Tales of Falling and Flying Read online

  MORE PRAISE FOR BEN LOORY

  Tales of Falling and Flying

  “To read a Ben Loory story is to slip through a portal into an adjacent dimension. To learn—with brevity and clarity—the laws of this universe next door, new rules of logic and contradiction and truth. And, in the end, to be left with the disturbing and wondrous feeling of having never left home at all.”

  —Charles Yu, author of How to Live Safely in a Science Fictional Universe

  “Equal parts Beckett and Twilight Zone . . . Perfect for reading on strange beaches and by oddly shaped swimming pools. Fits right in your pocket or purse for emergency doses of the charming and weird.”

  —Janet Fitch, author of White Oleander

  “Ben Loory’s stories are like perfect kōans cracked from inside the world’s smartest fortune cookie; funny, crunchy, and irresistible.”

  —Mark Haskell Smith, author of Naked at Lunch

  “One of my favorite writers, Ben Loory is almost impossible to describe. Like Bruno Schulz, if Schulz had been born to a left-handed Little League coach in Short Hills, New Jersey? Like Lydia Davis, if she’d been hatched from an egg? Like listening to a conversation between Bette Davis and Miles Davis outside the house where Amy Winehouse died? Like listening to Mick and Keef not talk about Altamont? Probably there is a war going on somewhere, but these cool, dazzling little tales will never let on.”

  —Peter Straub, author of A Dark Matter

  “This darn book is like receiving a sword in the mail or finding a maze in the kitchen or a squid who fell in love with the sun or a dragon in the backyard; it’s confusing at first and then the next thing happens.”

  —Ron Carlson, author of Five Skies and Return to Oakpine

  Stories for Nighttime and Some for the Day

  “[A] wild, dreamy debut . . . These stories are full of wit, humor, and heart. Stories for Nighttime and Some for the Day is a wonderful introduction to a write capable of finding inspiration in the most unlikely of places.”

  —The Boston Globe

  “Very good fun. . . . Playing with and sometimes combining genres, including horror, allegory and fairy tale, Loory refreshes the story form while acknowledging apprenticeship to such masters as Ray Bradbury and Franz Kafka.”

  —San Francisco Chronicle

  “Lovely tales of the fantastic.”

  —Elle (An “Elle Recommends” Pick)

  “Loory bends reality with wry humor and anthropomorphic shenanigans. . . . These are some fractured fairy tales.”

  —Time Out NY

  “Strange, gorgeous fables—the reader isn’t sure if she has dreamed them or read them.”

  —Susan Salter Reynolds, Los Angeles Review of Books

  “[L]onely, haunting, dreamlike.”

  —Gary K. Wolfe, Locus magazine

  “[I]mmensely entertaining.”

  —The AV Club

  PENGUIN BOOKS

  Tales of Falling and Flying

  Ben Loory is the author of the collection Stories for Nighttime and Some for the Day and a picture book for children, The Baseball Player and the Walrus. His stories have appeared in The New Yorker, Tin House, READ Magazine, and Fairy Tale Review; been heard on This American Life and Selected Shorts; and been translated into many languages, including Arabic, Farsi, Japanese, and Indonesian. A graduate of Harvard University and the American Film Institute MFA program in screenwriting, Loory lives in Los Angeles, where he is an instructor for the UCLA Extension Writers’ Program.

  ALSO BY BEN LOORY

  Stories for Nighttime and Some for the Day

  The Baseball Player and the Walrus

  PENGUIN BOOKS

  An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC

  375 Hudson Street

  New York, New York 10014

  penguin.com

  Copyright © 2017 by Ben Loory

  Penguin supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader.

  These stories first appeared in the following journals and anthologies:

  “The Dodo” and “Missing” in The Rattling Wall; “James K. Polk” on MobyLives! (The Melville House blog); “The Ambulance Driver” and “Fernando” in Wigleaf; “The Cape” in Salt Hill Journal; “The Frog and the Bird” and “The Woman, the Letter, the Mirror, and the Door” in Another Chicago Magazine; “Picasso” in decomP; “The Monster” in Monkeybicycle; “The Subway” in The Los Angeles Review of Books: The Fiction Issue; “Lana Onion” in Corium Magazine; “The Wall” in Every Day Fiction; “War and Peace” in Threadcount; “The Squid Who Fell in Love with the Sun” in xo Orpheus: Fifty New Myths; “The Telescope” in The Bicycle Review; “Toward the Earth” in Knock Magazine; “The End of the List” in The Shine Journal; “The Man, the Restaurant, and the Eiffel Tower” in Bracelet Charm Quarterly; “The Cracks in the Sidewalk” in The Nashville Review; “Spiders” in Gigantic Worlds; “The Ostrich and the Aliens” in Tin House; “The Porpoise” in Untoward Magazine; “The Candelabra” in The Masters Review; “The Fall” in Spartan; “Zombies” in The New Flesh; “Gorillas” in Smokelong Quarterly; “The Astronaut” in Pravic Magazine; “The Island” in DASH Literary Journal; “The Writer” in The Harvard Advocate; “Wings” in Vestal Review; “The Lemon Tree” in Fairy Tale Review: The Yellow Issue; “The Madman” in Eleven Eleven; “The Sloth,” “The Dragon,” and “The Ocean Next Door” in The Sewanee Review; “The Rock Eater” in Taste; “The Sword” in Fusion.

  LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA

  Names: Loory, Ben, author.

  Title: Tales of falling and flying / Ben Loory.

  Description: New York, New York : Penguin Books, [2017]

  Identifiers: LCCN 2016051708| ISBN 9780143130109 (paperback) | ISBN 9781101993583 (ebook)

  Classification: LCC PS3612.O57 A6 2017 | DDC 813/.6—dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2016051708

  These selections are works of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Cover art and design by Paul Buckley

  Version_1

  For

  my sister

  Lara Loory

  who told me I didn’t have to be Tolstoy

  the mountain thinks it’s left the earth

  —MARK LEIDNER

  I could be the noise in the night instead of the child scared in the dark.

  —JESSICA SHOEMAKER

  Contents

  More Praise for Ben Loory

  About the Author

  Also by Ben Loory

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Epigraph

  Author’s Note

  I.

  The Dodo

  The Sword

  James K. Polk

  Missing

  The Ambulance Driver

  The Cape

  The Frog and the Bird

  Picasso

  The Monster

  The Subway

  Lana Onion

  The Wall

  War and Peace

  II.
/>
  The Squid Who Fell in Love with the Sun

  The Telescope

  Toward the Earth

  The Rock Eater

  The End of the List

  The Man, the Restaurant, and the Eiffel Tower

  The Cracks in the Sidewalks

  Death and the Lady

  Spiders

  The Sloth

  The Ostrich and the Aliens

  The Madman

  The Porpoise

  III.

  The Dragon

  The Candelabra

  The Fall

  Fernando

  The Ocean Next Door

  Zombies

  Gorillas

  The Astronaut

  The Island

  The Writer

  The Woman, the Letter, the Mirror, and the Door

  Wings

  The Lemon Tree

  +

  Elmore Leonard

  Acknowledgments

  Author’s Note

  More stories! Sorry they took so long. Next one will be quicker.

  —B.L.

  I.

  The Dodo

  ONCE THERE WAS a dodo, and he died with the rest, but then he suddenly got back up again. And he started running around, saying, Hey, look at me! Everybody, I’m a dodo! And I’m alive!

  Of course, no one believed him, because the dodos were all dead.

  The dodos are all dead, they said. You, bird, must be a chicken.

  So act like a chicken, they said.

  THE dodo was confused. He didn’t know what to do. For a while, he kept on insisting.

  But I’m a dodo! he said. I’m a dodo! I am!

  But the people just laughed.

  And then ignored him.

  SO finally, the dodo gave it up.

  Maybe I’ll just pretend to be a chicken, he said. Just for a while—on a temporary basis. Just to see how it goes.

  So the dodo did some research into the whole chicken phenomenon, and then he started to practice. He got pretty good at going bok-bok-bok-bok, and bobbing his head back and forth.

  It wasn’t a very interesting existence, being a chicken, but it was better than being laughed at and scorned. And, in time, the dodo was very good at it.

  He even won a few awards.

  BUT then, one day, the dodo walked by a museum and he saw a big banner out front. The banner said A CELEBRATION OF DODOS. So the dodo walked in and strolled around.

  The dodo learned all about the history of dodos. Where they were from and what they ate and all that. It was nothing that the dodo hadn’t always known before, but it seemed somehow he’d forgotten it.

  Near the end of the exhibit, the dodo came to a diorama—there were replicas of his ancestors behind glass. And below, it explained that the dodos were all dead.

  And the dodo became very sad.

  But I’m a dodo! the dodo said. And I’m here—I’m alive! Why don’t these people understand that?

  Then the dodo caught sight of his own reflection in the glass.

  And what he saw was a chicken staring back.

  OH my god, said the dodo, looking down at himself.

  He saw his chicken wings, his chicken feet.

  How did this happen? the dodo said. I’m a dodo! This isn’t true! This isn’t me!

  SO the dodo went home and did some soul-searching. And he decided that things had to change. So he stopped bobbing his head around and saying bok-bok-bok-bok. He walked around like he was a dodo again.

  He didn’t care that he looked like a chicken; he knew what he was inside. And, what’s more, he wasn’t shy about talking about it.

  I’m a dodo! he screamed at everyone. You understand?

  OF course, people laughed, just like they had before. But this time, the dodo didn’t care.

  I’m a dodo! I’m a dodo! I’m a dodo! he screamed.

  And he pecked at people’s knees when they ignored him.

  IN no time at all, the news got around.

  There’s a crazy chicken out there attacking people! people said.

  So they got up a committee—well, a posse, really.

  We’ll go teach that chicken a lesson! they said.

  THE dodo saw them coming from a mile away, but he didn’t run; he didn’t hide.

  I’m a dodo! he yelled. I am not a chicken!

  Oh yeah? the posse said, and drew their knives.

  THE dodo looked at them. And then finally, he smiled.

  All right, he said, and went forth to fight.

  And the posse came at him, but the dodo didn’t take flight.

  And his true feathers shone brightly in the light.

  The Sword

  YOU GOT SOMETHING in the mail today, the man’s wife says. It looks like it’s from your uncle.

  The man takes the package and holds it in his hands. He opens it.

  Inside is a sword.

  THIS sword was used by your great-great-great-grandfather during the Civil War, the man reads. I thought that you might like to have it.

  Very nice of my uncle, the man says.

  Yes, says his wife.

  She goes back into the kitchen.

  A sword, she says. Just what we need.

  THE man holds the sword up. He looks around the room.

  Honey? he says. Can we hang it on the wall?

  What? says his wife. Are you kidding? If that thing falls, it could chop off your head!

  The man thinks a moment.

  What about in the basement? he says.

  Oh, says his wife. That’d be fine.

  THE man goes downstairs and turns on the light. He finds a good spot and gets a hammer and some nails.

  Honey! he calls, when he’s got the sword up. You really should come down and see this!

  I’m sure it looks nice, the man’s wife calls down.

  The man reaches out and straightens it.

  THE rest of the evening is pretty uneventful, but in bed that night, the man has a dream. In his dream, the man sees his great-great-great-grandfather—on a white horse, in the midst of a raging battle.

  He’s holding the sword way high up over his head, and using it to point the way forward.

  SO in the morning, when the man’s done eating his breakfast cereal, he opens the door and goes down into the basement. He stands there, staring at the sword on the wall. Slowly, he reaches out and lifts it off.

  He weighs the blade thoughtfully and holds it out before him. He smiles—it feels good in his hand. He lunges and parries as best as he is able.

  Maybe I should take lessons, he says.

  SO the next day, the man goes to his first sword-fighting lesson. Not fencing, but sword fighting—the real thing.

  The lessons are held in the instructor’s basement. The instructor is very, very strict.

  None of you people have any talent at all! the instructor screams at the pupils.

  Then he stops and watches the man for a while.

  Well, you, he says. You might be somewhat capable.

  THE man practices hard. He quickly gets good. He gets so good, he’s entered into a tournament. On the day of the event, the man comes in first place.

  He is undefeated in combat.

  IN the audience, two people sit watching in amazement.

  He’s only been practicing a few months, the first says. It’s almost incredible how he blossomed so quickly.

  Well maybe he didn’t, the other says.

  What? says the first. What do you mean?

  There could be another explanation, the second says. What I mean to say is, it is just possible that he’s the reincarnation of a great, great swordsman.

  Reincarnation? says the first. You believe in that stuff?

 
They both turn and look at the man.

  And up there onstage, where he stands holding his trophy, the man overhears their whole exchange.

  IS it possible that I am my great-great-great-grandfather? the man thinks, lying in bed that night. Is it possible that I’m him, reincarnated in this body? Reincarnated in me—in my mind?

  And that night, when he sleeps, the man again dreams he sees his great-great-great-grandfather before him—still on the battlefield, now screaming a battle cry.

  Now hacking about, stabbing and slashing.

  THE next day, the man makes a phone call to his uncle.

  Tell me about my great-great-great-grandfather, he says.

  Well, says his uncle, what do you want to know?

  Absolutely everything, the man says.

  WELL, says his uncle, apparently he was quite dashing! But by all accounts, just a terrible man. He was a drunkard and a layabout. A failure in business. He abandoned four wives and ten children.

  Well, says the man, what happened to him? I mean, you know, in the end?

  In the end? says his uncle. He died in the gutter. But he was a great swordsman—that has to count for something!

  THE man hangs up in the grip of mortal terror. He resolves right then and there to give up sword fighting. He resolves to improve himself, to become a better man, to do everything he can for his wife and children.

  And that’s what he does. He gets a better job. He starts going to church; he becomes a Little League coach. And his work is rewarded: He is promoted three times, buys a new car, an RV, a bigger house. He takes his family on vacation to Disneyland, and the next year they go to Acapulco. He gets his picture in the paper shaking hands with the mayor. He teaches his whole family to play golf.

  Isn’t life grand? the man says to his wife, lying in bed at night.