J. Otis Haas
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Stories (120)
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The Girl Who Lived in the Woods
My parents didn’t understand my reluctance to call myself a doctor. “You got the degree, you should introduce yourself as Dr. Jones,” my mother said on my graduation day in May with my father nodding emphatically beside her. She’d repeat the sentiment twice more, during the bi-weekly video calls I’d reluctantly agreed to, as I knew how concerned they were about my safety (ha!). She’d dropped the subject once I reminded her that there was no one to even talk to where I was. Those calls came to an end on The Solstice, but so did a lot of things.
By J. Otis Haas5 months ago in Fiction
Talia and the Sea
Talia preferred documentaries to fiction. Once she’d been alerted to the idea that there are only two types of stories, “a person goes on a journey” and “a stranger comes to town,” she couldn’t help but distill every narrative she encountered down to its most fundamental interpretation. The caveat was that while imagined tales tended to have neatly wrapped up conclusions, true stories rarely offered such satisfaction. Arriving back in East Haven after three decades away, having had no contact with anyone from the town she had fled, she wondered what form her story would take. She knew the locals were angry with her, and had been since the day she’d fled down the coast in a stolen skiff with her diaphanous white gown billowing out behind her.
By J. Otis Haas6 months ago in Fiction
Lila and The Talisman of Ultimate Authority . Top Story - July 2025.
When I was little, I thought that the past was in black and white. The world depicted in old movies seemed no less lively than the one I lived in, but was devoid of the vibrancy which I took for granted. Whenever the TV was tuned to some classic film or historical news footage, I’d wonder what it was like for people living in that drab place, and pity the incompleteness of their existence.
By J. Otis Haas6 months ago in Fiction
Joice Heth: Exploited in Life and Even in Death
P.T. Barnum is remembered as an American legend, bringing joy to generations of children under his big tents full of spectacle and calliope music. In 1870, Barnum started the circus for which he is most famous, establishing his legacy as “The Greatest Showman on Earth.” Even back then, Barnum’s performances drew demonstrations, as the animal rights activists of the day protested the cruelty on display. A perennial hoaxer and hustler, Barnum was no stranger to controversy, though it is his first exhibition that stands out in American history as a benchmark of exploitative suffering.
By J. Otis Haas7 months ago in History
Staticky Oracles & The Book of Lists . Honorable Mention in I Resign From… Challenge. Content Warning.
To Whom it May Concern, I first began to suspect that life was a limited-time-offer, rife with terms and conditions to which I was not privy, when I was three years old and Dude the cat disappeared, never to return. Further confirmation arose at age four when I awoke to find my mother crying on the morning of her birthday. She responded to my concerned inquiries by explaining that Nana Haas had died. Unsure of what that truly meant, I was simply told we wouldn’t be seeing her any more, just like Dude.
By J. Otis Haas8 months ago in Journal
Don’t Worry!. Honorable Mention in Tomorrow’s Utopia Challenge.
Halfway through delivering the eulogy at his mother’s virtual funeral service, Jack realized that the few dozen attendees present were exclusively artificial mourners generated by the mortuary parlour. She had been the black sheep of her family long before he’d been born, and they’d grown distant in the decade since he’d finished Education and started Occupation, but he had expected at least a few of her friends or neighbors to show up.
By J. Otis Haas9 months ago in Futurism
My Ketamine Journey. Runner-Up in The Metamorphosis of the Mind Challenge.
For most of my life I walked a tightrope of despair, crushed into a crumpled-paper version of myself by a weighty depression from which I could not break free. I was a nexus of misery, exuding negativity, staggering through a life half-lived with no sense of direction, guided by an all-or-nothing black-and-white worldview rife with unignorable evidence of my inadequacies. I was a disappointment to others, but no critic was more liberal with condemnation than I was with myself. I swirled endlessly in a toilet-like whirlpool certain of the inevitability of my own self-destruction. Whether I set the cornerstones of my prison myself is immaterial, for somewhere among the line it became my subconscious impulse to reinforce the walls, making escape ever more unlikely. Eventually, in an improbable place, I found a cure to my disease, lasting relief, and a new lease on life.
By J. Otis Haas9 months ago in Psyche
The Party Upstairs
When two young men showed up asking to book the upstairs dining room for a dinner party, Bartholemew hadn’t thought much of it. Thursdays tended to be quiet, so, at first he was grateful for the reservation. If he had known that they were part of a notorious influencer’s entourage he would have said no, but by the time the group was deep into their wine and arguing loudly, it was too late to do anything but regret the decision and hope he would at least get paid. The host was a carpenter who’d rebranded himself as a new-age guru, and despite his peace-and-love message, was currently being investigated for a very public table-flipping incident earlier in the week. Bart found himself lurking at the bottom of the stairwell praying that there wouldn’t be any violence or damages.
By J. Otis Haas9 months ago in Fiction
