KRIS ASHTON

While riding the train home one night, I began to imagine a being who would involuntarily teleport between dimensions whenever he orgasmed. (What...?) The situation seemed a breeding ground for conflict and drama, as the being learned the nature of his curse and had to fight his natural urges if he didn’t want his whole life to restart again and again.

 

The problem was, no matter how I tried to lay out the narrative, the protagonist was a passive victim – an unlucky chump railing pointlessly against forces unimaginably bigger than he was. I finished the story and even sent it to a couple of places, but the editors confirmed what I already knew.

 

I gave up on it for a while, but the concept was like a hot ex-girlfriend with a terrible personality who kept pestering me to get back together. Eventually I returned to ‘Displeasures’ and decided I liked it overall, but needed a better ending.

 

So I began to wrack my brains. And wrack them and wrack them. For days nothing came. I thought I would have to give the story away again, this time for good, when the ending (I hope) you’ve read flickered to life.

 

It’s far from the most original story I’ve written, but I persevered with it because I loved the characters (with their silly, ironic names) and their pompous, valorous dialogue. It’s really a comedy-fantasy that takes a sudden sharp bend into unexpected darkness.