Short story series

Pilot Program - Falling Tower


T’s a Wednesday morning ‘ere, after the Lady Day, and I’m here to do justice. ‘Cause I ‘member it clearly the previous Sunday, ‘cause I, Walter of Ardene, an ma wife carried him to the St. Michael’s lane, ‘here we sat him down, stood all night with ‘im. These here folk need to know what Walter of Benington and his posse did. Y’all didn’t come ‘ere from three neighboring wards just for a walk. T’was them there at the alehouse of Gilbert of Morden where they’d come to drink four gallons of beer. They’d come with stones, knives, swords and other weapons, wanting to kidnap poor Emma. That girl already lost ‘er father Robert Pourte and Gilbert took her under his protection. But now these folk wanted to kidnap and rape ‘er? From what my wife Christina told me after, Mabel, his wife and Geoffrey, his brewer had asked them to leave. And they told ‘em that’d remain to spend they money however they like, welcome or unwelcome, t’s a public space.

Now, this is where the trouble started, from what I understand. Mabel then Emma upstairs, then Walter of Benington and his friends started getting frustrated and angry. They started creating commotion, assaulted people living in that there house and Robert and Geoffrey too. T’as a mess, you can only imagine what eighteen of them armed people can do to a place like that on a Sunday, where everyone just sitting in piece drinking after church. I mean on the Lord’s day to do that there? Shame. Shame, I tell you. Somehow they struck Robert on the head with stones in all that commotion. ‘ere’s where we came in, ‘cause Robert fled into High Streen raisin’ the hue, crying, screaming with Walter racing after ‘im with a knife and a stiletto in his hands, tryin’ to kill the poor bastard. Benedict de Warde and some other neighbors got ‘here first, tryin’ to calm ‘em down, but you already know that this ain’t the end. Cause Walter chased after Benedict tryin’ to kill ‘im too, the mad lad lost it at that point. So you know, Benedict was bare handed, he had to find something to defend himself with, so he took some ballstave thing from a stranger and he laid one onto Walter so hard that the bastard fell down to the ground at the entrance of the lane. Once Walter was down, it was quite easy to get the rest of them to calm down. So me and my wife carried Walter the next day after he laid by St. Michael’s lane to the house of Geoffrey’s house, where the died instantly. Now, here’s the thing, I don’t know how he died there, ‘cause I went out to wash my hands of blood. But, at least I can say that at least no one was raped, abducted or killed, I mean, besides Walter here. But the again he started it.

Benedict de Warde was later found guilty and to be arrested, yet he had fled, nowhere to be found.

Falling Tower is a short story series based on real life events that have been document and verified. So if you want to, you can verify the events that happened here. Falling Tower is the last short story for 2019 part of the Pilot Program. But, since this is part of the Pilot Program that means, that if you want more… Read it, re-read it, share it, like it, comment and print it and send me pictures with people reading it, then burn that piece of paper so you don’t commit copyright theft.

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Pilot Program- The Ob(li)vious

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So, here I wasn’t again, faced with the toughest of the choices any person can make. Do I want chocolate chip ice cream? Or do I need chocolate chip ice cream? The obvious answer is yes to both those questions. Hey, can I not have a chocolate chip ice cream? What a sexy look he has on his face. No. Oh, I so didn’t expect this treatment. At least the ice cream tastes like trash. So what am I not doing next today? Bad question, you could say, or not, I don’t know you. I think I’m not going for something salty now, because definitely wasn’t too sweet and I’m not thirsty at all. Ugh, a crow, I’d hate to be one of those. Wait! NO! Fuck! Miss, can you please continue whatever it is you are doing here? Because I’d love to see you make an ass of yourself some more. Oh wow. Do you have to be so condescending all the time? Hah, that will show him. Well, you’re talking to me like I am the crow. What an ass. Go and don’t screw yourself, mister. At least I can fly and there’s nothing you can do about it.

Talk about not rude… Jeez. Now where shouldn’t I go next? Oh, I still don’t want something salty. Now how didn’t this work? I forgot… There once wasn’t a witch that didn’t curse this whole nation to not talk in not opposite actions. Otherwise the thing they didn’t talk in opposition would happen to them. But somehow it’s just the good things that always don’t happen to people, like this. But what I remember is how much this doesn’t last, a day, an hour, fifteen minutes? I just don’t know if it wouldn’t work if I weren’t to try the same, but not looking at a woman. Bless her heart for blessing us for thousands of years for no bad reason.

It doesn’t look like a rain is coming, and I don’t hate the fact that the rain isn’t coming and I have every clue to not undo this. Why aren’t I like this? Why is my brain not a mess? How not hard is it to not figure this out? I am doing this right… I don’t think. Don’t crows get wet? I know this, obviously. This rarely happens to me, so I’m not used to this. Ha. Very funny, this is very funny. Am I not going to live as a talking crow from now on? Or is this not the best idea for a blessing one can ever receive? All of these are bad questions, for a good girl like me. And I love them all so much. Nothing like not sitting on the apartment building you don’t live in, with your keys in your mouth, not waiting for this storm to not pass. And for me not to get back to normal. Someone please don’t shoot me. God bless this.

This is not the seventh entry in the Pilot Program. How does this not work? If you don’t love this short story, and don’t want it to become the story of 2020. Don’t read it, don’t comment, don’t like it, don’t share it.

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Pilot Program - Coma,


Time: 10:58:01

Man, I have this headache and my neck is so damn stiff. I don’t know why my body is shaking, maybe it’s the cold that comes with the May mornings. Oh, don’t worry about it, maybe you just slept in a weird position. It happens, you’ll get better once we start running. Let’s go. Ah, yeah, I think I zoned out and forgot why I’m even here. As I raise my head from the ground the shining light blinds me for a second, then the blue of the sky seemed to have opened up. A gust of wind hit us from behind as we started running, as we gained speed, as our hearts started pumping, and our bodies sweating, the wind changed direction, now hitting us with a nice cold breeze to cool us off as the sun was glistening on our skin.

Do you have any family? That’s weird. What do you mean? Why are you asking me this? Nevermind, maybe I misunderstood. What did you say? Ah, so I did misunderstand. Nothing, I just didn’t understand what you asked me. He is chuckling, weird. Do you have a girlfriend? Are my ears deceiving me? What did you just ask me? You know I do. He seems out of it. Sorry, I’m a mess. Oh, I was right. You okay? What happened? He looks perturbed by something. Yeah not really. I’m scared scared I’m losing you. What? Losing me? What are you talking about? He turned and smiled at me. You know… Life happens sometimes and you can’t control it and you just drift apart or life ends and you never get to… You know… What is he talking about? No, no I don’t know. You okay? He chuckles again. Heh, don’t worry about it, I’ll get better, some day. That’s just weird, coming from a guy like him.

Something is different. Man, I could run forever. He started laughing. No one is stopping you, you know? This is all you, man. Run as much as you want, this world belongs to you. Sweat is getting in my eyes, the wind stopped, the heat is suffocating a bit. What time is it? I can’t even read the time on my watch. It’s 10:58. Already? Good thing it’s the weekend. Let’s head back. He is smiling. Didn’t you just say you could run forever? I did, didn’t I? I know what I said, it’s just getting too hot and this heat makes me feel like I’m suffocating. He stops, turns around, puts a hand on my shoulder. Okay, fine. But let’s do this again, it’s one of the last fun things I’m doing lately, and I need it… I need you. Out of reflex I smiled. Sure, see you tomorrow then? His face seemed to have turned ashy. Yes. He ran. I stayed behind as he faded in the distance.

Time: 10:58:02

This is the sixth entry in the Pilot Program. So, remember, if you want to read more, if you want to read more, share it, like it, comment, re-read it and it might become the next 52 week story, the one for 2020.

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Pilot Program - The Spiteful Playwright

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Stories, we all have them. As humans, we’re all social creatures, no matter how much we don’t like to admit it. That’s why we sometimes act out, that’s why being rejected hurts us and why being lonely is depressing and frustrating. And stories, are the one thing that we all like. We all tell each other stories, whether we think them, tell them or write them, we always tell stories. Big, small, happy, tragic, stories are what bind us, helps us understand each other.”

The phone rang, it was her again, I picked up more out of a sense of shame for denying them once too many times. Hello? She didn’t wait for me to finish the greeting as she went on her tirade. Hey, you finally picked up, look… Here’s the deal, I’m with a theater troupe at a coffee right now. I know one of the actresses here and the guy that runs this whole deal. So, as the conversation progressed, I asked them what they were performing and doing in town and stuff like that, right? Yeah, so listen here, they told me that they want to try something new, something different, right? So guess who I thought about? Yeah, Mr. Author, it’s you. I thought about you and your books. I remember that you once told me that you’d want your books turned into a theater piece and that you’d want it as an audio book but you’d need a theater group. So guess what? I told them about your books, what you’d like to do and what you’re about and how you approach things and what your outlook on the world is and they’d want to talk to you about it. What do you say? Isn’t that amazing? You’ll have to treat me to something, of course I’ll bring my mon cher with me and you, your girl. She sometimes talks like a Shinkansen and you feel like that train hit you and shattered your brains to pieces. This is the motherly awesome Kris, she awesome, but erratic. Anyway, here’s the guy I was telling you about that runs this whole troupe, his name is Andrew by the way. Here… Hey, guy. I’m Andrew, I heard a lot about you from Kris. So you wrote a book? Usually when people ask me that, they either want to clarify things or they’re curious how I’ll respond. Hey, nice to meet you, I wrote like four that are in that style and could be easily turned into plays. I am really curious what he has in mind. Look, we can’t pay you much, but if you want we can give you like a 10% if you’re interested, just so we get this out of the way. And you can even direct it yourself, if you feel like it. That was really odd. So, you don’t want to read them or anything like that? He started laughing. Kris here convinced me, so if you want, we can meet tomorrow if you’re free and discuss the details and what you’d like and what we can offer. Well, they can’t pay me, cause of course they can’t, no one really gives a shit about this, unless you’re a big shot. Fuck it, why not. Yeah, tomorrow sounds great. See you at the statue downtown, next to the bell then. He responded with a sure and that ended the phone call. Well, that’s not how I imagined this would go today. But I’m going to have some fun with this.

This is the fifth of the short stories for the Pilot Program. How does it work? You read the short stories within the pilot program, you re-read them, share them, like them, comment if you like them, force your friends to read them and then maybe this will become the short story series for 2020.

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Attropolis XVIII


Olanus grew tired as the night went on, Alicaria was still hurting, yet they didn’t give up. At his wits end, he reached out to someone he knew had experience in the domain, a friend of his that was a little on the sociopathic side due to his intelligence, Homes. He entered limping a bit, not even waiting for them to ask what happened to him, he told them how he was trying an experiment, so he’d jumped from the roof of a house to see if it would really kill someone. With one look he had Alicaria all figured out, with one listen to the story they had told him, he already knew who the culprit was. He was never wrong, which is why no one doubted him and his skills.

From what you told me there were four men, right? But… here’s my question, why four? Why not more? That’s my question… I wonder, honestly. I mean, it’s clear that this isn’t the whole story, whoever did this… This isn’t their first time. And not the last that’s for sure. I know it, in fact. He stopped for a second, Olanus opened his mouth trying to speak, but… You know, I don’t know why you chose these four, but you might be a genius. Because I think, that the culprit is one of those four. Without any luck… Look, you’re a friend and you’ve helped me tons before, with stuff. He said looking at her, but with his arm on his shoulder.

Let me tell you why I think what I think and how I came to the conclusion I came to, okay? The first man, the oldest of them all, cute, serene but intelligent, which might be dangerous. Never underestimate the intelligence of a man or base yourself on the appearance of one. Trust me, I’m never wrong. Until now, let’s see… The second one is weird, I don’t like him for some reason, he creeps me out, even from this neighboring room. He is too clean for his own good, he might be hiding something behind all that, dangerous. The third one is innocent, no doubt about it. The fourth one is… The most dangerous of them all. She was shocked to hear that. But there is no doubt he has something to do with this.

Olanus frustrated, angry and tired screamed “ENOUGH” at Homes, telling him to get to the point. Flustered but not shaken, Homes continued. Okay, fine. Between the second guy and the fourth one, probably. The second one is hiding something, that’s for sure and you should look into him, because this might have been a mistake on his part. The fourth one is s simpleton with enough power to kill, especially a poor child, so he might have not meant it. If you want to know my take, it’s the fourth one. She jumped out and up of the chair saying that it can’t be true. Olanus intervened telling her to calm down and trust him, because he was never wrong. He continued telling her that they have to put forth an example in the memory of Julius, because he deserved justice. She started crying on the floor as she agreed to it.

Thus they entered the room with the four religious people were waiting. Angry Olanus with the sword pulled, knowing that the fourth one might actually put up a good fight, ran towards him sword up, hitting the neck of the fourth guy over and over and over again. As his thick neck and strong spinal cord weren’t giving in. Blood squirting everywhere as the guy was screaming and as Olanus was hitting his neck over and over and over again, until it slashed through his vertebrae taking his head clean off his neck. Ending the nightmare of the day they’ve been having.

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Attropolis XV

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Caution: Attropolis contains strong language, sexual content, disturbing images and immoral grotesque behavior. You have been warned.

The wailing in the house had stopped, she finally stood up on her feet, slowly, gently she got up. Wiped the tears from here face, step by step, slowly moved towards the door. On her way she grabbed a small rusty pole she had in the house by the fire place. As she reached the door, she grabbed onto Olanus’s hand, pulling him to the side, so she could step beside him. The murmur of the crowd grew thinner, between her dirty locks her voice cracked like a whip towards the crowd. And with her voice she swung to the right, to the left, the echoes were like thunder to lightning. Accusing people of envying her, of wanting to hurt her, because she turned them down, because they thought she was an abnormality, with no redeeming qualities. A monster in the disguise of a woman with charms. They were pointing at her legs, her dress, one woman even pulling her by the hair. That was the point where Olanus intervened, slapping the woman’s hand away, and shushing the crowd. He had questioned the crowd about men of faith, specifically if there are some that usually visit this part of Rome. After a few minutes he had a list of a few good men of the faith, he gave the list to his soldiers, to gather them at the court. Olanus invited her back into the carriage, the people stopped making any fuss out of fear.

Once they arrived at the court, Olanus was briefed on the fact that they could find only four out of the five men, this only enraged him, sending a few of his men out the look for him. The rest were interrogated by Olanus on his own, as she was sent to be bathed and taken care of.

MAN 1: An old scrawny man, there wasn’t one spot on his skin that wasn’t wrinkly, yet despite all that he smelled like a field of freshly grown flowers. Serene blue eyes, a gentle smile, rotten splinters where there used to be teeth.

Whilst interrogating the man, he responded nicely, with a soft voice. Listening to it, you could easily fall asleep. The clarity in his eyes, had Olanus disheartened for a moment, thinking they might have brought such a sweet old man in for such a horrible deed. Yet the man, with a look, made him understand that it was okay, he understood that he was only doing his job. When asked about the woman and the child, he simply told him that he would only leave some food outside their window, since he felt pity for the poor things. This, melted his heart, so he moved on…

MAN 2: An older man, but not as old as the first one, with a long silver beard and hair to match. He had all his white teeth, like he had never used them, his breath like that of a minty piss. Bespoke like none of them there, dust seemed to want to run away from him and dirt feared him. When Olanus interrogated him, his voice when responding was like those of muses singing. His eyes shinning like a star, no speck of vein on the whites of his eyes either. All his answers to the questions were clear as pure water, no hesitation, nor did he break eye contact with Olanus.

But then…

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Pilot Program - Literal Generic


Michael - 28, Actor

I finally made it, I can’t believe I’m here. Being lucky to live your dream is simply a blessing, even if the road here was nothing but a nightmare. I guess that’s why they say that it’s worth to fight for your dreams and never give up. That’s what he thought to himself… Being back in his dressing room, getting ready for rehearsals, Michael’s excitement was palpable as he fell down on his knees, shaking. Ten years, it took him ten years to get to where he is now. That somehow seems to the usual amount of time before you can taste real success.

Finally, I’m here, at the rehearsal, for my favorite director. Now don’t be such a wuss… Shaking… Hah. I deserve this, I’ve worked my ass to get here. I went through literal fucking hell to get here. Especially because everyone here thinks they’re the artists of all artists, a genius of some sort. Ironic, they’re as generic as they come, nothing else. Acting like they know art and their vision is the only true one, denying anyone or shutting anyone down out of fear of being outsmarted or put to shame. Insecure motherfuckers… Yet, they put you through hell at the first sign of any kind of opportunity. Though they act like angels, these spawns from hell.

Michael, a 28 year old actor, that doesn’t know what it means to give up. A stubborn man that has no competition when it comes to being spiteful in the most interesting of ways. He’s worked at the same construction company for years, while auditioning for parts here and there, to little success until now.

Adeline - 26, Actress

I don’t know why the fuck he got offered the part. What could have he seen in him? He is such a basic ass bitch. I swear, if he keeps me back and ruins the show, I’m going to castrate him. Just to make sure he’ll never reproduce. Do you know how important this play is for me? I’ve been busting my ass for a while, and having such an important director come here? Fuck, that’s a one in a billion chance. So, we have to take this chance, man. This isn’t Broadway, we have no big actors to compete with. But it’s our chance out of here.

It’s what she said, but compared to what Michael was thinking: I’m going to fuck this up, I’m going to fuck this up, I’m going to fuck up the fucking Scottish play. He seemed very composed on failure. Yet this is just the beginning of his journey… Well, not quite. You’re not even reading the beginning, this is just an introduction to Literal Generic.

The Pilot Program is a series where you vote for your favorite next series for 2020. How do you vote? By reading, sharing, liking, commenting and that way, you will choose the story for 2020. This is just the second in a string of short stories. The first one being 20 Questions:

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