Sol's Random Stories

He wandered about the whole morning from daybreak, then he couldn't recall his name, or his home, or anything, his mind playing its tricks again. So, he sat down on a park bench, staring hard into the  path. "What if I don't care anymore about remembering, let it go, whatever I cannot recall, maybe that's better for me right now.", he thought, but wasn't certain about anything he imagined. He still had himself, the voice in his head, whoever that was, it's someone. That's all he needed for sitting on the bench, then watching a few birds as they quarrelled over something birdy that he could never know about. There was nowhere to go, and no one to arrive anywhere, so he just listened calmly to his heart beating, thinking nothing at all.  Hours later, somehow back with his wife at home, he recalled everything again as they talked. "It's the last day of the year.", she mentioned quietly. He nodded, but didn't understand.

Tasteless, odorless, forensically invisible, yet impatiently fatal. After only a few small sips, it's swift and painless. Marvels of modern chemistry, Monica mused. Good time for some good living, except for spouses who've become too wary. But, her big plans, still on track. Hard to imagine a world without coffee, Monica said out loud to absolutely no one, no one at all.

It's been a long decade of hard steps, setbacks, intractable puzzles that stayed up all night, still unsolved. But, Vernon kept plugging away, embracing every technical challenge with cheery determination, overcoming every incremental roadblock. Vernon just couldn't fail, or all would be lost, he was certain. The reclusive, self-taught scientist lived every moment for his most important mission, but was uncertain about the timing of what he knew was unfolding. Would the alien attackers come sooner than later? Would his new weapon be ready for their threat? Vernon preferred to test more, but he recently heard that certain codes were leaked by government saboteurs which may accelerate the coming war. Locked into his undetectable stealth bunker, Vernon will just have to hope it all works out as he has planned, all fingers crossed.

What if one morning you awaken, not into another day, but rather into a tube of light drawing you upward to a canopy of trees from where you'll see another forest? What if you go with no fear, as if flying away from this waking life? What if you count your days past as spent dreams already seen? What if your mind is focused up to a single spot of thought you know as a portal, do you dare pass thru? Who were you yesterday before your face or name- is there any trace? Circle of sky shows the way.

"Of course! My favorite ones are always on top; Imagine if it weren't so, I'd be ancient history. Just remember, don't believe the memes, it's a hoax. Ground floor convenience is overrated. I must have the penthouse view!"

While it's nearly all water, and water is most essential for survival, milk is the primal food. More personal and familiar, more emotional, milk is the nurturing elixir, the fluid of generations transferred.  The experiential qualities of milk are memorized early, along with smiling eyes and face, gentle touch, enrichment beyond just a baby's nutrition. Milk, extolled by queens, kings, and gods may be humankind's favorite beverage, the mammalian connection with our ancestral tether to the First Mom, whoever that was, she endures today, ageless, the kind milk of good luck and evolution. But, the taste and texture aren't universally loved or even liked, despite milk's intrinsic history and stature. Everyone knows folks who dislike dairy, and typically nature doesn't need it beyond early infancy. Yet, although the more valuable for life, water cannot quench the perpetual mortal thirsts for comfort, security, and family.

She dearly loves her parents. She wouldn't cause them distress or worry over her well being. She knows their love as sincerely as she knows herself. But, they are simply wrong. Their concerns are overblown. Their love cannot constrain her. She must see her new friend.

Behind these doors is your most closely kept secret. You even keep it from yourself by choice. Behind these doors is your giant monster creature with no name beyond All Fear itself, its own shudder of involuntary horror. No one may know behind these doors, or your pain made public would be unbearable and fatal. Keep shut forever, these doors.

From over a 100 million years before humankind appeared, bees were ubiquitous. They bobbed about everywhere, freely pollinating the planet with glorious plants and flowers, while also making their own exclusive honey. Industrious bees- only the size of a child's thumb or smaller, peaceably served in so many ways. Of course, all before the Mutation.

This life remains a mandala even when there seems to be only chaos, disorder, even ruin. Beauty of balance, symmetry of design, from a thumb-sized succulent to a spiral galaxy so incomprehensibly vast that a million light years voyage wouldn't cross its span, gargantuan mega structures so massive even thinking about them becomes a sort of meditation, our bipolar, tethered, and unexpanded minds must struggle to divine the unknowable against all odds or sensibility, yet we go on to Mars or beyond, build bigger telescopes, curious and restless humankind never happy to just end the great and perpetual search for...what, exactly? None can recall, but it yet remains unfound. So, search on, but know you're certain to at least find what you expect, it's all the rest that is unwarned, this life full of shocks and loss, sudden change, sometimes even horrific, when the bullet thru the bedroom wall finds the toddler's skull, or the airplane plunging two hundred doomed souls to a co...