Unauthorised Emergency Intervention

What should be happening? No one really understood.
Disorda was in chronic trouble -always experiencing an apparent disorder epidemic.
Residents put the wrong bins out for disposal. Colleagues were 6 minutes late for committee meetings. Children wore mismatched socks and pinafore sections.
There was a constant outbreak of activity-at a highly unacceptable level.
The situation couldn’t be allowed to deteriorate. Officials convened an emergency council meeting. Prevention far outranked the reaction of Disorda’s townsfolk.
For ANY chaos.

The department’s measures initially sounded - sufficient. Residents planned journeys, maintained contingency food supplies, and notified each other of schedule changes. Everything was - orderly.
People approved the initiatives. Prevention, of course, was better than any cliched cure. They issued directives: “Failure to predict unexpected outcomes will result in severe consequences.”

So the Department of Chaos Prevention expanded its initiatives.
It created forms for:

Changing one’s mind.
2)Arriving unexpectedly;
3)Cancelling appointments; and
4)making unwarranted purchases.
One had to provide 72 hours’ notice before commencing spontaneous activities. It sanctioned Approved Spontaneity.
A resident received a warning after making an unauthorised decision not to have her usual noodles for dinner. Another received a court summons for undeclared sneezing. The resident had failed to make reasonable efforts to expect it.
Of course, unauthorised decision-making fell - By almost 98 per cent.

So Disorda experienced a cultural shift. Its people stopped deciding things - on their own.
A shopkeeper’s refrigerator leaked until the water reached knee-height, but he waited for authorised maintenance assessment.
A teacher noticed a hanging classroom fan but would not move the students before authorised approval.
The caution applied especially to council employees.
Extreme caution.

Then, the town encountered chaos worthy of its name.
A water main burst in the town centre. A flash flood of water poured across the road. “Shouldn’t the water supply be shut off?” A Disorda-ly resident asked. “Well…” The municipal worker hesitated. It would amount to an -
Unscheduled Infrastructure Intervention.
The water continued rising - dangerously. But it hadn’t offered advance notification.
“Why don’t we just shut the valve off?” Someone suggested meekly. Everyone shot him dirty looks.
At last, the worker discovered CP-47: Permission To Respond To Unexpected Circumstances.
A collective sigh of relief.
Until they read the instructions.

It contained one crucial requirement:
Nature of anticipated circumstance.
The municipal worker couldn’t complete it. The event had been impossible to predict.
“Ridiculous!” The Disorda-ly resident protested, summarily shutting the valve off. An official agreed - with rehearsed sympathy.
“Unfortunately, extenuating events fall outside our existing framework.”
After all, regulations were - regulations.
He issued the Disorda-ly resident a citation for Unauthorised Emergency Intervention.

The Disorda-ly resident garnered - unusual sympathy.
The Department was forced to intervene.
It conducted a review that found its procedures - insufficiently comprehensive.
Additional safeguards had to be put in place. They promised that such disorder would never happen again.
A new body was formed to oversee its procedures:
The Department of Chaos Prevention Prevention.

Mirrors of the Mind by Michelle Liew is a collection of psychological and supernatural short stories that explore the quiet unease beneath ordinary moments. These are not tales of spectacle, but of subtle fracture — where memory distorts, silence speaks, and the self is not always singular. In these stories, what is unseen often carries the greatest weight, and what lingers is not what is shown, but what is felt

Never Bore Another Soul

Being the party wallflower was a drag — something that Edwin knew too well. He could clear a conversation circle —

Without even trying.

The office party fell two days before Christmas Eve, the usual end-of-year celebration.

Before he’d even tried to share his anecdote, a listener had remembered another urgent meeting.

The foul restroom became a source of respite for another.

The wall clock gained a new admirer. The number of minutes it took before he could leave became particularly sexy.

Edwin noticed. Very much. He sensed, rightly, that people were tolerating rather than enjoying him.

And decided that it was time for a change.

On the way home, an advertisement by a Public Speaking Guru caught his eye —

Become a scintillating conversationalist.

And underneath it the irresistible promise —

Never bore another soul.

Edwin reached for his cell.

The package the Guru sold him was —

Unconventional.

Scintillating in and of itself.

It contained a few silver tablets and a cryptic instruction —

Take one tablet before any social engagement.

So the night of the gathering —

Edwin swallowed one with gusto —

And became more magnetic than Magneto.

He was magnificent.

Astute. Everyone wanted to listen to his wonderfully charming anecdotes.

Laughter broke out —

At the right moments.

People crowded round exits —

Refusing to leave.

He started wearing studded suits that —

Sparkled.

His 70’s hustle was a hit at every gathering.

He had studs multiplying —

And was electrifying.

Edwin swallowed another tablet before the next party —

A little too eagerly.

He scintillated.

Again.

But cheeky, malfunctioning executive functions decided —

The anecdotes had to lengthen.

And became too long.

Midway through one, his mouth circled —

And paused.

For seconds too long.

Then —

Zap.

A spark got his tongue.

His mouth circled again.

Zap.

He pulled out all the stops to remain interesting. Circled his mouth once more and —

Zap.

Every pause electrified. Literally. Edwin filled pauses with silly jokes, unwanted trivia and lame stories.

“A real entertainer,” someone said.

Burning from his now almost permanently circular mouth, Edwin agreed.

His sparkle became the office must-have.

At the next dinner party, his tablet became —

Relentless.

Edwin just couldn’t stop.

The studded suits drifted between courses, with flowing anecdotes to complete them.

People chewing cheese? They needed cheese trivia.

Drinking a Martini? That poor soul needed a 007 joke.

Soon, the guests’ fascination turned to —

Fatigue.

One finally snapped.

“Edwin?”

He paused mid-sentence.

“Shut up.”

But his mouth continued circling. He sparkled furiously.

So Edwin stopped being scintillating.

The office accepted boring —

When needed.

The Town That Refused to Die

image created using ChatGPT

The gargoyles returned to Fr Primwell, coursing the moonlit skies with triumphant wings.

One of them, Clutch of the Grotesque Claw, had a sombre announcement.

“Perchwick is dead.”

Fr. Primwell’s heart sank. Perchwick —

Morally —

Lifeless.

Clutch let out a dramatic sigh.

“The townspeople have started —

Dying.

The very thing you are afraid of, Father.”

They wanted Perchwick administratively —

Alive. Mortality needed correction.

Dead torches were replaced.

Candles were relit.

Rewound watches ticked.

Death lived.

Another successful Gargoylian campaign.

But Fr Primwell sighed.

The good priest nodded in resigned understanding.

They hadn’t defeated death —

Merely erased it temporarily.

Mortality still needed convincing.

Mirrors of the Mind by Michelle Liew is a collection of psychological and supernatural short stories that explore the quiet unease beneath ordinary moments. These are not tales of spectacle, but of subtle fracture — where memory distorts, silence speaks, and the self is not always singular. In these stories, what is unseen often carries the greatest weight, and what lingers is not what is shown, but what is felt.