Short Stories


The entirety of nothing laid dormant for an indeterminable amount of nonexistent time. A paradoxical time this was as nothing was occurring but everything was unfolding. Every law and axiom we hold near and dear today were all broken and set forth in an imperceptible amount of space time. From nothing, came something like a nonexistent seed growing into a beautiful budding flower. The flower blooms and explodes out into a display of infinite colors bringing forth the very fundamental building blocks of what would become essential to what we know to be necessary to life today. In this explosion an infinite capacity of energy brought forward, yet an infinite capacity of energy reserved.

Quarks were born, quarks matured and bonded together to create atoms, atoms matured together to create matter. Everything so seemingly paradoxical, seemingly irrational but yet the most natural and most rational occurrence since what came forth from nothingness. Atoms drifting through space colliding and collecting to create stars if so desired and others to create large balls of fire to cool and turn to what will eventually turn into planets.

Many stars and planets collide in a death march trying to be balanced and survive. An infinite, finite amount of these collisions occur until from this constant chaos comes a delicate balance. Many of these collisions’ outcome resulted in destitute and inhabitable cocktails of matter and gas. In a few, uncountable amount of these cocktails brought forth the capacity that was all but guaranteed from the paradoxical night that came before the dawn and life that existed all along was brought forth into matter. Life in these new instances of matter struggled and fought to grow. In many cases life grew but all but dwindled in the wrong environments. A subset of that subset however was able to handle the adversity brought forth and fought for its right to exist even through the infinitely improbable odds that confronted it.

Life grew. And from there brought forth a variety of things. Many of them beautiful and unique. But nothing in comparison to me and you.

We came from nothing. Yet we have fought together through infinite amount of days and nights even before days and nights existed to become what we are today. But yet even when we drew so close to not existing the odds were stacked in our favor from before the existence of everything and the existence of nothing.

The imperceptible thoughts of the universe sung out with beautiful bliss in a song for every next moment of existence. A love song for every particle and every molecule as they swindled together in countless dances. A love song for the relationship of planets and stars as they pensively intertwined and cautiously fell in love for each other. A love song for life so that it go forth and multiply. A love song that will continue into the bleakest of nights and dreariest of dawns from now and forever on even after we are all but gone.

Short Stories

A Doorway

Slam of the back door and the noise of loud, unbalanced footsteps making their way into the hallway. The rush of setting aside the toys and preparing for the door to my bedroom to open. In a moment the door handle turns a little tentatively and then turns all the way in one gentle swoosh. Father makes his way in still wearing his collared shirt from work with his tie slightly loose. The sensation of him reaching down and picking me up off the ground with his calloused hands around my wrist. Now that he is closer, I can see his unshaven stubble on his face and the wrinkles of his dress shirt. He pulls at me for moment in almost an invitation to come with him until mother makes her way into my bedroom. My father lets go of my arm and turns to my mother expectantly. She yells and points to the door, and they go and close the door behind them. The yelling continues with my dad first and my mother continuing, their awkward footsteps can be heard bouncing around in the hallway. Louder and louder they get and get until all of the sudden deafening silence. From the silence comes crying, unbalanced footsteps making their way out of the hallway and the slam of the backdoor.

Those footsteps never came back as every single day I awaited expectantly to hear them upon the opening of the backdoor. Days turned to months, months turned to years and yet I so expectantly wait. After awhile the sound of footsteps entering from the backdoor turned to distant echoes and the sight of my father turned to blurry photographs of what used to be. These sounds however never turned to silence and these memories however never faded into obscurity. Sometimes I close my eyes and I see him. As I look at him, I realize some wounds never fully heal.