Author Archives: James Pyles

The Mystery of the Fifteen Scrolls

scroll

The Temple scroll is the thinnest of the Dead Sea Scrolls. Discovered in 1956, it contains God’s instructions on how to run the Temple. Credit: The Israel Museum, Jerusalem

“This exciting excavation is the closest we’ve come to discovering new Dead Sea scrolls in 60 years. Until now, it was accepted that Dead Sea scrolls were found only in 11 caves at Qumran, but now there is no doubt that this is the 12th cave,” said Dr. Oren Gutfeld, an archaeologist at the Hebrew University’s Institute of Archaeology and director of the excavation.

“This is one of the most exciting archaeological discoveries, and the most important in the last 60 years, in the caves of Qumran.”

-Dov Smith, February 8, 2017
“Hebrew University archaeologists find 12th Dead Sea Scrolls cave”
Arutz Sheva

Martin Fields wasn’t at the press conference, but he did read this and other news reports about the remarkable discovery.

Actually, he wasn’t all that impressed, but Isis was.

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The Chair On The River

mystery chair

© Ted Strutz

Bill and Betty enjoyed walks along the river. Usually, it was beautiful and unremarkable, that is, until the chair. It was standing on the water as if waiting for someone.

“That’s impossible, Bill.”

“Probably not. Bet there’s a sandbar and someone in a boat put it there as a prank.”

Just then, they heard a rustling in the brushes behind them. A mediterranean looking gentleman appeared and said, “Excuse me.”

The pair moved aside and the stranger walked to the chair, sat, and waved.

“A trick.” Bill stepped into the water. Expecting to walk, his leg sank into freezing water.

Written as a response to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields 100 word photo challenge. The idea is to write a piece of flash fiction no more than 100 words long based on the photo above. My story’s word count is exactly 100.

To read other stories based on the prompt, go to InLinkz.com

When Sean Met Sally

goth

Image: mookychick.co.uk

From the Unlife and Curse of Sean Becker

This is an open police investigation, so why am I involved? Because my boss, private detective Aidan Burke is paying me to be involved. More to the point, Conrad Grey, a wealthy commercial real estate tycoon, hired Burke to find his only granddaughter, thirteen-year-old Marianne. The kid went missing almost two weeks ago. LAPD thinks she’s a runaway. Grey thinks she’s been abducted. That’s why I’m walking the streets, contacting my informants, trying to get a lead.

Oh, by the way, my name is Sean Becker and I’m a vampire.

Officially, I can’t be licensed as a private detective because I’m dead. I work as Burke’s assistant by night, and sleep in his spare bedroom by day.

Being a vampire, I can cultivate information sources the police would never get close to. A few are other vampires like me, some with legit night jobs, others living on the edge of society, making it anyway they can.

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Why Should You Write Superversive Fiction?

super boy

© iStock

About the time I started my latest stint at writing fictional short stories, I discovered something called Superversive Fiction and particularly Superversive Science Fiction.

According to Russell Newquist, here’s generally what we can expect from Superversive Fiction:

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The Final Resting Place

daisy may

© Mike Vore

“I know you’ve seen better days, old girl.”

78-year-old Frank Parker patted the rusting hood of the ’49 Chevy.

Replacing the faded American flag hanging from the passenger-side door with a fresh one, he remembered.

“I was just your age when my Pa first bought the Daisy May. Saved up for over a year to buy her.”

“Why do you keep her, Gramps? She’s all broken down.”

“Reminds me of better days, Timmy, when everything made sense. As long as I live, she’ll always have a home here on the back forty.”

He looked down at his great-grandson. “You sure you want to do this, boy?”

Timmy hugged the old man. “I’m sure Gramps. I promise to bring a new flag every month. I’ll watch over her for you.”

Old Frank had the same cancer that took his Pa so many years ago. He was going to Heaven to be with Pa, Ma, and his wife Sarah. The life he lived was his inheritance to his children and their children’s children.

I wrote this in response to the FFfAW Challenge-Week of February 7, 2017. The challenge is to write a flash fiction story in around between 100 and 175 words, with 150 being optimal, based on the weekly photo prompt. Thanks as always to the challenge host Priceless Joy.

To read other stories based on this week’s prompt, visit InLinkz.com.

I know that America has never been a perfect nation nor is it now. And while I’m about a decade-and-a-half shy of being 78, my childhood was full of joys my grandchildren will never experience. If I can give them at least some small sense of history and a world without smartphones, X-boxes, or the Internet, when children played outside all day with their friends, and yes, we rode our bikes without wearing helmets and didn’t die, then perhaps that past won’t die with me (no, I don’t have cancer. I feel fine).

On Tuesday the Time Traveler Saw Red

easter uprising

This year marks the 100th anniversary of the Easter Rising, the rebellion for Irish independence that changed the course of Ireland’s history when it began on Easter Monday, 1916. – From Irish Central News

I’m back. It’s a place that’s not exactly a place, and a time that’s not exactly a time. I have an idea what this all means, but I could be dead wrong.

This is where I left them, the passengers and crew of the ill-fated Flight G-AGLX originating from the U.K., and most recently departed from Negombo RAF Station, Colombo bound for the Cocos (Keeling) Islands, and then to Perth, Australia.

History records that everyone was lost when the converted Avro 691 Lancastrian One bomber went down over the Indian Ocean on Monday, March 23, 1946 sometime between 6 and 6:30 p.m.

What history will never know is that five crew members and four passengers didn’t die in the crash. I brought them here, wherever here is. My name is Martin Fields and I’m a time traveler.

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Ill-Gotten Treasure

treasure

© J. Hardy Carroll

“This is junk, Sydney.”

“You’re an idiot Jerry. It’s treasure, not junk. You know how much these old bottles and trinkets are worth on eBay?”

“A buck ninety-five?”

“How did I get such a lunkhead for a brother?” Sydney regarded her twin with disdain.

“Okay, If you say they’re worth big bucks, they’re worth big bucks. Now what?”

“Now we take them, but carefully. Don’t break anything, Jer.”

“Good thing the old geezer left plenty of boxes and bubble wrap, eh Syd?”

“Shut up and get to work.”

“You don’t have to be so mean about it.”

Sydney ignored Jerry’s whining. They’d acted just in time. The makeshift sign next to the shelves indicated their Grandpa was going to sell this stuff, probably for a fraction of their value. He didn’t care. He was rich.

But when Sydney and Jerry were arrested again, this time for assault and theft, he told them and their parents he was writing them all out of his will.

The only way the twins could recoup part of their losses was to smother the old man in his sleep and sell off any tangible objects he owned for as much as they could get.

Written in response to Sunday Photo Fiction – February 5th 2017 flash fiction challenge. The goal is to write a story of no more than 200 words based on the photo prompt above. My submission is exactly 200 words.

To read more stories based on this week’s prompt, visit InLinkz.com.

On Monday the Time Traveler Took Off

avro

Found at Avro 691 Lancastrian Wikiwand

Martin Fields knew time travel was dangerous, but not necessarily annoying. Their take off from the Negombo RAF Station, Colombo had been delayed two hours because of some problem with the Avro 691 Lancastrian One’s radio equipment. Finally, they’d gotten the problem worked out and the five crew, five passenger converted bomber was in the air again.

They were all going to die.

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On Sunday the Time Traveler Stayed Home

allaway 1976

Edward C. Allaway (c.), alleged killer of seven people at California State University two days earlier, is led into Orange County courthouse July 14, 1976. (TMS/Ap)

Martin Fields, time traveler in training, was finally given his first solo assignment.

Normally on Sundays, he stayed in his apartment, forgot about showering, dressed in his most grubby clothes, and tried out a new recipe for dinner.

Martin loved to cook and he loved to try out new foods. He was in his “Middle-Eastern food” stage now. But this Sunday, he figured the stove and the oven would go neglected. He had a solo time travel assignment, and Isis wouldn’t be around to bug him.

Of course, she wouldn’t be around to save his ass either, and this was a potentially dangerous mission. Interestingly enough, he wouldn’t be going anywhere at all…geographically. He would however, be going backward in time nearly 41 years in his own apartment. Of course it wasn’t his back then. He hadn’t even been born yet and the apartment building was brand new.

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The Apparition

hammerfest

© Google 2017

Nine-year-old Erik Lund quietly crept out of Hammerfest’s historic Hauen Chapel. He never knew his great-grandfather and didn’t understand why people were upset at his death. Bored with the service, he went outside to play in the snow-covered cemetary. That’s when the man in the old-fashioned uniform appeared.

“You must not be here. Go back inside.”

Erik had seen men like him in a history book. They were called Nazis. They’d been here a long time ago.

“Who are you?”

“A man who regrets many things.”

Erik was too young to understand, but captivated by the stranger.

“Go inside to your family. Go!”

Erik started to get scared, turned around, and ran. He didn’t see the apparition vanish. He didn’t see the seventy-year-old unexploded German mine the ghost had kept him from detonating.

The next summer, a groundskeeper would find it and have it safely removed.

hausen chapel

Hauen Chapel in Hammerfest – found at Wikipedia

I wrote this for the What Pegman Saw weekly photo prompt based on a Google maps location. The goal is to write a piece of flash fiction no longer than 150 words. My story is 146 words long.

This week the location is in Hammerfest, Norway. After doing a bit of Wikipedia research on the town, I discovered Hammerfest had been occupied by the Nazi’s during World War II. When they left in 1945, they destroyed almost the entire town. Only the historic Hauen Chapel pictured just above this commentary, survived.

I also found out that to this day, mines and munitions left over from the war are still being found and disposed of. I decided that a long dead German soldier, regretting his role in Hammerfest, came back one last time to save a child from the consequences of this single Nazi’s actions.

For more stories based on this week’s prompt, visit InLinkz.com.