Tristan Mayhew
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Stories (5)
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Paranoia
I walk home at a brisk pace as usual. I don’t want to spend too much time outdoors. That is dangerous. I turn the last corner onto Burberry Street, and I see it immediately — a “package” — on the top step leading up to my apartment, wrapped neatly in brown paper. Too neatly. My “neighbour,” Joan, is there, wearing a bathrobe, her hair in curlers. She is smoking. She tells me the “postman” left it earlier today. Yeah, right. She is trying to act “neighbourly,” but I see right through her ploys. I pick up the “package” and go in. I can feel her eyes on me. Act normal. Inside, everything looks the same — as far as I can tell, nothing has moved or been moved. I put the “package” down beside the “toaster” on the kitchen bench — the one that Joan gave me when she had “bought herself a new one.” She had carried it right into the apartment herself — just barged right on in — straight past me! She wants me to think she is “friendly.” You can’t get it out of the apartment now. They will know you know. Worse is when she brings “food.” She says I could use a “home-cooked meal.” Oh, please! And let her poison you! That’s the oldest trick in the book!
By Tristan Mayhew5 years ago in Fiction
The Road to Hell is Paved with Good Intentions
This is the story of a werewolf named Barry. Now, Barry was nothing but an optimist. A real glass-half-full kind of guy. So, when he was bitten last month and transformed into a man-wolf folklore demon, he didn’t despair. On the contrary! He was overjoyed that the extra weight he had carried round the middle had transformed into a rather impressive and chiselled physique. Having always been more of a mathlete than an athlete, he certainly now enjoyed flexing his biceps in the mirror every morning and seeing the bulging curve move upwards, not downwards. He was also elated to find that his previously bald scalp, the one that had literally reflected light, was now home to a luscious mop of thick, brown hair. But, what pleased him most was finding himself now several inches taller — after all, this meant his online dating profile was now accurate. If anything, this transformation had made him quite the stud, he thought. And this enthusiasm did not fade — even after his first date turned out to be a woman trying to recruit him for a pyramid scheme! — Barry truly believed that despite its obvious challenges, his life had taken a turn for the better.
By Tristan Mayhew5 years ago in Fiction
Disbelief
It was hot in the old, run-down barn. The air was thick and heavy. The two men, already tired from a long day of arduous labour, worked silently as they shovelled gravel into the old truck with sluggish fatigue. Dirt and sweat clung to every inch of their bodies as the afternoon wore on, relentless and unabating.
By Tristan Mayhew5 years ago in Fiction
Food, the Language of a Culture
According to a meme I saw on Facebook recently, Noam Chomsky once said: “A language is not just words. It’s a culture, a tradition, a unification of a community, a whole history that creates what a community is. All embodied in a language.”
By Tristan Mayhew5 years ago in Feast
The Recruitment
“Open their minds,” Walters repeated to himself. Assigned with one task: a re-birthing, his words were to inspire action — a renewed idealism that would resonate within each and every person. He felt the enormous responsibility of the task at hand, wholly believing it was in the conscience of government duty to build up individual and social power. And he had inexhaustible reserves to do so. After all, a government must not lose sight of the economic interest at hand.
By Tristan Mayhew5 years ago in Fiction
