J. Otis Haas
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Stories (120)
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The Three Little Pyggs . Second Place in Tales Retold Challenge. Top Story - August 2023.
Albert Pygg sighed and stroked the hairs on his chin as he closed his laptop. The page for the online group for residents of the Wolff Estates housing development to air their grievances about the Homeowners Association had been taken down. Evidently Mr. Wolff’s sister-in-law’s nanny had infiltrated the group, achieved moderator status, and deleted the whole thing. Albert saw that the groups for Wolff Acres, Wolff Park, and Wolfftown had also disappeared. He now felt even more terrible that he had convinced both of his brothers to move into the subdivision.
By J. Otis Haas2 years ago in Fiction
Why Dogs Stick Their Heads Out Car Windows
Long, long ago, when the planet was old, but life was new, a creature emerged from the shallows of the primordial sea and crawled up onto a pebbly beach. It was a fishy thing, but it was not a fish, it was something that had never existed before in this part of the universe. Holding its head in the air it could detect a smoky tang on the wind, which was unlike anything it had perceived before. It did not know what fire was, and so it was more curious than afraid, but holding itself up on its finny feet was taxing, and so it did not linger long on the shore. As it slipped back beneath the water it thought it heard a voice whisper “Come back,” but, too exhausted to comply, the creature returned to its den among some submerged boulders.
By J. Otis Haas2 years ago in Fiction
Yo Ho Ho and a Bottle of Technological Collapse
Tasked with imagining what my life would be like had I been born in a different time, most of my fantasies are set thousands of years in the future. Sadly, the current state of the present stretches credulity that my dreams of intergalactic travel will come true for any subsequent generations of a population that currently seems wholeheartedly committed to backsliding into annihilation, despite centuries of seemingly hopeful progress. As terrible as it is to consider, we likely now exist in the most comfortable state humanity will ever know, at the peak of a technological cycle that eases our lives in the moment, but which threatens our way of life in the long run. Those born in the future may find themselves living in caves, eking out a hunter-gatherer existence if we don’t change our ways.
By J. Otis Haas3 years ago in History
A Million Times Smarter Than The Smartest Human. Runner-Up in Painted Prose Challenge.
This all started on one of those blazing hot New York days when the heat reflecting off the concrete and blacktop landscape turns the whole city into a convection oven full of disgruntled, sweaty people all rushing to get back inside. On days like that you can feel the parks breathing, exhaling their shade-cooled breath into the surrounding air. Yet, those verdant oases offer only a hint of the relief found from walking past some store with its huge glass doors open to the sidewalk on an avenue. One can’t help but feel a pang of guilt for enjoying a moment within untold cubic feet of ice-cold air-conditioned breeze blasting out onto the sidewalk.
By J. Otis Haas3 years ago in Art
The Meaning of the Fine Structure Constant
The mirror showed a reflection that was not my own. It looked like me, and the room it reflected looked like mine, but it wasn’t. I became aware of this peculiarity as I stood regarding my reflection post-shower one day. Graduate school had taken a toll on me, though everyone, including my therapist, said it was all in my head, that I hadn’t changed since high school, but I could see the exhaustion on my face, even if I still fit into my decade old clothes.
By J. Otis Haas3 years ago in Horror
The Gift of the Garbage-Train
I’d been at the expo all day fielding questions about the technical specifications of our products, and my brain was numb from repetition. Rather than rush home, I popped into a nearby bar. I’m not much of a sports fan, but every March at work we each throw a twenty into a pool and fill out brackets for the college basketball tournament. The existence of that jar of cash imbues the whole affair with a gravitas that I recognize as the first step on the slippery slope to gambling addiction, but I seemingly only have room for so many dopamine demons in my life and it’s only once a year. Maybe things would change if I ever won.
By J. Otis Haas3 years ago in Fiction
In Pursuit of the Horse-Headed Man
Every night at midnight, the purple clouds came out to dance with the blushing sky. During the summers, we used to sometimes wait until Mom and Terry were asleep, or pretended to be. Then we’d creep up the fire-escape, mindful of its deeply held desire to betray our escapades with tattle-tale screeching tuned to the exact frequency that would rouse Madame Deveroux, or worse, her husband, from their Gallic dreams, to send the sash flying up, demanding answers in broken English, whilst shouting insults about our upbringing to each other in French. They never looked up at the wonder above.
By J. Otis Haas3 years ago in Fiction
Eden is in the Heart
Desiring to change the past is an inevitable aspect of the human condition. For millennia such pursuits existed merely in the theoretical realm, but as has happened again and again throughout humankind’s storied history, progress came in a great surging spurt in the early 22nd Century.
By J. Otis Haas3 years ago in Fiction
The Bluest Man in Babylon
“If walls could talk…,” is what they say. Even back before The BlueTime, people would imagine that the partitions of their domiciles, if they had merely mouths, would be impartial observers, eager to give up their secrets in gossipy torrents. That was long, long ago and I am eager. Let me tell you a story.
By J. Otis Haas3 years ago in Fiction
The Bomb Factory
Jack woke up sweating from another nightmare, having again dreamed that Karl was in his house. He knew it wasn’t uncommon for therapists to dream of their patients, and that a great deal of problem-solving happened in the unconscious, but after only two sessions, Karl’s ominous presence in his sleeping mind felt more like an omen than an attempt to sort out his issues.
By J. Otis Haas3 years ago in Fiction
Breaking Commandments on Level Alpha
The outside world was unknown to her, but she could see a glimpse of it through the window in his room. As the dimly-lit lift slowly shuddered its way upwards on creaking cables, Eve could hear familiar howling rising up through the shaft. MOM suddenly began quizzing her from speakers set into the ceiling, Her tinny voice competing with the wailing of the dogs below. “What are Eve’s Commandments?” asked MOM.
By J. Otis Haas3 years ago in Fiction
