Refracted Neurons

Images from Pixabay The arena was half full, the noise of the crowd deafening.  From his vantage point, Kalendio Octavius could just make out the rough shapes of people.   “You’re new,” the voice came from behind him. Kalendio turned and squinted into the darkness of the hypogeum, “A woman, here?” She laughed, deep and throaty.  “Athene, venatora ,” she unsheathed her sword, “Slayer of lions.” “I am no beast,” Kalendio waved a hand in surrender. “What class are you?”  Athene looked him up and down, “I see no weapon.” “ Magia,” he was reluctant to say it.  Most people laughed, some even flashed him the fig sign. “Oooooh,” she popped a hand onto one hip, “Well, good luck out there.” There was a roar as he emerged from the tunnel, and for a moment he thought it was for him.  Smiling, Kalendio lifted his head. The man across from him was giant.  He wore full armor and carried a net and trident.  Kalendio’s smile tightened into a grimace.  “So that’s what hyped up the crowd.  They think thi

Image by Gentry from Pixabay   We thought the ends justified the means, and that was our mistake.  We never realized that the means colors the ends, that it shapes it like a surface can shape clay.   Reducing carbon emissions. What?  Oh, sorry, I thought you asked what our goal was.  All I can hear sometimes is the sound you hear out there.  It’s a rushing, hissing sound.  But you don’t care about that, you want to know about the children in that aircraft. I told them not to use children. Anyway, all of them wanted to go.  We didn’t force anyone.  All of them wanted to make the earth a better place.  They’re very environmental-minded.  And the thing with children is they’re smaller, so they can get inside the machinery to fix it. The Blackbird, the fastest aircraft can circumnavigate the planet in six hours.  That’s the time it takes to go from New York to Seattle in a commercial airplane.  But it’s not designed to transport people or carry cargo.  Ours can.  And to prove it, we put ca

  The house was large, twenty bedrooms large.  The gardens boasted shaped hedges of fantastic creatures, but that wasn’t the best part.  The best part was when one first stepped through the doors and was dazzled by the high shine of the marble floors and the glitter of the chandeliers, when one stood on the hand-loomed rug and breathed, “I get to work here.” That was what Matilda did, as did Bertrand, Unice, and Fredrick before her.  There were more staff, of course, there were.  A house that large required countless maids, menservants, and yardmen; all ruled by the butler, housekeeper, and chef. “The blood,” mumbled Matilda two weeks later, “I should have mentioned the blood.” “What?”  Unice stood next to her on a step stool, her hands full of drapes. “The first time I stood in this room,” Matilda dropped the curtain rod.  The curtain dampened the ping of its landing.  “I should have said, ‘Someone this wealthy must have built their empire on blood.’” “Um,” Unice scrunched up her fore

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  We sat together in front of the fireplace embroidering napkins.  Una was much faster than me, her stitches neat and uniform.  “It’s a shame,” my mother remarked as she held up my work, “Your buttonhole stitches look square.  I don’t know how you do it.” “Everything I do is cornered,” I tried not to look up and failed. “You don’t have to do it,” Mother crumpled the napkin, letting it fall into the basket of scraps, “Una could finish the set for you.” I waited until she left the room to retrieve my napkin, “I like my work.”  Folding it into quarters, I placed it on top of Una’s three, the buttonholes perfect yellow suns in each corner. “Work puts the song in my heart,” Una began to hum.  Her voice was a bird-like soprano that made mine sound like a child playing violin. “Well, you’ll have lots more of it coming your way with the prince’s bal masqué.  It will be, ‘Una, polish the doorknobs.  Una, take in this bodice.  Una, clean the fireplace.’  Because you know, the prince will somehow

Image Made with Canva The air that day was suffocating and hot.  On the streets, women bared shoulders and legs, while men, shirtless, donned wide-brimmed hats.   “There are too many people out.” Cash startled, the cap to his pen skittering across his desk. “Oh, sorry, didn’t mean to sneak up on you,” Andela circled Cash’s desk, her eyes on the city street below, “I’m asking to leave work early.  How about you?” “No, I’ll work late.  There won’t be as many people when the sun goes down,” Cash glanced at her.  He didn’t notice her filmy sundress or coiffed hair.  No, his eyes settled where they always did, on the gap between her face mask and the apple of her cheek.  Sometimes he imagined he could make out the slip of a lip, something that made his thoughts scatter like a dandelion puff in the wind. “You’re missing out.  Who knows when we’ll get another nice day,” Andela patted his desk and moved on. “Are you going to the beach?”  “I guess I could take off early too.” “Let’s eat ice cre

You want to know what happened? One moment I was sitting in front of my trailer in my lawn chair.  The next Freddy Blanchard’s roof had lifted off and it was raining fire. Megan opened her slider, only to get hit by a roof vent.  “Pigs-in-a-blanket,” she cursed. “Watch your mouth,” I stood, the plastic slats of my chair sticking to my behind. Megan’s nineteen-year-old daughter, Lila poked her head out, and boy did her eyes get wide.  Then she did the last thing I expected her to do, running barefoot through the fire, her sundress swirling around her in a manner that would get her branded as the devil incarnate. Freddy was not in a good way.  He lay next to his wife’s garden gnome, only inches away from his wooden porch.  It was on fire, and boy was it heating up good. But what really got the squirrels in my britches was the two rescuers taking turns at chest compressions and breathing: big old Vernon Jones with his jailhouse tattoos and fallen angel Lila.  She paused between breaths, “

I wrote this story awhile ago and then just forgot about it. It’s about a cultish school where violence and bizarre behavioral therapy are the standard of care. There is another, much lighter short story I’ll be posting later this month, so if this is not to your taste, just mosey along. Also, Save Desdemona is free with the coupon SS100 through the end of July. If you like survival games, wacky adventures, and magic spells; scoop it up while the scooping’s free. (Link at bottom of page) —— The car turned from the gravel road to a paved drive, tires tinking as the last few rok s spun inside the rims.  Ahead, the school seemed to rise from the ground as they drove down a steep hill.  It looked like a fairytale castle from the distance; a peaked tower at each corner, a central door so large that it could admit a giant.  “Up ahead is the main campus.  Not that there’s any other part to the campus,” the bodyguard laughed, his red cheeks becoming more florid.  Shannon cringed.  She wishe