[Flash Fiction] Time is Just a Machine Planning to Kill You.

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It’s official: I’m trapped.

I built this time machine so that I could see into the future. What I didn’t realize was that somewhere between 2018 and 2100, Earth had gone full blown Terminator and the robots actually did kill us all!

I barely got into my time capsule before one of the machine hunter killer spheres managed to laser off a piece of my arm and the part of the controls that would have allowed me to go back in time and warn everybody about the robot overlord apocalypse.

So now I’m in this time capsule, just going forward into time because it can’t go anywhere else (it was either that or get killed by the robots), and I’m bleeding to death. I’ve thought about just stopping the time machine all together, but the machines have started building a city around me and it’s a 1,000 years so far. Doesn’t look like I’ll have any easy out before I die in here from blood loss. I’m writing this because maybe someday somebody will find this note and know that humans were able to at least time travel before their toasters decided killing us was a more viable option to combat global warming besides another carbon tax.

I’m looking at the the world around my pod and I’m seeing night and day more like some freaky time lapse video. For every thirty seconds that I’m in here one year passes by. Maybe I’ll make it long enough to see the sun turn into a red dwarf and swallow up the Earth as it dies, taking the killer machines along with it.

Kinda wish I could stick around to see the end of the universe, but I don’t know if I’ll live that long.

[Flash Fiction] Summon Demons or Someone Else Will.

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Lenard Tillerson, CEO of Straten Finance, had until mid night to get out of this with his life and finances intact. The hostile take over of his company started at 10a.m that morning when his rival, Nathan Rivers, of Contingency Capital, started buying up his stock at double the price from anyone willing to sell it. To Mr. Tillerson’s frustration, there had been a ton of defectors that didn’t mind getting bought out. However, Tillerson still owned fifty-one percent of his company via stocks.

By mid day, when it became clear Nathan couldn’t buy his way into owning Straten Finance the word “hostile” in hostile takeover began to take a more literal meaning. Men and women in black trench coats and carrying automatic weapons stormed the lobby of Straten Finance and had gotten themselves into a fire fight with Tillerson’s security team. It was another bid by Rivers to take out Tillerson. The attempt itself should have been against the law, but somehow Contingency Capital’s legal team was putting Tillerson’s lawyers and the Feds through the ringer in the form of convoluted precedents that kept this bloodbath going. Apparently, this corporate war would continue until such time that the courts decided it was illegal for a corporation to use lethal force in order to acquire another.

By 6 p.m it have become a stalemate: both legally and militarily. It was then that Tillerson got a phone call:

“Hello?”

“Hi, Lenard!”

“Fuck you, Nathan!” Mr. Tillerson screamed into his phone, “what the fuck are you doing!? You’ve gone completely psychotic!”

“The difference between genius and insanity is only measured by success and failure, my friend,” responded Mr. Rivers calmly, “and right now, I’m fucking Albert Einstein.”

“So this is it then?” asked Mr. Tillerson, sounding completely dumbfounded, “you’re just going to continue this fucked up campaign of yours? If you keep this up, Nathan, you’ll destroy the reputation of Wall Street. We’ll be no different than warloads!”

“Oh please, what’s to ruin?” scoffed Mr. Rivers, “If people really gave a shit somebody would have stopped us by now. Nobody cares what rich fucks like us do anymore, just as long as we leave everyone else alone.”

“And you’re satisfied with that?” asked Mr. Tillerson.

“Not really,” said Mr. Rivers, “I wanted to surprise you with this one, but according to my lawyers they’re insisting that I give you a heads up.”

“Oh, Jesus, what now?” asked the now exacerbated Tillerson, while succumbing to a bit of gallows humor, “you’re going to drop a fucking bomb on my building?”

“Nope, I’m summoning a demon,” Mr. Rivers responded dryly.

Tillerson took a long pause and looked out the window of his office high rise before leaning his head against the glass. His sense of reality was beginning to slip.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” said Tillerson.

“Dead serious, actually,” answered Rivers, “most humans aren’t supposed to know about this, but you can summon a demon to grant you a wish. I can’t seem to buy you or kill you, so I’m just going to have to wish you away. It’s this whole ritual by some wizard, or whatever. He’s concocting it. A friend of a friend, really. Anyway, he set this whole thing up for me. We got all this satanic shit in my office right now that’s being set up…”

At this point Tillerson could barely hear himself think, much less talk as he listened to Rivers continue:

“…and I have to warn you as part of some legal thing. The wizard and my lawyers told me to.”

Tillerson cleared his throat and asked the obvious question:

“Nathan, why are you doing this?”

“If I take you out I’ll control the majority of the market you and I have been competing over for years,” answered Rivers, “and I plan on winning by any means necessary.”

Tillerson, despite wanting to call Rivers a fucking lunatic, found that he couldn’t muster the energy or the logic to argue Rivers point. It would’ve been futile anyway.

“So, nothing personal,” continued Rivers, “it’s just business. You have until mid night, guy. Later!”

The phone went silent after that.

Tillerson took a few moments to get his barrings before thinking of a plan. Nathan wasn’t the only one who knew about demon summoning. What Nathan didn’t know was that Lenard was a black mage as well. And while Nathan may have hired some wizard to do his dirty work for him, Lenard could pull off the same ritual without outsourcing. Nathan was always an idiot that had more money than education, Lenard thought. Lenard scrambled to his safe next to his desk to pull out his book of spells. The demon summoning ritual would take awhile if it was just him and from the way Nathan sounded over the phone, Lenard didn’t have a lot of time.

[Flash Fiction] I’ll Keep On Screaming

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It wasn’t suppose to end this way.

He told me I was going to find out how my wife had died. After searching for years I finally found the man who killed her. The police said they couldn’t find her body and they were never about to find out who kidnapped her.

I searched all over the country. Countless days, even months at a time. No one helped me. Everyone thought I was insane to continue trying, “there’s no way she’s still alive, you need to move on.” I’ll told them to go fuck themselves. At that point, I didn’t care if she was alive or dead. I wanted revenge. So, I kept searching…

…And then he found me. It was in a small bar outside of Santa Fe, New Mexico. He had been tailing me for months. The bastard showed me photos of her: the photos he took right before he killed her. I wanted to know how he did it. I wanted to know and then I’d strangle him to death right there in that low-lit, godforsaken dive full of cheap booze and no witnesses, but the bartender.

“Don’t worry,” he whispered, smiling at me, “I’ll show you how I did it.”

I should have watched my drink. He drugged my whiskey. I passed out right there in that bar and now I’m in this casket. Yes, a coffin. I’m inside it, it’s pitch black, and God knows how far down I’ve been buried. Maybe I’m in a graveyard. Maybe in in the middle of nowhere. Maybe this is a dream. In either case the only thing I can do is keep kicking and screaming until someone finds me or I wake up.

[Flash Fiction] Kimberly the Succubus

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Kimberly did it again. This time it was with a guy named Brad. It was in the same place where she did it last time: her bedroom, on the bed, with the lights off, and naked. She tried being on top this time, and everything was going okay, but somewhere between his first orgasm and her second he stopped breathing. She should have known that she was crossing a line when Brad said “baby, you’re growing horns” in between his gasps of pleasure, but both of them were too into it to stop. Just like Ben and Justin, Brad had succumbed to Kimberly’s succubus wiles.

“Brad…?” she whispered.

She turned Brad’s head to face her and saw the same, goofy, smile that all her victims had staring right back at her. Yep, she thought, he’s dead.

“God-fucking-dammit,” Kimberly moaned.

This was not a good month for her. Ever since Lazerus, that incubus douchebag, broke up with her she’d been in desperate need of a rebound. A human was certainly nicer, but they never lasted long. Crystal, Kimberly’s vampire room mate was right: she was too selfish of a lover, especially when it came to human guys. Although, Kimberly preferred the word “passionate,” because it sounded better and she still wasn’t willing to own up to the deaths of Ben and Justin that she begged Crystal to help her get rid of. Now Kimberly was going to get the speech a third time.

“Have to stop doing this,” she told herself, in the quietness of the room, “Brad, I’m so, so sorry!”

Kim knew what she had to do. Crystal wasn’t going to be home for at least a few more hours. Kim was going to clean up her mess this time, get her shit together, and try dating demons again. She wondered if there were any nicer ones out there, unlike Lazerus, THAT FUCKING ASSHOLE!

[Flash Fiction] Total Desperation

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The waiter came to Simon’s table with a plate of bread.

“What can I get for you this evening?” the waiter asked.

Simon held the small, thin razor up towards his face and said solemnly, “You can get me an ambulance.”

The waiter let out an awkward laugh, but it no longer became funny when Simon slowly opened his mouth and dropped the razor inside. Simon made cold, passionless eye contact with the waiter as he chomped down as hard as he could on the blade. Blood came shooting out from between his teeth. A corner of the razor poked out of his left cheek nearly puncturing the skin. The waiter screamed and took several frantic steps back until he fell flat on the floor. All eyes were turned towards Simon who was making horrifying sounds of pain as he gnawed on the blade. Blood began to slowly dribble out of his mouth and onto his lap and a single tooth made a creepy ticking sound with each grinding crunch that felt like finger nails on the chalk board to Simon’s ears. If this didn’t get him a movie deal, Simon thought, nothing will.

Cashier Confessions [Hard Drive Archive]

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“Yeah, you laugh now. But the government is burying nuclear isotopes all over the country, and they’re going to blow them all up and take us with them. And then Al Gore is going to be living underground with the Devil with his super babies that are gonna live for 1,000 years. Yeah, Al Gore’s gonna be living fucking fat, while we burn on the surface with the Illuminati kill drones hunting us day and night. You think about that next time you watch the news.”

“Um…Yeah, that’s going to be $1.23, sir.”

Copyright © 2017 Philip N.R Hauser