M-A-C (21): ‘Dust Pail’
Category: whatsit
Collection Date: (REDACTED), 1980
Collection Location: (REDACTED), Missouri
Collection Report: Self-proclaimed ‘cityfolk’ (REDACTED) and (REDACTED) entered the dilapidated barn on the rural property they had just purchased, finding nothing unexpected. While cleaning it out a chalky metal milk pail was knocked onto its side. Continue reading
M-A-C (20): ‘Alcaboozit’
Category: doohickey
Collection Date: March 11th, 1968
Collection Location: (REDACTED), Alabama
Collection Report: This MAC was technically collected well before the existence of the catalog, sometime during prohibition. It consists of a man-sized dented copper still connected to various tangled lengths of hosing. Taken before modern evidence preservation standards, it sat abandoned in a basement for decades.
Harmless unless used, the moonshine produced by the still conjures up a specific repeatable hallucination entity that refers to itself as ‘Alcaboozit’: a lanky emaciated man in full star-patterned pajamas with ‘too wide a grin too full of too yellow teeth’. He is reported to ‘drift like a bubble and pop in your ear’. Continue reading
M-A-C (19): ‘Freckle Lemonade’
Category: whatsit
Collection Date: (REDACTED), 1991
Collection Location: (REDACTED), Michigan
Collection Report: Mid-(REDACTED), local police received a report from an irate woman with a densely freckled face further riddled with self-inflicted scratches. She said two children had poisoned her and ‘destroyed her beauty’. Officers were led to the scene, where stood a plywood lemonade stand with a sloppily painted sign: lemonade – 50 cents. Continue reading
M-A-C (18): ‘Haw Haw Hawtty’
Category: whatsit
Collection Date: (REDACTED), 1997
Collection Location: (REDACTED), Florida
Collection Report: A fire at a convenience store/ fast food duo mega-rest stop claimed an unusually high number of lives, seasoned responding firefighters included. One of those responders was (REDACTED), cousin of senior rank collector (REDACTED), prompting unofficial investigation that became official upon discovery of the MAC in the blackened ruins.
M-A-C (18) is a novelty thermometer bent at a forty-five degree angle, molded into the plastic shell of a bikini-clad woman doubled over in laughter, dripping ambiguous tears/sweat. Continue reading
Fareeha,
I cannot hear you
My volume is too low
by
Blaine Arcade
A micro-collection of poetry crafted from intentionally mishearing the hard work of the delightful streamer and musician Fareeha.
Audio Log of Firewood
(source video: How TOTK’s Rito Village Breaks Your Heart)
This is a recording,
let’s dig in—
We hear of enrichment
as our ears clock how much
we reach survivorhood.
The town gives its all,
working to the bone
of the blessing oak
I’m tempted to recall
as their blade articulations
vary rapid. Continue reading
Author’s Note: This flash fiction story was written based on a prompt provided by a_d3ad_rat during a livestream. I hereby transfer all story rights to them, with the caveat that it remain posted on this blog. If you would like your own story, stop by twitch.tv/blainearcade during one of my streams and I’ll write it for you live!
Prompt: In a world where you can be anything, be a cyborg.
What a waste, thought every single child in the world once they learned what all the words meant, usually around eleven years old. ‘You can be anything’ all the books, posters, instructors, parents, and facilitators said. Eleven is when you figured out there was a second silent sentence after the first. ‘You can be anything; as long as it’s from the approved list.’
Wilt, now six years past this revelation, entered the job fair complex alongside his nervous mother. Domed white ceilings crisscrossing with beams draped a hundred banners, each playing a highlight reel of a different profession. The knowledge and experience of all these smiling professionals had come from the same exact place: the gates that Wilt and the other recently-adult prospects would stroll through in the next few hours. Continue reading
These stories were written live on stream based on prompts provided by the viewers. They have been edited, with this second more in-depth edit occurring much later, but not meaningfully rewritten or expanded so as to preserve the spirit of the exercise. Sadly, the prompts themselves were not recorded until many stories in. Sometimes the prompts were silly challenges, or quirky thoughts, or dark ideas, or utter nonsense. I did my best each time.
If you enjoy this, please check out the other activities from the stream. If you would like something longer and much more thoroughly planned, simply investigate my more traditional work at the top of the page.
From Now on, I Mind your Business
Prompt provided by WolfChkin
The backdoor of a sporting goods store was not the ideal place to skulk about. It was in plain view of the street, and not obscured by the dumpsters and pallets one might expect in a rainy alley. Still, it was where Dixon had to skulk. He was supposed to meet Ray by that door in exactly five minutes. Ray would step out, take his payment, and then disappear back inside. Continue reading
Here are the blurbs for my most in-depth and lengthy works, spanning several volumes, be they part of large arcs or simply taking place in the same world. You can check out the blurbs for short stories, novelettes, novellas, novella/novelette series, and standalone books at these links.
The Captain Rob Series
(Captain Rob Fights, Captain Rob Sinks, Captain Rob Robs, and Captain Rob Deals)
Born from ridiculous contrasts, high fantasy and lowbrow humor, one note jokes and epic book series, comes the four volumes of Captain Rob!
Rich with lore and odors, the world of Porce is much more than a gigantic public restroom to its many races and creatures. In the waters of Third Sink a maligned vessel is commanded by Captain Kilrobin Ordr, fierce pirate, slightly undead warrior, and gentleman scholar, well… man scholar.
The Captain and his crew face many challenges on their journeys, from graffiti worshiping Toil Papists who praise their god’s glory at Glory Hole to monsters engineered by the world to defeat them, along with bloodthirsty reflections, sewer-sea beasts, and tornado spewing hand dryers. Do you have the courage to peek behind the bathroom door and find out what’s making all those terrible sounds!? Then barge right in and partake in the plumbing of new depths! Continue reading
Don’t Strike the Platform
by
Blaine Arcade
Cupcakes awaited in the break room; the scent was clear as he’d passed by. His coworkers figured he couldn’t smell through the hood, but it was much thinner than people thought. Black as night, yet clear as a bell. All his senses were needed to get his swing right.
And by the reaper he had gotten it right, every time, every year, up to today. His final swing: the 733rd. One strike. If it took two his record was ruined. Retirement would sour. Cupcakes would taste like ash.
The swinger made his way up the five steps to his black platform, sealed slats ready for runoff. Closed audience. Two television cameras. Everyone around the country knew him, but none knew his face, just the expert swing. The block was locked in with the basket. Clean, but not slippery. Good job Phil. Phil was on rags and mops. Good guy, No perfect record though.
Up came the squirmer with his handlers. They marched him up, bent him, and locked him on the block. Squirming couldn’t do any good now, but most kept going like live bait. Continue reading
These stories were written live on stream based on prompts provided by the viewers. They have been edited, with this second more in-depth edit occurring much later, but not meaningfully rewritten or expanded so as to preserve the spirit of the exercise. Sadly, the prompts themselves were not recorded until many stories in. Sometimes the prompts were silly challenges, or quirky thoughts, or dark ideas, or utter nonsense. I did my best each time.
If you enjoy this, please check out the other activities from the stream. If you would like something longer and much more thoroughly planned, simply investigate my more traditional work at the top of the page.
Recognizable Scratches
prompt provided by Chaytoncross
Six little pairs of shoes hovered a foot off the old wooden floor of the schoolhouse. The seventh pair belonged to an adult and shuddered up and down where the others were deathly still. Four button noses were pressed against the peeling paint, flakes falling faster than ever thanks to their giggling. One of the girls tapped on the wood and waited for a response.
Clop, clop, clop, the wall responded, exactly like the hoof stamps of a pony. Their giggles answered it. The girl tapped on the wall twice more. Clop clop. Continue reading
Blaine Arcade 