Newsletter from Jay Wilcox - January 2025: Some Stories
Good morning/afternoon/evening!
Happy New Year! I hope you've been well.
Ursula's coming up on her first birthday. She's grown so much and inspires me every day, and to channel the joy she's brought into my life, I've been writing a comedic novel--a change of pace from my usual dramas.
As training for such a novel, I've also been writing a bunch of weird little short stories online. Are you familiar with Reddit? If so, are you familiar with the subreddit WritingPrompts? As its name suggests, this website (https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/) provides writing prompts, with writers posting their responses as comments. I joined the WritingPrompts community back in June--and to ring in 2025, I'd like to share some of my short works from that space. The stories I've copied below were all written on my phone while Ursula slept on my chest.
Enjoy!
PROMPT: You are completely immortal, except for one weakness. Most people assume it is something super rare or incredibly obscure, but in reality it is so mundane that no one would even consider it.
You really, really hope no one takes out your batteries.
Honestly, the humans shouldn't even know about your battery hatch. Their technology has evolved long past triple-As, so the thought of an automaton depending desperately on the last Duracell dealer in the world wouldn't even occur to them.
So relax and enjoy the game. After all, Little Kev's finally getting to play midfield.
"He looks like a natural out there," you say, leaning over the arm of your folding camping chair toward your friend, Big Kev. "You must be so proud."
"Yeah, he's been talking about this game all week. He was feeling pretty nervous in the car."
If even one of your forty-five batteries shifts out of alignment, you will die. "I bet! It's the playoffs."
Big Kev continues. "I told him he just has to get his head in the game. You know? Hey, you want a beer?"
If even one of your forty-five batteries gets wet, you will die. "No thanks," you say.
You watch as he pops open a Leinenkugel, just as Little Kev scores a goal. The crowd goes wild--and soon everyone's doing the so-called "wave" you've heard about. You throw up your arms in participation and brace yourself for oblivion.
Except none of your batteries fell out of alignment.
You're fine, apparently. For now.
"You know, Calculax," Big Kev says, "I appreciate you coming to the game today. Little Kev didn't want me to say anything, but it means the world to him that you're here." Big Kev pauses. "In fact, he was going to ask if you wanted to chaperone his class's trip to the Grand Canyon next week. I'd do it if I wasn't on this work trip."
You gulp. "The Grand Canyon?"
"That's right."
If even one of your forty-five batteries has an aesthetic experience, you will die. "Let me reboot on it," you finally respond.
"That's fine. Take your time."
As an automaton, the concept of "taking" time does not compute. You feel an uneasiness deep in your forty-five batteries.
---
PROMPT: everyone at the age of 10 gets to pick a movie. Whatever movie you pick you gain powers based on it. People usually pick iron man or super man or even Pokémon to get there powers. Everyone is panicking because you pick the most a movie that no one knows the outcome of...
"What do you mean Twelve Angry Men?" your dad cries. "How are you gonna make the varsity football team with that? What are you gonna do, argue your way in?"
You knew it was a bad idea to reveal your choice during the family cookout. Everyone at the picnic table's watching you, waiting for your reaction.
"You could've at least gone with Friday Night Lights or Remember the Titans. Hell, Forrest Gump could've made you a running back."
"Now hold on," your mother says, "I'm sure Jeremy made his choice for a reason. Jeremy, honey, we support you no matter what."
Now your older brother speaks up. "No matter what? I ain't having a nerd for a little brother!"
That does it. You lower your copy of the Economist and turn toward your brother. "Your passion seems to have colored your argument," you say. "How can you convict me before you truly know me? Can you prove I am a 'nerd,' as you say, beyond a reasonable doubt?"
He seems confused. "Well, yeah," he says at last.
"Fair enough. But perhaps your condemnation comes from a place of doubt--an uncertainty about your own future and your place in this family." You turn toward the rest of your family. All eleven of them. "I ask you, can we condemn a man in the presence of such doubt?"
Uncle Larry dismissively waves an old, withered hand. "I just want to go home," he says. "I'm missing the ballgame."
"Fair enough," you say again. You must dig deep, channeling every drop of your new powers. "But does our entire justice system not rest on the presumption of innocence until one is proven nerdy? And even if one is proven so, does he not still deserve all the trappings and accommodations of a fair society?"
Uncle Larry gasps. A revelation. "I agree now!" he cries.
A hush falls over the table. The tides have shifted. You turn toward your father, the last holdout, as a single tear rolls down his cheek. "I love you, son," he says. "I vote yes."
Your brother, again, looks confused. "'Vote yes?' We had to vote on something? I thought we all just supported Jeremy now." He looks around. "What's going on?"
---
PROMPT: Since birth you’ve always had a voice in your head that tells you what the best course of action is. But when you were about to step into the bank. It said “RUN NOW”
You know what? Maybe it IS time to finally throw your hat into the mayoral race.
You were originally hitting up the bank for some free Dum Dums, but now you decide to withdraw funds to cover poster-making costs. As you approach the counter, you imagine your inauguration, your first speech in office--but your thoughts are interrupted when a gang of ruffians bursts through the front doors.
"FREEZE!" they shout. "THIS IS A ROBBERY!"
See, this is the kind of crime that inspired you to run in the first place.
As the other patrons duck for cover, you scan the counter's windows but find no bank employees. As mayor, your first priority will be boosting employment. That and reducing crime.
"HEY WISEGUY," one of the ruffians shouts. He--another understandably frustrated constituent--is talking to you. "YOU WANNA TAKE THIS OUTSIDE?"
As mayor, your first priority will be improving the city's natural outdoor spaces. "Why yes!" you declare. "I would love to take this outside, to one of our city's many--"
"SHUT UP!"
A valid concern. You approach the ruffian. "Good question," you say. "When I am elected mayor, I promise--"
The ruffian throws a punch but misses you by a mile, stumbling--which reminds you that, as mayor, your first priority will be improving youth athletics programs. That and reducing crime.
The five other ruffians close in on you.
You hold up your hands. "I'm afraid I only have time for one more question," you say. "Yes--you in the ski mask."
The ski-masked ruffian clears his throat. He must be almost seven feet tall, with shoulders that could stop a train. "MY DAUGHTER HAD THREE SERVINGS OF APPLESAUCE IN HER SCHOOL LUNCH YESTERDAY," he shouts. "AS MAYOR, WHAT WOULD YOU DO TO ENSURE OUR CHILDREN GET THE NUTRIENTS THEY NEED TO SUCCEED?"
Wait until he sees your school-lunch-programs binder. Before you can answer, a SWAT team crashes through the doors and windows, swiftly subduing the ruffians. Someone must have pressed the bank's silent alarm.
As the dust clears, the current mayor--who just happened to be depositing a birthday check from his aunt that day--approaches you. He claps a hand on your shoulder. "That was some display of leadership," he says. His eye lights up with a mayorly twinkle, his mustache quivering with emotion. "Do you want to be mayor now?"
"Why yes!" you exclaim.
And just like that, he hands over his sash and giant novelty key to the city.
Everyone claps.
---
Thank you so much for reading. If you enjoy this stuff, I encourage you to subscribe (and bring a friend) to my official subreddit, which can be found here --> https://www.reddit.com/r/JWORX_531/
I hope you're enjoying the new year--and, as always, you're welcome to write back.
Infinite Regards,
Jay