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A Toast to Incomplete Thoughts
By Gordon MeiThis is a collection of some unfinished prose that I could not classify as short stories for whatever reason. I keep them anyway. Enjoy.
"Vator." (September 30, 2005)A cluster of footsteps reverberated hard slaps on the hard hallway floor behind the closing elevator doors. Without a single disruption of the doors automated shutting motion, a ragged man slipped sideways through the closing slit and brushed the corner of his beige manila folder on the door edge. Two people flinched and parted hastily to make room for the newcomer in the elevator car. Two seconds after the door closed, the hydraulic sounds hummed, and the car began ascending. The lady on the left glanced momentarily at the mystery man with the manila folder, but she immediately fixed her gaze on a random point on the elevator door, only to quickly discover that she was staring right into his eyes through the reflecting polish. She lowered her head and took a sudden deep interest in her shoes. The man on the right stared with a blank gaze at the current floor indicators. Two. Three. Four. Five... Yet anyone standing at the mystery man's spot wouldn't be able to help but sense the watchful peripheral vision of this slightly twitching indicator-monitoring individual.
Two numbers glowed a dull yellow on the button panel. 36. 47. The mystery newcomer had not pressed anything, nor had anyone offered to help him do so. But at floor 7 and climbing, each passing minute seemed to aggravate those other occupants' anxieties. The woman on the left shuffled her feet in unbalanced steps and extended her thumb in an uncomfortable reach towards the button panel. Her retreating hand revealed a newly lit 10 on the panel. As the car decelerated to a stop, both of the other occupants inched towards the elevator doors. As the doors opened, each of them grabbed a door edge and squeezed through the slowly widening slit. They disappeared immediately to the right and out of view. The doors remained open for a delayed time, all while leaving the desolate empty hall in full view ahead. The doors then closed, and the car sat in motionless suspension. The mystery newcomer stood there, continuing to stare straight ahead. The doors opened again, and an old man standing before the entrance hesitated before passing for another elevator. Once the doors had closed again, the mystery man approached the elevator button panel. He pushed a sequence. Fourteen. Twenty Seven. Five. Fifty Five. Nine. Thirteen. He backed back into the center of the elevator car and waited. Then came a new hydraulic sound, but one that was dampened and distant. The elevator began to descend. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. Ground. And that was as far down as the elevator indicators went. Yet. The elevator continued to descend and descend...
"Starry Night O'er the Woods" (July 18, 2002)'Twas a starry night. Renoa walked briskly across the dark, dark forest. To the left, to the right, up in the trees...there were the cold, white or yellow eyes of the night owls. Bats resting among the trees shed long stares on her, seemingly licking their teeth, if they had tongues, contemplating over attacking her at the neck or in the face.
"Equakelibrium" (July 2, 2000)"AND NOW, THE MOMENT YOU HAVE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR - WALKING ACROSS THE TIGHTROPE!, OUR SPECIAL PERFORMANCE TODAY AT THE SAN FRANCISCO COW PALACE. THE ROPE IS SUSPENDED A DARING THIRTY FEET OFF THE GROUND WITH A LARGE RECTANGULAR TUB OF HAIR GEL/SOY SAUCE/MILK/GLUE MIXTURE BELOW! PLEASE WELCOME CAYENDO CHICA!"
The crowd's exuberant cheers immediately died down when the woman in the leotard slowly climbed up from the ladder to the platform at the top. She closed her eyes as if meditating in deep concentration and then opened them again. She pushed herself gracefully onto the tightrope and lined her feet, her right foot before the left, without a balancing pole. She began to slowly walk and walk. She suddenly wobbled. The audience gasped. Then she continued walking across the tightrope.
Music began to fade in. It was overdramatic, proud music, and Cayendo Chica seemed very haughty casually walking across the tightrope as if it required no effort at all. The audience oohed and ahhed. And then, and then...
There was a trembling! It was...it was an...
"OH MY GOD! IT'S AN EARTHQUAKE!! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!!!"
(Hey, it's San Francisco. It happens.)
The audience began to panic and there was a chaotic blur of people running left and right. Meanwhile, Cayendo Chica still stood on the tightrope thirty feet above. She was wobbling on the tightrope frantically swinging her arms and legs to regain equilibrium.
"Woah, Woah, WOAAAHHHHH!!!" She lost balance and began to fall! She fell and she fell and she fell and she -
KA-SPLOOSH!!
"AHH!!! Oh god! This is sick! Get me out of this disgusting goo! Somebody help me, dammit!"
But nobody came to save the kicking, screaming woman from the strange mixture that some sick businessman developed.
"GOD DAMN EARTHQUAKES!!"
"Video Game Hysteria" (April 11, 2000)ZAP! ZAP! Yes! Come on! ZAP! Almost there! "TEN SECONDS REMAIN..." SHIT! Come on! Got it... "LEVEL TEN COMPLETED." YESSSS!! Suddenly there was a power outage. DAMN!!