Dylan Ritch is a fiction writer whose stories reflect the human experience using genres such as Fantasy, Horror, and Sci-Fi. Ritch's stories strive to be equal part thought-provoking and entertaining. Enjoy and happy reading!
The love of Ezedrin
“If love condemns me to die, it will do the same for you.” Ezedrin met Rowen by happenstance. He was selling leatherworks on a wintry day when the winds blew sharper than swords. His shop wasn’t much to look at. Little more than a hastily constructed wooden stand with a variety of leather gloves, bags, and sheathes nailed across its frame.
I can’t shake the memory of her screaming. “No! No! No!” Each time a little weaker and a little shriller than the time before, until she stopped making any sound at all. I had wanted to do something, to figure out what was wrong, but every time she drove me into the wood, this incredible,euphoric, feeling sensation left me stunned.
“Be proud!” the other tools said. “It’s an honor to be chosen by the Carpenter. It means you’ve been given purpose!” I wanted to have a purpose. I’ve never known a tool that didn’t. Ever since I was small and barely fit into my handle, I’d been asking myself the same question. The question we all ask.
The Elevator Operator
Of my family, I have little to say. Little good to say that is. Mother was an artistic floozy who crafted her masterpieces between the sheets and deep into the hearts of men. The tools of her craft included flattery and gentle caresses that promised you’d forget who you were and why you hated yourself, for the night at least. Father was one such man who needed to forget because for all his boasting about cards and pool and money he was still, at the core of it all, a spineless pencil-shaped man with no great talent.
Being with a Human
EMERGENCY AIR SUPPLY: 70% "Y'know, I knew this was going to happen. There were all kinds of omens shouting at me, trying to warn me. But I didn't think anything of it. I just chalked it up to some bad luck—a weird morning... My alarm didn't go off almost making me late, my order being switched at my regular breakfast place...Silly stuff... We've been floating in dead space for what? 30 days? "
The importance of Theatre Education
Our students need theatre now more than ever. Theatre is the art of empathy. The practice of truthfully living in imaginary circumstances. Nevertheless, what does that mean, and how does it prepare a young person for the everyday day struggles of adulthood?
We laughed at Death
My family currently consists of 14 people and counting. My grandparents had four children and from there each child had at least one to two children who then had a couple kids of their own. In a family this big, you know that losing someone is inevitable. But you don't really think of it. Each holiday and birthday we gathered in my grandmother's tiny house until it seemed it would burst at the seams. We lifted our dinner plates to dodge young ones as they rushed by in play. We yelled over to each other for conversation because crossing the sea of people and furniture seemed more ridiculous somehow. Even more exacerbating was the time we'd spend debating over celebrities, politics, movies, and more. With such a kaleidoscope of personalities, it wasn't hard to find a differing opinion. Yet when our kind and soft-spoken grandfather said "It's time to pray." the room fell silent immediately. We argued and we fought and we made sure to always get the last word but our love for grandpa trumped all of that. No argument was so important it couldn't be put away if he asked us to. No one's voice was more important than his. He listened to all of us in our time of need and thus every person whether in through blood or marriage owed this man a life debt of love and respect. We knew this pillar of our family structure would one day leave us. But when he did the shock and pain still felt fresh and sudden. My grandfather died, in his house, peacefully. He simply fell asleep and moved on. I will always be grateful for that. After he passed the family set to figure out what we would do for our sweet and devoted grandmother. She was a widow now with no source of income. We decided to put together a gofundme. We raised over $14,000 for her to completely wipe some of her debts. There had never been a more proud family with bigger smiles. We sat her down that dinning room table like it was Christmas. Asking her to check a link in her email. As she virtually unwrapped her present to see the love her community, family, and friends had shown; my aunt decided to tell a simple joke. My aunt said, "We decided to help you raise some money so we decided to sell your firstborn son." My grandmother without missing a beat and having not heard her but seen the amount of money now in her bank account looked up and said "Thank you". Her eyes watered with genuine gratitude at what we perceived was the selling of her child. My uncle's face of betrayal was hilarious. We laughed and turned it into the joke of the week. We buried my grandfather and had a visitation. All extremely hard days for the family but we had a safe harbor to go to. A joke and moment of unexpected joy that found its way to us even in this dark time. We were grieving and death had taken someone very important to us. But we are a family that learned to enjoy life from a man who never missed an opportunity to tell a joke. We met death and we laughed.