Here are a few short stories that I had published. Enjoy!
My Pet God (Magazine: Chronicle Stories)
I was walking in a park with more trees than it should have. Not enough sun was coming through. I found myself kicking rocks on the ground, hard. I pretended they were heads of people I knew. Screw you Jeff, screw you Tom, screw you Elisa, and screw you especially Brendan. I hate being lied to. The last rock rolled into the river nearby, and was carried off by the swirling torrents. Before I could kick the next one…
“Hi there Curtis.”
I stopped. I looked down. A grey speckled rock with a black background.
“Hi Curtis,” it said. My mouth hung open as I tried to process the very idea of a talking rock.
“Hey,” was the only word I could produce.
“Hey yourself,” it said back.
“Who, what…”
“I’m God,” the rock said.
“God?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Prove it.”
“I talked to you as a rock, isn’t that proof enough?”
Wow, I was stumped for a moment, by a rock.
“No, do something else. Make fire or something.”
“I can’t.”
“…and why not?”
“I don’t feel like it. Plus, I’m just a rock.”
“But you said you’re God.”
“Pick me up please.”
I backed off a bit. I just wanted to leave so bad.
“Why should I?” I asked then immediately shot looks everywhere around me. Someone had to be pulling some stupid ventriloquist act. A really good stupid ventriloquist act.
“You’re not being tricked, Curtis,” the rock who claimed to be God told me. “Please, pick me up?”
I knelt down, and reached out my hand.
“I don’t bite,” the rock said causing me to flinch. But, against my better judgement, I picked it up anyways.
“You’re hand smells, wash it.”
“No, deal with it,” I talked back. It sighed. Okay. So now I had a talking rock in my hand who claimed to be God. What was I going to do now? I took a long look at the river.
“Please don’t. I don’t like rivers.”
“Why not? You made everything right? Why don’t you like things you created?”
“Some things I do some things I don’t.”
I twisted the rock around in my hand. I looked at every angle of it, looking for a speaker or…something.
“I told you already that you’re not being tricked, don’t you believe me?”
“No,” I frowned at the rock. It sighed again.
“How can you sigh if you don’t have any lungs?”
“I told you, I’m God.”
“Can you do anything else besides talk to me? Anyone who says they’re God should prove it.”
It sighed a third time.
“Okay then Curtis, I’ll prove it.”
“How?” I squinted.
“Put me in your pocket and let’s go on a little adventure.”
“Why?”
“I’ll prove I’m God if we go somewhere.”
“Why can’t you prove it right now?”
I looked at the river again.
“Please don’t, I already told you that I don’t like rivers.”
“Why should I take you anywhere?” I asked and stared at the rock.
“I’ll be your pet!” it said. I grimaced.
“A rock for a pet?”
“Yeah.”
The laughter from other people was already taunting me when I thought of that term. If ‘my pet rock’ ever left my mouth and someone were to hear that, actually, I don’t even want to think about the horrors of the humiliation I would suffer.
“Can you do any tricks?” I asked. “Besides talk,” I said before it could reply.
“I’ll show you, put me in your pocket and start walking towards the rally on Main Street.”
I was at a loss as to why I obeyed. Maybe I had nothing else to do that day? I don’t even remember what the rally was about. Or maybe I just don’t want to remember.
Actually, yeah I do, I just don’t want to say what. It was about Atheism, I think. There was a middle-aged man on the podium, I don’t remember his name. That’s not just an excuse, I actually don’t remember. Okay, maybe I do, I just don’t want to say it.
“Take me out of your pocket now Curtis,” the rock told me.
“Since you’re my pet now…” I said and took the rock out again.
“Yes?” It asked impatiently.
“Do you eat?” I asked.
“Sometimes.”
“Well, pets need to eat right? You can prove you’re God by eating something as a rock.”
“…no.”
“Why are you being such a stubborn jerk?” I scowled.
“I don’t feel like eating right now.”
“Why? Did you eat by the river side where I found you? There’s some corndogs being sold over there…”
“Why are you bothering me about that? You’re not my mom! I don’t even like corndogs!”
“God doesn’t have a mom,” I said flatly.
“It was just an expression,” the rock told me, after a few seconds of silence.
“Then, what can you do here to prove that you’re God?”
“Throw me at that man speaking up there.”
“…What?! Why?!”
“Because, it will be funny.”
“No it won’t! What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Just do it. Please Curtis?”
“I’m not throwing you at someone! How the hell does that prove you’re God?”
“You’ll see…”
My arm was starting to move on its own.
“Hey, what’s happening?…” I said. I tried resisting, then with my right hand restraining the arm that was holding the rock who claimed to be God. My right hand then stopped restraining, and went limp.
“Don’t…please…” I said before throwing the rock with all my might. It smacked the man on the podium in his jaw while he was speaking mid-sentence.
“I hate you!” I shouted before running away. I shouted at the rock, but no one would believe me if I told them that.
So yeah, if you ever find a talking rock, walk away and never look back. Even if it claims to be God. Even if it wants to be your pet.
You Must Not Remember, Horror Short Story (Magazine: Trembling With Fear)
Link: https://horrortree.com/trembling-fear-09102017/
Vanagis, Science Fiction Short Story (Magazine: Carpe Bloom)
Link: https://carpebloom.com/2018/08/03/vanagis-by-jason-d-grunn/
UBI, a Western Canadian Perspective (Blog for a Non-profit organization, UBI Works)
Link: https://www.ubiworks.ca/blog/ubi-a-western-canadian-perspective
Jason Gwozd 