THE SUMMIT

by O'Keefe Indeed, it was a strange and peculiar morning when Mrs. Gershom from next door knocked on my door and woke me up. You see, it was a Saturday, and I needed my good old fifteen. For that reason - and that reason explicitly - I didn't answer the door until it rang for two more hours. When I rolled off my bed, rolled out of my room, and rolled downstairs, I rolled over to the door and opened it to reveal an anxious Mrs. Gershom, a look of pure distress clear upon her face.    "Random neighbor, please! You have to help me!"    "Well, technically, I don't have to...."    "You must come, quick! There's something wrong with Atahualpa!"    Indeed, Atahualpa was the mister. I couldn't think of an event when there wasn't something wrong with him, but I went anyway, borrowing my twin cats' litter boxes in place of slippers. I edited the house, kicked down the Gershom Family mailbox, and went to see what was wrong with t...

by O'Keefe Hello, ladies and gentlemen! Today, I shall demonstrate to you the genius of technology! We have here right before us is an experiment we like to call ‘Confabulation Therapy’, or, as many of my coworkers casually refer it to, the ‘born yesterday project. Yes, I know it’s odd…. Please, have a seat. Fill in the aisles, if you will. What you will be hearing will shock you. Now, as you can see – oh, Mr. Percy, please! Let the lady have a seat! Thank you! You know what they say; fat people are the politest people because – well, never mind. This is a scientific show, after all. Now, we shall begin. As you can see on the slides, this is called Confabulation Therapy. The reason why so many of my colleagues call it the ‘born yesterday project' is because, well, there’s no other way to put it – we implant false identities into our subjects. Now don’t get alarmed – I can see this is going to take a bit of explaining. No, Miss; don’t leave. You will be glad you stayed...

 by O'Keefe   Literally, I am the deadest man alive. No one on this dear earth is deader than I. What makes me so dead and yet still living is the fact that much of me was blown to Death by a well-timed capsule explosion. What happened was, while I was fighting in some war God knows what it was all about, the enemy - whoever they may have been - had engendered a regular Trojan Horse by sending us our own nation's capsule with a mess of  explosives in it. I was lucky to be so far away as that doorways opened. All soldiers within a twenty-foot radius were vaporized, whilst I was thrown into a wall - minus my arms and legs. Of course, bionics had saved me, and now I look like a regular dude. Rubber was placed over the steel and aluminum of my limbs, and it looked and felt very much like skin. It was from China, of course, so I could probably hide a bomb in myself and fool the x-rays, what with all that lead in the paint.             ...

by Peter O'Keefe I, Rufus, have been tasked with writing out a report of the trials and trivialities of the battles of Allville. The one who commanded me to do so was none other than the king, Arthur Heimer himself. He has reminded me to not feel shy to express any feelings I have about anything, so do not be alarmed by the politically incorrect things I have to say. First, I must tell you a little about myself. I am the vice-general of the Milandrian military, though I was only recently given the position. My full name is Nocus Rufus of Bellington, and though I have been in the army a long time, I was not made into a commander until just recently. I was given the job of writing this essay for two main reasons: one, I am a very learned scholar, and have written several novels in the past, so do not be surprised if I romanticize certain events; second, the general himself, Stephen Sight, is too slothful to write it himself. There, I said I would not hold back my feelings, and ...

by Peter O'Keefe CHAPTER THREE: Terrible Truth After a morning of complete confusion and preparation, the Travalars were ready to leave for the festival. It turned out that the bad weather hadn't been permanent; the day was sunny and bright, with a nice cool breeze blowing from the north, a deep blue sky and puffy white clouds. These colors contrasted sharply with the orange, red and yellow leaves blowing lazily off the trees. The entire village of Coperna smelled like autumn, and it was perhaps the nicest day anyone could remember.        Obi went to his room, several minutes before departure, to take a few of his things. He was dressed in an immaculate white shirt, covered with a long red coat, and slightly baggy pants and tight boots completed the look that his parents had hoped to achieve: that he would look like more than a country peasant, but not quite rich enough to be worth the trouble of robbing. These were, in fact, his nicest clothing, the ones he ...