elijah.run - fiction

Toddler Dad

2025-09-17T00:00:00+00:00

Mike never considered himself an especially clean guy. He wasn't messy, but he certainly wasn't a neat freak. But when Mike had two kids, a toddler and a newborn, he found that his shoulders would tense and his breathing would shorten when the house was just a little too cluttered.

Now even with a supportive spouse/co-parent two little kids is no walk in the park -- and walks in the park are harrowing if you forget snacks. So Mike was used to staying in motion most hours of the day, from getting up at 6am to chasing the toddler at the park and rocking baby to nap until finally putting them to bed at 8pm.

But even with a quiet house (ignoring the noise machine that had probably outlived it's usefulness) Mike couldn't relax because just enough was out of place that he couldn't quiet his mind. So before kicking back and cracking open a cold seltzer water he did a cleaning pass at each room, picking things up off the floor, hanging up coats, sorting shoes, and either washing or putting away dishes.

Although Mike hadn't taken a dance class since he was in middle school, when he thought it would get him closer to a girl, he would glide from room to room waltzing left and right, round and round. He would reach a sort of state between calm flow, checking things off his list, and terminator targeting and eliminating enemies if his psyche.

This was how he ended most days; picking things up until he felt at ease. Maybe just the act of picking things up was good enough, maybe it didn't even matter how clean things got, just that he had left things better than he found it. After a day of work and family time, sometimes Mike just needed 10 or 20 minutes to himself and that was all it took to fill his cup.

The end.

Lady Wangle

2016-09-14T00:00:00+00:00

Prompt</h2>

A baroness looks at the Mona Lisa and sees her newborn baby in the background. MagicRealismBot</a> </blockquote>

Lady Wangle (of the prestigious Canadian Royalty) flew to the Louvre for her 27th birthday. In past visits she had always marveled at the beautiful marble statutes, historic illustrations, and the grandiose building itself. She always loved the glass pyramid, even if she didn't really see how it fit with the rest of the architecture. The Louvre was a special place in her heart.
She wanted to bring her newborn daughter Anna with but her husband Harold was concerned about the baby flying only two months after being born. L.W. offered to cancel the trip but he insisted that she go saying "Sweetie, you've been taking care of this baby for nine months. You can take a week off. You deserve it." L.W. wasn't one to fight over things like this so she packed for a three-day trip and went off to Paris.
As an early riser, or perhaps just a jet-lagged riser -- she always wanted to be an early riser but it wasn't in her genes. Regardless, she was up early. She didn't like the dark of mid January mornings, but that animosity was more or less evened out by her love of being alone in the quiet frigid winter air. She saw that the museum wouldn't open for another two hours and so she adventured toward the big Ferris Wheel East of the museum. She ultimately intended to walk by the riverfront but settled for seeing some sights first. She hadn't been to Paris in many years and was curious to see how it had changed.

To her disappointment nothing had really changed in Paris. She supposed that was part of the charm; it was tastefully timeless. One could come back year after year and get the same Paris they'd gotten before. Friends could visit separately and talk about some hole-in-the-wall cafe they'd found independent of one-another. Any city built on a certain level of tourism had to keep the high-lights stable.
The museum opened and a small line had started to form. She got in line and held idle chit-chat with a couple from Dallas, Texas. Their names were Jeffery and Matilda Almond. They were eager to share that this was their way of celebrating their 30th Anniversary with 'the honeymoon they never had'. L.W. asked who was partial to seeing the Louvre to which Jeff proudly exclaimed "It was all Matilda. She got a degree in ART ya' know -- she's real smart. Most of this stuff goes way over my head but she's there to explain it to me." Matilda blushed, she was the quiet one and Jeff was the loud one of the pair, but she could tell they got along anyway. L.W. smiled at this and with that the conversation awkwardly petered out.
L.W. always made a bee-line for the Mona Lisa when she went to the Louvre. She made the mistake of meandering there on one of her trips but by the time she got to it it was too crowded (only two hours after opening!) to see it. She raced all of the Asian tourist families with their massive Canon DSLR cameras and was one of the first pairs of eyes to see it that day. She took it all in, noting yet again how much smaller it looks in real-life.
Wave after wave she took the piece in. She knew there were better paintings in the Louvre but something resonated with her about the Mona Lisa. Something was special, some connection... was that... was that Anna in the background? L.W. peered at the piece and realized that an exact replication of her daughter --

I'm sorry reader. I can't do it. I built this up too much and now... now the ... I'm not even sure what to call it. The punchline? It doesn't make any sense. I know the point of the MagicRealismBot stories isn't to make something that makes sense in a logical sense, but like... it should at least be consistent and actions should be justified. I'm not trying to write an 'and then' story I'm trying to write a 'therefore, and so' story.
I apologize. This was just a bad story to begin with. I avoided the prompt for the majority of it anyway. I even ignored that I had started this for almost three weeks, hoping I'd come back and the story would magically become better. I know that's not necessarily a bad thing, but in this case it wasn't a good sign -- delaying the inevitable usually means one is dread it. That is kind of a necessity with these, take what you like from a prompt and push the rest to the side, barely quantifying the thing as 'written from the prompt'.
Anyway, I'm rambling now. Thank you for reading, it means a lot. I'll try to do something more -- I don't know -- more better in the future.

The MoonStone discovery

2016-08-19T00:00:00+00:00

Prompt</h2>

By looking at a fireplace, a medieval sorcerer can turn stone into moonstones. MagicRealismBot</a> </blockquote>

Ellyn scrambled to take notes as fast as she could. She had finally found a way to produce MoonStone and it would change everything! With MoonStone one could turn sand into gold, the living into the dead, and countless other theoretical properties she had read of. Now that she was able to produce that which had alluded sorcerers since the dawn of knowledge the sky was the limit.
She took her quill and parchment and wrote furiously. She described in great detail the position of the Sun in the Sky, the time of year, where she stood in the room and where the room stood on Earth. She knew every detail wouldn't be important but every detail could be so they all must be recorded.

...</li>
Standing my robes, staring intently at 12 BoilingRocks in the fireplace, facing head-first at the display.</li>
The sun stands high in a Summer's fore-noon, just glancing through the window unto the fireplace.</li>
After the duration of approximately three Hail Mary's the stones turned white and fragile.</li>
The rocks no-doubt turned into MoonStones as was theorized. Their shape and texture proves it so.

The MoonStones glow faint white, matte and with hints of spiritual aura.</li>
The MoonStones weigh substantially less than the BoilingRocks did, perhaps losing mass in the process of transformation.</li> </ul> </li>
...</li> </ul> </blockquote>
As she finished writing her findings she grabbed her wax and seal and marked it to be delivered to her mentor Rowan. He had spent the better part of his long life (76 years young!) attempting to find the secret to producing MoonStone from earthly materials but had come up empty-handed. Ellyn felt proud of her findings and was glad to be able to share it with Rowan.
Moments later Ellyn sent off her findings with a sample of the MoonStone via the local carrier. She told him to take it with haste to Rowan and gave the carrier an extra copper piece in hopes that he would. The carrier ran off down the road, the journey was almost a quarter day's travel so Ellyn returned to her study.
As she sat in wait studying the MoonStones, she grew weary of her findings. Just a moment ago she was so sure of her discovery, but now that she had sent off the finding she became... hesitant. Was this MoonStone or perhaps the similar SilverStone. MoonStone was only theoretical, studied in the mind and never before in the hand; it had never been proven to exist so what made her so sure that this rock was what they had been searching for. She was, after all, just an apprentice sorcerer; what did she know? If Rowan determined her findings untrue what would stop him from revoking his mentor ship? Her years of study would be for naut.
Ellyn had always been prone to worry. She took a deep breath and with nothing else to do, she sat in wait.

The MoonStone discovery

2016-08-19T00:00:00+00:00

Prompt</h2>

By looking at a fireplace, a medieval sorcerer can turn stone into moonstones. MagicRealismBot</a> </blockquote>

Ellyn scrambled to take notes as fast as she could. She had finally found a way to produce MoonStone and it would change everything! With MoonStone one could turn sand into gold, the living into the dead, and countless other theoretical properties she had read of. Now that she was able to produce that which had alluded sorcerers since the dawn of knowledge the sky was the limit.
She took her quill and parchment and wrote furiously. She described in great detail the position of the Sun in the Sky, the time of year, where she stood in the room and where the room stood on Earth. She knew every detail wouldn't be important but every detail could be so they all must be recorded.

...</li>
Standing my robes, staring intently at 12 BoilingRocks in the fireplace, facing head-first at the display.</li>
The sun stands high in a Summer's fore-noon, just glancing through the window unto the fireplace.</li>
After the duration of approximately three Hail Mary's the stones turned white and fragile.</li>
The rocks no-doubt turned into MoonStones as was theorized. Their shape and texture proves it so.

The MoonStones glow faint white, matte and with hints of spiritual aura.</li>
The MoonStones weigh substantially less than the BoilingRocks did, perhaps losing mass in the process of transformation.</li> </ul> </li>
...</li> </ul> </blockquote>
As she finished writing her findings she grabbed her wax and seal and marked it to be delivered to her mentor Rowan. He had spent the better part of his long life (76 years young!) attempting to find the secret to producing MoonStone from earthly materials but had come up empty-handed. Ellyn felt proud of her findings and was glad to be able to share it with Rowan.
Moments later Ellyn sent off her findings with a sample of the MoonStone via the local carrier. She told him to take it with haste to Rowan and gave the carrier an extra copper piece in hopes that he would. The carrier ran off down the road, the journey was almost a quarter day's travel so Ellyn returned to her study.
As she sat in wait studying the MoonStones, she grew weary of her findings. Just a moment ago she was so sure of her discovery, but now that she had sent off the finding she became... hesitant. Was this MoonStone or perhaps the similar SilverStone. MoonStone was only theoretical, studied in the mind and never before in the hand; it had never been proven to exist so what made her so sure that this rock was what they had been searching for. She was, after all, just an apprentice sorcerer; what did she know? If Rowan determined her findings untrue what would stop him from revoking his mentor ship? Her years of study would be for naut.
Ellyn had always been prone to worry. She took a deep breath and with nothing else to do, she sat in wait.

Debra the ghoul

2016-07-02T00:00:00+00:00

Prompt</h2>

A ghoul and an archbishop are fighting over custody of their children. MagicRealismBot</a> </blockquote>

Just like every Friday night, Debra picked up her two daughters from her ex-wife's house in Evanston and drove them downtown for the weekend. As she drove away in her red 2008 Corolla with them she got a text message from her ex.

From: Gwendolyn
Debra,
Please bring Lilyan and Odell back by 9pm on Sunday. They have school Monday morning. </blockquote>
Debra became immediately filled with rage. 'Of course they both have school Monday morning! I'm not stupid! I've been doing this for four and a half years goddammit. How stupid does she think I am? Christ she can be such a --' and before she went down that rabbit hole she remembered what her therapist said.
"Just breath. Everything is going to be okay. This is just temporary. Her bitchy behavior only affects you if you let it."
Debra drove a few more miles, her daughters in the back staying cautiously silent.
Eventually Lilyan spoke up. "Debora, why does mommy so mean to you?" deliberately calling Debra (or Debora in Lilyan's case) by her name and Gwen by 'mommy'. This used to bug Debra but she eventually became apathetic toward the situation. Gwendolyn had brainwashed the kids; she was honestly just glad she was able to fight and keep her daughters on the weekends.
"Why is mommy so mean to me. And sweety, I'm a ghoul and that means that most people don't really like me." Debra said matter-of-factly.
"Like racism?" Lilyan asked.
"Exactly like racism Lily.And your mother is a Christian official called an 'Archbishop'. For some reason, probably some squabble hundreds of years ago [or maybe they've just always been biggots] none of your mother's bosses liked that she was in a relationship me so she had to give it up."
There was a momentary pause as the girls thought this over. Lilyan was six and Odell was eight, neither of which were really prepared to fully process what she was saying, but she wanted them to feel respected and independent so she participated in their questions. They were both technically Gwendolyn's daughters with a donor, Debra would have had child if she was able to but ghouls had a notorously difficult time doing anything related to living, creating life included.
"But why does she not like you?" Lilyan finally asked.
Debra sighed. "Well, I think she doesn't like me because she wishes we could still be together. We had a very romantic fling in the beginning and we really thought we could stay together but... well it wasn't meant to last. She just thinks that this is the best way to deal with the situation. Some people would rather feel angry than sad."
Lilyan quickly followed up with the obvious "Do you feel sad Debora?"
Debra thought for a moment. Lilyan asked again "Do you feel sad Debora?"
"Sometimes sweetie. Sometimes I feel very sad and it makes it very hard to do things like go to work and eat food. Most of the time that happens I remind myself how lucky I am to have you two to look forward to."
Lilyan didn't know what else to ask and so the three sat in silence as they drove down Lake-Shore Drive. The lamp posts cast yellow-tinged shadows on their faces as they each looked out the windows.
Odell finally spoke up, "What are we going to do this weekend?"
"Good question. What do you guys want to do? I was thinking we could go mini-golfing once you get your homework done. How does that sound?"
They both groaned. Debra smiled "Well I guess it's settled. Mini putt-putt tomorrow afternoon."

Emperor Stan of Stantinople

2016-07-01T00:00:00+00:00

Prompt</h2>

An emperor owns a steam-powered device which allows him to destroy the past. MagicRealismBot</a> </blockquote>

Emperor Stan of Stantinople, the most prosperous 1500 square feet in all of Oak Burch Sunrise Shire Suburban [Gated] Community, ruled with an iron fist and an endless stream of Puns. His wife and three daughters obeyed his every whim, when it fit their schedules... and if they were in a good mood... and they wanted to. Stan was content with his life as an emperor and ruler of his domain, no matter how far and wide that domain spanned.
One Tuesday afternoon, as he stood at the edge of the sidewalk squinting toward his back yard and telling himself that 'Stantinople stretches as far as the eye can see', his mind drifted to the life he could have had. He thought about all of the mistakes he had made like when he tried stand-up and totally bombed, when he got into massive debt from college and dropped out, and when he bought a house in the suburbs -- the mistakes!
Seemingly out of nowhere he was tapped on the nose by a delivery woman. She told him to sign her PDA and before he could process what was happening she dropped a thick wooden, about the size of a bedside table, at his doorstep. He turned around and the woman sped away in an un-marked FedEx van; it didn't say FedEx, because it was unmarked, but the color and shape was right so Stan figured it probably was FedEx.
He lugged the box into the house and down to the finished basement he (and a poster in the stairwell leading down to the basement) called the 'Stantinople Man Cave', despite it not having many Man Cave amenities nor being an actual cave for which one might find men. The entirety of the basement consisted of three dark brown leather couches lined up in an 'L' formation in the corner and a small, almost child-sized foosball table on the opposite end of the room. He didn't even invest in a wide-screen TV and a few Lay-Z boy chairs with built-in mini-fridges! Stan really had no concept of what a Man Cave ought to have but nobody really called him on it since he was obviously trying his sad 43 year-old best.
He fumbled the box with a WHOOMP onto the carpet and painlessly opened it with its No Hassle™ packaging, an innovation he did not realized had made its way to wooden packaging. Removing the item Stan thought this new device was a sewing machine and he got excited, but upon closer inspection he realised it was not a sewing machine. The device was a rectangular cube with rounded edges and was hollow in the middle except for what looked like some pistons; the device was matt black and had four rubber feet on the bottom and was branded 'Past Scrubber'. He lifted the device out of the box and flipped 'on' the devices only switch; it began to whurrrrrr like a small engine.
Stan rummaged through the box and found a piece of paper which read:

May this device only be used by the mightiest and wisest emperors. With its mechanical power it may erase both mistakes and triumphs of the past. It does not discriminate, this is the job of its master. You are its master. </blockquote>
"Sweet! This thing looks cool." Stan said oblivious to the ominous tone of this note. "Let's see... it can change the past. I wonder what I should change..." he said foolishly not taking this very serious device seriously.
"Well first I'd wish I'd never moved out to the suburbs. That was a huge mistake." The machine's whurrr'ing intensified and an instant later he found himself living in a nice apartment near down-town. Since time had been altered, and in this universe you don't remember old timeliness if you change the past (deal with it), Stan had no idea that anything had changed and had yet to make his first decision.
"Well first I'd wish I never went to college, that was a huge waste of time just to drop out." and again (for you, not for him) the machine whurrr'd louder and an instant later Stan found himself in a much shittier apartment, further from downtown.
"Well first I'd wish I went to college, I really could have done something with my life." and the machine didn't respond because, despite it's visual similarities to a sewing machine, the device only knew how to destroy time and not how to create it. He would have known this if he read the freaking manual.
Stan quickly grew bored with the device after naming off a few things he wished he had done and it just whurr'ing on. He switched the machine off and put it in the corner and muttered to himself "Maybe I can get something for it on ebay."

After a furious bidding war between two hobbyist mechanics Stan got $153 for it.
"Not bad." he said when the bidding ended. "Not bad indeed." and smiled.

Character Study: The 'try new things' couple

2016-06-17T00:00:00+00:00

Gwendolyn and Stefan love to try new things. Not like... sex things, but like lifestyle things. Take, for example, Gwendolyn decided last week that she would love to see what life was like if she and Stefan only shared one bowl, plate, cup, fork, knife, spoon, and pan for a month. She didn't really have a good reason for why at the time, it's not like she read it in a magazine or anything, but they're young and into wacky stuff like that. Stefan always participates in these and likes talking about their adventures as they're happening, but never proposes ideas of his own.
Gwendolyn requires that people use the full Gwendolyn and not Gwen and has been known to halt conversations if people don't. She feels was confident that she loves Stefan three times more than he loves her. She wasn't sure why she felt that way, or where three times came from, but it had always been her hunch. Since she's never been able to confirm or deny it, she has kept on believing it; this puts her in an artificially smug mood whenever she sacrifices something for Stefan, like the 5% markup on the organic foods because he prefers them.
Stefan previously refereed to her as Gwen internally but forced himself to adapt after a few preventable meltdowns. He hasn't ever really considered how much he loves Gwendolyn, but he regularly thinks about the house they'll buy together in a few years. There isn't actually a specific house they're thinking about, but he still enjoys the fantasy; some women dream of their wedding day and Stefan dreams of his move-in day. Year after year they've stayed in the same mid-town loft and will never did move into that house.
They both definitely love each other to the extent that any twenty-somethings can love one another while still collectively managing to avoid the question of marriage. They will eventually break-up, not because of any one event or central cause, but because people grow up and grow apart. It's never anybody's fault, it's just how the wind blows. Some people's connections are able to persevere that inevitable break, but this connection will not. Gwendolyn knows this and in the back of her head is already thinking about why a breakup would be best for them. Stefan has thought about it once or twice but doesn't really want things to change. He likes spending his life with Gwendolyn and feels like they do share a really close bond, even if that bond is largely based on things like sharing one bowl, plate, cup, fork, knife, spoon, and pan for a month.
That said, the sharing-one-of-everything thing is working out pretty well. Gwendolyn hasn't gotten any of their friends to try it but she really feels like she's looking at food and meals in a whole new light. Stefan thinks it's a neat idea, but is looking forward to the end of this month. He would never tell her that though. He loves her too much.

Paperweight on my Shoulders

2015-08-30T00:00:00+00:00

Prompt</h2>

A paperweight whispers to a mathematician: "I feel so depressed." -MagicRealismBot</a> </blockquote>

Fredrick Gustav was working well into the night as he was known to do in the weeks preceding a publication of his work. When he worked deep into the night he took a drug called Caffeine in various forms from liquid to pill form to stay awake.
On the long nights he was also known to converse with furniture and inanimate objects around the room which were up for a quick chat as he needed to rest. If his 'people skills' were more astute (and there were people around to see him) Fredrick might be embarrassed by his own behavior but the pros really did outweigh the cons this late at night. His bookshelf had many interesting things to say but could sometimes overwhelm him. His chair was also good to talk with, but didn't get out much.
Tonight Fredrick's paperweight decided to speak up. It was a small manatee Beanie Baby and it started the conversation similar to how his bottom drawer tended to:
"I feel so depressed."
Fredrick was shocked by the plush manatee. It had never spoken up before and quite frankly he wasn't sure it was able to until just now. After the shock subsided he responded.
"Well you're a new voice. What might your name be there beanie baby manatee?"
BBM sighed and reflected on the question but was unable to answer.
"Do you have a name? You've been around this office for almost a year now, it seems about time I learned what to call you."
BBM responded positively to this idea and so Fredrick began the search for a name.
"Well, it seems like Snooty is a pretty famous manatee in Florida. Mind if I call you that?"
BBM responded shyly "Yeah... that sounds okay..."
Fredrick, not picking up on the hesitation in BBM's voice, carried on proud of his naming abilities and ready for the rest of the night.
"Wonderful.So my next question is 'Why do you feel depressed Snooty?'"
Snooty, who had not yet fully accepted the name, felt it was obvious why. She had been stuck in this office for over a year and why? She was bought by a mother and daughter and had hoped that she would be adopted by them, but of course she ended up being taken in by an old fart like Fredrick. She couldn't tell him that but it was how she felt. Somehow she wanted to get out of here and into the real world. She wanted to go to the park with a kid who named her something infinitely more creative than 'Snooty'. She wanted to go on adventures and see wonders of the world outside people called Cincinnati. Despite her fear of his reaction she quickly mustered up the gumption to tell Fredrick.
"I'm depressed because... because I'm stuck in this office when I could be on adventures with a kid. Adventures like... like I'm supposed to be on."
Fredrick reflected on this for a while. Glancing between her and the seventh draft of his publication. He finally spoke up.
"I understand. If I were you I'd want to get out of this office too. Maybe my daughter can find a good home for you, she works with children."
Snooty was very excited at this prospect and if she could physically smile she would have just then.
A few hours later Fredrick called it a night, packed up his things, and went home with Snooty in his briefcase. He arrive home at almost 2:47am and left Snooty in the keys bowl. He felt sad sometimes, coming home late to an empty house. Even his paper weight didn't like him, how could expect his wife and children to do the same. But he got up the next morning and did it all again. At least he'd have his office to keep him company.