The real and imaginative adventures of Dennis Spielman

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Guilt Trip [4K Remaster]

A getaway for two sisters soon comes crashing into reality as one is forced to deal with her mistakes in this dark comedy short film.

Guilt Trip was originally filmed in 2016 for the Oklahoma City 48-Hour Film Project with Tiffany Gibson, Kristy Boone, Katie Kochelek, Josh Shriner, Cassondra Darling, and Dennis Spielman as the Team Leader. The event describes itself as, “a wild and sleepless weekend in which you and a team make a movie – write, shoot, edit and score it – in just 48 hours!” For 2024, the film has been remastered and improved in 4K.

Five young adults are gathered around a campfire on a full moon night as one of them stands up holding up a card with a skull as they tell a horror story

The Horror Prompt Card

A writer is gifted with a mysterious card that will inspire them if they toss the card in a fire while sharing a scary story.


“The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window.” I stepped back from the campfire, falling deeper into the shadows and waving my hands for dramatic flair. Plus, I was already hot, no thanks to the Oklahoma heat wave.

I placed a hand on my heart to check if the strange card I was gifted was still in my overalls. Good. I still have it. Let’s do this.

High school students from all over the state will arrive tomorrow at the Quartz Mountain resort for the intensive two-week residential school for professional training in the visual, literary, and performing arts. As an alumnus of the creative writing class, this place meant so much to me. I made new friends during a time in my life when that was a struggle. Being around other writers my age motivated me like nothing else, especially since I was the only one in my English classes who enjoyed writing stories. I’ve heard many others make this statement, but there was something magical about being surrounded by mountains, far from civilization, and high-speed Internet.

Because of my experience, I returned as an adult to work as a counselor as this was something I could do to give back. I would love to eventually become an instructor, lifting others how I was inspired. But first, I would have to be a successful writer, which required me to stop hitting blank pages.

With tonight being the last student-free night, I had no trouble gathering a few people under the pretense of sharing scary stories in the courtyard. I first sought after my friend, Hannah. We attended the summer program together in high school as cabin roommates while she took the film and video course. This year, she was part of the public relations team as a documentary videographer. She got her boss, Wren, to join us. Wren was down for a good scary story. Then a couple of guys, Danny and Nathan, who happened to be hanging out in the lodge lobby when I met up with Hannah and Wren, accepted my invitation to join. I squealed with glee, with an audience eager to hear my story.

The line about the abandoned cabin was fictional as this happened where my kids would be staying. I took some creative liberties with the beginning, fabricating details about finding dead bugs, unfamiliar howling in the distance, and the moonless night, but the rest of the story I was about to tell them wouldn’t veer from the truth of what happened a few hours ago.

I closed my eyes, centering myself as I continued the story. “My gut told me something was amiss, and I knew I had to investigate.”

“Well, you’re still here, so we know it wasn’t a serial killer,” Danny said.

Wren, the public relations manager, threw a marshmallow at her fellow staff member. “Let Burnie finish their story.”

“Yeah, maybe Burnie died and was replaced by a doppelgänger,” Hannah said, teasing me, too.

“Or maybe we are the ones that died,” Nathan added with some spooky hollering at the end.

I cleared my throat. “So, I walk up to the cabin. As I pulled open the door, I was hit with this aroma, like I was about to enter–” I paused to build suspense, “a coffee shop.”

The staff exchanged confused looks and giggles.

I carried on with my story. “With my phone flashlight on, I scanned the room. There was no one there. As I treaded deeper inside, the cabin door slammed shut.” I smashed my hands together to represent the noise. “The candle blew out, and my phone – with a full battery, mind you – died. My heart began to race as I tried to open the door. Then suddenly, I saw this light illuminating behind me. I turned around, and there was this spotlight on a woman beside a golden freestanding door. She wore this purple maxi dress fashioned for a greek goddess, and her luxurious silver hair danced in the windless cabin. I asked this woman who she was, but she only responded with the question, ‘Do you seek inspiration?’ I told her yes. I’ve been at an impasse on a new horror story.”

I whipped out the card like a salesperson who was an expert at handing out business cards. “The mysterious muse gave me this card. She told me that if I shared this tale, and then I tossed this card into a fire, we would experience a real horror story.”

I held up the card, showing the group. The dark purple card depicted a golden skull that shimmered in the fire’s light. The audience humored me with a few “oohs” and “ahhs.” Wren clasped her hands on her face in awe.

“Shall I toss it in the fire?” I asked.

“Do it!” Danny taunted. “Do it! Toss that bad boy in the fire.”

“That card looks too pretty to burn,” Hannah said. “But I don’t want your story to end, so go for it.”

Nathan and Wren gave approving nods. With everyone’s consent, I tossed the card in the fire. The stranger never revealed what would happen other than I would be inspired to write. After I took the card from her, she opened her golden door, which led to a coffee shop. The door disappeared like she was never there, but the card was my proof. When the card hit the fire, the fire turned bright purple like a firework, soliciting wows from the entire group.

The flames collapsed in on themselves and burst to life a five-foot giant scorpion, like the striped bark kind found around the area. The scorpion stung Danny, knocking him out of his chair. Hannah jumped out of her seat, utilizing the chair as a shield. Thankfully, there was no one else around in the courtyard. Nathan and Wren ran together to the hotel guestrooms while I stood frozen in shock.

“What the fuck is going on, Burnie?” Hannah said as she used the chair like a lion tamer in a circus act.

“I-I don’t know,” I cried. “I didn’t expect this to happen!”

The scorpion’s stinger pierced through the chair, missing Hannah and getting the chair stuck on the tail in the process.

Hannah retreated to my side. “Got any ideas on how to kill it?”

A spotlight beamed down on the impossible monster I brought to life. We looked at a firetruck flying like a drone or alien spaceship. The firetruck hovered in the starry sky, silent as a ghost. How long has that ship been there? Is it part of the card or something else? The scorpion smashed the chair against the ground, freeing the creature as two more emerged from the fire pit.

I couldn’t make out the details, but a person with dark skin–definitely human–aimed a white sci-fi-looking rifle at the scorpions. The sniper opened fire, emitting a low-frequency screech. One by one, the monsters collapsed as we took refuge under the artistic metal gazebos designed to mirror the Twin Peaks mountains seen from the courtyard. 

A photograph taken by Dennis Spielman of artistic metal gazebos in a courtyard designed to mirror the twin peaks mountains seen in the background.

A team of three people jumped off the firetruck, landing on the ground like superheroes without getting hurt. They wore bright white and orange uniforms, making them easy to spot. Why are they wearing such bold outfits?

“Get this human healed,” ordered the short black woman. “Then find everyone here and wipe their memories of tonight.”

Their commander answered my question. No need for secrecy when you could erase the unnatural like the event never happened. I cursed under my breath, but Hannah heard.

“You should run and hide,” she told me. “I’ll distract them.”

“Wait,” I whispered, but she gave me no choice as she ran toward them, flaying her arms in the sky. “Hannah…” 

With the strangers distracted, I bolted for the nearby cave. I figured they wouldn’t expect anyone to be out on any of the trails, hiding in the cave.

I took the route behind the hotel guestrooms, hoping the building would shield me from the action in the courtyard and the lake to my right would keep me anonymous. As I passed the classroom pavilions, I prayed to the universe that the beams of flashlights scanning the area would miss me. I hoped the trees on the cave trail would cover me as more flying firetrucks flew overhead, landing in the parking lot on the other side. I begged my ankles not to give and my heart not to jump out of my throat. 

A photograph taken by Dennis Spielman of inside a small cave during the day at Quartz Mountain.

I arrived in the cave alone and unharmed. Some force of the universe must’ve heard my wishes. Thank you. Then my brain warned me of possible snakes and normal-sized scorpions in the cave. With my phone still dead and no source of light on me, I decided to take my chance. I did my best to steady my breath to listen to any slithering or scurrying of desert creatures. I heard nothing. Perhaps my presence scared them. I did make a bunch of noise getting up the hill. The inside of the cave was about the size of my apartment, leaving little room to hide. Feeling a bit safe, I took a seat.

I woke up as the sunlight stretched into the cave, poking my face with sizzling kisses. I have no idea how, but my body collapsed into a deep slumber. I thought I would stay awake all night, but waiting around while nothing happened and being in darkness must’ve put my body to rest. Strange how the body works.

I didn’t know the time, so I returned to the courtyard. I brushed myself off to not appear as I slept in the woods–not that anyone would judge. To my relief–I think that’s the correct word–I saw some staff and faculty members walking out of their rooms and across the courtyard to the main lodge for breakfast as if today were a regular morning. I did notice one less chair around the fire pit where I tossed the card.

Hannah came jogging up to me. “Where were you last night?” I could tell by her scrunched face she was a bit annoyed.

“What do you mean?” I asked, dumbfounded. 

“You told me you wanted to share a ghost story by the fire, but you never came.”

“Hold on. Do you not remember the giant scorpions?” Hannah shook her no. There was nothing on her facial expression to indicate she was messing with me. “Do you remember the flying firetrucks?” 

Hannah shook her head. “Was this part of your story?”

“No, this is what happened last night. Wait! Where is Danny? Is he okay?”

“Oh, he’s fine.” Hannah pulled out her phone and showed me a photo of a normal-sized scorpion. “He had a bad reaction to this scorpion in his room. He should be back tomorrow.”

I sighed like a person freed from a boulder. The strangers cleaned up well, but I had so many questions. Who was the woman with the golden door? What was this organization that saved the day? Was someone watching out for me? The truth of what happened would be left for my creative imagination to determine, just as the mysterious muse planned.


Five young adults are gathered around a campfire on a full moon night as one of them stands up holding up a card with a skull as they tell a horror story
A photographic reference of five young adults gathered around a fire pit as one of them holds up a black card

A new short story to kick off summer! This was written for a horror story contest to use this line as the first sentence: “The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window.” Since I was at Quartz Mountain for the Oklahoma Summer Arts Institute, I got some friends there to pose and slightly base the characters on them. The mysterious muse was the end-timer, Brigit, who was featured in The Winged Letter and A Question for the Writers.

Hope you enjoyed this campfire horror story!

Proof of Hades

After her trip to the Underworld, Sally Wilkerson has a hard time convincing her friend of her experience until an opportunity presents itself to her as Hades and Persephone invite her to game night.

Best to read #TwinCities as this story picks up after its events.


Sally gazed at her unlit, fictional consultations on her black bedroom ceiling. She built the night sky herself using a combination of LED fairy lights and glow-in-the-dark plastic star stickers, while her walls consisted of trees and lakes of the Michigan landscape painted by her father. Her dad couldn’t stand plain white walls (with exceptions for inside cabinets and closets). Still, he respectfully left Sally’s bedroom white until her seventh birthday, when she was allowed to pick the design. Initially, the landscape was during the day, but when Sally turned 13, she wanted to make her night sky, so her father revamped his artwork to match.

Sally’s eyes drifted from the lion to the woman holding scales before she decided to roll to her side, facing her glossy black nightstand. “Why doesn’t he believe me?”

When Sally returned from her visit to the Underworld yesterday, Mark had already closed up the ice cream shop. So she rushed home and told her parents about her experience. They believed her before showing them the selfie with Hades. However, when she saw Mark at work today, he thought she was pranking him. She spent the first few hours of her shift trying to convince him to no avail. Then he spent the last few hours teasing her.

“How did your tea party with the Tooth Fairy go?” Mark had mocked. “Did you ask Santa if you made the nice list?”

Sally forced herself to sit up on her bed. She tapped on her phone, waking up the device to reveal the time was only 7:40 pm. She looked over her collection of a dozen board and card games scattered about on her bookshelf. The unincorporated town of Hell didn’t offer much for teens to do, so her typical Friday night involved getting together with friends to play games. However, after her spat with Mark, not even her competitive nature was in the mood. With her spirits low, she decided to seek her mother’s counsel.

“Mom should be done for the day,” she said as she stood up.

Sally went downstairs to the tarot room. They lived in the upper half of the house while her parents’ business, Charon’s Landing, took the bottom. She received an invite before Sally could peek inside to see if her mom was with a customer. “Come in, honey.”

Sally viewed her mom’s tarot reading room as the coziest room she’d ever visited. There was no square inch of a hard wall to see as fabrics shaped the room into a hexagon. Chill, LoFi beats placed those who entered at ease. If only I were allowed to take naps here, Sally thought. Though, she would curl up on the couch in the room if she had painful cramps or wasn’t feeling well. She took a seat on the plush purple pillow on the floor.

Sally’s mother, Diana, was still in her purple work robe as she shuffled her deck of tarot cards. “What’s on your mind?”

Despite her mother always being able to sense when something was off with her daughter, Diana’s comforting tone still caught her off guard. She decided to ask. “Mom, you believe me about meeting Hades, right?”

Diana pushed aside her long, curly red hair behind. “Of course, honey. I’ve always taught you there was more to this world than what we see.”

“But Mark doesn’t.” Sally slumped her shoulders, slouching more into the floor cushion. “He thinks I faked that photo with Hades.”

Diana started placing cards on the oak table. “Well, your father was quite inspired by it and has been painting up a storm. He even sold one of his paintings of Hades.”

“Yeah, he told me when I got home.”

With the cards laid out, Diana set the deck aside. “Perhaps the cards will offer some advice.”

Sally nodded.

In the Great Library of the Underworld, Hades pursued the alphabetically-organized card and board games collection. As his finger touched a game, he envisioned what group that game would be ideal for in tonight’s game night session. He had fashioned himself in his purple suit with red pinstripes for the evening. 

“Mictlantecuhtli, Hel, and Osiris declined,” Persephone said as she wrapped her arms around her husband’s waist and rested her head on his shoulders.

Hades brought up her hand to his lips and kissed them. “Thank you for checking. Is anyone able to join us?”

Persephone collapsed deeper into her hug and sighed. “No one can play with us tonight.”

Hades stopped browsing the games. “Perhaps we should expand our horizons.”

Persephone released her hold, spinning around in her green dress. “Oh! Oh! How about that mortal girl from the other day? Sally Wilkerson! She seemed delightful.”

“I don’t know…A mortal?”

“You know that painting of you that I brought you today.”

“What about it?”

“I got that from the girl’s father.”

Hades raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yes,” Persephone said with a big grin. “Plus, you know the dogs did like her.”

Hades flicked his wrist. “Very well.”

Persephone burst into a happy squeal and teleported away in a tornado of flowers. Their three-headed dog, Cerberus, walked up to Hades and nuzzled his head against him. The dog had taken the appearance of a black, 12-foot tall three-headed Scottish Terrier.

Hades playfully pushed his face away from the dog’s fur. “When was the last time I had someone give you a bath?”

Sally was back in her bedroom, working on her own card game at her desk, when Persephone erupted into the room with a shower of flowers. Sally watched in awe as the bewitching redheaded Goddess of the Underworld emerged from flowers that faded away, leaving no trace.

“Hi, Sally!” Persephone greeted with an enthusiastic wave. “I’m Persephone. Hades and I would like to invite you to our game night session.”

Sally bolted up from her computer chair. “Heck, yeah!”

Persephone held out her hand for Sally to take. Sally shoved her game in her pink cropped hoodie before taking the goddess’ hand. 

Persephone returned to the Underworld with Sally in a similar flowery teleportation style and proclaimed, “She said ‘Heck, yeah!’”

Sally took a moment to take in the green gothic architect of the Great Library. The room was similar to the one on her previous visit, but when she spotted Cerberus, she lost interest in the library.

“That must be Cerberus,” Sally said, jaw-dropping. “Does he like to be petted?”

“He loves the petting,” Persephone answered, gently pushing Sally toward the three-headed dog.

Sally rushed over and began scratching the dog under his center chin. Cerberus let his tail wag and tongue roll out. “So, Mr. Hades. Persephone said you need an extra player for game night. What do you have in mind?”

Hades pulled out a seat from the stone table. Sally gave Cerberus one last pet and took the chair. From inside his pinstripe suit, Hades spread out a set of cards in a fan pattern on the table. 

“How about you pick out a game at random?” Hades suggested.

Sally looked over the cards and then at the expansive collection of games on the shelves. “You know, I have a game I’m working on myself. I’d be happy to teach you, and you can give me feedback.”

“A new game!” Persephone exclaimed. “Yes!”

Hades chuckled and snapped his fingers, making his cards disappear in a puff of flames. “How do we play?”

Sally pulled out a stack of index cards from her hoodie’s pocket. “The game is called The Inventors Inventions or Invention Heist. I’m still workshopping the name. Anyway, one person plays as the inventor, hiding these cards around a room while the other players, the thieves, wait outside. The thieves have 60 seconds to find as many cards or inventions as possible before time runs out. The inventor acts as the home base, and the thieves must be touching the inventor before time runs out, or they lose all of the cards they’re holding from that round. Some inventions do special attacks, like freeze a player for 10 seconds, but using them degrades the value. You play for three rounds, and the person who has gathered the most valuable inventions wins. That’s it.”

“Sounds fun!” Persephone said. “I want to be the first inventor.”

Sally handed her the deck. “Then Hades and I will be thieves.”

Persephone skimmed through the deck. “Sally, do you mind if I add a bit of upgrade to these cards?”

“Be my guest.”

Persephone shuffled the deck. As the cards shuffled, the homemade, handwritten cards transformed into a professionally crafted deck. “Done! Now, I will hide them.”

Persephone snapped her fingers, ensnaring Hades and Sally together in a dome of green vines. 

“So, Sally. How about we make this interesting?” Hades asked with a smirk.

Sally crossed her arms. “What do you have in mind?”

“If I win,” Hades lowered himself to stare directly at Sally, “you have to…give Cerberus a bath.”

“Okay,” Sally said with a sly smile, “and if I win, you have to reveal yourself to my friend, Mark.”

“Do I get to scare him?”

“Of course.”

Hades offered his hand. “Then it’s a deal.”

Sally stopped herself just before shaking his hand. “Wait. How do I know you won’t cheat?”

Hades scoffed. “I find winning fair and square to be more rewarding. Plus, we have anti-cheat systems in place for when we play with other deities.”

Sally gave Hades a firm handshake. “You got yourself a deal.”

The vines withered away. Persephone sat on a red throne chair with a golden border in the center of a different room in the library filled with statues, paintings, and other works of art.

“And go!” Persephone shouted.

Hades and Sally bolted in opposite directions in search of the cards.

Sally arrived to work for her Saturday evening shift, dressed in her witch costume. The store was empty, except for Mark, who was cleaning the glass windows of the ice cream from fingerprints.

“Hey, we missed you yesterday for game night,” Mark said. “Were you busy playing games with Hades instead?”

“As a matter of fact, yes, I was,” Sally said, putting her hands on her waist. “I even invited him here for ice cream.”

Mark laughed, but then the lights went out, and a swirl of flames burst from the ground, filling the ice cream shop with a black mist as Hades morphed his body to fill the entire space before shrinking to a regular 6-foot size. As Hades shrunk, Cerberus emerged as a three-foot-tall dog with three heads from the smoke.

“Hello, Mark,” Hades greeted. “I would like to get three cones with your vanilla ice cream for my dog here.”


As I was putting together the new Serials section, I remembered there was a storyline gap between the two stories with Sally Wilkerson. This story fills that gap between #TwinCities and Dog-Sitting Cerberus. Although, after finishing this story and going over the dog-sitting, there could be another chapter or two.

Hope you enjoy this Sally Wilkerson adventure!

Snow Shovel Inc.

In 1992, two nine-year-old boys have an adventure filled day saving the planet, shoveling snow, and catching a criminal.


Aaron spun the steering wheel hard to the right, leaning his whole body into the evasive maneuver. “Prepare the torpedo, Lieutenant Saxton!”

Sam matched Aaron’s body movement and leaned to the right as well. “Aye, aye, Captain!” He pulled on a faded red plunger on the dashboard that always made him think he was shooting a ball on a pinball machine. “Torpedo armed!”

Aaron narrowed his eyes and stared at the snow falling on the empty road like a cowboy about to duel. In his gruffest voice, he turned to Sam and said, “We have to remain vigilant.”

Sam nodded and rubbed his hands over the arms of his winter jacket. “The last car we saw over an hour ago.”

Aaron pulled on the gear shift arm to his right. “Which we blew up and saved the world!”

“I’m getting hungry,” Sam said. “Maybe we should take a break?”

“Hold on!” Aaron pointed at a car down the road. The car was nearing the bridge’s underpass and about to turn the corner into their territory. “Enemy sighted!”

Sam sat up. “Ready for action!”

“Fire!”

Sam pushed button and after button, firing torpedos, missiles, lasers, and every weapon available at the enemy vehicle. At the same time, Aaron drove, dodging the enemy’s counterattacks. As Sam fired each gun, he made matching sound effects as Aaron rattled off system status updates. The enemy car drove past them, undamaged from their attacks because the buttons on the broken down 18-wheeler truck did nothing.

The two nine-year-boys high-fived each other.

“Enemy destroyed. Mission accomplished.” Aaron pretended to park the truck. “Now, let’s go see what my grandma has to eat.”

Aaron and Sam shuffled out of the truck, watching their footing and keeping a tight grip on the various handles as they climbed out. The truck’s wheels were taller than them, prompting them a while back to install some concrete blocks below to get in and out easier. They ran past the automotive repair shop where the broken-down truck lived and headed straight to Aaron’s grandmother’s house next door.

“Where’s Margie?” Sam asked, not seeing her car in the driveway.

Aaron shrugged. “I think she’s working. She should be home soon.”

Margie’s house partly hung over the Hoquiam River. The house was technically not under the traffic bridge but close enough for the boys to describe the place as being under a bridge. During the summer and low tides, the two would explore along the river’s shore, looking for treasure, only finding trash. Sometimes they found old boards and tires, which they would drag to their fort in the woods south of them.

Sam and Aaron stepped on the deck to enter the house through the kitchen, and Sam noticed several large folded cardboard boxes against the house.

“Wow, look at all of the boxes.” Sam held up an enormous box. “I bet I could put you this one.”

Aaron looked at the box. “Yeah, you could. I could pop out of this and scare my grandma.”

Sam laughed. “Let’s do it. But when you pop out, you should hug her, so we don’t give her a heart attack.”

Aaron nodded. “That’s a good idea. We should hurry because she will be home any minute.”

Sam unfolded the box, and Aaron climbed inside. The two giggled as Sam closed the box, sealing Aaron inside. Sam agreed to keep watch while Aaron waited. Several minutes passed, and still no sign of Margie. The boys talked about how clever they were and how funny this prank would be. The two also discussed some ideas for what they could do with the other boxes. Sam suggested making pinball machines, which Aaron supported. Aaron enjoyed the various games Sam would make from cardboard boxes. The excitement of their plans allowed the boys to ignore the cold, but the weather soon began to wear on them.

Before the two were about to give up, Aaron’s younger brother by two years, Adam, and his friend Chris approached Sam.

“Hey, Sam,” Adam said. “Where’s Aaron?”

Aaron popped out of the box with a scream. Adam and Chris jumped back a little bit while Aaron and Sam laughed.

“Man, we sure got you,” Aaron told them.

Adam shook his head. “No way. We weren’t scared. We knew you were there.”

“Sure, whatever,” Sam said with sarcasm.

“What are you guys doing anyway?” Chris spoke up.

“We’re going to scare my grandma,” Aaron told them. “I’m going to wait for her in this box and jump out when she tries to open it.”

“But he’s going to give her a hug,” Sam added.

“Yeah, we don’t want to give her a heart attack,” Aaron said.

“Cool!” Adam said. “I wanna help.”

In his annoyed big bother voice, Aaron told Adam no. “This is our idea – not yours. Now, go on. You’re going to ruin everything like you always do.”

“Come on, let us stay and watch.”

Aaron crossed his arms. “No.”

Chris took a step back to avoid the brother’s bickering.

Adam sulked his shoulders. “But, Aaron…”

“She’s coming!” Sam interrupted.

Aaron ducked down, grumbling at his younger brother along the way. Sam packaged Aaron closed. Adam, Chris, and Sam stood together on the porch, watching Margie drive her car up. Aaron and Sam had cleared the driveway in the morning, making the walk over to them safe.

“Hi, boys,” Margie greeted.

“Hi,” Sam said first before Adam or Chris could say anything to ruin their prank. “This package came for you.”

“Oh, really,” Margie said as she looked at the package.

Before Margie could open the box, Aaron leaped out with a roar. Margie stepped back, waving her hands up in the air and shrieking. Aaron wrapped his arms around his grandmother for a hug, holding her to keep her from losing her balance. The four boys laughed.

Margie supported herself on the deck’s fence. She waved her finger at the kids, trying not to crack a smile. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“That’s why we had Aaron give you a hug,” Sam grinned.

Margie chuckled and opened the wooden gate. “Okay, how about I make you boys some lunch.”

The boys rushed inside into the warm house. As Margie prepared lunch for everyone, Aaron and Adam talked about their day. Aaron told his grandmother that his brother and his friend weren’t part of the prank, but Margie said if Sam were alone, she would’ve known something was up. Aaron didn’t comment or admit she had a point, but Adam did snark at his older brother.

Adam and Chris left the house first, leaving Aaron and Sam alone to discuss their afternoon plans. Margie suggested they could shovel people’s driveways to earn some money.

“Yeah, let’s go shovel some driveways!” Sam said with a cookie in his mouth. “We’ll call ourselves Snow Shovel Inc.”

Aaron slapped Sam’s shoulder. “You can get that new Super Nintendo game too.”

Sam swallowed the cookie. “Yeah!”

The boys said thank you and ran outside, grabbing the shovels they had used earlier. They had to walk a few blocks before getting to their first house. Aaron’s city block only contained his home, Margie’s house, the repair shop, and a skating rink. Behind them were some woods, which covered several city blocks and followed along the Hoquiam River.

The first house they knocked on was a simple, single-story house with a snow-covered driveway and garage. Behind the house were the same woods. The door cracked open, with the latch still on. A gruff, bearded man looked down at the boys with suspicion. He lifted the latch and opened the door.

The man tightened his plush house robe against the cold. “What do you kids what?”

Aaron stood tall and confident. “We just wanted to know if you would like us to shovel your driveway. We’ll shovel it first, and then you can pay us how much you think we deserve.”

The homeowner glanced up and down the street. He opened up his robe, revealing he was fully dressed in jeans and a clean t-shirt and pulled out his wallet from his pants. “Here’s five dollars for each of you if you go away.”

“Thank you!” Sam said as they each took the money.

Sam studied the tattoo of a star on the man’s right hand before he pulled his hands back inside. The man slammed the door, turned the locks, and stomped away. Sam and Aaron exchanged confused glances and carried on to the next house. As they got back on the sidewalk, a police car drove by.

For the next few hours, Sam and Aaron shoveled driveways and sidewalks. Some people said no thank you, and some said they would shovel themselves tomorrow. By the end of the afternoon, they earned a total of $35 together. Sam was a bit bummed he didn’t have enough to buy a new video game, but he had enough to rent some.

Aaron said he was curious about their fort in the snow, and Sam was too. The two decided to cut through the woods back to Aaron’s grandmother’s house. While the woods were part of an urban area, they contained no proper trails. The location was considered private property for a shipping company. No fences blocked the area surrounding the woods, and the “No Trespassing” signs held no consequences as the boys never got in trouble playing back there.

After hiking through the snow for several minutes, they saw their fort. Their fort didn’t look much different in the snow. The walls were a mix of whatever Sam and Aaron could scavenge but lightly covered with snow. Surrounding the base were piles of junk from people illegally dumping their belongings there—nothing new to them.

Outside their base was the first person the two had offered their services. The boys ducked behind a fallen tree and watched the man dig a hole. They placed their shovels on the ground behind them as they peered over the tree.

“What do you think is in that box?” Sam whispered to Aaron.

“I don’t know,” he said. “It could be a body.”

“Or stolen money,” Sam said, louder than a whisper.

“Or -”

“Hey!” the man shouted. “Get out of here, you kids!”

“Run!” Aaron and Sam said at the same time.

Neither bothered to call jinx on each other as they ran out the same way they entered, leaving their shovels behind. Sam was one of the fastest kids in school while Aaron wasn’t, but Sam was used to pacing himself so Aaron wouldn’t fall far behind. Sam kept looking backward to ensure the man wasn’t chasing them. Sam didn’t see him, but they kept running as they couldn’t be sure.

As Aaron and Sam bolted out of the woods onto the main street, a police car stopped at the sight of their panicked run. The officer rolled down his window. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Aaron took several deep breaths, trying to explain. “This guy is burring a dead body.”

“Or something,” Sam corrected. “We couldn’t see. He chased us off.”

“What does he look like?” the middle-aged officer asked.

Aaron took a puff from his inhaler. “He’s kind of scruffy, but not.”

“Yeah,” Sam added. “He also had a tattoo of a star on his hand.”

“A star tattoo?” the officer repeated. “Stay there.”

The officer rolled up his window and radioed an update to the station. He parked the car and asked the boys to lead the way, which they obliged. The man was where the boys found him, covering a large chest with dirt.

The officer drew his gun. “Stop right there.”

The man dropped his shovel and raised his arms. He cursed under his breath. Sam and Aaron stayed back as the officer handcuffed the man, reading him his rights.

“We’ve been searching for this guy,” the officer said to Aaron and Sam. “He’s responsible for some high-profile home robberies.”

The officer opened the chest, looking over the stolen items. He closed the trunk and asked the kids to follow him back to the car. The boys grabbed their shovels and followed the officer. After placing the criminal in the back, he collected the boys’ names and addresses, telling them there was a small reward. Sam gave his home address while Aaron gave his grandma’s address because he knew his parents would force him to save his reward.

After giving the cop their information, Aaron and Sam rushed back to Margie’s house – avoiding the woods. They told her what happened, which she laughed and said she wasn’t falling for anymore of their pranks today. Sam insisted they were telling the truth but gave up when she wouldn’t budge.

A few weeks later, when the snow had left no traces of its visit, Margie checked her mailbox. With the bills and junk mail was a letter from the Hoquiam police department. She sat at her kitchen table. Inside was a thank you letter from the officer and a check for a hundred dollars as a reward.

“I think I owe those boys an apology.”


Snow Shovel Inc. takes two short stories I wrote like in the early 2000s for school and updated for my fictional universe. The first half of the story, which was originally from a work titled The Box, was inspired by my actual childhood where my friend and I did scare his grandmother. The second half took another story of those characters in a fictional story of catching a criminal.

Barely anything survived expect for some lines of dialogue in this revitalization. I changed the me character to Sam Saxton from Tales Unveiled as part of the updating to the 16th Phoenix Universe. I had fun telling this story, seeing how I’ve improved as a writer, and I plan to give the same treatment to some of other older works.

Thank you for reading and thanks to Janine De Guzman and Mikey Marchan for bringing the discovery scene to life.

You Have 3 Unread Prophecies - art by Janine De Guzman and Mikey Marchan at Design Pickle

“You Have 3 Unread Prophecies”

A morning news show host receives three tips on his phone about the future as he spends time with his sister.


Ever since our parents died, my sister and I made a point to take a weekend vacation around their wedding anniversary as our way of honoring them. We lived in separate states, living separate lives, so getting together once a year – just the two of us, no spouses – would’ve made our parents happy.

This year was my sister’s turn to pick a destination. She watched a travel video showcasing the moonshine, mountain gondolas, and food in Gatlinburg, Tennessee. When she suggested Gatlinburg, I was surprised as the city was nowhere near a beach like she favored, but after doing some research, I was excited to visit too.

Weekends were easy for me to take off but tricky for Sarah. My sister was the Operations Director for a lake resort while I was a co-host for a morning news show. Our parents’ anniversary was toward the end of March, which was a slow period for her work.

After breakfast at the hotel, we visited one of the local moonshine distilleries. We tried Friday night when we first arrived, but we didn’t have the patience to deal with the crowd. Plus, we’d figured we would have better luck in the morning. Gatlinburg’s walkability motivated us to leave our cars at the hotel. (Side tip: you should do the same as parking is hard to come by.)

The winter season still had a grip on the trees, but the skies were clear and sunny, although cold enough to warrant jackets for us as Sarah led us into Ole Smoky Moonshine. Marcus (I think that was his name) entertained us with jokes and samples of six different moonshines. I liked the sour lime while she favored the apple pie flavor. The pickle was…interesting. 

My phone buzzed as my sister stepped away to use the restroom. There was a notification that read, “You Have 3 Unread Prophecies.” I had no idea what app of mine would display such a message. I opened the notification, which brought up an app I didn’t own with a mail-like interface.

The first message said, “Bring cash for donuts.” I didn’t have any cash on me at the moment, but I remembered seeing an ATM outside the building.

“That’s a good tip,” I said as I swiped open the following prophecy.

“Go to Clingmans Dome when prompted.”

When I drove through the Smokey Mountains to get to Gatlinburg, I saw a sign for Clingmans Dome. I didn’t know anything about the place, but the name and location made me think this dome would be like an observation post. I was game to visit. I figured I could get some breathtaking photos.

The last message was the most crypt and eyebrow-raising one. “When you arrive, have your video camera ready, but be safe and don’t get caught.”

This is all so weird, I thought. I bet my sister sent these. She knows of my affection for donuts and exploring.

I tried to re-read the messages, but the app disappeared. 

My sister returned. “You ready for our next stop?”

“Sure,” I said. “Just let me hit up this ATM for some cash.”

“Good idea,” Sarah said with a straight face.

With cash now in my wallet, we strolled over to The Village, which had German architectural motifs in a cute, walkable shopping district. The place was like nothing I’d experienced before. Buildings weaved all over the place, not following any sort of grid pattern like a standard city block. Since there were no streets, delivery people hauled packages on handcarts, which I’m sure was also quite the workout for them. There were hardly any flat surfaces. I took picture after picture with my iPhone. 

Then as the prophecy foretold, we discovered the donut shop that only accepted cash. The warmth and smell of fresh donuts in the tiny cottage-like business brought a wide grin to my face. Using the money I pulled out, I paid for our treats. 

“Good thing I got some cash,” I said with a wink to my sister as we each enjoyed a chocolate long john.

“Yeah, good thing.” Her casual reply and straight face made me wonder if she did indeed send me those prophecies. She changed the subject. “What do you want to do after lunch, Lucas?”

I thought for a moment. From the corner of my eye, I thought I saw a woman with long, vibrant blue hair starring at me, but she turned away and around a building. I shrugged the watched feeling off. “Maybe we can drive around or go hiking.”

“How about Clingmans Dome?” my sister asked. “I saw a photo taken out there in the hotel lobby and thought you would like to take some pictures yourself.” 

I laughed.

Sarah crossed her arms. “What’s so funny?”

In my big brother teasing voice, I said, “Nothing.”

She repeated “nothing” in a mocking tone and then asked what I wanted for lunch. I told her anything, and she suggested we walk around some more and eat wherever caught out attention. We settled for a small burger joint, which I thought was okay. Every summer, we would do a special on creative burgers on our morning show, so I was spoiled. Technically, I’m spoiled on excellent food because of my job, but I appreciate all food, and I didn’t nitpick. My sister liked the place, and that was good for me.

Then as planned, or prophesied, we took my car and made the hour-long drive to Clingmans Dome. The information we found online warned that the road to Clingmans Dome may be closed for the season, but the gate was open for us. Despite being the weekend, the parking lot for the vantage point was empty. We chalked the lack of visitors as luck, or maybe this was the first day they opened for the season? We weren’t going to complain.

We didn’t get far into the hike when we saw a woman dressed like a spy with a long, black trench coat talking to a blue, reptilian alien creature. The alien had on this black leather outfit that made me think he needed extra warmth while also being ready to fight. I yanked my sister down, and we hid behind some rocks.

“What’s going on?” she whispered.

“You tell me,” I mocked, keeping my voice low as I pulled out my cellphone. “This was your plan for me to film this, huh?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

I believed her. But who sent me those messages?

My phone had full cell service, which I thought was odd as I didn’t have any bars on the way up. I started a live stream on my Instagram. I positioned my phone like a periscope to watch without them seeing me. 

“This is an interesting location you picked.” The woman’s tone didn’t seem too enthusiastic about the location. She pulled in on her jacket.

The alien checked his surroundings. “I wanted to make sure we would be alone.”

“Of course,” said the woman. “I understand.”

The alien brought up the briefcase to his chest. “See, I don’t think you do understand. My sources told me that some other people who tried to sell to your group are never heard from again.”

The woman scoffed. “Don’t believe in rumors. Do you have the artifact?”

“My price has doubled.”

“Don’t be obscene. Give me the item at our original price.” The woman snapped her fingers, signaling the alien to bring over the briefcase.

“And cut!” I about dropped my phone from the sharp, booming voice. The voice seemed to startle the people, too, because they both jumped. A woman with a long, flowing red scarf marched from around the corner and straight toward the two people. “I think we’re done here.”

I looked around for any other film crew, but I only saw the director. My only explanation was that they were on wireless mics, and this was a drone shot, so everyone was out of sight. At least, that’s how my brain processed their setup at first. 

A fire truck honked its horn as they pulled up behind us. 

The woman with the alien held up both hands like she was trouble. “Director Lux. This isn’t what you think-”

The director turned and looked at us. “Hey, how did you two get on this set?”

I stepped forward and sort of explained. “The front gate was open.”

“That gate should’ve been locked. Now, get out of here,” the director ordered. “I better not see any footage online.”

“Right, sorry.” My sister had a good laugh at the situation. I turned off the live stream and deleted the clip.

The firetruck pulled in front of us, blocking the path. People dressed in uniforms like no other firefighter I had ever seen got out from the vehicle. I shrugged them off as actors. Before we returned to my car, Sarah said she needed to use the restroom. Luckily, there was an outhouse next to us in the parking lot. 

I listened to the film crew on the other side as I waited.

I heard the alien character complain. “I should’ve known you would’ve double-crossed me.”

“I’m in cuffs too,” the spy snapped back. “Hey, how did you find us anyway?”

“Lucas was live-streaming you, idiots,” the director said. “Our V.I. monitor caught the feed and dispatched us. You got a lot of explaining to do.”

The spy grumbled something I didn’t understand, but I understood when she said, “I bet he got a text message disguised as a prophecy.”


You Have 3 Unread Prophecies - art by Janine De Guzman and Mikey Marchan at Design Pickle

In the fall, my wife and I, along with my parents and sister, visited Gatlinburg. We didn’t even spend a full day there, but we knew we all had to come back (during a warmer month). I used the location as inspiration for the third unread prophecy stories, which are connected by the end-timer, Veritas, working to anonymously expose the illegal activities of a rouge fraction of Unity.

Thanks to Janine De Guzman and Mikey Marchan for bringing the scene at The Village to life. Thank you for reading my December short story. I got another one coming for January. Been busy with the holidays, client work, and sickness last month. 

Happy Adventures!

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