Short Story | Fred Aiken Writing

May 4, 2023

CAMP NESAWATAMACK

The coffee tastes like shit. Ariel adds a touch more cream until the cup’s elixir is a light beige with streaks of white; almost more white than brown. But still bitter. The waitress brings out the pancakes that she ordered out of obligation, but Ariel isn’t much hungry. She moves the pancakes around on her plate, and puts a thin layer of high-fructose maple-flavored syrup on them, but she doesn’t eat.

The diner was the agreed-upon locale. Ariel keeps laser-focused on the front door to the diner. She studies the comings and goings of the rest of the patrons. She is wondering if she will recognize her daughter when she sees her again.

It hasn’t been long, probably 3 weeks at most. But Ariel feels as if it has been 3 years. She never contemplated after almost 9 hours of labor that she would ever be separated from her daughter for more than a night or two. The past month slipped away like molasses down a snail’s shell.

Ariel recognizes the red Honda CR-V that pulls into the parking lot. The spot in the back bumper where the driver had accidentally hit a signpost after one too many brunch mimosas. Her daughter pops out, awkward limbs still trying to find their footing in the world. She bounds across the parking lot with endless energy. Her kinetic ferocity infectious at the sight of a wide smile plastered across her face. When her daughter sees Ariel, her mouth widens somehow even more. It looks as if her entire face might break, but Ariel knows it won’t. She has too much joy in her.

HOW WAS CAMP? Ariels asks.

GREAT. I FOUND THIS TURTLE AT THE SIDE OF THE LAKE. I NAMED HIM BORIS, YOU KNOW, AFTER SPASKY, AND WE HAD A LOT OF ADVENTURES TOGETHER AND SOLVED CRIME AND WENT TO WAR AND DISCOVERED NEW PLANETS AND—

ARE YOU HUNGRY?

STARVING!

Ariel slides over the plate of now mushy discs of carbohydrates with sticky pools of fructose weighing them down. Ariel’s daughter inhales and the pancakes disappear.

May 2, 2023

CONSCIOUSNESS FREQUENCY

Daniel checks his hand terminal to see the readout.

A couple of officers brought in Mr. Harrison fifteen minutes ago. He sat in the interrogation room waiting to be told why he had been brought in. Daniel checks to see how bad his coffee breath is before going in. He realizes it doesn’t matter, but still, after all these years and interrogations, he feels a pang of self-consciousness before each one.

GOOD MORNING, MR. HARRISON. MY NAME IS OFFICER NORDSKY, BUT YOU CAN CALL ME DANIEL.

WHAT IS THIS ALL ABOUT? I NEED TO BE AT WORK IN HALF AN HOUR.

I APOLOGIZE. BUT I DON’T THINK YOU’RE GOING TO BE ABLE TO MAKE IT TO WORK. YOU SEE, YOU HAVE BEEN PICKED ON SUSPICION OF A POTENTIAL TERRORIST PLOT.

WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? I’VE NEVER—I WOULD NEVER DO SUCH A THING! HOW DARE YOU ACCUSE ME WITHOUT ANY SORT OF PROOF!

I UNDERSTAND. I DO. BUT WE DO HAVE PROOF.

Daniel slides his handheld terminal over to Mr. Harrison to read and digest. His eyes scan through the evidence collected and laid bare on Daniel’s hand terminal.

THIS DOESN’T MEAN ANYTHING. THESE ARE JUST THOUGHTS YOU’VE COLLECTED OF MINE. THAT’S NOT EVIDENCE.

I’M SORRY, BUT THE SUPREME COURT HAS RULED OTHERWISE. THE FREQUENCY OF YOUR CONSCIOUSNESS HAS BEEN COLLECTED AND ANALYZED, AND YOU HAVE BEEN FLAGGED AS A RISK TO NATIONAL SECURITY. AS SUCH, UNDER TITLE 7.1-5-10-11 YOU ARE UNDER ARREST FOR POTENTIAL CRIMES.

THAT’S STUPID. YOU’RE STUPID. YOU WILL BE HEARING FROM MY ATTORNEY.

AS IS YOUR RIGHT.

Daniel relaxes as the officers handcuff Mr. Harrison and he is taken to a cell to be processed. He then goes to check if there’s any more coffee before remembering the promise he made to Diane, his wife, to cut back as per the recommendation of his doctor.

May 1, 2023

The Crushing Weight of The Toothbrush Commercial Massacre; A Random Event with Random Consequences

Gary guzzles another ounce of mouthwash. It simmers in his throat before he feels the sting. He’s been abusing mouthwash for five years, ever since The Toothbrush Commercial Massacre.

The director wanted an exotic commercial, so he goes to Brazil to find a mixed samba-capoeira instructor. He brought back Juliana Nayará, a savant in dance and fighting choreography. It was like watching the reincarnation of Terpsichore. Tendrils from her floral skirt electrified the stage. Gary was in love.

While performing warm-up dances to impressionistic jazz, Juliana and troupe fell victim to a rogue stage light. Everyone died. Gary never touched another toothbrush.