The Photograph

“The Photograph”

a short story

Gary Baker, September 2013

There’s something in the way that a sandwich cut in halvsies from the corners seems to mystify the world versus leaving it whole or cutting it like a grid. It’s like taking the first swig of an unshaken gallon of milk, or the singlemost first slice of apple pie when it’s still steaming from the oven and how the world magically contorts to make these as magical as possible. Or like how taking a bite of a chocolate bar made from fairtrade chocolate from Costa Rica or the Amazon in Brazil or something like that, where it’s meant to be snapped into smaller bits and enjoyed piece-by-piece yet choosing not to follow the unspoken rules results in a far superior taste of that one, lone, first bite.

Today was like that, for Savannah. 

First Contact, the conclusion

"First Contact"

a short story

Gary Baker, June 2013

(the conclusive end to a 2 part sci-fi)

Acier arrived on the floor of the Tear bridge with a soft shush. His feet first hit the smooth metal alloy meant to feel more like the ground cover foliage back home. The sensation was as pleasing as reaching his home world once again with the intent to stay.

It would never happen, he knew, especially since his kind had long since expired in this desolate universe. Only the ability to preserve their remnants had saved the entirety of Acier’s race as such individuals had been slingshotted themselves into deep space using the large gravitational pull of the nearing sun. Acier had been awoken years ago, by the queen herself, sole survivor of the Elders, a lone soul in the universe dedicating the rest of her existence to seeking out others like her; others with the physical inability to expire without some severe exorbitant force that could push them from this realm.

The Great Rest

"The Great Rest"

a short story

Gary Baker, November 2012

The razor slid across, leaving a deepening trail in it's wake.

Warm crimson began to cover Kimi's wrist, speckling her clenched jaw with flecks of gory mist. She then felt her fingers slack, as if released from taught cording that had them held from lazing too far into relaxation. She looked to the thin blade in the fingers of her right hand as a single drop of blood slowly tried to drip from the lowest corner.

Finally the gore reached the red towel from around her wrist, placed upon the white marble with a few others beneath as an extra barrier between her force of life and the maid having a mess to clean up later. Of course some matter of cleaning would be needed no matter what, but at least in this Kimi could be helpful in such a way that she could control most of it.