Captain Faren Reon

Prompt: She liked to fit people into the world like puzzle pieces.

“You’ll work out perfectly here,” Amelia said. “It will be cozy, with just you two in this office. Kyle, this is Patrick. Good luck, I know you will be wildly successful.”

She closed the door. It made a hollow sound that echoed in the room.

Kyle looked across the room at his office mate. Patrick was in his mid twenties, somewhat untidy, and a bit socially awkward.

He smiled. Patrick did not. Kyle was a sophomore in college and on his first internship. His dress shirt and tie, assiduously pressed and cleaned. He had high hopes for position…until now.

He stood at the door, holding his box of supplies, waiting for an invitation. Patrick did not oblige him, rather he turned his attention back to his screen.

“I’ll just take this desk here,” Kyle said quietly.

Silence.

Kyle unloaded his box and set up a few nick-knacks to add a homey touch to the sterile office.

Kyle settled in and took stock of his new surroundings. The walls were painted prison beige, no art or even posters adorned them. The only sound was the clack of computer keys coming from Patrick.

“How long have you worked here?” Kyle inquired as attempt at conversation. Patrick only darted his eyes in Kyle’s direction for an answer.

After an uncomfortably long pause, Kyle murmured, “okay.”

He open his laptop and realized he did not know what he was actually to be working on.

“This is a tad embarrassing, but Amelia didn’t exactly spell out what I am working on,” Kyle peeped.

That earned him an eye-roll from Patrick.

More silence.

Kyle thought about emailing Amelia but he didn’t want to look like a noob on his first day. Instead he busied himself with his laptop, updating his instagram and meticulously rearranging the items on his desk. Not once that morning did Patrick utter a word or even look in his direction.

Finally, lunch time came and Kyle almost asked Patrick if he was coming to lunch, but thought better of it. He left the room without a word.

In the cafeteria, Amelia came over and asked how the morning was going.

“Are you playing nice with your office buddy?” she asked brightly.

“Yeah. He’s a bit quiet, but we are getting along,” replied Kyle. “Um, this is a tad embarrassing, but I don’t know exactly what I’m supposed to be doing.”

“Didn’t Patrick tell you?” Inquired Amelia, ever so slightly crestfallen.

“No, he didn’t mention it. I did ask him though,” the intern stated in his own defense.

“Well, right after lunch you just march right up there and tell him that he is to train you, pronto!” Amelia exclaimed exuberantly.

Now, it was Kyle’s turn to be crestfallen.

But, upon his return, he dutifully asked Patrick to train him.

“I don’t do training.” Then silence.

Kyle was going to insist, but didn’t want to make waves on his first day. He whittled away the rest of the afternoon.

The next morning Kyle arrived early, dressing a bit more casually, a polo and khakis. But he when he entered the office he saw Patrick was already there. Kyle noted that he might have had on the same clothes as yesterday. He saw he received three emails on his work account. One from HR about signing some forms, one was a group email about weekly birthdays, and one was from Amelia asking for some data. He had no idea about this data. He knew he would have to ask Patrick.

“Patrick, um, hate to bother you, but Amelia is asking for some data, and I’m not sure what data she is referring.” Kyle tentatively asked.

His response was just three letters: S-E-P.

Kyle cocked his head in a quizzical manner.

Patrick snorted in derision. “Haven’t you read Douglas Adams’ Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy series?

“Um, no.”

“S-E-P. Somebody else’s problem.”

“Oh.” With that, Kyle decided that he had to speak to Amelia about Patrick’s lack of cooperation. He left his office and made his way down to Amelia’s.

Knock, knock on her open door.

“Come on in, Kyle,” she chirped. “How can I help?”

Recalling his business communication class skills, Kyle said in a manner appropriate to a work setting, “I am feeling frustrated at Patrick’s behavior. He has not trained me or even answered any of my questions in a satisfactory manner. ” And, losing a bit of his professionalism, he added, “He is really unhelpful. I don’t think he likes me.”

“Nonsense,” Amelia brushed aside his concerns. “I have a sense about people and you two are like two puzzles pieces. You just have to figure out how you fit together. Now, scoot back and get to work.” And with a wave of her hand, she dismissed him.

Kyle was stunned, absolutely stunned. How could he figure out how to get along with Patrick when Patrick won’t talk to him. He wandered through the cafeteria, getting a nice mint tea to calm him.

Eventually, he found his way back to his office. He decided to be direct and up front.

“Patrick, you may not like it, but we have to work together. So, you need to train me and get me up to speed. After that, I’ll leave you alone as much as possible.”

Another derisive snort. Then silence.

Well, that didn’t work, Kyle thought. Then lunch came. After lunch, he would try a different tack.

“Patrick, it’s clear that as a newbie, I have no idea what I am doing. I could really benefit from your knowledge and expertise. I know you have better things to do, but I’m sure you could train me lickety-split.”

That earned him a snort, an eyebrow raise and a mocking “Lickety split?”

Damn, that didn’t work.

After lunch, Kyle tried threatening.

“If you fail to adequately train me, I will no choice but go to Amelia,” Kyle assertively stated.

That earned him a 5 second stare and a shake of the head.

Amelia breezed by in the late afternoon. “Are we getting along fabulously?” She squeaked. Kyle’s pained expression went unnoticed by his boss. “You’ll make it work, I just know it.” With that she was gone.

Kyle tossed and turned all that night trying to figure our how they “fit together.” He was determined to succeed in this. He wracked his brain, recalling his interpersonal communications class, his psychology seminar and even the advise from his beloved grandma.

The next morning he came in with renewed vigor. As usual, Patrick was already there. Kyle did note he had changed his shirt at least. He decided that instead of flattery or threatening him, he would make him uncomfortable by violating his physical space. He wheeled his chair over to Patrick’s desk getting as close to him as possible without touching him.

At first, Patrick did not react at all. Then he sniffed the air, “That’s cologne, it’s nice.”

It was Kyle’s turn to raise an eyebrow.

An hour or so later, Amelia peeked in on her “boys.” Patrick was bent over his desk with Kyle’s cock firmly planted up his ass.

“I know those two would get along,” she chirped happily. “Like two puzzle pieces.”

Prompt: The story of how your parents met, transposed into the Victorian era.

It was a cold day on the cricket field. The win blew fiercely. Norma sat in the stands freezing despite her many layered dress and mink stole. Her wide hat pushed up a bit to allow her to watch the ebb and flow of the game.

She wasn’t sure about the date her brother had set up for her. She had just returned from her boarding school for spring break and her brother, Jerry, said he knew a handsome gentlemen that would be fetching towards her. His name, ironically, was Jerry too. He was a student at a prestigious boys school, and he was a smashing good cricket players. But still she was unsure.

She was violating some social norms by scouting him out at this game before they actually met, but she didn’t want to another date gone wrong.

She watched him with a knowing eye, she (covertly) followed cricket and other sports. She was impressed with his playing. He certainly knew what he was doing. As the game progressed, she warmed to him despite the chilly weather.

She found herself cheering for him along with the rest of the crowd as he scored again and again. And she felt a thrill of triumph as his team won the match.

She wandered down to the sidelines as his team celebrated its victory.

She called to him, “Mr. Zimmerman, that was a fine performance. Your skills are quite exquisite.”

He stopped and looked at her, searching his memory for her face, but not finding it. “Thanks,” he said quietly.

“How rude of me not to introduce myself,” she stated, “You know my brother, Jerry Karl. I’m Norma Jean.”

His expression was fathomless. He blinked, once, twice. Then remembering himself, “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

She could not tell what his thoughts were. They both stood there awkwardly, she waiting on him to take the lead. He just standing there.

“Well, I don’t want to keep from any engagements you might have,” she said at last.

“I don’t have any engagements,” he stated flatly.

“Well, if that is the case, perhaps you would like to call upon me at my parents’ home,” she boldly asked. She knew she was being too forward for her gender, but it seemed that he was not going to make the first move.

“All right, shall we say at 8,” he replied.

“8 it is.” She replied with the proper outer decorum, but with a wicked inward smile.

Prompt: “His wife was having tea with the King and he didn’t know about it.”

Liam woke up. He lazily stretched noticing that his wife had already gotten up. The house was quiet and that was unusual. She usually was playing some God-awful music, “Suspicion” or “Blue Suede Shoes.”

Why couldn’t she listen to home grown music, instead of that garbage from American. There’s nothing wrong with Irish tunes. There were plenty of local musicians, Galway was a great city for music.

He got out of bed and groggily walked to the kitchen. He switched on the water for tea.

It’s too quiet. Way too quiet. Where is she?

He wandered a bit. Not finding her.

He looked for her car, it was there. He called her cell, it went straight to voicemail.

He sat and thought. She had been quiet lately, distance. Did she run off? Is she just out for a walk. He looked through her clothes, and then looked for her suitcase. It was not there.

He looked for her passport. It was not there.

What the hell? Where did she go? She has been acting strangely. She got that Elvis tattoo on her chest.

He logged onto the computer and looked at her search history. It was wiped cleaned.

He logged onto their credit card account. He find a one way to from Galway to Memphis, Tennessee, USA. Who does she know in the states? Let alone Memphis, Tennessess?

He googled Memphis and then it clicked.

She had traveled from Galway to Graceland to be with the King.

Prompt: The language of flowers, pajamas, a secret passageway

Prompt: “Smoke hung so thick in the library’s rafters that she could read words in it.”

Amelia dejectedly closed the book.

“Ugh, can’t anyone write something good. This is awful.” She said quietly. “What words would be in the smoke? It doesn’t make any sense.”

You looked around the library. Everyone was reading. Here a man was reading a newspaper, there a woman was perusing the periodicals, another one was looking through an encyclopedia.

Amelia thought it odd though everyone was reading something, no one was reading novels. It seems people had abandoned fiction for more straight forward nonfiction. She decided to check this out more. Getting up from her chair, she walked around the library. Some kids were looking at a magazine about video games, a woman was reading a book about true crime, two men were looking at books about garden design and one skinny teen was checking out a book about carrier pigeons.

“How odd,” Amelia mused.

She approached a librarian. “Excuse me, I’m looking for something new to read. Something well-written.”

“Oh, there’s a lot to choose from,” the librarian chimed up, “We have some excellent essays on politics, or some travel memoirs, ohh, how about some biographies?”

“No, I’m looking for fiction. Novels, really,” explained Amelia.

The librarian crinkled her nose. “Well, I suppose you could find something over there,” waving her hand in fit of ennui. She went back to shelving how-to videos.

“How odd,” murmured Amelia. She went off in the direction the librarian indicated. As she ventured into the stacks, she felt a chill run down her spine. The air was thick with dust and the shelves strewn with cobwebs.

She absent-mindedly ran her finger along the spines of a row of books.

“Joyce, Hemingway, Ibsen, Steinbeck, Chekhov, Adams,” she read off the authors on the shelves. “Why is no one reading these writers?”

She caught movement out of the corner of eyes at the end of her current row.

“How odd,” she exclaimed again.

Her curiosity got the better of her and she tried to catch sight of the whatever-it-was. She walked to the end and peered about. See nothing, she returned to her examination of the books.

“PPPPSSSSTTT,” Amelia jumped at the sound.

“What the…”

PPPPSSSTTTT, down here,” whispered the voice.

She knelt down and looked through the shelf of books to spy someone, or something.

It was hard to describe what it was. It was small, pale, sickly looking with wild eyes almost crazed looking.

“You need to be careful, very careful,” the voice said. “These books are dangerous, really dangerous.”

“What do you mean,” Amelia asked. “They are just books.”

“Just books?” scoffed the unknown, “Just books?! These books contain something that can’t be found anywhere else. They contain unreality.”

“Do you mean fiction?”