"I Tell You, Dragons Are Real!"

“I tell you, dragons are real!” The broadcast ended with an ad for Hauen Labs, the group who successfully managed to create the mythical creature known as the dragon. At least, it was small, scaly, and could fly. It also had the personality of a ferret. I know, because I created it.
My name was Takerai Hauen, and my business was Hauen Labs. A genetics laboratory, we made national news every time we made a successful creature. Our “Pegasus” horses sold for over fifteen million dollars. At last count, twenty-three of them had found homes around the world. In case you failed math class, that’s 345 million dollars – on the horses alone.
That figure doesn’t even bring the other animals into account. The gryphon, the sphinx, the medusa’s hair, the hydra; all were available for sale from Hauen Labs. However, one of the most elusive supposedly mythical creatures to create was the dragon. It started out as one of our first projects and it retained a core group of engineers and geneticists as other projects grew and were finished around it. We created many prototypes, but innumerable factors conspired against us. For example, there was the size. We had never created anything larger than the sphinx, which had maxed out what room we had in our facilities at the time. Of course, we were pursuing the dragon of British mythology, which could swallow medieval knights and their armor whole; mainly because that’s what customers wanted. Success came when we decided to take a look at the Chinese idea of the dragon, which, while still scaly and able to breathe fire, the average size was only 60 centimeters (≈2 feet) from snout to tip of the tail. We took heart, and pursued a smaller version. From that change, we produced the first commercially viable dragon. I could not have told you in words how pleased I was.

Then it all changed.

Let me fill you in a little: those annoying “animal rights” groups and the equally annoying “anti-tampering genetics” people had always picketed us. We ignored them, they bought things the local restaurants, everybody was happy.
I was always the first one in the labs in the morning, mainly so I could get some extra work in without peons pestering me with questions. It started a day like any other – my morning was the same, until I arrived at work. The first thing that greeted me was police tape. After that were the newscasters wanting a word. The last thing was the worst; the gutted shell of my laboratories. The barn, the labs, the offices, it was all burned to the ground. I could smell the odor of charred flesh in the air. My work, all gone. Well, not quite, but still most of it. All of the files were remotely backed up onto a pair of gigantic hard drives – one at my home and one at my lawyer’s office. But files weren’t what mattered; the animals did. Without those animals, I was nothing.
The media pounced on the story, using it as the starter to tell the public what they’d really thought of my business and customers. I was a “carnival barker”, a “freak show owner”, someone who tampered in God’s domain and should be punished. I am thoroughly ashamed by what they called my customers; I consider it so shameful I will not even repeat it here. Needless to say, I got several phone calls that day telling me they wanted to return their purchase. I had no choice but to accept them, because the purchasing contract was never designed for this kind of emergency. In animals alone, that fire cost me over four billion dollars. The facility cost me another billion and a half, the genetics equipment another $750 million at least. That kind of money did not grow on trees.
However, in the midst of the buybacks and the media storm, I got a call from the fire chief at my building. He told me to come over immediately and would not continue the search through the building until I came. Of course, I jumped in my car and was there in less than fifteen minutes. What they found was amazing. In the midst of the barn wreckage, they had heard a cry. That cry belonged to my dragon, who had survived the fiery blast and the collapse of the barn. It was trapped inside its cage, and when it was let free it flew ‘round in circles around our heads. When it came to rest on my shoulder, a glimmer of hope began to shine. With the dragon and the animals from the buybacks, I could start anew. I could find people, governments even, to back me while rebuilding my experiments and animals.
I was halfway home when I got a call from my trusted secretary: she said that the government wanted to arrest me for fraud and other charges. They were waiting for me at my house. I thanked her profusely, terminated the connection, and threw my phone out the window, watching an eighteen-wheeler turn it into plastic shrapnel, knowing that there was no way they could track me now.

I fled for my life for over a week before making it over the border into Mexico. That was over eight years ago. My friends call me Kashe; my wife calls me Kashedrai. My daughters call me Papa. To none of them am I Takerai, owner of the infamous Hauen Laboratories. The dragon now lives under my roof and fulfills its duties as a glorified watchdog with pride. Meanwhile, I own a small grocery store in the tiny town of Gualtachnitualan, an hour outside of Mexico City. In the front, people come in, they make small talk, they buy what they need, they leave. In the back, I set up a small lab with a computer attached to all the external memory that I can afford that has all of the files from the original lab downloaded onto it. It is here that I resumed my experiments with sub-standard equipment. I have had only minor breakthroughs recently, but I hope that will change.
Someday I plan to tell my wife who I am, my history. But for now, I am Kashedrai Hildom, grocery store owner, loving husband, doting father. I would like to keep it that way.

Kara Leighman

Kara Leighman glanced at the clock and sighed. At four-thirty in the morning, most people would be home in bed. Her head throbbed with exhaustion as she turned back to pore over the countless charts and video logs of the most recent of the White Card thefts. These thefts had been going on for months, and yet Ms. Leighman and her dedicated team of eight could not catch the perpetrator. Every White Card theft had no signs of forced entry, no alarms tripped and in every case a single white business card had been laid where the item had been stolen from. Every card had the same inscription on it. A silver smiley face with horns dominated the left side and the words, "Thank you and Have a Nice Day" were on the right.
The latest one had happened merely fourteen hours before and they were already stuck. No leads ever checked out, there were never any witnesses, and the video footage was always clean.
Kara looked up at her equally exhausted team and said bitterly, "All right guys, we can't get any more work done now. I want to see everybody here at one tomorrow, understood?" A chorus of groans and affirmatives were the reply.
As she made her way home through the darkness, Kara reflected on the history of the White Card thefts. They had started sixteen months ago and only targeted jewelry stores and banks. The things that were taken were always easily liquidatable. This made the items incredibly hard to track. Kara sighed to the darkness and prepared for a restless night's sleep.
As usual, her team arrived on time. Kara waved them into the small meeting room they used for discussions. "Okay everybody, I hope you had a good sleep because today we are going to the scene of the crime." She glanced down at her notes, then read aloud.
"Brennaman's Jewelers, in business since 1948, has a very large customer base, one of the best security systems money can buy, and -- yes?" she asked an upraised hand.
"Which one?" the upraised hand asked. It belonged to Paul, her security expert.
"Uh, I don't see it here..." Kara flipped through a couple of pages. "Oh wait, it's the DigiSense 412."
"The DigiSense? No wonder their stuff got stolen," he scoffed. She kept going as if she hadn't heard him.
"They've never been hit with a White Card before, so we're going to go check it out. It's fifteen minutes away from here, and here's the address." She paused. "Any questions? Okay, let's hit the road."
Seventeen minutes later, the nine person group entered Brennaman's Jewelers and looked around. Kara saw three individual hanging cameras and at least one thermal sensor. A person who obviously needed a gym bustled up behind the counter and inquired about their needs. Kara spoke for the group. "We're the team investigating the White Card thefts. We would like to speak to the owner. Is he around?"
He replied immediately. "Oh yes, he's around. In fact, I am he!" The man was in his late forties, early fifties, and quite jovial, despite having been robbed of a little more than fifty thousand dollars worth of merchandise. "How may I help you?" Kara gave him an odd look and continued. "We're looking for things that aren't on the charts. Locations of things that were stolen, where they were kept when they're on display. Things like that. Capisce?"
"Well, the items in question were taken from all over the store. Every case had at least one thing missing. As for where I keep them when they're not on display, that one's easy. My merchandise is either in the cases or in a safe in the back," he answered.
"Was anything from the safe missing?" she asked him.
"Not at all," he replied.
Turning to the rest of the group, she checked to see if they were doing their jobs. Her sensor tech and security man were huddled around a camera feed, two others were checking over the safe, three looked over the list of things stolen, and the last person was taking notes of Kara's conversation.
"Okay guys, do you have everything you need? Let's go." Once again, the nine person crew piled into their respective cars and headed back to the temporary headquarters building. After three hours of unproductive work, Kara's sensor tech, Nadia, motioned her over.
"I found something you might want to take a look at," she said breathlessly. Once Kara could see Nadia's computer screen, she realized they might have finally gotten a break. Amid the soothing blues and purples of the image the thermal sensor had recorded, a faint yellow and orange figure burned in the middle of the screen as it bent over one of the display cases.
"Is that what I think it is?" Nadia asked.
"I think it might be..." Kara's voice trailed off as she studied the footage. Then she stood up and addressed the team.
"Okay guys, I think we might have just gotten our first real break. The thermal sensor at Brennaman's picked up a faint human outline during the time of the theft. Nadia and Paul -- go back to Brennaman's and see if there's any more information you can get. Oliver -- call some of your informants and ask nicely if they know anything new about this, since we have something to base it against. Rest of you -- keep working on what you've got."
Two very long and exhausting days later, Oliver reported back to her. "I found out that the perp left Brennaman's at about 3:40 in the morning and went immediately to an all night bank at 34th and Rutledge. From there, I went ahead and talked to the bank myself. They told me that the perp put something into a safety deposit box, number 1427. Should we put a watch on that box?"
"No, let's just wait. Now we know where he's going, we can keep an eye on 'im. Anything else?"
"Yeah, the staff didn't notice alot about the thief, but the one major thing they did remember is that our thief is not a he. It's a she."
Kara's eyebrows rose in wonder and surprise. That was certainly an unexpected twist. "I will have to dwell on this..." she said contemplatively. She went to her office and closed the door. Sitting in her comfy chair, she thought about what to do. Suddenly, Kara knew the answer to that question. She picked up a brown briefcase from beside her desk and ran her hands over the aged leather. After checking its precious contents, she walked out of her office. She walked over to the computer hub that her staff used and looked it over, putting the briefcase down as she did so. Leaving it, she walked to the door.
"I'll be right back. Everybody stay here, all right?" A chorus of affirmatives met her ears. She walked to her car, drove three blocks down the street, parked, got out, and pushed a button. She was almost knocked off her feet as the shock wave from the building that used to house her team blew outward. From there, she got back in her car, drove to the corner of 34th and Rutledge, got out, and entered a building. After a few minutes of talking, Kara Leighman smiled to herself as she pushed a key into box 1427.

Friends Are Forever

The only thing in the world I wanted right then was for Freddie to shut up. He wasn’t usually that talkative, but today I thought my ear was going to fall off. That and I was trying to concentrate on the lesson, but Freddie didn’t seem to mind risking the teacher’s wrath by talking to me. I thought it was a miracle that my hellspawn of a teacher hadn’t turned around and yelled at Freddie yet, but the day was still young. However, right then, I wanted to wring his neck. I needed to pass this class in order to graduate, and Freddie wasn’t helping. Finally, I was totally fed up with Freddie’s constant yammering.
“SHUT UP!!” I screamed at him. When the blood stopped rushing in my ears, I noticed that the entire room had gone silent, including Mr. Hellspawn, who had an extremely irritated look on his face. “I’m sorry sir,” I backpedaled, trying to do damage control. “Freddie won’t be quiet. He’s been talking this whole time!” I glared at Freddie, who grinned at me.
Don’t get me wrong, he’s my best friend and has been since childhood, but right now I was ticked. “Could you please tell him to be quiet, sir?” Mr. Hellspawn nodded, then told Freddie to do what I said. He started to turn back to the blackboard, then thought better of it and told Freddie and I to go see the principle first. We gathered our books and headed off for a scolding.
When we got there, the receptionist told me to go in alone, so Freddie waited by the desk. The principle surprised me. He said that the school wanted to put me on medication so I could focus better and control my… (he named off something that meant random bursts of yelling). As I was listening to him blabber, I saw Freddie out his window, making faces at me. I couldn’t help it; I laughed. I laughed and I laughed. When the principle got mad and wanted to know what I was laughing at, all I could do was laugh some more and point at Freddie out the window. Every time the principle looked out the window, Freddie ducked, so it made me laugh all the more. Then he said something which made my laughter die in my throat.
“Freddie isn’t real.”
My immediate cunning response was, “Yes he is! What are you talking about?!?” He merely repeated himself. I got angry. He was dissing my best friend. I needed to fix this. “Yes he is! I don’t care what you think!” I yelled at him as I ran out the door. As I ran down the hallways as fast as I could toward the main doors, the only thought that went through my mind was:

Friends are forever.

(Okay, not the best thing I've ever written, but still good enough to post)(comments appreciated)

Last Conversation

“Hello, Alex. How’s the leg?” A man of medium build stood in my doorway, a smirk filling his face.
I rose to my feet. “What are you doing here? How did you get in?”
“I am good at what I do. I simply called your butler saying I had information and he let me in. Of course, he wasn’t there when we met.”
“Of course he wasn’t. Otherwise he would have killed you when you shot me the first time.”
“Yes, about that. That was a mistake. I missed. The bullet should have found your heart and not your shoulder.”
“I think of you every time I go to the gym.”
“I thought of you every time the cops came knocking on my door.”
“Why are you back? Did our last parting stir much sorrow in your heart?”
He snorted. “Of course not. Alex, you never came through on our deal. I’m here to rectify that.”
“It’s not Alex to you anymore. It’s Duchess Cilonde. You have lost the right to call me by anything but my title.”
He bowed low in mockery. “Of course, Duchess. I wouldn’t dream of it.”
I took a step back. “What about when you shot me the second time? Was that a mistake too?”
“No, that did what it was supposed to. You broke off the chase. It was sufficient.”
“Of course it was. I think you missed, is all. You had a clean shot. By all means, your employer probably would have like it better if you had killed me outright.”
“Yes, but I didn’t want to. You had things I wanted.”
“I remember, that tracker and code. How much did you get for it once you pried it from my bodyguard’s cold hands?”
“$500,000, but that’s not important.”
“What is important then?”
“What is important is the fact that I’ve been sent to finish the job.” He pulled a gun out of his billowing coat.
“You know, for the last ten years, I’ve gotten in the first hand. Do you really expect that I’ll just lay down and die?”
“I don’t know. My employer has waited for a long time to see you dead.”
“Yes, I didn’t think they’d even wait this long. I expected you sixteen years ago. When you didn’t come, I thought they might have granted me reprieve. Apparently I was wrong.”
He nodded. “Yes, you were wrong. I am here to fix that wrong.”
“If I may, I would like to ask you one question.”
“What would that be?” He was puzzled, but his professional demeanor wouldn’t let him show it.
“Why did you not come for me earlier? I was waiting and ready. Are you so sure that you want to finish the job after all these years?”
“Of course. Where would you like it? The head, to be quick? Or perhaps the heart, for an open casket?”
“Do I have much of a choice?”
“Not really. Goodbye, Duchess.”
“Goodbye, Nash.”

A gunshot rang out. When the smoke cleared, I gazed at the body of my would-be killer. “I told you I’d get the first hand,” I chided as I slipped my tiny revolver back into my sleeve.

Explanations, Explanations!

As the title so tenderly puts it, this was created for the sole purpose of posting my short stories.

Feel free to peruse, enjoy, and comment on what you see here. As an aside, all of my stories are fictional unless otherwise noted. ALL OF THEM! Now that I've driven that into your head, go thou and read!

Enjoy!

P.S. I occasionally write from the viewpoint of the opposite gender, "Last Conversation" being a notable example. Please don't leave any nasty comments!