January 8, 2020
“We have tamed this wild land, made it our own. But the time has come to find new challenges. These colonists we scatter to the winds will be the next generation of our civilization. Go forth in peace and find new worlds to conquer!”
A moment later, Alonzo sneezed violently.
January 7, 2020
Our parents’re fond of telling us
How they stopped an unjust war
How strange nobody kicks up a fuss
Now that they’re starting more
January 6, 2020
I woke up in a cold sweat. It was just past dawn, and light was starting to come over the hills. I stood up and looked out my bedroom window. The old tree was still visible on the hill there, as it had been for decades, with the sunlight streaming through its leaves, casting shadows that looked like words.
I was sure that my dream had been just that, the passing fancy of an unconscious mind. Elizabeth surely did not exist, and never had.
But I needed to be sure.
January 5, 2020
The leaves told me that the tree was planted by a woman named Elizabeth. She lived in the area, but her full name was unknown. The leaves also say that she disappeared when she was very young. Her disappearance meant nothing to me then, but I had a sense that we might meet at some point in the future.
January 4, 2020
In my dream, I came across a tree, perched atop Hollow Hill outside of town. Each of the leaves was brittle brown parchment, inscribed with printed letters. The long “s” and faded sepia ink were like something out of Shakespeare.
A blast of cool air swept by, and a handful of the papery leaves. I reached out, took one, and with difficulty began to read what was inscribed on its surface. It was a hand at once centuries old and just a few months.
January 3, 2020
You are an author working on a novel. You are researching its setting in a rural town. You enter town to interview people, only to find that the town is not what you expected. It is dull, plotting, and unpleasant.
You leave town and head back home. If you had stayed, your story would have been less interesting, filled with staid character. But since you have left, the reader has no reason to care about any of them anymore. They are forgotten. No, worse than that: they never even existed.
The story will be just as good without them in it, you tell yourself. This is how an author should always approach writing novels. Leave out all unnecessary details and focus on the main character’s thoughts, feelings, actions and what he or she thinks at the time.Then write the rest of the book from those points of view. This way, you can concentrate on developing your plot and not worrying about characters who don’t matter to you.
But still, they haunt you. Those characters that never were, less than nothing, cheated out of even an existence on the page because they were too dull for life. It would make you angry, if you weren’t so sad.
January 2, 2020
In a fine cushioned sconce
Six gems rest, nonchalant
Two of green, emerald hue
Two more of ruby, sparkling too
A fifth one, sapphire, a startling gem
The final is beryl, as orange as some men
January 1, 2020
Don’t go over 25! What are you, a maniac?
He knew that the deal had been too good to be true. A champagne gold Buick, only driven by a little old lady to church on Sundays? Roy gritted his teeth and tried to floor the accelerator to pass someone.
The speed limit here is 30 for a reason, better stay a few under just to keep out of trouble.
Roy should have known something was up when he found himself leaving the blinker on for an entire trip, or when he’d had a sudden desire to shop at the Piggly Wiggly–an hour away in good traffic.
Can never be too careful with all those teenagers on the road.
Pulling to the left in a turn, Roy found himself taking the long way to avoid a street that had a few kids loitering on it. The surface streets dropped the speed limit from 30 to 25, so Roy naturally dropped his own speed to a glacial 20, barely above idle. People began to swerve around the Buick wherever they could squeeze themselves.
They’ll regret being such speed demons when the cops catch them!
As he pulled into the parking lot and grabbed his clutch before making for the powered scooters, Roy sighed. It was too late, now; he was thoroughly possessed by the spirit of the old lady that used to drive the car.
Don’t forget your coupons! Is it all right to pay with a check?
Excerpts From Nonexistent Books 