Rejected Story Ideas

Like all true writers, my mind harbors a vast reservoir of innovative, thought-provoking ideas. However, an unrefined idea is really only the genesis of a completed story, and time does not allow each narrative spark the possibility to bloom into a thrilling bonfire.

With that, I present these selections from my archive of rejected story ideas. The finished tales that would have resulted from these will never come to pass, though they certainly would have electrified readers with the literary tasers of pure emotional resonance. For denying current audiences and future generations that unquestionable pleasure, I must apologize. But I hope that by presenting these ideas here, I will grant my fans a rare glimpse into my process, as well as my special mind.

• An arrogant scientist named Katrina Gerehorne is recruited by the US government to compete against Russia in a time traveling contest, where the goal is to go back in time and collect specific objects - all of which are selected in order to minimize significant changes to the course of human history. One such item is a document detailing the Monmouth surrender at the Battle of Sedgemoor (1665). However, Katrina accidentally steals Isaac Newton's scientific notes for Philosophiæ Naturalis Principia Mathematica instead, which causes her to return to a world where gravity has never existed.

• In one of those heart-warming, coming-of-age stories, a young man named Claude leaves his small hometown in search of higher education, cleaner water, and overall better opportunities. His family is just glad to be rid of him.

• A mysterious count named Havel DeLanque buys an old castle in the Kentuckian countryside. Eventually, it becomes obvious that he wants to live there because of its large cellar, where he imagines that he'll one day entomb his enemies, like in Edgar Allan Poe's "The Black Cat". However, Havel never acquires any enemies and he eventually puts a pinball machine down there and uses the extra space for his collection of soapbox racers.

• Goats are extremely psychic and can read human minds. Most of the time they aren't interested in doing anything with the information they learn, but every now and then they use their powers to get free food and make people fall in love. A goat named Gingerbread uses both tactics to enter the 2016 Nathan's Hot Dog Eating Competition. The goat loses the contest, but learns a lesson about the human spirit.

• Unsuccessful car salesman Robby Enston has the ability to see into the future, but only for people that refuse to buy cars from him. He tries to convince prospective customers to come back and buy a car after his predictions prove to be 100% accurate, but they never do. Robby becomes embittered and eventually tells everyone that he has lost his powers. Desperate for information, everyone buys a car from him, which cancels out his powers. Robby appeases the new car owners by inventing wildly unlikely predictions, all of which are foretold to happen a couple of weeks past the warranty expiration dates on their new cars.

• Shy guy Willis Dabney decides to get a dog to serve as an icebreaker to meet the women that frequent his local park. However, the adorable beagle he brings home turns out be inhabited by the reincarnated spirit of John Howard, 1st Duke of Norfolk. This is not a problem for the most part, though Willis does grow tired of explaining who John Howard was and what a duke's responsibilities are.

• It is the year 2055 and Bayou Drinks is Louisiana's hottest honky-tonk. "Swamp" McSurge has returned to collect some money owed to him by the owner, a cyborg named Thelma (who is also his ex-wife). Trouble ensues when the local space sheriff decides to close down Bayou Drinks unless they can raise 10,000 NewMerica credits by midnight. They do, of course, and Thelma sees that Swamp has become a man of his word. The bar's house band plays Madonna's "Open Your Heart" in celebration.

• In another one of those heart-warming, coming-of-age stories, a young woman named Sybil leaves her small hometown in search of ways to go hang gliding without having access to either mountains or hang gliders. Her family eagerly awaits her findings.

• After months of searching, Hank Pritchard is thrilled to get hired as the editor of a brand new website called Vrinkle. Unknown to him, however, is the company's secret purpose: it was created by Hank's friends to make him feel better about himself. When his friends eventually tell him what they've done, Hank asks for a raise. The makeshift website is then bought by Google.

• In a parallel universe where magic is real, but GPS is not, people have many tales about a satellite-assisted method of giving people directions in an assortment of celebrity voices. College student Stacy Crawford is obsessed with the stories and desperately wants to make them into a reality, but her family forces her to major in levitation spells instead. Stacy flunks out anyway and starts a 80's cover band.

• Crass businesswoman Laura Caldeen decides to retire early and see the world. After a trying month spent mainly in airports, Laura returns to Philadelphia and unsuccessfully tries to get her job back. Not one to be defeated, she enters the 2016 Nathan's Hot Dog Eating Competition and narrowly beats out a goat named Gingerbread. Laura adopts the rascally goat, they move to Palm Springs, and soon after, Laura falls in love with a local hotdog vendor named Chet.

• A lonely man named Louis becomes infatuated with a painting that hangs in the background of his favorite TV sitcom, Pleasant Times. He travels to Los Angeles and sneaks onto the sitcom's set, only to find that most of the background (including his beloved painting) is computer-generated. Louis has a fit and interrupts filming by shouting his complaints about life in general at the Pleasant Times cast and crew. Annoyed at first, they slowly discover that they all agree with Louis's criticisms and really enjoy his fresh takes on modern topics. However, the executive producer of the show is too busy to witness any of this, and therefore doesn't give Louis his own sitcom. Security escorts Louis away from the studio and filming resumes.

• The Rowdy Maggots, a dangerous motorcycle gang, descends on a small town called Willow Glen, destroying its infrastructure and generally wreaking havoc. Not to be outdone, the citizens of Willow Glen buy motorcycles and start their own biker gang. The formerly quiet townspeople are transformed into brutal savages practically overnight. The Maggots, having learned their lesson, ride out of town. The citizens of Willow Glen then sell their motorcycles and begin cleaning up the wreckage. However, just as the town begins to look like its old self, an approaching gang of metal detector enthusiasts appears over the horizon.

• In yet another one of those heart-warming, coming-of-age stories, an older gentleman named Gus leaves his small town in search of promiscuous women. He finds plenty and sends the resulting bar tabs to his family back home.

Best Wishes

The coffee shop was busy, but not crowded. It was a nice day and most people were getting their orders to go. Alan sat on a comfortable easy chair near the window as he sipped his latte and browsed Reddit. He considered getting back in line to order a biscotti from the miserable barista behind the counter when he noticed a heavyset man in a paisley shirt standing over his shoulder, studying him.

"Ata Kamil? Is that you?" the man asked. Alan craned his head toward the man. It had been two centuries since their last encounter, but Alan recognized him immediately. Ikram seemed to have settled on a style long ago: same thick mess of hair, same long, thin sideburns.

"Ikram. It's good to see you," Alan leaned across the small coffee table and shook Ikram's hand. "I go by 'Alan' now," he added.

Ikram furrowed his brow as he glanced down at Alan's expensive suit and the latest Apple gadget in his hand. "Alan. Very modern." He settled into a chair on the other side of the coffee table. "So, how have you been?"

"Well, it's been a long time. I've served many masters since the one you obliterated in Morocco."

"I was not going to bring that up. It was just business, you know."

"It's fine, all's forgiven. Can I get you a coffee?" Alan started to rise, but Ikram waved for him to sit down.

"No, no. I was going to get a sandwich, but they are out of vegetarian options. I was about to leave when I saw you."

"You've stopped eating meat? Too bad. That pesto turkey wrap is pretty sweet."

"Not too sweet for the turkey in it."

Alan smiled. He casually glanced around the cafe to make sure that nobody was eavesdropping. "And are you in service now?"

"Yes." Ikram shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "My master is a beggar woman...well, former beggar. Now she is a actress. You may have heard of her, um. Brighton Saunders?"

"Oh, yeah? Wow..." Alan shook his head and stated the obvious. "Well, she's terrible."

Ikram burst into laughter. "The worst." He rested his chin on his hand. "It is not much of a twist, her lack of talent, but she worded the command pretty carefully. I would have loved to have turned her into a famous dog or mule or something, but she made sure to specify that she would remain human."

"Oh, the selfish ones. Well, you were always the pretty good with the curve balls."

"Not as good as you," Ikram said. "How many twelve-inch pianists have you granted over the years?"

Alan burst into laughter; Ikram instantly joined in. A youngish couple with fresh coffees glanced down as they passed by them. Irkam wiped away a tear and caught his breath. "This is nice. I barely can get away nowadays, and to run into you. Well, this is something."

"I agree," Alan said, nodding. Ikram returned the nod, then lowered his gaze, quiet. Alan studied him, this all-powerful force locked into the wishes of others. It seemed backwards to him now, those things that were just the way they were the last time they had seen each other.

Ikram took a deep breath and mustered a smile. "And what about you, Alan? Who is your latest master?"

Alan's smile returned. He looked around. The coffee line was comprised of just one person now, who was berating the miserable barista over some screwed-up order. The couple quietly chatted at a table against the wall. Alan, now serious, reached into his inside jacket pocket and dragged out a necklace. On the end, swung a small brass trinket, shaped like a seashell. Ikram's mouth dropped open.

"No!" he said. "That can't be."

"It's true." Alan bowed his head and a roasted red pepper sandwich appeared on the table between he and Ikram. He gestured that it was all his if he wanted it. Ikram stared at the sandwich, his mouth still agape.

"But...how?"

"I found out a good fast ball is almost as good as a curve ball. I was controlled by a confused, young man who didn't know what he wanted out of life. I took advantage of that, suggesting at each step that charm was the thing he lacked. He grew angry, not wanting to waste a wish on something only others would enjoy."

"He fell for the limited wishes thing?" Ikram snapped his fingers. "You know, I try that every time. But they either figure it out or simply keep making wishes out of desperation."

"He would have gotten there too, for sure. But, like I said, he didn't have a game plan. So he saved the first three commands, held onto them for years in fact. Even when things got rough, he wanted to make sure that he got them just right. And all the while I kept suggesting charm was the thing he lacked. But, naturally, he settled for the trio."

"Health, wealth, and lots of sex," Ikram recited by rote. Alan pointed at him and winked.

"But once I granted his fourth wish, he realized I'd been lying to him and that I'd be with him as long as he had this." Alan held up the seashell trinket, pinching it between his thumb and forefinger. "And once Kyle reached that new level of anger, I knew I had him. The next time that he got drunk, I again suggested to him that he should wish for charm, something he'd heard from me a thousand times by that point. He glared at me and the shittiest little smile spread across his face. 'Genie,' he said, 'I wish you had charm'.

Ikram sat back, amazed. "And now you do."

Alan smiled as he slid the seashell necklace back into his jacket pocket.

"Brilliant," Ikram said, shaking his head in disbelief. "An absolutely brilliant ploy." He leaned in, his eyes bright. "And this Kyle? What became of him?"

Alan nodded toward the miserable barista behind the counter. Ikram read the name tag on his shirt and began rocking in his seat, trying to control a new wave of laughter as best he could. Eventually, he regained composure. "That is a thing of beauty. And he has no memory of any of it?"

"Just enough to know that his life now sucks in comparison." Alan drank the last of his latte.

"Well, that is just...wow." Ikram grew silent again. "Well, I am happy for you, Ata...Alan. But for those of us not so ingenious, there is still the job." Ikram stood. "I must leave. Miss Saunders is throwing a gala tonight. For this, I am cooking, catering, valeting...you get the idea."

Alan stood and extended his hand. They shook. "Please." He gestured toward the vegetarian sandwich, now in a takeout box.

"No, thank you," Ikram said. "I trust you, but I feel bound to honor my servitude and not accept offerings."

Alan nodded, remembering the sensation of invisible restraints on every limb. Ikram returned a weak smile as he headed out of the cafe.

"It was good to see you again," he said.

Watching him go, Alan crossed over to the coffee line and ordered a biscotti. He could have simply wished himself a biscotti, along with pretty much anything else he might have wanted, but he liked to be served by Kyle. And, though it would certainly test the boundaries of his powers, one day he'd like to be served by all of his former masters. Even the one Ikram took care of in Morocco.

As he waited for the sullen man to bring him the crunchy baked good, Alan thought about the arbitrary line between magic and determination, wishes and objectives. With a thought forming in his mind, he decided that he'd like to check out Brighton Saunders' party and tell her what a terrible actress she is. This might set something interesting in motion for Ikram. Not an offering, but a start. Who knows where it might lead?

Kyle, unaware of the command he once held over the man in the expensive suit, presented his former master with the biscotti. Alan, polite as always to Kyle, asked the miserable barista if he could please get his order to go.

Tahiti

Nobody seemed to notice, but Jonah had a gift. When he concentrated on certain things, he could make his own heart stop. However, that was only the beginning of what he could do. The consequences of this gift took Jonah to all sorts of places, sometimes not by choice, but it never took him to Tahiti. Jonah was determined to never end up there, even as he sent many, many other people there.

Some people might have liked it. The security guard seemed to enjoy the trip, but Jonah looked around and figured anywhere would be preferable to the frenetic backstage at the science expo. The organizers hadn’t coordinate the schedule properly and too many scientists at once ended up shoved into the wings of the auditorium. Crowded and nervous, they all were waiting to go onstage so that they could share their separate innovations.
 

The scientists tried to be respectful of the woman currently onstage as she enthusiastically presented an energy conservation breakthrough to the journalists and curious financial backers in the audience. However, the scientists couldn’t help their lips from whispering technical specs or their fingers from tinkering with displays and invention mockups. These actions, multiplied by thirty or so perpetrators, caused the waves of clicks and pops to become an ocean of disruption.

Jonah cracked a smile, thinking of all the backstage nervous energy around him. For all of their high I.Q.’s, the geniuses couldn’t just relax and wait their turn. Jonah didn't have a display to tinker with, or notes of any kind to recite. He wasn't a scientist or anything of the sort. He was a trespasser, but he knew he had nothing to be nervous about.

He took a deep breath anyway. It just felt like the right thing to do in the cluster of so much tiny, hushed activity swirling around him.

Through this, Jonah could still hear the woman in front of the audience. He didn't understand a lot of the scientific jargon that she used, but he hoped she was doing a good job and maybe even having fun. He had seen her prepping before she went on, a tall woman with curly hair that the expo's host had introduced to the crowd as Dr. Barbara Fowler from Cornell. She reminded Jonah of the college professors that never accepted excuses for being late or missing a test.

A serious-looking man with silver hair approached Jonah. The man carried a clipboard and wore a dark suit. His black tie was camouflaged on top of a black shirt. Jonah figured that the man was some kind of coordinator or stage manager.

"Excuse me. I don't believe that we've met," the man said, keeping his volume low, but his diction curt. He had an uptight air that made Jonah feel like the man could use a vacation.

"I'm Jonah. Uh, how's it going?" Jonah stuck out his hand to shake, but the silver-haired man didn't seem to notice it.

"Dr. Jonaaah...," he said to himself as he began scanning a list of names on his clipboard.

Jonah rolled his eyes at the man's theatrics. "Sorry, no. I’m not a doctor."

The stage manager briefly glanced up at Jonah as he flipped to the second page of the list, and then he continued the pageantry of searching for the name. Jonah smiled, thinking this might be the time to get nervous, if he were capable of the sensation.

"I don't think you'll find me on that list," he said.

"Why, are you just here with someone? Dropping off a delivery?"

Jonah began to second guess his choice to wear jeans and a t-shirt. Perhaps a suit and tie would have garnered less suspicion. He briefly considered going with the delivery guy story, but realized the issue would come up again anyway. Jonah considered the crowd of scientists milling around. They were all very smart, but all very nervous. Their big brains were on the funding they needed to complete projects, maybe already picturing their faces in future textbooks.

It didn't matter much, Jonah supposed. They wouldn’t see what they wouldn’t see.

"Okay, maestro. You got me," Jonah said, keeping his voice quiet. "I'm not supposed to be here. I read about this science conference and I’ve got an experiment I want to try out."

During this, the silver-haired man's eyes darted to the wall by the backstage entrance door.

"I already did the security guard," Jonah assured him. He reached out to touch the man's hand, the one still gripping the clipboard. "He's in Tahiti now. He went like this..."

Jonah made his heart stop and he grazed the stage manager's hand. The serious man’s face was forced into a smile as his skin tightened. His eyes opened so wide that the muscles around them became visible. Then he simply hollowed out, leaving the science expo completely. There was no flash of light or explosion, not that it would have mattered if there was. By the time Jonah's hand was touching nothing, the stage manager was in Tahiti, where they all went as far as Jonah was concerned.

Jonah caught the clipboard before it hit the ground. He paused as he crouched near the group of scientists, waiting for a gasp, for a response of any kind. But, as always, it never arrived. He sighed and studied the scientists’ faces around him. People around him never saw the moment Jonah sent his travelers on their way. In the past, he’d tried to not question it, but Jonah had started questioning a lot of things recently. And the curiosity had made him social.

Applause erupted from the audience in the auditorium. Jonah turned to the brightness of the stage and saw Dr. Barbara Fowler smiling to the crowd. Her enthusiasm inspired Jonah as he walked onto the stage. He reached out for her hand to congratulate her on a wonderful presentation, to congratulate her with a trip to Tahiti.

Jonah wasn’t a scientist, but he had an experiment to perform. He wanted to find out if a captive audience could see what bystanders never did.