A Quiet Life

Science-Fantasy / 3100 words

PREFACE: The working title for this story was “Who is Thomas Kinsley and Why Should You Care?” I still like that one quite a bit, but it was too long and I disliked how Substack refused to fit it in one line, heh. “A Quiet Life” works quite well too—I just thought of that one now—so there you have it. Oh, and I almost forgot to mention, this story is set in the Weld—the same setting I used in my novel “Everlife,” though the story itself is unconnected and thus can be read as a standalone.

There was nothing special about the house. It looked exactly like every other house in the neighborhood. Simple. Ordinary. White walls, tiled roof, two floors. The lawn was mowed, and the windows flung open to let the fresh air in.

A small man lived there, all alone. The quiet sort. Polite. He’d smile and say hello to anyone he crossed whenever he stepped out—though that was something he seldom did. Truth is, he preferred his own company and stayed indoors most of the time. People talked, of course, but then don’t they always?

One day, as he was making coffee, a knock came at his door.

He washed his hands, wiped them with a towel, and made his way to the front. He reached for the knob just as the visitor knocked again.

“Yes, yes,” he muttered, “I heard you the first time.”

The door swung open, revealing a stern-looking fellow wearing a black suit, black pants, a black hat, and black-rimmed glasses, with a black satchel hanging over his shoulder.

“Mr. Kinsley, I presume?”

The small man smiled and nodded.

“Quite so. How may I help you?”

“I have questions.”

“You do?”

As they spoke, Kinsley noticed two burly men standing nearby. Both were eyeing him, though what troubled him was how they had trampled his lawn.

“Hubert Maniford,” the visitor said as he produced a card. “Department of Interior Management.”

“Oh. I don’t need to redesign my house, thank you.”

He made to close the door, but the man held out his hand to stop him.

“I do not design.” Maniford hissed. “I investigate anomalies.”

Kinsley blinked a couple of times, staring blankly at the man.

“Oh,” he finally said. “So, this is something official?”

The stranger scoffed. “Quite.”

He tilted his head to look at the two other men.

“Could your friends at least step off my lawn? I put a lot of work into getting it just right.”

“They’re not my friends, Mr. Kinsley. They are protection. Now, shall we go in to chat?”

The stranger looked at him expectantly, and with a touch of impatience.

“Protection?” Kinsley looked startled as he opened the door wider and motioned for his visitor to step in. “Is that really necessary?” he asked.

Maniford entered the house. “I’m afraid so.”

The small man closed the door with a sigh and led the other into the living room.

“I just made coffee. Would you like a cup?” Maniford quirked a brow. “A beer, then?”

“Are you trying to bribe me?”

“What? Me? Bribe you? Of course not! That’s ridiculous. I’m just being polite. Sociable. I don’t care whether you want to drink anything or not.”

The man stared at him over the rim of his glasses.

“How about we take a seat, Mr. Kinsley?”

“Sure.” He motioned to the couch. “But I’m getting my cup. I’ll be right back.”

The visitor clicked his tongue in annoyance as he sat and pulled some papers out of his satchel.

“I will have to report your lack of cooperation.”

Kinsley answered from the kitchen. “I let you in, didn’t I? And I’ll answer your questions, too. I just don’t want my coffee to go cold. I hate cold coffee.” He walked back into the room, carrying his cup. He sat across from Maniford and smiled. “Don’t you hate cold coffee too?” He took a sip.

The visitor scowled. “I don’t drink coffee.”

“That explains a lot,” muttered Kinsley.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing, nothing. Now, how about we get to those all-important questions of yours? I’m quite curious now, I’ll admit.”

The man grunted. “You know exactly what this is about, so how about you drop the act?”

“I do?” Kinsley looked genuinely confused.

“Why do you think I brought protection? I am not the first to visit you.”

“I rarely get visitors.”

“You should remember them all the better.”

Kinsley mused over this for a moment, then nodded.

“Come to think of it, you’re right. I remember. Two fellows. Looked very much like you. Your brothers, perhaps?”

Maniford glowered. “There were three.”

Kinsley snapped his fingers, a big grin on his face. “That’s right! I’d forgotten about that first one.”

The official put his papers down and leaned forward, observing his host intently.

“Yes? And what happened to them?”

Kinsley blinked. “They asked questions, then left.”

“Left?”

“They bored me, so I asked them to go, and they did.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

“Then why has no one seen or heard from them since?”

“I haven’t the faintest.”

Maniford grunted as he grabbed his papers again and sifted through them.

“Your name is Thomas Kinsley. You were born in Keddah, on the world of Exudia, in the year—”

“Could we just skip to the interesting part, please?”

“I need to confirm your identity.”

“Yes, yes, I’m Thomas Kinsley. Haven’t we established that already?”

The visitor frowned. He lowered the papers and looked around the room.

“Where is your wife?”

“I live alone.”

“You are separated?”

“I am not married. Never have been.”

“That is not what our records say.”

“Really? Oh.” Kinsley scowled. “Then I must be married.”

The official leaned back in his seat, staring at the smaller man.

“You’re not sure?”

“Yes, yes, I’m married. Of course I’m sure.”

“Alright. So, where is your wife?”

Kinsley scratched his head. “You mean, right now?”

The other looked at him over the rim of his glasses.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, Mr. Kinsley, but I believe I used the present tense, did I not? Would I have done so had I meant to inquire about your wife’s whereabouts in the past? No? How about the future? Would I have used the present tense, then?”

“No need to be so snarky about it,” he muttered.

“I still haven’t heard an answer.”

Kinsley shrugged. “She was too boring, so I sent her away.”

“And where is she now?”

“How would I know? Wherever she damn pleases. Nor do I care, to be honest.”

“I see. And your children?”

Kinsley blinked. Pointed at the paperwork the man held.

“Your records say I have children?”

“They do.” Maniford glanced down at the writing. “Two boys and a girl.”

“Right. Of course.”

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“Where are they?”

“You’re very nosy, aren’t you?”

“Mr. Kinsley, I am merely doing my job. So, just answer the question.”

“They’re with their mother, of course. Isn’t that obvious? Where else would they be? They’re clearly not here. Not that it’s any of your business.”

The visitor remained quiet as he scribbled some notes on the paper.

“So the two of you are still married?” he asked after a moment.

“What?”

Maniford clicked his tongue. “You don’t want her around anymore, that much is clear, so are you separated?”

The small man snapped his fingers. “Separated! Of course. Should have said that from the start, silly me. Would have made things so much easier.” A pause. “Well,” he muttered, “I’ll have to remember that next time.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Maniford. It’s just, I’ve been a bit lost since she left, you understand? Yes, you’re right, we are separated. Everything changes so fast, don’t you think?”

The visitor grunted as he glanced down at his paperwork.

“According to our records, you were a stay-at-home dad, while your wife worked at a coffee shop.” He looked up at the small man with a quirked brow. “So what do you do now for a living, Mr. Kinsley?”

“For a living? I... Uh... This is a joke, right?”

The man in black frowned.

“Do I seem the type who would make light of such matters?”

Kinsley studied the other’s face. From the wrinkles and the hard stare, this clearly was not the sort of man who often smiled—if at all—, let alone laughed. He straightened in his chair and cleared his throat.

“I’ve had enough. You bore me. Go away.”

Maniford disappeared as the small man reached for his cup and brought it to his lips. He grimaced.

“Coffee’s gone cold. Hate it when that happens.”

With a sigh, he stood and headed into the kitchen.

***

The Weld was huge and Eric liked to think he had contributed to its expansion—you can’t build an empire without footsoldiers, after all. He’d quelled rebellions, squashed enemy factions, and even faced alien troops. He’d been in so many wars he’d lost count. His experience had landed him a well-paying job as a security guard, and he figured the change of pace would do him good. His heart wasn’t so solid anymore and his doctor had warned that if a phaser didn’t kill him, adrenaline surely would.

He stood on the lawn, watching as Maniford stepped into the house and the door closed.

“I don’t know about this...”

Eric turned to glance at his colleague.

“What are you going on about?”

“We should have gone in with him. We’re useless out here.”

“Are you kidding me? Have you looked at the guy? He can’t be more than five feet four, he’s thin as a match, and I doubt he’s ever been in a fight in his life. Hell, my nephew’s ten and he could punch a hole through that guy’s head. Give me a break. We’re wasting our time here, that’s what I think.”

His friend snorted. “We’re getting a bonus for this.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I shouldn’t be complaining. People like that just piss me off. No respect for the rest of us.”

“How do you figure?”

“The least one should do is keep in shape. If only to give others a challenge, you know?”

The second guard laughed. “In case you wanted to beat them up?”

“Is that too much to ask?”

“I thought you had a heart condition?”

Eric scowled. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Just saying. Gotta go easy on yourself. Can’t go around beating random strangers. Not good for you.”

“Ass.”

The other snickered.

Eric looked around. It was a peaceful neighborhood, at least. Not like that last place they’d been to, where gangs patrolled the streets. That had been an unpleasant experience. On the plus side, it hadn’t been boring.

This was... a bit much.

Or not enough, depending on how you looked at it.

He grunted.

“What now?”

“Nothing,” he muttered. “Not talking to you.”

The other snickered but fell quiet, leaving him to his thoughts.

“Gonna take a look around the house,” he said after a while as he headed off.

“Alright. And try not to smack anyone out there.”

You’re the one I’m gonna smack if you keep this up, funny guy.

Eric was only a little miffed. Deep inside, he knew Sam was only teasing him. They’d often been on the field together and had saved each other’s skin so many times it wasn’t even funny.

When he reached the back of the house, he stopped to inspect the fence that separated it from the neighbor’s. He turned and paused when he realized he was facing the kitchen window. With a straight view into the living room beyond.

His eyes went wide, and he felt the blood drain from his face when he saw Maniford vanish. He had been sitting right there on the couch, right across from him. One second he was there, the next he was gone.

The small man stood, turned, and walked into the kitchen with his cup. He looked up and froze when he saw Eric staring at him.

Eric blinked.

And just like that, everything changed.

The sky was green and the grass red. There were strange, twisted trees all around him, with not a single house in view. He was in the middle of a freaking alien jungle.

He spun around, sweat dripping down his face, his heart beating fast.

“What the hell?” he muttered as he stared at the foreign landscape. “This can’t be happening. How is this even possible? It doesn’t make any sense!”

A loud crash made him jump. Eric swung again and saw a large shadow spread across the trees. He looked up and blanched.

“What are you doing here?” boomed the giant’s voice.

The creature stood ten feet above the trees, glaring down at him.

He stumbled back, pulled his phaser out, and pulled the trigger. Repeatedly. All that came out was a puff of smoke.

“That won’t work here, stupid human. Now answer my question before I crush you!”

“What are you?” Eric asked as he pressed his back against a tree.

The beast sat on its haunches, squinting.

“I’m the one asking questions here, stranger. And I have yet to hear an answer. Do you really want to be my next lunch? Now tell me why you’ve come here! And I warn you, I’ll know if you’re lying.”

“I didn’t come here! I mean, I was... sent.”

“Sent? By whom?”

“I don’t know... That man, probably.”

“What man?”

“The one Maniford was investigating. Thomas Kinsley.”

The giant rose to its feet, letting out a cry of anguish.

“Him again! This has to end.”

Without another word, it turned and marched away, each step making the ground shake under Eric’s feet.

***

The small man was reading a book in the quiet of his study when a knock at the door startled him. He put the volume down on a table, taking care to mark his page, stood, and headed toward the entrance.

Could that be someone else from the Department of Internal Management? That would be quick. They usually waited a few months before they sent someone again—it had barely been twenty-four hours. If this were the case, he’d have to take more drastic measures.

He hated taking drastic measures. Like with those guards. It was a chance one of them had come around the house. He’d forgotten about those two—now they were both gone. Kinsley would have preferred sending away only the boring one, but he hadn’t had much choice. It was their fault, anyway. All he wanted was to live in peace. Why did they have to keep coming and ask all those stupid questions?

Kinsley opened the door and blinked.

This one wore a white costume. He had long silvery hair and a big smile on his lips.

“Mr. Kinsley! Finally we meet. I would have a word with you, if you have the time?”

This was different. So much so he was at a loss for words. Not sure how to proceed, he just stood there, staring. The new visitor must have taken that as an invitation, for he gently pushed him aside and stepped in, looking around the room in appreciation.

“Yes, yes, very cozy. I can see why you like it so much here. Splendid. Shall we sit?” He glanced back at his host.

Kinsley finally got his senses back. He closed the door and nodded.

“If we must.”

“Oh, please, don’t make it sound like it’s such a chore! I would hope I’m not too boring for your taste.”

That, he was not—at least, not yet. Intriguing would be more accurate a term.

“Would you like something to drink?” he asked, expecting the usual rejection.

“I would love a glass of milk, if you have any?”

Kinsley blinked a couple of times.

“Milk? Uhm. Yes, I believe I have milk. I’ll be a moment.”

“Please. Take your time.”

The small man headed into the kitchen and grabbed the bottle from the fridge, his thoughts racing as he filled a glass for his visitor. Part of him sensed there was danger here... yet, at the same time, he found the experience exhilarating. He hadn’t felt this way in a very, very long time. A couple of centuries, perhaps.

He went back to the living room and handed the drink to the man in white.

“Where is yours?”

“What?” Kinsley stared at his hands. “Oh. No. I’m good.” He sat. “What is this about, mister...”

“Zathrion. Just Zathrion.”

“You are from the Department—”

“No, no, no, nothing like that. I’m more of a messenger, I suppose you could say. For various parties, including your family.”

Kinsley went stiff.

“My family?” he asked coolly.

“Quite so. They are... concerned, shall we say?”

“I care little for their concerns.”

“Of course, of course. Understandable. But, you might feel differently about the sentence.”

“The sentence?”

“Yes. That, you see, is what your family is concerned about.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The Council of Beasts does not normally intervene in the realm of men... assuming one’s actions do not interfere with other realms. Your recent, ah, how to put this... activities have, however, caused unrest in a nearby plane. That can no longer be tolerated.”

“That is none of my concern!” Kinsley jumped to his feet. “I don’t want to hear another word from you. Go away!”

When the visitor did not vanish, the small man gaped.

Zathrion smiled amiably.

“You cannot banish from this realm one who is not from this realm. Makes sense, yes? Now, where were we? Ah, yes. There was a trial.”

“What?” Kinsley let himself fall back into his chair.

“A jury of your peers has found you guilty.”

“Guilty? Of what?”

“Of disturbing the peace, of course. You know how some of our kin are.”

“Wait, wait, wait! You can’t put me on trial without me even being there!”

“We can, and we have. Would you like to hear the sentence?”

“No.”

“Come now, it’s not so bad. You are allowed to stay here, after all. In this nice little home you’ve made for yourself. That’s what you want, yes?”

Kinsley squinted. “What’s the catch?”

“You will be... I’m sorry. Let me rephrase that. You have been stripped of your powers. Congratulations! You are now a human being.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

“I protest! You can’t do this—”

Zathrion stood. “Do you doubt the skills of the Council?”

“No, but—”

“Splendid! Now that that’s settled, I’ll leave you to your quiet life.”

The man in white turned and, in a puff of smoke, was gone.

Kinsley stared at the spot where his visitor had stood.

He needed a cup of coffee, but all he could think of was what would he do when the next man from the Department came knocking?

His life had just become much more complicated.

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Enjoy my writing and want more stories that walk the thin line between Sci-Fi and Fantasy? Check out these two:

• The Day the Monsters came (monsters attack a town and only magic can stop them)

• What Once Was Said Must Now Be Done (breaking a contract can be hazardous…)

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Text (c) 2025 by Alex S. Garcia.

Header: royalty-free stock image from Pixabay.

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