I don’t share a lot of my fiction. The following story has been rejected by a publication or two, and instead of submitting it somewhere else, I’ve decided to just post it below. I love scholarly work and thought-provoking blog posts, but my first love has always been story writing. So I now share this story with the world.
The present topic of discussion: the merits of Caf food.
Devon proudly defended the university cafeteria’s menu and culinary decisions while chowing down on a red tomato sauce poured over a plate of room temperature pasta. On the other side of the table, Hayden lectured on the glories of gourmet steak and free-range chickens, motioning to his bowl of salad (with no dressing) and to the surrounding eatery with lavish gestures reminiscent of an air traffic controller. Lindsay sat next to Devon, glancing sideways at the conversation while she ate Cinnamon Toast Crunch for dinner.
Hayden stopped the gesturing for just a moment to say, “All I’m suggesting is we get some tasty food. Something a bit fancier and actually delicious.”
“Hayden—dude—I’m not saying that I wouldn’t mind better food,” Devon tried to explain. “It’s just, with the money I’m already forking over for tuition, I don’t want my meal plan to double in cost.”
Hayden replied to Devon with more dramatic hand waving. “I can dream, okay! I can dream.”
Lindsay saw fit to chime in: “Devon’s right. I mean, the food’s not that bad. You shouldn’t be so picky.”
“Yeah.” Devon nodded in agreement. “There’s no way you can even taste the difference between a free-range and a caged chicken. Are you saying that the degree of liberty given to any particular bird changes its flavor?”
Hayden looked between his two friends across the table and shook his head. They were missing the point entirely, much to his chagrin. “It’s not about the chickens, okay. It’s about the rights of my taste buds to high quality cuisine. ‘Free-range’ just make it sound cool to eat, like I’m some rebel hipster or something.”
“Okay, dude, whatever you say.”
“To your point earlier, we are paying a small fortune to get a private Christian college education. You think they could spice up the dinner options at least a little bit.”
“You’re not going to back form this, are you?” Lindsey smirked and continued eating.
To showcase his resolve, Hayden threw his hands up and leaned back a bit in his chair. “When have I ever let something go? I’m a man on a mission. I’ll take this right to the school president’s door if I have to! I’ll get my fancy chicken.”
Devon laughed. “Please, please let me know when you march to the President’s office holding up your plate—,” Devon held up his plate for dramatic effect, “—chanting, ‘Free-range chickens for the Caf!’”
Appearing with an imperceivable passage of time a small creature now perched on Devon’s pasta. A live chicken, with perfect white feathers and a bright red crest, gave a brief shriek before fluttering down from his plate. Many times, such an abrupt event is described as happening “in the blink of an eye.” But the transition from fettuccini to fowl occurred faster than even a blink of an eye, it happened in seamlessly faster than time could record.
Devon dropped his plate and jolted his chair back from the table. As the chicken scurried across the table, he couldn’t help notice the unaltered faces of his friends. To them, it appeared chickens dancing around at dinner was par for the course.
“Hey, what’s gotten into you!” exclaimed Hayden. He offered his friend a look of concern. For Hyaden, that meant looking over his glasses at you. “What’s with the plate-slamming?”
“There’s a chicken!” Devon’s eyes followed the chicken as it hopped off the table and across the room.
“The chicken scared you?” Hayden grinned, clearly enjoying himself.
“Yeah, because suddenly there is a live chicken on my plate! It’s just walking around!” he yelled. Other students began to glance over at him.
“Um, Devon, you’re acting like the Caf hasn’t served chickens for all the year’s you’ve been here. Why the freak out today?”
Confused, Devon eyeballed Hayden and noted Lindsay’s quiet unease. “What are you talking about? Do you see the chicken?”
Lindsay rested a hand softly on her friend’s shoulder. “Yes, we see the chicken. We just don’t know why you are acting this way. I thought you’d gotten used to the free-range chickens like the rest of us.”
“Yeah, remember,” Hayden said, “students demanded better food, so we got our better food.”
“I know for a fact that the Caf has never served live chickens.”
Though Devon couldn’t be sure, it seemed the chicken disappeared into thin air. Or maybe, it just pranced away out of sight.
Hayden tried to hold back his laughter. “I know the Caf doesn’t serve live chickens, Devon. I was just saying that if they picked up the chicken meat from a local source—”
“My pasta is back…” Devon muttered under his breath.
Leaning forward, Hayden gave him a quizzical look. “Are you suggesting it got up and left and now it’s returned? It missed you too much?”
“But you just said…” Devon trailed off. He looked at his concerned and confused friends. “You said the Caf always has served live chickens.”
“Yeah, I did say that. That was like two seconds ago. They always have, Devon.”
“But then you said they don’t serve live chickens.”
“Yeah, I know what I said. The Caf has never served live chickens. Why’s that so hard to understand?”
Devon breathed out heavily. “Why was there a chicken on my plate!”
“What is going on with you?” Lindsay asked. “You’re not making any sense. Maybe you should go back to your dorm to lie down.”
Hayden took a bite of his salad, chewed thoroughly, and then said, “Are you…seeing chickens? Are they, like, speaking to you? Telling you to do things.”
It was all Devon could do not to burst. He calmed himself down by gulping his Dr. Pepper until the straw couldn’t find any more of the carbonated beverage in the cup. He spoke slowly. “Hayden, Lindsay—you don’t get it. I’m not imagining this! One second, I was eating my pasta. All was normal. Then, there’s a live chicken on my plate!”
It happened again. On his plate, a live chicken clucked. It pecked at his plate but then moved on to greener pastures.
“There! Right there!” Devon loudly declared. He jumped out of his chair and put his hands on his head. “Another chicken!”
A second chicken appeared on the table. It locked eyes with some guy’s corn on the cob farther down and made a beeline for the food.
Lindsay stood up, giving him her best motherly look to attempt to calm him. Softly, she told him, “You’re not acting rational.”
“I’m very rational!” he screamed.
Lindsay nodded. Matter-of-factly, she said, “You’re very rational.”
“I’m not crazy!”
“Oh, you’re not crazy.” She agreed with no complaints.
Something was off. It seemed that Lindsay repeated back to Devon whatever he said. But it was more than that—something else was at play. Her whole attitude and demeanor changed to reflect whatever statement he had said. Blindly, Lindsay embraced whatever truth he uttered.
Now the chickens running around were the least of his worries. Curious, Devon lowered his arms to his side and looked deep into Lindsay’s eyes to see if the answer lied within. He asked delicately, “Why are you agreeing with me suddenly?”
“Devon,” she said. “Everything you say is truth.”
“Truth…” Devon whispered. He hung on that word, holding it tight.
Could it really be? Was it so? Is it even possible to have such power?
Carefully, knowing this could end disastrously, Devon articulated a statement—just a single sentence—for experimental purposes. One declaration that could prove the theory bubbling around in his mind. He had to test it. “Lindsay…you’re my girlfriend.”
Like a sleepy dog perks up at the sound of kibble pouring into a food dish, Lindsay dramatically transformed once Devon finished the sentence. A smile that screamed “I’m smitten for you” grew across her face. Her eyes sparkled as only the eyes of a girl freshly in love can. She began closing the gap between her and Devon, no longer paying attention to personal space. Reaching out, her hands caught his, massaging them gently with her fingers as she nervously shifted from foot to foot.
Her eyes twinkled more when she asked, “Sweetie, when are you picking me up for ice skating tonight?”
“Ice skating? I don’t even like ice skating. I spend more time face planting on the ice than I do actually skating.”
She puffed out her bottom lip. “But we’re going ice skating because you love me and I love ice skating.”
Still sitting down, getting board of his dinner, Hayden reminded them of his presence. “Hey lovebirds, can you dial it down like 20 notches? Your romance is reminding me too much of my lack of a love life and the fact that I’ll be forever alone.”
Still holding on to Devon’s hand, Lindsay spun on her toes to face Hayden. “You’re just jealous of our true love.”
“Yes, I know. I literally just admitted that.”
Devon knew that he could cheer his friend. “You won’t be forever alone.”
Hayden crooked his head. “I have this strange feeling that I won’t be forever alone.”
“In fact, you have a girlfriend.” Devon paused. “And she’s really hot.”
In the seat next to Hayden an attractive, skinny blonde sprouted from the air and leaned over to kiss him on the cheek leaving a faint trace of rose-colored lipstick.
Turning to his “girlfriend,” Devon exclaimed that they would not indeed be going ice skating. “We’re seeing a movie tonight. And you like that.”
She squeezed his hand tight. “I’m so glad we’re seeing a move together tonight. I love seeing movies with you.”
“You’re lucky to have me.”
“I’m lucky to have you.”
The realization of his endless abilities hit him hard. Whether he could manipulate reality or this was only a dream, he didn’t care. What Devon did care about is that suddenly and uniquely the world was in his control. He decided truth. No one else. Truth sat in his hands and he could do with it as he pleased.
A power coursed through him. Each new truth he constructed just left him craving more. He suddenly hadn’t gone far enough. The hunger grew more powerful. He needed to push his limits.
Devon let go of Lindsay’s hand. “Sorry babe.”
“What are you sorry?” she asked.
“I have three girlfriends.”
Two drop-dead gorgeous ladies effortlessly stepped out of the air like someone might step out a door. They fawned over him and complimented him on his good looks.
“Yeah, I have a six pack.” And Devon’s word’s became truth. He felt nothing but abruptly became aware of his muscles. But he didn’t stop there. He couldn’t stop there.
“College is free. Actually, I can do one better. College doesn’t exist. We don’t need that piece of paper to get anywhere in life.”
He found himself in the middle of a field. Cows mooed in the distance and the wind rustled the tall grass. Next to him, Lindsay and his other two girlfriends stood—all three of them lovingly staring at their boyfriend. Hayden and his girlfriend were nowhere to be found.
“What else can I do… Uh, Jupiter is smaller than Mars. The ocean is made of chocolate. And I’m wearing a custom-tailored suit that makes me look super attractive.”
Unseen, he knew Jupiter shrunk. Far off, the ocean sloshed with dark brown waves. And the young college lad in the middle of the field posed in a custom Italian suit that accentuated all his stunning features.
“Hmm. Alright, I’ll be good now. I declare world peace! No famine. No war.”
He thought to his grandmother. The poor woman had not a penny to her name but would pray every night Lord, my one prayer is that the whole world comes to know You.
So Devon decided while he was busy improving the world, might as well impose his religious beliefs on everyone.
“Everyone is a Christian.”
The girls next time him now wore more modest clothing. One had a cross necklace. They were still outlandishly attractive, so he didn’t complain. Making everyone a Christian made his life easier. He didn’t really like to evangelize anyway.
But Devon wasn’t done. Now that he felt good about himself for being somewhat responsible with his ability to create truth, he felt that he deserved a little something extra for himself. Since there already wasn’t any war, since everyone already adopted the Christian faith, what harm could have in boosting his own position…
“I’m king of the world!”
He found himself sitting on a golden throne in a large ornate marble chamber. The room spanned enough space to accommodate thousands of people of different nationalities and skin colors who prostrated themselves on colorful mats on the ground, singing his praises. His girlfriends disappeared, but plenty more girls stood as eye candy next to his throne.
“I can fly.”
Taking a step away from the throne, he jumped upward, and his body drifted above the ground.
“I have super strength.” Accelerating faster as he flew higher, he lifted a fist toward the ceiling of the palace, shattering the marble, feeling no pain. Higher, higher, higher he went into the sky, watching his domain become little toy structures below him.
“I’m indestructible, unkillable!”
Flying higher into the atmosphere. Devon’s body became inflamed as he picked up speed. Soon, the fire dissipated outside of the earth’s oxygen-rich atmosphere. Devon had no sign of damage. He could effortlessly breath in the vacuum of space. He continued his flight at an incredible speed, going faster than any rocket could ever take man. In a mere matter of measly moments, Devon spotted Mars. On this planet, he landed comfortably and gazed around the empty sea of red rocks.
“I want a fortress on Mars.”
Crystalline walls built themselves around him at light speed. Faceless soldiers in white uniforms march around the base, barking commands and following orders. Devon stands on a platform overlooking them all—overlooking his galactic army.
“I rule the universe.”
Shapes appears on the wall adjacent to Devon’s platform. The shapes show a three dimensional map of the entire universe, planets and suns and satellites spinning in real time. Devon knows he rules all of it. Ever last habitable scrap of land. Every last gas giant or ancient star. Every last man, woman, child. He thought he needed to rule the aliens too.
“Oh, and aliens exist. But they are my slaves”
Purple humanoid creatures stepped from the shadows to serve him all his favorite foods. Their wrists, ankles, and necks were outfitted with large metallic cuffs that hummed with electricity. They spoke nothing and refused to meet his eyes.
“Fine. The aliens willingly serve me.”
The metallic bracelets disappeared on the purple beings.
The hunger inside him was not yet satisfied, but Devon didn’t know what other truths to speak. What more could he want? Every mind could think only because Devon the Overlord allowed them to think. He knew he was in complete control. All reality bends to his doing. All truth is dependent on him. Whatever dark magic gave him this ability, he did not know. All he cared about was how high and mighty he had become in a matter of minutes thanks to his monopoly on truth.
For old times’ sake, that is, in honor of what happened just ten minutes ago, Devon held out his hand. He said, “There is a free-range chicken on my plate.”
Accordingly, a plate topped with a befuddled chicken instantaneously existed in his hand. The chicken squirmed around and fluttered off the plate, down the platform and into the crowd of soldiers. Men shouted and the bird cried out as human and avian tumbled over and into each other. After a while, a cadet picked up the chicken by grasping its neck. Holding the chicken close to his chest for leverage, the cadet twisted his arm, snapping the spine of the bird. It didn’t make a sound; it’s head dropped lifelessly. The cadet dropped the chicken and moved on.
What else could Devon do? No man was more powerful than he. All creation obeyed him. He was a god. And a benevolent one, he liked to think. Yet, he realized one lose end remained. All power given to him by his domination over truth did not make him the most powerful being in the universe. One other being remained that he had to go if he wanted complete, undeniable, ultimate control.
The thought crawled to the forefront of his mind. Did he dare? The thought feed his ego. It seemed to strangle his free will. Afterall, he was pretty good at making the universe, wasn’t he? He felt he had to act or suffer from the force eating him from the inside. The actual Creator, he was reminded, did a pretty bad job of stopping evil—it would not be hard to improve on creation. Yes, he thought. He dared. He would do it. It needed to be done.
Glancing at the map depicting the universe he had effortlessly conquered, he opened his mouth. It remained open for a few seconds. But the pause was immediately taken over by the pride. No longer could he hesitate. He acted.
Devon said what needed saying: “God does not exist.”
And then—
