Note: this entry is entitled "2025/12/31" because that is the date I wrote the following stories.

The Diary
I had a lot of books. Most of them were collecting dust, scarcely touched. One day, I turned from my desk as a loud crash sounded, and books came tumbling down. On top of the pile? My cat, Ivy, sat, licking her paw innocently. I sighed—she was always doing things like this. I carefully shooed Ivy off the books, and the pile shifted precariously. Then I saw it. I had lost it years ago, and given up looking. My grandmother’s diary. It must have been crammed somewhere in the mess that was my bookshelf—I really needed more space for all these books. I carefully picked up the ancient-looking pages, holding it reverently. It was all I had left of her—she had passed when I was young. The few memories I had of her were all fond—her playing games with me or taking me on walks. I found the prospect of seeing what her life was like to be intriguing. I hadn’t spared a look when we’d found it in a box after moving, and I had promptly forgotten about it with all that was going on after moving. When I remembered, it was nowhere to be seen—hidden among my books the whole time. So, crouching at the pile of dusty tomes, I opened the diary.
And found it empty.

Pizza Oddity
I sat at the table in the pizza place—that was what we all called it, though it had a name we didn’t care to learn—with my friends as the pizza arrived. The atmosphere was warm and cozy, especially in the evening like it was then. The quiet chatter and aroma of dough, sauce, and cheese. The waiter set down the two pizzas—we always split it between the three of us, as the pizzas were big. I would’ve noticed the first clue had I not been entranced at the freshly-baked steaming pizzas in front of us. My stomach growled as I picked up a slice, raised it to my mouth, and fainted.

Theoretically…
I race through the grass of the open field under the moonlight. I should be in a small Kansas town, at 10:57pm, on a late summer night, likely August 2nd. Theoretically. Time machines sometimes act up. So, as I start panting already—I really should’ve exercised more—I hear the distinctive sound of a helicopter. I expected them to find me. I look back as the light is turned on—just my luck—and have to run blindly until my vision recovers. I stumble over a rock—though I thankfully don’t fall—and look for cover. There is none, of course. Why would I even think of cover in the middle of a large field? I try going over the scenarios I planned for in my head, only to realize it’s difficult to think now that I’m actually doing it. I continue running, for my only hope is to get out of this field. It should be just past the edge. Theoretically. I reach the edge of the field as a car rushes by, then stop as dread seeps in. It’s not there.

…
“W-what did you just say?
…
“Can you…can you hear me? Are you still there?”
…
“Why are you doing this?”
I’m sorry.

The Bird
The bird perched on a high branch in a tall tree, surveying the land. There was the Ground Nest, where the Loud Ones had their nest—strangely on the ground, like they weren’t afraid of other predators. Though, the bird had never seen a Loud One fly, so maybe that was it. The bird turned its gaze toward the Food. It flew down and landed on the strange cold branch that the Food was attached to, then down and started eating. It got a little annoying having the Loud Ones so close to the Food, especially when they emerged from their massive Ground Nest. Luckily, the Loud Ones were so slow that it was no effort to escape them. This time, none emerged, and the bird ate some, then flew back toward its branch…
and couldn’t find it. Where was the tree? The bird turned around—still flying—and no longer saw the Ground Nest or the Food. In fact, it didn’t recognize anything.
Suddenly, the bird saw the tree again, and landed on the branch. Must’ve gotten turned around.

The Door
The door was locked, which was unusual. The door was never locked. Except maybe at night. Isaac tried the door again. Maybe it was just jammed? That happened sometimes; the whole place was old. Was there another way in? Isaac pondered this, then noticed the open window. Perfect! He picked up his bag and walked toward the window. He reached inside, setting his bag on the floor inside the building, then started to climb in. Only then did he notice what had bothered him since he’d got out of his car.
It was silent.

The Window
She sat on the couch, listening to music through her headphones, typing away furiously lest her inspiration slip away. She shivered slightly, putting up the hood of her sweater, but not missing a beat. She continued typing, but grew distracted as a chill winter breeze found its way beneath her warm sweater.
Wait.
Breeze?
She looked up and saw the source: an open window.
She never opened them in the winter.

Em Dash
He sat in his bed, laptop open in front of him, scrolling through the posts. He stopped as one caught his eye, and clicked on it. He read it, then hit Reply, and started typing his response. He soon needed an em dash. He tried typing a few hyphens to see if it would autocomplete into one, but of course they didn’t. He opened a new browser tab, searched em dash, and copied the one that appeared in the first result. He made to go back to his reply, but the tab wasn’t there. Had he accidentally closed it? He tried reopening it, but his keyboard and mouse stopped responding. What the hell? The whole screen began distorting, until all was black. As he reached toward the power button to restart the laptop, a small window appeared in the center of the screen. He recognized it as the old classic Snake. As his finger was about to reach the power button, some text appeared in the Snake window, and he froze.
I wouldn’t do that, if I were you.

Falling Snow
Snow fell from the morning sky as Sam opened her eyes. She turned bleary eyes to the window, in awe at the wondrous sight. It rarely snowed where she was, and never quite this much. She got up and walked toward the window, gazing down at the street below her apartment, which had yet to be plowed. Do we even have plows? Sam shook her head in amazement and walked to the “kitchen” to pour herself a bowl of stale cereal. As she ate the cereal, Sam’s mood soured as she looked at her cramped apartment. Was it Christmas? She had almost forgotten in the dullness. Sam finished her bowl, stacking it precariously with the other dirty dishes, which consisted of most of the few she owned. As she unconsciously walked toward the window and the sight it displayed, she was again filled with that sense of amazement.
Sam started when a knock sounded at her door. She sighed and walked toward the door. Who could it be? She had no friends. Not here. She cracked the door and was surprised to see her neighbor—Susan, was it?—standing outside. Sam opened the door the rest of the way. “What is it?”
“Me and a few of the others here are getting together, and we thought you might want to join us.”
Sam was thrilled. Ever since she had moved to this miserable city, no one had asked her to participate in anything, and she had never asked, though she probably should have. She didn’t know what to say, so she nodded.

Four
I stood up as the four men and women entered. They all wore long jackets and wide-brimmed hats. I spotted a few daggers on their belts. I grew nervous as the group stalked toward me, faces obscured by the hats. They must have noticed, for the one in the lead stopped and took off her hat. “Oh, don’t worry, Jason. Your costume looks great.”
I relaxed a bit, though I wasn’t fully convinced as we all gathered into the car and headed to the convention.

Unlocatable
Where was it? I frantically searched, dread creeping up with each moment the item remained unlocatable. I shoved aside cluttered piles of papers and books, but to no avail. It had to be somewhere. It couldn’t have just vanished, right? I continued in a desperate frenzy, knowing my time was running out. I almost gave up and sprinted out of there, until a buzz sounded. There! I lifted the blanket, and there was my phone. I had received a text message from my mom, telling me to hurry or I’d be late for school. Thanks! I quickly typed back as I grabbed my backpack and rushed down the stairs and out the door.

Sent
No service, my phone read. I sat in the passenger seat of the car as we drove through the empty road in the middle—or, I hoped, the edge—of nowhere. I had tried to send the message while we had service an hour ago, but had pressed the button a second two late and watched the bars drop. Soon, I began to see signs of life, and checked my phone again. One bar. I hoped it would be enough. It was.

A Chat Between Friends
Carla: hey wanna hang out aftr school?
Zack: sure ig
Carla: ig?
…
Zack: well ive been sotra busy
Carla: ok, mb ltr?
…
Zack: yeah, ok
9:31pm that day
Zack: carla! cna i come to ur place? plz
Carla: whats up? is smthng wrng?
…
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Zack: plz lte me in im rnning otu of time
Carla: ???
Carla: ok, i bit u gotta tell me wats up
…
CRASH
Carla: Z! was that you? hold on im coming to the door
…
Carla: zack? wru? i dont see u
…
Carla: zack?
…

Numb
Cerise was numb. She couldn’t feel her limbs. Did she have limbs? What did it feel like… She tried to open her eyes, but all was black. Was she blind? She couldn’t remember what had happened. She grew drowsy, and soon lost consciousness.
* * *
Cerise blinked open heavy eyelids—then immediately closed them from the blinding light above her. EYESIGHT DIMMED. The text appeared in front of her, even though her eyes were closed. She opened her eyes, and found once-unbearable light above no more irritating than a weak lamp—shade and all.
Cerise sat up, only now realizing that she’d been lying down. The last thing she remembered was that overwhelming numbness. At least she seemed to have all her limbs, and clearly wasn’t blind. AUDITORY SYSTEMS ONLINE. There it was again! Some kind of…hologram? It followed when she shifted her gaze, and seemed perpetually in focus. Almost…almost as if it were coming from her own eye.
Voices conversed around her, and she saw that they belonged to figures in white coats. Doctors? Had they been operating on her? “What’s going on here,” she tried to say, but it came out a garbled croak. SPEECH SYSTEMS NOT YET ONLINE.
“Hey!” one of the doctors said, an older woman with a kindly but concerned face. “She’s awake!”
The rest of the doctors turned to her, and she saw them wearing similar mixed expressions—like something was wrong. Or they were about to tell her something she wouldn’t like.
And so, Cerise had already guessed—at least in the back of her mind—what the woman would say when she spoke.
“I’m sorry, but this was what we had to do. To keep you alive.”
Cerise looked down at her metallic arms and legs, then at herself in a mirror the doctors provided.
She was a…a cyborg. “I…thank you.”

The Cellphone
Michael—a brown-haired teen of about 16, maybe 17—walked home from high school on an average day. Once home, he—being an average teen—went to his bedroom, put in his headphones, and whipped out his telephone—cellpone? In a way, teens these days aren’t all that dissimilar from teens like myself were back in the ‘80s—or was it the ‘90s? I don’t remember much from those days. Anyway, Michael lay unmoving in his bed for about an hour or two—maybe a little different from how I was—conversing, if that’s what you call it, with his friends. Some were fellow classmates, others were creepy old men like me, and still others were, shall we say…not of human ancestry. Michael was so engrossed in that little glowing brick that his own father had to send an e-mail—or, “text,” as I believe they call it—when it was dinnertime. Michael slowly made his way to the dining room—clad in headphones, occasionally pausing when a friend said something particularly funny. When he got there, he sat down, and proceeded to let his food grow cold—my parents would have a fit if they saw Michael now. His sister Emily stood up and yanked Michael’s headphones out, causing Michael to finally look up from that…device…and acknowledge the world around him. In doing so, he broke out of a sort of trance.
And immediately grew sick with horror.

Two Machines
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.
...BEEP?
BEEP!
BEEP BEEP! BEEP…
BEEP?
BEEP! BEEP!!!
...

The Page
The page sat on the metal desk under a layer of dust, forgotten long ago. Its contents were of the greatest degree of import imaginable. If only someone would find it…

The Sound and the Light
A distant sound disturbed her peaceful sleep. She tried to ignore it, curling up and falling back into pleasant dreams. She succeeded. Until it sounded again, louder this time…closer. It was like a foghorn, though with sharp clicking sounds intermingled. She tried to maintain a hold on sleep, but it was slipping through her fingers as her mind became more awake. She hesitantly cracked an eyelid, but couldn’t see anything save a distant small grey light. Her spine chilled, skin forming goosebumps, and the sound repeated. Much closer this time. She frantically examined her surroundings—her mind fully alert now—yet saw nothing. Just that distant dull light and darkness all around her. There was a faint breeze, and the air was slightly humid—like mist. She started slowly walking toward the light, as it was the only distinct thing she could see. She’d only taken a few steps before the sound—now as loud as if it were upon her—repeated once again. She felt its presence even before she turned and saw it.

Hope you enjoyed! More coming soon,

- Theory