Short Story Selections

By Asa Montreaux Int. Police Station Harry: So with the recording we have enough to detain Mr. Jibril. Peter: Exactly, then we will be able to prevent is escape, and prove our citizen's arrest. Enter officers. Officer: We need proof that Mr. Jibril was orchestrating an attack. Peter: There were several witnesses who saw what was occurring. They were about to attack. Officer: we thank those witnesses, but we need more evidence to charge Mr. Jibril with terrorism. Peter: We wouldn't have acted sir, if we hadn't had proof. WE made a recording, and your translator will be able to confirm he was about to give the final command. Officer: I will summon the translator, and when he arrives we'll decide whether we have sufficient evidence. Officers exit. Harry: Still have the tape? Peter: Of course I still have the tape. We knew we need it. We definitely did the right thing. Harry: So he hadn't given the final command. Peter...

By Asa Montreaux, by Andrew James The next day I stayed in bed. It was tough to feel bad about what happened. In that moment I was so upset about her death that I wasn’t caring where I was, I was only vaguely aware of my safety. In the future I thought I would have to find a way to face the tragedy with more wisdom, say to myself that people die sometimes. And yet I had stumbled into something that brought her back alive. I kept thinking that eventually I had got brought into the present, and I realized they’d been trying to do that all along, maybe more so than just winning the election. The next day, I felt to hell with it with recovery, and I went downstairs and ate breakfast, mingled in the social room. I did all this gingerly, though, mind you. Daphne came down shortly after me. She had a different look to her. Her eyes were more vacant. She was more composed, while being more shaken. When she spoke with me she was more commiserate than she had been ever before. I sat with...

By Asa Montreaux, pen name Andrew James Maisie and I were both having difficulty getting past it. A big depression came over us. There was nothing we wanted to do. We didn’t eat. We only slept when we were so tired it was painful to stay awake. We didn’t leave our rooms. Then one day I began to feel we were still very young and we had much to do and it had something to do with this, that there was still a sense and order to things. Though Maisie didn’t feel better. And I felt there might be something I can do for people still. I didn’t care how I felt. But I cared how other people felt. My Dad said that things were reorganizing. There had been a tremendous amount of infrastructure restored. There was going to be a new government. He said that there needed to be more regulations or else something like this could be repeated. But global warming is already happening, I said. There is very little we can do to stop that. Well, not really. We could markedly reduce emissions all o...