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Super-Short Storytime: “The Pit of Success”


Welcome to Super-Short Storytime, lovers of literature and fans of fiction!  I am Eduardo Soliz, the author and narrator of the fantastically frank tale that you are about to hear.

Like other folks who fashion fiction, inspiration for my stories often comes from real life. This particular tale was inspired my time spent in the corporate jungle. This story is part of “Nine to Five Lives,” a free e-book which can be downloaded from eduardosoliz.com, this big business brief bears the title of: “The Pit of Success”

Alan was particularly glad to be at work today. After months of working overtime, finishing projects ahead of schedule, and just a little bit of schmoozing, he had been deemed worthy to be promoted to work in “The Pit.” The Pit was a special area where the best of the best worked on secret projects that represented the future of the company.

As he struggled to hold up a cardboard box that held his personal items, Alan held his badge above the doorknob to the entrance to the Pit as he had been told. It was a nondescript door that he had walked by every day without ever thinking about what was inside. A click sounded as the lock released. Alan balanced the box on one hand and used his other one to quickly open the door.

He entered the room and closed the door behind him. But for a single light that was above him, the room was completely dark except for some blinking LED lights scattered about. A voice suddenly came from the ceiling. Alan recognized it as belonging to the supervisor that he had conducted a phone interview with the week before: “Leave that box by the door, Mister Johnson. You will not need those things here.”  It said.

Alan did as he was instructed. He nervously looked around for somebody, but the office appeared to be unoccupied. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw rows upon rows of cubicles, just like in his previous office.

“Please proceed to your new cubicle, Mister Johnson.” The supervisor’s voice said. A small light turned on in the room. Alan started to make his way towards the light. As he passed by the other cubicles, he noticed that each one contained an egg-shaped pod just large enough to hold a person. Alan recognized a few of the names on the name tags as former coworkers that had been promoted before him, much to his chagrin.

“You have gone above and beyond your peers in your devotion to this company, Mister Johnson. You will now become a part of the company as you had desired. Take your seat and join us.” The voice said. Alan peered into the interior pod and hesitated.

“This isn’t what I had in mind. Does everyone have to sit in these…things, here?” Alan asked, looking up at the ceiling.

“It is necessary to make you part of the company. You are free to return to your previous position if you wish. We can always find somebody else to fill this position.” The voice answered.

Hell, no. I worked too hard for this. Alan thought. He climbed into the pod. The leather seat within was surprisingly comfortable; he relaxed as he settled into it. Without warning, the pod closed above him. A screen built into the pod’s wall lit up and a keyboard and trak-ball slid in front of him from the side. Well, this is kinda neat, Alan thought as he logged into his terminal and started to work.

Alan noticed an odd flicker occasionally coming from the screen. It annoyed him at first, but it eventually became oddly comforting. He continued working and quickly discovered that he could do everything inside the pod, even attend meetings. He only left the pod to go to the bathroom and eat lunch.

Hours later, the clock on Alan’s computer screen indicated that it was time for the workday to end, but he had no desire to leave. Alan barely overheard his former coworkers leaving through the hallway and thought about his home and family for a moment, but the thought was quickly squelched by the messages that had been delivered to him by the hypnotic series of flashes that he had been subjected to on the screen.

YOU ARE PART OF THE COMPANY.
THERE IS NOTHING ELSE.
THERE IS WORK TO DO.

“There is work to do.” Alan softly said to nobody as he typed away. A message flashed on his screen: technicians would be coming in an hour to make him one with the pod so that he would never have to leave at all.

Alan smiled.

THE END.

This company definitely brings new meaning to the term ‘human resource,’ and this is one future that I hope never comes to pass. This has been Super-Short Storytime! Visit eduardo soliz dot com for more stories and free e-book downloads, and remember listeners, always keep that work-life balance!

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Super-Short Storytime: “Emergency”

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Welcome to Super-Short Storytime, lovers of literature and fans of fiction!  I am Eduardo Soliz, the composer and narrator of the supremely silly tale that you are about to hear.

If there is one thing that steampunks and furries have in common, it’s that members of both groups love to parade about in their finest fictional fashion.  A pair of fur-bearing blue-bloods try to handle a real crisis in this steam-powered story that I call: “Emergency”


“Brace yourself, my dear!” The gentlewolf yelled to his mistress as the airship began to slowly list to one side.  In response, Muffy reached to grab onto a large pipe that was near to her, but the arctic fox woman immediately released it due to its extreme heat.

“Ah!  Monty, it’s too hot!” Muffy exclaimed, backing away from the pipe.  She shook her singed white paws in the air and blew on them before making her way over to Monty.

Lord Montague adjusted his monocle before looking over the many needles, indicators, numbers and controls at his disposal.  The more he looked at them, the less sense they made.  The room began to shake as the airship’s engines struggled to keep it aloft.

Monty’s voice took on an air of desperation:  “I have tried everything, my dear Muffy, but nothing appears to be working!  Perhaps this one?  Or maybe this one?”  He said, randomly pressing buttons, pulling levers and turning knobs in vain.  A whistle sounded as the intensity of the shaking increased.  Having reached Monty, Muffy pulled him away from the engine controls.

“Oh, Monty, my love!  It is a shame that our young lives must come to an end like this!  Let us share one last kiss as we hurtle to our doom!”  Muffy cried.  She held onto Monty tightly, tears welling in her eyes.

“Yes, my love!  We shall take our forbidden love to the world that lies beyond this one!”  Monty replied.  He and Muffy embraced deeply as warning bells and whistles sounded in protest around them.

A door then suddenly burst open and a short female dog ran into the control room.  She had light brown fur, floppy ears and wore denim overalls that were soiled with oil and grease.  She growled upon catching sight of the amorous aristocrats, who ignored her as they kissed.

“I swear, I can’t eat dinner or take a nap without you blasted bluebloods coming down here and tamperin’ with MY engines!!” the young engineer exclaimed as she walked over to the engine controls.  After looking over a row of gauges, the engineer began to quickly adjust the controls, her paws expertly flipping switches, turning dials and pressing buttons with the grace of a concert pianist.  The whistles and bells went silent and the ship’s shaking and listing gradually ceased.  Satisfied that all was well, the engineer turned to the young couple, whom had broken their embrace, but were still in each other’s arms.

“What in the Sam Hill were y’all thinkin’?” She angrily yelled at them. “This here engine is a delly-cate machine that should only be operated on by experts like me!  The next passenger that I catch sneaking around in here is a-goin’ to get hogtied and thrown into the cargo hold!  NOW GIT!!” she told them as she pointed to an exit.

“You mean to tell me you are not an engineer, Monty?” Muffy asked with a disgusted look on her face as she removed herself from Monty’s arms and started to walk towards the exit.

“Well…uh…no?”   Monty replied half-heartedly.  “Muffy!  Come back!” he cried as he chased his now-former mistress.

The exasperated engineer wiped her forehead and hands with a handkerchief and sighed with relief as the outer door closed behind Monty.  She then said, to no one in particular:

“How about that Mister Fancypants thinking he’s a steam engineer!   What kind of engineer dresses up in their Sunday best to go to work?”

THE END

While clothes might make the man, listeners, they don’t necessarily make him a smart one.  This been Super-Short Storytime, For more tiny tales, visit eduardo soliz dot com, and remember listeners, the past just isn’t what it used to be!

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Super-Short Storytime: “Freako”

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Welcome to Super-Short Storytime, lovers of literature and fans of fiction!  I am Eduardo Soliz, the composer and narrator of the wonderfully weird words that you are about to hear:

Some people like to enjoy things that the majority of folks just don’t understand.  This selection from my free e-book ‘ten tiny tales’ is an oration about one unfortunately ostracized oddball. I call it: “Freako.”


Alan walked into the office with a spring in his step and a big smile on his face.  It was Friday, it was payday, and he would only be hanging around the office long enough to submit his time report for the week.  He couldn’t wait to start his long weekend.

As he briskly walked through the office, a woman recognized him, “Hey, Al, I thought you weren’t coming in today, did something change?”

Alan stopped to chat, beaming as he answered: “Nope, I’m just here to put in my timesheet and then the fun begins!”

“Oh, that’s right.”  The woman replied with a look of scorn on her face.  “You’re going to that thing to hang out with all those freakos, huh?”

“Well, I wouldn’t call them weirdos, Janet, I mean, lots of people are going to be there, and…” Alan started to explain before Janet raised her hand to interrupt him.

“That’s okay Al, I don’t need to hear about what you all do there, dressed up in those weird outfits and all.”  Janet quickly said.

“hhm…okay.  Sorry, Janet.”  Alan sheepishly said before continuing on his way.  Arriving at his cubicle, he sat down and turned on his computer.  While he waited for it to start, another coworker peeked his head in.

“What’s up, Al!” asked Jon as Alan turned to face him.

“Not much, Jon, I forgot to put in my time, and I want to get paid next week, so here I am.”  Alan answered.  “Hey, do you wanna join me at…”

“No way, man!”  Jon exclaimed, his face grimacing at the thought. “I wouldn’t be caught dead at that sausage-fest!  You have fun, though!” Jon said before ducking out of the cubicle.

Alan entered his time and then shut down the computer.  Dejected, he sighed, and began to walk away from his desk to start his weekend.  The smile on his face and the spring in his step were now gone.

“*sigh* Everybody makes fun of me just because I like something different.”  Alan thought to himself as he left the building and slowly walked to his car. “I wish my coworkers would stop giving me crap for being a football fan!!”

THE END.

It’s never easy being the odd man out, Listeners, so try to be nice.  If you’d like to hear or read more super-short stories scribed and said by yours truly, visit eduardosoliz.com This has been Super-Short Story time. Remember, listeners, we’re all weirdos to somebody!

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The More Universes, the Merrier!

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A while back I mulled over the worlds that my short stories take place in and came up with three distinct ‘universes’ or ‘worlds’ that most of them would probably fit into:

  • Earth-F, which is inhabited by talking animals and is where most of my funny stories take place
  • Earth-H-Minus, where humans ‘blew it all up’ and the furries inherited the Earth…not quite so funny.
  • Earth-M, where magic and furries exist, though outside of the Enchanted Forest stories, I haven’t done much there

Of course, there’s also boring old “Earth Prime,” which is our reality, such as it is.  Most of my science-fiction would likely go here, since I try to make those stories at least somewhat plausible.

And then there are my Christmas stories. I thought it would be cool to tie them together, so in “The X-Mas File,” I had a character make a passing reference to what happened in “Christmas Wishes,” my first Christmas story.  In 2017, I decided ‘why the heck not, let’s tie EVERYTHING together,’ so “Evidence,” my 2017 Christmas story, takes place at the fictional mega-corporation ‘Gooplezonsoft.’  Indeed, the events from “As Designed,” the first story to feature Gooplezonsoft, are alluded to there.

Thus, in the world of Gooplezonsoft: Santa Claus is real. He also doesn’t live at the North Pole, either, though you’ll have to read The X-Mas File to find out where he’s hiding. 😉

I’m not completely sure what to call that world, though. “Earth-S,” for Santa, perhaps? Either way, it’s a fun place to be and I already have an idea in mind for next year’s Christmas story, after I post a more upbeat one to make up for “Confession,” tomorrow.

Click here to read my short stories!

Click here to read my Christmas stories!


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Super-Short Stories of Science Gone Mad!

In celebration of Furry Fiesta: Mad Science taking place this weekend, here are a few of my favorite science fiction stories!

A computer created to handle customers goes down, or was it “As Designed?”

What enters his world when a scientist opens a “Doorway” into another dimension?

Intent on taking the world, a madman has to get some minor details ironed out, because it’s”All In The Name.”

One classmate became a business man, the other, a mad scientist; you can imagine how well their “Reunion” went.

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Working My Way To the Top (of the page)

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Bottom, bottom, bottom…

I forget which short story collection I was working on and discussing with a friend, but he posed an interesting question as we were chatting:

Why is your name always at the bottom of your covers?  Shouldn’t it be on the top?

While I may not completely produce my own covers anymore (for the better, as you can likely tell) I do place the text atop the artwork.  The decision to de-emphasize myself was a conscious one and I did it for a very simple reason:

Nobody knows who I am.

It’s a harsh thing to admit, of course, but that doesn’t make it any less true. If I put “Eduardo Soliz” on the top of a cover, a potential reader might think that the book is about a guy with that name, or they might even think it’s in Spanish.  Either way, my name (right now, at least) is not a very big selling point.

Stephen King and James Patterson and those guys, yeah, they can put their names up top because people will recognize then as authors who’s work they enjoy so they’ll be more inclined to pick up a book with their name on top and buy it.

Someday, I’ll be ‘big enough’ to have the nerve to put my name at the top of the page, but until then, I’ll have to play second fiddle to the books themselves.

Then again, maybe that’s how it should be!

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