robert fisherman
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Stories (21)
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God Is Bored
God got up early one morning, and immediately regretted it. Gravity, it seemed, which he hadn’t really invented, was weighing him down a bit today. He thought he should do something about the affairs of the universe, then remembered he didn’t rule the whole universe: just this miserable corner of it. He sighed and sat back down on his bed, feeling heavy.
By robert fisherman3 months ago in Fiction
Trouble in the Water
He pulled up outside the office, in a white panel van. The crisp lettering on the side read: NATHAN EATS SQUID He eased over to the passenger side and hauled himself out, clutching a brace of crutches. He manoeuvred through the sliding doors with a look up and a half smile, as if grateful for their accommodation. Sitting down awkwardly opposite me, he introduced himself as Nathan - Nathan Eats. A pleasant looking, blonde white man in his early thirties, he was dressed calmly in a light blue shirt, which matched his eyes.
By robert fisherman5 months ago in Fiction
Underwaterfall
Lakeside Fowler grew up in the trenches. The shells and bombers roared overhead while he tended to the wounded. At sixteen, having lied about his age to enlist, he whispered comforting words in soldiers’ ears as he bandaged their wounds. Having no real doctoring skills, that and some cauterising with hot knives was all he could really do until the real medicos came to do the necessary amputations and such.
By robert fisherman6 months ago in Fiction
The Octopus Awards
THE OCTOPUS AWARDS Around 8AM on the first of April, chalky grey skies gathered over the Cambridge School hall. Around it, a range of vans, cars, SUV’s and such also gathered. From them emerged a range of people bearing their cargo: carts, crates, glass cubicles, all containing their precious cargo. The children of the school had generously made a large, colourful sign, with childish illustrations around the title:
By robert fisherman10 months ago in Humor
The Fence
The fence leans at an acute, painful looking angle to its palings. Sky blue, its numbers used to be painted red, one on each panel: |3|9|3|. The first three and the nine are faded now, luckily the postie seems to know where to stick it, but really the whole damn thing is a mess. Got kicked over the other night by a neighbour on a drunken psychotic rampage. Smashed up our bins and all – trash everywhere. Got up at eight in the morning next day to see him throwing empty bottles into the street and the fence lying flat in the pavement. Once he’d destroyed himself to bed I picked up the remains of the fence and hoisted it back up against its bare skeleton. Called the landlord, who came round with a bemused expression a couple hours later.
By robert fishermanabout a year ago in Fiction
The Character Assassin
MAX MORODA: CHARACTER ASSASSIN CHAPTER ONE: AN EXISTENTIAL THREAT Max was sitting in his local bar in the evening, brooding over a whisky and beer chaser. He'd not long come back from his last mission, which had left a sour taste in his mouth. Marty McFly had been a slippery little bastard: didn't help that Max didn't really want to kill him. But, back to the future, and not for him to argue. Except this time.
By robert fisherman2 years ago in Fiction
Mr Goodnight
I gave my cat Benny a quick kiss on the head as I hustled off to work. He let off a brief purr and a fart before going back to sleep as the door closed behind me. He was farting more often lately, and I'd been meaning to see the vet but couldn't afford it for the time being. I made the bus at 6:55, which would drop me just outside work.
By robert fisherman2 years ago in Fiction
Bunnies in Space
BUNNIES IN SPACE Sam was awoken at midnight, rather rudely he thought, as his alarm was set for 4am. The cows weren't normally this restless, nor did they possess an unearthly light like the one glaring through his window. The deep humming, thrumming was also a bit out of character.
By robert fisherman2 years ago in Fiction
