The Unsolved Mystery - a short story

An experiment to see if I can accurately portray two of the most famous characters in literature. Please leave a comment with your assessment.

~

The Unsolved Mystery

With pen in hand, I reflected on past cases of Sherlock Holmes, which have to my fortune reached the public in print over the many years. But it was today that held a singular significance. The embers of his pipe had gone out as I saw my friend in a state like none other. Outbursts of frustration or revelation had been an outlet in the past, but it wasn’t in his nature to allow violence to pacify his anger. However, the corner of his desk suffered the most when he struck it with the poker.

He shouted, “Watson! It is not this case. But it is the reasoning, or the lack thereof, that has forced me to trod along in such a precarious manner.” He turned toward me, “Good doctor, is my brain that far gone?” He paused, then forced an answer, “I think not!” He stepped toward the window.

“My dear Holmes. Need I remind you, today you reached a significant birthday.”

“Please don’t,” he brooded. “Death is a mystery never to be solved.” He lifted his finger toward the heavens.

“I wasn’t speaking of your end.” I tried to relay some comfort.

“But age has a cruel way of reminding us of our pending exit. It is unavoidable.”

“Then tell me, why do you try?”

His wry smile flashed his answer before he spoke, “If not my mind, then the rare superior intellect of the next generation may live on – if that is even possible.”

I simply replied, “But probable, Holmes.”

He lifted a curious brow in my direction and then toward the window as he gazed up and down Baker Street. And as if he could see through the flats across the street, he peered over the London skyline as if the future would never provide a mind that would contain his abilities.  “Can it? Is it possible to pass down what I hold?” He pointed at his head. “Perhaps, what I have learned. But knowledge is not a gift with which we are born.” He paused as his hand drifted to his chin. He then let out a loud guffaw and, in opposition to his previous outburst, he quietly returned his attention toward the inner workings of his flat, as he reignited his pipe and with a new illumination in his eyes on the case presented before him.

I returned to my comprehensive writing for all posterity – to keep my friend alive. 

~

Born this day in 1854. Happy birthday to the greatest consulting detective to have ever lived! 

The Thief of Time - a short story

The Thief of Time (Fiction 101 Series)

Thad was looking around the bookstore near the Science Fiction section adjacent to the corner shelf of the calendars. It was only June, but his life revolved around the new calendars. And they didn’t arrive until August. Two months later he returned to his favorite corner – no calendars. September, then January – no calendars. He couldn’t figure it out. The store manager was no help.

As he sat brooding on a stool next to the Science Fiction section he spotted a new book called, “The Thief of Time.” Crying, he frantically ran to his mom at the other end of the bookstore.

~

The phrase “Procrastination is the thief of time” was coined by the English poet Edward Young in his 1742-45 work Night Thoughts (or The Complaint), though Charles Dickens later popularized a similar sentiment in David Copperfield: “Never do tomorrow what you can do today. Procrastination is the thief of time.” 

Like Kris Kringle - a short story

Like Kris Kringle (Fiction 101 Series)

Love is like a Kris Kringle gift exchange at Christmas time.

“Let’s just open these damn presents!” An angry Calvin plopped himself on his mother’s red velvet sofa.

“Can’t you just be civil for once.” A frustrated Lorraine chastised as she sat next to her younger brother.

Mom, joined by aunts and uncles and cousins sat around the tree. They opened their gifts. Each one filled with Love. Some shared their gift. Others didn’t want to part with their gift.

Calvin opened his, “What’s this? I got Crazy!”

Mom peeked at the open package, “No it’s not. You also got Love.”

~

"When it's hard and you are doubtful, give more." - Francis Chan

The Art of Procrastination - a short story

The Art of Procrastination (Fiction 101 Series)

Aaron stood from his chair. He made another pot of coffee. He poured a little whiskey in the coffee. He stared out the window. He poked at the fire. He sat down again. He examined the blank page. He stared through the fibers. He set his pen down and picked up his laptop. He stared through the blank pixels. He stood from his chair and stared out the window and poked at the fire. He did everything and anything other than the one thing he should be doing. Or he did nothing. And he thought of nothing. And nothing was done.

~

The phrase “Procrastination is the thief of time” was coined by the English poet Edward Young in his 1742-45 work Night Thoughts (or The Complaint), though Charles Dickens later popularized a similar sentiment in David Copperfield: “Never do tomorrow what you can do today. Procrastination is the thief of time.”

 

Scoundrels - a short story

Scoundrels (Fiction 101 Series)

One scoundrel met another on a deserted western street. The other scoundrel – the one-armed pistoleer – raised his left hand over his head. But not out of defeat. The first scoundrel wasn’t going to fall for that old trick. He pulled his pneumatic puff-canon on him with a sinister stare. With a wry grin, the second scoundrel slowly lowered his hand as a diversion while his mechanical right arm raised a brass light-beam caster from its holster. Both scoundrels were at a stalemate. Neither said a word 'til one fired. And the battle was on – until mom called them in for dinner.

Chore - an animated short (Screenplay)

    While exploring career options in my 20s, I took a Screenwriting class at San Francisco State University, Fall Semester of 1989. Recently, while rummaging through some old files, I discovered a typed screenplay I wrote entitled “‘Chore’ – An Animated Short based on a short story," dated 8 NOV 1989. The short story has yet to be found – if there ever was one. I also received an "A" in the class. Whether believable or not, I actually had envisioned 3-dimensional animation similar to Pixar. Please enjoy this early piece of work.

~

Chore – an animated short

Legend

INT: Interior

POV: Point of view

EXT: Exterior

VO: Voice over

ZI: Zoom in

CU: Close up

ZO: Zoom out

1.      INT. BEDROOM. SHORT ZOOM TO BUNK BED. PAN AROUND ROOM. Various pennants and posters. Paraphernalia consisting of: STAR WARS, E.T., Sherlock Holmes and Batman. Bookshelves: C.S. Lewis, Frank Herbert, H.P. Lovecraft and Stephen King. Clothes on floor and draped on bunk-bed. CU to pocket pinball machine on dresser.

MATCH CUT TO:

2.      INT. OVERHEAD. Boy jumps from top bunk to floor – rummages for clothes. Discover 501s, Tie-die T-shirt, and jacket. Stuffs jacket pockets with baseball cards, gum, keys, Swiss Army knife, and other junk. As he leaves the bedroom room, CU behind his head.

3.      POV INT. peaks around kitchen corner, no one in sight. Moves to front door.

a.       EXT. Runs outside to beautiful sunny day; slams door by accident.

4.      EXT.  Doorway view. Boy runs across the street.

5.      INT. Door opens – POV female VO.

(calling)

Timothy!

            Timothy stops in his tracks and slowly turns.

                                                MOM

            What about your chores? I want the lawn mowed, the garbage taken out…

Muffle Mom’s voice and ZI to Timothy who has a horror look on his face.

Continue muffled chore list until…

                                                MOM

            …and I’ve asked you to do these things all summer!

                                                TIMOTHY (CU)

                                    (whining, yelling across street)

But Mom, this is the last Saturday of the Summer, can’t I –

                                                MOM

                                    (CU of feet tapping)

No! Now get your butt in here now!

6.      EXT CONT’D Timothy stands in shock. Blurred frame. Montague of a lawn-mower coming after him – brooms and mops pushing him to do his work – the dishwasher speaking to him in a deep voice – the washer and dryer are laughing and dancing – his room looking as if a hurricane is going on (things flying in the air), a G.I. Joe stops mid-flight and orders him to clean his room. The fence rocking and the chimney puffing with smoke – a tree next to the house acts as an arm, it grabs the chimney and puffs it like a cigar, the house becomes a “foreman” type character and bellows.

7.      TIMOTHY POV of house.

HOUSE

(deeply)

            Now get to work!

DISSOLVE TO:

8.      EXT. TIMOTHY washing dad’s white Jeep. Mom standing in garage doorway glaring at Timothy.

MOM

                                    (beginning to walk back into house)

            If you’d only started at the beginning of the summer –

                                                TIMOTHY

                                    (slight tongue and cheek)

            Yeah – I know –

9.      Aerial View ZO, neighborhood (a court) of houses snickering with each other as other boys in the neighborhood are outside washing their dads’ car.

MATCH CUT TO:

10.  The Earth (with female persona) satellites orbiting.

EARTH

                                         (authoritatively)

            And you drink your milk!

                                               (laughs)

The Other Ship - a short story

The Other Ship – a short story

Translation was deemed too difficult. Instead, they had established a rudimentary shared language. Mostly, it consisted of hand-waving and pointing. One of the Visitors pointed at the red light in the night sky when the Human asked about their origin. They didn’t have a written language. More and more they learned from each other. It took several weeks, but they came to an understanding of what each group wanted and their respective tasks. Both were patient with each other. But the Watchers, who were tasked with the heavy lifting, were not so patient. They had left shortly after the Visitors arrived. The Visitor seemed to provide an elementary level of understanding. The Human reached out his hand to the Visitor, something the latter had not seen before. The Human shook the hand of the Visitor and smiled. The smile confirmed to the Visitor the agreement was solidified.

The next step was to assist the Human and his family in building their ship of wood in exchange for something the Visitors deemed of great value. The Human told them a great storm was coming. He was instructed to build a great ship to save his family and two of each animal and all creeping creatures. Somehow the Human was able to relay that the outside Humans had once mocked him for such a foolish endeavor. When the Visitor captain heard this story, he said that he had heard ancient stories of a similar cataclysmic event. This caused a curious notion to shade his face. He was exceptionally curious about the large reptiles. But the Human assured the captain that only their eggs would be taken aboard.

It took years upon years to finally complete the ship. The Humans and the Visitors stood back, far enough away from the ship to admire their accomplishment. Both teams inspected the seals and the only opening into the ship. As they examined the ship, two of each animal from all over the Earth arrived in pairs. From elephants to mice, from lions to sheep, they arrived and boarded the giant wood ship. Food and other provisions were loaded as well. But there was only one pair of each animal. The Visitors had yet to see what they came to collect. The Humans had their “great value.” But the Visitors needed to repopulate their planet with Earth’s abundance of animals and select vegetation. The animals on the red planet were mostly extinct. An influx of new animals would need a food source. A slight rain began to fall. The Visitors looked up into the wet sky with tears of hope. They spoke to the Human something he could not understand. At first the Human was frightened. The Visitors could steal his ship and take every animal on board. But instead, the Visitor lifted his hand with his people’s gesture of assurance. He had another idea.

And another next step. To coordinate herding another set of animals aboard the visitors’ ship. This was a task unlike the Human had ever seen. He had already seen beyond his imagination. And when the Visitors opened up their ship on all four sides – from the stern, the bow, the port, and starboard – multiple smaller ships emerged and flew off like birds without wings into the four horizons. For the next four days, they returned with pairs and pairs of all the animals and creeping creatures. They loaded the large animals onto the massive ship and kept the smaller animals on the recovery ships. The smaller ships docked into their respective ports and the doors closed.

All of the Visitors were on board aside from their captain. He stood in front of the Human and his family. He held out his hand as the Human had done during those first days. The Human shook his hand with one hand over the other. They exchanged what they both considered gratitude. There was also a primary agreement, not to relay in written nor in oral tradition what had taken place. And the Visitor turned to board his ship. The metallic craft lifted effortlessly. Quietly, with a slight whisp of wind just as it had done when first contact was made with the Humans. Within seconds the other ship vanished from their sight.

As the rain increased and the springs of the earth began to release her waters, the Human boarded his ship – the lifeboat of all lifeboats. And he joined his family. For forty days and nights, the water fell from the sky and poured out of the earth. Six months later, the huge ship rested on a high mountain.  He and his family disembarked to find the sun was shining. The animals, in pairs, left and went to various places throughout the earth. The Humans were glad. It was a new start.

The Human captain planted a vineyard. Two years later, he crushed the grapes into wine. One evening, he and his wife drank the wine to their fill. So much so, they were passed out drunk until they awoke the next morning.

The Visitors’ ship traveled through space. Passed by the earth’s moon. Eventually, they orbited one of their moons before altering their trajectory for the red planet. A journey of seven months and ten days. With each of the four smaller ships they landed in order to deposit the animals in ecologically suitable locations. Since the animals were not indigenous to their planet, it would take time for them to adapt. Scientists of their world would oversee such delicate adjustment.

The captain planted a vineyard, and two years later he made wine just as the Human had taught him. He and his mate sat out on their balcony with a telescope and gazed at the stars as they drank the wine. They admired the blue planet he had once visited. And reveled in his accomplishment – the thriving animals and vegetation. They continued to drink the wine. So much so, they were drunk and did not wake up the next morning.