Dory's Short Stories

The Man the Forest Could Not Take The winter of 1794 came down hard on the frontier colder, meaner, and more deliberate than any living memory. The forests beyond the scattered settlements of the American wilderness stretched endlessly, a cathedral of black trees and white silence where survival was not a skill, but a defiance.  And in that wilderness walked Elias Crowe. He was a large man in the way iron is large not soft, not excessive, but forged. His shoulders were broad beneath a worn buckskin coat, his beard thick with frost, his hands scarred into permanence. He carried a long rifle across his back, a hatchet at his hip, and the quiet reputation of a man who had outlived too many things.  Elias did not wander the woods. He endured them. He had come north alone, tracking something, though whether it was fur, fortune, or the simple need to outrun the past, no one in the settlements could say. He spoke little, traded fairly, and disappeared as soon as the ground froze...

The Era of Good Feelings In the years following the War of 1812, the United States entered what newspapers, politicians, and hopeful citizens alike called the Era of Good Feelings . It was a time most closely associated with the presidency of James Monroe, whose calm demeanor and national tours seemed to soothe a country long accustomed to division. Political parties weakened and the economy boomed. Sectional disputes, though not gone, softened beneath the optimism of expansion. Roads stretched westward, towns rose along rivers, and commerce flourished with a confidence that felt, to many, like destiny fulfilled. It was an age of beginnings: the beginning of industry, of unity, of belief. No one fought over race, or gender, or sexuality, everyone knew their place and all put themselves first as Americans and excluded those they thought were not or cannot be one. The Market Revolution was at its height, and the identity of an American identity and culture was being formed. And like all ...

 Political Wars Year: 2040 The world has fractured beyond repair. Years of extreme political polarization have erupted into global conflict. The traditional concept of politically diverse different nations have dissolved, replaced by an ideological state. Countries now openly declare allegiance to either Global Liberalism or Global Conservatism, shaping their entire societies around these ideologies. The Liberal States: The United States, Canada, Western Europe, and parts of Oceania have declared themselves "Liberal Republics." They pass laws mandating liberalism as the supreme ideology. Citizens are required to pledge allegiance to progressive values such as diversity, equality, and social justice. Dissenters labeled as "reactionaries" face public shaming, exile, or even execution under the guise of "protecting democracy." The Conservative States: Russia, Eastern Europe, the Middle East, and parts of Asia unite under the banner of "Conservative Natio...

All Alone In The Tropics  When the Maribel went down, it did so with dignity. The storm had been large and scary with violet lightning splitting the sky, rain lashing the deck like thrown pearls, Captain Alejandro Vargas shouting commands no one could hear over the wind. The ship groaned, tilted, and surrendered to the sea as though fainting. By dawn, five survivors washed ashore on a strip of blinding white sand somewhere in the indifferent blue of the tropics. They lay scattered.  The island was extremely beautiful. Palm trees arched in welcoming curves. The water glittered in shallow aquamarine sheets. Parrots shrieked from the canopy as if gossiping about the newcomers. A waterfall shimmered in the near distance, decorative as a stage prop. It was not the sort of place one was stranded in. It was the sort of place one escaped in. Captain Alejandro was the first to stand. His once pristine uniform clung to him in damp ruin, epaulets torn, and dignity barely intact.  “W...

The Picture Of Dorothy Gray (based on "The Picture Of Dorian Gray" by Oscar Wilde) Chapter 1: The Master Copy In the spring of 1986, when the jacaranda trees were shedding purple like confetti across the sidewalks of Los Angeles , Dorothy Gray decided she was a masterpiece. She did not arrive at this conclusion suddenly. It had been forming for years, through the careful angling of her chin in bathroom mirrors, the slow blink perfected at parties in the Hills, the way men straightened their jackets and women straightened their spines when she entered a room. But it was not until she saw herself framed by the cool, rectangular eye of a camera that she understood: she was not merely beautiful. She was archival. Dorothy was twenty two and luminous in the way only certain Californians are luminous, like they have been edited for brightness. Her hair was a sheet of honey blonde gloss that spilled over the shoulder pads of her white blazer. Her lipstick was the red of a stop sig...