Fryerworks

Madness, and other stories

De: Christopher Fryer

Narrado por: Virtual Voice

15 Short Stories about people and places descending into madness, in one way or another.

Includes award-winning story “The Lamp Shop,” published in Best New Writing. The story of a family forced to confront the changes to its war-torn home. Also includes previously published stories “Horse With Sunglasses,” about finding a lost brother, and “The Loop,” about scientists stuck in a disintegrating time loop.

You’ll also read about... a piano's journey. A witch in the Costa Rican cloud forest. A mysterious buzzing drives the world mad. Two brothers have to open a secret box. A son goes hunting for hyenas with his father. A tale of revenge told in three cigarettes. A man who repairs mirrors is forced to pay for his work. A monster comes to town. A haunted hotel draws in another victim. Environmentalists go to a new extreme to prove a point. A family is tormented by ghosts in a beautiful park. And a trip for a bottle of wine that goes terribly, terribly wrong.

Excerpt from “The Loop

It always starts here in the observation room, overlooking the test chamber. Sometimes it starts after Sam gets shot, but usually we’re just moments before the lights turn on. Usually we don’t know about the gun yet.

Either way, it always takes me a moment to reassemble the mind, to recall where I am in the loop. In the end, I guess it doesn’t matter, but a man goes a little crazy when he’s not sure what universe he’s in.

Our group is reflected in the glass at this slight angle that makes the four of us look like we have big heads, oversized brains, apt to burst. In subtle ways, I am starting to notice how we’re falling apart. Our skin droops. Hair falls out. Clothing disintegrates. We are echoes far from their origin.

Last time around the loop, I lost my wedding ring. Damn thing turned to dust.

Sam, smirking, always smirking, waits a moment and asks, “Have you ever known true true true darkness?”

“Quit the bullshit,” says Rick, the engineer.

Gruff, honest, and far too old for space travel, Rick is my favorite member of the group. He called Sam’s experiment a “design flaw that could end all life as we know it,” and still he came along, probably just to say I told you so, which he would do plenty of times, not long from now.

“My apologies, Rick,” says smirking Sam. At this point, I can say what Sam will say before he says it. He shrugs twice. He says, “I’m only only trying to prepare you. A lot of people, first time they see it, they burst into tears for no reason. First time I saw it, I couldn’t sleep for a week. Couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t sleep.”

“Jesus, Sam. Thanks for the warning,” says my wife, Susan.

When our marriage counselor told us to get more involved with each other’s work, I don’t think this was what was meant. Sam never said anything about bringing my wife along. In retrospect, this makes sense, but only Sam could make us believe it was important to have a historian on the moon.

Says Sam, “Best to look in the corner of the room of the room first. Slowly bring your eyes to the center, where you’ll see see it floating there, staring back at you. First time I saw it, I couldn’t sleep for a week.”

“Turn on the lights,” I say. “We’re ready.”

Rick says, “Turn on the lights. We’re ready.”

Sam looks at me, then Rick, brow furrowed with confusion, as if he isn’t quite sure what he thinks he heard. The other thing I’ve learned is that the others are usually reset each time we switch universes, so unlike me, they don’t know they’ve been trapped in an infinite loop of déjà vu.

I say, “Impatience doesn’t look good on you, Rick.”

Sam says, “Impatience doesn’t look good on you, Rick.”

“Ladies and ladies and gentle gentlemen,” says Sam, the smirking scratched record, “may I present to you, the first artificially created black hole.”