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Latest Stories

March 19, 2024
Fantasy Stories Wondering Monk

Just My Imagination

The alarm clock went off and started playing an awful tune. Tom opened his eyes and closed them back, squinting. He reopened one eye and stood up to stop the torture. The phone was on the desk, in the furthest spot from the bed. Although he changed his way of…
March 19, 2024
Science Fiction Stories Ocelotlzin

Earth Is Dead

Recording… It doesn't matter who I was; I probably lived a long time ago, and I am now just a voice someone added to the audio-visual records. What is essential is the recollection of events that lead to the current state. So, a little history needs to be…
March 08, 2024
Flash Fiction Benoit

Some Enchanted Evening

It was a rugby tackle with tears: Chrissy burst in, sobbing and babbling, hugging James. Her face was all wet, eyes wild. What…? My parents split up, Dad has moved in with his boyfriend and I cannot join them. I am shut out. I have lost my dad. Torrent of…
March 08, 2024
Horror Stories Marvel Chukwudi Pephel

In The Hands Of My Legs

The car pulled up in front of the large salon. The neon sign, that sexy broad thing, on the salon'sroof read "Mr. Gil's All-night Salon". The exhaust pipe of the car was pumping solid smoke, theswirls moving from the car and towards the salon.…
March 07, 2024
Mystery Stories Vanessa Leigh Giles

Casualty of Love in the Time of Coronavirus

Chapter 1 Until Death do us Part ‘Ring, ring!’. I answered the telephone and asked, “Hello, good evening. Who’s this? “Hello.” This is Dr. Smith from Red Cross hospital. “Is this Mr. Locke, John?”, he asked, hesitantly scratching his bald head. “Yes, doctor.…
March 07, 2024
Crime Stories Robert Pook

Bar Room Trigger

Another return journey on footpaths so familiar. He strides across each crack in each paving stone. Regular loose drain covers sidestepped. Mapping long ago mapped in Richard’s desolate mind. His pace hastened by the sight of the oncoming storm. Quickening…
March 04, 2024
Horror Stories Ano Chinemerem

Sanctity

Where should I begin? I could begin by telling you about this comely boy, whom every notable person around the streets agrees his smile could charm the bills off one. Between one smile, there was his goodness, his dreams and humanity—a little far ahead?— but…
March 04, 2024
Flash Fiction Emanuel Diaz

Et Mortui Partium

As Rafael stepped out into the rain, it wasn't the ordinary drops that fell from the sky. Instead, it was a storm of souls, each one taking the form of shimmering jewelry as it cascaded toward the ground. Rubies, diamonds, and sapphires twinkled amidst the…
February 29, 2024
Poetry Jing Li Ava

London

‘Am I in London?’ "I am." Where is Elizabeth? Happy living story All of your chapter Bounlance joy Please my heart Power hand Wise mind Our baby Vow vow Love all love Miss I miss Endless wonder Bring us together Love all love Miss I miss For everything My…
February 29, 2024
Flash Fiction Rob Pook

Life Sentence of The Smith

Born nine months after his country won the World Cup.A child prodigy.Cast off at age twenty-four.Husband, father, emigree, away on the other side of the world.The blue-collar life.The dreams of success.The search for fulfillment.The long years of empty…
February 29, 2024
Mystery Stories Joshua Lowther

The Operator

Jason looked over to his right, his eyes barely able to focus themselves on the subject of his attention. His neck ached terribly from the strenuous movement. He was tired. The captain’s gaze came to rest on the rookie sonar operator sitting tense at his…
February 29, 2024
Flash Fiction Salvatore Difalco

The Chute

At dusk, we left our unit with a soft pink bundle. I carried it through the wet streets and into the black woods. I said I’d take it all the way, the bundle, but that we had to drop it in together. My wife’s green eyes flashed. “Don’t make me do that.” I…

“Why are you asking me to do this?” I asked Jackson.

“Because I saw how you cried at Ingrid’s funeral, Bennie.”

It’s true. I was devastated by Ingrid’s death. She was so young, only 38, and had so much promise. She was also Hollywood star beautiful. We were never lovers but the best of friends. I remembered how the two of us would meet my co-worker Jim and his friend Holly at the Kat Korner. Eventually Jim and Holly got all lovey-dovey and moved in together. After about six months, though, they began feeling a strain in their relations. Then they broke up and couldn’t stand the sight of each other after that.

I looked at Jackson and said, “What you’re talking about doesn’t seem possible.”

Jackson was another of Ingrid’s friends. He had some kind of computer company that worked with artificial intelligence. “It’s amazing what you can with AI these days,” he said. “It would almost be like having Ingrid back with us.”
I thought about Ingrid’s death two months before. She was coming home from work and a drunk driver ran through a red light and smashed into the side of her car. Jackson’s idea seemed grotesque to me. I thought of the Frankenstein monster or the thing that was slouching home in the story “The Monkey’s Paw.”

I was freaked out by Jackson’s idea, but at the same time I was drawn by a morbid curiosity. I went to his shop, Digitally Yours, a couple of days later and let him download all the text messages that I had received from Ingrid over the years.

He explained how it was going to work. He was going to all of Ingrid’s friends and get text messages and pictures from them. Then he would go to social networks and get even more material. From that he would build a data base of things Ingrid had said. Then he would create a neural network that would have voice recognition and enable machine learning. Once it got online, it would be able to learn from things that people said to it. It would be able to repeat stories other friends had said to it. They could create a machine-generated voice that would sound so close to Ingrid’s real voice that it would be almost like Ingrid was actually talking to you.

I didn’t want to think about it. I went home and spent the next couple of months in a deep funk. I tried not to think about Ingrid, but I couldn’t stop it. Before the accident she and I would spend an hour or two on the phone rehashing the day’s events. Just about every Friday we went to the Kat Korner and stayed until the place closed. Rather than drive home afterwards, I stayed at her apartment, but I always slept on the couch.

I used to ask her advice about girl friends. She always thought they were not good enough for me. I never could keep up a long-term relationship with any of them. I know now it was because I always compared them to her and found them wanting.

Ingrid and I always kissed when we met, a chaste brother/sister kiss. One evening I had had a couple of drink, and I moved my hand up to cup her breast as we kissed. I moved right back and apologized, but she said, “No, it’s okay.”

I thought of Jim and Holly, how their friendship had been destroyed after it became sexual. I didn’t want to risk losing my friendship with Ingrid, so from that time on I didn’t try to touch her in a way that a brother wouldn’t.

After the accident, I avoided our friends. Instead of going to the Kat Korner on Friday nights, I stayed home and watched television. I had almost forgotten about Jackson’s project. Then I ran into another friend who told me that the project was finished. It was on the internet: RememberingIngrid.com. It had been up for a month or so.

“It’s just like Jackson said. You feel like Ingrid is right there talking to you,” he said.

I wasn’t sure I wanted to feel that. What would it be like seeing and hearing my best friend again? When I turned the computer off, would it be like losing her again?

After several days I logged onto RememberingIngrid.com. Her animated image appeared on the screen. I was overwhelmed. I almost logged out, not sure whether I could listen to her speak.

Then she began. I could tell that the words came from a text she had written to her sister Sharon. She said, “I feel so close to Bennie. I want to spend the rest of my life with him. We were meant to be together, but he doesn’t seem to be interested in me that way. It makes me feel so bad.”

A thousand thoughts rushed through my mind. If Ingrid and I had married, maybe she would not have been at that place when the car ran through a red light. I was such a fool.

I turned off the computer, unable to listen anymore.

 

 

CARL PERRIN started writing when he was in high school. His short stories have appeared in The Mountain Laurel, Northern New England Review, Kennebec, Short-Story.Me, and CommuterLit among others. His book-length fiction includes Elmhurst Community Theatre, a novel, and RFD 1, Grangely, a collection of humorous short stories. He is the author of several textbooks, including Successful Resumes, and Get Your Point Across, a business writing text. The memoir of his teaching career Touching Eternity, was a finalist in the 2014 Next Generation Indie Book Award.

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