by submission | Oct 19, 2023 | Story |
Author: Rick Tobin
In the heart of New York City, in the shadow of towering brownstone apartment buildings, eight-year-old Ro was a peculiar sight. Her curly hair framed her youthful face, and her eyes sparkled with an otherworldly innocence. On the steps of her building, she sat cross-legged, blowing pink bubbles into the air. These weren’t just ordinary bubbles; they were filled with helium, and they held within them something truly magical.
Ro was one of hundreds of alien clones scattered across the world. Clones that stayed forever young, assigned to be adopted into homes in the most impoverished areas. They were an enigmatic group, representing every race, and their mission was clear: to blow pink bubbles that brought peace and love to their neighborhoods.
The rules were simple. Ro and her clone siblings would only stay with families that allowed them to continue sending out the love-filled bubbles. If a family turned them away or didn’t embrace the mission, they were reassigned to new families who understood the importance of their peculiar existence.
Ro’s days were spent on the steps, entranced in a ballet of pink orbs that danced in the city’s relentless hustle and bustle. She released the bubbles one after another, each one drifting into the world, carrying with it a message of hope. “Make the world a better place,” she whispered to them as they ascended into the sky.
Ro’s connection with the bubbles was extraordinary. She could hear their thoughts, or perhaps it was the collective thoughts of her clone siblings. They all resonated with the same simple, profound wish: to shower the world with love and tranquility.
In a world often plagued by division, poverty, and strife, the presence of these young alien clones was a whisper of cosmic kindness. Their mission was their secret, a quiet revolution born of understanding and unity.
The world responded in unexpected ways. As the bubbles floated over the streets of New York, people would pause, their hearts touched by the ethereal beauty and the feeling of peace that washed over them. Strangers shared smiles, neighbors offered warm greetings, and the world seemed just a little bit brighter.
The clones, forever young and forever committed to their mission, came to learn about the world through their interactions with countless families. They saw love in all its forms – parental, sibling, romantic – and understood the power it held in healing the human heart. They became conduits of empathy, helping families to reconcile their differences, soothing tempers, and mending strained relationships.
In the quiet of the night, Ro and her clone siblings would gather on the apartment steps, each lost in thought. Their unity was their strength, and their telepathic connection was their solace. They were the keepers of an age-old secret, custodians of love, and guardians of hope.
Over the years, they watched the world change. The neighborhoods they visited grew kinder, and the world became a more compassionate place. The love bubbles had a ripple effect, touching lives in ways they couldn’t fathom.
Ro, the little girl who blew pink bubbles, knew that her role was a small part of something grander than herself. As she released another bubble into the world, she smiled, for she could feel the collective heartbeat of her fellow clones, and together, they were making the world a better place, one bubble at a time.
by submission | Oct 7, 2023 | Story |
Author: Rick Tobin
“Careful with lighting, Captain. Don’t kill them.” Jerry Carter readjusted reflectors a few inches from a grouping of small barrel cacti in the spaceship’s arboretum.
“Why keep these damnable things? Don’t get enough of them taking over Earth?” Captain Tersal shook his head.
“Reminds me of my ancestors slicing them for emergency water in Arizona centuries before desertification overwhelmed North America.” Carter adjusted his purple envoy outfit tight to his neck, letting his red beard drape.
“Wouldn’t catch me with the Ryluu. Here are the three beans. I can’t believe Earth One let you take these. You know how rare…” Carter waved off Tersal’s diatribe; after all, he was Martian with little sense of Earth’s history.
“Just get me to their greeting hall. I’m meeting their king, Krezal. I hope our exploration party had solid intelligence. I’ve seen LiDAR analysis of their jungles. This could be it.”
Carter’s journey to the planet’s humid surface was uneventful before he exited a small shuttle near the dark, threatening towers of the Ryluu palace. He winced from the cloying jungle air after opening the hatch. He was joined by towering guard escorts. Carter struggled to keep his image of authority while struggling to breathe under the giant planet’s gravity.
It was surprising to find Krezal alone at a small, round table surrounded by elegantly formed stone stools. Krezal had no reason to fear a mere human, some four feet shorter and fragile compared to the bristling muscles and scaly skin of the king.
“High is our knowing of your greatness, Gezal of the Ryluu.” Carter spoke quietly, looking down at the moist, stone floors. He carried a round satchel carefully at his side, setting it below the hard seat Krezal pointed to as his place during the negotiations.
“Welcome, man of Earth,” bellowed the giant. “You know some of our customs. We have visited several times with your representatives. Let me share yanakut with you.”
Krezal motioned for his servant to bring a large, shiny platter. A pile of red berries on the dish glowed in the amber light of the great hall. Krezal removed a large knife from his waistband, carefully crushing the fruit, and then deftly lifting their juices with his knife blade so drippings filled a small rounded metal cup. Sizzling rose as the fluid’s acid started dissolving the cup’s lining. Carter was briefed about yanakut, and the death of an Earth crewman who drank it.
“Great and mighty Krezal, please forgive my weakness. We are not a powerful race, like yours. Our tastes are weak. We would make a less potent but beloved drink from these.” With that, Carter carefully placed three large coffee beans on the table. Krezal leaned his head forward as he placed his huge fingers onto the samples, crushing them, and then raising their dust to his lips.
“You take of these weeds?”
“Yes, mighty one. Would you consider trade with our people? We understand your world has many such…weeds.”
“Ha! Glad to be rid of them; they’re impossible to control. Trade? What could you possibly offer in exchange?”
Carter reached from his bag, presenting a barrel cactus. Krezal reached for it before Carter could give a warning. Krezal was suddenly lost in ecstasy as the needles and juice penetrated him.
“It pleases?” Carter asked.
“Oh, yes. And you have many?” Krezal replied.
A pact was made for the Coffee-Cactus Trade Route. Earthlings recovered the joys of coffee, nearly extinct on Earth, and searched for on other worlds for centuries, while the Ryluu elite lavished in their new cacti aphrodisiac.
by submission | May 18, 2023 | Story |
Author: Rick Tobin
“It’s amazing how easily we accessed this vault, considering how long these buildings were subjected to seawater.” He ran his three fingers over the outside of the corroded steel doors, five inches thick, but still smooth and glistening on the inside under the dull red starlight. “This species may have transmitted those partially garbled messages. We have no idea about this species’ origins.” Zolonko slid over the marble floors, peering down the murky corridors beyond the star’s meager glow.
“It’s a first, Zolonko,” replied his celestial historian assistant, Cabu Bot. She stood three feet above him as his squat form’s slime trail kept pace toward the vault’s recesses. They pressed their forearms, activating personal bioluminescence, exposing their path forward, revealing any wreckage to avoid. “We might find some remnants of their likeness…even language to guide further understanding of their messages from this fabled race. We still have some partial radio recordings onboard.”
“It appears there are several immediate offshoots to visit. Should we stay together or explore separately?” Zolonko rubbed his single, yellow eye, pushing aside his nictitating membrane overreacting to the structure’s cloying atmosphere.
“Together, I think. This air could be treacherous. If one of us starts to fail the other can retrieve the power sled for extraction to safety before serious damage occurs.”
“Mmmmmmm,” Zolonko responded in a low, repeating hum. “Always the smart play. Ah, here are the first remains we can evaluate for collection. What’s the material look like at your level?” Zolonko waited but there was a delay from his usually talkative companion. “Is there a problem?” he probed.
“This is not what we expected. No…not at all. If these are what the master race looked like, then nothing we know of in our travels correlates. Let me send you a view.” She put her arm near the high wall, made a flash of light, and then looked intently at her partner.
“Revolting, Cabu…beyond horrifying! I’m erasing the memory of it! That is an abomination of the natural order for great cultures on all known worlds. How could they have?” He rested, looking about, trembling.
“I can’t imagine,” Cabu whispered, also with fear in her voice. “If they took this form, and this vessel survived, then these things could still be lurking back in the darkness. We are not armed or prepared to deal with mutant races like these. I’ll capture the script under the presentation to see if our system can decipher it. There seems to be a unity in the format.” Another flash came from her arm before she and Zolonko made careful progress to exit the void.
Once secure in their ship, their computer indicated it had decoded the captured symbols.
“Play it, Cabu. Maybe it will explain the mystery of these aliens.”
Cabu rubbed her webbed digits over the flat, blue wall, under the glaring interior green lights as a refreshing mist of their home world’s swamp fog covered their scales. A gurgling voice emerged from a small cube below them.
“It may mean Picasso Nude and Still Life.”
“What can that be, Cabu? Is it a myth or legend?”
“I cannot say, dear one. But it may mean that this is what they looked like as their race declined. They must have mutated to the point they could no longer maintain anything. It could be a caution for anyone staying on this lifeless planet before the star completely fails. Depart immediately. That container is a warning buoy.”
by submission | May 4, 2023 | Story |
Author: Rick Tobin
“Thanks, and repeat whatever the lady is having.” Telman directed by lifting his shot of premiere whiskey towards a striking redhead in a tight chartreuse dress with a revealing leg slit sitting on the last stool at the end of the ritzy hotel bar.
“Roger that, buddy. It’s slow. You’re the last two here. Good hunting.” The burly, bearded bartender reached behind and grabbed an expensive wine to balance out his evening’s paltry tabs.
Telman adjusted his posture, pulling his pinstripe suit sleeves so an inch of midnight blue shirt poked out for emphasis. He tightened his silk tie closer to his throat as he ignored the stunner, now turning to stare as she received his free offering.
Clicks from high heels alerted him as she swayed toward the chair next to him. She did not speak, waiting for his opening line. There was none. She cleared her voice to hint. It didn’t evoke Telman’s response.
“Nice gesture. We don’t need to be strangers.” She hesitated, waiting for him to turn to her. He didn’t. “I’m Celeste. And you?”
“Not interested, lady,” Telman muttered, after throwing down his shot.
“What…I…” Celeste sputtered–eyes wide. Telman watched her in the mirror behind the bar.
“I’m celebrating, that’s all.”Telman continued, staring straight ahead while raising his right arm with the empty glass, gesturing for the bartender’s attention.
Celeste twisted her neck, adjusting her composure. “Lonely place…your isolated celebration. Care to share? It was dismal until you came along.” Her voice was carefully patterned cadence to arouse male interest.
“Here,” Telman said to the waiting bartender. “No more of these. I’ll be hitting some gin tonight. Get the London Dry and make a couple of gin fizzes if the lady wants to join my party. I just landed tonight. I need a break. Get cracking!”
“Sure,” Celeste agreed, as Telman finally turned to stare into her hypnotic deep-green eyes. “I’ll give it a try if he’s buying. The red wine was thin.” She complained, placing her gold purse on the counter, then tapping her red nails as she stared back. “You’re an odd one like you don’t even see me. That’s rare.”
“What, because I’m not an easy mark?” Telman replied, stunned almost to silence by her pale beauty, but protected by his training. He moved away from her touch as Celeste reached out to caress his graying hair. He turned back from her again as the bartender arrived with two tall glasses of new drinks.
“Okay. I get it. Gay or something? Married?”
“Nope. Just particular who I drink with. You’ll do.”
“I’ll what!” Celeste snapped back.
“First, a drink…a good one. Then we’ll get to business. I don’t play games.” Telman took a deep swallow and motioned Celeste to do likewise. She followed the script.
Celeste sighed afterward, reorganizing her thoughts. “A player! I should have known. So what’s the deal?”
“No deal, honey. You’re a Trojan whore. We can’t let this situation go on. You’re making it tough for the rest of us visiting Earth. I landed here to clean up your Varjan mess. Hunting season is closed.” She twisted hard, grabbing her swollen neck. “That’s the first sign: painful gill itching. Yes, I can see them sealing. You won’t be feeding on any more male humans. I was betting you didn’t know your race is highly allergic to juniper berries. Don’t mind me as I walk away while you melt into pink goo.”
Before leaving, Telman slapped down a hundred-dollar tip to cover the bartender’s cleaning costs.
“By the way lady, nice dress.”
by submission | Apr 22, 2023 | Story |
Author: Rick Tobin
Cold steel from a small revolver in his sweaty palms gave little comfort to Jack Chase, sitting alone amidst feral wheat still struggling in an abandoned field near his grandfather’s rotting farmhouse, long since left to crumble after the 2024 financial collapse. There was no sacred family ground left for a wandering empath, unfit for a corrupt, war-mongering society. No one would notice a misfit who never managed to find a companion or create children. His hands shook while he closed his eyes, the setting sun behind him providing its warmth, messaging his bare neck a final time as the moist soil pushed chills up his spine.
Jack was unaware of a sudden flash of light behind him, hidden within the sun’s diminishing rays. He thought the whoosh of fresh wind was the empty prairie whispering goodbye. Light footsteps escaped him as his weapon pressed his right temple.
“No, Jack. We can’t have that.” A soft feminine voice surprised him near his left ear as a powerful hand twisted his gun from his grasp. He twisted, resisting, finding large, blues eyes and thick, silky blonde hair filling his view. He froze as his intruder tossed the gun.
“Not today, my love. There is much to live for. We waited for you.”
“Waited?” He mumbled. “You’re a hallucination. I had this once before. Am I dead?”
She smiled, calmly. “Not yet. You don’t remember that night? You tried this before, out in the rocky outcrops of Sedona. Did you die from drugs then?”
Jack rubbed his eyes, and then slapped his face.
“I’m real enough, dear Jack.” She pinched his reddened cheeks. “Get on your feet to meet someone to change your life.”
“Who are you? I don’t remember…not your name.”
“We don’t have names. That is your species’ waste of time. We recognize each other in full awareness. Now pay attention.” She was suddenly insistent. “Here is someone anticipating meeting you.”
Jack obeyed, still stunned at the bizarre events. The tall woman moved aside allowing him a full view of a silvery saucer craft. In front of it, moving toward him was a female teenager, also dressed in a shiny one-piece suit like her companion. The blonde visitor held his arm, urging him forward.
“This is ours…our mating.”
Chase’s knees buckled. Vague memories rose from his depression—many nightmares and hypnogogic dreams watching a child mature under orange skies surrounded by unrecognizable forests. They came irregularly. He would wake covered in a cold sweat, fearing for his sanity.
“She…she can’t be.”
“Oh, indeed, she is. For your comfort, I will introduce her as Oneha, meaning an explorer.”
“Why…I…this is too much!” Jack pushed his hands hard into his throbbing temples.
“Perhaps you’re in shock. Come, Oneha, and meet Jack, your father.” The blonde alien drew Jack closer as Oneha reached out, touching his forehead, providing relief and calm. He looked at her hard in the dimming light, scanning her youthful redhead beauty—a doppelganger for his Irish grandmother Elise.
“Time to get on board, Jack. Things are moving quickly. Earth’s magnetic field is changing drastically. Please come along. You’ll be treated well in your new home.”
“I can’t just…just leave, without…”
“Really,” she replied, smiling. “You were about to do that as we landed. There is nothing here for you.”
Jack turned, staring at the farmhouse ruins. He shuddered, reaching for Oneha’s hand and his tall partner’s arm. They walked swiftly into the craft, then zipped past the atmosphere as the ground below them heaved, swallowing the remains of an abandoned homestead.
