Wet Bedroom

In an abandoned house about ten miles south of our high school, deep in the woods, there’s a bedroom that is always wet.

On the surface, it sounds unremarkable. Woods. Abandoned house. Water. Leaks. Wet bedroom.

Go inside, though, and you’ll realize it’s a little more complicated than that. A little harder to explain.

The water in that room clings to the floor and walls and ceiling in heavy, gelatinous globules. Touch one and it’ll break, spilling foul-smelling water on you. I made that mistake the one time I visited on my own. It takes days to get that stink off. Continue reading “Wet Bedroom”

The Secret Doctors of NASA: A Psychologist’s Suicide

“The Secret Doctors of NASA” is a series of memoirs, diaries, and reports from actual doctors employed by an undisclosed arm of NASA between 1970 and 2001. These writings contain true accounts of the unusual and often highly-classified medical conditions experienced by astronauts during and after their space missions. Following the defunding of the clandestine medical program after the September 11, 2001 terror attacks, the majority of these accounts were left, forgotten, on tape drives in a NASA storage facility. In 2016, a former intern, whose job was to clean out one of these facilities, discovered them. Two years later, he is ready to release what he found.

Thus far, the following report has been released: A Dentist’s Discovery

Releaser’s Note: This report is an annotated interview with an American astronaut which took place in 1981. His name has been changed. The psychologist self-refers as “Interviewer.” The report was originally found at the location of the interviewer’s death.

A Psychologist’s Suicide

Interviewer’s Note: The patient is a 42 year-old astronaut. It has been two weeks since his last mission. Up until that point, he had been in perfect physical and mental health. During that recent mission, he spent 31 days in low-Earth orbit conducting various experiments pertaining to inorganic chemistry. His condition has not been determined to be the result of any of his work in orbit. Continue reading “The Secret Doctors of NASA: A Psychologist’s Suicide”

The Secret Doctors of NASA: A Dentist’s Discovery

“The Secret Doctors of NASA” is a series of memoirs, diaries, and reports from actual doctors employed by an undisclosed arm of NASA between 1970 and 2001. These writings contain true accounts of the unusual and often highly-classified medical conditions experienced by astronauts during and after their space missions. Following the defunding of the clandestine medical program after the September 11, 2001 terror attacks, the majority of these accounts were left, forgotten, on tape drives in a NASA storage facility. In 2016, a former intern, whose job was to clean out one of these facilities, discovered them. Two years later, he is ready to release what he found.

A Dentist’s Discovery

Arnold F. A*******, DDS
August 4th, 1989

I met the astronaut after a half-year mission on the Russian space station. He’d gone through his preliminary post-landing physical but complained about pain in his jaw and gums. His health, aside from those complaints, was fair.

It was my job to find out what was wrong with him before moving him on to the next specialist. The urologist, I think. The order always changes.

The patient was in decent spirits when we met, although I could tell something was on his mind. We chatted for a little bit. It turned out he’d been working on the Feng-Lee Discovery. My heart sank. Continue reading “The Secret Doctors of NASA: A Dentist’s Discovery”

Dermatographia

I have a condition called “dermatographia.” It is what it sounds like: you can “write” on my skin. It’s not as bizarre as it looks. All it means is I get scratches very easily. If I run my fingernail across my skin, I’ll get a raised, red trail. It doesn’t hurt or bleed and it goes away after a half hour or so. Still, it’s pretty noticeable.

Kids used to make fun of me at school, as they’re wont to do with anything they find new or weird. It wasn’t too bad, though. Nothing traumatizing. I’m grateful for that, because as I got older I realized how great a bar trick it was.

Maybe that makes me a little weird. I’m okay with it.

I’m going to dispense with the backstory because I need to talk about what’s been going on lately. The other day, I woke up with a word on my stomach. It said “soon.” Continue reading “Dermatographia”

Lippy

For most of my life, I’ve been self conscious about the appearance of my inner labia. It didn’t come out of nowhere. I think I first noticed I was unique when I was 13 and saw my first few porn scenes. The women there looked different from me.

Still, I didn’t feel uncomfortable until I was 16 and my first boyfriend made a hurtful comment. “What’s wrong with your pussy?” he sneered, and giggled to himself. That was all it took for me to develop a complex.

That relationship, thankfully, didn’t last very long. But the embarrassment and insecurity remained. I didn’t seek out new boyfriends or sexual partners for the rest of high school. I didn’t say anything to my mother, who’d noticed I’d grown depressed and self conscious. All I did was hate myself and wish I could change.

Continue reading “Lippy”

The Only Solution

Whenever I see him on the screen, I feel my fingers clenching. It’s as if they’re practicing the motion for when I squeeze the life from his small body. And it will happen soon. Finally.

I’ve watched the boy for years. Watched him grow from an infant to a toddler to the preteen he is now. He smiles easily. His heart is innocent and carefree. I will make sure it stops beating.

One of my recent breakthroughs took me beyond the viewing screen and allowed me to transport into his room as he slept. I hadn’t perfected my technique to be there physically at that point, but that was coming. Just my consciousness would travel. I floated over his bed and gazed down. My hatred seethed, and, for a moment, I feared he sensed my presence because his eyes flew open and he gasped. Continue reading “The Only Solution”

Fallenfield Mountain

Our company had been tasked with a geological survey of Fallenfield Mountain in southwestern Kentucky. Situated at the intersection of the Cumberland and Allegheny Mountains and the Cumberland Plateau, it stands at the center of a depression in the terrain entirely uncharacteristic of the surrounding area.

Having recently acquired a permit from the state for a fracking exploration, the petroleum company that hired us was anxious to see what they could exploit in this new area. We were to set out as soon as possible.

We began our hike on a Monday morning. The weather was predicted to be favorable and the four of us were excited to cover some ground. We stopped at a small store near the edge of the forest to purchase last-minute supplies and anything else we thought we might need. It wasn’t a particularly difficult journey ahead of us, but we wanted to be prepared.

While we were browsing, an employee began a conversation with Jake Lemont, one of our geologists. Jake was forthcoming, as we were under no obligation to keep our work secret. I walked the aisles and drifted in and out of their conversation, which grew noticeably more animated as time went by. The employee was not keen on the mountain being used for petroleum exploration. It turned out he wasn’t speaking from an environmental standpoint.

Continue reading “Fallenfield Mountain”

Dede Elgy

Carter doesn’t like it when I call him “Daddy” when we’re making love. He says it’s creepy. Sometimes I can’t help myself, though. Sometimes things are too intense. Like, just the other night I was bent over his knee as he delivered slap after slap on my tender little bottom and I whispered, “spank me more, Daddy.” Then he stopped and stood me up and lectured me about how he doesn’t like that word. I nodded and we went on with our fun.

This past Tuesday, I was home alone. I get lonely when Carter’s at work. There was nothing on TV and I was bored and not feeling great. Plus, it doesn’t help that our house is old and makes weird noises all the time. It can be frightening. Pupperdelle, our big German Shepherd, helps with that a little. I know nothing can hurt me when he’s around.

Continue reading “Dede Elgy”

Motility

“Low motility.” That was the diagnosis. My sperm sucked.

The news was disheartening, for sure. Felicia and I had been trying to conceive for over a year. When we didn’t have any success, we both got checked out. She was fine. I wasn’t. Typical me.

I followed the urologist’s instructions: boxers instead of briefs, avoided temperature extremes, and even changed my diet to a more Mediterranean one. Every follow-up visit brought the same result: low motility. My name’s Larry Mangold. We even have the same initials.

Continue reading “Motility”

Gratification Through Annihilation

I don’t provide my services in a back alley. Far from it. The spare bedroom of my home is warm and calming and safe for those who, at the peak of their emotional burdens, can feel the weight of their worry and sorrow lift from their bellies.

I accept no payment.

I ask no names.

My wife, the light of my life and my partner in our secret community outreach, passed away five years ago. It still hurts to mention her.

Her loss was a singular catastrophe for my health and wellbeing. I meandered without purpose or direction for months before I could resume a semblance of my day-to-day activity. With no one left to love, and I include myself in that calculation, I had little remaining but my work and charity. Those would have to suffice. It was either that, or to join my wife in death. I knew it wasn’t time yet.

Continue reading “Gratification Through Annihilation”