CREATING ALIEN ALIENS Part 44: UNBELIEVABLE Aliens

Five decades ago, I started my college career with the intent of becoming a marine biologist. I found out I had to get a BS in biology before I could even begin work on MARINE biology; especially because there WEREN'T any marine biology programs in Minnesota.
Along the way, the science fiction stories I'd been writing since I was 13 began to grow more believable. With my BS in biology and a fascination with genetics, I started to use more science in my fiction.
After reading hard SF for the past 50 years, and writing hard SF successfully for the past 20, I've started to dig deeper into what it takes to create realistic alien life forms. In the following series, I'll be sharing some of what I've learned. I've had some of those stories published, some not...I teach a class to GT young people every summer called ALIEN WORLDS. I've learned a lot preparing for that class for the past 25 years...so...I have the opportunity to share with you what I've learned thus far. Take what you can use, leave the rest. Let me know what YOU'VE learned. Without further ado...

What alien was THE MOST UNBELIEVABLE you ever forced yourself to watch (even for a few moments, just to see what would happen)?

Apparently, people LOVE playing with the idea of aliens! Following that, my opinion will be the one I’m expressing here because there doesn’t seem to be a clear consensus about the WORST alien ever presented to an audience.

For me, ET seems the most absurd. First of all, I’ll remind you that I started my teaching career as a science teacher. I’ve done ALL of them in elementary, middle school, and high school – except for Honors Physics. My science is pretty solid, so I feel comfortable saying that for trying to be something terrifying, ET is absurd. First and foremost, it would never have lasted long enough on its homeworld to even BEGIN evolution! (Don’t get me wrong, if God wanted to create any life form they wanted to, they could have done so. ET, here I come!)

BUT, given that public school science eschews Divine Creation, the creature that the movie depicts as not ONLY intelligent, but smart enough to invent, design, build, and fly a starship that skip Normal space with impunity and (obviously) and fly from their home world to numerous other planets.

The problem is that I don’t see how they could possibly survive the early stages of evolution. They can’t run, for heaven’s sake! Their neck could snap in the event of a hard fall; a trip; or a stiff breeze!

Look at ET’s fingers for heaven’s sake: I assume for lack of evidence otherwise, that ET is the lifeform on their planet that invented a star drive capable of propelling them through some kind of alternative space that doesn’t require travelling slower than the speed of light – which would mean it would take tens, hundreds, or thousands of years to make it to Earth. That requires some kind of science to create a technology, and technology is notoriously fickle and would require tools that were smaller than ET’s fingers…

I’ll grant eyes so large they make adult Humans swoon and cause children to place implicit trust in a creature who’d traveled some incredible number of light years to reach them. ET is also intelligent enough to make sense of colloquial English, as well. Linguist? OK, I’ll grant it. But logical? Realistic? Sorry – the biology just doesn’t carry it believably for me. Granted: I hardly look like the end result of intelligent Humans who first escaped being eaten enough times to have lots of kid; who then started tinkering with science and technology; and who recently (finally) returned Humans to orbit the Moon and who have had a sustained presence outside of Earth’s atmosphere for 27 years.

But supposedly, ET is some sort of scientist; an explorer; and granted he has psychic powers that allow him to lift things and fly them by sheer power of mind…

But as a fictional alien? Sorry, I’m believing that our REAL First Contact will introduce us to aliens who are at least as intelligent as the smartest Humans…

Sources: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/E.T._the_Extra-Terrestrial, https://www.reddit.com/r/FIlm/comments/1k9xtml/hot_take_i_hate_et_its_antiscience_trash/ Image: https://www.savannahnow.com/gcdn/authoring/2013/06/26/NSMN/ghows-GA-1525da98-72f7-4b22-8bdb-9522cdabe259-0091e7b9.jpeg?width=660&height=587&fit=crop&format=pjpg&auto=webp

IDEA ON TUESDAY 711

Each Tuesday, rather than a POSSIBLY IRRITATING ESSAY, I'd like to both challenge you and lend a helping hand. I generate more speculative and teen story ideas than I can ever use. My family rolls its collective eyes when I say, "Hang on a second! I just have to write down this idea..." Here, I'll include the initial inspiration (quote, website, podcast, etc.) and then a thought or two that came to mind. These will simply be seeds -- plant, nurture, fertilize, chemically treat, irradiate, test or stress them as you see fit. I only ask if you let me know if anything comes of them. Regarding horror, I found this insight in line with WIRED FOR STORY: “ We seek out…stories which give us a place to put our fears…Stories that frighten us or unsettle us - not just horror stories, but ones that make us uncomfortable or that strike a chord somewhere deep inside - give us the means to explore the things that scare us…” – Lou Morgan (The Guardian)

H Trope: apocalyptic diary/journal/log
Event: http://news.discovery.com/earth/oceans/lost-continent-discovered-beneath-indian-ocean-130225.htm

Andrianampoinimerinatompokoindrindra Zehrezgi – who preferred to go by Andri Zee – tried to keep his last meal down as the boat rocked beneath his feet.

“Isn’t this exhilarating?” exclaimed Shamma Maslah.

“When do you think the hurricane is going to stop?” he asked.

Shamma burst out laughing. “There’s no hurricane! In fact this is the calmest day I’ve seen since we were out here.” She glanced at him and went to the railing and said, “If you don’t like the ocean, why’d you come out here?”

“This site is within the waters of my country.”

She made a face, saying, “I didn’t know you had a country. Not how you talk about it anyway.”

“Madagascar is my homeland!” She grunted and leaned over the rail, looking deeply into the water. “Watch out!” he cried, stepping forward, arm outstretched.

She looked at him and laughed, “What? It scares you when I lean out this far?” she said, leaning back over the railing. Suddenly the water below her grew dark and began to bubble, gently at first, then wildly. Water geysered into the air. She screamed and staggered backward, into Andri Zee’s arms and they watched in horror as...

A fluorescent orange conning tower surged out of the water, sluicing aside until the hatch on top opened up and a young lady waved at them.

Shamma shouted, “Laura! What’s going on?”

Laura shouted back, “You won’t believe what we discovered! Not only is Mauritia a sunken island – there was some sort of sealed chamber there!”

“What?” Andri exclaimed. Majoring in archaeology, THIS is what he’d come for! “Where is it?”

“They had to send down the big sub and they’re bringing up the entire chamber right now.”

Shamma looked at Andri then Liz, bobbing in the conning tower of the sub and shouted, “The time is all wrong! Mauritia sank when the dinosaurs died. There shouldn’t be anything there.”

Liz shrugged, “I don’t know about when it sank or what should and shouldn’t be there, but there’s something big and it looks like it was sealed. See you in a bit!”

*

They rendezvoused at the small sub dock. The massive winch from the ship platform had lifted a barnacled encrusted, roughly cubic case into the air and was swinging it over the helipad, where it lowered the box down.

The metal groaned as the cables above relaxed. Andri said, “It’s heavier than it looks.”

“Way heavier,” said Liz.

Shamma frowned. There was something about it. Something strange. Despite the noise around her, she could hear…not exactly hear…sense? Feel? She wasn’t sure. Something. The hot sun of the Indian Ocean beat down on the head of the crew. Men and women in trunks and halters scampered around the deck, disconnecting chains, cables, hosing down the object. SCUBA divers were lifting up from the waterline; heavy metal music abruptly blared from the deck speakers and the recovery work began in a part atmosphere.

Shamma found a spot, out of the way. Her work on the project was cataloging and identifying life forms; part of a survey team that had set out to begin to quantify the anecdotal evidence that the oceans were beginning to recover now that the world population had precipitously fallen during the H7N9 Pandemic of 2038-2042. With over two billion people dead, the Earth seemed empty now. It scared her sometimes. Abruptly, a migraine assaulted her. It had been years since she had one.

That was when heard a voice, speaking in Olde English. She only caught the first few words, vaguely familiar, but somehow wrong as well, “In the beginning, I created this earth to inhabit heaven...” The migraine became blinding and with a squeak, she passed out.

Names: ♀ UAE, Somolian; ♂ Madagascar, Ethiopian; ♀ Hebrew (diminutive of “Elizabeth”)
Image: https://m.media-amazon.com/images/I/51niGRrH6DL.jpg

GUY'S GOTTA TALK ABOUT...5/30/2026 Writing, Ideas, and Type 2 Diabetes...

My WRITING 5/30/26
“High Carnival” free: https://amazingstories.com/2026/04/high-carnival-by-guy-stewart-free-story/ MARTIAN HOLIDAY on Amazon. Try CH1,2 free here: https://faithandsciencefiction.blogspot.com/2026/02/martian-holiday-read-chapters-1-2.html

IDEA: Regarding Fantasy, this insight was startling: “Fantasy can be metaphor for life in this world, allowing a writer to examine any subject with impunity.” – Melissa McPhail.
F Trope: Conjuring…
Event: http://www.spellsofmagic.com/spells/spiritual_spells/conjuring_spells/390/page.html
Jacob Adams scowled, shivering in the cold. He wore black jeans and boots, but all he wore on top was a baseball cap turned backwards and an A-shirt. “All I want is a fire to keep warm! I said the spell, how come it’s not working?” His breath puffed out a white cloud with every word.
Ada Contepomi stood with her fists balled on her hips. She was wearing her light blue parka, mittens and knee-high Mukluks. She said, “What exactly did you expect?”
GGTA: POST #1 – LOOKING BACK I’ve been pre-diabetic for a few years. I knew I could change my diagnosis if I just followed a few simple steps. I needed to lose weight, exercise more, and eat right. My response to that knowledge was, “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’ll get to it! Besides I eat pretty good. I ride my bike! I sometimes lose weight!” Well, the jig is up. I’d been caught with my proverbial pants down. Nothing evil going down, but I’m now officially diabetic.
https://breastcancerreaper.blogspot.com/2026/05/my-first-post-at-guys-gotta-talk.html
Image: https://m.media-amazon.com/images/I/41J0VUNJ8ML._SY445_SX342_QL70_FMwebp_.jpg

IDEAS ON TUESDAY 710

Each Tuesday, rather than a POSSIBLY IRRITATING ESSAY, I'd like to both challenge you and lend a helping hand. I generate more speculative and teen story ideas than I can ever use. My family rolls its collective eyes when I say, "Hang on a second! I just have to write down this idea..." Here, I'll include the initial inspiration (quote, website, podcast, etc.) and then a thought or two that came to mind. These will simply be seeds -- plant, nurture, fertilize, chemically treat, irradiate, test or stress them as you see fit. I only ask if you let me know if anything comes of them? Regarding Fantasy, this insight was startling: “I see the fantasy genre as an ever-shifting metaphor for life in this world, an innocuous medium that allows the author to examine difficult, even controversial, subjects with impunity. Honor, religion, politics, nobility, integrity, greed—we’ve an endless list of ideals to be dissected and explored. And maybe learned from.” – Melissa McPhail.

F Trope: Conjuring…
Event: http://www.spellsofmagic.com/spells/spiritual_spells/conjuring_spells/390/page.html

Jacob Adams scowled, shivering in the cold. He wore black jeans and boots, but all he wore on top was a baseball cap turned backwards and an A-shirt. “All I want is a fire to keep warm! I said the spell, how come it’s not working?” His breath puffed out a white cloud with every word.

Ada Contepomi stood with her fists balled on her hips. She was wearing her light blue parka, mittens and knee-high Mukluks. She said, “What exactly did you expect?”

“Fire! The website said that all I needed to do was, like, imagine the fire then speak the words and I’d have it.”

“So if ‘conjuring fire’ was so easy, don’t you think that everybody and their mother would be doing it right now?” She sniffed. “You should try and find a spell for something useful – like conjuring a tank of gas or a Big Mac with fries and a large, hot peppermint mocha!”

There was a sharp snap that had nothing to do with icicles falling from the roof of Jacob’s house and a ball of fire suddenly flared up, hovering over the snow in the driveway. “Oh, my gosh!” Jacob said, dropping to his chest on the frozen driveway, staring at the flickering ball of flame. He held out his hand then looked up at Ada, “Hey! It’s not hot or anything. It’s no warmer than the air!”

Ada looked disgusted and said, “So even though your magic spell worked – it didn’t make what you wanted it to make?” Shaking her head, she said, “When you’re ready to give up this crazy stunt, come in and we’ll watch Wheel Of Fortune.” She turned and stalked away.

Jacob lay in the driveway, staring at the whirling flame ball. Holding his palm to the flame, he moved his hand slowly closer until he was almost touching it. “Maybe it’s only hot on the surface or something.” He uncurled a finger and reached slowly toward it, ready to jerk it back in case the little flame ball was actually hot.

He didn’t realize what was happening until he noticed that his finger had disappeared up to the knuckle…

Names: ♂ USA ; ♂ Argentina

Image: https://i.pinimg.com/originals/98/71/e5/9871e52bbc09c525af21b8f6471eab15.jpg

A SLICE OF PIE: Why Does THE ADAM PROJECT STILL Make Me Cry At The End?

NOT using the panel discussions from ANY recent World Science Fiction Convention, I'm jumping off, jumping on, railing against, and shamelessly agree with the BRIEF DESCRIPTION of something that sparked my interest in the world of Science Fiction. But not today. This explanation is reserved for when I dash “off topic”, sometimes reviewing movies, sometimes reviewing books, and other times taking up the spirit of a blog an old friend of mine used to keep called THE RANTING ROOM…

I’m a sucker for a movie or book that’s all about reconciliation – The Jane Austen movies are about reconciliation of broken relationships (They’re romances, too, but that’s beside the point). STAR TREK: Wrath of Khan is about reconciliation between Kirk and his son David. Dad introduced me to STAR TREK in the late 60s, and watching the shows with him, and eventually my wife and kids, was a foundational event that led me to me pursuing my writing.

Even the goofy Lego Movie has a father-son reconciliation at the end (Oddly, there are NO images of them hugging at the end...sad, that.)

The first movie mom and dad brought us to see was the original MARY POPPINS. We saw it at the Terrace Theater in Robbinsdale, the city Mom grew up in. At the very end, Mr. Banks reconciles with his kids, dumping the “bank life” for flying a kite with Jane and Michael. The author of the Mary Poppins books, PL Travers, in the movie, SAVING MR. BANKS, argues that her book was NOT about Mary Poppins or the children -- but saving Mr. Banks, who was based on her own FATHER. 

I’ve been reflecting lately about WHY reconciliation movies and books are so important to me. I’ll be the first to admit that I’m a sort of odd duck in the family. Dad played football and basketball (in the day when players who were 6’1” were tall, he was STILL short!). My brothers and sister played sports all through high school and beyond. Even mom was a member of the Robbinsdale Girl’s Athletic Club – tennis, badminton, and even fencing.

I didn’t do sports. I read. I wrote. I played guitar. I went to a very religious college and then went touring in Minnesota, North and South Dakota, Iowa, Wisconsin and eventually West Africa with two different church bands. I went to Moorhead State University and worked most of my summers at Bible camps.

I wasn’t home a lot because, frankly, I didn’t feel like I belonged.

Then I got older and wiser, got married, then Josh and Mary were born, and then Alzheimer’s touched our lives. After Mom passed, it just seemed to get worse, but I started to spend more time with Dad. Oddly, I started to feel closer to him as we did more and more things together – like watching NASCAR racing, going to restaurants after doctor or dentist visits, or going to The Lookout just because. Our lives began to twine together like they never had when I was younger. We would talk, sometimes just sit together, or go to an event at SilverCreek and enjoy ourselves. In the end, I felt reconciled – I felt like Dad was part of my life again and that I was part of his. Maybe that’s why the movies like Sing, Back To The Future, FINDING NEMO, GUARDIANS OF THE GALAXY (Part 2); MEN IN BLACK 4; and yesterday, THE ADAM PROJECT -- all mean so much to me. All of them are about reconciliation; about joining BACK together after a time of separation.

I cried at those movies when I first saw them. In fact, if it's been a while, they STILL make me weep...

Last night, me and my wife were rewatching THE ADAM PROJECT for the hundredth time. Basic idea was Dad (Mark Ruffalo) wrote an algorithm for controlled time travel -- alienating his 12-year-old son, Adam. He's angry at losing him BEFORE he died, and grows up into an angry, reckless adult who IS capable of loving a woman. In the end, both "boys" reconcile with their father, playing catch in their back yard as they all return to their anchor present...the young Adam makes changes that change his older self. I suppose it's a sort of "substitutionary" healing. The thing is that, as I've continued to be touched by these movies, I've never tried to write a story like them about ME. What am I afraid of -- releasing my anger? Am I holding on to my pain. Maybe it's finally time to release my pain; maybe start to heal my own heart...

Now all that's left is for me to create a character who mirrors my OWN life and write his story...

Image: https://thecollision.org/wp-content/uploads/2022/03/the-adam-project-wide.png

DIVING INTO THE PAST: Saturday, April 9, 2011 Observations of a Breast Cancer Husband

About fifteen years ago, my wife was diagnosed with breast cancer. I thought my reflections were interesting, so here's my FIRST ever essay published on the second blog I started, GUY'S GOTTA TALK ABOUT BREAST CANCER: https://breastcancerreaper.blogspot.com/2011/04/observations-of-breast-cancer-husband.html

I wanted to use a blog title that was simple and would pop up on a normal GOOGLE search, but “Breast Cancer Husband” was already taken (http://www.breastcancerhusband.com/). So was “Stand By Her” (http://standbyher.org/). I went to those sites, but one has been corrupted by endless spam and the other has been inactive for nearly a year. Another I tried seems full of advertising and another still was a long advertisement for an exercise program developed by a breast cancer husbands’ wife.

So here I am, because I need someone to talk to RIGHT NOW and I want to talk to other husbands, fiancés, and lovers of women with breast cancer.

Our journey is only two weeks old. While my wife Liz knew something was seriously wrong inside of her body, I was clueless. Until two weeks ago, a biopsy at the Breast Health Center at Regions Hospital in Minnesota (http://www.regionshospital.com/rh/doctors-specialties/breast-health-center/index.html) confirmed that she had infiltrative ductal carcinoma. It's the most common form of breast cancer. Treatments had been worked out. Research had been done. It is survivable…

A week later, Liz had a bilateral mastectomy.

I’m writing this six days after the surgery.

I’ve searched the internet and I haven’t been able to find an active husband-whose-wife-has-breast-cancer blog that I could chat on. Maybe it’s because their wives have been survivors for years and they can relax, or they can take a step back, or they’re exhausted, or the danger is no longer clear and present.

Not so for me. Based on everything I’ve read so far, this job is only just beginning.

Ah, the name of the blog: I couldn’t call it Breast Cancer Husband, so I went to the thesaurus to look for synonyms and the etymological dictionary for word roots. It all comes down to a “husband” having something to do with farming. Words like cultivate, garden, graze, grow, harvest, landscape, seed, sow, tend and till the soil are all related to “husband”. The word “reap” was in there, too.

At first that didn’t do anything for me, but when I came across “reap”, of course the first thing I thought of was the Grim Reaper. Then my mind went to work, the Reaper’s robe turned pink and I had the image in my head of the Breast Cancer Reaper: cutting down breast cancer, growing hope, harvesting love, creating a new landscape (in more ways that one!), cultivating peace, sowing joy, tending the field, the Garden of Eden, good and healthy eating…

At any rate, this will be a personal blog with medical LINKS and occasional medical comments (or curses?) – I’m no doctor, though I have been a science teacher for three decades. This blog may wax and wane humorous as well. Humor is how I deal with grief and tragedy (actually, humor is how I deal with just about everything and every one…)

We’ll see. All I know right now is that my wife has breast cancer, she, my daughter (whose blog links are below), my son & daughter-in-law & grandson and the rest of both of our families and friends, are dealing with this in different ways.

I should be here once a week, probably Saturdays, and my goal will be to provide something that’s short, personal and helpful.

That is all…

AND 15 YEARS LATER, I'M STILL HERE; MY WIFE IS ALIVE, MY DAD PASSED DUE TO COMPLICATIONS OF ALZHEIMER'S AND NOW I HAVE BEEN LIVING WITH TYPE 2 DIABETES (ALONG WITH MY WIFE) LO, THESE PAST FOUR YEARS...SO, THERE YOU GO.

Image: https://img.picturequotes.com/2/87/86226/observation-is-the-most-enduring-of-the-pleasures-of-life-quote-1.jpg

IDEAS ON TUESDAYS 709

Each Tuesday, rather than a POSSIBLY IRRITATING ESSAY, I'd like to both challenge you and lend a helping hand. I generate more speculative and teen story ideas than I can ever use. My family rolls its collective eyes when I say, "Hang on a second! I just have to write down this idea..." Here, I'll include the initial inspiration (quote, website, podcast, etc.) and then a thought or two that came to mind. These will simply be seeds -- plant, nurture, fertilize, chemically treat, irradiate, test or stress them as you see fit. I only ask if you let me know if anything comes of them. Octavia Butler said, “SF doesn’t really mean anything at all, except that if you use science, you should use it correctly, and if you use your imagination to extend it beyond what we already know, you should do that intelligently.”

SF Trope: sanitation in the future is non-existent in cities…
Current Event: http://www.smh.com.au/world/mexico-city-fails-to-solve-its-garbage-crisis-20120127-1qlr2.html, http://fryingpannews.org/2012/02/09/big-step-taken-to-resolve-las-trash-crisis/

Trey Jackson and his family live in rural Nebraska – but the city of Omaha is a big part of their lives.

Especially the smell.

The city has been nearly buried under its own waste since, in 2029, the state legislature banned Omaha from dumping outside of a 20 mile radius. While few people in the CITY agreed to the law, legislators from outside the urban areas voted them down.

In 2041, Omaha has been walled in and in order to deal with the trash situation, they have moved their garbage to the edge of the city and hire companies to come in and search through the trash to find reusable, recyclable and useful things. Because the US economy slid into The Really Great Depression after an unprecedented eight Democratic Party dominated legislatures from 2008 through 2040, few people work – but everyone continues to produce garbage.

Trey and his family are part of a garbage caravan heading into Omaha to collect and distribute the trash West. When they arrive, they make camp in their covered wagons in Collector’s City and file for a permit to dig through the trash of a particular dump Trey’s dad and mom have researched. His twelve little brothers and sisters wait for their permit to clear.

In the meantime, Trey’s parents allow him to take the older of the siblings to the Collector’s Carnival. There he meets the amazing Francine La Flesche, descendant of the Indigenous people for whom the city is named. She’s not supposed to be there, though.

In fact, she’s missing from her parent’s home – and they are powerful lawyers deep in the center of Omaha, living among the city’s wealthy elite. On the Ferris wheel ride, as it stops so that they are at the top and can see the Core City, she tells him she’s run away to see the world and was wondering if she can go with his family…

(I can imagine the name of the story would be "Raccoons"...or something...)

Names: ♀ France ; ♂ Latin (=3)

Image: https://i0.wp.com/dumpsterrentalreno.net/wp-content/uploads/2023/07/Nevada-Landfills.png?w=748&ssl=1

POSSIBLY IRRITATING ESSAYS: Can I Use SF To Tell Sad Stories With A Sense Of Humor?

On October 7, 2007, I started this blog. Eighteen years later, I am revising and doing some different things. My wife and I are now retired senior citizens, our kids are both married, we have a bonus daughter and her wife and we have three grandchildren, (with a fourth on-the-way!) the oldest of which will soon finish his first year in high school, one smack in the center of Middle School; the third almost done with kindergarten. I have forty-five professional publications, plus countless other publications as a slushpile reader, and sometime essay contributor to Stupefying Stories https://stupefyingstories.blogspot.com/.

These days, I write whenever I want to – or when I’m not busy exploring the world with my wife or kids or grandkids. I write and read constantly. Then I discovered that I was writing longer and longer pieces. My new focus is to write shorter; and to write HUMOR. On purpose. Maybe I can still irritate people while being funny. It works pretty well for John Scalzi! We’ll see what happens.

FOUNDATION FOR THOUGHTS ON WRITING HUMOR: https://www.huffpost.com/entry/why-every-writer-should-t_b_5811562

I just finished reading a second draft of a soon-to-be-published biography called BANANITO: The Lost Boy the Toughest Street Couldn’t Kill…

For those who don’t have a good grip on Spanish (like me!), a bananito is literally, “little banana”, but it became the writer’s name for the rest of the story. He was nine-years-old, tiny, and when his family lost their home and livelihood, they had to live “on the street” in Guatemala City.

What followed was a sad story (duh! Of course it was!) But because I knew one of the people who came later in the story, I kept reading to find out what happened.

Some really horrible – and sometime graphically explained – things happened. Death, murder, abuse, loss, hopelessness…and sometimes hope…happened in quick succession. But it was only quick for me. BANANITO covers some truly horrific events in his relatively short life: the book covers his experiences from 8 to his late teens. As I texted my Famous Friend who encouraged Bananito to write his story, I realized the wisdom and perspective in this book might make a worthwhile foundation for SF stories…

Could I possibly turn such a sad story into something that might not ONLY create a fascinating narrative that takes place on an colony world – but could I make the events and stories similar to those of Bananito’s, and use them as a foundation for stories that take place off Earth AND make people think of the poor, destitute, sick and hurting and inspire them to help change the world through the love and faith in Christ?

OK – that was a very dense sentence! Lemme break it down!

The book was terrifyingly sad.

Also, writers have asked, “If laughter is indeed the best medicine, it may allow us to cope with the trauma of being in the world.” The book was traumatic – certainly for the people who lived through it (my friend as well as Bananito). It was uncomfortable for me. And I have to ask, “What’s funny about trauma?”

That’s the point – there IS nothing funny about child abuse, prostitution, poverty and starvation. But if THEY could laugh: “We laughed because wanting hurt and laughing patched that for a second.” – even in the midst of a horrible life filled with rats, disease, death, and hopelessness, perhaps there might be more ways to laughter. Maybe we can work harder to heal the world’s pain when we can laugh – not AT those who suffer, but WITH those who suffer.

That’s the rub, ain’t it? How can you tell the difference between laughing AT someone and laughing WITH someone? The answer is actually easy: if you feel like crying on the inside and they START it, then you’re laughing with them. If you’re laughing alone and they turn away, then you’re laughing AT them

I saw that as a school counselor. After tears, it wasn’t unbelievable for laughter to follow; sometimes I even initiated it – like by blowing my nose. Or them by farting (you tend to swallow air when you’re crying hard, and your stomach can’t handle it, so…you know…it escapes (also, belches are funny, too!)

If I can mix humor and horror on an alien world, or a nearly-abandoned space station, or – then maybe I can lead people to be interested in helping those on Earth – people we share a world with – if not a continent.

Sounds really difficult. But, but I’m going to start with trying. After that, we’ll see how many people’s feelings I hurt or how many people look at me in horror and ask, “How could you even WRITE that?”

Inspiration: https://faithandsciencefiction.blogspot.com/2019/02/possibly-irritating-essays.html, “Why Every Writer Should Take a Humor Writing Class”
(Whatever or whoever you are, there's one very enjoyable step you can take, right now -- or at least, fairly soon -- to make yourself a better writer: Take a course in humor writing.) (by Siobhan Adcock); https://lithub.com/why-horror-needs-humor/ “Why Horror Needs Humor” (Tyler Malone; 10/31/24)
Science Fiction and Humor (besides HITCHIKER’S GUIDE TO THE GALAXY): https://electricliterature.com/7-new-sci-fi-comedies-you-dont-want-to-miss/ Image: https://t3.ftcdn.net/jpg/14/61/31/10/240_F_1461311036_MViWj3gBpw4LNjp4h0mdikU2gho7a51c.jpg

IDEA ON TUESDAY 708

Each Tuesday, rather than a POSSIBLY IRRITATING ESSAY, I'd like to both challenge you and lend a helping hand. I generate more speculative and teen story ideas than I can ever use. My family rolls its collective eyes when I say, "Hang on a second! I just have to write down this idea..." Here, I'll include the initial inspiration (quote, website, podcast, etc.) and then a thought or two that came to mind. These will simply be seeds -- plant, nurture, fertilize, chemically treat, irradiate, test or stress them as you see fit. I only ask if you let me know if anything comes of them. Regarding horror, I found this insight in line with WIRED FOR STORY: “ We seek out…stories which give us a place to put our fears…Stories that frighten us or unsettle us - not just horror stories, but ones that make us uncomfortable or that strike a chord somewhere deep inside - give us the means to explore the things that scare us…” – Lou Morgan (The Guardian)

H Trope: “Grave Clouds for the variant where the weather is simply miserable at graveyards and other creepy areas, and which is possibly a sister trope to this. See also Evil Is Not Well Lit…”
Current Event: http://science.howstuffworks.com/science-vs-myth/afterlife/scary-graveyard1.htm

Niaria Xiong-Walker squinted, trying to see through the gathering mist that apparently hung over the cemetery every night. She said, “How can mist hang over this place EVERY night? Fog’s a function of temperature, humidity, and dew point.”

Seth Bakhsh stood near an obelisk, pitted from ages of lower-than-water pH acid rain that drizzled from the Rochester, NY sky on a regular basis, giving it the dubious distinction of the being the American city with the most rainy days and its unofficial slogan, “If it rains, it’s Rochester”. He said, “It’s the oldest municipal graveyard in the US and has 400,000 dead people in it. Don’t you think that all those ghosts might have an effect on the weather?”

Niaria snorted and said, “They don’t even act as creeped out as you are doing in my parents old village in Nigeria! You’re a wimp, Seth!”

He snorted just as loudly, “I prefer to think that I’m prepared for all eventualities – even ephemeral ones.”

Shaking her head, she tapped her tablet computer and plugged in a cord. “I’m going to see if there’s any truth to the old wives tale that cemeteries are always foggy and creepy at night.”

“How many have you tested?” he asked. He usually ignored her scientific researches in favor of tapping her fascination in anime movies by presenting her with the latest rerun of her favorite Miyazaki film.

“Sixteen,” she replied.

“What?” he stepped from the obelisk, saying, “This isn’t the first time you’ve done this?”

“Duh,” she grabbed the tip of the cord and pulled, a long sensor extended, glowing blue.

“What’s that?”

“A data staff. It collects information and feeds it into a program I wrote.”

“So you can detect monsters?”

“Nothing so solid. Ephemerals. Like you said.”

“Ghosts?” he breathed the word – and his breath fogged in front of his face. “How come it’s so cold here?”

She shook her head, “Because the temperature’s low, dummy.”

“No – I mean it wasn’t cold a second ago and now I can see my breath.”

She looked at her tablet then back up at Seth, “The data confirm your sensations.”

“Duh.”

She looked around, scowling. “But there isn’t any reason…” As she said the words, something congealed out of the fog. It wasn’t humaniform, more like a lizard-like; possibly saurian, large as the obelisk.

Seth said, “It’s coming out of that gravestone...”

“It’s a monument…”

“Whatever it is, I think it has big claws.”

Names: ♀ India, Hmong, English-Scottish; ♂ Hebrew, Pakistan
Image: https://m.media-amazon.com/images/I/51niGRrH6DL.jpg

HIGH CARNIVAL -- My Newest Story is up at AMAZING STORIES!

 

MAY 5, 2026

My newest story "High Carnival" is now up live and for free at the AMAZING STORIES website – which “…as of 2024…has been published, with some interruptions, for 98 years.” You can find it here:

https://amazingstories.com/2026/04/high-carnival-by-guy-stewart-free-story/

If you join the AMAZING STORIES team, you can ALSO listen to it (and everything else!) as a podcast. Check it out here: https://www.patreon.com/3178832/join

Listen to it or read it, and let me know what you think! Better yet, share this on your own FaceBook or forward it by whatever means you can.

THANK YOU! (I also have a hard science fiction novel, MARTIAN HOLIDAY at AMAZON, if you’re into REALLY big books…800 pages worth of story…)