dreamszilla

Jordan wishes to prove his masculinity by hiring a sailing boat, and discovers something unexpected about himself. Image generated with OpenAI "Yeah mom, I'm only renting the boat for a few days," Jordan said into the phone. The thick sea air met with the slap of his shoes on the wooden boards of the dock. Gulls perched themselves above, their cacophonous cackling calls confirming his entry. The skies were clear - no clouds, no blemishes. The only real danger came from the milquetoast design of Jordan's plain collared shirt and shorts, perfectly colored to scream beach like a wailing babe alongside his sandals. He wore a pair of generic khakis, ruined by a bright blue coloration and a pink - pardon, salmon - colored shirt. The only thing worse was his hair; flopped to one side that would have been dashing on someone more fit, or more interesting. But as it was, it made him suitably unique in his forgettability. The suitcase trailed behind him, its wheels groaning a...

In a world where language is paywalled, Elias longs to be able to tell his daughter a story he loved as a child. Image generated with OpenAI Elias leaned back against the worn headboard, the glow of the StoryKeep app painting Maya's face in soft blue light. "Can we read it, Daddy?" she asked, her curls spilling across the pillow, voice heavy with drowsiness. "The one you said was your favorite when you were a kid." He scrolled, a knot tightening in his stomach. This wouldn't be the story he'd known as a boy. Why had he even mentioned The Sky Beyond the Walls ? Elias clicked the thumbnail for The Sky Beyond the Walls and cleared his throat. Once, there was a little songbird who lived in a garden surrounded by high stone walls. Every day, she sang songs about the things she could see: the red roses climbing the wall, the clear fountain in the middle, the shadows that danced at sunset. Her songs filled the garden with joy, and the other birds praised h...

Benjamin gets caught in an online storm after making an ill-advised joke about Betty White's death. Image generated with OpenAI "Were you drinking and posting last night?" my wife, Andrea, asked as she poured me a cup of coffee on what I thought was going to be a lazy Sunday morning. "I had a couple of beers, and I was on my phone," I said, not sure what she was getting at. "So I guess I was technically drinking and posting. Why?" "Read it and weep." She slid her phone toward me on the kitchen counter. "This might be my finest work yet. Clear, concise, biting but not mean." I tried but failed to fight back a grin. I had written the post well past midnight, when Andrea was sound asleep, as was everyone else I could think of to text about my amusing observation. So I logged on Facebook for the first time in over a week to let my small coterie of friends in on the fun. Then I drained the last of my beer and headed upstairs to bed. ...