Don’t Go Near the Basement

By Chuck Semenuk

School had finished for the summer. It had been two weeks and Ken Donovan still hadn’t landed a job. The summer was going to suck big time without having a few bucks to spend. Ken would be seventeen years old in a few months. There didn’t seem to be many job opportunities for teenagers this year. As Ken walked back to the garage to get the lawnmower, his buddy Rick Parker pulled into the driveway with his ‘51 Ford. It was a beauty; bull nosed, fender skirts, whitewall tires and ’54 Oldsmobile Starfire wheel covers. The candy apple red paint job sparkled in the sun and the dual exhausts with glass-pack mufflers produced a beautiful rumble as it came to a stop next to him.

“Hey Ken! Did you find a job yet?”

Ken walked over to the car. “No. It looks like a lost cause. Nobody’s hiring this year. Have you had any luck?”

“My aunt works in the office at the old Harris-Jones Paint Company over on the east side. She said that they need a couple of guys for the labor gang. The jobs are ours if we want them,” said Rick.

“Really? I don’t know. That place has a bit of a reputation” exclaimed Ken. “It might be a coincidence but if you remember the newspaper article last year, there have been three kids that turned up missing over the last five years. They all had summer jobs at the paint factory.”

“The cops were never able to make a connection between the paint factory and those guys turning up missing” argued Rick. “They punched out at the end of the day but never got home. You can wimp out if you want to but I need a job.”

“I didn’t say that I wouldn’t take the job. It’s just a little spooky, that’s all. What do we have to do to get the jobs?”

Rick got out of the car. “Let me use your phone to call my aunt and tell her we’re taking the jobs. Then we can run down town and get our work permits.”

…..”Click YES”

By Chuck Semenuk

Milo Farnsworth sat in front of his personal computer scratching his head. 

“Damn those so-called experts at Maggot-Soft! Every time they come out with a new version of operating system, they screw it up more than it was before.”

Years ago, Milo started out with the first PC. The old DOS operating system; now that was something that you could learn and work with. If you took the time to learn a little code, you could make the computer do whatever you wanted. Now, the machine is as dumb as a box of rocks. It thinks that it knows what you want to do and insists on doing what it damn well pleases.

Milo decided to do a bit of house cleaning on his hard drive and delete files that he no longer needed. He selected the files that he didn’t want to keep and clicked “Delete.”

A window came up on his screen. “You are trying to delete ten files. Are you sure that you want to delete these files?”


“Of course, dammit! Why do you think I’m deleting them?” Milo clicked on “Yes.”

“DOORWAY is deleting ten files. They cannot be retrieved once deleted.”

“Yeah, yeah. Do it already!”


Un-needed files deleted, Milo went back to the report that he had been writing for work. After about an hour, he had added another six pages to the long document. Caught up in the process, he had forgotten to periodically save his work. All of a sudden, a message came up on the screen.

“DOORWAY has detected an error and must close this application. Your unsaved data will be lost. Do you want DOORWAY to diagnose the problem?”

Milo let loose with a tirade of expletives. “Damn you. You don’t have a clue and you can’t diagnose your way out of a paper bag!”

Milo grabbed his mouse and jerked the plug out of the computer, flinging it across the room where it hit the wall.


“DOORWAY has detected that your pointing device is disconnected. Please check your connection.”

Having had enough “fun” for one day, Milo retrieved his mouse from the corner, plugged it in and closed down the computer.

“Sure glad I had the pacemaker installed. This thing would probably give me a heart attack.”

Blood Inheritance

By Chuck Semenuk

The Scottish countryside was beautiful. Ethan had never been there before but felt compelled to follow a specific route. He drove almost robotically, programmed for a predetermined destination. His mind wandered to another place, a dark world inhabited by demons and death.

After being on the road most of the day, Janet was exhausted. Being six months pregnant with their first child, she was ready to stop somewhere for the day; anywhere. She hadn’t wanted to take this trip but Ethan was insistent. His family had come from this part of Scotland and he had always wanted to come here. They were very well-off financially so money wasn’t an issue; Janet just wished that they could have taken the trip after the baby was born.

“Ethan, I’m so tired and hungry. Do you think we can stop somewhere for the night?”

Snapping back to reality Ethan replied “Sure, honey. I guess I’ve been enjoying the drive so much I just lost track of time. There’s a nice little inn just around the next bend.”

Janet stared at him. They hadn’t seen a soul in the past hour. What makes him think there’s an inn around the bend? As they rounded the bend in the road, a building came into view; the sign over the door read “Doo Brae Inn,” the English translation, “Dove Hill Inn.” Janet’s mouth hung open. How could he know the inn was there?

Little White Lie

By Ronald Brunsky

“Hey pop, wake up,” said Alice. “The president is holding a news conference.”

“Don’t bother me with that political slop — just tell me when the ball-game is on.”

“You should have some interest in what our president has to say.”

“When our presidents put our interests ahead of their own I will.”

“Oh, never mind then … the ballgame will be on afterwards.”

Fleckie Barnes had been retired from the love of his life for over thirty years, but his passion for baseball continued, even as he approached his eighty-fifth birthday.

The former voice of the Spirits — famous for his unforgettable quotes: “They should have made you buy a ticket” — when an opposing batter got caught looking at a third strike, or “He couldn’t find the plate if it had a t-bone on it”, after the rival pitcher walked a couple.

Just the thought of baseball and Fleckie’s mind quickly returned to the old days. He dozed off again, and soon was revisiting a dream that was all too familiar — the season of 1938, although it had been fifty years, his memories were just as vivid, as when it originally happened. The Spirits pennant run and Charley Steivers, it was also the year Fleckie became an amateur sleuth.

Charley was probably the greatest player Fleckie ever saw, and he saw the best — from the Babe to Mick to the current crop of stars. Charley threw harder than any other pitcher — past or present. He knew his fastball hit 100 mph or better — how he wished they would have had radar guns back then.

Winville used to be a nice place…

By Chuck Semenuk

Police Chief Rick Kale pulled into the parking lot of Winville General Hospital. Winville was a quiet little town. Nothing much ever happened there. A motorist passing through town and spitting his chewing gum out the window was a major event. With a small operating budget, Chief Kale’s police force consisted of one patrolman, Bob Rollins and a “Girl Friday”, Lisa Barnes who filled in as a sometimes patrolman, dispatcher, secretary, and most anything else that came up. The Chief often wondered what he would do if Lisa ever decided to leave. She had come to Winville from Cleveland where she had worked as a detective on the police force of one of the Cleveland suburbs. She had experience in forensics and crime scene investigations; with her qualifications, why would she want to come to Winville?

Chief Kale entered the office of Doctor Frank Benson, head physician at Winville General.

“Hey, Doc. What’s going on?”

“Chief, I’m sure glad to see you. There’s something happening here and I think I’m going to need your help.”

“I’m intrigued. Nothing ever happens in Winville.”

“I’ve got four young girls here. Their symptoms are similar but not exactly the same.”

“Doc, I don’t think I’m the guy who can help you with a young girl’s symptoms,” laughed Chief Kale.

Doctor Benson furrowed his brow and looked back at Chief Kale. “I’m afraid that there may be some sort of epidemic starting. One girl has some sort of rash or burn on her face. Two others have developed lesions on their lips. The fourth appears to have some contamination of her eyes.”

Brenda, the ER nurse rushed into the room. “Excuse me, Doctor Benson. We’ve got another young girl that I think you need to look at.”

It came from Uranus

By Chuck Semenuk

The year is 2090. Over many decades, technology continued its exponential growth at mind boggling speed. Major scientific breakthroughs like warp drives, ion and magnetic pulse engines have made navigating the solar system as common as a trip to your neighborhood store. Unfortunately, progress has come with a price. Just like on earth, mankind is succeeding in trashing the solar system with all matter of discarded waste and debris. In fact, with the help of other so-called "intelligent" life-forms, the scenario is sure to perpetuate far into outer-space.

Approximately ten years ago, the United States Government in its zeal to continue being the planet Earth’s protector and watch dog saw fit to start up still another government agency, the Space Abnormal Phenomena Investigation agency (S.A.P.I.) Nicknamed “sappy” by the tax payers, the agency’s activities are largely a mystery to the general public. In reality, the agency was formed to investigate perceived events in space that might possibly impact the safety and security of Earth and the surrounding cosmic environment.

Special agent Anthony “Tony” Nova walked quickly down the hall to the office of S.A.P.I. Director of Covert Operations, Shawn Benedict. Director Benedict’s well-endowed secretary Carla ushered him in and closed the door. The director looked up from a stack of papers on his desk.

“Tony. Good to see you. Have a seat.”

“Hello, Director.” Tony pulled up a chair and sat down. “What’s going on? I take it that you have a new assignment for me?”

Carla entered the room again with two steaming cups of coffee. She smiled at Tony and offered him a cup. “Do you still like your coffee hot and black, Agent Nova?”

Smiling back, Tony took the cup. “You have a good memory, Carla.”

Carla handed the remaining cup to Director Benedict and left the office, moving in a manner that was sure to capture Tony's attention. She seductively looked back over her shoulder as she closed the door behind her. His mind still dwelling on the awesome attributes of the luscious Carla, Tony became aware of a burning sensation in his crotch as he realized that he was tilting his cup and dribbling hot coffee on the front of his pants. Trying to maintain his totally cool and in-control persona, Tony gritted his teeth, ignored the pain and took a sip of coffee.

Farm System

By Ronald Brunsky

The not too distant future:

Since the scientific breakthroughs in gravity control, and anti-matter propulsion, traveling to the stars has finally become an accepted reality. Recent expeditions, although successful in reaching solar systems many light-years away, still have not discovered alien life or life sustaining planets.

A suitable world fit to colonize would have to have the proper gravitational pull, a nitrogen/oxygen based atmosphere, a surface temperature within an acceptable range, and a vast supply of water — every time, a potential site would wind up lacking in at least one of those areas.

The current operation, now in its fifth year, recently had an added burden thrust upon it. The livestock virus, which had been of little concern when the mission started, was now engulfing their entire planet. The many decades of experimentation with meat producing animals had left them unable to fight off this latest strain. Few farm animals were left uninfected. It was only a matter of time before the food supply would be exhausted. Leaders have been forced to initiate a limited ration policy. It was imperative that another food source be found.

#######

Optimistic news was spreading fast through the crew of the “Guardian One”, long range scanners indicated possible life near a G-type main sequence star residing in the fourth quadrant of their own galaxy. As more data arrived, the likelihood of life on this newly discovered orbiting rock was rapidly becoming a foregone conclusion.

“Captain, our latest reports are 95% sure of life-forms.”

“Fine, set a course for it. If it is intelligent life, maybe they will offer help? It is of the utmost importance that we return with breeding stock. Current information from home isn’t good. The virus has eliminated the last of our planet’s livestock, and the supply of animal meat in storage is running precariously low. Frankly, this looks like our only hope.”

After several months, the space freighter reached the small planet. While they orbited, they located a desirable landing site and laid plans for their incursion.

“I have good news and bad news, Sir.”

“I’ll take the bad first, Lieutenant.”

“I don’t think we can communicate with these aliens.”

“And the good news?”

“I think our search has ended. Further analysis shows that the inhabitants are very primitive. They are air breathing, and have a very high fat content. I think they would satisfy our nutritional needs for some time to come.”

“Wonderful! Commence the landing procedure. It looks like we’ve found our farm system. I’ll send the good news to mission control. We’ll soon be headed home.”

“What a welcome we’ll receive, sir. You know how long the men have been away from home. I mean, they miss their families and another season of sports is history, but there’s something else …”

“Yes, I know what you’re talking about. Why do you think I’ve been taking all those cold showers?”

The huge vessel glided smoothly into a large clearing. The cloaking devices had worked perfectly; the planet’s residents had no knowledge of the invasion.

THE FIFTH CYCLE

By Chuck Semenuk

Peter Jenkins smiled as he checked over his notes. Even though the whole idea was bizarre, his experience over the years assured him that it would work. He dialed the number of an old acquaintance, John Brennen. John was one of the most powerful and influential men in the country, and also had a streak of greed a mile wide.

“John, we have to get together. I have quite an amazing story to tell you. But more than that, I think you’ll want to be involved.”

“Peter, what’s this about? Can’t you tell me anything over the phone?”

“Until you’ve had a stiff drink and we’re sitting eye to eye, I’d rather not divulge anything.”

A meeting was set up for the following afternoon. Peter told John that he would also be inviting local astronomer Erica Wright.

Puzzled, John Brennen hung up the phone.

“What in the world could this be about? I won’t sleep a wink tonight. Now, I can’t wait to hear what Peter has to say. Very mysterious.”

The Penalty Phase

By Ronald Brunsky

For a few minutes, they sat there quietly. Then despite his reluctance, John turned on the ignition. The engine turned over and idled smoothly. Although the car was going nowhere, the couple’s journey had just begun. That destination had always been man’s greatest enigma, and soon Bess and John would be a part of it.

Gazing at John, a look of understanding accompanied her smile. They hugged, as tears welled up in their eyes.

Smoke was filling the garage, and the initial scent was starting to penetrate the car’s interior. Exhaust fumes, at least in small doses, had always evoked fond memories for Bess.

She remembered the road trips when she was a young girl; mom and dad packing the car the night before, and a sleepless night would follow, as her anticipation overwhelmed any other thoughts. Rising early, they were on the road before dawn. They would play games like counting cars and first to spot a Burma Shave sign, to pass the time.

In her high-school years, the car brought new excitement. The outdoor movies and drive in restaurants made every weekend special. Her fondest memories were the trips down the lonely dirt roads where she and John would park, and the first time she knew they would always be together.

Later, their family’s station-wagon vacation trips, traveling to the kid’s soccer and baseball games, and the rides out into the country to get the perfect Christmas tree — yes, over the years, the car has brought much happiness to Bess and John. It was always such an integral part of their lives; ironically, it would now be their instrument of death.

It was a painless way to go, so everyone thought; you fell asleep and soon it was over. There was no longer any doubt; they were committed to this final act. But why were they giving up? They had their health. Was it an act of cowardice, or courage? How could mortal man judge their actions?

As the drowsiness began to overcome her, she reflected back — back to when everything seemed so perfect.

6-4-3

By Ronald Brunsky

There never was any doubt in their minds — someday Billy and his older brother Sam would make it to the major leagues. This was the mid 1940’s, mind you, and hardly a kid in America didn’t have the same dream.

The Hedge brothers had started playing catch while still in diapers, and were practicing double plays before first grade. Sam was the shortstop and Billy played second base. It started that way, and believe me, it ended that way too.

Sam was always better than Billy. From little league right on through high school, it was always Sam who got the recognition and attention. The coaches continually praised him. His complete dominance of his peers made for constant speculation of a future major league career.

So, did being the unnoticed younger brother of an up and coming star cause any jealousy? No way, Billy idolized Sam. They were inseparable on and off the field. No one wanted Sam to make it to the majors more than Billy. Yet, Sam’s success only fueled Billy’s desire to become a better ballplayer.

Year after year, through dogged determination he would wind up playing beside his brother, and gradually people would not talk about Sam without mentioning Billy in the same breath.

One, Two … I See You!

By Chuck Semenuk

                   Preface

“The more things change, the more they stay the same.”

How often have we heard these words? But, what about the evil that seems to lurk around every bend? Does evil change? Does it ever really die, or merely return when we least expect it? Creeping silently, it comes to us in forms that we can’t imagine and looks deep into our souls. Can we hide or will it find us, no matter where we are?

“One, Two… I see you!”

Lenore Conley contentedly sipped her cup of tea as she watched little Mariah playing in the back yard of her neatly kept home. Six-year old Mariah was her pride and joy. Mariah was very fair skinned and blonde while Lenore was darker skinned with thick, dark hair. Even so, there was little doubt to anyone who saw them together that they were mother and daughter. Along with the beautiful features of their faces, the most noticeable thing was their eyes. Almost cat like, they seemed to have the power to look inside of you, drawing you closer, seeing your most private thoughts even without a word being exchanged between you.