Author Archives: logicaldreamer

Short Story: Irony

Genre: family, irony
Features characters from Secret Inheritance and Caught. Best read those first before continuing.



Irony /ˈʌɪrəni/ n. a state of affairs or an event that seems deliberately contrary to what one expects and is often wryly amusing as a result.

In other words, having a pure, righteous son when she and her husband… had more flexible morals.

For added irony, the boy who was interested in their supervillain trade was from a family of outstanding police force members.

Funny how the world worked.

Ideally, they would keep everything within the family. Much easier to hide a secret meeting over family dinner than arranging a highly suspicious meetup with their son’s friend. Unfortunately, their son’s moral code was strong, and the circle of friends he tended to hang out with would only reinforce that.

Sometimes, she caught herself watching her son and wondering how his skills would fit in their team. How could anyone refuse that innocent face? His quick thinking would surely be an asset when things didn’t go as planned. He was good at making friends. He would be great for infiltration missions.

Sigh. What a waste.


Check out the rest of the related stories here under ‘Family Secret’.


Short Story: When Life Opens An Opportunity

Genre: general
Follows after When Life Hits You First and When Life Isn’t Done With You. Read those first.


In a quiet town in an unremarkable house, a girl lived in the house of her family’s murderer.

It was a strange life.

She was their prisoner, but also the leader’s ward, so they restricted her freedom, but dotted on her like their own child.

Nothing could be taken for granted. A kindness now could not be relied on later, but there was always someone she could turn to when things were tough.

Through it all, their leader continued to ‘educate her in the righteousness of villainy’. What that looked like, most of the time, was him ranting about the unfairness of the world over snacks.

It wasn’t a bad life, but what kind of life was it really? To have the four walls of the house be her whole world, living on the whim of people who changed how they treated her all the time.

So when she saw the open window, carelessly left open, she didn’t hesitate.



Short Story: When Life Isn’t Done With You

Genre: tragedy
Read When Life Hits You First first.


A man and a girl stood in a room, amidst the fallen bodies of the girl’s loved ones.

“Do you feel like hitting back now?” the man asked.

The girl shook her head as tears streamed  down her face. “I never want to be like you.”

The man’s face hardened. He put his gun to her head.

“Then you can join your family.”

He pulled the trigger, but only sound escaped. He had run out of bullets.

“Lucky girl.” He looked behind her to the silent bodies. “Or maybe not.”

He lifted the girl’s chin with his gun and released a contemplative hum.

“You’re still young. I’m sure we can change your mind.”

He smiled.

“Congratulations, you’ve just been adopted.”

~Continued in When Life Opens An Opportunity~

Short Story: When Life Hits You First

Genre: general, tragedy


“What do you do when everything you love is taken away from you? You either accept it or fight back. You call me a villain, but it was you and yours who threw the first punch.”

The villain stopped in front of her daughter.

“When people hit us, we hit them back. Don’t you agree?”

Her daughter shook her head. “Then everyone will get hurt and no one will be happy.”

The villain’s lips twisted. “Spoken like a true child. Let me open your eyes.”

Pain seared through her. Darkness crashed over her soon after.


~Feels like a ‘the end’ but that’s a pretty mean place to end so I continued the story in When Life Isn’t Done With You~

Short Story: The Tribe Within The Mountain

Genre: fantasy


On the mountain in between the roots of two giant trees, sat a pool. By day it shone under the sun, by night it glittered under the stars.

The pool fed streams that flowed into the mountain, down the man-made tunnels of the tribe that dwelled within the mountain. Even in the darkness, the streams glowed, bringing light deep into the mountain.

Throughout the mountain, the tribe settled along the streams. They lived by its light and survived through its water. For many, the stream was the only light they knew, and that was enough.

But not her.

The elders talked about an endless chamber with no walls, of a great light that shone from the ceiling called sun and a glittering river that flowed on the ceiling instead of the ground.

She lived deep in the mountain, far from the surface. To travel all the way to the top would take her days, maybe longer. So she prepared, as much as she could, and when there was nothing else she could prepare, she walked upstream.

To travel was rare, so her unfamiliar face drew attention wherever she went.

“Where are you from?”

“Where are you going?”

In exchange for her story, they offered her food and shelter. For her, who didn’t know how long her journey would take, the offers were a great boon. She shared her story, and in the process learnt theirs.

As she traveled further upstream, she sent news back downstream of how she was, the people she had met, and the things she had learnt.

What should have taken days stretched into months, but finally, she reached the top of the mountain, and she saw with her own eyes the largest chamber she had ever seen. No walls, no ceilings, just endless space as far as the eye could see.

She drank her fill of the vast landscape, committing every sight to memory. This place, which had no end, was where she wanted to be.

She would return to her home chamber, but only to bid her farewells before returning to the surface.

And if anyone wanted to join her, well, the more the merrier.



Short Story: Explorer’s Adventure

Genre: family, slice of life


“Explorer’s hat.”

Her son tapped his helmet. “Here.”

“Explorer’s boots.”

Her son lifted one foot. “Here.”

“Explorer’s armour.”

Her son tapped his jacket. “Here.”

“Explorer’s map.”

Her son pulled the map out of his pocket. “Here.”

“Then go forth, explorer!”

Her son scampered off into their backyard. She flopped onto her couch and put her feet up. Finally, a break as her son tried to find the treasure she hid last night.

Now, what would she hide tonight?


Short Story: Arguments Over the Bill

Genre: slice of life





“I refuse.”

“I don’t care.”

The waiter looked back and forth between the two friends, the bill held in one hand.

“Who shall I…”

“Me!” they both said.

The patron closest to him slapped her card on the bill. “Take it and go.”


The waiter beat a hasty retreat. That table had been arguing over the bill for the past ten minutes. He didn’t care who paid, as long as the bill got settled.


Short Story: Missy Bessy

Genre: slice of life, family, humour

There was a dog in his house. Why was there a dog in his house?

“Dad, what are you doing?” his daughter asked.

He looked up from the barrier he had built around the dog.

“Containing the contaminant.”

“It’s just a dog.”

“Do you know how much dirt gets trapped in that fur? Not to mention the fur itself. Long-haired dogs shed like rain.”

“Missy Bessy doesn’t shed. And she won’t be here long. My friend will be back in an hour.”

“Then Missy Bessy stays in there for an hour.”

“Right there?”

“Right here.”

His daughter stared.

“You’re trapped too.”

“I’m realising that now, yes.”

“So you’ll stay there for an hour?”

“Looks like it.”

His daughter looked thoughtful.

“I’m going to eat your cake!”

“Wait. Not the the cake!”

But she was already gone.



Short Story: Without Me, There Is No You

Genre: romance

Follows after Love Rival. Start from The Letter.

It took him a month, but he could now whip up the perfect brownie, from memory, in half an hour.

“This tastes amazing,” his girlfriend said as she happily savoured every single bite of the ice cream-topped brownie.

“Thanks. Have more.”

Inwardly, he glared at the brownie.

Remember, I made you. Without me, there is no you. Know your place.

The brownie just shrugged off his mental thoughts and let itself be eaten.

Did he have issues? Maybe. Just a little.


Short Story: The Price of Wishes

Genre: fantasy

Inspired by the prompt evanescent.

Features Bitter Medic.

He could realise any wish as long as the price was right, but not every wish was worth the price.

As Bitter Medic, everything and anything was a resource. Physical, emotional, tangible, immaterial, real, imaginary, as long as it had value and the client was willing to pay the price.

Given the choice, however, he would always prefer tangible options. They were like once off patients, give it once and that was it.

Non-material prices, however, could have long reaching consequences that neither he nor his clients could have foreseen.

Such as this case.

“Please, Bitter Medic. Tell me what I need to pay,” the young man said as he held an unconscious girl in his arms.

Bitter Medic had actually seen the girl only two months before. Back then, she had been absolutely radiant, bringing life to this very room with her presence as she paid for her wish. Now, only a dull husk remained, and even that was fading. Literally.

“Two months ago,” Bitter Medic said, “She approached me with a wish. A friend of hers had narcolepsy, and she wished for him to be healed. I assume that friend is you?”

The young man nodded. “I don’t have narcolepsy anymore, but I didn’t know she had anything to do with it. Whatever she paid, please return it. I would rather live with narcolepsy than lose a friend.”

“That, too, requires a price.”

“I’ll pay it.”

Bitter Medic studied the young man. Potential prices crossed his mind. Reversing the transaction would be most straightforward, but costly for the young man with no benefits. He had no physical items that would be equivalent to his wish, not with his friend’s life on the line. The bond between those two… he could work with that.

“The price your friend paid to cure your narcolepsy is her energy. The energy that’s keeping you alert is all from her. It appears, however, that you are consuming more than she can provide, and it is taking a toll on her body.

“So rest. If you don’t exert yourself, she should wake on her own. When she does, come back and we’ll continue the conversation.”

“Thank you. Thank you very much.”

The young man picked up the girl.

“Did you carry her here?”

“… Yes.”

“Take a cab. The more energy you use, the faster she’ll fade.”

“Got it, Bitter Medic.”

Yes, they had both underestimated how active this young man was once freed from the shackles of narcolepsy. For all their sake, he hoped he would see them both again.


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