldn’t,” it said. “Our mission is simply to observe. But we saw that you needed help and we couldn’t just stand by.”

I let the scissors drop to the floor. I didn’t entirely believe them yet. But I didn’t have the energy to fight and decided that I might as well take this creature at its word. It wasn’t like the scissors would have been much good anyway.

“Anyway,” it continued. “We could use your help justifying this to our superiors.”

“Justify?” I asked, a little confused.

“Yes, justify. You see, we have very strict orders to not establish contact with any humans. Command was very specific after the Roswell incident; no contact.”

“But, you saved me?”

“Yes well. We happened to be nearby, and we couldn’t just do nothing. We’ll need something from you in order to justify this.”

I reached for the scissors again and paused. “What exactly do you want?”

As it turned out all the aliens wanted was the rules to football. They had some of the most advanced technology that I had ever seen but despite their best efforts they couldn’t figure out the rules of the game. I spent an hour or so explaining yard lines and touch downs to them. Then we split a case of beer and watched super bowl reruns.

I spent two days just hanging out with them. As it turns out aliens are pretty chill. But in the end, they told me it was time to leave. Having learned the mysteries of football they couldn’t justify keeping me any longer. In my time on board their ship I had already seen them answer a few calls from their higher-ups. They seemed pretty heated.

I was sad to go. Hanging out and watching football with aliens was way better than going to work every day. I like to think that they were sad to see me go as well. They sure seemed it. They promised that they would keep looking out for me, and I like to think that they kept their word. It’s nice to have some guardian angels of your own. It’s even nicer to know that you’re both rooting for the same team in the play-offs.

 

 

Hired Guns

“Boss. He ain’t going down. That’s thirteen bullets we’ve put in ‘em and Wyatt put in six before that.”

“You really think a man who just ripped a steer and Wyatt in half is going to go down easy?”

“We-”

“Listen here. I’m not looking for excuses. If you can’t take down one man then what the hell am I paying you for? Keep him away from the herd or else you’ll all be looking for a new job.”

“Boss…”

“Get it done.”