Category: Sample Chapters

Galactic Log 2.1 – Someone To Talk To (Rho Tiarmstrong)

It wasn’t long before Nina helped me clean and sweep around the apartment. That little, yellow maid robot was faster than I thought, and she wasn’t afraid of hard work. She was always happy and eager to assist me. When I finally found a clean pair of clothes, I started getting dressed quickly.

Then, I followed behind Nina, trying to figure out what I could possibly do for her. I saw Nina place some items on a shelf and so I imitated her movements exactly, putting whatever stuff that might seem useful on the kitchen counter.

I really didn’t know what I was doing, but it felt good to be of some use and to do something besides my usual routine. Normally, I would just go back to bed. But today felt different. I was sick of staying indoors all the time. How many galactic years has it been? How long was I in hiding?

It took us about three days to remove the trash out of the room. However, I was too nervous of going outside, so Nina would drag the black bags to the dumpster downstairs. I didn’t want anyone to see me, and yet there was one last bag that was too heavy for Nina to lift. That little robot was pulling with all her might, which made me feel bad somewhat.

Why am I apprehensive? What is keeping me here in this room? Is it fear? Is it something else?

What if someone sees me? What if I don’t know them? What if they know me? Or what if I know them? What the fuck would I say?

Glancing around the apartment, my eyes spotted an old worn-out cowboy hat. I picked it up instantly and placed it on top of my head. This would have to do as a disguise for now. I grabbed the enormous bag, putting it over my shoulder and took one step out of the room.

“Thank you, Miss Rho. I appreciate your help,” Nina said.

“Yea-yeah, sure…”

She showed the way. “Follow me.”

The yellow robot floated in the hallway. I heard faint music and wondered where it was coming from. As I approached Nina the sound got louder; she sang herself a tune.

Spider monkeys are hairy,
but they are so cute,
Spider monkeys are small,

but they are long gone.

 

What the fuck is she singing? What the hell is a spider monkey? I kept my head down, hoping to conceal my face.

Nina came to a sudden halt in front of two sliding doors and pressed a button on the wall.

She turned to me and waved. “Miss Rho, the dumpster is on the bottom floor.”

I rolled my eyes, hoping she’d turn off that annoying music. Nina had a transparent screen that projected furry creatures on the walls, dancing wildly. Were those monkeys?

“Thanks again for the help, Miss Rho. It would’ve taken me forever to drag it in here.”

In a low voice, I tried to sound like a man. “No problemo, compadre.”

“Compadre?” Nina blinked in confusion. “What does that mean?”

“It means ‘friend,” I whispered back at her.

“Friend…”

Nina turned off the music and the dancing monkeys. “I will have to put that word into my vocabulary databases, since it’s the first time I’m hearing it.”

“It’s a Spanish word.”

“Spanish?”

“You never heard of Spanish before?” I asked, raising a brow. “I thought everyone knew that.”

“I know many alien languages, but we don’t have Spanish in Cloud Nine. That word is probably from the Forbidden Old Ages.”

“The Forbidden Old Ages?” I dropped the bag and it made a thunderous thud.

Is she calling me old?

“Yes, Miss Rho. Spanish, Japanese, German, Arabic, Portuguese, French, Chinese, and other human languages have ceased to exist here. No one uses them anymore, because they all died out several million galactic years ago.”

There was a faint beeping sound overhead and a light flickered in our direction. The double doors opened. I snatched up the big bag and took a deep sigh of relief once we got inside the elevator, but I couldn’t stop thinking about what Nina had just said to me.

All these human languages are extinct now. Humanity is gone. Our civilization and our entire history has been wiped out. No one is left, except me…

(TO BE CONTINUED… )

Copyrighted © 2017 by W.D. Lady

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Galactic Log 1.7 – A Meaningless Existence (Rho Tiarmstrong)

I take a deep breath and press the button for the intercom speaker.

“Who is it?” I ask in a huff.

I view the tiny monitor before me, but then I remember it’s broken––ancient technology. There’s no way I’ll be able to see anything through this hunk of junk.

“Special delivery for Room 429,” says a cheery voice on the other line.

I’m getting a little impatient as to why this individual is disturbing me at this hour. “Just tell me what it is. I don’t recall ordering any packages.”

“It’s not a package.”

“Then, what the fuck is it?” I shout out, pounding on the door in anger.

“Miss Rho, is that you?”

“Whaa…? How do you know my fuckin’ address?” I ask, looking through the peephole.

I see the eyes of a yellow robot staring right back at me. It looks like a small saucer as it floats around in mid-air. The sliding door opens and I realize this thing is carrying bags of groceries, full of food.

“Don’t you remember me, Miss Rho? It’s me. Nina,” Nina says, blinking with her electronic lights for eyes.

I tilt my head. “I never saw you in my life.”

“You look awfully different, Miss Rho. Can I come in and put these down?” she asks.

Stepping back, I let the little robot come inside the apartment. The door slams shut though.

“Just drop the bags over there and get out,” I say, pointing in the direction of the dirty kitchen.

Nina glances around with her eyes. “Wow, this place is a mess, Miss Rho…”

“I don’t care how you know my name, but I want you out. Do you hear me? Put the bags on the ground and just go. Now.” I want her to leave pronto.

“I can cook and clean for you, Miss Rho. Would you like that?” she asks, smiling at me.

I raise my brow in surprise. “You can cook? Clean too?”

Because I obviously can’t do any of those things, I think to myself.

“Yes, Miss Rho. I can make practically anything you want. What would you like to eat?”

“Wait, wait a second!” I step in front of Nina and force her to stop. “How in the world? I mean––how did you get here exactly? How did you find me?”

Nina places the bags on the floor, since the kitchen counter is stacked with unclean plates. “Wasn’t it you that called me, Miss Rho? I used to care for you and your sister, but I went out on my own and found a job.”

“Excuse me? I have a sister?” I’m so confused at the moment. “That’s impossible.”

“Your sister is the Commander of the Aeron. Did you lose your memory again, Miss Rho? It seems to happen quite a lot these days.”

“Now that I think about it, you do look strangely familiar…like I’ve seen you before,” I say as her words ring true in my ears.

“Miss Rho, I have to be honest with you…this place needs some serious work. There’s no room for anything. I can help you clean up, but if you don’t want me here, Miss Rho, I’ll gladly leave.” Nina starts floating toward the exit.

I jump over a few boxes and block the door. The towel falls to the floor. Embarrassed by the situation, I cover my right breast and private parts.

“You know, I-I think you should stay. I don’t know what you are…um yellow saucer thingy. I-I could maybe use your assistance…somewhere around here. What’s your name again, little bot girl?”

Nina picks up the towel and examines it. “It’s Nina. Miss Rho, I think we should start the laundry and get you some clean clothes to put on first.”

“That would be a great idea, ‘cause I haven’t got a clue as to where any of my clothes are…”

(To Be Continued…)

Copyrighted © 2017 by W.D. Lady

Galactic Log 1.6 – A Meaningless Existence (Rho Tiarmstrong)

I can hear my stomach grumbling; it feels as though my insides are cramping up and it becomes too painful to bear. I may have no choice in the matter, but to leave this mental prison of mine just to get a bite to eat. Rubbing my upset tummy, I decide it’s best I should at least find a snack around this trash heap.

I sigh to myself, but it’s more like a groan.

Why am I still alive? I should be dead by now, right?

I lift my head and glance around the dark room. Scratching the top of my wild, untamed hair, I wonder what might be in the fridge. As I place my right foot on the floor, I step on a sharp object and then I stumble forward.

I fall. My head hits the ground and I’m in a world of hurt and red. I scream out, staring at the cut on my big toe.

“Damn it,” I said, practically on the verve of tears.

I muster all my strength, lift myself upward, and hop on one foot. Hunger is far removed from my mind now. Hopping toward the bathroom, I rummage around for a towel or a Band-Aid––anything to stop the bleeding.

I give up trying and jump inside the tub. The shower turns on automatically. I’m soaked to the bone and shivering while the blood washes away. I see the river of red clearly as it goes down the drain.

Since I’m here, I might as well enjoy it. However, I can’t find a bar of soap. Isn’t this shower programmed to have everything?

I can’t remember exactly if I’m supposed to press a button or command the device by voice.

“Can I get a bar of soap?” I ask the shower.

It does nothing. Maybe it’s not that kind of machine. Or maybe I’m not speaking clear enough. So, I try again.

“Uh…soap.”

One of the tiles before me begins to move and a liquid squirts into my eyes, burning my vision altogether. Loud obscenities escape my lips and once again I’m feeling the burn, but this time it’s even worse than before.

“FUUUCK!”

I should seriously be more careful next time. After rinsing my eyes and face with cold water, I can barely see. The blood on my toe disappears and I’m back to searching for a piece of cloth to wrap it with. Holding onto the shower curtain, it takes me about fifteen minutes just to find a fucking rag. I tear it in half and gently bandage my toe.

Thinking to myself, I gawk at the slippery tiled floor. I should probably not be in a haste to leave this shower, for fear I’d slip and break my Goddamn neck.

“I need to get some help…” I finally admitted that I can’t take care of pathetic self.

I’m unable to focus on the simplest of tasks. Something is preventing me from living a normal life. What can it be? I don’t know why I do the things that I do.

Maybe I can hire someone to keep this place in order for me. But who can I afford? Housekeepers aren’t cheap and neither are the robotic maids. They’ve both so damn expensive. I don’t have much credits left on me and who’d want to work here, in this dump.

“This place will be the death of me if I don’t find someone soon,” I whisper, putting my hands on the wall.

I slowly step out of the shower, one foot at a time––just baby steps. For once, I see myself in the mirror. My reflection stares right back at me, and I can’t recognize my own face.

“What’s happening to me?” I think aloud. “Why can’t I think straight?”

A buzzing sound interrupts my thoughts. Buzz. Buzz. That noise sounds so familiar. Where have I heard it before? It was coming from the front entrance. Someone was at my apartment door, ringing the buzzer.

I’m not in the best condition to answer it, since I’m in my birthday suit. My bare ass is covered in scars and if I open that door in the buff, I’ll scare away whoever is at my door.

“Shit…now what?” I dig through my bathroom cabinet and grab the nearest towel.

I carefully walk to the door, which is behind a pile of trash, dirty laundry, and stuffed cardboard boxes.

“Comin’…” I said, hesitantly. 

I don’t know who or what is on the other side of that door.

(To be continued…)

Copyrighted © 2017 by W.D. Lady

Galactic Log 1.5 – Rho Tiarmstrong

I place my hands behind my head and keep watching the ceiling, unable to focus on one particular light in front of me. I notice a few more specks, flickering about. What exactly are these dots?

It reminds me of a solar system. Are these glowing insects perhaps? Maybe some kind of solar flare.

Nah, that can’t be right.

They gleam and seem to pulsate before my very eyes; they’re not too bright, and yet they remain absolutely motionless. None of the glimmering spots move from my sight. These must be inanimate, not even remotely alive.

But the way they form, making strange patterns above me, I begin to wonder what the hell I’m doing with my life. What the fuck is my purpose? I begin to have second thoughts about why I’m here.

A cluster of them together reminds me of something. I suddenly feel homesick. There’s a sense of longing––to see the stars. There’s a galaxy that I can’t reach; outer space is where I truly belong.

The room is dark and I can’t seem to recall my past. It’s been like this for so long I can’t remember what I did to get in this dilemma. I’m trapped. There’s no glimmer of hope in this place, this protective sphere of mine is suffocating me.

I sigh and pretend to be content for now. Deep down, I know something’s wrong. All the curtains drape over the large windows. They shield me from the incessant noise and lights coming from outside. I’m not sadden by the appearance of my messy room.

Is this really my apartment?

I still don’t feel like getting out of bed.

(To be continued…)

 Copyrighted © 2017 by W.D. Lady

Galactic Log 1.4 – Rho Tiarmstrong

In a blink of an eye, everyone I know is suddenly dead. These are my options. One way or another, regardless of the outcome, it never has a happy ending. This is my curse, my reason for living in solitude.

This never-ending burden is my doing. Only I must face it alone. It’s a perpetual circle of life and death, one disaster after the next. Never changing. Never stopping.

The room I’ve been hiding in has been the same for nearly four galactic months. The dark colors on the walls make everything look so lifeless and dull. Sort of like me.

The layout is functional since there’s a kitchen, but then again, I don’t even remember the last time I cooked. I order all my meals online on the Interplanetary Web; it gets delivered right to my doorstep by a helpful, little bot.

Machines do nearly every job now, except for a few governmental offices. Certain agencies won’t hire robots to do the thinking for them, especially when it comes to the military and police force. So what’s really left for me?

The jobs available for someone, who’s real desperate, would be to hunt down criminals: a serial killer, a rapist, a conniving con artist, a terrorist, a thug, a gangster, a drug lord, or Flash Renegade. The small time crooks are on the Galactic Nebula’s Most Wanted List while Flash Renegade, on the other hand, is the Most Wanted Criminal in the entire Universe. The funny part about this situation is that I’m Flash Renegade.

There are no criminals left. Not in Cloud Nine anyway. This place is a fucking paradise. A utopia.

Bottles of G-Nebula beer are scattered all across the floor, but here I am––still not in a drunken state. I’m quite aware of what is going on and my ears react to the slightest sound; I can clearly hear the chattering and noisy citizens outside this very building. The hustle and bustle of the streets.

The mattress feels firm as I lie there in the nude. But I haven’t gone far from where it resides, which is the center of this boxed square I live in practically everyday. I can feel the humidity in the air and the temperature keeps rising by the minute. It’ll be ninety-five degrees at the highest hour.

(To be continued…)

Copyrighted © 2017 by W.D. Lady


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Galactic Log 1.3 – Rho Tiarmstrong

This is neither my home nor the Earth I was born on. I doubt that I’m on a planet at all. Knowing this is millions of years into the future, I wasn’t supposed to be alive in such an era.

It doesn’t actually bother me––I don’t hate it here. Don’t love it either. It’s complicated, but I just don’t belong anywhere, and I really don’t have much of a choice on where I go. I can choose to stay or die.

The alternative is to leave. But it’s a lot harder than it looks. Sure, it seems easier to walk away from everything, leaving everyone you know behind. The point of it all is to move on and assume some other identity.

However, the thought of abandoning this world is what frightens me the most. Every choice I make has a consequence that will eventually decide my ultimate fate.

But if I should stay…I know I’ll never be able to watch the ones I love die around me. Whether it’s by sickness or disease. Sometimes, death is from old age, or from my bare hands, or from someone else’s. It’s still continually the same. 

Sooner or later, it all comes to a crashing halt.

(To be continued…)

Copyrighted © 2017 by W.D. Lady


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Galactic Log 1.2 – Rho Tiarmstrong

But once again, I’m stuck within the shadows of a meager existence. No job. No money. No way of making a living for myself. Luckily, I found out I have a savings account listed under my real name.

Then, I bought myself a cheap place to rent. The only positive is at least nobody will ever find me, because I never return to the same place twice. Besides, I have no family. No friends. I have no room for them, because I am cursed for all eternity.  

No sisters. No brothers. No girlfriend. No boyfriend. Not one single person is special to me.

Nobody comes looking. None try searching, except those who want to see me dead. There’s a bounty on my head. It happens to be nine hundred gazillion credits. That’s enough money to fill an entire planet, about the size of Jupiter.

Though I have a ton of enemies, I’m constantly on the run. Living a double life from day to day, I often find myself empty and bored. My insides are hollow. There’s a dark hole in my chest that slowly grows larger. Like a ticking time bomb––I don’t know when I’ll explode with pure rage.

I’ve disconnected myself from everything and everyone around me. It’s the only way that I can survive. A temporary cure to stop the pain.

However, no matter how hard I try, I realize this is part of my fate. To leave those behind, and yet it was never my intention at the start…

(To be continued…)

Copyrighted © 2017 by W.D. Lady


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