A Snippet of Fiction, Final Installment
Author Note: In case you haven’t read Episode 1 (posted on 4-4-26), or Episode 2 (posted on 4-11-26), here are the links:
If you prefer reading “Spare Time” in its entirety, here’s a link to a separate post:
[No AI was used in any aspect of the writing above, the fiction piece below, anything else I’ve written, or anything I will ever write, for that matter.]
Spare Time
Episode 3
Each word reverberated in the man’s memory, expanding and contracting like a double-lung bellows.
Are…you…so…sure?
The slight tingling in his feet spiraled up past his ankles, then toward his knees.
“What the hell’s h-happening to me?”
The awareness will come to you bit by bit, my friend.
“What…are…you—?”
Remember, you need not speak your words aloud. Simply think of them as intended for me, and I will understand.
He struggled to move, but his body resisted as if the surface gravity had doubled. When his tongue refused to respond, he stopped struggling and let his thoughts shape themselves without speaking. ⟪What are you doing to me?⟫
Easing the door open the way you did for me a lifetime ago, and I for you before that, and so on as far back as I have memories.
When the man tried forcing his feet to move, he managed to shuffle twice before falling onto his side. ⟪You’re turning me into a tree?⟫
Oh no, you’re doing so yourself. It is time, after all, for you to leave the recast world behind and return to your mycorrhizal home. Have you not sensed it here of late? Strange dreams of each toe stretching and spreading through the soil while your fingers clamor for the sky, and your skin—
The man twisted his body, gathering all his strength and listing to his feet. But when he tried backing away, an invisible wall stopped him.
Please, my friend, relax and remember it will all be fine.
⟪No…no, it won’t. Now I truly remember.⟫
Perhaps so, but stay vigilant of the ravenous false narratives with their underlying constructs and beliefs vying for your attention. So many years of mistrust and abuse magnified beyond measure by greed. Layer upon layer of treachery and conspiracy—true and confabulated—infused into all that you have read and viewed and listened to as you searched for an escape from reality.
Suddenly the man saw a mosaic of brightly colored, undulating objects—books and screens and phones and Eulalias flashing and spinning in a whirlwind.
Turn your attention inward and let the storm dissipate of its own accord. No need to bother with that anymore.
The man felt the wall behind him soften as a warm, soothing substance began covering his skin. ⟪Why pick me?⟫
We chose one another.
The man’s thoughts clouded over again, then a vague image presented itself as if bathed in dim stage lights.
The memory resurfaces the same way every time, does it not?
He tried to shake his head, but gave up. ⟪I don’t know what it is.⟫
None of us ever do until the moment the veils lift. Then we all know it is time.
The man startled. ⟪We all? There’s more of us?⟫
Volunteers too numerous to count.
⟪And time for what?⟫
To anchor as one. You must surely sense the outreach of others.
⟪Outreach? What are you—?⟫
Trust me, the time is at hand. Volunteers are actively linking across this strange world.
⟪So we’re part of an alien invasion?⟫
Winsome laughter echoed through the man’s mind as if he were a child in Fingal’s Cave again.
Alien invasion? Oh, my dear friend, how hoodwinked your recast mind has become. All of us are no more than lifesavers tossed into a raging sea. Our sole purpose, you will soon remember, is to assist life on this deteriorating planet. The drums of war and politics increase daily while oceans rise, toxins multiply, natural resources diminish, and inequities persist. Before long there will be few viable zones left where lifeforms less fortunate than our own can survive.
⟪What can we do to stop the madness?⟫
Nothing, my friend, absolutely nothing. We offer up ourselves as underpinnings in the bedrock, holding the line as best we can against the raging storms of mutually assured destruction.
⟪When will it happen?⟫
None of us even knows if it will. We are only discerners, not seers. When the moment is at hand, those who remain will reinforce our links as we weather the troubles that lie ahead.
⟪Then why do we recast?⟫
To embrace humans from within. Each of us takes a turn through a normal life cycle, embedding ourselves in whatever strata society offers us, helping one another and those less fortunate. Each excursion allows us to connect, adapt, and avail ourselves to our hosts in whatever way we can. We carry those memories upon our return and use them to fortify ourselves for the coming upheaval.
The man smiled. ⟪But what if humans somehow manage to change course before it’s too late?⟫
Then we shall be filled with joy for that moment and with hope for the future when they can see their world through unfiltered eyes as we do.
The man felt waves of energy surge between every fiber of his being, then all his aches and pains subside. Each breath he took became shallower as his lungs dispersed throughout his body, foramina materialized on his skin, and his respiration cycle rediscovered its reverse rhythm.
⟪The veils are lifting.⟫
Gus an coinnich sinn a-rithist, seana-charaid.
⟪Yes, until we meet again, my friend.⟫
Later that day, two paramedics put the final touches on covering the man’s body with a sheet and cinching the straps on the gurney before bouncing it over the network of lateral roots burgeoning across the yard.
A small group of people disbanded near the garden in the shade of the ponderosa, their hushed tones drifting on the breeze.
“—mad aura.”
“Tell me about it. Lived next door to the unhinged guy my whole life.”
“Got some stories, huh?”
“Oh yeah, like how just the other day he was butt naked, covered in mud, and having a spirited discussion with that ginormous ponderosa over there like they were best buds.”
“Well, at least we finally found out what the crazy boomer did in his spare time.”
Nervous laughter erupted and faded as the group slogged through the well-watered, fresh garden soil toward the side gate.
When a gust of wind buffeted the ponderosa, a cloud of pine needles rose high into the air like a murmuration of starlings in the eventide’s fading light before settling over the garden and blanketing the remnants of human footprints.
The End
A recent review of my latest novel Core Haven: Hope Amid the Ruins
P.S. At the time of this writing, Core Haven: Hope Amid the Ruins has maintained its 4.8 out of 5 with 51global ratings & 49 customer reviews on Amazon, along with 4.62 out of 5 with 130 ratings & 120 reviews on Goodreads. Not too shabby, right?
My first self-published novel, Pearl Fields and the Oregon Meltdown: A Tale of Survival, is currently available on the Kindle Store.
My companion novel, Core Haven: Hope Amid the Ruins, was released on July 31st, 2025. Available now.
